basically a masterlist masterlist lol this has all my fics in it
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my blog page rules: i’ll write basically anything (ships, x readers, fics, HCs, matchups, angst, fluff, nsfw, etc.) I don’t mind most requests, just nothing graphic involving minors or anything that promotes hate.
please only submit one request at a time, wait till i’ve finished/posted your request before submitting another.
It usually takes me a little while to finish requests, but I’ll enjoy reading and working on pretty much any request ♡ ♡ ♡
I’ll write for any of the following fandoms: HxH, jjba, bleach, death note, bg3, genshin impact, castlevania (anime), and danganronpa (i’ll write for pretty much any character from these fandoms)
could you perchance do the buccigang with member or reader idk that seems really chill and yk normal but laughs really easily and over the smallest things ever and it’s not the most subtle laugh yfm so like the smallest thing was said or done and b4 u know it they’re in a laughing fit yk ok thanks ❤️
lol ofc! thank you for requesting <3333
Bucciarati
Bruno's first impression of you is that you're one of the more level headed people he's met. You seem calm, approachable, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You're rarely the loudest person in the room, you don't seek attention, and you generally carry yourself with a relaxed sort of confidence. Naturally, this leads him to assume you're fairly composed.
That assumption lasts right up until someone says something mildly funny. Not even genuinely funny, either. The kind of thing most people would respond to with a small smile. Meanwhile you're over there wheezing into your sleeve because Narancia accidentally said "economic" wrong.
At first Bruno is concerned. Then confused. Then increasingly amused. The funniest part is that your laughter isn't subtle whatsoever. Once it starts, it's over. You're bent over, trying to breathe, tears in your eyes, apologizing between laughs while somehow laughing even harder.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I-I'm sorry-"
"You can't even finish the sentence."
That makes you laugh harder.
Bruno eventually develops an unfortunate habit of smiling whenever he hears you start laughing because it's genuinely contagious. Even if he doesn't understand what you're laughing at, seeing you lose your mind over something stupid usually puts him in a better mood. During stressful missions, your ability to find humor in the dumbest situations becomes kind of valuable because it helps everyone relax.
The only downside is that he can never tell when something is actually serious anymore. If he hears you laughing from another room, there's a 50/50 chance somebody told a joke or somebody fell down the stairs.
What really gets him, though, is seeing your laughter during genuinely difficult times. There are moments when everyone is exhausted, injured, stressed beyond belief, and somehow you still find something to smile about. It’s not that you're ignoring reality, you just refuse to let it completely crush your spirit. Bruno respects that more than he'll ever say out loud. In a life like his, people who can still find joy are rare.
Giorno
Giorno spends an embarrassingly long time trying to understand what exactly triggers your laughter. Because there doesn't seem to be a pattern. You laugh at actual jokes. You laugh at accidental jokes. You laugh at people mispronouncing words. You laugh at weird noises. You laugh because someone else laughed. One time Mista sneezed weirdly and you disappeared into another room because you physically could not stop laughing. Giorno genuinely tried analyzing it at first. Eventually he gave up.
The thing he finds endearing is that your laughter never seems malicious. You're not making fun of people. You simply find things funny with your entire soul. The first time he hears you absolutely losing it because a pigeon stole someone's sandwich, he just quietly watches. The sandwich owner is furious. You're crying. The pigeon is thriving. Giorno ends up smiling.
You also have an unfortunate tendency to make him laugh when he's trying to remain serious. He'll be explaining a plan, maintaining complete professionalism, and then you'll start giggling because Narancia is sitting weirdly in his chair. Suddenly Giorno has to fight for his life not to smile. He blames you entirely. At first Giorno is very good at hiding it. He'll press his lips together, look away, clear his throat, anything to maintain his dignity. The problem is that you notice every single time. The second you catch even the tiniest smile, you're delighted. Then you're laughing because Giorno smiled. Which makes him smile more. It's a terrible feedback loop.
He also discovers that your laughter tends to spread through entire rooms. One person laughs. Then another. Then another. Before long, everyone is grinning over something that objectively shouldn't be funny. Giorno finds it fascinating. You have a strange talent for improving morale without even trying.
Sometimes he'll catch himself seeking you out after a particularly frustrating day. He knows that eventually you'll notice something ridiculous and start laughing. And somehow, hearing that sound makes the weight on his shoulders feel a little lighter.
Abbacchio
Abbacchio is initially convinced you're ridiculous. Not annoying. Not immature. Just ridiculous. The first time he watches you laugh so hard you nearly fall off a chair because Mista accidentally dropped a spoon, he stares at you like you've completely lost your mind.
"What's funny?"
You can't answer. You're laughing too hard.
"It was a spoon."
That somehow makes you laugh harder.
Abbacchio spends weeks trying to understand what goes on inside your head. He never figures it out.
What surprises him is how quickly your laughter starts affecting everyone else. Even when nobody understands the joke, your reaction is so genuine and dramatic that it becomes impossible not to smile. Abbacchio pretends to be immune. He's not.
The first time he accidentally makes you laugh, he's actually caught off guard. He made a sarcastic comment. You immediately started wheezing. He wasn't even trying to be funny. After that he develops the annoying realization that he kind of likes hearing you laugh. He will never admit this. Not under torture. But if you've been unusually quiet for a few days, he'll notice. And he'll find himself making more sarcastic comments than usual. Pure coincidence, obviously.
You're one of the only people who laughs at his dry humor consistently. Most people miss the joke entirely or think he's being serious. You catch every single one. Sometimes he'll mutter something under his breath, fully expecting nobody to hear it, only for you to burst out laughing across the room.
There are also moments where your laughter catches him completely off guard. One day he's in an awful mood, snapping at everyone, and you start giggling because he looked so offended by a malfunctioning coffee machine. He wants to stay irritated. He really does. Unfortunately, you look like you're fighting for your life over a household appliance and suddenly he can't maintain the mood.
Deep down, Abbacchio comes to appreciate how genuine you are. You never fake reactions. You never laugh because you're expected to. If you're laughing, it's because you're genuinely happy. In a world full of liars and criminals, there's something oddly refreshing about that.
Mista
Mista thinks you're the greatest audience he's ever had. Finally. Someone appreciates his genius. Or at least that's what he tells himself. Half the time you're not even laughing at his jokes. You're laughing at the way he tells them. Or the way he trips over his own words. Or the fact that he accidentally walked into a door halfway through the story. Mista doesn't care. A laugh is a laugh.
He quickly becomes addicted to making you crack up. Every time he gets a particularly strong reaction, he acts like he just won an award.
"Did you see that?"
"Mista, all you did was drop your fork."
"Yeah but they laughed."
He's insufferable about it.
Your laugh is incredibly contagious for him. Once you start laughing, Mista usually starts laughing too. Then neither of you knows why you're laughing anymore. Then everyone else gets annoyed. It's a cycle. A beautiful cycle.
The two of you become a nightmare whenever you're seated next to each other. All it takes is one glance. One stupid expression. One badly timed comment. Suddenly you're both trying not to laugh and making things ten times worse. The harder you try to stop, the funnier it becomes.
Mista absolutely weaponizes this. If a meeting is dragging on too long, he'll start making faces at you from across the table. If everyone's being serious, he'll casually slide a ridiculous drawing toward you. Then he'll sit there looking incredibly pleased with himself while you struggle not to laugh.
The funniest thing is that he genuinely believes he's hilarious. Which, to be fair, sometimes he is. But most of your laughter comes from the fact that Mista is basically a walking cartoon character. He trips over nothing. He gets into arguments with his Stand. He somehow creates comedic situations without trying. You're basically playing life on easy mode when it comes to finding things funny.
Narancia
Narancia and you are an absolute disaster together. Neither of you can be trusted in serious situations. The two of you have absolutely fueled each other's nonsense on countless occasions. The problem is that Narancia is naturally expressive and energetic, which means he constantly gives you material.
Every weird face. Every dramatic reaction. Every accidental mistake.
You're fighting for your life trying not to laugh. And once you start laughing? Narancia starts laughing too. Even if he doesn't know why. Especially if he doesn't know why. At that point the situation becomes unrecoverable.
Bruno has walked into rooms and found both of you crying from laughter while nobody else has any clue what happened. Neither of you can explain it. The original joke was forgotten fifteen minutes ago. You just keep setting each other off. Everybody else suffers.
The worst incidents usually start with something tiny. Narancia says a word wrong. You laugh. He starts laughing because you're laughing. Then he tries repeating the word and accidentally says it even worse. Now you're both crying. Fugo is developing a migraine. The cycle continues.
There have been multiple occasions where Bruno has separated the two of you like misbehaving children. Because you're physically incapable of acting normal together.
Narancia loves how easily you laugh. He's naturally energetic and emotional, and some people find him exhausting. You never seem to. In fact, you're usually the one laughing hardest at his stories and reactions. It makes him feel appreciated in a way he doesn't always admit. Honestly, if somebody put the two of you in a room with nothing but a plastic fork, you'd probably find a way to entertain yourselves for hours.
Trish
Trish finds your laughter adorable. At first she thinks it's cute that you're so easily amused. Then she realizes just how easily amused you actually are.
One time she watched you laugh for five straight minutes because a dog barked at exactly the wrong moment. She still doesn't understand it.
The thing she loves most is that your laughter feels completely genuine. You're not forcing reactions for attention. You simply experience joy at maximum volume. Whenever she's stressed or frustrated, hearing you laugh usually improves her mood immediately.
Sometimes she'll intentionally point out ridiculous little things just to see your reaction. Not because she's trying to make fun of you, your happiness is just so infectious.
She also becomes the person most likely to defend you when others call you dramatic.
"Leave them alone."
"They're laughing at a shoe."
"So?"
"Nothing happened."
"They're having fun."
Eventually Trish develops an eye for things that will absolutely destroy you. She'll spot a badly designed advertisement or a strangely shaped cloud and immediately look at you. Sometimes she doesn't even have to say anything. One glance tells her you've already noticed.
Shopping trips become particularly dangerous. You'll be browsing normally when one of you spots something ridiculous. Then both of you are standing in the middle of a store trying not to embarrass yourselves. Trish has had to physically drag you away from displays before because you could not stop laughing.
What she admires most, though, is how openly you express happiness. Seeing someone experience simple joy so freely is refreshing. It reminds her that life isn't supposed to be serious all the time.
Fugo
Fugo is constantly caught between affection and frustration. Because logically speaking, there is no reason you should be laughing this much. You'll be perfectly normal one second. Then somebody says something mildly stupid. Suddenly you're gone. Absolutely gone.
Fugo has watched you laugh until you physically slid out of your chair. He's watched you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe. He's watched you try to stop laughing only to accidentally make yourself laugh again. It's absurd.
What really gets him is that sometimes he accidentally triggers it. The first time you burst into hysterics because he aggressively corrected somebody's grammar, he was offended. Then confused. Then offended again.
"Why is that funny?"
You couldn't answer. You were too busy dying.
Over time he starts finding your laughter comforting. The group deals with dangerous situations constantly, and it becomes easy to get trapped in stress and tension. Then you hear something stupid. You start laughing. And suddenly the atmosphere feels lighter.
Fugo would never openly admit it, but there are days when hearing you laugh is enough to improve his mood significantly. Which is unfortunate. Because now he's emotionally invested in your weird little laughing fits. And he hates that for himself.
One thing he discovers is that you're particularly vulnerable when he's annoyed. Something about the way he launches into long, passionate explanations over tiny inconveniences absolutely destroys you. The more serious he gets, the harder you're trying not to laugh. This is deeply offensive to him. Until he catches himself deliberately exaggerating a complaint because he can see you trying not to smile. Then it becomes hilarious.
Fugo also notices that your laughter tends to break him out of his own head. He's prone to overthinking, dwelling on mistakes, and getting trapped in frustration. Meanwhile you'll be giggling because somebody accidentally knocked over a stack of papers. It's hard to stay trapped in anxiety when someone nearby is finding joy in things that insignificant.
He'd never say it directly, but your laughter becomes one of those small, reassuring constants in his life. The sound tells him everything is normal. Everyone's safe. You're happy. And for someone who worries as much as Fugo does, that reassurance means more than he'd ever admit.
Hiiii, its gonna be a long one but could I request Phantom Troupe (+Hisoka) with a reader overall quiet, andxious and kind of a loser? (Like Tamaki Amajiki and Layla from genshin for reference) but fights like an absolute beast? Like pure brute force, especially when fighting alone. To make it funnier let's say she just started learning Nen and knows only the basics and her Ren (if i remember correctly???) is just pure rage and bloodlust. When asked about it, she just starts apologizing for making anyone see that part of her
I'd love to see how that would go, if it's alright:3
hiiiii, yes totally- tamaki's always been one of my fav mha characters lol thank you for requesting! ♡♡
Chrollo
Chrollo's first impression of you is that you're unusually timid for someone associated with the Phantom Troupe. You speak quietly, avoid drawing attention to yourself, and seem perpetually worried that you're bothering people. He notices the way you hesitate before speaking, the way you apologize for interrupting even when nobody else was talking, and the way you instinctively shrink into yourself whenever a conversation becomes tense. You don't strike him as weak, however. Chrollo is far too observant to mistake anxiety for incompetence. Still, he certainly doesn't expect what happens the first time he witnesses you fight.
The contrast is so extreme that even Chrollo is momentarily caught off guard. One moment you're nervously fidgeting with your sleeves and apologizing for asking a question, and the next you're charging headfirst into a battle with enough raw aggression to make seasoned Nen users pause. The most disturbing part isn't your physical strength. It's your Ren. Despite only knowing the basics of Nen, your aura erupts with an overwhelming amount of rage, bloodlust, and hostility. It doesn't feel refined or controlled. It feels primal. Like years of frustration, fear, resentment, and pain are suddenly being released all at once. Even experienced fighters find themselves instinctively tensing when your aura flares. Chrollo notices that unlike many people with violent tendencies, you don't seem to enjoy this side of yourself at all.
After every fight, the guilt arrives almost immediately. The moment the adrenaline fades, you're looking around nervously at everyone's expressions and apologizing before anyone can even speak. You worry that you've frightened people, that you've made them uncomfortable, that they'll see you differently now. Chrollo finds this fascinating because the person who just crushed opponents through sheer force is the exact same person anxiously asking whether everyone is upset with her. He becomes quietly interested in understanding where all that buried anger comes from. More than once, he'll calmly tell you that you don't need to apologize for defending yourself, only for you to stare at him with obvious confusion, as though the idea genuinely never occurred to you. Over time, Chrollo develops a strange respect for you. He has met countless violent people in his life, but very few who feared their own violence as much as you do.
Pakunoda
Pakunoda realizes almost immediately that your anxiety runs much deeper than simple shyness. You're constantly monitoring people's reactions, searching for signs that you've said something wrong or made someone uncomfortable. If someone takes too long to answer you, you immediately assume they're upset. If a conversation becomes awkward, you take responsibility for it even when it has nothing to do with you. Pakunoda often finds herself reassuring you over things that nobody else even noticed. She quickly learns that your apologies aren't manipulative or attention seeking, they're automatic. You genuinely seem convinced that your existence is inconveniencing everyone around you.
When she eventually sees you fight, everything suddenly makes more sense. The bloodlust in your Ren doesn't feel sadistic or cruel. To Pakunoda, it feels like emotional pressure that has been building for years. Your aura is full of suppressed frustration, insecurity, fear, and self loathing. It's overwhelming precisely because you spend so much time trying to suppress those feelings. Watching you fight is honestly unsettling. You become relentless, relying almost entirely on brute force and instinct. There is no elegance to it. No flashy techniques. Just pure aggression powerful enough to overwhelm opponents despite your relatively basic Nen training.
What affects Pakunoda most is what happens afterward. The second the fight ends, your confidence vanishes. You start apologizing almost immediately, looking embarrassed and ashamed of what everyone just witnessed. She can tell that you're genuinely horrified by your own capacity for violence. While others focus on how terrifying your Ren is, Pakunoda notices how frightened you are of it yourself. She becomes one of the people most likely to quietly sit beside you after missions and remind you that being angry doesn't make you a monster. Unfortunately, those conversations usually end with you apologizing for apologizing. Still, she never gets tired of reminding you that you're far kinder than you give yourself credit for.
Feitan
Feitan initially assumes you're weak. In his defense, you don't exactly make a threatening first impression. You're quiet, nervous, visibly uncomfortable around large groups, and constantly avoiding eye contact. Compared to the rest of the Troupe, you seem almost harmless. He quickly grows annoyed by how often you apologize, especially when you've done absolutely nothing wrong. More than once, he's genuinely confused about what you're even apologizing for. To him, the behavior makes no sense. Then he sees you fight.
Feitan has spent his entire life around dangerous people, so it's difficult to impress him. You manage it anyway. The first time your Ren explodes outward, even he pauses. The sheer hostility behind it is shocking. Unlike most Nen users, who show control and precision, your aura feels raw and uncontrolled. It feels less like a weapon and more like an emotional breakdown weaponized into physical form. Watching you fight is almost surreal because you still look nervous while doing it. You're not smiling. You're not enjoying yourself. You look just as uncomfortable as always while simultaneously beating an opponent into the ground through sheer determination and rage.
The aftermath fascinates him almost as much as the fight itself. The second everything is over, you're apologizing. Not for losing control, not for collateral damage, but simply because everyone had to see that side of you. Feitan genuinely cannot understand this mindset. In his view, strength is strength. Why be ashamed of it? Still, over time he begins to recognize that your violence comes from a completely different place than his own. He starts finding it amusing when outsiders underestimate you. Nothing entertains him quite like watching someone dismiss you as harmless before discovering the horrifying reality for themselves. While he'll never openly admit it, he eventually becomes one of the people least bothered by your terrifying aura because he knows the person behind it is far softer than anyone realizes.
Nobunaga
Nobunaga takes a liking to you almost immediately. Something about your awkwardness triggers every protective instinct he possesses. He notices how easily flustered you get, how often you apologize, and how difficult it is for you to believe compliments. Before long, he's treating you like a younger sister whether you like it or not. Unfortunately for him, trying to stop you from apologizing becomes a daily battle that he loses every single time. Every conversation somehow loops back around to you saying sorry for something completely unnecessary.
When Nobunaga finally sees your Ren during combat, the experience leaves a lasting impression. He's used to bloodlust. He's spent his life surrounded by killers. What makes your aura disturbing isn't simply its intensity but its emotional weight. Your Ren feels deeply personal, like every negative feeling you've ever buried suddenly exploding to the surface. It doesn't feel like the bloodlust of someone who enjoys violence. Watching you unleash that kind of fury while still looking fundamentally like yourself is genuinely unsettling.
After fights, Nobunaga often finds you sitting by yourself looking miserable while everyone else is still processing what they witnessed. The fact that your first instinct is always to apologize breaks his heart a little every time. He spends a lot of effort trying to convince you that nobody is afraid of you and that defending yourself isn't something you need to feel guilty about. Unfortunately, your anxiety is stubborn enough to reject most reassurance. Still, Nobunaga never stops trying. Out of everyone in the Troupe, he's probably one of the most openly protective of you, partly because he knows how harshly you judge yourself compared to everyone else.
Shalnark
Shalnark genuinely cannot get over how contradictory you are. The first few times he interacts with you, he's convinced you're one of the least intimidating people he's ever met. You stumble over your words, get nervous when people look at you for too long, and seem physically incapable of accepting praise without immediately deflecting it. He quickly learns that if he compliments you, your response will either be an awkward laugh, an apology, or some variation of, "It wasn't that impressive." To Shalnark, you seem like the type of person who would lose a fight against a particularly aggressive housecat.
The experience of watching you in combat completely shatters his understanding of you. One moment you're nervously asking whether you're standing in someone's way, and the next you're tearing through opponents with enough raw force to make experienced fighters question their life choices. The thing that sticks with him most isn't even the physical damage. It's your Ren. The sheer amount of rage pouring from your aura is shocking. It feels suffocating. Like standing next to a volcano that has spent years building pressure beneath the surface. Shalnark quickly realizes that while you only know the basics of Nen, your emotional output more than compensates for your lack of technical refinement. Your aura doesn't feel disciplined, but it does feel honest, and that honesty is terrifying.
Afterward, when you're sitting there apologizing for making everyone uncomfortable, Shalnark nearly loses his mind. He genuinely cannot understand how someone can go from being the most dangerous person in the room to looking like they're about to cry because they think they upset somebody. He eventually becomes fascinated by the psychology behind it. The more he gets to know you, the more he realizes that your bloodlust is the result of years of bottling up every negative emotion until they have nowhere left to go. He starts finding it hilarious whenever strangers underestimate you because he already knows exactly how that story ends. Nothing entertains him more than watching you prove people wrong.
Shizuku
Shizuku doesn't really understand why everyone is so surprised by you. When the other members talk about how shocking your combat abilities are, she usually looks confused because, in her mind, being anxious and being dangerous aren't mutually exclusive. To Shizuku, you're just... you. You're quiet. You apologize a lot. You get nervous in social situations. You also happen to be frighteningly strong when somebody pushes you too far. None of those things seem contradictory to her.
Because of this, Shizuku ends up being one of the people you're most comfortable around. She doesn't stare at you differently after seeing your Ren. She doesn't ask uncomfortable questions about your anger. She doesn't try to analyze you. If anything, she's the least judgmental person in the group regarding your violent side. The first time she witnesses your aura explode during combat, she simply watches the fight unfold with mild curiosity. While everyone else is processing the overwhelming bloodlust, Shizuku is mostly focused on whether the enemy is still moving.
What really helps is the way she reacts afterward. She treats it as completely normal. When she finds you sitting alone after a fight, looking guilty and embarrassed, she'll casually sit beside you and ask if you're okay. If you start apologizing, she usually just blinks and asks why. More often than not, she genuinely doesn't understand what you think you did wrong. Her straightforward acceptance of every side of you eventually becomes comforting. You never have to worry about her judging you because she simply doesn't.
Machi
Machi notices the anger long before anyone else does. Unlike most people, she doesn't get distracted by your anxious exterior. She sees the tension underneath it almost immediately. The way you constantly second guess yourself, the way you dismiss your own feelings, and the way you automatically assume you're the problem whenever something goes wrong all point toward something deeper. To Machi, you seem like someone carrying around far more frustration than they allow themselves to acknowledge.
When your Ren finally erupts in front of her, she isn't surprised by the existence of the rage. She's surprised by the magnitude of it. The bloodlust pouring from your aura is intense enough to make even experienced Nen users uncomfortable. It feels raw and deeply personal, like every painful thing you've ever swallowed down suddenly demanding to be acknowledged all at once. Watching you fight is like watching a dam break. Years of restraint vanish in an instant, replaced by overwhelming force and aggression.
What frustrates Machi is how quickly you turn that aggression inward once the fight ends. The second the danger passes, you start apologizing for things that don't require apologies. You worry that everyone thinks you're unstable. You worry that people are afraid of you. You worry that the version of yourself who fights is somehow the "real" version hiding underneath everything else. Machi has absolutely no patience for that line of thinking. More than once she's bluntly informed you that being angry doesn't make you a bad person. She knows you're far harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be. While she isn't particularly affectionate, she’s one of the people most likely to shut down anyone who genuinely judges you for your Ren.
Phinks
Phinks spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to understand you and failing. Nothing about you makes sense to him. You're timid to the point of absurdity. You apologize every five minutes. You act like you're constantly expecting people to get annoyed with you. Yet somehow this same person transforms into an unstoppable force of destruction the second a fight starts. The contradiction is so ridiculous that he initially thinks he's misunderstanding something.
The first time he sees your Ren, he almost laughs from sheer disbelief. It's not necessarily funny, but his brain struggles to connect the person standing in front of him with the aura currently crushing the atmosphere. The bloodlust radiating from you feels completely different from your usual personality. It's everything you spend your daily life suppressing. Once he realizes that, things start making more sense. Your anxiety, your self doubt, your tendency to avoid confrontation, all of it suddenly looks less like weakness and more like pressure building inside a sealed container.
After every fight, Phinks finds himself having the same conversation with you. He compliments your performance, and you immediately start apologizing. He points out that you won, and you explain that winning isn't the issue. He tells you nobody is upset, and you assume he's just being nice. It's enough to drive him insane. Over time, though, he starts seeing your self criticism for what it is: a habit so deeply ingrained that you barely notice you're doing it. Despite constantly complaining about it, Phinks becomes protective of you. Nobody gets to talk badly about you except him, and even then it's mostly affectionate exasperation.
Uvogin
Uvogin thinks you're one of the funniest people he's ever met. Not intentionally funny. Just naturally hilarious because of how extreme the contrast is between your personality and your fighting style. Every interaction with you feels like a setup to a joke. He'll watch you nervously apologize for asking a simple question, only to witness you flatten an enemy twenty minutes later with enough force to crack concrete.
Unlike some of the others, Uvogin isn't disturbed by your Ren. If anything, he's impressed. The sheer intensity of your aura immediately earns his respect. He loves straightforward strength, and while your Nen may lack refinement, there's no denying the raw power behind it. The first time he sees your bloodlust flare, his reaction is closer to excitement than concern. To him, it feels like discovering a kindred spirit.
What really wins him over, though, is how uncomfortable you are with your own strength. Uvogin has met countless people who wanted power because they enjoyed intimidating others. You're the exact opposite. The fact that you seem genuinely upset by your own violence is something he finds strangely endearing. He spends a lot of time trying to build your confidence, usually through loud encouragement that embarrasses you immensely. Every time you apologize after a fight, he's there insisting that you were incredible. Every time you downplay your accomplishments, he's there reminding everyone what actually happened. You may never fully believe him, but that doesn't stop him from trying.
Franklin
Franklin understands you better than most people realize. He notices the emotional patterns underneath your combat ability. He sees how much energy you spend monitoring yourself, how often you dismiss your own needs, and how quickly you blame yourself whenever something goes wrong. To him, your explosive Ren doesn't appear out of nowhere. It's just the natural consequence of carrying too much emotional weight for too long.
When he witnesses your aura during combat, he isn't shocked by the anger itself. He's more surprised by how much of it there is. Your bloodlust feels like accumulated pain finally finding an outlet. Franklin quickly recognizes that your violence is simply rooted in survival. Once he reaches that conclusion, he never treats your Ren as something shameful.
He’s one of the few people whose reassurances occasionally get through to you. Whenever he finds you spiraling after a fight, he calmly reminds you that feeling anger doesn't make you dangerous. What makes Franklin comforting is the fact that he never seems intimidated by your violent side. He sees the entire picture. The anxious person who apologizes too much and the terrifying fighter who levels opponents with brute force are both equally real to him. Because of that, you gradually come to trust him more than most people.
Bonolenov
Bonolenov is unusually perceptive when it comes to your emotional state. While many people focus on the bloodlust of your Ren, he notices the sorrow beneath it. To him, your aura feels wounded. There is an unmistakable sense of hurt mixed into the anger, creating something far more complicated than simple aggression. Watching you fight feels less like watching someone enjoy violence and more like watching someone finally stop holding themselves back.
He finds your tendency to apologize especially heartbreaking because it often seems disconnected from reality. You apologize when you're scared, when you're nervous, when you're angry, and sometimes when you're simply existing in the same room as other people. Bonolenov gradually realizes that you've become so accustomed to taking responsibility for everything that you barely question it anymore.
Because of this, he's one of the few people who occasionally challenges your self perception directly. He gently points out the emotions you're trying to ignore. He notices the sadness hidden underneath the frustration. Sometimes these observations make you uncomfortable because they're a little too accurate. Still, Bonolenov never judges you for it. He sees your kindness just as clearly as he sees your anger, and he understands that both parts of you grew from the same experiences.
Kortopi
Kortopi doesn't speak much, which makes him very easy for you to be around. He never pressures you into conversations, never asks invasive questions, and never demands explanations for your behavior. Because of that, you gradually become more comfortable around him than you initially expected.
Like several of the others, Kortopi is caught off guard the first time he sees you fight. The gap between your normal demeanor and your combat presence is impossible to ignore. One moment you're quietly standing off to the side, and the next your aura is flooding the battlefield with incredible hostility. The violence feels disproportionate compared to the person everyone knows outside of combat.
What Kortopi notices most, however, is your guilt afterward. He frequently finds you sitting alone after missions, looking exhausted and emotionally drained. You almost always start apologizing the moment you realize he's there. While Kortopi rarely says much, his presence becomes comforting in its own way. He never acts frightened of you. He never looks at you differently after seeing your Ren. He simply treats you exactly the same as before. Over time, that quiet acceptance becomes something you rely on.
Hisoka
Hisoka is fascinated by you almost immediately, though not for the reasons most people expect. At first glance, you appear completely unremarkable. You're shy, anxious, socially awkward, and visibly uncomfortable in most situations. If anything, you seem like the type of person who actively avoids conflict. That first impression makes the reality infinitely more entertaining when he finally sees you fight.
The moment your Ren explodes outward, Hisoka's interest skyrockets. The bloodlust radiating from your aura is overwhelming, ugly, and utterly genuine. Unlike many fighters who cultivate intimidating presences intentionally, your aura feels completely unfiltered. There is no performance involved. No attempt to appear frightening. It's simply years of buried emotion pouring out all at once. Hisoka finds this endlessly interesting because it creates such a stark contrast with your normal personality.
What truly captures his attention, however, is the fact that you hate this side of yourself. Most people with that much violence lurking beneath the surface eventually learn to embrace it. You do the opposite. Every fight ends the same way: with you looking guilty, uncomfortable, and desperate to apologize for something nobody else thinks requires an apology. Hisoka quickly realizes that you're far more afraid of your own anger than anyone around you is. That contradiction fascinates him. The person capable of terrifying experienced Nen users is also the person nervously wondering whether everyone secretly dislikes them. He'll deliberately point out how absurd that is just to watch you become embarrassed. While he enjoys teasing you, there's a part of him that's genuinely intrigued by the gap between how you see yourself and what everyone else sees. In his eyes, you're one of the most interesting contradictions he's encountered in a very long time.
hiiii love ur work! first req kinda nervy🥹 can u write hcs of the phantom troupe + hisoka n illumi with a reader who's very passionate about music, specifically metal/rock? their nen ability is also music related, like they can conjure an electric guitar made of lightning (haha pun intended) and can play it to react flow state n electrocute any opponent around them? this reader is also a bit stubborn and blunt, but is lowk a big softie inside. pls n thank u, ml😳😳
hiiii thank u!! and ofc- ur more than welcome ^^
Chrollo
Chrollo is immediately fascinated by the relationship between your music and your Nen. To him, your ability is like a physical representation of identity. Your emotions, memories, taste, and personality all directly influence the way you fight. He notices that your playing changes depending on your mood. When you’re irritated, your riffs are faster and harsher. When you’re focused, your playing becomes precise and controlled. When you’re genuinely happy, your music becomes more melodic. And when you’re angry? Everyone nearby starts moving away.
Chrollo enjoys listening to you talk about music because you become dramatically more animated than usual. Normally, you’re blunt and somewhat guarded, but mention a band you love and suddenly you’re explaining guitar techniques with your hands. “This part is incredible because the guitarist changes the rhythm right before the chorus.” Chrollo listens quietly. “And then the vocals become heavier, but not in an annoying way.” “What would make them annoying?” “Bad screaming.” “What constitutes bad screaming?” You stare at him. “You don’t understand.” “I’m trying to.” “You can’t explain it. You either hear it or you don’t.” He finds your stubbornness amusing.
Chrollo also notices that you secretly make playlists for everyone. You deny it when he finds one labeled “Chrollo Songs.” “That isn’t for you.” “It has my name.” “It could be someone else named Chrollo.” “There is only one Chrollo here.” “That proves nothing.” He listens to it anyway. The playlist is surprisingly thoughtful. It contains dark, atmospheric music with slow instrumentals and lyrics about identity, faith, loss, and purpose. Chrollo realizes you understand him more than you admit. He doesn’t mention it. Instead, one day, he quietly places a rare music book beside you. You look at it, then look at him. “Where did you get this?” “I found it.” “You stole it.” “Yes.” You stare at the book, then at him. “Thank you.” He smiles. You immediately add, “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Pakunoda
Pakunoda loves seeing how passionate you are. She understands that your bluntness isn’t cruelty. You’re honest because pretending feels pointless to you. If someone plays a song and asks for your opinion, you’ll say, “The drums are good.” “What about the rest?” “I don’t like the rest.” “You could be nicer.” “I was nice.” Pakunoda sighs. But she also notices your softer side. You always remember what music people like. You notice when someone casually mentions a favorite song. Weeks later, you’ll play it for them. You don’t say anything. You just sit nearby with the music playing. Pakunoda finds this incredibly sweet.
She also enjoys watching you perform because your entire personality changes when you enter flow state. Normally, you’re stubborn and outspoken. During a performance, you become calm, focused, and almost completely absorbed. Your lightning moves with the rhythm, flashing around you with every note. Pakunoda watches you with quiet admiration. After battles, you sometimes become emotionally exhausted because your Nen is connected to your feelings. You’ll sit somewhere alone, holding your guitar even after it fades. Pakunoda sits beside you. “You did well.” “I know.” She smiles. “You’re allowed to accept compliments.” “I accepted it.” “You said you knew.” “That means I agree.” She laughs. You secretly like when she sits with you. You never ask her to stay, but you always play more quietly when she’s nearby.
Feitan
Feitan pretends he doesn’t care about your music. He absolutely cares. He just refuses to admit it. The first time you summon your lightning guitar, he watches you carefully. “You fight with instrument?” “Yes.” “Strange.” “You torture people.” “Different.” “It isn’t.” “It is.” You begin playing. Lightning explodes across the battlefield. Several enemies collapse. Feitan watches silently, then says, “Not bad.” That is basically a standing ovation from him.
He likes heavier music, although he initially refuses to tell you that. You catch him listening to one of your songs. “What are you listening to?” “Nothing.” “That’s my playlist.” “No.” “It is.” “No.” You walk closer. He immediately turns it off. “You like it.” “Do not.” “You were listening.” “Was studying.” “Studying what?” “How annoying music is.” You grin. Feitan threatens you. He also gets strangely protective when people criticize your music. Someone says, “That guitar thing is obnoxious.” Feitan immediately looks at them. “Say again.” You turn toward him. “You don’t even like my music.” “Did not say that.” “You said it was annoying.” “I said music annoying.” “That’s the same thing.” “Not same.” He refuses to elaborate.
During battles, Feitan enjoys fighting beside you because your electricity creates openings for him. You play a violent riff. Lightning paralyzes everyone nearby. Feitan appears behind them. It’s incredibly effective. He also secretly likes watching you become completely absorbed in your music. You look happy. He doesn’t say anything, but he never interrupts.
Nobunaga
Nobunaga loves your music. He is immediately your biggest supporter. “PLAY THAT ONE AGAIN!” “I just played it.” “Play it again.” “You heard it.” “I wanna hear it again.” You end up playing the same song three times. Nobunaga is basically your personal audience. He’ll sit nearby with his arms crossed, nodding along dramatically. Sometimes he tries to headbang. He is not good at it. You tell him, “You’re going to hurt your neck.” “I’m fine.” He immediately pulls something. You stare at him. “I told you.” “Don’t say anything.”
You make playlists for him filled with energetic songs, aggressive guitar solos, and music that reminds you of fighting. He loves it. He also loves that your guitar can be used during battles. You play. Enemies freeze. Nobunaga attacks. He calls it your “battle soundtrack.” You hate the name. “It sounds stupid.” “It’s cool.” “It sounds like something a child would say.” “You’re stubborn.” “You’re loud.” “You like me.” You pause. “No.” “You made me a playlist.” “That proves nothing.” “It has a song called ‘Best Friend.’” “You found it by accident.” “It was the first song.” “Coincidence.” Nobunaga laughs. He knows you’re secretly affectionate. He doesn’t force you to admit it. He just enjoys it.
Shalnark
Shalnark becomes obsessed with your ability. “Can I record your guitar?” “No.” “Why?” “Because you’ll upload it.” “I won’t.” “You definitely will.” “I’ll give you credit.” “No.” He spends days trying to convince you. Eventually, you let him record one song. He immediately starts editing it. “WHY DID YOU ADD SOUND EFFECTS?” “They make it better.” “You ruined it.” “I improved it.” “You put explosions over the guitar solo.” “It’s lightning music!” “That doesn’t mean explosions belong everywhere!” You argue for twenty minutes.
Shalnark secretly loves how passionate you get. He enjoys watching you rant about music. “You can’t just call everything metal!” “Why not?” “Because genres exist!” “Music is music.” “That is the worst thing you’ve ever said.” “You’re being dramatic.” “No. You’re wrong.” He starts asking increasingly stupid questions just to make you react. “Is this metal?” “That’s a children’s song.” “But there’s a guitar.” “That isn’t how genres work.” “What if the singer screamed?” “Still no.” “What if they screamed angrily?” You stare at him. “Stop.” He laughs.
But Shalnark also notices your softer habits. You quietly send him songs when he seems stressed. You never explain why. He always notices. He saves every song.
Shizuku
Shizuku doesn’t understand most music terminology. You’ll explain something. “The guitarist uses a different tuning here.” “Why?” “It makes the sound heavier.” “Why does heavier sound better?” “Because it does.” “That doesn’t explain anything.” You stare at her. She stares back. Eventually, you give up. Shizuku likes your music because she enjoys the feeling rather than analyzing it. She’ll sit nearby while you play. Sometimes she falls asleep. You pretend to be offended. “You fell asleep during my song.” “It was relaxing.” “It was metal.” “Still relaxing.” You don’t know whether to be insulted.
She also forgets the names of your favorite bands constantly. “Who was that band?” “Which one?” “The loud one.” “They’re all loud.” “The one with the guitar.” “They all have guitars.” She thinks for a moment. “The one you yelled about.” “That doesn’t narrow it down.” She eventually starts calling every band “your loud friends.” You hate it. She keeps doing it. During battles, Shizuku enjoys standing near you because your electricity keeps enemies away. She’ll casually vacuum up debris while you’re playing. The visual is ridiculous. You’re surrounded by lightning, playing a dramatic solo. Shizuku is cleaning.
Machi
Machi acts like your music is background noise. But she listens. You notice. “You know this song.” “No.” “You were humming it.” “I wasn’t.” “You were.” “Prove it.” You immediately imitate her humming. Machi stares at you. “Stop.” “You were doing it.” “Stop copying me.” She secretly likes your music because it helps her relax. She’ll sit nearby while working with her threads. You play quietly. Neither of you talks. It becomes a comfortable routine.
Machi also appreciates your bluntness. If she asks for your opinion, you give it honestly. “Does this look good?” “No.” “What’s wrong with it?” “The colors don’t match.” She fixes it. She respects that you don’t lie to please people. She also sees your softer side. You quietly repair people’s headphones. You make playlists. You play music for injured members. You act like none of it matters. Machi knows better. “You care about everyone.” “No.” “You made Phinks a playlist.” “He asked.” “You made it three hours long.” “He has bad taste.” “You included songs he likes.” “They were strategically placed.” She raises an eyebrow. You walk away.
Phinks
Phinks initially complains about your music constantly. “TURN IT DOWN!” “No.” “It’s too loud!” “It’s supposed to be loud.” “Why?” “Because it’s metal.” “That doesn’t answer anything.” “Yes, it does.” You argue constantly. But eventually, Phinks starts listening. You catch him nodding along. “You like it.” “No.” “You’re moving to the rhythm.” “I’m stretching.” “You’ve been stretching for ten minutes.” “Mind your business.” He secretly enjoys aggressive music. He just refuses to admit you have good taste.
He also loves your combat style. Your guitar starts playing. Lightning spreads. Enemies collapse. Phinks runs through the chaos. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” “I know.” “You’re supposed to say thank you.” “Why?” “Because I complimented you.” “I agreed.” “That’s not the same.” “It is.” You’re both stubborn enough to argue forever. Phinks also realizes you’re a softie. You pretend you don’t care when someone is hurt. Then you stay awake all night checking on them. “You care,” he says. “No.” “You’ve been sitting here for six hours.” “I’m listening to music.” “You haven’t played anything.” You glare. He smiles.
Uvogin
Uvogin is your biggest fan. He thinks your ability is the coolest thing he has ever seen. “PLAY THE LIGHTNING SONG!” “They’re all lightning songs.” “PLAY THE LOUD ONE!” “They’re all loud.” “PLAY THE ONE THAT MAKES PEOPLE FLY!” “That’s not a song.” He doesn’t care. Uvogin loves watching you fight. You enter flow state. Lightning covers the battlefield. Your guitar becomes brighter. The ground shakes. Uvogin laughs. “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”
He starts calling you “Thunder.” You tell him not to. He does it anyway. “HEY, THUNDER!” “My name is-” “PLAY SOMETHING!” You eventually accept the nickname. He also loves your softer side. You bring him music when he’s bored. You play songs for him. You make playlists. He notices. “You like us.” “No.” “You made me a song.” “It reminded me of you.” “That means you like me.” “No.” “You’re smiling.” “I’m not.” He laughs. You’re basically siblings.
Franklin
Franklin appreciates your music more quietly. He doesn’t understand every genre, but he respects your passion. He listens when you explain things. You’ll spend an hour talking about guitar techniques. He listens patiently. “You really love music.” “Yes.” “Why?” You pause. “Because it makes everything quieter.” Franklin understands. He becomes someone you play for when you’re overwhelmed. You don’t have to talk. You sit nearby. You play. He listens.
He also appreciates your ability strategically. Your music controls the battlefield. It creates distance. It disables enemies. It gives everyone else openings. Franklin considers your ability incredibly useful. But he also reminds you not to overuse it. Your flow state drains you. “You need to rest.” “I’m fine.” “You’re shaking.” “I’m cold.” “You’re standing beside lightning.” You glare. He makes you sit down. He brings you food. You pretend not to appreciate it.
Bonolenov
Bonolenov understands your connection to music better than almost anyone. He sees music as something sacred. Your Nen ability fascinates him because you literally transform music into power. You and Bonolenov occasionally perform together. His movements create rhythm. Your guitar creates melody. Lightning moves around both of you. It’s beautiful and terrifying.
You enjoy talking to him about music because he actually listens. He asks thoughtful questions. “What emotions do you experience while playing?” “Depends on the song.” “Does music change you?” “Yes.” “How?” You think. “It lets me be honest.” Bonolenov understands. He also notices your soft side. You play quieter music when he’s tired. You never mention it. He notices anyway. “You chose this song for me.” “No.” “It resembles my music.” “Coincidence.” He smiles. You refuse to acknowledge it.
Kortopi
Kortopi doesn’t talk much. You don’t mind. You’ll play music near him without expecting a response. He listens. Sometimes he creates copies of your guitar. You immediately become excited. “YOU CAN MAKE MORE?” He nods. You summon your lightning guitar. Kortopi copies it. The copy doesn’t have your electricity, but it looks identical. You stare at it. “This is incredible.” He watches you. You begin explaining guitar design for thirty minutes. Kortopi listens quietly. You eventually realize you’ve been talking nonstop. “Sorry.” He shakes his head. He likes listening.
You make him a playlist without asking. He doesn’t say anything. Later, you notice he keeps listening to it. You smile. He looks away. You don’t mention it.
Illumi
Illumi finds your ability extremely interesting. He likes that music changes your emotional state. He studies your flow state. “You become less responsive while playing.” “I’m focused.” “You don’t notice people speaking.” “I’m listening to the music.” “You become more dangerous.” “Yes.” He watches you carefully. Illumi also finds your stubbornness entertaining. “You should stop playing.” “No.” “You’re injured.” “I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding.” “I’m aware.” “You should rest.” “No.” He stares. You stare back. Neither of you moves.
Eventually, Illumi physically picks you up and carries you away. “PUT ME DOWN.” “No.” “I’m not finished.” “You’re injured.” “I can still play.” “No.” He takes your guitar. You become furious. “You can’t even play.” “I don’t need to.” “Give it back.” “No.” You spend the next hour arguing. Illumi secretly enjoys your music. He won’t admit it. But he remembers every song you play. He also notices your softer side. You quietly play calming music for Killua. Illumi watches. “You care about him.” “No.” “You made a playlist.” “He likes music.” “You chose songs based on his mood.” “You’re annoying.” Illumi smiles.
Hisoka
Hisoka is fascinated by your performances. Your ability is dramatic, powerful, visually beautiful, and completely unpredictable. He loves it. The first time you enter flow state, lightning fills the area. You stop responding. Your fingers move rapidly. Everyone around you is electrocuted. Hisoka watches with a smile. “My, my… You’re quite extraordinary.” You don’t hear him. You’re too focused. He finds that even more interesting.
Hisoka enjoys provoking you because anger makes your music stronger. “You’re playing too slowly. ♥” You stop. “What?” “Perhaps you need more practice.” You stare at him, then begin playing faster. Lightning explodes. Hisoka laughs. “Wonderful! ♦” You eventually realize he’s manipulating you. “Were you trying to make me angry?” “Yes.” “You’re annoying.” “Thank you. ♠”
He also notices your soft side. You secretly make him playlists. He finds one labeled “Songs That Remind Me of Hisoka.” He opens it. The songs are chaotic, theatrical, strange, and vaguely threatening. Hisoka laughs. “You think of me while listening to these?” “No.” “My name is on the playlist.” “It was a joke.” “You spent four hours making it.” “You watched me?” “Of course. ♣” You stare at him. “You’re creepy.” Hisoka smiles. “Coming from you, that’s quite a compliment.” You refuse to admit that you care. But Hisoka knows. And he finds your hidden softness almost as entertaining as your lightning.
Hiiii, if you are still doing HXH could I request the phantom troupe plus Illumi and Hisoka with a reader that can mimic other peoples' voices? bonus if the reader is also like naturally creepy in a way <3
hiii yes im always doing hxh ^^ i'm currently reading the succession arc- and totally! hope u enjoy <3
Chrollo
Chrollo is fascinated by you almost immediately, although he’s much less visibly disturbed by your behavior than most people. If anything, your unsettling personality makes him curious because you don’t seem to be deliberately performing creepiness. You aren’t trying to appear mysterious or intimidating. You simply have strange instincts, strange interests, and an unnerving way of interacting with the world. The first time you mimic his voice, you do it while he’s sitting across the room reading. You repeat something he said earlier in the exact same quiet tone: “People reveal themselves through what they choose to value.” He slowly lowers his book and looks at you. You’re sitting on the floor, staring at the wall. “You said that four hours ago,” you explain. “I remember.” “I wanted to see what it sounded like coming from me.” Chrollo just watches you for a moment before asking, “And what did you conclude?” “It sounds more sinister.” He actually smiles.
He becomes interested in the psychological side of your ability. He wants to know whether imitating someone changes the way you think about them, whether speaking in their voice allows you to understand them better, and whether you notice details about people that others miss. Unfortunately, asking you these questions only results in answers like, “I can tell when someone is lying because their voice gets heavier.” “What does that mean?” “The lies weigh it down.” “That isn’t scientifically possible.” “I didn’t say it was.” Chrollo eventually realizes that your observations are often correct even when your explanations make absolutely no sense. He also finds it amusing when you use his voice to give orders to the other members. You’ll walk past Shalnark and say in Chrollo’s exact voice, “Give me your phone.” Shalnark immediately starts to hand it over before realizing you said it. Chrollo looks vaguely proud of Shalnark’s loyalty while also realizing he may need to establish a new rule.
Pakunoda
Pakunoda understands almost immediately that your creepiness isn’t entirely an act. She can tell when people are pretending to be strange because they want attention, but you genuinely operate differently from most people. You’ll say unsettling things with complete sincerity. “You’re going to be sad tomorrow.” Pakunoda pauses. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “Then why did you say it?” “Because I thought it.” And then you wander away. She spends the entire next day wondering whether you somehow predicted something. You didn’t. You just had a weird feeling.
Pakunoda is one of the people most interested in how your voice mimicry works because voices carry memories and emotions. She notices that you don’t simply imitate the sound of someone’s voice. You imitate the subtle emotional qualities behind it too. If someone is nervous, your imitation sounds nervous. If someone is grieving, your imitation carries the same heaviness. Sometimes you repeat things people have said while perfectly reproducing the emotion they felt at the time, and it can be disturbingly intimate. Once, you imitate a stranger whose voice you heard only briefly. You repeat a sentence they said earlier, but your voice sounds terrified. Pakunoda asks, “Why did you make them sound afraid?” “They were afraid.” “They didn’t sound afraid.” “They were hiding it.” She looks at you for a long moment. You’re right.
Pakunoda becomes quietly protective of you because she realizes people often misunderstand your behavior. They assume you’re cold or cruel when you’re actually just unusually detached and curious. You might stare at an injured person because you’re fascinated by the way their breathing changes, not because you enjoy their pain. She’s one of the few people who gently tells you when you’re making someone uncomfortable. “You’ve been staring at him for ten minutes.” “I’m learning his face.” “You can learn it without standing three inches away.” “Why?” “Because he’s frightened.” You glance at the person. “He should be.” Pakunoda sighs.
Feitan
Feitan thinks you’re weird. This is important because Feitan is also weird. The difference is that Feitan is openly threatening, while you’ll stand silently behind someone for twenty minutes and then suddenly imitate their voice saying, “I know you’re there.” He turns around extremely quickly and stares at you. “You do again,” he says. “I hurt you.” “You were scared.” “Was not.” “Your heart sped up.” “You hear heart?” “Yes.” Feitan narrows his eyes. You stare back. Neither of you moves. Everyone else quietly leaves because the two of you are apparently having some kind of silent supernatural argument.
Feitan gradually becomes accustomed to your behavior, although he still finds your ability irritating because you can imitate him perfectly. You copy his accent, his unusual sentence structure, and even the quiet threatening tone he uses when he’s annoyed. You’ll walk into a room and say in his exact voice, “Move. Annoying me.” Everyone immediately moves. Feitan walks in thirty seconds later. “Why everyone move?” You point at him. “You told them to.” “I was outside.” “No.” “Yes.” You keep doing it until he threatens to sew your mouth shut. You imitate him while saying, “Sew mouth shut.” He stares at you. “Stop.” You repeat, “Stop.” “Stop copying.” “Stop copying.” He genuinely considers chasing you. You’re already gone.
Despite constantly threatening you, Feitan becomes somewhat comfortable around you. He doesn’t require you to behave normally, and you don’t expect him to explain himself. You can sit together in silence for hours without it being awkward. Sometimes you’ll sit beside him and quietly imitate random people you heard earlier. Sometimes he’ll ask whose voice you’re using. Sometimes he won’t. You’re also one of the few people who can sneak up on him consistently, which annoys him beyond reason. He’ll turn around and find you standing directly behind him. “How long there?” “Twenty minutes.” “Why?” “You looked lonely.” “I was not.” “You were.” “Go away.” You sit down beside him. He doesn’t make you leave.
Nobunaga
Nobunaga is deeply unsettled by you at first, because you keep doing things that feel like the beginning of a ghost story. He wakes up one night and hears Uvogin’s voice outside his room. “Nobunaga.” He immediately sits up. “Uvo?” No answer. Then he hears the voice again. “Nobunaga.” He opens the door. You’re standing in the hallway. “Why are you using Uvo’s voice?” he asks. “I wanted to see if you would recognize it.” Nobunaga’s expression changes. You realize you accidentally touched a sensitive subject. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, using your own voice. He pauses.
You’re one of the few people who genuinely apologize without trying to make excuses. You don’t always understand why something hurts someone, but if you realize you caused pain, you take it seriously. After that, Nobunaga becomes protective of you. He thinks you’re like a creepy stray cat someone accidentally brought home. You might bite people emotionally, disappear for hours, and stare at the ceiling, but you’re still part of the group. He talks to you constantly because you’re surprisingly good at listening. You don’t interrupt much. You just watch him while he talks. Sometimes you mimic him afterward. “You know,” you say in his voice, “I think we should all go get food.” “That’s not how I sound.” “It is.” “I don’t sound that dramatic.” “You do.” He starts arguing with you while you continue copying his voice.
Eventually, he starts using your ability for stupid jokes. He’ll ask you to imitate Phinks and insult him from another room. You do it. Phinks immediately storms into the room. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Nobunaga points at you. You imitate Phinks again. “I said you’re annoying.” Phinks looks between both of you. “You’re both idiots.” Nobunaga laughs so hard he nearly falls over.
Shalnark
Shalnark thinks your ability is the coolest thing ever. He is fascinated by it in the most annoying possible way. “Can you imitate me?” “Yes.” “Say something.” You copy his voice perfectly. “Hi! I’m Shalnark!” He freezes. “That sounds exactly like me.” “It is you.” “No, but it sounds like me.” “You asked me to imitate you.” “I know, but hearing my voice outside my body is weird.” You continue speaking in his voice. “Do I really sound like this?” “Yes.” “Wow.” He spends the next hour making you imitate everyone. He wants you to copy Chrollo, Feitan, Machi, Phinks, and random strangers. He records your voice and plays it back, trying to figure out how accurate you are.
“New rule. You’re not allowed to use my voice for crimes.” “Why?” “Because I’ll get blamed.” “You’re already a criminal.” “That’s not the point.” Shalnark also thinks your creepy personality is hilarious. You’ll say something horrifying while eating snacks. “I wonder how long a person can stay awake before their thoughts begin leaking out.” He stops chewing. “What?” “I read it somewhere.” “Where?” “I don’t remember.” “You just said something terrifying and then forgot where you learned it?” “Yes.”
He loves bringing you around normal people because you make them uncomfortable without even trying. You’ll stare at someone and say, “Your voice sounds different when you’re lying.” The person panics. Shalnark is standing behind you trying not to laugh. He also tries to teach you social skills. “You can’t just ask people what they would sound like while dying.” “Why?” “Because it scares them.” “But I’m curious.” “Ask something normal.” “What do you sound like when you’re happy?” “That’s better.” “What if they don’t know?” “Then ask about their hobbies.” “What if their hobby is dying?” Shalnark gives up.
Shizuku
Shizuku barely reacts to your creepiness. You’ll be standing behind her in complete darkness. She turns around. “Oh. Hi.” “Were you scared?” “No.” “Why?” “I thought you were a coat.” You stare at her. “I’m not shaped like a coat.” “Sorry.” She walks away. You genuinely like Shizuku because she doesn’t expect you to explain yourself. She also forgets strange things constantly, so your conversations are bizarre. “Why are you holding that?” “I don’t know.” “Who does it belong to?” “I don’t remember.” “Should we return it?” “To who?” Neither of you ever figures it out.
Shizuku enjoys your voice ability because you can help her remember people. If she forgets what someone sounds like, you can imitate them. “You remember that guy?” “Which guy?” “The one with the weird hat.” “Did he have a deep voice?” You imitate him. “Oh. That guy.” She remembers immediately. You sometimes imitate Shizuku while standing right next to her. “Where did I put my glasses?” She looks around. “Wait. I didn’t say that.” “Yes, you did.” “When?” “Tomorrow.” She stares at you. “Can you see the future?” “No.” “Then why did you say tomorrow?” “I thought it sounded mysterious.” Shizuku nods. “Okay.” She is possibly the only person who accepts your explanations without questioning them. You also both have a habit of appearing silently behind people, so everyone is constantly getting startled by the two of you standing together.
Machi
Machi figures you out quickly. She understands that you’re not trying to be edgy. You’re simply strange in a way that’s difficult to categorize. She doesn’t mind. Machi is blunt with you, though. If you’re making someone uncomfortable, she tells you. “You’re staring.” “I know.” “Stop.” “Why?” “Because it’s creepy.” “I’m creepy.” “Exactly.” She’s one of the only people who can shut down your strange behavior without making you defensive. You’ll be standing upside down somewhere, staring at her. “Get down,” Machi says. “No.” “I’ll cut the rope.” “You can’t.” “Then I’ll pull you down.” You immediately climb down.
Machi is secretly impressed by your voice mimicry. She doesn’t compliment you often, but she notices how precise you are. You can imitate her so perfectly that you once convince Phinks she’s calling him. “Phinks,” you say in Machi’s voice. “What?” “Come here.” “Why?” “Just come here.” He walks into the room. You’re sitting there. Machi isn’t. He slowly looks at you. “You’re going to die.” Machi walks in behind him. “What’s going on?” Phinks points at you. “They used your voice.” Machi looks at you. “Why?” “I wanted to see if he would come.” “Did he?” “Yes.” She looks at Phinks. He looks offended. Machi almost smiles.
She becomes quietly protective of you because she knows people might underestimate you. You look calm and strange rather than openly dangerous, so people assume you’re harmless. They’re wrong. Machi knows you’re always watching. You notice everything. And if someone threatens her, you might imitate their voice from behind them. “Don’t move.” They turn around. You’re standing there. Then Machi attacks.
Phinks
Phinks hates your ability because you use it specifically to annoy him. You imitate his voice constantly. You’ll walk into a room and yell, “WHY IS EVERYONE SO USELESS?” Phinks immediately looks up. “I DIDN’T SAY THAT.” “You say it often.” “Not like that.” “You did yesterday.” “That was different.” “It wasn’t.” You imitate him again. “IT WAS DIFFERENT.” Everyone starts laughing. Phinks threatens to hit you. You imitate him while saying, “I’m going to hit you.” He chases you around the building.
Eventually, though, he becomes incredibly attached to you. He thinks your creepy behavior is annoying but entertaining. He’ll complain about you constantly while immediately becoming angry if someone else insults you. “Why are they staring at me?” you ask. “Because you’re being weird.” “I’m always weird.” “Yeah, but you’re being extra weird.” “Should I stop?” “No.” “Why?” “Because then they win.” You don’t understand what that means. You appreciate the support anyway. Phinks also loves using your ability during missions. You can imitate guards, leaders, coworkers, or authority figures and create chaos. He’s impressed by how casually you do it. You’ll mimic a guard and say, “Everyone report to the east wing.” Then you turn to Phinks. “They’re leaving.” “That was easy.” “They believe voices too much.” He looks at you. “You’re terrifying.” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It sounded like one.”
Uvogin
Uvogin thinks you’re hilarious. He isn’t scared of you at all. You could appear behind him in the middle of the night and whisper in his own voice, “There’s something under your bed.” He would laugh. “Good one!” “There is.” “What?” “A spider.” He checks. There’s actually a spider. Uvogin laughs even harder. He treats you like a weird little sibling. He enjoys your strange questions. “What do you think your bones sound like?” “What?” “If someone tapped them.” “Why do you wanna know?” “I’m curious.” “Go ask Franklin.” “Why?” “His bones are probably louder.” Franklin hears this. “Why would my bones be louder?” “You’re bigger.” “That isn’t how bones work.” You stare at him. “Are you sure?”
Uvogin loves when you imitate people during fights. You can copy an enemy’s ally and confuse them. You might use someone’s voice to shout, “Run!” The enemy turns. Uvogin punches them into a wall. “THAT WAS GREAT!” he yells. You smile. “Thank you.” He’s also one of the few people who doesn’t mind your staring. You can sit across from him and watch him eat for an hour. “Want some?” he asks. “No.” “Then why are you watching?” “I’m learning.” “Learning what?” “How much food fits inside you.” He laughs. “Come closer and find out.” You immediately sit beside him. He gives you food.
Franklin
Franklin is calm enough that your behavior rarely bothers him. You’ll be standing in a dark corner. He notices. “Are you waiting for someone?” “No.” “Then why are you standing there?” “The room is quiet.” “You can sit down.” “I like standing.” “Alright.” That’s the entire conversation. Franklin treats you with patience because he understands that you don’t always communicate in conventional ways. He doesn’t force you to explain strange comments. You might say, “Your voice feels safe.” He pauses. “What does that mean?” “I don’t know.” He nods. “Thank you.”
He becomes one of your favorite people because his voice is easy to imitate. It’s deep, steady, and recognizable. You sometimes use his voice when you’re trying to calm people. “Everything will be alright,” you say perfectly. People immediately relax. Franklin notices. “You use my voice when people are frightened.” “Yes.” “Why?” “People listen to you.” He looks quietly touched. You also occasionally use his voice to say ridiculous things. “I want twelve sandwiches.” Franklin looks at you. “I never said that.” “You would.” “I wouldn’t.” “You’re large.” “That doesn’t mean I eat twelve sandwiches.” You think about it. “Ten?” He sighs.
Bonolenov
Bonolenov finds your ability to be beautiful. He sees voices as a form of identity and expression, so the fact that you can reproduce someone’s voice perfectly fascinates him. He asks whether you can imitate music. You can. You hear a melody once and recreate parts of it using different voices. You can imitate instruments, singing, humming, and unusual sounds. Bonolenov sometimes performs while you create vocal harmonies around him. The combination is eerie and mesmerizing.
Your creepy personality doesn’t bother him because he’s also accustomed to being viewed as strange or frightening. He understands what it feels like to have people react to your appearance or behavior before they know you. He’s gentle with you. You’ll ask him strange questions. “Do you ever feel like your body remembers things you don’t?” He thinks for a moment. “Yes.” “Me too.” “What does it remember?” “I don’t know.” He doesn’t pressure you. Sometimes you imitate voices from people who are no longer present. Bonolenov listens quietly. He never asks why. You both share a calm, somewhat eerie bond. You can sit together without speaking, surrounded by music only the two of you understand.
Kortopi
Kortopi barely speaks, so you don’t have much of his voice to imitate. This bothers you. “I need you to talk.” He looks at you. “Why?” “So I can learn your voice.” “No.” “Please.” He stares. You stare back. Eventually, he says one sentence. You immediately repeat it perfectly. He looks slightly disturbed. You smile. “I have your voice now.” Kortopi quietly walks away. You follow him. “Say something else.” “No.” “Why?” “You have enough.” “I need more.” “No.”
You become fascinated with him because he’s difficult to read. He doesn’t react strongly to your behavior, but you can tell when he’s uncomfortable by the tiny changes in his posture. You sometimes imitate other people for him because you know he prefers quiet. Instead of making him speak, you’ll recreate conversations he missed. He appreciates it. He also finds your creepy behavior less frightening than most people because he’s quiet and withdrawn himself. You can sit beside him for hours without talking. Sometimes you’ll suddenly whisper, “Someone is watching us.” Kortopi looks around. You point at a spider. “It has eight eyes.” He stares at you. Then he goes back to what he was doing.
Illumi
Illumi is fascinated by you in the most concerning possible way. He doesn’t think you’re creepy. He thinks you’re interesting. The first time you mimic his voice, he watches you carefully. You repeat, “People are easiest to control when they believe they’re making their own choices.” Illumi stares at you. “That sounds exactly like me.” “Yes.” “How long did you listen?” “Three minutes.” “You can copy someone after three minutes?” “Yes.” He becomes interested in how your ability could be used for manipulation. You can impersonate people over the phone. You can give false orders. You can convince someone they’re speaking to a trusted person. Illumi immediately begins imagining applications. You immediately begin imagining how to scare him.
You stand behind him and imitate his voice. “Don’t turn around.” He turns around. You’re smiling. “You turned around.” “I wanted to see where you were.” “You knew.” “Yes.” “Then why turn?” “I wanted you to know I knew.” You stare at him. Illumi stares back. This becomes a regular thing. Neither of you is normal enough to find it uncomfortable. Illumi also likes that you don’t react strongly to his appearance or behavior. You don’t flinch when his face changes. You don’t ask why he’s staring. You simply observe. “You look different,” you tell him. “Yes.” “Your eyes are larger.” “Yes.” “Do they hurt?” “No.” “Can I touch them?” “No.” You accept this immediately.
Illumi becomes oddly possessive because he knows your ability makes you useful. He doesn’t like strangers having access to you. He also doesn’t like people mistaking your voice for his. “If you use my voice,” he tells you, “you should make sure everyone knows it’s you.” “Why?” “Because they might believe you.” “That’s the point.” He pauses. Then smiles.
Hisoka
Hisoka is absolutely delighted by you. You’re strange. You’re unpredictable. You’re talented. And you don’t react to him with the fear or disgust most people do. The first time he meets you, you stare at him for an uncomfortably long time. Hisoka smiles. “Something interesting about me?” You tilt your head. “Your voice doesn’t match your face.” He pauses. Then laughs. “What does that mean?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” “No.” He finds this incredibly entertaining.
You imitate him after listening for a few minutes. “Bungee Gum possesses the properties of both rubber and gum.” Your imitation is flawless. Hisoka’s smile becomes wider. “Oh? ♠ That’s impressive.” You repeat the exact sound of his laugh. He looks delighted. You keep doing it. Eventually, he starts deliberately saying strange things just to hear you imitate them. “Say it again.” “No.” “Why not?” “I’m bored.” He laughs. “You’re very unusual.” “So are you.” “Yes, but I enjoy it. ♥” You imitate him again.
Sometimes you imitate Hisoka while he’s standing beside you. “You’re annoying,” you say in his voice. He looks at you. “Am I? ♣” “Yes.” You continue using his voice. “I think you’re fascinating.” He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember saying that.” “You would.” “Oh?” “You stare too much.” Hisoka smiles. “You stare too.” “I’m studying.” “What are you studying?” “Whether you’re human.” For once, there’s a tiny pause. Then Hisoka laughs. You stare at him. “You didn’t answer.” “Perhaps you’ll find out someday. ♦” You imitate him perfectly. “Perhaps I already did.” His smile widens. And from that point onward, he is completely entertained by you. You’re one of the only people who can be just as unsettling as Hisoka without even trying.
hi! Can you do Zeno Zoldyck with a male s/o who's also an assassin but like super clumsy and scared of a lot of things but can still somehow get the job done
hi! yess totally- thank you for requesting, hope u enjoy <3
The first thing that Zeno notices about you is that you are absolutely, unquestionably an assassin. The second thing he notices is that you are possibly the least graceful assassin he has ever encountered in his entire life. It is honestly impressive. You have the instincts, the training, the Nen ability, and the technical skill required to kill someone efficiently, but the moment you are not actively performing your job, you somehow become a walking disaster. You trip over rugs, bump into doorframes, and drop things constantly. You have, on more than one occasion, nearly fallen down a flight of stairs because you were looking over your shoulder while talking to Zeno. And yet, when it actually matters, when someone has to die, you are suddenly competent. Zeno genuinely cannot figure you out. He will watch you stumble into a room, apologize to a chair you accidentally walked into, nearly jump out of your skin when you see a spider, and then ten minutes later casually return from an assassination with absolutely no evidence that you were ever there. Zeno will just stare at you, and you'll stare back. "What?" you ask, completely innocently. Zeno's eyes narrow. "Nothing." He has been trying to figure out how you manage to be so simultaneously incompetent and effective for years now.
The truth is that you are actually a very good assassin. Your clumsiness doesn't necessarily translate into your work because you have learned to compensate for it. You know your own weaknesses. You know that you're not going to be the kind of assassin who gracefully leaps across rooftops without accidentally catching your foot on something, so you don't rely on that. Instead, you plan obsessively. You memorize escape routes, prepare backup plans for your backup plans, and carry extra equipment because you know you're probably going to drop something. You have contingencies for literally everything. And, perhaps most importantly, you are extremely good at improvising. Your ability to adapt when everything inevitably goes wrong is genuinely remarkable. If you trip and accidentally alert someone, you immediately change tactics. If you drop your weapon, you use something else. If you accidentally walk into the wrong room, you somehow manage to convince everyone that you meant to do that. You are basically the world's most anxious improvisational assassin. Zeno has seen you accidentally ruin a perfectly good plan and then somehow turn the disaster into an even better plan. It drives him insane. It also makes him love you.
You are scared of so many things that Zeno sometimes wonders how you ever became an assassin in the first place. You're afraid of heights, but you work on rooftops. You're scared of deep water, despite being perfectly capable of swimming. You're terrified of snakes, wary of large dogs, hate being in completely dark rooms, absolutely despise insects, especially the ones that fly, and don't like thunderstorms or being alone in unfamiliar places. If you see a spider, you are immediately prepared to abandon your dignity, your weaponry, and potentially your entire assassination contract to get away from it. Zeno finds this endlessly entertaining, he takes your fears seriously, but you’re so absurdly brave in every other circumstance that the contrast is hilarious. You can walk into a heavily guarded compound knowing full well that there are dozens of armed men waiting for you, and you won't even blink. You can kill someone without hesitation if that's what your job requires. You can stare down someone who is twice your size and twice as dangerous and calmly tell them to move out of your way. But then you see a moth.
"Zeno." "Hm?" "There's something in here." Zeno looks around. "Where?" "I don't know." "You said there's something." "THERE'S SOMETHING." And suddenly you're pressed against his side, gripping his sleeve like your life depends on it. Zeno just stares at you, and you stare at him. He looks toward the tiny moth fluttering harmlessly around the ceiling, then back at you. "You're an assassin." "I KNOW." "You kill people." "I KNOW." "You're frightened of a moth." "ZENO." He laughs. Actually laughs. You immediately glare at him, which only makes him laugh harder.
You also get scared of things that you probably shouldn't be scared of. You'll hear a strange noise in the house and immediately freeze. If you're staying somewhere unfamiliar, you'll sleep significantly closer to Zeno than you normally would. Sometimes you'll wake up from a nightmare and pretend you didn't because you're embarrassed, but Zeno always notices. He'll feel you shifting beside him, hear the change in your breathing, and eventually open one eye. "You aren't sleeping." "I'm sleeping." "You're talking." "No, I'm not." "You just answered me." You go quiet. Zeno waits. Eventually, you mumble, "I had a weird dream." And that's it. That's all you have to say. Zeno doesn't tease you. He simply reaches over and pulls you closer.
His affection is subtle, especially by the standards of someone like you. Zeno isn't overly sentimental, but he is incredibly attentive. He knows exactly when you're frightened even when you don't say anything. He knows the difference between your normal clumsiness and the kind that happens when you're genuinely nervous. He knows that when you start fidgeting with your hands, something is bothering you, and he knows that when you suddenly become unusually quiet, you're probably overwhelmed. And because Zeno is Zeno, he doesn't always ask. Sometimes he just takes your hand. Sometimes he simply sits beside you. Sometimes he makes a dry comment specifically designed to distract you from whatever is bothering you. And sometimes, if you're particularly frightened, he'll simply say, "You're safe." That's enough.
You trust Zeno more than almost anyone in the world, which is probably why you are so comfortable being ridiculous around him. You don't have to be the intimidating assassin around Zeno. You don't have to pretend to be fearless. You don't have to hide the fact that you're nervous or scared or that you just tripped over absolutely nothing. You can be yourself, and Zeno loves that. He finds your clumsiness genuinely endearing. He'll never admit it in those words, of course. If you ask him why he's smiling when you trip over your own feet, he'll say something like, "I was merely amused by your incompetence." "You're an asshole." "Mm."
Zeno is also incredibly protective of you, although he tries not to make it obvious. He knows you're an assassin. He knows you're capable. He knows you can handle yourself. He would never treat you like you're helpless. But that doesn't mean he's going to sit back and watch you get hurt. If you come home injured, Zeno immediately notices. It doesn't matter how casually you try to act. You could walk through the door with blood soaking through your shirt and say, "Hey, babe." Zeno's head turns. His expression changes. "What happened?" "Nothing." "You're bleeding." "It's a scratch." "You're bleeding through your clothes." You look down. "Oh." Zeno just stares at you, and you stare back. "Okay, it's maybe a little more than a scratch." He sighs, and then he gets the medical supplies.
You know you're in trouble when Zeno uses that particular tone of voice. Not angry, exactly. Just deeply unimpressed. "You were careless." "I was not." "You were." "I had a plan." "Your plan involved getting stabbed." "It was a temporary part of the plan." Zeno's eyebrow twitches. You immediately shut up. He patches you up himself whenever he can. He's experienced enough that his hands are incredibly steady, and he doesn't hesitate when he needs to treat you. Meanwhile, you're sitting there trying desperately not to flinch. "Ow." "Hold still." "That hurts." "I know." "You're enjoying this." "Immensely." "You're horrible." "Yes." Despite all his teasing, Zeno is gentle with you. He'll carefully clean your injuries, wrap your bandages, and make sure you're actually recovering before letting you return to work. If you're injured badly enough, he becomes extremely strict.
You hate this, mostly because you know he's right. "You're staying here." "But-" "No." "I can still-" "No." "I don't think you understand-" "I understand perfectly." "Zeno." "No." You pout. Zeno looks at you. You look at him. You attempt your most pathetic expression. It does absolutely nothing. You still have to stay in bed. You are miserable. Zeno is delighted.
Zeno has absolutely no idea how you manage to complete your assignments. Not because you're incompetent. You're actually extremely good. But he has personally witnessed you have the most catastrophic pre-mission nerves imaginable. Before an assassination, you will pace. You'll check your weapons approximately fifteen times. You'll check the escape route, then check it again. Then you'll check your weapons again. Then you'll suddenly remember something and start pacing again. Zeno will sit nearby and watch you. Eventually, he'll say, "Are you finished?" "No." "You've been doing that for twenty minutes." "I know." "You're making me dizzy." "I'm nervous." "You're an assassin." "Zeno, if you say that one more time, I'm going to kill you." He smiles. Then, somehow, you go out and complete the mission perfectly.
Sometimes he accompanies you on missions, and those are simultaneously the best and worst experiences of your life. Zeno is one of the most experienced assassins alive. Having him beside you makes the actual mission itself significantly easier. Unfortunately, you now have to deal with the fact that your partner is watching you, which means suddenly you're even more nervous. The two of you actually make an incredibly effective team. Zeno is methodical and experienced. You are adaptable and unpredictable. You can work around each other's weaknesses. Zeno knows when to step in and compensate for your mistakes, while you are excellent at improvising when something catches him off guard. You also have an annoying habit of accidentally making Zeno's plans more complicated. He'll give you a simple instruction. "Stay here." "Okay." You stay there. For approximately three minutes. Then you notice something. Then you investigate. Then something goes wrong. Then you have to improvise. Then Zeno finds you halfway across the building, fighting three people you weren't supposed to encounter.
"Where were you supposed to be?" You pause. "...there." "Where are you now?" "...Not there." Zeno closes his eyes. You smile nervously. Despite everything, Zeno genuinely admires you. Your fear doesn't make you weak. Your clumsiness doesn't make you incompetent. You are scared, and you do the job anyway. Zeno understands that better than most. He sees the way your hands shake before a mission. He sees the way you still walk through the door. He sees how frightened you can be and how you still refuse to abandon someone you care about. He sees you panic over a spider and then turn around and face an assassin without hesitation.
Maybe more than anything, he loves that you're human enough to be afraid. Because Zeno has never needed another perfect assassin. He has never needed someone exactly like himself. He loves you because you're different. You're a mess. You're nervous. You're clumsy. You're constantly dropping things. You get scared of ridiculous things. You sometimes need reassurance. And yet, somehow, you're still one of the most capable people he's ever met. You are the kind of person who can accidentally fall down a staircase on the way to an assassination, show up at the target's house five minutes late with a bruised knee, apologize for being late, kill the target perfectly, and then trip over the front door on your way out.
You don't have to be fearless around Zeno. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to stop being clumsy. You can be terrified of the dark and still walk into it. You can be frightened of heights and still climb the building. You can be nervous before every single assignment and still finish every one. And Zeno will be there when you come home. Usually amused. Occasionally exasperated. Almost always waiting. Because you're his partner, and, much to Zeno's eternal amusement, somehow one of the most effective assassins he has ever known.
Yayyyyy! i just noticed you have requests open again and this might sound silly but can you write DIO x Reader x Diavolo/Doppio pls? You can write anything that comes 2 mind.. tysm. ♡ (fluff prefered but there can also be nsfw if you want).
sure! it's not silly, this was fun to write. thank you for requesting!!
Being loved by Dio and Diavolo simultaneously is, objectively speaking, probably one of the most stressful romantic situations a person could ever find themselves in. Not because either of them are incapable of loving you, but because they both have wildly different ideas about what loving you actually means, and neither of them is particularly good at sharing. Dio believes that if you are his, then you should be treated like something precious, adored, protected, and placed above all else. Diavolo, meanwhile, has the much more complicated problem of being approximately three different emotional states occupying the same body, all of which have varying opinions about how you should be treated. Somehow, against all odds, you've become the one person both of them trust enough to be vulnerable around, which means that you are also the only person who can tell Dio to stop being dramatic and Diavolo to stop threatening people who looked at you for longer than three seconds.
Dio is absolutely insufferable about the fact that you have two lovers. He considers himself the obvious favorite and makes absolutely no attempt to hide it. He'll be sitting beside you, one arm draped possessively around your shoulders, while Diavolo is across the room, and Dio will casually say something like, "You know, if you had to choose between us, you would choose me." He doesn't even ask you. He simply announces it as though he has already consulted fate itself and received the answer. Diavolo's eyes immediately narrow from across the room. "You seem awfully confident." Dio merely smiles. "I am." And then you're sitting there thinking, Oh my God, they're doing this again.
Diavolo has a completely different approach to jealousy. Dio is obvious about it. Diavolo is not. He'll become quieter. His expression will change ever so slightly, and suddenly you're aware that the entire atmosphere of the room has shifted. If someone is flirting with you, Diavolo won't necessarily interrupt immediately. He'll simply watch. He'll watch with that terrifyingly calm expression until you eventually excuse yourself and walk over to him, because you already know exactly what's happening. The second you sit beside him, however, the tension disappears. He'll glance at you, almost suspiciously, before asking, "You're staying here?" And when you tell him yes, he'll relax. Just a little. You might tease him about being jealous, but he'll deny it immediately. "I wasn't jealous." "You were glaring at them." "They were irritating." "You wanted to kill them." "...They were very irritating."
Doppio's jealousy, meanwhile, is honestly the strangest of the three. He doesn't necessarily become openly possessive or even recognize what he's feeling as jealousy. Instead, he'll become weird. He might suddenly start talking your ear off about something completely unrelated, inserting himself into whatever conversation you're having with someone else, or hovering around you with the vague excuse that he "just happened to be there." If someone is flirting with you, he'll probably smile pleasantly and act like he doesn't care. He might even join in on the conversation, acting perfectly friendly. And then, later, that person will mysteriously disappear. You don't even have to ask. You know. "Doppio." "What?" "Where did they go?" "Who?" "The person I was talking to." "Oh! Them." "Yes, them." Doppio's expression is completely blank. "I don't know." You stare at him. He stares back. "...Did you kill them?" "No." A pause. "...Did you?" Doppio suddenly looks offended. "Why would you ask me that?!" "Because you're you." He considers this and laughs sheepishly. "Oh.. That’s fair!”
You know better than anyone that Doppio is dangerous. That's one of the reasons your relationship works. You don't treat him like a harmless little idiot. You don't underestimate him. You know exactly what he's capable of, and Doppio knows you know. And weirdly enough, that makes him feel safe with you. He loves that you can look directly at him after he's said or done something absolutely horrifying and simply go, "You're fucking weird," instead of pretending to be shocked.
Dio, meanwhile, is endlessly entertained by the fact that Doppio can unsettle you without even trying. He's seen countless terrifying people in his lifetime, but Doppio has a particular kind of strangeness that even he finds amusing. Dio will sometimes watch the two of you interact with this faint smile on his face, especially when Doppio says something completely insane in the most casual tone imaginable. "Did you know that, " "No." "You don't know what I was going to say." "I don't care." Doppio looks at you. Then at Dio. Then back at you. "...You two are mean." Dio laughs. You sigh.
Doppio is also surprisingly affectionate with you. He isn't shy about loving you. He can be incredibly clingy, especially when he's in one of his more volatile moods. He likes sitting close to you. He likes having your attention. He likes when you touch him. But he can go from strangely playful to intensely serious in the blink of an eye. One moment, he's lying across your lap, rambling about something completely nonsensical while you play with his hair. The next, he looks up at you. "Would you ever leave me?" The question is so sudden that you pause. Doppio is staring at you. He's smiling, but there's something wrong with the expression. "No," you tell him. His smile becomes genuine again. "Okay." And that's it. No explanation. No elaboration. He simply puts his head back down and continues talking as though nothing happened. You don't ask. You already know better.
His moods can shift rapidly, his sense of reality can be strange, and his relationship with Diavolo is something that neither you nor Dio can fully understand. There are times when you're talking to Doppio and suddenly there's a subtle change in the way he carries himself, the way he looks at you, the tone of his voice. You can feel the difference before you can even explain it. Sometimes it's Diavolo. Sometimes it's Doppio. Sometimes you genuinely can't tell.
The first few times it happened, you were confused. Now, you can usually tell when something is wrong. You might reach out and touch his hand, and if he looks at you with that familiar, almost boyish expression, you know you're talking to Doppio. If his gaze sharpens, his posture changes, and suddenly there's something much colder behind his eyes, you know Diavolo has surfaced. And then there are the rare moments when you see something that feels like both. Those are the moments you tread carefully.
Dio is very affectionate with you when nobody else is around. He's constantly touching you in some way. His hand is on your waist when you're walking together, his fingers are intertwined with yours while you're sitting on the couch, or he's absentmindedly playing with your hair while you're lying beside him. He's the kind of person who wants you physically close because it reassures him in a way he would never admit. Dio has spent most of his existence surrounded by people who either fear him, worship him, or want something from him. You, meanwhile, will happily crawl into his lap because you want to, and then complain when he refuses to let you leave. He pretends to be annoyed by your affection, but if you try to get up after ten minutes, his arm immediately tightens around your waist. "Where are you going?" "To get a drink." "Have someone bring it to you." "Dio." "Stay." And suddenly you're staring at him because the great Dio, terrifying vampire and self proclaimed god, is looking at you like a spoiled cat who doesn't want his favorite person to leave the room.
Diavolo is much more reserved with affection, especially when you're around other people. In private, though, completely different man. He likes having you close. He likes knowing where you are. He likes the quiet intimacy of simply sitting beside you without needing to talk. There are times when he'll pull you against his chest and simply hold you there, his chin resting against the top of your head. You don't even need to ask what's wrong. Sometimes you know it's Diavolo. Sometimes you know it's Doppio. Sometimes you aren't entirely sure, but you don't really care. You just hold him tighter. That's one of the things both personalities love about you, you never make them feel like they're competing for your affection. You love them both, in whatever form they happen to be in at that moment.
Doppio is also the easiest of the three to catch off guard with affection. He's not accustomed to being loved in a way that doesn't come with some kind of ulterior motive. When you casually kiss his cheek, he'll sometimes freeze for a second, his brain genuinely seems to shortcircuit trying to process the sudden affection. Then he'll grin. "Oh." "What?" "Nothing." "Doppio." He touches his cheek. "You kissed me." "Yes." "Just because?" "Yes." He stares at you. Then he smiles again. "...Do it again." You laugh. "You're ridiculous." "I know."
Diavolo has a habit of stealing you away from Dio when Dio gets too possessive. It's not even always intentional. He'll simply walk over, take your hand, and say, "Come with me." Dio immediately looks offended. "Excuse me?" Diavolo doesn't even acknowledge him. "I need them." "For what?" "That's irrelevant." "It is absolutely relevant." "You don't need to know." And then you're being dragged away while Dio sits there looking like he's just been betrayed.
Sometimes Dio gets revenge by stealing you right back. He'll wait until you're comfortably sitting with Diavolo and then simply appear behind you, scoop you up, and carry you away. "Dio!" "What?" "Put me down!" "No." "Where are you taking me?" "Somewhere more peaceful." Diavolo's voice comes from behind you. "Put them down." Dio looks over his shoulder. "No." "Dio." "You had your time." "They're not an object." "I am aware." "Then put them down." "No." At this point, you're just hanging over Dio's shoulder, staring at the floor and wondering how you somehow ended up dating two men who are both powerful enough to conquer the world but apparently incapable of asking you to spend time with them like normal people.
Doppio is usually the one who finally interrupts, not because he's the most reasonable, but because he has absolutely no patience for being excluded from anything. He'll come out, see you being carried away, and immediately shout, "HEY! I was supposed to be spending time with them!" Dio stops. "...You were?" you ask. "YES!" Dio looks amused. Doppio points accusingly at Dio. "They're always doing this! They steal you and then I have to find you!" "You could simply ask," Dio says. "I shouldn't have to!" "You are being childish." "I'M NOT!" Dio begins laughing. You immediately realize that this is going nowhere.
Doppio doesn't actually care about some arbitrary schedule or equal distribution of affection. He doesn't need everything to be fair. He just needs to know that he hasn't been forgotten. He can be intensely possessive in his own way, though he'll rarely express it as directly as Dio. If you're sitting with Diavolo and Doppio wants your attention, he'll simply appear. He might lean against you. He might start talking to you. He might even interrupt a private conversation without seeming to realize that he's doing anything wrong.
One of your favorite things to do is fall asleep with both/all of them. It isn't easy, because Dio refuses to sleep in a position where he can't hold you, Diavolo doesn't like being crowded, and Doppio somehow manages to migrate across the entire bed during the night. You usually wake up with Doppio curled against your chest, and one of Dio's arms around your waist.
The first time it happened, you woke up and couldn't move. You stared at the ceiling. You considered your options. Then you sighed. "Dio." No response. "Diavolo." Silence. "Doppio." A sleepy noise. "I need to move." Dio's arm tightened around you. "No." "Dio." "Ten more minutes." "You said that an hour ago." "Then ten more minutes." You looked over at Doppio. He was completely asleep."You people are ridiculous." Dio smiled against your hair. "Yet you love us." You sighed. "...Unfortunately."
Dio loves you like you're something sacred. Diavolo loves you like you're something he desperately needs to protect. Doppio loves you with a strange, obsessive intensity that can be both unsettling and incredibly sincere. And you love them, not because they're easy, or simple, or normal, but because they're them. Even when Dio is being an arrogant bastard. Even when Diavolo is being secretive and impossible. Even when Doppio is acting like the most harmless man alive after doing something that makes you wonder if you should call the police. You love them. And they love you.
Somehow, you're the center of all three of their worlds. And perhaps the strangest thing of all is that none of them have any intention of letting you go.
Can I request spider woman s/o with the jofoes(+ with funny valentine and Diego pls)🌝? Im really excited for Spider-Man: Brand New Day and decided to rewatch all spider man movies
U can ignore this lmao🌚
yess ofc! i’m a huge marvel nerd lol i’ve seen every movie and read the comics often ^^ i have so many spiderman shirts lmao- thank you for requesting!!!
Dio
Dio would initially see you as little more than an irritating insect. Every time he orchestrated something, there you were, dropping from a rooftop upside down on a web with an amused grin, making some ridiculous joke before kicking one of his followers into next week. It would drive him insane that you never seemed intimidated by him. Even after witnessing his terrifying abilities, you would still laugh, bounce around the battlefield like gravity barely applied to you, and disappear before he could land a decisive blow.
Over time, though, irritation would become fascination. You possessed incredible physical gifts without relying on vampirism, and unlike most humans, you actually challenged him. He'd become obsessed with proving he was superior, chasing you across rooftops while you effortlessly swung between buildings, forcing him to adapt to fighting someone who simply refused to stay still. If romance ever entered the equation, it would be an intense game of cat and mouse. He would never admit how often he watched the skyline expecting to catch a glimpse of you soaring overhead, nor how interested he became whenever a subordinate mentioned "that spider girl" to him.
Kars
Kars would honestly find your biology fascinating before anything else. You produce webbing from your own body? Your reflexes border on precognition? Your muscles generate enough force to launch yourself dozens of meters into the air? He would have a thousand questions. During fights he'd analyze every movement, noticing that your agility wasn't just speed, it was instinct. You moved around attacks before they fully happened, using walls, ceilings, poles, even enemies themselves as footholds. He'd quickly realize brute force was useless because you simply...weren't where his attacks landed.
As his feelings developed, he'd become oddly protective despite insisting you were merely "an interesting specimen." Secretly, however, he'd admire your unwavering commitment to protecting ordinary people. He couldn't understand sacrificing yourself for strangers, yet watching you repeatedly throw yourself into danger would awaken a respect he rarely afforded humans. He'd still lecture you for getting injured, though, usually while patching your wounds with an irritated sigh.
Yoshikage Kira
Kira would absolutely despise you at first because you represent everything he hates: unpredictability. He spends years carefully cultivating an invisible existence, only for you to literally drop into his life from above. Every investigation he thinks he's escaped somehow circles back because you noticed one tiny inconsistency while swinging overhead. Your enhanced senses make hiding evidence much harder than he'd like, and your habit of casually chatting while fighting only unsettles him further. "You know, you're surprisingly athletic for an office worker," you'd say innocently, and he'd freeze for the briefest second before trying to regain his composure. That tiny hesitation would become your greatest weapon.
Eventually, once feelings somehow entered the picture, Kira would experience the most confusing emotional whiplash imaginable. One moment you're hanging upside down outside the window of his home asking if he's eaten dinner, the next you're disappearing to stop a robbery before he can answer. He'd never stop worrying every time you left, despite pretending your vigilante work was merely "an inefficient hobby." Secretly he'd keep track of local crime reports just to reassure himself you'd survived another night.
Diavolo
Diavolo would consider you an absolute nightmare. Someone that mobile, unpredictable, and impossible to pin down directly threatens his carefully maintained anonymity. He’d erase moments of time, but even then you'd somehow recover faster than expected because your entire fighting style revolves around constant momentum. He'd grow increasingly frustrated as you repeatedly escaped encounters by slinging a web onto the nearest skyscraper and vanishing before he could finish the job. Your refusal to stay grounded would make predicting your movements incredibly difficult.
Once he developed feelings, they'd manifest as possessive paranoia. He'd constantly worry that your relentless heroics would expose both yourself and him, creating a bizarre situation where the mafia boss secretly starts manipulating events behind the scenes to reduce the danger before you even arrive. He'd never admit he was protecting you, insisting instead that minimizing chaos simply benefited everyone involved.
Enrico Pucci
Pucci would be one of the few who wouldn't immediately dismiss you as reckless simply because you threw yourself into danger for strangers. He would initially view you as someone genuinely blessed. Your powers seemed miraculous, and your unwavering desire to help complete strangers aligned surprisingly well with many of his ideals regarding purpose and sacrifice. Your courage, your willingness to risk your own life for people who would never know your name, and the quiet humility you carried beneath your mask would all earn his respect long before they earned his affection. You'd spend hours arguing ethics while sitting on cathedral rooftops, your mask pushed halfway up as you absentmindedly dangled upside down from a web.
He'd quietly become your emotional anchor. After particularly brutal patrols, you'd return bruised and exhausted, and he'd patiently clean your injuries while listening to you vent about people you couldn't save. He'd remind you that one person's kindness can still reshape the world, even if you couldn't rescue everyone.
Funny Valentine
Valentine would immediately recognize your value as both an asset and a threat. A vigilante capable of traversing entire cities within minutes, stopping crimes before authorities even arrive? He'd absolutely try recruiting you first. He'd frame it as serving the nation's greater good, insisting your gifts deserved official recognition rather than anonymous heroics. Unfortunately for him, you'd likely reject being controlled by any government, no matter how noble the sales pitch. That refusal would intrigue him immensely. He respects your conviction, even when it opposes his own.
In a relationship, he'd constantly attempt to convince you that your talents could accomplish infinitely more under his leadership, while you'd insist helping one frightened civilian matters just as much as saving entire countries. He'd sigh dramatically every time you ignored a high level political crisis because someone needed help retrieving their cat from a burning building, yet deep down he'd find that unwavering compassion oddly refreshing.
Diego Brando
Diego would pretend he isn't impressed while being incredibly impressed. Watching you swing overhead while he’s’ racing would absolutely shatter his concentration for a second before he'd immediately deny it happened. He'd turn every encounter into a competition. "Bet you can't beat me to the next town." Five minutes later you're already waiting upside down on a water tower eating a snack while he arrives completely out of breath.
Still, he'd secretly love chasing after you across rooftops, especially once feelings developed. Dates would somehow become rooftop races, rooftop picnics, or rooftop conversations because you naturally preferred higher places. Eventually he'd stop complaining whenever you absentmindedly picked him up with a web and launched both of you across the city. He'd grumble the entire time...while smiling despite himself.
Tooru
Tooru would find you endlessly entertaining because you completely disrupt the slow, calculated pace he prefers. You're everywhere all at once. People constantly talk about you online, children adore you, criminals fear seeing webs hanging between buildings, and yet nobody actually knows who you are. Unfortunately for him, your curiosity would become a genuine problem. You notice patterns others ignore. Strange medical incidents. Unusual disappearances. Suspicious organizations. You'd accidentally wander dangerously close to uncovering him simply because your patrol routes covered so much ground.
Once romance entered the picture, he'd tease you relentlessly for your inability to sit still. You'd be hanging upside down over the couch while he calmly read a magazine, occasionally reaching up to poke your forehead whenever you started absentmindedly spinning in your web. Despite acting completely unbothered, he'd quietly admire your optimism. In a world filled with selfish ambition and endless calamity, you somehow still believed people were worth saving one web swing at a time. It was naïve...and maybe that was exactly why he found himself unable to look away from you.
Hellooo! I’m new here but I have come across your posts before, AND I LOVED THEM how are you able to capture the characters’ personality so well?? Also, if it isn’t too much of a bother, could I request Diavolo, Funny Valentine from jojo’s and Alucard and Olrox from the Castlevania series (if you don’t do two fandoms in the same post then I admit I would prefer Castlevania but whichever is easy for you!) x male reader who’s a detective? Thank you! And if it’s too much of a bother you can ignore this request but thank you anyways remember to rest and eat well! <3
hiiii! thank you so much!!! i really try to make sure i don’t make anyone sound too out of character, that’s always the hardest part of writing for me , i often revise things to make sure the characters sound right. my search history is mostly just the jojo wiki at this point lol and yes ofc!! ur the first castlevania request ive had i believe! i love alucard so much he honestly might be my fav anime character ever lol castlevania is so good 😭 i really hope we get another season of nocturne. it’s not a bother at all!! i hope you have a great week and take care ^^ ❤️
Diavolo
A detective was quite literally the last kind of person Diavolo ever wanted anywhere near his life. The moment he learned your profession, every instinct screamed at him to eliminate you before you accidentally uncovered something you shouldn't. It didn't matter that you mostly investigated homicides and organized crime unrelated to Passione; in his mind, every detective eventually followed threads that led somewhere dangerous. He would keep you at arm's length in the beginning, refusing to answer even the most innocent questions because he had trained himself to view curiosity as a threat. If you casually asked where he'd been all afternoon, he'd respond with another question or smoothly redirect the conversation. It wasn't because he thought you were interrogating him, it was because he simply couldn't separate your career from your personal life.
Ironically, what would make him fall for you is the exact thing that terrified him: your intelligence. You noticed details nobody else did. You remembered tiny inconsistencies from conversations months ago, reconstructed entire crime scenes from a few overlooked clues, and could read a person's emotional state from subtle shifts in posture alone. Diavolo would find himself watching you explain your deductions with a mixture of admiration and dread, thinking, If he ever turned that mind on me, it would be over. Yet you'd never abuse those talents in your relationship. You respected privacy, never snooped through his belongings, and never treated him like a suspect. That restraint would mean everything to him.
Being with him would require an extraordinary amount of trust from both sides. You'd often come home exhausted after long investigations, collapsing onto the couch while rambling about impossible cases. Diavolo would silently listen, occasionally offering surprisingly insightful observations that somehow pointed you in the right direction without revealing how much criminal knowledge he actually possessed. You'd probably joke that he had "the mind of a criminal," earning the smallest pause before he gave a thin smile. If only you knew.
Funny Valentine
Valentine would absolutely adore having a detective as his partner. Someone with your observational skills, composure under pressure, and unwavering pursuit of truth would strike him as the ideal public servant. He'd respect the discipline your work demanded, the sleepless nights, the paperwork, the endless interviews, and the emotional burden of seeing humanity at its worst. While some people might romanticize detective work as thrilling mystery solving, Valentine would recognize it for what it truly was: exhausting service.
He would encourage you constantly, especially after difficult cases. Whenever one ended badly or justice slipped through legal loopholes, he'd remind you that your efforts still mattered. In his mind, every criminal caught strengthened society, and every victim given answers restored a piece of the nation's moral foundation. He'd likely become the one person who could convince you not to blame yourself when investigations reached dead ends. His speeches could become a little... lengthy, but they came from genuine belief that your work had purpose.
Of course, your profession would occasionally create amusing tension between you. You had a habit of asking very precise questions without even realizing it. Over dinner you'd absentmindedly ask where he'd been that afternoon, who he'd met with, and whether anyone could verify his whereabouts, not because you suspected him, but because your detective brain never really turned off. Valentine would eventually laugh and tease, "You know, darling, most people simply ask whether I had a pleasant day." You'd blink, realize you'd accidentally conducted a miniature interview, and immediately apologize while he found the entire thing surprisingly charming.
Alucard
Alucard would find your profession comforting. A detective is someone who seeks truth rather than power, and after spending so much of his life surrounded by lies, manipulation, and war, there would be something deeply refreshing about someone whose entire purpose is uncovering what actually happened. He'd admire your patience almost immediately. While others rushed to conclusions, you carefully examined every piece of evidence, listened before speaking, and refused to accuse someone without proof. It would remind him that justice and vengeance weren't always the same thing.
He'd quickly realize you carried the emotional weight of your work home with you. Some nights you'd return exhausted, quietly sitting at the kitchen table while staring into a mug of tea because another family had lost someone, or because you'd solved a case that ended in tragedy instead of relief. Alucard wouldn't pressure you to talk. He understood grief better than almost anyone. Instead, he'd simply sit beside you, allowing the silence to exist until you were ready. If you wanted to vent about corrupt officials, impossible cases, or the cruelty people were capable of, he'd listen with genuine attention. If you didn't, he'd simply rest a hand over yours.
One thing he'd secretly enjoy was watching you work. Your observational skills would genuinely impress him. You'd notice a scuff mark on a boot, a faint smell of smoke on someone's coat, or the way a witness hesitated for half a second before answering a question. He'd smile to himself as your mind pieced everything together, occasionally offering an observation of his own. Living for centuries had made him exceptionally perceptive, but he'd never overshadow your deductions. Instead, he'd ask subtle questions that nudged you toward conclusions you were already close to reaching.
There would definitely be moments where he'd worry, though. Human detectives often investigated dangerous people, and unlike him, you couldn't regenerate from fatal injuries. If he learned you'd been threatened by a suspect or targeted because of a case, his normally calm demeanor would vanish. He'd become much quieter, much more watchful, and before you even realized it, whoever had decided to intimidate you would suddenly reconsider ever coming near you again. He wouldn't tell you exactly what he did. He'd simply make sure you came home safely every night.
Olrox
Olrox would be endlessly intrigued by a detective. You're someone who survives through observation, intuition, and an almost uncanny ability to read people. He'd notice immediately that you were constantly watching your surroundings, cataloging details without even realizing you were doing it. The first time you accurately guessed someone's occupation or figured out they'd lied within minutes of meeting them, he'd raise an eyebrow with genuine interest. "You're observant," he'd say, though internally he'd already decided you were much more dangerous than you looked. He would absolutely test you in the beginning. Nothing malicious, just little experiments. He'd intentionally tell halftruths, change tiny details in stories, or ask your opinion on situations where there wasn't an obvious answer, just to see whether you'd catch the inconsistencies. You usually would. Rather than being offended, he'd actually find it incredibly attractive. Most people accepted whatever they were told. You questioned everything.
Olrox wouldn't underestimate how emotionally taxing detective work could be. He'd lived long enough to know that seeing humanity at its worst day after day slowly changes a person. On particularly difficult nights, he'd find you quietly reviewing evidence at your desk long after you should've gone to bed, convinced there was one detail you'd missed. Without saying much, he'd come stand behind your chair, place a hand on your shoulder, and gently remind you that exhaustion makes even brilliant minds overlook things. Sometimes the best thing you could do for a case was sleep.
Your conversations would probably become his favorite part of the relationship. Both of you enjoyed examining people, not in a judgmental way, but out of genuine curiosity. Dinner could easily turn into an hour long discussion about why someone committed a crime, whether desperation excuses violence, or how grief shapes a person's decisions. Olrox wouldn't always agree with your belief in the legal system. Having lived through centuries of oppression and injustice, he knew laws often served those already in power. You, meanwhile, would argue that the system could only improve if good people continued working within it. Neither of you would fully convince the other, but those conversations would only deepen his respect for you.
You'd eventually notice patterns that ordinary detectives dismissed, bodies with impossible injuries, witnesses describing things that couldn't exist, disappearances with no rational explanation. The closer your investigations drifted toward the hidden world of vampires and magic, the more protective Olrox would become, because he knew firsthand how dangerous that knowledge could be. If you ever unknowingly started investigating another powerful vampire, he'd quietly intervene before you found yourself standing in front of something far worse than an ordinary killer. He respected your independence too much to tell you to quit your job, but he'd make absolutely certain your search for the truth didn't become your last case.
Omg inbox open??? I LOVE. Can you pretty please write diego x fem!reader headcanons or drabbles?? Specifically when the reader fits as the Self Preservation 2 description from Naranjo or Personality Database :33
yess ofc! i love learning enneagram types, last time i checked im a 4 lol thank you for requesting!!! i hope this reads as accurate <3
Diego would notice something was different about you long before he understood what it was. At first, he mistook your softness for manipulation. You never outright asked him to do things for you, yet somehow he'd find himself carrying your coat because you looked a little cold, buying you lunch because you "forgot" to eat, or slowing his pace because you seemed tired without saying a word. Every single time, he'd narrow his eyes suspiciously, convinced you had somehow orchestrated the interaction. "You're doing that on purpose." You'd blink at him with complete innocence, utterly baffled. "...Doing what?"
Diego is exactly the kind of person you unconsciously gravitate toward. He's competent, protective, though he'd deny that until his dying breath, and takes immense pride in being capable. You naturally inspire other people to take care of you without demanding it outright, while Diego enjoys proving he's the most reliable, strongest person in the room. It creates a dynamic that almost clicks together too perfectly… right up until neither of you actually communicates what you're thinking.
Diego quickly realizes that you're constantly taking care of people, but never through grand gestures. It's always the little things that everyone else overlooks. You make sure everyone has eaten, remember exactly how someone likes their tea, straighten crooked collars without thinking, quietly clean something because you noticed it was bothering another person, or hand someone your umbrella before realizing you're now standing in the rain yourself. He watches you do it over and over before finally scoffing. "You spoil people." "...I just like helping." "And then?" You tilt your head. "...What do you mean?" "You expect something back." "...No." He studies your face for a long moment. "...Liar."
He's not accusing you of being cruel. Diego simply recognizes the tiny flicker of disappointment you try so hard to hide whenever someone accepts your kindness without so much as a thank you. Most people never notice it, but he does. He understands that expression far better than you'd like, even if neither of you says it aloud. He isn't judging you, he just... sees it.
Once he starts paying attention, Diego becomes surprisingly possessive about making sure you don't overextend yourself. "You've done enough." "I can still, " "No." You sigh dramatically. "...You're bossy." "I know...Sit down." It sounds almost romantic from the outside, but in reality it's more like one stubborn racehorse physically herding another stubborn horse away from running itself off a cliff.
One of Diego's favorite things, though he'd sooner throw himself into a ravine than admit it, is when your playful side appears. You often have a strangely youthful energy, and he'll catch you pouting dramatically, sticking your tongue out at him, hiding behind him because someone looked intimidating, or tugging lightly on his sleeve instead of interrupting him. He pretends every second of it annoys him beyond belief. "You look ridiculous." You grin. "You still let me hide behind you." He clicks his tongue and looks away. "...Shut up."
The real problem begins whenever you need something. Because you never actually ask. Instead you'll quietly mumble, "...It's getting kind of cold..." before lapsing into complete silence, waiting without realizing you're waiting. Diego lets the silence stretch for several agonizing seconds before groaning. "...Fine." Five minutes later he's wrapping his jacket around your shoulders with the most irritated expression imaginable. "You could've just asked." "I didn't want to bother you." "You bothered me anyway." "...Sorry." He rolls his eyes dramatically before muttering, "...Keep the damn jacket."
Diego isn't the most emotionally expressive, but he is observant. He notices when your smile becomes just a little too bright, when you're cleaning because you're anxious rather than because anything actually needs cleaning, when you hover near him without saying anything, and when you're quietly waiting for him to notice you. Waiting for him to offer. Waiting for him to choose you without being asked. He doesn't always understand why you do these things, but he notices every single one of them.
"You don't have to take care of everyone..Someone should take care of you occasionally." Your smile appeared so suddenly that your eyes watered. Diego glanced over and frowned. "...Why are you making that face?" "I'm not making a face." "You look like you're about to cry." "...I do not." He sighed heavily. "...You're impossible."
One of Diego's greatest frustrations is your absolute inability to admit when you're exhausted. "You've barely slept." "I'm okay." "No." "I'm fine." "No." "I can keep- " "No." You stare at him in confusion until he sighs again. "...Why are you staring at me?" "I'm waiting for you to stop lying."
Diego despises guessing games. Unfortunately, you create them all the time. One afternoon you quietly remarked, "I wish someone would've come with me..." before saying nothing else. Diego stared at you expectantly until you blinked back. "What?" "You wanted company." "...Maybe." "So ask." "I didn't want to make anyone feel obligated." He rubbed a hand over his face. "...That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." After a long pause, his voice softened almost imperceptibly. "If you want me there... say so."
The first time you actually ask him for something directly, he nearly falls off his horse. "...Could you... stay with me tonight?" Silence. Then Diego looked at you like you'd spoken another language. "...That's it?" "...Yes?" He stared another second before huffing. "...You could've asked months ago." You shrank slightly. "...I didn't know if you'd want to." That made him stare even harder. "...You think I spend every waking moment hovering around you because I don't want to?" Your entire face went scarlet. "...Oh." "...Oh?" He sighed and opened his arms. "...Come here."
Over time, Diego comes to understand that beneath all your sweetness is someone quietly terrified that you won't be worth loving unless you're useful. He hates that, because someone, somewhere, convinced you that love had to be earned. The thought alone makes something ugly twist in his chest.
Without ever announcing it, he starts becoming almost annoyingly consistent. He checks whether you've eaten, waits for you before leaving, hands you water before long rides, and always makes room beside him without a second thought. Not because you earned it that day. Not because you helped him. Not because you'd done anything useful. Simply because you're you.
Eventually, you notice the pattern. "...I didn't do anything." "I know." "...Then why are you helping me?" Diego looks genuinely confused by the question. "...Do I need a reason?" For perhaps the first time in a very long time, your instinct isn't to repay him immediately or wonder what he expects in return. Instead, you simply accept what he's offering. And although neither of you ever says it aloud, that's the moment your relationship finally stops feeling like a transaction, and starts feeling like love.
Oh my gorsh inbox is open??? Lemme request sometjing! What if abbacchio was in a relationship with someone, but due to the whole mafia situation, reader was made a target. Enemies end up targetting reader despite reader not even being a member of passione and as a result ended up being attacked but it was an "accident" near death experience kinda shit. I think abbacchio would think of his police partner and like not have the balls to face reader and thinks they'd hate him, but reader's pissed he isnt coming and has no clue why. I am in a big angst mood, but if this is too weird feel free to not do it.
sure! i really love abbacchios backstory, it made him such an interesting character to me. not weird at all! thank you for requesting <333 !!!
The first thing Abbacchio noticed was the blood. Not whose it was. Not where it came from. Just the color. It splashed across the pale concrete in thick, ugly streaks that looked almost black beneath the evening sky, and for one horrible heartbeat his mind betrayed him. Not again. Not,
Then his vision focused. It wasn’t his old partner lying there. It was you. Your body had been thrown several feet from where the attack happened, one arm bent beneath you in a way that made his stomach twist. You weren’t a fighter. You weren’t even in Passione. You were just… a person.
You were the person who complained whenever coffee was too bitter, who constantly stole his jackets because they smelled like him, and who laughed every single time he looked annoyed. Someone who should never have been anywhere near this kind of violence.
“…Move.” Abbacchio didn’t even realize he’d spoken until Narancia stumbled out of the way.
He dropped to his knees so hard they scraped against the pavement. “Hey.” There was no response. His hands shook as he carefully rolled you onto your back, revealing barely open eyes, blood trickling from your temple, and breathing that sounded frighteningly wet.
“…Leo…” Your voice was so faint he almost missed it. His chest caved in. “I’m here.” Your fingers twitched weakly toward him before falling limp again. “I…” “Don’t talk.” “I…” “I said don’t.” His voice cracked with the force of it.
You looked at him through unfocused eyes, confusion clouding your expression more than pain. “…Sorry…” The apology struck him like a knife. Sorry? You were apologizing? For what? For bleeding? For existing? For getting caught in something you had never chosen? His vision blurred. “Get Giorno.”
Nobody moved.
“I SAID GET GIORNO!”
It wasn’t random. It wasn’t a mugging. It wasn’t bad luck. The enemy had known exactly who you were, not because you worked for Passione or because you had information worth stealing, but because you loved Leone Abbacchio. That alone had been enough.
The realization spread through him like poison. They hadn’t wanted money. They hadn’t wanted secrets. They had wanted leverage. Pain. Punishment. And they had succeeded.
The hospital room was quiet. Machines beeped steadily beside your bed as you slept peacefully beneath blankets that looked much too white against the bruises blooming across your skin. Abbacchio stood outside the room, staring through the narrow window. He never went inside.
The first day, he simply watched. He watched nurses adjust your IV, watched Giorno examine your injuries, watched Bucciarati quietly sit beside your bed. He stayed hidden around the corner where nobody would notice him.
The second day, he almost opened the door. His hand even wrapped around the handle before another hospital forced its way into his mind. Another body. Another person looking at him with fading eyes. Another partner he had failed. His hand fell away, and he left.
The third day, you woke up.
“…Where’s Abbacchio?” Bucciarati instinctively glanced toward the window before forcing himself not to. “…He’s…” “He okay?” “…Yes.” “He got hurt?” “No.” You frowned. “Then where is he?” Silence settled heavily over the room before Bucciarati finally sighed. “…He’s… busy.” You snorted despite the pain. “That’s a terrible lie.”
By the fourth day, irritation had replaced confusion. “No, seriously.” You looked directly at Narancia. “Where the hell is he?” Narancia looked like someone had just handed him a bomb with a countdown already running.
“…Uh…” “He mad at me?” “What?! No!” “Then where is he?” “I DON’T KNOW!” he blurted before practically fleeing the room.
The truth was that everyone knew exactly where Abbacchio was. Every morning before sunrise, he came to the hospital, stood outside your room, and listened to your breathing through the cracked doorway before leaving long before you woke. Every night he returned to make sure you were still alive, left anonymous flowers outside your room, and disappeared again before anyone could stop him. Or at least before he thought anyone noticed. Everyone noticed.
“You are being ridiculous,” Bucciarati told him one evening. Abbacchio offered no response. “You love them.” Silence. “They’re asking for you.” Nothing. “They think you’ve abandoned them.”
His jaw tightened. “…Good.” Bucciarati blinked. “…Excuse me?” “If they hate me…” His voice sounded hollow. “…They’ll leave. They’ll be safe.”
Bucciarati simply stared. “They almost died because of me.” “No.” “Yes. They were attacked because I brought them into my life. I painted a target on them.” He closed his eyes tightly. “My partner died because I failed him. And now…” His voice barely existed anymore. “…I almost killed them too.”
Meanwhile, you were absolutely furious.
“…He’s avoiding me.” Giorno quietly adjusted your bandages without looking up. “I don’t believe he dislikes you.” “Then why won’t he come?” He remained silent. “I almost died,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I woke up thinking maybe… maybe he got hurt.”
You swallowed hard. “So I kept asking. And everyone keeps acting weird.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “Did he break up with me?” Giorno looked genuinely horrified. “No.” “Then WHAT?”
You groaned, instantly regretting it as pain shot through your ribs. “I swear to God, if that idiot thinks I’m dumping him because I got stabbed…” Giorno said nothing. He didn’t have to.
Your eyes narrowed. “…He does, doesn’t he?” Giorno quietly looked away. That was answer enough.
“…That absolute moron.”
The day you were discharged, Abbacchio wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. Mista awkwardly carried your bag while Narancia apologized for absolutely everything, and Fugo somehow looked guilty just for existing. You folded your arms. “Take me to him.”
“…Mista.” He winced. “I’m serious. I almost died. So either you tell me where my boyfriend is…” Your smile became terrifyingly sweet. “…or I start asking random Passione members.”
Mista sighed heavily. “…Bucciarati is gonna kill me…”
They found him exactly where everyone expected: alone on the rooftop of one of Passione’s safehouses. Staring over Naples without moving. He heard footsteps approaching but didn’t bother turning around.
“…Go away.”
“You first.”
Very slowly, he turned around. The color immediately drained from his face.
There you were. Bruised. Covered in healing cuts. One arm still secured in a sling. Climbing all those stairs despite every injury your body had suffered.
“…You shouldn’t be walking.” “Probably.” “You especially shouldn’t be climbing stairs.” “I know.” “You could reopen, ” “Leone.” His mouth shut immediately.
“You’ve been hiding from me,” you said quietly. Silence. “You’ve been sneaking around hospitals.” Silence. “You’ve been leaving flowers without your name.” Silence. “You’ve been checking on me every day.” Still silence.
“And somehow,” you continued, folding your arms, “…you convinced yourself I wouldn’t notice.”
He still couldn’t look at you. “…I’m sorry.”
You stared at him. “…For what?”
His laugh sounded painfully empty. “For ruining your life…They came after you because of me.”
“…Yeah.”
“I almost got you killed.”
“…Yeah.”
“I don’t deserve-”
“Are you done?”
He blinked.
You stepped closer, and instinctively he stepped back. That hurt more than your stitches ever could. “…Stop doing that.”
Silence hung between you before your voice cracked. “You absolute idiot. I almost died.” “I know.” “I woke up…” Your eyes filled with tears. “…and the only thing I wanted was you.” His breathing stopped. “I thought maybe you’d gotten hurt. I thought maybe you were dead. And instead…” Tears finally spilled down your face. “…you were hiding from me because you thought I’d hate you?”
His shoulders trembled. “I failed, ”
“You.” You jabbed a finger into his chest. “Did. Not. Attack.Me.”
“You didn’t stab me. You didn’t order it. You didn’t leave me there.” Your voice softened. “So why are you punishing yourself like you’re the one who did it?”
His eyes had gone glassy. “…Because this keeps happening.” Your expression immediately softened. “…What?” “My partner.” He whispered the words so quietly you almost missed them. “I couldn’t save him. I froze.” His voice sounded decades older than he was. “I watched him die.” He finally looked at you. “And then I saw you lying there.” His breathing hitched. “…It was the same.”
“It wasn’t.” “It felt the same.” Silence stretched between you. “I couldn’t breathe,” he admitted. “I thought… if you woke up…” He laughed shakily. “…you’d look at me the way he did.”
There it was. Raw, genuine fear. The fear of a man who had convinced himself that everyone he loved would eventually die because of him.
You didn’t answer with words. Ignoring the protest from your healing shoulder, you carefully wrapped your arms around him. He stiffened instantly. “…I’m alive.”Nothing. “You hear me?” Slowly, his forehead rested against yours. “I’m alive. You stupid, self sacrificing man.” A shaky breath escaped him. His shoulders finally broke.
You had never seen Leone Abbacchio cry. Not once. He cried now, silently, violently, like he had been holding years of grief behind locked doors that had finally splintered apart. His hands clutched desperately at the back of your shirt, as though letting go for even a second would make you disappear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over into your shoulder. He wasn’t expecting forgiveness. He wasn’t asking for absolution. He was simply grieving.
You rubbed slow circles across his back. “You don’t get to disappear when I’m hurting.” His grip tightened. “You hear me?” He gave a weak nod. “If something like this ever happens again…” You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. “…you stay with me. You don’t decide how I feel. You don’t leave because you think it’s what’s best.” Another small nod.
“I almost died.” “…I know.” “And somehow…” You laughed through your tears. “…being ignored by my boyfriend was still the worst part.” A tiny, broken huff escaped him. Not quite a laugh, but close enough. For the first time since the attack, it felt like he could finally breathe again.
The guilt wouldn’t disappear overnight, and neither would the nightmares. There would still be mornings when he woke in a cold sweat, convinced he had failed someone all over again. But from that day forward, whenever those old memories whispered that everyone he loved would be better off without him, he would remember your bruised hands stubbornly reaching for him on that rooftop, not to blame or accuse him, but simply to bring him home.
didn’t do a cosplay today, saving them for friday and saturday (gonna do hot pants and tooru cosplays ^^)
(also sorry about the wait for fics, i’ll start working on more next week!! i just moved into my new house last week plus i’ve been prepping VERY last minute for my cosplays)
Hiii! :3 I swear I check your blog everyday, I LOVE how you write!
Could I request a Phantom Troupe x Male reader who gives off military vibes? Like, reader is really serious n stuff but once you get to know him, he is (kind of) soft?
Thank you so much! :D
hiiii :p hahha thank u so much, that makes me really happy, and ofc! no prob, thank u for requesting!!!
Chrollo
When Chrollo first meets you, he assumes you're the type of person who keeps everyone at arm's length intentionally. You carry yourself with an almost intimidating level of discipline. Your posture is always straight, your expression rarely changes, and you seem to evaluate every room you enter as if you're assessing potential threats. Most people find you difficult to approach because you give off the impression that you're constantly on duty. Chrollo, however, finds you fascinating. He notices that your seriousness is just a habit, it isn't arrogance or coldness. It's the result of someone who has spent years forcing himself to remain composed no matter what happens. The more time he spends with you, the more he discovers small cracks beneath that rigid exterior. He notices how you'll quietly help injured people without drawing attention to yourself. How you'll stand watch when everyone else is asleep because you feel responsible for their safety. How you occasionally soften around people you trust without even realizing it. Chrollo finds those moments far more interesting than your intimidating facade. To him, your gentleness is valuable precisely because it's hidden. It’s something people have to earn, not something you give away freely.
Pakunoda
Pakunoda is one of the first people to realize that your stern demeanor hides an unexpectedly caring personality. Initially, she finds you difficult to read because you rarely show strong emotions outwardly. You speak carefully, remain composed under pressure, and always seem to be thinking several steps ahead. Yet as she spends more time around you, she starts noticing little things. She notices how you automatically position yourself between danger and other people. How you'll silently hand someone a blanket if they're cold without saying a word about it. How you remember small details about others even when they don't realize it. Pakunoda develops a great deal of respect for you because your kindness isn't performative. You don't help people because you want recognition. You help because it feels like your responsibility. Whenever you do let your guard down around her, revealing a dry sense of humor or a rare smile, she treasures it. She understands that those moments aren't given lightly. They represent trust, and Pakunoda values that deeply.
Feitan
Feitan initially thinks you're unbearably stiff. You're always standing straight, always alert, always acting like you're preparing for a mission. Half the time he isn't even sure whether you're relaxing or simply pretending to relax. He enjoys provoking you because your serious nature makes you such an easy target. Feitan finds it amusing to make ridiculous comments just to watch the look of annoyance that flashes across your face. However, the longer he knows you, the more he realizes there's a surprisingly decent person hiding underneath all that discipline. You quietly check on people when they're injured. You make sure everyone gets home safely after missions. You even remember birthdays despite pretending not to care about things like that. Feitan would never admit it aloud, but he finds your softer side strangely reassuring. In a group full of criminals and violent personalities, there's something oddly comforting about someone who still possesses a strong sense of responsibility. He'll still make fun of you relentlessly, of course, but his teasing gradually becomes less hostile and more affectionate over time.
Nobunaga
Nobunaga absolutely loves you. The moment he realizes you have that soldier like mentality, he's hooked. He admires your discipline, your loyalty, and the way you always seem prepared for anything. To him, you feel like someone who belongs beside him in battle. However, what really wins him over is discovering that you're not nearly as cold as you appear. Beneath all the seriousness, you're surprisingly patient. You listen when people talk. You help others without expecting anything in return. You have a habit of quietly taking care of problems before anyone else notices them. Nobunaga becomes incredibly protective once he realizes this because he knows people often misunderstand you. Many assume you're emotionless simply because you don't express yourself dramatically. He knows better. He knows that you're one of the most dependable men he's ever met. Whenever you occasionally laugh at one of his stories or show visible affection toward someone, he gets ridiculously excited because it feels like seeing a rare event.
Shalnark
Shalnark finds your personality endlessly entertaining because there's such a massive contrast between your appearance and your actual behavior. At first glance, you look like the kind of person who spends every waking moment planning military operations. You're serious, organized, and constantly aware of your surroundings. Then people get to know you and discover that underneath all of that, you're actually kind of sweet. Shalnark loves exposing this contradiction whenever possible. He'll deliberately point out moments where you're being caring just to watch you deny it. If you quietly help someone carry something heavy, he's immediately there saying, "Aww, look at you being nice." If you bring food back for someone, he's already grinning. The more embarrassed you get, the funnier he finds it. Despite all his teasing, though, he genuinely admires your reliability. Whenever something important needs to get done, you're always the person he trusts most to handle it.
Shizuku
Shizuku never really understands why everyone finds you intimidating. From her perspective, you're actually quite nice. Sure, you look serious all the time and rarely smile, but your actions tell a completely different story. She notices very early on that you're constantly helping people. You'll pick things up when she drops them. You'll remind others to eat or rest. You'll silently solve problems before they become major issues. Because Shizuku tends to judge people based on their actions rather than appearances, she becomes comfortable around you surprisingly quickly. She also finds your hidden soft side adorable. Whenever you accidentally reveal genuine concern for someone, she notices immediately. The fact that you try so hard to maintain your stoic image only makes those moments stand out more. Over time, she becomes one of the few people who can consistently bring out your gentler side without even trying.
Machi
Machi respects competence above most things, which means she develops respect for you almost immediately. You're organized, dependable, and capable of remaining calm during stressful situations. Those qualities alone earn her approval. What surprises her, however, is discovering how considerate you are beneath all that discipline. She notices that you're constantly looking after people in subtle ways. You pay attention to things others miss. You remember when someone is struggling. You offer help without making them feel weak for accepting it. Machi isn't particularly expressive herself, which means she understands your tendency to hide emotions behind a composed exterior. Because of that, she often notices your softer moments before anyone else does. Rather than teasing you about them, she quietly appreciates them. There's something reassuring about knowing someone as reliable as you genuinely cares.
Phinks
Phinks spends the first few months convinced you're some kind of military robot. You're serious all the time, rarely joke around, and somehow manage to make even casual conversations sound like mission briefings. Naturally, this makes you his favorite target. He constantly tries to get a rise out of you because your reactions are hilarious. The real shock comes when he discovers you're actually a huge softie underneath all that. The first time he catches you helping someone in secret or showing genuine concern for another member, he acts like he's uncovered classified information. After that, he never lets you live it down. Every act of kindness becomes ammunition for future teasing. Despite that, Phinks genuinely likes having you around. Your sense of responsibility balances out his impulsiveness, and he trusts you more than he'd ever openly admit.
Uvogin
Uvogin immediately respects you because you carry yourself like a warrior. You have that same disciplined mentality he associates with experienced fighters, someone who takes their responsibilities seriously and refuses to back down when things get difficult. The fact that you're physically capable only strengthens his opinion. However, what really impresses him is your loyalty. Once you care about someone, you're all in. You'll protect them, support them, and stand by them no matter what. Uvogin values that kind of devotion immensely. He also finds it funny how embarrassed you get whenever people acknowledge your softer side. In his opinion, there's nothing wrong with caring about others. If anything, he thinks it makes you stronger. He has absolutely no problem announcing to everyone that you're secretly a nice guy, much to your horror.
Franklin
Franklin gets along with you almost effortlessly because the two of you share a similar sense of responsibility. He appreciates the fact that you're dependable and don't create unnecessary problems. Whenever something needs to be done, he knows he can rely on you without question. He becomes one of the people who sees through your stoic image most clearly. He notices how often you're putting others before yourself. How you quietly handle responsibilities nobody asked you to take on. How you're always looking after everyone else's wellbeing while ignoring your own. Franklin occasionally reminds you that you don't have to carry everything alone. He understands that people with your kind of personality often struggle to ask for help, so he makes a point of offering support before you have to request it.
Bonolenov
Bonolenov views you with a great deal of admiration because your disciplined nature reminds him of traditional warriors. There is something honorable about the way you conduct yourself. You approach challenges seriously, respect your commitments, and hold yourself to extremely high standards. At the same time, he gradually notices that your strength isn't limited to combat or leadership. You possess emotional strength as well. Despite your reserved nature, you care deeply about the people around you. Bonolenov finds this combination of toughness and compassion admirable. He believes true strength involves protecting others rather than simply overpowering them, and in that regard, you embody many qualities he respects.
Kortopi
At first, Kortopi isn't entirely sure what to make of you. You seem intimidating, even by Troupe standards. You rarely speak unless necessary, always look focused, and carry yourself with an intensity that makes most people think twice before approaching you. However, because Kortopi spends so much time observing others quietly, he eventually notices things that many people miss. He sees the way you automatically help others without being asked. He notices how careful you are with people's feelings despite pretending not to care. He realizes that most of your sternness comes from wanting to protect others rather than push them away. Once he understands that, he becomes very comfortable around you. There's something calming about your presence. Even if you rarely express affection openly, your actions consistently prove that you care, and for someone as quiet as Kortopi, those actions speak louder than words ever could.
Hii could you do phantom troupe (with illumi if possible) with a reader thats like acheron from hsr? Like backstory and everything!! (first time requesting, very nervous 🥹)
Thank you!
hiii, totally!! thank you for requesting ^^ <333 i hope you enjoy (im so behind in hsr lol story wise im still on penacony lmao😭)
Chrollo
You are, in many ways, a walking ghost. You're not dead, but so much of your life has already been buried. Entire nations have vanished from existence behind you. People you once loved enough to sacrifice everything for have faded into distant fragments, some of their faces and names already slipping beyond your reach. Chrollo notices this almost immediately. While everyone else sees a quiet, detached person who often seems distracted, he sees someone carrying an unfathomable amount of grief. He notices how your eyes sometimes drift toward places that aren't there, how you'll suddenly stop speaking in the middle of a sentence because a memory disappeared before you could finish grasping it. Unlike most people, he never asks intrusive questions. He simply waits. Eventually, you find yourself speaking to him about your homeland, about the people who once filled it with life, about the things you've forgotten and the things you're desperately trying not to forget. Chrollo listens with complete attention, not out of pity though, because he understands what it means to belong to something that the rest of the world barely acknowledges. There is a strange comfort in him. The comfort of being understood. Neither of you are particularly good at saving people. Neither of you believe every wound can be fixed. Yet somehow, during long nights spent talking quietly together, you begin to feel less alone.
Pakunoda
The first time Pakunoda glimpses the true extent of your memories, it leaves her shaken. She has seen terrible things through people's minds before. Violence, tragedy, loss, those are nothing new to her. But your memories are different because of their sheer scale. She sees entire worlds disappear. She sees civilizations collapse. She sees countless people whom you loved and lost. Most painfully, she sees how much of it is already fading away. For someone whose ability revolves around preserving memories, the idea of watching your most precious experiences slowly slip beyond your reach feels almost cruel. After that, she becomes incredibly protective of you. Whenever your memory fails, she fills in the gaps gently, never making you feel embarrassed or frustrated. She remembers details for you because she knows how important they are. More than anyone else, Pakunoda understands that forgetting isn't always a blessing. Sometimes it's another kind of death. Whenever you become upset because you've lost another piece of your past, she simply sits beside you and lets you talk. She doesn't try to fix it because she knows she can't. Instead, she offers what little comfort she can: someone willing to remember alongside you.
Feitan
Feitan initially thinks you're strange even by Phantom Troupe standards. You wander away from conversations, stare into space for long periods, and occasionally say things that sound completely disconnected from reality. The first few times it happens, he assumes you're simply eccentric. Then he slowly begins piecing together the truth. He realizes that the moments where you seem distracted aren't distractions at all. You're remembering. Or trying to remember. Sometimes you're grieving people who died centuries ago. Sometimes you're struggling to hold onto names that are already slipping away. Feitan understands suffering better than most people, and while he would never openly admit it, he respects your endurance. Most people would have broken under the weight of what you've experienced. You didn't. Even after everything, you're still moving forward. Once he grows attached to you, he becomes surprisingly hostile toward anyone who attempts to exploit your forgetfulness. If someone lies to you because they think you won't remember the truth later, Feitan takes it personally. The resulting consequences are usually severe. He may not be affectionate in a traditional sense, but his loyalty becomes absolute.
Nobunaga
Nobunaga grows attached to you almost embarrassingly quickly. Something about you reminds him of old warriors from legends, people who survived battles only to spend the rest of their lives carrying the ghosts of everyone who didn't. He notices how tired you always seem. Emotionally exhausted in a way that never truly goes away. Sometimes he'll catch you staring off into the distance with a look so sorrowful that it makes his chest ache. He never asks what you're thinking about because he suspects the answer would only hurt. Instead, he starts telling you stories. Long stories. Stories about the Troupe, about his childhood, about fights he's had, about people he's met. Half the time he isn't even sure you're listening. Yet every now and then you'll quietly mention a detail he told you weeks ago, proving that some things still stay with you. Those moments mean more to him than he'll ever admit. He becomes determined to fill your life with new memories, hoping that maybe they'll help balance the weight of the old ones.
Shalnark
At first, Shalnark approaches your memory problems like a scientific mystery. He asks questions, observes your behavior, and develops theories about why you seem so detached from the world around you. Once he learns the truth, however, his entire perspective changes. Realizing that your condition isn't the result of illness but rather the aftermath of unimaginable loss makes him view you much differently. He begins treating your forgetfulness with extraordinary patience. Whenever you can't remember something, he never gets annoyed or frustrated. Instead, he calmly explains things again as many times as necessary. He also becomes surprisingly good at distracting you when your grief threatens to overwhelm you. Shalnark understands that dwelling on tragedy endlessly isn't healthy, so he often tries making you laugh or drawing your attention toward lighter topics. While he can't erase your pain, he does his best to ensure it isn't the only thing you experience.
Shizuku
Out of everyone in the Troupe, Shizuku probably understands you most naturally. Her forgetfulness is very different from yours, but it creates an immediate sense of familiarity between the two of you. Neither of you expects perfect memory from the other. Neither of you becomes upset when conversations get lost halfway through. There are days where the two of you completely forget what you were discussing and simply move on without concern. Oddly enough, it becomes one of the most comfortable relationships in the Troupe. Around Shizuku, you never feel pressured to explain yourself. She accepts things as they are. If you forget something important, she doesn't judge you. If she forgets something, you don't judge her. The simplicity of that mutual understanding becomes surprisingly valuable. In a life filled with grief and uncertainty, Shizuku's uncomplicated acceptance feels like a rare source of peace.
Machi
Machi recognizes your vulnerability long before anyone else does. Most people see your calm demeanor and assume you're emotionally distant. Machi notices the cracks underneath. She notices how your expression changes whenever families are mentioned. She notices how your hands sometimes tighten unconsciously when old memories resurface. She notices how often you're forcing yourself to keep moving despite being exhausted. Machi isn't particularly good with emotional conversations, so she rarely tries to comfort you through words. Instead, she expresses her care through actions. She stays close to you during difficult moments. She notices when you're becoming overwhelmed and quietly redirects your attention elsewhere. There are times when she'll simply sit beside you in silence for hours, offering companionship without demanding anything in return. Somehow, those quiet moments end up meaning more than elaborate declarations ever could.
Phinks
Phinks refuses to accept that someone as gloomy as you should stay gloomy forever. From the moment he meets you, he makes it his personal mission to get some kind of reaction out of you. Most of his attempts fail spectacularly. He tells jokes, starts arguments, acts ridiculous, and generally behaves like an idiot. You usually respond with little more than a mildly amused glance. Then one day, completely by accident, he actually manages to make you laugh. Not a polite smile. Not a small chuckle. A genuine laugh. The sound catches him completely off guard. From that moment onward, he becomes determined to hear it again. Deep down, Phinks hates seeing how much sadness you carry. He knows he can't erase your past, but if he can make you forget about it for a few minutes, that's enough for him. Every smile feels like a victory.
Uvogin
Uvogin respects strength above almost everything else, and in his eyes, you are one of the strongest people he has ever met. And it’s not even because of your combat abilities, although those are definitely impressive, but actually because of your ability to keep living despite everything you've endured. When he learns about your past, he finds it difficult to comprehend how anyone could survive such overwhelming loss without completely falling apart. The fact that you're still capable of kindness afterward impresses him even more. Uvogin becomes fiercely protective of you, often acting as though it's his responsibility to ensure nobody adds to your burdens. He dislikes seeing you upset and becomes genuinely angry whenever someone dismisses your struggles. While his methods are often blunt, his care for you is sincere. In his own way, he wants you to realize that you're no longer carrying everything alone.
Franklin
Franklin gradually becomes one of the most dependable presences in your life. Your existence is filled with uncertainty. Memories vanish unexpectedly. Emotions resurface without warning. Some days, you aren't even entirely sure who you were before all the tragedies began. Franklin provides stability amidst that chaos. He remembers important dates, conversations, and details that you might lose over time. More importantly, he never makes a big deal out of it. He helps quietly, without drawing attention to your struggles. Whenever you're feeling overwhelmed by the fear of forgetting someone important, Franklin patiently reassures you that memories aren't the only thing that matter. Even if specific details disappear, the feelings remain. The love remains. The impact remains. His steady presence becomes a grounding force that helps keep you moving forward.
Bonolenov
Bonolenov feels an immediate sense of kinship with you because he understands what it means to lose an entire culture. While the circumstances are different, both of you know the pain of watching your people vanish. There is a deep sadness within him that resonates with your own. Because of this, your relationship often develops through quiet understanding rather than extensive conversation. The two of you can sit together for hours without speaking and still feel connected. Bonolenov respects your grief because he recognizes it as something sacred. He never pressures you to move on or forget. Instead, he encourages you to honor the people you've lost by continuing to live. In many ways, he helps you realize that remembrance isn't only about memory. It's also about carrying the values and love of those people forward.
Kortopi
Your relationship with Kortopi is perhaps the quietest of all. Neither of you speaks very much, which means there is never any pressure to fill silence with meaningless conversation. Instead, your bond develops through small moments. Sitting together. Existing in the same space. Exchanging simple gestures. While others may overlook those interactions, they become incredibly meaningful to you. Kortopi understands what it's like to feel disconnected from the rest of the world, and because of that, he never expects you to be anything other than yourself. There is something comforting about being around someone who doesn't demand explanations. Even when your memories fail and pieces of your past slip away, the sense of comfort you feel around him remains. It lingers long after individual moments have been forgotten, becoming one of the few constants in your life.
Illumi
Illumi finds you unsettling in a way very few people ever do. He spends most of his life reading others effortlessly, understanding their motivations and emotions with frightening precision, but you are different. There are moments where he looks into your eyes and finds nothing but exhaustion. Something ancient and immeasurable, as though you've been carrying the weight of countless funerals for far longer than any human should. At first, he studies you because he cannot understand you. Then, over time, curiosity slowly becomes attachment. He begins noticing how often people underestimate you because of your absentminded nature, assuming your forgetfulness means weakness. Every single time, they're wrong. Illumi finds it oddly fascinating that despite losing so much, despite forgetting pieces of yourself over time, you still manage to care about others. You still apologize when you forget things. You still worry about inconveniencing people. He doesn't understand why. Logically, someone who has suffered as much as you should have become cold long ago. Yet you haven't. Sometimes he'll watch you struggle to remember something important and feel an unfamiliar irritation at the unfairness of it all. He'd never call it sympathy, but he begins quietly helping you remember things without drawing attention to it. If anyone else notices, he'll deny it immediately.
hi! i love your fics and they’re always so nice to read before bed! can you please do part 5 reacting to reader who’s always unintentionally staring? like reader has unnaturally wide eyes and seems to be staring 24/7
hi!! thank you! and it makes me super happy to hear that ^^ thank you for requesting!!!
Bucciarati
Bruno is probably the first one to notice, because you are absolutely not subtle. The first time he catches you staring, you’re sitting across from him at a café, when he looks up from his coffee, you’re already looking directly at him, wide eyed, unmoving, and completely silent. Bruno pauses and asks, "...Can I help you?" which makes you blink and say, "Oh. Sorry," before immediately going back to staring out the window, leaving Bruno to assume you were originally about to say something.
Then it keeps happening everywhere, including meetings, restaurants, and car rides, where he will randomly glance over and find you already looking at him. You aren't smiling or frowning, but just observing him like a deer.
After a while, he realizes you aren't doing it intentionally, and the moment he points it out, you get incredibly embarrassed, asking, "What? Was I staring again?" When he repeats, "Again?" you admit that people ask you that a lot. At that point, Bruno actually starts finding it endearing, mostly because he learns your stare isn't judgmental, you are just constantly processing information, thinking, and existing, making the people around you feel like the center of a nature documentary.
Giorno
Giorno spends weeks trying to determine what your staring means, because every single time he looks up, there you are watching him silently with those huge eyes. At first he assumes you're analyzing and studying him, perhaps trying to figure out his plans, but then one day he catches you staring directly at a lamp for ten minutes straight, and suddenly everything makes sense.
You aren't staring at people specifically, you're just staring at everything, and you simply happen to look terrifying while doing it. Giorno starts testing his theories by suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, but nothing happens because you'll still be staring, lost somewhere deep in thought.
Then he'll ask, "What are you thinking about?" and you'll answer with something completely insane like, "I was wondering whether fish know they're wet." After a silent pause, Giorno simply responds with, "Oh," and becomes much less concerned after that, though he does occasionally use your staring habits to scare new people because he finds it genuinely hilarious.
Mista
Mista suffers the absolute most because, unlike Giorno, he doesn't immediately realize that you are completely harmless. The first time he notices you staring, he gets nervous, the second time he gets suspicious, and by the third time, he finally snaps and yells, "DID I DO SOMETHING?" You jump and ask, "What?" to which he responds, "You keep LOOKING AT ME," leading to a brief pause before you softly admit, "I like your face," which makes Mista nearly fall out of his chair because that is somehow so much worse.
After that he becomes completely hyperaware of it, because whether you'll be sitting across the room, eating lunch, or standing right beside him, you are always staring. Eventually he starts dramatically covering his face and begging, "Stop looking at me!" but even when you claim, "I'm not," he counters with, "You literally are!" only for you to blink, say, "Oh," and go right back to doing it three seconds later.
The funniest part is that the Pistols eventually notice and start staring back at you, meaning Mista now has multiple pairs of eyes focused on him at all times, making him feel like he's living in his own personal hell.
Narancia
Narancia immediately assumes you're weird, not creepy, just weird, because your stare is absolutely impossible to ignore. He'll be talking excitedly about something until he suddenly notices you're looking directly at him without reacting or moving, just completely staring. When he tries asking, "...Hello?" and gets nothing, he follows up with, "...You alive?" until you finally blink and ask, "Huh?" Narancia bursts out laughing because he realizes you weren't even listening, you were physically present but mentally somewhere on another planet.
After that he starts messing with you constantly by making faces, crossing his eyes, and holding random objects in front of your vision to figure out what finally breaks your concentration. Sometimes he'll move directly into your line of sight, but because you continue staring straight through him, Narancia actually starts feeling like a ghost.
Abbacchio
Abbacchio absolutely hates it initially because he already doesn't enjoy being perceived, and somehow you've decided to perceive him more than anyone else in the room. Whether he'll be standing across the room, drinking coffee, or just trying to enjoy five minutes of peace, you are always staring at him.
Eventually he gets annoyed enough to confront you with a sharp, "What?" which just makes you look confused and echo, "What?" When he demands to know, "Why are you staring?" and you softly ask, "...I was?" the frustration immediately leaves his body because he realizes you genuinely don't even know you're doing it. After that he mostly tolerates it, though occasionally he'll glance up and find you staring at him from across the room like a Victorian ghost, and even though it startles him every single time, he will absolutely never admit that to anyone.
Trish
Trish assumes you hate her immediately because every single time she looks over, you're watching her with an expression that never changes. Naturally, she starts overthinking everything, wondering if she has something on her face, if she said something wrong, or if you just genuinely dislike her. Then one day she finally decides to ask, and your response is simply, "Oh no, I just think you're pretty."
Trish freezes because that is genuinely the last answer she ever expected to hear from you. After that, she starts noticing your staring isn't actually focused on her specifically, it's completely universal, ranging from people and objects to walls and birds. She eventually starts finding it cute, mostly because you always seem a bit embarrassed whenever someone points it out, which completely confirms you aren't trying to be intimidating and are just built like that.
Fugo
Fugo spends an unreasonable amount of time trying to figure you out because your behavior makes absolutely no sense to him. You'll stare directly at him during conversations and then completely forget what he just said, or you'll stare at books without reading them, at windows, and at random corners in a way that is entirely bizarre.
One day he finally decides to ask, "What exactly are you looking at?" and after you think about it for a very long time, you simply answer, "I don't know." Fugo nearly explodes, demanding, "What do you mean you don't know?" but when you repeat, "I don't know," and he points out, "You've been staring at me for fifteen minutes," you just say, "Oh," and genuinely seem surprised. That's when Fugo realizes your brain simply operates differently, meaning you're not trying to be rude or creepy, but are just permanently distracted.
After that he starts noticing something else, which is that you stare most at the people you like, not intentionally, but just because your attention naturally drifts toward them. While the realization completely embarrasses you, it secretly makes Fugo very happy, though if you ever catch him smiling about it, he'll deny everything.
