#throwaway rules

[starlight-eclipsed]

Hi! For Wild’s chapter in Like a Rag Doll, is it possible to get a translation for the old English sentence at the beginning? I think I got most of it but I am not sure about the “warden hi onyenes” part is supposed to be.

Thank you!

Hello! Just to be entirely honest before I share it--I absolutely based it off the stone tablets in totk. There are some other words that I researched before adding, but for the most part it was me squinting at the text and trying to figure out how the words worked XD

You did get most of it:

'Ond so the goddesse seyde tha a champion bith from the skie comen, to warden hi onyenes the wroth god of derknesse.’

"And so the goddess said that a champion born from the sky will come, to ward it against the wrathful god of darkness."

It's definitely not perfect, but I'm choosing to make it the consequence of time on poorly kept oral tradition.

But yeah, it's referencing how Sky had to hold back Demise, specifically the seals he would use. Hylia was 'speaking' in this part, as her plan to defeat Demise was explained to the audience ^-^

[cautiouslyyyoptimistic]

Hissing and spritzing the spray bottle (block button) at the tgcf accounts on tiktok that display and shame tgcf multishippers in the public square (making tiktoks and @-ing specific accounts about how they're weird and awful people for breaking up hualian)

[quietwingsinthesky]

hey wait why was eleven able to heal river’s wrist? accepting that she’s time lord enough to take in regeneration energy (because i’m assuming he can’t do this for just anyone,) wasn’t the whole point of the s7 finale that he was out of it? no more regenerations? before getting a boost from deus ex gallifrey or something. so where did the river healing energy come from.

[izzyizumi]

Digimon Adventure {Series} Last Evolution: Kizuna ("Bonds") ~ Koushiro{u} Izumi & Menoa Bellucci + Koushiro's R e s i s t a n c e + Menoa O f f e r i n g Koushiro an O U T

"{Join Me}?" / Menoa "Asking" {Threatening} Koushiro for the "[Full] list of Chosen Children" Koushiro owns by c o r n e r i n g Koushiro in the Izumi building o f f i c e

+ Koushiro H I D I N G the T h r o w-a w a y P H O N E S behind Koushiro's B A C K (Upon R e a l i z a t i o n)--

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[lilshitwayne]

fast and furious was like u bitches want a queer character? i'll give you a queer character and then it was the irredeemable finale villain

[summerhighlandfalls]

I’m always very suspicious when I encounter fanworks where there’s a child of two men and one of the men is called ‘mom’ by the kid. Because a) it reminds me very strongly of ‘who’s the woman and who’s the man in this relationship’ style homophobia and b) if it’s, like, an mpreg scenario, there’s a lot of gender politics wrapped up in that and calling the parent who gave birth ‘mom’ (in a work of fiction, not referring to real life trans parents and their preferred terms) does raise alarm bells wrt feminizing trans men in fanfiction and fanart

[lennythereviewer]

My favorite Kingdom Hearts fact is that one of the biggest plot-holes that Nomura has never been able to meaningfully retcon or write his way out, a plot-hole so big that it fundamentally breaks the very rules the series is written on...

Is the existence of Steamboat Willie

Let me explain for the uninitiated:

In Kingdom Hearts 2, there’s a small detour in the story involving Maleficent trying to invade Disney Castle, the home of King Mickey. She can’t step foot in the castle due to an artefact of pure light that wards off darkness locked in the basement.

Pete, who is working for Maleficent, opens a door into the past (Before Disney Castle, this land was known as Timeless River) and decides to remove the artifact from it’s place in time so it won’t be there to stop them from getting in.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy chase Pete into the past thanks to another magic door provided by Merlin, and through some shenanigans involving old cartoons and teaming up with Pete’s past-self, they lock the door the villains are using, and return the artefact to it’s proper place so it can exist in the present.

You with me so far? Pretty straightforward-ish time-travel plot right?

Here’s where it goes off the rails.

Time travel would go on to become a staple of Kingdom Hearts going forward and would come with a very strict set of rules over how it operates:

1. You can only travel to a point in time where a version of yourself exists

2. You basically give up your body to do so, and travel as a disembodied soul unless you have a vessel to inhabit

3. You can’t alter the past in a meaningful way, what’s going to happen will happen

4. You lose your memories of said trip once you return, but your actions could leave a lingering instinct on your other self that could influence their decisions

“Wait” you may be thinking “Why should anyone go through all those hoops? Wasn’t time travel super simple that first time?”

And you’d be totally right, because the existence of Timeless River completely renders all of these rules and restrictions meaningless. 

There is no version of Sora that existed in Timeless River before he step foot there, everyone kept their bodies, the trio and Pete were able to mess with the timeline as freely as they pleased, and they all very much remember their trip. 

Nomura has never been able to meaningfully explain this super simple, easy way of time travel and the more convoluted method co-existing other than a cheap-throwaway line from one of the villains saying that Merlin “broke the rules” 

The hilarious part about this line is that it implies that PETE of all characters is actually more powerful than the actual villain of the series, because Pete opened a door into Timeless River through sheer willpower and nostalgia for “the good old days”

But the all-knowing chess-master of a villain who had an evil plan several decades in the making with countless moving parts and contingencies to account for had to use the roundabout, more complicated method of time travel where a lot could go wrong.

Pete though? Dude just casually broke all the rules of time travel because he felt like it. He's just built different.

TL;DR: Steamboat Willie breaks Kingdom Hearts lore in half, Pete is more powerful than Master Xehanort, and I fucking love this beautiful trainwreck of a series you guys it means so much to me

I love Kingdom hearts so much.

[reasonsforhope]

"Polish presidency of the EU Council announced breakthrough in early hours after marathon overnight talks on food waste reduction targets and measures to limit a throwaway clothing culture.

The EU has set its first ever legally binding targets for member states to cut food waste, with lawmakers agreeing on a 30% cut across retailers, restaurants, caterers and households by the end of the decade.

For food processors and manufacturers, the 2030 goal is a 10% reduction, with both targets based on the average in the three years to 2023. EU estimates suggest that over 59 million tonnes of food is shovelled into dustbins every year, representing a loss of €132 billion.

Reforms to the EU’s waste framework directive, agreed this morning [February 19, 2025] after a marathon negotiating session behind closed doors between MEPs and government delegates, also target the textiles industry.

New harmonised rules on extended producer responsibility (EPR) mean textile producers and fashion brands will have to pay a fee to help fund waste collection, sorting and recycling, based on how circular and sustainable their products are.

In a measure directly targeting ‘fast fashion’ practices such as cheap, almost disposable clothes from online platforms, EU governments are also empowered to adapt these fees based on the durability of garments.

“The rapidly growing e-commerce market brings many opportunities, but also represents a significant challenge, especially in terms of environmental protection,” the agreed text runs.

The legislation gives leeway to penalise aggressive marketing strategies that encourage clothes to be discarded before they are worn out, practices that according to the legislation are “likely resulting in an overconsumption of textile products and, consequently, an overgeneration of waste”.

Criteria that can be considered include the width of the product range offered by a retailer, and the provision or lack of a repair services and incentives.

Anti-waste campaigners welcomed EU action, but were disappointed by the level of ambition reflected in the headline targets.

“The EU and its member states committed to the UN Sustainable Development Goals 10 years ago, including a 50% reduction of food waste across the entire supply chain,” said Theresa Mörsen, a policy officer at the Brussels-based NGO Zero Waste Europe...

The agreement is provisional, subject to a rubber stamp from government ministers at an EU Council summit – a procedure which is normally a formality."

-via EuroNews, February 19, 2025

[spidermanifested]

another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

[trappedinafantasy37]

Meh, I’m kinda torn on this myself. I do agree that Lolth hasn’t truly abandoned Minthara, especially since she’s a Baenre. I think Minthara only believes Lolth completely abandoned her because Lolth ignored her in Moonrise when she was on the verge of death and was praying for Lolth to help her. Now, Lolth actually does give all drow who disappoint her a second chance to regain her favor which would include Minthara. Lolth may be hateful and vindictive but, despite popular belief, she isn’t beyond reason nor is she stupid. Lolth is still a god and she has reason to want to keep as many clerics and paladins as she can. But the means of regaining that favor usually involve doing some pretty messed up things and often involves killing a lover.

Not to mention, if Lolth truly did completely abandon Minthara, she would have instantly devoured her the moment Minthara returned to the Underdark in her default ending, or worse. But Lolth absolutely LOVES chaos and she loves it more than she hates those who defy or betray her. And Minthara intends to bring a shit load of chaos when she returns (it's also the reason why I disagree with Minthara being placed as Lawful Evil, she is more Neutral/Chaotic Evil if anything). Especially since Minthara’s chaos involves waging war against the Baenre house which will shake shit up for the entirety of Menzoberranzan and Lolth is going to feed off all of that. Now the Baenre’s are her favorite, but Minthara is also a Baenre. She will most likely just reclaim the house for herself after killing her mother. If Minthara succeeds at what she wants to accomplish, I imagine it would be enough to regain Lolth's favor. It's only a matter of whether or not Minthara actually cares to receive that favor again, which I don't think she cares to.

However, I also think it is much more plausible that Minthara is a canon oathbreaker, but not by choosing. By swearing an oath to the Absolute, her oath with Lolth did indeed break, even if she did not choose to break it. But, that doesn’t really matter. When she leaves the Absolute, her oath with the Absolute also breaks. By this point, Minthara is an oathbreaker twice over. But, she does not swear a new oath to Lolth and has no intentions to. Her time with the Absolute has given her a newfound perspective of the gods and realizes that she wants nothing to do with them and would rather be free of them. If she is going to follow anyone's word she'd rather it be her own.

Instead, Minthara swears a godless oath to destroy the Absolute, which is why she isn’t an oathbreaker by the time she joins camp. However, she does have a line of dialogue in which she says she is unsure if her oath will still stand once the Absolute business is done and over with. Minthara's dialogue does directly state that if you do dominate the Elder Brain, she will swear an Oath of Conquest. But if the Elder Brain isn't destroyed, well, the path diverges a bit and it is a bit unknown as to what becomes of her oath. If she remains in BG with her romance partner, most likely she will keep her Oath of Vengeance. But, her intentions with the Underdark and her house kind of implies both Oath of Vengeance and Oath of Conquest.

Sorry for the rant. You have no idea how much time I had to spent researching Lolth and her relationships with clerics/paladins when I was writing my fanfic.

*WHEEEZE* wait... wait wait... WAIT. HOLD UP WAIT!!!! SO IF A PALADIN'S OATH BEING BROKEN MEANS THEIR DEITY HAS LEFT AND ABANDONED THEM AND THATS WHY THEY FEEL EMPTY, DOES THIS MEAN... WITH A STILL IN PLACE OATH..... *HEAVY BREATHING ON MY KNEES* DOES ... DOES THIS MEAN... LOLTH.... IS STILL WITH MINTHARA... AND HAS NOT ABANDONED HER COMPLETELY LIKE SHE THINKS????

[tritoch]

the warrior of light as a game-breaking force of violence

there's a moment, relatively early in dawntrail, that establishes succinctly how out of place the warrior of light (as the savior of eorzea and main character of four successive final fantasy game plots) is in what is essentially the story of fresh new final fantasy protagonist wuk lamat. and it sets up quite nicely how the framework of fantasy video game conflict pulls the warrior of light forever towards violence as the expansion goes on.

spoilers through 7.0 follow

consider wuk lamat's kidnapping and rescue. bakool ja ja holds his blade to wuk lamat's throat, taunting you. his lackeys line up against your party in neat little ranks suspiciously reminiscent of a classic final fantasy encounter screen.

and it simply does not matter to the warrior of light. you stride right through their combat setup because you are beyond that by now. the warrior of light has absolutely no respect for the "we are about to do ATB combat" lineup. the camera even jumps the line for you in one continuous rotating shot, crossing the axis of action as though to emphasize through the disruption of visual convention how far outside the game's boundaries you are.

this is how far you are above the problems of dawntrail's first half. you cannot even be bound by the normal rules of cinematography and video game combat. everyone else here lined up for a good old-fashioned scrap and the warrior of light said haha nope actually. i'm going to stroll through here like a god of war astride this tiny battlefield. your henchmen cannot even raise a hand to me. i don't even have to engage in violence directly anymore. my mere presence is enough.

in fact, not only can bakool ja ja's henchmen not raise a hand to you, he's not even worthy of your direct intervention. he kidnaps wuk lamat and steals her keystones and frees valigarmanda and kidnaps hunmu rruk and none of it warrants the warrior of light so much as raising a finger. he's wuk lamat's recurring villain, that's not your problem. you're just here to take in the scenery.

zoraal ja spends his whole life aspiring to be thought of as his father's equal and a worthy successor to the dawnservant as the "resilient son." all it takes for gulool ja ja to acknowledge you as a warrior on his level is like a five minute sparring match. the acknowledgement from gulool ja ja that zoraal ja hungered for his whole life and would eventually go full cyborg supervillain to get via regicide is something the warrior of light receives casually in a throwaway line after their level 93 solo duty on the way to more important plot conversations.

it really seems for a second, in the first half of dawntrail, like you are strong enough and the problems simple enough for this to be a clean and easy adventure. bakool ja ja? power of friendship'd. mamook? successfully reintegrated, no worries about the crimes against humanity. rite of succession? handily won. nothing can stop you. even duty finder queue times have been conquered: you can do all your duties with trusts now.

all of which only makes it better when the second half has sphene ask you and wuk lamat directly: could your strength have been enough to save alexandria? could you have found a different way?

i know some people get very annoyed we don't intervene in the gulool ja ja fight. now personally i think if you see arthur and mordred squaring up it's rude to intervene, but beyond that, it simply wouldn't have mattered. by the time zoraal ja's forces arrived in tuliyollal, alexandria and tural were already on a collision course and doomed to conflict. your hands alone could never have averted this conflict. sphene was always bound to do what she did—and certainly a gulool ja ja without his reason would not be any more inclined to peace than wuk lamat and koana were.

there's a great little moment just before living memory where estinien, champion at reading the room, is like "okay so if thancred and i stay here that frees up you up, aibou, to do what you do best and save the world and have epic fights. woo!!!" and immediately afterwards you basically have to apologize to alisaie because part of the sort of unspoken premise of this whole trip in the first place was that you were, finally, not going to plunge into mortal peril to save the world. you were finally going to take it easy. you were finally done with that. and she has to sort of ruefully be like nah it's fine bro. i was trying to get you to take it easy and not do insane risky world-saving violence. but y'know these things (interdimensional invasions) happen.

by the time you reach the very last trial, all pretense that the warrior of light could have ever been beyond these problems has vanished. you were, very emphatically, not strong enough to hold onto all that was dear without sacrifice. gulool ja ja and otis and cahciua died. yyasulani was irreversibly changed, physically colonized and culturally decimated by another dimension. you systematically shut down each part of living memory, and all its friendly, charming, loving ghosts, with your own hands. with your own clicks.

not even the vaunted strength of the warrior of light is enough to overcome sphene's inexorable logic of conflict. and so, in the end, she plucks you out of the crowd and says, explicitly for reasons of your strength, that you are going to have to do a boss fight now. you are going to have to kill her and you are going to have to do it in a proper 8-on-1 trial, and she forces you to affirmatively state that you understand you're going to kill her.

did you think you were above it all? did you think you could get away from here with your weapon undrawn, with your hands clean? that for you and you alone the logic of conflict comes undone? wrong. wrong. wrong.

your strength cannot redeem you, says sphene. your friends cannot make these sacrifices for you. if you would play the hero then you must play the hero. no half-measures.

back to the duty finder with ye.

[maniculum]

A post of mine from several months ago about the Perlesvaus self-rearranging forest just wandered across my dash again and made me think about it some more, so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

Perlesvaus, for those who don’t know, is a 13th-century French Arthurian romance. It’s intended to be a continuation of Chretien de Troyes’s Perceval, but it’s mostly known for being completely batshit when it’s known at all. (There’s an old book on Arthurian texts that dedicates a chapter to Perlesvaus and repeatedly speculates that the anonymous author had Something Wrong With Him. This is the longest scholarly treatment of Perlesvaus I’ve been able to find & read.)

Anyway, there’s an odd worldbuilding detail in the text. See, it’s a Thing in chivalric romances that the questing knights happen upon castles & lords & damsels & such that are unfamiliar to them and have to be explained. You know, “this is the Castle of Such-and-Such, where the local custom is as follows. It’s ruled by Lady So-and-So, whose character I shall now describe to you.”

This is a genre convention that largely goes unquestioned, but it’s a bit odd if you think about it. All these knights are at least minor nobility. They don’t know the other nobles in their region? They don’t know what castles are where? Don’t they have, like, diplomatic relations with these people or at least attend the same tournaments? Even if they’re all fully committed to the knight-errant lifestyle and don’t really engage in courtly diplomacy, you’d think they would share information with each other and get the lay of the land. But instead, to use TTRPG terminology, it’s like they’re all on a hexcrawl that was randomly generated just for them to have these adventures.

The author of Perlesvaus decides to address this. In what’s kind of a throwaway paragraph late in the text, he explains that God moves things around so knights always have new quests to do (and, presumably, is also making sure they always arrive at the right narratively-significant moment). So the reason they’re always encountering people & places they have no knowledge of is because those people & places really weren’t there yesterday. They didn’t know about the Castle of Such-and-Such because it’s normally a thousand miles away and the forest path they followed to get there used to lead somewhere else.

And I think that would be a really interesting thing to stick into a novel or a TTRPG or something. When a knight rides into the forest with the intent of Going On A Quest, at some point they go around a bend in the path, cross an invisible barrier, and wind up in the Forest of Narrative. This is a vast forest with no set geography, filled with winding paths and populated almost entirely with questing knights, damsels in search of questing knights, friendly hermits, strange creatures, and allegorical set-pieces. Then, at the narratively-appropriate time, they cross back over the invisible barrier back into the regular world, and find themselves wherever the Narrative has decided they need to be. This could be a different country, a different continent, or a different world entirely.

Whether anyone involved is actually aware that this is how it works is… optional, really. Though if it’s not a Known Phenomenon, the people whose jobs it is to handle trade & diplomacy & god forbid, maps, are going to end up tearing their hair out in frustration.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 16-Step-Sibling Incest-Chrollo/Reader/Hisoka/Illumi

Notes:

ok soooo, we’re finishing up Kinktober with a bang! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) anyway, this one is gonna be kind of hard to write but im starting it a bit early cause i have a lot of free time today! Btw this shits ooc as hell but idgaf. It's also looooooong, like over 8k words loooooong. Anyway, enjoy

Title is from ‘The Boys’ by Girls Generation

btw art is from pinterest, if its ur dm me and ill credit u<3

....

You find out your mother remarried when her postcard arrives in the mail. It's a short note, and starts out by telling you that she's on vacation in Bali. She goes on in detail about all the cool things she's doing, and you just shake your head, very used to your mothers forgetful attitude. And then, at the end in a little throwaway sentence, she mentions that she got remarried. 

‘He's a lovely man. And he's got three boys, Name dear. Try to get along with them, and don't cause trouble!’ 

You shake your head, annoyed at the entire note. She tells you not to cause trouble? As if you would, you don't care enough about your mother to bother being upset about the news. But she could have at least invited you to the wedding. She probably forgot about you, her only daughter. It sounds insane, and impossible, but you're very used to your mother forgetting about you entirely. You didn't mind anymore. She pays for anything you need, and your life is comfortable, if not happy. But you could live with that. 

You stare at the postcard for a minute, taking in the colorful flowers and ocean on the front. The bright colors hurt your eyes a bit. But brothers! You couldn't believe it. You had lived your entire life an only child, and now that was about to change. You felt a bit of tentative excitement fill your heart, lifting your moon and painting a smile across your face. You smiled, pinning the stupid postcard to the fridge. It stood out, the only thing on the entire front of the fridge. 

Things are about to change. For better or worse, you don't know. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It's lunch break the next day. You're sitting at your usual lunch table, telling your friend about the postcard, the sun shining down on the uniformed students sitting around in the courtyard of your expensive private school. A brisk breeze whistles through the air, rustling your knee length skirt. You shiver, grabbing your uniform jacket from where you had discarded it, and pulling it back on. Your friend Evelyne, sitting across from you and picking at her sandwich, rolls her eyes.

“Your mom sucks, Name.” She says, popping a green grape into her mouth. You smile.

“Oh, she's not that bad, Evie.” You say, feeling the need to defend your mom, even though she doesn't deserve it. Evie rolls her eyes, pulling at the sleeve of her gray sweater. The school forbids any clothing items aside from uniforms of course, and a jacket or sweater over your white button up. Evie had decorated her sweater with pins and patches, adding a slight bit of uniqueness to the sea of girls wearing similar uniforms. You were too lazy, just wearing the normal dark navy uniforms. Evie was so cool in your opinion. She even dared to dye her hair a brilliant orange red color, which was against the rules. But apparently the school was too busy checking that all the girls' skirts were the correct length, that they missed Evie’s bright hair. Or maybe they didn't care. Evie’s father donated to the school a lot, after all. Evie pulls at her hair, fluffing her bob around her face. 

“Seriously though Name, that was so uncool of your mom. First she doesn't invite you to the wedding, and now just dropping three step siblings on you?” Evie says, her voice echoing in the courtyard a little too loudly. You look around anxiously, but no one cares. The brisk breeze blows some leaves off the large tree over your heads, and you watch them tumble down to the ground.

“I mean it's not too bad, right?” You ask, stealing one of her grapes. “I really don't know anything about them, they could be nice!”

“Sure,” Evie says, taking a large bite of her sandwich. “That was still a dick move, though.”

“Maybe,” You giggle, popping another grape in your mouth. “They might—”

Someone clears their throat right behind you. Startling, drop your third grape, and turn around. There's a boy standing behind you. Looming over you and Evie and the table, with long straight hair tumbling down his back. He's wearing the male version of the uniform, without the jacket. You raise an eyebrow.

“Um, can I help you?” You ask. You hadn't heard anyone come up behind you. The boy doesn't say anything, simply looking you up and down with no expression on his face. He has big eyes, like a porcelain doll in the window of a shop. His skin is pale, his lashes long, his mouth a pale pink. He's quite handsome. And then he opens his mouth.

“I am disappointed,” He says, voice even and cold. There is barely any inflection there at all, but his eyebrows furrow slightly as he looks at you. You frown.

“Uh, what?” You ask, confused. It seems like he’s insulting you, but you can't quite tell because you don't even know who this guy is, what the hell he's talking about, or why he's talking to you in the first place. Evie frowns, opening her mouth. You shake your head at her.

“You know, when people usually meet each other for the first time, it's polite to introduce yourself.” You say, trying to smile through the confusion and slight annoyance. The boy tilts his head, hair waterfalling down his back. You're kind of jealous of it, it looks so smooth and straight. 

“I am Illumi.” The boy says after a moment. And then, before you can spack, he continues. “Father informed us that we are to live with you from now on. I am disappointed.”

The pieces start falling together, the puzzle solving itself in an instant in your mind. Your mouth drops open, a chill running through your body. 

“You're one of my new step siblings?” You ask, jumping to your feet in shock. Illumi nods, frowning slightly at your sudden movement. He's very tall, looming over you even when you're standing right in front of him. You offer a hand, trying to smile. He's been quite rude, but you still give him a few chances to make it up. After all, he has a right to be upset about this situation, after all. His father had just gotten married, just like your mother. You wonder if he was invited to the wedding. 

Illumi stares down at your hand, frowning like it's personally offended him somehow. Finally, after your smile starts to waver, he takes it, giving you a quick handshake. 

“It's nice to meet you.” You say, really trying to mean it. Illumi nods. He doesn't talk much, just stands there before you, staring deep into your eyes with his big, black soulless ones. 

“You are very normal.” Illumi says, looking you up and down again. You raise an eyebrow, trying to figure out if that's a compliment or an insult.

“Is that good or bad?” You ask. You can hear Evie grinding her teeth behind you, like an angry guard dog. Illumi tilts his head to the side, tapping his chin. He moves a bit like a robot, slow, calculated, and cold. 

“Simply an observation,” He says, straightening his head. His hair flows distractingly around him. You don't know how to feel.

“Oh,” You say, forcing a customer service smile. “You look like a porcelain doll.”

Evie chokes on a laugh. You know she's rolling her eyes behind you. Illumi’s brow furrows, his black eyes slipping from your own for a moment, to look behind you. 

“Your friend is quite loud.” He says, looking back at you like you should deal with it. You raise an eyebrow. This guy is really weird.

“I guess?” You say, running a hand through your hair. “She sounds normal to me.”

Illumi frowns, standing still and straight like a robot. 

“The two of you are similar in your normality,” He says. “I shall inform father that I am disappointed in his choice of family.”

He turns, walking away briskly, his hair swinging behind him. You strain your ears, listening for the footsteps that are supposed to be there. You hear none. 

“Well, he's just lovely, huh.” Evie says, popping a grape into her mouth. You sit down again, taking a bite of your own food.

“He's quite odd,” You say, taking a sip of your soda. “Reminds me of a robot. Or a haunted doll.”

Evie chuckles, tossing her half eaten sandwich in the trash can with a thump. She grabs one of your apple slices, taking a bite. You steal a grape in retaliation, even though you’ve already eaten half of them. You make a mental note to grab some grapes at the grocery store later. 

“Well name,” Evie says, tossing the rest of her trash as the bell signaling the end of lunch echoes through the air. “I hope you're excited to meet the rest of your step-siblings.”

“I don't know, I guess I am a little bit.” You say, tossing your trash as you and Evie start towards your English class. “They can't be weirder than Illumi, right?”

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You might have to eat your words, you think to yourself as you stand in the front entrance of your large house, staring at the three boys across from you. It's been about two weeks since your first meeting with Illumi, and your mother and her new husband had just arrived back from their vacation. It seems the boys had not been invited. You feel a bit vindictively happy about that. Your mother and her new husband barely spared you a few drive by greetings before they vanished into the house with their bags. Leaving you and your three new step brothers in the front entrance. You break the silence, offering your hand with a smile. 

“Im Name,” You say, voice echoing in the front entrance. The room stills for a moment, and then the tallest one darts into action. He moves forward, gripping your hand in his cold, pale hands, and shaking it firmly. 

“How lovely it is to meet you, Name.” He says, smiling. His yellow eyes dart up and down your body, zeroing in on your uniform, and then your eyes. He runs a hand through his bright red hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It falls back immediately, obscuring his eyes slightly as he speaks.

“Having such a pretty sister is so exciting.” He says, pointed canines flashing in the light. You flush. 

“Hisoka,” One of the other boys says, voice a warning. “Stop it.”

The red haired boy, Hisoka, simply smirks wider, slowly bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the top. You flush, yanking your hand away from his plush lips. He tilts his head, pouting like a wounded puppy. The black shirt he's wearing stretches over the muscles of his chest and arms. He's really hot. So are all of them actually. You wince internally. These boys are going to be your step brothers, you aren't allowed to lust after them, no matter how attractive they are. 

“It's nice to meet you,” You say, forcing down your blush. Hisoka's smile returns to his face. It looks practiced, rehearsed, fake. This one is dangerous. 

“I'm the oldest, you see. Chrollo, the frowny one with the bangs,” he gestures backwards at the boy in question, who simply sighs as Hisoka continues, “Is the middle child. And the one on the end is the youngest.”

“Illumi and i met already actually.” You interject, frowning slightly. Hisoka raises a single eyebrow. 

“Oh dear, I hope he wasn't too rude.” He says, smiling apologetically. You resist the urge to tattle, and brush your hair over your shoulders. You're wearing simple clothes, some jeans and a nice blouse. Your mother had texted you before they had arrived, asking you not to ‘embarrass her’. 

“Oh, he was fine.” You say quietly, ignoring the way Illumi stares into your soul. “We go to the same school. Do you guys go there too?”

Hisoka chuckles, looming over you a bit. His stare edges towards predatory sometimes. 

“Oh no dear, I graduated a couple years ago.” He laughs, arm flexing as he pats you gently on the shoulder. 

“Oh,” You say, ignoring the lingering hand on your shoulder. He's very physical. “Would you guys like a tour of the house?”

“That would be lovely!” Hisoka exclaims, spinning you around bodily and gripping your waist. “You're very sweet, darling.”

You smile, ducking away from the hand clutching your waist. It's better for your own sanity. The other boys trail behind you as you exit the main entrance way. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Adjusting to the new living situation isn't as bad as you thought it would be. Your mother and her new husband don't hang around the house often, and even if they do, they usually stay secluded to their wing of the house. Hisoka often isn't at the house for long stretches of time, or comes back quite late at night. It's too bad, he's the most friendly of his brothers. Illumi is home almost twenty-four seven, leaving only for school and the occasional odd errand. Chrollo vanishes, you don't know where he goes. But he's probably still at the house. You think. 

It's been a few weeks since you were first introduced to them, but your life hasn't really changed all that much. The two younger boys aren't very friendly or inviting, and you haven't had the chance to talk to them as much as you’d like. It would be nice if you could get to know them a bit better. So that's what you're doing now. 

Illumi is probably in his room. He usually goes straight to his room after school, and shuts the door behind him with a slam. All of the bedrooms are in the same hallway, two on each side. Your parents bedroom is in their wing of the house, of course.

You walk up the stairs, steeling yourself for a hard fight. Illumi is a weirdo who can't really carry a conversation well and doesnt want to talk to you, but you're determined to try to be friends with him. Or at least, civil. You even have a plan. Ask for help with homework, and then the two of you could be study buddies. You were in the same grade, which meant you had the same classes. It was a perfect plan! Well, maybe not perfect, but pretty good. 

The hallway is dark. You switch on the light with a click, illuminating the metal plates on each door. Your room is next to Illumi’s. Hisoka and Chrollo’s rooms are on the other side. No light shows from under their doors. They're probably out. Illumi’s room has cold bright light leaking into the hallway, however. You dip into your room to change out of your school uniform. Slinging on a tank top and a pair of sweatpants, you grab your study materials and walk a few feet down the hall. Raising your hand, you knock tentatively on Illumi’s door. 

“Hey Illumi? It's me, can I come in?” You ask through the door. It's quiet, and for a moment you wonder if he's actually not in. and then he speaks.

“Yes.” He says, quietly, just barely audible through the thick wood of the door. You take a deep breath, steel yourself and open the door.

You step through, cold feet meeting a blue carpet, and close the door behind you. Illumi looks up, staring at you with wide, confused eyes. He’s sitting on the floor with his study materials spread neatly on a low table. You smile.

“Can I study with you?” You ask, hiding your shaking hands behind your back. Illumi blinks for a moment, as if mentally calculating whether or not it's a good idea. Finally, he nods.

“I don't see why not.” He says, looking back to his own study materials. You smile.

“Thanks,” You say, moving into the room and bending down to place your study materials out. Illumi makes an odd noise, like a choke and a cough at the same time. You look up, worried. His face is a little flushed.

“You ok?” You ask, sitting down across from him at the low table. Illumi nods.

“I am fine.” He says, eyes wandering from you to your work to the wall behind you. You shrug, turning to your study materials. The room sinks into silence, broken by the occasional turning of pages and the scratching of pencil on paper. Finally, when you think he's adjusted to your presence enough, you speak.

“Hey Illumi, what did you mean when you said I was normal?” 

Illumi looks up from his work, eyes darting past your chest a little slowly and focusing on your eyes. He tilts his head in confusion. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” He says, as if it's obvious. You frown.

“But what does it mean?” You try again, “Like that im ugly?”

“You are not ugly.” Illumi says, voice sounding a bit weird. You flush.

“Oh, thanks.” You say, scratching your chain awkwardly. “Is it that I'm boring?”

Illumi stares at you long and hard, barely blinking. It seems like he's trying to figure out why you're upset. It reminds you of a robot, updating its programming as it tries to figure out what the weird human is upset about. Finally, he shakes his head.

“The words I used were inappropriate. I apologize.” Illumi offers, face still blank. “I simply met you were not the tyrant your mother portrayed you as.”

You frown. You've heard those words before, the insults aren't uncommon from your mother. But it still hurts. Your chest aches as you force a smile.

“Oh, really?” You say, forcing a fake laugh. “What did she say?”

Illumi frowns slightly, watching your face closely. He seems to be scanning for any change, any hint that you're upset. But your poker face is flawless, you've had a lot of practice. Finally, he opens his mouth.

“You were a spoiled brat who would throw a tantrum at a moment's notice.” He says, placing his pencil down on the table. “I was informed you went to my school, so I decided to meet you. You were not like I had been told, and I simply expressed it poorly.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You know your mother doesn't like you that much, or at least never wanted children, but is this what she thought of you? You feel like you're going to cry. You don't want to, you can't cry in front of Illumi. But against your will you feel tear after tear roll down your face. Illumi looks almost helpless as you cry, whipping it away with the back of your hand. 

“Are you sad?” Illumi asks, frowning. He looks like he doesn't know what to do.

“Yes, Illumi.” You sob, tears rolling faster and faster down your face. “I'm crying. Have you never seen a girl cry?”

Illumi shakes his head, hand hanging awkwardly in the air between you. He clenches his fingers a few times, then lets it drop down. 

“I don't really talk to girls.” Illumi says, staring in confusion as the tears roll down your cheeks. He looks almost adorable in his helplessness. Your shoulders shake as you cry, big fat tears rolling down your face and hitting the fabric of your tank top, soaking the blue fabric a darker blue. Illumi stares, awkwardly shuffling his pencil around in front of him. Finally, you give up.

“You're supposed to comfort crying girls.” You whimper, wiping the tears away as fast as they come. 

“Comfort?” Illumi asks, tilting his head. You nod.

“Just give me a hug, Illumi.” You cry, crawling around the table towards him. Illumi sits there awkwardly as you throw yourself against his black covered chest. You cry into the turtleneck he's wearing, muffling your sobs into his chest. Illumi sits straight up, hands hovering awkwardly above your body until finally, when you crawl fully onto his lap, he settles them on your back. His hands are big, and warm. Finally, the tears start to subside. 

You snuggle into his neck and shoulder, warm and snug against his surprisingly hot body. In both temperature and stature, actually. He has broad shoulders, and strong arms through the thick black fabric of the turtleneck. You giggle, drawing circles on his shoulders as you wipe the last tears away. 

“Thanks for giving me a hug.” You sigh, still burrowing into his warm body. Illumi coughs, the sound loud in the relative silence of the house. 

“I apologize if it was a poor hug. I was never taught to give one.” He says, voice rumbling out from his chest. You giggle, shifting on his lap.

“What are you talking about, silly. No one gets taught how to hug.” You say, running your hand through strands of his long, silky hair. Illumi coughs, clearing his throat as you shift on his lap again. The room sinks into comfortable silence for a moment. 

“What, have you never hugged a girl before?” You laugh, moving again. Illumi makes a choked little sound in his throat, and shakes his head.

“I told you, I don't really talk to girls.” He says, his voice sounding a bit strained. You frown, pulling away from his chest to look him directly in the face. A faint flush has painted itself across his cheeks. 

“Hey, are you alright? You sound weird.” You say, bringing a hand up and pressing it against his forehead. You shift on his lap a bit as you bring your other hand up, touching your own forehead. He doesn't have a fever, at least.

“I am fine.” Illumi nods. His cheeks are still just the palest petal pink, but his ears have started burning pure red among the strands of  black hair. You're kind of alarmed. You dont think you’ve ever seen a hint of pink on his face, and now you see so much. You shift slightly as Illumi’s hands fall, grabbing your waist tightly.

“You should get off.” He says, voice warbling slightly. You frown, trying to ignore how butterflies rise in your stomach as his hands clench around your waist. 

“Wait, why?” You ask, grabbing his shoulders as you slip slightly, pulling yourself close against him. “I was enjo—”

You stop suddenly as you feel something under your thigh. Illumi looks away, body tensing as you move experimentally, pressing against the thing. It jumps against you. Illumi chokes.

“Are you hard?” You ask, voice loud in the silence. Illumi winces slightly.

“No.” He says, pulling his head back until his hair partially obscures his face. You shift experimentally and are rewarded with his hands clenching down on your waist. 

“Illumi you literally are.” You say, biting back a smile. Illumi doesn't say anything. Now you know you should be disgusted. He's your step-brother, after all. But, you can't quite bring yourself to pull away and run to your room. So instead you slide down his thighs, slowly crawling backwards on the floor until you're sitting a few feet in front of Illumi. His face looks dreadfully blank, like he expects you to slap him. Your eyes trace down his figure, taking in his broad shoulders and trim waist, and the bulge in his pants. You really wanna fuck him. But somehow, that seems like too much. Like it's a line you can't cross as step siblings, so you'll settle for this. Reaching your hand out slowly, carefully, you bring it down, stroking him over his pants. 

The effect is instantaneous. Illumi’s back straightens, his body tensing as a small groan leaks out from between his clenched lips. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Illumi asks, obviously trying to keep his tone even as you stroke him.

“Thanking you.” You smile, pulling the belt of his sweatpants down. There's a small wet patch on his gray underwear, near the tip. You grin, licking your lips, and pressing your hand against him. Illumi whimpers, and quickly bites the rest of the sound back. You wish he would let all of his sounds out, but you doubt he will. And so you pull him out of his boxers, stroking him gently in your hand. Illumi bites his lips, eyes falling closed as you stroke him. He looks so pretty like this. Back straight and stiff, hair pooling around his shoulders and hitting the ground, cheeks flushed cherry blossom pink. You grin, mouth watering, and bend down. 

“Wait, Name.” Illumi protests, his voice slightly hoarse. You pause, looking up at him from your position on the floor. His black eyes are filled with swirling lust and something else you can't quite place. 

“Yeah?” You ask, letting a big glob of spit fall from your lips and plop onto Illumis dick. It twitches and Illumis shoulders twitch with it. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyes locked on your own. You smile.

“I'm gonna give you a blowjob.” You say, and then start taking him into your mouth. He was clearly going to say more things, probably useless things that you don't want to hear, but they dissolve in his throat as you take him as far as you can, using your hand on the parts you can't reach. You make sure to use your hand on the parts you can't quite reach. Illumi groans again, as one hand clenches in the fabric of the carpet, and the other grabs your hair. You humm around him, pulling up and down, doing your best to drive him mad. It must be working, too, because tiny huffs and groans have started to leak out, even though he must be doing his best to hold them back. You can feel him twitching in your throat, probably close to cumming. 

You smile around him, pressing a kidd to the tip before eating him down your throat again. Illumi groans, hand yanking your hair a bit as he does.

“Wait name im—”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before something warm and sticky is flowing down your throat. You do your best to swallow it all before you pull off him, licking your lips. And then you realize what you just did. Illumi looks out of it, his black eyes hazy and confused, his cheeks still flushed. His dick is lying on the hem of his pants, tracking spit and cum on them. He looks very pretty. And then it just hits you what you’ve done. You gave your step brother a blowjob. You jump to your feet, trying to fix your hair. Illumi startles, shoving himself back into his underwear and pulling up his pants. Finally, when the room sinks into silence, you speak.

“Don't tell anyone.” You say, whipping a spot of cum off your boobs. Illumis eyes jump there, and then back to your own. You wait for him to agree, then flee to your room in embarrassment. What the hell have you done. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So maybe your plan to get to know your step brother didn't exactly go as you had thought. But you were still determined to get to know them. Without the blowjob part, obviously. You sigh, turning a page in your book as you stare into space. The library was your favorite part of your house. The smell of books and lavender filled your nostrils and helped you calm down. The light was golden, pouring over the little seating area you’ve found yourself in. It was a perfect place to read. 

Too bad you're not actually reading, just trying to forget the Blowjob Incident™ from two days ago. You sigh, remembering it again and shifting your legs. You hate to admit how much it kinda turns you on. How you just wanna go back and demand that Illumi eat you out. You sigh, crossing your legs again, and closing your book with a slam. Well, the book was boring anyway. 

Your socked feet make barely a noise on the hardwood floors as you move back into the tall bookshelves that rise to the sky. Well, the ceiling. The bookshelves aren't that tall but they still feel tall. You slip the book away, and then move down the narrow hallways of books running your hand along their spines. Maybe a smut book will make you a little less pent up. Or more, but you could at least blame it on the book then, and not the Blowjob Incident™. 

The smut section of the library was there when you and your mom moved in. Actually, most of the books were. It makes sense because the house has been in your family for generations. You chose not to think too hard about which of your dead relatives had picked out the smut books. You had already read all of them, but you scanned the shelf for one of the better ones. 

Finally you spot one, the familiar gold and red cover sitting teasingly out of reach on the top shelf. You stand on your tippy toes, and reach up as high as you can, your fingertips just brushing the bottom. You brace your hand against one of the lower shelves and strain as high as you can. Someone chuckles behind you. And then a warm body comes up behind you, reaching just the last few inches to grab the book from the shelf and recede. You spin, and take in Chrollo, standing in front of you with the book outstretched.

“Here you go,” He says, offering you the book. You take it quickly, holding it against your chest as you flush.

“Thanks,” You say, hiding the title of the book as best you can. Better to be safe than sorry. Chrollo smiles slightly, folding his arms across his chest. He's wearing a fluffy looking sweater. You clear your throat, still standing with your back against the smut books. 

“Are you enjoying the library?” You ask, in a hurry to change the subject, so he doesnt start asking questions about your book.

“Yes it's quite extensive.” Chrollo says, brushing a hand through his hair. “I myself have been enjoying the philosophy and nonfiction sections.”

“Oh,” You say, smiling slightly. “Those sections are pretty good, the nonfiction section especially has some pretty interesting and rare books. ”

“You seem to know this library pretty well.” Chrollo says, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “I assume you’ve read most of the collection?”

“Yep, almost all of it.” You say, smiling excitedly. “I haven't quite got through the cookbook section.”

You love the library. It's such a lovely place to escape too. And besides, your mother never comes in here. She says it's too dusty, even though the maids do a wonderful job of cleaning the entire house. You sigh, leaning back against the bookcase. Chrollo frowns.

“You seem upset about something.” He says, moving a few steps closer. You sigh. Your mothers words still sit a bit heavy in your heart, but you're more used to her cruelty than you should be. It's embarrassing that you're actually more upset about the Blowjob Incident™. But you definitely can't tell Chrollo that. So your mother is getting thrown under the bus. Besides, you're kind of curious to hear what they were told about you.

“What where…” You say, clearing your throat, and trying again. “Well I mean, how much did you guys know about me before you moved in.”

Silence falls for a moment as Chrollo considers you, taking in your body, clothes up a turtleneck, pleated skirt and socks, your face as you avoid his eyes. Then he speaks.

“Oh, not much. At least I wasn't told anything.” Chrollo says almost soothingly, moving forward to pat you gently on the arm as he continues. “I know father told Illumi a bit more.”

You frown, tilting your head. 

“Why not you?” You ask, looking up at him. Chrollo stifles a smile.

“Oh, Father and I don't get along.” He rubs your shoulder reassuringly, and you shiver as his warm hand leaves you. “Illumi listens to him. Hisoka and I do not.”

“Oh,” You say, shoving down your confusion and the urge to pry. “Well, did you know anything?”

“Your age and gender.” Chrollo says, patting you on the head with a chuckle. “Is that what you were upset about? Don't you worry, We all had a favorable impression of you the moment we saw you.”

You frown, brow furrowing in confusion as Chrollo steers both of you out of the seas of bookshelves and back into the rest area. You spot a book resting open on the couch, a mug of something warm on the table. Steam spirals into the air, and you sit down on the other end of the couch, watching Chrollo as he picks up the book, sitting neatly in the middle. You sigh, brushing your hair out from behind you and leaning back, closing your eyes. The sounds of page turning fills the air, broken only by Chrollo’s slow, even, breathing. 

You open your own book, too embarrassed to change books now. What would you say if he asked why you were exchanging your book? ‘Oops, I grabbed a smut book because I was feeling horny after I gave your brother a blowjob, and I'm too embarrassed to read it in front of you.’ Hello no. Besides, Chrollo isn't paying attention to you, and you’ve already read this book a thousand times. The smut won't turn you on as it once had, you're sure. 

You were wrong. Maybe it's something about the fact that chrollo is sitting a few inches away, turning the pages of his own book calmly, or maybe you were just that horny, but you're barely into the smut scene when your pussy starts throbbing. You shuffle on the couch, crossing your legs and clenching your thighs together. You shiver at the little burst of pleasure that gave you and continue reading, body tight and tense. You're barely digesting the words on the page, far too busy being distracted by the warm body a few inches away from you. Chrollo is much more interesting than the stupid smut book anyway. 

You look at him out of the corner of your eyes. His hair falls gently, angled down towards the book in his lap. It's some philosophy book, you don't care enough to try to make out the tiny text at the top of the page. Chrollo's skin is pale, sharp against the black of his hair. It's a close shade to the cream white of his sweater. You want to reach out and brush his hair out of his eyes, then beg him to kiss you senseless. 

You curse the universe for giving you such hot men who were so close in age to you and lived with you, and then making them your step siblings. So out of reach. You ignore the looming memories of the Blowjob Incident™, and turn a page, trying to focus on the smut scene. But words on a page cannot distract you from the subtle scent of Chrollo's cologne, floating in the air between you. You shift uncomfortably on the couch as your pussy floods with heat, your body begging to be touched. 

You're crossing your legs again when Chrollo speaks.

“You seem a bit restless.” He says, pausing before the last word. You slam your book shut, not even bothering to put a bookmark in it. Your face must be flushed, you know.

“I guess.” You say, clearing your throat. You swear you can hear your arousal in your voice, smell it in the air. The room sinks into silence as Chrollo puts a bookmark in his book, setting it down on the table with a soft thump. You clutch yours in your lap, kind of thankful for a hard thing to clutch. Not like that. Chrollo smiles at you softly, his gray eyes glowing slightly in the lowlight.

“Bad book?” He asks, gesturing towards the book in your lap with a nod. You squeak, shrugging. 

“Uh, it's fine!” You say, putting it on your other side. You feel like a rubber band pulled tight, about to snap. Chrollo seems to be moving closer. 

“I'm impressed,” Chrollo chuckles, scooting closer to you along the couch. 

“What?” You say, heart pounding double time as his gray eyes move closer and closer. You scoot backwards until you're sitting with your back pressed against the arm. The book slides off the couch, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. Chrollo chuckles, stopping a few feet away from your knees. 

“It's quite bold to read a smut book an inch away from your step brother.” Chrollo says simply, a small smile marking his pale lips. Your mouth drops open.

“How did you know?” You ask, voice a little to breathless for you liking. A flush is working its way up your chest and neck, and overtaking your face. Your traitorous pussy drools arousal on your panties. Chrollo chuckles.

“I memorized the Library layout.” He says, smoothing a hand over your sock covered calf. “I'm sure you did as well.”

You’ve had it memorized since you were a child. But you're very distracted right now by his warm hand as it moves slightly higher on your raised legs, now brushing past your knee. You bite back a whimper, not daring to make a noise as his hand travels higher and higher. Chrollo chuckles.

“We certainly aren't the best step siblings, aren't we?” He says, hand stroking up and down your thigh, tips of his fingers barely brushing the edges of your pleated skirt. His fingers feel hot against your bare skin. You slap your hand over your mouth, and Chrollo smirks. 

“What are they going to say?” You whimper through your hand as Chrollo gently grips both your thighs, urging them apart. Chrollo chuckles, tugging down your panties, the last sticky barrier between him and your telling wetness. 

“Who, our parents?” he asks, voice still so soft in the large silence of the caverness library. “They're never here. How could they know?”

 You guess he's right, you think to yourself as he presses a delicate little kiss to your clit. How could they know, when neither of them pay attention to you. To any of their children, it seems. Your back arches against the couch, hands reaching down to tangle in Chrollo's black hair.

Chrollo eats pussy like a man starved. He eats you out like you're an oasis in a dry desert and he hasn't had a sip of water in years. He buries his head between your thighs, gripping your hips tightly as he licks and sucks you closer and closer to orgasm. You feel like you're losing your mind, tipping so close to insanity. Here you are, engaged in sexual activities with another one of your step brothers. Two out of three. And although you had initiated the one from a couple days ago, this one had been all Chrollo. 

You whimper as you feel your orgasm threatening on the horizon, as you tug gently on Chrollo's soft hair and moan his name tellingly into the empty library. 

“I'm gonna cum.” You whimper, warning him with a few extra tugs to the hair in case he isn't listening. He only doubles his efforts, concentrating his sucking and licking on your clit and tossing you off the cliff of orgasm like a rag doll. You moan loudly as you cun, body tensing and convulsing as you come undone, tugging at his hair. 

It takes you a moment to come back, blinking up at the overhead lights. And when you speak, your voice is hoarse. 

“You can't tell.” You say, voice trembling in the room. You wait for Chrollo to nod, and when he does, then you flee again, pulling your panties up and dashing out of the room leaving Chrollo behind you. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You straighten your back as you stand a few feet outside of the doors to the exercise room. You know Hisoka is in there. You know he's there because you made sure to triple check with him, and both his brothers. You need to talk to him. Urgently, one might say, because you're kind of having a crisis, and it's surprisingly hard to get him alone to talk. But the crisis. Maybe it has something to do with the incidents that had happened in the last week. You shiver slightly as you remember them, body trembling as it recalls all of it. You shake your head, straighten your shoulders, and march into the gym with your head held high. 

You don't go in here often. You don't like working out, preferring sports to things like gyms and working out. But you know the general layout.

Hisoka is over by the rack of weights. You can see his brilliant hair from all the way across the room, as he does some sort of weight exercise. You move through the room, catching your own reflection out of the corner of your eye in the mirror lining one wall. The room is silent, besides for the sound of your feet on the cold concrete floor, and the muffled music blasting from Hisoka’s headphones. 

He hasn't spotted you yet. As you move closer, you watch his arm muscles bulge, completely put on display by the black tank top he's wearing. You clear your throat, begging your already fried nerves and the arousal beating at your gut to calm down. 

“Hisoka? Can I talk to you?” You say, trying to be audible over the music pounding in his headphones. Hisoka looks up, meeting your eyes in the mirror in his sharp yellow gaze, and then smiles. 

“Ah, Name. I didn't see you there.” He says, placing the weight back in the rack, and pulling his headphones out of his ears. “Come to watch me workout?”

He winks, and you chuckle. He's not wrong, that's what you were doing just then. You shake any traces of arousal out of your face and force a smile.

“Um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” You say, bringing a hand to your mouth. You chew anxiously on your nails, heart pounding a bit too fast. Hisoka’s brow furrows, eyes scanning you up and down. 

“Is something wrong, darling?” He asks, moving closer to you, gently grabbing your hand and lowering it away from your mouth. You almost flinch as his hot fingers touch you, as he gets close enough and all you can see is the beads of sweat lingering on his skin. You want to lick them off, oddly enough. His hand is still holding your wrist. He can probably feel your pulse beating double time. 

“I,” You start, then clear your throat. “Well, this is kind of embarrassing.”

Hisoka raises an eyebrow, hidden behind his bright red hair. His eyes flicker the length of your body again, taking in your pajama shorts and t-shirt you cut into a crop top. You look like a slob, but he'd already seen you when he got home and you figured it would be weird if you showed up wearing something nicer to have this conversation. You didn't even know if he would believe you, or what he would say. You shake your head, begging your face not to flush. 

“Well, recently, i've been trying to get to know Illumi and Chrollo,” You start. Hisoka chuckles.

“Oh how adorable~” He says, patting you gently on your head. He smells of salt and musk and faintly of cologne. “Aren't you just the sweetest.”

You flush, body heating up at the nickname. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Is your hair natural?” You ask, too embarrassed to keep talking. Hisoka chuckles.

“Yes, doll. The three of us have different mothers.” He says, patting your head gently again. “Now what did you want to say?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter again, voice suddenly caught in your throat. “I'm not sure how to say this.”

Hisoka considers you, trying to peer into your soul through your eyes and figure out what's got you so worried. You almost wish he would. Then the words wouldn't have to pass your lips. He's starting to look almost worried. Or as worried as you've ever seen him look. 

“Why don't you sit down,” he says. You plop down onto the mat below your feet, sitting with your legs crossed on the cushy material. Hisoka sits down opposite you, smiling patiently at you. 

“Have my brothers been bothering you?” He asks, moving forward to smooth the wrinkle between your brows. “You don't deserve to worry your pretty head about those idiots.”

“Oh no, it's my fault too.” You say, shaking your head. Hisoka's hand withdraws, falling back into his lap. You don't know if you want him to touch you more or stand ten feet away. You can't decide which one you want more. 

“Well, I think I've been a bad step sister.” You confide, leaning forward a bit. Hisoka raises an eyebrow,

“Oh why would you think that?” He purrs, reaching forward again to smooth a hand over your shoulder. “If anything, you're too good for undeserving men like us, doll.”

You smile, brushing your hair over your shoulder. The gym is empty besides the two of you. You don't know if anyone else is home. Your mother and her new husband are on some favation. Illumi is 

“I guess. The other boys haven't complained or anything,” You flush, body temperature rising as you remember the things that had happened. “But, I keep doing things that step sisters aren't supposed to do.”

Hisoka’s face goes blank for a moment. He blinks a couple times, and then a smile appears on his face. 

“Whatever are you talking about?” He asks, a fake smile still glued to his face. You flinch, face still flushed. It feels like he already knows what you mean, or has an idea. But he seems like he wants to hear it from your lips. Hear you say all the dirty forbidden things you've gotten up to with his half siblings. You lick your lips and clear your throat. Your hands are trembling in your lap, and you clench them against your pajama shorts, suddenly feeling too naked to be doing this. You don't know why. 

Maybe it's how Hisoka is looking at you. His yellow eyes scan your body, taking in each square inch of bare skin on display for his viewing, or the careful way he holds himself. He looks predatory. You hate how it sends a bolt of heat to your gut. You take a deep breath, steady yourself, and speak.

“We have engaged in some sexual acts.” You whisper into the silence of the gym. Hisoka raises an eyebrow, looking mostly unsurprised. 

His yellow eyes dart down again, scanning your body as if looking for evidence of what you have spoken into existence.

“I'm afraid you're going to need to be more specific, doll.” Hisoka says, voice light and teasing as if the two of you are discussing something as trivial as the weather. You gulp down your spit, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

“I have Illumi a blow job. Chrollo ate me out.” You say, keeping your eyes closed. “What am I supposed to do?”

Silence echoes in the gym for a moment. And then Hisoka chuckles. 

“Oh my, what a dilemma you seem to have, doll.” He laughs, the sound echoing in the empty room. You open your eyes, kind of confused.

“You seem surprised.” You say, eyes gliding over Hisoka’s body again before you can yank them up to his eyes. You're already a bit turned on from just talking to him, touching him, being near him. Not to mention thinking too much about the events of the last week. 

“Oh, i figured it out as soon as you mentioned sexual acts.” Hisoka says, doing air quotations around the words ‘sexual acts’. He shoots you a wink as he continues. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Oh,” You say. He seems very casual about this, very unbothered. You pull your lower lip into your mouth, biting it as you watch him smile unnervingly. “Why aren't you angry?”

“Hmm~” Hisoka hums, eyes darting down to your mouth as you let your bottom lip out of your mouth, probably a bit red from the biting. “I wonder.”

It happens so fast. One moment you're sitting upright, watching Hisoka in front of you with apprehension. And then the next moment you're tumbling backwards, the world spinning on its axis. Your back hits the mat with a thump and you grunt. Hisoka looms over you, a feral light hiding in his eyes as he greedily scans you up and down. 

“What?” You say breathlessly, biting back the moan that wants to leak out as you take in Hisoka above you. His hair droops around him in a brilliant red halo. He cages you against the matte softened floor, and you whimper as his thigh finds its way between your legs, pressing up into your pussy. 

“My brothers and I are very different, you know.” Hisoka says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck. “But I suppose we are similar in some ways after all.”

He nips at your neck and you whimper, body reflexively straightening against his thigh. Your hands reach up to scrabble at his shoulders. 

“Wait, Hisoka.” You whimper as he breaths hot and heavy on your ear, pressing hickeys on the skin under your ear. “No marks, they’ll see.”

Hisoka laughs huskily. 

“Who doll?” He laughs, pressing his thug against your pussy harder. You whimper, pleasure running a hard line down your spine. You're losing your mind and he hasn't even taken your clothes off. 

“Chrollo” You breathe, the name coming out as more of a moan. “And Illumi.”

“Ah, not those pesky absent parents of ours?” Hisoka says, a chuckle in his voice. “Oh they won't mind. If anything, they’ll take it as a challenge. How would you like that doll?”

You whimper, gripping his muscled shoulders tightly and digging your nails into his back. Hisoka grunts, body pressing you deep into the floor. You're trapped, between the matt covered floor and a body of solid muscle. Hisoka reaches down, using one hand to pull the loose pajama shorts off your body, tossing them somewhere behind him. You whimper as he yanks off your panties too, exposing your poor pussy to the bare air and the mean strokes of his corded thigh. 

“You're so sexy,” You whimper as he drives his muscled thigh into your clit. You feel like you're going to break, just shatter to pieces right there on the gym floor. Hisoka laughs, heavy in your ear. 

“What a slutty step-sister I have.” he breathes, voice deliciously husky. “I wonder. Could you handle all of us at once?”

Your pussy twitches against him, drooling more arousal, leaving sticky trains all over the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Oh god yes,” You whimper, images of it filling your mind. You're too turned on to be mortified as HIsoka laughs, kissing hickeys and bite marks all over your neck. You're losing your mind. It seems your three for three, and all you want to do is to be fucked stupid by your step brothers. 

Hisoka chuckles, pulling away to stare down at you with lust driven yellow eyes, almost glowing behind curtains of red hair. And then he shoves two fingers into your mouth.

“Be a good girl and suck.” He coos, driving his thigh against your pussy in regular thrusts, driving you closer and closer to orgasms. You're gonna cum. Soon, you're so close to losing your mind.

You're sure you look like a mess. Your hair is a messy halo around your head two fingers shoved in your mouth, your body twisting and turning on the mat. Shorts and underwear long discarded, grinding your bare pussy on your step brother's clothed thigh. But you don't even care. Hisoka smiles above you, canines sharp in the lowlight.

“You gonna cum, doll?” he smiles. You nod, sucking his fingers obediently, whining around them as best you can. Hisoka smiles, merciful as an avenging angel above you.

“You've been so good, so I'll let you cum.” You coos, leaning the weight of his body on you as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth. You're about to protest, but you don't get words as he replaces his fingers with his lips, sealing your mouth in a kiss as you fall off the edge.

Your body convulses as you cum, grinding down on his thigh until you can't anymore, until you're screaming from oversensitivity and you yank yourself away from his thigh, trembling. Hisoka eats every moan and scream, muffling it with his tongue and his lips. Until finally, he pulls away with a little chuckle.

“Done already?” He coos, wiping the tears and spit from your face with a laugh. “I was just going to call the others.”

...

Endnotes: i hope you guys enjoyed this kinktober ride as much as i did lol. This ones a bit long but i figured we’d better go out with a bang~

[sweetiechichi]

something softer

pairing: mattheo riddle x f!reader

summary: you’re not really friends with mattheo riddle. more like acquaintances who share a few mutuals and the occasional eye contact. he’s known for breaking rules and hearts, not for being helpful. so when he offers to teach you guitar after a passing comment, you don’t question it. but sitting on his bed, fingers tangled in frets and tension, you realize this might not be the casual hang you thought it’d be.

warnings: mild language, suggestive tension, soft!mattheo, slowburn/mutual pining, not proofread

wc: 2.8k

it wasn’t really meant to become a thing.

you weren’t friends with mattheo riddle. not exactly.

you knew the same people--theo, pansy, enzo here and there. enough overlap that your worlds brushed up against each other sometimes. same parties. same corners of the common room. you’d sit nearby in group conversations, trade the occasional glance when someone said something ridiculous. but that was it.

you’d never really talked. not just the two of you.

mattheo’s reputation had a way of preceding him--known for breaking noses, breaking curfew, and breaking hearts, all while being unfairly attractive about it.

he wasn’t exactly known for being approachable. or friendly. or even tolerable, depending on who you asked.

but he’d never been anything but decent to you.

he held the door open when you were behind him. he never interrupted you when you talked. he didn’t flirt either--which, honestly, made him more suspicious. mysterious. annoyingly intriguing.

there wasn’t much to go on. no late-night conversations. only a few long stares across a crowded room. just a quiet, consistent sort of awareness. like you were on his radar for reasons he never bothered to explain.

you didn’t know what to do with that. so you didn’t do anything at all.

until last week.

it started, as most things did, with theo being a nuisance.

he was halfway through declaring that every attractive person must know how to play guitar--"scientifically proven," apparently--as the group wandered back from dinner, voices echoing down the corridor.

"there is no one hotter," he said, gesturing dramatically, "than someone strumming a sad chord while pretending they don’t care if you’re watching."

"you literally don’t play guitar," pansy deadpanned.

"i could," theo argued. "if i tried."

"you did try," enzo said. "you broke a string and blamed mercury retrograde."

you laughed, tucking your hands into your sleeves.

"to be fair," you added, "mercury retrograde does ruin lives."

pansy turned toward you then, smirking.

"honestly, i could see you in a band, y/n. like... moody bassist energy. black boots, tragic past--"

you rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself.

"okay, rude--but not entirely inaccurate."

then, a little more honestly--

"i’ve always kind of had this fantasy, actually. of being, like… the mysterious girl in a band. eyeliner smudged, guitar slung over my shoulder, never speaking to anyone unless it’s during soundcheck."

that earned a round of snorts and knowing nods.

"you’d eat that up," pansy laughed.

"i would," you giggled. "i just never learned. not the eyeliner part. the guitar."

and maybe you would’ve left it there, just a throwaway comment, one of a thousand.

but then mattheo, who hadn’t said a word since leaving the great hall, spoke for the first time.

"i’ve got a guitar in my room."

you blinked.

he didn’t look at you when he said it. just kept walking, hands in his pockets, like it wasn’t even a big deal.

"come by sometime." "i’ll show you."

simple. offhand. like he was offering a spare quill.

like he hadn’t just casually invited himself into the fantasy you barely meant to say out loud.

but--god--he was so unfairly attractive about it you wanted to throw yourself into a vanishing cabinet.

maybe it was how casual he was. like it didn’t even matter to him if you said yes.

just an open door.

and now here you were, sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with your sleeves, the sound of the fireplace crackling softly behind you.

his room was surprisingly clean, but not in a showy way. a stack of worn books sat haphazardly on the desk. his boots were tucked beneath it, scuffed and unlaced. the window was cracked slightly, letting in the sharp scent of rain on stone. there was a coffee mug on the windowsill, mostly empty. the walls were plain except for a few old posters--one band you recognized, the others faded with corners curled.

it looked like him. careless, but not thoughtless.

he was crouched near the bed, pulling the guitar from its case with one hand and grabbing a couple of picks off the floor with the other. he didn’t seem rushed; just focused, humming quietly under his breath like you weren’t watching him.

you cleared your throat, barely loud enough to cut through the quiet.

"thanks for offering by the way," you said, voice softer than you meant. "you didn’t have to."

as soon as the words were out, you regretted them.

he glanced up, giving a small smile, a pick balanced between his wet lips.

"didn’t seem like a big deal."

you smiled a little, swinging your feet.

"still. it was nice."

he looked over his shoulder, eyebrows slightly raised, and smirked.

"what, you didn’t think i could be nice?"

the way he said it made your stomach flip--light, teasing, but with just enough weight to catch you off guard.

your laugh came out softer this time.

"i mean--no, i just..."

he shook his head gently, that boyish look in his eyes.

"relax, doll. i’m messing with you."

you looked down, heat crawling up your neck.

"sorry. i don’t know why i’m so nervous."

he didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you. not judging--just watching. like he didn’t expect that answer and didn’t want to miss any part of it.

you kept talking, voice lower now.

"it’s just...it’s been a while since i tried something new in front of someone."

he leaned forward, grabbed a few more picks off the floor. then he looked up, face scrunched slightly like that thought almost offended him. it didn't.

"nah. don’t be nervous. you’ve got it. i’ll show you."

he leaned over, starting to actually pull the guitar from its case, handling it with casual ease. his bicep stretched, briefly straining the hem of his sleeve. kill me now.

"so," you said, clearing your throat halfway through the word, "how long have you been playing?"

you weren’t dying for the answer--you just needed something to fill the silence, which was starting to feel weirdly loud. the kind of quiet where every creak in the floorboards echoed louder than it should.

he glanced over his shoulder again, brows lifting slightly at the question.

"shit...probably like..."

he turned back to the guitar, one hand brushing up to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck.

"fuck, i don't know."

a quiet, breathy laugh slipped out of him.

"a few years. picked it up when i was bored one summer."

he strummed a lazy chord, the sound low and slightly uneven in the best way.

"didn't have anyone to teach me, so i just...figured it out."

there was a beat of silence as he adjusted one of the tuning pegs. then he spoke--calm, a little cocky.

"why? you want a lesson or something?"

you raised an eyebrow at his teasing.

"no, i just really needed to see your half-empty coffee mug and three posters falling off the wall."

he laughed, a real one this time.

"okay here, i'll show you something easy."

he walked over holding the guitar by the neck, the thick wooden piece looking small in his large hand.

though your eyes fell to your fingers picking at each other, his dark eyes subtly observed your anxious state.

though he'd never admit it, he thought your nervous posture was quite cute. maybe even instructing in a way, challenging him to take advantage of your vulnerability.

the weight of him atop the bed shifted your body into him, making you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. the neck of the guitar hung loosely in his grip, fingers tapping absently along the frets like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

he smirked, shifted a little closer on the bed, and patted the space next to him.

thigh brushing yours, he didn’t move away.

you gave a small shrug, still twisting your fingers. his gaze flicked to them. then to your face. then back to the guitar, like none of it meant anything.

the guitar looked almost small against him, but in his hands, it somehow looked like it belonged there.

he glanced at you, eyes falling to your hands again.

"you've got soft, little fingers," he hummed simply.

you choked on your breath.

your brain immediately short-circuited, catching the weight of those five words and spinning them into something they probably weren’t meant to be. your cheeks went red hot.

he looked over, mildly confused--then gave a crooked smile, catching on.

"not like that," he said, a little laugh under his breath. "just--guitar strings hurt. they’ll rough up your hands a bit. see mine?"

he put out his hands, casually rotating them to reveal calloused, scarred skin. you nodded quickly, still trying to remember how breathing worked.

"right. yeah. obviously."

smooth.

he turned back to the guitar, still smiling to himself like he’d won something you didn’t know you were playing.

"you alright?" he asked, voice low, amused but not unkind.

you nodded quickly.

he smiled, the kind of smile that barely showed, just curled at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to hide it.

"you're acting like i’m about to throw you on stage," he teased, shifting the guitar slightly. "it’s just me."

you gave him a look.

"you’re kind of intimidating, mattheo."

he let out a short breath, glancing at you with a half-smile.

"funny," he said, fingers idly brushing a string, "most people say that about you."

you tilted your head, surprised.

"me?"

he shrugged, eyes briefly falling on your legs.

"you’re quiet. always watching. people don’t know what you’re thinking."

then, after a beat—his voice low, a little more sure—

"that sort of thing gets to people."

your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. he caught it, of course. smirked, just barely.

"not me though."

your cheeks flushed despite yourself.

"thanks," you muttered, half hiding behind your hair as you tucked it back again.

he leaned a little closer, just enough that your arms brushed.

"here--" he said gently, "let's get you started."

he guided your hand toward the neck of the guitar, fingers skimming yours as he helped you find the right frets. his touch was light but purposeful, and when you looked at him again, he was already watching you--not with amusement this time, but with something quieter. something softer.

"hold it like this," he said, his voice warm. "yeah... just like that."

you smiled without meaning to, a little stunned into silence. he didn’t push it.

instead, mattheo shifted the guitar slightly, angling it toward you again.

"alright," he said, fingers brushing yours, "press here yeah?"

he guided your hand, his touch light but sure. his fingertips brushed the inside of your palm as he moved your fingers into place--slow, almost lazy, like he had nowhere else to be.

"good," he said quietly. "just like that."

you pressed down on the string, uncertain.

"you weren’t kidding when you said it’d hurt," you muttered, wincing slightly.

he chuckled under his breath.

"that’s how you know you’re doing it right, y/n"

you glanced up. he was already watching you again, but when your eyes met, he didn’t look away.

"play it."

you did--badly. the chord came out uneven and muted. you cringed.

"that was..."

you looked at him and fell into a fit of giggles.

"...fuck—that was so bad."

he gave a soft laugh, head tilting.

"no," he said, amused. "it was cute."

you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. he leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice like it was just for you.

"try again. i'll help."

and this time, he didn’t take his hand off yours.

his hand stayed on yours, steady and warm, and you felt everything in you shift.

you weren’t focused on the chord. you weren’t even hearing the guitar anymore. just the pressure of his palm, the rough glide of his fingertips across the back of your hand as he adjusted your grip again.

"your thumb," he murmured.

and then he reached for it--slowly, deliberately--brushing against your skin to guide it gently into place. the touch was light, but it sent a jolt up your arm, sharp and warm all at once. like static under your skin. like he knew exactly what he was doing.

your breath caught.

he must’ve felt it--how still you went, how your hand trembled slightly under his. but he didn’t say anything. he just paused there, his fingers lightly curled over yours, not moving, not letting go.

the room felt impossibly quiet. the fire cracked in the distance, but even that sounded muted under the weight of his closeness.

and then--so softly you might’ve imagined it--

"better."

his voice was low, and it hummed through your bones.

you couldn’t look at him. not yet. you knew if you did, you’d find him already observing you--and you weren’t sure what your face would give away. the way your pulse quickened. the heat blooming just beneath your skin. the way one small, guiding touch had unraveled you.

he didn’t pull back.

you stayed like that--his hand over yours, the guitar almost forgotten between you.

neither of you spoke.

he adjusted the guitar on your lap, then reached for your hand--slowly, like he wasn’t in a rush.

"here," he murmured, voice low. "let me."

his fingers wrapped around yours, guiding them gently across the frets. he moved your hand under his, shaping your fingers, steadying your wrist.

you weren’t sure which chords he was playing. you weren’t really listening.

and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, his thumb moved--just once--brushing slowly across your knuckle. barely there. but it lit every nerve in your body.

it was hard to focus on the music when his hand was on yours, steadying and careful, like he’d done this before--but never quite like this.

once your fingers were in place, he nodded toward the strings.

"alright," he said. "you strum, i’ll play, yeah?"

you looked at him. he was setting up the chords.

you dragged the pick across the strings, hesitant at first, but the sound came out smooth--soft and right. he shifted behind you slightly, adjusting his grip on the neck of the guitar, his knuckles brushing yours as he changed chords.

the rhythm was simple, but something about it made your chest feel full.

you kept going. strumming. letting him lead.

you finally looked at him.

he was already watching you.

not smirking. not teasing.

just... looking. like he’d been waiting for you to meet him here at this exact moment. quiet, close, no pretenses between you.

your lips parted, something unspoken caught in your throat--but you didn’t have to say it.

there was something different in his expression--something quieter. the usual sharpness in his eyes had softened, like he’d just realized this wasn’t just some random moment. like maybe you weren’t just anyone to him anymore.

then--knock knock.

the sound made you both flinch.

you jumped slightly, eyes flicking to the door. mattheo blinked, like he was waking up from something.

"dude!" theo called from the hallway. "we're gonna be late!"

mattheo exhaled slowly, like the interruption had pulled him out of somewhere he hadn’t meant to go. his fingers slipped from yours, lingering for a second longer than they needed to.

you stood, smoothing your shirt as you stepped toward the door, heart fluttering somewhere near your throat.

"quidditch," he said quietly, almost apologetic.

you nodded, hand on the doorknob.

"i’ll see you. thanks again," you offered softly, already feeling the warmth bloom in your chest when he didn’t hesitate.

"come by tomorrow," he said, voice just above a whisper. "if you want."

you turned to look at him. his hair was a mess, his hand resting on the neck of the guitar still on the bed. and his smile—barely there, but real--was enough to make your heart flutter.

"i want to," you nod. "i will."

and for a second, he just stood there, like he didn’t know what to do with that feeling. then he gave you the tiniest nod, and his eyes dropped to the floor in that rare moment of boyish bashfulness.

you opened the door--and stepped right into theo.

he froze. his eyes flicked to yours, then quickly took in the entire situation: you, leaving mattheo’s room, the faint smile still on your face, the faint blush in your cheeks. he didn’t say a word.

just raised his brows a little, as if to say damn...

then looked past you toward mattheo, who stood just inside the door like he was already bracing for whatever theo wasn’t saying.

you gave theo a quiet, polite smile as you passed. he nodded once, still silent, still watching.

and when you disappeared down the corridor, theo turned back to mattheo with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"what the fu--,"

mattheo just ran a hand through his hair, already walking past him.

"shut up."

A/N: eeekk thank you so much for reading! pls check out my other stuff, as i cannot wait to put more full fics out for u guys.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ also, divider creds to: @dollywons (im obsessed)

[shortformblog]

I appreciate when people put in the work.

The Internet Show (1995), "Netiquette"

[gdinthehouseee]

Hotline: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: you're one of the lucky few who gets selected for a phone call with g-dragon himself! good thing this time it's not being recorded...

word count: 2426

tags: fluff: flirting and teasing, suggestive themes

ao3 link,, prompt written by @infinetlyforgotten - i hope i did this justice!!

Ji-yong leans back in his chair, phone in hand, scrolling through the long list of numbers submitted in response to his post. He smirks to himself, amused at the sheer volume of fans hoping for a random five-minute call. It’s been fun so far—cute, endearing, full of stammering voices and excited giggles. He enjoys making his fans happy, even if it’s just for a brief moment, especially when he had been feeling the loneliness truly getting to him. 

He dials the next number, and something shifts.

“Hello?” 

The second you answer, he forgets how to function. Your voice is warm honey, smooth and rich, flowing through his speaker like something out of a dream. His breath catches in his throat. He even momentarily forgets to speak.

“…Hello?” You repeat, ignoring the fear that it might not be him, a hint of amusement in your tone this time. “Did you pocket-dial me or—”

“No—” Ji-yong blurts out, sitting up straighter. “No, I meant to call.” He exhales a laugh, dragging a hand down his face as he tries to pull himself together. “Though, I’d say it’s already a lucky accident.”

Never mind. That was definitely him.

“Oh?” You chuckle, voice like velvet. “Smooth. You flirt like this with all your fans?”

“Only the ones with voices like yours.”

It’s meant to be a cheeky throwaway line, but the moment it leaves his mouth, he feels the warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Why did he say that? He sounds ridiculous.

But then you laugh—low, sweet, and just a little bit teasing.

“So this is what it’s like to be on the receiving end of G-Dragon’s infamous flirting,” you muse. “Gotta admit, I see the appeal.”

Ji-yong blinks, caught off guard. He’s used to flirty reactions, sure—shy giggles, overwhelmed gasps—but this? Someone actually keeping up with him, matching his energy?

It’s dangerous.

“Oh?” He tilts his head, smirking. “You mean you weren’t a fan before this?”

“Hmm… I don’t know,” you tease. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

Ji-yong chokes on air. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he laughs. “Damn—you don’t hold back, do you?”

“Not my fault you’re so fun to mess with,” you say smoothly.

He groans dramatically, but his face is burning. He’s got the stupidest grin on his face, and he can’t even hide it. This is supposed to be just another fan call—just five minutes, a little flirting, a little teasing—but now he’s the one getting wrecked.

“I think I should be the one interviewing you,” he mutters. “How does it feel to have G-Dragon wrapped around your finger in under three minutes?”

You hum. “Pretty powerful, honestly. I might start charging for lessons.”

He actually whines. “You’re dangerous.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

Ji-yong laughs, the sound coming straight from his chest. He doesn’t even realize how much time has passed—until his phone buzzes, signaling that the five minutes are up. His stomach drops.

“Oh,” you murmur, clearly catching on. “Time’s up, huh?”

He stares at the screen. Technically, yes. He should be moving on to the next call, but for the first time tonight, he doesn’t want to. His fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. He tilts his head, biting his lip before letting out a slow exhale.

“…You know, I don’t have to hang up just yet.”

A pause. Then—

“Oh?” Your voice dips slightly, amused. “Breaking your own rules, are we?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “What can I say? You’ve got me hooked.”

“And here I thought I was just another fan,” you tease.

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no. You’re trouble.”

“But you like it.”

“…Maybe I do.” Silence stretches for a moment, comfortable, easy. Then Ji-yong leans back, smirking to himself. “Besides,” he muses, “it’s not like anyone’s keeping track of how long I spend on each call. There were thousands of submissions. Who’s gonna know if I stick around a little longer?”

"So, tell me, G-Dragon—what exactly is it about me that’s got you risking your entire fan service event?"

He groans, dragging a hand down his face with a grin. "Don’t make me say it."

"Oh, but now I have to hear it," you tease. "If I’m making the Kwon Ji-yong bend his own rules, I should at least know why."

"You do know why," he mutters.

"Do I?"

Ji-yong bites his lip, hesitating for a split second before sighing dramatically. "Fine." He shifts in his seat, voice dropping ever so slightly. "It’s your voice."

"My voice?"

"You know what you’re doing with it." He shakes his head. "You sound like… I don’t know, like late-night secrets. Like something I’d get addicted to if I’m not careful."

A beat of silence. Then—

"Damn," you murmur. "That was kinda poetic."

He groans, laughing as he slouches down in his chair. "I know! What are you doing to me?"

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I kinda love the way you sound too?"

He stills. Heat creeps up the back of his neck, a slow, steady warmth that spreads across his skin. He should be used to compliments by now—he's heard everything from breathless confessions to outright marriage proposals—but for some reason, this? From you? It hits different.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out softer than he intended.

"Mhmm."

A smirk tugs at his lips. "And what exactly do I sound like?"

You hum, pretending to think. "Hmm… Let’s see. A little raspy, a little smooth. Definitely addictive. Like something that will linger in the back of my mind even after we hang up."

Ji-yong exhales, running a hand through his hair as he grins at the ceiling. "You are trouble."

"So you keep saying," you tease. "Yet here you are, still on the phone."

Ji-yong chuckles. "You make it sound like I have a choice."

"Don’t you?"

"Not even a little."

The silence that settles between you isn’t the kind that demands to be filled—it’s the rare kind, the effortless kind. It lingers, soft and unhurried, stretching out like the quiet between verses in a song, like the pause before a secret is shared. There’s no pressure to speak, no expectation to keep the moment alive, because somehow, it already is. And maybe that’s what startles you the most—not the teasing, not the flirting, but how easy it feels, how natural it is to simply exist in the space between words with him.

You had submitted your phone number as a shot in the dark when you were scrolling mindlessly on your socials—not expecting to be selected among the lucky few, let alone flustering him and making him want to stay on the phone with you. Not only had Ji-yong called, but somehow, you had him completely hooked—flustered, lingering, unwilling to end the conversation even though he was supposed to have moved on minutes ago. You weren’t just another quick call, another fleeting moment in a long list of fans. No, you had done something you never imagined possible—

"I’m not usually like this, you know." He finally spoke up again, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Oh?"

"I mean, yeah, I flirt," he admits. "But I don’t usually—" He pauses, searching for the right words. "Get like this. All flustered and… stupidly into it."

You laugh, the sound light and teasing. "Stupidly into me, you mean?"

He groans, tipping his head back. "You really love making me suffer, don’t you?"

"A little," you admit. "But only because you’re making it so easy."

Ji-yong grins. He should be embarrassed, maybe even a little concerned about how fast you’ve gotten under his skin—but instead, he finds himself leaning into it.

"So," you muse, playful again. "How much longer do I have before you finally hang up?"

He scoffs. "Why do you sound so sure that I’m the one who’s gonna end the call?"

"Oh?" You chuckle. "You planning to wait until I hang up first?"

He smirks. "Let’s just say I’m not in a hurry to let you go."

Your voice drops into something softer, something warmer. "Good. Neither am I."

Ji-yong shifts in his seat, biting his lip as he glances at the clock. The numbers glare back at him, taunting him with the reality that this call should’ve been over minutes ago. But he doesn’t care. Not when your voice is still curling around his ears, warm and teasing, laced with something that makes his pulse tick just a little faster. He leans back, running a hand through his hair with a smirk. "You know," he murmurs, voice dipping lower, "if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like keeping me on the phone."

"Mm." You hum, thoughtful, playful. "And if I do?"

"Then I’d say you’re playing a very risky game.”

"Am I?" You chuckle, light and airy. "You’re the one who called me, Ji-yong. If anything, you walked right into it."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. First, you fluster me, then you trap me?"

"You say that like you don’t love it."

And—fuck. You’re right. He does love it. Loves the way you aren’t afraid to push back, to tease him just as much as he teases you. Loves the way your voice curls around his name like you’ve said it a hundred times before, easy and familiar. Loves that you aren’t giggling nervously or fumbling over words, but rather, you’re playing with him—matching his rhythm, keeping pace like you belong in this dance. It’s been too long since he’s felt this kind of thrill from something so simple.

"You’re trouble," he murmurs, letting the warmth seep into his tone.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it’s true."

You hum, as if considering something. "Tell me, Ji-yong," you muse, voice dipping ever so slightly. "If I am trouble… what are you going to do about it?"

His breath hitches.

Oh. 

So that’s how we’re playing this now.

He grins, slow and wicked, as he tilts his head, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "That depends," he murmurs, voice rich with amusement. "Are you the kind of trouble that wants to be chased? Or the kind that wants to be caught?"

The pause that follows is heavy, thick with something just beneath the surface. And then—

"Hmm," you hum, letting the sound drag out, teasing. "That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how good you are at chasing." Your voice drops, syrupy sweet, just a little taunting. "I don’t make it easy."

“Oh?" His voice is lower now, curiosity and something else bleeding into his tone. "You like making people work for it?"

"Only if they’re worth the effort."

"Damn."

You chuckle. "What?"

"You’re really gonna make me suffer, aren’t you?"

"Or maybe I’d let you catch me."

His fingers tighten around his phone, grip instinctive, like he’s holding onto something fragile—something he’s not ready to let slip through his fingers just yet. There it is. That spark, that delicious push and pull, a challenge wrapped in temptation. The kind of game that doesn’t come with rules, only the thrill of seeing who gives in first. It’s the promise of something just out of reach, close enough to taste but not quite close enough to have, and it sends a slow, anticipatory heat curling in his chest.

"That easy, huh?" His voice is a little rougher now, a little more raw.

"Did I say it’d be easy?" You tut softly. "You’d still have to put in the effort, Ji-yong."

He exhales, rubbing his jaw. "And what exactly would that effort look like?"

You hum, like you’re truly considering it. "I don’t know. Maybe I’d make you prove you really want to catch me first."

He lets out a low laugh, something dark and amused. "And how would I do that?"

"You tell me," you purr. "How far would you be willing to go?"

His heart kicks hard against his ribs. This is dangerous. He should be wrapping this up, moving on to the next fan, doing literally anything other than entertaining the very inappropriate thoughts now creeping into his mind. But fuck—you’re making it impossible. The silence stretches for a beat, letting the tension coil between you. Then, his voice drops, deliberate and smooth.

"Far enough to make sure you never want to run again."

The air shifts. You inhale—just a little, just enough for him to hear it. For the first time in this entire call, you are the one caught off guard. He can’t help but wonder what other noises you could make for him—

"So?" He continues, his voice is a murmur now, low and smooth. "Do you like to run?"

A beat of silence. Then, soft and teasing: "Only if you can keep up."

Ji-yong exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. "You’re really testing me, you know that?"

"I know," you purr, not a hint of apology in your tone. "And I think you like it."

"You’ve got me sitting here, completely ignoring the fact that I have a hundred other calls to make, just because I don’t wanna hang up on you."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you tease.

"It is a bad thing." He huffs a quiet laugh, leaning back in his seat. "I don’t do this, you know."

"Do what?"

"Get stuck like this." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "You’re making me break my own rules."

"How rebellious of you."

"God, you’re gonna be the death of me."

"Oh, come on," you muse, voice dipped in amusement. "You’re telling me no one else has ever done this to you before?"

"Not like this." 

The confession slips out before he can stop it, unfiltered and a little too honest. There’s a pause. Another shift in the air between you. Then, softer now, more curious than teasing: "Ji-yong."

He swallows, his name rolling off your tongue like warm honey, settling into his bones. He doesn’t know what it is about the way you say it—light, unhurried, like you’ve known him forever—it makes something in his chest tighten.

"What?" His voice is quieter now, softer.

"You still haven’t answered my question," you remind him, and when he stays silent, you press further. "How far would you be willing to go?"

He exhales, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Why don’t you stick around and find out?"

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