Hxh X Reader

Foreboding (Illumi)

n. An omen, prediction, or presentiment especially of coming evil

~Gore & insanity
~Curses 🎶
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« I became insane,
with long intervals of horrible sanity."

Life was never fair to anyone. No one goes through a perfect life unscathed, uncaring, unless they're brain-dead. Some will pretend, some will look away, but in the end we're all the same bunch of hurt conformists, trying to get through.

Long had been the hours for which I contemplated the night sky. What was I thinking about? I did not know. I stared down, then to my left, my right, below, upwards, I laid down and I sat back again. I observed the humans below me with contempt and disgust, and yet a sense of longing couldn't help but creep up my chest.

How dare they seem so carefree?

I was not raised as a loved child,
                               rather as an expectation.

When she was younger, my sister had asked for a sister. That was how I came to life- I am a request from a lonely, scared child. She hated me and yet I was her utility, her desire. I was perhaps not enough for her. She hated me for as long as I can remember. I was embarrassing to her, just a young child she wished she'd never asked for.

But I was older now and away from this fancy house with fake narcissistic people and creepy secrets. We ran away from my dad, none of us able to handle his violence (the only thing we agreed on), but turns out my mother couldn't handle the stress of being a single mother and turned into him. It's not like I was a bad child.

I was good at school, good-looking, I was gentle and kind, tried to be the best
but I got beaten up regardless.

A pair of bitches bitching on a bitch.
Excluded from my own family.
Why? No damn idea.
I'm Cinderella and there's no prince to steal me away to a happy castle.

Heh.

This whole life felt like a fight with a wall. Except it wasn't a fight, just a silly struggle-
                                               a pointless one.

My eyes landed on a nearby fancy party happening in what seemed like a penthouse. A man with long black hair chatted with a woman in a room separate from the party and I decided to hide myself behind the border I was sitting on.
I wasn't particularly interested but I figured I'd try giving spice to that stupidly reflective night expedition.

Not taking my spying 100% seriously, I just stood, my torso above the border of the rooftop, my head resting lazily on my arm as I stared in front of me, unimpressed but self-conscious of the intrusion.

The strangely dark man sat on what I assumed a guest bed, his silhouette the only thing I could see from behind the curtains, his legs spread and his torso relaxed. It seemed to me in that moment that I was looking at a mannequin. The tightly dressed woman made her way to him, settling on his lap, slowly. My eyes twitched and I looked away, sitting down.

I started snickering at the the exclusive scene I had noticed and thought to myself it would be best to leave before I notice or hear anything anything more explicit.

That was when I hear a gasp of shock- a strangled wet throaty sound.

No, not THAT sound. Rather one of someone who'd just been jostled or.. stabbed. It was the sound of the wind in someone's lungs being stolen, one I was familiar with from my own years of pain.

I heard the thin curtains wobble and I sat behind the brick border wall, petrified by my own train of thoughts and the possibilities my brain offered to me. I couldn't see him and he couldn't see me- there was no way he had seen me. Only a very skilled nen user with a bad intent would have been careful to all the surrounding sounds, especially since we were in a busy city.
My fears were confirmed.

I heard feet jumping skillfully on the balcony railings, proceeding to propel the person towards my precious wall-guarded rooftop. I moved to the side quietly and as quickly as I could, where I wouldn't be surprised by a random killer chilling above my head staring down at me. He had not concealed his presence and I felt like I was meeting again with my father,
                       a cold, tall and powerful man.
A cruel narcissistic fucker.

I felt like a mouse cornered by a cat in an old dusty place where we both played hide and seek.

Unable to see me, he jumped down, a needle in hand which he immediately darted towards me once his peripheral vision allowed my paralyzed body to be seen.

I was really just like a mouse, thinking the predator would not see me if I did not move.
I huffed a lazy derisive laugh.

Fortunately, I was not a common person and I had needed nen to survive my harsh past. And so, I launched myself to the side, avoiding a close call with the needle which passed a centimetre away from leaving a slit on my temple.

I tried looking at his empty eyes, trying to find a way to bargain but he seemed unable to pierce through. He had not said a word and did not seem up to taunt or play with me. My only choice was to fight or get killed. He threw more needles my way, furrowing his brows realizing it was futile. I did what I did best and attacked him with brute strength, quickly reaching him before he could take another needle and forcing him to attack me with his bare hands.

He reacted quickly, taken aback by my efficiency, lowering his guards for a second in order to perhaps identify me. Leading to no result.
I was not a killer, nor an assassin or even part of gang.

I was just your average damsel not in distress.

We exchanged a few blows, my smaller body unable to take in the strength with which his seemingly light arms forced towards me. I started hurting from blocking his attacks, keeping myself near regardless. I could not handle both his needles and his throws.

« Listen, how about letting me get away? I didn't see anything, I only heard it. I don't know- *cough* how it works for you but I honestly couldn't care less *pants* about who you kill »

I was getting tired and I was more than ready to stop this fight. His punches and attempted kicks were starting to get to me and he was now the one getting closer to me. I was an easy prey to him, unworthy of his flee or his surrender. He stared me down, clearly showing his disinterest. I pushed him with all my strength and made no move to attack again.

« Alright, what the hell do you want me to do? Whatever you want, I'll do. I know what happened but surely we can manage something that will benefit us both. There has to be something you need me for, I can even do a job for you to show you I mean no harm or betrayal. Me seeing you was just bad luck on my part.
I don't even know who you are. »

He stood emotionless staring at me, a finger grazing his thigh where he had hid a needle.
Thinking it over, he was as still as a lion ready to jump on it's prey, carefully calculating it's next move. Then, his eyes roamed my body up and town, his eyes narrowing pensively and an apprehensive dislike on his face as he reached a conclusion.

You will be mine.

"The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world"
-from The Philosophy of Composition, 1846

(Part 1?)