#Leorio fanfic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inseobts · 16 days ago

Text

Wishful Gaps

leorio x male!reader

request: So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Leorio and a male reader in an Aladdin au please? The reader is a genie who befriended Leorio as a boy. The conflict is that the genie can't be around him for very long because he ends up with different masters. So he ends up seeing Leorio grow up in gaps, up until his elderly years. (@princeasimdiya12)

a/n: first time writing about him and it's been a long time since I last watched/read something hxh related, so I hope I got it right and that it's good

tags: male reader, genie reader, hurt/comfort, slow burn, aging

words count: 2.3k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You feel your golden prison shaking in the hands of someone new. A thief, probably. They always are. The scent of sand and sweat fills your nose as the cap pops free, and for a brief second, you stretch your essence outward like breath after drowning.

And then you see him.

A boy with brown hair sticking to his sunburnt face, one sandal missing, the other held together by a frayed leather strap. He holds the lamp like it’s made of diamonds. Eyes wide. Heart louder than his gasps.

You materialize before him in a flash of swirling blue smoke, a smirk on your lips even if it’s a little forced. You’ve done this dance a thousand times. But somehow, this time feels…

Different.

“Whoa,” he breathes, stepping back and nearly tripping over a rock “You’re… You’re a genie?”

You cross your arms “Three wishes. No more, no less. No bringing back the dead, no making people fall in love, and no infinite wishes. Got it?”

He blinks “You’re real.”

“Yeah” you say, flicking a spark off your fingertips “And you’ve got three shots to make your life a little less miserable. Better make ‘em count.”

But he just stares at you, mouth open.

You cock an eyebrow “Gonna wish for a mountain of gold? A palace? A camel that doesn’t spit?”

“…Do you wanna sit down?” he asks.

You blink.

“…What?”

“You look tired.”

And for the first time in centuries, you don’t know what to say.

You learn his name is Leorio.

He doesn’t wish for riches or revenge. Not yet. He lets you float around him while he wanders the back of the alleys.

He offers you half a piece of stale bread.

No master has ever done that.

“You’re weird” you tell him.

“You’re lonely” he says back. And damn it, maybe you are.

He makes his first wish on accident.

It’s a mugger, tall and mean, who corners Leorio in an alley with a rusted knife and a demand for coin he doesn’t have. You feel the boy’s pulse thundering like war drums.

“I wish he’d leave me alone!”

Just like that, it’s done. The mugger trips on nothing, hits his head, and goes limp. Leorio stares, horrified. You cross your arms.

“Told you to be careful.”

He looks at his hands like they betrayed him “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…”

You float beside him silently for a while. Then you add “One wish down.”

Weeks pass.

You make him laugh. He teaches you card games and draws silly mustaches on walls. He talks about dreams, about becoming a doctor someday, about helping people.

Someone steals the lamp while Leorio sleeps, another thief, another master. You vanish mid-laugh, torn from the makeshift home you helped him build in the ruins outside the city.

You don’t even get to say goodbye. Most of the time it’s like this.

You don’t see him again for seven years.

Seven years. Four different masters. Two desert wars. One fool who wished for immortality and exploded a week later. But sometimes, in the quiet gaps between wishes, you think of him. The loud, skinny kid with scraped knees and a dream too big for his pockets.

Leorio.

You still remember how his voice cracked when he laughed.

You feel the lamp change hands again—rough, calloused palms, fingers careful like they’ve held fragile things before. You expect another selfish brat or greedy noble, but when the smoke clears, it’s him.

He’s taller now. Leaner. The sun has kissed his skin deeper, his jaw more defined. His clothes are cheap but clean, medical textbooks peeking out from a satchel. His hair is the same mess, though, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“No way…”

You hover midair, mouth slightly open.

“Leorio?” you breathe.

He laughs, like thunder breaking drought.

“You’re real! I thought— I thought I made you up. Some fever dream from when I was a stupid kid.”

You smirk, trying to mask the ache in your chest “You were a stupid kid.”

His grin widens “Yeah, well. Still am. Just taller.”

You want to hug him. You want to ask if he’s okay.

Instead, you float back and cross your arms, casual.

“So, you rubbing the lamp on purpose this time, or just got lucky again?”

Leorio raises his eyebrows “You think I’d forget you?”

He pauses. Looks away. His voice goes a little quieter.

“…I looked for that lamp for years.”

That shuts you up.

You look at him and you see what the years have done. He’s still got that reckless spark, still stubborn and loud and noble in the way people grow out of when life crushes them. But he’s weathered now. Carrying weight.

Carrying loss.

“…You only have two wishes left” you say gently.

He nods “I know.”

You float a little closer “So? What’ll it be this time? A degree? A magic scalpel? A clinic made of gold?”

He shakes his head “Nah. Not yet.”

You blink “What, are you saving them?”

He shrugs “I waited seven years. I can wait a little longer.”

You tilt your head “Why?”

“Because,” he says, giving you a crooked smile, “I’ve got some stories to catch you up on. And I don’t wanna waste them.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest flares warm and painful.

You nod, softly “Then tell me.”

So he tells you about how he started studying medicine. How he got kicked out of three clinics for yelling at corrupt officials. How he punches nobles who raise prices on medicine. How he still has nightmares sometimes, but fewer now.

You float beside him on rooftops under the moon. You hover by firelight as he reads anatomy charts by candlelight. You tease him when he fumbles with surgical tools and pretend not to notice how his eyes linger on you.

You are not his to keep.

But for now, he is yours to listen to.

You stay with him for three weeks this time.

You don’t know it yet, but that will be the longest stretch you ever get.

You can tell it’s coming.

It always does.

It’s in the way the lamp starts humming low when you drift too far. In the way Leorio’s touch leaves behind sparks now. It doesn’t matter how kind he is. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t made another wish. The bond is temporary. It always is.

But you stay anyway, because he laughs like home.

You’re sitting on the edge of a rooftop. Leorio’s beside you, chewing on some food and reading aloud from a medical scroll. His legs swing freely, and you float next to him like a lazy wind spirit, arms behind your head, pretending your chest doesn’t ache with every passing hour.

You interrupt him mid-sentence “You’re gonna make a great doctor.”

He snorts “Damn right I am.”

You pause “Do you… ever think about your last two wishes?”

Leorio sets the scroll in his lap, thinking “Sometimes.”

“Got something in mind?”

“Yeah.”

You glance over.

He’s not smiling “But I’m not gonna say it. Not yet.”

You want to press, but something about his tone silences you. So you let it go, and you sit in the quiet with him, listening to the sounds of the city below.

He leans against you, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible.

That night a drunk nobleman arrives laughing, ending up waving the lamp in the air.

You don’t feel it until it’s too late. One moment you’re listening to Leorio’s heartbeat slow in sleep, the next—Snap.

Your next master is a bastard.

A collector with too much coin and not enough soul. He lives in a palace with stained glass windows and tiger-skin rugs. He never asks your name. Just points at things and demands.

And you do it because you have to and because now the lamp is his.

But every time he makes a wish, you wonder if Leorio’s awake, reaching for you. If he thinks you left on purpose.

You don’t get to explain.

You never get to explain.

Ten years pass before you see him again.

You don’t know how. You don’t know why, but one day, you feel it. The hum. The pull. The gentle, familiar warmth of a hand that holds the lamp like it matters.

He’s older now. Beard scruffy. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. A long coat with patches and ink stains, a stethoscope looped over his shoulders like a badge.

And that same fire in his eyes when he sees you.

“…Hey!” Leorio says, voice rough.

Your throat closes.

“…Hey.”

The years show in the way he walks, a stiffness in his joints, a slump in his shoulders. There are streaks of silver in his hair, and his hands tremble when he holds the lamp.

But his voice… still sounds like home.

“Thought maybe this time… I’d lost you for good” he says.

You want to say something sharp. Something clever. Something to make the ache in your chest feel smaller.

But all that comes out is “You’re back.”

He laughs softly “Yeah. Took me a while. Bastard I got the lamp from thought it was cursed. Guess he wasn’t wrong.”

You float in silence for a moment, afraid to get too close.

He sees it.

“You look the same.”

“You don’t.”

“I know.”

He sits slowly, crossing his legs with a wince. You settle beside him, this time grounding yourself enough that your form feels almost real. Close enough to touch.

He doesn’t.

Not yet.

“I didn’t use those wishes,” he says after a moment “Did you know that?”

You nod.

“I thought about it. Every day. Sometimes I wanted to wish you free. Other times… I just wanted to keep you around. Selfish, huh?”

“No…” you whisper.

“Then why do I feel like I wasted it?”

You look at him, truly look at him. His eyes are tired, but still burning. The same fire. The same impossible, beautiful will.

“You didn’t waste anything,” you say “You gave me time. You gave me years, Leorio. Do you know how rare that is for someone like me?”

He swallows.

“I would’ve given you more,” he says “If I could.”

You smile, soft and worn.

“You already did.”

The stars are high when he pulls the lamp into his lap. You feel the shift in the air before he speaks, final, certain.

“I want to make my second wish.”

You go still “Leorio…”

He turns toward you.

“I want you to be free.”

Silence.

That silence is a cliff.

“You’d lose me…” you say “I’d be cast into the world without tether. No guarantee we’d ever see each other again. The magic that ties me to you… once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

“I know.”

You blink hard.

“Why?”

He leans in, voice low and raw “Because I don’t want you tied to me. Not like that. I don’t want you to disappear the moment someone else touches that lamp. I want you to choose where you go. I want you to choose to stay with me.”

You don’t cry.

You haven’t cried in centuries.

But this is the closest you’ve ever come.

“Okay…” you whisper.

He grips the lamp gently.

“I wish you were free.”

The magic doesn’t crack like thunder or explode like fireworks.

It fades quietly and final, like the last note of a lullaby.

You fall to your knees. You breathe like it’s the first time. The chains inside your chest melt like ice cream.

You’re free.

And he’s right there.

Still waiting.

Still looking at you like you’re something real.

You walk to him.

He opens his arms.

You go home.

When the magic left you, it took more than the glow in your hands.

It took the agelessness, the shimmer in your skin, the weightless way your feet never touched the ground. It took the eternal body you wore like armor for centuries. And it left you with something terrifyingly beautiful:

Mortality.

At first, it feels like a trick. You catch your reflection one morning and see the faintest shadow of a crease by your mouth. Your bones ache when it rains. You sleep longer. You eat more. You need more.

Leorio notices.

He watches you over the edge of his glasses one day while you rub your shoulder, grimacing from some old strain that never would’ve touched you before.

And he smiles.

Not out of pity. Not out of concern.

Out of relief.

“You’re catching up” he says, half a tease.

You roll your eyes “Please, I still look ten years younger than you.”

“For now,” he shoots back, smug “Give it time.”

You do.

Years pass, and your faces begin to mirror each other in new ways.

The same lines beside your eyes from laughing too loud. The same silver streaks at your temples. You wear matching reading glasses now. Leorio swears you’re just trying to be cute, and maybe you are.

It’s strange.

You once watched generations bloom and die in the blink of an eye.

Now you watch your reflection in the mirror each morning and find yourself slowly, gently changing.

Time no longer steals the people you love.

It wraps around you both like a blanket, and you let it.

There’s a day when you’re both too tired to open the clinic.

You sit on the porch instead, two old men under a faded awning, sipping tea that’s gone lukewarm. You don’t speak for a while. You don’t need to.

Then Leorio chuckles.

“What?”

“You really do look just like me now.”

You glance over. He’s right.

Same posture. Same slouched shoulders. Same deep smile lines and soft gray hair curling at the ends.

You grin “Guess I missed you too much to let you age alone.”

He hums, warm and quiet “I’m glad you stayed.”

You reach over, take his hand, and squeeze it.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Once upon a time, you belonged to everyone.

But in the end, you belonged to him.

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0asisbliss · 8 months ago

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Kisses down the lower of your back begging you not to leave. “Baby. You don’t want this I know you don’t.”

You tugged away at his touch wanting to get away from him, but a part him wanted you more than anything.

“C’mere baby. I know what you want.” He had a low whine to his voice. The neediness almost making you run towards him. As you think about what you could do as he starts to walk towards you. He finally captures you in a little hug. Burying his head in your chest. Getting on his knees to look up at you.

“I’ll do whatever you wish of me. Just stay for a little while longer will you hm?”

Fuck. Why is he doing this and know this is exactly what you want, this is exactly your weakness. He brings your body closer to his, and in silence he lays his head on your abdomen. He lifts your shirt up just a bit and kisses your lower stomach. While you’re just watching everything unfold you stand there. He gives slow pampering kisses to your lower stomach leaving little love bites, and hickies. He then gets up and carries you towards your shared bedroom.

“If you really did want me to leave you alone you would’ve stopped me wouldn’t you my love?

GOJO, Geto, Yuuji, Yuuta, CHOSO, (JJK) Baki, (BAKI) Cosmo, (KA) Chrollo, Shalnark, Phinks, Nobunaga, Kurapika, Leorio, (HXH) Eren, Reiner, ARMIN, (AOT) Dazai, Ranpo, Chuuya, (BSD) LOKI, Buddha, Anubis, (SNV) Tanjiro, Zenitsu, RENGOKU, (DS) or any of your favs.

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illubean · 1 year ago

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Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

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bwabys-scenarios · 6 months ago

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You get pregnant HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

characters: Kurapika, Illumi, Chrollo, Feitan, Leorio

warnings: slight yandere vibe to Chrollo and Illumi, mentions of sex

Kurapika

-honestly he’s been wanting to bring up the idea of trying for a baby but didn’t want to put that burden on you until he had more time on his hands

-so it was a nice surprise to hear you were pregnant! He started crying, putting his hand over your belly and crouching down to kiss it.

-he waits on you hand and foot for your entire pregnancy. You want a snack? He’ll get it for you. You’re sore? He’s massaging you.

-if you’re not married yet he makes sure a ring is on your finger as soon as possible once you tell him you’re pregnant. You’re his, and he wants it to stay that way.

-can’t get enough of your baby bump. He’s always caressing and kissing it, keeping a hand on it when you’re sat on his lap.

-he just can’t believe he’s created life with you, and tears up just thinking about how his mother would have wanted to see her grandbaby

Illumi

-he already made it clear that having children was one of your duties as his wife. After marrying you, he’s been stuffing you full of cum every night he’s home.

-when you give him the news, he’s calm, nodding as he calls up a doctor. For the entire pregnancy, a team of doctors and nurses is kept on standby, ready to examine or care for you. You’re giving him an heir after all, and an heir to a Zoldyck is worth more than gold

-you’re out on a strict and healthy diet, not allowed to skip meals or complain. He wants the baby to be healthy, and more important for you to be safe. Illumi doesn’t show it much, but he loves you in his own way, and he shows his love by controlling every aspect of your life to ensure you’re safe and taken care of

-of course you’re given lavish presents and pampered for carrying his baby. Not like you weren’t already sitting in the lap of luxury, but now it’s dialed up to a ten

-he’s always been a bit possessive and controlling, but now you never get any time away from him. Illumi is always by your side, and takes off of work for your entire pregnancy. He won’t admit it, but he gets severe anxiety and paranoia when you aren’t in his line of vision

Chrollo

-chrollo never really wanted children. He’s lived a pretty selfish life, and didn’t want to involve a child in it.

-but when you tell him you’re pregnant, he feels strangely… warm. Telling you to get rid of it doesn’t cross his mind. Instead, he’s preparing a nursery and trying to find a home to settle you down in.

-He never thought he’d be a father, but now the very thought of losing you or the baby fills him with dread. Chrollo has this weird fantasy of having a normal life, one without the lingering trauma of his childhood, where he can truly enjoy being a father without it being tainted.

-but reality was cruel. His trauma caused him to be protective, treating you like a caged bird. Even before your pregnancy you hadn’t had many freedoms, but now you were stuck in a single room, doing the same thing every day. You woke up, got a check up from some doctor, ate, slept, did bits of exercise, then slept.

-sometimes he wondered if you hated him, hated what he had done to you. But he’d watch you smile faintly as your fingers traced your baby bump. You knew he was just scared, and would tolerate it.

Feitan

-he literally looks at you like you’re crazy and says to get rid of it. Bluntly.

-when you start to tear up he freezes. Oh fuck, you were being serious.

-now he’s stuck comforting you as he tries to comprehend the fact he’s knocked you up and that you want to keep it. Is he ready to be a father? Hello no. Will he step up because he loves you.

-fuck. Yeah, he will.

-he hates getting teased as he steals baby clothes and diapers during heists, but relaxes at home when you waddle his way. Surprisingly, he… does thing your baby bump is cute. He has a soft spot for you anyways, and the thought of a little one growing inside of you…

-he’s really gone soft.

-he still steals things and kills people, but now he’s thinking about the future and trying harder to stay uninjured in battle. He has a lover and child to come home to, he couldn’t possibly leave you all alone.

Leorio

-he freaks out when you tell him. Leorio knows very well that pregnancies can be hard on a woman’s body, and honestly he’s terrified that it’ll hurt you.

-once he finds out it’s over for you. Every single morning before he leaves for work he gives you a check up, monitoring your morning sickness and making you eat and take your vitamins.

-he’s taking you to the hospital he works at weakly for exams and checkups. If he doesn’t he’ll go ins and with worries about you and the baby.

-Leorio starts saving up, wanting to make sure every little thing the baby could ever want or need is neatly stored in the nursery before they arrive.

-he’s very lenient with you, and folds every time you give him those teary eyes and ask for chocolate. You’re so spoiled and you know it

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blueberrymocha · 6 months ago

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doing your hair ⊹ ࣪ ˖

┌──────────────────────┐

╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ word count: x

└──────────────────────┘

gon:

- he mostly does simple styles like ponytails but it looks great

- you weren't really expecting him to be good at this

- but i guess mito taught him some hidden skills

- he's so down to brush/comb your hair

- and would be happy to just play with it while you lay on his lap

- if you're sick or feeling down, he'd help you take care of it

- the one thing he's not good at is using the tools

- as in, one of y'all has a 50/50 chance of being electrocuted if you ask him to blow dry your hair

killua:

- he's not an expert but he wouldn't turn you down

- likes the idea of you sitting in his lap watching some show while he plays with your hair

- which is what he'll end up doing, playing with it

- it's gonna look even worse and you'll have to do it yourself anyway

- you're not complaining though

- he probably wouldn't want to wash it or anything

- just cause i see him having super low maintenance hair

- so when he sees all the work you have to put in, he's like no ty

kurapika:

- he'll pass on doing it for you

“i’m sure you’re a lot better than me, love.”

- but if you asked him to brush, comb, take it down, unbraid, etc he'd love to

- is afraid to hurt you, which makes him so gentle it ends up taking much longer than it needs to

- would also put on a show and have a drawn out conversation, which also extends the time it takes

- every now and then he’ll tug on it or threaten to make it look silly

- because the normality of it all creates the most soothing environment for him to let his guard down

- it's actually quite relaxing for him to run his hands through your hair

- so he'll offer sometimes if he had a stressful day

- as for washing it, he'll generally help you unless he's super exhausted or busy

leorio:

- honestly you're brave if you let this man touch it

- he's a 4 in one soap kinda guy

- you'll ask him to do a simple bun and you'll never get that hair tie back

- it's legit lost in your hair

- anytime he tries to tie your hair back/up, he just misses half of it

- you're way better off just doing it yourself

- likes to watch you do it though, even something easy would blow his mind

hisoka:

- he's really good at doing hair

- you're a little scared at first but he takes it seriously

- no way is his dearest s/o leaving the house looking a mess

- but he’ll of course play around with you first

"are you sure you want me to curl your hair? that's putting yourself in a vulnerable position."

“i think i’ll take a couple inches off here.”

- he has you preparing for 2nd degree burns and scheduling appointments

- but once he's done and you see how skilled he is, you'll ask him to help out with other things too

- so now he's ended up being dragged into helping you on washday and styling your hair for formal events

- at least you got the last laugh

illumi:

- he's the king of taking care of his hair

- i mean just look at it, the length? yes please

- when it comes to yours though, you'd probably need to beg if you want him to style it

- once he finally relents, he's gonna go all out

- you'd be getting some complex, time consuming braid

- it looks great though, and he'd take pride if you showed it off

- if you have easy maintenance hair, he doesn't mind helping you wash, dry, brush, whatever it

- but if your hair needs more care or a long routine, he'd just leave that to you

chrollo:

- he might pull your hair back into a ponytail or bun every now and then

- like when you're cooking or even before a fight

- and if you want, he'll do a simple protective braid when you're about to fall asleep

- so if you asked him to style your hair, he'll do it with no complaints

- since he himself has short hair, he really doesn't know much

- would read up on hair maintenance though

- if you ever shower together, he's definitely gonna wash your hair for you

- otherwise he believes you're more than capable of taking care of it yourself

#hxh x reader #hxh hcs #hxh headcanons #hxh imagines #hxh fanfic #hxh gon #hxh leorio #killua x reader #hxh killua #leorio x reader #chrollo x reader #hxh chrollo #illumi x reader #hxh illumi #kurapika x reader #hxh kurapika #gon x reader #hisoka x reader

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killuasskateboard · 3 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do a Killua x [Low iron] Reader, please? Like, they get in some stupid argument, and listener gets up to leave and just falls, asking for help, but Killua doesn't give in. Just a silly idea ♡

A/n: thank you so so much for requesting ^^! I hope the story is like what you expected it'll be :) enjoyy

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows through the dense foliage. You and Killua had been wandering for hours, the tension between the two of you building until it finally erupted in an argument.

"You're so stubborn!" you snapped, crossing your arms.

"Stubborn? You're the one who won’t listen!" Killua shot back, his silver hair glinting in the fading light.

You clenched your jaw, deciding you’d had enough. Without another word, you turned to walk away, your body burning with frustration—and then everything blurred.

Your legs wobbled as the world tilted sideways. You felt your body give out, hitting the ground with a thud. Dizziness consumed you, your breaths shallow and ragged.

"Killua…" you whispered weakly, your voice trembling. "Help… please…"

But he stood frozen, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

"Is this another trick to get me to stop arguing?" he asked, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

You tried to lift your head, but it felt like the weight of the world pressed you down. "Killua… I’m not joking…"

His sharp eyes caught the pallor of your face and the way you struggled to breathe. The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

"Wait… you're serious?" His voice wavered, panic flickering across his face.

Without hesitation, he rushed to your side, dropping to his knees. "Why didn’t you say anything earlier? You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling okay!"

"I… didn’t want to bother you," you mumbled.

Killua let out a frustrated sigh, his arms sliding under you to lift you up effortlessly. "Idiot. You could’ve really hurt yourself. Next time, tell me, alright?"

You nodded faintly, letting your eyes close as he carried you toward safety, his earlier anger replaced by worry. Despite his brashness, Killua's actions spoke louder than his words ever could.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Thank you for reading! I'm sorry if there are some grammar mistakes! English isn't my first language so please understand! Feel free to request !!

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh killua #killua #killua zoldyck #anime #anime and manga #anime x reader #fanfic #hxh x reader #killua x reader #killua zoldyck x reader #gon x reader #kurapika x reader #leorio x reader #hisoka x reader #illumi x reader

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iamzer0 · 6 months ago

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HxH headcanons except I’m losing it

Uvogin: tried cannibalism once(it was a cold winter stuck in the depths of meteor city)

Killua: the first time he had fried chicken he didn’t know how to eat it(because of how sheltered he was) he ended up eating the bone.

Chrollo: has a list of his enemies, with details about them(their full name, family, weaknesses, etc.)

Shalnark: One time he was so pissed at Phinks that he installed bugs into every tech related thing Phinks owned.

Leorio: shit his pants one time during the Hunter exam, Killua and Gon CONSTANTLY remind him of it.

Phinks: his deepest darkest secret is that he truly believes he killed the tooth fairy.(it’s a story for another day)

Feitan: is currently banned from every mall in York new.

Hisoka: goes all out for Valentine’s Day even if he doesn’t have a partner, he lives by the saying go big or go home.

Alluka: poor girl is so sheltered any time she sees anything new or remotely interesting to her she begs Killua to stop and get it or see it.

Illumi: has a matching tattoo with Hisoka, it’s either on his back or side.

Leorio: got drunk blacked out and woke up with a tattoo that says “ALPHA” in old English font.

Bisky: holds a grunge against gons dad even though she never met him, she DESPISES him.

Anyway guys im feeling like sharing a secret of mine. When I was like 9 i spilt a shit ton of my mom’s nail polish remover EVERYWHERE I blamed it on my brother and my mom believed me and not him and I high key still feel guilty. Anyway I hope y’all had an amazing day I love u all remember to drink water bye bye!(*≧∀≦*)

#hunter x hunter #hisoka #hxh killua #gon freecss #hxh headcanons #illumi zoldyck #chrollo lucilfer #shalnark #headcanons #feitan #hxh fanfic #hxh #bisky krueger #uvogin #nobunaga hxh #leorio paladiknight

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eyesofbong · 8 months ago

Text

A Chrollo x F!Hunter Reader Fic | Summary

Best advised to be read in dark mode. AO3 link coming soon!

★ 18+ MDNI WARNINGS: descriptive murder, burning of corpses, torture?, arson, slight implication of attempted suicide, gore, blood, violence, strong mentions of sexual abuse towards children including human trafficking, implied kidnapping, perversion of innocence, predators, CP, and implied rape. (NO I DO NOT ENDORSE THE ABUSE OF CHILDREN. it is only briefly mentioned since it is disgusting to keep the story realistic and strictly used as awareness since this is actual problems in the real world they don't just kidnap children. I WILL NEVER! write about non-con with underage characters or children, rape, and assault.) ★

☆ word count. 8.9k (sheeeesh had to hold back on somethings)

✥ Chapter Summary: Lost in the shadows of your despair, haunted by memories of the children you once saved, you find yourself drifting further from your purpose. But when a call from Chairman Netero breaks the silence, you're pulled back into a world you thought you'd left behind, drawn into the unknown for one last round — for the sake of saving a young man from making the same mistakes you did. ✥

The church was still, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles. You remained in the pew, feigning prayer, while your mind wrestled with turbulent thoughts.

But before you found yourself here, in this quiet sanctuary, there was a journey—a path that led you back to the world you had once left behind.

“You can’t save them all.”

The words echoed in your mind—a truth you had grappled with for most of your life. So why was it so hard to accept that cruel reality? Why did you live your life the way you did? Most people would argue that they wish they had your power and skills. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t comprehend the burden that came with such strength.

Why would anyone want to carry that weight for so long?

Power is a double-edged sword. If you aren’t corrupted by it, you’re crushed beneath its weight. How easy it is to destroy rather than create.

You often wondered why Netero had chosen you that day. What did he see first—the helpless child who had lost everything or the Hunter who would grow into his greatest soldier?

You trailed behind the men, each step leading you deeper into the belly of this vile place. They had no idea you were not one of them, no clue that every word you spoke and every move you made was part of a carefully laid trap. The air around you was thick with malice, a foul concoction of despair, fear, and predatory intent.

Since taking the head of your family’s killer, there has been a void in your heart—one you filled with vengeance.

But now, you had a new purpose: to use your power to hunt down the worst of humanity, like this network of mafia traffickers.

Suddenly, your senses sharpened. You heard it—a soft, muffled cry—the children.

The group leader, a man with greasy hair and a twisted grin, laughed. “You hear them, little rascals?” he sneered, gesturing ahead with a perverse pride. “Got a fresh batch of chicklings just yesterday. Innocent, full of life... worth a lot more in certain markets, if you catch my drift..."

A wave of revulsion swept over you, but you kept your face steady, fighting internally the burning in your throat.

Sick bastards. That’s all they were to you. There was nothing more vile than preying upon children, tearing away their innocence, and selling their pain.

Once, you had believed killing was always wrong. But when faced with monsters like these, death seemed like the only solution.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right, Mistress?” The leader’s voice was thick with expectation, his beady eyes studying you for any sign of weakness.

You met his gaze with a cold, calculated, calm one. “The price is no problem, but I’ll need to see the ‘quality’ of the children you speak of to ensure they’re worth it,” you replied, playing along with his sick game. He grinned, his yellowed teeth bared like a predator sensing victory.

“Of course, my lady, right this way,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him up a rickety flight of stairs.

As you ascended, you noticed the tapes scattered on the floor—stacks of them carefully labeled and arranged. Your heart sank at the sight. You knew exactly what they were: recordings of abuse. Child pornography is waiting to be sold and distributed. Evidence of what these children had endured and what they were being forced to relive in the most horrific way possible.

Images of small, terrified faces pinned to the walls, some in tears, others with expressions frozen in fear, burned into your mind. You forced yourself to keep moving, to keep your eyes forward, your face blank. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to lash out, but you had to stay focused. You had to see this through.

When you reached the top, he led you to a door and pushed it open with a creak. Inside, the children were huddled together, wide-eyed and trembling. At the front stood a small boy with big gray eyes—"The runt." of the group. His clothes were torn, dirt smeared on his cheeks, but there was something in his gaze—a spark of defiance that hadn’t yet been snuffed out. The other children seemed to hover protectively around him, even in their weakened states.

“Well, what do you think of these little lambs?” the leader asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Aren’t they precious?”

You glanced at the children, your heart aching. For a split second, your gaze softened when you saw the small, porcelain-skinned boy, his eyes locked onto yours. He seemed to sense something in you, something different. You took a slow, steady breath, and without moving your lips, you mouthed, “I’m here to help.”

The boy’s grip on the bars loosened slightly. Hope flickered in his big gray eyes. You could feel the children’s fear and desperation mingling with a fragile thread of trust. They were so small, so fragile, yet somehow still fighting.

“They are precious,” you murmured, your voice taking on a steely edge. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

The men’s laughter faltered. They sensed the shift, but too late. You moved swiftly, raising your hand. A wall of stone shot up from the ground, separating the children from their captors. Panic spread among the men as they scrambled for their weapons, but you were already moving.

With a flick of your wrist, a vine extended from the stone wall, and in its grip, a sword was handed to you. The blade flashed, slicing through the air. In one swift motion, you severed their hands before they could draw their guns. Blood spattered against the walls, and the men screamed.

“You crazy bi—” one of them began, but his voice was cut off as you grabbed his face. Nen flames flared from your palm, melting his skin. His screams turned to a hideous, gurgling cry as you slammed him against the wall, against a picture of him touching one of the children.

“My flames are nothing compared to the ones you’ll face for eternity,” you said, your voice cold and unwavering.

"THE DEVIL! YOU'RE THE DEVIL!" he shrieked, his voice cracking in terror.

“YOU’LL GO TO HELL TOO!” another screamed.

You tilted your head slightly, unbothered. “I know,” you replied calmly. “And I’ll be right there with you... to make sure you suffer.”

With a final, furious surge of nen, you let the flames consume him, his body twitching as the fire took hold. One by one, the men fell, their screams swallowed by the inferno of your rage.

The air thickened with the stench of burning flesh, but all you felt was a calm, cold satisfaction. You took a deep breath, letting the fire die down, leaving only smoldering ashes behind.

The floor was now slick with blood, staining everything it touched. You closed your eyes and focused, drawing on your nen, the energy that flowed through your very being. You felt a ripple within yourself, a gathering of moisture in your veins, pulling towards your fingertips. With a single thought, you summoned it forth.

20%

A small, shimmering blob of water began to form, hovering just above your palm. It glistened with a faint blue hue, infused with your nen—your life force flowing through it. The water was more than liquid; it was an extension of your will, a manifestation of the purity and cleansing you desired.

You moved your hand slowly, and the blob expanded, reaching toward the crimson stains that pooled on the floor. It touched the blood, and a strange, almost serene reaction occurred. The nen-infused water seemed to drink up the blood, absorbing it into its depths, turning it from a crystalline blue to a dark, murky red. It quivered and shifted, gathering every last drop, until the floor was clean.

Once it was done, you flicked your wrist, and the blood-tainted water dissipated into steam, evaporating into the air. The scent of iron and smoke faded, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of moisture.

You turned to the vine still hanging from the wall. “Take the corpses to another room,” you said softly. “I don’t want the children to see this.”

The vine extended, wrapping around the charred remains and dragging them away, leaving the room clear. You watched it go, feeling a pang of sorrow in your chest. “I’m sorry, Mother,” you whispered, “but someone has to purge the evil, right?”

The vine nodded as if in understanding and vanished into the shadows.

With the room now clear, you lowered the stone wall, allowing the children to see. They were still huddled together, wide-eyed, trembling, but there was a new light in their eyes—a glimmer of hope.

You kneeled, using a tiny flame to illuminate the room gently. “You’re safe now,” you said softly, your voice switching to a delicate tone.

The small, marble-eyed boy stepped forward. His hand slipped into yours, his grip surprisingly strong for his size. “You back came for us?” he whispered, his voice shaking but resolute.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently, a warm smile breaking through your hardened expression. “Always.”

The children began to move toward you, timid at first, then with growing confidence, their small hands reaching out, seeking comfort. For now, at least, they were safe.

And you would make sure it stayed that way.

It was mostly your funding that kept the orphanages in Meteor City from crumbling. Your money was funneled into the broken, forgotten corners of the city where children like Chrollo and his friends sought refuge. You couldn’t always be there, but when you were, you made it count—your presence, your touch, your attention. That was the difference, wasn’t it? You had to put your wealth somewhere, after all—unlike Ging or Pariston, whose fortunes seemed to disappear into the wind, chasing their whims. For you, though, Meteor City had become an escape, a place to atone for the things you couldn’t control.

But it was more than duty, wasn’t it?

Chrollo had bonded to you in a way that you hadn’t expected. The other children admired you, but he worshiped you. His innocence clung to you, unsettling and infectious, dragging you into a world where, for brief moments, you almost believed you could be more than just a Hunter. That you could be someone who stayed.

It was one of those quiet, unguarded moments when you found yourself in Meteor City again, his small, frail body curled up against yours on his bed, his head tucked beneath your chin as if he could melt into your very being. His face pressed into your chest, and his small hands clung to your shirt as if you were his entire world.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice soft, pleading. His wide gray eyes blinked up at you, still so full of that childlike adoration that made your chest tighten painfully. He didn’t understand—how could he? He was too young, too innocent.

You combed your fingers through his shaggy, jet-black hair, pretending it didn’t hurt to hear him ask. Pretending it didn’t make you feel like you were betraying something inside yourself. The glow from the window—the familiar golden light of dawn—signaled your impending departure. Mother Nature, it seemed, always knew when it was time to pull you away. You would have to leave again. You always left.

But not yet.

“Okay,” you whispered, the lie slipping from your lips like it always did. “I’ll stay.” You tucked his head back against your chest, hoping to drown his fears in the safety of your embrace. He felt so small compared to you, so fragile. You held him tighter, but no matter how tightly you cradled him, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. You couldn’t stay.

He sighed, his words soft and filled with frustration. “I wish you were just a normal girl. Not the Great Hunter. They always take you away from me.”

The weight of his words crushed your chest. You swallowed hard, burying the guilt and sorrow that always surfaced in these moments. He was just a boy, after all—a boy who didn’t know what it meant to live a life like yours. His love was simple, innocent, and untainted by the reality that you could never be what he wanted you to be.

He sighed again, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s not fair. You’re just a kid like me, but it’s like... you’re not. You’re stronger, taller... you have magic. You’re not afraid of anything.” His sleepy eyes blinked up at you, half-lidded, his gaze lingering on your face as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling asleep. “You’re so cool, Y/N.”

You forced a smile, your heart aching with every word. How could he say these things so easily, not knowing the storm they stirred within you? You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be feeling this pull toward him, this unbearable conflict between duty and something else—something darker, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I want to be strong like you,” he continued, his voice fading as sleep began to pull him under. “Then I’ll be the one to save you.”

You let out a chuckle, though it felt hollow. “Oh really? I can’t wait to see you try.” Your voice was soft and gentle, as if you could keep him safe from the weight of your feelings. But even as you spoke, your gaze lingered on his longer than it should have. The way his eyes—those innocent gray eyes—held yours made something inside you crack. You didn’t want to look away.

And yet, you had to.

As Chrollo yawned, his body slowly relaxing into the warmth of your embrace, your heart clenched in that familiar, bittersweet way. You knew what was coming next—the moment when he would fall asleep, and you’d have to leave. You always left. He knew it too, even if he didn’t say it. His eyes fought against the sleep pulling him under as if staying awake would keep you there just a little longer.

You should go. You needed to go. But instead, you held him close, brushing your thumb along his cheek, tracing the outline of his pale face. He murmured something so soft, so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart shattered.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t respond. How could you? What could you say to that? You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You weren’t supposed to let it hurt. And yet, his innocent words cut deeper than any wound you had ever known.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you cradled his face in your hands, letting the silence fill the space between you. Your mind and heart were at war, clashing violently as you tried to convince yourself that you felt nothing for this boy—nothing beyond duty, beyond the role you were meant to play.

But his words lingered. His love lingered. And it was killing you.

Only you could carry this burden. You had to ensure that you were the last shepherd, even if you were just a broken saint now.

And when he called, you would answer, no matter how much time had passed since that harrowing incident.

Isaac Netero’s familiar contact flashed onto your phone just as you returned to your quiet estate. The grand home, surrounded by vast lands, had become your sanctuary—where time seemed to stand still. Bamboo trees swayed in the wind, whispering secrets you couldn’t quite hear, and the rustle of leaves was like a lullaby to your broken spirit. This land, untouched and isolated, had become your refuge. Here, you could pretend the world had forgotten you, just as you had tried to ignore it.

You rarely needed to leave; everything you required, you grew with your own hands. The earth was rich and forgiving; the bamboo was tall and kind, your only companions, as well as the critters that inhabited the land, your only solace. They tried to aid in healing your scars, though they only made the loss more bearable. They connected you to reality, keeping you grounded and pulling you back from the edge whenever you felt yourself slipping away. They depended on you as much as you did on them.

But even Mother Nature, with all her quiet persistence, couldn’t fill the gaping void left by your loss. She could only make the emptiness more bearable, less suffocating.

You had given in to the silence, but she hadn’t given up on you. Yet the moment Netero’s contact appeared, the corpse of your heart couldn’t help but beat with a retired purpose you knew you could no longer fulfill.

Still, your hands, worn and deft, quickly picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear.

“Y/N L/N. Think you have a chance to talk, my dear?”

His familiar, softened gruff voice was a reminder of how time had aged him, even though he had left you with so many unanswered questions. He was still your father in many ways.

But you were now Netero’s little fallen general.

“I’m here,” you replied, your voice a ghost of itself, as if unused to forming words meant for anyone else. “It's good to hear your voice. I would ask, How have you been?”

“I am well, Father,” you cut in, a weary undertone threading through your words. “Trying to keep the ground from swallowing me whole.”

A heavy silence fell between you, a shared history that neither of you wanted to address hanging thick in the air. Netero sighed, his voice dipping into a tone you had not heard in years—gentle, almost pleading.

“Y/N…”

You remained silent, unyielding, waiting for him to continue.

“Listen to me, just this once,” he started, but you interrupted again, sharper this time, like a blade cutting through the fog.

“My nen is gone, Isaac," you said, each word deliberate and hard. "There’s nothing more to that story. There is no Master of the Hunters anymore.”

The silence that followed was colder, heavier. You could almost hear him wince at the use of his first name, a name you rarely called him. You knew it hurt him—that it stripped away the façade he liked to wear around you.

He hesitated, then took a deep breath, his voice laced with quiet desperation. “I'm not asking for her to listen to me,” he said carefully. “I'm asking for you, Y/N.”

Your gaze drifted to the bamboo outside, watching the stalks bend and sway in the wind. There was a part of you that wanted to hang up, to let the silence consume you once more, but another part—a faint, barely alive spark—kept you on the line.

“There is a young man,” Netero continued, “who is the spitting reincarnation of you."

Your chest tightened, the ache spreading like a slow poison through your veins. You swallowed, but it felt like shards of glass in your throat.

Netero’s voice softened, almost as if he were trying to soothe a frightened child. “I know I pushed you to retire early, and for that, I am sorry,” he confessed, his words heavy with regret. “I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen if the wrong people found out you had lost your nen. But this boy—he needs someone who can show him the way. Someone who can give him a chance to choose a different path. A scent he can follow.”

He paused, the weight of his words settling into the air between you. “None of us can do that.”

A flicker of frustration sparked within you, threatening to crack the numbness you had wrapped around yourself like armor. You closed your eyes, the familiar heaviness of duty pressing against your chest. "Why... why do you always drag me back, Isaac?" you murmured, your voice almost devoid of emotion, a whisper lost in the wind.

“Because,” he replied softly, his voice steady but filled with quiet insistence, “you lost your nen, but you didn’t lose everything. I couldn’t save you from your fate... but you can save him before he makes the same mistake.”

For a moment, the world outside seemed to be still. The bamboo stopped swaying, the wind held its breath, and even the critters paused their quiet movements. Everything waited for you to decide whether you would let yourself be pulled back into the life you had tried so hard to leave behind.

A slow exhale escaped your lips, and your grip tightened around the phone. Maybe it wasn’t about saving yourself. Maybe it was about saving someone else—just one more time.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally whispered, knowing you were already halfway convinced.

Netero's sigh of relief was almost inaudible, but you felt it—a soft echo in your chest. "That's all I ask," he said gently. "Just think about it."

And with that, the call ended, leaving you standing alone in the quiet of your sanctuary, the wind picking up again, the bamboo swaying once more.

For the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of something beyond emptiness—a faint, fragile thing that might have been hope.

You let yourself fall back against the mat, feeling the familiar, frayed edges pressing into your back. Your phone lay loosely in your grip, screen dark, but its weight still anchored you to the moment. You stared blankly at the stone pond before you, the water still and silent under the overcast sky. But inside, that gnawing feeling had grown stronger, louder, and more insistent. The doubt and emptiness you had tried so hard to bury now surged to the surface like a wave, threatening to swallow you whole.

Then you saw her—the familiar, ethereal form rising from the pond—"Mother," your nen-made spirit, tilting her head at you, trying to read the emotions you kept so tightly locked away. Her shape shimmered and wavered, the liquid surface of her body catching the dim light, reflecting a thousand tiny, dancing fragments of your surroundings.

“You’re cruel...” you muttered, not bothering to lift your head. You didn’t need to see her to know she was there, watching you with a concern you could not bear. The water spirit hovered closer, her presence radiating a gentle insistence. A wave of water reached out, almost like a hand, and as she moved, droplets broke away and splattered onto your face. The cool water trickled down your skin, obliging you to finally look up and meet her gaze.

Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her form, the way her edges seemed to blur and tremble, told you everything. She was worried. She is always worried. Especially when you have attempted to end your suffering...

Seeing her like that... It only made the ache worse. It plagued you and gnawed at you like an open wound. You hated it. You hated feeling like this—so useless, so empty. Once, you had been so certain of your place in the world, so sure of your purpose. You had moved like a blade through the darkness, cutting down every evil in your path. You had saved countless lives and fought battles that others had deemed impossible. You mattered.

And now... now it felt like all of that was gone. Stripped away the moment your nen vanished. When it had left you, it had taken everything with it. Your sense of self, your purpose, your reason for being—it had all crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

"Quit it," you muttered, your voice low and tired. "I'm not in the mood."

But Mother didn’t listen. She never did. Instead, she moved closer, her form rippling like a soft wave, the water elongating until it seemed to reach across the space between you. With a sudden, playful motion, she curled around your feet, a cold grip tightening around your ankles. Before you could protest, she yanked you off the mat, dragging you across the ground.

“Really?” You groaned, exasperation flaring. You knew what she was doing. She was trying to wake you up, to stir something inside you. “Cut it out, Mother.”

She didn’t respond. The water around your ankles tightened, and with another tug, she lifted you upside down, your hair falling toward the ground. The blood rushed to your head, and you blinked, momentarily disoriented. For a moment, you dangled there like a rag doll over the pond, your feet held aloft by a watery tendril.

You found yourself staring directly into her face—or what passed for a face—her liquid eyes focused intently on you, unblinking, unwavering. She was demanding your attention, forcing you to look at her to confront whatever was buried deep inside. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the gentle slosh of water moving with every slight motion.

“I said quit it,” you repeated, a hint of irritation in your voice. But she didn’t budge. Her expression seemed almost stern. The water droplets that made up her body shivered slightly, as if she were speaking a language only you could understand.

Mother’s form shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her head tilted again, and for a second, she almost seemed to frown. The water that held you up began to twist and turn, slowly spinning you in the air as if examining you from every angle. Her touch was cold, but there was something else there—something gentle, almost comforting, beneath the chill. She wouldn’t let you hide from this. She wouldn’t let you sink back into the darkness you’d been wallowing in for so long.

“Quit it, Mother,” you muttered, voice strained, but there was no real fight in your tone. You were too exhausted to fight her, too tired to do much more than dangle there, your heart heavy and your purpose frayed.

Mother, ever persistent, moved the water around you in a swirl, as if shaping something from the depths of her core. You felt a coldness, a thin sheet of water sliding up to your face, and then you saw it—your reflection mirrored perfectly in the water.

But Mother didn’t stop there. Slowly, deliberately, she turned the reflection around.

Your eyes widened as you caught sight of your own back and your skin. The large, red Hunter symbol emblazoned between your shoulder blades, stark against your flesh, with the L/N family symbols woven underneath, bearing the phrase that had once given you strength:

"No child left behind."

The words, so familiar, stared back at you with a cruel clarity. Your vow, your creed. The promise you had whispered to yourself a thousand times over, in the darkest nights, in the quiet moments of despair. The very words you had once tattooed onto your skin were like armor against the world.

Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to look away, but Mother twisted the mirror slightly, making sure you couldn’t escape it.

The reminder was as sharp as a blade, cutting through your excuses and your self-pity.

You were The Great Hunter, not because of the nen you wielded, but because of the promise you had made. Because of the innocent you had sworn to protect.

Mother watched, her watery eyes soft but firm, refusing to release you until the weight of that reflection settled back into your bones.

You sighed, a long, tired exhale, and for a moment, just a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the ache of that old purpose stirring within you.

She stared back, unyielding. Her watery surface rippled slightly, as if in response to your unspoken thoughts, and you felt a tear prick at the corner of your eye. A tear you quickly blink away. The silence stretched on, filled with everything you weren't saying—filled with all the things she knew you didn’t want to admit.

You sighed, feeling the fight leave you, your shoulders slumping. “Fine. Fine, you win,” you said quietly, feeling defeated, but in a way that almost felt like relief. She had always been there to stop you from corrupting yourself, always pushing you, always forcing you to face the things you wanted to ignore. And now, as much as you hated to admit it, you needed her to do it again.

You felt her release your ankles, and for a moment, you simply stood there, breathing, your heartbeat slowing, the cool air biting at your skin. She hovered closer, her watery hand reaching out as if to touch your face, but she hesitated, just a fraction of an inch away. You stared into her eyes, feeling something inside you break loose like a dam giving way.

You hated this... You hated feeling like you were nothing. Like you were just a vessel for the person you used to be.

Your Nen was gone, but you were still here. That gnawing, insatiable need to matter, to make a difference, was still there, burning quietly beneath the surface.

You took a breath, your fingers tightening around the phone still in your hand. "Alright," you whispered, almost to yourself. "Alright, I'll do it."

Mother seemed to shimmer, her form brightening slightly as if she were smiling. Her droplets swirled around you, a gentle, swirling dance of liquid light like she was encouraging you, cheering you on.

Your thumb moved over the phone screen, almost of its own accord, and you found Netero’s name again, hesitating for just a heartbeat before you pressed the call button. The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice came through—calm but expectant as if he had known you would call back.

“Y/N?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself, and then spoke, your voice steady. “Where is he?”

You stepped off the airship, choosing to take a more grounded approach this time. It had been so long since you walked among society; today, you wanted to feel the earth beneath your feet and hear the noise of life all around you. Normally, you would have flown in on Khan, your Seraphrid—a creature resembling a winged horse, only larger and more formidable, a loyal companion since your youth. But today felt different.

As expected, Khan had already beaten you here. His sleek, black form stood tall among the trees, his six powerful legs moving with an elegance that defied his size. His head was turned in your direction, and the two long, string-like antennae that served as his natural bridle extended, sensing your presence. They wrapped around your arm, their touch gentle but firm, syncing with the veins on the underside of your wrist. The bond was immediate, an ancient connection that required no words.

With a familiar pull, you mounted him, his raised hoof serving as a stepping stool, an unspoken offer only the two of you understood. You clicked your tongue softly, a signal you’d always used, and he responded with a low, rumbling neigh that resonated through your bones.

Khan didn’t need instructions. He read your intentions through the link you shared, feeling the subtle shifts in your thoughts and emotions. He began to trot into the dense forest, guided by your thoughts alone, the rhythm of his steps matching the cadence of your heartbeat.

Netero had informed you that the young man, the one you were to meet, was training in these woods. He had given you the young man’s contact information, though he had been elusive with any real details. When you had pressed for more information, Netero had only chuckled, his words tinged with mystery: “You’ll see...”

Typical of him to leave you to uncover the truth on your own, to dig up the bone yourself, like always. As Khan weaved through the thick underbrush, you found yourself wondering about this boy. What was it about him that had made Netero reach out to you after all this time? What was so special that it warranted pulling you back into this world?

The dense forest began to thin, opening into a sun-dappled clearing. Khan slowed to a gentle canter, his antennae twitching as if sensing something ahead. You felt it too—a presence, quiet yet intense, like a heartbeat echoing through the trees.

This had to be the place. As you dismounted, Khan’s gaze remained fixed forward, his body tense and alert. You patted his side, reassuring him, and he relaxed slightly, though his eyes never wavered from whatever lay beyond the clearing.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar stir of curiosity and something deeper—something that felt like the whisper of purpose reigniting within you. Stepping forward, you moved into the clearing, ready to meet the young man Netero had sent you to find, ready to face whatever awaited you on the other side.

You dismounted slowly, your feet sinking into the damp earth as the coolness of the soil crept up through your boots, grounding you in the present moment. The clearing before you stretched wide, dappled sunlight breaking through the thick canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of moss and earth, a living, breathing presence around you. Khan stood tall beside you, his powerful form coiled with restrained energy, his antennae twitching in tune with the undercurrent of tension that rippled from you like a stone dropped in water.

Ahead, the low murmur of voices reached your ears, punctuated by the rhythmic clack of wood striking wood and the sharp rustle of leaves disturbed by quick, deliberate movements. You moved forward slowly, cautiously, each step bringing the sounds into sharper clarity. As you reached the edge of the clearing, you paused, taking in the scene before you.

Two figures moved with practiced grace, their forms entwined in a dance of combat, their bodies speaking a language of strength and discipline. One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, had a presence that radiated intensity and control—Izunavi, a hunter you had known from years ago. His sharp, unwavering gaze and the calm precision of his movements marked him as a hunter, one who had taught countless others the art of survival.

But it was the boy who drew your attention.

He was younger than you had imagined, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo, his eyes narrowed in concentration, a fierce determination burning in their depths. His posture was taut, muscles coiled and ready, every motion calculated and precise as he mirrored Izunavi’s steps, his gaze never faltering, never leaving his mentor for even a heartbeat. His body moved with the grace of a predator, but there was a tension there—a rawness, a desperation that was almost painful to watch.

So this was Kurapika.

Your breath caught in your throat. It was like staring into a ghost, a specter of who you had once been—a younger self, with that same consuming fire, that same drive, that same reckless need to prove something to a world that had never shown mercy. You recognized the look in his eyes immediately. You had seen it in your reflection, in the faces of those you had saved and those you had failed. The beast of burden lay heavy in his gaze, the weight of vengeance familiar darkness that seemed to clutch at his very soul.

He was still a child. Just as you had been—a child thrust into a world too cruel and too vast, carrying a burden too heavy for shoulders so young. You lingered in the shadows, your heart tightening in your chest, a sense of foreboding curling in your gut. Finally, you decided to step forward, your presence pressing through the air like a ripple in still water.

Izunavi’s movements stilled. He sensed you first, his eyes flickering toward you, his expression a mask of calm neutrality, though you saw the faint recognition behind his eyes. His stance eased, a subtle acknowledgment. Kurapika followed his gaze, turning to face you, and the intensity of his scrutiny hit you like a blow—a look so piercing it seemed to strip away layers, searching, demanding answers before he even spoke.

“Master,” Izunavi greeted, his tone respectful but carrying a hint of something harder beneath. "Netero told me you might be dropping by."

"Y/N," you corrected, voice soft but firm. Each syllable felt heavy in your mouth, burdened by the memories of your past. You inclined your head slightly, stepping fully into the clearing, moving with purpose, though a knot tightened in your stomach. "It’s been a while, Izunavi," you said, your voice sounding almost foreign to your ears. "I see you’ve taken on another pupil."

Izunavi nodded. "One with a special kind of determination," he replied, a note of pride softening his otherwise stern demeanor. He glanced at Kurapika, who stood like a coiled spring, ready to snap. "Kurapika, this is Y/N L/N—once known as Master Hunter, The Great Hunter, the Hound of the Hunters… too many names to count."

Kurapika’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of your name. Recognition flickered across his features—his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something darker. You could almost see the thoughts racing behind his gaze, the questions forming, and the curiosity and anger mingling in a storm of emotion.

Netero had left you a note from the first examiner of the 287th Hunter Exam: "Kurapika Kurta said he wishes to become a Hunter to exact revenge on the Phantom Troupe and seek aid from the Master Hunter." The Phantom Troupe, a name you had only heard in passing, a whisper of a threat, a gang too small to matter back then. But now, seeing Kurapika’s face, you realize how much had changed and how much you had missed.

“Where were you that day?” Kurapika’s voice was low but steady, each word laced with a simmering rage that seemed barely contained. "I read stories about you... Master Hunter, the one who made crime vanish like mist before the sun. When my people were slaughtered, I didn’t fear, because I knew—you would come. You would hunt them down for me."

The pain in his voice was like a knife twisting in your chest. “I waited years for you! Held onto that hope until I had no choice but to become the hunter I needed.”

His voice cracked, but the fury within it did not waver. "You let them walk this earth after what they did to me... to my people." His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white, his breath ragged. And then you saw it—the flash of scarlet behind his gray contacts, the burning rage of his clan's curse, the anger and grief all mixed into one volatile storm.

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard against it. The weight of his accusation bore down on you like a physical force. In your absence, the world had shifted and twisted, and you had been powerless to stop it. You had lost your Nen that day, the day you had lost everything.

That’s why you weren’t there.

The same beast of burden now latched onto him had once latched onto you. You had failed him, and his words cut deep into whatever was left of your fractured soul. If only you had known... If only you had hunted them when they were small, a mere whisper of a threat. If only…

But you hadn’t. And now you were facing the result of that failure.

Your silence hung heavy in the air. You felt the burn in your eyes, the sting in your throat, and the weight of every decision and every choice you had made that led to this moment. There was nothing you could say to erase the pain in his eyes—the sense of betrayal that seemed to radiate from him like heat.

Kurapika's expression hardened, his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I need justice,” he said, his voice colder now, like a blade drawn against a stone.

You drew a deep breath, fighting against the rising tide of emotion within you. “Justice is a fine line, Kurapika,” you replied quietly, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve. “And revenge can blur it until you don’t know which side you’re on.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and something deeper—something fragile and almost broken. He turned away, shoulders tense, his footsteps heavy, as if carrying the weight of the world on his back. A part of you wanted to reach out, to stop him, to pull him back from the edge. But you knew better than to force it. He had to find his way, just as you had.

“Kurap-” Izunavi began, his voice edged with concern, but you raised a hand, silencing him. Your eyes remained on Kurapika’s retreating form, watching as he disappeared into the trees, swallowed by the shadows.

“Let him go,” you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I’ll talk to him later... once he’s cooled off."

Izunavi hesitated but finally nodded, trusting your judgment. You stared into the forest where Kurapika had vanished, the weight of his words still heavy on your heart. You knew that if he continued on this path, it would lead only to more pain and more loss. You weren’t sure you could bear to watch someone else descend into the same darkness that had swallowed you whole.

You had to try for his sake and yours.

“How far is he in his Nen?” you asked, breaking the stillness. Izunavi turned, his expression solemn.

“He's a determined, quick learner, but he’s already made those terrible vows for his Nen ability. It’s been five months since he started, and he’s planning something for September 1st.”

Next month, you thought. Not much time. “Is it related to the Troupe?”

“Positive.” Izunavi’s response was immediate; his voice edged with tension.

You sighed deeply, feeling the familiar heaviness in your chest. Another lost child, another soul standing at a precipice. The memory of the children from Meteor City flickered in your mind—those small, eager faces filled with both mischief and hope. Even now, you could remember the way they looked up to you, their eyes wide with wonder and something more—something like belief.

Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks—all those troublemakers who had once felt like yours in some way despite being the same age. You had often wondered where they were now, how life had treated them, and if they had stayed on the path you had hoped for them. Maybe, when all of this was over, you’d find them again. Just to see. Just to know.

Izunavi’s voice pulled you back. “His vows are monstrous, Y/N. I don’t know what he sacrificed, but his chains are still out of control. He’s powerful, but he can’t command them yet.”

“Chains?” You repeated, an eyebrow arching in surprise. “That’s his ability?”

Izunavi nodded gravely. “Yes. He wants to bind the spiders to hell with them.”

A small, amused laugh slipped past your lips, as that did sound like something he would say. Then your expression turned serious. “Izunavi… I’ve lost my Nen. If I decide to teach this boy, will you be my eyes?”

Izunavi blinked, momentarily stunned, but he quickly nodded, his gaze steady and filled with a new understanding. “I will,” he promised softly. “But... are you ready for this?”

You took a breath, the weight of your own words settling within you. “I wasn’t Netero’s best hunter just because of my Nen.”

You could still feel Nen, even Mother’s Nen whenever she came to you, like a whisper at the back of your mind, a gentle reminder of the power that once flowed through you like a river. You hadn’t lost your instincts—if anything, losing your Nen had sharpened them. It was like losing a sense and gaining another. You could feel things now, in ways that other Nen users couldn’t—like sensing the shift in the air before a storm.

Izunavi hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice a little softer, a little more unsure. “Y/N, you can do it? Teach him? With your Nen gone…?”

You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “I can.”

Izunavi seemed to consider your words, then nodded again, more firmly this time. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be your eyes.”

Your gaze drifted toward the direction where Kurapika had stormed off, your thoughts tangled with the past and the present. You knew the path he was on—you had been there yourself once. And you didn’t want Kurapika to stain his hands as you had stained yours, even if it was for what you believed was “good.”

If you could help him find another way—if you could keep his hands clean, you would. You were willing to stain yours all over again for the sake of keeping him from the blood that had already marked too many lives.

You had to operate in his shadow. Teaching Kurapika while also trying to beat him to the Phantom Troupe would be no easy task—especially if you had to do it behind his back. There was still so much you didn’t know. The years you spent disconnected from society left gaps in your knowledge. You couldn’t deny it, and the thought made you clench your fist. At least you could still rely on the physical strength of the L/N bloodline—but even that might not be enough. What if the Phantom Troupe’s Nen abilities were stronger than you anticipated? If they were all together, no matter how much experience you had, they could easily overwhelm you by sheer numbers.

What if you couldn’t protect Kurapika? The thought sent a shiver up your spine.

This was a mess just waiting to explode.

Izunavi watched you quietly, sensing the shift in your mood, the old scars being reopened, and the new purpose forming in your heart. You felt the stirrings of a familiar resolve—a quiet, burning fire that refused to go out.

“Let’s start now,” you said, meeting Izunavi’s gaze with a calm but determined look. “We have until September 1st. I won’t let him fall.”

You followed Kurapika as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Shadows lengthened, and the woods grew quieter, the sounds of the day's creatures giving way to the night’s. You had given him time—enough time, you hoped—for his anger to cool and for his heart to steady. But you knew that the embers of rage didn’t die so easily; they could smolder for a long, long time.

You found him near the lake, sitting against a tree with his knees pulled up, his blonde hair catching the last rays of sunlight like threads of gold. He stared blankly ahead, lost in thought, his face a mask of quiet resolve. You watched him for a moment from a distance, letting your presence be felt without imposing yourself. You knew words wouldn’t be enough—not yet, not for a boy with a fresh wound.

Slowly, you made your way toward him, moving carefully and deliberately, leaving space for him to turn you away if he chose. He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t push you away either. That, in itself, was something. You took a seat beside him, leaving enough distance between the two of you to let him feel unpressured but close enough that your presence was felt. You let the silence stretch, understanding that sometimes it was the only thing that could truly speak.

After a while, you finally broke the silence, your voice soft, almost tentative. "You want to hunt the Troupe, right?"

Kurapika didn’t move at first, his eyes still fixed on the water. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but resolved. “I don’t have a choice.”

The words hung between you, heavy with finality. You have heard that before, spoken in different ways by different people. It was always the same. A choice made in desperation, when the soul felt trapped by the past, by the need to correct something that could never truly be fixed.

“You always have a choice,” you replied softly, your tone neither reprimanding nor coddling. It was simply a statement of fact.

Kurapika shifted, his hands tightening around his knees. “Not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to them.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, studying the lines of tension etched across his young face. He was still so young—too young for this kind of rage to live so deeply inside him. But rage wasn’t something that cared for age, wisdom, or even reason. You knew that better than anyone.

“They took everything from me,” he continued, his voice harder now, laced with bitterness. “Everything. My family, my home, my future. I can’t just let that go!”

You exhaled slowly, a quiet sigh that was lost in the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting,” you said gently. “It doesn’t mean forgiving either. But this path you’re walking... It’s not just about revenge anymore. It’s about who you become at the end of it.”

Kurapika’s eyes flicked toward you then, sharp and wary like he was expecting a lecture he’d heard a thousand times before. But you weren’t here to preach.

“I’m not asking you to stop,” you clarified, your gaze still on the water, the gentle waves reflecting the dying light. “I know that’s not an option for you. But you need to be careful, Kurapika. Rage has a way of consuming everything in its path. It’ll burn through you if you’re not careful. Until there’s nothing left of the person you used to be.”

He was silent for a moment, absorbing your words. The tension in his body hadn’t lessened, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps. Or maybe it was understanding.

“I can control it,” he said, his voice quieter now, but the determination in it was unmistakable. “I have to.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his resolve. “Control is important. But you also need balance. Power without purpose is dangerous, even to yourself.”

Kurapika frowned, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Purpose? My purpose is to kill them.”

You turned to face him fully then, your eyes locking onto his. “And after that? What happens when they’re gone? What’s left for you?”

The question caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. For a moment, the hard façade he had built around himself seemed to crack, and you saw the lost boy beneath. A boy who had lost everything and didn’t know how to live without his hatred to guide him.

“That’s why I’m here,” you continued, your voice softening. “I’ve walked this path before. I know where it leads. If you’re not careful, you’ll reach the end of it and find that nothing is waiting for you on the other side. Nothing but emptiness.”

Kurapika’s hands slowly unclenched, his fingers tracing the edge of his sleeves as if grounding himself in the present moment. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the conflict in his eyes.

You reached out then, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort. “I’m not saying this to stop you,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “But I am saying you need to think about what comes next. After the bloodshed. After the vengeance. What will you be left with?”

Kurapika lowered his head, the weight of your words sinking in. The silence stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t filled with tension. It was a moment of quiet reflection.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely audible.

You gave a small nod, squeezing his shoulder lightly before pulling your hand back. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know yet. Just... don’t lose yourself in the process.”

For a long moment, Kurapika didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the ground, deep in thought. When he finally looked up, there was a new clarity in his eyes, though the fire still burned there, too. He wasn’t ready to let go of his vengeance, but at least now he was starting to see the danger in letting it consume him completely.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than before.

You nodded again, satisfied for now. It was a start. He would need time to fully understand what you meant, but at least the seed had been planted. And as much as you wanted to protect him from the pain of the path he was walking, you knew he had to walk it for himself. All you could do was guide him along the way.

As the last traces of daylight disappeared from the sky, you stood up, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Come on,” you said, offering him a hand. “Let’s head back before it gets too dark.”

Kurapika hesitated for a moment before accepting your hand, pulling himself up to his feet. He stood beside you, his gaze lingering on the horizon for just a moment longer before he nodded, turning to follow you back toward the camp.

As you walked side by side, the soft sounds of the night surrounding you, you couldn’t help but glance at him, the weight of the future heavy between you both.

The journey was far from over...

© eyesofbong. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize my work. If you see this content on any account that is not mine, please report it. My work is only available on this platform and on AO3 under the name @eyesofbong

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waitingandwishing · 7 months ago

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Incorrect HXH quotes with y/n

1. Gon: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life Killua: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years! y/n: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this! Leorio: I knew I lost that potential somewhere! Kurapika: My moral code, is that you? Gon: ... Gon: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my dad left me but do you guys need a hug?

2. Kurapika: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? y/n: Have everyone stand. Gon: Bring three more chairs! Leorio: The most important ones can sit down. Killua: Kill three.

3. Gon: What does 'take out' mean? Killua: Food. y/n: Dating Kurapika: Murder Leorio: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

4. Gon: Where's Killua, y/n, and Leorio? Kurapika: They're playing hide and seek. Gon: Where? Kurapika: I don't think you get how this game works.

5. Gon: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? y/n: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Gon: Three of us saw it, y/n. How do you explain that? y/n: *points at Kurapika* Sleep deprivation. *points at Leorio* Paranoia. *points at Killua* Delusional personality disorder.

6. killua, talking about y/n: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH THEM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? THEY DID. THEY KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO.

7. y/n: Are you ready to commit? killua: Like, a suicide attempt *flashback to the train* or a relationship?

8. y/n: I’ve been dropping him the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response. gon: Wow. They sound stupid. y/n: But he's not. He's really smart actually. Just dense. gon: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!” y/n: I guess you’re right. Hey gon, I love you. gon: See! Just say that! y/n: Holy fucking shit. gon: If that flies over their head then, sorry y/n, but they're too dumb for you. y/n: gon.

9. y/n: My hands are cold. kurapika: Here, let me hold them. y/n: My lips are cold too. kurapika: *covers y/n's mouth with his hand*

10. y/n, trying to flirt with kurapika: I think both of our families suck.

11. Killua: Date someone who will drag you outside at 3am to look at the stars. y/n: If anyone, and I mean anyone, wakes me up at 3am to go look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life.

12. Store Worker: Would a Mr. Killua please come to the front desk? Killua, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker: points to y/n and Gon Store Worker: I believe they belong to you? y/n and Gon, simultaneously: We got lost :( Killua: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

13. y/n: Killua and I don’t use pet names. Gon: I see. Hey, what do bees make? y/n: Honey? Killua: Yes? Killua: Gon: Don't ever lie to my face again.

#hxh fanfic #hxh 2011 #hxh #hxh killua #killua x reader #kurapika #kurapika x reader #leorio #gon x reader #hxh x reader

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internet-rat · 9 months ago

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Sitting on their lap - HXH adults

In these imagines you are in a relationship with these characters~ Any POV! SFW, but with underlying yandere themes for some characters. A long post so I put it under "keep reading"~ Characters: Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Hisoka, Illumi, Pariston, Kite, Nobunaga, Pakunoda, Machi and Silva

Kurapika:

-You entered the dimly lit room, your silhouette casting shadows under the feeble lamp that flickered sporadically. You paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Kurapika, disheveled and vulnerable, a rare sight for him. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of concern and affection. He had been working a lot lately, and it was clear he was overworked.

-Kurapika, sensing the presence of someone he cherished, lifted his head. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were now soft and somewhat unfocused. "y/n," he spoke softly, a smile creeping onto his lips as he recognized you. "Come here, please."

-Without waiting for a verbal response, he reached out with one arm, his hand beckoning you closer. As you approached, he grasped you wrist gently and pulled you towards him. Before you could protest, you found yourself guided onto his lap, enveloped by the warmth of his body. His arms secured around your waist, holding you close in a protective embrace.

-"Stay... just like this," Kurapika murmured into your hair. His voice was a tender whisper, a stark contrast to the usual commanding tone he employed during missions or discussions about the dangerous underworld you two navigated.

-You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back, syncing intermittently with yours. You relaxed into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder. His fingers traced small, absent-minded patterns on your sides, sending tingles through your spine.

-"You know, you're incredibly... beautiful," he continued as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed lightly against you, planting soft kisses wherever he could reach. Your presence caused him to relax, and perhaps you could coax him to get enough sleep that night.

Leorio:

-Leorio glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes lighting up as he recognized you. With a roguish grin, he patted his thigh invitingly. "Hey, come over here!" he beckoned with a chuckle.

-As you approached, he swept his arm around your waist and effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, his strong hands steadying you. He leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable, while ensuring you were securely nestled against him.

-"There, much better," Leorio murmured into your ear, his voice low and teasing. "Now I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're not causing any trouble." His chuckle vibrated through his chest, providing a soothing rumble that was felt rather than heard.

-With you safely in his lap, Leorio's hands rested lightly on your sides, his fingers occasionally caressing your skin through the fabric of your clothing. His hands were warm and his presence was reassuring as well as protective, yet charged with an electric sense of connection that made the mundane environment of his office fade into the background.

Chrollo:

-Chrollo's eyes glimmer with a mischievous light as he pats his lap gently, signaling you to come over. "Come here," he says softly, his voice a blend of command and invitation.

-You move towards him, the air thick with his unspoken desires. As you settle onto his lap, Chrollo wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. His touch is both possessive and protective, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back.

-“Much better,” Chrollo murmurs into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes still holding a hint of that enigmatic smile. “Now, tell me about your day, even the smallest detail. I want to hear everything.”

-His fingers trace patterns on your side as, soothing yet distracting as he keeps you close, a physical reminder that you are his and his alone. He grips your waist a bit harder eventually, laughing softly when you whimper.

Hisoka: -Hisoka chuckled softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something darker. His voice, low and honey-sweet, coaxed you closer. "Come here," he murmured, his hands gesturing with a magician's flair. As you approached, he pulled you gently onto his lap, his strong arms encircling you to keep you close.

-"You're in the best seat in the house," Hisoka whispered into your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. His presence was overwhelming, and the close proximity sent your heart racing. "Relax, I've got you," he continued, his tone both reassuring and possessive.

-His eyes sparkled with mischief and desire as he looked at you. "Isn't this much better?" Hisoka asked, his voice a purr of contentment. "You close to me where I can make sure no one else can take you away." His words were playful yet held an edge, one that said he was not entirely joking.

-As he held you, you could feel the power of his nen, the strength that lay just beneath the surface. It was both thrilling and terrifying, knowing how easily he could overpower you, yet choosing instead to hold you gently. His grip was firm but not restrictive, a promise of protection rather than confinement.

-Hisoka's fingers drifted upwards, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, his touch deliberate and intimate. "You know, I could show you some magic tricks, but I find this moment quite magical already," he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

-The way he looked at you, as if you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered, made you feel both vulnerable and cherished. In Hisoka's arms, it was easy to forget the world outside, his attention and allure anchoring you entirely to the moment with him.

Illumi:

-Illumi's voice is low and controlled, nearly a whisper as he manipulates the situation to his advantage. "y/n, come here," he instructs gently, yet with an underlying firmness that suggests it’s not really a request.

-As you approach with cautious steps, his hand reaches out, gracefully but with undeniable strength, guiding you by the waist. With a fluid motion, he pulls you closer, maneuvering you to sit on his lap. His long fingers are cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body through his clothes.

-He adjusts your position slightly, ensuring you are comfortable, yet firmly within his control. His breath is a soft brush against the shell of your ear, a sensation that makes you both uneasy and inexplicably drawn in. "Is this comfortable for you?" he questions, though it sounds more like a rhetorical query, his voice a melodious sound that's hard to resist.

-The room feels smaller with his presence enveloping you, his aura dark and compelling. Illumi's hands rest lightly on your sides, a reminder of his physical dominance without the need for force. His touch, although minimal, sends a clear message of possession—as if you're an extension of his own being, not just physically but in every way that matters. His love is twisted, but you know it runs deeper than any love in this world.

Pariston:

-"Ah, y/n, you look absolutely ravishing today," Pariston murmured, his voice a teasing lilt as he pulled you onto his lap with ease. His hands, warm and unsettlingly gentle, settled on your waist as he nestled you closer against him. The luxurious texture of his suit rubbed against your skin, a stark contrast to the devious glint in his eyes.

"Now, tell me, darling," he continued, his fingers gripping your hips lightly, sending shivers up your spine. "What's been occupying your beautiful mind today? Anything fun, or shall we create our own amusement right here?" The smirk playing on his lips was suggestive, and his gaze was locked onto yours, challenging and electric.

-The way he held you so confidently, as if claiming ownership, made your heart race. Pariston's presence was overwhelming, his charisma like a tangible force that drew you in despite your better judgment. You could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned in closer, his words a whisper now.

-"Or perhaps," he whispered, his lips almost brushing against your ear, sending a wave of anticipation through your body, "you’d like to tell me what you desire most right now? Don’t hold back... I’m all yours to command."

Kite:

-He walked over to you, his movements purposeful, as he reached out a hand and gently guided you towards him. With a subtle strength, he pulled you closer, easing you onto his lap. The stiffness of the previous moment melted away as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. Kite's hands rested lightly on your waist, steadying you.

-The proximity brought a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you could feel his steady breathing, calm yet slightly deepened by your closeness. His white hair brushed against your skin softly.

-"Better?" His voice was low, his usual sternness softened into a gentle murmur just for you, resonant in the quiet of the small room.

-His honey colored eyes held a spark, reflecting the dim light of the bedside lamp, and you realized that the tension wasn't just from the day's exertions, but also from an unspoken anticipation between the two of you. -"Mhm... Especially with your strong arms around me," you reply softly, slightly teasing him.

-Kite's lips quirked into a subtle, knowing smile, his hold on you tightening just enough to convey his soft possessiveness, a trait you found endearing. His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his body into yours.

-"Is that so?" His voice was a low hum, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. "Maybe I should keep you here more often, then. Just to make sure you’re feeling comfortable."

Nobunaga:

-Nobu was back home from a mission with the spiders, and he needed you close. As you settled comfortably into Nobunaga's lap, his strong arms circled around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him brought an immediate sense of calm and security. His fingers gently traced patterns on your back as he nuzzled into your hair, planting soft kisses on your neck.

-"Missed this," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. His hands shifted slightly, one moving to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other stayed wrapped around you, holding you firmly yet gently. It was moments like these he cherished the most - the quiet intimacy shared away from the chaos of his usual life.

-With you in his arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your small, peaceful bubble. -You kiss his cheek softly. Feeling your lips against his cheek, Nobunaga’s heart swelled with affection. He turned his head slightly, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. His hand slid up from your back to cup the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. The kiss deepened for a moment before he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a look of deep affection and a hint of playful mischief.

-"Home’s never felt good without you," he whispered, his voice husky. As he spoke, he shifted, adjusting you slightly on his lap, making you even more comfortable against him. He wanted to make sure every return home was like this—full of warmth and the quiet statement of being together, no matter what awaited outside.

-His fingers resumed their gentle exploration of your hair, untangling any knots with a patience and care that belied his usual rough exterior.

Pakunoda:

-Her hand rested casually on your waist, securing you close to her, while her other hand brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Pakunoda’s typically hard expression softened momentarily as she looked down at you, her sharp gaze softening.

-"You know, being this close... it feels right," she murmured, her voice low and almost tender, a stark contrast to the rough exterior she presented to the world. Her posture relaxed, enveloping you in the strong yet protective aura that was uniquely hers.

-As you nestled into her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest, the bustling noise of the city around you seemed to fade away, replaced by an intimate silence that hung between you two, filled only by shared breaths and the occasional, subtle shift as you both settled more comfortably into each other's presence.

-Leaning back into Pakunoda's embrace, your body relaxes completely, sinking into the comforting solidity of her lap. Her arms close around you slightly tighter, a silent acknowledgment of your trust and comfort in her presence. The cold, distant demeanor Pakunoda usually exhibits to the outside world melts away when she's with you, replaced by a protective and serene calm.

-You feel her breath against the top of your head, her chest gently rising and falling in a rhythm that lulls you into a deeper state of tranquility.

-Pakunoda, usually so reserved with her words, lets out a soft sigh, a sound of contentment that vibrates through her and into you. "This quiet... it's rare," she murmurs, her voice a soothing rumble that matches the slow strokes of her hand on your arm. "With you, it's different. Peaceful."

Machi:

-As Machi pulls you closer into her embrace, her hands gently guide you onto her lap. Her firm hold around your waist assures a protective closeness, warmth radiating from her body. You feel her breath softly brushing against the back of your neck, a whisper of intimacy in the air.

-"Settle in, love," she murmurs, her voice a low hum of affection and command. The bustling sounds of Yorknew City seem to fade away, overshadowed by the palpable connection between you two. With her fingers lightly tracing patterns along your side, Machi keeps you anchored to her, a silent reminder of her presence and affection.

-You turn so you straddle her lap to be closer to her. As you turn to face her, straddling her lap, Machi's piercing gaze meets yours, an intense expression of admiration and desire flickering across her features. Her strong hands slide up to cradle your back, pulling you flush against her chest. The close proximity heightens the electric charge between you two, and you can feel the steady rhythm of her heart against your own.

-“Much better,” she whispers, her lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing tease. Her fingers weave into your hair, tugging gently to angle your head as she deepens the kiss, exploring the warmth of your mouth with a slow, deliberate passion. The world seems to narrow down to this intimate space where only you and Machi exist, wrapped in each other’s presence.

Silva:

-Silva wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close into his firm embrace. His deep blue eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and delight as he positions you comfortably onto his lap. His voice, a soothing rumble, breaks the quiet of the room.

-"Seems like you've chosen quite the spot to rest, haven't you?" His other hand gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. "I hope you're finding my lap as welcoming as the rest of the mansion." His smirk is teasing, yet there's a warm undercurrent to his words, suggesting a deep, affectionate bond between you two.

-Silva's breath hitches slightly as you nuzzle into his neck, the warmth of your body pressed against his sending a thrill through him. He tightens his grip around your waist, anchoring you firmly against him. His voice, now a husky whisper, brushes warmly against your ear.

-"You always know how to make my heart race, don't you?" He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest to yours. His hand slides up your back, fingers threading through your hair, massaging gently at the base of your scalp. "I could hold you like this forever," Silva confesses, the stoic assassin facade melting away to reveal a rare glimpse of his deeper, more vulnerable emotions towards you.

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