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undreaming-fanfiction · 3 months

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What I Wouldn't Do

This fanfiction is a Valentine's Day exchange gift for the lovely @henderdads. Cass, Eddie absolutely hates Valentine's Day, but for Steve? Well. He's willing to make an exception. Have an amazing Valentine's Day, you deserve it so much!!

Sometimes, it is difficult to reconcile several different truths in our lives.

Eddie currently has this dilemma.

Truth A: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson’s boyfriend, allegedly loves sappy romantic things, Valentine's Day included.

Truth B: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington's boyfriend, feels like if the world ever has to end, it should do so on February 14th, for this is the worst day of all days, the day of heart-shaped chocolate that tastes like crap, couples exchanging sweet words and bodily fluids, sometimes even semi-publicly, and don't even get him started about that horrible romantic music.

After swearing on the Munson doctrine he won’t sell his soul to consumerism for anything and anyone but Steve, Eddie Munson decides to ignore Truth B. Steve Harrington deserves the best Valentine's day in the history of this idiotic holiday and Eddie has a hunch, a massive, Everest-sized hunch, that in all of his previous Valentine's days, Steve was always the one to do all the work. His beautiful and brave people-pleasing boyfriend.

Then Eddie realizes another very uncomfortable truth. He has no idea how to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He spent the twenty one-ish years of his existence avoiding the holiday, so now he has to do some research.

He starts small. When they walk together in the Hawkins center, careful not to touch or hold hands because Hawkins still remains a backward hellhole, he notes what Steve looks at. If his eyes linger on a certain flower for a few seconds, he makes a mental note. A mental note means in Eddie's case that he repeats the name of the flower ad nauseum, quickly excuses himself and scribbles it onto his forearm not to forget. He even buys a permanent marker for this. He can't forget anything, not when it's important for Steve.

When Steve asks about the scribbles, he claims it's for the next campaign. He even draws a sword and a shield next to the notes to avoid suspicion.

He asks many questions, most of them under the pretense of helping Gareth with his dates. "I swear, Steve, when he's lovestruck, he gets completely stupid. Not stupid stupid, Gareth's smart, but he can't hold rhythm and we need him to hold it, he's our drummer! So save this suffering aspiring rockstar and tell me, what do you think is the best type of chocolate? Milk chocolate? Okay, and is that like, universal? Did your previous dates like it? I see, a majority then! Sooo...are you a part of that majority?"

Very smooth.

See, Eddie doesn't give a flying demobat about chocolate types, he's more into hard candy. He doesn't like cut flowers, they die anyways because you cut them, how is that fair to that flower, huh? To die for being pretty? And of course, he hates the whole EXPECTATION of Valentine's Day.

But the more he asks, the more he finds out, he doesn't see it as participating in the mindless machinery of lovestruck idiots. Instead, he sees the flush on Steve's cheeks when he talks about dark chocolate with dried raspberries and how his parents once brought it back from dad's trade conference, how it was love at first taste. He scratches out the idea for a bouquet of flowers when Steve mentions he’s always hated them because the flowers are so beautiful and vibrant, but they’re cut for an obligation in their prime. “It sounds stupid when I say it,” he chuckles, “but I want them to live until they’re ugly and withered, you know? They’re worth way more than their looks.”

Eddie could kiss him right there and then. And he does.

He brings it all together, prepares all of Steve’s favorites with a silly twist because it’s Eddie, and Eddie lives for silly things. It really needs to be his favorites because Steve once admitted to him that most people with the exception of Robin and Dustin don’t really know what he likes, they just assume. And Steve is happy that people even thought about him, he thanks them and treasures those things that don’t mean anything to him. To Steve, being thought about is enough.

Well, not to Eddie Munson.

He asks Steve not to plan anything for their Valentine's Day. Or more precisely, he asks him to stay free and available and not worry his beautifully hairy head. He knows that if he didn't say this, Steve would have gone above and beyond for him, he would have likely taken Eddie to a concert with music so loud he’d get a migraine, but he’d suffer through it. So Eddie has to stop that from happening.

On the actual day, Eddie prepares everything. He sends Gareth ("You owe me so much for this. SO MUCH, MUNSON. I actually wanted to watch this tonight!") to rent Steve's favorite movie and goes himself to get access to the Hawkins High with…almost completely legal means, just a little bit of bribing here, some promises for a lengthy D&D campaign there, and of course lots and lots of nougat.

He gathers everything in his van, waits for the kids and the janitor to get out and then starts setting the scene.

There are two more incompatible truths that Eddie Munson grapples with:

Truth A: Eddie Munson fucking HATES the Hawkins High. He wants it to burn down in flames, with only the theater room staying intact.

Truth B: Steve Harrington sometimes wistfully mentions how he wishes he could have dated Eddie Munson in high school. How they’d share lunches, trade secret kisses in the hallways. He wishes himself and the world had been different.

And so Eddie Munson grits his teeth, walks those cursed hallways he only managed to escape a few months back and counts on Robin Buckley to deliver his invitation with flair. “Extra points if you get him a trumpet solo, Buckley!”

Robin apparently delivers because only half an hour after the expected invite, as he is smoking his fifth cigarette - don’t blame the guy, he’s nervous! He’s got a big date! - Steve arrives with a smile that’s equally excited and nervous. He keeps running his fingers through his hair and overall looks just biteable.

Steve walks up to him and brushes his fingers against Eddie’s wrist, discreetly as they have established. It’s their own version of a kiss. “I thought you hated Valentine’s Day?” he asks and he looks so apologetic that Eddie promises to base all villains in his new campaign on all the people who ever made Steve feel he wanted too much.

Eddie glances around, deems it safe and pulls Steve into an actual kiss. "It might be Valentine's day for you, Steve. For me, it's the "Steve Harrington Appreciation Day." He winks at Steve and relishes in the slight blush that has crept into his cheeks. “The name is already registered and all. No changes possible or accepted. Follow me, big boy.”

Steve laughs when he sees a set cafeteria table with something that brings back so many memories. How did Eddie get two portions of school lunch?! The man has to be magical, he decides. They eat together, chat about their day, and then Eddie decides feeding each other is off the table because they’re giggling so much he almost stabbed Steve with the fork.

They walk the hallways together, hand in hand, and Eddie sometimes turns around, sticks his tongue out at an imaginary girl and sneers “back off! He’s mine!”.

Steve turns after Eddie and nods. “What he said,” he whispers and squeezes Eddie’s waist.

Eddie then hands Steve a sports bag he stashed in the changing rooms and winks at him. “What are you waiting for, Harrington? We have some balls to toss! Baskets to score. That.” And before Steve has a chance to protest, he gets his own bag and starts changing into those awfully familiar PE shorts in all their green and white glory.

Steve just watches him, mouth hanging open. “Now I get why I never saw you in these,” he mumbles as he also starts changing. “I would have realized I’m bi like, at that moment.”

But Eddie just laughs and pulls his hair into a loose bun. “Oh, Steve. You have no idea what those shorts on you did to the little closeted me. The thoughts they gave me.”

“Lucky for you, baby,” says Steve and pulls Eddie to his feet, “this time you’re allowed - and strongly encouraged - to both watch AND touch.” Then he cocks his head to the side and adds: “Well. If you score at least one point.”

Eddie tries. Fails. Tries again, even with Steve helping him. Eventually, they settle for a quick game of tic-tac-toe which Eddie wins and happily squeezes Steve’s butt.

Their final destination is the only class they ever shared, history. All desks are empty, except for one - the middle one in the second row, where Steve used to sit. There’s dark chocolate with dried raspberries, Steve’s favorite, and a pot of flowers. Yellow, another favorite.

“The lady in the flower shop said they should live, like, really long,” shrugs Eddie and moves the chair for Steve so he can sit down. “I forgot their name the second I got them, but Buckley knows and she was asked to deliver a booklet with how to care for them.”

Steve drags him down to his level and kisses Eddie, deep and long. He’s either crying or laughing into the kiss, maybe both. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Eddie’s cheek. “All of this…is right. It’s me. You remembered.”

“Eh…kinda. Tried to.” Eddie gives up and lets himself be seated on Steve’s lap. “Actually, I had a small…cheat sheet. Let me show you.”

Steve watches as Eddie takes off his bracelet and watch and sets both on the desk. He gasps as he sees a coiling pattern around Eddie’s wrist, something that looks like a dotted or scratched tattoo all around, but that’s not it. Because then Eddie moves his wrist closer and he can read all the words on Eddie’s skin.

DARK CHOCOLATE WITH RASPBERRIES

NO CUT FLOWERS! YELLOW IS GOOD

COFFEE WITH ONE DROP OF MILK

NO ICE IN DRINKS - TRIGGERS MIGRAINES

BELTS AND SHOELACES - GOOD GIFTS TO WEAR

FREDDIE MERCURY

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY

NO KETCHUP!

STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM

These and so much more. All of Steve’s favorites, all what made him feel like himself, forever preserved in Eddie’s skin.

He buries his head in Eddie’s shoulder and holds him so tight Eddie has trouble breathing, but then he decides that oxygen is overrated. “You’re so crazy,” sobs Steve into his shoulder.

Eddie laughs again into the quiet of their former school. “I know.”

“And I love you so much.”

He kisses Steve’s forehead. “I know. And I love you too. That’s why I had to do this, you know. Because even when I’m old and ugly, just like these flowers will be one day, when I’m senile and can hardly remember my own name, I will look at my hand and I’ll know all that is important.”

Steve holds him even tighter if that’s possible, but maybe oxygen is needed just a little. Eddie gently kisses Steve’s head again and whispers: “We’re not done yet, love. Can you let me go so I can play us a movie? Something nice.”

The arms crushing him loosen their hold and Steve briefly turns away to wipe at his eyes. “Sure. Sorry, I just…this is new for me. But good. So good.”

“You deserve the good. All of it.” Eddie means it. And if seeing Steve appreciated as he should have been all of his life is redeemed by something as mundane as ignoring some truths about himself? Eddie is ready and willing.

As he puts Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom into the VHS player, he realizes something terrifying - he’s actually LOOKING FORWARD TO THE NEXT VALENTINE’S DAY.

Oh well. Time to adjust the Munson doctrine. After all, it might become a Munson-Harrington doctrine one day, so it deserves some revision.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #sweetandspicyexchange

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after-witch · 2 months

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Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out.

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you.

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”?

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?”

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep.

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live?

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this.

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing.

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.”

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone. You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared.

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little.

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered.

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now.

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle you could write home, how would you even word the letter?

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item.

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended.

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…”

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat.

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you.

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness.

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it.

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them.

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light.

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page.

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted.

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined.

She didn’t act right away.

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning.

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind.

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you?

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!”

Before you knew it, you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away.

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it.

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords.

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t.

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor.

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent.

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears.

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing.

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist.

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead.

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now?

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand.

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways.

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table.

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said.

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.”

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out.

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home.

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms.

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments.

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain.

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage.

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you?

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down. “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–”

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side.

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.”

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.”

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?”

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here.

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you.

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now.

Freedom was confusing as hell.

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle.

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink.

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied.

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun.

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

#yandere #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #afterwitch writes #/pets prologue done! dunno how many chapters this one will end up being.

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larluce · 3 months

Text

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #merlin prompt #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic rec #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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lightlycareless · 5 months

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Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns. “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she? Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?” you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!” Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?” the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby… but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least… until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.” He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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yuukiiqwq · 2 months

Text

Dandelions: Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

His heart beats only for you while yours beats for someone else, so he made a wish on a dandelion, hoping it would come true.

Context/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Soft!Sukuna, swearing, unrequited love, flower language, a bit suggestive

Wc: 2.7k

Part 2

It's not like he wanted to fall in love with you. It was actually your fault. You weaseled your way into his life and then his heart. If only you had left him alone, then none of this would have happened. But you were too god damn stubborn to leave him alone. It was all your fault.

It was so stupid how he fell in love with you. Sukuna absolutely hated cliché stuff. And here he is going through the stereotypical cliché plot. He even told you how much he hated it. He remembers telling you how he rather die than read those stupid romance books you like to read. They were full of stupid plot with disgusting mushy feelings. Basically, it's the same thing in every story. He always felt like his ears were going to fall off listening to you talk about those stories. Recently, you started to read this one-shot called Dandelion. Something about a guy having unrequited feelings for a girl for years and the girl liking someone else.

Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Sukuna remembers how he met you. It was a few years ago, back when they were still in school. He was minding his own business and then you fucking popped out of nowhere. He wouldn't tell you but you scared the shit out of him when you suddenly appeared.

"Yknow, smoking is bad for you."

He turned around to see you at the door smiling.

"Y'know, not minding your own fucking business is bad for you," he scoffed. "Get out of here. This is my spot."

You walked up to him and snatched the cigarette away. You tossed it onto the ground and put out the light.

"They can cause many health problems," you say as you crossed your arms. "And I don’t see your name anywhere on this rooftop."

He glared at you– "Listen here, you brat. What I do has absolutely nothing to do with you. So skip along to your friends and go bother them instead."

"What if you are my friend?" You said smugly. Your eyes were shining with mischief. "And since you said to go bother my friends, that's what I'm doing."

"You must think you're so fucking funny," he snarled at you.

You put your hands on your waist– "I am actually very funny."

He took a step towards you and towered over you. "Leave."

You looked up at him with a deadpan expression.

"No."

"Last warning. Leave."

"Make me."

News flash – He wasn’t able to get rid of you. He was unsuccessful no matter what he did.

You decided to bother him every single god damn day. Somehow, you always showed up at the rooftop whenever he was there. You just wouldn't leave him alone, so he decided to ditch the rooftop. To say he failed was something he didn’t want to admit. He didn't fail. He just decided to ignore you. But then you showed up in front of his classroom. You somehow found his classroom.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and quickly tried to leave before you could catch up to him.

Mission escaping the brat– failed.

You were a fast little thing. You immediately caught up to him and were now walking side by side with him. This caused a lot of people in the hallway to stare at both of you. You two were an unexpected duo to see together.

"Sukunaaaaaaa"

Great. You even found out his name. Amazing. Whoever told you his information is dead. He's going to kill them.

"Sukuna, if you keep looking like that, you'll end up being super ugly. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

Sukuna turned around to face you– "You trying to pick a fucking figh–"

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you stuffed a mochi in his mouth. Where the fuck did that mochi come from?!

He quickly chewed the mochi and swallowed.

"Did you fu–"

"Was it good?" You quickly interrupted. "It's a new flavor that came out recently. A friend gave me some to try."

"I don't car–"

"It was a limited edition sale. My friend camped outside the shop for a whole day just to buy all the stocks."

You continued talking about it, and Sukuna wanted to just smack you. You were so annoying.

"I am going to smack you if you keep talking."

You immediately stopped talking and walking. You looked up at him and grinned mischievously.

"Wow, Sukuna. Didn't know you were kinky like that. It's ok, though! I like it rough, but take me out to dinner first. Bedroom activities can come later~"

This caused him to explode in anger. You were teasing him. He immediately stomped away from you. He could hear you laughing as you tried to catch up to him. Fuck. You were annoying as hell. Sassy and challenging him in every way.

Your eyes were gleaming with mischief. Did you have to say that? Now he wanted to put you in your place. Bend you over under him and–

Oh fuck. Now you implanted a curse in his head. Fucking minx.

After months of you constantly pestering him, he grew used to your presence. He started to enjoy it. Wait, no. He meant he was just tolerating you.

Yeah. That's right. He's just tolerating you.

"Sukuna! Stop!!!"

Sukuna immediately halted– "What's goin–"

"You almost stepped on some dandelions," you say as you knelt down to the floor.

Sukuna felt like he was going to pop a vein. He can't believe you stopped him for a weed. Can you let he walk to a restaurant in peace?! It was fucking Saturday. He should have never allowed you to follow him home back then.

"Are you fucking joking with me right now?" He looked down at you as you pluck the dandelion. "You stopped me for a fucking weed?"

"First of all, it's a flow–"

"It's a fucking weed."

"It's a flower!" You huffed. "And it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds!"

"Great, now you've gone crazy. Just the thing I need from you. As if you're not annoying enough."

"I have not gone crazy! People make wishes on dandelions!"

"And do you know if any of them got fulfilled?" He raised his eyebrow at you. "And I'm sure the people you talk of are kids."

"Well um–" You try to think of something to say as a comeback but come up with nothing.

He smiled smugly– "That's what I thought."

"That's not the point!" You quickly shoved a dandelion in front of his face.

"Get that weed away from my face. I'm starving for food, and you're stopping me for a weed."

"Geez, stop being a party pooper," you sulked. "Make a wish! Maybe it will come true and prove you wrong!"

"I am not going to do something so childish," he said as he pushed your hand away.

"I'll buy lunch!"

Sukuna stopped and thought about it for a second before saying– "And dinner."

If he was going to indulge in your childish antics and look like an idiot, he better get something out of it.

You reluctantly agreed, and he snatched the dandelion out of your hands. He made a wish and then blew the dandelion seeds away.

"There. Made my wish. Now I hope your wallet is ready."

"Whatever, you glutton! What did you wish for?"

"None of your fucking business brat."

The two of you spent a lot of time together. You eventually introduced Sukuna to your other friends. Which surprised Sukuna because at this point, with the amount of time you came and bothered him, he believed that your friends were imaginary.

A girl named Shoko Ieiri, who looks like she's sleep deprived. A guy named Suguru Geto, who, in his opinion, looks weird. Why is he smiling like that!? And finally, a guy named Satoru Gojo. He was the worst out of all your friends. He didn't do anything to him, but just looking at him makes Sukuna want to get rid of him. Cut him in half. Sukuna didn't understand exactly why until he looked at you, looking at him.

Although Sukuna personally knew nothing about love, he knew what he saw. He seen enough people do what they do when in love. He heard enough about the stupid love stories you like to read. He can see it in your eyes when you look at your friend. You liked him.

The way your eyes light up whenever he comes toward you. The way your cheeks start to turn red with a small blush. The way you nervously play with your hands. The smile you give whenever you're around him. A smile that can rival the sun. He felt a pain blossom in his chest as he clenched his fist. These are things he has never seen or gotten from you before.

He hated everything that was going on right now. He hated the way you would sneak glances at him when you think no one was looking. The way you lean into his touch. The way you looked at him with pure adoration and love.

He absolutely hated it.

It took a while for Sukuna to understand why he hated Gojo so much. Why just the sight of Gojo annoyed him. And it's all your fault.

He didn't even know when these feelings started. Was it when you guys first met and you stood your ground with him? Was it when you teased him? Was it when you kept bothering him? Was it when you guys would go out for lunch or dinner together? Was it when he took care of you when you were sick? Did he fall for your looks? Your personality? Was it because of the times you've spent together?

Fuck. He was pissed. Here he is, catching those disgusting mushy feelings for you. Something he sweared would have never happened, and he doesn’t even know how it even happened.

"Fucking hell," Sukuna sighs as he run his hand through his hair.

It should be fine, right? He'll just ignore this. Move on like he didn't realize he fell in love with you somewhere along this journey. These feelings won't last anyway. It will disappear soon. You liked someone else, too, so it should be easy to move on. Right?

Fucking wrong. He's never been more wrong in his life.

All of you have graduated and are now doing your own thing. You all meet up regularly to hang out. Although Sukuna made an effort to see you daily as much as possible–

Wait, no. Correction: He sees you daily because he knows you'll do something stupid if he wasn't watching over you. Nothing else, really.

It's not like Sukuna had trouble moving on. He's not dreaming about you daily. He doesn't want you. It's not like that at all. He obviously moved on from you while you still liked Gojo. No point in these feelings since they're a nuisance.

Deep down, even if he ignores it, he knows he still likes you. But it's not like you'll ever look his way like the way you look at Gojo. Unless an opportunity arrives and it just so happens to arrive. That opportunity came knocking at his door, and he isn't going to let it slip away.

After years watching you love someone else, now he is watching you get your heart broken by that same person. Honestly, he never understood why you fell in love with this guy. That guy was a child in a man's body. Like, who even drinks those sugary, coma-inducing drinks??

But here you are smiling through the pain. He saw small tears forming in your eyes before you quickly wiped them away and said there was dust in your eyes. Others may not notice it, but he does. He saw the hurt in your eyes when Gojo told them that he fell in love at first sight with someone.

Great. Now he wants to murder Gojo even more now for hurting you.

However, he can't help but feel happy? Relief? He doesn't know what he felt. He just knew that an opportunity was given. But he isn't going to be a shitty person and confess to you right when you got your heart broken. He'll wait until you heal. If you ever will. After all, he had already kept his feelings to himself for years. What's wrong with waiting a bit more?

He could make you happy. He would give it his god damn all to make you happy. He would never hurt you. He wouldn't make you cry. At least not cry in a sad way. You crying under him, though, is a different story–

He quickly shakes his head to get rid of that thought. He's getting distracted. You got him wrapped around your fingers, and you don't even know it. He couldn't help but sigh. He really is still in love with you.

He watches as you and Geto try to give Gojo advice on how to win over the person he likes.

"You're an idiot," he interrupted.

He stared at Gojo as he said it, but it was meant for you and himself, really. Both of you two are idiots. Both of you have unrequited love, like in those shitty stories you read. He really is living in the stupid cliché plot he hates. And it's all your fault.

A few months have passed since then. He knew you had mostly moved on. He can still see the hurt sometimes, but it's fading. He knew he should make a move soon. After all, if he doesn't, what if someone else approaches you? But he also knows that just because you moved on doesn't mean you'll see him as he sees you. So he's willing to wait for that day. The day you look at him the way he looks at you.

So here he is. Standing in front of a flower shop. Looking extremely out of place. If you told his past self that he fell in love with you and is now trying to pursue you, he can see his past self attempting murder. He really can't believe he's going to order flowers.

He took a few deep breaths and walked in.

The minute he walked in, a florist greets him– "Hello sir! How may we help you today?"

"Can you make me a boutique?"

"Of course, sir! What type of flowers would you like for the boutique?"

He wanted something to convey his feelings and message. He's done some research about flowers and their meaning. Many websites showed different things, but he eventually settled for one.

"I want..."

When he finally finished ordering the flowers, he went home. On his way back home, he noticed a dandelion.

"...it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds! ...People make wishes on dandelions!"

He stared at the dandelion for a few minutes before he clicked his tongue. He bent down and plucked it. He then made a wish and blew the seeds away. He didn't know why he did it. It's not like the dandelion would make his wish come true.

"Tsk. Can't believe I did this. It's fucking stupid."

You really made him a god damn softie so it's about fucking time you take responsibility.

A few days later, he asked you to meet him at your usual spot. A place that only the two of you knew. When he arrived with the boutique, you were already there. You were sitting on the bench, looking over the city.

He quietly stared at you for a while. You were so beautiful sitting there. If angels did exist, you'll be one of them. But then again, your personality was more like a devil. You cast a curse on his heart, and honestly, he didn't mind it. You can curse him for his entire lifetime as long as you accept him.

"Hey, brat. Look behind you."

When you heard the sound of his voice, you quickly turned around. You looked at him and smiled until you noticed the boutique in his hand. You gasped as your eyes widened.

Red chrysanthemum and astilbe. I love you and I will be waiting for you.

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lucifers-rubber-duck · 1 month

Note

im back with more chaotic modern reader x hazbin crew... 👀👀

just imagine a reader who cannot take things seriously. like, oh you're sad? their response is either "not a slay" or "that didn't eat". oh Angel and Husk are having yet another argument and the rest of the hotel is tense (-Alastor)? reader just obnoxiously sips tea. oh Adam is going on his "I'm better than you all" rant during the fight? reader just obnoxiously chews popcorn.

A/N: I rewrote this a few times because I had too many ideas on what to do but didn't want it to be too long. Anyways, hope you enjoy Anon!

• You just don't get why people make such a fuss about stupid things, they're already in hell, what are they whining about? This place isn't even that bad, it is way different from what you were teached at least, you actually enjoy being here.

• You're not the most reliable person to go to when it comes to having a serious conversation, you just don't give two shits about anything, why should you? Does it really matter in this place, even if some demon gets angry at you, it's not like you can die again.

• You saw Charlie crying or just really stressed out about the hotel, you either tell her to suck it up or don't even bother engaging and go call Vaggie to deal with it, not your girlfriend, not your problem. Sir Pentious says his sinceres sorries to you? You tell him to go fuck himself and still gives him death stares for a week, he destroyed the wall Alastor made you clean up earlier that day and you hold grudges very easily.

• Husker and Angel are having a discussion? You're filming it and whispering “Fight fight fight” in the back, you'll take any drama that happens at the hotel. And when they come back all friendly and even being gross with each other you put your head on the bar's counter and let out a disappointed sigh; “You two are flirting now? For fuck sake, I can't have jackshit in this hotel can I?”

• Lucifer is coming to the Hotel? You cared at first, but then realized he was not as hot as you imagined the king of Hell would be and decided that you won't mind, you only really pay attention to when he and Alastor are fighting. Your eyes did tear up a little bit when Lucifer and Charlie solved things with each other but you won't ever say that out loud.

• When Vaggie finally revealed that she was a angel to everyone, you took it as the biggest gossip of the year instead of and actual emotional moment and did not understand why Charlie was so shocked at this information, like, c'mon, that shit was the best.

• When the final battle is close, the one that you can actually kill you for good, you don't get all emotional, your side has a army of cannibals, Alastor and the princess of Hell, why should you worry? Still, you find yourself drinking with your hotel mates the night before the fight, you find yourself talking happily to Charlie and Vaggie, telling Sir Pentious to just kiss Cherri Bomb already, you congratulate Angel and his future relationship with Husker which makes him laugh.

• This is Hell, you're here because you deserve it, but tomorrow is another day that no one can tell what happens so might as well enjoy it while it lasts, but you totally don't care about the hotel, yeah… Totally don't care.

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jackiepackiee · 2 months

Note

Oh hey there! This my first time requesting you!

I have a request for chuuya nakahara and dazai osamu. I wanna ask that how would he be a as a boyfriend to a s/o who could control electrons in the atmosphere.

For dazai its how would he confess to girl who he admires for a long time but is scared to lose her, but she confesses to him before he could?

Thank you very much and I love the rule about angst without a happy ending i mean cmon life is tough enough already we all are carrying emotional baggage in some way or the other 😭😭

Love you admin, take care! 💞💞

Trying this again because I finished and tumblr deleted it ALLLL

I love science!

𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 & 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐸𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝒜𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈- 𝓃𝑜𝓅𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 / 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾

Will ask the most annoying questions

“Can you make your body a metallic bond so when you’re hit by an enemy, you’re malleable. Oh! Can you make the hatrack an ionic bond so I can make his charges line up and he’ll explode!”

“Dazai… No!

Yall meet a work

He teases you, goes on missions with you, pranks Kunikida with you

But it’s not until your ability goes haywire and you’re hurt one day that he realizes he likes you

From then on, he hugs you when your ability acts up

Nullifying you and getting a hug

A win win in his book

Little things change

He does his paperwork, doesn’t drink as much, teases you more, and makes less suicide attempts

Though, he can’t confess

You’re too good, he can’t ruin you with his depression and violent past

But, what if you say no?

He thinks it’s a lose lose

What a dumb thing for such a smart guy to think?

He finally decided to confess when Ranpo tells him that it’s a good idea

(Ranpo, the world's greatest detective, can obviously tell you like Dazai and he likes you. Why not be the wingman for the new it couple?)

“Dazai… the entire agency knows. And I’ll tell them for you… unless you get me a snack. Yknow, I’m no romance detective, but love is in the air.”

So… he brings you to the Port

Wins you a cute little teddy at a game slot

He’s about to confess

But… before he can speak

“Dazai, I like you!”

You like him. You. So incredibly intelligent, strong, kind? He’s smart, but would’ve never seen this coming

He noticed how the ocean twists

You ability acts up and is causing the hydrogen and oxygen to disconnect

You’re practically shaking with nerves

So… he hugs you

Not a kiss… he would never rush such a perfect moment

The ocean calms, you ability nullifies

Now that you’re dating, the question are WORSE

“Did you change the atoms in my brain so I love you?” “One, no. Two, that’s not how love works!”

Brags to everyone, even if it’s annoying

Just adores you

Thinks he could die happy

Although, he’d much rather live to love you

Makes sure that all your missions are local so he can get to you incase electrons start buzzing around

Calls you dumb things, stupid science jokes, it’s a headache

Overall, so smart but sooo stupid

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶

Thinks you’re the coolest!

Likes to think your abilities are similar and you two have a connection

Also… a bit dumb

So he asks so many questions

What, he’s fascinated with you and he wants to know as much as he can

“Valence electrons? What?” “What do ya mean I can’t see em? Too small?”

Even if he’s technically the strongest in the entire Port Mafia, thinks you’re better

I mean, he can control gravity but you can manipulate matter!

Thinks that you’re a gift for all his years of hell and unluckiness

Even if you’re just a friend… for now

Never EVER lets you go on missions alone

Makes sure at least one of his trusted subordinates is with you

And if that can’t happen, he’ll make sure Mori gives Chuuya you’re a dangerous work

He’ll miss sleep to take your work, just so you’re safe

If you’re ever overwhelmed, he’ll float you off the ground

Makes sure that you can calm down

Maybe it’s the air higher up, maybe the scenery?

Or… maybe it’s his arms wrapped tight around you

He realizes during one of these moments how much he loves you

“Shh, it’s okay. You ability is stable and you’re safe.”

After asking Kouyou for advice, he’s ready to confess

Buys roses, wine, a jazz record, and a little stuffed animal

Knocks on your apartment when…

You open the door… looking stunning.

“Chuuya? What’re you doing here?”

A gorgeous red outfit, styled hair and makeup. He used his ability to float the gifts to the ceiling so you wouldn’t see.

“Oh… you look pret- I mean! You’re so dressed up.”

“Yeah… was about to leave.”

His heart sunk, although his cheeks warmed at the sight of you in such a beautiful outfit.

“Do you have a date?”

“Date? No, I don’t.”

What a relief!

“Well, what’s the occasion?”

“… I really like you Chuuya! I was gonna try and find you at work now!”

Oh woah… did he just die and go to heaven?

Gives you the sweetest kiss (It’s definitely his first)

Now that you’re dating, he spoils you

Remember how no one is allowed to put you in danger?

Before, he’d let other watch you

But now he’ll clear his day just for your safety

Tries to learn as much as he can about science so he can talk with you even more

“Damn it… electron sea? I thought we had seven seas already?”

Overall? Perfect 11/10

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #bsd dazai #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x you #JACKIEPACKIEESTORIES

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bloodynereid · 5 months

Text

Tinsel, Gold and Dragons

(modern au!)

pairings: rhaenyra targaryen x fem! reader, past rhaenyra x alicent

tw: kissing, alicent bashing, alcohol consumption, talk about hooking up, hatred of the holiday season??

description: You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

a/n: hiii hope you enjoy this little fic i randomly wrote last night. i've been kind of missing just writing stuff that isn't requests so hopefully this is still ok haha. ALSO i'm 100% an alicent defender, she's the loml so just remember that a lot of this is from rhaenyra's pov and not my own thoughts about her character. anyways hope you enjoy this and happy holidays <3 (might write a part 2 at some point but who knows?)

Rhaenyra Targaryen never liked the holiday season. After her mother died things just got worse and the boring parties she was always subjected to only got more boring. The welcome reprieve of baking gingerbread in the kitchen with her mom was gone in seconds and now holidays just reminded her of everything she had lost.

This year’s party was going to be the worst one by a long shot. Rhaenyra had to deal with Alicent fucking Hightower - oh sorry Targaryen now… that was something she still hadn’t accepted. I mean how do you even cope when your best friend suddenly starts fucking your dad in secret, gets pregnant, marries him and then proceeds to act like she’s Virgin fucking Mary?

The answer is with a lot of scotch, stupid hookups and long hours studying. She was desperate to get her law degree so she could finally do something and it also meant she could start working at her uncle’s law firm.

Currently though she was stuck in her father’s house whilst her new toddler half-brother threw temper tantrums and broke anything in his vicinity.

It was Christmas Eve and Viserys had nearly decided to cancel the annual Christmas party, in favor of “family bonding” but Alicent had somehow convinced him to keep it on. Rhaenyra did not want to think about what she had done to convince him. She nearly gagged at the mere idea of it.

Smoothing out the material of the dark red dress with a slightly higher slit than what would be considered appropriate, Rhaenyra let out an audible sound of satisfaction. She looked fucking hot. Plus Alicent would freak when she saw it, perfect.

Once upon a time Alicent Hightower had been her best friend, and probably something more but now… all that Rhaenyra could muster up for her is a cold chill of utter hate and rage.

Rhaenyra was thrown out of her thoughts when her phone called out the familiar ringtone that belonged to her uncle.

“Daemon… you do know that people can text now don’t you?”

“Haha, you can call me old all you want but you might regret it when I don’t tell you how I’m about to save you tonight.”

“Please tell me you found a way to make them all die fiery deaths.”

“Nothing as dramatic as that but I assure you it’s still the perfect escape.”

“Are you going to leave me in suspense while I endure this torture or…”

“Fine, you spoiled princess. We’re having a little party at the firm and since you’re coming to work here soon…”

“You didn’t.”

“But I did.”

“Fuck off. You mean I can actually leave this party.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“You’re my savior.”

“Knight in shining armor and all that. Just remember to get me a good present this year.”

“When do I ever disappoint you?”

“There is also another surprise waiting for you when you get here.”

“Daemon… what have you done?”

“Nothing. There’s just someone I think you should meet.”

“Oh God, maybe I won’t go.”

“You know you’re too desperate not to, plus she’s your age so you won’t have to deal with boring old men like me.”

“She’s a she?”

Rhaenyra perked up, she hadn’t had a date in a while and ever since Alicent she hadn’t even tried to step her foot back into that pool. A string of meaningless hookups with men had done nothing to quell the heartbreak side of the whole situation. This would probably be good for her.

“Yes. So I guess that means you’re coming?”

“Obviously.”

“Should I send a car over?”

“Don’t bother, I’ll just drive Syrax.” Syrax was a birthday present from Daemon, a beautiful and subtly gold car that drove like a dream.

“Ok, see you soon Nyra.”

“Bye, Uncle.”

Rhaenyra sped through the streets of King’s Landing in the comfortable leather seat of her car. The bright Christmas lights that adorned the shops made a bright smile appear on her face. She may hate the holidays but at least the lights and food were incredible.

She arrived at the tall building that held Caraxes, Daemon’s law firm and named after his first dog but no one needed to know that. She gave her name to the security guard before parking the car in one of the empty spaces.

Her red dress fluttered in the cold breeze as she waited for the elevator to open. The firm was located on the 60th floor, the penthouse. Rhaenyra always loved being up high so the height was never a problem. What was annoying was how long it took her to actually get up there.

When the elevator doors finally opened at the correct floor, loud Christmas music echoed through the floor and she could clearly hear cheers coming from the area close to Daemon’s office.

Since the secretary was nowhere to be seen, Rhaenyra walked the now familiar route towards her uncle’s office. Weaving through a variety of cubicles she found a large Christmas tree and a small bar had been set up outside her uncle’s office.

“NYRA!” A loud voice that corresponded to her uncle slurred out and his tall frame ambled towards her. Within moments she was suddenly caught in a warm embrace and she returned the hug with her smaller arms wrapping around his torso.

“When did you have time to get this drunk, uncle?” Rhaenyra asked when they finally parted.

“Oh you think this is drunk, darling. Don’t you remember me at that New Year’s-”

“Andddd I’m going to stop you right there. I still get trauma flashbacks.”

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning Nyra. I’m sure our dear Alicent flipped when she saw you.”

“You should have seen her face when I told her I was going to unfortunately not attend her party.” Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a laugh before Daemon spotted someone in the crowd and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet.”

Rhaenyra followed Daemon’s line of sight and found the most beautiful woman she had probably ever seen. You were wearing a dark blue floor length dress which was held up with spaghetti straps. A pashmina scarf looped around your elbows and you had a smile on your face as you approached the two of them.

“You summoned me?” You asked when you finished weaving through the sea of people.

“Well yes, I wanted you to meet my niece. Rhaenyra this is Y/N, our newest and most promising associate.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said as you offered a hand to the stunning silver haired woman. You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

“I-uh, nice to meet you too.” Rhaenyra stuttered out as she took Y/N’s hand and shook it.

“Well I’ll leave you two to it.” Daemon said with a conspiring tone in his voice before he disappeared into the crowd.

“So… Daemon’s been singing your merits all over the office for a while now so I think I have an unfair advantage here.”

“Oh God, what has he been saying?” Rhaenyra groaned out as she dramatically swept a hand over her hair.

“Nothing bad, I promise. You’re getting your law degree at The Citadel, right?”

“Yup.”

“How’s that? I was debating going there for a while but ended up going to Oxford instead.”

“It's hell but worth it, I hope.”

“I totally get that, Oxford was like medieval torture but I’m happy it landed me in this place.” You said as you swept a hand in the direction of the office space.

“Wait, how old are you?” Rhaenyra suddenly asked before her face contorted in embarrassment. “Shit, that was rude, sorry.”

“Ha don’t worry, I get that all the time. I’m 25.”

“24.” Rhaenyra offered back in solidarity.

“We’re basically the same age then.” You said with a wink before you took a sip of the amber liquid in the glass tumbler.

“Probably why Daemon shoved us in this little corner together.”

“I’m for one glad to be stuck in this little corner with you.” You said as you smirked in Rhaenyra’s direction. A light blush started to dust Rhaenyra’s cheeks.

“I’m glad too, but I’m desperate for a drink. This week has been hell.”

“You don’t like the holidays either?”

“Hate them.”

“We have something else in common after all.”

You spent the rest of the party sitting next to Rhaenyra in Daemon’s office. You drank sparingly, not wanting to be drunk since Rhaenyra needed to drive back and you didn’t want to act like a fool in front of her.

Rhaenyra felt like this was the first time in years that she felt truly happy. It was nice just to talk and gossip and be free to actually be herself. With Alicent it felt like she was walking on eggshells before the incident and now it was near impossible to be in the same room alone with her. But with Y/N…

At first, Rhaenyra went into this wanting just to have a quick hookup but those hours spent talking or maybe it was the alcohol that got to her head but she decided she deserved something better. She deserved someone better.

“Do you need a ride home?” Rhaenyra asked when people started to mill out of the party. Y/N turned to her in surprise before a gentle smile lit up her face.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble?”

“Not at all, but don’t think this is some kind of selfless act - maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

“Well, we just have to indulge in your selfish desires don’t we?” You said with a twinkle in your eyes and a laugh on your tongue.

“You have no idea the scope of my selfish desires.”

“I would like to find out…”

Rhaenyra basically dragged you down to her car after that little remark. As she drove through the streets of King’s Landing, you took a leap of blind faith (or maybe love) by gripping the hand that lay between the two of you. Rhaenyra instantly threaded her fingers through yours and you spied a small smile making its way to her face.

Once she pulled up in front of your apartment building Rhaenyra bit her lip and turned to look at you - still completely in awe of how pretty you are.

“We arrived.”

“That we did.”

“Well…”

“Well… do you uh-”

“Do I what?” Rhaenyra said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Rhae… I- do you want to come up?”

“Only if we can have a date tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas Day.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Hmm… deal.” You said as a giddy smile graced your lips. Suddenly the feeling of soft lips meeting against yours startled you out of your reverie and you jumped to thread your fingers through her silky hair.

“You are so beautiful.” Rhaenyra mumbled against your lips before slipping her tongue to delicately stroke yours. It seemed impossible that your smile could widen even more but it did.

“Mmm, says you. You fucking goddess.” You said when you both finally pulled away. Panting and grinning like idiots.

“This is certainly turning out to be a very merry Christmas.”

“Ho ho ho.”

rhaenyra is an bisexual icon just like her uncle and we love her for it !!

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra is a bisexual icon.#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x fem!reader #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #modern au #house of the dragon x reader #got #syrax #caraxes #viserys targaryen

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clashschamink · 5 months

Text

Ghost Headcannons

Since i already wrote the König hc now i thought i should go a Ghost hc too. Let's begin with it.

Super grumpy. Super grumpy.

This guy doesn't even like you at first. He is like "fuck off" when you go near him. Other than Soap he wasn't close to anyone. At some point you thought they were dating.

Somehow Simon caught himself thinking about you. 'that smile. So annoying. Still cute ...' he thought unaware of what he was thinking himself. "Stupid what am I thinking. Fucking hell"

Soon enough he figured it out that he loves you. But man is full of ego. He won't admit it. On top of it he is scared. Thanks to his trauma of course.

He thought why someone beautiful like you would love a person like him. He doesn't even know what affection is. He was also scared that if he somehow aquire you, what if he lose you like his other belove individuals.

After he completed realised that he have feelings for you , he slowly starts to avoid you. Like completely ignore at a point.

You and the others noticed it too. That he is ignoring you. Only you.

You finally decided to confront him. You walked to his office room and knocked twice before hearing a "come in". You entered the room.

He was totally shocked to see you and he wished that he could have disappeared like a ghost at that time.

He didn't utter a word but you decided to confront so you started "why are you ignoring me. And only me. Don't even think of lying i know you are only ignoring me. Did i do something wrong sir" you said.

He wasn't looking into your eyes. He bowed his head down and waited for the time you leave him. But he didn't knew you were not an easy ball.

He slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes. He didn't knew how to say the things he wanted to say but the fear was chaining him up.

A sigh left his lips and he started "I have been ignoring you for a reason. And you don't need to know the reason. You can leave" he said.

You stood up in a instant and that made him jolt. You said that you aren't gonna leave till he says what's wrong.

"fucking hell" he says in annoyance and finally confronts that he loves you and that's why he have been ignoring you that if somehow he confesses to you , you will find him disgusting.

After hearing that you burst into laughter and he was totally confused what was wrong. After he asked you what's wrong you said that he was a idiot dumbass.

He stayed silent. After you calmed down you said that if it was a thing like that he could have told you. You too told that "what do you think. Why i always roam around you just to get you attention" .

He tried to use his brain. And when the dots finally connected he realised that all the time you loved him too.

He slightly roller his mask up and leaned down for a kiss. You kissed him back. It was the time when he was feeling alive.

After so many years of being alone he if finally getting someone to be with. He is happy and words can't describe it.

After you finally in a relationship with him

You find out that Simon is actually very insecure about himself.

His scars , his body , his face , his looks , his personality everything.

You always needed to assure him that he is alright and you love him the way he is.

You too found out that he was actually scared that he might lose you like his family members. But you told him that even if you die you will always be with him. And wait for him till he joins you.

At first he wasn't that touchy at all. He always flinched whenever you touched him. Like even a kiss.

But he got used to it soon and he can be very cheesy sometimes.

He doesn't know how to cook. One time trying to impress you he almost burned the whole kitchen.

He doesn't really that physically showing you affection. Don't blame him he just doesn't know how to. But he would be doing everything to show you he love you

Like buying you flowers whenever he can, frequently taking you to dates whenever he can, telling you jokes that no one ever laughed but when you laughed finding it funny he was happy that atleast someone is atleast there for him to laugh at his jokes.

But whenever you bombarded him with love and affection he is first scared what the hell you are doing. But after realising you are just being affectionate he lets you do whatever you want.

He would be there sitting or standing or lying like a dead log and let you do whatever you want to do with him. He doesn't know how to show affection so he lets you do it and trust me it's a way of affection in his style.

But at the end of the day he love you more than his life and he will do anything just to get you.

#clashschamink #simon #simon riley #Simon riley x reader #gn reader #x reader #y/n #headcanon #cod #simon ghost riley #simon cod #ghost #ghost cod

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nelyos-right-hand · 7 months

Text

I've been reading post-reembodiement fics lately, and Fëanor trying to fix his relationship with his sons/ making amends for his mistakes is a pretty common occurrence in them.

Whenever that happens Curufin is almost always the first to forgive his father, and if Fëanor starts to make stupid choices again, he is often the first to support him.

And I see why many people see it that way. In the Silm, Celegorm and Curufin are their father's strongest supporters and the most ruthless when it comes to following their oath. Curufin is also described to be Fëanor Junior and they probably had a very close relationship.

But what if that changes after the first age?

Through the entire first age, Curufin continued to believe in the oath and their father. Sure, the others followed the oath as well, but I don't think that any of them did it because they actually believed in it.

Maedhros did it because Fingon was dead and he had stopped caring. Maglor, Caranthir and the Ambarussar did it because the oath was driving them. Celegorm did it because he was no longer sane and wanted revenge and bloodshed. He did it because he was hurting and now it was time for others to hurt.

But Curufin still did it for Fëanor. Because yes, right now things were looking pretty bad, but in the end everything would turn out fine. They were going to get the Silmaril, and then they were going to defeat Morgoth, fulfill their oath and make their father proud. Things were still going according to plan. Curufin himself might be unable to see it right now, but that's just because Fëanor was a genius. He had planned for this because he wouldn't have made them swear the oath if he hadn't, right? Everything was gonna be fine, all he had to do was trust his father.

But then suddenly he turned around just in time to see Dior drive his sword through Celegorm's chest. And he didn't even have time to process that because in the next moment he was hit by an arrow, and another, and another, and another.

Curufin didn't live very long after that, maybe two or three seconds. But in that time he realized something.

Things were not going according to plan. They couldn't because there was no plan. Fëanor didn't have any idea what he was doing when he swore the oath. And he most certainly didn't have his sons' welfare in mind at that moment.

They wouldn't get the Silmarils, not even one of them. They wouldn't fulfill the oath and they wouldn't defeat Morgoth. They wouldn't even survive.

Celegorm was dead and Curufin was dying and their other brothers would die soon too, and it would all be for nothing. He had spend the last five-hundred years believing in and fighting for a purpose that wasn't even a real purpose but the fantasies of a dead madman.

He had been betrayed by the person he loved most and now he would die for him.

(Hint-Celebrimbor-hint)

(Alright, so Fëanor didn't actually betray Curufin because that would mean that he did it on purpose or that he had any ill intentions towards him. That, of course, wasn't the case because Fëanor did love his sons dearly, he just, you know, went absolutely mad after Finwë's death. Curufin just feels betrayed because he is dying and stuff.)

So back in Valinor Curufin has the most trouble forgiving his father. That surprises Fëanor as much as the rest of the family cause it kind of contradicts his actions in his previous life but maybe death does that to people.

In the end he does forgive him of course, but it takes some time to fix their relationship and it takes way longer for him to trust Fëanor again then it did for the rest of his sons.

These are just some loose thoughts cause it's the middle of the night and I'm bored but I think it's interesting because it's different from what we usually see of Curufin.

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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

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Hi~ can I request "she fell first, but he fell harder" with Vin Jin? And please include the confession time too! Thank you in advance 💙

Fuck yeah, Vin Jin hours! Was feeling like I haven't written about this douchebag [affectionately] in a hot second.

Vin Jin x Reader: You're his type

Another Vin Jin confession fic. Feat a lil bit of the Queen, Mary Kim.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Fuck off," Vin mutters, his heart isn't in it as he stares out the window.

Regardless, that earns him a harsh ear pull from Mary for his shitty reply, yanking him out of his daydream and back to reality.

What's wrong with him? Where to start.

Vin is hot, that is an objective fact. According to him anyway.

Girls and boys alike throwing themselves at his feet is not new, barely warrants batting an eyelid.

You though? One of his inner circle? When you started to blush around him, stammering your words, avoiding eye contact, just generally being awkward as hell; he decided to ignore it. He's seen this a million times before.

Why ruin a good thing, right? Especially if he didnt return your feelings.

But since you started to see Vin in a new light, and who the hell knows why after already knowing him for so many years, well.

His subconscious got curious too.

Annoying as fuck, bratty. That's how he would describe you.

For some reason, you would always get your way with him, and that used to irritate him no bounds. Your special way of knowing exactly which buttons to push that even Mary is impressed with.

Over the last couple months, this trait has somehow become endearing. That you know him better than he knows himself.

And you're clingy too. Always have been.

Yet your budding crush on Vin has made you pull back. Spending fewer hours together, retracting your casual touches. He never thought he could possibly miss you, but even when you're standing right in front of him, hand just casually hanging there like a normal person, he wants to reach out and grab it.

And if someone asks if you are attractive? Yeah, sure, you're definitely hot.

A man can have eyes, can't he? Even behind his shades, even with three pupils. He can see that and he can see your line of admirers though you've never really been Vin's type.

He can hear Mary's voice if he told her that, her scoffing and asking "what even is your type, you're single as fuck." Vin doesn't know, ok? It's just never been you.

And now all of a sudden, it's you. Completely, one hundred percent, you.

It's you so much that anytime another guy even glances in your direction he needs to hold back from uppercutting them in the jaw.

Maybe most importantly. You're ride-or-die.

If push came to shove, and someone held a knife against his throat, he would admit it.

Him, Mary, and You. The best export from Cheonliang. Friendship built on unrockable foundations. You both worming your way into his stupid, silly heart but in very different ways.

Really, damn you for presenting this dilemma. Why did you have to fall for him because now he has no doubt fallen harder.

Worst of all though? For you, Vin realises he is a romantic, and he is undeniably cringe.

Street cred will be ruined for sure.

That brings him to the present.

With Vin thoroughly distracted, every waking moment consumed with thoughts of you.

With him catching feelings, mind and heart betraying him alike.

With him having to hold back around you when the confession almost slips out, bolting out the gate until it's almost too late.

Vin is absolutely not a coward. He will tell you, he just needs to pick his moment.

Sitting in the empty classroom, he was busy contemplating the next move until he is rudely interrupted by Mary. Now, he still doesn't have a plan but has gained an aching, throbbing ear for his troubles.

"ACK!"

At his yelp, Mary releases him. Hand on hips, tapping her foot impatiently, she glares down at him as he rubs his ear. "What is wrong with you these days?"

"Nothi-"

"Say nothing and I'll kick your ass."

"I'm fine."

"You've never been fine, asshole."

"..."

Vin resumes staring out the window, hoping if he ignores her long enough she would piss off.

Mary gives a long suffering sigh. It really is long, and really is suffering. After so many years, he still hasn't learnt.

"HUP!" Mary bounces over to him, quick as a whip, and puts him in a headlock.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

Vin flails around, trying desperately to wiggle himself free but Mary has the upperhand. Using the proximity to her advantage, she leans in close.

Quietly, "Is this about Y/N?"

With his restricted movements, VIn still full body recoils as if he's been hit.

"NO!" And he can hear himself. Too defensive, unbelievable to even his own ears.

Mary looks at him with eyes full of pity. What a stupid bastard.

"You need to tell her."

"W-what? I have nothing to say!" Again. Completely unbelievable.

With another sigh, Mary releases him - moving just out of reach to avoid his retaliating strike.

"Why are you both like this."

"Like what?"

"Listen." She slams both hands down on his desk and Vin jumps, "If you keep making googly eyes and pining for each other in front of me, I will skin you both alive."

"..."

"Sort. This. Out." Mary flicks him aggressively on the forehead, smirking when she realises it will leave a mark. "Got it?"

"Got it, got it..." Vin mutters, refusing eye contact and fiddling with his sunglasses as Mary leaves in a whirlwind of blonde hair and chaos.

Honestly. Vin trying to pull wool over Mary's eyes over his crush is like you trying to pull wool over Vin's. Unconvincing at best, completely laughable at worst. You all know each other too well to get away with this sort of shit.

Ok. Fine, fine. Today is as good as any other day.

Vin makes up his mind and seeks you out.

...Today is not as good as any other day.

Blood rushing to his cheeks when he sees you, Vin chickens out.

His thumb hovers over the text. Just something simple and straight to the point asking you on a date.

He hesitates.

He tries again a few days later, sitting in the school canteen together when a rowdy first year bumps into you, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself. When your fist meets his nose, Vin watches on in awe, realising he's in love with you.

Still, the moment didn't feel right.

He prepares some lyrics, working on them through the night. Until the next day, sleep-deprived and bags under his eyes, Mary takes one look at them and smacks him over the head.

"No! You cannot start this rapping about Y/N's tits!"

The confession spills out in a quiet moment together. Catching him as offguard as his feelings did.

You sit next to him, bodies pressed close together, eyes watching the action unfold on the laptop screen.

Another movie night, usually accompanied with Mary. This time, when you invited her over in the group chat, Mary declined and in a separate message, threatened Vin with death if he didn't make 'you and him happen'.

He supposes that that's fair.

As he sits and watches you rather than the film, his face naked and bare, he wonders what more is there than this quiet bliss.

The peace of two people completely comfortable with each other, of two well matched souls; you having seen him countless times at his worst and him with you.

That you know all his secrets and his past and yet you're still here. Next to him.

"Are you even watching this?" You ask, turning towards him. Guess he was too obvious with his staring.

Vin's usual bluster and cocky retort is nowhere to be found.

He opens his mouth, words so close to spilling, tongue nervously darting out across his lower lip-

And he notices your eyes drop to follow it, hears your breath hitching.

The words don't come.

Instead, he leans in close. Moving slowly and carefully to give you an easy out, to give himself an easy out to ease the sting of rejection.

To play it off as a joke, though he doubts if he or his ego would ever recover from this.

When you don't move, eyes searching his, looking him fully in the eyes and not flinching, never flinching, he brings his hand up to gently cup your face.

A move that he has cringed at countless times with romance scenes, but now he gets how right it is in the moment.

Vin feels your soft smile against his palm, you leaning hesitantly into it, and it gives him the final push he needs-

You beat him to the punch.

"I... really like you," you say, lips almost touching his, the heat of your breath leaving his skin tingling.

A smirk that is so him settles on his face. In hindsight, why was he ever nervous. Why did he ever think you weren't his type.

"I know."

Vin presses his lips to yours and finally calls you his.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism fic #vin jin x reader #vin jin #mary kim #kim miru #jin hobin x reader #jin hobin #wannaeatramyeon

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bones4thecats · 5 months

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Heyy hii hellooo , hruuu and what's your fav cat breed , btw can i req a leonidas , Nikola Tesla , hades , and Hercules x fem!homura akemi!reader

I hope you watch Madoka Magica , i just want a simple long ahh angst and then fluff

So basically the reader is like the goddess of time (for the gods part) and a time traveler(for the humans part) the reader basically repeat the same month that Ragnarok has taken place for over 1200 years just to save them from their fate which was turning into a green weed snort dust in because the charas are who she hold dear so much since they are her husband , each time she failed and failed and that affect the universe since she bend the time around the charas making them stronger but each timeline they just die , and i want them to confront the reader Abt it and then the reader is like having a meltdown or something and then tell em all the stuff she have been doing to the point she almost gone insane with all the timeline of watching them die

And after that can you just put on like a huge comfort scene where the charas finally survive and comfort the reader after all the pain she gone through

I hope you don't mind , sorry if it too muchhh srryyyyyy

A/N: Okay, my favorite cat breed is the Birman, it's just so fluffy and cute!! It also reminds me of a Siamese. This is one of the saddest things I have ever written, so expect to cry a few tears and then feel like your heart’s gonna explode! This is kinda themed after the song Haunted by Taylor Swift because I was listening to it while writing. Enjoy~~

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🚬 You had tried so many times, yet you always fail… why?

🚬 Why wasn’t it fair then, why wasn’t it fair now? Why did he have to die, why couldn’t that selfish and impish God Apollo die?!

🚬 1,200 years you have tried, over 103,782 attempts have been made in counting, maybe this would be the one to work!

🚬 But it was too much for one person to watch their one and only, their husband, die over and over and over by the same cause

🚬 You watched as he trained, and you couldn’t stop crying each time

🚬 Leonidas looked over at you and grinned his signature grin saying, ready for battle

🚬 When he hugged you that night you started to cry and not stop, which caused him to look at you with shock

🚬 You never cried

🚬 He kneeled down and tilted your head towards his face, his eyes asking the same question over and over again

“ Are you okay, my love? “

🚬 That was when you let loose, spilling everything, the endless death and depression you had gone through just to see him win, it made his heart ache

🚬 You went through all of this to see him come out on top, to see him alive again

🚬 Leonidas held you and shushed you, while you mumbled how it wasn’t fair since no matter how much you tried it never worked

“ You cannot escape fate, love. But, no matter what happens, believe me, I will always, always be by your side. No matter what. “ “ Promise? “ “ I promise. “

🚬 And he did. He won. He beat that snobbish bastard, Humanity cheered for the win while you smiled and cried happy tears for another reason

🚬 You finally did it, he lived…

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🧪 This stupid myth wasn’t coming to fruition, it said every time you traveled, he’d grow stronger! Just how much more strength did he need?!

🧪 Time after time again he died from that depleaded and god-awful immortal Beelzebub, why did he have to live?!

🧪 He hurt a child for crying out loud, causing him to turn into a blood-thirsty monster for the heck of it! He didn’t deserve life! He showed no remorse for what he had done, even Thor showed some of it to Lü Bu!

🧪 While thriving on the past, you were watching Nikola work on a problem for his armor for Ragnarok and you smiled when he got the fact right, it was better than last time, maybe this was it?

🧪 He did the same thing as last time, but he added more weaponry and more strength to it per your request, now maybe it could work!

🧪 You sat by Hlökk and Jack while the fight ensued, and you were praying that he would win, that your husband could finally come home safe and sound

🧪 And he did it… he- he beat Beelzebub!

🧪 Nikola was healing as you jumped onto him, he chuckled and kissed your forehead, and that was when you let it loose

🧪 You spilled the tea, all of it, the 1,200 years of torment that you faced watching him die, the same fate over and over and over again, not being able to stop it hurt

“ Darling, I am sorry for failing you so many times. “ “ It’s not your fault, you’re here now… and I’m thankful. “ “ I am thankful as well, Y/N… “

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

💀 No, no, no, no!

💀 Every god-forsaken time, the same damn thing!

💀 Oh that human will pay for his insolence, killing the King that you loved was a crime only punishable by death at the hands of his victim!

💀 Every single time that Hades proclaimed his wish to fight, you were with him, helping him train to beat that puny being

💀 But every time it wasn’t enough, and it hurt so much…

💀 And the way that human smiled and had every human there cheering for him made you sick, many lost an ally, Zeus, Hermes, Ares, and Adamas all lost a brother and uncle, one that cared for them oh so much, and you…

💀 You lost your one and only love…

💀 But maybe this time it would work! It said that they grew stronger every time you traveled, so maybe now it would be right!

💀 Hades looked up at you and smiled as he prepared for battle, and every cut and bruise only gave you the biggest PTSD stain in history

💀 He couldn’t die, he just couldn’t!

💀 And when the cry of Zeus’ cry entered your ears, you started to doubt everything

💀 It worked, it finally fucking worked!

💀 You had never sprinted that hard before into the arms of your love, dragging him to the infirmary after sharing the best kiss known to the Gods

💀 Hades saw how sad yet happy your eyes were while he healed, and when he looked at you and asked why you were so down, you tole him everything, sobbing the process

" My dear, you've seen that happen all those times? For that long? " *Sigh* " I apologize for not being able to change that for so long, but, now we can start the life we've always wanted, by each others sides for eternity. "

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

💪 He was the kindest soul you had ever met, why would fate just screw him over like this?!

💪 You understood he knew Jack far better than you, but watching the human just kill your lover blinded all of your judgement, no matter what

💪 Heracles had died so many times in front of you that you felt like crying tears of joy and sadness from both seeing him alive and from knowing what was bound to happen

💪 This time he had been talking to his adoptive brother, Ares, when you traveled back to see him and try getting him to survive, and seeing him with the only other person who wept and understood how much the lose of him affected you just hurt

💪 He called out to you and hugged you in his arms while calling his goodbyes to Ares, in which the God of War just smiled and waved back

💪 Your husband was the one person you didn't want to lie to anymore, and you hopes that after 1,200 years, this may be the final time you'd have to travel to save him

💪 You grabbed his hand which caused Heracles to turned around and give you a curious look, and that was when you told him

" 1,200 years for me? Angel, you... you didn't have to do all of this for me! "

💪 Heracles looked at you with shock, he figured nobody would drain themselves physically or mentally to the point of near insanity just for him...

💪 He hugged you even closer and he swore the same thing you heard over the last thousand years;

" I'll be safe, and when this is all over, we'll rest together just like before... I promise. "

💪 Your husband laid the most gentle kiss on your lips ever as you nodded, believing the words more than you ever did before

💪 Before Round 4 of Ragnarok started, you strolled over to the Humans side to speak to their fighter, Jack the Ripper, so you could get something clear

" In these last 1,200 years, I have been trying to get my husband back... as whenever he fought against you, he lost... died at your hands. And while I respect you and everything you have done for your people, I am just asking you one thing; Is this really what you want to be known for? Pure murder? "

💪 When Jack was about to kill Heracles, he remembered your words and smiled humbly before lowering his hands to the ground and laying on his knees, causing Heracles to stop and stare at the male

" I do not wish to kill you, God. " " Heracles. And Jack, I do not wish to kill you. This match stays at a draw! "

💪 All Gods and Humans were obviously pissed, but you got your husband back, and one of your previously close friends. Win-Win for you!

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