#nobunaga fic
Text
Bedeviling
Nobunaga x Reader
Synopsis: Nobunaga wants a bite, you want to be left alone.
Warnings: yandere, vampire nobunaga, nobunaga in general, fem reader that’s afraid of blood, blood
8200~ words… kind of proofread for once
You wake up with a jolt, covered in sweat and your heart racing. Eyes wide, you sit upright. You can see the bedroom you’ve slowly become familiar with; thanks to the nightlight plugged into the wall. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, the faint whir of the ceiling fan and cicadas outside serve as your distraction from the nightmare you woke up from. You check your neck and your collarbones, but you don’t feel any bites or scratches. It really was just a nightmare. You hope, foolishly, even, that Nobunaga isn’t awake. That he’s for some reason decided to fall asleep tonight. A familiar but unwelcome hand creeps onto your shoulders, trying and failing to be comforting.
“Do you want some water?”
You look over, and he’s up as if he never fell asleep in the first place. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, on his side of the bed. Any ice that was in it has melted now, but the drink is most likely still cool. “No, I’m fine.” You say warily. He’s never drugged you before, but you wouldn’t entirely put it past him to have put something into your drink. Something with the intention of “helping you sleep better”. Nobunaga ignores you, taking the glass of water and placing it in your hands. You take a moment, sighing to yourself and reluctantly taking a sip before he begins insisting.
The water tastes fine.
It’s been about three weeks since the nightmares started. Three weeks, since this, (you’re not sure if you even want to call him a man), thing, tore you from what little you had going for yourself, and decided that for the time being, you were his new blood bag. In that time, though, he’s sparsely drunk from you. At least, not from your neck. Nobunaga’s invasion of your privacy hadn’t been limited to just your blood, there were a few scabs on your legs from when he insisted upon helping you shave. It was bad enough without him apologizing while trying to lick up what he could in the same breath.
You continue running your hand along your neckline and shoulders, feeling for anything out of place. Any developing scab or any broken skin, even the faintest bit of saliva would be enough to shatter the incredibly flimsy trust you had in him. Nobunaga takes notice, even as you try and fail to be discreet about your worries. He takes your hand in his, but all you can think about is him deciding to gnaw on your wrist. “I didn’t do anything while you were asleep,” Nobunaga says, intertwining your fingers with his. It doesn’t bring you much comfort, but you haven’t found any evidence suggesting otherwise. You don’t say anything for a few seconds, so Nobunaga takes it that you’ve accepted his answer.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Whatever you were dreaming about.”
He says it so earnestly as if it really matters to him if your nightmares scared you. You read once that an animal’s meat will be of lower quality if it’s subjected to high stress situations or abuse. You chalk his concern up to that, pushing out any idea that he cares about you past what's in your veins. If he does, it’s certainly not because he sees you as an equal companion. You look at him, and though he seems to have been awake all night, he doesn’t look any more tired than usual. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble. Nobunaga continues holding your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Are you sure?” “Mhmm.”
He doesn’t pry more than that, taking a few extra seconds to stare at your face. “Go back to sleep then, I’ll stay with you.” He murmurs, taking the glass from you and setting it back on the nightstand while you try to settle back into bed. You lay on your stomach, one side of your face pressed into the pillow, eyes staring right at the wall the bed is aligned against. Nobunaga shifts a few inches closer to you, and you choose to sleep in a different position when you feel him rubbing circles on your back. Nobunaga in response, moves his hand to caress your upper arm.
Much to your internal dismay, his touch does get your mind off of your nightmare. When Nobunaga is being quiet, you can imagine his hand as someone else's comforting gesture. He pauses briefly to adjust the blanket, pulling it back over your shoulders. You keep your eyes closed and hope Nobunaga doesn’t say anything for the rest of the night, managing to fall asleep under his careful ministrations.
-
You wake up that morning to the sound of rain, muffled pitter-patters outside. You can’t see what the weather looks like, but you imagine that it’s cloudy. Nobunaga’s already out of bed, slipping on a brown leather jacket over some already casual clothing. You sit up in bed, only wearing one of his shirts. The lights are still off, the night light burning hot from how long it’s been plugged in. You rub some of the sleep from your eye, not giving any verbal indication that you've woken up. Knowing him, though, you’re sure he’s already sensed it.
Nobunaga looks human to you, from here. He never looked like anything else, but something about watching him adjust the way his jacket sits on his shoulders and how he ties his long hair back, it makes it hard to see him as a blood-sucking creature of the night. Who knew monsters could look so normal? You wonder if anyone outside this cabin knew that he liked to kill people and drain them of what they were worth in his spare time. Staring at the clock on the bedside table, you’re surprised that it’s well into the afternoon; 1:04 PM.
“Are you going somewhere?” You finally ask, and Nobunaga turns his attention from the mirror on the inside of the closet door to you. Before he can respond, there’s a loud clap of thunder, which makes you flinch. Nobunaga chuckles at your reaction, walking back over to the bed to pet the top of your head. You make an effort to not recoil at his touch. “The rain is supposed to stop soon, but it’s going to be cloudy all day. I thought I’d go and get some errands done.” He says, his eyes trailing from your own to your collarbones, down to your wrists, then back to meet your gaze.
“I’ll be back soon, just stay here.” Soon most likely meant a few hours, which was a much-needed break for you. Still, whenever he left the house, that ill feeling of him never coming back would creep up on you. You didn’t want to be near him if you could help it, but the prospect of being left to starve in a house that you physically can’t get out of seems like an equally painful death. Nobunaga waits for you to say something, any verbal indication that you heard what he just said. “Okay.” You choke out, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.
Nobunaga leaves shortly after, reminding you about food being in the refrigerator if you get hungry. You don’t see him off, staying in bed until you hear that front door open, close and lock. Even when he’s gone, you don’t feel much at ease. You’re alone, your only company until Nobunaga gets back are the few bugs hiding under the floorboards and within the walls. You notice a spider on the ceiling, your heart catching in your throat. It skitters up and inside of the vent.
Maybe you can ask Nobunaga to kill it if it ever comes back outside.
All of the windows are boarded up, both on the inside and out. Wood panels on wood panels, keeping the sun out, and you in. The majority of the lights didn’t work when he first dragged you here, evidently he didn’t think they needed to. After a few days, Nobunaga got around to changing the lightbulbs and ensuring some of the rooms had lighting. The bedroom, bathroom, and a lamp in the living room had working lights.
Most days, though, the light in the bedroom wouldn’t be turned on unless Nobunaga did it himself. You didn’t have the energy to even do that most of the time, your current light source being the rabbit night light. It was strong enough to illuminate the whole room (which was a bit cramped anyway). Nobunaga had gotten it for you when you tripped over some of his junk on the floor trying to get out of bed. He’d decided to clean up a bit more after that, only after he pulled you back under the covers.
You just didn’t want to get out of bed today. You weren’t sick, Nobunaga had drained you of around two pints of blood when he first ripped into your neck, but by the first week you’d mostly recovered. You weren’t too hungry or thirsty; Nobunaga was giving you a strange amount of accommodation, making sure you were well-fed most of the time. Though, now that you think about it, a person who's hungry and isn’t getting the right amount of vitamins doesn’t have the best-tasting blood. It feels as though any act of courtesy given to you is ultimately self-serving.
His apparent need to constantly have you around him and give him your attention didn’t exactly fit into your theory that you were just a walking meal, but, maybe he was lonely. You’re not sure if you prefer that line of thinking, but it’s certainly a more optimistic one. That was just wishful thinking, though. It was equally likely that he was doing all of this as a strange sort of torment. It didn’t make complete sense, but you couldn’t wrap your head around anything Nobunaga did.
Perhaps it wasn’t so bad. It’s awful, really awful, but… he hasn’t killed you yet? He isn’t unreasonably violent; he hasn’t starved you or gone out of his way to torment you (yet). Plus, you had free roam of the house when Nobunaga was gone. You can’t stay here; you aren’t that far gone. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the right chance to make a break for it and save yourself, rather than jumping at any perceived opportunity.
Even so, if you stay here too long, you might end up just like him. It’s not like you could pry the wooden panels off and jump through the window, even if now Nobunaga wasn’t here to stop you. Not again. You ended up getting splinters on your fingers the first time you tried, and Nobunaga took it upon himself to painstakingly pick them all out.
He chided you for it, but he wasn’t as angry as you thought he would have been. Having the man suck on your fingers, trying to get whatever blood he could from the micro-tears in your skin, was punishment enough. Even when you had gotten one panel off, left sweaty and out of breath with cramped hands, there was another beneath it. Part of you wonders if there even are windows left, or if he knocked out the glass completely and filled the gaps with even more wood and whatever else material he could find.
There was no phone line, and if Nobunaga had a cellular phone, you’ve never seen it. Sometimes, when he would send you to bed while he stayed up later in the night, you swore you could hear him talking to someone else in the living room. You had to strain your ear to pick anything out of the conversation, pressing yourself against the bedroom door and trying to be as quiet as possible. It was hard to tell if he really was talking to someone, and if they were in the house, or if it was someone on a phone call. Maybe you’d ask him about it one day, but even if he did have a phone, would calling anyone help?
It’s not like your situation was completely unbelievable, there’s no way you could be written off as a liar. As long as you leave out the part about him killing your peers by biting them like a sick animal, and holding you down just to leave bite marks and ugly bruises on your neck and chest, then you should, in theory, be believed. What if the authorities couldn’t find you, though? You didn’t know the address of this house, you couldn’t even describe any surrounding landmarks, or even what the color of the front door was.
Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you shuffle out of bed, the cold wooden floors unfriendly to your feet. Already wearing one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t fit right was too intimate for you, you weren’t going to wear his socks either. You leave the bedroom, moving into the living room to turn on the lamp. The few nightlights plugged into the outlets in the hallway made up for the lack of working lightbulbs. Maybe people were already looking for you, or maybe they found your blood splattered around along with some of your hair, and are only focused on finding a body.
You start to feel nauseous, but you can’t stop thinking about it. If you knew where the television remote was, you’d be watching the news right now. Looking for any segment about you or your friends, searching for something to prove to yourself that you weren’t being written off. Nobunaga hasn’t kept any newspapers, nor has he ever brought up your mauled friends or your disappearance to you. You can’t manage to sit still, mind once again stuck on answers you won’t have in the foreseeable future. There isn’t anything you can do about it right now, other than try to think of something else.
Slinking into the kitchen, you open up the refrigerator to see if there’s anything to eat. Nobunaga said there’d be food, and you’d rather stress eat than sit in front of a television you can’t turn on. You try to ignore the blood bags, you don’t want to speculate where he got them from. Maybe he had a friend who dropped them off for him, or maybe he stole from a doctor's office. The only other things in the fridge are a jar of pickles, a six-can pack of beer (and not even the nice kind), and some eggs. There was also a half-empty carton of blueberries, and some vegetable chips that were stored in the fridge for some reason. The loaf of bread left out on the table has mold.
You settle on the blueberries, idly eating two or three at a time. They’re mushy and tart, and hardly fill you up. You get through half of the carton before finally deciding that their taste is too much for you to look past. A familiar dry sting returns to your eyes, you’re terribly aware of your own tiredness. Your eyelids feel heavy again, and you can’t say with any confidence that you slept well last night. There isn’t anything for you to do now, not when the backdoor in the kitchen has been boarded up as well and had an out-of-place end table shoved in front of it.
You can’t get out of any of the doors, you can’t get out through the window, you barely have anything to eat. The television can’t even be turned on to pass the time, and there aren’t any books to pass your time with. Out of circumstance, (and in hopes that it’ll clear your head), you trudge on back to the bedroom, passing the door to a room that won’t open. God knows what’s in there, maybe it’s boarded up from the other side with more wood. Slipping back into bed, you try to catch up on your sleep debt. All you can hope for is that you don’t have another nightmare.
-
You wake up to the sound of the front door opening, and multiple locks being put back into place. You can hear Nobunaga shuffling around faintly in another part of the house, eventually coming into the bedroom and opening the door. You’re almost instantly alert, brought out of your nap by his presence. Glancing at the bedside clock, you see that you’ve only managed to get around 40 minutes' worth of sleep. Despite that, you don’t feel so groggy. “You’re still in bed?” Nobunaga steps into the room, moving the blankets off of you. “Have you eaten anything?”
“Yeah.” You mumble, sitting up to get out of bed. Nobunaga looks like he doesn’t entirely believe you, but he doesn’t argue with you about it. “Come help me with the bags.”
The bags were a mix of groceries and hardware, placed onto the kitchen counter. Most of it was stuff you assumed was to fix the lighting in other parts of the house. You hope that Nobunaga will also fix the shower so that the hot water lasts for more than five minutes. You don’t want to bug him about it again, though. While you stand at the kitchen counter, mindlessly taking items out of the bags, Nobunaga comes up behind you, caging you between him and the counter.
His head dips low to sniff at your neck, causing you to flinch. “What are you doing?” You squirm at the feeling of his facial hair brushing up against you. “I’m not doing anything. Don’t move so much.” He reprimands lightly, breathing in your scent. You wait for him to be done, his arms wrapped around your torso. His fingers, long and calloused, hitch up the hem of your shirt and feel along your bare skin. His Adam’s Apple bobs as his fingers traipse your torso. You hold back a wince, shutting your eyes and trying not to think about whatever he’s about to do. It makes you feel even more anxious when you can’t see what he’s doing, but you can’t bear to look right now. Your muscles tense and you freeze up at the feeling of his arms tightening around your waist.
He presses himself even closer against you, your back right up against his chest. Nobunaga’s considering this great progress, he’s gotten so close without you screaming. He can just about hear your heartbeat, fast and loud. Maybe you weren’t used to getting attention like this from other men, that was a thought he’d like to entertain. He breathes in the smell of your sweat and your fear, which he chooses to attribute to you being shy. You bite on the inside of your cheek so as to not scream when you feel his chapped lips brush up against the side of your neck and the shell of your ear.
It feels like he’s being intentionally cruel, holding you hostage under the guise of playing house. Does he enjoy dragging it out like this? Trying to lull you into a false sense of safety before sinking his fangs into you? You wait tentatively for the sharp bite to come, for Nobunaga’s hold on you to tighten to the extent that your lungs can’t expand with any more air. Your palms begin to sweat even more, and it feels like your legs could give out from under you at any second. You curse yourself for getting complacent, you should have looked for something to pry those wooden boards off while Nobunaga was gone. You’re going to die because you had a lick of Stockholm syndrome earlier in the day.
Suddenly, he backs off. He’s still pressed up behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, but he isn’t pressing his nose into your collarbone area anymore. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.” Nobunaga points out, and he’s right. You finally open your eyes, not feeling his breath against your skin anymore. Your whole body is trembling, and your eyes prick with tears from how hard you’ve kept them shut. Nobunaga doesn’t connect the dots between him and yourself, continuing to look at you with concern and worry, and every expression other than guilt. “Go sit on the couch, you don’t look well. I’ll bring you something to eat.” Your shaky legs barely take you back into the living room without failing on you.
You sit on the couch, still skittish from what you thought was about to be another feeding session. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you take some deep breaths to calm yourself down, brushing off the germs on your shoulder and neck where Nobunaga was getting far too close and personal. You listen to the man sorting out the groceries, opening up a few cabinets and the refrigerator. He comes back around to the living room, holding a box of takeout food and the television remote you were looking for earlier. Nobunaga sits next to you, turning on the T.V and placing the takeout box on the coffee table briefly.
He positions you the way he wants you, with your legs strewn across his lap. You lean your head against the couch, not wanting to be touching him so much. He leans forward to get the takeout box off the coffee table, settling it over your lap. You keep your legs still, not wanting to spill the food while he forces you to share with him. He doesn’t seem particularly hungry but chooses to take a few bites of the takeout just so that his saliva will be on the fork when he feeds you. You try not to think about it and instead focus on the texture of the food, ignoring his staring.
Your heart rate slows back down to a rate that’s only slightly quicker than your normal one. You have a million questions on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t have the nerve to ask any of them. You find yourself unable to open that can of worms, though you know you’ll have to ask one day. Sooner than later, too. You get lost in thought, tuning out the generic comedy playing on the television and not registering the fork-full of food that’s been right in your face for the last fifteen or so seconds.
“What? You aren’t hungry anymore?” Nobunaga asks, trying to give you that last bite of food. “Uh- no, I’m not.” You mutter, looking away from the fork and the piece of chicken on it. “Are you sure?” He prods. You might be inclined to eat a bit more, but you want to end this strange spoon-feeding (fork feeding?) as soon as possible. “I’m sure.” You focus on the television screen as Nobunaga takes that bite for himself, trying not to think about the shared saliva between you two, lest your throat lurches, and you feel like vomiting. He leaves briefly, putting the takeout box in the fridge and coming back with a can of beer.
You're afforded the chance to put your legs in a more comfortable position, your feet planted on the floor where they belong and not anywhere near Nobunaga. He sits down right next to you, not giving you any personal space as his arm wraps around your shoulders, forcing you again to be close to him. This time, his focus is also on the television screen as he sips some of his beer. You’re not sure what his alcohol tolerance is, but regardless you don’t think you’d feel safe with a drunk Nobunaga. You can barely stand to be around a sober one. Then again, the last thing you’re going to do is tell him what he can and can’t do in his own house.
You both stay like that for a long while, you tucked into his side while he watches a show that just barely has his (and yours) attention. So long as you don’t move away from him, Nobunaga is content to stay like that for the time being. The television plays a movie you aren’t familiar with, something that never did too well at the cinema and was left to air on a channel most people don’t tune into. You want to ask Nobunaga to change the channel, maybe change it to the local news. Maybe then you’d at least get some insight on where this shithole of a house is.
A paranoid, fearful voice in the back of your head wonders if he’d rip your tongue out for talking to him. The most sadistic thing Nobunaga has done thus far (aside from the first time he nearly put you on death's door, drinking your blood and sinking his fangs so deep into you that it’d hurt him to ever let go), was all the times he forced you to share a bed with him. Despite all of his pervasiveness and lack of boundaries or personal space, Nobunaga seems to have gotten it in his head that he’s doing the right thing on some level. Granted, his idea of “the right thing” is vastly different from yours.
Nobunaga lowers the volume on the television, and speaks up rather abruptly after the long silence. “Give me your hand.” Those words alone cause you to tense up. Nobunaga tries to appear disarming, gently taking your hand in his calloused one. He doesn’t do anything, not yet, internally a bit bothered that you’re still so on edge around him. “This is going to hurt a little, okay?” Nobunaga brings your hand to his mouth, now holding it a bit firmer as he gets the finger he wants in his grasp. “Wait, what’s going to hurt? Hey—“
With no warning, he bites down on your index finger, his fangs breaking the skin. It isn’t a hard bite, but it hurts and you can feel blood pooling in dots at the site. You yelp, trying to pull your hand away. “Shhh, it’s just a little cut,” Nobunaga says dismissively. He keeps a firm grip on your hand, guiding it to the opening of his beer can. He nurses the blood out of your finger, scraping it painfully against the edge of the metal opening. You wince and clench your jaw at the sensation, your free hand gripping the armrest of the couch as he squeezes your blood out. When he’s satisfied with the mixture of blood and alcohol, he lets your hand go to lightly swish the can around, stirring the contents.
You watch him drink his beer, the color once again drained from your face. You wrap your bleeding finger with the hem of your shirt, taking in deep breaths. What the hell was his problem? Nobunaga sets the beer can on the coffee table, turning his attention back to you and your finger. “It was just a little poke.” He says, moderately surprised that it got such a fright out of you. If Nobunaga had bitten through your finger, then he’d understand, but he’d been careful to not go too deeply. “Let me see it again.”
At his behest, you let him see your finger again. He doesn’t bite it, instead examining the cut he made. His gaze then flits back to you, still wide-eyed and tense. With just a bit of pressure, the bleeding was nearly over. “Do you want me to get you a bandaid?” Nobunaga asks in a manner that is half teasing and half serious. You manage to choke out a weak “yeah”, so he moves your legs off of him to go find you one.
Luckily, he hadn’t thrown out the old med kit in the closet. It was something the previous owners kept, one of the things Nobunaga hadn’t bothered to toss out after killing them. Most of their belongings were still in that closet, left untouched. Nobunaga makes a mental note to search through the closet later for anything you might want. He comes back to the living room with a singular band-aid, gingerly applying it to your injured finger. “There you go. Is that better?” He asks tenderly. You grit your teeth, restraining yourself from calling him disgusting. It never bothered him before, it wouldn’t bother him now. “Mhm.” You hum, looking at your finger instead of him.
“You should go to bed, I’ll join you in a little bit.” It wasn’t a suggestion, more like a command. You get up and begrudgingly let him lead you into the bedroom, while he���s still in a good mood. He stands in the doorway once you’re back in the bedroom. He doesn’t leave yet, idling around for a few more minutes, as if trying to will you into asking him for something. “Are you going to be alright on your own?” Nobunaga asks, eyeing you over. “I don’t mind helping you change-” “I’m fine.”
You cut him off, on the verge of shoving him out of the doorway yourself and shutting the door. Nobunaga doesn't take offense to you being short with him, either because he felt bad for scaring you earlier (unlikely) or because he just can’t comprehend that you truly dislike him. “I’ll come check on you later.” He says, brushing off your attitude and leaving you alone for the time being. He closes the door on his way out, affording you some much-needed privacy.
There’s a plastic shopping bag in the corner, it’s been there for about a week now. Nobunaga supposedly bought you some clothes so you wouldn’t have to keep wearing his, but you hadn’t touched it yet. He hadn’t made a fuss over it, only commenting that he didn’t mind that you liked his shirts so much. It made you feel sick, this was entirely a lose-lose situation. You didn’t want to accept any of his gifts, and you didn’t want to entertain the idea of staying with him long-term, but the alternative was giving him the wrong idea.
You decide to open up the bag, tearing the plastic apart rather than untying the knot. It’s a few articles of clothing, enough for you to rotate between in a week; if you wore some of them for a day longer than you’d like. The clothes are nothing flashy, they all still have the tags on them. You notice a pattern with the tops and the one nightgown he got you: they all have spaghetti straps and show off the neckline generously. Aside from the visible necklines and one of the pajama bottoms being far too short for your liking, they weren’t too showy or revealing. For the most part, they didn’t reveal any cleavage.
You settle on a plain camisole top and some pajama pants with a pattern on them. You don’t respect Nobunaga enough to put his clothes anywhere other than the floor, so that's where you leave them. The door to the bedroom is locked from the outside, and although you’d rather not go to bed without at least washing up, you’re happy to keep Nobunaga’s attention off of you for as long as possible. You step into bed, shuffling under the covers. The sheets smell like him, there's a strand or three of dark hair left on the pillow he sleeps on. Even in his absence, you don’t get any real peace.
This near-constant flip-flopping on where you stand with Nobunaga has made your head hurt. The second you think your situation is even the slightest bit bearable, Nobunaga does something to put you back on edge and into full survival mode. You toss and turn for nearly an hour in bed before finally managing to drift off in a comfortable position.
-
You’re awoken about two hours later by Nobunaga, climbing on top of you in bed. He’s lightly shaking you awake, but his heavy breathing wakes you up first. You groan, opening your eyes to see a man who is too excited about whatever is going on. “Are you awake?” He asks. “Y-yeah.” You mumble warily, and Nobunaga smiles. “That’s good, I didn’t want to bother you if you were asleep.” You become somewhat more alert at that, unable to sit up with Nobunaga pinning you down. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be slightly more pronounced than usual.
“You’re wearing the clothes I got you.” He points out with both pride and appreciation. You blink, slightly annoyed that all he woke you up for was to praise you for such a small thing. You wish he wouldn’t mention it, but of course he does. “Yeah,” It’s become your go-to answer for anything now whenever you don’t know what to say to the man. “That’s good.” He looks away for a bit, then back at you. He’s easy enough to read on a surface level, you can tell there’s something on his mind. Bad things tend to happen in such cases. He remains on top of you, uncomfortably close. His face is just a few inches away from yours.
“You know how I bit your finger earlier?”
“Yeah.” It was just a few hours ago, you’re not sure how you could forget.
“I’m going to do that again, okay? It’s just a little bit of blood”
“What?” Your eyes widen a tad and you put your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back. “It’s just a small bite on your neck, you won’t even feel it.” He keeps talking, each word worse than the last. “Get off of me.” He doesn’t even pretend to listen to you, staring right at the side of your neck. Nobunaga keeps talking, more to himself than you, ignoring your attempts at getting his attention or your panicked state. He leans down to press kisses along your jawline, and the repugnance and knowledge of what’s about to happen is enough to make your heart nearly stop. In what feels like a last resort, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull on it harshly. “Nobunaga!”
“Ow- What?” He snaps, finally moving away from your neck and looking you in the eye. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t want to do this.” You say hastily, not knowing how much weight your words have for him (if any). Nobunaga blinks, looking down at you. If he understands your fears, he certainly doesn’t think they’re wholly reasonable. “Are you scared?” He asks, like he’s teasing you for it. “Yes.” You don’t see the humor in it like he does, there’s no way he expected you’d be on board with being sucked dry.
“It’ll just be a little prick.” He says. It’s something you’ve heard plenty of times from nurses; but those nurses were holding one butterfly needle, not four canine teeth, and a disgusting tongue to lap at the wound. “You’re gonna drink my blood.” You mumble out, verbally realizing what he’s planning. Nobunaga nods slowly. “How much?” “Mm… half of a cup?” You don’t believe him. “It’s not going to kill you, you’re just going to feel tired after. Then you can go right back to sleep.” Nobunaga continues, trying to placate you. “Just lay still.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before going back to kissing your jaw and your neck.
You stiffen up again, taking in shaky breaths while he prepares you for a feeding session. If he wasn’t so engrossed in this facade of intimacy, he might have noticed that this makes you all the more uncomfortable. He continues to lay on top of you, pinning you down to the bed while he licks and sucks on your neck and shoulder. “Come on, just relax, please,” He implores you, and if you hadn’t seen him take what he wants without hesitation previously, you might have the confidence to deny him more firmly.
“It’ll only hurt for a few minutes, and then it’ll be over, I promise,” Nobunaga murmurs into your ear, sending waves of discomfort and fear down your spine. His breath fans against your neck, smelling like alcohol and whatever was left of that takeout food. Your skin crawls and goosebumps begin to form. “I’m not going to take a lot.” You bite down on your tongue, squirming and trying to angle your neck away from his mouth, to no avail.
His hand rests on your chest, vaguely where your heart is. He can feel your blood rushing in your arteries, and he can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your neck. You haven’t responded yet, but your hesitation and nervousness are almost too obvious for him to ignore. Your brows knit together, fingers balling into a loosely formed fist. “I don’t want you to take any at all.” Your attempt at sounding assertive fails when your voice wavers. Nobunaga smiles sheepishly at that, trying to play this carefully. He has just enough inhibition to not gorge on you as if you were a piece of meat. He doesn’t want to scare you into trying to run away again, undoing the progress he’s made.
Nobunaga knows he can stop, that he probably should stop, but you’d never get used to it if he did. It was like ripping a bandaid off, it would have to be done eventually. Sure, you didn’t like being sucked on now, but Nobunaga is confident that he can teach you to enjoy it, even if it takes a few sessions. As far as he’s concerned, you two are well on your way to becoming a happy couple, after all. You just need a bit longer to settle in.
“I won’t bite into anything important if that’s what you’re worried about. You don’t have to be scared.” He repeats, though he hasn’t made much progress in placating you. You run out of any excuses to give him; in his mind, Nobunaga’s already refuted them all. He presses a few more kisses to your skin, hoping that a gentle presentation will calm you down enough to let him get what he wants.
To his annoyance, you’re steadfast in your decision, trying to push him off of you. The first time he’d done it, you weren’t given any preparation or warning. Now that he was trying to be more accommodating, it somehow made it worse. It felt like an impending doom, part of you wants to tell him to just shut up and get it over with. You hold onto the chance that he’ll back off and get his fill from somewhere else if you persist, though. For a second, you think you've won this game of tug-of-war. Nobunaga reluctantly moves away from you, looking you in the eye. “I’ll be right back.”
He sneaks one last kiss on your cheek before getting off of you and leaving the room. You sit upright, wiping his saliva off of your neck and shoulder with the edge of the blanket. Your ears and the back of your neck are burning hot. His words replay in your head as you rub the last remnant of sleep from your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was cling to his promises as any hope for your situation, but it was all you had. You try to brace yourself for whatever happens, wanting to be optimistic. It’s like he said, losing a half cup of blood wouldn’t kill you.
Nobubaga returns shortly with a knife in hand. You bristle up instantly, eyes widening. “What’s that for?!” You say, shrill and with your heart rate spiking. The words you want to say; that you’ll let him bite you, that the knife isn’t needed, that he doesn’t need to cut you, it doesn’t come out. “Calm down.” Nobunaga says somewhat dismissively, coming to sit back down next to you on the bed.
“Here, look.” So you do, and Nobunaga holds the knife in one hand, angling it at the other. He cuts his palm open, and you flinch. He has no visible reaction, only simpering at the look in your eye. “It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t worried about his wellbeing.
When he’s done, Nobunaga places the knife on the bed almost carelessly, though still out of reach for you. It does put you at ease that he isn’t holding a sharp object anymore, at least he isn’t pointing it at you. He pulls you closer, having you sit thigh to thigh with him. The arm closest to you wraps around your shoulders to keep you in place, meanwhile, his cut hand is brought to your mouth.
You look up at him quizzically. “It’ll make you feel better about this, trust me. It doesn’t taste bad.” Your mouth opens to say something, but you’re in too much shock over what he’s insinuating to respond. “You’re crazy.” You shudder, trying to push his hand away. There’s no way he’s serious about this. Nobunaga doesn’t concede, though, only looking at you as if you were a confused animal. “Just give it a try.”
You can’t block out the smell of blood, the most you can do is not look at it for longer than necessary. Your hands tremble and you cling to the hem of your shirt. Surely it would just be one lick, one swipe of the tongue. Then you could swallow your own spit to get the taste off your tongue. Nobunaga looks at you expectantly and with an amount of anticipation that heightens your unease. “I don’t want to.” Your voice regrettably wavers in your attempt to sound firm.
“You’re making this harder than it has to be. I cut my hand just for you.” He sighs. I never asked you to do that, you think to yourself. “I’m trying to do things the nice way.” “What’s the other way?” You ask out of curiosity and to stall. “Well, I could hold you down and take what I want. It wouldn’t be so difficult.” He hums, drinking in your expression. “Maybe you’ll like it.” You would have scoffed at that if you weren’t so disturbed by the situation.
To avoid potentially aggravating him, you do what he says. You feel insane, licking at the skin of his hand. It tastes like salt, and the blood is even saltier. Metallic, like you’re putting a melted coin in your mouth. You try not to gag, shutting your eyes and pretending that you’re just licking expired caramel. That only makes it worse. Nobunaga breathes heavily when you lap at the cut on his hand, making you all the more reluctant to play along.
“There you go. See, it isn’t so bad.” He croons, unaware of your growing urge to vomit. “Does it taste good?” He asks, and you can’t even look at him when he finally pulls away. What must have been about twenty seconds felt like an eternity. “No.” You gasp, wanting to get the taste out of your mouth. You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, feeling thoroughly disgusted with both yourself and him. Nobunaga laughs, wiping off the small amount of blood staining your mouth with his thumb.
There’s a brief pause as Nobunaga lets you collect yourself. He admires your spit on his hand for a few seconds before turning his attention back to you. “Lie down, it won’t take long.” He says, lightly pushing you back down onto the mattress, and having you lie on your back. You must have looked even more terrified than you realized. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” That phrase sends a new wave of disgust up your spine. Nobunaga shifts to be right on top of you, a few strands of his dark hair falling on your face. His head once again lowers and his mouth aligns with your neck.
His teeth hardly graze your skin and yet you’re already writhing and biting back any whimpers. When his hand comes to hold your neck in place, you squirm at that as well. He pauses, thinking it merciful to give you one last minute to collect yourself. “Try to relax.” Nobunaga grumbles, his patience thinning. He’s salivating just from being so close, yet you continually find ways to deny him, even if it’s unintentional.
“Do we have to do this?” You ask weakly in a last-ditch effort to wiggle your way out of this. Nobunaga’s eyes soften slightly, still trained on your neck. He takes a moment to speak, hands firmly holding you by your upper arms. “If you can be good and let me do this, then I’ll make it up to you once it’s over.”
He doesn’t give you another second to prepare yourself before he sinks his teeth into you. His bite deepens and you gasp in shock, pain, and disgust. The weight of his body and the pain in the side of your neck rendered you to his mercy. All you can think about is him not holding to his word, on accident or otherwise. Taking too much blood and leaving you to bleed out in this room; away from all of your family and your friends. Then he’d probably eat what was left of you.
You struggle to keep down any pained groans, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress any noises. Nobunaga mumbles something you don’t quite catch as you’re actively trying to tune every bit of this out. One of his hands brushes up against your clothed breast, groping it in a way that Nobunaga thinks is discrete. Your hand goes to smack his away, with whatever strength you can muster. Nobunaga responds by taking your hand and holding it, letting you squeeze it and dig your nails into his hand to get through the pain.
Your other hand finds itself once again tangled in Nobunaga’s hair, inky and long. You hold it tightly in your fist while you try not to cry at the feeling of his tongue prodding at the bite marks in your flesh. When you pull his hair, he moans. “There you go, that’s right, baby.” You cringe, quickly moving your hand out of his hair and onto the bedsheets instead, clinging onto the fabric till your knuckles turn white. Nobunaga continues to siphon the blood out of you, relishing in the sounds of your mewling and whimpering. To him, it seemed like you were liking this a little more than you were letting on.
When he’s done, when he looks up and sees your face drained of its color and your eyes watery, Nobunaga pulls away from your neck. Licking up the last bit of blood on his chapped lips, he haphazardly presses one of the blankets on the bed to your wound, shushing you in between peppered kisses on your cheek. In doing so, he’s smeared your blood all over your face. “Stop crying, I’m done.” He coos, gently squishing your face in his hand and pecking you on the lips.
You hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying, not until he’d pointed it out. Tear stains run down the sides of your face, staining your skin alongside your blood. Nobunaga licks at the side of your neck, taking in one last deep whiff of your blood and sweat mixed together. He seems just as breathless as you are. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears as your vision continues to blur with tears that Nobunaga wipes away. Blood is caught in his facial hair, though he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You did good,” He murmurs, taking in uneven breaths. “It’s over, I promise.” You aren’t given a second to respond before Nobunaga’s got his tongue back on you, this time writhing its way into your mouth as he drags you into a make-out session. You let him, trying to enjoy the feeling, as sloppy and unarousing as it was. You try not to think about how much you want to vomit from the taste of your own blood in your mouth. You’ve felt more nauseous in these past hours than you probably have in your entire life.
The only upside to your predicament is that the worst is over with. You try to focus on that instead of the pain in your neck or the stiff boner in Nobunaga’s pants that you can feel pressed against you. You try not to think about his hand once again creeping towards your chest, this time having slipped underneath your shirt. You don’t have the strength to tell him off for it, you barely have the energy to keep your eyes open. Nobunaga keeps the blanket pressed against your neck until he gains a moment of clarity and gets off of you.
He moves back his hair across his shoulders, pushing aside the strands that fell across his face. “I’ll be right back, ‘m going to get you cleaned up.” He breathes, leaving the bedroom to get that med kit and some rubbing alcohol if there was any. You don’t respond, laying limply in bed. You close your eyes for a few seconds, goosebumps covering your skin. Nobunaga was right, you didn’t die from the blood he took. It was awful, not made better by how perverted he was making it, but it wasn’t unbearable.
You don’t want to think about how this may become routine for you, or how he might take more blood next time. All you want to think about is that it’s over tonight, he promised that it would be over. At least you’d be able to go back to sleep soon.
#aka the ultimate self insert fic for me#Yandere nobunaga#yandere nobunaga x reader#yandere hxh#yandere hunter x hunter#_hxh#_nobunaga#yandere nobunaga hazama x reader#nobunaga x reader
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rare sneak peeks from the chrollo series that's decomposing in my google docs
yeah every single time reader calls chrollo, he makes bedroom eyes while he talks. at first it was "I need to keep a close eye on her until I can steal her ability" then it turned into "I need to keep her close because I like her" which later turns into "I need her in my basement"
he is not doing okay.
#tea is brewing#the first meeting is actually so funny#because feitan 'kills' reader when she shows up at their hideout#and then the next day she's there again and phinks goes YO WTF#so feitan and phinks 'kill' her again after a little fight#feitan says they might need to dispose the body differently and then there's a small council discussion when reader's 'corpse' pipes up and#-says 'maybe burning it would do the trick' and phinks echoes that before realising and nobunaga borderline shrieks#my current long fic wips are phantom troupe meet a murderous little shit who wants a specific man dead and her bargaining chip for-#help is their lives and chrollo ends up falling for her#and the other wip is immortal ginger suffering because his dead wife isn't really dead#fun
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PLEASE somebody link me decent nobunaga fanfics that arent noncon or dead dove or yandere. im so tired of clicking on a fic only for it to be reader being some submissive powerless little weakling which enforces every misogynistic stereotype in the book. I WANT TO BE EQUAL 😭.
#stop dead dove fics 2024#hxh#hxh 2011#i love nobunaga more then everything#nobunaga hazama#nobunaga hazama number one fan#phantom troupe#I HATE YANDERE X READER#YANDERE SLANDER#yandere#stop#fanfic#recs#fic recs
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𝘐𝘒𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘕𝘎𝘖𝘒𝘜 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛
featuring works written after July 1st, 2021. You can find my old (misc) masterlist here. Browse my Ikesen fics by tag here: 🏯 #ikemen-sengoku
⤶ go back to masterlist navigation
••• ━━━━━Oda Nobunaga
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: 💃- Pull them in for a dance when noone else is around
Because, I said So [smut] Tags: Semi-public sеx, Modern AU, Boss/Employee Relationship
Owning you completely [smut] Tags:Bathroom (Onsen) Sex; Slight exhibitionism; Slight scent marking kink; Vaginal sex
Valiance [angst and fluff] Tags: OC; Strong Female Character; Light Angst; Feelings Realization; Love Confessions; First Kiss; War Allies to Lovers
••• ━━━━━Date Masamune
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: 🥺 - Ask them how much they love you
How The Dragon of Oshu Breeds His Wife [smut] Tags: Breeding; Impregnation; Ovulation; Crying; Gentle Sex; Cunnilingus; Oral Sex; Married Characters; Mentions of Pregnancy; Dirty Talk; Multiple Orgasms; Creampie
Wild like the color blue [smut] Tags: Modern AU, Public sex, Pool sex, Cunnilingus
••• ━━━━━Takeda Shingen
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: 💃- Pull them in for a dance when noone else is around
Captor and Captured [smut] Tags: Kidnapping; Vaginal Sex; Cunnilingus; Femdom; Power Play; Nipple Play; Woman on Top; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting ;Light Dom/sub
••• ━━━━━Toyotomi Hideyoshi
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: Give them: 😘- A kiss on the cheek
Affections at dawn [smut] Tags: Vanilla; Vaginal Sex; Riding; Creampie; Aftercare; Gentle Sex
••• ━━━━━Akechi Mitsuhide
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: Give them: 🌼- A symbolic small flower 💃- Pull them in for a dance when noone else is around 🥺 - Ask them how much they love you
Blizzard incoming [smut] Tags: Modern AU; Not wearing underwear; Slight exhibitionism kink; Vaginal sex
••• ━━━━━Sanada Yukimura
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: 💃- Pull them in for a dance when noone else is around
••• ━━━━━Kanetsugu Naoe
Tea break [fluff & smut] Tags: This is 90% tooth-rotting fluff and 10% smut; Massage; Body Worship; Blow Jobs; Cock Worship; Established Relationship
••• ━━━━━Mai (MC)
ficlets from my 1000 followers celebration event: Give them: 🧵- A hand-made craft
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen#ikemen sengoku nobunaga#ikemen sengoku masamune#ikemen sengoku mitsuhide#ikemen sengoku hideyoshi#ikemen sengoku shingen#ikemen sengoku kanetsugu#ikemen sengoku ieyasu#ikemen sengoku kicho#ikemen sengoku motonari#ikemen sengoku yukimura#ikemen sengoku mitsunari#ikemen sengoku keiji#ikemen sengoku kennyo#ikemen sengoku sasuke#ikemen series#cybird#ikeseries#ikesen fic#ikemen sengoku ranmaru#ikemen sengoku kenshin#ikemen sengoku yoshimoto
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74. Are You Challenging Me? (Houki, Abby, Miri)
This one was a fun prompt as it let me explore more platonic relationships between my girls and the suitors (save for Miri but we'll get to her)
Regular warnings apply: incomplete raw writing, might ramble in some places. Spoilers for Lessons 11/12 from Nightbringer as well.
Some Notes: I only briefly glanced at how Go is supposed to be played so I'm fairly certain how Houki and Nobu are playing it isn't how it's supposed to be played, but just roll with it; Arthur just inserts himself between Abby and Isaac playing a card game so there's that, and Miri's entry also involves choking.
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Houki
Nobunaga laughed.
"So, are you challenging me, Fireball?"
Houki pouted, staring directly into Nobunaga's carnelian eyes.
"You stole territory from me, my lord," she said, looking at the board again, "I won't let such a travesty stand for long."
Nobunaga smirked.
"I look forward to your counter-attack. What you look like riled up."
Houki concentrated, looking for any openings she could, what strategy would be best to take him down, quickly preferably. The longer Nobunaga had to think, the more he could render her defenseless and defeat her in this battle of wits. She looked left and right, scanning what strategy would be best deployed where.
Finally, to finish the game quickly, she pulled a risky move leaving her defenseless on her right, but it gave heavy damage to her opponent. Nobunaga's eyes glimmered as she picked up his stones.
"I see you've learned well." Nobunaga picked up a singular black stone, spinning it between his fingers. "However, you still have much to learn."
He set his stone down in her defenseless place, dealing just as much damage to her as she had given him, the number of white pieces he picked up and set in his bowl like a knife stabbing her the same number of stones. She frantically searched the board, trying to find any openings she could, something she could use to win over him.
She sighed when she couldn't find anything and handed over a white stone to Nobunaga, who chuckled.
"Giving up already?"
Houki nodded, defeated. Nobunaga then set a black stone in her hand as well.
"You fought well, regardless of the results, Fireball. Hold your head high."
"T-thank you, my lord." She looked at the board again, counting the number of empty on her side. "Thirteen."
"Twenty-six."
Houki flinched at the number. Even with her handicap, Nobunaga still won by a large margin. She sighed.
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Abby
"Oh, is that a challenge I hear?" Arthur said, leaning his elbow on the table, his hand cradling his chin. He was far too much in Abby's personal space for her comfort, make the girl lean back and bite her lip.
"C'mon, love." Arthur leaned in further, "a simple card game? Surely you can give me the thorough thrashing I deserve."
"B-but, I just wanted to play with-"
"Leave her alone, you brute." Isaac grumbled, pulling him away by his coattails. "Abby and I were going to play a game just between the two of us. You don't need to be butting your nose in where it doesn't belong."
"Aw, c'mon, Newt! Haven't you heard the phrase, the more, the merrier?"
"Would you just bugger off and just let us play cards in peace?"
"Just between the two of you? That's no fun. Surely three playing would make it more exciting."
With the permission of neither player, Arthur pulled up a third seat between them and began shuffling the cards.
"We didn't want you to play because you win each time!"
Abby just sat quietly, her hands clutching her woolen skirt.
"So kids, what are we playing? Blackjack? Rummy? Some good ol' poker?"
"…Bl-Blackjack." Abby stuttered, keeping her head down.
Arthur smiled.
"Ah, the perfect game to play with three people!"
"We never said you could play too!" Isaac scolded.
"But you need someone to be your dealer, don't you?"
"You can play Blackjack just fine with two people!"
"But it's much more interesting with three people, Newt!"
"Stop saying that." Isaac grumbled.
"That said," Arthur smirked, "what should we wager?"
"W-wager?" Abby blinked in surprised.
"We're not betting anything!"
"Sure we are." Arthur smirked, "who's ever heard of a game of Blackjack without stakes?"
He then looked at Abby, watching as her cheeks warmed.
"What are you willing to put on the line, dearest Abigail?"
"I-I…."
"Stop intimidating her, you twat!"
"I-I… I can make something for whoever wins? Like some chocolate fudge… o-or a sandwich?"
Both Arthur and Isaac froze.
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Miri
"Miriam." Lucifer said, his voice low and sharp as steel.
She stepped back, knowing she had nowhere else to run. Solomon was on the ground, held down by Lucifer's spell. She felt hands brushing her shoulders, her only warning as long, cold fingers grasped her neck, choking her. Her feet then left the ground, putting her eye to eye to Lucifer blood red eyes.
"Lucifer, stop!" Mammon called out, only held back his younger brothers, their eyes full of fear as they clung to him in his Little D form.
"I want answers, Miriam." said Lucifer. "Who are you, really? Why are you here? Why do you have my Ring of Light?!"
Miri winced, trying desperately to uncurl his fingers, struggling for air.
"You know you'll kill her before get any answers if you keep that up, right?" Thirteen drawled with a sigh.
"Let her go, Lucifer! Please!" Levi called out, shaking just as much as Asmo, both trying their best to hold Mammon back.
"Silence!" Lucifer yelled, "are you challenging me too?"
Levi shook his head frantically. Lucifer turned back to Miri, still struggling to free herself.
"Answer me, Miriam." His hand clenched tighter, making her cough.
#krys's adventures in fanfiction#wip wednesday#ikemen sengoku#ikemen vampire#obey me#ikesen oc#ikevamp oc#obey me oc#houki of jiyel#nobunaga oda#abigail clarke (oc)#arthur conan doyle (ikevamp)#isaac newton (ikevamp)#miriam (obey me mc)#lucifer (obey me)#fictober is just around the corner aaaaa#am writing for that of course for the majority of october#so the wip wednesdays from that will follow along with those themes#the 100 themes will apply to the oc fics I write for fictober tho#bc the theme is fitting for october as well#so I couldn't just... not use it
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does anyone have any good nobunaga fic recs, well-written and preferably longer? i’m highkey loving on him rn
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When stars align
Fandom: Ikesen
Pairings: Nobunaga x Reader
Genre: Fluffffff
Words: 1200
Comments: Eeeeep guess what dayyy it is??? lolol! Eeeek so excited! Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤Hehehe its our sweet lil minekooos bdayyyyy! Happy birthday cutie! ❤ Hope you have the best day ever!!!! 😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈
.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:
They say when the stars align, time ceases to exist all together, and for the briefest of moments, it is as if the universe is smiling down and all is right in the world.
Or so it felt when he first spotted you wandering the marketplace of Echigo.
A strange face in the familial crowd. You stood out; of course, you did. With bold, bodacious movements, completely and utterly unbefitting of a woman of your stature. The precious mysterious Princess, who, seemed to have been conjured up from the dust of the stars above.
None was known of your background or origins other than the ridiculous claims Kenshin made about you being his sister. Emphasis on ridiculous. However, as far-fetched as the claims were, not even the slithering Mitsuhide could dig up any information regarding your identity. At the end of the day, Princess, or no, you were most certainly becoming the object of his curiosity.
"Could I have three bags, please," you politely asked the dark-haired stranger dressed from head to toe in gold, red and black with smiling eyes. Crouching down with muddied hem, you breezily examine the colourful confectionaries on the delicate bamboo mat.
"No," the simple word befell Nobunaga's lips as he met you gaze with a cocky grin. His eyes flickered with amusement while the lines of your face shifted rapidly between thoughts. What did he mean no? You gazed around sheepishly just to confirm you were indeed in the marketplace. Far be it from the first time you had mistaken a man's identity; however, in your defence, when you had thrown a coin in the stranger's cup of tea, he certainly looked like he had seen better days. Still, you never lived down the embarrassment as Yukimura laughed all the way back to the castle and continued to laugh into the evening, retelling the story of you mistaking an esteemed warrior for a simple beggar.
"W-what," you finally repeated, expression setting on that of a fish out of water.
He only smirked in response with glimmering eyes of mischief. Under the intense gaze, you started feeling awkward at best, and before you could question him again, he crinkled open a bag of sugar candies and poured them straight down his throat in one sweeping motion.
"These are not for sale," he spoke after munching and crunching down, lazing back on the mat as if he owned the world.
"However, if you are so adamant on a bag, come, join me for a game of GO."
Shocked. You were absolutely shocked at the audacity of this merchant.
"What is your name," you finally inquired with brows sinking further into a frown. You had known men of this time to be slightly arrogant, but this man took the cake. His ego lacked nothing as he continued nonchalantly.
"Beat me at a game fireball, and I'll tell you,"
He was intolerable, and you had half a mind of running back to the castle to snitch on the man; no doubt if Kenshin caught wind, he would be marching over without a second thought. You could just see it, the God of war making the man before you eat his words, but then again, you were no fragile lass, and somewhere along the lines of annoyance and curiosity, the sparks of competitive flames were lit within you.
"Fine, then." Came the huffed murmur as you plonked yourself down on the dust and sand, readying yourself with a crack of the fingers. Nothing like anger and frustration to hype the senses and sharpen the mind so you could efficiently school this man and teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.
You started off with all the confidence of an average, mediocre male of the modern world, grinning and clicking your pieces down with ease- but soon, the harsh realities of life hit. Confidence alone would not help you against him. Move after move, game after game, he stole your pieces. Dealing you with a crushing defeat.
"I demand a rematch," you grunted out after the tenth loss just as the sun was starting to kiss the horizon.
"Foolish woman, you cannot defeat me" he smirked at you from across the board.
"I can and I will!" You continued with eyes narrowed to slips of determination. You had long since forgotten the true purpose of your visit to the market, and it wasn't until the castle bell rang that you remembered. "Shit," you muttered under your breath, looking back towards the road home; you knew there'd be hell to pay if you weren't back before dark. You had one job, buy candy and sake for the banquet, and now it was too late to get either.
"Then tomorrow," Nobunaga stole your attention, leisurely rising to his feet and offering you a hand up. You gazed at the offered hand for a good few seconds before brushing it aside to help yourself up. You were, after all, a strong, independent woman; while you hated to admit it, the sting of defeat and loss was still fresh.
"You're upset about your loss?" Came his voice with hints of amusement and cashmere eyes
"I haven't lost anything! I'll be back tomorrow; just you wait!" Those were the last words uttered to the man as you raced back home, without even sparing a glance back
From that moment onwards, day after day, you returned to the merchant and day after day, you were dealt a crushing defeat. What started as a desire to deflate the man's ego morphed into a deep fondness. You had found out his name was Nobu and that he loved sugar. You also learned that he was ticklish and far sharper than anyone you had ever met. Through fleeting glances stolen during the endless games and stories told after every loss, you found your heart soared to the heavens whenever he was near.
However, no matter how high the heart flies, not even it can escape the laws of gravity, as what goes up must come down. And sure as the rotation of the sun and stars, time must once again tick forward. You were warned not to fall in love, and yet it felt as though nothing could stop it from happening.
"I will never love another as I have loved you, fireball," Nobunaga whispered as he held your hand steadfast, leaving you with a forehead kiss as storm and rain gathered around you.
"Please," you pleaded with eyes squeezed shut. You prayed, and prayed, and prayed, hoping, bargaining, wailing that you would be allowed to remain in the arms of the one whom you loved the most in the world.
"We shall meet again, in the next life, " and as those words were spoken, the consolations shifted, and time ticked forward once more.
And just like that, you were ripped from the world, a snuffed-out candle returned to your original time.
Your beady eyes watched the flickering of the single red and white striped candle nestled in a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Another year, another wrinkle and another wish to remain unanswered.
The tub was empty before your kettle even had time to finish boiling, and as such, you were on a quest to buy another. After all, it was your birthday, and calories never count on such days.
The endless streets were ghostly, and the evening breeze held a gentle hum. "We meet again, fireball," the winds seemed to whistle, and you were sure you had lost your mind.
If not for the familiar silhouette waiting beneath the lonesome streetlamp, you might have missed the night sky above and the stars coming back into alignment.
#ODA NOBUNAGA#nobunaga oda#ikesen nobunaga#ikemen sengoku nobunaga#mineko birthday!#ikesen fanfic#ikesen fic#ikesen#nobunaga#nobunaga x reader
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The Silence of the Maids
Requested by: @nuttytani
Characters: Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide (and an appearance by Sasuke)
Prompts: "It's behind me, isn't it" and Kabedon
Warnings: there may be a pun, or two.
Genre: crackfic... so very crackfic
Word count: 1200
It was a lovely Autumn afternoon in Azuchi, a beautiful day in the neighborhood, indeed. The sky was blue, a light breeze was blowing, and birds were chirping. Also, maids were screaming. We’ll get back to them in a moment.
Many of the warriors have taken advantage of the crisp weather to spar on the grounds near the gate. The gardeners were preparing for winter by pruning shrubbery. And those maids… still screaming.
Meanwhile, in the tenshu, an extremely important meeting was taking place – a meeting that could affect the future of relations between the Oda and the Takeda-Uesugi alliance.
“You want to… what?” Hideyoshi blinked at Nobunaga, unsure if he had heard him correctly. “Purchase all the konpieto and… the what?” The konpieto made sense. Nobunaga couldn’t stay away from the stuff. But…
“Pickled plums.” Nobunaga relaxed on cushion in front of his desk, not looking like he had lost his mind. He nodded to Mitsuhide. “Explain your idea to Hideyoshi.”
“My sources inform me that Kenshin’s weakness is pickled plums. And everyone knows that Shingen has a massive di… desire for sweets.” Mitsuhide rattled the papers his report, though this was more for effect than necessity. “By hoarding the entire supply in the country, we force both to the negotiating table and should have the upper hand in crafting an alliance.”
Hideyoshi glared at Mitsuhide. “Shingen’s weakness is women. I’m surprised you haven’t suggested we hoard all of those in Azuchi as well.”
With an unconcerned grin… no, smug, it was a smug grin, Mitsuhide instantly responded, “Excellent idea, Hideyoshi. After all, somebody is going to have to eat those plums.”
Deciding to ignore the bait, Hideyoshi turned back to Nobunaga. “Don’t listen to him, my lord, there are other strategies we can employ.”
“Dear me, Hideyoshi. Such passion. One wonders if you are not jealous that I thought of it first.” The smug morphed into smirk. “It is a sweet idea, a brilliant plan, if I say so myself, one that may cost money, but will save lives.”
Meanwhile… in the ceiling, a moderately awesome ninja, who happened to be spying on the meeting, winced, and thought to himself, That’s diabolical! Nor would that plan prevent the loss of life, for he was certain that if his employer were to be deprived of his favorite pickled plums, he would become homicidal. Er, more homicidal than usual. Well, his usual Kenshin-ness would be dialed up to eleven.
Meanwhile … (yes, another ‘meanwhile.’ There was a sale on segues at Acme Fanfiction Supplies) the maids were still screaming, and running frantically about the ground floor of the castle, while being chased by a fearsome beast…
The beast in question, was in reality a dazed and confused Shogetsu, who had escaped from another story (to be found here), and leaped into this tale. Covered in mud and dead leaves, and still under the effects of an anesthetic administered by Ieyasu, the poor tiger only wanted a little affection and a maybe a soft place to nap. A place away from the screaming.
The screaming, however spread throughout the castle, as rumors were born, grew to epic proportions, and by the time a frantic page delivered the news to the group in the tenshu, it was the news that a ravenous, hideous, ferocious monster was loose in the castle.
The meeting was adjourned immediately, and the three men reached for their weapons and followed the sounds of the screaming, eventually coming upon a gaggle of terrified maids, hiding out in a store room.
“Now,” Hideyoshi said, in his most soothing and calming voice (causing one maid to faint - or feint, even - into his arms). “One at a time. What exactly did you see, and where did it go?”
“It was horrible,” sobbed one maid. “Big. Hairy.”
“No, it wasn’t hairy. It was like a giant lizard and it shed it scales everywhere.” The disputing maid pointed to a few dead leaves littering the floor.
“And it had the most fearsome roar,” noted another maid.
This interrogation was interrupted by pounding footsteps, as another page skidded into the room. “It’s headed for the kitchens!”
Up until this moment, Nobunaga had appeared somewhat amused by the entire situation… amused and slightly intrigued over the possibility of facing down a hideous beast. But now, an expression of panic crossed his face. “My konpieto!”
He took off running, with Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide immediately behind. Above them, unheard over the screaming, the soft whisper of little ninja feet as the observer in the ceiling also rushed toward the kitchens. He was in fact, slightly concerned that Kenshin, hearing of Mitsuhide’s plot (because Shingen’s mitsumono were usually right on things when it came to rooting out Oda’s plans) had rushed to Azuchi and was single handedly raiding the stores for his beloved umboshi.
Upon reaching the kitchens, Nobunaga was relieved to discover no hideous beast was present. Still, just to be certain, he grabbed his sacred stash of konpieto, opened the jar, and looked inside.
“I really doubt that the beast in question could fit into that jar,” Hideyoshi pointed out, as he stared at Nobunaga from the doorway.
“Might I offer the suggestion that it could indeed, if it were a shapeshifter.” Mitsuhide peered into the jar as well. “Could be a Rokurokubi.”
“I’m beginning to doubt that there was a beast at all,” Hideyoshi said, with some exasperation, and no conception of dramatic irony, as Shogetsu had wandered up behind him. “It was all a plot to scam extra konpieto.”
Nobunaga and Mitsuhide looked at the “beast” behind Hideyoshi. Then they looked at each other. And back at him.
“In fact, monkey…”
“Interesting that you should bring that up now.”
“Because-“
Hideyoshi sighed. “It’s behind me, isn’t it?” He half turned, just in time for Shogetsu to notice the fluffy, white fur collar on the man’s haori. The herbs that Ieyasu had administered made him feel rather needy, wanting a little something-something.
White fur…. Lady Tiger!
Instantly enamored, the tiger leaped upon Hideyoshi, pinning him to the wall.
Ka-thonk!
“Kabedon!” the ninja in the ceiling whispered to himself. A true kabedon, in the wild. That would definitely go on his sengoku bingo card.
“Oof!” Hideyoshi said, as the weight of the tiger carried both of them to the floor. Shogetsu gave a nice long tongue bath to his new lady love, before resting his head on Hideyoshi’s chest, closing his eyes, and settling in for a nice, long nap.
Nobunaga reached into the jar, pulled out a handful of konpieto, and threw it into his mouth, biting down with a satisfied crunch.
“Er,” Hideyoshi called, from under Shogetsu. “A little… help here?”
With an amused grin, Nobunaga shook the jar, and offered some candy to Mitsuhide. “Konpieto?”
“Why, thank you, my lord.” Mitsuhide took a couple pieces of candy.
“You don’t even taste food!” Hideyoshi forced the words out between clenched teeth.
Mitsuhide rolled the candy around on his tongue. “That is, indubitably true, however, even I can tell that the flavor might be improved with a few fava beans and a nice chianti.”
Shogetsu began snoring.
“Tell me, my dear Hideyoshi,” Mitsuhide continued, “have the maids stopped screaming?”
#cursed bingo#anniversary celebration#follower celebration#ikemen sengoku#ikemen hideyoshi#ikemen nobunaga#ikemen mitsuhide#ikemen sasuke#crack fic#breaking the fourth wall#actually folding spindling and mutilating the fourth wall
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A fic concept:
Three thousand years of longing AU where you're a history professor specializing in Sengoku era particularly Oda Nobunaga's life and you're attending a conference in Kyoto. In your desire to buy a souvenir, you chance upon an old replica of Fudou Yukimitsu, a tanto once owned by Nobunaga, sold at an antique shop. You bought it, happy with your purchase (despite its being a little pricey). In your hotel room, you cleaned the short sword, but then lo! Smoke filled the whole room and after it dissipated Oda Nobunaga stood before you, wearing his most imperious expression.
"Oh? Someone dared summon me?" he began, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised, clearly skeptical. "Your ambition must be lofty, then. Very well, I shall grant you one wish. Let us hear it."
You blinked at this Nobunaga-lookalike and then glanced at the closed window. This cosplayer must've sneaked in as the smoke rendered you temporarily blind. You wondered about the state of security of the hotel.
When you returned to him, the man was radiating impatience and a hint of a frown emerged on his lips.
"I'm sorry," you finally said. "If you're trying to troll me because of my presentation this morning, I'm gonna have to report you to the authorities."
Nobunaga-lookalike didn't react for a moment. But then a smirk replaced his impatient frown.
"A scholar who studies my life?" he deduced. "And yet, who doesn't recognize the man standing here right now."
It turned out, he was the real deal. Oda Nobunaga. For some supernatural reason he became a youkai after the fires of Honnou-ji and was cursed to grant wishes to whoever summoned him from the (authentic!) Fudou Yukimitsu sword.
You, being an Oda Nobunaga scholar, found this to be wild but fortuitous. Here he was! In the supernatural flesh! He could answer all your burning questions! Take that, academic rivals!
Except, he refused to answer them because he didn't feel like narrating the story of his life. Too long, too juicy. So what you did was outline his life and just asked him if your knowledge was accurate and correct, after which you proceeded with interviewing him about his life as a youkai. He was still mum about it, and would rather hear your wish.
"But you're here," you said, "talking to me. It shouldn't be possible but here you are. This is like my greatest wish come true."
I don't know what happens after that. I guess Nobunaga stays and it's going to be a slice of life where he marvels at the progress of Japanese society as you try to gently nudge him into revealing his life as a wish-granting youkai. You both fall in love and there's going to be snu snu. At the end of the story you'll wish Nobunaga to be free of his curse and that will make him disappear. But being OP, Nobunaga uses his remaining youkai powers to make himself mortal again so he can live out his days with you. Happy ever after, the end.
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen#ikemen sengoku fic idea#ikesen fic idea#ikesen oda nobunaga#at one point in his youkai life a cat summoned him#nobunaga had to become fluent in cat language in order to communicate#turned out the cat was wishing for a can of sardines#that cat got a hundred
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I follow you through the ages.
The Devil King always keeps his word.
ㅤ"Even if it takes 500 years, I will prove to you that I loved you."
ㅤ
or: a different take on Nobunaga's dramatic ending.
wc: ~1800
June 21, 1582
The acrid smell of burning had long been familiar to Nobunaga. The fire of war as it quickly spreads through grass, the warmth of a brazier in the coldest of winters. Nobunaga knew one thing well: fire gave life just as it destroyed it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a figure approaching. Groggy as he is, he recognizes death from when he siced it upon his enemies. He recognizes it now as it comes to claim his life.
“Wake up!” A woman’s voice shouts. “There’s a man trying to kill you! Run!”
This woman is delicate, he thinks. His vision is clouded from the smoke, and he cannot see her all that well. Despite this assumption however, she is clearly both strong and fueled by panic as she navigates them through the burning temple. Nobunaga is nothing more than dead weight incapable of navigation. She helps him escape death.
“Mai,” he learns her name. Dance. The beautiful name dances across his tongue just as its meaning suggests it would. At that moment, he thinks she is nothing more than his next conquest. A woman to tease and test the wits of, to lay beside in his tenshu and win piece by piece over games of Go. He had kept many lovers such as Mai in the past. And yet, in a way he doesn’t understand, she claims his heart and swears she’ll always keep it close to her own.
“Our days are numbered, fireball.” Nobunaga mentions, once. 3 months from June 21 to September’s same day. 92, 91, 90, 89...
Mai firmly denies this. “I’m staying with you, Nobunaga. The wormhole can eat its own rain.”
And yet, the wormhole does not care for such sentimental mortal proclamations. It takes her anyway, it demands all of his strength to pull her back from its grasp. Yet what awaits her here in this age if he keeps her? The Warring States Period took lives and livelihoods, happiness, love and family indiscriminately. This is not an age he wants his fireball to live in.
“Mai,” he whispers, the name dancing off of his tongue. “I swear to you. Even if it takes 500 years, I will prove to you that I loved you.”
“Nobunaga?”
He lets her go. Another promise, unvoiced but deeply settled in his heart is made to her at that moment: I’ll live.
ㅤ
January 27, 1601
“You cheated me once,” Death tells him. Exhaustion and tired relief taint its voice. Nobunaga thinks he can hazard a guess as to why--
Death has been unsuccessfully chasing him for the past 20 years.
“I did.”
“A feat you managed to accomplish only with her help,” Nobunaga acknowledges this statement mutely and Death continues. “She isn’t here now.”
“I can live my life without her.” A lie. “I did so for 29 years.” Another lie. Looking back at those years in hindsight proves one thing to Nobunaga- he hadn’t really started living until he met Mai.
“Oh? Can you now?” Death smiles thinly, drawing the conqueror back to the conversation. It sounds vaguely like a threat.
A threat he need not acknowledge. In lieu of an answer, Nobunaga draws his sword.
The conversation ends as he wipes the blood of a concept from his blade.
ㅤ
January 10, 1610
The Warring States period is over, but also not. The lives of this town he now lives in are peaceful, but teetering on a thin edge.
The nation of Japan is holding its breath as they wait to see whether the battles between today’s daimyo will be the bookends of a long, bloody history or the reignition of another century of war.
Nobunaga would have been holding his breath too-- if only his eternal beloved hadn’t completely spoiled him on what she knew of their country’s history. It all ends after the Siege of Osaka 5 years from now. So no, today is not a day to whisper prayers for peace to gods he doesn’t quite believe in.
Today, Nobunaga finds himself milling about the marketplace of his current city of residence, picking out and paying for necessities his present life as an inconspicuous merchant demands. Food, drink, hygienic needs and, and-- ah he’s forgetting his konpeito.
A quick glance down the street is all it takes before he spots the handcrafted candy store- well-decorated yet stuffy but with a pleasant atmosphere all the same. Nobunaga has indeed become a regular to this establishment. He exchanges the correct amount of mon for two bags of their specialty candy and leaves.
“Excuse me! Excuse me! Sir!” The words echo down the street until eventually they’re right behind him. He turns around to meet the nuisance and the words die in his throat as he takes the sight in front of him in. A woman with long almond hair curling down to her waist and wide, innocent eyes. She wore a pink-colored kimono and a familiarly determined atmosphere.
“Sir? Sir? Um… hello, sir?”
“Ah, what is it?” He has to remind himself to respond before she walks away and thinks him a “weirdo” (as she herself put it once).
She points to his bag of purchases. “That konpeito, sir. You took the last of it. Would you perhaps let me buy it off you? I’ll double the price.”
Before he knows it a warm, bubbling laugh no one but she can elicit escapes him. She stares aghast and-
That is when it sets in that she is not acting. She truly does not remember him. Perhaps this is the threat Death had given him, now enacted. Despite his mirth, he is on the brink of anger. He pushes it down- whatever was going on here was most definitely not Mai’s fault. If he got angry, she was the only person who’d get hurt.
“I apologize. This question was unexpected.” He cannot help the lopsided smirk he feels on his face right now. “I am in no need of money right now, but I would be willing to give you these konpeito bags.”
“...If?” Astute as ever.
“If you can beat me in a game of Go.”
A competitive, confident glint shines in her beautiful eyes. “I do not know how to play Go, sir. You will have to teach me.”
Teach her he does.
Later that night, the clacking of stones sounds out throughout the inn, followed by Mai’s subsequent wails of defeat. Nobunaga gives her the konpeito anyway, on the agreement they’ll continue to play occasionally.
Mai agrees and introduces herself for the first time since they met that afternoon. All basic things he already knew about her- he “grins and bears it” as he introduces himself in turn.
Nothing romantic forms between this version of Mai and him. They meet up occasionally for rounds of Go in the evening and go out for tea some afternoons over the next 3 months. Then she moves away from the small little hamlet their daimyo called a “domain”.
ㅤ
July 16, 1740
Nobunaga has not seen a mirror in who knows how long. Despite this, there are still ways to figure out a rough estimation of his age. He is 29 years old, the same age he was in 1582.
"That's correct," a voice whispers in his ear.
He sighs.
“You were supposed to die at age 29. You’re still going to die at 29, like it or not.”
"Is that so?" A smirk tugs at his lips. Silence. "Well, if nothing else, I'd age and die with my fireball."
Death snorts, "The both of you have lived through times you were never even meant to see. Not with your own eyes. Indeed, you shall be perfectly matched-- if, and only if I do not claim you first."
Nobunaga positions his hand to draw his sword and he's alone again.
ㅤ
August 5, 1800
The Sakoku Decree has been enforced for almost 2 centuries.
It is especially felt in this tiny village that had once been a thriving port town, back in Nobunaga's original time. Quiet now. It has not welcomed any foreign ships in quite a while.
Not that Nobunaga cares. He has only come for safety -- Death will not find him here for a generation or two-- and to chase after rumors.
They say that there is a girl here who has recently returned from abroad, limitations on movement be damned. Those who have seen her say that her hair has lightened in a way that only the sun can do, and that she speaks with an accent not quite right for the area- an optimistic lilt in her tone.
Nobunaga can only think of one fireball who fits that description. He had to come see for himself.
It is a moonlit night when he meets her yet again. He relaxes under a tree with a book and feels the tickle of long hair falling on him.
Mai, he thinks, looking up at the familiar face. She is nearly leaning over his shoulder as she studies the text. The sheer nosiness startles a laugh out of him.
The face when she makes when she realizes she was caught is nothing short of adorable.
Not that he can really say that. He has to play his part.
"It's generally considered polite to introduce yourself to strangers, as opposed to sneaking up on them." He starts, teasingly.
He hadn't realized her face was capable of getting this red. Admirably, she still manages to stumble through an introduction.
"I couldn't help but notice that book you have there. It's about western inventions, isn't it?"
"It is." He confirms. "Sit beside me, let's study together."
And that's what they do for the next 3 months.
ㅤ
May 12, 1910
Death ducks under the swing of his sword.
A perfect slash-- a finishing blow had the dodge been a second too early or late.
It gives him a hard, chilling look.
"The next time you see her will be the last."
ㅤ
June 21, 20xx
It is only after a century of pondering and worrying when Nobunaga finally understands what Death meant by those last words.
They were not meant as a promise for revenge- not the way Nobunaga had heard so many times over in his long life. No. They were meant as a concession. An I surrender, you win.
Finally, after all this time being chased throughout Japan, he could have his happy ending with the woman in front of him.
The first Mai, his first lover. A lucky charm that had managed to open his heart, again, and again, and again.
And this time, she remembered. She remembered him and all the time they had spent together.
"You- you're here..." Mai trails off, disbelieving. Teary, almost.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” He answers. A thumb with more calluses than one could reasonably gain in a regular human lifetime reached up and gently wiped away her tears.
ㅤ
“Even if it took 500 years-
You- you’d prove to me that you loved me.”
ㅤ
He leans down to meet her, and captures her lips in a passionate kiss- one long coming after 5 centuries.
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen#ikesen nobunaga#ikesen oda nobunaga#ikesen fic#pesto scribbles#this is finally out of my drafts#at long last#the draft folder will miss you 10/21-5/22
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Aftertaste
I finally decided to write my own SLBP fanfic after 35969 years because Nobunaga's route has destroyed me and I love his character development. A little introspection on MC's feelings about the events so far. Loosely based on Nobunaga's Unification crossroads, contains spoilers for his Act 2 Destiny end.
Read it on Ao3 as well!
Sometimes she wondered if she’d made the right decision to follow the Lord of Hell backstage as the curtain closed on his final act. Or if he should, no, if he wanted to return to his stage.
Of course he didn’t, but MC thought a lot about what Nobunaga would do with all that hellfire in him, and the small voice in her head asked whether it would eat him up alive.
MC thinks about the events that have transpired so far, and questions her present while she reminisces the past. She looks deep inside herself, and finds answers.
It was on days like these where MC thought about everything that had led up to that moment.
It was moments like those, bathed in the orange and yellow hues of sunset, that brought back bittersweet memories — of Kiyosu castle, of the kitchen maids she worked with, and the Oda retainers bickering among themselves, and merry sounds of laughter echoing around the palace.
Whenever she walked through that lush clearing, when the wind tousled her hair, she'd look back and wonder what her life had come to.
And, how could she forget — that day when she sat with Nobunaga on his old tree, overlooking Owari and the lands he would conquer; the strength in his eyes as he spoke of his ambitions was nothing short of awe-inspiring; the blazing sunset on that day could not compare to the raging fire in his soul.
“Promise me, you will serve me until the day you die.”
That was a promise she’d never broken, one that she still served until now.
She never forgot all those jars of konpeito, those plates of castella that she personally brought to Nobunaga’s chambers all that time ago.
And now, they made konpeito in their humble little kitchen together while bickering over little things; he carried her groceries for her as they strolled around town; they built a home, a new life together.
They were just normal people now.
But every now and then, her thoughts would wander back to their old home — maybe Danming was home now, but when she glanced at the map over Nobunaga’s shoulder, she would think of Japan, of Owari, and see the faces of her family, of Inuchiyo, Mitsuhide, and everyone they’d left behind.
Sometimes she wondered if she’d made the right decision to follow the Lord of Hell backstage as the curtain closed on his final act. Or if he should, no, if he wanted to return to his stage.
Of course he didn’t, but MC thought a lot about what Nobunaga would do with all that hellfire in him, and the small voice in her head asked whether it would eat him up alive.
A booming voice calling her name snapped her out of her reverie. Looking up, she saw said man perched in his usual spot in his favourite gingko tree.
She’d seen him like this enough times to get used to it. But images from the past, of that day when she saw him like this for the first time, flashed across her mind, and bittersweet feelings resurfaced in her.
“Lord Nobunaga!” She cried out.
His usual piercing glare was soft, focused on somewhere she couldn’t see.
“You’re calling me that name again.” A faint smile graced his handsome features as he turned to her. “I’m just Nobu now.”
He looked more distant than ever, and it scared MC a little.
That’s the face of a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. That was someone who faced the cutting edge of the future with a glint in his eye.
And maybe he hasn’t changed at all.
She didn’t know why, but she found herself climbing up to meet him.
As she neared him, her arms were sore and tired, and she stretched a hand out to him.
He let out an exasperated chuckle. “What are you doing down there?” He reached down to pull her up the rest of the way.
It was oddly comforting, just sitting there next to him. And maybe that was what he needed.
So this is what it felt like to be on top of the world again, and maybe she understood why Nobunaga liked it so much. Now, the world felt so small as MC watched the endless hills and fields roll over the horizon, painted in the sunset’s colours. And she felt even smaller.
“It’s amazing…” MC mumbled as she turned to Nobunaga’s profile. His gunmetal grey eyes, once so cold, now had an odd warmth to them as they met hers; his soft garnet locks now grown out into a short ponytail —
“Foolish girl, what are you looking at?” He teased, lips forming into a smirk.
“Just enjoying the view,” MC replied, returning the gesture.
“Like it, do you?”
“Yes, very much.”
A comfortable silence, interrupted just slightly by the cry of Nobunaga’s sparrowhawk in the distance. MC smiled and sighed to herself. This was the peaceful life she’d always envisioned.
But through the tranquillity, she could almost feel the inferno that burned in him, spreading and warming her up inside, and she, a moth to a blazing flame — bright, consuming, unextinguishable.
Divine Rule was his play, and the world his stage. Here he was, on his throne atop the world, fit for the Demon King himself —
That wasn’t who he was, he’d given that up long ago, a moment in time swallowed up by the flames of Honnou-ji and his internal conflict.
MC told herself that she had stopped looking for Oda Nobunaga, because she loves this man called Nobu. But maybe she was missing him again.
The lingering warmth in his eyes, the eyes of a man at peace was what she saw.
Maybe he didn’t want to be found again.
Those thoughts would come and go, eventually fading, but never forgotten, just like the sweet aftertaste of sugar on her tongue.
They stayed just like that, watching the gingko leaves sway in the breeze, framing the sky around them; a picture frame of a memory, a moment between them forever cherished.
“You know, this reminds me a lot of when we first met,” MC stopped herself from saying, swallowing her words along with the uncertainty clouding her mind.
Frames of her memories resurfaced; Nobunaga’s kind smile, his warmth as they embraced, the sweet smells of the kitchen, the lingering taste of konpeito on their tongues.
And MC found her hand reaching for Nobunaga’s.
“Maybe I miss our old life, but I’m happy the way we are now. I’m happy here with you, Nobu.”
Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep asking herself all those questions anymore — her home was here, wherever he was.
#slbp#samurai love ballad party#oda nobunaga#slbp nobunaga#my fics#otome#cross posted on ao3#slbp fan fiction#feel free to reblog
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Monomania
Yandere Nobunaga x Reader
Synopsis: Nobunaga feels personally responsible for your well-being.
Warnings: yandere content, stalking, kidnapping, fem reader, murder, vry lightly proofread lol
7k words… @maggotzdilemma tagging u because i know ur nobu’s number one fan 🤭😍🤞🏼🤞🏼 this is officially the longest fic i have written to date lmao
Sometimes you think your manager has a brain the size of a peanut.
He wants to serve alcohol and install a drinks bar at the restaurant you work at. Something about bringing in more customers, though the decision would only convolute whatever the theme of this place was. Televisions mounted on the wall feature the sports channel and the radio plays a constant stream of elevator music. There’s still an aquarium featuring clownfish and a few damselfish from the days when your manager tried out an ocean theme for the restaurant and there are still last year’s Halloween Posters proclaiming a 15% discount if you showed up in your Halloween costume on one of the walls.
The restaurant is situated across a motel that’s mostly vacant, and frankly, it’s wholly unwelcoming to the locals. Your manager, who is also the owner of the restaurant, had the dream of running a high-brow establishment for only those with the finest of tastes. The best-selling menu item was the “Pancake-Bacon-Burger Combo” and the restaurant was lucky to ever have more than 10 customers at a time. There are only three waiters, you and two others, Frederick and Zaria. There are only three cooks as well, which on the miraculous days that there are more customers, becomes an issue in getting our food on time. Your manager handles it by standing in the kitchen and yelling “Hurry up”. The more you think about it, the more you come to terms with how much you hate working here.
You can’t stand your manager, who insists you’re “part of the family” by working at this dying restaurant. You dislike your coworkers, who either don’t show up or do a piss-poor job of cleaning up, adding to your responsibilities. You think you hate one coworker, in particular, the most. Frederick, a smarmy piece of shit who felt the need to comment on anything and everything you did. You loathe your waitressing uniform, the skirt often rose up and constantly needed to be pulled back down. The shirt your manager insisted you wear was also itchy, and you loathed having to wear a name tag, it always caught you off guard when a customer referred to you by your name. Like this customer was doing right now.
“Do you have any favorites on the menu, (Y/N)?”
“I don’t really eat here,” You confess, and you don’t think this man would eat here either if he knew the state of the kitchen. You’re near constantly worried the authorities are going to come and find out the certification on the wall declaring the restaurant passed the food and safety inspection isn’t real. You’re not about to tell him that though, lest you lose a valuable customer. You don’t particularly like him, he’s too friendly for a stranger, but he always tips you well. With the price of groceries steadily rising, you’re more inclined to smile warmly and leave a lingering hand on his shoulder if it means you’ll get more money. “But I’ve heard good things about chicken pesto crepes.”
“It’s good you don’t eat here, none of this stuff is really healthy.” He says, and you reflexively smile and nod along. Why are you eating here, then? You keep your thoughts to yourself and wait patiently with your notepad. “I’ll have that then.” He decides, and you jot that down. “And anything for a drink?” “Just water.” You write that down as well. “Alright, I’ll get that out for you soon.” “Thanks (Y/N).” You force another smile before going out the order in. It quickly fades once you're out of his view.
He makes a point to call you by your name, and you make a point of not calling him by his. He had introduced himself as Nobunaga early on, which you thought was a bit odd but you brushed it off. He wouldn’t be the first strange customer you had, and surely not the last. You feel as though you’re traipsing along a thin line with him; because you’re aware of the repercussions of getting too friendly with customers. Customers who think your smiles and kind words are from your heart and not a job requirement. Nobunaga wasn’t bad per se, but you’d rather not interact with him more than you had to. He quickly became a regular here, coming in at minimum two times a week. You’re not sure he even likes the food, he almost never finishes it but he tips heavily.
You initially thought he just had extra jenny on hand and liked to support a small restaurant. After talking to your coworkers, you found out that he never tipped when they served him. Pretty often, he came in here with some other dangerous-looking men you were less than eager to serve. Unfortunately, you’re always made to be their server, and despite their rough appearances, they were polite enough. They tipped nicely, though you always got the feeling they were talking about you. They never did anything, never crossed any lines that would break the customer-server relationship you tried to hold, though Nobunaga certainly teetered on the edge of it.
Today, the restaurant is almost empty save for Nobunaga and a few other patrons, all scattered around the seating area. You almost wish it were more full, so you had something to distract yourself instead of repeatedly cleaning the bathrooms or waiting idly for someone to come in. Whenever Nobunaga was here, you got the feeling he would watch you the whole time. You’re not sure if he actually is or if you’re just being paranoid and judging an overly familiar customer too harshly. Still, the suspicion is enough to make you retreat into yourself. The order is given to the chefs in the kitchen, and you’re left to stand behind the front desk while they make it, ruminating on your career choice.
The prospect of finishing your degree soon and being able to find a job in your field motivates you to not outright quit. It had been hard to find work to begin with, and this place pays decently. Enough to fund your cramped apartment and your other necessities. Besides, it’s only temporary, you won’t be working at a failing restaurant for the rest of your life. The promise that this isn’t forever, that you won’t have to put up with bothersome customers or annoying coworkers, it’s the reason you even bother showing up. You’ll be able to make more money and move out of your apartment complex, maybe buy a car.
You’re drawn out of your thoughts by the sudden remembrance that you could kill time by checking your texts. You fish your phone out of your back pocket, looking for any new messages. There are only two, both from one of your friends- rather, your only friend: Sandra.
“Call me once you’re home.”
“Craziest thing happened at work rofl.”
Intrigue fills you and you shoot a text back, confirming that you’ll pick up her call once you're home and finished with your college work. You’re only taking two classes this semester, being a part-time student and all. You were taking three to try and finish your degree faster, but quickly found out that two was enough and you had to drop one. Luckily, the two you’re taking aren’t particularly heavy courses and your professors were willing to be flexible with their schedules and understanding of your situation. All you really had at home was a discussion post online and some light reading, not too bad. You’re once more drawn out of your thoughts when the food is ready and you’re called to bring it over to your least favorite customer.
Just four more hours till you could go home.
-
Sandra’s voice fills your small kitchen as she chats away on speaker, detailing how her workday went. The phone is left on the counter a few inches away from you You listen to her as you cut yourself some tomatoes to add to your dinner. “And I didn’t even know he was Steph’s husband because he was telling me he was single, so I laughed and I didn’t mean to-” You focus on her words, and briefly forget that you’re holding a sharp knife. The result of your carelessness was a shooting pain in your finger. “Fuck!” You hiss in pain, letting go of the knife, Sandra stops mid-story, sounding alarmed. “What? What happened?”
“I cut my finger, ugh, hold on.” You say into the phone, walking off to get a bandaid from your first aid kit. You grimace in pain, the cut isn’t deep at all but it hurts like hell. You fish the kit out of a closet and fumble your way into getting it open and getting a bandaid out, going back to the kitchen to run the cut under some water before drying your finger and firmly taping the bandaid on. You’re thankful it wasn’t your dominant hand and that you hadn’t cut yourself any deeper, or worse, cut your fingertip off.
“Is your finger okay?” She calls through the phone, and you apply pressure onto your bandaged finger for your own comfort. “Yeah, yeah it’s fine, what happened with Stephanie’s husband?” You try to shift focus away from your mishap and back to Sandra’s accidental entanglement between a married couple. “You really need to be more careful,” She reprimands before getting right back into the story, and you clean up the chopping board before returning to making dinner.
The next morning begins with you waking up to the sound of your alarm, sunlight beginning to peek through your curtains. You sit up in bed, shutting the alarm clock off, and rolling your shoulders to stretch. 8:00 AM, your shift started in three hours, which meant you had two hours to get ready and one hour to get there. A bus stop was near your apartment complex, but the closest one to your job was still a fifteen-minute walk away from the restaurant.
Stumbling into the bathroom, you go about your routine. There’s minimal difficulty when it comes to washing your face with the bandaid around your finger and you eventually just take it off, deciding to change out the bandage. The cut had healed though it still looked quite ugly. You slap some antibiotic ointment on it to prevent any infection and to help with the healing before taping it back up. Next on the agenda is breakfast.
You stick some frozen pancakes into the oven, turn the heat up, and set a fifteen-minute timer. The thought of getting fancy with it and adding some sliced strawberries or whipped cream comes to you, and lucky you, you have strawberries on hand. You get a few out from the refrigerator, giving them a quick rinse before bringing them to the chopping board. You’ll definitely be more careful with the knife this time, the bandage wrapped around your index finger is a reminder of your previous carelessness. When you go to get a knife, you don’t find one. You only had two kitchen knives, and one should have been in the washing machine, but that too is knife-less. Had you misplaced your belongings again?
You look through your cabinets and for the life of you, you cannot find the kitchen knives. You don’t have time to search your whole kitchen over some utensils, though losing your possessions does frustrate you. It seems you’ll have to settle with your butter knives for now, though you’ll do a thorough search of your home for the missing kitchen knives. They have to still be here, you hadn’t thrown them out, and it’s not like someone would break in just to steal some dull knives. Today's breakfast is just regular pancakes with strawberries on the side, you would have added whipped cream if there was any leftover.
The next few days are entirely uneventful, thankfully Nobunaga doesn’t come in but neither does anyone else save for a family of tourists. Turns out they were just stopping in the area for some gas and decided to eat lunch here. You’re able to get tomorrow off too, wanting to spend the day getting ahead in your classes. You were pleasantly surprised that your manager said yes, much to Frederick’s annoyance.
After the mandated eight hours, your shift comes to a close and you’re already throwing off your apron and gathering your belongings to head out the door. You shrug on the jacket you brought with you, this morning had been particularly cold and you anticipated the evening to be equally chilly. Night had already fallen by the time you walked to the bus stop, and within a few minutes, your ride was here. You get on and pay the fare, offering a polite look to the bus driver before you take a seat near the front. The bus was somewhat full this time, there was only one seat that was empty and wouldn’t require you to sit next to someone else.
The bus rolls to another steady stop at a different stop after ten minutes or so, letting the people on once the fare was paid. You don’t pay attention to who's coming on, nor do you look away from your phone. You’re forced to look up when a man sits next to you, with short brown hair and a blouson jacket. Neither of you says anything or even so much as looks at the other. Eventually, the doors close as the bus fills up, and the bus continues to drive down the road on its route.
Nobunaga grits his teeth, tensing up in the bus seat. He should’ve sat next to you, he wonders if you wish he had. He hadn’t wanted to be too obvious, but if he had known another man would’ve sat with you, he wouldn’t have chosen to sit a few rows back. Nobunaga wonders if you feel the same; if you’re hurt that he sat somewhere else. He’s sorry. You must be so uncomfortable, he can just imagine that creep next to you undressing you with his eyes. His eyes never leave that man, even if he doesn’t have a very good view. Nobunaga swears he’ll kill him.
The bus ride, for you at least, is entirely uneventful. You make mild small talk with the man next to you, who isn’t particularly chatty himself. He’s cordial though, and your conversation dies comfortably. When the bus rolls up to your apartment complex, you somewhat awkwardly shuffle past the man to get to the aisle and get off the bus. You get off and make the small walk to your apartment complex, unaware of the inner turmoil you’ve caused your stalker.
-
You don’t wake up until sometime past 9:30 the next morning, and before you can even get on with your plan of opening up your laptop and textbook, your phone lights up with a text. You reach for it on your bedside table and decide to see who it is, your heart sinking upon seeing the contents of the message.
“I know you said you could have the day off, but we really need you to clock in. Lots of customers. Please be here within an hour.”
You groan, considering the idea of sending your manager a nasty voice memo back. You really don’t want to come to work, even if you technically don’t have to get ahead in your classes today, you were really betting on having a relaxing study day. You let out an exasperated sigh and send the most corporate-friendly response you can muster; confirming that you’ll come to clock in today. You trudge to your bathroom, going about your routine once you’ve put your clothes on. All that’s left is to put on your makeup.
It’s all gone.
Not even your mascara or lip gloss was there; it’s like you never owned any to begin with. You can feel yourself panicking as you go back and forth between your room and your bathroom, even checking inside your purse for any of it. Your pocket mirror was gone, and your lipstick, even the eyeshadow palette you splurged on is missing. All you have is your cherry lip balm that’s in one of the pockets of your purse. You barely have any time left before you have to leave and hopefully catch a bus, you don’t even know if there will be a bus coming at this time. Your palms sweat with an anxiety that tears a hole in your gut. Has someone broken in and stolen your makeup? Why just your makeup? Your most expensive item was something you got at a department store for 50% off.
You’re tempted to call your manager and tell him you can’t clock in after all, and that he should go fuck himself because he said you could have this day off. You’ve already gotten dressed, and you don’t think your manager would like it if you went back on your word. You go and back forth on the idea, choosing to just grab your purse and a breakfast bar and try to get to work already. It’s just makeup, it’ll be fine. You can buy more. Everything’s going to be fine, your items will turn up eventually, they have to.
You’re lucky to catch the bus to work, though you still end up being around half an hour late. The restaurant is a bit more crowded, though not packed or anything. Instead of being met by your manager at the front door, you’re met with the bane of your existence: Frederick.
“You look like a dead person,” Frederick says plainly, looking you over. “Good morning to you too, Fred.” You say wryly, tired eyes glaring at him. “It’s afternoon, actually.” He says all smarmy-like, and you think about dropping your things and jumping on top of him to choke him out. “Whatever.” You snap, going into the employee room to get your apron and put it on. Frederick follows you, seeming to have more to say. “Your favorite customer’s been here waiting for you, he didn’t want me to serve him.” He says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. “He’s been sitting there for ten minutes, I told him you were just running late.”
“What the hell?” You tie the half apron back, letting it conform to the shape of your body. “Yeah, I don’t think he even wants to eat.” Your coworker says, taking in a sharp breath. “Anyway, the bathrooms need cleaning too, pretty sure someone messed them up real bad.” With that, Frederick leaves you to your own devices and you grimace at his words. Always a pain in the ass.
You’re not sure if Nobunaga wants you to say something about being late or him waiting for you specifically, but you don’t. His hair is down today, and you can get a better look at it. Long, dark, and wirey. It frames his near-gaunt face nicely. “You look prettier without makeup,” He says when you walk over with your notepad, a mousy smile on his face. Nobunaga looks oddly pleased with himself, and it sends a shiver up your spine. You let out a strained “thanks” and ask him what he’d like to order. Nobunaga does the same thing he always does, asking you for your opinion and what you recommend, and you pick out a random menu item for him. He has a content expression on his face when you write it down on your notepad and go to give the order to the chefs.
Before you go, he stops you by physically grabbing your wrist. His grip isn’t tight, but it startles you anyway. “Ah, yes?” There’s a slight tremble to your voice, which you detest. Nobunaga doesn’t seem to pick up on it, you wonder if he even realizes how uncomfortable he’s making you. “Was that guy bothering you? The other waiter?” He asks, once again overly concerned with your personal affairs. “Huh? Frederick? No, he bothers everyone.” You say light-heartedly, though Nobunaga’s expression hardly changes. He still seems put off by the possibility that you’re being harassed by your coworker. “If you’re sure.” He only hums in acknowledgment, letting go of your wrist so you can go put in his order.
For once, Nobunaga doesn’t stick around after you give him his food, and you wouldn’t see him for a few days, not until the next week. Once your shift is over, you decide tonight you could walk home. It’d be a long walk, nearly an hour, but you oddly don’t mind tonight. Walking is never a bad thing, you guess, and your area wasn’t totally unsafe. The streetlights were near constantly on, and you’d like to think the taser in your purse would be able to keep you safe. The drugstore is on the way home, you could stop there and buy some new makeup. Not a lot, just the bare basics. Maybe a new sleep shirt too if they had any in stock.
When you finally arrive, you make a beeline to your favorite aisle. You stare at the makeup lining the entire wall, in awe at all of your options. You’ve been to the drugstore many times, and you never tire of it. A few of the essentials are already in your shopping basket, plus a few extras for the fun of it. A hand lotion, some nail polish, and a chocolate bar are all added to your shopping basket along with the makeup. There had been some shirts and pajamas on a small rack, but none of them were particularly appealing to you.
A lip liner that would compliment you perfectly catches your eye, and you take a better look.
You stare at it for a while, discerning your options. You could buy this overpriced lip liner and get amazing use from it, or you could save your money. You go back and forth with this, eyes flitting around for a similar liner at a cheaper price, but the cheaper ones just aren’t the right color. Ultimately, you decide that it’ll probably still be here the next time you come with more money, and you take what you have to the cashier to pay for them.
You leave, carrying your bags and walking the familiar route to your apartment complex. You’ve memorized the area you lived in by now, not having a car and not always being able to rely on public transportation has led you to have pretty good navigational skills. The bags hardly weigh anything, you can hold them both in one hand with your purse on your other shoulder.
Nobunaga grimaces, walking behind you on your way home. That creep on the bus scared you away from using public transportation, so you were walking home in the middle of the night. Nobunaga wonders if you have any idea how much danger you’re in, clearly you don’t if you’re walking so carelessly. The streets weren’t exactly empty nor were they poorly lit; the streetlights were on and there were a few people here and there, but still. You shouldn’t have even been working, it’s clearly taking a toll on your body. He wishes he could go up to you and take your bags so you wouldn’t have to carry them while walking. You would feel more at ease then if you knew you had him to walk you home. Something holds him back, preventing him from doing so. Reluctance, maybe.
He wonders if you have any idea how much you stress him out, how your naivety physically pains him. It’s cute in a way, it fuels his need to preserve you, to keep your perceived innocence before it’s snuffed out by this world. Nobunaga worries he’s already starting to lose you, he had thrown out your makeup for a reason, but all you thought to do was go replace it. Even when you get to where you live and go inside, Nobunaga still isn’t entirely at ease. He really hopes you at least take the elevator instead of the stairs, he doesn’t trust you to not trip and somehow hurt yourself.
For now, he forces himself to retreat. At least you’re home, and you got there safely. There’s still work for him to do on his end after all.
-
The next day at work is slow.
Customers come in and out, and you dawdle around the establishment while waiting for your shift to end. You convinced your manager to change the channel on the televisions to something else, though he wouldn’t let you raise the volume. He didn’t want to disturb the nonexistent customers. Nobody came in past 6:00, so you spent the evening at work watching a sitcom with the volume so low you had to strain your ears to pick up what the characters said. Thank God for subtitles.
Frederick went on his lunch break around three hours ago and had yet to return. He usually went to eat somewhere else at a fast food chain close by, but today he hadn’t returned five minutes early as he always did. He was usually very punctual about these sorts of things, he would have at least said something if he had to go home early. It wasn’t anything you cared enough about to worry too much over, but it left you a bit anxious as to his whereabouts. Both you and Zaria were left to take on his workload as well (which was hardly anything, but still). Your manager seemed more concerned that he wasn’t getting good use out of his employees over the possibility that something bad happened to Frederick.
It isn’t until the day comes to a close and you all begin to clean up to shut the restaurant down for the night. One of the chefs already left, and you were cleaning down some tables when you heard Zaria screaming at the top of her lungs. She had gone out to the back to throw the day's trash into the dumpster when she began screeching frantically, hardly able to get any words out. You all rushed over to try to see what happened, but she kept demanding someone call the police, shouting at the top of her lungs that Frederick was dead.
It wasn’t until Zaria called down from her hysterics that she blurted out what she saw. Frederick had been beheaded, his head in clear view by the dumpsters. The rest of his body was close by, his head having traveled quite a distance. Supposedly, his head had been sliced clean off, most likely in one cut. It’s an unusual death, and it was quickly ruled as a homicide.
It puts you in a state of shock and horror, and you’re left with so many questions. Part of you expected it to be some sort of bad prank, but neither Frederick nor Zaria had ever pulled a prank of any kind. It doesn’t feel real that your coworker is now dead, even if you weren’t really close with him. You feel almost apathetic, and you curse yourself for it. You didn’t like Frederick, and though you don’t feel particularly saddened or hurt by this, it's still shocking and scary to know someone died- was murdered, in such close proximity. You feel sorry for his family and for Zaria for having stumbled upon the scene.
You hadn’t been allowed to leave until the police got there and even after being ushered out of the restaurant, were kept around to answer any of the questions the responding officers had. Your manager mostly took over that part, but every employee was spoken to if only for a few minutes. Eventually, you were allowed to leave when they zoned off the restaurant and deemed everything as potential evidence. An officer offered to drive you home, seeing as it was now nearing midnight, and you allowed it. The drive was mostly silent, he made brief small talk while you sat in the back of the squad car. You gave him your address and he tapped it into his GPS, taking you to your apartment. You thanked him and numbly walked inside, and he drove off once you did.
You shut your apartment door once inside after you got up to your floor, thankful to be home. All you want to do is take a long shower, it’s on the forefront of your mind as you kick your shoes off and drop your purse onto the couch before heading to your bedroom. It’s possible to push the day's events away, if only so you don’t have to think about what happened. You dig through your dresser for some clothes to preemptively lay out so you won’t have to do it after your shower. New underwear, socks, comfortable shorts, and your favorite sleep shirt.
…If you could find said shirt, that is.
You double-check everything, wondering if you put it in the wrong place. It should be here, you know it’s here. You go through your laundry hamper, just in case you’ve already worn it and just forgot, or maybe if you mistakenly tossed it in there. It’s not there, and it’s not under your bed or anywhere else in the room. You feel like you’re going crazy, between your kitchen knives and your makeup, and now Frederick’s death, it’s like you’re constantly being pushed to the edge. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you pose a different theory as to why your shirt isn’t where it should be.
Perhaps you left it in the complex’s laundry room down in the lower floor. It pains you to think about having forgotten it there, that someone might have taken it. It is just a shirt, but it had some sentimental value, plus it was really comfortable. You decide that you’ll just have to cut your losses and buy a new one, but it can’t hurt to double-check the laundry room. Just in case it is in there. You go put on some slippers and head out the front door, taking the stairs to the laundry room.
The communal laundry room is empty and quiet except for the electric hum of the lights and a few washing machines running their cycle. There’s a plastic bin in the corner that has been the “lost and found” bin, and it doesn’t look like your shirt is in there. It’s mostly empty aside from some socks, a child's jacket, and a pair of boxers. You look around anyway, and eventually, you go back up to your room, feeling defeated. You suppose you’ll just have to go buy a new one, though part of you hopes you’ll find it soon. That it will magically appear once more. It still puts a further damper on your mood, and you wonder if this is anything to call the police over. You try to downplay it, refusing to believe it’s anything serious. You just misplaced some items, surely. These types of things don’t happen to people like you, they just can’t.
The next day, you get a call from the local police department. They want to talk to you about Frederick, and you manage to get there that afternoon. The lead investigator, the one who spoke with you on the phone, is there to lead you to a room to ask questions. It’s nicely decorated, unlike the bare interrogation rooms, it has comfortable chairs and paintings of flowers on the walls. There’s a lamp resting on a coffee table as well as a bowl of hard candies. A soft interview room, they call it. You’re joined by a second investigator, and they begin asking the routine questions.
You tell them about the restaurant, how the owner can’t decide on a theme, and how it’s not the ideal place to work, staff were never outright mistreated. You say what you can about Frederick’s relationship with the customers and with everyone else, how he wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he wasn’t so annoying that someone would want to kill him. One of the investigators asks if he had any enemies, and you tell them that you don’t think so, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Frederick managed to piss off the wrong person. No matter how intelligent he tried to present himself, the man really lacked any sort of street smarts.
They ask you if anything abnormal has happened to you; if you’ve noticed anything odd in your personal life. If you could think of any reason as to why Frederick was killed; if it was a random attack or a targeted murder. You tell them that you really don’t know, and you leave out the disappearances of your personal items or the customer who seemed slightly too interested in what Frederick tells you. You can’t imagine in any world that those would hold any relevance, and you didn’t want to clog up their investigation with things that didn’t matter. It was hard enough to figure out what exactly happened, especially because it turns out the security cameras at the restaurant didn’t save any of the recordings it took, only having a live feed. Turns out your manager cheaped out on that as well.
The interview takes longer than you would have expected, around four hours in total. It turns out they had a lot of questions, and they made mostly relevant small talk with you in between. There was a lot of leaving the room and coming back in from both investigators. They were taking their time, seeming to take this very seriously. By the time it was over, you returned to your apartment with barely enough energy to make yourself something quick and easy to eat. You didn’t even notice how your new makeup had been thrown into the trash or the additional missing clothes from your wardrobe.
Upon waking up the next morning, the first thing you do notice is the hair on your pillow. Just one, long and wiry, it’s certainly not one of yours. You know what your hair looks like, and it isn’t this. You sit up immediately, intrigued but not completely alarmed by the discovery. Not yet. It can’t be one of yours, surely not? You feel it between your fingers, it’s thick and if you look closely you can see where it broke off of the original strand. There isn’t a reasonable explanation for it that you can think of right away. Did someone else come to sleep in your bed? You don’t think it was here last night.
When you go into the bathroom, you notice another hair, seemingly of the same texture, lying limp in your sink basin. Have these always been here, and you just haven’t noticed? You forcefully push the shower curtain back, scanning the inside of the shower for any stray hairs that you can’t identify as yours. Before you can make a fair assessment, your phone begins to ring from another room. You go to pick it up, hitting the accept button and holding it close to your ear. You hadn’t even checked to see what the caller ID was.
“Hey! I know this is super sudden, but do you want to see a movie later? The theater is having a sale on tickets today,” Sandra’s voice comes through the other end, energetic and upbeat. “You don’t have work today right?” You glance at the clock, seeing that it’s 11:24 in the morning. It’s a damn good thing you don’t have work, you totally forgot to set an alarm. “Yeah no, I’m totally free today.” You confirm, relaxing a bit. “I’d love to, got a specific movie in mind?” “I think they’re showing that new one, you know? With the guy?” Sandra says, and you roll your eyes. “Yes, I know exactly which one you’re talking about, thank you for being so specific.”
“The one with the vampire! And they’re on the beach!” You still don’t know what she’s talking about, but you continue to humor her. “It’s showing at… 9! 9 o’clock tonight, we should go see it!” “How much are the tickets?” You ask, biting your lower lip. “Only around 400 Jenny!” That was cheap, you probably had that much in pocket change. “Alright, you’ll have to drive me there though.” You tell her, and Sandra seems more than delighted to do so. “Totally, I’ll come pick you up at 8:30?” “Sure, that’ll be perfect.” Shortly after, the call ends and you’re left with the rest of the day to get ready for some, from the sounds of it, vampire chick-flick.
-
When the movie ends, you and Sandra stop to get some food before driving back home. She drives you back home, the car ride filled with talk about the movie, mostly her gushing over the hot actor that played the male lead. It’s late at night, nearing two in the morning by the time you’re dropped off at your apartment. The movie had been particularly lengthy, and you and Sandra had plenty of catching up to do over your late-night dinner after. She instructed you to call her once you got home, and you keep repeating yourself to do it once you get inside your apartment so you don’t forget.
You fiddle with the key for a moment, eventually getting it in and turning the lock. You close and lock the door behind you, removing your shoes at the door and putting your items down. It’s nice to be back home, you’re more than exhausted and ready to just go to bed. You set your purse on the couch, flicking on the living room light so you can see around your own apartment. You head to your own room first, desperate to change out of the outfit you wore to the theater, and once you do you head back to the living room to retrieve your phone.
You’re immediately on edge once more when you hear what sounds like a footstep coming from somewhere behind you. You pause in dialing her number, almost frozen in the moment of consternation. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and even though you don’t feel a presence in the home, you’re sure someone else is here. Before you can turn around or react, there’s a pair of strong arms curling themselves around you and pulling you back against a broad chest. “There you are.” The man says, audibly relieved for a reason you aren’t sure why. You swear you recognize his voice, though you can’t put your finger on it until you clear through the sudden panic that’s been forced upon you.
One hand covers your mouth to prevent you from screaming, another around your torso, holding your arms down as well. In your shock you drop your phone, cursing yourself mentally for it. Your blood rushes through you as your fight or flight response kicks in. You kick back at his shins, and he lets out a low hiss in pain before trying to compose himself again. His grip tightens to the point of being painful and you let out a choked gasp into the palm of his hand. “Hey, relax, it’s just me.” At that moment, you’re able to pinpoint who it is, and another rush of fear comes over you. Before you can even say anything, Nobunaga is already fishing out a chloroform rag out of his back pocket.
The rag of chloroform is gingerly forced against your mouth and nose, his hand firmly cupping your face to keep it in place despite your frantic attempt to get away. Nobunaga’s impossibly strong, you might as well not be trying to fight back at all. “It’s okay, just breathe baby, you’re okay.” He shushes you, trying to maintain a soft voice as if that’ll help you feel better about the circumstances. The chloroform doesn’t kick in right away, it doesn’t seem to even have an effect at first, not until he continues holding it against you. The longer it’s there, the more lightheaded you feel.
“I knew you were the one ever since I saw you,” He murmurs into your hair, pressing you further against him. You continue to struggle, letting out a muffled wail. Nobunaga’s hold is already so tight that you can barely move. He gives no indication that your attempts to fight back bother him, it’s as if he doesn’t even register it. “Just relax, it’s not going to kill you,” He says with humor in his voice. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.” As if this was some set-in-stone fact, something you should have already known.
The longer this goes on, the longer he keeps confessing his obsession with you and trying to convince you that it’s true love, the less you can feel your legs and your consciousness begins to fade out. Nobunaga can feel it, how you’re forced to relax and his grip only slightly slackens. It’s still strong enough to support you, though he’s less concerned with you trying to weasel out of his arms. “There you go, see? It isn’t so bad.” He croons, and there’s a satisfied smile on his face at the sight of you. All weak and slipping out of consciousness, ripe for the taking.
Your last bit of consciousness (at least for the time being), is spent in Nobunaga’s arms, with him making a variety of promises on how he’d “take care of you”, whatever that meant. An awful sense of hopelessness washes over you as you realize the finality of your situation. The rag is removed from your lower face when your eyelids fall shut for the final time, and Nobunaga is far too pleased with the outcome of things. A rush of energy going through him, because finally, you’re right where he wants you- where you belong, where you deserve to be. All he has to do is get you home, he wonders if you’re as excited as he is.
You only hope he holds true to his promises of not hurting you.
#nobunaga x reader#nobunaga hazama x reader#Yandere nobunaga#Yandere nobunaga hazama#Yandere nobunaga x reader#Yandere nobunaga hazama x reader#hxh x reader#Yandere hxh x reader#hunter x hunter x reader#Yandere hunter x hunter#Yandere hunter x hunter x reader#Yandere x reader#x reader#reader insert#Yandere fic#Yandere#_hxh#_nobunaga
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Whumptober Day 4
Taroutachi makes a cameo /j to be serious tho, Magara's demise was actually really sad even tho he's on the opposing side.
Prompt(s): Dead on Your Feet (Hidden Injury) (4)
Fandom: Nobunaga no Shinobi
Character(s): Magara, Yamazaki (mentioned)
Warning(s): non descriptive mention of injury
#whumptober 2022#no.4#dead on your feet#hidden injury#nobunaga no shinobi#ninja girl and samurai master#fanfic#fanfiction#fic
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New Beginnings
a fic I wrote in earlier in the year for Suiren's birthday :D
Mafia AU, Nobunaga x reader
Warnings: kidnapping, captivity, stalking, delusional Nobu strikes again
Word count: 3.8k
The flowers probably weren't salvageable, Nobunaga thought to himself.
He'd intended on them being a nice gesture, something to make you feel more at ease when you saw them. Instead, they were the first thing you knocked over after he grabbed you in order to keep you from running out of his quarters.
A mess was all that remained of his gesture: the water that had quickly soaked into the carpet while the spider lilies and bits of broken vase were strewn about. A mess that needed cleaning up, but one that he'd been unable to get to for….. Damn, a few hours now.
Turning his attention away from the time and back to you, Nobunaga did feel a little bit of relief.
This whole thing had been a little chaotic, but at least you had finally calmed down now.
After spending hours fighting against Nobunaga, struggling in his grip and crying and just trying to get away from him after the harrowing experience of being kidnapped, you had stilled as you finally sat motionless in his lap with your back leaning against his chest. You still sniffled from time to time, a few stray tears still rolling down your cheek, but you weren't actively trying to escape him anymore.
Nobunaga's arms were still wrapped around you, but once you had settled some, he had placed one hand on your head to softly stroke your hair.
“Finally tired out?” he asked.
You didn't give a response. Earlier, when you'd been fighting him, you had tried to scream as loud as you could, hoping that the noise might get some help sent your way. Nobu had anticipated this, and one of his hands clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams as he told that you'd be disturbing the others on the floor if you did that. It seemed that because of that, you didn't want to answer him now.
Nobunaga tilted his head at you, saying your name in a questioning tone.
“Don't ignore me now,” he said, “talk to me.”
You shook your head.
He considered you for a few moments before he sighed.
“I know that wasn't the best way to bring you here,” he said, “but others had become aware of you. I couldn't risk leaving you out there while enemies knew about our relationship.”
That seemed to strike a nerve.
“What fucking relationship?” you hissed, “I don't even know you.”
“You know that isn't true,” he replied, “I saw you almost every day last week.”
“Yeah, and it was weird as hell to see you outside my apartment almost every day,” you snapped, “you stalking me doesn't count as us having a relationship.”
Nobunaga sighed.
“I hate to go playing the blame game,” he began, “but you do know that I needed to do that since you wouldn't talk to me, right?”
“You didn't need to do that!” you spat, “you could've just accepted that I wasn't interested and left me alone!”
“We made a connection-”
“No we didn't,” you insisted, interrupting him, “you're not my boyfriend, I'm not your lover; we're two complete strangers who happened to have a conversation on the street and went our separate ways after. There's nothing more than that.”
Your voice then wavered when you said “we don't have a relationship.”
Anyone else may have answered the wake-up call in your words, that he was seeing things that hadn't actually been and try to make this situation right by letting you go as you so desperately wanted.
But Nobunaga found himself focused on the fact that you remembered the first time the two of you met. And while you hadn't spoken much of the details of that meeting, the fact that it stayed in your mind must've meant that it was just as significant to you as it was to him.
Despite how short that meeting had been, you had felt a connection to him just as he had to you.
You were just having a harder time accepting it, that you could jump into a relationship with him based on that alone.
For that reason, Nobunaga wasn't at all surprised that you had fought with him during and after your kidnapping, but he was hoping you would given up earlier. Every second you fought him was a second he could've used to prove that he loved you.
“I know,” he answered, “I know you don't get it yet.”
“But this is necessary. To keep you safe,” he added.
“Kidnapping isn't how you keep people safe,” you responded bitterly.
“In this instance, it is,” said Nobunaga, “and eventually, you'll realize that.”
“No-!”
You began to struggle again. Despite how little it had done you earlier, the urge to get away from him took over you once more and you did your best to wiggle out of the firm grip that held you.
Fat lot of good that did.
Nobunaga was starting to get annoyed, but he told himself he couldn't become angry with you. If he did something drastic like hitting you or tying you to the bed, it would make you that much more resentful of him.
“Is this a second wind?” he asked, “if I have to hold you the entire night I will.”
“No!”
Just as before, your attempts to get out of his hold were pitiful, and you were reduced to a sobbing mess within minutes. Nobu watched you carefully, readying himself to cover your mouth again if he had to. He had gotten annoyed with other spiders for the noises their darlings had made on the first few nights they had been taken, and he didn't want to give any of the others any ammo to mock him for you being just as bad.
When your sobs had quieted again, Nobunaga turned you so you were facing him, using his thumb to wipe away your tears before lifting your chin up so you could look him in the eye. You gave him a sour look, but he ignored it.
“I know you want to leave, but I'm sure that in time, this place will feel like home for you,” he said.
You shook your head.
“No.”
Were the other darlings this obstinate when they first arrived? Nobu personally couldn't imagine Feitan, Shalnark or Machi tolerating behavior like this. He sighed again. Hurting you and showing you how bad things could be if he was unhappy was certainly an option, but he had no desire to break you and make you fear him more than you already did. Punishment would only come for truly serious offenses. Right now he needed to be patient with you.
“Give it time,” Nobunaga said, “for the next week or so you won't be allowed out of our living quarters, and if you keep acting up, it could be longer before I let you into the common areas of the floor. After that, you'll be allowed in several points of the building. And maybe on occasion when we get permission, we can go outside together.”
“I need permission to go outside?” you asked. There was a rage bubbling in your eyes again. Somehow learning that made you more angry than afraid again.
“You're mine now,” he explained, “and there will be those who will try to hurt me by hurting you.”
“I'm not yours! People don't belong to people!” you yelled.
You began to hit him again, beating your fists against his chest over and over. Nobu decided it was better to just take this and let you tire yourself out again. Better this than you starting to yell again and force him to hold your mouth shut. Angry tears flowed down your cheeks at the hopelessness of the situation. Surely you realized that even if you managed to get away from him, the amount of security you had seen on your way in was still in your mind, and you would know that there was no hope of you running out of this building without being stopped by someone.
Eventually your assault on him stopped, and you pressed your forehead against his chest in defeat.
It was quiet now, the only noise in the room being that of your ragged breathing.
Should he say something?
… Maybe not. So far Nobu had only managed to upset you every time he spoke, and that certainly wasn't winning him any points with you. The best course of action might be to stay quiet until you said or did something.
And a few moments later, you did speak.
“Why…”
Your voice was barely over a whisper, but he still heard you, and he tilted his head at you as he waited for you to continue whatever you were saying.
“Why did you do this to me?” you asked.
Betrayal.
Through your soft, sad voice, he could clearly hear it. Sense it in the way you now clutched at his shirt. You had trusted him, and he had re-payed that trust by forcibly taking you. That needed to be what this was.
And yet knowing that gave Nobunaga a bit of hope. For you to be betrayed, you had to have liked him at least somewhat. The way you had smiled at him on the day you met was still so clear in his mind. He was certain that there was at least some bit of affection for him in your heart, and once you got over your kidnapping and you realized just how much you meant to him, he was certain those feelings would come back and grow stronger.
Once you were able to get over that hurdle in your head, everything would be fine.
Nobu wasn't sure if you had wanted an answer to your question, but after a few moments, he responded softly “because I love you.”
You didn't react.
Maybe you weren't listening, or maybe the events of tonight had simply exhausted you and you no longer could react. Either way it was out in the open now, and even if you didn't believe him in that moment, eventually you would.
He now had all the time he needed to convince you of that.
When you shifted in his hold and tried to pull away again, his grip around you tightened, anticipating a third attempt of getting away from him.
“Please let go,” you said, not looking at him, “I need to use the bathroom.”
“…. Alright. But leave the door unlocked,” he said, his tone becoming a bit more firm as he added “there'll be problems if I need to break it down.”
You nodded somewhat hastily, and with that, he finally loosened his grip completely. You were fast to scramble off of his lap and make your way to the bathroom door, closing it a bit too quickly, but you listened to his warning as there was no click of the lock after.
But what he could hear after was the sound of you sobbing again, your soft cries echoing slightly against the smooth surfaces in the bathroom. He had thought that maybe you had run out of tears, but apparently not.
Now was probably the best time to give you a bit of space. You hadn't immediately run for the door to the entrance of his quarters like he was worried you would, so you were deserving of that much.
As he sat and waited for you to process your emotions, his mind went back to the day the two of you met and the random act of fate that put the two of you together.
He'd run into you on a windy day when you were coming out of a flower shop, a bouquet of red flowers in one hand while the other had been occupied with shoving your wallet back into your bag. While you weren't turned away from him, the majority of your face had been obscured from his view due to the wide-brimmed hat you were wearing.
At first he had only barely acknowledged your presence, his eyes naturally going over to you when you had initially exited the shop just to be aware of the new person that was now in his sights. Nobu hadn't anticipated that you might be a threat, but with his status in the troupe and the dangers that came with having such a position, it didn't hurt to be too careful. The would-be assassins of the world took many different forms.
He didn't spend long looking at you once he determined that there was nothing to be worried about, turning his attention back towards the walkway in front of him, his thoughts going back to the troupe and recent issues that had cropped up, ones regarding the owner of a private security company that operated within Yorknew. From his peripheral vision, he had noted that you had begun walking away from the flower shop entrance, heading in the direction opposite of him, and the thoughts of you would've quickly exited his mind once you were out of his line of sight.
Nobunaga would've passed you by completely had it not been for what happened next.
A gust of wind blew past you, and it was strong enough that it knocked your hat off of your head. You tried to grab it with your free hand but you weren't fast enough, and you started to follow, trying to hurry and grab it before it got too far away or touched the ground.
Instead, Nobu caught it.
It was mostly instinct that made him catch it. Just an instance where he saw from the corner of his eye that something was coming towards his head and he reacted. He only realized what had happened when he felt the material against his fingers and then looked at it to confirm.
And then you walked up to him, thanking him for not allowing the thing to blow away.
Something about you struck him. Something about the way you smiled and thanked him as he handed the hat back to you.
Something about the way you looked at him so sweetly.
“No problem,” he told you, having been barely able to remember that it was best to give you some sort of response.
That probably should've been the end of it, but something in him compelled him to keep talking to you. You'd set the hat back on your head when the wind blew again, and while this time it didn't escape you again, you needed to grab and hold it in place.
That had made for an easy enough topic of conversation.
“Doesn't seem like you dressed appropriately for this sort of weather,” he commented, brushing some of his hair behind his ear.
“Guess not,” you agreed, laughing as you said “it looked nice enough out today, so I didn't think to check what the conditions were. Lesson learned. Won't do that again.”
Nobu nodded along absentmindedly before glancing at the bouquet you held. All he'd really noted before was their red coloring, but now that he was looking at them for more than a few seconds….
…. Weren't the Spider Lilies associated with death and bad luck?
“Someone die?” he asked, nodding towards the flowers.
“Hm? Ah, they do tend to have a negative connotation, don't they?” you said, laughing a little.
Then you shook your head, adding “but these are for me. I like them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think they're pretty.”
Nobunaga glanced at them again.
The shade of red was nice, he supposed.
“I am a little surprised, though,” you said, “I didn't think most guys were interested in flowers. Not most guys around here, at least.”
“I can't say that I'm interested,” Nobu answered, “I've just heard enough about them to know that they're typically a bad sign.”
“Yeah,” you said again, “but I still like them.”
The conversation came to an end after that; you apparently had somewhere you needed to be. And to be fair, it was the same case for Nobu, as he was very likely going to be late for a troupe meeting.
You thanked him once more for saving your hat, and shortly after you were on your way, once again heading in the opposite direction of him. And although your face was quickly obscured from him, Nobunaga felt certain that he saw you smiling to yourself as you walked away.
After watching you for a moment, he had turned and began to walk as well, heading back towards his destination, though his thoughts had remained on you.
It was strange how one little interaction had stayed with him like that. How a single conversation about weather and flowers that hadn't even lasted five minutes replayed in his head for the entire rest of the day and only ended when he finally fell asleep that night, just to end up replaying in his head again the morning after.
He had accepted that the meeting between you two was fate the day after that and that the two of you were meant to be together. Why else would he be thinking of you so often? Why else would you have spoken with him like that? Why else had the elements themselves conspired to bring about a scenario where you were made to interact with one another?
It was the only explanation that made any sense.
Luck had been on his side when he remembered the flower shop he saw you walk out of – it was one that was under the troupe's protection, and for that reason, the owner had no choice but to allow Nobu to look through the shop's recent orders when he went in for a surprise 'visit'.
Luck was on his side again as it turned out you had called the shop to place the order for the spider lilies, giving them your name and phone number that they had yet to clear from their records.
It was incredibly easy to find you after that.
Back to the present, Nobu sighed to himself as he thought over what had happened after he'd found where you lived and how you'd become increasingly defensive every time he spoke with you. Maybe he'd come on too hard those other times. And now this, having no other option than to take you to the Nitery just to ensure your safety when you made it clear that you didn't want to go.
Nobunaga had no doubt that it would be a long, strenuous process for you, to accept your place as his darling and to learn to love him back, but even if that process took forever, you would give in.
You were meant to.
Several minutes had passed, and you still hadn't left the bathroom. He wasn't worried that you had managed to escape through there; that room had no windows, and the air vents were far too small for anyone to fit through.
Still, at a certain point he needed to make sure you were alright.
Getting up and standing before the closed door, he knocked on it gently as he called out your name.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
No answer.
His brows furrowed, and he took the knob in hand and turned it.
He found you in the shower, curled up in a corner of the stall and your head resting against your knees as you were fast asleep.
You must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep in such a place.
Nobunaga gingerly picked you up and carried you bridal style out of the bathroom. Though he had spent several hours with you in his arms, there was something about how you were so docile right now, not fighting against him and even pressing yourself further against him in your sleep. A shame that it was only because you weren't awake at the moment. But someday, he told himself, he would get to the point where you would long to be in his arms, where you would beg for his touch and for him to give you everything he had to give.
Not tonight. Or anytime soon.
But maybe in a matter of months he could get you to that point.
He placed you on his bed, putting the covers over you after. Tomorrow he'd have some of his lackeys accompany him to your old apartment and gather up some of your clothing and other items that you might miss. For tonight, though, you'd need to make due with sleeping in your clothes.
And what he'd need to make due with tonight was sleeping on the couch. As much as he wanted to go to sleep with you in his embrace, you'd be upset in the morning if that was what you woke up to.
Eventually he'd get to that point without you being disgusted with him, he told himself as he turned off the light of the bedroom, leaving you sleeping peacefully in the dark.
Now alone in the main area of his quarters, Nobunaga was about to turn off the lights and pass out on the couch – it was horribly late by now.
But just as he went to flick the light switch, he caught sight of the broken vase and flowers that still hadn't been cleaned up, and he sighed to himself again. Better to clean it up now so he wouldn't have the hassle of doing that the next day as well.
Pulling over a small trash bin, he began to collect the pieces of vase and tossed them in before going to the flowers. It felt like a shame to throw them away, especially since you liked them. Though it really was your fault for smacking them like you did.
Nobunaga looked at the flower he currently held; the stem was bent and some of the petals had fallen off.
Death, bad luck and abandonment, he remembered. Just a few of the meanings this flower had.
You'd met him when you were carrying a bouquet of these, and you saw the red spider lily again when you were brought to his room at the Nitery.
Maybe you were reconsidering how much you liked them and how much bad luck they had brought you so far.
That fleeting thought caught him off-guard, and he froze, broken flower still in hand.
…..
… Superstition was silly, he told himself as he continued with the clean up.
If anything, these flowers represented good luck for him, because if it hadn't been for you going to that flower shop on that day to collect them, he might not have found you.
It was pure chance and good luck that brought the two of you together, and while Nobunaga knew you didn't see it that way now, eventually you'd stop lying to yourself and admit that it was true: you were meant to be together.
But until that day came, he'd be patient with you and do whatever he could so you would understand that. Happiness for the two of you would come eventually when you gave in.
You were meant to, Nobunaga repeated to himself.
#reader insert#yandere x reader#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere nobunaga#nobunaga x reader#yandere#yandere hxh#hxh nobunaga#nobunaga hazama
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feitan headcanon/thought : manga spoilers below the cut
i see a lot of yandere fics display feitan as dirty and gross, but he’s not. he might have some form of germaphobia because he won’t eat anything someone that someone else has touched at all or has spoken on.
i think his torture room is full of stains, but nonetheless clean. i don’t think he or any of the troupe members see blood as a dirty thing. his torture room looks like an empty hospital room gone wrong. he takes pride in cleanliness. i also think all of the original members, if not all members, are clean people simply because they were raised in a wasteland. they spent so much time around filth and trash, why wouldn’t they want to feel clean?
And if you’re gonna call Nobunaga greasy you might as well call Illumi (the guy who sleeps in holes) greasy too cuz their hair looks the same…(joke btw) can y’all tell the Feitan brainrot is bad?
#eru.thoughts#hxh#hunter x hunter#feitan hxh#feitan portor#feitan headcanons#hxh feitan#feitan hcs#feitan hc#feitan#phantom troupe#eruminx
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the sunny self portrait of kiyomi kanai
an ikemen sengoku fic by bearsace
World-famous actress Kiyomi Kanai has it all: money, beauty, and the adoration of millions of fans. When she accepts a role in the hottest new Sengoku drama, she decides the best way to get in character is to visit Azuchi Castle Ruins...
...and apparently also to time-travel five-hundred years to the past, where she inadvertently saves the lives of two major players on Japan's world stage. Suddenly, this egotistic megastar has to think quick on her feet to survive being caught between two warlords-- and maybe learn to love a world without the glitz and glamour she's always known.
read on ao3! ✱ chapter one ✱
preview...
Thunder booms again, furious and deep and suddenly, I’m all too aware that maybe it’s not just pathetic to be crying out here. It’s downright dangerous. Lightning illuminates the man; he’s sporting a lab coat and a geeky sort of handsomeness, and he reaches a hand to me. I recoil defensively.
“Kiyomi, you have to get out of here. There’s going to be—”
The heavens split open one last time with a blinding flash of light, rain on my skin like bullets, thunder in my ears like jetplanes. I’ve never seen lightning so close until it engulfs us, and my throat tears with a scream of terror—and then my world is silent.
( Kiyomi Kanai Struck by Lightning, Lets Her Makeup Get Ruined—At Least She Was Wearing a Prada Miniskirt!!
…God. The gossip blogs tomorrow are going to gobble this shit right up.)
#ikesen#ikemen sengoku#ikesen fic#takeda shingen#oda nobunaga#expect updates to be slow uwu#i'm mainly using this for an assignment in my creative writing class#but since i really enjoy this fic i figured i might as well let it see the light of day#the same as what jane austen said about emma: i really don't think y'all will like kiyomi as a person until a few chapters in tbh#but i love her a lot#nobody hurt my girl TTwTT
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