#do the horrors ever cease | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uvobreakmylegs · 7 days ago

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We'll Never Know the Place

title is from a Fever the Ghost song that felt appropriate for this piece

Chrollo x Cute Hunter!reader

Warnings: death, torture, gore, body horror, mentions of captivity, implied kidnapping

Word Count: 7.9k

“You don't need me for this.”

Chrollo paused in his step, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder as he looked back at you. Feitan halted as well, having been making his way out of the room, and you felt the way he watched you, his expression no doubt turning to one of concern and displeasure at the fact that you were already kicking up a fuss.

Despite having both of these particular men staring at you, you didn't meet the gaze of either; your attention was on focused solely on the unknown male in the chair that sat in the center of the room.

He was slumped forward, his short, dirty blonde hair covering his face somewhat while the blood that had dripped down from his neck stained the bare skin of his torso. It had gone on to soak into the material of his pants before it ultimately created a puddle on the seat of the chair beneath him and dripped off the edge as it continued to pool below. He was only able to lean forward to a certain extent as his wrists were firmly secured to the arms of the chair by way of two pieces of thick rope that kept him firmly attached and thoroughly unable to get away from whatever he had been put through. Which had undoubtedly been a lot, based on what you had heard before and from what you could see now. There were several fingers missing on both of his hands, you noted, as well as something that was off with the skin of his left bicep that appeared to be blackened. A glance at his legs revealed that one of them had been broken severely as it was bruised and bent beyond belief.

There was more damage – there was always more damage with the things Feitan did to people – and while you didn't want to know what it was, the things you could smell clued you in to what he had done to this man. A distinct burning smell, combined with an odor so foul that it made you want to vomit.

The man was dead. Obviously, as you wouldn't have been brought in otherwise.

You had known this was coming, too. After hours of hearing him scream and cry and beg for the pain to cease, you knew what would be happening once Feitan stepped into the main room where the troupe was gathered and whispered something into Chrollo's ear. That had been followed by a quick nod of acknowledgment by Chrollo before he ordered the torturer to end the man's life. You knew that, not long after, the head of the troupe would stand and tell you to follow.

You knew what he expected from you, and there was absolutely no part of you that wanted to go through with it.

“You don't need me for this,” you repeated.

Chrollo stared at you over the fine white fur that lined his coat, his gaze unyielding and his presence as oppressive as ever.

Then he spoke your name, his tone stern.

“I would have thought by now that you knew how useless of an effort it is to try and get out of this,” he continued.

“Insisting on using my ability is stupid,” you argued. You stepped backwards despite knowing Feitan was right behind you. He was watching you carefully as well, likely poised to grab you if you made any attempt to run.

You weren't going to do that. But you would argue with Chrollo.

“Shizuku is right outside,” you continued, “Blinky is better suited for this. It'll take literally a second if you have her do it. Just use her and leave me out of it.”

Chrollo observed you silently, his gray eyes watching as you tried to convince him that Shizuku was the better option for what he wanted. Your argument wasn't just a way of a bullshitting to get out of what you didn't want. You knew that you were right. More importantly, he knew you were right.

But those cold eyes remained impassive no matter what you said.

“I brought you here for a reason,” Chrollo told you, “now I need you to do your part.”

His tone was a tad more dangerous that time, and that was enough to put the fear into you as you tore your gaze away and looked to the side, your fists clenching hard enough that the way your nails were digging into your palms was starting to cause you pain.

“….. I don't want to,” you answered.

“That's a shame,” he said.

He then turned so he faced the body of the man as he said “but I'm afraid this is the last chance you'll get to do it of your own volition before I'm forced to make you do so.”

“……”

There was little other choice than to do it before it got to that point, you told yourself. Otherwise he would give that order, and a sharp pain would form in your skull, getting worse and causing you absolute agony until you did as he had told you. Nor would it end there, as your defiance going that far would mean trouble for you once the troupe's business had finished and you were left alone with Chrollo again. You hated the way he was able to control you, but there wasn't anything else you could do. It was a lose-lose situation.

With a frown on your face and your eyes cast downward, you steeled yourself before you began approaching the man's body, your clenched fists shaking ever so slightly as you made your legs walk you forward.

I hate this

You kept your gaze downwards as you walked by Chrollo, keeping your eyes only on what was directly in front of your feet, not wanting to make more eye contact with him than was necessary. A small bit of defiance that did little to affect him, you knew, but it was all you could do.

How childish, you could hear him say in that subtly mocking tone that you were all too familiar with.

I hate you

After a few moments, you heard Feitan's footsteps walking out of the room before growing quieter. He had stayed when you had spoken out, his warning gaze heavy upon you as you had felt him silently urge you to do as Chrollo had said. Now that you were getting down to business, he was gone, having returned to that main room to sit with the others.

He knew what Chrollo was making you do, as did the rest of them.

I hate every last one of you

They were aware of those feelings of yours as well, and for certain members, it bothered them deeply. They didn't like how upset you became with them, nor how emotional you would get when Chrollo put your abilities to work. But no matter how much it bothered those members, all of them were in support of their boss.

None of them would ever come to your aid. All because in their minds, you were the one who was in the wrong.

The burnt odor coming from the man was stronger when you moved closer to him. Once you were standing directly in front of him, you were able to confirm that the darkened mark on his bicep was, in fact, a burn mark. The sight had you biting your lip in disgust as you thought of the agony he had gone through at the unfortunately creative hands of Feitan and the wide variety of pain he had no doubt experienced before his throat was finally slit wide open.

Hopefully with everything else that had happened, that final slicing of flesh wouldn't have been as painful.

Hopefully.

A cursory glance about the room revealed the moderately sized wooden box that Feitan had been using as a table that was stuck in the corner, as his tools were lined up neatly on top of it. Almost all of them were covered in blood. When you narrowed your gaze, you saw bits of flesh that were still stuck to the metal.

Chrollo already knew what you were thinking.

“Take care of whatever is left over of him over there,” he began, “but you're to do nothing that alters Feitan's tools.”

…. Damn. It looked as though that stunt of yours from last time really was a one time only thing, much to your disappointment. But it wasn't that surprising.

If Chrollo was ever to make a mistake, he only made it once.

Turning your attention back to the man's body, you kept your focus on him while Chrollo stood behind you, watching your every move as you prepared to use your nen. Thoughts of what would work best in the environment and how much you needed to alter came to mind, but first….. First was to make him more presentable. To give him at least a little bit of dignity in death. Because at the end of the day, he was a person who had a life, goals and ambitions, all of which had been snuffed out for the sake of whatever it was the troupe was up to now.

Was it possible that he had been just as bad as Chrollo and the others? Or potentially even worse? Yes.

But you still wanted to show some kindness.

You began by undoing the ties around his wrists, and immediately you found that the rope had been wrapped so tightly that the skin in that area was raw and bleeding, some of it even scraped away against the harsh material that bound him. How much had he attempted to break those bindings while Feitan was removing his fingers?

It didn't matter, you told yourself, because you were undoing them now. Once both pieces of rope were untied and laying on the ground beside him, you placed his hands upon his lap which allowed you to hide the stumps of his fingers somewhat. Though that action caused him to lean too far forward and you were forced to adjust him before he fell over onto the floor. You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him so he would lean back, and that made his head roll backwards as it followed the pull of gravity.

Now not only did you have a good look at that awful gash in his throat, but also the lifelessness in his unblinking eyes and the way in which his slack jaw hung open.

…. You could fix this. While you couldn't do anything about his throat, you could fix the way his expression looked.

Placing both of your thumbs over his eyelids, you gently pulled them shut. Then, while you kept your thumbs pressed over his eyes, you exerted a tiny bit of your nen that spread over the lids. When you pulled your hands away, his eyes stayed closed. You did the same with his jaw, locking the joints in place so his mouth would no longer hang wide open. When that was done, you stepped away, and the nen you had infused into those places on his face stayed strong. With his face looking like that, it was as though he was sleeping.

Even though that illusion was quickly shattered with one glance towards his throat, that felt better to you.

The other person in the room was clearly of a different opinion.

“You're wasting effort, love. No one who cared for him will know what you did,” Chrollo told you.

You frowned.

“He was a person; he deserves respect, even if it's just this much,” you answered.

“He was a person who existed outside of the troupe,” Chrollo corrected, “therefore he isn't important.”

“Maybe not to you.”

Damn it. Your voice was already starting to crack.

Chrollo noticed that as well and wasted no time in pouncing on your vulnerability.

“You haven't even begun and you're ready to shed tears?” he asked.

“With the things you make me do, what do you expect?” you responded bitterly.

“I expected that you would have grown used to this.”

“Maybe if being involved in this awful shit was something that I actually wanted,” you said, “but I still don't, and I never will.”

He didn't respond that time. Instead, as you were looking at the body of the unknown man and trying to figure out if there was anything else you could do for him, you heard movement coming from behind you as Chrollo walked to the side of the room. What he was doing was obvious when you heard the sounds of chair legs scraping against the concrete floor before they were lifted into the air, and then again moments later, when they were placed a few feet from where you were standing and directly in front of the dead man. An aged chair creaked as Chrollo settled down upon it, and suddenly the full intensity of his gaze was upon you once more.

“Whenever you're ready, love.”

“….”

There was no more stalling to be had, then. Nothing more you could do to put this off. Chrollo probably felt as though he'd been generous in allowing you to take your time and do what he felt were pointless actions in rearranging the man's body. After all, the troupe was still in the middle of a job, and he wanted you to get on with it so they could continue with the current loose end being fully tied up.

If you took any longer he would invoke that pain on you again.

With a deep sigh, you activated your hatsu.

Revival Gardener

In moments, your nen had conjured up your watering can. Moderately sized and brightly colored, it stood out among the gray rock and rotting wood of the abandoned room. The can itself was a pastel yellow and adorned with pink accents, topped off by the two handles that were shaped to resemble cartoonishly cute hearts. It was very likely that if there was ever a magical girl character with abilities that were focused on gardening, your watering can would surely be in her inventory. The light purple packet of seeds that was also adorned with hearts fell into your palm after the watering can, and you figured that would likely also be something she would use, though you wondered how her abilities might differ from yours.

Maybe she would've been smart and would have some sort of ability that was more effective in combat.

As interesting as it might have been to consider the show about a hypothetical magical gardening girl, you couldn't focus on that forever. Definitely not with Chrollo staring down your back. Placing the empty watering can on the floor next to you, you adjusted the packet in your hand, both sides of which were left blank, and reached into your pocket for a pen as you looked to the man again.

His body, his clothes, the chair, and the blood that had been dripped and spattered across the floor. Four things to make note of. Another glance over at Feitan's tools and the blood and gore that covered them, not to mention the blood trail that led from them and back to the body. You would need to make sure you covered all of that area as well.

With all that Revival Gardener was capable of, it sadly wouldn't be a difficult task.

Holding the pen to the packet, you began to write:

Male human body

Adult's clothing

You were about to write down shoes when you stopped to double check yourself. It turned out he wasn't wearing any shoes, so that wasn't something you needed to bother with. You continued with the list.

Wooden chair with rope

Human blood

….. That was it. After double and triple checking what was before you and what you had written down, that was all you needed to change. You flipped to the other side of the packet which had yet to be filled in, and you paused a moment as you decided what you would write.

During that time, you didn't hear anything from Chrollo. He stayed silent as you wrote on the packet, but you could tell that his gaze was still on you. You didn't need to turn your head to confirm that.

After a moment of pondering, you decided to write the word “lavender”. The area the building was in was appropriate for it, with dry temperatures and lots of sunlight. That would grow well here.

With the decision made, the pen went back into your pocket, and you ripped open the packet before dumping the entire thing into the watering can. The seeds, the packet and the words you had written all broke apart within the space of the can, transforming into liquid that began to swirl about within your conjured creation, emitting a soft purple glow as it filled the can to the brim.

When the water stilled was when you could begin, and now with the can in hand, you looked again to the dead man. Exhaling a shaky breath as you clenched the the handles tightly, you took a few more moments before lifting the can above him, and with a tilt of your hands, you proceeded to pour the contents upon the poor man's body. He was quickly soaked from the water while the blood was washed down all over him, pooling in that same place in the seat of the chair. The chair was soaked as well; you made sure of that as you walked around it to make sure you covered every inch.

The body, the clothes, the chair, the blood. All of the blood. You needed to take a few steps back as you covered the floor in the unending water, making sure that you got every last stray drop.

All of it needed to be changed.

The man still looked as though he was sleeping as the water ran down his face and caused his hair to stick to his forehead. The blood from his neck washed down fast, however, joining the growing puddle beneath him that now had the water mixed in.

You then walked over to where Feitan's tools sat and poured the water over them. Though the box and the tools were quickly soaked as well, those items would remain as they were once this was over.

The last thing to be done was to cover the floor where the blood had dropped between the tools and the chair, and just like everything else, the water soon engulfed it.

When you returned to the body to make sure you had gotten everything was when the conjured water finally ran out.

With that, the first part was done.

You took a step back, staying behind the body while your watering can vanished. The second half of the process was going to begin soon, and you needed to watch all of it.

Chrollo chose then to speak once more.

“Come sit with me, love.”

You looked over to him and frowned when you found him motioning to an empty chair that sat beside him. The temptation was there to refuse and insist that you would stand for the rest of it. But just like everything else, this wasn't something you could get out of no matter how much you protested.

You remained silent as you walked around the body and took your place by Chrollo's side, your eyes immediately going back to the man while you gripped at your knees while you desperately hoped that, just once, Chrollo would refrain from saying anything further. Even though you knew that was incredibly unlikely, both due to the fact that there was a fair amount of time that needed to be filled out before you could leave this room, and because there was no way Chrollo would overlook your continued resistance.

Still, you dared to hope that he might, just this once, keep quiet while you suffered.

But of course that didn't happen.

“You know that it doesn't need to be this way, love,” he began.

You frowned again.

“You're right; it doesn't,” you agreed, “and yet you're dead set on forcing things to be this awful.”

You then cut him off before he could speak, saying “don't bother telling me that I'm the one making things difficult. I'm sick of hearing it.”

Chrollo let out a hum in response. Hearing that only had your frown deepen while your hands clutched at your knees harder, all the while you kept your gaze focused on the body. There was no change to be seen as of yet. But that would take a little while, as it always started internally before spreading out beyond.

Right now the man still looked like he was sleeping.

“Have our discussions become so stale that you immediately know what I'm going to say?” he asked.

“They only ever go around in circles. Honestly, I would've thought you'd be sick of the same conversations over and over,” you said.

“Be sick of them? Never.”

Chrollo leaned forward on his knees as he gazed at you, and from your peripheral vision, you saw the serious look on his face as he told you “if it's a chance to help you, then I'll gladly have the same conversation tens of thousands of times.”

“You're not helping me.”

“I am, love. You just aren't able to see it yet.”

“Because kidnapping me and making me dispose of your victims is such a great way to help someone,” you sarcastically answered.

The man's body shifted somewhat as he slouched back in the seat, though even now he still appeared to be asleep.

“I'm putting your abilities to good use,” Chrollo countered, casting his gaze towards the body as well.

“They weren't meant for this.”

“And yet they work quite nicely.”

“Shizuku's ability is more effective.”

“So you've said.”

Chrollo leaned back in his seat as he continued “but Shizuku isn't the one that I'm worried about.”

You scoffed.

“You're trying to say that you're worried about me?”

“I am.”

You shook your head.

“That's a lie. You're not worried; you just want to control me,” you said.

“That's not true.”

“How is it not? You took me away from my work when I didn't want to go with you and you used one of your stolen abilities to make me do what you want. How is that anything other than you controlling me?”

“Because it's for your own good,” he answered.

“I think I know what's good for me.”

“And I say that you don't,” said Chrollo, “the others are in agreement with me.”

Because all of you are monsters

You couldn't say that part. Because even though you knew it to be true, there was no way you could bring yourself to voice such a thing. You had grown up with Chrollo and most of the others, after all. All of you living together and finding those little scraps of happiness within that city of junk and decay.

Even though you hated the people they had become and you made that feeling of them clear, there was still some affection you had for them, for the children they had once been and who were now nowhere to be found.

The man's body twitched, arms and legs moving in response to your nen.

Already there was bile building up at the back of your mouth. You hated how you now recognized that as being a sign that his nervous system was in the process of changing. Just how many times had you been made to do this now? You could count them if you really wanted to, but once again you kept yourself from doing so. The exact number didn't matter. The fact that you were being made to do this at all was awful enough.

Chrollo had paid no attention to the current condition of the body, his focus back on you as he asked “have we already reached the point where you ignore me? I thought we had a bit more banter to go through before that happened.”

Your scowl remained on your face as you replied “for someone who claims to be worried about me, you sure do take a lot of time to mock me.”

“I'm afraid that can only be blamed on you, love. I care about you deeply, but you make it difficult when you kick and scream at me in an attempt to test my patience.”

Hearing that made you bite your lip in frustration; he was making it sound like you were a child throwing a tantrum. That alone was enough to make you want to hit him. Not that it would do you any good, even if, in the moment, it might have been slightly satisfying.

But just like you had told yourself before, the repercussions of such an action would come fast and harsh once the troupe dispersed.

…. Maybe that was pathetic of you. That you, a Hunter, would allow something as simple as pain be enough to give him leverage over you. Weren't you supposed to be stronger? After passing the trials of your exam, how was that enough for him to control you?

Then again, you hadn't taken the exam in the hopes of proving your strength or even in the hopes of becoming stronger. Getting that license was simply the easiest way to achieve your goal.

The chair beneath the man groaned and the legs began to buckle, bending slightly forward while green began to appear in the blood soaked wood. The ropes that had been left on the floor were also being overtaken by the green color, and upon the surface of the floor that was marred by his blood, small sprouts were starting to appear.

With the way the front legs had bent forward, the man's body lurched over, his upper half leaning against one of the chair handles. Despite the change of position, his face was still largely facing towards you, and the sense of peace you had tried to grant him by shutting his eyes and mouth was still there somewhat, even with the awkward position his body was in.

You hated this. You hated that you needed to watch the body of this unknown man being slowly taken over. If you tore your eyes away for too long, the change would stop and you would be stuck in this place with Chrollo for that much longer, which he would definitely chide you for.

Though you doubted he would mind all that much.

“Who was he?” your voice whispered, your nails digging into your hands again as you were having a difficult time with the sight before you.

“No one of importance,” was his response.

“I want to know anyway.”

“You don't need to,” Chrollo said firmly before he added “if you wanted to know his name you should have made that a condition for your hatsu.”

“I didn't make it a condition because Revival Gardener wasn't meant for things like this” you replied.

“I know. Your reasons were far more pointless.”

That last part stung.

“It wasn't pointless. I was helping people,” you said.

He had the nerve to sigh deeply at that.

“Love,” he began, “you chose to become a Cute Hunter.”

“I was helping people,” you insisted.

“What were you helping with? The official role of a Cute Hunter is to maintain the beauty of people and keep them looking younger. Was helping others maintain their vanity so rewarding?” he asked, the disdain slowly but surely creeping into his voice the longer he spoke.

“You know what I was doing. You know wasn't anything like you're saying and you know how much it meant to me,” you said.

You turned your head so you could give him the full extent of your glare as you again insisted “I was helping people.”

“You were growing flowers out of trash,” Chrollo said, “such a thing is hardly life changing and I guarantee there were few who even noticed what you were doing. All of us agreed that it was a waste of your talents.”

“But it wasn't. It isn't.”

He was wrong. The troupe was wrong. It wasn't a waste. They were simply incapable of understanding because of the path they had chosen.

Chrollo shrugged at your response, saying “feel free to cling to those beliefs of yours while you still can.”

“You say that like you think-”

The words coming from your mouth were lost when the man's body moved again, this time in the way of a full body jerk as something inside him gave way to the life growing within him. Whether it was because of that movement or simply something you had done wrong when you had applied your nen earlier, you couldn't say.

But regardless, his eyelids and mouth snapped open, and with him still facing towards you even now, you were greeted with a horrific sight.

His eyes were gone.

All that stared out at you through the empty sockets were the green of the leaves and the soft purple petals of the lavender flowers that continued to grow and fill the space within the man's head. His tongue was gone as well, though his teeth still remained, sitting among the stems and leaves while his gums were being consumed, slowly but surely revealing the bone of his jaw that sat beneath.

Now with his mouth once again hanging slack and open, the flowers began to make their way out into the open, the plant life now poking out at the edges of his mouth. That seemed to have caused a chain reaction, for the plants began to make their way out of his injuries as well. The stems and buds were now hanging out of his neck wound, reaching down his bloody torso where they were met by the ones escaping through the cavities left by his missing fingers, all mingling together as the flower buds grew rapidly. Lavender was blooming in that burnt section of his arm and on his broken legs and spreading out just like the rest of the plant that had found its way to the open air.

Empty sockets continued to stare at you as the flowers continued to grow, reducing what once had been a man into nothing more than a human shaped terrarium.

All the moisture had left your mouth as you stared back. You were left unable to speak as you began to tremble within your seat.

Mercifully, Chrollo remained silent during this time.

When the change began to affect his bones, his neck was fast to break. His head quickly bent over to the side as his skull began to lose it's shape.

And upon seeing that, the horror of it all overwhelmed you.

With a hand over your mouth, the floodgates of your emotions opened wide and you began to loudly sob.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to be.

A woman in a sharp business suit and her long hair tied up in a bun looked about the trees that surrounded her in bewilderment, her mind clearly racing as she wondered how this forest had come from nowhere and if she had somehow gotten lost on the way to her intended destination.

“Are you alright?” you called out, causing her to jump as she turned to face you.

“Ah – yes! I just…..”

The woman looked about again as she said “I got mixed up somehow and ended up here. I must not have been paying attention when I was driving.”

“Where were you trying to go?” you asked.

“The abandoned strip mall,” she told you.

“The one that was built on a former garbage dump?” you clarified.

She nodded.

Your hand went to the back of your neck as you said “well, most of it's gone now, but I can take you to see what's left of it, if you want.”

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, but she followed anyway when you beckoned her. Through a moderately sized collection of trees, bushes and a few open glades filled with wildflowers, you led her to the other end of the newly formed forest, and the both of you were greeted with a mound of dirt, concrete and aged garbage, most of which had fossilized. It was large, standing high over both of your heads. That was more in line with what the woman had expected, but she again looked behind herself to see the lush greenery that was clearly present in a place that it shouldn't have been.

She looked to you as she began with “you said… You said that this was what was left of the hill?”

You nodded.

“The same one that used to be a dump that was covered over and had built the mall on top?” she asked again.

Again, you nodded.

The woman looked to the greenery and then to the remains of the old dump site before she looked at you again.

“How?” was her bewildered question.

You nervously clasped your hands together as you began to answer.

“I'd heard about it not long ago,” you told her, “that the structure was abandoned years ago because of the methane coming from the ground and the way it had been sinking, and that it was still sinking into the garbage underneath it. When I learned that nothing was being done about it, I thought I could help.”

Realizing that you hadn't actually answered her question, you added “I'm part of the Hunter Association, and I figured that my skills would be able to fix this place. So I changed the buildings and what was underneath it to this.”

You gestured to the forest as you explained “it took a long time, but I think it's turned out well.”

The woman didn't look any less shocked after you finished speaking.

“You can just….. Do that?” she asked.

You nodded.

The woman continued to stare at you in disbelief, and the longer she looked at you like that, the more you began to worry that she was upset.

Then she spoke again.

“Can I hug you?”

The request was unexpected, but you smiled as you nodded to her. The woman quickly pulled you into a hug, and she held you tightly.

“Thank you so much,” she said, “I've been trying for so long to get the city to do something about that place but they always put it off, saying there were more important things they needed to take care of. They were content to let that place rot and fall apart, and I didn't think anything would ever be done.”

“Thank you so much,” she said again, “you don't know how much it means that you've gotten rid of that junk hill.”

You smiled again as you hugged her back, and a warmth bloomed in your chest as you heard her words of thanks. What you wanted most was happening: this had been your most ambitious project in your role as a Hunter, and before you were even finished, it was making a difference.

If you could do that for this woman, then the thing you wanted most could surely happen:

You could change Meteor City.

Your sobs continued to wrack your body as you watched the man's skin fall limp, held up only by the lavender flowers inside of him. He had been reduced to a skin suit, an unnatural looking thing that few would guess had ever been a real, living and breathing human. The chair he sat on was now beginning to lose it's shape as well, and slowly, the suit of skin began to lower further and further onto the floor as the wood of the chair was also absorbed and transformed.

Once all of the bones had been completely taken over, the skin began to do the same. It started in the areas where the skin was already broken, spreading from there like a disease. You watched helplessly as the last of that unknown man was eaten up by your hatsu, as his skin was broken apart and changed from flesh into plant.

You couldn't help but cry as the thought repeated in your head: this wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Your hatsu was never meant to be used in such a way, never meant to be perverted like this. All you had wanted when you became a Cute Hunter was to help people by way of giving them small pieces of joy as you turned trash into something as simple and beautiful as a flower. Even if it was something small, it was worth it to you.

Why did Chrollo find that so objectionable?

The pieces of the man's skin that still remained reached lower to the floor as the chair gave away completely. His blood soaked pants were vanishing quickly, the rope that had once sat by his side was long since gone, and the trail of blood that had led up to the box with Feitan's tools had been replaced by a long and scattered line of flowers.

It wouldn't take long now until everything about the man – his actual body and the things done to him – would be gone completely. No one who hadn't been here would be able to guess as to what had actually happened.

All they would see was a large patch of lavender growing within the abandoned building.

Though the man was nearly gone now, it didn't make it any easier on you, as your tears still fell as you focused on the parts that were still there: the last remaining bits of his skin and his dirty blonde hair that still stuck out at the edge of the growing patch of flowers. It had spread out far enough that it had reached where the two of you sat, and when you felt the petals brushing against the edge of your shoe, you pulled up your feet.

As much as you wanted to console yourself by saying that there was some comfort in the man's body not being allowed to decompose or rot, you knew it would do little to ease your distress. You weren't a good enough liar to convince yourself of that.

Chrollo's feet had stayed where they were when the flowers had extended out towards him, drawing his gaze down to the floor. After a moment of consideration, he reached down to the space in front of him, finding a stem of lavender and grasping at it. Then without even the smallest ounce of force, he plucked it. Sitting back up, he examined your creation, twirling it as he did so and causing the flowers to spin in his fingers.

“The end result is beautiful, love, I will give you that,” he told you, “but ultimately your reasons for your ability are far more superfluous than I know you would ever want to admit.”

You had bitten your lip to keep your mouth shut, though it didn't stop the way you sniffled while you continued to cry as you watched the last of the man's strands of hair turning green and sprouting up flower buds.

“One day you'll see that it was a good thing that I stepped in.”

Again you didn't respond, but you stiffened when you felt him lean towards you and felt his fingers tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. The apprehension of feeling his touch turned to disgust when he placed the flower he had pulled into your hair, tucking it in with the hair he had so gently moved only moments before.

Cruel.

That was all he was.

When the last strands of dirty blonde hair were gone and all that sat before you was the lavender, you knew it was finished. Just as Chrollo had wanted, you had done 'your part'. With no trace of the scene of bloody torture from before, you could now leave the room.

You attempted to do so without another word, but no sooner had you stood up, Chrollo ordered you to sit.

With no other choice, you did just that.

Chrollo's hand traveled to your lap in order to clasp yours, and the squeeze he gave you felt like it was meant to be encouraging, though you knew it was performative. Just like everything was with him.

“I know you think that I enjoy seeing you in distress, love,” he began, “but I need you to know that it couldn't be further from the truth. Your well-being is something that I care about deeply.”

“…. You have a funny way of showing that,” you mumbled, not having the strength to speak louder.

“Think of it as rehabilitation.”

“It's not, though,” you said, shaking your head, “I don't need to be fixed.”

“And once again, you're simply wrong, love.”

“…..”

When you pulled your hand away from his, he chose not to react. Nor did he say anything when you pulled the bit of lavender out of your hair and tossed it to the floor where it was quickly hidden among the rest.

“Can I go back to the other room already?” you asked bitterly.

Chrollo hummed as he took a moment before answering you, as if to rub more salt into your wounds by treating you like a child that needed to ask for his permission before you did anything.

You had pointed that out, once, calling him out on how degrading it was as well as insulting.

“Well, you aren't much different now than how you were as a child, are you?” he had spoken in response.

“Even now, you haven't grown past clinging to your princess dresses and playing make believe that you can force the world to match your idealized fantasy.”

You had slapped him for that. Hard enough that there was blood that dripped briefly from the corner of his mouth and a bruise that had stayed for several days after.

He didn't do anything to you for that. Not immediately.

It was when the job was over and the two of you were left alone in a location of Chrollo's choosing that he retaliated, using that ability that made your head feel like it was splitting in two as he forced you into doing things that you didn't want to do.

Again, the question surfaced: what kind of a Hunter were you that you allowed pain to keep you from fighting back?

…. One that had decided that 'Cute Hunter' was the direction to go in.

The slight self-deprecation of that thought wasn't lost on you. And it wasn't lost on you that it had come from Chrollo, his opinion sneaking its way into your brain without him needing to say anything or even knowing your own internal dialogue.

I hate this, you told yourself again.

It was the only thing you could say because it was the only thing you could do.

“It seems as though we're finished here, so I suppose you can leave,” Chrollo finally told you.

Without another word you stood and all but ran out of that room, having no desire to ever enter that place again and not wanting to risk Chrollo giving you more orders while you were still within earshot.

Chrollo himself remained seated, again gazing at the miniature field of lavender.

It wasn't right, you thought as you wiped away more tears.

Things shouldn't be this way.

Heading back to that main room where everyone else was gathered – because you'd be brought back there anyway if you went somewhere to be alone – your return was noted by all of the troupe, questioning eyes going to your form as you entered and made your way back to the spot in the corner you'd been occupying for the majority of your time here. Those questioning gazes didn't stay that way long, as one look at your tear stained face told them all that they needed to know as to how your corpse disposal had gone.

You had completed it. Everyone knew Chrollo wouldn't have let you leave without doing that. But as they continued to watch you, seeing the way you curled in on yourself and held your knees to your chest after you had taken a seat on the floor, all of them could tell that it hadn't been easy for you.

They couldn't understand it.

As they watched you obsessively and angrily wipe away the tears that you didn't want them to see, those members who had grown up with you were again at a loss as to why you cared so much about someone you didn't know. That, after the things you had experienced alongside them with your childhood in Meteor City, you had somehow managed to turn out so differently from the rest of them.

A few moments passed before Phinks got up from where he was sitting, and with his hands in his pockets, he began to walk towards you, no doubt with the intent of offering some kind of comfort. The harsh glare you sent him when he came close had him stopping in his tracks, and he floundered for a moment before turning around and returning to his seat, the awkward and disappointed look clear on his face as he did so.

You didn't want their pity or their comfort. You didn't want to be around them at all. No matter what they said, the childhood friends you had once had were nowhere to be found, not here or anywhere else in the world.

It was easier to tell yourself that the day Sarasa had been murdered, all of them had died along with her.

For the rest of this job, not another word would be said to you. You had done what was wanted of you, and so your role ended there. All you had left was the end of the job when Chrollo would force you to leave with him, making you follow him like a puppy. The troupe would part ways and then you might see a few of them sporadically between heists, but the majority of your time would be spent with Chrollo, and the head of the spider would return your reality to the one where your world revolved around him and him alone. Your abilities that you had wished to be shared with the world would be only for him, and again you would be forced to languish while you remained in his company, feeling a bit of yourself breaking apart day by day.

Maybe one day he would be successful.

Maybe one day he would manage to brainwash you and you would no longer find what they did so objectionable. Maybe a new version of yourself would emerge, one that had died just like they had with Sarasa, and you would walk around with them like a zombie, committing the same foul acts they did and feeling nothing while doing them. Maybe you would tell yourself the same things they must have, that all that mattered were those within the troupe, and in that way you could callously disregard the lives of others.

That wasn't today, though.

Eventually Feitan would return to where the body had been, no doubt needing to take a bit of time as he pulled the purple flowers that embraced his tools off one by one.

Eventually Chrollo would return to that main room and give instructions to the members that he had deemed necessary for the current job, and he would do so without casting a single glance in your direction.

The rest of the troupe would follow his lead, continuing with the job. Business as usual.

But at the back of their heads, they would remain hopeful for you.

Because if there was anyone who could fix you, it was Chrollo.

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #yandere

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babysukiii · 9 months ago

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regina’s puppy (2)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), slightly jealous!regina, oblivious!reader, mutual pining, annoying boys, regina being soft for reader, talks of sexuality

(this is part 2 to the series, read part 1 here)

when you walked into the cafeteria the next day, you were already fed up with the way people were acting today. ever since you got to school this morning, you were receiving various stares and hushed whispers. it caused an ugly feeling of insecurity to follow you around all morning until lunch. your eyes scan the cafeteria for the blonde, and you see her standing in line. your eyes brighten at the sight of her, and you begin to make your way to her.

“hey gina.” you greet her happily. as soon as she hears your eager voice, her eyes tear away from the person she was talking to, just to look at you. you’re wearing a baby pink long sleeved fitted top, and a pair of dark denim high waisted bellbottoms that regina exclusively picked out for you. her eyes trail up and down your body, before her lips tug into a smirk. you look so different than your usual shy, covered up self. regina’s always thought you were pretty. it was adorable how you could wear baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, along with worn out shoes, and you’d still look cute. but right now, regina thought you were—

“you look so hot.” she blurts out, and one of the jocks that’s standing nearby chimes in.

“hey, y/n, did you do something different with your hair?” he asks from a few feet away, and regina refrains from telling the blockhead to go fuck himself, but she’s curious to see how you’re going to react to the newly found attention. “yeah, i tried a new serum called, “fuck off”.” you snap, frustrated with the unwanted attention you’ve been receiving today. regina’s lips twitch and she can’t hold back the maniacal grin plastering itself onto her face. your eyes widen in regret/horror before you clasp a hand over your mouth. you get this adorably sheepish expression on your face that you flash regina; “i’m sorry, that was so mean. but you’d think i’d have a sign on my head that said “bother me” with how much people have been talking to me today.” you retort, sounding agitated.

“get used to it, y/n. they didn’t realize underneath all those hoodies, there was a girl.” she states, as she takes a tray of food, and waits for you to get yours. you snort at her comment, “that’s exactly why i wore them. they’re like an invisibility cloak.” your statement makes her genuinely laugh, and the sound never ceases to make your stomach flip. you don’t even mind the way people are whispering as they glance in your direction.

you sit right beside regina; trying to ignore the nerves bubbling in your belly. when gretchen and karen approach the table, the brunette eyes you uncertainly. “um… why are you here?” gretchen asks, and you open your mouth to respond, but regina is speaking for you. “y/n is sitting with us from now on.” regina says curtly, her tone stringent and up for no debates. “what!? but she— she didn’t take any of the tests! she doesn’t know any of the rules!! she barely has a social status!” gretchen nearly squeals, while karen offers you a smile. “i really like your top! i saw that at hollister! can i borrow it some time?” the raven haired girl asks, ignoring her best friends freak out.

regina glowers at gretchen, “you were barely anything before me, so you have no say in anything that goes on at this table.” she hisses, causing gretchen to snap her mouth shut. regina’s mood switches quickly, a content smile etching onto her face, “now that that’s settled, karen, why don’t you fill y/n in on our rules.” the blonde requests, and karen nods obediently. “rules?” you inquire carefully, and karen nods again. “yup! we have rules we have to follow in order to sit here. rule number one, don’t wear tank tops two days in a row...” she starts, and you nod as you begin to listen to the strange yet, iconic rules.

you nod along, mentally taking down each one. once karen is finished, your gaze flickers towards regina. “so for the tank top rule, do i have to wear a tank top at least once a week, or is that optional?” you ask, genuinely curious. regina lets out this uncontainable giggle that gretchen and karen had never heard from the blonde. “you don’t have to wear a tank top at all silly, but if you do, don’t wear one two days in a row.” she informs you, and you nod. “what are the tests i have to take to sit here?” you question, remembering what gretchen said earlier. regina shakes her head, “those won’t be necessary. you’ve proven your worth to me already.” she says simply, as she takes a sip of her energy drink.

gretchen gawks at the blonde; her mouth agape. she couldn’t figure out for the life of her, why regina was letting you of all people get away with this. “try this, it’s peach.” the queen bee waves her drink at you, and you take it, sipping a bit. your nose scrunches up in disgust, “ew.” you murmur, and she flashes you a pointed look before snatching the drink back. “what is that?” you question, and she flashes the can at you. “peach-nectarine redbull.” she responds, and you make a face of dissatisfaction.

“what? they’re good! aren’t they, karen?” regina asks, gesturing to the blueberry redbull beside karen’s tray of food. karen nods in agreement, “yup, regina’s fridge is full of them.” the raven haired girl chimes in, and you offer the blonde a look of dismay, “those things are heart attacks in a can, gina.” you scold her. “you shouldn’t drink them so much.” you add, and regina rolls her eyes dismissively, but her heart leaps due to your obvious concern for her wellbeing. “i don’t think i’m gonna have to worry about a heart attack till i’m like forty, y/n, relax. i need these to get through the day.” she says, and you frown.

when the bell rings, you and regina leave the cafeteria together. before you can walk away towards your next class, regina wraps a firm hand around your wrist. “did stacy agree to let you be part of the team?” she asks, and you nod. “yeah, she talked to me this morning. but i don’t think i wanna be a part of her club anymore.” you admit, and regina glowers, “why not? i swear to god if she said something else—“ regina nearly growls, but you cut her off before she can threaten stacy’s life again. “no! don’t worry, gina she didn’t say anything bad.” you promise her, causing her to search your face for any signs of dishonesty.

you don’t tell regina the only reason you no longer have an interest in debate club, is because you’d rather hang out with her after school instead. she shoots you that infamous grin that causes the butterflies in your stomach to repopulate rapidly. “well, i guess that means you can hang out with us after school now. we’re going to karen’s house today, so meet me at my locker after your last class.” regina’s request is more like a command, but you aren’t complaining.

you nod dumbly, as she walks away from you, and your eyes are glued on her the entire time. regina looks over her shoulder, catching your entranced gaze on her. it causes a fire to ignite in the pit of her stomach. she turns away, turning down the hallway and disappearing. your cheeks feel as though they’re burning, and the bell rings, indicating that you’re late for class. you shake your head, trying to push away your regina-induced thoughts before you rush to class.

throughout the rest of the school day, more boys try to talk to you. you’ve never really came out or thought twice about your sexuality; you’ve always known you were into girls. you thought it was pretty obvious, but now you were wondering if it wasn’t. “hey y/n!” micheal, one of the boys in your last period catches up to you as you walk towards the exit of the school. your step falters slightly, as he approaches you, holding the exit doors open for you.

“i was just wondering if you had any plans right now?” he asks you, flashing you a shy smile. you stop walking, feeling a bit bad as you get ready to reject him, but he continues rambling. “cause there’s this cool burger place that—” he gets cut off by that familiar voice that causes a wave of heat to surge through you. “come on y/n!” regina causes you to turn your head, there’s aways that stupid little flutter in her stomach whenever she see you. though it turns into boiling hot rage when she sees the way that boy is eyeing you shamelessly. you flash her a smile before turning back to micheal, “sorry, micheal, i have plans with regina today.” you tell him, and his face falls. he looks visibly disappointed. “oh, for sure! have fun! maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” he sounds hopeful, and you open your mouth to reject his offer again, but this time regina is intervening.

“she’s not going to be available tomorrow because she’ll be hanging out with me. again. and same answer for the day after tomorrow.” regina’s voice is harsh, and enough to make a grown man cower away. micheal looks ostensibly upset, but everyone knows better than to talk back to regina george. “come on, regina, i was just trying to ask her out—” he tries, but she cuts him off. “well don’t.” she hisses, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “look at her, and look at you. you’re like an off brand tony hawk. y/n wouldn’t go for you even if you were the last person on earth.” she cruelly says with a sneer.

“now, come on, y/n. karen’s mom always makes the best lemon squares. you’re gonna love them.” she places her hands on your upper arms; fingernails digging into the fabric of your shirt. her grip is firm but not enough to hurt. she leads you away from micheal, and you feel a surge of guilt, but also an unknown heat pooling at the bottom of your abdomen from how upset regina was about micheal. her grip on you tightens, “ugh, he seriously thought he had a chance with you. you can do better than some lame guy on the soccer team.” she rants, as she leads you towards her jeep where karen and gretchen are waiting.

“he’s in my english class. he’s always sat next to me.” you confess, and regina stops in her tracks, taking her hands off you, causing you to stop as well. you look at regina, who has her arms crossed, “well, starting tomorrow you aren’t sitting by him anymore.” she states, her tone signifying that she’s up for no disagreements. “unless you like him.” she adds, sounding borderline unrecognizable. you scoff, “you think i’d like him? i’m actually kind of insulted you think he’s my type.” you respond, and regina feels a strange sensation of relief. she doesn’t understand why the thought of you dating some sleazy guy around here made her blood boil.

regina offers you a satisfied smile, as if she wasn’t just upset a second ago. her shift in emotions is a bit concerning, but you think it’s adorable how bratty she can be, and then content not even a moment later. but maybe you were biased when it comes to regina george, because you thought everything about her was absolutely adorable. “good. then it’s settled, you’re not sitting next to him, or talking to him anymore.” she declares, and you nod obediently. “okay, gina.” your voice is so innocent and light; you don’t sound the slightest bit upset or reluctant to do as she says. she revels in it.

“good girl. come on, lets go. the girls are waiting for us.” her pleased tone sends this thrill of excitement to course throughout you. those words; “good girl”, they caused your tummy to flutter so much it felt as though it was going to burst. you were a blushing mess as regina pulls you to her car. she notices how flushed your cheeks are, and she smirks. “y/n gets shotgun.” regina says bluntly, and gretchen’s eyes widen in bewilderment. “why does she get shotgun!?” she shrieks, and regina scowls, “because it’s my car, and i said so.” the blonde snaps in response, causing gretchen to pout.

you all get into the car, and just like yesterday, regina hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she orders, and you immediately oblige. gretchen’s jaw drops in offense, “you’re letting her aux!? you never let any of us aux!” she points out, as the queen bee pulls out of the parking lot. “y/n’s taste in music is better than yours.” regina deadpans, as you put on a faye webster song. “i love this song.” karen chimes in, and gretchen huffs. “everyone loves faye webster, karen!” the brunette snaps.

karen’s house isn’t as big as regina’s house, but that isn’t shocking. you think regina might have the biggest house in town, and you aren’t even sure what her father does for work. regina was right about karen’s mother making the best lemon squares though. you shamelessly eat three, and regina is enamored as you make endless conversation with karen’s mom. the older woman finds you just as charming as most of the teachers at school do. regina wonders if they notice how sweet your smile is, or how bright your eyes shine when you talk about something you enjoy.

regina notices everything about you. the way the blood rises to your cheeks whenever she compliments you, or remembers a small detail about you. whenever your hair falls below your shoulders in thoughtless curls; she finds herself thinking about how long it takes you to curl your hair in the mornings. sometimes it’s in a ponytail, or carelessly undone. regina often wonders how someone can look so effortlessly good all the time.

she drops gretchen off at home first in order to spend some time alone with you; she tries not to dwell on why. as soon as the brunette is out of the car, regina’s tough facade is crumbling away. “did you see karen’s dads hair? it’s a toupee.” she reveals, causing your eyes to widen as you burst into a fit of giggles. regina swears her heart nearly stops beating at the marvelous sound. “seriously!?” you ask, clearly shocked, she nods, letting out a few stray laughs. “yeah, one time karen dropped it in the toilet. he grounded her for like two weeks.” she tells you, eliciting even more giggles from you. “poor mr. shetty. he seems so nice. it’s not his fault he’s bald.” you comment earnestly.

regina’s heart swells at how adorable you are, and how you look sitting in the passenger side of her car. she gets so lost in her thoughts about you, that she doesn’t even realize the lights turned green. a loud car horn pulls her out of her ongoing thoughts, causing her to scowl and beep back. “fuck you, bitch, just go around!” regina yells, as she rolls down her window to flip off the old man behind her. you gasp, but can’t seem to contain your uncontrollable laughter.

“you’re so funny, gina.” you breathe out, looking over at her with this expression of adoration, thankfully her eyes are on the road. “i’m so glad that my anger issues amuse you.” she murmurs sardonically, and you release a little chortle. “it’s not my fault you look so cute when you’re angry.” you blurt out, and your entire face changes into a shocked expression as you realize what you just said. regina glances at you, noticing your sheepish expression. she smirks mischievously, “you think i’m cute?” she asks, feigning obliviousness.

you look over at her with a face that says “are you serious?”, and you snort. “you know you’re cute! i mean, you’re regina george. you’re everything.” you say this so easily, it causes her whole world to stop spinning for a while as her inside turn to mush. you don’t even realize the words you say have such an impact on her. the blood rushes to her cheeks, and your eyes nearly widen as regina blushes because of you. “i’ve been called a lot of things before but never “everything”.” she tries to sound nonchalant, and taunting like she always does, but her voice comes out abnormally soft. she doesn’t even recognize herself.

when she turns to get a quick look at you, she sees you’re already staring at her. your eyes hold such a look of admiration as you gaze at her. “i’m just being honest.” you respond, looking away shyly. regina’s heart is in her throat, as if it’s trying crawl its way out of her and into your lap. she tries to focus on driving, but she can’t stop stealing glances at you.

“earlier when you said micheal wasn’t your type, were you just saying that, or were you being honest?” she asks randomly, breaking the short silence. you furrow your brows, “why would i lie about something dumb like that?” you ask in response, and regina shrugs. “so i would shut up about it.” she suggests, and you frown. “i never want you to shut up though. i like hearing you, even when you’re mad.” you reveal truthfully, making her heartbeat stutter. “but i was being serious about micheal not being my type. no guy really is…” you trail off sheepishly.

there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing regina’s suspicions were correct. you’re into girls, and regina knows you’re into her. she can feel it, and your behavior proves it. “good.” the blonde says, sounding more than pleased as she turns into your neighborhood. regina was right about you; she was definitely going to be able to have as much fun with you as she thought.

a/n: @kate03-27 hope you enjoy!

also, comment if you wanna be tagged in the next part :) thanks for reading <3

#regina george x fem reader #regina george x y/n #regina george x you #regina george x reader angst #regina george mean girls #renee rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x fem!reader #regina george #renee rapp #renee rapp x y/n #mean girls

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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

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MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, allergic reactions, mentions of giving birth, mentions of injuries, mentions of assault, sick!reader, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 4: THE THRONE ROOM

Satoru’s fingers were icy cold, burning into your skin.

He didn't utter a single word when you jerked your head back, the furious glint in your eye looking so pathetic that he almost dared to pity you.

You hang your head forward, crying softly, unaware of anything but the rushing scenery that fades from foliage to stone walls. Once inside the castle’s fortress, Satoru cuts through your bindings, dismounting from his horse and extending a hand to give you assistance.

But, stubborn as you are, you slip off the horse and land on your shaky feet, ignoring his outstretched hand and walk ahead, your head held high and glare unyielding.

Satoru catches up to you easily, and you can hear the frustration in his voice when he utters, “We need to see my Father.”

You falter.

Of course. After the stunt you pulled, it was only natural that the King himself wanted some answers.

Nodding, you clasped your wasp-bitten hands together, trying to smooth your skirt which bore tatters from your tumble with Satoru on the snowy ground, and the hellish chase you endured through the prickly forest foliage.

He led you towards the throne room, pushing open the heavy duty double doors for you.

Immediately, the courtroom fell into a hush; nobles who were conversing amongst themselves stopped to appraise you with horrified looks. The guards gaped at your state of being, and even the court jester ceased his juggling antics, the plastic balls in midair plummeting to the floor with dull thuds.

The second he clasped his gaze onto you, King Satoshi stood up, a look of horror inscribed upon his features as he took in your wounded hands, the tears on your dresses and across your face.

“Cerena.”

Satoru moved to stand in front of you, bowing deeply to his father. “Princess Cerena has been rescued and retrieved. She was found in the middle of the Northern Forest, Your Majesty.”

Perturbed by this discovery, Satoshi moves from the dais, approaching you with caution. You dropped your gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

“What happened to her?” He demanded, as if dealing with an errant child. He turned to Satoru who shot him a grimace. “I thought I told you not to hurt her? Why does she look bedraggled… like she was hunted down?”

Striking up his loathsome glare, Satoru slid his frigid blue gaze to you and spoke the truth.

“Princess Cerena assaulted me, Father. She climbed up a tree and hacked through a wasp nest to drop it at my feet where I was stung. Then, she tried to run away and cause a scene. I had to do what needed to be done.”

Satoshi’s brows shot up into his white hair, his horrified expression clamoring for your attention in your periphery.

“Gods above, Cerena—you tried to assault the Prince?”

The nobles around you gasped, their hands fluttering to their gaping mouths; hiding their shocked expressions behind colorful fan plumes.

He turned back to you, anger thundering in his teal eyes.

“Child, what do you have to say for yourself? You have caused a grievous error to my son and you need to be punished duly. It is high treason for anyone to lay a hand on the Prince of Northern Haleway.”

The injustice and horror of it all coalesced inside of you, and you felt faint from the numerous eyes around. Their accusations grated your ears, sounding like demonic whispers which made you faint with alarm, the corners of the room growing fuzzier as your knees were close to buckling.

“I only ran away because Satoru was conspiring with his lover to end my life!”

Whatever the court thought you would say, it was never this.

Frenzied murmurs run amuck in the courtroom, like fire catching on dry leaves, crackling around you like a roof about to topple down. King Satoshi’s face paled, and beside you, standing stiff as a rock, your fiancé gritted his teeth.

“That is absurd,” Gojo rushed to defend himself, sparing you a pertinent glare. “I do not have a lover and I have never conspired with said woman to bring any harm to the Princess’ life. Her accusations are those of a mad woman, Father.”

You flinched and slapped a hand to your mouth, the shakes in your body growing harder to ignore.

“Liar! You conspired to end my life! Why do you think I would run if not for such a treasonous act?”

Peeling your lachrymose eyes to the King, you hiccuped, “Please, Your Majesty. Speak to the maid named Miri and she will validate what I have to say.”

It was a slim prayer, that of a desperate woman, but you had to try. You had to shine reason into the King’s eyes that his heir was a cruel, calculating and cold man who unfairly wanted to end your life.

Satoshi pursed his lips, looking between his son and his fiancée who can barely stand without her knees shaking.

In the passing tenseness where no words were spoken, the lightheadedness suddenly stole your breath away and your legs buckled. You would have collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Satoru’s quick reflexes in catching you, holding you upright as he shot you a seething glare.

“For goodness sake, woman. Stand up straight. You are embarrassing yourself.”

But, you cannot hear his condescension or his warning. Your heart was palpitating rapidly, almost like it wanted to claw out of your chest. The room started to spin, and you realized in a frenzy that you couldn’t breathe properly without feeling like your throat was closing in.

Desperation washed over you and you tried to speak, to tell them something was gravely wrong.

A flicker of concern flitted across Satoru’s expression and he tried to hold you upright, but your body would not cooperate.

Losing all bearings and control of your composure, you crumpled right in his arms, as high-pitched screams echoing in the courtroom.

“... guards!”

“... infirmary… hurry!”

Satoru lifted you up into his arms, the sheen of his pure white hair shining under the fleeting lights of the passing sconces. Weakly, you tried to call out his name, but he shushed you, his voice dipping in and out of your consciousness.

“... save your strength… determine what's the issue…”

A hard bed met your back and hands were all over you, expertly probing, pressing and checking your vital signs.

The physician, an elderly man with wiry salt and pepper curls, pursed his lips, shifting his gaze to the King and the prince waiting anxiously by the sidelines for your diagnosis.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness. It appears the princess is suffering from an allergy attack. I have the right combination of herbs to aid her, though she might need to be sedated for the time being.”

Satoru bristled at the physician's words.

“Sedated? Why? She was merely stung…”

He trailed off, the unease in his tone catching the older man's attention.

“Stung, you say, Your Highness? What was she stung by?” As he spoke, he gestured to his assistants to prepare the herbal remedy, applying warm compresses onto the sore portions of your swollen hands.

Satoru felt his father's eyes boring into the side of his head and replied uneasily:

“She was stung by wasps.”

The physician scrutinized him, noticing the same reddened lesions all over his face and neck which were identical to the ones on your hands.

Satoru glanced at your unconscious form, guilt glimmering in his cerulean eyes when he took in your ashy pallor and your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“She got attacked while trying to escape from me.”

The physician’s expression turned grave, though he does not openly rebuke the young prince. Rather, he turned his full attention to the afflicted princess and made it his mission for tonight to cleanse her body free of the wasps’ poison.

“My men will be working tirelessly to resuscitate the Princess’ health, Your Majesty, Your Highness. We shall provide you with a report once it is done.”

There was nothing Satoru could do but let himself be led out of the infirmary, the curtains drawn around your feverish and malaised figure to keep your body away from prying eyes.

However, the idea of a whole group of men taking their turns to rub down your body with salve and paste made his stomach churned, and he quickly snapped his fingers to catch a young maid’s attention.

She straightened, rushing forward and bowing immediately.

“Stay with the Princess until the cleansing process is over and report to me instantly once it is done, do you understand?”

Bowing again, the brunette scurried towards the drawn curtains and parted it, letting herself into the circle to keep watch over the unconscious Princess.

A large palm squeezed his shoulder and Satoru turned to find his father’s solemn reflection echoed upon his countenance.

“Whatever happens to Cerena tonight, we must prepare for the worse, son.”

Satoshi moved them out of earshot, leaning forward to depart his grave strategy.

“If she should pass on, we would need to secure your engagement with another princess.” Satoru did not expect his father to bring up such an outrageous suggestion at such a delicate time. The abhorrence deepened the lines of shock on his handsome face and he took a step back.

“No—”

Frustrated by his son’s refusal, Satoshi growled. “Satoru, this is what is best for Northern Haleway—”

“Father. With all due respect, you severely underestimate Cerena’s will to live,” Satoru darted his gaze to the cordoned area of the infirmary, failing to hide the shake in his clenched fists. “She will live and she will make it out alive. I swear upon my own words, I will look after her and nurse her back to health. You do not need to make such a rash decision so soon.”

Struck mute by his son’s passionate insistence, Satoshi pursed his lips.

Eventually, after a few moments of staring down his only heir, the King relented, exhaling an exhausted sigh.

“Alright. I shall put aside the immediate plan for now,” he added gruffly, “Let us hope she makes a speedy recovery.”

Satoru nodded silently and left his father’s side, moving to lean against the threshold of the infirmary. With his strong arms folded across his chest, his gaze remained fixed on the drawn curtains that concealed his betrothed from the world.

The distinguished figure of his son, accentuated by the dark embroidered jacket and matching riding pants that highlighted the stark contrast of his pure white hair, stirred a bittersweet longing in Satoshi. It brought back memories of his own burdensome youth—the long nights spent in that very position, waiting for his Queen to deliver him an heir.

With a quiet sigh, he turned away from the infirmary, pausing to give his son one last, curious glance.

This is strange, indeed. I thought Satoru despised Princess Cerena…?

MTT fun fact: swan hunting is a popular sport in Northern Haleway

dawn says: king dadjo is sus,,,,,,

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

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