Black Clover Oneshots | x Reader [ON HIATUS]

right my wrongs | fuegoleon vermillion x dying!reader

Author's Note:

This song brings back memories.

"There's a time and a place for all this. This is not the place for all this. Is there a reason why you're saying all this? And can we talk about it later? I've gotta right my wrongs."

Enjoy.

(Y/n) = Your Name

(h/l) = Hair Length

(h/c) = Hair Color

(Y/n) Vermillion, faithful wife of Fuegoleon Vermillion, was fading. That bubbly personality of hers was now very dull. But she couldn't help it...not when her world was falling apart. First, she'd lost her parents, then both her siblings. She couldn't bare it any longer. At first, she assured herself that she'd always have Fuegoleon to lean on. But now she was starting to doubt that.

Feeling that she had nothing left to live for, she kept quiet when she was diagnosed with a severe illness. Every day she'd watch the hours pass her by, letting her life slip away little by little. The doctor repeatedly told her the illness was treatable, but she refused to get treatment. What was the point? She saw her diagnosis as a gateway to escape.

Meanwhile, Fuegoleon was unaware of his wife's condition. When their relationship first started, he'd constantly check up on her throughout the day, even if he didn't have a reason. It seemed that the only time they'd communicate was when it was work related. Other than that, they were very distant.

Fuegoleon's Point of View:

A few members of my squad were giving me a report of a recent mission, when there was a disruption all of a sudden.

"Brother, there's a doctor here to speak with you. He says it's important," Leopold barges in.

Didn't I teach that boy how to knock?

"Let him in," I reply, "We'll finish this conversation later," I say, turning to my squad members.

"Sir," they salute, exiting my office.

After a minute or two, a doctor comes in, holding a few papers.

"Captain Fuegoleon, sir, these are some papers explaining your wife's diagnosis. We've been waiting months for her to authorize treatment, but she refuses. We figured it was time to confront you on the matter," he spoke steadily.

"Diagnosis? What do you mean?"

"Well, a few months ago, your wife was diagnosed with a severe illness. She said she'd inform you immediately, but we haven't heard back from either of you. If she doesn't get treatment soon, she'll die, sir."

Months?!

"So...your telling me that my wife's dying, and I had no clue?" I ask, trying to process all this.

"I'm sorry sir, but yes. That is correct," he confirms.

"Why. Wouldn't. She. Tell. Me," I'm practically fuming at this point.

"We're not sure. She sounded genuinely concerned with her condition when we last spoke with her."

I quickly storm out of my office, bolting to our shared bedroom.

Narrator's Point of View:

(Y/n) was currently seated at her vanity, brushing through her (h/l), (h/c) hair. She hummed a little tune as well, unaware of the angry captain coming her way.

She flinched when there was a loud knock on the bedroom door. Setting down her brush, she got up to see who it was.

"Who is it?"

"It's Fuegoleon."

She opened the door wide enough for him to step inside the large master bedroom.

"Close the door," he mutters.

Despite her confusion, she complies. Fuegoleon leads her to the bed, making her sit down. He stands over her, looking down at the (brunette, blonde, etc.).

"What's wrong?" (Y/n) breaks the silence.

"I should be asking you the same question," her husband quipped.

"How come?"

"When were you planning to tell me?"

(Y/n) was silent.

"You were just going to wait until it was too late?!" he raises his voice.

His wife remained silent, staring down at the floor.

"Well?!"

"Well what?! There's nothing else to it. I imagine that the doctors have already told you all you need to know," she answers shallowly.

"As your husband, don't you think I have a right to know when your life might be in danger? You could tell me anything, darling. You know that," Fuegoleon expressed, tucking a lock of (Y/n)'s hair behind her ear.

"If I believed I could tell you anything that was on my mind, do you really think I would've kept quiet? No, I wouldn't have," she moved back, avoiding his touch.

"(Y/n)?...What do you mean?" he stammered.

"I told you over and over again that I think something's wrong with me, but did you listen? No. You put your job first, leaving me behind in the process. And when my family died, you didn't even comfort me. As a matter of fact, you kept sending me on missions. It drained my energy, causing my condition to worsen. Then, when I'd want to spend time with you, you'd tell me to be realistic. I got tired of trying. And by the time I went to the doctor, you had already lost my trust. I'm sorry, Fuegoleon, but I still refuse to receive any treatment. I have nothing to live for," (Y/n) explains, sobbing at this point.

Fuegoleon stared at his wife in shock. When she put it all into words, he felt awful. Everyone knew he hadn't been himself lately. He wanted to blame it on stress, but even if he told her that, it wouldn't make anything better. He just needed things to go back to the way they were. When his wife was healthy, and so was their relationship.

Tears began to trickle down his face...a rare sight indeed.

"May I start over, my love?" his voice was barely audible, "I need you to live. There's still so much we haven't done. We haven't had children yet like I'd dreamed. We haven't gotten to celebrate our wedding anniversaries in the future. We haven't even grown old together. And you're saying you have nothing left to live for? Please...let me right my wrongs."

(Y/n) pulled her husband closer, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'll get treatment under one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"Don't make me regret my decision."

"Deal."

End.

Author's Note:

If you haven't noticed by now, I base 99.9% of my oneshots on songs I like.  XD

Word Count: 1,015