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romaritimeharbor · 6 months ago

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HYDRANGEAS, CH. 1. — In which Tokito [Name] is invited to join the Corps.

— series synopsis. Hydrangeas, in some cultures, have been known to symbolize apology. The Hashira Tokito [Name] has many things to apologize for, indeed.

— trigger & content warnings. minor blood.

— pairings & notes. tokito muichiro, tokito yuichiro, ubuyashiki amane, ubuyashiki kagaya, rengoku kyojuro, & reader. reader is 11 in this chapter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 10k words.

— author's thoughts. hydrangeas is also posted on ao3!

Snap. Snap. Snap.

The repeated sound of splitting and snapping wood fibers, of an axe tearing through the middle of logs, was among one of the few sounds filling the air—the chirping of distant birds, the soft rustle of the breeze through blades of grass and leaves… it was quite serene, in a way. The young one responsible for cutting up spare firewood huffed, wiping away a little bit of sweat that collected at their brow before continuing; their muscles did not throb or ache, and they were quite used to completing household chores that demanded strength or endurance, but that didn’t change the fact that their task could indeed be a laborious one.

A series of quieter snaps and the soft crunching of grass underneath the weight of someone’s footsteps drew their attention, and they stopped, turning around to face the direction that the noises had come from.

Briefly, they had thought that their family had returned—they weren’t expecting any visitors, but they were expecting their father, mother, and little brothers to return sometime soon. However, they quickly realized that such a thing simply was not possible; had that been the case, there would have been four pairs of footsteps, but they could only discern two.

Furthermore, when they turned around, they did not see any trace of their family. Instead, a light-haired woman and another person clad in what they guessed to be some kind of uniform stood a comfortable distance away from them., and… was that a blade? It was sheathed, and the uniform-wearing stranger did not seem keen on drawing it, but still!

Their heart picked up speed for two reasons. One, that person had a weapon; anyone with any sense of danger would be concerned if someone armed approached them unexpectedly. Two, it was… kind of cool, actually. They knew better than to exclaim and gush about how cool that sword looked and ask about where the person had gotten it or what it was used for—was this person a martial artist? A samurai? Though, they thought that samurais no longer existed… then a shinobi, maybe? Or a former samurai?

…Right. No. They knew better than to ask. These people were strangers. Even if that woman was practically ethereal, carrying herself with such beauty and grace that they really would not have doubted her if she said she was nobility, and that person had a very cool sword… they were still strangers.

Of course, that didn’t mean that they needed to be unnecessarily harsh or rude. The people did not seem to have ill-intent, anyway; if they did, something surely would have happened by now.

“Hello,” they greeted kindly, offering the two a polite smile as they set their axe down next to the pile of chopped wood. “Are you lost, miss? I can take you to the nearby village, if so.”

“No,” she replied. “Thank you, young one, but we are not lost.”

“Oh? Um… then…”

It was as if she had read their mind, going on to answer their unspoken question:

“I have come to find you.”

“Me?” A variety of emotions flashed across their features—fear, disconcertment, unease—before finally settling on cautious curiosity. “Why?”

Her professional, cool disposition did not falter at all. “You are the descendant of a great swordsman,” she vaguely explained, her tone smooth and almost soothing, in a way. “My duty, the purpose of my visit, is to ask if you would like to join the Demon Slayer Corps and carry on the legacy that he left behind.”

“I… I am?”

“Yes.”

“I…” they trailed off, head almost spinning at the information she relayed to them and its implications, but with how earnest her expression seemed… it was hard to think that she was lying. That would explain the swordsman at her side (who had yet to say a single word and seemed to be largely on guard, constantly surveying the area for threats, ready to strike at a moment’s notice; perhaps this woman was not nobility, but she must have been important in one way or another to have such a stoic, attentive bodyguard).

Demon Slayers—they did not doubt their existence. After all, their father often spoke of them, but it seemed so impossible. So fictional, like the kinds of stories and tales that one might tell a child to help them fall asleep.

Yet, standing before them was a mysterious woman asking if they wanted to join them.

“...I thought Demon Slayers were just fictional. Like— like the stories you tell little kids.”

The uniform-clad person beside her made a noise at that. It sounded like a laugh. They were being laughed at.

“Most people do,” she said, nodding, and the person next to her straightened up again; it was as if that person realized that maybe they shouldn’t have laughed, since it was a common misconception. “Demon Slayers are not recognized by the government. Therefore, save for the people who are already Demon Slayers and their families, most people do not believe in demons.” She stopped, but then clarified: “...But they are real, and they are an active threat.”

“Um, would you like to have tea?” Nervously, they wrung their hands together. “I’m sorry, I… it’s a lot to take in at once, and I don’t want to force you to stand for as long as it takes to explain it to me. I think that would make me a rude host. So, um, would you like to have tea with me, miss?”

"Very well."

With a kind smile that seemed to waver and tremble a little bit under the intensity of the gaze of her bodyguard, they approached the woman, gingerly taking one of her hands in theirs and leading her along the path paved by frequent usage. She seemed surprised, eyes widening and calm expression faltering somewhat.

…But then, her lips twitched upwards into the ghost of an adorning smile at the sheer innocence of their actions as she allowed herself to be led along, the Demon Slayer following close behind.

“Oh!” They stopped, turning around to face her. “I’m so sorry, miss, I never asked for your name.”

“That is quite alright,” she reassured, the diplomacy in her demeanor seeming to soften quite significantly as she looked down at them. “My name is Ubuyashiki Amane.”

“I suppose I probably don’t have to introduce myself to you…”

“No, you do not. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tokito [Name].”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

“Should I call you Lady Amane?” they wondered softly as their calloused hands carefully poured the tea into three cups—one for them, one for Amane, and one for the Demon Slayer. The person seemed surprised as they handed one cup to them, offering a quiet ‘thank you’ in response. “Or, um, Lady Ubuyashiki?”

“Most of the Corps’ children would call me Lady Amane,” she explained, “but you do not have to, since it is just us. You may call me Mrs. Ubuyashiki or even Mrs. Amane if you wish. Truthfully, even in front of others, you may still address me a bit less formally. It is only a display of respect, and we do not demand respect from our children. It is completely up to you if you wish to refer to me formally or informally.”

A timid smile graced their face as they gazed down at the cup clutched between their two hands. “Mrs. Ubuyashiki… if I am a descendant of a swordsman, does that mean my little brothers are as well? And one of my parents?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Amane confirmed, “but neither my husband nor I could ask young children to make the same commitment that we are asking of you. Furthermore, we also cannot ask a father to leave his home—his wife and his children—to fight in a war that defies nature, such as this one.”

She raised the cup to her lips, basking in and appreciating both the warmth and flavor of the tea. It was a very much welcomed courtesy after her journey to find them.

Silence descended upon the group for a short moment.

Their little brothers, the twins… they were only four. She was indeed correct; they barely knew right from wrong at that age. It was far too young, and to ask their father to abandon his wife and little children would be deeply insensitive. She was right.

Perhaps…

Perhaps they really were the only viable candidate among their family at the moment.

Before they could speak, Amane did.

“Please understand that this is your choice,” she said. “We will not hold it against you if you say no. It is a difficult burden to bear. There are not many people who are suited for it, and there is no shame in being unsuited to carry such a weight on your shoulders.”

“I understand,” they reassured, gnawing on the corner of their lip thoughtfully. “If… If I were to join the Demon Slayer Corps, what would that mean? What would happen?”

Amane hummed thoughtfully. It was a valid question, and one that she had to answer very wisely.

“If you were to join the Corps,” she began, “it would mean that you lose the promise of a tomorrow.”

“I don’t think anyone is promised a tomorrow,” they cut in. “I mean, there is no way of knowing if we’ll really wake up tomorrow morning, is there? That’s why you have to cherish the moment while you’re in it, and be kind without reservation.”

“...You’re right, little one. No-one who walks this world is promised a tomorrow. The members of the Corps have a very special understanding of this. If you join, you must understand that you could die at any given time, but it seems you already know this.”

“My father taught me that. We don’t live very long, so we should make the most of it.”

She smiled. They could not help but mirror it.

“He was right.” She then continued, “Given that you understand this idea, I do not feel the need to emphasize it any longer. You asked what would happen, what it would mean to join… it would mean joining a war. You are welcome to leave at any time, but most do not. Many spend their entire lives fighting off demons to keep other people safe.”

“I would be protecting others.”

“Yes.”

“So…” They met her gaze; there was a kind of wisdom in their young eyes, and it astounded her a bit. “Even though I would be leaving my family for who knows how long, I would get to protect them. To lower the chance that a demon might wander into our home and… and unjustly end our lives. If I joined the Corps, we wouldn’t be defenseless…”

Demons were an invisible threat—a threat that they did not know existed, but one that they were now acutely aware of, and one that they would not be able to forget now that it had been revealed to them.

“Yes.”

“I could protect innocent lives.”

“You could, indeed, but there is another thing you must be aware of: to join the Corps, you must train for and then survive a week-long event on a demon-infested mountain. Many people train for at least two years before this event, but some… well, some train for a much shorter amount of time and still survive. It will depend on you and your specific abilities.”

"I see," they murmured softly, allowing the information to sink in. They stared into the swirling green tea in their cup.

They were only eleven, soon to turn twelve. Were they capable of making this kind of decision? Were they allowed to? Was this okay? What might their father say, when they inevitably discuss the entirety of their encounter with Amane with him?

…

They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure, but their heart was set—they wanted to do this. Protecting people, they and their father both believed, was a noble endeavor; he always encouraged them to be kind and selfless, and… it was indeed true that they mostly wanted to protect their family from a threat that otherwise could not be fended off. Nonetheless, they would still protect strangers.

They would get to protect everyone.

At their extended silence, Amane spoke up, "I understand if this is jarring and sudden—"

“No— I mean, it is,” they managed to chuckle a bit as they gazed at her. “It’s okay, though, because if I become a Demon Slayer, I can protect people. I can protect my family so that no demon ever gets the chance to hurt them, right?”

Amane was quiet for a second. Then, she offered the smallest yet sweetest smile. "Yes, that’s right."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

The golden afternoon light bathed their face in its gentle warmth.

Shortly following Amane’s departure, they had returned to chopping wood, though the encounter never did leave their head. Truthfully, for the following hours, it was all they could think about; the repetitive nature of their task did not make it any easier not to focus on what had happened.

However, what did make it easy to forget about (at least, for the moment) was the sound of small, excited footsteps heading in their direction. They smiled to themselves, setting the axe down before turning around.

“[Name]! [Name], look!” the brighter of the twins, Muichiro, exclaimed as he ran up to them, stumbling cutely to a stop before thrusting his arm outwards and up towards them. In it, a little flower was clasped. “It’s for you!”

Amusedly trailing behind the boy were both parents and his slightly older brother, whose hand was held only somewhat securely in his mother’s. They waved with a bright smile at their parents before turning their attention back to their brother and kneeling down. “Aw,” they cooed. “Thank you Mui. That’s really sweet.”

“Yuichiro has one too, but he’s too shy to give it to you,” the boy commented as he gently, gingerly placed the flower behind their ear.

“Oh?” they replied, a teasing lilt in their voice as they curiously shifted their gaze from the youngest twin to the eldest. Yuichiro puffed out his slightly flushed cheeks with childish irritation that they had to actively restrain themselves from cooing at. “Is that so?”

“Don’t say that, Muichiro,” Yuichiro huffed, shaking his hand free of his mother’s grip and reluctantly shuffling over to them. “Here,” he murmured, tucking his flower behind their other ear.

They stared. Yuichiro knew instantly that he was in trouble. ‘Trouble,’ of course, meaning nothing serious—only that they were going to relentlessly tease him until the event became overshadowed by other tease-worthy occurrences.

“You know, that’s cute,” they teased, hands reaching out and gently patting each of their heads, “you guys are the cutest.”

Their parents only smiled at the interaction.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

“Papa,” they murmured quietly from their place a few feet behind him where they were sitting on a vacant stump, fidgeting with their sleeves as they thought about how to proceed—how to bring up what had happened earlier in the day. The rhythmic snapping of wood that they had grown so used to came to a halt as the man smiled, his warm eyes turning to his oldest child.

The light of the afternoon had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky an ombre of blues as it got darker, shadows enveloping the world in the sun’s absence. Their father’s voice was gentle, considerate of their blatant anxiety, as he asked, “What is it?”

“You know the stories about Demon Slayers you tell me sometimes?” they wondered, gaze directed downwards as an inexplicable sense of guilt began to settle in their gut. It was as if they were doing something wrong, as if the direction that the conversation would inevitably go in was somehow punishable. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of where they were sitting. “Are— are they true..?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t tell you lies,” he laughed, reaching out to ruffle their hair. For a brief moment, the gesture seemed to calm their racing heart and trembling palms ever so slightly, but the anxiety came back just as soon as it had gone. “Why the sudden interest?”

Their stomach twisted.

…But really, they had no way out of it now—the truth was going to come out one way or another, and if they tried to back out, it would look suspicious.

They always told him when something was bothering them. This ‘something’ should have been no different, but it was.

“Um, when you all were out today…” they trailed off, now picking at the skin around their nails. Their father’s gentle but calloused—equally calloused as their own, if not more so—hands cupped theirs the second they began to do so. It was as if he was softly discouraging them from doing something that could be potentially harmful. Of course, the gentle discouragement would never be enough to fully put a stop to the habit, but it was good enough for the time being.

“Go on. What is on your mind?”

“When you all were out today,” they continued, taking a deep breath to soothe themselves, “a woman visited. She was nice. Her name was Ubuyashiki Amane. She explained to me that I had descended from a swordsman.”

“That’s true,” their father confirmed, thumbs rubbing along their knuckles. “Somewhere on my side of the family, I believe, there was a great swordsman.”

“Right.” They nodded. “She didn’t say what side, but… that’s what she told me. She’s the wife of the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, and she asked me if I would join them.”

“...Well, do you want to?”

“Yes…” Ashamed heat built up underneath their skin, and they only managed to squeak out a quiet ‘I’m sorry.’

“No, no,” he immediately insisted, gripping his child’s hands with more purpose now. “Don’t be sorry. Just answer me this, okay? Do you understand the implications of that?”

They could only nod. It was far too hard to speak under the weight of guilt and shame and embarrassment creeping around their neck and onto their chest.

“You are no weak child.” He smiled again. “I have to be honest, [Name]. I would rather that you didn’t join them, but I also know that you would make a fine swordsman.”

“You— you think so?”

“I’m certain of it.”

A calm, reassuring silence descended. They were exceedingly aware of the ambient sounds of the night—the distant hum of insects, the—now much colder—breeze still weaving its way through the grass and leaves…

“I know it’s dangerous,” they whispered, “but I want to be able to save people, papa. I want to be able to save you and mama and— and Mui and Yui—”

“Shh. I know, little one. The last thing I want is to see you get hurt,” he said, now caressing their face with his hands and bringing his forehead to theirs, “but that is a beautiful want. I raised you this way, so this comes as no surprise to me. Will she be returning?”

“She said she would come back in three days.”

He then withdrew, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head. “Then… I suppose I’ll have to let you go in three days.”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

That night, the only thing they could hear was the pounding of rain on the roof and the roaring of rain throughout the night.

A soft sigh left their lips, head resting against one of the walls of their small, cozy room. Despite the powerful sense of safety their little room induced, sleep failed to find them. No matter how hard they tried, they simply could not fall asleep. Was it anxiety? Was it the stress of the day, of the decision they made? Was it the knowledge that in three days, they’d be leaving? They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure.

Again, they sighed. Their eyelids closed as they listened to the repetitive tapping of the rain.

Over the rain, they just barely managed to catch the sound of their door sliding open, but they did manage to catch it. Their tired eyes opened. Upon seeing the boy in the doorway, they smiled.

“Hi, Yui.”

It most certainly was not the first time one of the twins ran to their room late at night; shockingly, however, it was usually the oldest who would run to them. Muichiro was notorious for being a heavy sleeper, and he generally didn’t have nightmares, nor did thunderstorms wake him up. Yuichiro, however, slept far more lightly and was prone to waking up in the middle of the night. He disliked bothering his parents and would typically be the one to comfort Muichiro if he couldn’t sleep, so who did the older of the twins end up running to when he had trouble sleeping?

His older sibling, of course. They would not have it any other way.

“I guess the thunder’s just a bit too loud for you tonight,” they mused, just loud enough to be heard over the storm but not loud enough to potentially wake up anyone else. Yuichiro trembled, chewing on his bottom lip; even in the dark, they could still see the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. “C’mere,” they murmured, opening their arms invitingly. “Guess mama and papa are asleep if you’re running to me, huh? And I’ll bet Mui is too, the heavy sleeper he is.”

Yuichiro nodded quickly, shuffling over to them. They lifted up their blanket, readjusting it over his head when he crawled onto their futon. The way the blanket draped over his head and body almost made it look as if he was wearing a cloak of sorts—the thought made them giggle.

When loud thunder suddenly struck, the boom! resonating all throughout the area, he squeaked, burying his face in their torso. They hummed, leaning back against the wall. "It’s okay to be scared," they murmured now that he was close enough to hear. Soothingly, their fingers toyed with his long hair. "I’m here. I’m watching over you. You’re safe, alright?"

Though he would likely not admit it out loud, their words soothed the fear building in his little body. He finally relaxed against their chest.

Soon enough, he'd fallen asleep like that. It was easy to tell; the frantic, panicked breaths had become steady and slow, and he would no longer give any indication of having heard whatever they were saying to him. After some time of sitting there with him, they found that his light weight against their chest was aiding with their own sleeplessness. Eventually, they too managed to fall asleep.

The next morning consisted much of their parents cooing over how cute the two were.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Three days passed peacefully without incident.

Just as Amane had promised, she returned on the morning of the fourth day, again with a Demon Slayer at her side. They weren’t sure if it was the same one, but they supposed that didn’t really matter much.

“Shall we take this conversation outside?” their mother suggested, to which they nodded… but they did not fail to notice their little brothers’ intense stares boring into the back of their skull from their hiding place behind one of the other doors, and it seemed that their mother also noticed.

“I’ll tell them to wait in here, mama.”

She smiled, thanking her child before stepping outside with her husband and Amane. Only when the front door had shut did they turn around, meeting their brothers’ gazes with equal intensity, making them squeak in unison.

“Psst. Come here, you two.”

Defeatedly, the twins waddled out. Muichiro was lightly clutching Yuichiro’s sleeve. Perhaps it was because of the presence of an unfamiliar woman? Muichiro was shy. He always had been—Yuichiro was the calmer one, in that respect. Muichiro was friendly, having waved timidly in Amane’s direction when she entered, but he was still shy. Their father was always trying to encourage him to be bolder, but that was easier said than done. It was often in his moments of anxiety, such as the current one, that he clung onto his twin brother, so… they supposed that could be why.

No. That was most definitely why.

They kneeled down to the height of their little siblings. “Listen, I’m going away for some time, okay?”

Muichiro’s reaction was instant—little mint eyes widened as he immediately reached forward, now tugging on their sleeve with a pouty expression. “No,” he whined. “[Name] can’t leave…”

“I’m not leaving forever!” they quickly clarified, at which the younger twin seemed to calm down somewhat. “I’ll visit as much as I can, and I’ll send lots of letters and presents, okay?”

They knew very well that they could not promise many visits, though… they would try their best. Hopefully, that would be enough for their brothers.

Yuichiro, too, pouted, shooting them a childishly cute glare as he—rather weakly; he was just far too little to do any real damage—punched their arm. “You better,” he huffed.

“Of course,” they reassured. “I can’t disappoint my little brothers, now can I?”

Both boys shook their heads, as if to agree and say, ‘No, you can’t.’ Though, they were not oblivious, and they took notice of the generally downcast demeanors the two bore. Well… if their mother wasn’t here, wasn’t looking, then… they grinned a mischievous smile, reaching into the clothes draped over their body and pulled out two pieces of candy. Their clothes, particularly the folds and the sleeves, were exceptional places to store bribery material.

The two children seemed to brighten up almost instantly at the sight of the sweets in their open palm (though, the brightening was less obvious on Yuichiro’s face, but they could tell that his mood did indeed improve, if only a little). Each took one from their palm, and they leaned forward to press kisses to each of their foreheads.

“Don’t tell mama, okay?”

“[Name],” Yuichiro whined in protest, his face twisting in dramatic disgust. Muichiro only giggled at his brother’s annoyance. “Gross.”

“Oh, hush,” they replied. “It’s not gross.”

“Yeah, it is,” the older of the twins insisted, sticking his tongue out at them, to which they playfully rolled their eyes. “Bleh.”

“Hey, you’re going to miss my ‘gross’ affection when I’m not at home all the time to give it to you,” they laughed as they stood up. “I’m going to head outside now, okay? Me, mama, and papa are just going to talk to that nice lady, so wait in here for us.”

When the twins finally nodded, their reluctance not completely erased but placated for the moment, they finally slid open the front door and stepped out of the house.

“Good morning, Lady Amane,” they greeted with a little smile as they closed the door behind them before walking over to said woman, who was in conversation with their parents. A small smile graced her elegant features once her eyes landed on them.

“Hello, child.”

A hand belonging to none other than their father found its way onto their head, ruffling their locks of hair, before falling back to his side. “So, they’ll have a safe place to stay while training, and you won’t let them go to… ah, forgive me—the Final Selection, was it called?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “and please, do not worry. We would not permit a child under our care to partake in the selection unless they were fully prepared to do so. Furthermore, we would be more than happy to host them at our home on the days that they do not return home.”

Though their mother was reluctant—far more so than their father—she sighed, wringing her hands together before her arms settled back down at her sides. “Well… very well, then.” Her cool, mint-toned eyes shifted downwards to them. They stared back up at her, wide-eyed and anticipating her response. Her nimble fingers gently raked through their hair, stroking over the top of her oldest child’s head and down to just below their ear, before settling on cupping their face. “You have to promise to write to us often and come to visit when you can, okay?”

“Yes! I will, mama, I promise.”

“Then… you may go. Be careful, love, and save lots of people, too.”

“I will!”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Truth be told, they did not own much. There wasn’t much of anything they needed to take with them—even clothes were not necessary, since Amane said that the Corps would cover it.

Following the conversation, after giving hugs and—much to Yuichiro’s absolute despair—kisses, they left alongside the woman.

“The journey back will be long,” Amane began, tilting her face in their direction to speak directly to them. They couldn’t help but admire the way her pale locks framed her face, tickling her cheeks and truly reinforcing the noble image of her that they had created in their head. “Therefore, we will spend the night at the current Flame Hashira’s manor. Demons are at their most active at nighttime, as they cannot survive exposure to direct sunlight, so we should avoid traveling after sundown as diligently as possible.”

“Hashira?”

“Ah. You have not yet learned of our ranking system… it seems I neglected to explain that detail. I am sorry, little one.”

“No, no!” They waved their hands frantically as they went on to reassure her: “Please don’t apologize to me! It’s okay! I’m sure there’s lots of things you couldn’t possibly have had the time to explain to me in the short conversations we’ve had! It’s not your fault!”

“Shall I explain now, then?” Briefly, she turned to face the accompanying Demon Slayer. “How long is the trip to Lord Rengoku’s estate?”

Immediately, the person straightened up, giving her their complete attention. “Yes, Lady Amane! The walk will be about three hours!”

“Then,” she began, turning back to face them with what seemed to be her usual serenity, “we do have time, if you would like to hear the explanation of the ranking system as we walk. It will also be explained to you at the end of the Final Selection, but you needn’t wait until then if you would like to know in advance.”

“If you wouldn’t mind”--they offered her a timid smile, almost embarrassed to ask such a thing of her, even though she was the one who extended the offer in the first place—”I would like to hear about it. Since— since we have the time. If you don’t mind. Um. I said that already, didn’t I..?”

She mirrored their smile, except hers reflected great grace and calmness that theirs certainly lacked (at least, that it lacked in that moment; something about their situation felt exceedingly surreal, as if they could not believe that it was actually happening, so it was quite difficult to maintain a steady expression and tone).

“Very well. At the very bottom are Mizunotos…”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Amane’s explanation, naturally, did not last the full three hours it took to reach the estate.

Really, it only took about thirty minutes. They did, however, ask a multitude of questions that extended the length of the discussion for quite some time. The conversation drifted between topics—she did not have any children yet, they learned, though she did express the desire to have a few; they wondered if she felt at all compelled to, or if she simply wanted to be a mother… it wasn’t their place to make any kind of assumptions, so they did not dare to ask such a question—for some time, before settling into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the walk.

By the time they reached the open gate of the house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

“Good afternoon, Lord Rengoku.”

A man stood tall slightly in front of the gateway, white haori dipped in the tones of flames blowing in the breeze alongside his matching hair (really, all they could possibly think when they looked at him was flames). Beside him stood a boy practically identical to him.

Oh, that had to be his son. They genuinely could not fathom another explanation.

“Lady Amane,” the older man greeted, his sharp gaze briefly flicking in their direction and making them squeak at its intensity, “welcome. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“It went smoothly. Thank you for your concern.” She then reached out, placing a gentle hand on their upper back. They instinctively straightened up somewhat, now completely under the scrutiny of that intense-eyed man and his intense-eyed son. “This is Tokito [Name], one living descendant of the first swordsman to use Breathing Styles, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.”

“I see.”

“It— It’s nice to meet you, sir!” they exclaimed, voice wavering slightly under the weight of their sudden shyness, bowing at the waist level.

Silence.

Then, a gruff snort—a chuckle—from the older man. A tough hand settled on their head and ruffled their locks. “Hey, kid. I am Rengoku Shinjuro, the Demon Slayer Corps’ Flame Hashira. Stand up straight. You know how to use a sword?”

“I don’t, sir,” they replied, straightening their body once again and beginning to pick at the skin around their nails.

(This time, their father was not there to gently stop them. It was too soon to be growing homesick, but suddenly, a little bit of sadness settled in their gut. They could only hope that it did not show on their face.)

“Well, now’s as good a time as any to start learning.” He turned his attention to his son. “Kyojuro—”

“Yes, father!”

Oh. They winced. That boy was surely going to blow their eardrums out if he kept talking like that, but at the very least, his enthusiasm made them feel a bit better.

“--why don’t you go ahead and teach them the basics of swordsmanship?”

He beamed at the idea; they almost had to squint at the sheer brightness his face shone with. “Yes, father!”

Kyojuro looked at them with a grin, his shoulders squared and proud as he extended one of his hands to them. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Rengoku, I’m— ah?!” they cut themselves off with a yelp as, the very second they placed their hand in his, he darted off beyond the gates and into the estate’s grounds, effectively dragging them along with him. They barely even had time to spare Amane a glance.

Then, he suddenly stopped, causing them to stumble into his back with a small ‘oof!’

“Ow.”

“Sorry!” he apologized, glancing around the open space, as if searching for something. His gaze landed on a weapon rack, and his face immediately brightened again as he walked over to it. Two wooden swords, among a variety of other weapons, rested there. He picked up both. Then, with only a quick ‘Catch!’ as a warning, he tossed one in their direction.

Deft hands caught it by the handle.

Having spent much of their childhood chopping wood, they knew not to catch or grab any tools by the blade unless completely necessary.

(When Muichiro was two, a visitor to their home left one hatchet in an extremely poor place. When it fell down, it may have very well split the poor boy’s face in half…

…If not for their stopping it with their hand, that is. He did end up with a little bit of blood on his face, but they were just thankful that it wasn’t his; their wound meant nothing as long as he was okay. The scar, even two years later, would still stare back at them if they were to open their right hand and look for it—a huge slit across their palm that could have very easily affected their grip strength permanently. It served as a reminder of the stupid things they would do to protect their little brothers.

Their current endeavor was also kind of stupid, now that they thought about it.)

Technically, the wooden sword had no blade. It was more about the principle than the actual situation; they should never get into the habit of grabbing a wooden sword by its “blade,” lest that habit end up getting them hurt when they start using real swords with real blades.

Kyojuro seemed delighted at their handling of the practice sword, too.

“Okay!” he exclaimed. “Your first lesson is on how to hold the sword correctly! And the proper stance!”

“The correct stance…” they echoed quietly.

“Yes. When you stand, your feet should be shoulder’s width apart,” Kyojuro explained. Subconsciously, they adjusted their stance when he explained. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat by then, the volume of his voice having lowered quite considerably as he settled into his explanation. He approached them, gently and carefully tapping the back of their locked knees with his practice sword. “Also, don’t lock your knees”

“Right.”

“If you lock your knees, it makes it easier for people to knock you off balance. Sometimes it also can lead to injuries or make it easier for you to be injured, so keep them slightly bent at all times. There might be exceptions later down the line, but that’s just the general rule.”

The younger child stepped back, raising his hand to his chin thoughtfully as he picked apart their stance for any significant errors or anything that needed to be corrected. When he found nothing, he nodded firmly, his bright smile returning to replace the thoughtful expression on his face.

“Onto holding the sword, then!”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

By the time Kyojuro had gone over all the basics that he felt were necessary, the sun had long since set, leaving the moon in its wake to bathe the Earth below in its soothing, cool light. The boy with the fiery hair had insisted on sparring with them.

‘Just a little!’ he had said. ‘I won’t push you too hard!’

…They shot said boy a playful glare as their chest heaved, the wooden sword helping to support some of their weight as they caught their breath. They were careful to not put too much weight on the sword, though—oh, they’d feel terrible if they somehow broke or chipped it, no matter how unlikely that scenario actually was.

(Amane had mentioned on the journey to the Flame Estate that Hashira are paid as much as they want, so they were fairly certain that Shinjuro would easily be able to afford a replacement without even causing so much as a dent in his savings. Still… they were a guest. To just waltz into someone’s home and recklessly break their belongings would be utterly unforgivable!

…Even if that wouldn’t have even been close to what would have happened.)

Kyojuro laughed boisterously at the look they gave him. “You’re strong, Tokito!”

“Thanks… so are you. Ahh… my arms hurt…”

He didn’t reply for a moment—if he was looking at something, they couldn’t really tell, as their head was tilted down while they tried to catch their breath and slow their racing heartbeat.

“Oh!” he suddenly gasped, grabbing their hand and running over to one of the entrances to the house. “Hello, mother! This is Tokito [Name]!”

Between the shock of being suddenly dragged along again and the panting from sparring with him, it took them a minute to raise their head. When they did, however, they were greeted with the sight of a dark-haired, red-eyed woman (she looked concerningly pale, they noted, but did not ask about something so potentially personal) with a boy identical to Kyojuro and his father clutching her sleeve shyly. He didn’t dare to meet their gaze, no matter how gentle they may have looked.

“You have a brother?” they asked Kyojuro, smiling kindly at the little boy when he made a small noise of surprise at being indirectly addressed.

Before the older son could respond, the woman did. “Yes,” she said. “This is Rengoku Senjuro, and I am Rengoku Ruka.”

The lady of the house.

“Ah, I’m— I’m so sorry for not addressing you first, Lady Rengoku!” they quickly apologized. “It’s just that I have—”

She raised a hand, and they stopped.

“Please. Mrs. Rengoku is perfectly fine,” she softly assured. “Continue, little one.”

“Ah… of course, Mrs. Rengoku.” Heat rushed to their cheeks, and they reached up to shyly scratch the back of their neck. “I have little brothers that are probably around his age, and one of them is really shy. It just made me think of him, so I wanted to address Senjuro gently instead of pretending he wasn’t there. All kids are different, but… I think that maybe it helps to establish kindness first and foremost.”

The ghost of a smile graced her lips at that. “It is to protect them that you’ve decided to join the Corps, yes?”

“Yes, miss. That is a big part of why,” they started, “but I also want to protect a lot of other people, too. My dad always told me I should.”

She nodded. Something unidentifiable flashed across her face for a moment, but just as fast as it had arrived, it left. All they could discern was that it was not necessarily negative. She then began to speak again.

“Thank you for being Kyojuro’s friend. I hope Senjuro will also be friends with you one day.”

The little boy buried his face in his mother’s side at that.

Somehow—though they were sure it should not have been possible—Kyojuro’s face brightened immeasurably, as if it wasn’t bright enough already. He had yet to let go of their hand.

“Oh— oh, of course!” No friendship had really been ‘formally established,’ in that he never explicitly asked if they wanted to be friends with him, but they didn’t mind much. “No, I really should be thanking him… he’s technically my first friend within the Corps, or my first friend who is associated with the Corps. It makes the idea of beginning my training before the Final Selection seem a lot less intimidating.”

“That is good, then.” Her gaze shifted between the two of them. She looked as if she were contemplating something, as if whatever she planned to say next had to be considered carefully. Then, she finally murmured, “Protect one another out there, alright?”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Morning had come quickly after the conversation with Ruka. They had been fed, clothed, and given a room to stay in. Once the sun had risen and they greeted the Hashira, they tried to return the nightclothes, but Shinjuro had simply brushed it off, telling them that they should keep the set. Following that, Amane had departed with them and her Demon Slayer guard, though not before they said their goodbyes to Kyojuro.

The remainder of the walk—about four hours—was completed in peaceful silence.

As they approached, finally approached, their destination, an overwhelming but not unpleasant scent filled their senses.

“Wisteria?”

“It wards off demons.”

“I see…” they murmured, awestruck at the sheer amount of wisteria trees surrounding the estate, the vines draping down and creating what could only possibly be described as an ethereal barrier between the outside world and the important family that lived within.

Upon pushing past the flower barrier, their eyes widened somewhat.

"This," Amane began, "is the Demon Slayer Corps' headquarters. My husband and I live here. You are welcome to stay here until after the Final Selection, when you begin missions."

“Are…” They trailed off, eyes flicking around the astonishing expanse of the home and admiring its beauty. Their attention was also drawn to the masked Demon Slayers scurrying around; unlike regular Slayers, these did not bear weapons. Other Demon Slayers, they also noted, seemed to always be unmasked, but these...

“They’re the Kakushi,” Amane’s guard said. They blinked—once, twice. That was the first time that they’d heard that person speak a whole sentence. Ignoring their bewilderment, the guard went on: “You could think of them as a cleanup and medical crew. They’re usually the people who have no swordsmanship skills, but still wanted to help our cause in some way.”

“Ah.”

“Right. Well, then…” The Slayer stepped forward and bowed to Amane. “I will be taking my leave, Lady Amane! I pray for your continued safety!”

“Very well.” Amane nodded. “Thank you for escorting us safely.”

“Of course!”

With that, the person was off, and they were reminded of what they were initially going to ask.

“Um… are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here, Lady Amane? I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Worry not,” she reassured. “It is no imposition. Come along. The master would like to meet you."

With graceful, practiced strides, she began walking again, and they were quick to stumble after her. They followed along closely as she entered the home (though not before removing her shoes, and they swiftly followed her motion), peering curiously down different hallways as they walked.

Already, they could foresee themselves getting lost… and probably more than once. The halls weren’t particularly difficult to navigate—there were just an astonishing amount of them that branched off, leading to different rooms and sometimes even additional hallways. It was dizzying, in a way.

They couldn’t linger on those thoughts for too long, though, as Amane slowed to a stop in front of one particular room. Her gentle hands slid the door open, and she motioned for them to go inside.

“Go ahead. Master is waiting.”

“You’re not coming?”

She smiled. The gesture alone immensely reassured them, easing whatever irrational concerns they had fabricated in their mind. “No, young one. I also have my own responsibilities to take care of, but worry not. Whatever it is that you are expecting, whatever you have envisioned that is causing you such fear, I assure you that the boy in that room will be nothing like it.”

Boy?

Nonetheless, they nodded, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ to her before stepping inside. She slid the door closed once they did.

Beyond the threshold of the door, they spotted him for the first time—a dark-haired boy barely any older than they were, sitting with his legs tucked underneath himself on one side of a short table. The other side was vacant, presumably a seat for anyone he needed to speak to. Their breath hitched.

He really was a boy. If they had to guess, they would say he was maybe twelve or thirteen; he was virtually their age. It made them fleetingly wonder how he could sit there and look so graceful. When the weight of leading the entire Corps through what could only be described as a war, how could he look so at peace? They dared not ask. Maybe they were too afraid to, or perhaps they really didn’t want to know.

His attention shifted to them, and he smiled.

They would be nervous to be under his scrutiny, but… it really didn’t feel like he was scrutinizing them—only gazing over their nervous form. It was then that they took notice of the sickly purple threatening to creep down his face from his hairline, which was another thing they were not keen on asking about, whether that be because they did not want to come off as impolite or because they knew that the answer may not be pleasant.

“Come. Have a seat,” he beckoned gently, tone making their head spin at its utter softness.

They snapped out of their daze, timidly shuffling over to the table and gingerly situating themselves on the side opposite to him. Embarrassed heat flooded their cheeks at the simple thought alone that their first impression might have gone poorly. They stood there like a child awaiting instruction! They tried not to think too deeply about that, lest they grow overcome by the wish to melt into the floor and disappear. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” he reassured. “My name is Ubuyashiki Kagaya. You may address me in whatever manner that you feel most comfortable, but most of the Corps’ children call me me Master. It is a pleasure to meet you, [Name].”

“Y— You as well,” they somehow managed to stutter out, feeling a bit lighter every time he spoke to them.

Carefully, with motions surely just as practiced as—if not more so than—Amane, he rose to his feet. “Walk with me. Any questions you may have, I would be more than happy to answer.”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Questions, questions.

They certainly had many. How did the Corps come to be? They had heard Lady Amane mention breathing styles—what exactly were they? Each question was answered in full with kind patience. Kagaya truly was more than happy to engage them as he brought them around the estate grounds. They’d even gotten answers to questions they were previously afraid to ask without even needing to work up the courage to ask them. Every single detail about the Corps was covered thoroughly, and the knowledge they attained was beyond reassuring. Things no longer seemed so intimidating.

Of course, the idea of going head-to-head in combat with a demon whose strength undoubtedly exceeded theirs as a human was… certainly unsettling. It was still intimidating, but at the very least, they now fully understood the expectations in place for them and all other Demon Slayers.

Coming to a halt in front of a door, Kagaya turned to them. “This is the room in which you will be staying. It is quite barren at this time, but you are wholly encouraged to decorate it to your tastes.”

The walk continued after that. Down another hallway, turning another few corners… and then, he stopped again, this time sliding the door he had stopped in front of open.

Warm, gentle rays of sunlight seeped into the room through a crack in another door opposite to where they were standing. If they had to make a guess, they would say that it led out into the little courtyard garden in the middle of the house. Shelves lined the inside of the room, filled to the brim with stacks of books on a vast variety of topics. A small table sat in an otherwise vacant space between two of the bookcases.

“In this room, you will find books on quite possibly anything you could imagine,” Kagaya began, watching with a gentle, adorning smile as they cautiously stepped into the room, as if they feared causing even the smallest bit of damage or disturbance. “In particular, you should be able to find a record of nearly every breathing style to exist, even the unique ones that were personally tailored to suit their creator’s needs. Spend as much time as you would like in here. Find a breathing style that resonates with you, and then come find either myself or Amane.”

They nodded fervently, quickly spinning around to face him and bowing. “I will. Thank you.”

“Also,” he started once more, “do not be shy to explore the expanse of the estate’s land. You will be spending some time here, so please do familiarize yourself with the layout.”

“Yes, I will,” they replied, standing up straight once again. “Thank you again.”

With that, he nodded at them, the soft smile on his lips still remaining as he slid the door shut, before—presumably—leaving.

A gentle, thoughtful hum rose in their throat as they stepped closer to one of the shelves. Mindful fingertips trailed along the spines of each book, reading the labels as they went along. It just so happened that this shelf was one of what they assumed would be many with some books about breathing styles.

Kagaya’s explanation was thorough. From it, they had come to understand the five fundamental Breathing Styles—Water, Flame, Wind, Stone, and Thunder. Then, the derivatives, such as Flower, Insect, and Mist. Their options were plentiful and certainly not limited, which they supposed was a good thing, but it was also… overwhelming. Insanely so. How were they meant to know which Breathing Style would be the best for them, for their body?

…Maybe they should ask Kagaya.

Though, that could wait until later. For now, the very least they could do was research—the only way they’d know what Breath Style to pursue would be by investigating the demands of each one.

Of course, their combat style was hardly even their main focus; first and foremost, they would need to focus on getting stronger. However, it was never a bad idea to prepare in advance, and the leader of the Corps must have thought the same; otherwise, they couldn’t possibly imagine why he might lead them here and leave them to their devices.

A soft sigh left through their nose, thoughts drifting back to the family they left behind. It really was too soon to grow homesick, and yet…

They were utterly powerless to stop sick feeling from clawing at their throat and sinking into their skin.

They hadn’t thought too deeply about it before, but from here on out, they saw themselves being exceedingly busy. Too busy to visit as often as they would like to, at least. They could only see it getting worse one they were actually an active member of the Corps. Would they have time to see their parents? To see their brothers? The thought that their family may one day perceive their joining the Corps as abandonment made their stomach twist, as if someone shoved a knife into them.

…But there was nothing to be done about that at the moment. No amount of regret could change the decision they made, and really, could they say they regretted it? They didn’t think so. What they did regret, however, was how distant their home was from the Ubuyashiki Estate. Seven hours… it was quite the distance.

They sighed again, shaking those thoughts off before they could spiral again as they delicately plucked one book out of its spot.

Its contents were about the most basic of Breathing Styles—Water Breathing.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

What had once been light yellow midday light peeking through the crack of the door was now golden, late afternoon light that crawled further into the space than it did before as the sun crept downwards.

Sleepily, their hand toyed with the edge of one paper page, the other hand being used to prop up their chin as they fought desperately to keep their heavy eyelids open. Lazy eyes sluggishly scanned the words hand-written on the page, barely comprehending what was written—something about the proper positioning of each foot for the specific form that they were reading about, which was… actually, they weren’t even sure anymore. What Breathing Style was this book even about? Their head hurt.

Two other books were neatly stacked off to the side.

It had taken quite a few hours of walking to get from the Flame Estate to the Ubuyashiki Estate. Although they were well-used to physical exertion—one impact of growing up among a family of woodcutters—walking for hours on end was tiring, especially for someone so young. Though, it was hardly the physical exertion that made them tired, but that paired with the mental exhaustion caused by studying several different books for multiple hours was certainly enough to make them sleepy.

"I see you’ve taken interest in Mist Breathing," a calm voice, harboring just the slightest twinge of amusement, spoke up, scaring them into awareness.

Oh, right. Mist Breathing. That’s what the book in front of them was about.

Their eyes snapped fully open, body jolting into an upright position. Once they swiftly twisted their body to look at the source of the voice, they calmed down somewhat, although their face did flood with embarrassed warmth again. “Master…"

A light chuckle resonated through the room. He paced over to the table, situating himself at the other end. “We, unfortunately, do not have any active trainers for Mist Breathing.” His gaze shifted to the other two books. “Ah, Water Breathing and Flower Breathing. While we also lack a trainer for the latter, we do have one for the former, if that is something you would be interested in.”

They perked up suddenly at the discussion of Breathing Styles. Blinking away the growing sleep in their eyes, they dared to finally, properly meet his gaze.

“Oh, actually… how do you know what Breathing Style to pursue? I just… I’m kind of having trouble deciding. It all feels so overwhelming.”

“It is normal to feel that way,” Kagaya assured, “but the truth is that there is no way to simply know.”

“Ah…”

Then, he hummed thoughtfully. “Your ancestor, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, was the creator of Breathing Styles and used the most powerful one of them all, Sun Breathing.”

An unspoken question danced on their lips. They did not need to voice it; Kagaya seemed to know what they might ask, and so, he went on to answer.

“We have very little information about it.”

“Ah. That’s a shame, then.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, nodding. “...If you wanted to pursue it, though, I would not be opposed to doing further research into it.”

Their face brightened up almost instantly. Still, they did not immediately take his offer.

“Are you sure?” they wondered, going to pick at the skin around their nails once again. It was almost guaranteed that their fingertips would be raw within the next few days if they kept it up. “I would not want to ask something so… I don’t know. Something so demanding of you and your time, knowing how busy you are.”

A smile adorned his features, and his eyes crinkled somewhat with something they couldn’t quite discern. It almost seemed to be fondness, or something extremely similar.

“I am quite sure. I would not have extended the offer to you otherwise. I will look into Sun Breathing, but for now, I would advise picking an alternative.”

“Well…” they mused, gaze flicking back down to the open book in front of them. “...In that case, I think I’d like to teach myself Mist Breathing. I am not the type of person to shy away from a challenge.”

Kagaya nodded. "Very well, then. Despite being unable to perform Breathing Styles myself, I have had the immense honor of witnessing many talented swordsmen execute them. As such, I will be able to offer you corrections on your stance, though I am afraid I will not be able to do much else in the way of assisting your training.”

They nodded, listening attentively despite their tiredness.

Truly, it was an honor that he was so willing to help at all; he very well could have left them completely on their own to figure it out, and yet, here he was, expressing regret over being unable to help them in some other way.

"Another important aspect of training for the Final Selection is developing an exercise routine alongside practicing your chosen Breath Style. Your exercise routine should take precedence. The goal is to increase skills such as endurance, speed, and strength," the young leader explained further. Noticing their tired expression, he chuckled. "That is something to handle tomorrow, though. You should rest; your journey was not a short one, after all."

All they could do was offer a timid, astonished nod. The boy then rose to his feet and they quickly followed suit, picking up the three books on the table as they did. With focused caution despite the exhaustion permeating their bones, they put the first two back on the shelves.

"You can borrow the Mist Breathing book," Kagaya said before they could put it away. "It will be a good reference for you to have.”

"Are you sure?" they questioned, holding the last book in their hands. The care with which they held it was almost laughable, though not in a mocking manner—laughable in that their nervousness was simply endearing. It spoke volumes about the way that they were raised. "Is... is that really okay?"

"Of course. Now, come along. You can begin training tomorrow once you have adequately rested."

reblogs with comments or tags > likes. @soleillunne.

#✧— aphe's creations.#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic demon slayer x reader #platonic kny x reader #platonic kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic kny #platonic demon slayer #platonic kimetsu no yaiba #✧— series: hydrangeas.

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 11 months ago

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Crushed

a/n: This one shot-was inspired by this post from @j-u-u-z-o . I had so much fun writing it, although I feel bad for making Hinamori suffer but I couldn’t help it ^_^

Warnings: M/16+, nothing too explicit, but a smidge of light smut at the end. Angst! Pairing: Aizen X Y/n Word Count: 992

It’s a relatively peaceful evening at Soul Society, a pleasant summer breeze blowing through the corridors. Hinamori walks cheerfully through the courtyard, humming to herself. She’d had a reasonably good day and somehow, wasn’t buried under paperwork. She skips along, thinking about how she could spend the rest of this lovely evening.

Hitsugaya was busy, he’d made that apparent while reprimanding Matsusomoto for not catching up on all the documents that had been stacking up on his desk. And she didn’t want to go to her quarters just yet, not when the weather was so warm and gentle. She wondered…would he mind if she visited him now?

A lot of people didn’t approve of her visiting him so late. They told her it wasn’t a good look for her. But she knew him better. She knew he didn’t mistake her late night visits as anything more than just platonic. Besides, she wasn’t visiting him with any other intentions. People always assumed the worst in others. She makes up her mind, trying not to blush as she makes her way to his quarters.

In her mind, there could be no one else kinder, gentler, or more decent than him. He really was the best captain out of all of them. She senses his reiatsu as she gets closer to his quarters. However, when she’s within viewing distance of his door, she senses another unfamiliar presence. She frowns, not recognizing the stranger’s reiatsu signature. The only thing she could tell was that it was a woman’s.

Hinamori lingers, wondering what a possible explanation could be. Perhaps a subordinate? Seemed unlikely they were from squad 5 since she knew everyone. From another squad? That just made less sense. Why would a subordinate from another squad be visiting him so late? Unable to contain her curiosity, she silently makes her way towards his quarters, concealing her reiatsu, seeing two figures lingering outside his door. She hides herself as best as she could in the bushes bordering the edges of the building.

Aizen’s reiatsu is calm and relaxed, and he’s talking to a pretty woman she remembers seeing around the Seireitei before. The woman keeps smiling and putting her hand on his arm. She’s wearing a shinigami uniform that does not hide her beautiful form. Hinamori feels her stomach clench at the sight.

Who was this woman? Why is she behaving that way with him? Like she’s familiar with him?

Well at least Aizen didn’t seem to be engaging in any sort of questionable actions from Hinamori’s view. She knew he wouldn’t. He was too much of a gentleman. She smiled to herself and looks up…

What are they doing? What are they doing?!

She covers her mouth with her hand to stop herself from making any audible noise. Aizen had suddenly put his large hands on the woman’s hips, drawing her closer to him. To her embarrassment, Hinamori can feel the changes in his reiatsu. She had never quite experienced it like this before. Was this…his desire? Her cheeks flush red, and she can’t stop herself from watching the scene unfolding in front of her.

The woman chuckles, not resisting his advances. “Aizen taicho…” she purrs, wrapping her arms around his neck flirtatiously. “What would they say about you if they saw you like this?”

“I’m very good at not getting caught Y/n,” Aizen says in a husky voice.

Y/n. Y/n.

The name echoes in Hinamori’s ears, and for some reason she feels a swell of rage inside her. An unseated officer from God knows which division, cozying up to someone as brilliant as Aizen taicho? The nerve of this woman. Clearly she must be trying to get some sort of favor from him. Seducing her poor captain.

Y/n laughs at Aizen’s words and he grasps her chin in his hand. Without another word, his lips capture her mouth possessively. Y/n had clearly been expecting this, because she doesn’t pull away, instead pressing herself into Aizen’s broad chest, her hands tightening around his neck.

Aizen’s grip on her hips tightens, dropping lower to cup her alluring bottom and press her lower body to his. Hinamori feels herself rooted to the spot in shock, like a deer in headlights. The kiss seems to go on forever. She can feel Aizen’s desire growing in his reiatsu, combining with the woman’s like a tainted cocktail.

When they break apart, his voice is low and gravelly. “Let’s continue inside shall we?”

“Whatever you want taicho,” y/n giggles and she lets him lead her into his quarters.

They disappear inside, leaving Hinamori alone with her thoughts, concealed from view. Hinamori bites her lip, feeling a mix of emotions welling up inside her and before she knew it, a quiet sob escapes her lips and hot tears form in her eyes. She felt so…betrayed.

Although she was Aizen’s lieutenant, there’s a feeling of inadequacy in her, as she remembers how beautiful Y/n was and how Aizen looked at her like a man desiring a woman…

Hinamori squeezes her eyes shut. She knows how young she appears to Aizen and that she lacked the voluptuousness that a feminine figure should have but…she couldn’t take it anymore.

She can still feel vestiges of Aizen’s reiatsu but it feels very different to how she remembers it. It’s heavy with lust and desire, and she could only imagine what they were doing. She slowly goes back to her own quarters, wiping tears on her sleeve.

Aizen pauses, his lips resting on Y/n’s collarbone. He can feel Hinamori’s reiatsu slipping away, and it’s dripping with sadness and bitterness. He smirks, knowing he’s succeeded in fully pissing her off.

“Taicho?” Y/n calls out seductively, her lovely body naked and on full display to his wandering eyes.

“It’s nothing.” Aizen continues running his tongue down her neck, coming to her breast and eliciting a moan from her.

Absolutely nothing at all.

#bleach #bleach fandom #aizen sousuke #bleach aizen #hinamori momo #bleach hinamori #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen x reader #aizen x y/n #aizen x you #bleach angst #bleach imagines #bleach fanfiction

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causeitsagame · 1 year ago

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UNTITLED ANGSTPROMPT THE FOURTH (OF FOUR)

(At some point, I will find a real title and put it up on AO3. Watch this space!)

My thought when posting the previous chapter: "I don't want to draw out a resolution too far, so I'll promise that there is only one more chapter to go." Me, finishing this chapter while upholding that intention and seeing it brush the 9k word mark: "Well,"

-----

Hajime didn't know what to do.

That wasn't supposed to be possible. He'd been warped and molded and repurposed into the world's Ultimate Goddamn Hope, and that Hope was supposed to have all the answers. But he didn't. He hadn't been able to stop the assault on Jabberwock, and the desperate sacrifice play there had been made by someone else.

Plus, he hadn't even known that particular sacrifice could happen. Talents could only be studied if they were demonstrated, and this wasn't the sort of thing that got shown off to Hope's Peak. And so now, Fuyuhiko was bruised and beaten and hollowed out, and Peko didn't know anything more about how those memories were lost, and Hajime didn't know what to do.

He leaned against the ship's railing and studied the water, unsure of what he was looking for.

Eventually, a voice spoke up. "Hajime?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Ryota. "Yeah?"

Ryota pointed to an insulated travel mug. "It's time for this, again. Do you want to…?" He was the one on the ship who wasn't taken much aback by Fuyuhiko not recognizing him, and he'd made fully half of the infirmary visits so far.

Hajime shook his head. Inside that mug was broth from a pot that Teruteru kept simmering. The calories were important; the warmth, more so. Due to injuries, malnutrition, and low weight, Mikan had diagnosed poikilothermia, or an inability to regulate body temperature. She planned to be in the infirmary constantly until it resolved, and that was a good enough excuse not to be there himself. "No. Thanks."

It probably made him a despicable coward, but he couldn't see Fuyuhiko's condition and know that he was responsible for it. He couldn't watch Fuyuhiko look at him like a total stranger and know that it was because Fuyuhiko had cared more about Hajime than about himself. If Hajime had an idea of what to do next, he'd face down all of that in service of getting it fixed… but he didn't know what to do.

Hajime shook his head again, and Ryota silently walked away.

Memories had been burnt away in torture's incinerator and he was the motivation behind it all. How was he supposed to handle that? Seriously, how in the hell was he supposed to manage his thoughts, his emotions? The gutpunch of nausea that gripped him every time his imagination wandered to the infirmary?

Memory loss aside, this wasn't like Izuru. Fuyuhiko hadn't been scoured away and turned into someone else. Logically, that was a huge relief; emotionally, it somehow made it worse. He was still totally him, voice and expressions and powerful personality. There wasn't anyone to identify and retrieve. He was Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the same as ever… but he just had absolutely no idea who Hajime was.

There were always more tasks to handle on the ship, but no one bothered Hajime as he looked over the edge. He stayed there staring over the water as the sun's reflections moved overhead, and then toward the west.

"Hajime?"

The voice behind him sent a spike of adrenaline rushing. "Is everything okay?"

Mikan nodded, seemingly without any emergency coming along with her. "He's doing better today, I think. But I just… I'm sorry, but I've been with him for twenty-two hours, now. Could you maybe—"

"Oh, God, sorry," Hajime interrupted as he caught up. Now that he bothered to pay attention to anything besides his own misery, he could notice the dark circles under Mikan's eyes and the way her fingertips trembled from exhaustion. He hadn't set foot in the infirmary since the last time she'd taken a sleeping break, and so he hadn't realized how long that'd been.

"No, I'm sorry!" she instantly countered, and held up one of her shaking hands. "I shouldn't need to sleep, but I just nearly dropped a—"

"I've got him," Hajime promised Mikan, and clutched that hand. "Go rest."

She nodded. "I'm only doing a few hours at a time, so I'll be back soon!"

"That's…" Sighing, Hajime let her go. It was probably no use ordering her to look after herself with more than a nap here and there. Well. Time to check on Fuyuhiko.

Peko was waiting outside the infirmary door, and looked as tired as Mikan but far more composed. "You did come," she said with mild surprise.

That hadn't been judgment, but it sure felt like it. "Yeah. Sorry." Hajime ran a hand across his face. "It's just been hard."

"I can only imagine," Peko agreed, with what sounded like real sympathy.

"You look like you could use some sleep, too. I'll be here, if you want to go."

Peko hesitated, but nodded gratefully and stepped away. She turned to look over her shoulder as she left, like she was verifying that Hajime would actually manage to set foot inside the infirmary.

He did so before he could lose his nerve, and was relieved to see Fuyuhiko sleeping. Good. No conversation, no lack of recognition.

First, Hajime reached for a thermometer and aimed it at Fuyuhiko's forehead. Cooler than he should be, so it was no wonder his fists were clenched around a blanket that couldn't keep him warm enough. Hajime reached over and tapped a message window, calling for more hot broth from the galley.

Fuyuhiko was watching him when he turned back.

Hajime jolted, and took a step away before he could help himself.

"So," Fuyuhiko said wryly, and tilted his head toward where his chart hung on the wall. "The guy responsible for all of that." To Mikan's dismay, she'd run out of room when she started listing his injuries. She'd needed to add multiple pages.

Swallowing, Hajime said in a thick, heavy voice, "Yeah. Guess so."

"You never told me why I apparently gave so much of a shit about you. And neither will anyone else." What good humor was in Fuyuhiko's expression flattened into nothing. "You'd think I could get a simple question answered, after everything."

"We…" Hajime looked away. "I'm your best friend." That was the simplest answer.

"Bullshit. I don't have friends."

"Yeah. That's what you told me." It was easier to talk if he didn't meet Fuyuhiko's gaze, and so Hajime kept his attention on the wild landscape beyond the portholes. "But after everything, we were friends. And you realized Peko was actually your friend, too, outside of the clan. And there are other friends here, too. We all care about you."

"'After everything?' After what 'everything?'" Annoyed, Fuyuhiko snapped, "Mind looking at me when I'm talking to you?"

Miserable, Hajime turned back toward Fuyuhiko and the nearly countless injuries he'd taken for Hajime's sake. "After getting away from the… the bad things that you remember. We're all together after that, and we're your friends."

"And you're my 'best friend.'"

"Yeah."

"Who I did this for." Fuyuhiko lifted a forearm, showing off what remained of intricate tattoos. They were marred by a twisted burn scar and jagged, mismatched lines where some deep cuts hadn't healed together in proper alignment.

Hajime closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. "I tried to stop you. You wouldn't listen to me."

"Must've been a reason for it, beyond you being my 'best friend.'" The words came out twisted, mocking. "Why'd I do it?"

"You shouldn't have," Hajime said morosely. "I'm not worth what you went through."

"Not worth it? What, I acted like an idiot when I signed up for this? You're saying that I fucked up?"

Hajime clenched his jaw and didn't respond. He didn't know what to say and every word was just making things worse. The two of them had talked so easily to each other that he didn't know how to handle this reset.

"So," Fuyuhiko said, still with the mocking tone he'd used on Hajime. He looked expectantly toward the new arrival waiting with his latest broth delivery. "Are you one of my best friends, too?"

Hajime turned to the door and winced. Of all people to have gotten that message he'd sent.

Mahiru paused, then said in measured tones, "I wouldn't use that term, no." She stepped into the infirmary and presented Fuyuhiko with his latest meal.

He didn't take the offered mug. "Huh. You're the first person who's had any sort of problem with me," Fuyuhiko noted with genuine curiosity. "Everyone's just been shoveling bullshit to keep me happy. So, what's your deal? What'd you do?"

"What did I do?" Mahiru repeated, uncertain.

"When we were all… y'know."

"Ah. Right." Mahiru set the mug down next to him when he refused to take it. "Propaganda, basically."

"Makes sense. You're…" Fuyuhiko squinted at her, then looked abruptly pleased as his scrambled mind put something into order. "Photography, right? Koizumi?"

She brightened. "Oh! You do remember things. It sounded like you'd forgotten everything, but I guess not. That's great!"

Hajime looked miserably at the floor and said nothing.

"Great?" Fuyuhiko echoed. "I thought you didn't give a shit."

Mahiru perched on the edge of a nearby counter. "We… didn't get along for a long time, but by now, we do. We'll never be each other's first choice to spend time with, but we're honestly fine."

"Fair enough." Fuyuhiko considered her, then asked with a wicked grin, "What happened? You sound like you're dancing around land mines."

Uneasy, Mahiru darted her gaze toward Hajime. "Does he know?" she asked in a strained whisper.

"No, I don't think so," Hajime whispered back. "Probably needed to forget about the whole process."

"What are you two whispering about?" Fuyuhiko demanded.

Mahiru inhaled. "Okay. You're going to find this out, so let me just tell you. To stop being those awful people, we went through a virtual reality simulation. But it went wrong and people started killing each other."

"Virtual," Fuyuhiko repeated without any gravity, clearly picturing some sort of small-scale experience. "So, what, you killed me?"

Mahiru blinked at him hard, then scowled.

Unconcerned, Fuyuhiko corrected to, "Or I killed you?"

"You were going to," Mahiru admitted. "But Peko stepped in."

"Well. Makes sense." Fuyuhiko grinned more broadly and honestly than a face that injured should be able to. "Guess that explains why we're not each other's favorite people, huh?"

Mahiru couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Well, obviously. Anyway, drink your broth. You're supposed to have it while it's hot."

Still smirking at her, Fuyuhiko reached for the insulated mug and lifted it like he was making a toast, then took a drink. She apparently took that as both thanks and farewell, and left the infirmary with light steps.

Hajime stared after her. Fuyuhiko was getting along better with Mahiru than him? Mahiru?! What the hell was going on?

"I'll get some more sleep," Fuyuhiko announced when he'd finished. "So you can stop looking ready to shit yourself."

Hajime could argue with that assessment, but he wouldn't make a very good job of it. With fresh sighs, he stared out the porthole until Fuyuhiko had fallen asleep, then waited aimlessly for Mikan's return.

Days passed like that.

Fuyuhiko's purple bruises faded to green and yellow. Thinner cuts disappeared into barely-there scars, while deeper gouges healed under Mikan's stitches. The hollows under his eyes and cheekbones didn't look quite as cavernous, and he finally managed to sleep through the night without waking up shivering. But he never recognized Hajime.

Hajime Hinata did have a talent that Hope's Peak had never cared about, and that was caring about people. But he wasn't allowed to use it, now. Izuru Kamukura had every talent on the planet. But none of them were any good, here.

He couldn't take this any more, Hajime told himself as he stared at nothing. Fuyuhiko had graduated to actual food, but with the scope of his lingering injuries, he still stayed in the infirmary. That meant that he yet needed to be brought his meals, and once Mahiru had held a successful conversation with him, everyone else was willing to try.

"You lied to me!" Kazuichi insisted. He was next to Fuyuhiko while Hajime stood just outside the door, but voices carried.

Fuyuhiko shrugged and slid a spoon into the thick, hearty stew he'd been handed. "Probably, yeah."

Kazuichi gasped, betrayed.

"You're easy to fool and you panic in a crisis," Fuyuhiko continued. "I remember that much. And you want to believe in people."

Though Kazuichi's offense deepened with the first two additions, the last one softened his outrage. "Well, yeah. I didn't know how you were going to get out of it, but when you said you had a plan to save everyone, I believed you. One hundred percent."

Fuyuhiko smirked. "As expected."

"Jerk," Kazuichi snorted, but the easy back-and-forth had him happier than he'd been ever since they saw the invading forces on the radar. "Hey, so, what else do you remember about me?"

Fuyuhiko made Kazuichi wait until he'd chewed and swallowed a mouthful. "That's a pretty damn big ask. Narrow the scope a little."

"Okay." Kazuichi screwed up his face in thought. "What's the first thing you remember about me after we woke up?"

"Woke up?" Fuyuhiko echoed.

"On the island."

He shrugged. "I got rid of all of that. People have told me there was a program, but I must've thought it was too risky to know about."

"Oh." Dismayed, Kazuichi considered, then tried again. "Uh, okay… what about when I showed up to class in a suit?"

Staring at him for a long, considering moment, Fuyuhiko abruptly laughed. "Fuck, you looked ridiculous. To 'impress Miss Sonia,' right?"

Kazuichi grinned, delighted. "I saw you go off to handle some family business, and you looked a lot cooler than in your uniform. I thought maybe it'd work for me, too."

"It didn't," Fuyuhiko said, then rolled his gaze thoughtfully upward. "Heh. Guess there's more in there than I thought. Even if it's nothing that really matters."

"No, this matters. It matters like you wouldn't believe!" Cheerfully, Kazuichi clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll let you eat, all right?"

"Finally," Fuyuhiko agreed, but with no real rancor.

Still in bright spirits, Kazuichi moved for the door, only to process that Hajime had been listening in with an increasingly gutted expression. "Uh. Sorry, man," he whispered, and hurried down the corridor.

Well. The good news was that Fuyuhiko was feeling better. His pain tolerance was beyond description, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Now that he was on the mend, and his pain steadily ebbed and his body again functioned like it should, his overall mood had followed suit. That'd opened him up to bits of nostalgic connection with the people brave enough to try it.

The bad news, Hajime thought as stepped away to let Fuyuhiko eat in privacy, was exactly the same as ever. To Fuyuhiko, Hajime was still as much of a blank void as what he'd been turned into during the Kamukura Project.

Had Mahiru really been the one to set this off? She'd practically skipped into the mess hall and announced that Fuyuhiko had remembered specifics about her, and that sent a jolt of optimism across the entire group. Which made sense. It was logical. But it still just seemed so odd that she—of all people—had been the first ray of real hope for Fuyuhiko.

Of course, Fuyuhiko had clearly appreciated that Mahiru had been the first 'stranger' to be honest with him about any darker topics. Maybe there was a lesson in that. Hajime waited, and considered, and eventually decided. He steeled his nerves and walked into the infirmary. Without preamble, he asked, "So. You really want to know why you did this for me?"

Fuyuhiko blinked. "Obviously," he said and set aside his empty bowl. Finally, he looked interested in something that Hajime had to say.

How to approach this? "When we were at Hope's Peak," Hajime slowly began, and took a chair near Fuyuhiko, "I got experimented on."

"Experimented?" Fuyuhiko repeated. His brow furrowed. "How?"

"They wanted me to be able to do more things," Hajime summarized, neither wanting to get bogged down in the details nor to relive his own horrors by doing so. "It involved a lot of surgery and some… other stuff."

Fuyuhiko's gaze grew increasingly curious as he studied the scars running across Hajime's forehead. "'Do more things?' What can you do, then?"

"Anything." Fuyuhiko's curiosity and good mood vanished at the seemingly flippant reply, and Hajime insisted, "Seriously, anything. That was the point of the project. Medicine, combat, languages… anything. And they did some physical development work to support all of those talents, too."

Fuyuhiko waited with obvious incredulity, but did look impressed when Hajime reached for a small dentist's mirror and bent its metal handle as easily as if it'd been a plastic straw. "Well, shit. Looks handy."

"Yeah. In theory, I could even try to fix your memories." Fuyuhiko also looked interested in that, but Hajime shook his head. He'd seen an answer to that question very quickly, but it had come with the simultaneous, gutting realization that there was no possible way to get access to what he'd need. And so, it hadn't really been an answer at all. "I can't actually do that," he clarified. "Ten different navies would be on us before we docked the ship."

Disappointed, but not surprised, Fuyuhiko shrugged. I knew what I was in for, the gesture seemed to say.

Hajime hesitated before continuing, trying to straighten out the mirror's handle as he did. His voice was quiet when he did speak. "There were side effects, too. Some… some really bad ones. But the school didn't care what happened. I was just their lab rat."

Silence answered him, hanging painfully heavy. A good ten seconds ticked by on the infirmary's clock. After that pause, Fuyuhiko concluded, "And they probably want their lab rat back."

Hajime looked at the floor and nodded.

"So… this isn't a one-time thing, then," Fuyuhiko slowly continued. "They'll always want to get ahold of you."

Hajime hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Then I'm going to have to do this again."

The words stabbed terror through his heart. "Never," Hajime instantly spat. After a deep breath, he strove for humor, but only sounded agonized as he forced words through his tight throat. "I mean, you don't care about me, right? No need to do anything for me again."

Fuyuhiko's gaze darkened. "If I think something's worth doing, I stick to it. Even if I don't remember why now, I must have had my reasons then."

Fuck it all, why was he so kneejerk stubborn? "They are never, ever getting their hands on you again. I won't let it happen."

"You won't let? I don't take orders from you." Dark memory filled Fuyuhiko's gaze, and he muttered, "I remember being in charge. I was giving the orders. If this is what I decided I need to do…"

The thought of Fuyuhiko getting captured again filled Hajime with panic; the thought of him willingly walking back into hell had him practically delirious with it. "Well, you're not getting past every single person on this ship. We're not letting you throw yourself away again!" By the end, Hajime stood and was nearly shouting.

Instantly obstinate, Fuyuhiko leaned forward, uncaring of the fragile figure he still struck in the hospital bed. "I'd like to see them try and stop me."

A disbelieving laugh broke free. "Oh yeah? Look at you!" Hajime cried before he could help it, and gestured to the mess two months of torture had made of Fuyuhiko. "Say you could actually get past us. You think you could really head back for more?" Even as he said the words, he knew they were a critically wrong move.

Fury sparked behind Fuyuhiko's eye. "What, you think I can't take it?"

"Will you just—"

"Fuck off! From what I've heard from everyone, I'm who saved their asses last time, not you! Me, not some superpowered lab rat!"

Electricity seemed to run down his spine, and words poured out of Hajime before he could stop them. "You know what, Fuyuhiko? No. No, you can't take another round of this. You barely survived this one."

"Don't tell me what I can't do."

"Lose even another couple of kilos again, and you will fall back into poikilothermia and die in a torture chamber. It's not a question." Hajime leaned forward and propped his weight on the side of Fuyuhiko's bed. "You are not taking the bullet for me again. Because—listen carefully—you. Can't. Do. This."

As expected, nothing filled Fuyuhiko with fury like the implication of weakness. This was far from weakness, but was the simple limit of how much any human could take. Even so, it landed as terribly as he knew it would, but Hajime just hadn't been able to stop the words from pouring out. Spending this long mired in misery and guilt had worn away his defenses; hearing that Fuyuhiko was already planning for more torture and certain death lit a fuse.

"Get out," Fuyuhiko spat, looking ready to lunge out of his hospital bed with his hands aimed for Hajime's throat. "And don't let me see your face again."

"Heard that one before," Hajime said tiredly, and walked for the door. Once there, he turned. "You're not going to throw your life away for someone you clearly don't give one single shit about."

"This has nothing to do with you. This is about me and what I decided to do. Now: get out."

Hajime managed to round two corners before the first ragged sob ripped free. He leaned against a wall and wiped away hot, angry tears with a rough swipe of his wrist. Shit. Goddammit.

Trying to be honest with Fuyuhiko had been one bad fucking move.

Soon, he found himself doing engine repairs three months ahead of schedule, just so he'd have something to focus on. His hands stayed busy, his mind stayed quiet, and his heart hid in a corner and didn't dare to speak up. It worked for hours of distraction, but eventually, the dinner chime sounded. He didn't want people to come looking for him, and so Hajime tiredly headed to the mess hall. He'd sit by himself.

Everyone was there, save Fuyuhiko. Nearly all of the people who made up Hajime's world were right here in this one room. It was a dozen different shades of 'loud,' from laughter to arguments to excitement. Looking at them, no one would think the group had been chased from their home mere months earlier.

They probably want their lab rat back.

But they had been chased off Jabberwock, and they'd barely made it out alive. Because Hajime hadn't kept any of these people safe, despite being the military's biggest target.

They probably want their lab rat back.

He'd let that happen to Fuyuhiko.

They probably want their lab rat back.

The soldiers were going to keep coming.

Through dull eyes, Hajime looked around the room and imagined bullets ripping through skulls. The men targeting them planned to kill everyone besides himself, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko, right? And the other two would face torture until their knowledge was wrung dry. (…More torture.)

And what did they have to face those entire military fleets when they did inevitably come? Not a full island chain with its own defensive capabilities, like they'd used last time. No: now they had a ship, singular, and one helicopter. They'd failed before, and now their situation was even worse.

Hajime was pretty sure that he could single-handedly take over another vessel, if it came to that. But he'd need the opportunity to do so. If a battleship or submarine sent a torpedo at them from a kilometer away, he'd never get that chance.

If soldiers came for him again, all of these people would die or end up in torture chambers. Hajime wouldn't be able to stop it. And so, once again, he didn't know what to do.

At the end of his fatalistic survey across the room, Hajime's attention lingered on someone. Memories whispered, almost too softly to hear at first, until he really listened to what they said. His expression shifted slowly, from misery to uncertainty to realization.

Oh. Oh. Of course. He should have seen this sooner.

Nagito only looked up after the lightbulb had gone off. He blinked in confusion over Hajime blatantly staring at him, and gestured to himself like he expected a question to be asked. Hajime shook his head once. No need to ask a question; Nagito had already given him an answer.

Yes. Right.

That had been the answer, all along.

He just hadn't wanted to admit what was being asked of him.

At the end of his brief dinner, Hajime stood and walked over to another table. "I'm taking the chopper," he whispered to the Imposter. "I'll be back later."

That earned a confused blink. "What's happening? Do you need a co-pilot?"

"No. It'll be quick, I'll be back by morning. I just didn't want you to wonder where it was."

"All right." The answer was uncertain, but Hajime didn't bother offering reassurance or clarification as he walked off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nagito hurry over to talk to the Imposter. "The helicopter?" Nagito repeated with surprise, and Hajime sped his pace. He didn't want to deal with any sort of explanation.

Soon, the helicopter lifted smoothly off its landing pad under his controls. He tilted it toward the southeast, and as he circled around, noticed that he was being observed by a white head of hair dyed the colors of sunset. Hajime returned his attention to the sky and flew onward.

Two hours later, he descended toward a pitch-black expanse carved out of another forest. There were many such abandoned military bases around the world, and with a global power shortage, they weren't bothering to keep the lights on. Many of the supplies here had been carried off, but not all; they'd gotten the helicopter he was flying from this same base, along with enough replacement parts to last them a decade.

Using only moonlight and starlight, Hajime located a runway and used it as a landing pad. As he hopped out of the craft and to the ground, he hoped that the Canadian forces hadn't carried off what he needed as they pulled back to defend Vancouver.

Cracks ran across the tarmac, and weeds pushed through. Once, this had been a world-class facility for world-class soldiers, but so much had been abandoned when half the world fell. Those soldiers were now after him, Hajime reminded himself. They were after his friends. And they had hurt one friend in ways that he couldn't even describe.

Steeling his resolve, Hajime hurried through the crisp, chill darkness in search of a way to stop all of those soldiers from ever getting a second chance. His light, precise footsteps echoed across the sprawling pavement and between the concrete buildings. Only the soft cries of nearby owls interrupted him. This once-bustling base was silent, now, and the natural world was beginning to reclaim what humanity had abandoned.

Aha, Hajime saw as he trailed heavy cables across the ground and found the control box that collected them. It was attached to a concrete block of a building, unlabeled and unremarkable. Here it was. Not bothering with niceties, he kicked at the door like he was trying to drive in someone's chest, and proceeded inside when it wrenched off its hinges.

Relief soon swept him. Yes. They'd left behind exactly what he needed.

With the assistance of a few spare duffel bags, Hajime began scooping up every piece of abandoned telecommunications equipment left in this control room. Their group had been using that slow, secretive frequency, but it was time to take a different approach. Trying to duck down and hide in the shadows, as they'd been doing, could only protect them for so long. Hajime refused to be the prey again, left to be tracked and discovered.

As he exited the building, a gust of wind whipped past and caught a tattered flag left on its pole. Red and white. For a moment, Hajime was back walking through the ruins of military bases with a red sun flying over them, rather than a maple leaf. Those were the soldiers most desperate to find him. Although they had allies around the world who also sought the Remnants, it was Japanese forces who'd led the assault on Jabberwock and captured Fuyuhiko.

They'd regret that.

Confident that he'd found all that he needed, Hajime loaded the duffel bags into the helicopter, refueled, and set back off for their hiding place near the Alaskan Panhandle. There were still hours of darkness left when he landed. He should sleep, first, to make sure he had a clear head. He was trying to change the world, after all.

Well into morning, his efforts were going well. Hajime had taken over the control cabin of the ship, as he needed access to some of its systems. His in-progress work with the military electronics he'd raided already covered half the room.

"Hajime?" Nagito asked as he stepped into the control room.

He didn't look up from his work. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

Still studying the electronics in front of him, Hajime smiled. It might be a dark, unbalanced expression. Nagito's behavior inside the simulation had served as his inspiration, after all. "You'd probably say something about 'creating hope.'"

Silence. Then, "Whose hope?"

That earned another smile. "Good question." Nagito didn't say anything else, but neither did he leave. Eventually, Hajime continued, "Nagito. I want to ask you something. About the Funhouse. When you learned the truth about us, what ran through your head?"

Those soldiers on Jabberwock had come hunting for Hajime, and they didn't care who they'd hurt in the process. No, that wasn't right: they'd come hunting for Hajime, and they would gleefully slaughter most of his friends if they got the chance. Those who they didn't slaughter, they'd torture.

And not just torture, Hajime knew as he thought about what was left of Fuyuhiko, but destroy. Utterly. The so-called good guys would rip out everything that made up the people he cared about. Those men who'd come for Hajime and the men who'd done this to Fuyuhiko could make zero claim at being on the side of good, despite all claims to the contrary.

Nagito's concern deepened at the seeming non sequitur, but he still didn't try to pull Hajime away from whatever he was working on. After that long pause, he answered, "I had to stop everyone. Before you hurt anyone else."

"Right. Exactly." Hajime reached for a wire and stripped its coating. "You asked whose hope I'm creating, so: our hope. I apparently have to pick, and so I pick our hope." He'd might have been created as the world's hope, but his world had been reduced to the people on this ship.

There was another long pause from the man at the door. Hajime wondered if Nagito would demand to know exactly what he was planning, or would spout off more speeches about how the entire world's hope rested in his hands. But no. After that aching pause, Nagito simply murmured, "I understand" and turned, closing the door behind him.

Hajime nodded and leaned back in to his work.

It took him eight days, and he barely left the room until he was done. Fuyuhiko was probably relieved about that.

At the end of those eight days, when Hajime was sure that his plan would work, he walked to the infirmary and was surprised to find it empty. A quick check of the roster told him that Fuyuhiko had moved to a normal room, right next to Peko's, and Hajime headed there with purpose. Even if Fuyuhiko connected with every other person on this ship better than with Hajime, it was doubtful he'd willingly spend much time socializing.

As expected, the door opened, and the face behind it wasn't happy. "Well," Fuyuhiko said shortly, and studied him. He looked much healthier than before; once he'd made it through the worst stretch, he'd apparently improved rapidly. A thick sweater appeared to be enough to keep him warm. "You listened to me for a week, at least."

Right. Fuyuhiko didn't want to see his face again. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing something for you on deck as soon as it gets dark," Hajime levelly said. "You don't have to come. But if you look through the porthole and wonder what you're seeing, you'll know what's up."

Fuyuhiko blinked. "Huh? The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry about it."

"If you're doing something for me," Fuyuhiko snapped, "without my permission, then I'm gonna fuckin' worry!"

"So, we're talking about asking the other person's permission, now?" Hajime said, and didn't try to soften how pointed the words were. "Anyway. You can come if you want, or not." He turned and left without further explanation, leaving Fuyuhiko blinking behind him.

Even if Fuyuhiko hated him, and even if he never wanted to see Hajime again, Hajime was his best friend. He was going to take care of Fuyuhiko and stop what had happened from ever, ever repeating.

Whether Fuyuhiko wanted him to or not.

And he was going to protect everyone else, too, Hajime calmly told himself as they joined him on the deck. Those soldiers never should have been able to sneak up on them, and the local radar never should had been the first warning sign they had. If he'd protected his friends to begin with, none of this would have happened.

Confusion ran wild. All everyone knew was that Hajime was working on something supposedly important, with components taken from a military base, but there were no weapons to be seen. He didn't look aggressive, either; if anything, he looked eerily calm as he stared up at the sky.

"Mind clueing us in?" Akane demanded, hugging herself tightly. She treated the cold as an opponent, and she always hated to admit defeat. At least she'd relented into putting on a pair of sweatpants, but she still refused to wear a coat.

Hajime smiled slightly at the sight, and of everything he knew of her. He'd protect her, too, like he'd failed to do on Jabberwock.

"Seriously," Hiyoko complained. She too had resisted dressing for the increasingly cold weather, but she'd finally given in at the first dusting of snow. As Mahiru leaned over to pull her in to a warmth-sharing hug, Hiyoko wondered, "What have you even been doing, anyway? Did your big fight with Fuyuhiko make you turn tail and hide for that long?"

It probably wasn't a surprise that secrets spread quickly within tight quarters. "Simple," Hajime said, and looked back up at the night sky. "I'm doing what I should have done before all of this happened in the first place: protecting everyone."

"How?" Kazuichi asked, audibly nervous. "Didn't you go to, uh…"

"A military base?" Nagito concluded. He wasn't outright nervous like Kazuichi, of course, but even he sounded at least apprehensive about Hajime's uncharacteristic behavior and whatever he'd left him to do in that room. Nagito sounding even mildly concerned about something managed to unnerve Ryota and Teruteru, too.

"Yes."

Hajime's blunt answer did nothing to soothe their nerves, and the group looked between themselves.

Sonia gathered her courage and stepped forward. "Hajime, when the five of us chose to shut down the program, we did so for the safety of the world. You musn't—" Her voice faltered when his attention turned toward her.

Hajime could only imagine what his expression looked like, right now. Those soldiers had come in search of Izuru Kamukura. After what they'd done to the people he cared about, they'd found him.

She collected her courage and tried again. "You mustn't hurt anyone, Hajime."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," he said like it was self-evident. That lack of trust should have hurt, but he distantly realized that his voice had indeed gone flat, all its emotional affectation falling away. It had been a very, very long stretch of months. Feelings had failed him over and over again as they went on, and now, he just needed to fix these problems before they could happen again.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

The voice sliced through Hajime's disaffected thoughts, and he blinked with surprise. Fuyuhiko stood near the stairs, ready to return below deck in an instant, but he was there.

"Sorry, Fuyuhiko," Hajime said as all of those squelched emotions rushed back into him like surging floodwaters, and he flexed his hand around the small controller it held. "I know you said you didn't want me making this decision for you. Well. I'm gonna."

"Huh?" Fuyuhiko asked, too confused to be angry.

Turning back to the sky, Hajime inhaled.

He was about to end the world.

Again.

Before he could talk himself out of this, his thumb clicked the button to confirm the algorithm he'd spent a week building. Humanity's greatest genius had used a modified satellite phone taken from the Canadian base to hack into every government and military system left in this broken world, and slithered into their cracks and shadows. After that, he'd started calculating angles and vectors and control mechanisms. And now, he'd just put all of those controls into effect.

There was a full minute of wary silence as they waited for anything to happen, finally broken by Nagito wondering, "Hajime… what did you do?"

"I'm not hurting anyone," he calmly repeated. "I'm just going to stop them before they hurt anyone else."

Nagito still looked unsettled, especially at the echo of his own words, but said nothing more.

As Hajime looked up at the sky and waited, his breath suddenly caught as he realized Fuyuhiko had walked up next to him. Though his tight expression demanded answers, Hajime could only say, "I owe you this."

"Owe me what, exact… ly…" Fuyuhiko's question trailed off into nothing as a spectacular streak of light burned across the sky.

A few people gasped. Realizing what they must be thinking, Hajime said, "It's not a missile. Don't worry. But keep watching."

Another streak of light blazed overhead, then a third. And then, suddenly, it became a waterfall of shining, gleaming color tearing apart the night sky. A meteor shower like the Perseids might see a hundred so-called falling stars in an hour. This was thousands of points of light, in minutes.

It was beautiful. Even though he'd known what was about to happen, Hajime couldn't help but stare up in awe at the choir of light singing an intricate melody overhead. Runs, chords, arpeggios; the glimmering lines wrote out a song that had never been seen in the history of the world, and would never be seen again.

"What did you do?" Fuyuhiko asked in an amazed whisper as he stared up at the glorious show above.

"I owe you this," Hajime repeated, also in a whisper, then stayed silent until calm, dark night finally returned.

A few final streaks of light followed their brethren down to earth. Only when they were sure that no more would follow did everyone turn to Hajime. Every last face demanded answers.

For it, he held up his hand to show off the small controller held in his palm.

"They had… that at the military base?" Kazuichi asked weakly.

"No." Hajime smiled as genuine relief swept him, like he hadn't felt for a very long time. "It just set off my algorithm."

"Which did what?" Peko prompted.

"Directed ninety-three percent of all functioning satellites out of orbit. And I now control the other seven percent."

That took a moment to sink in, then earned a collective gasp. "Those were satellites?" Mahiru demanded. "Like, television and internet and phone satellites?"

Hajime looked back up at a now-empty sky. "Like spy satellites. Like military targeting and attack satellites. They're never going to find any of you again. And with the ones I kept, I'll know if they even make an attempt. It'll be impossible to take us by surprise, ever again."

Overwhelmed, Sonia clutched her forehead. "Every telecommunications network around the world just collapsed." Gundham stared at Hajime like he'd wielded some dark magical powers to put on that spectacular display.

"Not every one," Hajime calmly countered. "Land-based towers will still work fine, and there are plenty of those. And I spent the last four days making sure that no satellites would angle toward populated areas, just in case they didn't burn up. No one was hurt. Which is a lot more than those soldiers can say.

"I didn't hurt anyone," he repeated in the silence. "But… I realized that I had to decide who I'm protecting, actively. And I picked you."

Aware of the stunned figure still standing at his side, Hajime quietly repeated, "I picked you. You won't have to do it again. And I'll stop talking to you, now."

Fuyuhiko's eye opened as wide as Hajime had ever seen it, and he looked up to stare again at the heavens that had been ripped down to keep him safe.

"All right. That's it." Hajime smiled. "Show's over. If we want, we could set sail tomorrow. They're never going to find us again."

He didn't know whether to expect it or not, but a knock came on his cabin door an hour later. When Hajime opened it, Fuyuhiko met his gaze for only a couple of seconds before studying the floor between them. "What in the hell was… I didn't ask for that."

"I know. But I owed you that much, Fuyuhiko. If I had done what I was capable of early enough, then you wouldn't have been forced into doing what you were capable of. I screwed up, so now I fixed it."

"When they figure out what happened, you're just going to be even more of a target," Fuyuhiko muttered. "Biggest bad guy on the planet."

He shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. "Already am, right?"

Fuyuhiko snorted slightly, but admitted, "Who… made his project take twice as long, so that he wouldn't hurt people. I would've just figured that everything would burn up."

"None of us want to hurt people," Hajime agreed, and instinctively raised his hand toward the fresh, deeper scar that had been carved across Fuyuhiko's bad eye. He caught himself halfway there and lowered his hand. "But the 'good guys' apparently can't say the same. So I picked us. And I don't regret it. They won't be able to see or hear us well enough to find us, any more, and so you'll never have to do that again."

For once, the silence between them seemed comfortable, like it had been before, when they could sit in each other's presence and not feel the immediate need to fill the quiet. In that quiet, Hajime was finally able to think of the right thing to say. "Don't think of this as coming from a friend. We apparently can't be that, any more. But I owed you a debt, and I needed to repay it."

Fuyuhiko studied him, clearly aware that Hajime had deliberately chosen language from Fuyuhiko's world, and seemed to consider him anew. Maybe, just maybe, they did understand each other, despite all this time seeming to say otherwise. "Hey. Lab rat."

"Don't call me that," Hajime instantly countered.

Not bothering to apologize, Fuyuhiko continued, "So, you just took out every way for militaries to track us, right? Plan offensive maneuvers? Organize their fleets?" After getting a nod at each question, he slowly finished, "Then… didn't you say you'd thought of something that might fix my memories, if only you could get past the military?"

Everything went still, and Hajime's eyes opened wide as he realized what he'd accidentally done as part of his plan.

"I just…" Troubled, Fuyuhiko tried a few times to finish his thoughts. "What you did up there tonight, I…" He shifted his weight. "I guess you finally made me curious about caring that damn much."

Hajime gripped his hand before he could help it. "Okay. Before we sail back there, I need to know if they would have gone back to look inside a specific building. I don't think you do, but do you know anything about something called the Neo World Program? Anything at all?"

Fuyuhiko blinked back at him with a total lack of recognition. "That's a dumbass name."

With a crow of delighted laughter over the confirmation that Fuyuhiko had never told them a thing, Hajime unthinkingly drew him into a hug.

"Get off me!" Fuyuhiko spat, his good mood gone.

"Sorry," Hajime chuckled, and stepped away. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"If you try to act like a friend who hugs me," Fuyuhiko muttered, "I'm gonna change my mind about this."

Hajime held up his hands. "Right. No hugs. Sorry."

"Okay. Glad we've gotten that straightened out." Fuyuhiko cleared his throat. "We're not friends. You've just got me curious. That's it."

"Absolutely," Hajime agreed. "That's it."

"Well. Okay. Right." Fuyuhiko hesitated a moment longer, then turned and walked off without a good-bye.

Hajime watched him leave, then turned and flat-out ran the other direction, toward the stairs. It was time to weigh anchor, and he'd figure out the safest path back toward Jabberwock once they were in motion. That would be easy enough; they still had access to all remaining navigational and spy satellites, after all, while every single one of their enemies had just been thrown back into navigating by compass and map.

Eighteen days later, they were back.

Everyone looked wistfully at the familiar beaches and palm trees. Even if they'd blinded the world's militaries, it was too dangerous to stay permanently in this known location. They could make return trips to strip the islands of what supplies they had to offer, but this wasn't home, any more.

"Come on," Hajime said, and gestured to the dock. "In there."

Fuyuhiko looked warily toward the central administration building; familiar to Hajime, but an unknown location to him. "What are we doing, exactly? You said this is where that virtual game thing happened, but I'm not doing that again, am I?"

He shook his head as they set into motion. "No. In a worst-case scenario, I can look for the same memory files that were generated when the simulation ran before. That wouldn't be… ideal, since it'd have some holes and nothing past when we woke up, but it'd be better than now." And Fuyuhiko would be balanced on the edge of Ultimate Despair, again, but they could all pull him off the ledge in the right direction.

"Okay," Fuyuhiko said, clearly troubled, but making the active decision to trust Hajime. "What's the best-case scenario, then? How would you get the memories back, otherwise?"

"I don't think they're actually gone," Hajime theorized.

That earned a dark look. "I'm pretty damn sure I knew what I was doing, there."

"You absolutely cannot reach those memories," Hajime quickly agreed. "Which kept those guys from being able to, either. But, it's like… imagine two buildings with a road between them. When you told me about what you did, I realized that I don't think you blew up the buildings. They're still there. I think you just blew up the road, so there's no way to access them."

"Okay," Fuyuhiko said uncertainly. "What's the difference, then, in fixing them?"

"Cognitive psychology studies retrieval methods for information that has been stored in long-term memory." The formal explanation quickly earned annoyance, and Hajime changed to, "You changed your associations with them, so you can't pull your memories out. You blew up the road, in other words. But there are pods—" Please, let the pods still be there. "That are specifically designed to deal with memories. I'm positive I can tweak them to zero in on fixing your retrieval processes. I won't need to actually rebuild any memories. I'll just need to fix the roads."

"Makes sense," Fuyuhiko said, but sounded even more uncertain as the details poured in. "So, I'm going to get into a weird memory pod that was used to lock me into a killing game, and you're gonna fuck with my brain. Like the pod already did, once."

"That's." Hajime paused, then held back a grimace. "Yeah. I wouldn't use those words, but… that's technically accurate, yeah."

Fuyuhiko looked to the side, and Hajime realized someone had followed them to the building. "What do you think?"

"It's as I've been telling you, all this time." Peko nodded. "You can trust Hajime."

Fuyuhiko stared at the building looming overhead, then sighed. "Fuck it." He pushed his way inside, not waiting for them to follow.

When Hajime moved to do so, a hand caught his wrist. "Thank you," Peko whispered, with a rare smile.

He smiled, too. "You got him out."

"And you'll get him back." She stepped back, releasing his wrist. "I won't keep you. But truly: thank you."

Nodding, Hajime reached over and squeezed her wrist before he followed Fuyuhiko inside. He found Fuyuhiko in the lobby, looking critically at the looming statue representing the five islands; he hadn't known which hallway to use after entering. Hajime led him down a path that they'd walked countless times while working on their sleeping friends, and kept glancing at him to see if any recognition flickered.

None did, but that might also have been because of how focused he was on assessing the space around them. "No signs of forced entry anywhere," Fuyuhiko mused. "And there's dust."

"It doesn't look like anyone's been down here," Hajime agreed, but his pulse sped as they approached the final corridor. He took and held a deep breath as he pushed open the door in question.

The pods were still there.

His lungs emptied, and Hajime's heart lurched back into regular motion. "Okay," he said, and tried to not let on how worried he'd been that they might come all this way only to find that the military had carried off the island's heart. "Pick a pod."

Fuyuhiko eyed him oddly—Hajime's nerves had clearly come through—but he shrugged and walked over to the pod nearest to the main control panel. "So, I just…?"

"You just get in," Hajime confirmed, and tapped the pod's panel to open it.

Needing another few contemplative moments, Fuyuhiko let out a whooshing breath, nodded, and climbed into the empty pod. "Don't fuck up, lab rat."

"Don't call me that," Hajime reminded him, hopefully for the last time, and tapped the controls to close the pod. Inside, Fuyuhiko watched him through its fogged glass, then abruptly dropped into unconsciousness as its effects took hold.

Okay. Time to be someone's Ultimate Hope, again.

Hajime's fingers flew across the controls as he worked on repurposing the intricate code of the Neo World Program. Software code and neurological structures both reshaped under his expert hands, but it wasn't a quick process. He'd reprogrammed the world's satellites, but reprogramming Fuyuhiko's brain felt infinitely more consequential.

Eventually, he had to activate the program and turn it over to the machine. It was out of his hands, now, and he could only wait, watch, and hope. Eighty-seven anxious minutes later, a light turned from green to white. The program had ended.

Fear and anticipation filled him in equal measure. He was almost sure this would work, but if it didn't, Hajime didn't have another plan. It would work, right? It would work. It would work. It had to work, he told himself as he reached for the pod's controls and tapped OPEN. It had to work.

The pod door slowly opened, and Fuyuhiko's eyelid followed.

Hajime leaned over him, realizing his own hands were shaking. "H-hey." He swallowed, feeling suddenly weighed down by the gravity of this moment. Either he was about to get Fuyuhiko back, or it would prove impossible. "How'd it go?"

Fuyuhiko blinked at him once. Twice.

Hajime looked down, and again swallowed hard.

Abruptly, Fuyuhiko lunged halfway out of the pod and grabbed Hajime by his shirt collar. "You asshole! I told you not to bother!"

"You told me?" Hajime repeated with a tremulous, hopeful voice.

"All of those fucking satellites? They're gonna know it was you!"

He swallowed. "And who am I?"

Fuyuhiko's lower lip quivered. "Hajime Hinata. The world's biggest idiot."

Delirious joy overtook Hajime, and he leaned in for a hug that lifted Fuyuhiko the rest of the way out of his pod. One arm wrapped around the other man's back, holding him close, while his other hand rested along the curve of Fuyuhiko's head. "You're the idiot," Hajime laughed, and rested his face against Fuyuhiko's.

"Fuck you," Fuyuhiko snorted, and wrapped his arms around Hajime in return, allowing himself to be held like he seldom did. "My plan worked great."

"Well, so did mine." Hajime's grip tightened, though he remembered in time that Fuyuhiko still had deep injuries lurking inside. "I picked you. Just like you picked me."

Fuyuhiko tried to say something, but failed.

"Thank you," Hajime whispered. Now that sun had returned to his world, he could admit to what fate Fuyuhiko had saved him from. "God, thank you. Never do that again. Never."

"That's the plan," Fuyuhiko whispered, and laughed once. It faded into a soft, twisted noise. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"And you do. You see me. Right?"

"Yeah." Fuyuhiko nodded against him. "I do."

Ultimate Hope felt like a worthwhile title, suddenly. "Come on," Hajime eventually said. He didn't let go of Fuyuhiko, though, and Fuyuhiko didn't step away. "Let's figure out what home's going to be, now."

#my fic #i joke that my single favorite trope is 'earn your happy ending'#significantly fucking less of an ideal situation for the rest of the world but our focus is BIASED

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mayisgoingnuts · 3 months ago

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Wicked Month Pump facts!!

— Deep inside he doesn't ACTUALLY hate his parents, or atleast wouldn't be able to ignore them for too long if they decided to come back. He DOES feels quite lonely after all.

— However he in fact dislikes Susie. Ever since a specific night he refused to get along with her ever again.

— Susie's drawings + Fire. One extra reason on why she now has a lock on her door.

— Like I said on the other post, he gets easily whiney and annoyed if someone stops him from doing what he wants.

— Curses a lot, it's officially on his dictionary, but he normally just sticks with "shit" or "fuck".

— Sticks out his tongue mockingly a lot, it's basically a habit.

— Frequently sneaks out at night to visit Skid, which annoys both Susie and Skid himself, but he does it anyway because he doesn't like his house.

— "Lalala I can't hear you!!"

— Has a specific insult for almost everyone.

"Hag/Old hag" for Susie;

"Idiot/Chicken" for Roy;

"Air-head" for Ross;

"Dork" for Robert;

"Fool man" for Kevin;

"Loser" for Lucky;

And "Weirdo" for pretty much every stranger he didn't liked.

#Wicked Month AU #spooky month #pump spooky month #susie spooky month #skid spooky month #roy spooky month #ross spooky month #robert spooky month #hatzgang #kevin spooky month #lucky spooky month

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yes-i-have-thoughts · 2 years ago

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Blood and Roses (FAITH AU)

(It’s finally heeeeere! TW: references to drinking, death of a child, mentioned blood and gore

1 (here)

It was just supposed to be a joke.

Cesar’s hands shook violently, making the beam of light from his flashlight tremble. The thing outside his door giggled in insanity as something scratched against the walls. It was just a joke. Just a party trick. The Archangel wasn’t real, he–no, it was just some frightening creature from a morbid comic book.

That’s all he was…Right?

–--

The post-graduation party had already been in full swing when he arrived. The music was loud, the laughter and chatter was louder and he was already a little dizzy from the miniscule amount of drinking allowed at the ceremony (provided by Summer’s flask). He’d promised his mother that he would only be visiting to say goodbye to a few friends before heading home, staying for the weekend and heading off to university the week after.

University . The mere thought made him thrilled. The word alone made it sound more impressive, more…Fancy. It wasn’t Harvard, but it was good enough for him. The only regret he had would be leaving behind–

“Hey, Ces! Glad you could make it.”

Summer waved her hand from the doorway, snapping Cesar out of his thoughts. He grinned and rushed to catch up with her and she let him inside.

“Hell of a ceremony, eh?” She asked, dodging around a fellow partygoer. “When I imagined graduating from high school, I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“You were the one who brought the drink,” Cesar teased.

“Well–yeah, but I didn’t realize that I’d have to share it with the entire crowd thanks to you, ya snitch.”

Cesar laughed when Summer punched his shoulder to emphasize her point. A brunette girl rushed up to them and practically squealed. “Valedictorian Cesar and Summer! I didn’t know you’d both be here!” The two shared a look before Summer switched gears into her well-spoken persona. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ellen.”

“You were both great!” Ellen squealed again. “The ceremony was amazing, all thanks to you!”

“Ah, I don’t–”

Summer lightly elbowed Cesar. “We appreciate the compliment,” she said, taking his elbow. “But there are other people we also wish to meet.”

“O-Oh! Yes of course, of course–make yourselves at home!”

“What was the elbow for?!” Cesar hissed in a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Summer mumbled. “But once she gets going about us then she’ll never stop. You know what she’s like.”

Cesar missed the rest of her sentence when someone caught his eye. They were eagerly waving him over. “Who’s this?”

“Who’s who?” Summer took a moment to follow his line of sight. “Oh, him. I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before. Must be the friend of someone else here.”

“Seems pretty interested in me.”

Summer smirked and lightly elbowed him again. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Go say hi, see what he wants. I’ll be hanging out with the crew.”

The two parted ways with that, Cesar growing more weary as he made his way over to the stranger. A feeling in his gut was screaming at him that he meant bad news, that it was wrong, that this guy looked like something straight out of the uncanny valley.

He now wished that he had listened to his gut.

“Uh…Hi.” Cesar gave the stranger a side-eyed look. “You…Wanted to see me?”

“Hi! Yes! Sorry!” The guy cleared his throat rather roughly and coughed something into the sleeve of his worn-out varsity jacket. “I wanted to show this to someone. To anyone.”

Cesar’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”

The guy put a hand under his jacket and pulled out a thin navy blue book. He practically shoved it at Cesar and was bouncing on his heels as he looked it over. There was nothing particularly special about it; just the word FAITH carved into the cover and a very rough drawing of an angel underneath it. He opened it and flipped through a few of the pages. Faded ink showed a short story about a kid a little older than Mark’s little sister running from a shadow creature, only to get pounced on by two or three more. The blatant show of the little kid’s guts and blood flying everywhere made his stomach churn. What the Hell kind of comic book is this?

“Hey, your thing for gore is cool and all.” Cesar flipped through the rest of the comic before closing it and handing it back to the guy. “But don’t go around showing it to people, okay?”

“Did you see the chant?” The guy asked.

Cesar raised an eyebrow and flipped through the comic again. The last page made him pause. There was another drawing of the angel, though this time it looked wrong in a way he couldn’t place. Above the angel were three lines of the same sentence. “Dear Archangel, I wish to–”

The strange guy shushed him loudly and snatched the comic out of his hand. “You can’t just say it!” He hissed. “You have to do it properly!”

“Look, man, this is ridiculous.” Cesar looked over the crowd in an attempt to find Summer and the rest of their friend group. “I read the comic book. It’s not my thing. Now, I have to go–”

“You think it’s bullshit? Then call him. I dare you.”

That, regrettably, got Cesar’s attention. He’s never backed down from a dare, ever since he was a kid. He wasn’t about to now. Anything to get this creepy gore-addicted guy away from him.

The guy motioned for Cesar to follow him and left, walking through Ellen’s house to what looked like one of the bedrooms or a guest room. He pulled a bag out from under the bed and dumped it all onto the comforter: a nail, a tiny metal spring, some fur, a crow feather, a small sliver of wood, a lighter and some scissors. He sent Cesar on a small fetch quest to get a bowl from the kitchen, piled most of the stuff into it, then grabbed Cesar’s hand and raked the surprisingly sharp blade of the scissors across the back of it.

Cesar flinched back and held his hand to his chest. “OW! What the fuck, man?!”

“I’m sorry, but it needs your blood.” The guy yanked his hand back and squeezed it, ignoring Cesar cursing under his breath at the burning pain as some drops of blood dripped into the odd mishmash of things. “Okay, now set it on fire.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. You’re out of your mind.”

“So what, you’re gonna back out of a dare? Do you think something’s gonna happen?”

‘I think you’re about to murder me.’ Cesar held his tongue and roughly picked up the comic book, folding the pages over the back out of spite towards the guy. The pages were nearly illegible now, except for the back. “How do I have to read–”

“Just read it.”

His gut screamed at him again. His instinct screamed at him to run, to get out of there and bring Summer with him. God, why didn’t he listen .

Making a mental note to bandage his hand as soon as the guy let him go, he nervously picked up the lighter and set the bundle of fur alight. The hand holding the comic shook as he read over the words. “Dear Archangel, I wish to atone for myself.”

He turned to the guy. “What the Hell does that mean.”

“Keep going!” He responded.

Cesar rolled his eyes, getting fed up with this dare. “Dear Archangel, I wish to–take my punishment, what the fuck?! ”

“One more!”

He ground his teeth. Just one more line and he’ll be out of this dare. “Dear Archangel, take my faith.”

Nothing happened. The fire ate up the items, the comic book faded in his hands, his hand burned at the scratch. The guy looked disappointed.

Cesar threw the book into his chest and left the room without a word.

Outside the solitude of the guest room, the party was in full swing but Cesar wasn’t interested in final goodbyes anymore. He ignored Summer trying to catch up to him as he went for the front door and practically ran out of the house.

For reasons he couldn’t put his finger on, he felt like he had just made a deal with the devil.

#El writes #FAITH AU #Cesar Torres #TMC #Malice 2009 #the mandela catalogue #cw drinking #cw child murder

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huntingingoodwill · 2 months ago

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I am DEFINITELY interested in another post ab travel journalist Emmett that's a million words long!!! but don't feel like you have to if you find me asking AGAIN super annoying x

i'm just super obsessed with this concept and idea! 🥲 your mind is brilliant 💓💓

hey babe sorry i took so long to respond! im trying to kick school’s ass rn but at the moment we’re equally matched

PLEASE you are not annoying!!! i always love yapping on here

AND THANK YOU 😭😭 you’re too sweet

emmett sadness beneath the cut

- i yapped about this so much with my dear old pal rue when i first came up with it

- im soooo inspired by tibetan pop stars by hop along because a lot of the lyrics feel very journalist emmett coded… the sort of distance and longing in the lyrics is very reflective of what he feels and what reader feels toward him in the au

- after he leaves he gets on a plane and flies off to some distant location. he has to really rough it out this time. but he doesn’t care. he’s used to having to tough it out, and this time he just wants to delve straight into it to forget all about you. a part of him treats it as just punishment too, for what he did.

- he has a local guide and interpreter, hired by the publication he works for, bring him around for this trip.

- he rows through rivers that cut through jungles, hikes through vast deserts, visits bustling city centres, drives out to rural towns. throughout all of this all he can think of is you. his guide catches that faraway look in his eye.

- the guide draws it out of emmett one night, their faces lit by campfire in the middle of vast, empty terrain. the guide tells a campfire story beneath a sky full of stars. one of love. he doesn’t say it, but emmett knows what he’s trying to say. he’s telling him to go after you. life is too short.

- that night, he writes you a note, just a piece of paper with the addresses of the stops on his journey, and a plea for you to forgive him and write.

- he’s nervous the whole journey toward the next stop. but then he arrives, and there’s a letter waiting for him.

- you write about how happy you are to hear from him again. that he’s safe. you tell him all will be forgiven if he can have it in him to come home, and stay, this time. no more running away. if he can write that promise to you, it’s all it’ll take for you to not give up on him.

- you start writing back and forth. your letters are heartbreakingly earnest. he tries to be honest and sincere, but he can’t. he tries. pages and pages of words, scribbled out smudged ink crumpled into waste paper baskets and scattered across borders in hotels, left on the tables in seedy restaurants and cafes, burned in kerosene lamps and campfires. he sends short notes, words scribbled on the back of photographs. his responses get slower, more sparse. one day, he stops writing back. he can’t find the words.

- you send a few more letters, but they slow down, and stop, eventually.

- he runs for another year.

- he tries avoiding going back to the city where he met you. but he’s called there on assignment, eventually.

- he’s walking down the street when he bumps into his old friend, the one whose house he had crashed in when he had met you.

- just seeing him makes emmett cringe. he invites emmett over for dinner. he’s reluctant, but his friend drags him back toward the house, the same house that makes his heart pound when he sees the facade of it and remembers all that went on within it,

- there’s too many people. there’s chatter, and everyone’s patting his friend on the back and congratulating him. it’s an engagement dinner, and the atmosphere is so suffocating emmett feels faint

- someone makes a quip about the lovely bride approaching. he turns to look up the stairs and sees you come down them, his heart dropping to his feet as the room cheers

- you smile at him. “hello, stranger.”

- he resents you for this, just a little. not nearly as much as he loves and misses you. you know this. you had resented him for a while, too, after he left.

- he tries, desperately, to kiss you in the kitchen. you push him away. you tell him it’s too late. you ask why he couldn’t have come home for you. you ask why he didn’t write back.

- he doesn’t know why. he just couldn’t.

- he leaves through the kitchen door and runs away, again.

this is so emo for no reason but i hope u enjoy!!!!!

#asks #emmett headcanons #cillian murphy #a quiet place #imagines

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years ago

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The Aftermath

Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

A/N: been having some thoughts, so here’s some thoughts in the form of some headcanons of mine, and of ours. - Nemo

Warnings: Manga Spoilers! Talk of Character death. Scars. Some Angst but all has a good ending. A really fucking corny last line.

Listening to: ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ by Lily Allen - ‘Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.’

Masterlist

Post-War! Levi who lives on the mainland, away from Paradis for a many handful of reasons.

One is because people can easily identify him as Captain Levi, one of those who stopped the Rumbling, and they didn’t want it stopped. Some are civilized about it, others not so much.

Another is because he lost people on Paradis. People he loved. He isn’t running away by not being there, but it’s just easier if he isn’t. He knows they’re with him anyway.

Post-War! Levi who takes care of Gabi and Falco as much as they take care of him.

They’re lively, still young and full of energy, and he’s learnt that keeping them on their toes is more fun than it first sounded.

When the old cadets come visit, the duo tell many stories, and no one believes them. Because since when has Levi even been someone to race two teenagers down a hill in a wheelchair?

Post-War! Levi who now has a large draw of sweaters in his home.

After his leg got infected, and he had time to fight off the fever and night sweats, his leg aches horribly if there’s a change in weather coming.

He finds he gets too cold too easily now, but the sweaters can help keep the chill reaching his core very well.

All of them are different shades of black, grey, white, green, and blue. He buys the ones with no color. The others are all gifted or suggested by someone else.

He knows the difference between a good quality sweater and a knock-off just by looking at them.

Post-War! Levi who sometimes thinks he sees his old friends out the corner of his eyes.

Raining, or overcast days are the worst. The shadows make strangers look like the people he loved most.

He knows it’s not possible. It’s been so long. But he takes a good look at the strangers anyway, just in case.

Post-War! Levi who sees you before you see him.

Your hair was pinned away from your face, and the dress you were wearing was blue. He had a perfect view of your face, and as a smiled tilted your lips up, he knew he wouldn’t so easily forget how you looked.

He had never been someone to form an attachment right away, and still wasn’t. He didn’t feel such thing so suddenly.

But then you just kept showing up. And he just kept noticing. It was a few weeks before you started noticing him back, and then a month more before you spent more than time in-passing together.

Post-War! Levi who suddenly was more interested in getting used to and using a walking stick, rather than his wheelchair.

It surprises Gabi, more than it does Falco. She was the one who first pushed it, and yet Levi has always been as stubborn as he was in denying his need for it. But Falco has been the one noticing Levi’s interactions with you, and he knows what it might mean.

So Levi spends more time around his home with a walking stick, and takes walks around the local park for as long as he can manage. Gabi sits in the wheelchair and makes Falco push her alongside Levi as he goes.

Post-War! Levi who, while on one of these walks, spots you sitting on a bench and reading.

He walks over, and you move yourself over on the bench to make more space before you notice who it is. When you do, you smile at him, and close the book - careful to put a mark in.

Gabi almost yells at Falco to just keep going, but circle back around at least twelve times - an attempt to eavesdrop no doubt - by the time Levi’s conversation ends with you agreeing to visit a tea shop with him tomorrow.

Post-War! Levi who, for about the first time in his life, worries about how his scars look.

He’s noticed them before, obviously, but he’s never been one for looking at himself in a mirror longer than he needed to. Making sure he was tidy, his clothes were on right. But now it’s different.

For once he worries what you might be thinking of them, and he tries to find a way to make them less noticeable - if only so you wouldn’t be seen as ‘that lady who’s always with that man with the scarred face’.

But when you find out about his feelings - accidently - you do something he didn’t really see coming. You show him your scars. Little nicks, and the bigger ones.

He’d hate to say it, but seeing you with them did make him feel better. It did make him worry less. Because if someone so beautiful had scars like he did, then maybe his weren’t so bad after all.

Post-War! Levi who is able to enjoy life more, and the tea that goes with it.

Unlike Paradis, things such as milk and sugar are more easy to come by, however he still doesn’t care for them. You might, and that’s the only reason he’s ever interested in either for tea anyway.

The different types of tea, though, are what he’s much more interested in. You started to gift him boxes of tea he had not tried yet, and his heart couldn’t warm more.

Post-War! Levi who is able to enjoy life more, because he has a family again.

He has company, he has friends, he has people he loves and doesn’t have to worry about losing so much. When he first realized it, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders because his whole life had been spent doing things to make sure the people he held closest to his heart didn’t get hurt. And now it just, wasn’t there anymore.

These people he’s with, they look after him too. And even though he can’t do so much anymore, he still does his best. Protecting and caring is all he’s known, it’s what’s he’s good at. Even though it’s not as much as it used to be, it’s still his best, and he rests easy knowing that that’s still enough.

Post-War! Levi who sleeps a little better now.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s less exhausted, if he’s finally able to deal with his trauma, or he’s just gotten to coping better, but the insomnia lets him sleep longer, and more often, nowadays.

He does know one thing, though. He knows that ever since he and you started sleeping in the same bed, he’s felt more reluctant to leave it. He likes being with you, no matter where you are, so if bed is where you’re at, then that’s where he wants to be too.

Of course, not wanting to leave bed - for any reason - does tend to help one sleep a little more often.

Post-War! Levi who finally opens his own teashop.

Now he has more permanent - support? help? - companion, rather than Falco and Gabi, and others dropping in and out on him everyday, he is a little more eager to do things. One such thing, is something he’s wanted to do for years, and years.

He looked for ads in the paper for empty shops. He took you and negotiated the source supplies for the store. He told Gabi and Falco they were going to work in the store when they said they needed to find jobs. He looked over your arm the entire time you wrote up the first menu.

The teashop is his pride and joy. As he sits in a corner of the back room, looking through the doorway at customers and the steam of tea, and smelling all the brews, he finds comfort.

This was why he fought, and this was why people died. This was why he lost his family, and this was why he was given a new one. Fighting for humanity was never just about staying alive, it was just as much about fighting for the freedom that let people live their dreams in peace.

#levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot headcanons #snk x reader #snk imagine #snk headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #grian #mcc #docm77 #falsesymmetry #zedaph #xisuma #dreamwastaken #stressmonster101 #angst and fluff #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 4 years ago

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Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (7)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(I know y’all are getting tired of waiting for Techno to arrive, so am I! But I have no solid control over the story plot lol but I swear it’ll happen soon!! And y’all know the drill! Reblogs and comments keep this story going. So if you want a chapter 8 then please show this chapter some love! <3)

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(FORGOT TO MENTION ART!

The amazing 'YeetUsFeTUSDelETusss' on DA was so cool and drew two pictures to bless our eyes!!)

READER HERSELF!

READER PROTECTING HER BOYS!

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Only Tubbo showed up the next day, and he said he sadly couldn’t stay for long because him and Tommy were needed back at L’manburg for a while. Meaning him and Tommy wouldn’t be able to visit for a bit, but they’d try to visit as soon as possible! Hearing they’d not come see you for who knows how long made you pretty sad. You honestly looked forward to when they’d visit. It was honestly the highlight of your day. But you knew whatever nonsense was going on in L’manburg currently would need their attention. Though you wondered what exactly was going on. You recalled a decent amount of the ‘history’ of the Dream SMP but you knew you could be misremembering or even mixing things up. But you did remember the big things that happened. Like the wars and stuff. So needless to say you were concerned.

‘What point in history am I in right now? Whenever it is, L’manburg is apparently still standing,’ you thought pensively before asking Tubbo what was going on that they’d need to stay in L’manburg.

Tubbo sighed and said it was ‘just some drama’ but apparently their, meaning his and Tommy’s, older brother figure Wilbur had been president of L’manburg for the entirety of the time L’manburg had existed. But some new citizens who joined them found out he’d not been properly elected and didn’t think it was fair to everyone that Wilbur had basically just made himself president without any input from everyone else. Which you could see was not right but this information told you that you were in the pre-election time. Which meant Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won yet… But that hinged on this universe even being the same one that you’d watched on youtube. Things could be different here for all you knew. You’d always believed in the multiverse theory so who was to know WHICH universe this was. Or how you even got here. All you could do really was to just… wait and watch.

A couple hours passed during the short visit and towards the end Tubbo showed you how to message others, ie; him and Tommy mostly. You’d known how to message others and put in commands and stuff in regular minecraft but you’d just sort of never thought to try those things here in this place. Though to be fair you’d been dealing with a lot of stuff so fiddling with your inventory and everything hadn’t been your top priority. And when he’d mentioned messaging him your first thought had been ‘how?’, because this was a ‘real life’ minecraft, where things were very similar but not always exactly like how it was in the real game. The biggest difference being that there was no computer keyboard or ‘screen’ for the type/chat option to be at the bottom of like in the game.

But to your surprise the place to type in a message was actually IN your inventory. More specifically it was at the very bottom of the main section right below where your items were stored in the hot bar. You’d never paid the long ultra thin box at the bottom any mind, assuming it was just part of the weird design. But no, Tubbo showed you with his inventory how if you tap on the thin box (that you’d honestly thought was just a line) it expands into a typing window! Your eyes widened at that and watched as he tapped the typing box again and a little keyboard appeared below the typing box and he started typing something into it. You squinted and he said to message someone you needed to be sure to type ‘/msg’ and then whoever’s name you’d like to send the message to!

He demonstrated this by typing out the first part then right after it typing your ‘name’; aka Reader. Briefly you wondered why it had been made that but you brushed that thought away to focus on what Tubbo was doing. You saw him type ‘hi reader!!’ before hitting Enter. Then a second later you heard a soft ‘ping!’ sound and you just KNEW your inventory was waiting to be pulled up. Like knew in an instinctual sense. Like how you knew to blink or how to walk. Just an instinct you couldn’t explain so you brought it up and there at the bottom the ‘line’ was flashing a pale red. So you did what Tubbo had done and tapped it, revealing the little typing box. Only this time it had a message in it! It said, ‘Tubbo whispers to you: hi reader!!’ and you smile. Excited now you type out a message to him and hit send. He got it and laughed after he read it.

‘Reader whispered to you: hello my little goat boy!! :)’

After that he blinked when more messages popped onto his text box. These were from Tommy and Wilbur it looked like. With a sigh he checked his clock and dismissed his chat box before saying he was sorry but he had to get going. He’d actually stayed longer than he was supposed to. You were sad to see him go but knew he’d be back, and hey, now you could message him and Tommy to make sure they got back to L’manburg safe instead of just wondering like before. So you told him to be careful on his way back and to message you that he was safe home when he arrived, and also if he needed any help. He laughed and cheekily said he would but gave a shy smile when you pulled him into a hug and gently knocked your antlers with his horns, but he happily returned it. Not so secretly enjoying the affection. But he had to pull back and leave.

That left you to your own devices.

-0-

With nothing better to do you initially spent the next three days building a couple fountains in the village (which was getting pretty big..). One tiny frog shaped one in the little grotto at the west side of the village and a much larger more traditional one in the opposite side of the village. You’d even set up park benches, flower plots, lamp posts, and stone sidewalk around the bigger one. It was very pretty and the villagers seemed to be enjoying it. But after that was done you’d sorta gotten bored. You weren’t really inspired to do anything else to the village so you thought of ways to occupy yourself. Eventually a metaphorical lightbulb flickered to life above your head and you got an idea.

You could go to the Nether!

Sure you weren’t the biggest fan of the place but it beat sitting around twiddling your thumbs waiting for a reply from your only two friends like some loser. And hey, you liked giving piglins gold. They made cute little piggy snorts when they were happy. So with that loose plan in mind you got up from where you’d been lounging by the creek and brushed yourself off before heading out to the place outside the bamboo and prickle berry wall you’d placed the first Nether portal. You crafted one real quick before tensing up when you heard the sound of rustling behind you. Assuming it was a creeper or something you glanced back, not that it would hurt you but you still found it unsettling for anything to be sneaking up behind you. You caught a brief glimpse of something small and white disappearing into a cluster of ferns. You paused, wondering what it was but then about a block to the left of the ferns a chicken and her chick walked out from around a tree. ‘Oh, must have just been a baby chicken’, you thought with a mental shrug before turning back to your task of lighting the portal with your flint and steel.

Once activated you stepped into the purple swirling mist and your vision warped before you ended up in the Nether again, stifling heat and all.

-0-

You’d been exploring the Nether for what felt like hours. The place was goddamn enormous! You’d followed the same sand block trail from the last time you’d been here, seeing the piglins and a few striders along the way. And to your delight a familiar little piglin baby started following you. She (you think she’s a ‘she’, that’s the vibe you’re getting anyways) had to be the one you’d played with the last time you’d been in the Nether. You crouched down and patted her head and pulled a golden carrot from your inventory before gifting it to her. She squealed happily and munched on it. You kept walking along the sand path before reaching the fortress. That’s when you diverted your path to the right and started exploring that way, careful to keep laying down sand as you did. You thought the baby piglin had stayed back but after a while of walking you heard a soft snort and glanced down to the left of you to see her happily trotting along with you, still nibbling on the golden carrot.

You wanted to melt, she was such a cutie pie. You stopped and asked if she should be travelling so far away. Won’t her parents miss her? She blinks and seems to understand you before shaking her head ‘no’. You figure she must have some pretty lenient parents. But you suppose piglins are sturdier than humans so it makes sense they’d keep their kids on a looser leash than humans would. So you ask her where her parents are and if they’d be okay with her wandering off with you, a stranger. She tilts her head and shrugs. You purse your lips and ask if she can take you to her parents so you can ask if they’d be okay with it. This time she shakes his head no. So you ask her why and she seems to be thinking how to answer before she goes over to the closest block of sand and starts drawing in it. You look over her shoulder and see her drawing three hearts. Then your stomach sinks when you see her draw an ‘X’ over each heart, meaning one thing..

“Oh sweetie, did your parents lose all their lives?” you ask in a gentle tone.

The tiny piglin nodded and your heart broke for her. You asked some more questions and discovered she wasn’t really being taken care of by any one piglin. The other piglins knew her parents were gone so they’d sorta chip in to make sure she had food. But that was really it. This made you feel worse so you just sighed and patted her head and said she could join you while you explored the Nether. She snorted happily and you two continued on your way. Eventually after walking for a bit you came across a warped forest. You had to admit the biome was much prettier in person. The stark contrast between the Nether’s usual red color scheme and the teal of the warped forest was really beautiful. Even the weird little green/orange fungus that were growing everywhere were cute. You even picked a handful to keep, placing them in your inventory before continuing your little jaunt with the baby piglin.

That last thought made you mentally pause and realize that you couldn’t just keep calling this kid ‘baby piglin’. So you stopped walking and looked down before saying you forgot to introduce yourself. She could call you Reader (since that’s what your little name thing said..). Then you asked what her name was. She blinked before snorting a little, like she was clearing her throat, and said, “Azogamay.”

You smiled and said you liked her name, making her give a cute little tusked smile. Then as you continued exploring you both made small talk. Nothing deep (how deep could conversation get with a little kid) but you asked each other the usual questions. Like favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite animals, etc. Then Azo (you’d taken to shortening her name to make it easier) answered one of your questions with some gibberish that made you pause. You glanced down at her and gave a ‘huh?’ that made her giggle before apparently remembering you weren’t a piglin. She said she forgot and spoke Piglin. That made you raise your eyebrows because you’d never thought about other species in the game having their own language. But now that you were thinking about it, it totally made sense. Of course they would, duh. Now very curious you asked her to teach you a little! Like did she know how your name would be said in Piglin? Her answer surprised you…

“Eaderray!” she said in her quiet baby voice.

Now you two had entered a wide soul sand valley, which made Azo anxious. She hid behind your leg, making you recall that Piglins didn’t really spawn in this biome or like soul fire (which is super common here). You had to admit the place was rather creepy. It didn’t help that the soul sand beneath your feet was emitting a rather creepy whispery wail. So you decided to turn back and try another direction. Azo seemed relieved and trotted along behind you. But once you were walking again you remembered your last thought and had a vague feeling about this ‘piglin speak’ and wanted to hear more. So you asked Azo some other words, just to test this theory of yours. And well…

Skeleton? Eletonskay…

Blaze? Azeblay…

Strider? Iderstray…

Lava? Avalay...

Gold? ...Oldgay (that may have made you snicker).

But you got the idea and honestly you cannot be held accountable for your reaction after you realized Piglins honest to fucking god spoke PIG LATIN.

You lost it. You laughed so hard you doubled over and had to brace your hands on your knees to keep from collapsing onto the ground. Azo didn’t know what was so funny but your laughter was contagious and she ended up laughing too, intermixed with little snorts that made you laugh even harder. It was a whole cycle. And by the end of it you’d laughed so hard you started coughing and had to sit down to catch your breath. The giggles returned a couple times but eventually you got control over yourself enough to be able to breathe normally again. As you sat there, little Azo looking up at you in amusement, you couldn’t believe the absolute batshit nonsense that was happening in your life right now. But out of everything that had happened, you think finding out Piglins spoke pig latin had to be the funniest. Though you wanted to test your theory further so you said to Azo,

“Ellohay Azogamay, isyay isthay ightray?”

Azo’s eyes brightened and she perked up, looking close to bouncing from excitement as she realized you were speaking ‘Piglin’ to her. She started babbling at the speed of light, in a way that all excited toddlers seemed to be able to do. While it was cute enough to pull a chuckle from you the downside was that you could not understand a single word Azo said. You got her to slow down, telling her you didn’t speak Piglin fluently so she would have to go slow with you otherwise you’d be lost. She nodded, just happy that you could understand Piglin. So she slowed down a lot and chatted with you that way. And that’s pretty much how the rest of your time in the Nether went. You traversed through the hellish dimension and brushed up on your pig latin with the little piglin.

It has definitely been a LONG time since you’d even thought about the made up ‘language’. You’d had a friend in elementary school who had been Obsessed with it. It was all they spoke sometimes and they’d talked it up so much that it caught on with the rest of the class, yourself included, and soon everyone was using it to write notes to each other, like a secret language. You’d even speak to each other only in pig latin during recess and lunch breaks. You’d been fluent in it and didn’t even have to think before speaking. Though after a year it had lost its popularity and everyone slowly stopped using it since the fad was over. But you still remembered a good deal of it. Enough to speak it slowly anyways. But the more you used it the easier it was to speak it. It was like riding a bike you supposed, you never truly forgot it.

-0-

Things were going fine until they weren’t. You’d stopped to have lunch in a crimson forest, more for Azo’s benefit than your own, and were sitting and eating for a while before Azo started playing with a baby hoglin. Which had been fine, you’d seen baby piglins and hoglins do that in the game before, no biggie. But they’d gotten rambunctious the way kids do when they’re playing together. And while chasing each other around Azo had smacked into one of the adult hoglins, which had pissed it off enough for it to snarl angrily and start chasing Azo. And Azo in turn began squealing in fear while running away. You’d dropped the steak you’d been idly munching on and sprinted after the two. Sadly the hoglin was closer to Azo than you and managed to get one good hit in with its tusks, the force behind it practically yeeting Azo up into the air. You yelled in horror as you watched the baby piglin fall down into a lava filled ravine.

Panic flooded your body, you knew zombie piglins were fireproof but regular piglins were not as far as you knew. Let alone baby piglins who just took a direct hit from a damn hoglin. So without thinking about it you dove into the ravine after Azo, catching her in your arms and fully planning to hold her up above the lava since it wouldn’t hurt you. Once she was in your arms you jerked back instinctively, not sure why, just maybe bracing for the impact with the lava. You waited but… nothing. About that second you realized that you weren’t moving anymore. You’d come to a halt and at first you wondered if maybe you’d landed on a block and not noticed. But… one glance down revealed you were not in fact standing on a block. Actually you weren’t standing on anything. You were hovering about 3 or 4 blocks above the bubbling lava at the bottom of the ravine. You were so stunned that you almost missed the sniffling snorts that started up next to your face but thankfully they broke you out of your shocked state. You looked at Azo and your heart broke when you saw her tearing up and looking close to crying. Forgetting momentarily about whatever the fuck was going on with you floating you focused on soothing her.

“Aw sweetie, are you okay? You took a hit from that hoglin, where does it hurt?” you cooed.

She was babbling mostly, being too upset to try to speak English. And understanding crying pig latin was almost impossible. So you just asked her to point where it hurt. She reached for her back and side and you softly told her you were going to lift her shirt a little bit to see if there was a mark, and she nodded shakily and sniffled while you did. You winced at the blooming bruise and adjusted her so you were basically cradling her and with your free hand you opened your inventory and started looking through the potions. You grabbed a healing potion and uncorked it before offering it to Azo, whose snout wrinkled at the potion. You told her it was alright, it was a healing potion that would make her feel better and get rid of those bruises for her. She looked unsure but still let you raise the mouth of the potion bottle to her lips so she could sip it. She took a few sips before hiccuping, potion swirls wafting off of her after she did. The baby piglin blinked and felt the pain in her back and side start to disappear.

You smiled and said that must feel better, Azo nodded and was happy she wasn’t hurting anymore. You let her take one more sip for good measure before putting the cork back into the bottle and stashing it in your inventory. But once that was done you were reminded of your current predicament. You were still floating in place above a ravine of lava.. With zero clue on how to move too. Briefly you internally panicked at the thought of just.. never being able to move again!! Being stuck fixed in one spot forever with no way to get down or live freely! Though before you could panic further you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. This wasn’t permanent, it couldn’t be. There logically has to be a way for you to move. You got yourself stuck here and you’ll get yourself down as well.

And the last thing you wanted was to look scared with Azo here with you. She was just a little kid and needed the only adult around to be strong for her. So you put on a smile and reassured her that things will be okay and you’ll figure out how to get them both safe on land in no time. Azo nodded, looking less worried than before. So you started trying things you think would get you to move. You could move your limbs no problem. Proven by how you could move Azo around with your arms and kick your legs about without issue. But your body as a whole was still locked in place. Though when you leaned your upper body to the left you hit a breakthrough! Tilting your torso to the left managed to move your whole body to the left by about a block and a half! Now onto the right path you started leaning your torso this way and that, figuring out what movements actually got you moving and which ones didn’t. Figuring out how to move side to side and forwards and back was pretty easy. But it was figuring out up and down that was tricky.

At the moment going down was the last thing you were interested in, what with the lava beneath you. So you tried focusing on going up, and after a lot more wiggling about that you were sure made you look like an idiot to anyone who could be watching (Azo only giggled a little) you finally figured out that to go up you had to tense and stretch your torso a specific way. Like exactly how you would do if you were trying to reach something on the top shelf, only you didn’t have to move your arms or legs the same way, just your torso. Like how people straighten themselves to seem taller, not slouching at all. After getting that down you manage to go up and then over out of the ravine. Which was a relief and a half. Now that the threat of sinking into lava wasn’t a worry you instead fixated on getting down. Thanks to figuring out how to get up you had an easier time getting the hang of getting down.

Once your feet touched the ground the floating thing disappeared and gravity was restored to you, making you able to walk around normally again. You gave a small cheer, Azo snorting happily as you carried her back to your spot on one of the crimson mushroom tree tops. Once seated you let out a breath and felt your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even been aware they’d been so tense, but you guess it made sense what with how you just sorta had a weird physics related mishap. But now that you and little Azo were safe you felt like you could breathe again.

You took a golden apple out of your inventory and took a bite, the sweet juice soothing your metaphorical ruffled feathers. You noticed you mostly just eat for the taste now. Which was fine you guessed. When you glanced down you held the apple close to Azo’s face, asking in semi-good piglin if she wanted a bite, chuckling when she eagerly sunk her little teeth into the sweet fruity flesh of it. You gave her the rest and just watched the other Nether inhabitants mill about peacefully. Today had been a wild ride for sure. At least compared to your usual peaceful days. You leaned back against the lump of red fungus behind you, Azo cradled in your arms, and sighed calmly. You’d been ready to rest your eyes when you heard a soft ‘ping!’ that had you blinking back into focus. It was your communicator app thing. Thinking it was just Tubbo messaging you to say goodnight or something you casually opened the message. But when you did you raised an eyebrow at the note from your kid.

‘Tubbo whispers to you: the election is tomorrow afternoon, can you come?

‘Tubbo whispers to you: i’ve got a bad feeling.. i’m not trying to pull you into our mess’

‘Tubbo whispers to you: but idk i’d feel better if you were there.’

You had a bad feeling too… You hoped what you likely knew was going to happen DIDN’T happen but.. it probably was. So you sent back a quick reply to Tubbo.

‘You whisper to Tubbo: of course I will! you can show me around your home! :)

You tried to keep your reply upbeat and happy, not wanting to feed into the teenager’s worry. Even though you were probably more worried now that he was. But regardless.

It looked like you were visiting L’manburg.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur #piglin #piglin oc

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dancingaliensfics · 4 years ago

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♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

#zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws

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empressapprentice · 3 years ago

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Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 6 #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #pain and angst #nic arcana headcanons

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princessofcurses · 4 years ago

Text

[1] Take it.

Part 2 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna My first post! I wonder if anyone will read it? It's kind of long. The sexy stuff starts happening about halfway through. This is just one chapter so some things might not make sense. Let me know if you liked it and want more! Preface: A woman sorcerer challenged Sukuna. Her technique was able to nullify his, ending in a draw between the two. Frustrated at his inability to kill her, he decides to “take her” in “another way”. The cocky brat rejects him easily but he’s determined to win her over little by little when she visits him the next day.

She left quickly after our battle. I wanted to chase after her. She hadn’t even told me her name but the way she mocked me riled my soul up. A fire began to burn in my core and soon, I felt it in all of my blood. I was almost unsure if I wanted to kill her or fuck her. I hadn’t met a Jujutsu sorcerer as strong as her before, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with me. And strong enough to resist me. I couldn’t kill her so right now, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. I can win in other ways. I wanted to earn her affection and make her mine. With her by my side, nothing would be able to stop me.

The next day, she came back to me. I was delighted.

“You thought about it, didn’t you? Did you rethink your stance?”

She replied to me with disgust.

“I’m here to waste your time and keep you from killing.”

I scoffed.

How can I win her over? After my ‘sex with hundreds of women’ comment last time, she obviously wants nothing to do with me. I can’t force her into submission because she neutralizes my techniques and she can use it against me. Should I buy her affection? Maybe gifts would do.

She noticed I was in thought and she used the pause to take a seat at the base of the mountain of skulls. She pulled out a book and began to read. She was bored with me again. She is so fucking infuriating. I wanted so badly to kill her but I couldn’t. So I thought I wanted so badly to ruin her and make her feel so good she submits to me. But she pretended I didn’t exist.

I jumped down from my throne to be closer to her.

“What’s your name?”

Without looking up from her book, she said just her first name.

“Akahime.”

“Oh? So you’re one of the heavenly twins. The red princess.”

“Mhm.”

Her one word replies irritated me. Women have died just getting too close to me and now there was one who not only rejected me but could stop me too. My usual approach wasn’t working so I tried being more direct.

“I want to talk to you.”

She immediately responded.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

“Please.”

She closed her book with both hands and put it down. I felt pitiful almost begging her just to speak with her.

“You’re annoying.”

I winced at her comment.

“What if we talked over dinner?”

“We wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without you being noticed. Plus, you might just try to kill everyone.”

“Then I’ll have one of my servants bring us something. You didn’t bring food, right? You’ll get hungry eventually.”

She put her index finger on her chin and looked up. She had a cute thinking face. If I could hear her thoughts, she probably cursed in her head that she forgot to bring something to eat.

“Okay, fine. I want an omakase from the most expensive sushi restaurant in Japan. I also want a bottle of sake. It better be warm too.”

This little brat. She’s a foot shorter than me but she treats me as if I’m the small one. I sighed in exasperation and I snapped my fingers for a servant to quickly appear. Akahime wondered where they came from.

“You heard her. Fetch. Quickly.”

They scurried out of the lair. I went to take a seat beside her. She looked uncomfortable and moved farther from me once I sat down. I sighed.

“I won’t bite. I just want to talk.”

She turned to me and smiled.

“Let’s talk over dinner!”

Ugh. She’s really cute, even when she’s nicely rejecting me. I was losing my composure. I was so frustrated that she wasn’t giving a single thing. I wanted to get on top of her and show her just why women come to me. But she might just leave altogether.

“Okay, looking forward to it then.”

I made my way back to my throne. I leaned my elbow against the armrest and held my head up with my hand. I wondered, what could I say to make her trust me? It felt like an eternity had passed once the food arrived. The servant laid all of the sushi out. Akahime and I sat on the floor. I poured her some sake and she took the small cup with a smile.

“Thank you, Sukuna!”

She could look so sweet. I was taken aback from it, considering how cocky she had been the entire time. She must really love this restaurant.

“Itadakimasu!”

We clapped our hands and she immediately went for a piece of salmon.

“I love this place! Oh, you ordered the omakase too? Wow, so you have money?”

Her personality completely changed.

“I’ve eaten at this place a couple of times. I like their omakase too. And yes, I have money.”

Maybe gifts were the way to go. I quickly wrote down some items for my servant to get.

She picked up a piece of toro and presented it to me with her other hand.

“This is my favorite.”

She plopped it into her mouth and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Mmm!”

The way to her heart is through her stomach, I guess. We continued our dinner and I kept refilling her cup. She drank happily, finishing it quickly each time. Blush started to form across her cheeks and nose. We had just finished eating too.

She sighed.

“Ah. I feel like I ate too much.”

Her words slurred a bit and she put her head down on the table.

“I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

I helped her keep her head up.

“No, don’t do that. I got you something.”

My servant entered and set down a futon for her.

“I got you a futon to sleep on. It’s stuffed with goose feathers.”

She looked at me and then the futon with amazement.

“Wow! I have to lay on it right now!”

She finished the rest of the sake in the bottle and crawled over to the futon. I had the perfect view of her ass and I could see the outline of her panties. A chill went through me.

She laid out on the futon and cuddled the pillow, which was stuffed with goose feathers as well.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really comfortable.”

Her smile was so charming and the way she looked up at me with sparkles in her eyes made me want to have her right at this moment.

“I got you something else.”

My servant handed her a white and flowy off-the-shoulder nightgown. She sat up and took it from the servant, who left quickly.

“I’m going to wear it now. Close your eyes.”

I covered my eyes but couldn’t help but peep through the cracks. She had stripped down to her panties and I could see her perky breasts and perfect ass. She clumsily slipped on the dress.

“Okay. I’m done changing.”

I uncovered my eyes and saw her unobstructed in the dress. She looked so dainty and was being so sweet. Was this the same girl I fought with? The same girl that I lost to? I examined her, thinking that she looked so innocent. I hungered for her. The off-the-shoulder part made her look even more enticing. I have good taste.

“It looks good on you.”

“Did you pick this out? I like it.”

“I did.”

We made eye contact for a few seconds and then she abruptly turned her back to me. She sat back down on the futon, swaying a bit from side to side. I thought for a second. Could this be my chance to close in? I didn’t want to respond. I might anger her and she’d tell me to leave her alone. I took a seat close to her instead.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?”

She was all smiles, not a hint of maliciousness or cockiness she had shown me before. My heart ached a little because of it.

“It was delicious and the sake is great! I feel good right now. Thank you, Sukuna.”

She said my name again and a chill ran down my spine. I wanted to make some contact with her. Just my index finger to her face or putting my hand over hers. I fucking hated this. I was doing so much to make her comfortable just so she wouldn’t push me away. Never in my life have I ever had to work for a woman’s affection. It pissed me off to no end. Why couldn’t I just have her already? The dress on her was making me lose my shit. The soft outline of her breasts in it. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of her. I just wanted to devour her.

She gave me a look of disapproval and then put her hands in my face to obstruct my view.

“Stop staring at me like that! I’m not a meal.”

Her hands were so small. I wanted to hold them in mine but instead, I grabbed her wrist. She had a surprised look which slowly sank to annoyance.

“Did you want something?”

Since she didn’t try to break free from my grasp, I kept holding her wrist up. I thought of the right words to say. What could I even say?

“I want you.”

She gently took back her wrist.

“I can’t help you.”

I brushed the hair in her face behind her ear.

“Why?”

A look of innocence took over her facial expression and the blush from the alcohol reddened even more from the blush of her reservations.

“I'm no stranger to foreplay but I want my first time to be with someone who’s also never fucked before.”

The way the crude word escaped her lips while she looked like an angel turned something on in me. I started to get erect and I wanted to let myself lose control. I don’t care what she does to me. I just want to touch her once.

“I have a lot of experience. I’ll figure out how to please you quickly.”

Her look had a hint of sadness.

“I won’t compromise on this.”

God damn it. Why did I have to be such a whore? I can’t even remember anyone I’ve had sex with.

“Can I just touch you then?”

I braced myself for rejection. Her head tilted to the side. I wonder if she was actually thinking about it.

“Sure.”

I was shocked. I wanted to jump her right then and there but I had to control myself. I was being given a little and I was more than happy to take what I could get. She let me choose what position I would touch her in. I had her lay back on my arm and I cradled her like a baby. My hand just touching her soft skin and shoulders made me want to shudder but I needed to keep my cool in front of her. I raised my hand slowly to caress her face. We made eye contact and her glossy stare at me made me want to see what other faces she could make.

Holding her face in my hand, I tilted it and leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t protest. It looked like she was going to keep her eyes open during it, so I kept mine open as well. Our lips met and it felt like the air was knocked out of me. Her lips were so soft and I tasted a bit of her. She’s so sweet. I looked up to ask her.

“How was that?”

“That was nice.”

I kissed her again, taking the pace slow. I put my hand on her back and gradually moved it down. I stopped at her ass to grab it lightly and I think I felt my cock twitch just now. As we shared another kiss, this time I lightly put my tongue in her mouth and brushed against hers. She stayed still at first but then she kissed me back, just the way her tongue moved said to me that she knows what she’s doing. My thoughts corrupted as I thought about my cock in her mouth. I imagined her tongue twirling around my head. I began to drool. Some of it spilled down her chin.

She pushed me up. I gasped a bit being separated from her lips.

“Ugh. You’re getting your drool everywhere.”

“Sorry.”

I wiped it off of my chin and hers. I then leaned back down to press my lips against hers again. I couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted so sweet. I grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts and then I pinched her nipple and rubbed it between my index finger and thumb. She gasped. She was so responsive to my touch. I moved my hand under her dress to play with her exposed nipple and she let out a soft moan. I stopped kissing her to see the look on her face. Her eyes stared back at me with a lusty gaze. I needed more of her right now.

I sat her in front of me with her legs draping over mine. My hand found its way between her thighs. It was so warm and when I rubbed her pussy through her underwear, I felt the wet fabric. I shivered. I kept thinking that I needed to be inside her right now. I swiftly slipped her panties off and lightly teased her opening, coating my fingers in her arousal. She was so wet and it was driving me fucking crazy. I moved up to her clit and began to rub it slowly. Her eyes widened and she let out a sultry moan. Fuck. That’s sexy.

I quickened the pace, making sure to rub every little spot on her clit. Her moans were more frequent and her breathing was heavier. It became hard for her to focus. I pressed the issue by leaning into her and kissing the nape of her neck. She was so warm and aroused. I loved seeing how submissive she became once I started pleasing her. She had little to no protests.

I moved my middle finger down to slowly slide inside of her. She yelped softly and it took everything I had not to take her right now. I wanted to bury my cock deep inside of her but you know she would never let you. I was a bit eager so I put my ring finger into her as well. Her walls were warm and soft and she was already so tight on my fingers. I was about to beg her for her pussy right now. Instead, I started fingering her at a leisurely pace. She clenched around my fingers and I felt her moan down my spine. I whispered in her ear.

“How does that feel?”

I faced her. She looked like she was in a daze. She was struggling to speak. I smirked. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

“What happened, brat? Nothing to say now?”

She tilted her head to look at me with scrutiny and I knew it wasn’t time for that yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

We continued on and I used my other hand to rub her clit. Her moans were so loud and they provoked me. I pressed in different areas of her pussy looking for the perfect spot. Each time I had touched a new place, she moaned even louder. She was so sensitive and it excited me to no end.

We were face-to-face.

“Look at me.”

She tried to focus but she was too lost in the pleasure I was giving her.

I took my fingers out of her to snap them. We then made eye contact.

“Look. At. Me.”

She nodded and I put my fingers back in her. I was just about there. I pressed on that spot, what do they call it nowadays? I don’t know. Well, it’s the spot that evokes orgasms. I pinned the spot and her eyes widened.

“Sukuna…”

“What is it, princess?”

She gasped and she whined out.

“You’re so good.”

My heart stopped for a moment from her sweet comment. Fuck. What is she fucking doing to me?

I fingered the spot harder and rubbed her clit faster. The way her pussy sucked on my fingers alerted me that she was close. I had to see the look on her face once she cums. Then I would have won one of our little battles. I varied my movement to keep her engaged. I would switch from rubbing her clit up and down to rubbing it in circles. Then I would alternate from softly fingering that sensitive spot to playing with it roughly. The air was drowned in her moans and it was so satisfying to finally get her in my hands. This was the grand finale for her.

We made intense eye contact with each other. She was in ecstasy but she also looked a bit scared. She knew what was about to happen too. I wanted to establish a little bit of dominance right here.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t hear me, she was too lost in the feeling.

“Say you’re sorry for being a brat.”

Her head perked up and she was a little confused. She looked a bit nervous and she seemed choked up. I touched her slowly and I gently smiled at her. She was struggling to speak.

“Or do you want me to stop?”

With a worried look on her face, she shook her head.

“Then say it.”

I gave her a cold and stern stare, and tears began to form in her eyes. I picked up the pace in my rhythm again, rubbing her clit agonizingly and fingering her pussy. I wanted to let her know this was just a preview of what I could do to her. I held her right there. I’d push her over the edge as soon as she says it.

“I’m… I’m…”

She stuttered but she was about to spit it out right now. Half a second before her orgasm hits, she bursts into tears and cried out loudly.

“I’M SORRY!”

She wails as her orgasm consumes her. I pulled her close to me and embraced her while she came. It started in her pussy and traveled in waves to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was shaking. She tried to catch her breath and I felt so fucking satisfied. I held her while she cried and whimpered. It must have been overwhelming for her.

I took a hold of her chin and tilted her head to give her a kiss on the lips.

“How was that? Has anyone ever touched you like that?”

She looked down, shy and embarrassed.

“Not like that...”

I gave her another kiss. Her eyes were still teary and I wiped the moisture from her cheeks. I wanted to take it further so badly but she looked exhausted.

“Are you going to bed now?”

I hoped she wouldn’t but she laid out on the futon.

“I think so.”

She yawned and squeezed one of the pillows tightly in her arms. I pet her head once then got up.

“Good night then.”

I walked away wondering if I should contact one of my concubines. I was dying for Aka’s touch but I wouldn’t get it and I desperately needed release. If she found out though, I might ruin the little bit she was giving me. Do I really have to jerk off tonight? Me? The King of Curses?

“Sukuna.”

She sat upright and her head was perked up, watching me leave. I turned to her in surprise.

“Yes?”

She wanted to say something but she was struggling. She looked a bit frustrated but then she shook her head.

“Good night.”

Drive a fucking stake through my heart why don’t you? I walked to my bedroom and laid out on my futon. My erection was poking through my kimono, trying to free itself. I rubbed my erection through my underwear and kimono and I thought of how soft her lips were. I let the garment drop to the floor and slipped my underwear off. I grabbed my cock and groaned, stroking it up and down. I closed my eyes and imagined her crawling over to me in her dainty dress. How she would look up at me with her hungry eyes. The face she would make as she slowly sits on my cock for the first time.

I stroked myself faster, focusing on the head for a bit and then going down the entire shaft. My breathing was heavier and I got closer and closer. I started to think that maybe I should have asked her for a hand or blow job. I knew releasing myself would leave me nowhere near being satisfied. I felt pathetic. I felt like I was stooping so low for some brat but just picturing her smiling at me steeled my resolve. In my thoughts, she asks me to cum inside of her. I think of coating her insides with it, her virgin pussy being filled up for the first time. I groan loudly and blow my load all over my thighs. I then picture her thanking me for fucking her and I breathe deeply, trying to catch my breath. My cock was still upright and unrelenting, aching for more. I knew this wouldn’t be enough. I sighed and went to clean myself up.

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

#sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #sukuna imagine #fem!reader #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #mine #jujutsu kaisen

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Note

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy.

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices.

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening.

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth.

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious.

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets.

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself.

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids.

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese.

You hadn’t been Japanese.

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her.

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias

hahaha & part iii

#asks #answered asks #on kiddos #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura #drabble #pal muses

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