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awearywritersworld · 6 months

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there can be no covenants between men and lions

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: sukuna would rather contemplate your murder than come to terms with his feelings for you, but you call him out on his bullshit. w/c: 3k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. aged up!yuuji. heavy kissing. features yuuji x reader and he is, of course, best boy. cursing. sukuna decides he wants to kill you (so obviously there are mentions of murder and such) but cant even stand the sight of you upset, what a goof. i'd once again like to think sukuna's not too ooc in this but im still more than likely delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i was so touched by all of the love that part one received, i wanted to try my hand at part two. i hope i've done it justice! just as part one references homer's the odyssey, this references homer's the illiad because sukuna is very hot and well read. achilles, the protagonist of the novel, is discussed. i'm definitely open to writing a part three, because this one is much heavier on the angst and i miss soft sukuna from part one. series masterlist // masterlist

you and yuuji rarely argue, but when you do, it's often over his aversion toward seriousness, even when a situation calls for it. though you really should have kept your mouth shut, because in this moment, you'd give anything to see his typical carefree expression.

his eyes are regarding you intently, taking in your flustered appearance with knitted brows.

"yuuji..." you trail off, wracking your brain for an explanation of your current predicament.

despite the fact he regained control of his body only moments ago, one of his hands is curled around the back of your neck, while the other is resting on your hip.

"baby, what happened?" he presses, the tone of his voice entirely unreadable.

"s-sukuna," is all you can manage to choke out.

his eyes darken immediately, his jaw tensing in a way that intimidates you. "he hurt you."

you really can't tell if it's a question or a statement, and your response comes a little too quickly. "no! that's not... no."

the next few seconds tick by in a slow sort of agony, heat creeping up your cheeks.

he notices for the first time that his head is eerily quiet. no snide remarks, no scathing commentary. just his own thoughts as he pieces together the situation.

his gaze drops to the angry, red marks littering your neck and you watch in helpless horror as understanding passes his features.

"oh."

the word hangs in the air as you await his reaction, fully anticipating disgust and betrayal. you're positive it's only a matter of time before he throws you out of the apartment and tells you to never come back.

what you don't expect, however, is the way his shoulders relax as the tension leaves his face.

he straightens himself, arms falling to his sides, but he doesn't put any distance between your bodies.

"how long have you...?" he's not quite sure how to phrase the question.

"a few months. this was the first time anything... um... happened. we usually just talk."

he tilts his head to the side, so you clarify. "after you've fallen asleep."

mulling over the information, he hums in response, looking thoughtful for a few more seconds. then, his usual demeanor is back and he grabs your hand. "wanna get dinner? i'm starving!"

he tugs you a few feet toward the door before you come to your senses. "woah, woah. wait a second, yu."

when he looks back at you expectantly, you find that his face holds not one hint of bitterness or judgement. "aren't you angry?"

you're amazed to find that he's the one looking sheepish.

"how could i be? it's not exactly easy to be with me when i have a thousand year old curse rattling around in my body, but you stay anyway," he expresses, making your heart soften. "i just want you to be safe, so i'll take whatever relationship the two of have now over him being a threat to you."

as your hands reach up to cradle his face and your eyes sparkle with adoration, you briefly wonder how you ever found such a sweet man. he places a quick kiss to your lips, the smile on his face easy going as ever. "sooooo, i'm thinking takoyaki or maybe udon—"

"we can get whatever you want," you glance at the spatters of blood across his chest left there from the mission, no doubt from sukuna's careless slaughter. "as long as you go wash up first."

"right!" he agrees quickly, bounding off to the bathroom.

you stand alone in the middle of your living room, left with the ghost of both yuuji and sukuna's lips against yours and a sense of bewildered excitement.

back in his prison, however, sukuna is furious with himself. he should have let you die that day he kept you from being run over. better yet, he should have killed you with his own hands before the brat won back control of his body.

he is a terrible being that delights in carnage, a fact that's well known even centuries later. so why, when he could have done anything in the world, did he go to you? you even asked that same question before you—

he rejects the memory of you pressing your lips to his disdainfully.

your foolishness and your naivete are revolting. your softness and your pliancy are nauseating.

he shouldn't have been anywhere near you, if not to rip your obnoxious heart from your chest like he'd always planned. it was a situation he'd dreamt about and now it's slipped through his fingers, even though those same fingers had graced your fragile little neck.

you were nothing more than a clueless mouse in the jaws of a snake, and though the pains of hunger have been tearing at its stomach for years now, the serpent let itself starve.

sukuna retreats to his domain, fingers prodding at his temples irritably. he allows himself to wallow for a few hours, shutting out both you and the brat.

then, steeling his resolve, he begins to watch and wait like the predator he knows himself to be.

lulled into a false sense of security regarding your safety, it's clear that yuuji has let his guard down. just barely so, but enough that sukuna can see a few weaknesses in his chains. ironic seeing that, now more than ever, the king of curses wants you dead.

it goes without saying that he promptly ceases his nightly interactions with you. it's beneath him, wasting his time with a human. he knows that now.

but while he may not speak to you, he cannot refrain from stealing glances as the days stretch on. you're usually reading, completely oblivious to his watchful eye. he convinces himself it's simply to keep tabs on you, as he's deemed you his foremost enemy.

he's not sure how much time has passed when you begin calling out for him in hushed whispers after yuuji falls asleep, the hurt and confusion in your voice plain to him. it's irksome, and evidently, you're incapable of taking a hint.

his silence becomes more painful with each turn of the moon. you're a bit mortified to find that you genuinely miss him, so you just want answers. did he finally realize that you're nothing special, not worth bothering with?

eventually, growing restless, you all but beg him. "sukuna, please. talk to me. what happened? what'd i do wrong?" his chest tightens with what he believes is vexation. "you can't just make me like you and then disappear. you can't kiss me like that and then—"

"you insolent, maddening little creature!" his eye flies open just in time to see you gasp, your body jerking away from him. "shut up already! can't you see i want nothing to do with you? don't you tire of being pathetic?"

you don't dignify him with a response, swallowing thickly and turning away from him.

finally, he thinks, some fucking quiet. though if he's gotten what he wanted, why does his chest still ache?

he stares at the back of your form until the sun rises.

sukuna is no simpleton. he can be patient when he is sure of a reward, but he's thrilled that the perfect opportunity arises just two days after your encounter.

yuuji is exhausted. gojo kept him out all last night, despite the grueling mission he had today, and when he all but stumbles through your apartment door, the moon is already high in the sky.

you never mention the change in your relationship with sukuna to yuuji. even though he was so understanding, you still feel a touch awkward discussing it further. and maybe in the back of your mind, you're holding out hope that it might go back to the way it was.

sukuna watches through yuuji's eyes when you greet him, your expression half concern and half 'i told you so'. nights out with gojo usually lead to this very situation.

he showers while you finish cooking dinner and once you both eat, he helps you clean up despite his exhaustion. after whispering his thanks and pressing a kiss to your temple, he retires to bed.

you promise you'll join him soon, but sukuna knows it probably isn't true. following his outburst, you've taken to staying in the living room until you're ready to sleep.

yuuji's out before his head hits the pillow and nearly two hours later, you're still not in bed. sukuna's eager, but waits until he's sure the brat's deep in his slumber before he tries to take over. it's relatively easy, and he pushes down yuuji's unconscious mind as far as he can before rising to his feet.

this is finally it. he stretches his limbs lazily, a dangerous smirk settling on his lips. the floor creaks with each step he takes, but he pays no mind to stealth. you're no match for him.

tonight, you'll be his first victim of many and the thought of making up for his past misjudgement has him giddy with excitement.

but the sight that greets him upon exiting the bedroom— you curled into yourself on the couch, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs— it stops him in his tracks.

he wants to move, more than anything, so what the fuck is wrong with him? is the brat taking over already?

and why is that uncomfortable sensation making it's home in the center of his chest once more?

when you notice his presence, your face shifts to him and reveals your wide, teary eyes. it's clear you're surprised by his appearance, but you quickly bury your face in your knees.

you just want him to leave you alone. you hate him for what he said, for what he did. he forced his way into your life, made you care about him, and then he just vanished. he's cruel and you feel like an idiot because you should have known that from the beginning. or maybe you did and he just made you forget.

"go away. i.. i don't want to see you."

he's disbelieving, for a brief moment, that here you are giving him orders while he stands in the doorway with the intention of taking your life.

he moves toward you, invading your space in a way that is meant to be intimidating, but when you look up at him, every emotion ranging from sadness to rejection to indignation is etched into your features. though the terror he hoped to inspire is noticeably absent.

"i said go away!" you swiftly stand up, your hands meeting squarely with his chest as you push him with every ounce of power you have.

you may as well have shoved a brick wall, as he doesn't move even a fraction of an inch. he seizes one of your wrists anyway.

"what is it you think you're doing, exactly?" he spits.

"let go of me!" you beat against his chest with the hand he left free until his fingers wrap around that wrist too.

"enough."

he's certain there isn't a being that has attacked him (if he can even call that an attack) and lived to speak of it, not once in an entire millennia.

so just end the insolent brat and be done with it, he urges himself.

but he can't and he doesn't understand why, so he just stares down at you.

"what the fuck do you want?" you mean for it to come out forcefully and full of spite, but your voice cracks before you can finish.

an excellent question, indeed. what does he want?

he doesn't answer you and it's so goddamn frustrating that you begin to cry again, rambling to fill the discomforting silence. "you've already told me i'm pitiful and annoying. it's clear you think my company is insufferable, that i'm undesirable—"

that ache in his chest is unbearable now. it claws at his ribcage and shreds the flesh of his heart. it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and rings shrilly in his ears. he can't even hear you anymore, but he can still see the tears sliding down your cheeks and the way you gasp between words.

the truth of the matter crashes down on him and the devastating weight of it is so crushing it squeezes the air from his lungs.

that feeling in his chest isn't annoyance or repugnance. its anguish— the kind that rattles his bones and leaves him sick with regret.

it's because you're in pain, and worse yet, he is the cause of it.

sukuna pushes you back against the wall before you can comprehend what's happening. his hands find either side of your face and you're alarmed to find that he looks... frightened.

"what are you doing to me?" he pleads for an explanation, because he sure as hell doesn't have one.

how can one little human hold such power over him? it's unnatural. it defies all logic and reason.

you stare at him, open mouthed. his face is so close that his breath fans across your skin and it makes you feel dizzy.

"what are you talking about?" you finally ask.

"you should be dead right now," he frets, despair seeping into every word. "it should be easy."

it dawns on you that you should probably feel afraid, but you just don't. his touch is firm, but careful. and there's no malice to be found behind his eyes. "you're not making any sense."

he thinks back on the time you've spent together, trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here— him at your mercy, rather than you at his. he remembers the first time he made you laugh and considers that it may have been the beginning of his unraveling. for the following two weeks, you both discussed homer at length as you made your way through his poetry.

"there can be no covenants between men and lions. wolves and lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other through and through." you blink at him, recognizing at once that he's quoting the illiad. his voice is low and unsteady in a way that suggests desperation. it makes you shiver. "therefore there can be no understanding between you and me, nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall fall."

your eyes narrow as you begin to understand his his internal struggle, though you're unsure if he's attempting to reason with you or with himself.

"you quote achilles, and rightfully so i suppose, given your common qualities— exasperating pride and a penchant for meaningless violence." he looks relieved, like your seeming agreement eases his mind. it's short lived. "but you forget his passion."

his gaze shifts away from you, his hands withdrawing from your face.

"his passion?" he repeats as if it's the most incredulous thing he's ever heard.

"by the end of the story, is he not acquainted with regret, sympathy, and respect? he doesn't remain blind to the error of his ways forever."

"only a foolish human could make such fanciful deductions," he chides through gritted teeth, still refusing to meet your eye.

you actually laugh at him. "perhaps you shouldn't call upon achilles to make your point after all. at least he grows out of his utterly childish view of the world."

"how dare you?" he demands, his features growing wild as one hand finds your throat (his touch not nearly harsh enough to cause you any discomfort), the other colliding with the wall beside your head. his display doesn't fool you though. "you witless, wretched brat! you're nothing more than a blip in a universe you cannot even begin to understand. you sicken me."

you throw achilles' words in his face just as easily as he did to you. "hateful to me as the gates of hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another."

his gaze hardens, and for a split second, you think you may have been mistaken in your fearlessness, but then his fingers thread themselves through your hair and he pulls your lips to his.

it's rough and commanding, and he tells himself it's only to get you to shut up. to wipe that expression of smug pity from your face.

it's not because, despite the fact you know how awful he is, you're convinced there's something salvageable in him too. nor is it because you tyrannize his every passing thought. and it's certainly not because the feeling of you pressed against him brings him more satisfaction than ripping the hearts from the chests of a hundred men.

ultimately, his denial is overshadowed by his desire. your touch is nothing short of needy as you tug at his shirt, an attempt to bring him even closer, and god does he hope that means you feel just as desperate as he does. he deserves at least a little consolation.

as his hands roam every valley and curve of your body, he deems it unfair that a being whose very existence spells hell on earth should be so taken with such a devastatingly divine creature.

"i've wanted you so terribly," he mumbles against your mouth before he can stop himself.

"then fuck you for making us both wait," you breath out.

his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips in response and his lips shift to your neck. "watch that pretty little mouth of yours, brat."

he nips at the spot just below your ear hard enough that it makes you gasp, doubtless a punishment for your impudence. you recover quickly though, wasting no time with your flippant reply. "or what? you'll go back to plotting my murder?"

he pulls away from you abruptly, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. "you truly have zero sense of self preservation, don't you?"

"guess so," you shrug, smiling at him bashfully. "can we watch a movie? i'll even let you pick."

you ask as if it's the most normal request in the world. as if he isn't a thousand year old curse that would be off turning the city to ash were he not here with you instead.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the ridiculousness of it all. "fine."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk angst

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toorurs · 14 days

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a polished stone swept to the shore

synopsis: a night sky full of stars and questions. aventurine can't help but wonder what significance he has to you.

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.0k | content and warnings: insecure!aventurine, hurt/comfort, bit of aventurines backstory | ficlet

authors note: dropping this in the night where aventurine realeases jsjejjwwj. also im not really content with how this turned out due to the ending being quite short and rushed.

tags: @azullumi

“what am i to you?

the words nip into the tense atmosphere, ascending into the air like a plump balloon, floating around until a gust of wind blows by and lets it drift away into the distant sky that is draped in the misty blanket of clouds.

“what am i to you?” can be interpreted as two different things. the meaning varies from one to another, depending on how one perceives the question.

“you’ll wait for me won’t you?” a question where every letter plays a significant role. but still, they take over the same role, the letters are equal to one another. fragile, delicate, unsure words that are drowning in uncertainty, that’ll eventually be unable to float above the surface. instead they’re being led to his blood, infusing it with the ugliness of insecurity.

(but to aventurine it’s a familiar emotion, one he’s been acquainted with ever since he was a child - it’s not a novel feeling. after all, it has always been like this. every time, when he felt a tad of excitement he mistook it as the adrenaline rushing and pumping through his blood, only to be hit with the realization that it was uneasiness - it has always been uneasiness. his hand that trembles under the duvet grips the bed sheets tightly, clutching at the sateen fabric with his fingertips, as he awaits your answer.)

“what am i to you” also translates into “why do you love me? how come you love me? what significant role do i play to be held like this?” puzzlement is the noun that depicts these questions well. he doesn’t understand but at the same time he does. when you love someone, you’d learn and get to know all of their flaws, all of their struggles and problems, all of their wretchedness and misfortune.

absurd to think that someone who was blessed by a sheer amount of luck experiences misfortune. he’s the blessed one, his luck is a protective charm that keeps him at a distance, but at the same it is also a curse. his good fortune, the good luck that accompanies him is like a blade, a sharp weapon that leaves scars and inflicts pain, to none other than himself. it's his protective charm, the one that preserves him from the cruel world - although everything he wanted to protect was his family.

he doesn’t understand why it was him, why he had to be gifted with this so-called fortune. he loathes it for making him the sole survivor of his nation, he resents it because he survived every tragedy that fell upon him like the rain. the rain that fell on the day of his birth, the gift of the god, or rather her tears? but he can’t help but love his luck, the only fragments, the only remnants he has left of his beloved parents, sister and kakavasha.

but then again, was his luck the one that made the two of you cross paths?

was it a mere coincidence that he fell in love with you and you reciprocated those feelings? but how come?

aventurine wishes to understand.

aventurine isn't the sun. he's not the one that spreads warmth over the people, he isn’t the one who was tasked to make their hearts pump in joy. he doesn't fulfill any of the criteria to be considered a star that shines brighter among the others. even if he were, he’d be all alone, surrounded by his own warmth, a coat draped over his body. aventurine isn't the one that people yearn for when they feel upset.

aventurine isn't a god. he doesn't possess any powers that'd be considered out of this world. he's not the one people stride after and look up to, not the one people plead and pray to when in need. he isn't able to take away the wounds of others, rather, he's the one who inflicts them. scarring their frail skin and putting it in a painful condition, staining dirt.

aventurine is simply just the gem. but, without the sage green crystal he wouldn't even be considered as aventurine. he wouldn't be the gambler that is bound to the shackles of the ipc. he wouldn't be the final victor then, the one that has each and every move precisely planned out. those are the traits that make him aventurine. without them he'd just be a rock then, a mere pebble to be kicked around. abused and tormented by others, used as nothing else but a stepping stone. cheap, worthless, useless, like the loser he is.

he doesn't understand what you see in a hollow shell like him.

“what you mean to me, you ask? your voice resembles the rain outside that is currently kissing the glass of the windowpane and platters against the big windows. It’s a comforting sound that soothes him and lulls him into a peaceful slumber.

“mhm.” aventurine hums in agreement and tries to stay as quiet as possible, fearing that he might break this dainty moment if he were to utter a sound too loud.

“well.” you say in an amused tone. “if you really wanna know, you're like a prince, prince charming kind of?” your voice cracks a bit at the last part, its sweet aventurine thinks.

“oh yeah? how come?” aventurine tries to sound confident, masking his curiosity with certainty.

“well you know. i’m like the damsel in distress and you’re the knight whom i wait for. you know in those fairytales, when they wait for an eternity for someone to rescue them and immediately fall in love head over heels with their savior who never gave up on them even after so many failed attempts from others and himself, right?” you ask him.

(aventurine isn't too well acquainted with fairy tales. he never got to read them when growing up, he never had the chance nor the opportunity to do so.)

“yeah of course.” aventurine plays it off smoothly, fearing that you might question or judge him and his past. (he knows you wouldn’t but he can’t help to think so.)

“well, there you got your answer!” you giggle.

your words translate into: i’d always wait for you, even if it meant to wait for an eternity. but they also translate into: you’re determined to have me, to know me, to love me and so do i.

aventurine isnt the sun, neither a god. the man that you had lying beside you was the man of your dreams - or rather your fairytales.

e/n: it's 1 am and i have a math exam tmrw which i havent learned for, instead i wrote this 😔😔 © TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine imagines #aventurine x gn reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #aventurine x you #toorurs #—stellaronhvnters.

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khattikeri · 4 months

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challenge level: find a fic for md/z.s without c/q/l characterization

#not tagging bc im just a bitter novel only but dude... Dude.#ive always been at least a little elitist when it comes to canon source material for stuff #but the more i read abt the un./tam/ed the more im like. these changes are subtle and still perfectly easy to envision the main pair as gay #but holy shit #great that the LA boosted its popularity but im permanently ill over how deeply its slight shifts change the entire context of the narrativ #and its biggest key relationships + how that ripple effects into fandom portrayals of the characters #keri chats #mdzs #<- tagging like a month later for my own blogs organization hgdgjdjd

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limes-sagau · 2 months

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Starting My Sagau Writing Journey

Ok Im wanting to dip my toes into the Sagau writing scene and I wanted to put out about 3 ideas I have and plan on writing. Each idea will be outlined below and people are welcome to take inspiration off of them just make sure to tag me in the writing. There will also be a poll at the end where you can vote for which one you want to see first. When I finish writing each chapter they will be put up on AO3.

Shimeji AU:

For those who don't know, Shimeji is a browser extension that spawns a chibi version of a character onto your browser. This character can then move around and climb on the borders of your web page and just be a cute little distraction (I know this might sound like malware but its not I've had a Venti and a Lumine Shimegi for a while now and haven't experienced anything that can imply they are malware)

This would be more of a drabble and less of a full fic.

Basically the characters in genshin become aware through their Shimeji and then begin acting up in your browser when you're out of the game (when you're in game you're fine).

If you leave your web browser opened when you leave your computer you will come back to it being on a weird page

Like Venti looking at a wine website

Diluc somehow ending up on a streaming service watching Batman

Yae Miko finding your writing

I'll likely start off with characters from Mondstadt and go down the list for each region.

Kidnapped by the Harbingers (not the final title):

Exactly as it sounds, in the middle of the night you are taken from your college dorm (or room I likely won't specify) to Teyvat after the harbingers find a way into our world.

Haven't decided which harbinger will be sent (leaning towards Childe because I feel like it would fit best and he'd be down for that type of experiment).

Most of it will take place in a separate castle from Zapolyarny Palace.

If you want to know my specific location I have in mind their is a visual novel called Dottore And The Spy where you become Dottores apprentice (highly suggest this visual novel) but its main story takes place in a castle in the middle of a frozen wasteland away from civilization where both Pantalon and Dottore live. This will be the main location for the story.

I'll also be adding in Capitano as another permanent resident of this castle because I want to write about a big strong man who is the emotional intelligence of the three main harbingers present.

The other harbingers and the Tsaritsa will appear but they will be much more understated in their role.

I want this fanfic to go into the mental load that being locked away from the world has on a person's psyche.

Readers' powers will slowly awaken, making it harder for the Harbingers to keep us a secret from Teyvat and specifically Celestia.

This won't be a full blown yandere fic with the harbingers, they will be slightly possessive but it is more about your safety since Celestia doesn't like you.

Celestia will be the ultimate enemy over all but the story will not be focused on shooting down Celestia from the sky as readers powers will not ever reach the strength needed to face Celestia alone.

Harbingers plan will not have changed; they are still working to take down Celestia.

This will be taking place after Sumeru (so no Scara or La Signora and their will be less clones)

The story will also include

Getting to know and bond with your castle staff like maids or ladies in waiting (I know these are typically only given to female presenting reader but I want to write about gossip and forming friendships so this is what I'm going with)

Quality time with each harbinger

Impressing Dottore with your basic levels of knowledge on Astronomy (since Teyvats sky is fake)

Eventually a runaway arch

Lots of tears and mental breakdowns, but don’t worry there will be comfort as well

Shenanigans

Possibly NSFW after reader finally convinces everyone to stop calling them “your grace”

To Make a Haven (Title might change):

Imposter (but reader is the real deal) AU

Reader gets killed once by a mob of NPCs

I want it specifically to be NPCs so the reader still has emotional attachment to the playable characters

Reader seeks out a safe and secluded place

Teyvat awakens to readers distress and opens up a hidden area of the map to the reader that can only be accessed through very specific means.

Reader eventually starts bringing in Hilichurls to what for now im going to be calling “the Grove”

Reader will begin messing around and experimenting with her powers and finds a way to somewhat heal the hilichurls

This isn't a full fix it will be like layering a curse on top of a curse in order to negate some of the effects of the original curse

The hilicurls will not return to being human they will become something else (human like but not human)

This fic will contain way more original characters

Reader will be more spiteful in this fic but less in like a “make everyone suffer” way and more like “lets shake up the system and make everything more challenging for people because they tried to kill me”

This fic will span over a larger span of time in world with the reader building a full city in the hidden area Teyvat made for them.

Well those are my three ideas! after this poll is done I'm hoping to get the first chapter out with that week, but I'm a college student and it been a while since I have written fanfiction so i make no promises.

#sagau #genshin sagau #fatui sagau #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin impact fatui #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #sagau impostor au #yandere sagau

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dfortrafalgar · 7 days

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Chapter 28

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Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn. Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen. When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation. One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed. “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine. “It happens, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door. He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you. He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor. When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper. You squinted. “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments. He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down. “These are genetic predictions. It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl. Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.” He moved his finger from one scribble to another. “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us. However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes. Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair. At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait. I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right? I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair. If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind. If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be. But again, this is all approximations. So then I started thinking about more technical stuff. I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both. Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss. Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall. Just an interesting thought. Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter. “Law, slow down! Breathe!” Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek. “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table. “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted. “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back. “Nope, I came straight home. I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic. One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied. “It’s hard to stand up. Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand. I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed. The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned. “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly. The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion. “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive. And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off. It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted. “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong. I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out. I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench. “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject. You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you. You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead. You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly. “I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso. The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do. After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips. “Hey, so how’s the studying been? For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks. “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure. I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases. The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before. Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time. Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field. The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face. “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family. I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.

“No, I do, when performing treatments. When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained. He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled. You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it. His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright. Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored. The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about. You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face. You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date. As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career. Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field. You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers. The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled. Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading. Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor. You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month. He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery. What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day? Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up. Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home. The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump. The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen. You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you. “You could say that.” You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated. He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away. “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged. “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate. And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks. “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything. I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’m not expecting anything in return. And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are. Always. Even the changes that come with having a child. You’re always going to be beautiful to me. I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be. The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones. He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries. Likewise, you never removed your glass ring. Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks. “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college. I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up. A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles. It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes. “Can you help me sit down?”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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girlylukehughes · 8 months

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lake house takeover

ethan edwards x zegras!reader

ynzegras just posted!

liked by jackhughes and 726,814 others

ynzegras: summer on film! (shout out to jack and quinn for letting me steal your house for the last two weeks of august! i love you guys!)

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jackhughes: you're welcome! at least it was spotless when we got back unlike when i let someone else, *cough trevorzegras cough*, have it for two days.

^ynzegras: yeah he still can't work the dishwasher in his apartment jamie calls me just so we can laugh at him

^^trevorzegras: i hate you both.

trevorzegras: literally who's birthday was it

^ynzegras: no one's we just wanted cake

_quinnhughes: why didn't you have this camera for the first half of summer?

^ynzegras: i did i just wanted to keep my film for the girls trip!

^^lhughes06: lame 👎🏻

edwards.73: we need the film cam when you take media pics

^markestapa: i agree

^^dylanduke25: me too

^^^lucafantilli: me three

^^^^ynzegras: it'll be there

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ynzegras just posted!

liked by edwards.73 and 993,241 others

ynzegras: full summer dump!

tagged: trevorzegras, markestapa, mackie.samo, edwards.73, colecaufield, jackhughes, _alexturcotte, lhughes06, g.brindley4, _quinnhughes

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trevorzegras: WHO IS THAT

trevorzegras: YN WHO THE FUCK IS THAT

^ynsegras: shhhhhhh

^^trevorzegras: WHAT

lhughes06: oh you're bold for this one

^ynzegras: it's an arm🤷🏻‍♀️ he can't work a dishwasher i doubt he can go all fbi with an arm

mackie.samo: i still swear on everything a fish bit me that night.

edwards.73: markestapa mackie.samo we look so good here

^markestapa: we so do

^^mackie.samo: we really do

^^^ynzegras: i agree

^^^^trevorzegras: WHAT IS THIS

colecaufield: miss you baby z!

^ynzegras: miss you too!

_alexturcotte: literally how did you get that picture

^ynzegras: im the one you sent it to while you were wasted😭

_quinnhughes: i miss that coconut

^jackhughes: they were so good

lhughes06: out of all the pics you took that has to be the worst one of me and gavin.

^g.brindley4: i honestly don't remember taking that.

^^ynhughes: it's the only one that not blurry 😐

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edwards.73 just posted!

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edwards.73: 🐄👦🏻

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ynzegras: well you know what they say!

liked by edwards.73

lhughes06: and what if i send this to her brother

^ynzegras: luke hughes if you so dare i will get my happy ass on a flight to nj and use the spare key jack gave me to beat your ass

^^lhughes06: you're broke how are you gonna get a flight

^^^ynzegras: trevor's still logged into american airlines on my phone it'll charge him

^^^^lhughes06:....currently replacing the locks

trevorzegras: hmmmmm

^ynzegras: go away

dylanduke25: a cowboy is a man, typically one on horseback, who herds and tends cattle, especially in the western US and as represented in westerns and novels.

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ynzegras just posted!

liked by markestapa and 937,217 others

ynzegras: save a horse!

tagged: edwards.73

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trevorzegras: luke you were supposed to make sure this DIDNT happen.

^ynzegras: funny story... me and ethan met BEFORE umich. we traded snaps when we were seniors in high school

^^trevorzegras: WHAT

^^^lhughes06: WHAT

^^^^markestapa: WHAT

^^^^^ynzegras: trevorzegras remember when you LEFT ME at that mall in canada? when i said i got an uber i lied, i met ethan and he drove me back to the airbnb

edwards.73: you're so pretty

^ynzegras: mwah mwah mwah

colecaufield: baby z pulls?

^ynzegras: i do!

user61: puck bunny

^ynzegras: fangirls when my first and only boyfriend plays hockey

^^user83: oh she cleared😭

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navigation

#ethan edwards x reader #umich fic #umich imagine #jay speaks!!🪩

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duckymcdoorknob · 4 months

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MERRY CHRISTMAS DESSIE POO!!!!!! SURPRISE!!! IT’S ME!!!I’M YOUR SECRET SANTA THIS YEAR!!! @fanfic-chan

IM SO GLAD THAT WE’VE GOTTEN CLOSER OVER THESE PAST FEW MONTHS!! ILYSM BESTIEEE!!!

Double surprise!! It’s the fic idea we had in discord ❤️❤️

Send help why is this like the only gif of these two on this site 😭

I hope this isn’t too OOC; I haven’t seen Tengen in a whole season.🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Enjoy your novel-sized gift!!!

Helpful Distraction

Ships: NONE! Zenitsu Agatsuma & Tengen Uzui.

Warnings: this do have tickles in it ngl, mentions of fears and sensitivity to sound.

Prompt: When Tengen notices that Zenitsu is having some trouble in the Entertainment District, he offers a distraction that he remembers from a long-time friend of his.

Tags: REITERATING WITH THE LOVELY @fanfic-chan HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! THANK YOU TO @nataliewritez FOR ALL OF THE IDEAS ❤️❤️❤️ KNY Taglist: @ticklish-n-stuff, @giggly-squiggily.

Tengen was not anticipating having to take the three brats with him to the Entertainment District. He wanted to just take the pigtailed girl and make the mission easier. Of course, white-knight Kamado had decided to rescue the girl that he was “tormenting” so harshly… What a job this has turned out to be.

So, here he sat. The moon was high, and the four men were seated on a rooftop, enjoying some shrimp tempura that Tengen had purchased for them.

“Thank you, Mister Uzui!” Tanjiro had beamed when he was handed the small package.

The sound pillar had smiled; he liked this kid’s manners.

Inosuke was… well… Inosuke.

And the little yellow-haired kid... He had muttered a “thangkyou”, but he seemed a bit scared of the city.

Why so?

Well, it seemed like whatever was troubling young Zenitsu was long forgotten. The thunder breathing user was smiling happily on the rooftop, talking ecstatically with his friends and kicking his feet above the absence of ground below them.

All seemed to be going well until a firework went off…

Zenitsu squeaked in discomfort, hands shooting up to cover his ears. When he realized what he had done, a tiny whine of protest escaped his lips as he defeatedly watched his tempura topple off of the roof and plummet into the pit of darkness below his feet. He sighed and stared at it, watching it disappear as it was engulfed by the void. His hands were folded in his lap, his feet stopped kicking, and his eyes that had previously been crinkling shut in joy were now dull and unblinking.

Tengen frowned a bit; poor kid…

He wordlessly held out his own second tempura, shaking his wrist in front of the pouting boy.

The sound pillar was shocked at what happened next. Zenitsu looked up at him with disbelief before smiling and taking it, breaking off a small piece and handing the rest back to the hashira. “Thank you!” He chirped.

Tengen smiled, “No, no. Just take it. I ate before we left this morning.”

“Yeah, but that was this morning. You’re super strong, and you need it more than me,” the blonde argued, shaking his wrist in the same way.

The white-haired male exhaled fondly. He picked up the tempura, but chose to hide it inside of the package. He feigned eating motions, side-eyeing the young slayer, who was much happier and chatting with his friends again.

After a few more minutes, the thunder breathing user’s tummy growled loudly, causing Tanjiro to giggle. “Sounds like someone’s still hungry!”

“Tanjirooooo!” The blonde whined, “don’t embarrass me when Nezuko might hear meeeeeeee!”

The hashira broke into boisterous laughter as Zenitsu hid his face in his hands. He whined as his tummy growled once more. Tengen shook his head with a smile as he tapped the boy’s shoulder. When the blonde looked up at, he was met with a grinning Mr. Uzui offering the other half of the tempura that Zenitsu was sure he had eaten.

He was about to take it when another firework flashed across the sky, causing the blonde to flinch violently.

Tengen frowned. That bad, huh?

The thunder breathing user simply carried on and hesitantly took the tempura, munching on it silently. The other two slayers watched in awestruck silence as the colors illuminated the dark air.

Mid bite, another one crackled, and Zenitsu’s breath hitched a bit. The boy began to cough, and Tengen’s hand found itself on the small of his back, rubbing reassuringly. “Are you okay, kid?”

Before the blonde could reply, a set of three loud fireworks popped and forced the poor slayer’s eyes shut as he whimpered quietly.

A look of remorse found its way to the sound pillar’s face when he heard barely audible sniffles.

“Tanjiro, Inosuke,” he called to the two novice slayers, “here’s some money. Please go get some more food for us; it is evident that our little friend here needs more food to be as flashy as he can!” He dropped a decent amount of coins in the brunette’s hands, shooing the two off. When he could no longer hear their footsteps, he turned to the blonde. “Hey, little man… how’re you hanging in?”

Just then, a giant firework exploded before them. The tears that had been pricking the young slayer’s eyes had fallen as he covered his ears. He buried his head into Tengen’s side, seeking any immediate comfort. “Make them stop… please.”

“Shit- it’s worse than I thought…” he breathed, “It’s alright…” the sound pillar soothed as he lifted his arm to let the boy against his chest. Tengen placed his own hands atop of Zenitsu’s hoping to further muffle the sound. Neither said a word as the boy choked out a cry every time another firework would explode. “I’ve got you, it’s okay…” Tengen would repeat.

The fireworks continued at a torturous pace, with each boom being sporadic enough to keep both on their toes, but routine enough to show both slayers that there would be more coming. Zenitsu blinked away a few of his tears, noticing Tengen’s right eye squinting whenever a firework would boom.

He could hear them tenfold too… and here was Zenitsu who was crying a baby.

It was almost as if the pillar could hear his thoughts too. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I’ve heard much louder through my time as a hashira.”

Zenitsu nodded, shoulders coming up as he cringed from another torturous sound.

Minutes passed and the show seemed to be calming a bit. The sound pillar removed his hands carefully, gently cupping the young boy’s cheeks and swiping his tears away. “Are you feeling any better?”

The blonde nodded, hesitating to pull his arms down. “T-Thanks, Mister Uzui, sir.”

“Don’t mention it.”

A solemn silence passed, and a quick glance from the hashira let him know that the thunder breathing user was still shaking like a leaf in apprehension.

“You know,” Tengen mused, “Kyo has this distraction method that he uses with Senjuro all of the time. Would you like me to try it on you?”

A hesitant nod from the boy—who was still squished against the sound pillar’s side— allowed Tengen to begin to plan his course of action.

“Okay, so I’m going to have to touch you for it, that okay?”

The blonde but the inside of his cheek as he thought. “Y-Yeah,” he finally answered.

“Okay! Time for the flashiest distraction you’ve seen, little man!”

With that, an arm locked over the young slayer, and five fingers found their way to his sides, wiggling with a gentle intensity. The thunder breathing user squeaked a bit and was holding in his giggles.

“I-Is - pffehehe- this a p-part of the- ehehe- the dis-distraction?” Zenitsu managed, body squirming from the ticklish touch.

Another belly laugh erupted from the hashira. “Kid, this is the distraction.”

Zenitsu’s face flushed as he kicked his legs, resting his cheek against the arm ensnaring him. “B-But it— kyeahaha- i-it ti-hihihickles.”

The white-haired male smiled fondly. “Does it? I don’t remember that happening with Senjuro…” he feigned a bit of innocence as his hand moved over the boy’s tummy, clawing at the softness.”

The poor young slayer couldn’t hold it much longer…

“M-Mihihihisteheher Uhuhuhuzuihihihi!”

“That’s me!”

“Ihihihihit- hehehehe- ihihihit tihihihickles!”

“Aw jeez, I would hope so,” the sound pillar replied with fake relief on his tongue, “If it didn’t, I would be letting Kyo down.”

Zenitsu, cheek still resting on Tengen’s arm, giggled helplessly as the hashira prodded around his tummy. His legs were still lightly kicking, but there were no signs of protest from the boy.

“You feeling any better, little guy?”

“M-Mhmhmhmhmhm!”

“Good, good! We’ll get you feeling flashy as ever, and then you can-“

A loud boom penetrated the playful atmosphere, causing Zenitsu to whine and both males to rest his hands over the boy’s ears.

“Damn… I was hoping they’d be over by now,” Tengen grumbled, removing one of his hands to rub the young slayer’s back. “It’s okay… just keep your hands up, alright?”

The blonde nodded; all previous giddiness that he had seemed to have evaporated.

“You’ve never been around fireworks before…. Have you?” Tengen inquired, grabbing Zenitsu and holding him in his lap.

The boy shook his head ‘no’, and Tengen sighed.

“Why don’t I keep distracting you, hmm?” A glint of mischief laced the sound pillar’s words as a smile found its way to his face again.

Zenitsu nodded, eyes still closed.

The white-haired male chuckled at the blonde before pushing some hair out of his face. While he was fourteen, he looked so young in the moment. “Alright, I’m gonna start again…” After the warning, Tengen’s hands descended back onto the boy’s tummy, wiggling against his uniform.

Zenitsu began to giggle softly once again, squirming out of instinct. His hands remained over his ears as his eyes remained shut.

Tengen continued to prod and squeeze at the little guy’s tummy, happy to provide him any relief from the amplified sounds.

As the fireworks boomed, Zenitsu’s own hands and giggling managed to successfully block out the amplified sound. “M-Mihihihisteheher Uhuhuhuzuihihihi! Ihihihits wohohohorkihihihing!”

“Great! Now you make sure you keep your hands up, or else we’ll be back in the same spot,” the sound pillar chimed. “Yep… just keep those arms up!” With that comment, Tengen moved his hands up to scribble at the boy’s ribcage.

The young slayer curled against the hashira, his giggles growing in volume. His legs came up to meet his chest, desperately not wanting to put his hands down. “Hehehehey! Thahahats nohohohot fahahahair!”

“Fair? Oh, kid, you should know by now that not a single bit of me plays fair,” the white-haired male chimed as he lightly prodded at the sensitive bones.

“Eep! Ihihihit tihihihickles!”

“But isn’t it helping? You seem so much more relaxed, little man!”

“B-Buhuhuhut! Hyeahahaha! Tihihihickles!”

“Just keep your arms up, and it’ll be fine!”

After a few more seconds on the young slayer’s ribcage, the sound pillar moved his hands up to scribble under the boy’s arms. Zenitsu squeaked and kicked his feet to the best of his ability.

“M-MihihiHIHISTeheheher UhuhUHUHUHUZui!”

“Oooh! Bingooooo!” Tengen cooed at the blonde, “Someone’s ticklish here!”

“Yehahaha! IhiHIHIHITs sohohohoOHOHO BAHAHad!” Zenitsu wiggled about, but never putting his arms down, or asking for it to stop.

“But would you rather be listening to those fireworks? They getcha’ pretty bad, Mm?”

“NohohOHOHO Wohohohorse thaHAHAHAN yohohou!”

“Ohoho! Some lip! Little guy’s got a bit of sass to him!” Tengen’s playful side—courtesy of Kyojuro—was fully out. “Looks like I’ll have to tickle the attitude outta ya’!”

“WahaHAHAHAIt! NoHOHOHohoho!” Zenitsu’s legs were kicking more rapidly, and yet he still seemed to be completely on board with the tickles.

“Mmm, shoulda’ thought about that, kid.” The sound pillar dug in with a bit more fervor, having to work against the thick uniform. “These damn element-proof suits are annoying… they’re also Tengen-tickle-proof!”

The blonde squealed, feeling the increased sensation instantly. “OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOD. DOHOHO NOHOHOT SAHAHAY THAHAHAT.”

“Oooooh?? Looks like they aren’t quite Tengen-tickle -proof after all!”

The boy’s arm threatened to fall many times, but he kept his hands safely planted on his ears. With little legs kicking, Zenitsu squirmed and laughed with his eyes shut, cheeks dusted pink with mirth.

“Soooo… You wanna tell ol’ Tengen why you haven’t asked me to stop yet?”

Ah! He’d been caught!

“Nohohoho reheheasohohon!”

“Mmm, someone forgets where he is…” the white-haired male brought one hand down to squeeze at the blonde’s side at the same time.

“OKAHAHAY- OKAHAHAY- IHIHIHIHIT MAHAHAHAKES MEHEHE FEHEHEEL SAHAHAHAFE!”

Tengen’s own eyes closed and his lips fell into a pouty frown at the adorable reaction. “Well, little man, seems like you came to the right hashira. This flashy guy is happy to make you feel as safe as you need.”

With both hands returned to the young slayer’s underarms, Zenitsu chuckled a few more times before his arms finally trapped Tengen’s hands.

The sound pillar chuckled. “Hey, I need those.”

“N-Nohohoho! Tihihihickles!”

“Well duh. That’s the whole point of-“ a familiar noise caught his attention, a sense of urgency came across his tone. “Zenitsu, give me my hands.”

“Noooo! You’re gonna tickle me agaaaain!”

“I’m serious, kid, quickly.”

With a look of confusion, Zenitsu hesitatedly freed his attacker’s hands. Within a second, he felt warm palms lightly smack over his ears.

He knew Tengen seemed frantic, but was this really necessary? What was he-

At that moment, the brightest firework the two had seen all night erupted into the air, producing an ear-splitting boom.

Zenitsu looked up at the flinching sound pillar with guilt. “Mister Uzui-“

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” the man answered frantically, more worried about the boy in his arms, “Did I get you in time? I heard the fuse going off, and I knew it would be a big one.”

The boy nodded as he moved to sit up, removing the hashira’s hands from his ears. “You cover yours. I’m okay now.”

The white-haired male chuckled. “No can-do, you’re clearly affected more.”

The blonde bit the inside of his cheek as he sighed. “Yeah… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We were blessed with one of the greatest heightened senses. It just sucks a bit during firework shows.”

“How’d you know what to do? I mean… you really knew how to take care of me.”

“Only a heartless human would let a little kid cry. Hina’s been helping me to be more of a caretaker; the four of us have been talking about having some kids of our own one day, and I need to be prepared.”

Zenitsu smiled at the thought of a baby Tengen toddling about. His smile soon turned to a frown when the man’s words registered. “Hey… I’m fourteen, not a little kid.”

The man chuckled and ruffled Zenitsu’s hair.

The young slayer sat between the Hashira’s open legs, his back turned while resting against the man’s torso. The two perked up when they heard Inosuke’s voice in the distance.

“You okay to be sitting here?” Tengen asked with a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Inosuke shouldn’t notice, and Tanjiro won’t say a thing.”

After a few moments, Tanjiro’s chiming voice filled their ears. Zenitsu was right; Tanjiro noticed, but did not say a word about the blonde seeking comfort. Inosuke was too engrossed in getting his dinner to say anything.

“Welcome back!” The sound pillar chirped, “What did you end up getting?”

“We found so many inexpensive stalls! I got more tempura for us, mainly because Zenitsu accidentally dropped his; I got some bentos; a few orders of noodles; AND there was a dango vendor!”

The white-haired male smiled. “Is that so? Got any change?”

The sound of clinking coins and crinkling packages was soon heard, and the four were sharing a meal once again. Zenitsu was about to dive into his tempura when the fireworks began again.

The bursts were one right after another, each sound seeming to be louder than the next. He placed the bag next to him as he cried out loudly, ready to cover his ears. To his surprise, Tengen’s warm, calloused hands had covered them first. He looked back at the hashira, and was met with a patient smile. “Eat,” he mouthed.

Zenitsu sighed and slumped against the sound pillar, finally getting to eat the tempura he had been waiting for.

Inosuke looked up from his meal to see a teary-eyed Zenitsu finally enjoying his own. But… why did the god of festivals have his hands over his… his… uh… what was the word? His… um… listening holes? “TANTORO!”

“Tanjiro,” the brunette corrected, unfazed.

“Why is the god of festivals doing that to Monitsu?” A pointed finger brought Tanjiro’s attention back upon the action he had just missed.

“Oh!” he chimed, “You know how I have a really strong nose?”

Inosuke nodded.

“And do you remember how sick I feel when I smell something really strong? And how upset it makes me?”

Another nod.

“Well, Zenitsu’s ears-“

That’s it! That’s the word! Ears!

“-are really strong, maybe a little stronger than my nose. Do you think the fireworks are really loud?”

A nod.

“So if they’re loud for you and I, imagine how loud they are for Zenitsu. It hurts his ears, and it really makes him upset. It’s best for us to not take notice of it; he’s probably really embarrassed.”

A small “ohh” emitted from the blue-haired male. The two sat in silence once more, Inosuke offering Tanjiro a bite of his dango as the two never broke their gaze from the fireworks.

Zenitsu and Tengen watched as well. The colors illuminated the black sky, and to his joy, Zenitsu could barely hear the pops of sound.

He exhaled.

The colors really were beautiful… aren’t they?

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#t content #squealing santa 2k23 #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu #demon slayer zenitsu #demon slayer tengen #zenitsu agatsuma #agatsuma zenitsu #uzui tengen #tengen uzui #demon slayer tickle #demon slayer tickling #lee!zenitsu #ticklish!zenitsu #ler!tengen #papa Tengen

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astolfofo · 10 months

Text

deja vu, Jamis vu

BSD beast au x reader. Based on the end of the beast movie. AUTHORS NOTE: SO. ITS FINALLY DONE. ITS 4AM I AM ON IPAD TUMBLR AND UHHHH… I tried to edit this. but. TUMBLR WAS BEING AN ASS. and the two hours I spent editing this went down the drain. Mere words could not describe the grief I felt at 3:37 in the morning. I would have screamed if I weren’t so zombieified. Then, I tried to be paitent and edit it another time, but tumblr was like: haha no. so it didn’t save. I swear it’s not my fault if you have a stroke while reading this. I sacrificed my sleep for an entire week to do write this. Please give me some credit for my suffering. /lh

Also keep in mind. I have watched the DA movie and the beast movie a whopping total of 1 time. It’s probably very off from what I was trying to communicate, cause I legit have no clue what goes on in the light novels... spare me the slander.

Last thing, I tried something new with this one, so there’s weird ahh switches between first person and 2nd person in this. Idk how good it is, lmk if i should never do it again.

Tw: head injury, murder, blood, suicide, yeah I think that’s about it.

word count: 6.8k

To all the Chuuya enjoyers out there, I’m sorry for being a disappointment.

Tags: @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory

I’m wet.

Im standing outside his door, knocking as it rains outside, without an umbrella, cold, and of course, drenched.

Helplessly, I knock on his door, hoping for a response from him. I know it’s pointless, by now. I should cut him out of my life by now, I should… leave him. He’s not a good person, he’s part of the Port Mafia, for the love of god… I’m scared of him. He could crush me at any moment. Hell, he breaks into my house so frequently, and even though he’s done no harm… he could kill me at any moment. So why am I here? Shouldn’t I be relieved that he hasn’t shown up at my apartment for over a month now? I… just can’t…

Lightening splits the sky in half and the sound of thunder cracks in the air.

Your fist slides down the window pane of the door. It makes a terrible sound, and you wince in pain from the sting of the friction. You should just go home. It was obvious Chuuya wasn’t even home, he never was. And if he wasn’t even home, how would he even answer the door? You regret coming here in the first place, you didn’t even know why you chose to. Was it out of worry? Was it because you had to say something to him? You couldn’t remember by now, it was all on impulse.

Chuuya had broken into your apartment countless times. Still, no matter how many times you’d snap at him, how many times you’d emptily threaten him, or try to push him off the balcony, he still came back the next day, unphased. You couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you tried. And after many days, you had learned to accept that someone could break into your home at any given moment.

And you had no knowledge of how he knew you, let alone knowledge of how he even got your house key. Or maybe he picked your lock. You couldn’t be sure and you really did not want to know.

Every day, you’d come back home from work, and Chuuya would be sitting on your couch, drinking your wine (much to your own distaste). You’d usually give him a dirty look, and he’d glare in return but you’d say nothing. You preferred not to talk to him, and Chuuya wouldn’t raise conversations by himself. He always sat in the corner of the room, observing… scrutinizing every move you made. On the rare occasions when you had managed to start a conversation with him, it was always painfully awkward.

You once remember asking him why he was here, what he wanted from you, and his true intentions. Chuuya looked at you in an amused manner and stared out the window.

“Why I’m doing this? You’ll find out yourself when the time is right.”

By the time you had woken up, he was always gone. As if he was never there in the first place. The only thing he’d leave was the wine glass he’d drink out of, and your clothes you had hauled back from the laundromat messily folded, in your drawer. Occasionally, when it warm out, he’d leave the window open. They were small actions. Meant to be noticed, but not returned.

The splashing of rain intensifies, as you stand on Chuuya’s porch. He’s not home. You can’t stand here forever. You have to get back home before it’s too late.

What a great way to spend my time off work.

But you wanted to try one last thing before you left. Maybe his door was unlocked the entire time. Although you would doubt it, it was worth a try. It was so stupid to do this, all of it was. But your curiosity is getting the best of you, and you desperately wanted answers. Answers only Chuuya could give.

So, you grip the door handle and twist the doorknob. Much to your shock, the mechanics of the door click, and the door opens.

Chuuya had left the door unlocked. He forgot to lock his own door. You take a step up, and stand in the doorway. The rain is still hitting your back, and you groan realizing that you’re dripping water onto the floor. Quickly, you step in and shut the door. You twist the lock, ensuring that no one else would come in.

You sure hope Chuuya wasn’t going to come home tonight. The thought of it made the hair on your neck stand slightly.

You take off your shoes which are drenched in water and stare in the mirror. You’re soaked to the bone. Your clothes are completely see-through. You’d need to change them. That could wait, though. If the rain stopped, you’d go home as soon as possible.

Okay. Quick in and out it is. I need to find my spare key, and I need to find what happened to him after the explosion in the sky that day. The one that happened on the top of the… port mafia building. You shudder. I wonder what happened. It was so bright that it looked as if the sky exploded for a second. The next thing you know, everything is back to normal… except it isn’t. A dead body is found at the bottom of the building.

Followed by that, I never saw Chuuya again, but many people that were close to me have been avoiding me. When asked why, they avoided my question. There isn’t a strong connection there, but I think… that all of these events are connected somehow. Chuuya never appears again, and the fact he works for the Port Mafia, definetly does not help.

Additionally, the Armed Dective Agency sent me a letter to be wary of Chuuya. With no additional information. There’s something going on here. Something is wrong. Something terribily wrong.

And I’m scared.

Apprehensively, you take several steps inside the house. You keep getting the feeling that you may get caught. But you don’t hear anything at the door. It’s a painful paranoia.

You inhale and exhale.

I’ll start looking for hints first. I don’t need an answer right away. One hint will be able to give me lots. I’ll start from his room, that’s where people are most likely to hide things.

You walk as quickly as possible across the empty corridor in the house. His house is eerily empty. There isn’t much in it, just a lot of furniture, a shelf of wine, messy papers and a few books placed sparsely across the rooms.

You walk up the stairs, which slightly creaks under your weight. You try your best to ignore any noises and try to stay focused. As you reach the top of the stairs, you see his bedroom, which is the first room at the end of the staircase.

You walk towards the room, you open the door and look around. Chuuya’s room is surprisingly fuller than the rest of the house. There is a dresser, with several items stacked on top of it. It has drawers, which you assume were full. His closet was also filled with clothes, with various hats on the shelf above in his closet.

Chuuya’s bed was neatly made, giving the impression that he had not been home in weeks. Unoccupied, cold, and abandoned. Yet you felt a temptation to lie in it either way. Your eyes dart to the dresser again, and you look at the various items spread out on it. None of these are of much use to you. Besides the gun that seemed unused.

Your hands move to the drawers and you begin to search them. In the first one, there was nothing. Just a bunch of stationery, and papers, some of which had blood on them. You shudder in disgust and move on.

You struggled to pull the second drawer. After a moment, it slides open and you look at the inside contents. You stare at it, wondering if you open it. There is no address on it, and it isn’t sealed.

You have a bad feeling about this, but your hands move faster than your brain. You pull out the piece of paper and read its contents.

The letter is addressed to you. It doesn’t include much. Just A single sentence that holds an address.

And then it hits you.

Chuuya had been planning this for a long time. He had purposely left the door unlocked, left his house empty, and left you because he knew you would try to find him one day.

It infuriates you more than you expect. But you can’t stop here. You’ll go to a specific location.

Just to be sure, you look in the third drawer, you see your spare key, as well as a lock cutter.

Its dark now. It’s still pouring. You have no choice to stay here for tonight. Begrudgingly, you curse yourself for dragging yourself into this. Still, you were in too deep to back out now. Whatever happens, will happen.

You wake up.

You're lying on Chuuya's bed, in his clothes, begrudgingly. Your own clothes are discarded onto the floor, dried during the time you had been asleep. Still, you don't exactly feel like changing into them. It felt too gross to wear them.

You shake your head. Now's not the time to be thinking about that. You sit up, and stretch your arms. Then, you walk towards the desk again, and look at the address. You take note of the address, and take your spare key. Before you go, you flip over the paper, ensuring that you didn't miss anything. There's another sentence scribbled on the top of the paper.

I know you're reading this. You want to know why I'm gone, and why I did this. The address that is provided will help you, but it will not give you the answer, nor will I be there.

…What?

You read the sentence over and over again. The words sink in, making you feel conflicted. You knew you were getting yourself into a certain kind of danger by doing this, but you didn't expect it to be this risky. Hell, you didn't even know where the man was now, and not to mention… the location…

You look at the location again.

It's on the street where the explosion happened. And you're no fool. If it was on that street, it meant it was that building. There were no other possibilities. You doubt it would be any other one of those tall skyscrapers, anyways. The one where the explosion happened was the only building Chuuya had any affiliations with.

Which was going to be incredibly difficult to get into. Let alone, to the top floor. You'd be dead even trying to set foot into the door. It wasn't worth your life for this. You should forget about it and go back home.

You look through the paper again, hoping there might be something more to help you. Sighing, you came back with nothing. I suppose I really have to go through with this, don't I? There's no turning back.

The walk to the Port Mafia's building was rather short, if you were being completely honest. It was located in the heart of Yokohama, and was one of the tallest buildings there, if that told you anything.

You stand outside the building, as the apprehension and fear build up inside you. You had never felt as much of a need to run from anything, as much as you did now. The doors, despite their grandeur size, and large glass design, looked uninviting. Almost like doors to a bank vault; the kind of doors that told you, you wouldn't be able to get out, as soon as you stepped in. And from various things people has told you throughout the years, the Port Mafia keeps people it's had come into contact with. It's more powerful beyond belief.

It doesn't need to control you. You'll be forced into being pliant for them, simply by fear. No one can betray them. Death is almost a guarantee if you do.

And recently, they had also become violent as well. You might as well be walking yourself into a death wish.

But your feet remained rooted into the ground, and part of you remains determined to see this through. So you take a deep breath and walk into the building.

You try to remain calm as you push through the doors, into the lobby. You pray Hou won't be swatted with bullets as soon as you enter, but much to your own surprise, there's no one in the lobby. It's completely empty.

It doesn't feel right. You wonder if what happened. Well, it's not your business anyways. You couldn't care less. You just needed to find whoever Chuuya's office is and-

"Who are you?"

shit. you curse under your breath. "I-I'm," you turn around to face the person talking g to you. As soon as you do this, the man's eyes widen, and you acknowledge away slightly. "Sorry… um… do you know where Chuuya is?"

You had never felt so idiotic and out of place in your life. You can physically feel your heart pounding inside your chest, as you pray you don't look too suspicious. You can't mess up here. Though the man you are currently talking to isn't holding any firearm. That may just as well mean he has even worse methods to kill you off.

"He's not here."

of course, he isn't. You think to yourself. He wrote that in his own letter, or whatever you call it.

"He's been arrested." The man looks you directly into your eyes, and as on instinct, you look down, too scared to actually look at him. A few moments pass in silence.

"Can you… perhaps tell me why?"

"After the previous Port Mafia executive committed suicide, Chuuya was forced to lead the Port Mafia. He hated the job greatly, and he eventually…" He stops himself.

"Go on." You mutter.

The man tilts his head and looks at you again. "Are you sure? If you want to see him… it's better just to see for yourself." He stops for a second.

"No… please tell me. Tell me everything that you possibly can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Fine then. If you insist."

"Chuuya lost his control over himself. He slowly became more, deranged, if you will, as time went on. After the old executive killed himself, Chuuya had no one left. Or at least, that's what we saw. His orders became more and more irrational, often just resorting to killing everything, and slowly, he eventually broke. He went on a rampage, as you've probably seen, Yokohama is not safe with him around. He almost destroyed Yokohama in its entirety, and it took serveral organizations to stop him. I don't know the exact details after that. He remains locked up underground."

You feel as if you had been doused under cold water. You didn't only have your question answered, but that also explained several other things as well. You try to recollect your thoughts while figuring out what to do next.

"By the way, you look familiar."

"How so?"

"I don't know, to he honest. You look like someone who used to work here. Maybe my mind js tricking me, though. You look too weak to be here."

"Yeah," you force out an awkward laugh, "I could never work here for the life of me."

"Figures."

another awkward pause, as you stare at the man.

"I assume you need Chuuya's location, don't you?"

You nod.

"Here." He hands you a piece of paper, with an address messily scrawled onto it. "Although, I don't recommend going to see him, tell the guards you are a relative of his. Hopefully, it will convince them enough to let you in. Though, if you want, I'm sure you can attempt to knock the guards out. Chuuya's well… very restrained so he won't hurt you."

"Ah… thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You bow and leave.

"Hey wait-" the man calls out, his voice echoing through the empty lobby. He seems hesitant to ask something. You stop and turn around. "Yeah?"

He looks down, and awkwardly avoids eye contact for a second. It's at this moment you realize he's a man with short, white, hair, as well thick bangs that were cut into a slant. He’s rather short, and he’s wearing a long jacket.

He looks… familiar. I wonder why.

“What’s your name?”

You stare at him for another moment before answering. “It’s Y/N.”

You could have sworn you had seen a face of surprise from him for a second, but it could have been your imagination because the next instant you blink, it’s gone. “I see,” he says slowly. “Be careful then. He’s not the same as what you may remember.”

As… I remember? What….

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just go to the address, and everything will make sense.”

“Hey wait-”

He’s already turned his back and left on you. You’re left with so many more questions than you started off with, and dread creeps up you again. There was a warning tone in his voice, almost as if telling you to do this was a terrible idea. That you were going to be landing yourself in scalding hot water, and you wouldn’t be able to get out. You knew the risks from the start, but…

You quickly unfold the paper, and look for the address. Once again, the address is written in the center of the paper. You carefully look around for any other writing on the paper.

It’s completely white. Blank. Except for one sentence on the bottom: It’s never too late to back out.

And you stare at it, and think about the several cryptic warnings you received from this man. So… you’re telling me, that after that explosion happened in the sky… a dead body, the previous executive was found. Then shortly after that, Chuuya became the executive of the Mafia. He hated it. But he had no choice and was left alone to do it. Eventually, he lost his sanity and mind and the Mafia… I guess? Because very corrupt, violent, and unsafe. It took many people to stop him, and how he was arrested in an underground cell. At this address.

It’s clear he’s cutting something out. He said to be careful. Of course, if Chuuya has lost his mind, I need to do that. But he empathized that I should be wary of him. Also, he said I looked familiar, and he also looks familiar to me. He mentioned something about… me remembering? Have I known Chuuya for longer?

But he also said that only Chuuya has the answers to all my questions. So that means in other words, he knows what happened during the explosion, he knows that Chuuya has been breaking into my apartment and he knows more about my entire predicament now, than I do.

Just… who exactly is he? How and why?

You cut yourself off from those thoughts.

Ugh. this is ending up being so much more complicated than it was supposed to be. You thought in bitterness. So basically, I’ll go to the address, and get the answers to my questions. Sounds simple enough. There’s no need to overthink this. Maybe i’m just being paranoid. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, a lot. But I’ll just ignore that for now.

You turn around and walk towards the door again. To be honest, you don’t want to know what might happen once you see him. You were already nervous from the implications the man had told you moments ago, and you were coming to realize there were some things that you noticed when you were in Chuuya’s house. Things that you maybe weren’t supposed to know about or see.

In the bottom of the drawer… there were documents. Documentation of everything that happened on the day of the explosion. A bright light illumined the sky, followed by the dead body found; the previous port mafia’s executive; Dazai Osamu. The two closest people to the explosion were a member of the port mafia, Atsushi Nakajima, and a member in the training of the Armed Detective Agency, Ryounouske Akuwatagawa. They are believed to be the cause of the explosion.

No one knows the exact events inside the Port Mafia on that day, except for the individuals involved in the actions that happened. According to the Armed Detective Agency, Akuwtagawa had barged into the Port Mafia to challenge the Port Mafia Executive. He accordingly, fought many individuals in the Port Mafia, a body count is yet to be determined. Data from thereon forth is unknown until the individuals reach the top of the building, where the most notorious event stated above occurred.

Additionally, after thorough examination of the body of the previous Port Mafia Excuetive, it can be concluded that he had committed suicide by jumping off the building.

The document ends there, and the paper is ripped in half.

It felt like every meter you travelled towards that location was walking towards a terrible, yet inevitable fate. The drive there, dragged on and on as if mocking you for your choices. You find yourself counting down the seconds until you can arrive at the location given.

Oh, how you wished you had stayed at home instead of seeking him out. If only your morbid curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of you.

You’ve lost track of the time you’ve spent on the train, only waiting for the loudspeaker to announce your stop. The location you figure you were given led you to a rather remote area, likely in the outskirts of Yokohama. If not further. The man had told you he was locked underground, completely isolated from everything.

You found that part the most unsettling. If they needed that many security measures to keep him in place, it was likely he was completely gone. Gone beyond saving. If he had succumbed that much to his own grief and madness, it would be a question of whether he would still remember you or not.

You look out the window again, enjoying your last moments of peace.

This is the eerie calm before the storm, isn’t it?

Moments after you think that, the train halts to a stop at the last station in Yokohama, and you get off. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and you’re not sure if you can stop it.

You try your best to remain calm. Force yourself to keep going. He’s special to you. You can’t lose him, even if you hate him. You need him. He’s the only one who still cares.

And above all, he’s the only one who remembers you at all.

And so, you go. You take all the correct turns. You try to walk as quickly as you could, to arrive at the destination. You keep going, and going and going until…

You’re here.

It’s one of the better buildings on the outskirts of the city, yet… it looks incredibly unsettling. It’s a mundane building, one made from standard concrete, and glass. Yet. As you stand so close, you see cracks in the building. The door is partially cracked as well.

Well, I’m here already. Whatever happens, happens. I may die in there, still, before I die, I have to know the answer. The answer… why can’t I remember? Chuuya. I want him to tell me, what he did to me. Why he came to my apartment every day. Why he’s… he’s…..

Oh. My hands are shaking. Surely I cannot be this terrified can I? I will do this even if it kills me.

You pull the door open and enter the building. The piece of paper told you that it was on the lowest floor. Your footsteps echo in the empty building, and it feels creepy no one is here.

Huh. Gives some Deja Vu, doesn’t it?

You proceed towards the elevator at the end of the hall, and press the down button. Almost instantly, the elevator makes a “ding” noise, and the doors open. You quickly step in and look for the lowest button. With a deep breath, you push the button, and the door closes.

You stare at your face in the mirror. You look terrible. Pale and your hair is completely dishevelled and a mess. If you didn’t know any better, you’d look like you were sick. You had been extremely anxious about this for an entire day, after all.

The elevator doors once again slide open.

Here goes nothing. You sigh. I’d better hear you talking today, Chuuya. You have a lot to tell me. And you’d better tell me it all.

You step outside the elevator. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, and no one here. The halls are empty, and the strong scent of stale air, combined with dust fills your nostrils. You feel like coughing for a second, but you hold yourself back. You didn’t want to make any noise to give away your presence. You take another step.

Despite what the man said, it was clear that there was no one else there. No prison guards, no other cells inside. It was clearly a floor made, simply to detain one individual in particular. Isolated, and secure enough that they’d never be able to escape. Deep enough underground that they’d never even know where they were.

Your footsteps tap loudly against the concrete and echo everywhere around. As you walk down the hall, the lightbulbs behind you light up. The man had told you it was in the deepest part of the prison. However, what he didn’t account for, was that you had no idea how this floor was organized.

Not to mention it was starting to get creepy really quickly. Although there should be nothing else in here, you were starting to get the sense that there was something dangerous that might lurk in the air. You tell yourself it’s probably just the dark and your own fatigue and you were imagining things.

The emptiness of the entire building creeps you out. It’s eerie. It feels like you were lead into the wrong location, and you were walking into a dead end. It almost felt almost like a trap that you had been lured into. And every second, the floor grew significantly more eerie. The lack of any presence and the darkness despite the very few lightbulbs attached to the ceiling enhanced that.

I should be getting close now… right?

You were. You could see a light at the end of this hallway, which was illuminated with an orange light. It must have been where Chuuya’s cell was. There was no other place as illuminated as this, and there was no reason for it to be.

You had gotten this far. There was no reason you should be stopping now. Should you? The answer… you had always looked for, you could get it now.

Chuuya always hid something from me. He has never answered once, one of my questions. He’s never told me why he comes to my house every day, he never told me once why he was gone. For as long as I remember, I’ve been coming back from my job, and seeing him there. But one day, he disappeared. No reason why, no reason of how. He just did.

But apart from my job, there’s another piece missing to this puzzle. There’s something else that I’ve always wanted to ask him besides why he’s gone missing, and the explosion which I already had the answer to. He knows me, better than I know myself.

What was I before all of this happened?

I know there’s something before all of this. It just doesn’t add up. The man I saw in the mafia looked familiar. The building itself was in a place that I had felt I had been in at some time before. There’s deja vu there.

But when I first walked into the apartment, the first day before I saw Chuuya, I had jamais vu. A familiar place, that I didn’t know. And consequently, I couldn’t remember much before that. So what-

“I know you’re there, (Y/N). You’ve been standing there for quite some time.”

Shit.

Your thoughts are cut off by that voice you instantly knew. Chuuya was indeed, there. But his voice didn’t sound the same as you remember. There wasn’t any of the snarkiness, or egotistical attitude in his voice anymore. Instead, his voice was laced with aggression, and a malice that made you hesitant to even come forward.

You open your jaw to speak, but almost if Chuuya knew, he spoke before you. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to know why I left you, don’t you? I assume that someone has already told you about what happened on the day I stopped seeing you, and I’m sure you know all about the aftermath of that.”

You feel like you are doused in cold water. How did he know? Did he plan all of this. You want to open your mouth and tell him to slow down, but he continues, anyways.

“And you’ve been having deja vu for several days, too. You feel like you know the Port Mafia building, you feel like you recognize everything you saw, including my home.” Silence, as he pauses for a second. “So why don’t you… come and face me, and I’ll tell you what actually happened?”

“Chuuya-”

You hear no response. You sigh and walk towards his cell. You’re not ready to hear this, and you’re not sure you can face him.

He’s different. He’s not the same anymore. He sounds more violent, his composture is much less controlled than it was before. What…what happened to him?

And then you approach his cell. He’s got cuts everywhere, specifically the gash on his face. You instantly feel the need to run away, to get this image out of your mind. He was thin, his face was significantly more gaunt than it had been the last time you had seen him. And the most unsettling thing was how he was kept. Both arms were harshly chained to the ceiling and the wall. The chains were wrapped around his arms several times (you would assume most likely to stop him from breaking free), and they cut deeply into his arm. Then his body was also tightly bound to a chair, and his legs were bound to the chair’s legs. His body you noticed, was bound so tightly to the chair, you wonder how he still managed to breathe. Still, nothing would be as unnerving as to look at as his eyes. They were not dull per say, but they were empty. Not in the hopeless kind of way, but in the tormented sense that he had been tortured so badly that it would be unlikely he ever saw the light of day again.

Truly, he was a lost cause. You could only describe him as tortured and traumatized, as you couldn’t glance at him a second time.

“Hey. You done oogling yet?” His voice came out as almost an aggressive snarl, and you instantly look away. “Look at me.” You do your best to look at him, while trying to avoid looking at any part of his face in particular. You didn’t want to see it. Truly, you don’t want to look at him in any way whatsoever. So you settle on looking at a corner of his hair. The only thing that was still familiar to you.

“I said look at me. In the eyes.”

You don’t want to.

Chuuya sighs. “I know I probably look terrible right now, but please. Just do it. For the sake of me. Just look me in the eyes. It’ll probably be the last time I see someone for a long time.” He draws that last sentence out for longer than you expect, and you start to feel uneasy again, but you try to ignore that and ask him the question. The question you had been dying to ask for an undefined amount of time.

It’s a second before you can really bring yourself to ask it. “Chuuya. Where are my memories?” your mouth tightens… “Who am I? Why did you… do this?” You take a deep breath, to stop yourself. “Just tell me. Please.”

There’s another stretched-out pause before Chuuya responds again. “I knocked you out.”

“You… you what? N-no… you’re kidding right?” Your voice wavers slightly, before seeing Chuuya’s face again. He’s dead serious. “Why would you do this?”

“You were in danger. I couldn’t help it, alright?” He yelled, and you flinch. He takes a deep breath in again, slightly more calm, and continues. “Let me explain.”

“You were part of the Port Mafia, (Y/N). In fact, you, me, and Dazai used to be assigned to the same team all the time. Of course, it was always despicable working with Dazai. He never told us about anything, instead only telling us what to do, while he schemed about whatever he damn chose.”

“You can’t be serious…”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Do you think I’m joking right now? That I’m making a story and pulling it out of thin air for fun? You wanted answers. I’m giving them to you right now.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chuuya ignores you and goes on. “Out of the three of us, you were always the weakest one, without a strong ability, nor any supportive abilities, however, we always had to drag you along anyways. To every mission gaven to us. Dazai would always make a plan, and we’d have to follow through. And if any of us ever messed up, we’d always get into trouble.”

“I bet you wanted to know how you got that bruise on your arm, that’s never healed, huh? Well, it’s cause you messed up one of the missions, and one of the higher-ups broke your arm. It never completely healed, and it was a warning that you should never mess up again.”

You look at your arm, where the ugly purple bruise marred your skin. It had never healed, and you couldn’t do anything heavy with it. Although it made a lot more sense than the reasoning you were told, you found this all too unreal. There was no way you were a mafia member. You were always weak. There would have been no reason for you to join. But even past the static buzzing in your brain, you could make out everything he said feeling familiar. As if your memories were just behind a wall you couldn’t break through.

“Still, I wasn’t able to do anything at the time, and Dazai didn’t care too much for you. The damned bastard treated everything and everyone like a chess piece, and played them as he wished. You were constantly treated as the runt of the three of us, and often used as the punching bag when missions weren’t successful. But, over time, you managed to become more ‘competent’ and not ‘drag us back’.”

“Of course, that all was, until the Dragon Head incident. All you need to know was that it was a bloody fight, and most of us were sent to deal with it.”

“As always, we were sent to deal with the mess. Dazai and I were obviously vanguards during the entire ordeal, and you were backup. When we had found the person behind it all, I used my own ability to kill him. We had won, but just barely.”

“You had managed to find the location of the man first, but you didn’t notify us. This person later told us that you actually refused to tell us. Ultimately, you botched Dazai’s plan, and almost destroyed an entire city, because you didn’t follow his instructions. Of course, Dazai was disappointed, even if he didn’t say anything. He essentially dismissed you, and planned to go back, and remove you from the Port Mafia. But, I didn’t want that.”

“So after a very long fight with Dazai, I managed to make a compromise with him. You would not be killed for betraying the Port Mafia, however, you wouldn’t be allowed to go back. But if I told you this, you would have rather accepted death, since the Port Mafia is the only thing you have ever known. You couldn’t go into the real world since you have no identity there.”

“So later that night, while you had looked like you were at least, partially asleep. I had no choice… but to give you severe head trauma, which would make you lose all your memories.”

There’s an unspoken silence between the two of you. You had always been told that your head was fragile. When you tried to think about your childhood or teenage years, your head would fill with static and it would hurt. Never had you ever expected it to be… this…

“You must be shocked. You probably think I’m not being serious, or that I’m joking. Well, I’m not done yet.”

“You were in a coma for years after that. For about two or three years, if I remember correctly. I had to make sure that you wouldn’t remember anything, so I bashed your head, pretty hard against the concrete. I brought you to the hospital after that, and told them that you had been injured badly, because you had attempted suicide. A balatant lie, but I couldn’t tell the doctors any more than that, otherwise I would have been detained.”

“For several years, you stayed in the hospital, completely unconscious. I’d visit you everyday, and see if you would wake up. At one point I had considered just giving up. But eventually, you did wake up. But, you didn’t have an identity in the real world, let alone education, or anything that would let you survive. When you were discharged, I paid a company to forge you a fake identity, which is what you live by now.”

“I’ve watched over you for so long, (Y/N). You once asked me what you needed to be protected from. I didn’t answer that question because I didn’t think it was the right time to let you know the truth. Alas, you’ve come searching for the truth yourself. The Port Mafia was after you for a long time. I had to constantly monitor you, you were constantly on my mind every day. And even when you were discharged from the hospital, I still had to watch over you while you slept. They wanted to kill you. I didn’t want you dead, in fact how could I?” Chuuya laughs in bitterness. “I loved you for a long time. I did all of this to make sure I’d be able to see you happy, for once. And you were. You moved into society rather nicely. You were simply not meant to be part of the Mafia, despite the potential in your ability.”

“You have the gun I left on my desk, didn’t you? You knew you had to take it because you might have been in danger.”

“Chuuya… stop.” You’re still in shock, but you know you’ll never properly remember any of your memories now. You can only trust him. Whatever he says, you have to believe. He’s not lying. He never was lying.

“That was Dazai’s gun. The gun he left before he killed himself.”

“No… please. Stop. Chuuya. Don’t do this please…”

He chuckles. “I have no merit in my future, I am simply left to rot and die here. You wouldn’t understand, (Y/N). I spent so much time in my life for you, that it would have been simpler to just kill you. But I can’t do that.”

“But in a life where you don’t return any of that to me isn’t worth living either…”

“CHUUYA,” you scream. “Stop this. Don’t…”

“So shoot me please. I know you’re dying to do it. You brought the gun with you, you wanted to kill me. I know you do. Why? You’ve reached into your pockets serveral times while I was telling your past. My life is hopeless, completely doomed. I’ve lost everything I once had, except for you. And I can’t even see you now.”

“So kill me. Put me out of my own misery.”

He smiles, in a twisted sort of way, expecting you to shoot.

“You won’t regret it.”

And it’s true. You were planning on killing him, but you don’t want to now. But if what he said was true, you were also ruthless as he was. You had to make a choice, quickly.

Your hands move faster than your mind, and you can’t stop yourself.

You shoot once. Once at his chest.

You can’t bear to see what you did.

But you also can’t see control what you were going to do next. You hear another gunshot being fired, and you weren’t if it was from yourself, or maybe someone else in the floor.

Your vision stops and you feel yourself falling to the ground.

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