kyuuciel

[kyuuciel]

Togchako

Honestly as a BNHA lover since the beginning, watching these two come from being considered a rare pair to basically a crack ship to THIS is everything and more.

this is such a beautiful development, nobody can say otherwise.

[kyuuciel]

[kyuuciel]

Death Angel x You

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a dim glow over the deserted alleyway where the sound of desperate gasps echoed. A figure stood over a man's bloodied, writhing body. For the nth time, she brought her fist down on the man's face with a sickening thud. The shallow breaths stop and it feels like she's turned something off.

Her actions come to a halt as she sensed curious eyes watching her every move. Behind her, to her left, perhaps on high ground. She could only infer so much with her back turned.

Noticing her pause, the observer revealed himself, emerging from the dark. Tall and imposing, he was. His presence seemed to speak for itself; death incarnate. What else would you call a man as large as him?

Slowly, she turns around to face him, arms hanging idly at her sides, lifting her head to slowly meet his eyes. She doesn't quite know what to do, so she stares.

The paleness of his skin stood out in the scarcely lit scene, light kept out by high brick walls, damp and old. All she could think of was how ineffective his ability to blend into his surroundings seemed to be. She would have liked to comment about his ineptitude, but she knew better than to challenge someone she knew nothing of.

As he stood there, his black feathered wings unfurled slightly behind him—perhaps to show them off. For what purpose? she could only scratch her head.

As their eyes remained locked on one another's, something in his mind clicked, and he almost cursed himself for not having realized sooner. He grins, and to her, it must have come across as provoking. Her fingers flex unconsciously, claws tearing through her skin; a sensation she's become used to.

He remembered her—that brat he saw many moons ago, tied to a tree and left for dead. He should have helped her, yes, but he failed to see the fun in doing so. Thinking about it now, it must have been his fault that she turned out this way, too. A soul that others hadn't been very kind to will only know suffering, whether it's her own, or theirs.

It's clear to him now that the girl he knew her to be was gone, consumed by hatred. Her gaze was different, and he sighs. So that's why he didn't recognize her instantly. Her eyes had changed, once warm, though filled with sorrow, now a piercing yellow.

“{…},” he recalls her name after mere seconds of sifting through his memories. He took a step forward, closer to her—his voice smooth like silk.

Her expression remains hard to read, even for a naturally perceptive being like him.

“Who are you?” she finally murmured, her voice low, just to get him to refocus his attention from her face, to her question. He knew that she couldn't care less for his name. Why would she, after he ignored her pleas for help, for anyone to help her—anyone at all.

Did she even know that he had been there that night, watching—silently reveling in her vulnerability from afar?

It was unlikely.

“Raphael,” it wasn't at all like how he would introduce himself, especially to a mortal.

“If you haven't been able to tell, I'm a seraph..” he begun with a deceptive smile, "Surely you know that we, as caretakers of your realm—only bring good things.." he attempts a charming close eyed smile, yet she only inwardly shudders. "You have been blessed to carry out your revenge for as long as you desire.."

Her gaze remained steady. He couldn’t shake the sensation that he was staring into a chartreuse abyss. And it thrilled him.

“I don’t care,” her tone was flat, almost dismissive. Have the gods sent her a messenger to try and make her do their bidding?

She didn't care that the gods themselves meddled in her life, or if they pitied her, all she really cared about was making sure that entitled miscreants stopped roaming the earth so freely.

“You know that's not true,” he pouts, purposefully purring her name despite there being no need to. Perhaps, unbeknownst to him, it was a steadily growing interest. Though, if someone were to ask him what he thought of the girl in front of him, there wouldn't be much to say.

Her brows furrow, she wants to tell him to shut up, but something akin to a gentle breeze sweeping behind her makes her stumble forward, directly into his arms. “If you really held no regard for divinity's blessing, you wouldn't have embraced the path of retribution..” his arms find their place on the sides of her ribs.

Her silence spoke volumes, yet he only pressed on. “What if I were to offer you something?" it almost sounded like a light bulb went off inside his hollow skull.

“What.” it was an invitation to convince her further, and he doesn't miss the chance to try.

“Wouldn’t it bring you satisfaction to see with your own eyes—your vengeance beyond the mortal realm?” A smirk plays at his lips.

Her expression was as unreadable as it can get, but he could sense the mildest interest from the way her breathing shifts slightly. For him, that was enough.

“Fine,” it was just barely a 'yes', yet her confirmation sends him abuzz inside,

“Excellent..” a wave of satisfaction washes over him. "From now on, you and I are partners… I'll be telling you more about this offer of mine once we've crossed, but once that happens, you can never leave.." he pauses, seemingly in recollection.

"You know how it is in my realm, don't you? Loyalty above all else… swear to me that you'll be by my side no matter what."

She raises a brow. Was it too late to back out? Just now, the words he uttered sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitates to speak and because of that, his hold tightens, the fingers digging into her bound to leave abrasions.

"We shall never part." he continues, as if it only mattered if he heard it, that even if her lips remained pressed into a line—their fates were sealed together for all eternity.

[kyuuciel]

Flowers Don't Bloom On Rotting Branches

(Jinba, Minato (Hollow Cocoon) x Female Reader)

This post contains - blood, attempted murder (he thinks about it, but doesn't go through with it in the end), unnecessarily long internal monologue, and nothing really happens.

Word count - 2.3k

Minato stood outside the wooden cell, his hands gripping the rough edges of the bucket as he watched Ayano. Her eyes blink at him curiously, wondering when he would finally feed her. The dim light in the underground cave casted over her, revealing her pale, sickly appearance. He finally places the bucket on the ground, within her cell. He watched her form now hunched over the bucket, lips stained with blood, claws digging into the wood as she fed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away—not until she had finished.

The bucket in her hands was old and worn, dark stains from countless feedings clinging to its surface. It reeked of iron and decay. He made a mental note to clean it later, though he doubted any amount of scrubbing could ever help.

"I'll come back for dinner," he said quietly. He reached through the bars to retrieve the bucket, careful not to brush against her claws. She made a low sound, somewhere between a huff and a growl, but she didn’t move from her spot on the floor. That was a sign of progress, he supposed. She was more used to him now, though the thought that she might never look at him the way she did her sister, that lying woman—pained him. Even in what she thought would be her final breath, she uttered her name. Kinu, she had called out, voice strained. Even after what her sister had put her through, she loved her unconditionally.

That woman was long gone, buried along her husband whom she killed. Minato never understood the reason, nor did he want to ponder on it for long, afraid that it would only complicate what he thought he had already understood.

He rose to his feet, towering over Ayano who was on her knees, fingers tightly grasping around the wood that kept them apart.

A year had passed since he chose this life, since he abandoned the city, his future, and the fragile ties with his father. His father had tried to convince him to come back, to return to him. "We can talk about your plans," he'd said. Plans for the next few years, maybe even the rest of his life. Of course Minato's already made up his mind, and it had always been hard for anyone to talk him out of something, even when his mother was still alive. Yui was an understanding woman, if she were still here, then surely she'd choose to stay with Ayano, too. Did she even know that Kinu had not been the one to bring her to this world?

Ayano and Minato's hands don't meet. He doesn't try to bridge the physical gap between them. Dark brown eyes were focused on her bright plum ones. Her head tilts to the side, communicating her confusion, unaware of the meaning behind his intense gaze. She wondered; Was he mad at her?

Minato still didn't know what her thoughts consisted of most of the time. He's unaware that he confused her just as much as she confused him.

The house was silent except for the creaks in the old wood and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. It was quiet, and of course it would be, no one lived anywhere nearby. The dam construction had driven everyone away. Though, he thought of it as good. Nobody would shun him or Ayano, not when the only other company they had was one another.

Minato had never imagined that his life would lead here, to Kinu's house—a place he rarely had the chance to visit in the past. His family’s secrets, so carefully buried—had unraveled in front of him, like a path of some sort. Where it had led him, he wasn’t sure. He thought back to his father, the coldness that had filled the space between them after his mother’s passing. The strange things that had happened then—the occurrences that everyone ignored all made sense now. He had to learn it on his own, through unsent letters and the unread journals scattered around the house, not very well hidden.

He had given up everything for this truth. His future, his father, the normal life he might have had. The weight of those choices bore down on him, though it carried a sense of peace in knowing he was no longer the boy left in the dark, kept out of his own family’s truth as if he had no right to them.

The nights were the hardest—when the silence deepened and empty house felt colder than ever, his mind would wander back to his mother. Her face haunted him. Her sorrowful eyes, lips parted as if she wanted to apologize, but she never did—never got to. That's what he liked to think. His mother loved him, and he cared for her just as much, but he knows he had never forgiven her for leaving him behind, not truly. Now, he wondered if she had left him because she knew. If it was fear that drove her to take her own life while he watched.

As he stood outside the cell, holding the bucket, he could feel his hunger grow. It was subtle, for now. It was a quiet ache just beneath the surface. He could resist it, but he had seen what this curse had done to his grandmother, and though she had once been a woman, she was now something else entirely. Little of her old self remained, only memories of Kinu, he guessed. She had become a creature driven by hunger and instinct, barely clinging to her former self.

Would that be his fate too?

Minato wondered as he walked out of the cave, returning to the house. His footsteps were heavier than usual, maybe it was exhaustion that weighed him down. He knew deep down that this peace wouldn't last forever. Soon, he'd run out of food and he'd have to move to bigger things to keep both of them fed. Thinking about it now, how did he plan to do that anyway?

Maybe cattle was the answer. Ayano wasn't picky and he wasn't, either.

He scrubbed the bloodstained bucket, hands moving slowly as his thoughts wandered. The grime clung stubbornly to the wood, making him press down on the sponge harder out of mild frustration. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to drift into the task, the sound of water sloshing against the bucket filling the kitchen, bouncing off the walls. His thoughts began to wander, until a voice cut through the stillness.

“Hello?”

It was faint, but clear enough to draw Minato’s attention. He paused, the cloth in his hand still dripping water, and listened. Another voice wasn’t something he expected out here, not in this village. He quickly wiped his hands on the sides of his shirt, sliding the glass door open. He stepped out into the faint afternoon light, opening his gate. He was greeted by a figure standing outside.

Unexpectedly, there stood a woman outside his gate.

She offers him a polite smile as Minato looked her up and down. Clearly, she'd be the furthest thing from a threat out here. Not when he was there, and especially not when his grandmother was waiting for dinner in her chambers.

He blinked, unsure if he was imagining her at first, but there she was, with a faint smile. "I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, her voice soft, laced with a slight embarrassment, “but I think I missed the last bus and my phone is dead. Do you mind if I use your phone? Just for a minute, if that’s okay..”

Minato could only nod, his mind racing as he let her inside, closing the gate behind them. She was around his age, maybe a little younger. She carried a camera bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the strap. A faint scent of lavender wafted from her—fresh, clean, not too out of place here in the countryside where things haven't been touched by the scent of greed. Compared to the smoke and other fumes he had grown familiar to back in the city, she was a cool breeze.

Minato led her inside the house, watching her closely as she took off her shoes, placing them neatly at a corner before following behind him. Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she looked around, taking in the old house. As she settled down by the table, Minato offered her a drink. She thanked him with small smile. Soon, she would talk about the structure of the house, how impressive it is, and how proud his family would be of him for managing to preserve it. As she continued to talk, his mind had began to drift elsewhere.

She was alone. And lost.

"Make yourself at home." he said, before disappearing into a dark hallway. He told her that he was going to look for his phone, the one he had promised to lend her, the reason why she even considered wandering into a stranger's home.

He didn't have a working phone. His phone died months ago, and he never bothered to charge it. As for their landline, he got rid of that, too. He no longer needed contact with the outside world. Empty handed, he returned to where she had waited for him patiently. "Sorry, I forgot it was broken. The guy who was supposed to fix it just told me he wouldn't be able to come today." he explained, tone apologetic. He appeared remorseful.

"But, uh.. you can stay here…"

His gaze trailed over her.

She didn't have a reason to. It'd be a long walk to the next bus stop, and it would be dark, too. If she started walking now, maybe she'd make it just before the flickering street lights no longer served any purpose. She looks at him, finding his behavior strange. The way he talked… it was like he was hiding something.

Under the table—on his lap, his hands curled into fists. He could feel his heart pounding. His gaze shifts from her wrist, to concerned expression. This woman’s blood would be enough to sate him for days, maybe weeks.

"You okay?" she asks, ending the silence. He blinks, trying to chase away the horrid thoughts that clouded his mind. "I'm fine.." he finally managed to say, barely keeping eye contact. He curses, realizing how unconvincing it sounded. Trying not to think too much about it, he shifted his focus to the half empty glass of water that was on the table.

She doesn't seem too thirsty, but he wanted to be a decent host. He wondered why he cared so much. Before she could begin to prod, a light pitter-patter drew their attention to the window.

Just when he had thought he had gathered his resolve.

Now, what? It was raining, and she'd have to stay longer.

"Do you have a spare umbrella? You don't have to give it to me, I'll pay for it." she asked, hand already slipping into her pocket.

He didn't have any use for money. And if he was being honest, he hadn't even made up his mind whether or not he'd let her go. She was too nice, really. Was that his fault? Definitely not. But he did feel guilty about it, even if it was just a little.

"No, I don't have one. We—I don't really use those around here…" he says quietly, hoping she'd buy it. She nodded in understanding, not pressing further. “Would it be okay if I stayed just a little longer, until it clears up?” her voice was small—honestly she already felt bad about asking for his help with the phone. “Of course,” he said, almost too quickly, hoping he didn't come off as desperate. He smiled—something he hadn’t done in so long it felt foreign.

An hour passed, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. The woman wandered over to the engawa, looking out at the downpour, a serene expression softening her features as she admired the view. He stood beside her, paying more attention to her than the tall, swaying grass, or the droplets sliding down the glass.

In that moment, he wanted to know her name more than anything. Maybe if he knew who this woman was—if he got to call out her name, it'd help remind him. She had a life to go back to, unlike him. She didn't belong here. She was never supposed to have stumbled on his doorstep and in his home.

He shouldn't be thinking of harming her then, or ever. He would have been like her too, had he gone back to the city.

He excused himself, heading to the kitchen to make her something to eat.

In a few minutes, he was able to come up with something edible. A simple meal just for her. He didn't really bother to buy anything ever since he had inherited the house. Sometimes, he'd eat the same things Ayano did, to save himself from the task.

Bowl in hand, he returned to where he had last seen her, only to find out that she was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss?" he called out, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Placing her food down on the table hastily, he began searching the house for his guest, moving from room to room until he found her, resting peacefully on his bed.

She had fallen asleep.

Minato’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her. There she was, completely vulnerable, her soft breathing filled the room. He felt his hunger surge, begging him to act. He could hear his own ragged breathing, hands trembling slightly.

He approached her slowly, standing over her as she slept. Her sleep remained undisturbed, even as his shadow loomed.

The urge to sink his teeth into her flesh was overwhelming. His heart pounded in his chest, drowning out the silence. The longer he stood, the more the rush subsided. His gaze softened. There was something about her peaceful expression that made him falter. She reminded him of the life he could have had, the life he had given up.

He decided to let her rest. Come morning, he'd make her something to eat on her trip back home. She would leave, and maybe, if he was lucky, she’d remain nameless.

[kyuuciel]

httpmally

[kyuuciel]

"REJOICE, BOYS!" my girl is baaaack!!!