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cambion-companion · 5 months

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Cat and Mouse

"See, I was dead when I woke up this morning. And I'll be dead before the day is done." -Seven Devils, Florence and the Machine

Raphael x reader (gn)

Cause how could I not write something to go with this gifset?

Your blood had run hot as you’d shared passion in a devil’s den. Simmering beneath your flushed skin as your fingers traced his fiery veins.

Your blood now pumped cold, dread and fear following wherever you ran, leading him right to your every hiding place.

Your blood would run red upon the ground if he caught you. The betrayal rotting bitter upon his tongue. Turning hope to an acrid ash that he would choke you with.

You heard your name again, spoken with the force of expelling a deadly toxin, behind you. Again, you thought to the events taken place not hours ago.

Raphael on his knees before you, defeated. The bodies of his devilkin scattered and strewn like so many crumpled and brittle leaves. His eyes barely able to open, he made to plea for his life, no more honeyed words to try and sway you.

Your sword raised high, paused. You looked down upon the devil who had committed no trespass against you. It was your fault, this aching sundering. Your careless blundering.

“Shit.” You said, lowering your weapon. You knew time was short. Raphael would lash out, sensing weakness like a shark smells blood clouding the water.

Your companions were already jumping desperately through the portal, you saw Astarion calling for you, unable to hear beyond the steady thrumming in your ears. Your world tilted as you staggered sideways, fighting to remain conscious long enough to retrieve the health poultice from your pack.

“I won’t allow him to have you.” You wondered if he heard you, his bright eyes met yours and you knew he understood.

You threw the poultice at him, turned and staggered for the sparking doorway back to your dimension.

Your name, snarled from within the dark ruins brought you back to the present. To the situation you’d custom made for yourself. Raphael had caught your scent, try and you might to avoid the inevitable fate.

He was powerful once more, perhaps more so than last you’d seen him. You turned, unable to run further, your feet useless as blocks of ice supporting your weight. Your fingers numb upon the cold stone column you leaned against.

A plume of orange fire lit the very back of the old temple, the bright light momentarily blinding your wide eyes. You heard heavy footsteps approaching, unhurried, purposeful and intent on your destruction.

Leathery wings stretched wide, lit scarlet by the inferno. The glimmer of eyes slowly gave way to the familiar angles and ridges of a hellish face and curving horns.

Something metallic glinted in the flickering light, sat in regal splendor upon Raphael’s head.

“No.” You whispered in horror. You’d given it to Gale.

“Out of touch with reality, as ever.” Raphael’s large hand took a fistful of your hair and pulled, yanking a cry of pain from your throat. “I gave you every opportunity and you squandered it all like a petulant child.”

Your breath was ragged, the freezing air scraping through your lungs like daggers. The crown of Karsus mirrored the natural curve of Raphael’s horns, like it was tailor made just for him.

“Gale…”

“Is in pieces spread from here to Cormyr by now.” With an insulting ease, Raphael tossed you by the hair to the ground.

The air left your lungs and you gasped in vain to regain breath, struggling like a fish out of water, trying to drag yourself away from his approach.

Raphael rolled his shoulders, the bonfire far behind continuing to blaze at his command. He circled slowly, waiting for you to regain your feet, like a cat playing with an injured and frantic mouse.

“I spared you.” You hissed in pain, clutching your side as you struggled back up.

“You doomed yourself.” Raphael answered, the edge of his voice seeming to take physical form to cut your very soul.

His arm moved and something small clinked upon the ground, rolling to rest against your foot. You looked down, your lips twisting into a grimace as you recognized the health potion.

“How generous.”

“With you, my dear, I am lenient as ever.” Raphael waited for you to restore yourself, his wings folding slightly, but his posture remaining tense and ready. “Now we will finish what you started.”

#raphael bg3 #post game #gale blew up I guess #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #drabble #raphael fanfic #bg3

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lilypadding · 3 months

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the komaeda bodypillow

Crossposted on AO3 | Word count: ~3.5k | Credit for divider

⋆ pairing: hajime hinata x nagito komaeda

Summary: Wherein Hajime stresses about Nagito taking longer to wake up from the Neo World Program.

There is a body pillow of Nagito Komaeda.

Now, Hajime wouldn’t have known that before this afternoon. In fact, he probably would’ve never found out about such an item— or ever had to touch it— or interact with it at all.

And the idea of living in that blissful ignorance sounds heavenly. But, unfortunately, it’s unattainable. The ignorant world in which Nagito Komaeda’s body pillow goes undiscovered is out of reach for as long as Hajime holds the same pillow in his hands. So, he drops it with a loud:

“Oh my fucking God—“

The pillow lands on the floor of Hajime’s cottage. Makoto and Hina laugh sheepishly on the other end of the video call.

“Ah, yeah, I figured you’d react like that…” Makoto says, clearly a bit embarrassed.

The palms of Hajime’s hands press into his eyes. He groans, loudly, maybe too loudly, to get his point across.

“What the fuck did I just lay my eyes on?” Hajime’s rhetorical question is pointless. He was hoping for Makoto to deny what he just saw— to somehow clear everything up, to cleanse the air and state that it’s not a fucking body pillow and that Nagito’s goddamn face and body wasn’t on it.

“It’s a body pillow,” Makoto says instead; Hajime dissipates into himself, “Of Nagito.”

“Why.” Hajime finally lifts his hands off of his own face and stares into the computer screen. His face is burning red by now. He can feel that the pillow is right over his feet and he refuses to offer it a second glance.

“Well, I mean,” Makoto shrugs heartily and rubs the back of his neck. Hina is sitting to his left, and her grin is undeniably more than amused.

“I noticed that you’ve been having a hard time,” Makoto finally finishes, and somehow, his sincere smile makes everything feel that much worse, “And I figured you’d like something related to him.”

“And a body pillow was what your bright mind came up with?” Hajime’s face sours considerably. “You could’ve gotten me, like, a photo of him! Or, I-I don’t know! Anything but a…”

He finally looks down. The sight of Nagito— albeit, impressively well drawn— staring up at him with a small grin makes something in his stomach twist uncomfortably. This is downright creepy.

“Oh my God,” Hajime draws out, grimacing. His pose…

One of Nagito’s arms is draped over his head, sinking into the drawn lines of the sheets presumably beneath him. His other arm is covering his torso, and why on Earth is the hem of his shirt hiked up to expose part of his stomach—

“Who drew this?” Hajime tears his eyes off the pillow.

“Oh, Ryota did!” Hina chimes in, her voice fighting off the urge to break into hearty laughter.

She’s clearly having fun. It makes Hajime want the Earth to swallow him whole.

“Ryota?”

“Oh, yeah, he was a great help!” Makoto smiles, somehow proud of saying it. Somehow proud that he supplied Hajime with something so… questionable.

“Makoto,” Hajime leans closer to the computer, propping an arm on the table holding it, “This is not a good present.”

Makoto and Hina both break into laughter at that. Hajime’s too busy in the thought of how embarrassing this item is to own, to have, to touch. What if someone finds out about this?

“Seriously, why…”

“Listen, Hajime,” Makoto’s laughter has let up. The smile he wears is sweet. It makes Hajime want to pound his skull into a wall.

“I know I could’ve gotten you photos of him,” He continues, sincerity seeping out of his words, “But… you can’t do much with photos, y’know? If I gave you photos, all you’d do is stare at them and think too much. I wanted to get you something more tangible. Something you could hold.”

“Aha,” Hajime breaks into laughter, lost in disbelief, “Huh? Tangible? Hold? I- You’re acting like I need emotional support right now…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him. They look at each other. Then back at him.

“O-Okay, fine,” Hajime caves at their looks, “Maybe I do. But, I mean, don’t you think this is—“

He points at the pillow at his feet. They can’t see it from the angle of the webcam, but he refuses to touch it again.

“—Too far? An entire body pillow of him? I mean, you’re acting like I’m obsessed with the guy…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him again. They look at each other again. Then back at him.

“No,” Hajime immediately shuts down, “I’m not obsessed with him.”

“Well…” Makoto and Hina start at a high pitched voice.

“I’m not!”

“Okay, you’re not,” Makoto agrees weakly, “But you’re clearly concerned about him.”

Hajime scoffs, “I— yeah, who wouldn’t be?”

“Hajime, you visit his pod every morning and night,” Hina says, her voice quiet and concerned. It’s almost condescending.

“Because I want to be there when he wakes up!” Hajime says like it’s obvious, but his voice sort of dies when he finishes the sentence, “I mean- it’s been—“

“Three months,” Makoto finishes for him. Hajime’s thought process freezes in place.

Has it really only been three months? Shit…

“Since Hiyoko woke up, right?” Hina doesn’t ask anyone in particular. Makoto and Hajime nod.

“And he’s the last one,” Hajime supplies emptily. “I thought he’d wake up a bit after Hiyoko, because everyone woke up within a few weeks of each other, but… nothing. He's still asleep.”

Those last words come out a lot angrier than anticipated. He almost regrets it, but he remembers every time that he’s woken up at odd hours of the night. Every time that the thought of Nagito waking up anytime soon bugged him enough to go down there himself. Every time he’d stared into his sleeping face. And every time he’d fallen asleep while there, slouched in the chair he dragged near the pod.

It’s been happening a lot more recently.

He didn’t need to do it. In fact, if Nagito were to wake up, he would be the first person to know. He set up the pod to signal an alarm device, which had been sitting on his nightstand since he made it. Like a baby monitor, but for comatose arsonists.

Still, the idea of being able to be there right when Nagito opens his eyes is a lot more appealing than seeing him when his eyes have already opened.

“Hey, cheer up!” Hina calls out, casting Hajime out of his thoughts, “He’s going to wake up, y’know. It’s just a matter of time.”

He almost laughs in her face but his self control proves stronger than expected. Just a matter of time. How many times has he heard that sentence now? How many times has he used it to reassure himself, despite how stupid he felt?

“Yeah,” He agrees. How many times has he agreed to it anyways?

Hajime looks at the body pillow again. Nagito’s drawn smile is a bit daunting to stare at. But…

“Why did you have to pose him like that…” Hajime scans Nagito’s body.

Hina giggles as Makoto starts talking:

“Posed like what? He looks like he’s relaxing.”

“He looks like he wants to fuck me,” Hajime argues with a flat voice. Hina goes into a new fit of hysterics while Makoto snorts.

“Ryota drew him quite accurately, then,” Makoto says. It sends Hina into doubling over.

“What?” Hajime frowns into the computer screen.

“Anyways, if I’m being honest,” Makoto fights through a laugh, “I don’t know. I commissioned Ryota for a body pillow, and that’s what he gave me.”

“D-Do you even know what a body pillow is?” Hajime gapes. Hina finally starts calming down.

“Um, no,” Makoto admits, scratching his cheek, “I wanted to get you a small plushie of him, actually. But that would’ve taken a lot longer to make, and it’d require resources we don’t have right now.”

“Y-You don’t even know the implications of having a body pillow of someone?” Hajime’s voice raises a few pitches higher than usual.

“What? I mean, the worst thing you can do to a pillow is hug it…”

Lord.

“It’s a harmless gift!” Hina insists with a bright smile, “I’m sure you’ll look back at this and laugh. Maybe you can even show it to Nagito once he wakes up!”

“I…” The idea of showing this to the living and breathing Nagito Komaeda is less than appealing. Many, many levels less than appealing. He doesn’t want to imagine how he’d react. Or act. Knowing him, though, he’d probably offer a weirdly knowing smirk to Hajime, teasing him without having to say a word.

God. Even the Nagito in his head is mocking him. Annoying.

“Wow, did I break you?” Hina leans into the screen, her voice more prominent, “You’re red.”

“No!” Hajime fumbles and waves his hands, denying her, “I just thought of something.”

Hina seems unimpressed by the excuse as Makoto begins talking again.

“Well, we’ll let you go,” He says with a smile, “A meeting is coming up, and me and Hina both have to be there. We just wanted to quickly check in on you.”

“And get me to react to the worst gift ever…”

“Man, I hope you don’t hate me,” Makoto rubs the back of his neck, an embarrassed blush sprawling on his face. “Well, we’ll check in next week, okay?”

“Yeah!” Hina chirps up, “See you then, Haji!”

“Mhm.”

“Have fun with the pillow!” She sing-songs, and before Hajime can let out a stuttering mess of protesting syllables, the call ends and their faces disappear.

A sick and nervous feeling rides up his stomach as he processes the call.

Shame explodes in his chest when he looks down at the body pillow again.

Nagito Komaeda, animated, and posed a little too languidly stares up at nothing in particular. It’s hard to look at his face, because he’s grinning in a weirdly flirty way and he’s lively and it’s the last kind of expression that Hajime wants to see on a drawing of someone that’s been in a coma for a little too long. So, Hajime tries to stare at his chest instead. As if it made the idea of picking him up off the floor any easier.

Christ. It’s just a pillow.

Hajime kneels on the ground and grabs the top corners of it, hauling it up in his arms. The end of the pillow shuffles the lengthy box on the floor that it had been delivered in, knocking it on its side with a miserable flop. Holding it like this, the top of the pillow is just about level with his height, and the bottom barely scrapes the ground. Life size.

Disgusting. But just a pillow.

Hajime can’t shake the tense feeling of hugging it to his chest in this way. Like he’s admitting defeat and accepting the fact that this is fine in any way. As if hugging the incarnate pillow version of Komaeda is socially acceptable. The idea of anyone finding out he owns this crosses his mind and sends a cold breeze down his spine. He should throw it away. Any sensible person would.

But it was a gift from Makoto. Albeit, misguided and naive. It would be rude to burn something… heartfelt.

With a dissatisfied huff, Hajime twists in his place and makes his way to his bed— halting the second that his eyes catch his reflection in his full length mirror across the room.

“What the—”

He hadn’t seen the other side of the pillow until now. It’d been facedown on the ground for the entire video call, and its existence had gone completely unnoticed. But it’s hard to disregard when it is staring back at him from the mirror.

Hajime hurriedly pushes the pillow away from him, maintaining it at arm’s length and flipping it around. When the sight hasn’t disappeared and is instead staring back at him, his jaw drops.

On this side, there’s a shift in Nagito’s pose. His head is turned to one side, offering a clear view of a side profile, an undeniable red flush drawn over his face. One of his hands is pressed over his mouth and cheek, palm facing up, as if defensively covering himself. His other arm is in a similar position to the first version of him, but his shirt is hiked up higher, leaving room for his pale hand to rest on his exposed torso. Hajime freezes at the sight, unable to move. Discomfort flickers in Hajime’s chest and his eyes avert the image immediately. Hajime’s stomach flips nervously and he rushes to flip the pillow around, refusing to give the drawing a second look.

Seeing Nagito in any state like that felt wrong. Even if it was some drawing.

Drawing. Ryota really had to draw all that, didn’t he?

“Well, n-no, I didn’t,” Ryota is fumbling over his words, his voice soft enough to nearly go unheard. He’s fidgeting with his own fingers, unable to maintain proper eye contact with Hajime. For brief moments in time, his hands find the tweed sweater he’s wearing only to pick at it.

Hajime sighs through his nose, looking around them. They’re walking near the pool of the hotel lobby, right after Ryota had joined the group for breakfast. Everyone had peppered him with questions about his life at Future Foundation, the conversation keeping a semblance of politeness.

Words and mentions about the killing school life and high school memories went mostly unspoken, even now. Everyone’s voices always hesitate before bringing it up, and the conversations about it always end so quickly that it’s like they never started. So, they welcome their former classmate with open arms, infinitely opting for the positives instead of the past they can’t erase.

After everyone finished their meals, they had scattered and pawned off private conversations with Ryota as if he were a valuable item, Hajime finally got to claim some time with him for himself by trailing after him from the diner.

Ryota didn’t seem to mind at all— that is, until Hajime was glaring at him, refusing to let up. And Ryota didn’t have to ask why.

“Then why did you have to draw him like— like that?” Hajime mutters in a low voice, despite the fact that the pool area was empty and bare, and no one was around to eavesdrop. Ryota stops in his tracks and spins around, his eyes drooping and stance slouching. The bright sun beats down on them, clouds having barely parted from the morning rain.

“Listen, I was really weirded out with the commission at first,” Ryota replies, his voice still trembling, eyes darting. Wind picks up around them and Ryota’s hair flips into his face. “But who was I to question it? Makoto said he wanted a body pillow, so I complied.”

“Okay, well, didn’t he tell you it was for me?”

“Um, no, not until I finished drawing it…”

Hajime laughs, exasperated, facepalming with both hands.

“Listen!” Ryota hurries the words out of him, “I offered to redraw it. I really did. But Makoto looked at it himself and said it was fine.”

“What?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, he kind of laughed, but said that it works fine. I even asked him if he’s shown the work-in-progress to you. When he said it was for you, I thought you’d commissioned it—”

“Why would you assume that?!”

“Makoto didn’t clarify that you didn’t know about until he shipped it out! I thought you wanted one, like, for real.”

“I— No! I never— Why— Why would I—”

“I don’t know!” Ryota protests, his shoulders hiking up, “I didn’t question it, okay? It’s just a commission. A weird one, but I’ve drawn weirder, so it really didn’t matter.”

“D-Didn’t you feel even weirder knowing this is a real person? That you’ve talked to before?”

“Uh, I tried not to think about that. Seriously, though, it’s not that weird.”

A new voice joins: “What’s weird?”

“Gah—!” Hajime jolts and spins around, hurriedly backing away. “S-Soda.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Yes, a million times, yes.

“No. Not at all.”

Fuck.

“Cool,” Soda grins happily, “What were you guys talking about? Some weird thing?”

Hajime’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Ah—”

“It’s just about a commission I made for Hajime,” Ryota says, far too casually, way too easily. Hajime shoots him a death glare. Ryota crumbles in on himself at the look, and starts stuttering,

“I-I mean, it’s—”

“A commission!” Soda pronounces, clearly impressed, “Man, I really wanna see more of your art.”

He turns to Hajime, his pink hair swaying, and asks: “What’d you commission him for?”

Hajime freezes. And is probably visibility deflating.

“Oh. It’s— nothing, really—”

“Just a pillow.”

Ryota.

“A pillow?” Soda gives the two of them a deeply confused frown, but focuses on Ryota, “Um, I thought you did animations and drawings, that sorta shit.”

“I-I made some artwork for a pillow.”

“It’s really nothing!” Hajime yells despite himself. Ryota and Soda both stare at him as he fumbles, fighting to continue.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Hajime can’t look them in the eyes, “I just found his drawings calming, and— I thought it might help me get more sleep at night, if his art was… in front of me…”

The excuse dissipates into the air, vaporizing alongside Hajime’s weakened voice. He clears his throat when both of them don’t say anything.

Soda walks up to him, but Hajime keeps his eyes away, trained on the ground.

A warm hand meets his shoulder, and Hajime has to force himself to look up.

“You haven’t been able to sleep well, huh?” Soda’s face is genuinely compassionate and concerned. Hajime jerks at the sincerity, shrinking in on himself, a rise of embarrassment clouding his mind.

“Yeah,” Soda nods slowly, his voice quiet. He stays silent for a second before tightening his hold on Hajime’s shoulder, reconnecting their gaze.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Hajime feels frozen in place by the intensity of the eye contact, but manages a feeble nod regardless.

Soda smiles softly and nods, letting go of him and saying:

“You’ve been having some trouble with Nagito, right?”

“Huh?”

“When he’s gonna wake up,” Soda supplies, shrugging easily, “Well, at this rate, if he’s going to wake up.”

Hajime swallows a lump in his throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Soda forces a smile, “I shouldn’t say that. Actually, you shouldn’t even worry about it! He has ultimate luck, after all. So he’s sure to wake up. Well, unless it’s luckier not to wake up from the dream he’s having…”

Hajime blinks at Soda.

Soda blinks at Hajime.

“I’m not helping, am I?” Soda says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hajime can’t bring himself to respond.

“Shit, man, sorry,” Soda winces at himself, “Don’t give such a sad look! Cheer up. He’ll wake up. I mean, all of us woke up. He just has more—”

“Mental instability,” Hajime emptily chants. The words have been used to describe Komaeda’s state (and the reason for remaining in the pod for so long) so often that they’ve drilled a permanent stop in Hajime’s head.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Soda mutters, shaking his head, “Plus, his—”

“Health complications,” Hajime emptily fills in again, “I know.”

“Hey, c’mon!” Soda nudges Hajime’s side. He winces at the hard touch, but Soda continues, “You’ve said that if he wakes up, there’s a chance his body’ll be better! That’s something to look forward to, huh?”

Hajime stares at him. Soda is acting impossibly optimistic.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hajime nods, clearly not assured of himself. Soda takes it anyways.

“Right on!” Soda grins, clearly satisfied. Soda turns to Ryota and shoots him a grin while Hajime recuperates, having realized Ryota had been there the entire time.

“Well, I’m off,” Soda announces, throwing up his hands and beginning to walk off, “I’ll talk to you later, Hajime!”

Hajime nods at him shortly, unable to get his voice to work, before returning his attention to Ryota.

Ryota stares at him, offering absolutely no reaction for the conversation that just occurred. But it looked like he was forcing himself not to react, which was slightly annoying.

Hajime takes a breath, tosses a glance at Soda’s retreating figure, and looks back at Ryota.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Hajime asks.

“U-Um, what do you mean?”

“The way that I worry about Nagito,” Hajime immediately regrets the word worry, “Everyone’s acting like I’m obsessed with him or something.”

Ryota blinks at him. “Well…”

“Oh my God,” Hajime shakes his head, exasperation slapping him across the face. “You guys- You guys are impossible. Just because I care about the guy. Unlike everyone else, apparently. Just because I’m worried for him, I’m obsessed with him, right?”

He begins to walk away with a final, “Don’t bother answering that.”

Ryota doesn’t reply or follow Hajime back to his cottage.

#komahina #danganronpa #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #komaeda x hinata #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata x nagito komaeda #hinakoma #danganronpa fanfiction #im going crazy guys #ryota mitarai #kazuichi souda #makoto naegi #aoi asahina #post game #goodbye despair

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