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a-weird-writer · 2 years

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Romantic hand holding with hakurou next please?

Holding Hands (Romantic) With Hakurō (Hakurou)

That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

By far, Hakurō is the second gentlest, open-minded lover in the lively city of Tempest. Rated behind the one and only Great Rimuru. Always kempt and uptight, Hakurō pays no mind in intertwining fingers. A literal grasping warmth in his palm, toned delicately by his sworn promise to the samurai sword. He is eager to go above the bare minimum with you, even if that vibe doesn't give off first glance. Still a samurai to his old, feeble bones; Hakurō is as firm as his dedication requires, composed and forthcoming in the merciless heat of battle. Will remain mindful but ever professional-calm, careful strides. Crossing your boundaries are unacceptable. Hakurō swings to prove his respect and moral consideration of you, acceptance of your comforts. Patient as he is wise, Hakurō is the organic embodiment of pure resolve and perseverance. This the same man who taught stubborn-tempered Benimaru for so many years and still willingly fought alongside him when all their old hopes and aspirations perished at the destruction of their original homeland. Regardless of the misery he and his dearest people suffered in past, Hakurō is a traditional man who doesn't ask for much from anyone, least of all his beloved. And despite what his immeasurable skills may tell, Hakurō is actually quite pacifistic. He always aims to shoot for total tranquility and happiness in the future; a long, peaceful retirement with his lover. Never pushes, the deciding line in your relationship is drawn whenever and wherever you like, thoughtful of your personal bubble. Is quick to accept any hand you give him, normal or otherwise, be it broken beyond repair or the stalest part of yourself. He is happy to see you stepping up closer in your relationship, it shows you’re serious, willful and eager for affection. Either by pretending to act oblivious to your flustered sounds or give his old-fashioned laugh. His skin has gotten an attractive upgrade from the power-ups from his evolution and his Lord, his entire person hardened in super strength. No more weak, ancient wrinklies despite his age, the evolution works wonders. His hands aren't as frail as they used to be. Unbelievably pulpy to the touch, fingers long and slim, prepped incredibly by his swordsmanship.

As old men grow to be in their years, Hakurō is incredibly dismissive of the irrelevant opinions of people. Monsters or humans alike. When Hakurō holds your hand, there is a certain gentleness, like a midsummer’s breeze. This feeble looking old man is never ashamed to show how far his care goes, he'll hold hands in front of everyone at Tempest to prove it if he needs to. While he could live better without his Young Master’s constant nitpicking in his private relationship-non admittedly Benimaru’s playful bickering is endearing on some levels-he brushes it off with no worries. Your hands tangle a great deal, lost in the tenderness, rubbed pillow soft by his loving fingers. While walking beside you on the street or wondering at home? He holds it. Eating tasty meals together, enjoying time? It's held. In stressful moments, his palm immediately embraces yours with no second thoughts spared; a gentle stroke to your knuckles by his thumb. Tracing your skin with masterful touch, a bold statement under the contact; your swordsman will always be here by your side, ready to play the role of a brave knight for his beautiful princess. Just don't expect him to be flashy or extra about it.

#anonymous #anon #my writing #writing request #writing #ttigraas #ttigraas x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #request #hakurou #hakurou x reader #hakuro #hakurō #hakurō x reader #x reader #reader insert

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luxthestrange · 11 months

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TTIGRIAS Incorrect quotes#12 BOLD TO ASSUME

Tempest Citizens: If we died, would you miss us?

Rimuru & Y/n: Bold of you to assume death means you’re out of this family

...Bold of them indeed-*Looking at Shion and Gobzo*

#that time i got reincarnated as a slime #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader #ttigraas #tssdk #ttigraas shion #ttigraas gobzo #rimuru tempest #rimuru x reader #benimaru x reader #shion x reader #shuna x reader #rigur x reader #souei x reader #hakurou x reader #ttigraas incorrect quotes #tssdk incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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evilwriter-originals · 7 months

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That Darkness Was Not Bliss

A/N: Hello, everyone! I worked with @zineofgid to publish a piece of original writing. We were given permission to post the final zine piece, so here it is!

Rated: mature

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, slavery, branding, torture, blood, implied/referenced rape

Relationships: none

Word Count: 2,436

Summary: Hakur wakes after his disastrous slave revolt to find himself chained to a post outside his master's manor.

“Did we beat him too hard?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, will he wake up?”

Hakur couldn’t help the groan that left him. It wasn’t very loud, was almost a shameful squeak instead. They hadn’t beaten him too hard for him to not wake up, but oh, how he hurt. Taking stock of his body was difficult with all the pain and confusion.

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this though: in pain, unsure of where he was and what was happening. It didn’t scare him like it had the first few times. Well, it still scared him, but not to the same extent.

Until he remembered.

He remembered what was presumably the night before, what he’d done, all that had happened. How many… how many had died because of him?

Hakur wanted to scream, sob, cry. He’d killed with his own hands. He’d led a revolt.

And still here he was, waking up in chains. His hands were tightly manacled—that he could feel—and the chains heavy. He moved a little, realizing he was on his stomach, shirtless and exposed. Sun beat hot on his bruised back.

“Oh, look!” The male voice sounded excited. “He’s waking up!”

“Better get Ben, then.”

Hakur didn’t mean to do it, but a hoarse and distressed “No” left him.

There were eager, running footsteps, and then Hakur was approached by the one who had been watching him.

“Get up, you wingless bastard!” he snapped.

Hakur gasped and recoiled as a booted foot struck him in the ribs. He blinked open hazel eyes, seeing who the voice and the cruel blow belonged to. It was one of Ben’s overseers, Rigel. He peered down at Hakur through cruel, piercing eyes.

“Didn’t need to rub in the wingless part,” Hakur wheezed. At the mention of it, the scars on his back twinged. Ten years had passed since his beautiful golden wings had been cut off, and the scars were still sensitive. His vocal cords had never quite recovered from the way he’d screamed…

“I’ll rub it in as much as I want,” Rigel sneered. He nudged Hakur with his boot, a warning. “One of my friends was killed last night because of you. They only just put out the fires in the fields.” He leaned down, anger burning on his face, all Hakur could see as he looked up at him. “I should kick you till your ribs collapse into your lungs.”

“None of that.” The voice was Ben’s, and Hakur found himself trying to scramble up to stand. He didn’t want to be caught groveling like this by his master.

However, the farthest he could get was kneeling. The chains were attached to a blood-stained post that he was all too familiar with. The post itself was situated in the front yard of Ben’s affluent mansion. He liked to see his suffering slaves on full display like that.

“You’ll have time to beat him later,” Ben said, and Hakur craned his head over his shoulder to look at him. The short, middle-aged man was dressed richly in black leather pants and a dark blue coat, as if it wasn’t hot out. Granted, Hakur had faced worse heat in Nessar. His graying-brown hair was neatly combed back, and his beard combed as well.

Gods, Hakur hated the sight of him expressing such riches and cleanliness when he himself owned nothing save for the clothes he was given and had little privileges to bathe. His chestnut hair had grown past his shoulders a little, and it was stringy and matted with blood and sweat.

“Must you do it right here?”

Hakur couldn’t see her, but he knew the voice belonged to Ben’s wife, Layla.

“And why shouldn’t I, dearest?”

Hakur despised hearing him call his wife that when he knew that this man hadn’t just had relations with other women, but had raped his slaves as well. He didn’t care for his wife for more than a possession. She might as well have been a slave to him too, a pretty toy to dress up as he pleased.

“It’s unsightly in front of the house.”

Hakur quit trying to crane his head to see, and rested his forehead against the post, trying to take deep breaths. Whatever was coming for him was going to hurt—there was no doubt about that. He had to ready himself for it.

“I want everyone to see what befalls this son of a bitch,” Ben said. There was a mix of satisfaction and anger in his voice, anger at the lost numbers of workers and lost crops, but satisfaction at imagining Hakur’s punishment. “If you don’t want to see it, don’t look.”

There was a “hmph”, and then the sound of Layla stomping away.

“And what do you plan on doing with me?” Hakur asked, voice more even than he’d expected it to be, though in his usual rasp.

“Making an example,” Ben responded. He nodded to Rigel. “Gather the other workers.”

Rigel nodded and ran off, and Hakur was alone with Ben. He didn’t like that; having him behind him like this had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Though, Ben circled around to face him (and Hakur didn’t know if that was much better).

Hakur didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to. He just kept his head down, eyes focused on the ground. To think that he was once again kneeling to someone when he’d started his life so differently, with others kneeling to him. He’d been a prince, and—

“Look at me, you mangy arse!” Ben grabbed him by the hair and gave a sharp tug, pulling his head upwards.

It had been ten years under this man’s cruel whip, and yet Hakur had the spirit to glare at him. Ben glared in return, showing his teeth. So Hakur did it back, because he absolutely planned on tearing out this man’s throat if he ever got the chance… with his teeth, if need be.

He tried using his magic right then and there, something he’d thought had been broken out of him. It had been a very long time since he’d felt the burn of the iron dampening collar around his throat, but now it was there. He gave a cry, managing to pull his head away from Ben’s grip. He dropped the glare, his gaze.

Ben laughed, and it was a horrible, grating sound; not because of his voice, but because of the tone. He enjoyed Hakur’s pain. He always had.

And probably always will.

Hakur had been thinking about using his magic to burn him from the inside out, but the collar kept him from doing any feat of magic, be it big or small. He was so used to its presence that he’d almost forgotten it was there. If he didn’t use magic, it couldn’t hurt him.

It took some time for the other slaves to gather. They were quiet, feet shuffling up dry dirt.

And Hakur came to the horrible realization that they quite possibly hated him. He’d failed in his mission, his task to free them. How many of them would go without food now because of him? How many had died in the fighting? Would they all be punished like him too?

Ben turned from Hakur to face the crowd of slaves. Some looked scared, others despondent.

“Not a one of you will be punished,” Ben announced, and Hakur raised his head to look at him in shock. Was he telling the truth? “So long as none of you go near this bastard.” He stepped aside and pointed to Hakur, and Hakur kept his gaze on Ben, not wanting to see the disappointment in the eyes of those he’d tried to free.

“No one is to treat his wounds, or give him anything to eat or drink. If I, or my guards, or overseers, find anyone attempting this, they will be chained up right next to him. You understand?”

Ah, that’s more like Ben. Hakur didn’t like it of course, but he’d been wondering when the other shoe would drop.

Ben nodded to Rigel. “Get the branding iron. It’s in the hearth. Should be hot enough by now. Oh, and my whip.”

Fuck, Hakur thought as Rigel ran past them and into the house.

So Hakur was going to be branded again. He already had one brand in the shape of a sickle on the right side of his chest. He’d gotten that ten years ago as well, at the tender age of fifteen. He pressed his head against the post, trying his best not to cry.

He’d been trying to save himself and others from years of slavery, from unending work and punishment and dehumanization.

And yet here they all were.

Rigel returned, handing the branding iron to Ben, whip held coiled in one hand. Those were scars that Hakur had on his back as well. Too many times had he felt whips at the hands of Ben or the overseers. Rigel was probably hoping he’d get to do this job. Maybe he would.

Ben went around to Hakur’s back, and Hakur clenched his hands into fists above his thighs, bracing himself. This was going to hurt.

“Take this as an example of what happens when slaves try to rebel against me!” Ben called out to the crowd, his anger showing now.

It wasn’t long after that Hakur felt the heat of the branding iron. It was pressed between his shoulder blades, between the places where his wings had been, sizzling against his exposed skin. He couldn’t help it, but he yelped at the fiery pain. It was so hot and so sudden, and it just grew worse as Ben held the branding iron there to make a good mark. He was pushing on the spot, holding it there for much longer than was necessary. Tears sprang unbidden to Hakur’s eyes.

He gasped for breath once the branding iron was pulled away. The scent of his own burning flesh poisoned the air, the whiff he got of it sickening him.

“Whip,” Ben said, handing off the branding iron to Rigel, who handed him the whip in return.

“So, I heard a rumor that you killed Rayna,” Ben said, leaning over Hakur so only he could hear. He was grateful for that, because yes, he had killed his fellow slave. She was dead by his hands, and all because she’d been trying to stop him.

Maybe she should have.

Guilt swallowed him up, and it was hard to find his voice, but he finally choked out, “Just get on with it and whip me.”

“A bit eager for your punishment.” Ben straightened, and Hakur heard the whip unfurl. “I’ll take that as confirmation that you did.”

Hakur bit back a response. He had to grit his teeth in preparation anyway, clench his jaw tightly shut. He would not give Ben the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Snap!

Hakur grunted as the first blow fell, tearing skin across his already-ruined back. Blood trickled hot from the wound.

Two. He couldn’t help counting the blows in his head. He’d been whipped and forced to count out loud so many times that it was just what he did. The second one came near his new brand, but he still didn’t scream or cry out. He just grunted again.

Ben hit him harder with the third strike, yelling: “Scream, you son of a bitch!”

A cry left him. Not an all-out scream like Ben wanted, but the force of the whip had torn it from his lips.

And so the fourth blow was harder, Ben using all his might. Blood spattered the air, his back. The dust ate it up, and Hakur screamed. He’d never felt his master this angry before.

Hakur tried to make himself stop counting as the whipping continued, as each strike pulled a cry from his mouth, but he couldn’t—it was too ingrained in him to do so.

Eventually, he had to rest his entire body against the post, not just his head. His shoulder was up against it, and he kept his head down, not wanting to see the crowd before him. Humiliation was slowly digging a hole into his chest. What was worse than being tortured was being tortured in front of an audience.

His labored breathing hurt his bruised and probably cracked ribs, creating a horrible aching and stabbing in his body to accompany the whip. He doubted Ben would be done with him after the whipping though. There had to be more to this.

There was a small reprieve as Ben took time to wipe sweat off his brow and switch hands. At least, that’s what Hakur figured he was doing. He was dazed from pain, sweat dripping from his scalp, down his face and neck.

And still he counted.

Twenty one.

Hakur managed to make it to thirty before his body began to go numb. It was experiencing so much pain that it couldn’t tell one sensation apart from another anymore. It all hurt and felt like nothing at the same time. He’d never been whipped so much in one session before.

Hakur was forced to slump against the post as Ben continued, unable to really hold himself up anymore. Now he was screaming, truly screaming, the sound tearing through his ruined throat like razor blades.

He stopped counting. He couldn’t keep up with it anymore, couldn’t see straight through tears and anguish. The last number… He couldn’t remember what it had been. Was Ben going to kill him like this? Give him a slow death?

Just as Hakur was feeling like he was going to pass out completely, just as he wondered if this was his fate, the whip stopped. He couldn’t hear anything over his own sobbing, couldn’t feel anything save for blood soaking into his pants.

Ben said something, but Hakur couldn’t decipher what it was. Hopefully he wasn’t speaking to him and expecting an answer.

A sudden kick at his side. Hakur fell flat to the ground, gasping, trying to find his breath. Then a fist in his back, hitting the mess of new wounds. He didn’t have the strength to struggle against this.

He just laid there and took the beating like he was supposed to. He could feel consciousness leaking from him, being stolen with each blow.

Eventually, there was nothing left to steal, nothing more his body could give, and darkness took him. That darkness was not bliss, but Desolation, because in it, he could still feel the pain.

#whump #gid #gid zine #whump zine #slavery #branding #torture #implied/referenced rape #blood #original characters #original writing #OCs #fantasy #fantasy whump #Hakur #graphic depictions of violence

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evilartist37 · 6 months

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Day 16 - Amputation

@ailesswhumptober

“One gone!” one of the men shouted as Hakur’s right wing gave way and came off. Or, at least that’s what Hakur thought was said. He was too busy screaming to really make sense of it.

Or anything, for that matter. All he knew was excruciation, and that his right wing was gone. Never again would he fly. From now on, there would only be pain.

“No!” Hakur screamed as hands grabbed at his remaining wing. That one would be gone soon too, and he would be a prince of the Nessari no longer. They were doing this to make him a suitable slave.

There was no going back.

Hakur shrieked as the bone saw began its awful slicing at the base of his left wing. The men doing this to him laughed, and Hakur knew he would forever hear that laughter in his dreams.

#ailess whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #whump #whump art #blood #gore #Hakur #OC #original character #fantasy #art #my art #digital art #original art

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honkadori · 8 months

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twined around your heart - omake

"But he told me he'd be only a minute," Shion huffed, her gaze returning to their lord for the upteenth time.

With a smooth move of his hand, Benimaru guided her back towards the garden. "He'll be here soon, don't worry."

“She’s right, though,” Shuna’s voice startled him from behind, as she peered over his shoulder, “I wonder what's taking so long…”

Trying to keep also his sister at bay, he parroted Rimuru’s excuses, “He stayed behind to wait on the storm dragon while he finished the sacred text…”

"But at this rate, Rimuru’s going to miss the start of the fireworks!” Shion shrugged Benimaru’s hands off of her and slid away from his hold, once again looking at the veranda.

"Oh!" She gasped, "They're not there anymore!"

A feeling of dread washed over him, instantly mirrored when he looked at Souei next to him. Ever since he dragged Shion away from the veranda, he knew what was going to happen between their lord and his partner, only he wished he was wrong. While Souei silently stepped inside his shadow, Benimaru scrambled to find some more excuses to pacify Shion.

He pasted on a conciliating smile, even though he felt more like grimacing. "They surely have matters of importance to discuss," he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling dry, “Matters that obviously demand the utmost privacy.”

Such feeble excuses could fool a simple girl like Shion, but not his sister. The second he spoke those words, he felt rather than saw the piercing gaze Shuna directed at him– a cutting glare that triggered an instinct in him to bolt and hide behind a rock. Then again, the situation was far too critical.

So, Benimaru kept strong, refused to crack under pressure, and simply gave her a wordless shrug.

That earned him an even harder glare. The thing is, he was well aware of Shuna's unwavering, and deep loyalty to their lord. In her best interest, it was best to let her remain blissfully ignorant, much like everyone else. But if it wasn't ever-growing difficult maintaining this charade. As his general and one of his closest confidants, Benimaru held profound respect for Rimuru, and he would never go against his wishes. However, there were moments when he wished Rimuru had a better awareness of his surroundings.

Shuna cocked her head, pursing her lips. "So important that he won't tell us too?"

Benimaru didn't have the heart to tell that sometimes, it's wiser to keep even the closest allies in the dark.

That celebration for their lord's ‘coming of age’ a few months back was enjoyable, until it bordered on overbearing. It went on for over three whole days, and while their lord appeared to be participating genuinely, there were moments when a disgruntled look would cross his face, whenever he believed no one was watching. Since then, Benimarutook it upon himself to ensure he lived his private life in... well, privacy. Keeping Shion and Diablo in the dark proved to be the most difficult, as their tasks required them to remain in close proximity to Rimuru at all times. Surprisingly, the demon turned out to be less troublesome than expected— Benimaru only had to keep him away from Rimuru’s study once. That time, the demon stood still for a moment before abruptly turning his back and walking away, his unsettling chuckle echoing eerily through the corridors.

Clearly, Benimaru would never have managed this impossible task without Souei's support. Considering their always open communication link, Souei was well-informed about their lord's every move, which proved incredibly useful when dealing with impromptu meetings between their lord and his partner (much like the current situation). Besides, it had always been impossible to keep any secret from Souei since their childhood days.

Shion's mumble cut through his thoughts. “I don't get this…”

“There are things we aren’t privy to…” Benimaru almost added luckily for you, but he held himself back in time when his sister looked at him through slitted eyes.

Unusually petulant, she crossed her arms. “He's been spending a significant amount of time alone with the storm dragon recently…”

“We have to be patient,” he offered lamely to her.

He was about to say something else to her, but Souei's return to Benimaru drew his attention, his figure materializing in the shadows behind the ogre.

"In the tearoom," he whispered to him. He was leaning his ear to his wrist, listening– rather, eavesdropping on their lord. "Already in foreplay, fifteen minutes at most."

That was a lot. A short time for an... erm, encounter, but a very long time to keep people occupied. Thankfully, he and Souei had prepared extensively for such situations. Words were unnecessary; both knew their roles perfectly. While Souei directed his squad to patrol the garden's perimeter and guard the main building, Eric clapped his hands and flashed his most charming smile.

"Let's all move closer to the lake, so that we can relax while the show starts," he told the rest of the group, which all immediately complied and walked to the lake. His commander skill surely came in handy in these sort of occasions.

Getting to her feet, Shuna softly patted her kimono. "Is this an attempt to move us away from somewhere specific, I wonder..."

He chuckled nervously. "Well, there are trees around here that could obstruct the view..." He felt as if he could shrink beneath his sister's intensifying stare. "Aren't there?"

Almost nothing could unnerve Benimaru, but he couldn't stand Shuna's silence. She glanced at the veranda for a moment, then turned back to him and whispered, "You're not covering up something inappropriate, are you?"

He vigorously shook his head. "Of course not!"

Her eyes slitted even thinner than her eyebrows, all under Shion's confused gaze.

"What's inappropriate?!"

At that, Shuna's expression melted into an agreeable smile and she linked her arm with Shion's. "Nothing at all!"

It never ceased to amaze Benimaru how effortlessly she could shift from one mood to another.

Her tone turned gentle as she tugged Shion along. "Come on, let's go enjoy the show."

The ogre protested, "But..."

"Rimuru will join us shortly," she turned to Benimaru, and a shiver ran down his spine. "And if our lord doesn't, I'm certain there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation."

He nodded at them, but actually he was going to leave to Rimuru the explanations, thank you very much. After all, he was already working overtime here.

His eyes followed them as they walked away, reassured when he saw them sit down by the lake's shore. Just one urgent task remained, a contingency plan in case things got a bit loud on his lord’s part. Swiftly, he hurried over to the hobgoblin crew responsible for igniting the fireworks. He managed to intercept them just in time, as they were already preparing to light the fuse. With a few quick words, he asked them to hold off for a couple more minutes and start the fireworks only after receiving his signal.

Following that, he climbed back up the hill to survey the group from above. The night was clear enough, and everyone was enjoying the starry sky while a nice summery breeze caressed them. Benimaru nodded in approval for a job well done. Now, all that remained was to wait patiently, ensuring that no one approached that tearoom for any reason.

But no sooner than he let his breath out (exactly at the eleven-minute mark) Souei signaled him. Benimaru’s eyes widened in surprise. Already?! Luckily, his arm was faster than his brain, as he motioned to the fireworks crew to begin. At the same time, a thunder hit a bush right behind him, making the poor ogre jump out from his skin. The subsequent loud crack almost went unnoticed as the fireworks commenced. The night sky was instantly painted with vibrant bursts of color, capturing everyone's attention as they looked up to enjoy the dazzling display.

A bit electrified and panting, Benimaru let out a sigh of relief.

It all went according to plan, like always. To everyone else, Rimuru remained their their pure leader.

He looked towards Souei to give him a thumbs up, which he reciprocated. The ogre then stiffened and signaled to his squad to hide in the bushes. Benimaru's eyesight was very sharp indeed, for even from a distance, he distinctly saw his lord emerging from the tearoom with his partner draped over his shoulders, and... Was the storm dragon half naked?!

Benimaru quickly averted his eyes, feeling a burning blush creep up his cheeks. He could handle being aware that something had transpired, but delving into the explicit details was a different matter altogether.

His gaze remained fixed on the lake, its obsidian expanse mirroring the vibrant hues of the fireworks above.

He was ready to go to great lengths for his lord, sure... but a small part of him wished Rimuru exercised a touch more discretion.

#tensura #benimaru #shion #shuna #souei #the whole ogre squad #at least the more beautiful #rip hakurou #and poor kurobe

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tanjaded · 2 years

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Main character chart for my fanfic That Time I Got Isekai'd Again as of the Awakening Arc

It's not really polished but I'm tired of working on it so it's done

#youjo senki tensura crossover #that time i got isekai'd again #youjo senki fanfic #tanya von degurechaff #mary sue #mary sioux #shuna #rimuru tempest #i couldn't fit all the trivia i'd wanted so if anyone wants to know trivia on a character feel free to lmk #If I were to add more characters the next one would be Milim #After that idk #souei or souka or hakurou maybe #or veldora and luminous but they're not in the story yet #my art

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kaminohana · 1 year

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ok you know what? i would fuck this old man

#i kinda respect hakurou as a character but GOD he needs to lay off of gobta. let my fail son be cringe #also YAAAAAY ive been wanting him for a while. now time to kick gobta's ass so he loves me

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mhk-87 · 3 months

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Would you like to become Rimuru's best friend?

(^_^)

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thewritetofreespeech · 11 months

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Can we get the aftermath of Y/N giving birth of them and Benimaru's child? Where the executives are celebrating and Rimuru gets to be the honorary uncle to his right hand man's child? Please?

“I hear by call this meeting of the official naming ceremony to order.” You let out a sigh as Shion tapped her gavel on the table. Rocking your new born infant in your arms.

The baby was doing well. All plump and pink now, with a tuff of flaming red hair that refused to stay down. It had been a few weeks since you had given birth and everyone had given you & Benimaru space to bond with the baby. Coming over occasionally to sit and coo, but in uncharacteristically calm order.

Then, today, out of the blue, you got a note that you and the baby were summoned to a meeting of what seemed like every person you had ever known. “I still don’t know what’s going on….”

“It’s time we all came to an agreement on what [B/N] is going to call us.” Shion explained. “We all can’t be called the same thing. That would be confusing, and unfair.”

“They can’t even talk.” You remind her again. The first time you reminded her was when she was at the house and trying to get them to say ‘Shion’ as their first word. “Besides, can’t they just call you Aunt or Uncle what’s-your-name?”

“NO!!”

The unanimous shouting startled the baby, who began to cry, but you quickly calmed them down.

“Now, I will start us off.”

“Why do you get to start us off?” Milim squawked.

“Because I have the gavel.” Shion snarked back. The two women glared at each other for a considerable moment before they broke off in a huff, and Shion continued. “Now, I’ve thought long and hard about this and I would like to be called…Aunt Shion.”

‘Didn’t I just suggest that?’ You thought to yourself.

“Excuse me, Shion.” The sickly sweet voice of Shuna spoke up. The sickly sweet voice that usually meant danger was near. “I believe, as Benimaru’s true blood sister, it should be I that [B/N]-chan calls Aunt.”

“We can both be ‘aunt’.”

“Didn’t you just say that it would be ‘confusing and unfair’ to share names?”

Shion huffed and folded her arms. Bested by her own words. “Fine! Come back to me. Souei, what do you want your name to be?”

“Souei.”

“You can’t just be called Souei. Besides, the name is too hard for a baby to say.”

“Souei….nee.”

Shion sighed. “Hakurou-san, what’s your name?”

“I think I would like to be called ‘Jiji’.”

“You want to be called ‘grandpa’?” You asked. Just to clarify.

“I’m much older than any of you.” He said. “ ‘Uncle’ just doesn’t seem to fit with a man my age. Plus, I must admit, the feeling of the word ‘grandpa’ warms my soul.” He even let out an old man ‘ho ho ho’ at the thought.

“I wanna be called Onee-chan!” Milim announced.

“That won’t do.” Shuna told her. “What happens when Onii-chan and [Y/N] have another baby? You’ll have to change it all over again.”

“Another baby?” Did you not just have this one?

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it.” Shion said. Making an executive decision and hitting her gavel. “Now, I have come up with my name and it shall be….Auntie Shion.”

The room clapped as if Shion had made some brilliant discovery, while the secretary beamed at her brilliance. “You guys are weird.”

The doors then opened and Rimuru-sama and Benimaru walked in. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently everyone decided they needed a meeting to figure out what our infant child will call them.” You explain.

“Oh. Can the baby call me Muru-kun?” Rimuru-sama asked, and the room erupted in another fit of excitement. Waking the subject of the meeting again from their nap.

AO3