a series of sbi oneshots

sounder

Fuck. Out of all the things Tommy thought might go wrong on his nether trip, having a piglin brute kidnap him was at the bottom of the list. Try and kill him? Sure, the Nether was like that. Tie him up with golden chains and drag him to his bastian? That wasn't exactly par for the course.

The room he was in was odd, and not like most. Insteads of blackstone, the walls were crafted of gold, and the floor was covered in soft furs and blankets. They took off the cuffs around his hands and feet, but the door was locked and there were no windows. Plus, there were at least two piglins standing guard outside. Escape wasn’t really possible.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t annoy the fuck out of those assholes holding him hostage.

"Hey fuckfaces, why don't you fight me? Too scared of big man Tommy Innit? I bet you fucks have ulsers. So many ulcers." He called, yelling any random thing to the door, occasionally earning either an annoyed or an amused grunt from one of the piglins guarding him. It was hard to tell sometimes. Other piglins always sounded hostile to him.

Though after a couple of hours of being left alone in a nauseatingly gold room, the door slammed open.

A towering, muscular pigling brute covered in scars and jewelry came in. Even for brutes, this guy was huge, easily twice Tommy’s height. He was only wearing soft leather, no armor or weapons. That didn’t exactly make him any less intimidating. 

He looked at Tommy, grunted, and narrowed his black eyes. "You're a kit."

Oh. Fuck. It was getting possessive. It was never a good thing when piglin’s got possessive.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "No I'm not dumbass. I'm a man. Full grown human adult. We are just tiny compared to piglins."

The brute's eyes narrowed further. "You're not a human, you're a hybrid." Then he glanced around the room. "A hybrid whose suppressing his instincts."

This gave Tommy pause. "The fuck? I don’t have instincts, big man. Not like yours.” 

"You are piglin enough. I see your hooves, and your tusks.” The brute glanced around. “This room should have triggered your instincts, kit. It’s made to help the littlest ones shift before they have control. But it should still effect you too. Especially after so long. Yet you’re suppressing it. Why?” He demanded.

Tommy pulled away. “I told you, I’m human, I don’t have instincts. I can’t shift or anything like that, I’m not piglin enough.” There was some lightheadedness, but that was it.

Sure, clearly Tommy has some piglin blood, but that didn’t make him a hybrid. Maybe his father or grandfather or something was a hybrid, but Tommy didn’t know his parents, so he couldn’t be sure how far back the piglin traits went.

In response to this the brute let out a squeal. It sounded exactly like the type piglins use to call for help when attached.

In a panic Tommy frantically crawled away from the brute, to the corner of the room. The brute called for help. Other piglins were going to hear, they were going to think he was in danger, and they were going to attack Tommy.

He curled up as tightly as he could, shielding his face and body from the inevitable onslaught of piglins trying to kill him.

Only after a few seconds of silence, nothing happened. Tommy glanced up from under his arms. The two piglin guards on the outside had glanced inside, looking concerned, but not hostile. The brute looked almost devastated.