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raggaraddy · 3 years

Note

Can you please do a yandere hyung line reaction to MC being jealous and tries to hide it ( For jin could you please make it as his wife has come back for a short holiday or something)

A/N: My brain did not want to do the writing thing the last couple of days, but I got there. I think these stories are good? but somehow they all ended up a bit soft. I hope you like them though 🤞 because it was a great request! Thank you 💜💜💜

@blacksnow160

Summary: Hyung line reaction when you get jealous.

Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood-drinking, murder, abuse, yandere themes.

Alpha! Namjoon

Normally you didn't consider yourself clingy. You enjoyed your personal space and your time alone. But at the same time, you've also become accustomed to Namjoon dropping everything to take care of you. This entire week though, he's been preoccupied with a territorial issue, and the last 3 nights he hasn't even come to bed.

Leaving you feeling a little discarded, to say the least.

Nevertheless, you're a mature adult, and you were able to let it go with the knowledge that Namjoon is an Alpha who has responsibilities and knowing that he would still rather be with you.

It is, however, a comfort that you have trouble holding on to whenever you see the new girl around him. It's not like you're jealous. It's just that she doesn't seem to know how to behave respectfully or appropriately around Namjoon. She always stands too close or looks at him a bit too much, and she's way too touchy. Only his elbow, arm, or shoulder. But it's like, get your fucking hands off him.

Rationally, you know Joon is your mate and you own his heart, mind, and body. Still, it doesn't stop you from tossing restlessly, laying in bed at 2 am, once again alone. The two things added together making you feeling sour. Feeling sick of being sent away while this other girl gets to stick around being way too familiar with your Boyfriend.

Coming downstairs in your pyjamas, you weave in among the wolves working your way to Namjoon. Standing at the dining table, looking over a mess of paper, he notices you right away a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n, what are you doing up?"He asks, checking his watch.

There she is again, right next to him. Her hand casually coming off his shoulder when she sees you.

"It's late. Go back to bed, Beautiful." he coos.

You ignore his instruction. Wrapping to his side by pushing yourself between him and this girl, creating space for yourself with a not-so-subtle shoving of your elbow into her arm. Smiling up at him sweetly as he accepts your presence, hugging you tightly.

"We're going to be busy most of the night. You should go to bed." he leans down to whisper, his breath tickling your ear. He's trying not to draw the focus from the rest of the table into your personal discussion.

"I'll go up when you come with me." You whisper back.

"It's going to be a few more hours still baby." He sighs, seeming frustrated with the circumstances.

"Then I'm staying here."

"You shouldn't-"

"Don't argue with me Kim Namjoon. You're not going to win this one." While it's said in jest, you also mean it. He'll have to drag you upstairs to make you go. And if he steps foot in that bedroom, you both know you'll be able to make him stay.

"Oh really?" He challenges, fighting the smile growing on his face, not wanting to encourage your mischievous behaviour.

Grabbing the collar of his black tee, you pull him down to your height, smacking your lips against his. Kissing him passionately and longingly. Something you haven't been able to do for nearly a full week.

Letting his shirt go, his smile is fully grown. His dimples on display.

"Really." You finalize, looking up at him coquettishly.

You can see the struggle playing in his mind. He's extremely tempted to throw you over his shoulder and take you upstairs right now, his wolf fighting to shirk his responsibilities and give in to desire. His chest rumbling lowly as he winks down at you.

"Okay baby." his fingers dig into your hips, "If you're gonna play dirty, you can stay." He teases with a chuckle. Resisting the bait.

Feeling calmed and relaxed on the warmth of his hold again, a smug sense of pride fills your chest. From the corner of your eye, you can see her attention on the two of you. Your ego is not able to resist, and you shoot a cold pointed glare at her. A smirk creeping onto your face as she looks down, avoiding your eye line.

"Seeing as it's late, do you wanna make coffee for everyone?" You order her in the form of a question, speaking loudly enough for both her and Namjoon to hear your sassy, obvious tone.

She looks a little stunned. She'd just been promoted to the inner circle for this problem-solving session, and she doesn't seem pleased at being asked to perform menial tasks. Trying to go over your head, she looks at the Alpha for confirmation. But he doesn't give it to her. Instead, you can feel him nod, supporting your order. A full smile filling your face as you get his backing.

"Of course, Luna." she obeys, looking a little dejected.

"Thank you." you shoo her to action with a sing-song voice. Curling into Namjoons side, you can't help but feel authoritative. And a little bit victorious.

King! Seokjin

It had been nearly two weeks since you had seen Jin last. As frustrating as it was, you were genuinely missing him. There was a kind of energy he had when it was just the two of you. Something that filled you, and without him you were feeling like your own spirit was draining away.

It would be okay though, today Jin was coming back from visiting his wife and children. You're sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. That he was as excited to see you, as you were to see him. You were a little worried knowing that you would have to satisfy his sadism first, but you can tolerate it, thinking that at least you'll get to see his smile.

As the day is drawing to an end, you've finished all your tasks but you refuse to retire for the night, certain the King is going to call for you at any minute. Feeling a mix of excitement and relief when the staff manager comes to collect you.

Nearly skipping you rush to the dining hall, having been instructed to serve dinner to the King and his guest. Working with another maid to bring the meals from the kitchen.

Walking in, the smile you were trying to conceal disappears completely. Your stomach dropping. Jin's guest is the Princess. His wife.

You have to control your expression to hide your distress, feeling sick while serving him. His wife never comes down. She hasn't in a year and a half. Jin doesn't even really like her. It doesn't make sense why she's here.

With a curt bow, you remove the closh and place the plate down. Meeting the King's eye for a moment, you do your best to placify your appearance. Your efforts cracking when you see his lips pulling ever so slightly into a knowing smile.

He dismisses the other maid, but not you. Sending you to the waiting station by the wall. You're stuck watching over their conversation. Feeling more and more insecure as you look at the Princess's regality and beauty. Getting more frustrated as your mind runs rampant.

How long is she going to stay? It doesn't seem like they brought the Princes, so she has to go back soon. And what kind of mother leaves her children alone? It doesn't even matter that she's here, you know Jin likes you more. So what if she is really pretty, he can't hurt her like he can you. You make him happy. She's just a prop he was given to secure a treaty. He actually chose you.

Slowly, you're building yourself into a craze. Making yourself feel sad until the very end of the meal. Finally, their dinner date ends and he stands, kindly bowing to see her off. Leaving only you and him in the hall.

Relaxing back in his seat, he finishes the remainder of his drink.

"Y/n." Holding his empty glass to the side, he calls you over. You follow his gesture and top up his cup. Avoiding looking directly at him again. Pacing back to your place when he stops you.

"Come here." He grins, enjoying how uncomfortable you are. "You met my wife today." He pushes the difficult topic, again probing for your reaction.

Nodding softly, you're trying to not let your bitterness out. You know Jin doesn't like it when you pout.

"Are you jealous Princess?" He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you closer to him. Leaning back to create a space for you on his lap. Guiding you over him with your legs spread.

"No, your Majesty." You shake your head, your pause and hesitation giving away the truth.

Jin's gentle touch comes off your hand, his grip instead ripping back your hair, arching your back and nearly yanking you off of his lap. Biting back a shriek, you can't keep entirely quiet, whimpering as his fist curls tighter and closer to your scalp.

"Are you lying to me?" His mouth latches onto your shoulder, biting into your muscle vindictively. Unbridling that scream you had tried to smother.

"Yes. I'm sorry your Majesty!" you cry out, tears building in your eyes. "I'm jealous. I missed you. I want you-" all the truth is pouring out, but you hesitate worried you're being too bold, "all to myself."

His grip comes out of your hair. His hand instead raking down your chest, leaving painful red marks as each nail digs along the skin. Continuing lower, tearing the buttons on your dress. Yanking down your bra also, exposing your breasts. His other hand hikes the fabric up around your thighs, stopping on your waist, lowering your hips into him.

Pinching your nipple, he draws you closer until his lips are just off yours. Gasping through the initial pain, you can only whine and bite your lip to further keep quiet.

"Go on Princess. Prove to me why I should have missed you."

Assassin! Yoongi

Over the past couple of weeks, Yoongi would be gone for days at a time. Coming back in a strangely talkative and happy mood. You were as miserable and depressed as always, but his vigour was somehow revitalizing and comforting. It made him easier to deal with. It made him less moody. And it made your life easier. So to begin with you were very happy that he was happy.

That was until he mentioned a name in passing. A woman's name. Someone he was working with on a project.

As soon as you heard him talking positively about her, a pang of anxiety spiked through your stomach. From then on it rested in your gut, making you irritated, uncomfortable, and flustered every time you heard about or thought about her.

It was the strangest thing. You hated Yoongi, you're sure of it. But he was all you had. And hearing him talk about another woman, even though it sounded platonic, the adoration in his voice was hurting you in a way you never expected.

Slowly you had to work through this feeling on your own. You couldn't bear to let Yoongi know, not certain what he would do with the information that you were, in lack of a better word, jealous.

The more you heard about this woman, you knew you could never be as impressive as her. Every detail sounding equally terrifying and awe-inspiring. To be honest the specifics slipped your mind, as you were mostly wrapped up in self-pity when Yoongi spoke about her.

All you know is that you felt inferior, and you were craving, longing to feel that kind of importance to Yoongi, also. Resenting the fact that this other person was so easily able to bring joy and energy out of him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you spent every waking moment thinking about how to make Yoongi happy. Not just avoiding annoying him, like you usually did, but instead thinking about how to bring him genuine enjoyment.

One time you spent hours making him a meal. Making something you knew he would love. But, unfortunately, he only complained about the mess. He said he wasn't hungry and left you to throw the food away and clean up.

Another time, you had planned a full evening of activities. Movies, snacks, games that would help you get to know each other better, anything fun you could organize with your limited resources. Only, he wasn't in the mood to play, or talk. He only wanted one thing, and when he was done, he left you alone in your room, feeling used and a bit sore.

However, that gave you an idea. Maybe you could connect with him physically first. Then that might give you a way for something, anything more to develop.

This time, you set the house up with candles, music, wine, chocolate strawberries, everything you'd seen in movies. Waiting for him on the couch in something a little provocative. But, as soon as he comes in from the garage he looks more annoyed than impressed. Rolling his eyes, ordering you to your room.

By this stage it's late, you're tired, and you're losing your mind trying to make him happy. You were fighting so hard for his attention, and he was barely tolerating you. You aren't thinking clearly as you snap at him.

"Why?!" You yell, stomping your foot down. "I'm working so hard and you're just being an asshole!"

The words come out and you instantly regret them. His straight expression hardening.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his chest trying to soothe any reaction. "Just tell me what I can do." You plead. Exasperated by so many failed attempts.

"That depends. What do you want?" He honestly questions, looking down at you.

You weren't exactly prepared to answer this question. You're not sure you really know.

"I'm your's right?" you say with big eyes, your voice coming out so softly, feeling embarrassed even though you're mimicking his words. "I get that I have to be yours. But then you have to be mine too." Your voice trembles.

Finally, it makes sense to Yoongi. Your change in demeanour, and in behaviour. Why you've been so needy. Why you've been trying to get his attention. He understands now. And that was most of what was annoying him. Not knowing why you were acting differently.

He steps out of your grasp, calling for you to follow him upstairs. You're not so nervous as you do. Surprisingly, the revelation has given Yoongi has a warm smile.

Falling back onto his bed, he taps the space beside him, inviting you to join him. You climb into the middle of the bed, resting in the place he set for you, his arm laid out under your head. He curls into you, gently wrapping his arm over your waist. Hugging you.

For the first time ever, he is showing you some kind of affection. For the first time, he's actually making a gesture of warmth and comfort. You couldn't even let yourself think that Yoongi could be capable of this. Having spent so many months isolated and alone. Even when you weren't locked up.

Hating yourself for not being stronger, you break into silent tears. Biting your thumb to stifle any sobs.

While reason is battling in your head, telling you that it's a bad idea to form any kind of emotional attachment to him, you don't want to listen to logic right now. Letting yourself cling to Yoongi and the desperately needed human connection.

Vampire! Hoseok

There was a delicate balance to your relationship with Hoseok. You couldn't exactly rely on his moods to be stable, but you could rely on his obsession with you. It was the only thing that kept you feeling secure. Feeling certain that when he bit you next he wouldn't let you bleed out. Or that when he hit you or cut you or hurt you, that he wasn't going to leave you to suffer in agony but would heal you. Because he wanted to keep you. You were his.

It was a twisted kind of reassurance. But it's what you had, so it's what you worked with.

You knew the source of his obsession. It was you as a person, sure. But you weren't kidding yourself. Mostly, his infatuation was with your blood. Hoseok wasn't specific about it, but you had overheard some of the other Vampires discussing you. Apparently, you smell delicious, and that's why he never lets you wander the house with any cuts. That's why you were locked away every 28 days. And that's why you were his only.

It didn't make sense to you, there was nothing different about you.

But somehow you'd fallen in and become the star of your very own YA horror story.

Whatever the cause though, you were aware that Hoseok's addiction to your blood was the reason that he kept you. Without that, he might simply kill you, or worse, he might throw you to one of the other bloodsuckers who look at you like a happy meal they want to fuck.

Which is probably why you were so defensive when you saw him biting another girl.

Sitting on the back terrace looking over the gated property, Hoseok and a few of his creations were sitting in the moonlight enjoying a drink. You'd come downstairs expecting to be his refill when you see him sinking his fangs into the arm of one of the human pets.

Frustration floods through your body, a new kind of anger making your hands shake. A malicious and honestly, not-all-together thought out idea springs into your head. You've never seen him drink from anyone else before, and you need to remind him that he should only want you.

Taking a serrated peeler from the bar at the side of the terrace, you hold it concealed in your palm, going up to the first Vampire leaning there.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask, speaking lowly. He, like all the others, know you're Hoseok's, and so he rightfully looks uncomfortable being near you. Stepping into his personal space, you raise your arm under his chin and run the sharp blade across the top of your forearm. His eyes immediately going black, his fangs bared. Unable to resist what you're offering.

Behind you, every single one of them turns their heads, smelling you the second blood gathers on your skin.

In a flash, Hoseok is between the two of you. Ripping his teeth into the guy's neck, tearing his throat out. Killing him in an instant.

Breathing heavily, he turns to you with blood washed down his front. His eyes murderous and cold.

Retaliating, you storm towards the human-pet and shove her with all of your might, pushing her down the stone tile steps onto the grass. Watching her tumble into a heap.

Those around you have gone dead quiet, none of them even daring to look directly at either of you.

"How dare you?" He seethes, stalking towards you. But you're not backing down. You know better than to retreat from him when he charges.

"How dare I?" you scream. "How dare you drink from that skank!" An enraged Hoseok is something all of his offspring know to fear. Steadily you can see them clearing the space around the two of you. Withdrawing from whatever this is leading to.

"You want to tell me who I can eat?!" He growls, his hand shooting around your neck, holding you but not choking you. "You're a blood bag that I keep as a toy!"

"If that's all, then I'll let all of them feed on me too."

His hand constricts, restricting your air. "I'll kill anyone that tries."

"Then," you gasp, your words coming out short. "only me." you pull your hair off your shoulder, turning your neck as far to the side as you can. Throwing his head back, he takes the invitation, sinking his fangs into your jugular, swallowing down mouthfuls of your blood.

Holding onto his shoulders, you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. Hoseok's arms wrapping around your ass, keeping you up.

Pushed back by your momentum, he stumbles a few steps, dropping down onto the open sofa chair. You landing on his lap, straddling his thighs.

As more of your blood is drained, and you get lightheaded, the pain starts to slip and your body starts to float. A euphoric sensation, akin to being high consuming you.

You tangle your hands up into his hair tugging it, massaging his scalp. You've become so accustomed to him fucking you when he feeds from you, that whenever he bites you, you get turned on. Your body reacting out of instinct. Slowly grinding down, rocking your hips into him as you start to get him hard. The friction feeling good making you moan. Making you move faster with pleasure tingling through your core also.

"Hobi," you moan. Shivering, as his tongue runs up your wounds.

Your gentle whine catches his attention. A surprised expression on his face that shifts into a smile as he leans back to watch you. His focus on you making you feel slightly embarrassed, slowing your motions until they stop altogether.

Biting his tongue, your eyes meet for a moment before he kisses his blood into your mouth, the copper taste feeling soothing and familiar. Your body relaxing completely knowing you'll wake up healed.

"Mine." He whispers into your lips.

The blood loss pulls you into unconsciousness, your head dropping onto his shoulder. The euphoric feeling swallowing you up as you purr back. "Mine."

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 3 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could please write something about how the Fellowship (+ Thorin?) Would help a s/o who's Disabled and Chronically ill. Like she has a lot of symptoms like chronic pain, chronic fatigue, difficulty sleeping, difficulty breathing at times, difficulty walking at times, higher sensitivity to the cold, difficulty talking at times, and anxiety, depression and executive dysfunction?

I've been really struggling with my chronic illnesses lately, namely my Autism, Anxiety, Sleep Apnea, a really bad Overbite, Raynaud's Syndrome, Asthma, etc, so I'd really appreciate an Imagine like this. I have a really weird disorder where one of my legs is longer than the other, and it's been causing me a lot of pain and difficulty walking lately, and people have been bullying me for it a lot too, so I could really use a Comfort Imagine right now. Thanks so much hun!!

It's no problem! I'm glad I can provide some comfort!! For each character, I'll use a specific struggling area, to make it a bit easier!! I hope I got these accurate enough, and of there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out!! You are strong, beautiful and so, so amazing!! Keep being you!! ❤❤

Help (The Fellowship// Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Aragorn (Autism)

Aragorn has known you for a long time, so helping with your autism is not new for him

He's particularly experienced in reading your emotions and meeting your needs, whether it's helping you out of stressful situations or calming you down, he's there 🥺

If there are large and boisterous gatherings in Rivendell, its almost guaranteed that you can become over-stimulated quickly, and Aragorn immediately senses this (spidey senses õoõ)

He's fast to find your hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance

If that doesn't seem to help, he'll instantly stop what he's doing and take you out of the room

If you're someone who prefers lots of space and little physical contact, he is 100% respectful of this and asks if you'll let him touch or hug you (very much gentleman 😌)

If ever you're confronted by someone of importance, Aragorn is right by your side to ease some of the tension

Sometimes there are things you find difficult to say or get out of your system

The king seems to know exactly what it is and will help you out by saying it or asking you simple questions that you can easily answer

And he always reminds you, no matter WHAT

YOU ARE NOT STUPID 😤😡

You may struggle with some parts of your life, but every day, he's constantly telling you that you're very intelligent and kind

His patience is unending and he'll never let you think down on yourself

Overall, Aragorn is always someone and reminding you that it's all going to be okay ❤❤

Legolas (Anxiety)

Most nights, Legolas keeps watch (since elves don't require much sleep) and notices that you jolt awake out of the random

Now, most of the Fellowship notices that you're usually awake and ready to go before anyone else

But Legolas is really the one to address you first

You were a bit nervous to explain, since you didn't want to worry him or the great of the fellowship, amount the other disadvantages you have

He gently encouraged you, and finally, you explained to him your sleep apnea

Yeah, he was very concerned

I mean, his blue eyes widened with terror when you told him that you could basically die in your sleep if you weren't attentive enough 🙃

Legolas, from now on, sleeps directly next to you, or keeps extra careful watch over you at night

Because he could NEVER see his precious mortal friend become injured... Or worse 🥺🥺❤

The other members had noticed a change in his behaviors towards you as well...

Gimli teased him whenever he caught Legolas giving you some extra lembas bread or offered to carry you 👉👈

You really tried to assure Legolas that it wasn't a big deal when you were awake, since you're aware of your breathing situation

But still 😤

Legolas will always bring you comfort and take great care of you, and that will NEVER CHANGE

Because he loves you very much ❤🦋

Frodo (Anxiety)

Frodo is familiar with the feeling of great anxiety, seeing he had a stress-free life while living in the Shire and suddenly was forced to carry a piece of jewelry all the way to giant ass volcano

It's easy for you two to comfort each other and seek refuge in thoughts and feelings ❤

He's not super comfortable with the thought of you having a panic attack though...

Only because he's never had one

It starts to give him a panic attack whenever you have one around him the first time 😳-

Any time you begin to breathe heavy or hyperventilate, halfling boy is hot at your heels, rubbing your back and reminding you to breathe gently

(So many hugs, if you're up for it)

After you calm down, he's constantly checking on you, asking if you need anything etc.

Really, he just wants to know if he can help 🥺

And even with the weight and stress of carrying the ring, Frodo manages to cheer you up somehow

Samwise (Asthma)

Sam has never had to deal with asthma once in his life

He's very nervous when the subject is brought, afraid it might trigger something inside of you 🥺👉👈

But you just chuckle, assure him that it's alright, and you have ways of keeping it under control

And now, he wants to know everything about it, just to have the awareness in case something happens

Sam just wants to protect you forever, and this was a great way for him to start

He constantly reminds Aragorn that you'll need breathing breaks and will convince Gandalf to let you ride on his horse

He'll scold Pip and Merry if they are trying to drag you around and be silly, because as he says

"You'll rouse him/her/them up! We can't have Y/N gettin injured!" 🤨😠

Sam is MOM

As always, he's very kind and always makes sure your needs are met ❤🥺

Pippin and Merry (Raynaud's Syndrome)

Very confused halfings 🤔

Also extremely concerned!

You were eating one of the lesser pleasurable nights

It was cold and rainy, and a fire couldn't be started, not to mention the quiet arguments of Aragorn and Gandalf in the nearby woods

And Pip's eyes widened when he saw the tips of your petite fingers begin to pale upon hearing Aragorn mention Orcs

"What's wrong with your hands?!" He squeaked, pointing towards your now white-colored fingertips

You hadn't even noticed, nor felt, considering they were numb anyways

Merry looked over his cousin's shoulder and his eyes also widened, not with fright, but wonder

They were both fascinated with your condition, convinced that you were casting some spell Gandalf showed you

Although you reassured them it was just an extremely frustrating inconvenience that you had, among other things

So from then on, the disastrobus duo did their best to keep you out of the cold (and stressful situations!!)

As a distraction, the pair will tell you great stories of the shire, doing little dances and skits that always cheer you up 🥴

Sometimes, they can be a little rambunctious though...

Merry will pick up on this fact quickly, and nudge Pippin to get him to calm down

Even though it may not feel the best

They find your syndrome absolutely fascinating!! 🤔🤔

All in all, these two are always up for keeping your beautiful smile on your face and your spirits high!! ❤🌺

Boromir (Depression)

Throughout the journey, Boromir has always found an easy way to make you smile

After all, he himself has a fascinating way of brightening anyone's spirits

Yours included ❤

Boromir may not have great stories from The Shire, like Pip and Merry, but he sure has a lot of positive things to say

He'll often suggest sparring with the two troublemaking halflings, just so you can see him goof up and get knocked over 🥺

If the nights become cold and weary, he'll give you a warm hug or a nudge on the shoulder

And a few words of helpful encouragement along the lines of;

"Don't fret Y/N. You have more strength than you'll ever know."

"Let our spirits never dampen! We've come this far!" 😊

He's also an incredible listener

Boromir wants to hear what you have to say if you ever need to rant or get something off of your chest

And don't think for a second that he would ever judge you 😤

Son of Gondor sees past all of your insecurities and knows you for your beautiful, amazing self ❤❤

Gimli (Walking disadvantages)

As you travel across great plains and mountains, your limp doesn't go unnoticed by Gimli

It may take him a while to open up about it, since he's afraid he might offend you in some way

And once he asks you, you inform him that it's a difficulty that unfortunately cannot be changed any time soon

And where you come from, lots of people tease and bully you about it

He did NOT handle it well 😳

"wHAT BLUBBERING DULL-MINDED PIGNUTS-" 🤬

Although this Dwarf is short and a bit slow at times

He's fascinatingly strong 😳

And so, he makes it his duty to be your designated carrier 🥺

At first, your a tad skeptical...

I mean, he's only around 4 feet tall...

BUT HAVE YOU SEEN HIM THROW THAT HUGE AX AROUND?!

Gimli will happily carry you great distances when you need a break, and even longer

(Sometimes it's just to show off around the others-)

"Gimli, are you sure you don't want a break?"

"Aye lass! The strength of Dwarves is unending!" 😌

*struggling to breathe*

11/10, fantastic dwarf, will never let you down!!

Thorin (Executive Dysfunction)

Another Dwarf??

Absolutely

Thorin himself has trouble keeping composure with his time management (and sense of direction 🙄)

This means that he'll have an undying amount of patience for you and you only

There's just something about you that he fond of, and it fills in that little sassy, brooding place in his heart

Can also relate to you whenever you grow frustrated at the setback of your journey or lack of sleep

Is 100% willing to help you find your lost belongings (and once again, ONLY YOU)

Thorin will literally make the whole traveling party stop so that you can put something in your bag and make sure that you put it somewhere you'll remember

Always happy to give you extra gentle reminders of keeping your pack closed

The company is utterly SHOCKED with how he treats you

I mean, this man has always been extremely stubborn and hard headed

But when you show up, it's another person he can easily relate and share frustrations with

Also a master at organization?!? 🤔

The one thing he could do successfully was organizing the damn journey and traveling company, so ofc he's gonna be good at that 😂

Yeah, Thorin definitely has a soft spot for you

King under the mountain will never run out of patience and kindness for you 😌💙

Sorry these took so long!! I hope you like them!! ❤❤

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allensimpsforcorpse · 3 years

Text

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎? 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚠. | c.h

Pairing :: Corpse Husband x F! Reader

Requested :: by Anon

Summary :: In the middle of pre-stream Proximity Among Us, reader's ex asks everyone a question that Corpse and Reader took as a chance to jokingly destroy him

Warning/s :: Crack fic, Swearing, Corpse and Reader making fun of Reader's Ex, Ex is named after a friend of mine lol

A/N :: I absolutely adore this request! I certainly had fun writing this, thank you for requesting, Anon! I hope it was worth the wait! Taglist (for all my future Corpse fics and my one multi-chaptered fic) and Requests are open

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I laughed as (y/n) continues to sing Let It Go from Frozen purposely out of key, making it hard to properly do the Calibrate Distributor task due to how hard I was laughing at the moment. Thank whoever is up there that we were not streaming at the moment, god knows how much I will be teased or be called a simp by my fans for what is currently happening. I can hear some of our friends laughing as they got close enough to hear her singing and I even saw Toast slowly back out of the electrical!

Finally, I finished my task and started to run out of the room. As much as I adore being around her, her singing will make it hard for me to finish my tasks. I know she's one of the imposters, she told me so earlier, but decided not to kill me. Instead, she decided to distract me by singing disney songs out of key and damn was it working perfectly.

Just as I was about to start my Simon Says task, a meeting was called. At first I thought (y/n) had finally gotten bored and killed me, but I was, luckily, mistaken. Everyone started asking what's up until Ryan cleared his throat to signal that he was about to speak. Ryan is a small music based streamer and is (Y/N)'s ex. I was a bit skeptical of him at first when we first met but gave him the benefit of the doubt after (Y/n) reassured me that there was no hostility between them and that they broke up on equal and mutual terms.

"I have a question for you all, it's important." he said. He sounded serious, but we all know he's not. We can clearly hear him trying to hold back his laughter. Now, what does this man have in plan? It better not be another earrape, I swear to god-

"Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?"

"Nope. Absolutely not."

(Y/N)'s quick answer sent us all into a fit of laughter, I could practically see Ryan's jaw dropping at her answer. I slammed my desk a good couple of times before trying to regain my breathing. Everyone else were still laughing as Ryan struggles to form a reply after that. And to make matters worse, or better, I decided to join in.

"I hope it sucks whatever you're going through"

My reply sent the group into another laughing fit and I would be anxious of crossing lines if Ryan's laugh didn't join them. Even all the way here, I could hear (Y/N) laughing from the other end of the hallway of our shared apartment. Through the call, I heard Jack say something along the lines of 'I hope it sucks?' in between his laughter. And just as everyone is calming down, (Y/N) strikes again.

"I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life"

"I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you"

At this point, I think (y/n) and I will end up killing our friends with our comments. Even the two of us were having a hard time holding back our own laughter! Ryan wasn't able to do anything other than laugh alongside us, probably in disbelief as his own plan backfires. He clearly forgot how chaotic (y/n) can get and with me around? Double Trouble. Although, (y/n)'s last comment may have been what hit the last nail on our coffins.

"I can't wait to go through your funeral knowing that I could've changed that outcome"

We were all wheezing and trying to catch our breath as we laughed, some of us has resulted to banging our desks like me. Even (y/n) was laughing just as hard, tho I can feel tge smug energy from her as her comment almost turned everyone into Chrysippus. I could hear Ryan trying to form out a sentence in the midst of his laughing spree. Man, now I wish we were streaming or at least recording for, maybe, a video. This was a great moment to keep around.

"Dude, I just wanted to know if you would be there for me!" Ryan wheezed out, practically laughing his lungs out.

Eventually, everyone calmed down enough for all of us to catch our breath for real. Only a small laugh and giggle here and there are left, I couldn't keep the smile off of myself as I finally notice that the meeting that was called has long since ended and our characters are all just standing in the cafeteria. I quickly got away from them, wanting to fully catch my breath without bursting into another fit. I see that (y/n) followed after me, her cute giggles echoing in my headset.

Taglist :: @apple-slice-of-your-laifu-blog

#corpse husband #corpse husband fandom #corpse fic #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfictions #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #corpse x you #amigops

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books-and-catears · 4 years

Text

Okay so I've been thinking of writing this for a while now. (Spoiler alert for chapter 16-20)

After MC is brought back to life, everyone approaches them as Lilith. And everyone seems to be all over them as if they weren't just almost killed by Belphie.

So MC feels uncomfortable over this whole thing. Not only do they feel like a replacement for Lilith but they can't even tell anyone about the trauma of almost dying cause they are demons, they can't possibly sympathize with human fragility. Well maybe one of them can.

The only brother who didn't know Lilith firsthand. The only brother who has spent centuries studying humans and reading all about their emotions.

Satan.

Tags: Angst, Hurt, Comfort

Only You

GN! Reader X Satan

"Ah MC...It seems you have only a week more left in Devildom." Lucifer announced in the middle of breakfast.

Everyone paused and stared blankly. Even Beel stopped chewing and put down his sandwich. You smiled, "Ah I was guessing it might be. Thank you for confirming, Lucifer."

One more week and then you could stop pretending to be okay. One more week of being Lilith. One more week of holding in your trauma. You smiled at the thought of being free of it all.

Everyone around looked dejected. Mammon was the first to break the silence, "Oi! You both are kidding right?!" Lucifer shook his head sternly.

"Ah how unfair! It seems only yesterday we met MC!" Asmo piped in.

"B-but we have so many animes left to finish in our watchlist, MC! And so many games we're still waiting for release!" Levi whined.

"So we can not have MC's cooking anymore?" Beel asked sadly.

"I barely got enough time with them! And you all are complaining?!" Belphie said, annoyed.

Satan was still silent. You looked at him only to find him staring right at you. You blush and look down, picking at your food. No matter how many times he did that, you still couldn't get used to it.

"You must have missed home a lot MC. Happy to go back?" Satan asked softly into your ear. You nodded slightly.

Then you felt your chest tighten. You did want to leave but that would mean no more Satan. You wanted to open up to him. If there was anyone among the brother's who could understand you - it was him.

After breakfast was over you stopped everyone before they left for class.

"Um..since it's my last week here, I have a request on how I want to spend it." You announced. All the brothers nodded and stared attentively.

"I will spend one whole day with each of you individually. And the order will be Beel, Belphie, Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Asmo and Satan. Is everyone okay with this?"

Everyone shared confused glances at the sudden statement but obliged never the less.

The rest of the week flashed by and soon it was your last day. Satan's day.

You woke up early that day, already prepping his parting gift. A bookmark made of dried flowers, with two petals on top shaped like cat ears, inside your favourite book from the human world.

"MC? Are you awake?" Satan called out, after knocking on the door.

You were still dressed in your flimsy pajamas but who cares? You ever going to leave tomorrow anyway. You put on some cat ears and called out, "Come in Satan!"

"Good morning MC, I think you'll like what I've planned for-" Satan stopped in mid speech. His eyes widening at the attire that did a fine job of wrapping around your body seductively.

"Good morning...sorry I was too busy to freshen up haha.." You apologize. "Wait for me here, it'll only take me a few minutes."

Satan nodded, hiding his blush behind his golden locks falling all over his cheeks as he lowered his head. You sighed. How was he so beautiful early morning?

Satan held out his arm like the gentleman he was as you prepared to leave for your date. "Take my arm, MC. We have lots of places to be."

You chuckled and did as told. "I can hardly wait."

You spent the day as if you were in a Romance novel. Cat Cafe, the bookstore, walking in the park watching the setting sun, holding hands. Satan really knew the ways to your heart.

After the sun set, you returned to the house of Lamentation.

"Would you like to come to my room later? We could read your favourite book together one last time before you leave?" Satan requested, his fingers still interlocked with yours.

"Yes..." You nodded, "I was going to ask you the same..."

"I'll be waiting." Satan said, walking you to your room and reluctantly letting go.

After dinner when everyone was asleep, you sneaked into his room. He was wide awake, waiting. He was sitting in his bed in only his black t-shirt and jeans, reading a book. The room was dark with only candles providing enough light to read. He looked up when you called for him softly.

"Satan I'm here...sorry for making you wait.." You said sheepishly.

His eyes lit up and he held out his hand for you to take. "Come sit with me."

You joined him on the bed. He swiftly put an arm around you, holding you snug against him. You could smell his scent and feel his breath on your cheek.

"I got something for you. It's not much but.." You handed Satan your gift.

"A gift? For me?" Satan saw the cover of the book and flipped to where the bookmark was. "That's... beautiful. Thank you MC I can't believe you'd- wait what's this?"

He fished out a long strip of stray paper in the middle of the pages beside the bookmark.

You remembered what it was and tried to snatch it away. How did this even get in there?! What the hell?! "IT'S NOTHING!", You scream

Satan smirked as he held it beyond your reach and started reading it. "A poem for Satan? That doesn't seem like nothing MC."

You tried getting up to gain better access to snatch the paper from him. "DON'T READ IT I SWEAR IT'S NOT SOMETHING SERIOUS. I WAS JUST BEING SILLY!"

Satan tightened his grip on your waist and started reading it out loud to your utter humiliation. You struggled in his grip, gave up and hid your face instead. He stopped midway.

"You read it to me." He demanded.

"Like hell I will!" You rebutted.

"Please." He splayed out his fingers on your back holding you close. His locks tickling your nose.

"N-no. It's embarrassing. I can't-" You started but he looked so dejected you gave in. "Fine but you have to look away from me."

Satan swiftly turned his face away and nodded. You cleared your throat nervously and started.

"Dear blonde boy with the sea in his eyes,

I'll be gone soon, so I'm done with the lies,

I've liked you for a long long time,

But it's too late to impose now, so I guess it's fine?"

"You see me for me, like I see you for you,

Everyone else, they just put me in her shoes,

But these shoes don't fit, they're not mine

And I'm sick of having to toe this line."

"But with you, I'm better, I'm more like myself,

And I can't thank you enough for all your help,

For your kindness, smiles and touch,

You always save me when it gets too much."

You stop. The next part of the poem feels like oversharing. Maybe you should have talked to him about this first. He squeezes your arm, asking you to continue.

"Satan I should explain this-"

"I know. I've known this for a while. But I want to hear this first please continue."

Shakily, you continued.

"I feel his fingers on my throat, unforgiving and unkind,

Help it's getting dark...am I going blind?

I let out a tiny scream with whatever voice I have left,

You're the only one here who didn't turn deaf."

"So replace his touch with yours, with your fingers so gentle and nice,

Hold me, warm me, I feel as cold as ice,

I wish I was a kitten, in your care,

You may be full of wrath, but I was never scared."

"But I'll be gone soon, I don't want to return,

But for you my bookworm, my heart will yearn,

Blonde boy with eyes of sea,

One last time, will you kiss me?"

You had barely finished when Satan spun around and cupped your face. He peppered some kisses on your lips, going upto your ear. He nipped at your earlobe and you let out a soft gasp. His face felt warm and flushed.

He placed his head against yours and sighed. "I can't get enough of you. How do I hold myself back when you're showering me with this much love and that too so beautifully?"

He wrapped his arms around you protectively. You instinctively buried your face in his chest and put your arms around his torso.

"You don't need to hold back..." You whisper.

Satan stiffens. "MC, you don't know what you're asking for."

You hold him tighter, lifting your head you place kisses on his jaw and nibble on his shoulder. "I know."

"Then I won't hold back any longer" He says, slowly pushing you down against his pillows.

He reached down and removed your slippers off your feet. "A part of me suspected you might feel this way. But you're not Lilith. You never will be and you don't have to pretend to be. You're MC. And that's all you need to be."

You looked away, outside at the moon. "Tell me honestly...if I didn't have Lilith's bloodline, would you all care the same way?"

Satan held your chin and turned your face towards him. He may never have been an angel but awash in this silvery moonlight, he certainly looked like one.

"Remember when I told you how much I hated being a part of Lucifer? And you told me that I'm my own person. You told me there was more to me than my wrath."

"Of course." You reached out to hold his face. "You're the smartest demon I know. And your love for cats and literature is unparalleled."

"Well then you're the only human who has swayed my heart. The human so strong and capable enough to bring a semblance for harmony to a dysfunctional family of demons." He smiled gently, running his fingers in your hair.

You felt warm inside. Atleast there was someone who liked you for you. You were so happy you could cry.

"As for what Belphie did, I made sure you never really alone with him." Satan said, now intertwining his fingers with yours. You give him a questioning glance.

"Remember the book of defense spells I gave you? I cast one on you whenever he's in the vicinity. It will render him useless if he dare attack you." He said, matter of factly.

"You knew...? But I never told anyone." You said, confused.

"I know. You held it in for our sake didn't you? You repressed it so much. I can't imagine what kind of hurt you went through." Satan's fingers tightened around yours.

"But one night, you fell asleep in the library. I went to put a blanket on you when I heard you mumbling for help. You kept saying it hurts and you can't breathe. And then you said Belphie's name and asked him to stop hurting you."

"I was so furious I rushed straight to the twins room. I was going to yank Belphie out of bed and renact what he did to you. But Beel woke up and stopped me. I told everyone in the morning before Belphie woke up. You've never been alone with Belphie ever since. One of us always stayed nearby."

You listened in utter shock. "You...you were protecting me all this time?"

Satan nodded, "Well I can't take all the credit. My brother's helped too. But just know that you're not a replacement for Lilith. And Belphie's an ass who doesn't know how to apologize. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. I know it's your last night here, MC... so I'll make this one worth remembering."

You smiled and pulled Satan towards you for a kiss. "I'm glad I saved the best for last."

#obey me satan x reader #obey me smut #obey me headcannon #obey me game #obey me fanfiction #obey me oneshot #obey me satan #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me imagine #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me levi

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #ya boy is a simp and also technically not a boy #i am ill defined and like it #please appreciate this #if you put nice things in the tags I WILL read it #and I WILL love you for it

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pockydays · 3 years

Text

unravel me

⤷ characters: tsukishima x gn!reader

⤷ synopsis: in which you notice tsukishima struggling to peel the tape off his fingers during study hall. what you didn’t notice, however, was how much he had the ability to find his way into every aspect of your life, until it was too late.

⤷ word count: 6.3k (longest fic to date woohoo!)

⤷ contains: fluff, slight angst, acquaintances to friends to lovers (?), mild language, my (insanely) wordy writing

⤷ a/n: i’m not even lying this took me weeks to write and it’s my baby :] most of the dialogue in this is probably hot shit but if you enjoyed please leave a like/reblog :3: mwah mwah ily all thank you for being patient with my slow ass <3 and thank you to my dear friend abby for beta reading the first chunk of this story, if you read this ily <3

You've always considered yourself as someone who wasn't especially generous. But you weren’t incredibly selfish, either. You were in some sort of grey area, too indifferent to care about what society says about people who aren't willing to go so far as to sell their souls to the devil for the common good. But you weren't heartless, either. You cared, usually out of mutual convenience. Isn't that what everyone does? Ninety-nine percent of the time, helping others (undeniably) involves genuinely good intentions, but they coexist with selfish motives as well. Then what about that one percent?

That one percent, in fact, came to you in the most inconspicuous of times: during mid-day study hall.

You found yourself going through the motions of your everyday routine: walking into the classroom, saying hi to your friend in the third row, putting your bag on the desk, pulling out your chair, sitting down, taking out your notebook and pencils, and waiting for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a (supposedly attractive, or at least according to whispers among your female classmates, which was bold of them to assume that he even liked girls in that way — you weren’t one to burst their bubbles) tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave.

And after that, if he responded with a slightly snarkier tone than usual, you knew he was having an especially bad day (more likely than not, it was because of the volleyball teammates he often complained about). But as for the real reason why, your guess was as good as anybody else's. He probably had piss in his Cheerios every morning and his trousers in a twist until the end of time for all you knew.

But today was slightly different than usual. For one, a full minute had already passed after you took out your pencils and yesterday’s chemistry notes, and there was still no sign of him. For some unknown reason, you couldn't stop the worry gnawing its way into your conscience. You rested your chin in one hand and drummed your fingers on the desk with the other, trying not to think about your classmate with a sharp tongue and a glare that could kill. Of course, trying to not think about something is a form of thinking about it, so that didn’t exactly work out.

The bell suddenly rang, jolting you out of your thoughts as well as your seat. Tsukishima Kei was now officially late, according to the school rules. Thankfully, your study hall advisor was lenient and understanding enough to not mark anybody late if they arrived within a reasonable time as to not tarnish their transcript, but you knew Tsukishima well enough to know that he wouldn’t care about a single unsavory comment that would only have the slightest potential to alarm admissions officers in those money-hungry institutions.

That was one thing you admired about your classmate. His ability to judge what things to put his effort into and selectively choose what he could get away with doing half-assed was unparalleled. As far as you could tell, volleyball was something he didn’t deem as worthy to put his all into. You weren’t usually wrong in such judgements about people, but then again, you’d only been right, let’s say, a total of three out of three times. You weren’t sure if it was considered a really good or really bad track record, so you’d always kept those sort of assumptions to yourself.

“Not going to say hi to me today? That’s awfully rude of you,” a voice said, out of the blue. You tense, wondering who had the audacity to call you rude.

“What?” you asked incredulously before you could realize where the voice came from. “Oh, it’s you,” you said, recognizing his inhumanly tall frame and the pair of white headphones around his neck. I should’ve guessed; of course only he’s brash enough to say something like that.

You rested your chin in your hands again, the tension in your body visibly dissipating. You were glad that it was just Tsukishima and not some other person, because they would be a pain in the ass to deal with. Plus, he was just about the only person you allowed to speak without a filter; one, because it’s fun verbally sparring with him, and two, it makes his stunned silence after you counter with an especially witty phrase all the more satisfying.

This time, though, he sat down at the desk to your left without a word. Usually, he would never pass up the chance to have another round of firing tasteful insults at you. Today was indeed slightly different than usual.

As he clicked the top of his mechanical pencil, you couldn’t help but notice a flash of white one his hands out of the corner of your eye. Did he always have that on his hands or was I just horribly unobservant before?

Leaning over to his seat at a dangerous angle, you asked, “Hey, what’s up with your fingers? You have leprosy or something?” in hopes of lightening his supposedly gloomy mood.

“Shut up,” he muttered irritably. “If I had leprosy, my fingers would’ve fallen off by now and I would’ve put one in your lunch as a keepsake,” he added. Shifting away from you in his chair, he tried as much as possible to make his (in your opinion, unconventionally lanky) body as far away as possible from your general vicinity.

“Okay, okay, geez! At least tell me, because now I’m curious and it’s all your fault.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bothering me?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Maaybee...?” you replied slowly, trying to find an answer when a simple “yes” or “no” didn’t suffice.

“If you’re not going to stop bothering me, then I don’t have a reason to tell you, so no,” he frowned, crossing his arms self-righteously.

“Alright then, keep your secrets, mister. I don’t care whether you tell me or not.” Which wasn’t completely the truth, since some tiny part of your conscience thought that wrestling the answer from him was for the better. “But just know that I’ll continue to be my annoying self, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you turned your attention back to your chemistry notes.

A few silent minutes passed before you leaned back over to his desk on the left.

“Hey mister, do you have some pencil lead? I think I ran out,” you whispered to Tsukishima.

He heaved what you thought was the biggest sigh in the universe before responding, “Point-five or point-seven?”

“Tsukishima, you wound me! I thought you knew that I write exclusively in point-five!” you exclaimed with a hand over your chest, feigning offense.

He rolled his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him count out three pieces of lead. Three, that’s generous, you think to yourself as you suppress a small smile.

“Thanks, mister,” you whispered as you plucked the delicate sticks of graphite from his fingers. Taking a quick glance at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were wrapped in some sort of adhesive tape. Before Tsukishima could catch you looking for too long and make some snarky remark about how absolutely positively beautiful his hands were for you to be staring, you abruptly turn back to your notes and refill your (actually already lead-filled) pencil. If he wouldn’t answer your question, it wouldn’t hurt to take things into your own hands and figure it out for yourself, right?

You looked back to the notebook in front of you, but with your curiousity still unsatiated, you couldn’t help the thoughts bouncing off the walls of your mind, competing for your undivided attention.

Ask him about it! a voice yelled.

Mind your own business, you creepy fuck! another (particularly foul-mouthed) one screamed.

At this point, you’d probably read the first line of your notebook about thirty times without comprehending a single thing, so you decided to give up and resort to banging your head lightly on your desk.

Apparently, 'lightly’ was an understatement, because a voice on your left hissed, “What’s your problem?!”

Oops.

“Nothing,” you replied softly with your head still on the desk.

Tsukishima sighed in exasperation. “Well, now I’m curious and it’s all your fault,” he scoffed, using your own words from earlier.

Now it was your turn to sigh. Stubborn person number one meets equally stubborn person number two: one of life’s most aggravating experiences.

“C’mon, let me see your hands,” you demanded, your own hand outstretched. You’ll say ‘no’ no matter what I ask.

“No.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and turned away.

Point proven.

You had always considered yourself to be somewhat generous when circumstances permitted, yes. But being yourself around others was something you considered yourself to be quite good at, as well.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if people’s hearts had metaphorical layers of thread surrounding them, winding, twisting, wrapping, and sometimes tangling around and around the ugliest, scariest, or most precious parts of themselves. The people you met would either unravel a bit of your heart, even if just a little bit, or they would cause you to wind the threads of your heartstrings even more tightly.

You had strings that were (sometimes laughably) effortless to unwind, but once someone got to the last layer of thread, they refused to unravel any further. In other words, you weren’t afraid to be ninety-nine percent yourself around everybody. But that one percent? You’d keep it safely tucked away behind the impenetrable fortress of that last previous layer of thread — for both the good of yourself and everyone else.

Sometimes, you also wondered what the threads wrapping around Tsukishima’s heart was like. Not because you particularly had more of an interest in him than your other classmates, but because he was a sort of enigma to you. You had countless questions: How hard is it to unravel those threads? and What lies beyond those tightly wound strings? and What did he have to hide that is so unsightly? et cetera, et cetera. He was a puzzle you wanted to piece together, although you weren’t sure what the finished product would look like, or if there even was a finished product.

You had a lot more questions about Tsukishima than you did answers.

You must’ve been deep in thought for a while, because it took an utterance of some rather coarse language to bring you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Tsukishima muttered, fiddling with the tape covering his fingers. It was evident, after about ten seconds of observing him, that he was getting nowhere. At this point, you were presented with two choices: to help him or to leave him to wallow in his own frustration and suffer. Admittedly, the latter option seemed rather entertaining, but for some unknown reason, you opted for the former.

“Here, let me help,” you said, hand extending in front of you as an offer. “You obviously aren’t getting anywhere, so let me put you out of your misery.”

“You better get it all off then,” he grumbled, outstretching his arm, letting it limply dangle in front of your face. Huh, I didn’t expect him to actually agree so easily.

You gently took his hand, and starting with his pinky finger, you worked your nails under the end of the tape. As the tape unraveled further, you couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were. They were long and slender in ways that yours weren’t — the magnum opus of all things relating to hands. If God played favorites, he certainly did when it came to Tsukishima’s hands. Geez, knock it off, you cringed inwardly. You’re literally worshipping his hands at this point.

“So, uh, why are your fingers covered in tape?” You hoped to break the awkward silence between the two of you, and asking him questions that he probably wouldn’t answer (especially to plebeians like you) seemed like the last resort.

“Volleyball practice,” he responded simply.

Oh. I didn’t expect an actual response.

“This morning? You guys sometimes have practice early in the day, right?”

“Last evening,” he corrected.

“You had these on your hands for that long?! I see you’re finally getting serious about volleyball, my dude, but you have to be able to ask other people for help." People other than me, but if I’m your last resort, then I’d be happily obliged to help.

Tsukishima scowled, which, thankfully, you missed, busy undoing the tape around his fingers. At least you didn’t criticize him for being hypocritical regarding his attitude about volleyball, which was relieving.

There was a substantial (and slightly awkward) pause as you peeled the white adhesive strip of cloth off of his fingers, working slowly enough so that it wouldn’t hurt, or so you hoped.

“There we go!” you exclaimed proudly as the last of the tape fell away from his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally, not unlike a newly hatched butterfly would flap its fresh new pair of wings.

“Thanks,” he responded curtly.

As if on cue, the bell rang, marking the end of study hall. It was time for chemistry class.

Over the course of your next class, your mind with occupied with thoughts that weren’t even remotely related to chemistry. You almost had a close call with the teacher when he called on you to answer a question, but thankfully, your friend sitting next to you whispered the answer in your ear — though not before giving you a quizzical look. You were too embarrassed to say that you were actually thinking about why the hell you actually agreed to help the guy sitting the next seat over whom you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

I did not just touch his hands no no no — I did not just hold hands with Tsukishima Kei — It wasn’t really of my own volition and he looked like he really needed help and I was feeling generous and it conveniently benefited the both of us, right? He got to finally be free from his misery and I— I got to touch his hands—

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you buried your face in your hands, and perhaps some of the threads around your heart unraveled themselves that day.

Thus, after that day, your everyday routine changed in more ways than one. You would into the classroom, say hi to your friend in the third row, put your bag on the desk, pull out your chair, sit down, take out your notebook and pencils, and wait for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave. If he still had tape around his fingers (which was quite often), you’d ask him if he needed help; he’d say yes, and you would spend the next however many minutes undoing the adhesive strips of cloth.

Today was no different. You carefully eased the tape away from Tsukishima’s fingers. When you got to the base of his ring finger, he hissed in pain. The skin there was red and raw as if it had been recently injured. Not as if, it had been.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wincing as if you were the one in pain. “How’d you get hurt?” This time, you were genuinely concerned for him, which was rare for anyone, especially him.

“The one time I put some more effort into volleyball as if it were actually worth something, it comes back to bite me,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

You looked up from his hand.

“What?”

“I said, somehow I always give the things that I swear off from my life a second chance, it never, ever, works out,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can’t get better out of sheer will? You’re bound to slip and fall on your butt at least a few times. Or a lot,” you responded.

“Nobody told me that falling would hurt this much, though,” he replied. He looked off to the side, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“It’ll get better, trust me. You just have to get back off your ass and stand up.”

You left the conversation at that and continued undoing the tape on his other hand.

I want to kiss his hands like I’m greeting the crown prince of a foreign kingdom, you thought, lips twitching, fighting back a small smile.

Oh my God, stop it! you mentally slapped yourself. You had to restrain yourself from actually slapping yourself in the face. Meanwhile, the uniform you wore began to feel a bit too warm — it was quite convenient that Tsukishima couldn’t see your face at that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Tsukishima's thoughts weren’t nearly as calm as his cool and collected exterior.

After all, what was he supposed to do when he could feel your breath fanning on his hands (could he tell you were desperately trying to keep them steady?) and your meticulous fingers on his?

I must be going crazy, he thought.

He imagines holding your hand, and not because of that dumb finger tape-

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the idea from his memory. No, I’m definitely going crazy.

“So, do you like him or something?” your best friend asked out of the blue during a sleepover, the both of you laying in the darkness on your sleeping bags.

“Who?” you asked, though you had an idea of who she was referring to.

“Tsukishima. That guy who sits to your left during study hall.”

“No, why would I like him? I mean, how can you even tell if you like someone or not. It’s not like there’s a radar that detects crushes and blasts ‘OH MY GOD YOU’RE HOPELESSLY IN LOVE’ on speaker,“ you replied dryly.

“Do you feel different around him?” she asked.

“As in the cliché symptoms of love that you read in romance novels? Like you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest and you have to clutch your shirt like it’s gonna pop out onto the floor if you don’t? If that’s what you’re asking, then no.”

“I mean that could be a sign, but you don’t have to feel like that to like someone. I mean in the way that you’re willing to show them who you really are, including all the ugly parts of yourself that you wouldn’t show to other people.”

Of course not! you thought to yourself. There’s no way I would fall in love with someone that I argue with for fun, right?

“Why do you always complain about those tryhards on your volleyball team? You can always quit, you know,” you asked after Tsukishima was in a particularly bad mood about something, presumably about volleyball (as it usually was). As per your daily schedule, you were unraveling his finger tape during study hall once again.

“Don’t they know that the more effort they put into something, the more it’ll hurt when they find out everything they believe in is a lie?” he asked.

You paused. Oh, it was an a genuine question, you realized. And he wants a genuine answer.

“Such as?” you asked, your mouth acting quicker than your mind. I probably shouldn’t have pried deeper into something that’s obviously his business.

He went ahead and responded anyway, but not before taking a deep breath.

“When I was little,” he began, “I looked up to my older brother a lot. I really respected him, you know? He was my idol; he was perfect and infallible in every way. He played volleyball in junior high, so it was only natural that I played the same sport he did. And he continued playing throughout high school, or so I thought.”

“Or so you thought?” you repeated.

“He lied to me.” With those four words, you heard years and years of resentment and bitterness through his shaking voice, barely above a whisper.

“To be honest, I should’ve expected it,” he continued, laughing humorlessly at himself. “I was too enamored to realize that when he was trying to stop me from watching his games, he was also trying to stop me from finding out that he was a liar. He wasn’t even a starting player. Instead he was on the bench, cheering for the team he was supposedly on.”

As those words left his mouth, you realized how little you understood Tsukishima. No, it was honestly ridiculous how you could consider yourself his friend when all you did was unwind strips of tape from his fingers for a mere few minutes every day.

Despite that, you held his hands a little tighter.

“If you don’t mind, I had a similar experience in junior high as well. This girl that I was really close friends with apparently had a huge circle of friends outside of school, and she would tell me and my other friends about all the rich guy friends she had and how well they treated her and shit. But I found out years later that they were probably all made up so that she could have something to tell us. So that she could keep us in her friend group. I realized they were fake.”

You let go of his hands, your arms limp at the memory.

“And how are you two right now?” Tsukishima asked. “Your relationship, I mean.”

“Surprisingly, we’re still on good terms,” you said. “She still doesn’t know I found out. But despite her pretending to be someone else in front of us for all those years, I still don’t think she’s a bad person. I’m actually kinda glad she got the attention she wanted. But man, the past still hurts like a bitch,” you chuckled in an attempt to forget.

“I see,” he replied. With that, you picked up his hand once again, continuing to undo the tape around the rest of his fingers.

That day, both you and the once unyielding, stone-faced Tsukishima left the classroom knowing just a bit more about each other.

You didn’t know that day that Tsukishima had his first real conversation with his brother after ‘the incident’.

He didn’t know you gave that friend from junior high a call for the first time in two years.

And the threads around your hearts unwound themselves just a bit more.

“No, I don’t,” you finally responded after a long pause. “I don’t like him in that way. He’s just someone I can rant to about the shit that happened in junior high—”

“Say that again, but slower,” your friend interrupted.

“He’s someone that I can rant to about all the... stuff that happened in the past,” you repeated. Did she not hear me the first time?

“Exactly, that’s my point,” she responded. “You never talk about those things with anybody, and even when I bring it up, you just brush over it.”

The weight of what your friend was implying took far too long for your brain to register, but when it did—

“Oh shit, I think I might actually like Tsukishima.”

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart bit by bit through the conversations you had with him while unraveling his finger tape; it was where you opened your heart and he opened his.

“You and Tsukishima aren’t a thing, right?” a voice asked you out of the blue in the hallway after the dismissal bell rang.

“What?” you asked, turning your head to see who it was. You recognized her, although you struggled to put a name to her face. “You sit in the back of our study hall classroom, right? And to answer your question, no, we are not a thing.”

Such questions were becoming all the more frequent these days, and you had the same two-letter answer to all of them (although you secretly hoped you could answer yes, but how Tsukishima felt about you was a whole different story).

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure you two aren’t dating? Like you could just be going out with him and not know it,” she answered.

You held back a snort that almost escaped your lips.

“No, I’m sure we aren’t,” you said with a sigh, trying to keep your tone remotely cordial. “Besides, I’m not sure if he even considers me as a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure he considers you as more than that,” she replied with a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. “Trust me.”

You barely knew her, so you couldn’t say how credible her statement was (though you desperately wanted it to be true). You glanced at the clock, itching to end the conversation.

“Alright, then. I’ll take your word for it. I have to get home now though, seeya.”

“Seeya around then,” she replied with a wave. Why does that sound strangely ominous?

“Bye,” you answered, too mentally drained from the conversations that began with the same question: ”Oh my God are you dating Tsukishima?” (Answer: no, no you weren’t). Nonetheless, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that you haven’t seen the last of her just yet.

She appeared the very next day, in the same spot at the hallway after school ended. That’s... strange.

You decided to ignore how off-putting it was. Maybe it was her wide smile — so much so that you could see her dimples and her blinding white teeth. Or maybe it was the way she spoke, like she was trying to get something from you. Whatever it was, you didn’t have what she wanted.

“If you’re asking whether Tsukishima and I became a thing within the past twenty-four hours, then no,” you said in exasperation. She was now walking by your side with an odd spring in her step, a bit too close for comfort despite the empty hallway.

“No, that wasn’t my question,” she said with a chuckle. “You keep denying that Tsukishima doesn’t like you, but I think he does.”

You had to scoff at that.

“In what way?”

“In that way,” she responded with a knowing glance. “You’re already in the talking stage with him! He never talks to anyone other than that one friend he has, so I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

“And that totally means that he’s in love with me.”

“Please, don’t lie to yourself. You’ve gotten farther than anybody has, even if they tried for their entire life. How did you do it?”

But I didn’t do anything, you thought.

“I just talked to him about stuff,” you replied slowly. The look she gave you said go on, so you did.

“I just talked to him about myself and deep stuff and shi— and such. I really didn’t do much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. Why don’t you try and ask his friend Yamaguchi?”

“No, I think I’m good,” she said with an unreadable tone. “Well I gotta go, so see you tomorrow!”

“....Bye,” you replied halfheartedly. You tried to shake the unsettling feeling from your chest, but you couldn’t help thinking, What if he does like me back?

The volleyball made a resounding smack against the court behind the middle blocker instead of his hands. Tsukishima clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Another ball that I couldn’t block?

“Hey, use your smartass head for once and pay attention!” Kageyama yelled across the court.

Tsukishima ignored his taunts.

“Oh, the smart mouth finally doesn’t have any words left to say? Finally some peace and quiet,” Kageyama muttered.

Practice continued for far too long, but the whistle finally blew, signaling everyone that it was time to go home. Finally, Tsukishima thought. I don’t have to listen to the King spew nonsense anymore.

He and Yamaguchi gathered their belongings and made their way out of the gym.

“Something’s on your mind,” Yamaguchi commented as they walked back home side by side.

“No there isn’t,” Tsukishima replied a bit too quickly to sound convincing.

“Right.”

A long silence ensued, the two of them kicking pebbles on the road and twiddling their thumbs in the cool night air. The buzz of the electric street lamps felt much too loud, feeding off the tension in the air.

“How can you tell that you like someone?” Tsukishima was the first to break the silence, but it was the question, not the fact that he was the one that spoke first, that was more jarring.

“So I was right,” Yamaguchi responded after a slight pause. He fought back a small smile and added, “I thought something bad happened that I didn’t know about, but it turns out that you’re just in love.”

The taller one of the two sighed.

“I’m asking you to tell me if I... like someone in that way, not for you to tell me that I am, Tadashi.”

“I can’t make a judgement if you don’t tell me anything. Tell me.” Yamaguchi lightly punched his friends arm.

“There’s this... classmate of mine. They asked if I needed help peeling off my finger tape during study hall and I said yes.”

“I figured as such.”

“What?”

“You always come into first period with your fingers still wrapped but it’s gone by the time practice starts. I always wondered why but I never got around to asking you. But I’m even more surprised at the fact that you actually agreed.”

“Yeah, I surprise even myself sometimes,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Especially the fact that it would become something that they would ask pretty much every day, and I would say yes every time. I just don’t know whether I have feelings for them in that way or not.”

“Well, do you look forward to talking to them everyday?” Yamaguchi asked.

Yes.

“Do you want them to know you for who you really are instead of what people think you are?”

Yes.

“Does your mind wander to them all the time?”

Yes.

“If you flipped a coin to decide whether you do like them or not, would your gut tell you the answer before you looked at whether it landed on head or tails?”

Yes, Tsukishima answered silently, knowing he’d finally have to accept the truth: he was in love and there was nothing he could do about it.

One thing you didn’t know about having a crush on someone was that you suddenly realize how often they appear in your life. You knew where you’d cross paths with him in the hallway before and after school, where his locker was, and worst of all, every goddamn love song reminded you of him.

Even all the little mannerisms people had circled back to him: your friend would push her glasses up her nose the same way he did. Your mother would furrow her eyebrows like him when he was thinking about a particularly annoying math problem. Your English teacher would spin a pen between his fingers, just like him (although you had to admit that you preferred watching the latter do so; his hands were prettier).

Maybe this was just some twisted manifestation of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, but your brain couldn’t recall enough content from psychology class to be sure. Either way, you were going insane.

That is, until one rather unremarkable day; there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything came and went according to schedule — the same time spent with Tsukishima during study hall and the same boring class lectures. But as soon as the dismissal bell rang, you were surprised to find that the girl who would pester you in the hallway asking about you and Tsukishima’s relationship status (you still didn’t know her name) as if anything had changed (which it had not, of course).

Apparently, her presence had already become routine enough for you to notice her absence.

It was a welcome change, though; it wasn’t like you wanted her to be around. No, you absolutely didn’t need her nosy questions. So you just shrugged it off and made your way to the school’s exit like you normally did.

But a very familiar voice from a nearby classroom made your ears perk up — coincidentally, from your study hall classroom. You peered into the room from the doorway.

“Um, I think I like you, Tsukishima! I’ve felt this way for a long time and I just had to tell you!” The same boisterous girl who only had one topic of conversation with you (Tsukishima, of course) now had her hands coyly clasped behind her back, in all likelihood holding something meant for him.

As soon as you heard those words leave her mouth, the world around you seemingly ground to a halt — and so did you. As if your body stopped functioning for a moment, your heart stopped and your brain took much too long to process what she said.

What did it matter anyway? You didn’t take your chance and look where that got you.

You turned on your heel and half-walked half-ran outside the school.

The second thing you didn’t realize about having a crush on someone, you realized as you laid in the darkness in the middle of the night, is that it physically hurts. Someone might as well have put your heart in a jar of acid and screwed the lid shut — no matter how hard you tried, it still hurt. And hurt it did.

You felt a stray tear slide down your cheek, and you angrily punched your pillow. You didn’t even have the emotional capacity to be angry at the girl who confessed to him. It was too obvious that she liked him, from the way she would stand a bit straighter when you mentioned Tsukishima’s name to the way she seemed a bit too satisfied when you said that you weren’t dating him. Were you too much of an idiot to notice?

But most importantly, you were angry at yourself. Why were you crying over someone who you knew wouldn’t like you in the way that you liked him? Maybe you were too much of an idiot to not think things through; you’d just assumed that your feelings for him were so intense that he had to like you back. In retrospect, that was a stupid idea. But then again, in retrospect, you were the idiot all along.

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart. It was in the same classroom where you got your heart broken for the first time.

The most annoying thing about the universe was that it was ruthlessly, unrelentingly cruel. The earth kept spinning even if your world stopped mid-orbit, too traumatized by loss to continue.

This was the brutal irony that you came to realize in the classroom where it all began and ended, supposedly. The very next morning, you had to pick your sorry self out of bed after however many hours of sleep you were able to get and go to school. And now half the school day had gone by — it was study hall time once again.

“Are you gonna help me get this off my fingers or not?” The voice that you wanted so desperately to get out of your mind after months of replaying in your head plagued you once again. Indeed, the universe was cruel.

“No,” you replied meekly with your head on the desk. “It’s been long enough for you to know how to do it yourself by now.”

“I insist.”

You hesitated. A second passed, then two.

“Fine.”

Ever since you realized your feelings for the other boy with a cold stare and an even icier glare, you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of yourself, and today was no different.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. Could he? (It wasn’t that obvious, was it?)

You could feel yourself getting warmer by the second. Could he tell? (You were too busy looking at his hands; so let’s hope not.)

You knew that your heart was tugging you in his direction, urging you to do something. Was his doing the same? (You scoffed at yourself — you went over this last night and came to the conclusion that no, there was no way he could ever like you back.)

But maybe you wanted to be wrong this time. Being proven wrong wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, but you would rather take the pessimistic point of view in this circumstance so you wouldn’t get hurt. And yet you still got your heart broken.

That didn’t stop your erratic heartbeat and staggered breaths whenever your fingers brushed over his, though. While slowly unwinding the tape down his fingers, you wondered how many threads he unwound from your heart for it to hurt so much when it broke. Too many for your emotions to be left undamaged by something like this, you reckoned. Not that it was his fault, of course. It was your own for becoming so naïve and vulnerable.

But, the universe was full of irony. While you had your head down, too embarrassed and dejected to say anything else, Tsukishima was thanking whatever gods existed that you couldn’t see how flustered he was.

Turns out, even people with hearts of stone can fall prey to the symptoms of falling in love. With a million thoughts collectively running through your minds, he was the first to blurt out:

“I think I’m in love.”

You let go of his hands, the loose end of the tape still dangling. There were too many questions raised at the utterance of a single sentence: With whom? When? How? Why?

Before you could organize your thoughts and form a coherent sentence — as if he could read your mind and peer into your soul — Tsukishima answered:

“With you.”

And as soon as the last two words fell from his lips, the last of the threads surrounding your worn, beaten hearts unraveled themselves, and fell away.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x gn!reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu angst #tsukishima angst #tsukishima oneshot

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rosafione · 3 years

Text

"Come Closer."

title; How Far Will I Fall, 'Till You Catch Me In your Arms

pairing; xiao x reader

desc; you never really lacked the guts for these kinds of things, but before everything else, you valued his feelings, and most of all, his consent. in the end, it still takes two to tango.

a/n; xiao drabble xiao drabble xiao drabbleee now, he might be ooc, im not sure, but this is mostly just an hc if you guys are close— to an extent muahahahahaha

Time was at a standstill for a certain young adeptus.

For someone who's lived a millennia, you'd think two months would only feel like a second. Before, Xiao would not deny the frequency of those moments— of loneliness, and melancholy; Of time spent watching the Guyun Stone Forest and awaiting his time to strike.

Every day that passed was one spent with his guard high, back then.

And yet now, those moments seemed as if they existed in a far different time. A time before the Traveler plunged Osial into the ocean, stripping them of their adeptal duties and eliminating a cause for Liyue to seek their guidance.

Though possibly the greatest disparity from that time could be that.. It was a time before you— before he had you by his side.

You were a mortal, one he considers to be above average, yet a mortal, nonetheless. You still had times where your humanity catches up to you, and you are left vulnerable in the hands of the evil that lurks among the lands of Tevyat.

Xiao met you at your weakest; But he watched you grow into your shell.

It wasn't as if he regarded you with any special fondness. At first. You were no different from any other mortal that walked Liyue— a fragile creature he was tasked to protect, and a being he needed to steer clear off, lest he harm you with his adeptal energy. (Death from the sheer force of it was no stranger to him. He does not want to carry another human's death on his shoulders.)

Xiao had a complicated relationship with the mortal realm. It was not disdain he harbored for humans, only vigilance and curiosity.

Their realm and the adepti's were two worlds apart.

What differed you from the mortals is that you crossed that distance. And somehow, you stood before him, right in the in between.

He wonders how you do it; You've always been unyielding in his presence. He knows you are aware of his prowess, but every time he looks at you, there is nothing but fondness and adoration he sees in your ancient gaze.

You offered him Almond Tofu almost every day. It makes him anticipate your troubles, yet you do no else other than indulge him in small chats, and silly escort commissions into the mountains or the forest. At times, you'd just watch him feed on your offerings.

He knew it was a bribe, the Almond Tofu. You did it almost everyday— Until you didn't have to.

At some point, Xiao stopped denying your presence. He's warned you enough— He respected you enough to know that you were an adult, and you could think for yourself. And though the moments you'd offer him were memories worthy to look back on, he dares not seek you out.

But he didn't have to. You always came to him first.

His relationship with you only grew from there. It was no earth-shattering occurrence, that's for sure. It was a parasite that he didn't know had been rooting itself into his being so deeply that he cannot bring himself to part with it.

Though if not a shocking event, it was still a crushing revelation.

"Good day, Xiao."

The lady-in-charge, Verr, seemed to be searching for something before her gaze flitted back to his. "No Y/N today?"

"Y/N is off to the harbour for a few days," he'd answered instinctively as he walked to the usual table prepared for him near the kitchen.

"And you didn't come with?"

His slit brows raise in confusion. "Why would I?"

"Oh dear, my apologies. I just figured—" a bashful chuckle leaves her— "Since I see you guys together all the time."

He frowns at the memory. It was a realization that started his resolve to put some distance, yet it was also the beginning of your.. lengthy travels.

When your few days became a few weeks, his resolve easily yielded to his eagerness in meeting you once more.

Time used to pass by swiftly, but nowadays, a year spent with you feels as if he had already spent half of his life.

He sighs, shaking his head at himself. "Reduced to just standing around. How absurd."

"If you think standing around was such an absurd concept then why do you still reject the idea of travelling with me?"

The familiar voice wills him to rip his gaze away from the scenery.

He knows it is yours— your steps, your scent, your weight, your presence. Xiao feels you the moment you stepped into the inn. Yet he does not move, run, nor show any sign of the buzz that vibrates from inside his chest.

Yet when he sees you, you are beautiful, safe. Ephemeral.

He forgets every aching minute he's spent in the eight weeks you were not in his vicinity.

Time runs again.

Still, everything about you is slow; The way you walk carefully to his side, the way you drag your fond gaze from his, to the scenery before you.. The way your hair flows and dances with the evening breeze.

He knows. The wind has always favored you.

"Ever since meeting the Traveler, all you've talked about is travelling," he chose to say.

"With you."

"What?" he frowns.

"I mean that yes, all I've talked about is travelling—" you chuckle bashfully, averting your eyes away from his— "That is, travelling.. But with you."

His eyes widen, then hardening with a purse of his lips, before he turns to glare into the distance. "My answer will not change. I cannot leave Liyue."

"And my reply is the same," you sigh. "The place does not matter. As long as we'd be together."

It is a sensitive topic, and an inevitable taboo.

There was a line neither of you should ever cross— a line he's put there himself, and one he disdains all the same.

Silence ensues. It is a frequent occurrence, ever since you first brought up the prospect of adventuring. Stubborn and troublesome. Xiao finds himself needing to track back in conversations just to figure you out.

Mortals were such complex creatures.

And yet it was so easy for you to read him like an open book. Or so he assumes. You always knew how you'd deal with him. Even Xiao knows that it is no easy feat.

"You're always like this," he grumbles.

You do not answer, and he settles for the tranquility, all the tension leaving his body; And for once, after two months, he felt as if he could actually breathe.

He wonders how much longer he'd be stuck in this area of torment and bliss. Wonders how much longer he'll continue to drag you into it.

Wonders when you'll snap and just leave him all together.

He frowns grumpily at the thought.

"Can I?" you ask.

Xiao looks into your eyes— swirling hues that didn't return his gaze, far focused on a lower part of his face. His lips, he realizes. Your gaze had been focused on his lips.

The epiphany wills a streak of crimson to rise to the tips of his ears, and his own focus is stolen away by the pink appendage that wets your lips.

"Your question is incomplete," he says instead, feigning ignorance.

Shaking his head, Xiao crosses his arms and forces himself to concentrate on your eyes. Only on your eyes.

Maybe then, he wouldn't get so distracted.

"Regardless of how your question would go, I don't understand why you need my opinion," he huffs, grumbling. "It's your body. You would know it best."

You press your lips together. A gentle, bashful smile spreading on your face as a fond look emerges in your eyes. "My apologies," you chuckle. "It was the wrong question to ask."

He faces you to narrow his eyes at your suspicious behavior, but he's far too distracted by the way your hand lifts, trailing from the side of his neck to gently cup his cheek, and his breath hitches, eyes widening.

Warmth radiated from your touch. Xiao knows better than to reject such touches any longer when with you. So he leans into it, presses his head closer to your palm, closing his eyes and exhaling in surrender.

"What i meant to ask was," he opens his eyes to look at you.

Your gazes clash. They meld and melt into each other as you slowly raise yourself closer and closer — or perhaps it was him who'd been leaning down.

The hand that traces the tattoo on his right arm, as well as the other that caresses his face with an aching gentleness, reels him in. enthralls him. It lures him into succumbing to your presence, and his body goes through that familiar feeling of softening under your touch.

"May I?" you whisper.

Suddenly, you are leaning in more eagerly— more determined, as if with a clear intent in mind. He thinks he understands your words enough now, swirling in his mind, goes through consideration, and the one practical response he could muster with his focus in a jumble is to deny you permission.

He gulps soundly; He can't bring himself to.

Xiao thinks this is it, watching you move in as he struggles to keep his eyes from fluttering shut. He thinks it would be this moment— this moment in which he dooms the unspoken rule between mortals and adepti. Dooms the contract he's worked so hard to fulfill in service of Lord Morax, now Zhong Li. He'd doom your friendship, or whatever it is you've offered him up to this point.

Yet even then.. Even then, he doesn't say no.

He stays quiet; Waiting. Wanting.

It's funny— the mortal language, how one could switch out a letter, and a word would seem that much different.

It was true, nonetheless.

Xiao waits. Xiao wants.

He wants the closeness, the intimacy— the affection you provide. He wants your lips to meet his just to know if it is as soft as the rest of you is. He wants to see if a kiss— curious, like a child— truly lives up to the countless tales told by the experienced. He wants to know.. If you will give him those answers.

His amber eyes meet yours. He does not breathe, as if doing so would scare you away. As if doing anything would give you a response he does not want to give.

It is enough. Your noses bump for a second, his eyes fluttering closed; Your scent wafts from beneath his nose, crisp burning incense, molded into the fresh smell of the forest that is brought about by the wind.

He curves into you, a single thought shaking him to the core, making him tremble - so utterly pathetic.

'Please..'

Your lips do not meet.

And suddenly, there is too much air between you and him.

Xiao opens his eyes to see you trailing back, fidgety— you looked like a walking contradiction, twitching fingers trying to cross the distance, gaze darting between looking away or staring regretfully at his lips.

There was a crimson hue staining your cheeks, he noticed.

"Why.." he whispers, then catches himself.

The inside of his chest strains from all the emotions he has to keep hidden— all the emotions he has to keep denying.

Disappointment. Loneliness. Exhaustion. Desperation.

Xiao wants.

You couldn't believe you almost kissed him.

It was a heavy violation of contract— not that you two had ever agreed to one, but it was an unspoken compromise. It was a truth you both knew, yet continued to ignore.

So that this— whatever this was, could survive.

Archons, you almost laid it all to waste!

(Either way, any decision would still leave you with regrets, had you continued or pulled away.)

"Ah, would you look at that!" you laughed out loud in a panic, perhaps to cover up the tense atmosphere. "I did it again! I asked a question without completing it, yeah? Guess it's a really bad habit on mine!"

Xiao does not answer. You spare him a look. And you wish you hadn't.

He looks dejected, disappointment and frustration showing through his slit eyebrows and wide eyes.

As if your choice was a surprise to him.

As if he wanted you to continue.

As if.

You couldn't deny you wanted it, too. Whatever he could give you. And, more.

You mentally scold yourself, knowing you're already stretching Xiao's patience with your friendship as it is.

You have to remind yourself that Xiao is immortal, and no matter how humane he may seem, you cannot trouble him with matters such as the turmoil in your heart.

It's really hard to say anything, when all the thoughts that circle in your head is how wonderful he is. How amazing he makes you feel. How he is all you've ever wanted for the whole year since you've realized you'd developed a certain affection for him.

"Sorry, Xiao," you say, throat tightening with bubbles of emotions threatening to spill. "I should.. Go away, for some time."

( And the first thing Xiao thinks is to dejectedly reply 'Again.?' )

"No," he says all too quickly, detaching from the banister.

"No?" you echo, confused. "N-no what?"

"Stay," he says, but it is not a command. Not from the adeptus. It is a soft request; A wavering plea that reaches to you soul.

"Where?" you ask. 'How far?'

"Here," he whispers now. "With me."

You push your luck, craving just a bit more patience from Xiao.

"Close?"

You could see Xiao consider. His eyes showing his heart, but his silence showing his mind.

He gives in.

"Close."

That day was the nearest you've peered, held and embraced Xiao's soul, moving closer, and softly leaning your forehead on his, clenching onto the white fabric of his shirt as he loosely wraps an arm around your waist— under the watchful eyes of the night sky.

There is still a distance that Xiao dares not cross.

And for now, maybe it's enough.

#genshin ff #genshin drabbles #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin angst #genshin fluff #yes im tormenting both reader and xiao #yes im also crying #WE NEED THESE ONCE IN A WHILE #pining #mutual pining #MAYBE IT'S ENOUGH TMT

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The General (Part 2): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Imperial life sounds nice on paper... but will it ever live up to reality? (the answer is always no).

wc: 2.2k

tw: none (again, backstory. I’m SORRY! The lemon-y stuff will begin in the next part)

masterlist

“There was this patch of mud I was sure we’d be able to get through...”

You’re sitting across from the Imperial Warrior and watching him scarf down your mother’s cooking, noting his ravenous appetite and the way he waves his hands around as he details how his horse is trapped in the mud from the storm that followed him here, and how he longed for death until he happened to find himself at your door, blah, blah, blah…

Your father and mother entertain him eagerly, nodding their heads and humming at his story, but you’re not having any of it. You just want to know what’s in the letter with the Imperial Seal on it so he can go and you can return to your mourning in peace. The letter is sitting with your father, untouched and forgotten while the man drones on and on.

There’s something about how he’s going on about his horse that’s stuck in the mud that bothers you; there are too many intricate details and he’s--

“I’m sorry, I don't think we caught your name,” you interrupt, and the white haired man stops mid-sentence, a long silence echoing in the room.

“Gojo,” he announces, holding his hand to his chest. “You can call me Gojo.”

“And Gojo, you say your horse is stuck outside? We should help you go and retrieve it.”

“Oh, no need, I was about to say that the lovely townsfolk helped me out with my situation. It’s in a stable as we speak.”

You eye the confident man with some skepticism, then look over to the letter with intent. “And the letter?”

“Ah! I almost forgot.” He motions for your father to open the letter, and when your father breaks the seal and slides out the paper, you angle your head to read the words scripted across the paper. You and your father read at the same pace, because your faces drop at the same time.

“The Imperial Matchmaker?” The image of the wizened young woman dances before your eyes, and you blink twice, dismissing the improbability that her visit to your village just six months ago had anything to do with you or your family. She hadn’t even spoken to you, let alone laid eyes on you. How in the world--

“My story was to conclude with why she was not picked this time. I regret that I was not on time to come and retrieve you, my lady.” When Gojo holds a hand to his chest again, you feel some sort of sincerity from him. “You see, there are three princes of--”

“But aren’t there more illustrious ladies of the Court that might suit their needs?” you ask, squinting your eyes. There’s absolutely no way you were destined to wed a Prince of the Imperial Court.

“What the Matchmaker has ordered will go as planned,” your mother announces, shooting up from her seat and hurrying from the table toward your room. Your father follows her, letter still in hand, leaving you alone with the white-haired warrior. You look over at him in disbelief, raising a brow in challenge to speak.

“I assume you had an eventful day,” he begins, picking at the rest of his food thoughtfully. “You should go and rest. We leave at first light.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Your mother, fussing over you as always, is crying as you wait for the horse and carriage to be brought from the town’s stables. Your father had neglected to come out of the house to see you off, even though you knew he loved you just as much as your mother. Perhaps seeing his last daughter off was even more painful than the other three had been.

You can’t help but feel somewhat uneasy at the thought of being thrust into marriage to someone who ranked so much higher than you. Would you even get accustomed to court life in time? Would you feel at ease among the nobility of the land? Or would you be a wife who was shunned and set aside, only to be pulled out and bred occasionally? The thought isn’t even complete when the horse and carriage parade through the gates, the white haired man reappearing.

“Oh...” Your mother breaks into a fresh set of tears, knowing wherever that carriage goes, she can’t follow you. “Oh, y/n, you’ll have to write as much as you can. Please let us know how you adjust. We’ll be here if you ever need to come home. We’ll be there for the wedding, too, don’t worry…” As she drones on and adjusts your clothing, you realize she’s saying all the things she needs to hear in order to feel comforted. You, on the other hand, feel nothing as they load your items into the back of the carriage and finally, place you in the modest-sized thing.

When you pull away, you watch your waving mother fade into the distance, waving back until you could see her no longer. The open-air hits your face, and as you leave the only town you’ve ever known, you wonder if you’d ever be back.

The letter - your future - is resting in your lap, and you finger the thing, flipping the edges of the letter around and around while scenery drifts by you.

Before long, you’re out of the town’s limits, and steering toward a path you’ve never seen before. Your nerves leap to extreme heights, and you release the clasp on the curtains that will shield you from sight. What did it matter that you were in unfamiliar territory? Wasn’t that just a metaphor for the rest of your life?

The steady rocking of the carriage and sounds of nature lulls you into a rhythm and then, slowly, into sleep. There was no point in staying awake the entire time; you might as well get some rest before you met your future husband.

_______________________________________________________________________

You don’t realize the carriage has stopped until you awake, your left hand knocking against the side of the carriage as you slide out of sleep.

“Gojo?” When there is no response, you peel the curtain aside, and notice you’re in the middle of greenery. When you look down, there are faint signs of a path, but it seems to be grown over by grass and moss. “Gojo?”

You have two options: you can get out of the carriage, risk staining your dress, and find the white-haired bastard, or you could stay put and wait for him to return. At first, the second option seems fair, but the longer you wait, the more you worry about him.

Finally, you gather up the courage to exit the carriage, planting your feet firmly on the ground beneath you and walking to the front of the carriage. The horse is still there, eyeing you as you walk around it, untethered to anything but remaining dreadfully still. You reason that if something were to have gone wrong, the horse would have taken off, and you with it. But there’s no sign of a struggle, and you’re alone.

Well, almost.

You hear a couple of voices getting closer, and one is unmistakably Gojo’s. But the other voice you don’t know. “Perhaps we should just go now and avoid riding straight into the camp.”

“No,” Gojo grunts. “It’s part of the show. We have to show her off before he gets her.”

Camp?

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” Yuko? What did he have to do with-

“I would say even more so.” The voices are getting even closer, and you have to make a choice , and fast: either get back in the carriage or confront the two on their words. “But we have to make her believe she’s still going to the Imperial Palace even though--” You’re out of time before you know it, and you’re stuck standing on the other side of the horse, facing Gojo and a shorter, black haired man with wide eyes, who is most certainly not an Imperial Warrior. His eyes widen even more when he sees you, but Gojo just moves to scratch the back of his head.

“I’m assuming you heard most of that conversation, y/n.”

Instead of responding, you take off into the opposite line of trees, weaving your way through the brush and grass with as much maneuvering as you can manage. Quick footfalls are crashing behind you, but you bob and weave through the branches, hoping one might catch the person off guard and buy you more time. You have no idea where the village is in regards to your current location, but perhaps if you could find the closest town, you could get ho--

You fall face first into the forest floor, a body landing on your back with enough force to knock the wind out of you. Fallen debris is scratching at your face and exposed hands, the dress covering most of your skin and protecting you.

“Y/n… you’re fast, I’ll give you that. But not as fast as me.” You’re hoisted up by your arms, and not-Gojo throws you over his shoulder and carries you back to the carriage, defeated.

“She’s dirty! Ugh, he’s going to kill me.” Gojo whines when you return, and the man sets you in the carriage with a thump, exhaling deeply.

“If she didn’t run, we wouldn’t have this issue.” The man breaks the handle off the inside of the door and shuts it, effectively trapping you inside. “And if you had done what I told you to do, she wouldn’t have gotten out in the first place.” You scramble to the far side of the carriage when he tosses you a dirty look, then disappears around the front. “Ride on, dumbass. And if you think you don’t have a true runner on your hands, you’re absolutely wrong. Keep an eye on her at all times, Satoru, and don’t stop for anything.”

Satoru.

You store that piece of information in your brain, the name registering somewhere deep in the annals of your memory as the carriage lurches forward again.

_______________________________________________________________________

You can’t sleep, even though it’s night.

Your captor is being guided by the moonlight, and when you hear the sounds and smells of crackling fires and shouts of acknowledgement, you know you’ve arrived somewhere that isn’t the Imperial Palace.

You tried to find out why Gojo had tricked you and your family, why you were being taken somewhere that wasn’t the palace, and why the letter even existed if you were simply being taken hostage. But every shout had only been met with silence.

You dared not to open the curtains now. Even when the carriage stops, you clutch yourself and attempt to squeeze your body as far away from the door as you can manage. Silence falls over the ruckus outside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. It feels like an eternity before the carriage is flooded with moonlight and someone grabs you roughly, yanking you out into the open.

Your first reflex is to struggle to remain in the carriage, but when that fails, you rely on letting your hand loose and your fist fly into the face of your assailant. The sound of crunching bones as your fist makes contact with their nose is unmistakable, but your victory is short lived. Another pair of rough hands grab your arms, twisting them behind your back uncomfortably.

“Unhand me!” you shout into the night, but the person does not do as you ask. It’s only then you can observe your surroundings with clarity. As you pant into the chilly night, you see scores of eyes - male eyes - observing the scene with a mix of disbelief and amusement. You yank against the hands that are restraining you, but when Gojo appears in your line of sight, he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“You broke Haibara’s nose,” He looks over at the man clutching his face, blood running down his fingers. “That’s not very ladylike.”

“No, it’s not,” a deeper voice replies behind him, and a hand lands on his shoulder. Your eyes drag from Gojo’s face to the man now beside him, and you wonder for a moment if you’re dreaming an awful nightmare. Standing beside Gojo is a man of similar height; his long, black hair cascading around his shoulders and onyx eyes raking over your appearance lustily.

Before you is General Geto Suguru, one of your country’s most feared enemies. His presence makes your knees weak - and not because of his good looks. No, it wasn’t even his looks that preceded him. His name was known among your people to be synonymous with “curse eater”, which made him even more fearsome than just a bedtime story told to keep children in line. Because if a man was able to eat curses… could he not eat children just as easily?

“You’ll need to apologize to Haibara, little one.”

But for some reason, instead of finding your voice, you spit at his feet in a show of bravery. The men in the gathered crowd reel back, inhaling in shock. But Geto and Gojo just raise their brows, looking at the spit gathered on Geto’s shoe. Geto cocks his head to the side a little, eyeing you curiously. “Haibara, follow me. Oh, and Nanami, bring her as well. I can see she’ll need some discipline before she’s wed to me.”

#jujutsu kaisen getou #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk haibara #jjk nanami

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tech-knowing-hillbilly · 3 years

Text

The hillbilly: Music and life in Appalachia

Day 1

When Tr’thl’ia first learned that the ship would be getting humans from a region on Earth that the humans called “Appalachia”, xe were confused. They had only ever met humans that came from cities near coasts, and had heard of what those humans referred to as “Hillbillies” in almost a derogatory tone. xe took it upon xemself to learn about what kind of humans would be joining xem. As xe read, xey started to understand why other humans had been critical of those from that area. Xe read about how that are hadn’t really been very populous due to the terrain, and also learned that because of the lack of infrastructure in that area, many humans that lived there did not get a lot of education due to many families being in poverty, mainly due to the only jobs in those areas being in the coal mines or other jobs that depended on coal. Xe read about events such as the Coal Wars, specifically about the Battle of Blair Mountain, which made xem shudder with sorrow for the lives that were lost. Xe also read about families such as the Hatfield's and McCoy's, which reinforced the stereotype of humans from there being violent and uneducated. Xe resigned xemself to dealing with constant fights and dealing with whomever started each one.

Day 2

When John McKannon walked onboard the G.U.R.V(Galactic Union Research Vessel) Frailing with the others from the mountains, he was surprised to see Security Officer Tr’thl’ia standing there, waiting with what looked like dread and disdain.

“Hello, my name is-”

“I know who you are, Hillbilly.” Tr’thl’ia stated.” Just know this about my ship. I will not tolerate violence on this ship. If any of you or your friends cause trouble onboard, you will be shot out the airlock mid warp. do you understand?”

“Yes Xir,” John simply replied. What in the absolute fuck was xer problem?

Day 3

The day went, much to xis suprise, without physical incident. There was an incident around the second meal of the day that involved one of the hillbillies, Amos, and one of the other humans, Mike, from a place called “Florida”, in which Mike did some sort of odd whooping noise with their hand over their mouth and bounced around, which xe would later learn is a type of “racial” slur against those of First Nations descent. This caused Amos to start charging toward Mike before being stopped by John. Tr’thl’ia was confused by this, as the research that xe did before hand showed by all accounts that John shouldn’t have stopped Amos and instead should have even joined into the fight.

In the evening, or what could be considered evening on the ship, Tr’thl’ia was making xis rounds when xe heard a sound that xe had never heard before. It was rythmic, strumming sound along with beats that xe could not place, and it seemed to be coming from the rec area of the Hillbillies( they were given their own area as the captain was advised to by Tr’thl’ia). As xe drew closer xe could start to make out words:

My old mistress promised me When she died she’d set me free/ Lived so long her head went bald, I don’t believe she gon’ die at all!

more of the strumming and thudding sounds.

You take yours, and I’ll take mine, We’ll go fishing in the summer time!/ You get a line, and I’ll get a pole, and We’ll run down to the fishin’ hole!

Xe was at the threshold of the doorway to their rec room, and saw something that was suprising to xem. All of the hillbillies, save John and Amos were surrounding those two. John was strumming an object in their hands that looked like a disk with a stick on it, and Amos looked to be stomping. Xe let an audible gasp that drew the attention of everyone in the room.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

Yes, I w-was just investigating the source of the noise that I had heard. What were you doing with that object to get that sound?” Tr’thl’ia asked in amazement.

“This? this is a banjo, which is an instrument from Earth that was based on an instrument from Africa. And the noise that you heard is an old tune called ‘Hook and Line’. It’s a song that’s been played in our mountains for years.”John replied.

And those thuds that I heard?”

“That is a type of dance known as ‘Buck Dancing’. It is a dance that is similar to tap dancing , but where tap dancing is more involved with the front of the foot, buck dancing uses the whole of it to act almost as a set of drums for mountain bluegrass.” Amos answered.

“Ah, so is it a form of war chant, or ritual?” Asked tr’thl’ia.

“It is neither, it is a form of entertainment that is popular in the Appalachians due to it being very cheap, and it is good for social bonding.”

“So that explains why you are all around. But why did Mike make that odd sound towards you, and why did that upset you?”

Amos turned red at that question, looking like he was about to cry , and John cut in for him, speaking in a soft, but firm tone. “He did it because he is a racist piece of shit, that’s why. Amos is Native American. His people where some of the first in the region, and were deeply persecuted back in the day for both their culture and skin color. Many were made to leave the area in an event known as the Trail of Tears. But some of those people did not wish to go on the Trail of Tears, and instead retreated deep into the mountains, for safety. Even still, many people nowadays hold deep prejudices against his people, and others like them. That’s why many of his people hid in those mountains, and joined communities of those that hid there as well for various reasons.”

“I understand now why you had a reaction like that, but why don’t other humans like people from your area? You seem like people that are very accepting from what you have told me.” Tr’thl’ia questioned.

“Because they are not as accepting as they seem. They came from privileged homes, homes with food on the table, parents who were home all the time to be able to answer questions, to help them learned. They are jealous that they do not have the drive to be able to get out of tough situations, like we do. Many of those you see here among us are from families that are broken and poor, with one or both parents gone at any given time. Many of us had days where we wouldn’t eat, because we wanted our younger siblings to be able to have a meal. Hell, many of us are working here TO support our families back home, to fight to keep food on the table. We fight a lot, as you probably have read, because we have to, because we have no other choice but to fight over resources as simple as food. That fighting, brings us together, the struggle brings people in our communities together, as we have all shared that struggle at least once.” John picks up his water glass and takes a sip. “We all here had to work to get out of those hills, for if we didn’t nobody would help us get out. We would all be dead within twenty years.”

Tr’thl’ia listened to the words that John was saying, and really thought them over and began to feel a bit of remorse for the way xe had greeted them earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Tr’thl’ia said softly, “ for the way I greeted you when you came aboard. I was biased by what the other humans had said about your people, and what they would be like, without giving me context as to why you may have to be that way. I didn’t realize that you would have to struggle that much to get out of that area, I thought that you would have all of the resources that you need to do what ever you wanted to do for a job, and that it was your own fault for not leaving.”

John cracked a warm smile at that. “You have no need to apologize for that. Many people have that same reaction to us. What matters is that you have the balls to accept that you were in the wrong and have tried to make some sort of amends. Now, where were we?”

You take hook, I’ll take line, We’ll go fishin’ in the summer time!

(If you made it this far down the story, Thank you! This is my first post, so it is probably a bit rough, but I hope you enjoyed it. Name of the tune mentioned in the story is ‘Hook and Line’ and if you want a good example of both the song and Buck Dancing, check out Clifton Hicks - Hook and Line (dance accompaniment)! He is very talented and also has many videos on the history of the banjo and the afro-carribean roots of it. He also does lessons on older styles of playing such as Overhand(Frailing, clawhammer) and two finger picking. Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoy!)

#humans are space orcs #humans are confusing #hillbillies

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

I was reading your "Fallout 4 companions meet Arcade Gannon" reacts when I had an idea. FO4 companions reaction to visiting the Mojave Wasteland with the Sole Survivor.

"She was Boston, I was Vegas

She was Crêpes Suzette, I was pie

She was lectures, I was movies, but I loved her."

- Frank Sinatra, 1981, "I Loved Her"

Cait: "I've never been much of a gambler, but where there's gambling, there's usually a good time to be had."

While Cait finds the casinos of the Strip a little too ritzy for her liking, she rather enjoys the smaller, satellite venues: The Atomic Wrangler in Freeside, the Vikki and Vance casino in Primm, even the saloons in Goodsprings and the Mojave Outpost (the latter of which being where she foolishly engages in a drinking contest with Cass and happily gets her ass kicked). Her greatest enjoyment, however, comes upon discovery of the Thorn in Westside, with its arranged bouts between wasteland critters and the opportunity to go a round yourself if you're feeling lucky. Instead of the trapped horror she felt when the Combat Zone was taken over by raiders and she was forced to fight, Cait revels in the glory she reaps when choosing to face off against a fire gecko, a night stalker or a cazador with her trusty baseball bat. By the time the visit is over, she and Red Lucy have grown close, and the Thorn's mistress is going around openly calling Cait "my hunter."

Codsworth: "Ah, Las Vegas! Why, I can recall when you considered a quick getaway to this paradise just before young master Shaun's arrival. It appears we aren't too late, after all."

Codsworth is somewhat comforted by the lack of overt nuclear devastation in New Vegas, but that feeling wears off as soon as the first set of thugs in Freeside tries to corner him and the sole survivor and take their caps. Once the would-be muggers are laid out on the ground, Codsworth abandons his rose-colored glasses and puts his quippy, dismayed personality back on. Still, he loves the Strip, particularly the Ultra-Luxe with its refined guests, decor and hygienic practices, but he quickly sours on their hoity-toity attitudes. Instead, Codsworth turns to the presence of the NCR as a sign that civilization is creeping back into the wasteland. He's also tickled pink by the Kings and the Chairmen, but not the mobster-esque Omertas: They remind him too much of the pre-war mob activity in good old Boston.

Curie: "Excusez-moi, but what is that structure there? The tallest one, with the blinking lights."

Curie is thrilled to be out in the desert, observing the local populace and documenting their survival techniques, social structures and power struggles. She's fascinated with the area's history, and drags the sole survivor along to seek out the Mojave's most (in)famous individuals to record their stories for her research into post-war civilization. This lands her in quite a few questionable situations, but her general attitude of perseverance and wide-eyed wonder about the world open a lot of doors for her. She makes a lot of friends at the Old Mormon Fort among the Followers of the Apocalypse, though most of them assume her frustration about her own "biological reactions to extreme living conditions" is just her complaining about the heat like everyone else. Arcade's pretty sure she's a robot, though he's too polite to ask about it outright.

Danse: "We're close now, to the birthplace of the Brotherhood of Steel. This is an honor I never thought I'd experience."

Though it's boiling hot inside his power armor under the desert sun, Paladin Danse is overjoyed that he's accompanying the sole survivor on this journey into the cradle of the ideology that he's devoted to. He's heard about the Mojave from Brotherhood of Steel veterans, those who traveled with Elder Lyons when they initially came to the Capital Wasteland and those who accompanied Elder Maxson when he was just a Squire, and he keeps spouting off random trivia about the area. Any run-ins with disillusioned Scribe Veronica might leave him a bit put out, but it's overall a fun trip for him through a part of the continent that's a little less smashed to rubble than the rest of the world. He especially enjoys visiting the NCR and Brotherhood military outposts, if only to offer critiques and suggestions to any soldiers that give him the time of day.

Deacon: "Sheesh, visiting the Mojave almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter, am I right?"

Deacon has been here before. Well, he doesn't actually say he's been here before, but he keeps dropping hints to the sole survivor that he's somehow on a return trip. He knows the legends of the Sierra Madre and the Blue Star treasures offhand, he has a whole conversation with the Securitrons guarding the Strip about what happened to Robert House, he even knows how to competently play Caravan. Every time the sole survivor asks him about how he knows so much, though, Deacon just grins and keeps chugging his Sunset Sarsaparilla. Obviously no one recognizes him by face, but he does have a setting-appropriate wardrobe along that includes NCR bandoleer armor, a coat-tailed tuxedo, top hat and White Glove Society mask, and a black leather jacket to go with his pompadour wig.

Dogmeat: [curiously sniffs everything]

Dogmeat can't figure out why this place is so dang dry, but he's on his best behavior for the sole survivor as they make their way over the dusty roads of the Mojave. He politely greets each other traveler on the roads, who keep asking his companion where they got "a non-cyber cyberdog." For the most part though, the trip is pretty in line with everywhere Dogmeat goes: Big rodents, big bugs, tired people and plenty of ruins to explore. Dogmeat's one outstanding adventure comes in the form of an attempted kidnapping by some of the Kings, who think their leader needs a new dog after Rex hit the road with some fool. The King doesn't take kindly to this, and graciously has the dog returned to his friend.

Hancock: "Oh, man, how does anyone live out here? I'm drying out, I feel like a radroach husk."

Hancock is having the time of his life in the Mojave, apart from constantly complaining about how he prefers the Commonwealth's weather. He's chummy with everyone, but especially with the ghouls he encounters. He buys Raul a bunch of drinks and asks him about his past, he suggests future career paths and hobbies for Calamity, and he is absolutely enchanted with Beatrix the dominatrix. He's also rowdy enough to attract the ire of nearly every casino in New Vegas: The White Glove Society seethes when the sole survivor points out that his Revolutionary War outfit technically meets the dress code, the Omertas howl when he starts encouraging the strippers and sex workers to band together and take over the casino, and the Vault 21 dwellers keep asking if he's liable to turn feral. The Chairmen, however, treat him as something of a novelty and gift him with a seersucker suit to go with his jaunty personality.

MacCready: "You know, I played cards with a guy from out here once. He tried to teach me a game called... what was it, Candyman? Kilogram?"

MacCready has the barest smattering of knowledge about the Mojave Wasteland, and he keeps injecting it into conversations no matter how inaccurate it is. He's fascinated with the sole survivor's recollections of what Vegas was like before the Great War, and his expectations are sky-high by the time they arrive on the city's outskirts. Those expectations are absolutely met once inside the Strip, even if the sole survivor's are let down. MacCready is just tickled by the existence of a city that is solely dedicated to parting you from your caps, and he settles into each new business for the express purpose of people-watching. He only tries gambling once, and immediately quits after he loses all of his pocket change.

Valentine: "Good old Las Vegas. Somehow, I'm not surprised it's still got a reputation as 'Sin City,' even this long after the bombs."

The Nick Valentine of old never visited Las Vegas, but he certainly knew about it well enough for the Nick Valentine of today to draw on those impressions. He's extra-wary about the city as a result, an attitude not helped by the many people staring at him because of his detective getup, jagged edges and golden eyes. Some people are polite enough to walk up and ask what he is: Others offer to buy him off the sole survivor directly, much to Nick's chagrin. When James Garret offers him a thousand caps for "one night of his services," Nick puts his foot down and starts glaring at everyone who so much as walks up to him and the sole survivor during their trip. The exceptions to this rule are Veronica, who is extremely polite and non-invasive with her questioning; Arcade, who is too polite to even mention Nick's synthetic state; and Raul, who finds the whole thing hilarious but admits that his ghoul status has landed him in some similar situations.

Piper: "I've heard plenty of stories about this place, and if even a quarter of them are true, I ought to get a good travel piece out of just about anyone we pass on the street."

Piper's on a mission to track down the history of New Vegas, which, like Curie, sends her on a path toward its biggest political figures. Aside from them, she's particularly interested in the services of the Mojave, like the Gun Runners, the Crimson Caravan Company, and especially the Mojave Express. Piper gets along swell with just about everyone, and she basks in the widespread acceptance that she lacks back home due to her chosen profession. She desperately tries to get Johnson Nash to ship a case of Sunset Sarsaparilla cross-continent for her, but he gently turns her down and tells her that the only courier he knows crazy enough to undertake a trip to the Commonwealth is too busy nowadays.

Preston: "They're not too friendly to outsiders here, or so I'm told, but there are always good folks to be found if you know where to look."

Preston, true to form, offers help to every little settlement he and the sole survivor come through on their journey, which delays their path to Vegas quite a bit. He makes a beeline for the Old Mormon Fort as soon as he hears the Followers of the Apocalypse have a base there, though, and spends most of his visit picking the brain of its leaders about the best ways to aid those in need in the wasteland. He and Arcade get into some spirited debates about the pros and cons of having a civil service force focused on military matters versus civilian matters, and the Minutemen leader leaves the Mojave with a lot of new ideas to carry home to the Commonwealth.

Strong: "Strong not looking for 'good time,' puny human. Strong looking for thing that make super mutants stronger."

Strong hates New Vegas, but that's nothing unexpected. The sole survivor tries to limit their time in the city and take him around the desert to locales where super mutants are more likely to be found, which brings them to Jacobstown. Surprise surprise, Strong hates Jacobstown - at first. Little by little, through talking with Lily, the other nightkin, and Marcus, Strong starts to realize that the super mutants of the town are doing exactly what he values and sharing their resources among each other for the good of the community, just minus the usual violence associated with super mutants. He struggles with this alternative way of life for a bit, but eventually comes to accept that to be a super mutant, you don't have to constantly attack those around you to show off your strength.

X6-88: "Be careful. The Institute's records about this area indicate high levels of theft, murder, and unsavory characters. It would be best to keep our guard up."

Like Nick, X6-88 greets everyone in the Mojave with open suspicion, and can hardly be convinced to leave the sole survivor's side for their entire journey. His dedication to this task leads those around him to joke about him being "a human Securitron," which the sole survivor finds amusing: X6-88 does not. Still, the ability to hire and maintain a professional-looking bodyguard while visiting New Vegas doesn't go unnoticed, and most people assume that means the sole survivor has a lot of money to spend or be separated from by force. Criminals are more likely to be ruthless, hell-bent on stealing the loads of caps the sole survivor surely has tucked away. Business owners, on the other hand, are more polite to the pair on their travels, giving them better service and goods that ingratiate X6-88 a bit more to the common people aboveground.

BONUS!

Ada: "Jackson brought us out here once, when Zoe decided she wanted to try acquiring a Securitron. The leader of the Strip turned us down."

While Deacon is playing coy about his experience in the Mojave, Ada is completely open about hers. She hasn't been to the Strip, the dam, or any of the Mojave's "fun" destinations, but she remembers the Crimson Caravan Company headquarters, the 188 trading post, and many of the small towns along the way. Her fondest memories are of scavenging around the ruins of the REPCONN test site, the Aerotech Office Park and HELIOS One. She also recalls that her caravan friends came to visit primarily to find a Securitron to take apart and repurpose, but won't say exactly what happened when they tried to do so, other than warn the sole survivor "not to invite the wrath of the House."

Gage: "Now this is a town that knows how to run a successful racket. We need to find out who's in charge, see if they can give us some tips."

Porter Gage walks right up the steps of the Lucky 38 as soon as he finds out that someone inside is running the Strip, and demands that the Securitrons let him in to "talk to the boss." The robots aren't impressed, of course, and toss him out straightaway. Gage, not one to be discouraged easily, tries to find information among the nearby raider gangs instead: Fiends, Vipers, Jackals or Great Khans, he's not too picky. The current state of the raiders in the Mojave quickly informs him that they're failing one by one against the power of New Vegas, and he renews his efforts to find the recipient of the endless streams of caps. Thwarted at every turn, he and the sole survivor retire to Gomorrah, where they bemoan their bad luck while the courier sits a few seats down from them, listening in and smirking.

Longfellow: "Just point me to the nearest saloon. If I can't cool down, I'll try to forget I'm hot."

Longfellow parks himself at the nearest watering hole and does his best to avoid the scorching Mojave heat. The Maine-born grandpa is pretty miserable during the daytime hours unless he's sitting in front of a fan with a cold beer, swapping stories about Far Harbor critters with the bar regulars. At night he's a bit more open to adventuring with the sole survivor, when the desert cools down and he can see the sights by moonlight. Although he's not a fan of the hustle and bustle of the Strip, most of the large casinos there have air conditioning thanks to the Lucky 38, so he claims a table in the back and glares at anyone who disturbs him and his drink. He gets along with most of the New Vegas crowd though, if they agree to pick up the tab.

Maxson: "We came this way, when the Elders sent me to the East Coast. I wonder if the chapter here is still persevering."

Elder Maxson is surprisingly reluctant to visit the two things that the sole survivor would've thought he'd be interested to see in the Mojave: The Strip, or the Hidden Valley bunker. If pressed, he'll admit that he's not the type to cut loose and gamble, drink or participate in general debauchery as a result of his upbringing and position of authority, but neither is he keen to drop in on the dying Western chapters of his order and become stifled by protocol and ass-kissing. He prefers to wander the desert itself, seeking solitude among the cacti and under the stars. Given the chance, he'd probably nip off to Quarry Junction and anonymously solve the NCR's deathclaw problem, if it hasn't already been taken care of. He refuses to wear his uniform for the entire trip.

Desdemona: "The Mojave probably wouldn't know what to make of our mission, which is how you know it's a good place to hide. I wonder if any of our rescued synths made it out this far."

This is by far the most relaxed the sole survivor has ever seen Desdemona, and why wouldn't it be? She's so far removed from her usual sphere that she drops her usual, tight-knit demeanor and embraces loosening up. She's still not talking openly about the Railroad's operations, but she is more likely to answer questions both personal and professional. Like Deacon, she knows a bit about the Mojave, but not so much that she can blend in completely. Instead, she embraces being a tourist and does all the usual things that go with it: Visiting the Strip, the Sunset Sarsaparilla headquarters, the Thorn, and especially Hoover Dam. When she's looking out over Lake Mead, with the sun getting caught in her hair as it sets on her left, she almost looks happy.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Breathing In

Sequel to: “In Too Deep”

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating (Past), Mentions of toxic relationships

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: It’s not just about leaving a person behind, it’s about leaving behind what feels to be a separate world, one you want to detach from yet you still want to hold onto for the twisted comfort it gives you, the familiarity of it all. But then again, you’ve been drowning in the deep too long to still want to hold on, and all you want is to swim up to the surface and breathe in.

Requested by the lovely readers who showed the first fic “In Too Deep” so much love and support. I’m so glad to be writing a sequel for this piece because I enjoyed writing it so much! I love the storyline and I can’t express how grateful I am the Anon who sent in the request for it in the first place. Love you all, Vy ❤

A romantic relationship should never be a responsibility. A person should never be another person’s responsibility. One cannot be a pillar and stand strong while the other is falling apart, leaning on them and depending on them for everything in their life. That’s not love, it’s hell. It’s a job you get paid for with nothing but exhaustion, pain and emptiness. Your mind’s constantly flooded by images of all those times you could’ve experienced had those ‘what if’s happened.

What if she didn’t turn up to class late that day? What if she didn’t need anyone to distract the professor for her to get in the classroom undetected? What if when Kaylor asked for sex as a repayment she refused and slapped him across the face?

Well, things would be different. She wouldn’t be living like this, that’s for sure. She’d be working her ass off, just like she’s wanted to all her life. Coming from a family of drunks and bums, she’s always wanted to prove her worth, not to others but to herself. To prove that ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ doesn’t always apply. She’s always been terrified of that saying, never wanting to become like her parents and older siblings. Never wanting to become like Kaylor who started off as her acquaintance, proceeded to become a guy she regularly hooked up with and then became her boyfriend. And then, the worst decision among all she’s ever made, she allowed him to slip that ring onto her finger and a few months later exchange vows with her in front of an altar. Had her phone not died the night prior to meeting him, none of this would’ve happened. She’d have several normal jobs instead of one barely-paying one and one she didn’t know she ever even signed up for - taking care of Kaylor.

She’s been drowning in the deep for so long, she can barely remember. Long enough to forget how breathing in feels.

However, she’s not the only one.

He has his own fulfilled ‘what if’s as well: what if he hadn’t left his apartment that night? What if he had stopped after the second beer like he originally intended to? What if he didn’t choose exactly that night to socialize with the stranger who sat down on the bar stool next to him. What if he simply paid for his drinks and left?

But he didn’t, he didn’t do any of that. Didn’t manage to preserve himself, didn’t manage to keep it in his pants or hide the lust in his eyes. Still, the hook-up on its own wouldn’t have been so horrible had it not led to what it did afterwards. Had it not led to a relationship with one very fragile girl. A girl much like him, too much like him. Constantly insecure, fearful, paranoid, dependent, distrusting. A girl always in need of a firm grip on her hand and an external voice telling her it would all be alright because her internal voice is never optimistic. Her own mind doesn’t like her, she can barely stand it, and he got caught in that crossfire.

He can’t really picture what he would be doing with his life if it wasn’t for Ida, he’s that sucked in. He’s that deep into this mess. It’s not water he’s drowning in, it’s quicksand, the type that’s taken form with his regret and self-hatred as a base. Breathing in would result in sand-filled lungs but at this point his only wish is to breathe in, no matter the consequences. After all, if it doesn’t save him it’ll kill him and he can live with that.

Still, it hasn’t all been dark for our broken lovers. There are several ‘what if’s Corpse and Y/N don’t ever wanna imagine or know the outcome of. Such as, for example: What if the two of them never met? What if they didn’t strike up the relationship question? What if they didn’t share that kiss in that parking lot that night. That single contact between their lips was the only thing they didn’t regret that night. What they regret the most, however, is walking away from one another, spiraling their situation out of control, turning it into a twisted, sticky spiderweb, laced with the sin of cheating on a significant other.

If it were as simple as people make it out to be - break up with the other person instead of cheating - they would’ve done it so long ago. They would’ve been far from here. Very far from this fucking place and these fucking problems had they been the ones holding the leash of their fate rather than let the current of events manipulate them.

Maybe they’re a little late with the grasp of this realization, but that’s not what matters. What’s important is the here and now, the events that are about to occur or not occur. The actions that will or won’t be taken. Y/N and Corpse have been a will they/won’t they pair from the very start, always leaning more towards won’t because of how impossible it all felt. How hopeless the spiraling hell they were in made them feel.

But now the tables have turned.

Corpse was the first to leave his hell-cell. He did so by cutting things off with Ida a week ago. He did so rather gently and caringly, promising he’s always a phone call away whenever she needs him. It took a lot of preparation and guts he didn’t have but had to develop in order to execute such a delicate operation and make it a successful one. The response he got from her was rather surprising.

“I was hoping you’d call it off.“ She said with a small smile, shocking him to the point of letting out a small gasp, “I mean, you know me, I could’ve never done it. But I hated what I was doing to you and I hated myself even more for not being able to stop and...“ she trailed off, her lips pressing in a thin line, eyes glistening with tears, “...I’m so glad you did it. You’re saving both of us, trust me.“

As he was packing his stuff, he overheard Ida’s phone call with her parents, telling them she wanted to move back in with them for a little while but refused to answer any further questions, at least not over the phone. That was the biggest relief, a whole-ass boulder lifted off him, allowing him to finally breathe in. But he wasn’t breathing in at full lung capacity, he still isn’t even no as he stands outside a gas station, leaning on the side of his car which is loaded with all his belongings which he doesn’t have many of, thankfully. He’s waiting for her - the half of this relationship that’s still swaying between will it/won’t it. Corpse is all will, all in, ready for a new, fresh start, ready to be able to breathe the air of the real world, feel the breeze of a real life finally. Whereas Y/N is not as certain, not as prepared and a lot more emotionally attached. It’s understandable, she’s leaving behind a husband, not just a boyfriend.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Corpse. I won’t be able to live if something happens to him. I’ll forever feel guilty, I’ll hate myself forever. You gotta understand.“ She told him the same night him and Ida had their break-up. He called her, telling her he had some big news to share. His excitement was quickly shot down when she gave him this response, eyes glossy with sorrowful tears.

He understood.

She asked for time. He gave it to her.

He gave her an ultimatum. She gave dubious agreement.

The ultimatum? : meet him at this gas station, with her belongings, right at sunset, prepared for the adventure filled with struggles, the whole experience of starting new.

And so he waits, watching as the sun goes lower and lower, leaving the scene to be taken over by the moon and now dark and starry sky - just like his hopefulness is stepping aside for his depression and dread to take over.

She’s not here. She hasn’t tried to reach out to tell him anything. Even a rejection would’ve been better than to let him wait here, his heart breaking a bit more with each passing minute. All this time he’s been trying to convince himself he’ll move on without her if she doesn’t show up. He’ll skip town like the two of them planned to do together. He’ll leave and leave it all behind, Y/N included. But now, looking from this standpoint, being barely a minute away from having to put his foot down on the gas pedal and drive out of the city, pass the sign that’ll tell him he’s passed the threshold, he finds it brings him almost physical pain.

He’s not sure he can do it.

With a heavy sigh he spares the horizon one final glance to see there are only faint traces of the sun he was observing just minutes prior, the final reminder that he has to go now, has to stay true to himself and respect the ultimatum he posed, no matter how much it hurts emotionally, mentally or physically.

Just as he’s about to enter his car, he hears what sounds to be footsteps, but before he can even look up to check where they’re coming from a loud, cheery yell startles him.

“HEY! Look what I got!“ He’d recognize that voice anywhere and no matter what words it says, it’ll always grab his full attention just like it did just now.

Corpse whirls around to face the direction of the voice to see her, Y/N beaming at him brighter than the sun he just watched set. Over one shoulder she has a duffel bag and in the opposite arm she’s dragging a suitcase and if that isn’t confirmation enough, in her free hand she proudly wields what looks to be a document. When she gets closer, his eyes widen at the realization of what she’s holding - divorce papers.

“H-how?“ He stutters in disbelief, his jaw hanging, his heart beating like crazy, his eyes brimming with tears of joy that’s just exploded throughout his chest like a firework.

She rolls her eyes, dropping the papers, suitcase and duffel bag in the dust, “You talk too much.“ With that, she rushes over to him, throwing her arms and legs around him, her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Breathing in, they’re both breathing in, with full lung capacity at that - something they never thought they’d have the chance to do, but here they are. Here they stand, shamelessly in each other’s tight , loving embrace that they never want to have to let go of again, afraid of the wrong eyes seeing it.

They are finally free, finally out of the deep end and back to being afloat, floating towards the nearest island to make it their own. And on that note...

“Let’s get out of here.“ Y/N whispers in Corpse’s ear, her fingers tightening the hold of his shirt at his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

Lines Get Blurred

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Sometimes we don't understand our feelings, and that's okay. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Undefined Relationship, Physical Intimacy, Mild Anxiety.

{ Notes } Written for @sailormakoto. Usually, I'd wait longer to start another part to make sure people were interested, but they said they'd like it, so... Now you have to like it even though it's a dumpster fire rolling downhill fast. Reader isn't good with their emotions and it very obviously shows. It's really just messy and bad but I don't know what else to do or how to make a cohesive, logical plot. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 1,783

Childe’s guard nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a yelp of fright as you swept out of the apartment in a hurry. But in your rush, you hardly noticed him at all, the entirety of your focus was currently on your goal of escaping the embarrassment that was on the verge of consuming you whole. With your body moving on autopilot through the busy streets of Liyue, you retreated into your mind to wrangle your thoughts and gain some sense of control.

Why was it exactly that you felt such an overwhelming urge to run away? It wasn't that you didn’t like or want the kiss, it had been rather enjoyable for you. It had happened so easily between you, and that was the part that you found weird. You couldn’t understand why it felt so easy with him, things weren’t normally like this. It was certainly safe to say you had never wanted to kiss your other friends, and that’s what you and Childe were. Friends.

It’s not like you were in love with him, you were pretty sure you felt the same about him as you always had. Sure, it had been a few months and you’d gotten to know him better and found spending time with him more enjoyable, but ultimately he was still the same person he was when you first met. You got along with him, you laughed together and now sometimes you casually made out with each other. That was fine, friends could do that, right?

Perhaps you were blowing things out of proportion. A few kisses didn't change anything, really. It's not like Childe had confessed to having feelings for you or anything drastic. You two were just friends and everything was fine, things would eventually sort themselves out.

You hadn't even realized you had been mildly hyperventilating by the time you regulated your breathing back to normal and managed to get out of your head. With your focus now on your surroundings, you found yourself in Liyue's bustling market among the fresh produce. You decided it would be best to pick up some groceries while you were here, as you said you would. Picking out what looked best and haggling with the merchants over prices seemed like a good way to pretend your problems didn’t exist clear your head.

As it turns out, grocery shopping became infinitely more difficult when you didn’t know what was needed. It was clear Childe liked to cook but you didn’t know what it was he liked to prepare. Going back to get a list from him now would be incredibly awkward, so you decided to play it safe and buy a large quantity wide variety of ingredients. You decided you had enough when the bags in your arms felt like they were getting too heavy to carry. Fitting this much food into Childe’s kitchen was going to be quite the struggle. Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your actions.

Dragging all your purchases back to the apartment was going to be quite the workout. You wondered if next time it would be possible to get one of the low-ranking Fatui to help you carry things. A few pedestrians gave you some odd looks as they saw your mountain of purchases, but no one offered you any help. Things only got worse once you remembered you had said you were going to buy some things from Bubu Pharmacy, too. You were going to be strong as fuck after going up all those goddamn steps.

The man at the counter wore a worried expression as he noticed the amount of bags you were dragging along with you. You brushed off his concern with something about how you were an adventurer and stronger than the average person, trying not to let it show that you were indeed struggling to carry everything. Even with superhuman strength, you had your limits. Unfortunately, the man accepted your words and busied himself with finding the ice packs you requested, along with an herbal tea you asked for because it had a divine aroma you noticed upon walking in. It's not like he was likely able to help you with the groceries, so you supposed it didn't matter.

By the time you returned to Childe’s apartment, your arms were ready to fall off and the scowl on your face must have been quite intimidating because the guard stationed at the door immediately did as he was told when you ordered him to open the door for you. He didn't say a word, not even giving you a nasty look for the first time. Despite the non-hostile treatment by the guard, you promptly kicked the door closed on him after entering the apartment, heading straight to the kitchen and letting out a sigh of relief after dropping all of the bags in the middle of the floor.

You hadn’t seen Childe on your way in and you couldn’t hear him moving around the apartment but you assumed he was home, the guard probably wouldn’t have been quite so willing to let you in otherwise. Even if you wore a scary expression. Not to mention, surely the Harbinger wouldn’t appoint a guard foolish enough to allow you in unsupervised, there were likely sensitive documents somewhere inside. You assumed it had been Fatui reports he was reading earlier.

Finding room for all the groceries you had purchased took your mind away from wondering about the location of your temporary host. Putting everything away proved to be a time-consuming task, but by the end of it Childe had yet to make an appearance, or even any noise indicating he was in the apartment. This was worrying, if he had left and gotten himself hurt you’d have to go out in search of him. After purchasing, carrying, and putting away all the food you had bought you weren’t sure you were up for tracking him down.

Taking one of the newly purchased ice packs to use as an excuse, you wrapped it in a towel before making your way to his bedroom. It seemed like the most likely place to find him if he was indeed still in the apartment. It was hard to imagine he'd have spent so much time silent in the bathroom. You felt strangely on edge as you stopped in front of the door, knocking softly three times.

No reply came but you weren't convinced he was truly not home, so you slowly pushed the door open, holding your breath. It didn’t make sense for you to feel so nervous about this, it wasn’t the end of the world if he wasn’t home. Maybe you were more worried about seeing him than not.

The sight of Childe sprawled out in the middle of his bed peacefully napping greeted you as you quietly entered. His blanket appeared to have been thrown off him in his sleep and his shirt rode up just a little bit. His room was tidy, but you were too busy appreciating the revealed section of his abdomen to take a proper look around. You were only granted a few moments to stare before he opened one eye, peering at you for just long enough to register that it was you in his room.

It was unsurprising that the Harbinger was a light sleeper enough sleeper to be woken by you entering his room, considering his line of work. Vastly more surprising was when, after determining it was you who had woken him, he closed his eye again and went back to dozing. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at this, a pleasant warmth filling you at the show of trust. Or maybe he was too tired to care.

Of course he trusted you, you were friends after all. The thought had your smile fading, but you weren’t sure why that displeased you. Pushing the thought from your head, you silently made your way to the bedside and placed the icepack at his side.

The sudden cold had ocean eyes fluttering open before focusing on you. You smiled playfully at his slightly disgruntled expression. That was much easier on your emotions than his prior vulnerability.

“Sorry, but it needs to be done.”

“Mm, whatever. Hey, did I make you uncomfortable earlier?” the Harbinger asked, causing your heart to pause. He certainly was good at getting straight to the point. You had to take a deep breath before answering him.

“No, not at all. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I ran away like that,” you told him, the words rushing out of your mouth. Your heart was racing faster than you thought it should have been in this situation. It’s not like any of this was that big of a deal, certainly not the end of the world.

“Well if you’re not uncomfortable then how ‘bout you nap with me?” the Snezhnayan offered, and you were pretty sure it was almost entirely because he wanted to get back to sleep himself, “You look exhausted, you probably need it.”

High flags of color appeared on your cheeks at his words, you must not be looking your best for him to offer such a thing. It couldn't be that he was actually worried for you, but you couldn't reason out why he would offer such a thing. However, the prospect of rest was tempting, but you couldn’t help but think it would be easier on your heart if you just went to your room for it. Then again, if you rejected him it might seem like you had been lying about being comfortable with him.

“Stop thinking so loudly and just come here,” Childe said finally, opening his arms to you. You clenched your jaw, feeling even more embarrassed, but began climbing into bed with him.

“Fine,” you mumbled, letting him pull you close before covering the both of you with a blanket. He gently tucked your head against his chest before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, luckily for you, it wasn’t possible for you to get any redder at this point. Not that he would see considering he had closed his eyes and was already nodding off again, but maybe he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

“You worry too much. Relax and go to sleep.”

Despite your internal anxieties, you found yourself complying with his suggestion thanks to the fatigue already weighing you down and how comfortable it felt to be in his arms. All of it felt a little too intimate for being just friends, but you didn’t get much time to worry about it as you drifted off into unconsciousness.

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arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years

Note

Hi if your requests are still open can you do something with the demon brothers + new datables (or not if that's too much!) comforting an MC who just got off a shift at work and is frustrated from customers and needs some reassuring words/cuddles to make them feel better? Thanks so much~😊💞

A message for all the workers who are employed despite the pandemic or were employed but had to stop due to the pandemic, YOU ARE THE REAL ONES!!

Thank you so much for all the hard work you're doing/done, especially retail. You guys are always being supportive and understanding.

I'm so sorry for all you who's had to deal with Karen's and uncomfortable customer's who's tried hitting on you or just being disturbing

I wish the government wasn't doing you all dirty. Money can be such a serious issue and now it's gotten even worse, I just wanna say I'm proud and thankful!

Brothers + undateables comfort MC who just finished a hard day of work

Lucifer:

You found him in his study, hunched over his desk

Seeing him so deep into work made you regret coming to him

You were just about to head back up but he spotted you

"Welcome back, I'll be with you in a moment, I I just need to- Dear? What's wrong?"

You immediately broke down into tears

In seconds you were being cradled in his arms, sitting in his lap and having soothing circles rubbed into your back

He's letting you release your frustrations, ignoring how wet his shirt was getting

When you finally calmed down, you apologized for getting his shirt wet

"Nonsense, tell me what's upset you, was it your manager again?"

You explained how your day went, how costumers were yelling at you and the work getting overwhelming

"You did everything you could, they're lucky to have such a hard worker like yourself, I'll be phoning your boss as soon as I can to get you a raise."

Mammon:

He picked you up in his car, waving you over with some take out sitting in your seat

As soon as you buckled in you took your portion of take out

"So, how was work? Did you finally get your pay check?"

You sighed, shoving your face with food as you ranted about how difficult today has been

The more you spoke the more upset you got, sniffling and trying to hide your sobs

He couldn't stand it; he pulled over as soon as he could and turned to you

"They can't be treating you like that! What are their names and faces? I'll go sort them out, no one treats my baby like that!"

You laughed, telling him he can't beat up your costumers

"You can't do it but I can, don't worry I'll find a way."

He pulled you into a hug, both of you laughing when he choked himself on his seatbelt

After you two unbuckled he just let you lean against him, having how own mini rant about how amazing you are and people not treating you like you're the most valuable treasure in the world

Levithan:

He was gaming, of course, when he heard you knock he immediately asked what's the secret password

"Please, not today, I can barely think right now, can I just come in?"

Usually he's more stubborn than that but hearing how desperate your voice was, he let you in

Knew something was bad when you immediately climbed into his bed tub and smother yourself with his body pillow

He let his game play in the background, ignoring the angry messages from his team mates

"Work stress?"

All he heard was a muffled sound of agreement

"Those damn normies-! What did they do to you? Was it the Karen's again?"

You yelled into the pillow, ranting about your day and letting it be muffled but still loud enough for him to hear

He scooted over in his chair, watching you peak your head out

Tears staining your cheeks as you frowned at him

He blushed as he immediately kissed both of your cheeks, cupping your face

"wanna play employee simulator? It lets you fight the annoying customers."

Satan:

"There's my hard worker." He kissed your cheek, greeting you at your bedroom door

"You seem upset, what's the matter?"

You immediately started explaining what happened toward, leaning against him as you went on and on

Satan could feel his anger flair up as he listened

He couldn't stand how the customer's have been treating you and the fact no one was willing to give you some emotional support at work?

Not even a pat on the shoulder or words of praise of how you handled it

But he kept himself in check, holding you close

"That must of been horrible, I can't imagine how tired you must be, let's go rest, okay? You did amazing today, kitten."

You sniffled, asking if he really meant what he said

He nodded, dragging you to your bed and telling you how proud he is

Asmodeus:

"My poor sweetheart! You look absolutely exhausted! What happened today?!"

He caressed and rubbed your skin, soothing out your frown lines and any sign of stress

You let him pamper you whilst you went off about how work was

Recieving alot of 'No!'s, 'They didn't!' and hums of displeasure

He tsked, rubbing the soothing cream into your palm

"They're just awful, aren't they? This kind of stress isn't good for you, Perhaps I should come with you! See how great you are in person."

You immediately butted in, not wanting him to force himself to do something he didn't want to do

Knowing he's very mindful of his appearance and status among people

"I'll do it for you~ besides, people love me! I'll charm those horrible costumers and they'll never be rude to you again."

You insisted that he didn't have to

He then rambled on about how attractive you look when you're focused and doing work

You just laughed, sinking into his touch as he went on

Beezlebub:

He frowned when he noticed you didn't give him his 'im back' kiss

He immediately went searching for you and found you in your room

Face buried in your pillow and your body shaking

"You're crying."

A pit formed in his stomach, wondering what upset you

You told him how horrible today was, going into detail about how hard you were trying to fix the issues but they just wouldn't stop

You almost got in trouble with your manger! You could of been fired!

"You did everything you could and still kept your cool, the place would be lost without you there."

You smiled, shuffling over and giving him a big hug, he immediately returned it

He was giving you gentle comforting squeezes

slowly rocking you both side to side

"I'll eat them if they keep harassing you."

Belphegor:

"Come to your favourite demon, tell him everything that happened."

He did the grabby hands, looking up at you

You sighed, letting yourself flop in his arms as you hugged him

You wondered how he could tell how upset you were

He just grinned

"I'm smart, remember? I know when my teddy bear is upset."

You just rolled your eyes, staring off to the side as tears formed

He didn't expect you to yell in frustration

You ranted about how work was today

How costumers yelled at you and kept insisting you were lying about the products

Critizing your job and assuming things about you

Even having a few creeps come in and try to flirt with you

"Don't listen to any of them, I know who you are and you know who you are, It's impressive how professional you can be when they act like that, I would of killed them."

He listened to you ramble, hugging you and stroking up and down your back

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

"I didn't expect you to come back so late, did something happen?"

You explained how your job forced you to do extra hours, despite not getting over time pay

He made a mental note to visit your workplace on one of your day's off

You then proceeded to go on about how the costumer's were treating you

How stressful and harsh today was

Diavolo just listened, nodding along

He felt his jaw clench

"Tell me more on the bed, your feet must be aching."

You both laid on his bed, you continued your story about today whilst he held your hand

"This is unforgivable, I cannot stand to imagine people being so rude to you, I know you do your very best and would never deserve such treatment."

He was cuddling you all night, wanting to sooth your upset heart

Whenever he felt you shake against him, trying to combat your tears he just gently patted you

Encouraging you to just let it all out, praising you for how amazing you are

Barbatos:

As soon as you arrived back, he was quick to help you undress

Handing you your pajamas and helped you take off your shoes

He noticed a new blister and your sigh of content when you were finally out of them

He works aswell so he understands the struggles

"another long day? tell me what happened, you need to let your frustrations out."

And you did just that

You poured your heart and soul into your stressed out grunts

Becoming more upset the more you spoke about your tough day

Getting more upset when your manager only made it worse by blaming the costumers anger on you

All you did was tell her what you were taught to say!

"That won't do, I'll be sure to have my lord handle things with your boss, tomorrow."

You told him that you didn't want to be a hassle but he silenced you

Suddenly embarassing you as he patted your head

"I'll fix this for you, while I cannot change the customer's I can change how your higher ups are treating you, you don't deserve this."

Solomon:

When you met up with him, you had to try and hide how much you've been stressing

But Solomon was known to be wise for a reason

He immediately figured out something was wrong

"I'm Solomon the wise, you cannot fool me, what happened today?"

As soon as you tell him what happened today

He pulls out a potion, suspiciously doesn't tell you what it does, and tells you to splash it in difficult customers eyes

You were sure it was posion or some weird liquid that came from his cooking attempts

Then again those were basically the same thing

"if the eyes don't work, I could put it in a spray, it'll stop them from yelling at you again~!"

You were very tempted

You never wanted to be yelled or harassed by a customer again

But you didn't want to get fired for assaulting a customer or even worse, killing one

"You followed protocol exactly as you were told, they shouldn't be mad at you for doing your job but don't worry, I'll make all your tears-"

He suddenly wiped under your eyes, catching you off guard

"Disappear!"

Simeon:

"My little lamb, tell me what's bothering you."

He sat you down on the sofa, grasping your hand

You deflated

You rested your head on his chest and played with his hand

He listened to you rant and ramble about your horrible day at work

He couldn't believe what he was hearing; how rude they were and had no right to treat you like that!

"Perhaps, I shall bless you with a miracle and get rid of those rude customer's."

As wonderful as that sounded

You joked how unangelic it seemed; using his power to 'get rid of people'

Hearing a dangerous implication in his voice

"It is a good deed that will do many a favour, I believe it to be extremely kind, after all, you didn't do anything wrong."

Stayed and cuddled with you until you fell asleep, preferring how happy and peaceful you looked than how you looked before

Stressed and clearly upset

Luke:

"Those demons!! I've been telling you they're horrible creatures, they can't be treating you like that!"

Perhaps ranting to him wasn't the wisest decision

But he was so eager to see you after work and wanted to know what was wrong

He was hugging your hips, stomping his foot when he spoke

"You're an angel in human disguise! There's no way they could be so horrible to out without being truely evil beings!"

You tried to calm him down by picking him up

Telling him you were able to handle the situation like a champ

He felt better knowing you were able to come out on top

He hugged you as you took him back to his room

Tucking him into bed but was surprised when he grabbed you

"You're a really good person and I know you work harder than anyone else, I hope they don't be mean to you like that again."

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

I’m still learning how I best want to write the Undateables, so I’m sorry if they’re a bit lacking. This was really wholesome to write, thank you for your request! 💜

Lucifer

When first summoned down to the Devildom, MC looked more disoriented than he would’ve expected. “Where am I? Who are you guys?” They hadn’t managed to look at Diavolo yet, even while he was speaking to them. They already put him in a bad mood.

“Didn’t you learn its bad manners to ignore the people that are talking to you? Look at Lord Diavolo while he’s speaking.” Lucifer growled, leaving MC with an exasperated expression.

“I’m BLIND.”

Error.

They were blind?? Humans were so fragile that they could just lose their eyesight?? Permanently?! He’s already got several new grey hairs. He’d have to entirely change up the house, he’d need to have someone with them at all times. How would they read? How would they get school work done?

MC has to explain to him that they’ve been this way for a long time, so they can handle themselves. They’ll have to tell him about things they use to help them out, like a cane for starters. They’ll tell him later how they best do schoolwork, but he’s already busy contacting someone about a cane.

It doesn’t matter what MC says, he now feels obligated to keep them under his watch as much as possible. He’s responsible for keeping them safe after all, and he can’t feel relaxed until he can confirm that they’re okay.

Although he did find out that MC was as talkative and feisty as a human could be. If things went too quiet they’d quickly fill up the empty space with chatter. Not to mention anytime he, or any demon for that matter, went into demon form, the intimidation factor was lost. MC never budged. They didn’t mind standing up to him, which annoyed him greatly, but absolutely blew his mind. How such a tiny human, who didn’t have a major part of functioning, could easily stand up to a demon was beyond him.

When MC first asked if it was okay to ‘see’ him, he had no idea what they meant, but was curious to see where it would lead. He wasn’t aware that MC knew any magic. He didn’t expect MC to come over and gently touch his face, running their fingers gingerly over his features. MC politely asked if he could show his true self, and he agreed. MC drifted their way up to his horns, feeling the texture and shape. They had an expression of awe on their face, probably because they now knew that it was real, he wasn’t human. They struggled to find these supposed wings of his, and with one of his gloved hands, Lucifer took their wrist and guided MC along. They made a little gasp as the feathers brushed against their skin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, his demon form was supposed to strike shock and fear into people. He was supposed to be respected. He was supposed to be above this. So how was it he was sitting here, MC running their hands all over him, and he was the one who was shocked and speechless. He hated how MC had lost their eyesight, but in this one moment he was grateful that they couldn’t see his reddened face with such an embarrassing expression plastered over it.

Mammon

“What do you mean they can’t see? It’s not that dark in the Devildom. Oi, human, just open your eyes, don’t you know how seeing works?!...Oh...Oooh...”

He had a less than grand first impression when he first met MC, and to be honest, it kept getting worse before it got better. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He tried asking Lucifer if they could get a different human, one that wasn’t broken. He must’ve somehow thought that whispering from only about a foot away would keep MC from hearing him.

He didn’t get a different human, he was stuck with them, and he was going to receive a particularly severe punishment that night for how poorly he treated MC. He was in a bad mood, not to mention out of his mind with panic.

“I don’t know what to do with people who can’t see? Can we fix ya? Surely there’s some magic here that’ll make you good as new!”

He tried spells, he tried potions, he even paid a fortune to one of the Devildom’s best doctors. None of his antics worked, and out of all the brothers, Mammon took the longest to process that this was how MC was. It was a part of them. They would be like this forever.

He’ll stay by their side constantly, escorting them by the arm and hand, talking their ear off about this and that to keep them distracted. It causes MC to laugh about it every time. Who needs a seeing eye dog when you’ve got a wonderfully trained seeing eye Mammon. Sometimes he would even pick them up to go up and down stairs if he felt they would be too dangerous.

Anytime they’re at any sort of store, MC will have to touch almost everything, and if their hands brush across anything they like, even if only for it’s tactile nature, Mammon will buy it for them at the drop of a hat. It’ll drive Lucifer a bit crazy over the fact that MC won’t ever have a need for most of the things Mammon buys, but he’ll not bother them about it if he sees it makes MC happy even just to hold it.

MC is super talkative, but it’s typically just to fill empty dark space and make things seem more comfortable, but when they’re with Mammon, they don’t need to say a word. He does all the talking, and MC’s grown accustomed to the sound of his voice. It’s so different from his other brothers, the mannerisms he uses and the slight accent to it. Mammon still doesn’t realize that, for this reason, MC can single him out among the crowds at RAD, or how Mammon can never seem to sneak up on them. MC loves how loud he is. No matter how quiet he tries being, MC can always pick him out of the darkness, for them, he’s always there. Mammon will never say it, but he loves how his human knows him apart from everyone else.

Levi

“Huh, so you don’t watch anime, what a typical normie.”

“I actually can’t watch anything, just for your information.”

Fatality.

He knows the concept of blindness from anime and manga, but it almost seemed as foreign to him as magic seemed to MC. Typically in the stories he saw, it was never permanent, always the cause of some curse or spell or even a fight! MC had gone through none of that, it was what it was.

He almost found it relaxing for a moment, because he felt a bit more confident in himself. MC couldn’t see what an ugly shut-in looked like. However, his moods were quickly dashed when MC tripped over an empty can he had lying on the floor. He caught them from falling but quickly went into a state of despair. He was a dirty trashy shut-in. Lucifer would later find that Levi now had his room clean of trash at all times, his floor spotless.

Levi would absolutely cry, and I mean cry, over the fact that MC would never be able to fully enjoy anime or manga or video games. They could maybe enjoy some Dubbed shows but it wouldn’t be the same. If MC hangs out with him, Levi will give them the full commentator experience. He’ll explain what’s going on in his games or shows in hopes MC can still enjoy his favorite form of entertainment.

The first time in his Demon form, MC stepped on his tail in attempt to get to his wings. He yelped in shock. MC was vastly confused. What was that? Where was his wings? Lucifer and Mammon had wings so where were his? He hated being compared to them like that. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t look nearly as intimidating. No he didn’t have wings, he just has this clunky ugly tail. MC grabbed his tail, making him turn bright red. They ran their fingers over his scales, petting it, pulling it out to see how long it was. MC endlessly talked about how cool it was, and how it felt amazing to touch. Lucifer and Mammon didn’t have a tail. Levi never felt envious of not having wings ever again.

Satan

He can’t believe his brothers didn’t know that humans were capable of being blind. They were extremely fragile creatures but somehow were heartier and more stubborn than they looked, capable of thriving despite everything they go through.

He didn’t know everything about being blind, since it never seemed to come up often enough for him to need to learn about. So you can bet that in just the first few days MC was there, he thoroughly studied up on anything he thought would help him.

He was surprised to find that there was a form of reading available for people who had lost their sight. He had never heard about Braille before this. As a demon who wanted to learn as many languages and reading forms as possible, he was angry he missed something like this.

He wasn’t as angry, however, when MC offered to help teach him how to read Braille if he helped them with their schoolwork and studies. The Devildom school was surprisingly accommodating but until Diavolo and Lucifer finished sorting things out, they couldn’t read any of their schoolwork.

He usually preferred silence, but he didn’t mind when MC would come in his room and feel comfortable enough to talk in detail everything that had happened that day. In return, he liked when MC would listen intently as his narrating voice filled up the room while he would read his favorite stories to them. He loved the way their face would crinkle when he’d attempt to voice a particular character. They put their hand on his chest and would beg him to do it again with a laugh. He’d attempt the line again, MC feeling the deep rumble in his chest. Reading would now not be the same without them.

The more he got to know them, the more the heat in his chest over their blank non-focused eyes grew hotter. How could they not see? How could someone like them be deprived of something like that? He couldn’t show them art, photographs, the beauty of the Devildom’s stars. MC assured him that it was alright, anytime they wanted to know what something looked like, they would ask him. Anything he described sounded like poetry. With him around, his words would be enough.

Asmo

Blind, as in they couldn’t see anything, see him?! His radiant shine? His picture perfect features? His allure? They wouldn’t see any of that? He was astounded. He was upset. He was dramatically depressed. He got over it pretty quickly, though, he’s very attractive yes, but all of his other qualities were just as attractive.

He’ll help tweak their uniform, he’ll buy them clothes that not only feel amazing, but look amazing. If touch is important to them, he’ll get them lotions, skincare products, anything they wanted to keep them well taken care of. Their hands will never worry about being dry.

He loves when MC touches his face to know what he looks like. He’ll use this as an excuse. “How do you know it’s Asmo? I might have put a spell on my voice, double check.” He’ll put his hands over theirs while they amuse him and feel the details on his face down to the bridge of his nose.

One particularly pleasant evening for Asmo, he goes on and on about new clothes he bought, and then brings MC into it.

“Right right? I think it’ll look ravishing on me, the color matches MC’s eyes.” MC smiles and states that they had forgotten their eyes were that color. Asmo sits there for a moment before shrieking, standing up so fast his chair falls over. “You don’t even know what you look like!”

Of course MC had a pretty general idea of what they looked like, but yes he was right for the most part. They didn’t understand why Asmo was so shocked about it. However, Asmo refuses to let this go, and he takes them to his bedroom describing MC down to the bone. He’ll tell them what their eye color reminds him of, the particular way their eyelashes curl, how their complexion looked under the moonlight. He’ll go on and on and on, not realizing that he’s never ever spoke so long about someone else before, so MC lets him continue. They’ve never cared about appearances before, but the way Asmo talks about them makes them cozy on the inside. He made them feel like the most gorgeous thing on earth.

They’ll then change it up, making Asmo close their eyes as they talk about all the things about him that they love. The way the air smells around him when he comes into the room. The way his tone raises up when he’s excited about something. The way his footsteps sound on hard surfaces. They adore how one side of his hair is longer than the other. They love his presence. Asmo is dumbfounded, no one has ever described him in that way before. He’ll melt and might call a doctor for this strange new feeling in his chest.

Beel

They can’t see anything? Can they at least eat?? Well then it’s not the end of the world. If MC had somehow been deprived of taste, he would’ve really been upset. Food doesn’t have to look great to taste great. Still, the fact that they couldn’t see made the Devildom even more dangerous, and he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt around him, not again.

He’s among the most considerate of the brothers even though he’s not used to being around someone that can’t see. He’s real worried he’ll hurt MC, so he’s always extra careful. He’ll announce that he’s beside them even though they heard his footsteps near them and could feel the heat coming off of his body. He’ll always ask them first if it’s okay to touch them so he can help them out. He’s even extra wary about hugs at first, what if he just...breaks them even more? As time goes by he learns he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells.

He finds it a fun game to let them try to figure out what stuff he made for them before they eat it, more times than not, they figure it out. Then he’ll eat it with them, unnecessarily guiding the fork to their mouth.

If Mammon isn’t by their side, it’s usually Beel who’s next. If he’s not busy with sports or working out, he’ll stick around by MC wherever they want to go. However, it’s usually MC who stays by him whenever he sees something tasty to make sure he doesn’t run off.

MC knew he worked out, but had always envisioned him to be like a big teddy bear. It wasn’t until MC asked to feel him until they understood just how strong Beel was. Under his soft clothes, they felt his tough muscles. He was built like a brick, no matter where they felt him, his arms, his sides, he was completely different than they had expected. His face was soft at least. His hair fun to play with. In his demon form adored touching his horns, exclaiming that they were perfect for fitting doughnuts. He didn’t need to know that, now Lucifer’s going to have to question why in the world Beel has doughnuts stacked on his horns. His wings felt silky and surprisingly fragile despite how strong he felt everywhere else. They were sure they weren’t as weak as they felt, but it let MC know that Beel was still soft. MC couldn’t stop gawking over how big and strong Beel was, pretending to punch him in the gut even though they could probably punch him for real and he wouldn’t feel it.

All Beel wanted was to tell MC how strong he thought they were.

Belphie

At first, he couldn’t believe that, somehow, they had chosen someone who couldn’t even see to be a part of the program. He felt like this supported his idea that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but fortunately, he thought, this made it easy for him to manipulate MC’s actions. How guilty this made him feel, afterwards.

He’d stay silent and sneak around MC, feeling that it was best if they didn’t even know he was there. They knew where he was, no matter how hard he tried. They could follow his dragging footsteps as he lazily walked through the house. His sighs and breathing were also very distinguishable.

They didn’t start getting to know each other till MC was wandering through the house, trying to still burn the number of steps in their mind in this massive place. Their cane found a strange obstacle in the middle of the floor, something that wasn’t usually there. They poked it, it was surprisingly soft. They got down on their knees and reached over, feeling cozy clothes and skin. They found a face and traced it over. It wasn’t anyone they had memorized, so it must’ve been Belphie. Made sense that he was the only one crazy enough to sleep in the middle of the floor. They loved how soft he felt, softer than any of his other brothers. Even his hair was like a velvety down you’d find in a pillow.

They knew he had woken up from his nap. The little muscles in his face were twitching, and his breathing was strained. He was trying to pretend he was asleep, but MC just kept going. They traced down his slender arms to his hands. They were free of any callouses or cuts. They took his hand and grasped it firmly in their own.

“I forgive you, you don’t need to avoid me anymore, or pretend that you’re asleep.” They heard his breathing go still, and then he sat up.

“You knew?”

“I’m not as stupid as people think I am. I may not be able to see, but I can still figure things out just fine.” They gently whacked him with their cane. “So I know you’ve been sneaking around me.”

Belphie didn’t think they wanted him around, after everything he’d done. He was still surprised his brothers kept him around at the end of the day. He just sighed. Emotions were exhausting.

MC felt for his waist and then gave him a tight hug. They knew what it meant to be ashamed of you you were, of the things you’d done, but it didn’t matter. They wanted bygones to be bygones, and they wanted to learn about Belphie for who he really was, not what grief had made him out to be.

MC now finds a new lump in their bed every so often. A lump that moans when you lie on it apparently. Naps are pleasant with him around. MC loves sleeping with their hands in his hair.

MC can’t dream, not in the same way other people do, so Belphie does enough dreaming for the both of them. He’ll share stories of rippling meadows and drifting clouds. He’ll make sure they hear all sorts of pleasant things before they fall asleep. He hopes he can make it up to them.

Diavolo

Figuring out MC was blind didn’t come as a shock, he knew they were after all. He wouldn’t choose someone without knowing the important things about them, and having no eyesight definitely checked out as important.

Knowing him, he did this as a test. He was testing out how the brothers would react and if they indeed could keep MC safe. If a blind human could make it through an entire year in the realm of demons, it would be more than a major success for his program.

The more he got to know about MC, the more he grew close to them instead of just treating them like a test subject or a campaign plan. He loved how they weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, and he also loved how he could spend hours with them, MC talking the entire time. It drove Lucifer wild, but Diavolo found it fascinating and fun.

“Is this what having friends is like? Amazing.”

He’ll have things all set up for them in a matter of days, having whatever accommodations they need to make their school life as easy as possible. Of course, this supposed ‘special treatment’ didn’t go well over demons who opposed the program. Some demons who disapproved didn’t have the courage to defy him directly at first, but now they were starting to scurry out of the sewers like rats. They headed straight over to Diavolo’s new ‘pet’.

They would abuse MC’s lack of sight to mess with them, stealing their things, purposefully knocking them around since they wouldn’t be able to tell who they were, but any demon who thinks Diavolo doesn’t see everything is sadly mistaken. MC tried standing up for themselves, but they could feel a tremendous and overwhelming presence behind them, larger than anything they had felt before. The demons would gasp, and the bullying would stop. Diavolo would put a hand on MC’s shoulder and they’d never be bothered again.

MC knew that this was the Lord of Demons, but they wanted to feel him in his demon form anyway, should he permit. He did permit, and at last MC was able to figure out this terrifying form of his. In his human form he was large, yes, but in demon form he was even bigger, impossibly big. Demonically big. His horns and wings were sharp and decorated in all manner of jewelry. The skin that stretched over bone to serve as his wings were littered with veins, and even just touching them allowed MC to feel the power pumping through them. He was intimidating yes, but after running their hands over his features, they were able to see how beautiful he was in his frightening glory.

Diavolo won’t tell them this, but they’re the only human who has ever laid a hand on him without immediately perishing or being subjected to torment. He’ll let MC do it again too, if they ever ask him.

Barbatos

The fact that he could’ve chosen a timeline where MC wasn’t like this is irrelevant. MC remained relatively the same throughout the different branches, blind or not. He does have control over time but mostly he’ll let time decide for itself, and he’ll take whatever MC the thread of fate decides to give him in this universe. No matter who shows up, he’ll take care of them.

He’s their secret shadow. MC’s working eyes. Diavolo always has him keeping tabs on them, keeping them safe whenever the brothers can’t. MC at first didn’t understand the whisper in the wind that told them to move to the side right before a demon blazed past. They were confused about the phenomenon of something wrapping around their leg to pull them down to the floor before an object whizzed above their head, causing something to explode behind them. It took MC until they finally heard Barbatos’ voice before it clicked.

When they asked to associate a form with that soft voice, he accepted, the normally even and calm tone just slightly more enthusiastic than normal. He had very wide shoulders and strong hands. Serving hands. Hands that felt almost familiar in a funny way, almost like they were hands that had pulled them away from an problem or two. His hair was longer on one side than the other, and they loved that. Even his demon form was intriguing. In every way that Diavolo’s presence boldly screamed, his aura clearly there, Barbatos was subtle. His horns were different than any horns MC had felt thus far. They were slender, bony, like two skeletal hands were reaching around his face to rest just above his forehead. Even his tail was different, splitting off near the bottom to have two controllable ends. He almost scared MC more than Diavolo.

Sometimes MC will talk to themselves alone in their room, filling up the silent space with their voice so it’s not as dark, not as dismal. Occasionally MC will feel like there’s someone there. Like there’s something nodding along with their ramble in the darkness as shadows quietly tidy up their room. MC will find their clothes folded in distinguishable piles. The floor clear of any potential obstacles. Their cane is easily accessible right near their bed.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

Sometimes the shadow will answer MC back, quietly drifting across the room to touch MC’s cheek before disappearing like a whisper. The darkness doesn’t seem as lonely anymore.

Simeon

He’s definitely going to be the kind of person who says “There must be a reason if God intended it.” MC had heard that throughout their life too many times. Religious or not, they hated when someone took their life and their disability and summed it up to God’s works. Their life was theirs alone, it belonged to no one else. They have a hard time around this angel at first.

Like Barbatos, Simeon can be impossibly quiet, which makes it hard for MC to be able to tell if he’s moving around. The only giveaways are the sounds his cloak makes, the little diamond shaped decor making slight clinking sounds as he moves. It’s melodic in a way, which MC sums up to angelic grace.

He’s not all bad, though. Yes he does believe God has his hands in all things, but that doesn’t mean he pities MC. That he thinks any less of them as a being. It doesn’t mean he’s chalking up their life to a charity case. He’s actually very sweet and fun. He’s one of the only people besides perhaps Solomon who believes MC is stronger than what they seem.

MC will admit sometimes they absolutely love how much the demons coddle and pamper them, but it can get too much too quickly. So sometimes they’ll run off and hang out with Simeon. He treats them like a person, not like a disability, not like a fragile little flower, but...normal.

“Hello, Simeon here...yes, MC is here...stop screaming, they’re fine...we’ve just been talking.”

He’ll let them talk and talk and talk. He’s quiet himself but he loves to hear MC’s voice. How happy they sound when they share stories and discussions and things that happened during their day.

MC can’t get enough of him now, they love hanging around this angel. There’s no sun in the Devildom, but anytime they’re around Simeon, they feel the same rays of warmth the sunshine gives.

Simeon will never call MC ‘human’ sometimes God’s Miracle, sometimes a Godsend, more often than not, a blessing, but never just ‘human’.

Solomon

Yes, MC is blind, and? He doesn’t care what disability they do or do not have, he still finds them intriguing, and they’re his sole human companion in this place, a kindred spirit.

He’s also mischief wrapped in mystery, so he does his best to teach MC some simple spells to make their life a little easier down in the Devildom. Letting things they drop come right back into their hands, giving a shock to anyone who touches them that they don’t know, simple things like that. He did underestimate MC’s power, though. He may or may not have had seven demons at his door the next day when he learned that MC had accidentally dragged all the furniture in the living room towards them at a disturbing pace after they dropped a schoolbook. He did find it very funny, but taught them how to control their powers better.

MC also doesn’t realize how much magic Solomon uses for their benefit. Objects they feel around for sometimes drift towards their hand. They will magically walk over holes in the ground. If any little pesky demon even dares try to mess with them, they’ll find themselves cursed. He knows that MC has nine powerful demons and two angels looking after them, but he does his part.

When he finally does let MC touch his face, they’re disappointed to find that Solomon is very much in control of his expressions. They can’t get a reading off of what he’s feeling at all. They love anytime the brothers can’t help but let their lip quiver or their eyes flutter. Solomon stays blank, maybe letting them feel a smile on his face, nothing more. However, they are pleased to find not even Solomon can control his temperature, they can feel his cheeks get warmer by the second as they caress his face.

They run their hands though his hair and find that touching him gives them a strange sensation. It’s something akin to static, but without the shock. It’s wonderfully addictive and strange. It leaves their fingers tingling and their nerves vibrating.

Because of this sensation, MC has to touch him anytime they meet. Solomon doesn’t mind, in fact he lives for this. He’ll look over MC’s shoulder and give a small smirk to any of the demon brothers standing behind them. The expressions they pull make everything so much better.

Luke

He’s ready to fight every demon in the Devildom when he learns they’re blind. Everything bad comes from demons, so it had to be one of them, not even hours they had been there before they took MC’s sight!

MC had to calm down the small yapping angel and tell them that they had been this way for a very long time. It just happened, it was just life. He has a very hard time dealing with this.

“But you’re so nice and sweet and wonderful, why can’t you see?” Was he crying?

MC has to promise him that it is okay, there’s still plenty to enjoy in their life. Humans don’t have it easy but they learned to move on anyway. He still doesn’t understand how MC’s not an angel. He suddenly shakes off their supporting words because he’s supposed to be the protector, not a human! He swears to protect them no matter what, no demon will stop him!

He loves to hang out with them, making sure they’re away from demons every now and then for the sake of their soul. He makes sure they’ve been treating MC okay. Even if the answer is yes, he doesn’t care what MC says, he cannot trust demons. So he brings MC the sweets he made to make sure they get plenty to eat. (No, he doesn’t know they can’t live off of sweets just yet)

If he lets MC touch his face, MC cannot get over how soft and squishy this little angel is. He’s just as cute as he sounds.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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