#and even if it isn’t I fear I’ll feel guilty forever if I make the ‘wrong’ choice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 2 years

Note

I was scrolling through Tobias Eaton x Reader and i saw you!

Could I request a fic where four and reader are both trainers. Yn also has a number nickname, two. Her fears are her abusive father and losing Tobias

Just them being a couple, the hardass around the compound and then I feel like Tobias would melt the second the door is closed ❤️

Please but if not, no problem tag me!

no problems at all! also i love it when i am seen

masterlist

It is a very peculiar thing to be in power. In most places, it serves as a slight modifier, something to tip the scales a fraction in your favor during moments of most importance. Small power in small doses can be measured out and used when necessary. Nothing more and nothing less would suit the other factions.

In Dauntless, however? This place of shadows and blood? To have any small scrap of an advantage is to have the world. Your chosen faction is one that welcomes honor and dishonor both so long as they can send you up in the ranks. If some insignificant bit of power can change the course of your destiny, imagine the results of legitimate might.

Power is bravery here. Everyone in Dauntless knows it, from the first day initiates to the faction leaders. Some people wonder how the higher ups in your faction are able to be so brave, to take the risks that no one else will. I’ll tell you a secret, then, if no one else will: they don’t have to worry about failing when they know they can’t.

You get that first rush of power from your first act of bravery and it’s all easy from there on out. The free fall picks you up in its mighty arms and carries you forever. They’re coasting on the bravery of others, up there in the upper echelons of Dauntless capability. They may not be risking their lives on the daily like the regular people of the faction, but they get the credit for it nonetheless.

Only a few people know of this sort of duplicity, however, and among their rank are you and your boyfriend. That’s why you and Four decided not to pursue the status of becoming a faction leader, actually, despite the shock of the rest of the Dauntless populace. It just wasn’t worth it to you. The adrenaline of actually being brave far outweighs the power of knowing you can make anyone else bleed.

Still, in that choice you and Four reclaimed your power. Anyone knows it from seeing the two of you together, in knowing that both of you are fighters in a way that Max or anyone else at the top can never quite become again. You haven’t sold your souls yet, only your fists, and who here isn’t guilty of that?

It still makes you laugh to think of how people reacted when you and Four first got together. In the beginning, it was looked on as something unreal, a trick or a hoax that would end up with you dead and him lightly chastened. The second you started looking at him as something other than a monster, everyone knew that something bad was to come of it.

They were right, technically. The only difference is that it would be bad for them and not you. What you and Four have is extraordinary. In a way, of course your friends and fellow faction members would fear it. If they have nothing of the sort, why would they not do their best to tempt you from it? If you cannot have power of your own, you can gain some back by stripping others of it, and that is precisely what they tried to do with you and Four.

Of course, when you first met Four you had no idea what the two of you would accomplish together. Back then, you were just a first time initiate. You jumped off that roof in Dauntless and landed with someone staring at you, someone who would change your life forever without even knowing it.

Four was a year above you, trying out the title of initiation leader for the first time. Most everyone there was afraid of him despite the miniscule gap in age. You weren’t one of them, which drove your friends crazy. They were absolutely certain that you were going to get yourself reprimanded or killed because you couldn’t seem to act with the proper respect. Even worse, you seemed to like Four, which clearly marked you as insane.

They asked you time and time again what you could possibly see in him, what could ever make Four, follow-without-question Four, be human and not some sort of nightmare. You merely responded that he looked well in your eyes. Everyone with half a brain could see the way Four looked at you and realize that you were well in his eyes as well. It was almost inevitable that the two of you would get together. Whatever would happen to shake Dauntless’ foundation to the core was only a thing of the certain future, speculation be damned.

It made sense, though, the two of you. Not at first, of course. Back then, you were just an initiate and he was all of the mastery and terror that eight months’ earlier birth could give you in Dauntless. Things started changing as your training went by, however, and soon enough people realized that you were just as much something to fear as he was.

After all, Four made waves when he got his nickname. Four fears, it had never been done before. And when you came out of that final test with only two horrors displayed before you? Dauntless reacted like it was the end of days. It seemed impossible that two initiates, back to back nonetheless, could see all the world had to offer and shrink from so little of it. That wasn’t just bravery, that was something else. Something like power.

The end of initiation opened a lot of doors for you, both for your career and your private life. Although both you and Four had known there was something there, he had waited until you graduated initiation to start something. You were soaring through the rankings at a high enough clip that people would be looking to discredit you over everything. He didn’t want the rumors of a connection to the training leader to stop you before you could start.

Soon enough, however, your training did end, and Four found you that night. A few half-drunk conversations later, both of your slates were clean and you decided it was time for the start of something new, something good.

Four understands you like no other. Perhaps that explains your two fears. Although they’ve been changing ever since the first time you entered your fear landscape, they’ve long since solidified into two distinct omens of malice that haunt your memory every time you slip into a fear simulation.

The first is one from your past, an abusive father. There’s not much you can do about years with that man, the cruelties you had to endure. It explains why you hold no fear for higher-ups in Dauntless, though– you’ve already spent your time with monsters to know that no one here can truly scare you like your father did.

The second is for your present and future, losing Four. It first appeared after the two of you had an argument during initiation, you asking for his heart and him refusing it. That was when he told you that he’d wait until training ended to protect you, but all that came off was that he never wanted to see you again. You went to sleep that night thinking that the first true love you ever had would hate you until the end of time, and when you woke up, your second fear was set in stone.

It would not come to pass, of course, that Four would leave you of his own volition, but yet the fear stays. It changes slightly from trial to trial in the fear landscape. Sometimes he’s sick and dying, other times shot in the heart from an enemy attack, and sometimes just gone, vanished into nothingness with no one able to explain or care about where he went. Each vision haunts you, but none of them can keep you down for long.

After all, why should they? You graduated initiation with flying colors. You have the man you love right by your side. And, when you decided to follow Four’s suit and become a trainer, everyone in Dauntless, both age-old inhabitants and newcomers alike, knew that your collective hold over the future of the faction was something no one could touch. With the two of you leading classes, becoming an initiate was even more terrifying a venture than before.

In fact, some new trainees could be heard saying that they’d rather incur the wrath of Four instead of you. At least Four had some sort of moral ground, a line to cross that they could see and avoid. You, on the other hand? You were the sort of fear that no one dared touch. To recognize your fury was to accept one’s certain death.

It makes you laugh. You’ve lost count of how many times Four has teased you for it behind closed doors, about how he was supposed to be the scary one and he can’t possibly take it if you’re just as frightening as he is. He doesn’t mean a word of it, of course, and sometimes you think Four would actually be quite content to let you bear the full weight of his fearful reputation, but it does serve to put a smile on your face nonetheless.

That’s the best part of your relationship, you think. Not just the power that comes with your shared status and capability, but what happens when no one is looking. Four loves you, truly he does, and the nights and days you’re able to spend with just him and no one else go down in your memory as some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s just easy, that’s all. Easy and perfect. When the door to your shared apartment closes between the two of you, your masks can drop and the two of you can be happy together, nothing more and nothing less. Four has a handsome laugh that no one else in this entire faction has ever heard, but you’ve listened to its sound more times than you can remember. You keep up this charade of a bloodthirsty fighter every time you’re out in your faction, but when it’s just you and Four, you can be at peace. No warrior could ever ask for something more.

At the end of the day, what you have with Four is good. Perhaps your friends were right to worry about you being so close to Four, but what they failed to consider is that you are just as dangerous as he is. Both of you understand the hardships of having to stay on the edge of a razor the entire day, and how important it is to trust each other once no eyes are on you anymore. You would not trade it for the world, not even for the power that everyone else here seems to crave above all else.

No, you’re happy with Four. Simply put, he is your power, the sort of energy that makes you feel like you could rattle the entire faction to its bones. You could burn this place to the ground and come out standing strong so long as he was there by your side. Maybe that’s why everyone was so terrified about the two of you being together, they knew exactly what you could accomplish if you set your collective minds to the task.

Is that such a bad thing, in the end? To hold the awe and respect of the rest of your fearless faction in the palm of your hand, to grip it like a weapon and use it to draw blood whenever you please? It does not trouble you in the slightest. No words can crease your brow when you have Four there to smooth out the wrinkles, to make you smile when you need it most. There is nothing in this world that could slow your step. Four makes sure of that, and in turn, you make sure it’s true for him as well. No ending has ever been better.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria

requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent, i hope you enjoy!

#four #four imagines #four x reader #four oneshot #tobias eaton #tobias eaton imagines #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton oneshot #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent x reader #divergent oneshot #divergent four #divergent four imagines #divergent four x reader #divergent four oneshot #insurgent #allegiant

392 notes · View notes

broken-clover · 1 year

Text

So I hadn’t intended to take a break from writing, but apparently my job decided I’m doing a stupid amount of hours. So today’s is not only late but a little shorter. ‘Panic’ is an open-ended prompt, but I associated it with fears and went in that kind of a direction. This one’s also technically Sinbed but you could also read it as just a good friendship if you’re not especially into that.

Putting in a veeeery heavy warning for suicide discussion, again, it’s nothing graphic, but it is talked about openly, and I don’t want that to take anybody by surprise

The ability to read another’s mind is truly the cruelest gift one could be given.

Do you know what your mother is afraid of, Sin? More than anything in the world? Oh, of course, she has plenty of fears, plural, but do you know what tops them all? Being killed for what she is? Losing everything? Losing you?

She is afraid of watching your father die.

Even moreso, she’s terrified of watching him wither away. She’s happy he isn’t human anymore, and she feels guilty about it. But it’s a relief to her, in an odd way. The Gear cells will keep him young, keep him healthy, keep his mind intact. She doesn’t have to watch him succumb to dementia. She won’t have to look at him one day and have him wonder if she’s a niece or cousin whose name has slipped his mind, or a demon he should have killed if his elderly hand didn’t tremble from the weight of a sword. Every so often, the nightmare putters off to a corner of her mind, but something always makes it come back. I always know when it comes back.

I can hear them all. If I put all my strength into blocking them out, it’s enough, but it’s a constant, exhausting effort. Their thoughts bleed into mine. I’ve gotten better at pruning them apart. At first, I had a tendency to blur my world and theirs, until I realized I don’t have a boss that may secretly be planning on killing me, or a distant wife whom I fear will leave me for the handsome electrician who fixes my porch lamps. But their feelings are all the same. They whimper. They scream. It doesn’t matter how rational or irrational they may be, everyone has a little secret terror in the back of their mind that they just can’t ever seem to shoo away forever.

Some of them, I’ll admit, are somewhat ridiculous. Those Secret Service-types that have been coming by are riddled with them. Is it an American thing? A cultural divide? How shallow. The big one with the coffin is afraid of aliens. He thinks they’ll have laser weapons and use humans for gardening soil. The woman with the dog is afraid of having her vacation hours cut.

I don’t like your grandfather. If I tried to pity him, I know it would only make him despise me more. He cares about you, you know, in his own bizarre way. He’s afraid I’m going to do something bad to you, but doesn’t know how to make me go away without it upsetting you. He wants what’s best for you, but he knows that he has no idea what that is, or how to do it. That tends to be when he leaves. He can’t stand to look at you, can’t stand to acknowledge that he’s failing you, so he thinks everything will be better if he takes himself out of the equation altogether.

Ah. My mistake, I took a tangent. Your grandfather, your ‘Old Man.’ Flame of Corruption, God of War, Sol Badguy. What an ironic thing, that a nigh-invulnerable being is so terrified of living. He’s had nearly two centuries to think of ways to try and kill himself. You and your father and your mother frighten him, not because he doesn’t want the responsibility, but because he can’t convince himself that living is a choice. He makes excuses in weeks and months and on-a-dime promises- after this bounty, after he visits your mother one last time, when this beer is finished, maybe after one more drink, isn’t it going to be spring soon? He was always a fan of rhubarb, maybe it would be worth it to wait and see how it tastes this year.

Your father is afraid for you. It’s tacky, but it’s true. He has nightmares about things happening to you, actual nightmares. I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with peoples’ dreams anymore, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. Nobody can convince him you’re ever completely safe. Someone wants his baby dead, but he doesn’t know who it is. That’s why he always sleeps better when you stay at the castle.

The second king, at least, is honest. There are many things I despise about that tacky, self-important blowhard, but he doesn’t pretend he isn’t exactly that. And he doesn’t pretend that the lives of others aren’t painfully, painfully important to him. You know he’s broken, don’t you? Anyone could see it. They just don’t want to look. Illyria wants a king. They don’t want a battered veteran who cries himself to sleep in his own grief. He still sends letters to the widows. The guilt never lessens.

The third. I hate him even more. And yet, I pity him. The walls he has put up work too well. How many know what the war took from him? Of course, everyone lost something in the crusades. But he has nothing. Any relatives that weren’t stabbed or maimed or slaughtered or eaten alive didn’t last long. They threw themselves off cliffs, or drank until their insides rotted, or flew headfirst into fights they couldn’t win and didn’t want to. The stony face protects him. Suicide runs in the family. He’s desperate to not take after his father.

Elphelt doesn’t want to be alone. She doesn’t want to disappear and have nobody notice.

Ramlethal wants things to make sense, to have a reason for it all, or else she’s going to drown in an endless series of choices that don’t even matter.

The pirate is just waiting for something to go wrong, because he has nine little girls, and he knows there’s one day he won’t be able to keep his eyes on all of them until it’s too late. The blood mage is waiting for the pirate to leave, because they’re convinced one day he’ll wake up and realize he could do better. The little girl in the orange hat doesn’t want anyone to know that she likes girls as much as she likes boys.

Sometimes I don’t like it when you hug me. You squeeze too hard, and it digs into my ribs. How often do I have to remind you how strong you are? But…other times, I let you do it anyway. I know you need the security. You need to feel like you aren’t a monster. And monsters don’t have friends, do they? They don’t have families or friends or loved ones. It’s a silly line of logic, I know you think that, but it’s enough for the time being. I can always hear the way your stormy thoughts quiet down and just focus on where we are. Just you and I, cozy and safe. A momentary peace of mind.

Sore ribs. It’s a cheap price to pay for that. I just wish it lasted longer.

#Suicide #Frog Writes #guilty gear #febuwhump #sinbed

17 notes · View notes

drylan · 2 years

Text

Daniel Isn’t Here

Fandom: Daniel Isn’t Real

Ship: Luke Nightingale/Cassie

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Fix-it of Sorts, Horror, Body Horror, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Illness, Vomiting, Canon-Typical Violence, Meditation/Hypnosis/Chanting, Happy Ending Compared to Canon

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Luke doesn’t just want Daniel gone. He wants his life back.

Luke’s chest heaves, he swings his sword, the clash of metal echoing through his skull. Just as it did a decade ago. Just as it did when he thought Daniel was his friend.

But this form in front of him, that he valiantly fights against, that he swings and screams and that mocks him. It’s not really Daniel. Daniel is still inside. And Luke needs him gone.

He thinks of his mother, of Cassie, of poor Dr. Braun that did nothing wrong. Fuck, he even thinks of Sophie and his shitty ex-roommate. People he can’t make amends with, not while Daniel is here, not while that parasite is still inside.

The hum of the hypnosis from Dr. Braun rings through his ears of all things and he can’t help but slide his eyes shut. The key. The house. Mom. Cassie.

He opens his eyes and Daniel isn’t there anymore, because Daniel is still with him. Luke gags, feeling Daniel fight inside, grasp his soul and his body with greedy, inhuman hands.

This body is mine and you can’t have it.

Over and over, Luke chants in his mind, pulling away from Daniel, away from the pain and the evil. The torture and the fear.

Falling to his knees, Luke wretches and sobs, Daniel seeping from deep in his core, hunks of flesh and congealed blood pour from his body, forming a demonic, hulking form, the head shaped with a familiar series of prongs.

Luke is terrified, weak, but he wants to live.

This is Daniel, in his truest form, taking shape slowly, grotesquely, imagery from Luke’s worst nightmares and beyond. But it’s Daniel made real. Away from Luke and his body.

The time for imaginary sword fights are done and Luke snaps the broom in his hand in half, plunging the jagged edge of the wood through Daniel. Over and over and over, the screams of Daniel are inhuman, shrill. But they stop, eventually.

And then, in the morning sun, Luke collapses and loses consciousness.

Daniel isn’t here. And Luke is free.

🩸

Luke only speaks once during his trial for the murder of Dr. Braun. There’s no avoiding it and he does feel responsible. He knew Daniel was something else, something truly evil. Not something he inherited, but was something that possessed him, consumed him.

His lawyers saw no need for him to testify because, in their words it’s a ‘straightforward insanity defense’. Family history, notes from Dr. Braun, him being kicked out from campus and the circumstances. It all frames a picture of an unfortunate inheritance of his mother’s schizophrenia. So, he doesn’t fight it.

The only person who knows the real truth about Daniel is Cassie and Luke is too tired to do anything else but go along with what his lawyers say.

But when he does speak, it’s to apologize to Dr. Braun’s family. The piercing, damp eyes of his wife and daughter will haunt Luke forever, but it’s warranted, he knows it is. If he only he had been stronger sooner, if only.

“I’m so sorry. Dr. Braun was a good man. And all he ever did was try to help me. I owe him my life and I’ll never be able repay that.”

He says nothing more. The court finds him not guilty by reason of mental insanity.

In a bizarre twist of fate, he is ordered to carry out treatment at the same institution his mother is in. A different floor, of course. No roommates, but surrounded by other patients deemed to be so sick that they were unaware when they took another’s life.

He follows all of the treatments, takes the medication. Let the doctors believe they’re somehow curing him when this was never his issue in the first place. Sometimes the medications make him sick, other times they make him tired, and other times they don’t do anything at all.

Eventually he’s just prescribed a mild anti-depressant and that seems sustainable and helpful enough. And, quite frankly, Luke isn’t surprised by that.

One day, he’s allowed to have monitored, limited visitations. Cassie visits weekly after that, tells him she’s waiting for him to come back, for them to start over again. He cries, he doesn’t think he’s worthy, but he’ll earn her love and trust, even if it kills him.

He’s allowed to take walks with his mother, too. They’re supervised, but it’s nice all the same. She holds his face in her hands and kisses his forehead and smiles. “I might not ever get out of here, but I’m so glad you will soon.”

And she was right.

🩸

At 26, Luke is a free man. Cassie doesn’t hesitate to move him into her new studio, miles away from the old one. It’s better that way, too many awful memories in that building.

He throws himself back into photography, photography he wants to pursue. Architectural and nature photography seem to come natural to him, now that Luke is free of influence and can pursue his passions. Although, he still snaps shots of Cassie because how can he not? She’s the love of his life after all.

Cassie convinces him to do art shows with her together, not that it takes much convincing. They barely make enough from them to pay rent and buy shitty instant meals, but it’s fucking perfect. Besides, Cassie still believes real artists are broke and Luke doesn’t bother to argue.

They visit his mother, Luke meets Cassie’s father, and they get married in a courthouse in sneakers and It’s just a stupid piece of paper, but they frame it anyways. The simple, blissful life pushes the horrors and past far away from Luke’s mind.

Gone, but not forgotten. There are nightmares, he will jump at shadows, freezes at unexpected touches. But it’s okay. Because Daniel isn’t here. Not anymore.

He and Cassie will often take day trips to towns in their shitty Jeep, finding inspiration for their paintings and photos and fall in love with each other all over again. They return from one such trip to a small village a few hours north.

There were some old churches there that were absolutely breathtaking, the architecture divine and grand, yet simple and obvious in their construct. Luke doesn’t hesitate to develop the photos he took, knowing they’ll translate well to accompany Cassie’s portraits that reinterpret patron saints.

Cassie is working on a painting when she hears Luke, a scream from his darkroom. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have nightmares, to cry or sob at the memories of what he had endured. She knows that and loves him despite the shadows of his past.

But he never screams in his darkroom. It’s his safe space. His home away from everything, even her. She’s pretty sure she’s never moved faster in her life when she runs to his darkroom.

“Luke?” He’s sobbing, shaking, he clenches a photo between his thumb and index finger. Cassie sits down next to him and holds him close. “What is it? What’s...what’s wrong?”

Luke says nothing between his broken sobs, but he hands the photo to her. In the foreground of photo focused on a beautiful, abandoned church is a small gathering of children playing with hula hoops. A little girl stands to the side of the group, her shadow elongated in an unmistakable pronged shape, warping the corner of the photo.

She rocks Luke in her arms and kisses his forehead, squeezing him tightly, trying to push the memories, the fear they both share, away.

Because Daniel isn’t here. He isn’t with Luke anymore. But he’s very real.

And Daniel isn’t gone.

#fanfic #fanfiction #my stuff #daniel isn't real #miles robbins #luke nightingale #author had an issue with the ending and decided to make something less harsh

47 notes · View notes

kim-poce · 2 years

Text

Virginia's Pig

This is a commision requested by @cupcakes-and-pain, using his character, Virginia, from this amazing series.

Words: 1206

CW: hand whump (no nail whump), multiple whumpers, dehumanization, captive, implied starvation, noncon body modifications mention, skining.

=-=

There was only one thing worse than being picked by Virginia to be the ‘toy of the day’, and that’s being picked when Virginia’s friends are over too, a bunch of people that are a few screw ups away from being just another victims and yet act as if they own all the power of the world.

But well, they were lucky enough to be on Virginia's side instead of under her. Pig, on the other hand, wasn’t known for his luck, if he was lucky he wouldn’t be there to begin with. Still, why does it feel like he is the only one being chosen to suffer between everyone else?

“Hey, Pig, missed me?” one of Virginia’s friends asked, their voice was disgusting and terrifying to hear. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I mi-missed y-you,” Pig forced out. It was an obvious lie, but his fear was just as obvious and he hoped with all his might that this would be enough. He held in a groan when another person kicked his side, the pain of the blow mixed itself with the pain of hunger like a hellish cocktail.

“Who allowed you to talk, your idiot? You come here so often and don't even know the rules?”

Pig shivered, he fucked up even before the party started, he is screwed and the laughing and mockering arounf he just proved it, he hoped that the laughing would stop, and regreted imediately when it did.

“That’s enough,” Virginia said, her voice silencing everyone in the room. And if Pig got any more scared maybe it would silence his heart too. “Have I told you why I picked this thing today?”

“You didn’t. I wanted to play Horse!” one of her friends said, and Pig must be a selfish bastard for wishing they would truly just pick up Horse instead.

“So I’ll tell you,” Virginia said, a smirk could be heard in her voice. She placed her big —dangerous, scary, please take it away— hand on Pig’s shoulers, tying her grip as if he would dare to run away. “This stupid thing was caught stealing, what is to be espected from a fucking Pig.”

He could feel his blood running cold, cold sweat dripping from his chin. No one allowed him to talk yet so he didn’t doesn’t matter how much he wanted, and what would he even say? ‘I was hungry’? This would be the same as begging to be starved to death, and he didn’t want to starve, else he wouldn’t have stolen that bit of food from the floor when he thought no one was looking. He should’ve known better than that; there is always someone looking.

———

“Tyler, what should we do with a thief?” Virginia asked, visibiling tightening her grip on the captive, who was a lot more well behaved now than at the start, at least he isn’t fukcing passing out all the time now.

Tyler smiled, he was waiting to be allowed to choose the main punishment for a while, so he for sure wouldn’t let this opportunity pass on, “What else?” he smirk. “Let’s go for the hands.”

The laughing around him showed that he chose well, and more than anything Pig’s dread was so delicious to look at, fuck Horse, this sight is where the fun lives.

Pig whimpered pathetically, he was shivering so much that someone could accuse him of fighting back, surprisingly no one did, everyone’s mood was good, that thing was so lucky.

———

Being Virginia’s toy —being Pig— is permanent, it will only end with his unavoidable death. Pig knows that, but his heart still tries to jump out of his ribcage whenever some permanent change is made on his body. It makes the forever feel real, it makes it impossible for him to hope to get out of that hell.

Does Tyler know that? Do these people even know how fucked up they are? Do they feel guilty or ashamed in any way ever? Or is Pig too much of a thing and nothing of a person for it to matter?

Pig tried to stay quiet, he really did, but who would even be quiet while being strapped down on a chair by a bunch of fucked up sadistics? He had the right to shake and back away, excetp that he isn’t a person so he had not a single fucking right.

The fear that usually keeps all the words in made him speak against the reason. “P-p-lease, don’t, please don’t cut please-” Pig shut himself up before someone else did, tears were alredy corving his whole face, dripping along with the sweat and the torture didn’t even start.

“Oh, you don’t want it, Pig?” Virginia asked, grabbing his chin up, he didn’t look at her eyes, he knew better than that, he also didn’t breathe, not because he wasn’t allowed to, but his lungs just wouldn’t move despites his efforts. “Okay, we won’t cut them off.”

If this was in the beginning, Pig would be so relieved they decided to be merciful, but not now, not anymore, now every sweet word was worse than any threat. Virginia is many many things, and none of them is close to merciful.

“What are you thinking?” a friend of hers asked, running their finger on Pig’s hand, his wrist were strapped down already, and even if they weren’t, he had no permission to move his hand away.

“We leave the little fingers behind and just take the skin away,” Viriginia said, enjoying Pig whimpers and foolish attempts not to cry. “That’s what you wanted, right Pig?”

She let go of his chin and he nodded, what else could he do? Pig closed his eyes when a knife came to view, but he wasn’t even allowed that, as Tyler forced both his eyes open.

“You don’t want me to gouge them out, do you?” he said, sending a chill down Pig’s spine, he was enjoying it way too much.

Pig stared helplessly as the knife on Virginia's friend’s hand went closer and closer, he kept staring as it broke the skin and shed blood, he didn’t scream just yet, he had it worse, he learned to be quiet.

But he just managed to be silent up to the moment Virginia pulled the skin, first so painfully slow but soon —as she had not the paintience or delicacy— pulling it all in one go, tearing the skin away from the flesh, in a new sharp and burning pain. Pig screamed his throat out, barely hearing the laughing and the “Pig is grunting a lot today”

There was no time to breathe, there were so many people, and they were going from both bleeding hands at the same time, making a small cut and ripping the skin over and over, Pig wondered just how much skin can a hand have.

When he was about to shut down, someone pulled his hair from behind.

“Hey pig,” Tyler whispered, “Don’t you dare to pass out now, we are only getting started. Keep looking.”

Pig did, but he couldn’t make out what was blood and what was exposed flesh, he didn’t even remember what he had done to deserve this anymore.

=-=

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #skining #hand whump #multiple whumpers #dehumanization #captive #implied starvation #noncon body modifications mention #famale whumper #my writing

8 notes · View notes

blueymoons · 1 year

Text

Word vomit

I really wish I wasn’t struggling this hard. I wish it wasn’t so difficult to tell how I really feel.

Am I sad?

Am I grieving?

Am I feeling guilty?

Am I depressed?

Am I relieved?

Am I worrying that Im going to have to go through this again when my mother dies? But worse, because I DID have a relationship with her, from birth to 19 when I went “no contact” and as much as I would like to have it be different, she still hold power over some of my thoughts and reactions and feelings…even if it’s just me deciding to be the opposite of what she would be. It’s because of her that I go in that direction, and I struggle with the fact that she has power over even the smallest decision sometimes…even though I haven’t spoken to her in longer than I was exposed to her.

Am I going to need medication? If I do, will it be forever? Will it turn me into my mother? Who was on and off meds and as a result of this complicated relationship with her own mental health damaged mine to the point that Im now sitting here freaking out and on the edge of my fifth panic attack of the day because I don’t want to not take the medicine if it’s going to help…but what if it turns me into her? What if it helps and I think im better and I stop taking it and im not better and I start hurting my children’s mental health and I know that’s not going to happen because I’ll plan for it and put safeguards in place but I can’t stop being afraid that it will and im going to ruin my kids and they’re going to hate me and go no contact with me and the cycle will just repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat.

She left me such a horrible legacy and she’s not even dead yet.

Am I going to be okay? Logically I know that the answer to this is, “Yes”. Yes I will be okay because I give myself no choice but to work toward being okay. I want desperately to be okay. I want to be okay so badly that Im here trying to process grief for a man who caused me to feel unwanted and unloved. And even now I’m trying to give him grace because my very first thought after saying that he caused me to feel that way was to remind myself that he loved me the best way he knew how and that even though I feel like it was absolutely shitty, it was the best he was capable of.

And I know I need therapy. I need counseling. I need mental health help. I know it. But I’ve had to switch insurance providers and they haven’t sent me the new insurance information yet and literally none of the therapists in my city will schedule an appointment with me without my insurance information…so here I am just trying really hard to hold it together so I don’t crack under the pressure of all these fears and feelings and I spend so much time masking and hiding this from my family. They know I’m going through this, I’ve spoken with my husband about it, but I don’t think even he realizes how hard this is for me, because I’ve spent my entire life masking. I don’t know how to not mask. I don’t think I feel safe taking that mask off at all really. And isn’t my therapist going to have a field day with that one.

Im so scared. Im so terrified of therapy. Im so afraid that it almost makes me want to avoid it.

But Im also afraid of the way I feel right now…right this minute, getting worse. And im afraid I’ll get to the point of not wanting to be here anymore. And I don’t want that.

I can’t get to that point.

#about me #I feel better now #just having written all of this out #is that what journaling is?#I’ve always thought I was bad at it #but if this is what it is…maybe not

2 notes · View notes

lizignasius · 2 months

Text

I don’t think me and my partner have the same ideals in a relationship.

For context the person I had the thingy with, we started dating. Yay!! However from there a problem has begun to emerge. I think I’m the problem, but maybe it’s a two way thing. I think it’s to do with our ideals in a relationship.

First of all I love her, very very much. When I get into a relationship, it’s because I truly love them and think it could last forever. That is how I am. Sometimes though, I just don’t think we are on the same page. One of the reasons I fell for her is because of how she described herself in her past relationship. She put her relationship first, she showed affection whenever she could, she found time for her partner and would love every moment she spent with them. That’s something that in a partner I feel like I need. I don’t expect every breathing second of their life to be on me, but still the priority in a relationship I believe should be each other.

However, now that we are dating I find she shares similar features to both her ex and my ex, both of which were toxic in their respective ways. Her ex would complain that she would be too clingy, and didn’t listen to her feelings or help her with them very well. My ex would always expect me to help her whenever needed and put myself out for her, but would never ever do the same for me. These are qualities our exes had, among a lot of other terrible ones, but these are the qualities I find that she at times shares.

I am clingy, that I admit. I am clingy due to my past, due to all the relationships Ive had where i required it. I am clingy because I have been neglected, and without being clingy I fear I’ll be neglected again. I’m clingy because all my life I have been shown little love, so i cling to whoever I want to show it. I’m clingy because I’ve been told if i’m not people will leave me. Regardless of the reason, I need to learn to not be, but it’s so much easier said than done. For now I just wish she could cater for it. She does not.

Another thing about my clinginess is at the start of our relationship, might have even be before, we both agreed we preferred people who are clingy as partners. Yet now that we are in a relationship she claims that she dislikes it. She says it stresses her and she doesn’t enjoy it. I understand, I try to cater for it and I try so hard to be better. But if she has an issue I don’t try get her to change it. I do whatever I can to accept it, to help her, to encourage her. I just feel that isn’t reciprocated.

Another thing going back to the priority part. I believe that a relationship is a priority. If I’m in a relationship, I’ll prioritise my partner over anything else. Unless of course there’s a family emergency, or I had a prearranged plan, my partner comes first. For instance if I was asked if I wanted to go out somewhere with a friend, I’d check with my partner to see if it was ok to block out that date. I’d let them know days in advance, I would also not go with a plan if it was proposed to me a day in advance. I don’t expect my partner to be this exact same way, but I’d hope it would be similar. I don’t think my partner has the same priority level at all. Where I would place her as number one, I feel I’m not even reaching top five. It stings.

From what I expected when she described her ideal relationship to what we have now, I feel I’m with a completely different partner than I thought she’d said she was. I understand with each relationship we change, but she is the opposite of what she described she was. Other things that hurt me are when she tells me her worries and feelings and concerns I comfort her. When I tell her mine she freaks out and makes me feel guilty. How can I get past the fact I can’t trust her to go to when I’m upset.

I can’t even tell her any of this because she would just sit there and try justify all of it. Try tell me that nothing is wrong and I’m overreacting. Tell me that it’s just because of this and that, and that I’m too much and too annoying.

I don’t know what to do.

0 notes

thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

TBHK boys get break up pranked by reader ?angst to fluff please!!😢👉👈

kou minamoto x gn!reader, teru minamoto x gn!reader, akane aoi x gn!reader, tsuchigomori x gn!reader, hanako x gn!reader, tsukasa yugi x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader

a/n: heck yea, we love angst to fluff!!!! Thank you so much for requesting <33 (also, by tbhk boys, i just kinda,,, threw my favorites, and some characters that seem to be requested fairly often in there! If i missed anyone you particularly wanted to see, feel free to let me know, and i’ll gladly add them <3)

Also, I’m sorry that these are so short,,;; i’m not entirely sure how to lengthen them;;;; and I’m not sure how well they fit into angst to fluff,,,, i’m really sorry;;;

warnings: none <3

word count: 1,939

Kou Minamoto <3

“Kou, I… I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s going to work between us. I think we should break up.”

Please, don’t make me describe his face… please, don’t do this to me… my heart, my heart hurts just thinking about it. But- his heart hurts worse.

His eyes will widen, but they won’t be filled with the usual sparkle of joy he gets when looking at you. His usual smile and blush will quickly drain from his face, as he narrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“H… huh-?”

“You heard me, Kou. Don’t make me say it again.”

He does his best not to cry on the spot, and you’ll instantly start to feel guilty. You try not to let the guilt get under your skin just yet- it’s a prank. You know it’s a prank, but Kou doesn’t.

“Why? What- what did I do?”

“It’s nothing you did, Kou. We just… can’t work out. Really, it isn’t you.”

His mouth forms a straight line, slightly panicking, but he’ll nod. That… makes sense. No- no, it really doesn’t- not for your relationship. You seemed happy, didn’t you? Did he say something? Did he hurt you? What happened-??

“No, wait, Kou, no- don’t cry, don’t cry-”

“I’m not! No worries, (Y/N), it’s fine, I’ll-”

“It’s a prank, Kou! Please, don’t cry-”

He’d pause, blinking a bit, then tilting his head slightly- confusion written all over his face.

It settled in for a moment, as you hugged him, Kou hugging back instantly. Once it clicked, he was instantly relieved, tightening the hug a bit and huffing.

“You scared me, (Y/N)... I wasn’t crying though. But you did scare me- please, don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Kou, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Teru Minamoto <3

“I’m sorry, Teru, but I don’t think things can work between us anymore. It’s not you, I just… think we should see other people.”

He’ll raise his eyebrows, then narrow them, confusion evident on his face, much like his brother reacted. He wouldn’t lose his cool- he wouldn’t get emotional. However, he did feel his heart aching.

“Ah… alright. I’m sorry if I did anything, (Y/N). Is there any way we could make things work? Talk to me.”

“You didn’t do anything, Teru. I just- I just don’t think it can work. Sorry.”

Teru bit his lip a bit, nodding. He turned, planning to walk away, but-

But you wouldn’t let him walk away :)) so, you grabbed his wrist.

He’d turn around, offering you a confused expression, the hurt still evident on his face. Honestly, he really needed to get home to sort out his emotions. “If you would, please, let go, (Y/N).”

“Sorry, sorry, Teru! Can’t do that!” You chirped, tugging him a bit so he’d face you.

Our boy is so confused- why are you suddenly in a better mood??

OH-

“It was a prank!” You declared, tossing your hands up, “don’t be mad, please!”

Teru sighed, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness, (Y/N). I was so scared… of course, I wasn’t about to let you go that easily, but, still-”

He pulled you into a hug, resting his head on top of yours. Expect a slightly more affectionate Teru- he’s gonna be a tad bit paranoid now. No way is anyone gonna take you from him >:((

Akane Aoi <3

“Akane, I think we should… break up.”

Panic. Instant panic. You can see the panic on his face immediately, as his eyes widen.

No, no way. This couldn’t be happening to him- years of pining after Aoi, only to have you introduced into his life. You were someone he loved as dearly as he did Aoi. Someone who returned his feelings.

Having you love him was the best feeling ever… this, on the other hand, was anything but nice.

“Break up-? Why??”

He’ll reach for your arms, heart breaking when you stepped back, looking away from him. To him, you were looking away because you felt bad for having to split up. In reality, you were looking away to avoid the guilt slowly bubbling up in your stomach. It’s a prank- that’s what you had to tell yourself. In just a few moments you could hug him and smother his precious face in kisses.

“Because… you’re,” You stepped forward, booping his nose, “too cute!”

“........(Y/N), I promise you, if this is a prank-”

“It’s a prank~!”

Akane groaned, rolling his eyes, but placing his head against your shoulder. “(Y/NNNNN), honestlyyyyy.”

You patted his back, then wrapped your arms around him, kissing the side of his face gently. “I’m sorry, Akaneeee...”

“You’re fine…” He responded, wrapping his arms around you. He may sulk just a tiny bit, but he won’t be like that for long. By the next day, he’ll be acting normal- though he may use that prank against you lightheartedly.

Tsuchigomori <3

“Tsuchigomori… I’m sorry, but I think we should see other people,” You spoke. Goodness knows you had to put all of your acting skills into this one, since Tsuchigomori could see through lies easier than anyone else you knew.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” “(Y/N), you literally cannot keep secrets from me. Lying is no different. What kind of prank is this? A trend?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair- your reaction brought a grin to your spider-like boyfriend’s face.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure I would have been fairly hurt if you were being genuine, so… don’t bother with jokes like that.”

(Actually, there was a part of him concerned that you were being honest. But! He trusted his instincts, praying that you were just joking. He had never been happier to tell truth from lies.)

Hanako <3

“Hanako… I’m sorry, I don’t think things will work between us. We should break up.”

“Hah?”

A million thoughts run through his mind, despite his somewhat unreadable expression. Was it because he was dead? Of course- he knew it would happen. Who would be willing to date a ghost? A murderer at that. He was unlovable. He knew it.

“...I understand, (Y/N), but… don’t play with my heart like that.”

“I’m not playing around, Hanako. Stop taking everything like it’s a joke.”

Hanako shrugged, ignoring how his heart ached. “I think the joke is you not considering things like the obvious before you accepted my confession. Dating a supernatural is clearly not easy, and you walked into this knowing that.”

This time, you were the one with an unreadable expression. What… did he mean? Was he scolding you? Or… rejecting your rejection-?

“What do you mean?” You sighed, faking annoyance as you placed a hand on your hip.

“I mean, you got yourself into this relationship, so you should be willing to stick with it until the end~. I get it though, so, if you really didn’t think that far, then so be it-”

“Fine, I give in.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, holding a hand to his mouth, curious as to what you were about to say. Did he really just uno reverse your break up?

“It was aaaaaa prank,” You added, pulling your lower eyelid down and sticking your tongue out. It was impressive- you almost seemed similar to him! Impressive indeed!

Hanako grinned, the pain on his heart being suddenly lifted as he basically tackled you into a hug. Kisses were placed against your cheek, before he nuzzled the side of his face into yours.

“I knew you couldn’t do me like that, (Y/NNNN)~.”

Did he really know that? Of course not. And that fear would never leave him, worrying that he would one day not be enough for you. But! For now, the two of you were together, happy in the relationship you were in. That was enough for him <3

Tsukasa Yugi <3

“We should break up, Tsukasa. I’m really sorry, it just… can’t work.”

Won’t let you break up with him. He won’t- he genuinely won’t.

Clings to you, pouting up at you, as you look down at him, feigning sadness.

“I’m sorry, Tsukasa- please, let go of me.”

“Nope! You’re mine, (Y/N). You can’t break up with me!! You’re mine- forever and ever, no matter what!”

(His expression was wide-eyed and somewhat innocent, but thinking about his words… they were certainly questionable.)

You tried to play along a bit more. Telling him you were serious, attempting to push him away. But, that was to no avail. Tsukasa wasn’t giving in, so you eventually had to-

“Alright, alright. It was a prank, Tsukasa… though I guess it didn’t get far with you.”

“Haha! Nope! And you won’t get far either <3”

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

Honestly? Who knows what that meant. You didn’t get it, and you couldn’t be sure Tsukasa understood either. All he knew was he loved you- therefore, he wouldn’t let you do something so silly like break up with him! Like Tsuchigomori, he's virtually impossible to break-up prank- like Hanako, he's virtually impossible to actually break up with.

Mitsuba Sousuke <3

“I… I think we should break up, Mitsuba. It’s not you, really-”

“Tch. Of course it isn’t me, idiot,” Mitsuba interrupted. He wasn’t there to listen to the extent of your acting skills (though he didn’t realize you were acting). “If you’re gonna split up with me, just get it over with. We should break up? Fine. Not like a pervert like you deserves someone as cute and pure as me anyway.”

Despite his words and furrowed eyebrows, his eyes alone showed how heartbroken he felt. His lower lip trembled a bit, though he attempted to stop it by pouting. No, he wouldn’t be the one crying in this situation! Not yet, at least-

“Great then. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You retorted, laughing bitterly. Ahh, no, this was getting too real for him- you were serious, weren’t you? Could this be a joke?

Mmh, who cared? Mitsuba was here to defend himself, even if it was at the cost of your feelings. If you were going to hurt his heart like that, then he’d do his best to take a jab at yours- or at least your ego.

“Great. Then, why are you lingering? Getting a last look at my cute face?”

“Hm… yeah-”

“Pervert.”

“Excuse mE, let me finish,” You sighed, ruffling his hair lightly, “surprise! It’s a prank!”

His face was honestly golden- his reaction to hearing that it was a prank even better than his reaction when the prank was in action. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though watering just barely from the previous aching in his heart, mouth agape slightly.

Then, his eyebrows furrowed deeper, displaying anger. The way his shoulders sank for a moment showed his relief, though they tensed up quickly, as he prepared himself to yell at you. “Idiot! Pervert! Who do you think you are, trying to play with my heart like that?! What right do you have to-”

You cut him off by cupping his face, pouting slightly- his face burned as he avoided eye contact, hand raised slightly as if contemplating pushing you away. It was clear he didn’t really want you to stop though.

“Sorry, sorry~. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you, Mitsuba. You’ve got very cute reactions, you know?”

“Hmph. You sound like you’re quoting porn-”

“Mention porn one more time and the prank won’t be a prank anymore-”

“Liar. Idiot. Stupid pervert, you’re a liar.”

You laughed lightly, squishing his face as you closed your eyes. “Maybe I’m a tad bit of a liar. But, when you pretend to not be upset, I’m sure you’re lying as well~.”

“Hah. I don’t lie.”

441 notes · View notes

pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

Text

haikyuu boys as expecting fathers

characters: TimeSkip!Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kōtarō, & Ushijima Wakatoshi, all with a Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnant reader and mentions of having a baby so pls be mindful if this makes you dysphoric or if you’re not in a good headspace for it. But otherwise, it’s all fluff so I hope it makes you guys smile!

a/n: everyone around me irl is having babies so here is the result of that LOL i love cute stories about expecting families and shit. All of these are obviously with TimeSkip! characters! And none of the following gifs are mine so credits to the original creators! Hope you guys like it :)

haikyuu masterlist

Tsukishima loves to tease the shit out of you, and that hasn’t really changed since you started getting bigger. But now, he’ll hide your cravings in the top shelves of the pantry so you have to make him come get it. He can’t help it, it’s that angry pouty look in your eyes - he’s so in love with you, even when you look like you’re about to murder him.

But despite him hiding everything you could possibly crave, he is an absolute sweetheart. He calls his mom every now and then to update her about you and the baby, probably asks about what she liked when she was pregnant. She tells him stories about liking to read to him and his brother, or how she enjoyed a nice bath if she was particularly sore that day. She even joked that she found it really hard to put her shoes on so typically she just wore slippers or easy to slip on shoes.

Cut to the next day, you wake up to Tsukishima reading a book of dinosaur facts to your belly. He’s not so much reading it as he is disputing and/or explaining further the facts that are written in it. He doesn’t notice you wake up while he waves away the book and states, “It’s fine. When you’re here, I’ll just bring you to my museum and I’ll show you in person. I can sneak you out of daycare, just don’t tell your mom.”

You had hoped to be able to keep your independence for longer than this, but found yourself struggling to properly put on your shoes. You huffed, muttering something to your unborn kid about how you’d hold this over their heads forever, and just waddled about with the backs of your shoes folded under your heel. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as he noticed, waiting for you to sit down in the car before holding the door open and bending down to properly put your shoes on.

“Kei, what’re you doing?” You laughed, watching him swiftly tie up your laces. “They’re fine, they’re old shoes anyways.”

“If you wear your shoes like that, you’ll fall and hurt yourself,” he shrugged. “I can’t have you hurting the little Tsukishima just because you can’t put your shoes on.”

His expression was the same plain emotionless face as usual, but you smiled anyways because here he was, kneeling in front of you and helping you with what is supposed to be a simple task.

The day went on as usual, but you definitely weren’t prepared for your husband to call you into the bathroom and display the little bath he had drawn you with your favourite candle lit.

“Did you do something?” You asked him with narrow eyes, making him scoff.

He rolled his eyes, helping you out of your clothes gently, “Am I really such a bad husband that you think I’d have to be feeling guilty to be nice to you?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding playfully, “Yup. So what did you do?” You laugh and he just flicks your forehead before helping you into the tub.

You watch as he smirks a bit, holding your chin for a second and watching your eyes, “Well I’m the reason you got knocked up so I supposed I have to take care of you don’t I?”

He doesn’t hold that sultry teasing look on his face for too long, especially when you splash him with water, drenching every part of him you could reach 😂.

Bokuto is in a PANIC the closer you get to the due date. You once just felt a bit tired after vacuuming and the boy thought you holding your front meant you were going into early labour.

“I’VE GOT THE CAR KEYS BUT I CAN’T FIND MY WALLET!!! BABE HAVE YOU SEEN NY WALLET? I CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE I PUT IT. OMG WHAT IF THEY WONT TAKE US IN. WHAT IF THERE ARE SO MANY BABIES BEING BORN WE CANT GET IN. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE TAKEN A CLASS ON BIRTHING BABIES!”

You let him run around because he honestly is so entertaining to watch while panicking. He pouts about it later, talking shit about you to your belly, “Your mom’s a big meanie. You need to be born quick so we can team up on her okay?”

“Kōtarō! Don’t you dare try to turn my baby against me!” You laughed, swatting at his head.

Man is overly prepared for any sort of situation. He already set up all the safety baby measures, like corner cushions and outlet covers, though now he’s considering locking up all the knives into a cupboard.

“Kōtarō... how am are supposed to cook like this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of your sharp cooking knives.. and the butter knives.

The grown man just poured some more, “I gotta keep both my babies safe alright? I’ll cut everything for you so you don’t cut yourself.”

Except for the fact that Bokuto is definitely more accident prone than you are and has a few bandaids on his fingers now.

As an expecting dad, Bokuto found himself getting more and more teary eyed at any situation that involved a family or a baby. Whether that was just seeing kids and families play in the park that the two of you walked past sometimes, or seeing a commercial for diapers with happy bouncy babies, you would turn to see a misty-eyed Bokuto who would then turn to you and wrap you in a tight squeeze.

He was beyond excited at this point to meet your little baby - he wanted to know what they would look like. The perfect mix between the most perfect woman in the world and him, who was pretty cool thank you very much. This baby was going to be the cutest most amazing kid ever, who would definitely play a really great game of volleyball, Bokuto was sure of it.

Let’s be honest though, pregnancy is not an easy journey. Bokuto loved seeing you grow the baby but he knew that it was a difficult process for you. You were always sore and at the beginning you were always sick. And there were some days where you literally didn’t feel attractive or beautiful at all, but Bokuto would praise you as high as he always did regardless.

“You are the most perfect lady I have ever laid eyes on. The most gorgeous being to ever walk this universe!” He told you one day, pressing kisses all over your face as you laid across a couch.

“Thanks,” you tried to give him a smile - you always appreciated his compliments, even if you didn’t necessarily agree.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you with a small frown, noting your forced smile.

“I just… feel bleh. Not at all like how you’re saying I look,” you admitted with a small smile.

Bokuto’s eyes grew wide in shock, jumping over the couch to sit down on the floor next to you. He clasped your hands in his, pressing kissing to them gently as well. “I know you might not feel it… but I hope you know that I still think it. I don’t even have to force it. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and that hasn’t changed even though your body is changing a bit. I don’t need you to wear the most perfect makeup or the best dress for me to think you’re gorgeous. You’re perfect just laying here in my old sweats and I’m happy that I get to come home to see you like this every day,” he grinned, touching your cheek affectionately.

You loved this man. He was so sweet to you in every way possible. But sometimes…. sometimes his sweetness just went a little too overboard. You tried to insist to him that you were pregnant but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. Man refuses to let you do anything for yourself. No lifting boxes, no lifting anything in fear that you might hurt your back.

“Kōtarō, it’s just my purse,” you tried to point out in a laugh, trying to reach it as he held it above your head.

“Nope! Not happening. What if you hurt yourself?”

“... with my purse?”

“Ya!”

“Kōtarō, I have to go shopping for food or we won’t have anything to eat. And baby needs to eat!”

“Well I’ll come with you then!”

“You’ve got practice!”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them I’ll practice another time! My perfect wife and baby come first,” he’d grin at you and insist on opening all the doors as you two made your way to the car. You fall in love with this man more and more every day, even if he keeps stealing things from your hands.

Ushijima is a really nervous new dad, even if you can’t really tell from his stoic expression. He listens intently to all of the parenting advice people give, bought a few books about newborns, and has hundreds of tabs on his laptop of ranging topics from baby products people insist are necessary, mommy blogs about what is important to do when pregnant, and research that he doesn’t quite understand but feels is important nonetheless.

Ushijima isn’t necessarily a man of words all the time, so you were surprised to find that he started to talk a lot more after finding out that your child could hear him.

“You don’t have to play volleyball if you don’t want to,” he told them quietly one day while the two of you were on the couch. It came so out of the blue that you actually thought he was talking to you.

“Hm?”

“... do you think they’d want to play volleyball?” He asked you sheepishly, glancing at you with a shy expression.

You thought about it for a moment and slowly started to smile, “Well they’ll be attending every single one of your games so I’m sure they’ll be at least interested in learning!”

Ushijima nodded and you watched as a soft smile graced his face. You kept your eyes on him for just a moment longer, seeing a flicker of uncertainty on him.

“Wakatoshi, don’t you dare think for one second you’ll be a bad dad,” you warned him, poking his side and making him jump from surprised.

He stared at you for a moment, blinking, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I know that you’ve been worried about being a good dad ever since I told you I was pregnant. I know that you’re nervous about being the kind of dad you always wanted to have growing up. I know because I’m terrified of being a good mom too,” you admitted with a nervous sort of smile, interlacing your fingers together. “We’ll be okay together though.”

Ushijima nodded and hummed softly, “We’ll have to take them to France.”

“France??”

“Satori wants to meet them too. He said he would make them chocolate.”

It wouldn’t just be the baby that Satori is constantly trying to spoil, but you as well. He sends over packages of his chocolate for you to try, grinning ear to ear when you call him for a catch-up call.

“Do you like them?” Tendō asked, and you could hear him humming to himself as he moved around a kitchen.

“I love them! But you’re going to make us fat if you keep sending them! They’re much too yummy for me to stop eating!” You laughed, eyes wandering to the kitchen where you knew you still had a few bits of his chocolate left.

“No no no no. I’m just trying to make sure your baby is a cute healthy plump baby! They’ll grow nice and strong!”

It always made you smile, knowing that all these people who loved your husband wanted to love you and the baby as well. Even Ushijima’s new teammates would come by and bring snacks or anything they thought might aid you in your pregnancy. Though, Kageyama wasn’t really sure what pregnant people or babies liked, so he just brought a whole bag of the milk boxes he liked.

“You’ve got to grow big and strong so that I can defeat you in volleyball one day. I can’t defeat your dad right now… cause he’s on my team. But I’ll defeat an Ushijima one day for sure,” he muttered to your belly with a fierce intensity in your eyes that made you laugh, making his ears turn red as he realized that you also heard him (Kageyama, the baby is attached to her, of course she heard you lol).

As it neared your due date, Ushijima prepared himself mentally every passing day. He wanted to be 110% ready so he went over your birthing plan mentally at least 10 times a day and reread over all the articles and information he had gathered over the months. He wanted to be the best father possible, but you insisted to him that you weren’t worried about this at all. After all, he was already the best husband you could ever have asked for.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#bokuto x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!!

857 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don’t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—��

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

545 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

Just A House - F.W + S.B

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist,

Fred Weasley (boyfriend) x Fem Reader x Sirius Black (Father)

About: The reader is finally reunited with her father, Sirius Black, after she was lead to believe that he was killed in Azkaban. During this heartfelt moment, Sirius finds out that she was placed in Slytherin House, he isn't thrilled - but her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, stands by her side.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of food and eating, death and gaunt physique.

Alone. Lost. Missed. Devastated. Confused. Guilty.

You felt like this on a daily basis, all of these feelings were about your father, Sirius Black, who had been absent since your birth after he betrayed the Potters, and murdered twelve muggles, including his friend, Peter.

Luckily, your father had been held accountable for his crimes and was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life until he would meet dementors kiss.

You didn't know if he was alive or dead, and you didn't want to know.

No one talked about him and the only pictures you had of him brought you to tears as he stood beside his friends, smiling, knowing that he would betray them for Voldemort.

You didn't know how to feel at times - you hated yourself for missing him, for thinking about him, for imagining another life where you would get to have the father-daughter relationship you crave - looking in the mirror and seeing his eyes in yours was bittersweet; you had part of him with you, forever - but he's a murderer, a fraud, a rat.

Everything changed when the news broke out that your father escaped Azkaban: Hogwarts no longer felt safe, people stared at you for longer, giving you more dirty looks, more conspiracy theories about you being an undercover spy brewed up, and you were branded as a 'murderer in the making', even Harry couldn't bear to look at you.

The only person you had was your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, why he didn't hate you - you didn't know but you were thankful.

"It's getting bad again" you sighed, your head resting in your hands.

Fred frowned and rubbed your back, chewing on his food, swallowing it before speaking.

"It's not your fault, you aren't responsible for what he did," Fred reassured you, glaring back at students passing by.

Tears streamed down your face, you stared at your plate, in no mood to eat.

"Everyone either blames me, hates me, or suspects me, Harry can't even look at me, Ron can't stand you being around me!"

Fred shushed you, wiping your tears with his sleeve, "Listen to me, people are wrongly afraid of you - their fear is poison - I love you and who cares what my little brother thinks, he's too big for his boots."

"I care, Fred," you replied "I want to be accepted like everyone else is here, I can't even sit with my own house, they hate the fact I'm not celebrating his escape."

Your father broke free from prison, from certain death, yet you weren't cheering or jumping for joy - part of you wanted to be embraced in a warm hug, to finally have the father you always wanted - but the other part of you wished that he had lost his life because if he is as dangerous as everyone had been making out; more people would die, those you cared for, and your life could be on the line.

Laying wide awake in bed, you went through the photographs again, your father smiling, laughing and seen to be having a good time with his friends: harry's dad, James, Lily, Professor Lupin, and Peter who was always awkwardly out of place - his face often showing sheepish expressions.

Unable to stay awake and cry without waking the other girls up, you went into the common room, sitting down on the black leather sofa next to the fireplace that was as dull as the night sky without its stars.

You didn't know whether to light the fire and toss the photos in or to keep them in case you would forget his face - or needed comforting over what could've been.

Out of the corner of your eye, little embers sparked and flew from the fireplace, then before your eyes, the dim common room burst out into bright shades of amber, glowing your face and over the table.

Staring into the flames, your fathers face appeared in front of you, your heart began to pump so hard you could hear it in your ears.

"Y/N, is that really you?" he asked, sounding amazed.

Lie. He's a killer, Y/N, don't talk to him.

But he's your dad, don't you miss him? Don't you crave his attention?

"Y-Yes," you replied frantically "Dad-"

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, come to the Gryffindor Common Room."

It's a trap. Harry's dead, Ron probably is too, and Fred-

Sweetheart.

Departing from the fireplace, you hurried from the common room, taking your photographs with you.

Running as soundlessly as you could through the corridors and up the stairs, you remembered the password Fred shared with you, and you burst into the common room, coming face to face with your father.

There he stood, so skinny, dirty, his face gaunt and hair a mess, his chest covered in symbols and his prison attire in the state of rags.

How did he get here?

How has no one noticed?

Harry- he's standing right there... and Ron... and Fred is okay...

Why is Professor Lupin here-

"Y/N, I have waited since the day you were born for this moment," he said both quietly and softly, inching towards you.

He took hold of your hand, pressing it against his cheek before pulling you in for the tight embrace you had imagined for so long, you wrapped your arms around him, tears streaming down your face, feeling his weak body cradle yours.

"Dad, what how-"

"Peter, it was Peter Pettigrew all along," Fred spoke up, Harry was too afraid to admit the way he treated you was wrong.

You stared at your boyfriend and father, baffled.

"Wormtail framed your father, Y/N, he's responsible for all of this, not your dad." Professor Lupin sighed, walking towards you "The whole Wizarding World has been fed a lie."

You and your dad sat together, talking about everything and anything you could to get one another up to speed.

Your father tried to get in contact with you every chance he got but failed miserably, you showed him the photographs you had left of him, telling him just how much you missed him.

"So, what were you doing in the Slytherin common room?" Sirius asked, "You could get into trouble!"

You looked over to Fred, confused.

He doesn't know?

"I was sorted into Slytherin, dad." You replied, pulling the prefect badge out of your pyjama pocket, handing it to him.

Sirius studied the badge, shaking his head, handing it back to you - a disappointed look on his face.

"No, this can't be, how could you get sorted in with a bunch of sly, wicked, evil!-"

"It's not like that," Fred stepped in, sighing "Slytherin doesn't produce evil witches and wizards, she gets bothered enough being your daughter."

"But Voldemort!-"

"Peter wasn't a Slytherin was he?" Fred asked, folding his arms.

"No-"

"It's just a bloody house, Sirius! You've just got her back haven't you?" Fred held your hand, circling his thumb into your skin.

Sirius nodded "Y-yes, you're right Fredrick, sorry."

You and your dad shared some laughs, smiles, tears, hugs, and many stories before it was time for him to go - your heart so full with healing cracks started to chip again, you couldn't lose him - you just got him back.

"You can't go, you can't" you frowned, gripping onto his hand.

"I have to sweetheart, no one will believe me, it isn't safe for me to be out in the open like this." He said softly, staring into your eyes - the same as his own.

"But I need you," Your voice cracked, tears forming in your eyes.

"And I'll be here for you, you'll get my letters, and next summer, you can come and live with me, if you want to."

Live with dad. Starting over. Catching up on everything we have missed.

"I can?" You asked, covering your mouth, your smile spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course you can,"

Since learning the truth and being given a chance to start over, the bullying didn't bother you anymore - you knew your truth and that's all that mattered.

You were finally able to eat your meals at your house table, often staring over to Fred, blowing kisses when the two of you weren't pulling pranks or skipping class to be together, for the first time in your life, everything felt perfect.

"I'm so happy," you sighed, cuddling up to Fred "I've got you, I've got my dad, Harry and Ron don't hate me, everything is... perfect."

"It always will be from now on, love," Fred replied, kissing your head.

But it wouldn't be perfect, because you had no idea that you were about to lose your father right in front of your eyes, and soon after the love of your life would be taken away from you when you would fight for a future worth living, something your father had done before you were born.

taglist: @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @rreeaahh @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @supermassiveblackhope @pottahishotasf @potters-heart @livvysnaps @scorpireads @youralternantpersonality @onlyfreds

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter angst #Fred and George #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #the marauders #Sirius Black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction

243 notes · View notes

alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Note

How would the safehouse crew deal with fights with their s/o's? You know, like you had a huge argument and there's silent treatments and such? I love your works and blog so much, thank you 🥺💖

AHAHAAHAHA they angy. this gets kinda long so more under the cut

Safehouse Crew getting into an argument with their S/O

Adler

It'll start off as him being annoyed, he's a bit more pissy and snappy than usual

Then it eventually escalates into a screaming match

After the confrontation, he's really irritated and a bit more silent than usual, anyone that tries to talk to him is met with short and abrupt statements

"What do you want?"

"No."

He'll actually try avoid seeing you or being in your presence until he gets over it, but it'll take some time. if you do happen to pass by each other, he'll brush past you a bit harshly, bumping shoulders and such

It can last a few days, you can catch him doing things in a bit more of a harsh manner (i.e. slamming the door a bit or scrubbing dishes furiously)

Eventually, he'll come across you crying by yourself and it will just make him feel fucking guilty, but then he has to fight his sense of pride, because he hates to admit he was wrong

He sucks it up, and it's especially hard since you both don't argue often

"I was an asshole earlier."

You're that one piece of love in his life and just spending time staying angry already wastes enough precious time that he doesn't get enough of

Mason

He'll just kind of get in the car and drive off leaving you at home, goes to the store or some fast-food restaurant

There's a lot of things he sees that reminds Mason about you, and he'll feel bad at first, but then he would remember the argument and get moody

The door to the room would be locked, so he would have to knock a few times

"[Y/n], can you step out for a bit? I'll leave you alone afterwards, just hear me out."

When you don't answer he'll leave you be, and watch TV instead, but he won't be paying any attention to it

When you slip out of the room, you kinda just stand there in the hallway as he lies on the couch

Upon noticing you he sits up, smiling a bit sheepishly: "Hey, uh..."

Apologizing is hard for him, but he gets his words out somehow

He'll lavish you in kisses once you both make up

Woods

He tries his best not to get physical, he'll probably punch a wall or pillow

Sometimes he can't restrain himself, and will grab your shoulders forcibly, but then the moment he sees that fear in your eyes he instantly regrets it, you'll pull away from him before running to the bedroom and locking yourself

Woods would just kind of stare at his hands before dragging them down his face, knowing that he already fucked up

This guy already struggles to maintain his emotions; being the boisterous go-to dumbass kind of just bottles up things he usually can't bring himself to talk about, so the last thing he wanted was to lash out at you

He'll leave you alone for the rest of the day, and do his portion of the housework in dead silence while trying not to break things

Sleeps on the couch after drinking a couple of beers, but he probably can't get a good sleep now

Woods isn't too good in apologizing, being the stubborn shit he is

so he'll wake up really early and go to the flower shop, buy the biggest bundle of flowers while telling the florist "I fucked up."

he’ll come back home to you still in bed, so he would place the flowers on the bedside table and slip under the covers with you, staring at your sleeping expression while hating himself for yelling

you would awaken to him lying beside you holding your hand with a couple of dried tears on his face, and when you try wipe them away, his arm just sticks out and pulls you into a tight hug

Sims

his already sarcastic personality hits harder than usual, he’ll make personal remarks and makes sure they hurt

"You done yet? Because, you're being ridiculous right now."

Sims will storm off mid argument shaking his head, locking himself in the garage

he’ll work on the car, or search through boxes just to get his mind off of things, the entire scenario just repeating in his head

would probably think up of fake counter-arguments just to try make himself out as the one being right, but in the end he can’t come to the conclusion

once there’s nothing else to do he just stares off into space for a bit, toying around whatever thing he’s holding

The time comes where he has to leave his enclosed space, and he'll come back and find you sitting at the dinner table

He'll give out a deep sigh before join you awkwardly

"Hey, uh, about those things I said earlier..."

Park

after a fight, she would kinda try get back to work, but finds difficulty in concentrating

she’ll just toss everything onto the table before leaning back in the chair and just stares at the ceiling while slowly spinning in the swivel chair

Park would eventually just bury her face in her hands, just thinking about it all, and questioning the relationship. She loves you but arguments like these is what makes her question the integrity of it

its difficult to process, but when it comes down to it, Park comes to remember as to why she fell in love with you in the first place, and smiles warmly to herself remembering the first time you both met

although, Park might overthink the situation as a whole, and may forget that an apology was in order

you’ll kind of find her lost in thought, so you would tactfully place down a cup of coffee next to her before rushing towards the door

Park would grab your wrist before you leave.

“Wait.”

you raise an eyebrow

“I... may have said some unnecessary stuff.”

it’s hard for her to admit her wrongs, but for you she will

Lazar

this bear can actually get mad, and it isn’t a pretty sight to bear witness to, so it’s unsettling how intimidating he can actually get

after the argument he gets real silent after all the yelling, and leaves you there on your own

side glares whenever he walks past you, he also keeps this brooding expression throughout the day

Lazar can actually keep the silent treatment for a while, but it does get exhausting for him to constantly in an agitated state. being reminded of negative things that already happened kind of just breaks his flow

he’ll try to do paperwork, maybe even go out to the practice range and try out a rifle he had modified, but in the end he gets lonely without your company

Can't stay mad forever, and depending on the situation, it can take him a few hours to a couple days to get over it

When it's time, he will just give you a warm unsuspecting hug and kiss your forehead, mumbling an apology

he’ll also by a pack of your comfort food and throw that into the mix

Hudson

this dude almost always looked pissed as is

its almost astounding to see how much deeper the furrow of his brows can get, as well as the wrinkles on his forehead

Hudson would mutter under his breath to himself while doing papers

Its probably not noticeable, but he'll press a bit harder when using the pen, writing a bit more messily and smearing (which would add on to the irritation)

he ain’t the guy to apologize straight up, so he’ll either wait until everything dies out, or just brush it aside/attempt to forget about it

since this guy practically works as long as he breathes, Hudson usually returns by the time you’re asleep

he’ll just lie down next to you and let out an exhausted exhale while making out the details of your face amidst the darkness

and he can’t help but feel regretful about the entire thing, since he rarely has time to spend with you as is, and knowing his work, he’ll be away for days before finally returning to your side again

what if the argument was the last interaction you’ll both have? he didn’t want to think about it

when you wake up you’ll find his hand placed over yours with a peaceful expression and snoring soundly

#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagines #alex mason #jason hudson #lazar #helen park #russell adler #lawrence sims #bo:cw #abcd briefing #black ops cold war #call of duty: black ops cold war #cod #call of duty #text #hc #mmm silent making up #asks #smokeywhalee

275 notes · View notes

dear-yandere · 3 years

Text

& just drown with me.

yandere! beidou x reader. general headcanons. tw: kidnapping, implied dubcon. disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship.

art belongs to jay ash (pixiv).

“come out, come out to the sea, my love and just drown with me...”

beidou is...

reverent, delusional, honest, lenient (RDHL) + doting, protective, clingy

— reverent is she the moment she sets eyes on you, her heart skips a beat. she doesn’t mince words or skirt along bushes; she’s enamored the moment she sees you, and she ensures that you’re well aware of her attraction. you’re quick to pick up that she is terribly handsy—and perhaps a little touch-starved—especially when it comes to you. her hands are on you at all times, sometimes friendly, sometimes on the cusp of something more.

she wants to hold you close and never let go, she knows that much. you’re just so frail, so easy to break if the slightest wind were to brush your sides a little too harshly. in contrast, she’s strong beyond compare, able to best sea beasts and part mountains with only her sword; and yet, gentleness is not lost on her. she takes extra care in handling you, beyond scared that you’ll break apart between her fingers if she’s the slightest bit too rough.

and letting go quickly becomes difficult.

she likes feeling your skin against hers. your hand entangled with hers, your fingers delicate and unused to combat; she is forever fascinated by the soft swell of your palm, the way your hand looks as if it can hardly hold itself against the world. your skin is devoid of callouses and tears unlike her own which carries the sword as big as her stature. your hair’s disheveled and knotty, and your clothes carelessly strewn across the floor. she likes you best this way; completely without covers, so that she may take you in to your fullest, so that she may hold all of you within her grasp and never let go. her fingers are always wrapped around your waist, lips pressing kisses onto your head.

you are a treasure beyond compare.

— her thinking, you soon come to learn, lies upon the border of delusion, and yet her eyes hold an assurity when they look at you. you’re never allowed off her ship unsupervised. the decision was quick and painless, her voice doubtless and her intentions clear as the sea. she wants to flaunt you by her side, as she enjoys the way your body will grow warm with embarrassment when she walks into town with a pretty little thing by her side. pirates are known for their nonchalant approach to life, so for the great captain of the crux to show up in public with anything—or anyone—by her side apart from her trusty claymore is a curious sight. captain beidou isn’t known for her ability to settle in one place or with one person; the sea’s always been her true calling, after all. but to see her fingers gently settle on your shoulder as she pulls you close, the smirk on her reddened lips will quickly twist into a full-blown grin as the crowd she’s drawn erupts into cheers.

you know better than to make a scene in front of these people—people who look up to captain beidou, people who wouldn’t take you seriously if you explained the way she keeps you captive on her ship. you’re nothing more than a victim, you’ll say to them, and they’ll only laugh you off with a wave of their hand, certain this whole charade is some roundabout way for beidou to entertain herself. the sea must drive a man delirious, after all. no one can fault her.

and for that reason, no one can believe your pleads.

beidou is a free spirit enamored by the call of adventure, and yet her actions are anything but.

— dishonesty is something beidou hasn’t the time nor patience for. her words hold no lie when directed at anyone, but especially when directed at you. she couldn’t dream of lying to you—and she has, unfortunately. the moment she woke up from that terrible dream was the moment she shook you awake to apologize profusely, even if the language was colored with her own vulgar vernacular. yes... she apologized for a futile little lie she told in a dream.

dishonesty simply isn’t on the table.

she goes to great lengths to explain her day to you, taking the utmost care to not leave the slightest detail out. the main reason being her guilty conscience, really. there’s not much to do cooped up on a musty ship cabin—even if her quarters are decked out to the nines just for your liking. you weren’t keen on the idea at first, feeling more like a child being told stories before bedtime, rather than a fellow sailor and her beloved first mate. but her eyes will light up all the same, and she’ll tell you of her day and the new things she’s seen as if you were right there with her. you quickly learn to nod along and acknowledge her every so often, as the only alternative is to mope around in her cabin or on the deck—the few times she’ll let you accompany her out there. there’s only so many thoughts to think by yourself, and at some point, you grow to look forward to these fantastical stories every night.

— she doesn’t know fear—freedoms are yours for the choosing if you’re brave enough to set your sights on them. lenient and all too unfussed by the chance you’ll make it any further than the twenty feet from her person at all times, she’s well aware you won’t make it rather far. you wouldn’t call it much in the way of “freedom” really—and you start to envy the citizens of the ever-free mondstadt a few regions over. all freedoms are your for the taking; that is, all freedoms except a dismissal from her side. it’s where any good luck charm belongs, she’ll laugh and plant a wet kiss atop your lips. her good luck charm... she doesn��t need luck—not with strength rivaling a god’s—and yet she refuses to go anywhere without you close behind.

it’s no surprise that her crew had once joked that you follow her around like a lost seadog—unaware that you do so per her directions—only for the poor lads to regret ever having said anything. their captain’s eyes are dark when she pipes up behind them.

“haven’t you got better jobs to do than mess with my lass?” she jeers, that usual smirk not quite reaching her eyes. from your position behind the crew—the men now all lined up in terror before the captain of the crux—even you start to break into sweat. it’s clear from her tone that she’s irritated, and the fact she’s clutching onto her claymore as if its the anchor on her anger scares even you.

they were poking fun at you only moments ago, and now you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

“i’ll let you off the hook ‘cause you’re my dear brothers.“ despite her clemency, her expression tightens and not one man dares to let his tense muscles relax. “but i’ll only say this once, lads.” she explains, stepping down from the raised deck to saunter over to your side. all eyes turn to you two, a pair they’ve grown used to seeing day in and day out. beidou slings her arm around your shoulders, the curves of her body pressing into yours perfectly. “this here is my first mate; a jab at them is no better than a jab at me. the next time i hear a jab at them, i’ll do far worse than have you swimming with the fishes.”

— she loves drinking with you by her side, even if you can’t hold liquor down to save your life. her cheeks are quick to flush shades of pinks and reds, and you can never stop yourself from staring in awe, even when she slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close. her lips catch yours as if they belong there, a puzzle piece filled by its other half. her kisses are a hazy fire, fiercely warm and dangerously untamed; they always taste like strong beer, the beverage steeped in various spices that sit nicely on her lips.

you only wish she wouldn’t do so in public. her boisterous laughter and charisma draws the attention of the tavern-goers, most of whom know better than to interrupt beidou when she’s chugging down jugs of alcohol. her crew doesn’t mind the sight, nor do they mind your presence at the table—though, it’s not like they have much of a choice in protesting; although they don’t fully recognize you as a bonafide crew member of the alcor, it’s clear that captain beidou has something of a sweet spot for you.

still, they feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t when she captures your lips with hers, her fingers drunkenly playing with the thin strap keeping your outfit intact.

— captain beidou carries her heart on her sleeves and her riches in each hand. riches and spoils are fully within your grasp at all times, sometimes to the point of annoyance when she insists on adorning you with a piece of jewelry she picked up at port. ‘it reminded me of you, s’all,’ she’ll laugh sheepishly, already unclasping the necklace to set it around your neck. ‘wear it and think of me, yea?’

it’s an order more than a romantic sentiment; you have no choice but to think of her at all times.

it’s only when you learn of her past that you come to understand her near-obsession with providing you with the best of the best. from the moment she opened her eyes as a newborn, her life had been mired by misfortune, as if the gods themselves were curious how long she’d survive a life of ordeals. as confident as she is now, you would’ve never guess that beneath the surface, she is forever humbled by her past. having grown up in a family with little money and even less to eat, she was to pick up on the way of thieves, learning the schedules and habits of merchants at the local market so that she could swoop in to steal fruits and veggies from their unattended stands.

“don’t worry about it too much, lass; me telling you such stories is merely for your amusement,” she’ll laugh as she explains this to you, sparing you the grisly details of starvation and malaise. she doesn’t tell you how her skin would cling to her ribs for years on end, hanging from her skeleton as if life had given up on it. she’s been on hard times for most of her life, and yet the only side you ever see is the one blessed by fortune and power.

“life and i have never gotten along, so i had to climb my way up in this world.” her tone is cheerful; you see right through it. “my life’s been tough, i’ll admit that much, but i have no intention of making you live through that too.”

— as much as she tries to run from it, she cannot outsail truth. as much as she’d prefer to keep you on her ship—where she can keep an eye on you, where you’re always free to join her in her quest for adventure and thrill—she’s aware that all things must come to an end; even the sea has an edge and an end.

this is just one of them.

“hey... if you really don’t want to be here, i won’t stop you. it’s your choice, and whatever you decide is set in stone. i can’t change that no matter how hard i try, but... could you do me a favor?... just, could you at least give me a chance?

i don’t like overstepping my boundaries where i’m not needed, but this is all i’ll ask of you. think long and hard about your decision. what you decide is up to you—and if you’re set on the idea, i’ll let you leave, no repercussions. sound like a deal?”

bonus.

— she isn’t herself at night. gone is the boisterous laughter that could raise the hair on a man’s arms. gone is the domineering aura she carries like a shield, its front aimed at a world that tries to hold her down. she craves adventure, but the moment night falls and she pulls you into the cot with her, she’s out like a light. the only time you manage to catch yourself every day is when she’s by your side rather than the other way around, her person quiet and gently breathing the sea-stained air.

the ship creaks, and you can hear it clear as night now that the crew is snuggled into their cabins and warm cots, and now that their even-louder captain has fallen asleep. you can finally hear your own thoughts. you have much to think about, having been spirited away to “adventure” against your will... and yet you only think of her.

you turn on your side and settle your weary eyes on your lover. her features are no longer sharp, no longer laden with the responsibility of power and might. nestled between a lavish blanket and the warmth of your body, she is no longer a paragon of otherwordly strength; she’s just human. this is just another side of the captain, just another beidou intended only for your eyes.

and it’s in these quiet moments that you realize you’re in love.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere beidou x reader #yandere beidou #beidou x reader #genshin impact x reader #*headcanons #tw kidnapping #tw dubcon #genshin impact #beidou #[ really hope she isnt ooc ]#[ i havent even met her yet smh .. . im bobo the clown ]

555 notes · View notes