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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

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Catch me wearing my prettiest, comfiest underwear to a date with Breg. Think every nasty thought I can to get myself all wet. Get even wetter watching him squirm bc I know he can smell me but can't do anything about it. End of the date I take them off from under my skirt and give them to him 💕

[This is how he dies. Fem reader.]

(Minors dni)

Ah yes, your first proper date and it's an absolute mess.

There Breg is, trying his absolute best. He had to mentally work himself up for this, remember what he can and can't do in order to behave appropriately for an actual date. Not to mention having to get help in order to find clothes that actually fit well on his peculiar body type, something minimally comfortable that he can forget about as opposed to the fabrics just irritating him within minutes. It's safe to say he's on his best behavior. This date is all about you and making sure Breg is impressive enough.

So why are you making it so hard?

You look divine. Even with his lackluster understanding of human courtship, Breg understands perfectly that, not only did you dress for the occasion, you completely outdid whatever he could have come up with mentally. Beautiful doesn't do it justice. That's not the problem here-

It's your attitude.

To clarify, you haven't done a single thing Breg considers reprehensible. Oh no, not at all- You've just been wetter than a fucking fountain within minutes of you two having sat down at the restaurant table. And he's dying inside.

" H- How... How was your day? " Breg forces himself to speak, the volume of his body pressing uncomfortably against the suit as he does everything to stop himself from getting more tense. Pulling the restaurant menu up to partially hide his face does nothing to stop the scent from crawling up his nostrils and tickling his brain.

You're soaked, you're so fucking horny- This must be torture for you, right? What did he do that got you like this? Is it the suit? No... Could it be? Breg licks his lips as he clutches the fancy pamphlet harder. He can't even read the words on it right now. They're just a confusing assortment of letters and numbers for his muddled mind.

" Great actually! " You beam, cheeks tinted. " Even better now that you're here... "

Ffffuck.

Breg's tail swings hard enough to thump the table's legs, startling a laugh out of the two of you. His discomfort is momentarily forgotten and all is well. But you had to tease him some more, didn't you? The breeder, already inevitably focused on you, doesn't miss the subtle motion of your legs under the table cloth. What you did registers only when the previous odor hits Breg like a freight train. Thick in the air, the need he's always wanted to smell on you. The thing that makes him crawl walls- You just spread your legs for him. At him. To fuck with him.

" Hhg- You're so fucking hot... " He murmurs around his own excess saliva.

" Hm? What was that? " He can't tell if you actually heard him or not.

" N-Nothing! Just thinking... " About fucking you open.

The waitress finally arrives, a blessing in disguise. The breeder curses himself for almost growling at the poor woman. He's too out of it to remember what you picked and chooses instead the first three dishes he manages to read out loud. Yes, three. Because food is going to be his only saving grace in a little while, the only thing that'll stop him from bending you over this table and making a real meal out of you. He'll pay for it, Fasma can cry about it later.

" Oh wow, someone's hungry! " You mock, making the skin on his back rise in goosebumps.

" Starving. "

When the food arrives, Breg digs right in with a vengeance, trying his best to make coherent conversation with you in spite of the intensifying smell of your arousal. Every time it gets thicker, he shoves another hilariously big forkful in his maw to stop himself from whining.

The male is shifting in his chair, near-screaming internally. He briefly glances at himself just to check if everything is presentable, and is horrified to confirm what he already suspected. He's begun to leak lubrication. A patch of wetness forms on his expensive pants while his slit simply does what Nature wills it to, get prepared to breed the horny little thing begging for it just in front of him. Thank fuck the fabric is already dark. This is a losing battle, he can't do anything about it, if this continues he's going to get fully exposed in no time. But Breg doesn't want to leave you alone. Or rather, he can't right now. Carefully, the breeder tries to drag a napkin under the table to clean himself.

" Is everything alright? You're really blue in the face. " Your angelic voice pelts him.

Like you're doing any better, disheveled, overheated, he can almost hear the pulse of your cunt from here. " I- I'm good, suit's a little warm... " A worse excuse could not have possibly been uttered.

The napkin quickly gets soaked. In fact, it does jack shit to help him get dry, only succeeding in teasing himself further. The moment the telltale feeling of his tips trying to poke out is registered, Breg very briefly considers stuffing the entire napkin inside to prevent a scandal. Not that paper would have enough force to halt it, just delay his shame.

" Do you wanna skip to dessert? " His sweet mate asks, far from innocently, and the monster fixates on that filthy curve of their superficial smile.

" Yes, maybe- " Maybe nothing, because your bare foot is nudging at his long legs beneath the table cloth, slowly trying to inch them apart from their clenched position. The beads of sweat already forming on his face nearly freeze as his heartbeat thunders. On the one hand, he's really interested. On the other, you're both going to get banned the moment you do anything to relieve him.

" NEED A MINUTE! " Breg shouts as soon as your foot reaches his thigh. Dashing out of the restaurant like a frenzied bull and definitely making something shatter along the way. Oops.

The monster ducks into the adjacent alley, leaning on the gross wall, groaning as his cocks push out, harder than diamonds. Fantastic. He can't go back inside like this. He's also not going to calm down anytime soon now that your smell is lodged in his skull. The breeder pulls his pants down just enough to free himself against the cool air and looks around nervously, weighing his options. Perhaps, if he takes care of it quickly, he can pretend that nothing happened and hopefully you'll still be waiting for him inside. Breg can fix this mess, it's not over yet.

A pale hand has barely coiled over one of his engorged lengths when he's interrupted.

" There you are! " None other than you, chastising him from the opening of the grimy alley.

The breeder cringes at having been caught about to jerk off semi-publically by his date. Like some shameless exhibitionist. " I- It's not what it looks like, I- " He can't even cover himself properly, fumbling and trembling.

Calmer than he expected, you join him in the relative darkness. Breg has no choice but to gulp mouthfuls of your heady scent and throb behind his own clumsy coverings. You're too close too close too close-

" That was fun. " You simply state, making him flinch.

" Uh- It... Was? " You have a curious definition of fun.

" Mhm. " His gaze is glued on your every move while you casually hike your skirt up, giving the spreader a view so hot he chokes on his own spit. A dark, lacy and see-through set of panties that hug the dough of your body comfortably. He's never seen that pair before, it must be new. Did... Did you get them for him? For this occasion?

Breg could come right now. His mate sways her hips teasingly, making him follow the motion with his head, mouth parting as he spots the glistening of your fluids on it. He's this close to dropping on his knees and begging for it. Lazily letting the fabric drop, you reach under and shimmy to, incredibly enough, step out of those same panties.

Breg is hallucinating. This isn't real. All the blood in his body went to his cocks and he passed out. This is a dream, he must still be at that table, head unceremoniously caked on his plate by now.

Grinning wide, you forcibly pull one of his hands away from his shame, taking a moment to observe his shameful state. And then, as if it were the most ordinary of acts, you merely slip the soaked fabric in his grasp.

O-Okay. Uhuh. This is normal.

" You're paying next time, by the way. " Is the closest thing to a goodbye he gets before you leave him there, horny, sweaty and twitching.

Next time...

Breg stays in that alley long after you're gone.

He comes so hard that he forgets where he is for a second.

#Bregory #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #not sfw #sorry for the huge wait

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iron-sparrow · 2 months

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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

In no particular order!

LIFTING BIG WEIGHTS. It is a mental and physical struggle I absolutely enjoy, and very few things on this green(ish) earth can give me the same high lifting does. My current highest number is 253 lbs/115 kg for 2 on sumos. The other day I did 227/103 for 3 without pausing. Also, depressed queer lifters are some of the best people you could know!

I freaking love anatomy. Sorta ties into why I'm so into lifting weights + watching others lift. I am obsessed. We all joke about our shitty our meaty flesh suits are, but have you ever just sat and thought about how intricate they are and how long it took nature to evolve us into such efficient sweating endurance machines despite our other shortcomings? I mean, I hate running (flat feet suck), but the IDEA of how long we can hypothetically go for because of how our bodies work mechanically is mind-blowing. And have you seen how an Olympic lifter utilizes momentum and balance with their incredible strength to lift as much as they do off the ground and above their heads? The breakdown of every single limb's motion and muscle movement is SO beautiful that I can't even... WHEEZE...

I don't consider myself a writer, but I really love writing more than drawing sometimes -- no offense to my art degree that definitely wasn't a waste of time or anything. Something about processing images through words just hits different. A freight train slowly crawl by on the tracks versus a bullet train zipping across its rails; a horse breaking into full sprint; bird beating its wings against the air in very specific patterns; houseplant slowly changing directions as it seeks light. My heart feels so heavy that it's threatening to slip from my ribs down into my stomach in search of an escape from the pressure building inside my skin; I think if it burst, I would see it turn my breath into the same abyssal blue we perceive the ocean to be.

I guess music is another sure way to feel anything, including "happy." Some friends of mine talk about stimming with specific types of music, and I think back to how often I find myself unable to function at all without something playing in my ears. I'm actually prone to sensory overload (high ceilings WHY), so I will always carry around headphones or earbuds with me to help! And really, I'm content to listen to the same tune on repeat for 12-14 hours to stabilize my mood. This fucks with my Spotify statistics in the funniest way. Plus, people are more likely to leave you the fuck alone when you got headphones on, and I like being left alone. (Social misanthropes, rise up.)

My friends make me happy, and I am incredibly blessed to have friends that love me. When they can't support me directly, they walk alongside me so that I can still see their shapes while I traverse the fog. They ask me how I'm doing when I change medications. They tell me my muscles look nice after I've finished a gym session. They watch my OCs turning on the hot dog warmer with me. Some nights, when I'm struggling, I remind myself that I'll be able to talk to them again when I wake up. ♡

#tag game #ask game #oh boy oh boy AN ASK!#thank you Pigeon my fren #for putting this in my inbox #ooc post #thx for reading all that

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steddieunderdogfics · 5 months

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Our first writer's spotlight feature is: @anthotneystark! With seven works on Ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom (for ao3 users only), they've written five works with the Steddie ship tag!

Nominated by @thefreakandthehair, they recommend the following works by mywarisalreadywon:

Fools in love (Is there any other kind of pain?)

But when it's your brother (Sometimes you look the other way)

I will stay one night beside you, never go back to the sea (I will stay and be thy husband though it be the death of me)

My wounds cry for the grave (My soul cries for deliverance)

Sold your soul (Built the higher wall)

Kat is an absolute treasure and such a wonderful writer! Her ideas are always so fresh and so interesting, and I've never read anything from her that doesn't just hit. All of her works are so well-crafted and well-written, characterization is always on point, and I can't say enough about how much I genuinely enjoy every single thing she posts! - @thefreakandthehair

Below the cut, @anthotneystark answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I just find them so compelling, and there’s so many ways to shift the story around a bit or put them in different universes, like the options are just endless in a way a lot of the ships I’ve loved can’t be.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m such a sucker for hurt/comfort, but I feel like that’s such a broad range, right? More specific would be the trop of one or both having insecurities and getting that “I love you and I will choose to keep loving you” moment.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Probably the breakdown moment of finally finding a safe harbor, or realizing that people love you, and it just hits you like a freight train and you can’t do anything but fall apart, and that can go hand in hand with found family, but that’s my specific gut-punch feeling that I want to put in every fic.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh this is so hard! I have so many that I go back and read time and time again, so many that I absolutely adore! God, just picking one is so nerve wracking, I’m too indecisive, so I’ll say my top three (in no particular order): Sanctuary by SpicedSage, I’ve seen your face before, my friend,but I don’t know if you know who I am by HMSLusitania, and The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting by badpancake

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Oh for sure! I’ve had a rom-com idea bouncing around in my head for a while, I just have to figure out a good starting place for it!

What is your writing process like?

The majority of the time, I start writing out my stories on paper. I scratch it down at least enough to get me started and use that kind of as a springboard. When I can get to a point of typing it up, having that and editing as I go helps me to really build momentum and then I can just let it flow, but that initial momentum is the hard part between getting the story out of my head and onto a page. If I’m stopping and starting, I reread and edit what I’ve typed up as my springboard, so by the time I’m finished, I’ve reread it all enough times that I’m sure I’ve got everything in the order I want.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m very sure that I do! I start a lot of sentences with conjunctions and I try to write, at least in some parts, so it reads like a stream of consciousness without entering first person. For me it’s almost like I type how I talk and sometimes I get a little too far into that and have to reel it back.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh definitely when it’s finished. I lose motivation for periods of time and have to rotate between projects, so I feel much better about stuff when it’s all just done and I don’t have to worry about being stalled for too long.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I’m kinda torn on this one! Like I’m super proud of all the heart and the emotion I felt and tried to express in But when it's your brother (Sometimes you look the other way), but My wounds cry for the grave (My soul cries for deliverance) was huge for me because that’s my biggest single chapter fic that I’ve ever written. If pressed, I think I’d have to go with the former just because that one in particular was so heavy for me on a more personal level.

How did you get the idea for But when it's your brother (Sometimes you look the other way)?

This fic is honestly so full of my own personal feelings that I get a little choked up thinking about it too much. I’m a younger sister, so I’m constantly in this cycle of making fun of my older sister and calling her names but having this deep love for her. My family isn’t one that really talks much about feelings, but there’s so much love there and I’m finding myself constantly thinking back on my own life about so many moments where neither of us was prepared for what we had to do, but I looked at her and thought she was invincible and I feel like that’s the core of Dustin and Steve. The “that’s my brother, he’s so tough and grown up and he’s always okay” and then the sort of devastation of realizing that this person you’ve always seen like that has a lot of moments where they’re scared and hurt and struggling but not showing it. There’s just a lot of me in that fic.

When writing I will stay one night beside you, never go back to the sea (I will stay and be thy husband though it be the death of me), what was something you didn’t expect?

I don’t know that there was anything I didn’t expect, because I try not to really push expectations onto my work, I try to just let it flow and figure it out from there. But something that felt right that I hadn’t initially planned for was the moment between Steve and Joyce. We haven’t seen them interact really, and I’ve seen a few different takes on them and how they’d see each other, but I honestly loved the thought of him having this moment of trying to hold it all together because there’s so much weight on his shoulders and the moment he sees someone who’s safe, someone who has been judged so much and wouldn’t be judgemental of him, he breaks.

What inspired Fools in love (Is there any other kind of pain)?

This one actually started as a “haha what if Steve was born on a holiday” and then I made it a little angsty. Because I do like the born on a holiday and your birthday gets overlooked vibe, but then it was just a moment of thinking about what if it gets overlooked not because it’s a big holiday, but because people just don’t believe him and how much that would hurt year after year.

What was your favorite part to write from I will stay one night beside you, never go back to the sea (I will stay and be thy husband though it be the death of me)?

Definitely the bit about Steve begging for Eddie to keep him, with that warring feeling of not wanting to be restrained but wanting to be chosen. Feelings are so often multidimensional and that was something that just really spoke to me.

How do/did you feel writing But when it's your brother (Sometimes you look the other way)?

I cried so much. Like I said, there’s so much personal feeling in there, so much of the way that I am with my siblings is there, and we didn’t have any life or death situations, but that sort of love, it just sticks with you forever. In equal moments I’m Steve and I’m Dustin in there, being a middle child and all I’ve got both experiences, so I definitely had a few moments where I needed to step back and let my own feelings settle again.

What was the most difficult part of writing Fools in love (Is there any other kind of pain)?

This was actually my first fic written and published in over three years. So the hard part for me was actually just working up the courage to post it. I’ve been dealing a lot with depression and anxiety and burnout for years now and just the general dissatisfaction with my own writing, so the love I got after posting that was really just so special to me and I can’t fully express how much it means and how encouraging it was knowing people liked it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

My favorite line is either this one from My wounds cry for the grave: “But right now, he just leans over, laughing with his favorite person ever, his heart soaring and matching hers, beat for beat.” Or this moment: “He drops right there, like a puppet with its strings cut, like a stone in water. Like Atlas being crushed by the weight of the world. Dustin is the only one close enough to make sure his head doesn’t hit the ground; he’ll be grateful for that later. In that moment though, surrounded by people who love him, sprawled on a cold tile floor, willing Eddie to be alive with his whole being, Steve Harrington’s heart stops once more.” Both of these were things I had rotating in my head for so long that I go back to those parts over and over just to feel them again.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh I have so many things that are half done, but none that are near finished enough to try and hype them up yet. I literally have a running list of ideas I’m adding to here and there and I just follow the inspiration!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

The only thing I can think to add is that I’m just absolutely so flattered and tickled about someone liking my work enough to nominate me for this! I’ve always tended to be more of a lurker in just about every fandom I’ve been in so this is such a surprise and it means the world that my writing touched someone enough for them to think of me.

Thank you to our author, @anthotneystarkm and our nominator, @thefreakandthehair! See more of @anthotneystark's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #writer's spotlight #steddieunderdogfics #antotneystark #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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blazehedgehog · 4 months

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Have you ever played Chrono Cross?

I own Chrono Cross! Chrono Trigger is one of my favorite RPGs of all time! I was psyched to play Chrono Cross!

I was extremely disappointed by Chrono Cross!

Chrono Cross feels like a game made almost to spite fans of Chrono Trigger. Vastly different art style, vastly different world, with a lore that basically says "Remember everybody you loved from Trigger? They're dead now. And they probably died tragic or embarrassing deaths."

It fills that void with a lot of incoherency. Because Cross hangs its hat on having 44 collectible party members, very few of them have any impact and basically never participate in the main story. The English localization is even structured in such a way that most of the cast pulls from a single library of side-character dialog that gets fed through an "accent filter" depending on who is saying it. Meaning 97% of the cast is not written to have any legitimate role in the story.

What story can be gleaned is a deliberately confusing mess of mysteries layered within mysteries, none of which ever get explained until the last 3-5 hours of gameplay. So you toil for 27+ hours not having any idea what's going on or why, only to get hit by a freight train of dense lore as you start to round the final bend.

I only know this because a friend explained it all to me once, about FATE and the lineage of the Dragonians and all of that late-game lore.

In truth, I got stuck in Chrono Cross and not even pouring over 3 different GameFAQ guides could get me unstuck. It was some event involving one of the versions of Captain Fargo, or at least that's what I thought I had to do. It was some time after the "switch" event with Serge (if you know, you know) and all the guides said I had to get Fargo to go back to Marbule or something.

But it never worked. He never budged. So I didn't know where to go. After a week of throwing myself at that problem I gave up and resigned myself to never finishing Chrono Cross. This was back in, like, 2002 or 2003, so faded memories by now.

Which I was fine with, because honestly, I was getting pretty bored to tears with the game. There's only so much "you don't know what's going on because it's a 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦" before you get tired of it, and systems-wise it wasn't grabbing me either. That was Square's "experimental" phase, where they were messing with (or straight up deleting) core RPG mechanics just to see what would happen. So Final Fantasy 8 screwed with the gear and magic systems, and Chrono Cross screwed with how you gain experience points and level up.

Which is to say you kind of... don't? Only bosses give EXP, so that basically means you're always guaranteed to level up after every boss. There's no reason to fight fodder enemies outside of getting item drops. Which would be great if they let you avoid most monster encounters, but they don't, so it just wastes time and contributes towards nothing. And battles get needlessly drawn out thanks to the elemental field system, too.

It's a gorgeous game, full of absolutely immaculate art direction. I'm a lifelong fan of any soundtrack with Yasunori Mitsuda (and I even have an autographed Chrono Cross songbook from him!) But anything about the story or gameplay is wet cardboard to me.

I keep thinking about going back to it, starting over fresh, seeing if I like it more now that I'm an older and different person. But I haven't gotten around to it yet. Like a lot of RPGs in my life right now it's locked behind the promise of "maybe after I finish Mother 3" which is going on two years now -- but I picked it back up this week and am rounding the final bend on that one, if you can believe it.

#questions #Anonymous #squaresoft #square-enix #chrono cross #chrono trigger

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primordialfell · 11 months

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Do Gods Dream?

The ones that wish they were human do, without understanding of what mortality will truly mean. What nightmares would scare a god?

Perhaps a dreamed life. An entire dreamed life, day by muddled, muffled day, and imagined memories concocted by the hour. It was a mundane life, a wasted life, each day just slightly to the left, and each aspect of each day not exactly right but with no reason or rhyme to be wrong.

Until the entire mortal life feels wrong, and everything and every memory feels wrong. The dream continues, and somehow encompasses an entire existence, with every pain and broken bone. Every single car crash, every death, every fight, every misery.

And no joy. There's no joy in it. The world is plastic grey and there are claw marks on everything.

And you have no power over it.

And you can't wake up.

what, you have nothing to say this time?

you're normally so insistent on barging in to my every sleeping moment. so insistent that I never be allowed a moment's peace. you're obsessed with me. with my pain. you call it sanctity and holy but I know that you are a cruel creature of low cunning and low remorse. have you finally learned sorrow? finally decided to leave me in peace?

Your feet find purchase on shifting sand.

oh god.

YOUR NAME IS ETERNATUS. You are the Worm Our God. At least, you are in waking. In sleeping, you are a creature of isolated weakness and quiet contemplation. It is here that you are vulnerable, dreaming deep beneath the sea as you consider old things, great things of high import and such wondrous magnitude. Your castle is old and it is interminable.

SOMETIMES YOU WONDER what it might be like to be human. You have worn their skin and walked among them, as you have for every species you have visited, but it is not the same. You're old, incalculably so, and because of that a lifetime for them passes by you in a blink of an eye. You breathe and an entire generation is dead. In the time it takes you to smile, you have watched a nation fall. You know this. You know what you are. You are a coiling ouroboros. It would take a man a hundred years to walk your length.

YOU'RE OLD. You're very old. As if that makes what you're about to go through any easier.

You wake up. Your hands are rough and calloused as they fly to your face and all your memories come rushing back. Fuck. The alarm on your bedside table blares without mercy, screaming at you to get up and get dressed already, you're going to be late for work. Fuck again. It's Wednesday, worst day of the week for Poke Mart freight.

You prepare yourself for your terrible manual labor job. You arrive late and your manager yells at you again. He does it to everyone. Your abuse isn't special. Neither are you.

You see on the news more stuff about stuff. Terrorist attacks in a distant region, the Kanto bill is dropping in value. Wow, another PWT. You'll get to watch rich assholes with millions of yen fly out to a stadium and get sponsored by corporations to battle with their purebred, IV trained, six-stacks of absolute monsters from the comfort of your ground floor studio apartment.

The news hums at you again. Black pyramids found in Hoenn. You change the channel. Mt. Silver claims another life. You change the channel. Political unrest in Sinnoh. You change the channel.

You switch to your streaming services and watch worthless TV for the rest of your night.

You wake up. Your hands are rough and calloused. All your memories come rushing back as you look at your alarm. Fuck. You're going to be late for work. Fuck again. It's Wednesday. worst day of the week for Poke Mart freight. You prepare yourself for your terrible manual labor job. You get there late. Your manager yells at you. Black spit flies out of his lips and hits you on the face as he does and you sit there and take it.

Your abuse is special. It was made for you. Only you.

You get home. You watch the news. Another terrorist attack. PWT. Met Gala. Climate change. Silph Co coming back. Kanto bill even lower. Unova pyramid found. Unrest. The world is getting worse and you can't do anything about it. How could you? It's like the world was designed to make everyone so miserable they just have to sit there and take it. Like how your boss calls you all family; it's just a tactic to make sure you put up with all sorts of degrading shit.

The man in the corner of your kitchen stares at you and you try not to look at him. He makes you cry.

You wake up. Your hands are rough. Memories come back. Alarm. You're late for work you drive very fast to get there and you rear end some bitch on the highway. Hit and run but it's fine, she'll never catch you. Dog eat dog world out there. Manager yells at you. His jaw snaps off halfway through, his tongue kind of uselessly flopping around the gory, chunky black mess where it used to be. He sounds like someone shoved a fistful of organs down his throat but you know he's still screaming at you.

Home. News. Unrest. Terrorist attack. Economy in shambles. Mundanity. Wealthy people flaunt it in your face. The man in the kitchen takes a step closer and you scream and cry under your couch. No he doesn't. That would be something new. Something interesting. You don't get that luxury. Climate change. Sky blotted with ash. Mt. Silver erupts. PWT. Your Cleffa dies that night. You take her to the Pokemon Center. You can't afford to keep her ashes.

stop it. stop it stop it stop it. i want to wake up. why? how can you do this?!

You think this is me?

it could only be you.

Not every bad thing in the universe is my fault.

Wake. Hands are rotting stumps. Bone pokes out. Drive to work. Your eyes are falling out. Stagger towards your boss an hour late. He's a pile of ash and meat on the ground squealing hateful slurs at you. Ignore him. You run someone over on the way home. Don't bother stopping. Freight truck was filled with bodies today.

These things would scare a human, wouldn't they? Do they scare you, Worm Our God, who is so used to seeing blood and death?

No, they don't, do they?

That's why you realize how horrifying it is.

You wake up again in bed as your alarm blares. You lazily slap it and roll out of bed. Somehow, between the first paragraph and now, it's been fifteen years. You stagger to work. You barely feel alive. Your life is a haze of monochrome mundanity and hope forever dangled out of reach. The news talks of change. Worms flying overhead and breathing life back into the oceans. Well isn't that wonderful.

In retaliation, oil companies jack up prices the next day to compete. Can't let that thing interfere with profits. It brings back a new species, almost in retaliation. That's fine; the next day eggs cost twelve dollars everywhere.

Fuck.

Sometimes you think about getting another Pokemon, then you realize you can't afford it, and you watch the PWT again. You see people competing from all over the world; the people who've gotten lucky enough to steal the eyes of the spotlight. That's the lie everyone always says: anyone can be that great, but they're liars, aren't they? You have to know people to be someone.

Are you even real, then, if you could be removed from the world and no one would ever know the difference?

You wake up again. Your alarm is making noise and you turn it off. You go to get ready for work and your front door is gone. All the windows in your apartment are gone. You realize it makes sense. You were never going to survive for very long anyway, not with the world becoming like it is. Not with nobodies like you, of whom there are billion, being overshadowed by the ones that really matter. Taller flowers get the Light you so desperately crave.

You aren't strong enough to thrive in the Dark. To grab a knife and cut their stems down and take their place in the Light.

You sit down in front of the TV and you watch as it all falls apart around you. Black mist seeps around the floor and swirls like a fog machine. You stare at the TV. The man in the corner watches you. There's no point. There never was. Some people are meant to make history and some are meant to fill the numbers of the lives they change. You are a number filler. That's all you'll ever be.

You realize you are not special. You have struggled into this existence and you will now slip silently out of it. This is everyone's experience, Eternatus. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter.

You're everyone. And everyone is you.

You think about going somewhere. Somewhere faraway where the world can't catch up, as the things that supposedly make you unique peel away bit by bit. Your laugh. Your memories. Your personality. All of it crushed away by a mind that doesn't hate you... but you just aren't important enough to be worth consideration.

That's the real rub. You didn't do anything. You just have to suffer the crime of being so missable.

You sit alone in darkness and the world forgets you.

god, what's the point?

I don't think there is one.

i have to help them. when i wake up i have to help them.

I don't think you can.

i'm eternatus. i can do anything.

Then wake up.

I--

Then save them.

...

I ...

... ... I know. It's okay. I know.

#dreameat #∞ ic.#∞ ask.#horror tw #that's all i can tag this as. you look under that readmore at your own risk man #thank you cas for one of the most compelling asks i've ever received. i'm going to go sit down and not write ever again

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

Grunge-Metal Geralt

Hi, im fucking trash for the idea of Geralt being the front man for a Five Finger Death Punch type band and my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. This music genre is my bread and butter and I think Geralt’s repressed but highly emotional ass would fit right in. Yes im using another Hozier song, no i dont wanna hear anything about it. I’m a basic bitch and ive made my peace with it

Warnings: i honestly have no idea, its a little horny, little emotional, but theres no actual character interaction?, its at a concert venue? idk yall.

_________________________

Jaskier was… out of his comfort zone.

It’s not that he didn’t like the grunge-metal music, he just hadn’t listened to much and he was not used to the energy. People were yelling and screaming and the opener hadn’t even come on yet. He didn’t feel unsafe, far from it. Several people had checked to see if he was okay, seeing as he was the only person in the entire arena wearing a sweater that wasn't ripped or faded to hell. It was just a far cry from the shows he was used to.

He played folky-blues. This was nothing like his shows.

When the lights went down the crowd was deafening, all moving as one to rush the front of the floor, not giving a single fuck about tickets.

The openers were exciting, and Jaskier was surprised by some of the concepts and messages behind the music. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all and he found himself searching them up on Spotify to listen later.

Then came The Witchers.

Eskel and Lambert made their energetic entrance, followed by Aiden calmly walking to his drums and sitting as if he were walking into a college class. But Geralt was nowhere in sight. The one person Jaskier had actually come to see.

He’d seen a video clip from a previous concert where they covered one of his songs, and he was praying they’d do it again. It was lovely in a haunting-almost-threatening way, and the expression in Geralt’s posture alone was enthralling. He had to see it live.

But Geralt was still absent as the band started to build a song. First Aiden with the beat, then Eskel’s bass, then Lambert with a melody on his electric guitar. It built and built and built to a fever pitch, taking the crowd with it. People were already jumping and screeching. Jaskier had to stand on his seat to see the stage clearly.

Geralt’s voice echoed through the venue, low and closer to a growl than singing, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

Jaskier thought he’d been prepared, but his whole body was covered in goosebumps. He briefly wondered if this was what his friends were feeling when they listened to ASMR.

Geralt remained hidden for the whole first verse, getting the crowd even more excited than Jaskier thought possible, only for the band to go completely silent for a whole measure. When the crowd's screams reached their absolute loudest, Geralt dropped from on top of one of the jumbotrons, landing on one of the horse-sized speakers before launching into the chorus.

Oh fuck, he was even more beautiful in person.

He was… well he was a beast of a man. Jaskier really didn’t have another word for the way his muscles bulged and how lithe and powerful he looked springing from the speaker to join his bandmates on the main stage. His thighs filled out his black, tattered jeans and there were clear faded spots where his muscles strained the fabric too often. The thin black tank he wore did nothing but pretend the man was semi-modest. It was so tight, the only thing left up to the imagination was tan lines and the color of his nipple piercings.

Jaskier was most entranced by his long, white, wavy hair falling past his shoulders. As the show continued and he started to sweat, a lot, it got curlier and curlier at the root. Jaskier wanted to give him a mask and some curl cream, but only after a, uhm, rough night of getting to know each other. He’d heard rumors about Geralt from hitting arenas not long after they’d left. He was quite sure they’d have a great time.

As he focused on the lyrics more and more, he was more inclined to want to wrap Geralt up in a hug and worship every part of him until he felt whole again.

Either he’d been shown the shitty side of the genre, or The Witchers were exceptions to the rule of content. Jaskier was almost moved to tears a few different times.

Finally, about an hour into Jaskier mindlessly feasting his eyes on the front man, Geralt leapt onto another speaker and sat down, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear.

“You still with us?”

The unholy screech from the crowd left no doubt they were just as excited, if not more so, than when they’d arrived.

“Good! Good..” he trailed off, chuckling as he lowered the mic to take a breath, “We’re gonna slow it down for a minute,” he leaned forward and held the mic away as Eskel shouted something up at him to which he laughed and flipped him off.

“As I was saying, we’re gonna yearn for a minute or two and do a cover. Song by Jaskier called ‘Talk’.”

The crowd lost their shit again, various pride flags popping up throughout the stands.

Geralt chuckled and raised his combat boot, showing off the bi flag colored treads, earning another round of screams. If this is what the grunge-metal scene was like, Jaskier had been missing out his entire life. Sure his fans were sweet and supportive and loving when he’d come out. But this was electric and feral and completely addictive.

Lambert struck the opening chord to Jaskier’s song and the crowd settled to a gentle hum, setting the tone immediately, as if they all knew exactly what was coming.

Geralt closed his eyes as he tapped his thigh with one finger, keeping time before his rumbling baritone hit Jaskier like a freight train.

“I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found…”

Jaskier could have collapsed right there. He knew he was staring like a lovesick idiot, but hell, everyone around him was too. When the chorus hit and Eskel came in with a heavy bass line he nearly fell off his chair. Geralt’s intensity raised with the addition of the backup but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, swaying slightly, with his eyes closed as he crooned out the words Jaskier had sobbed as he wrote, broken hearted and miserable.

It was surreal.

Sure he’d seen other covers. Sure they’d been lovely. But he wanted to listen to this and only this as he fell asleep for the rest of his life. He’d never play it again if he could only hear it one more time.

After the last verse Lambert launched into a guitar solo while Geralt jumped off the speaker and meandered to the center of the stage to slot his mic back in it’s stand. He gripped it like a lifeline when Lambert held one last note for as long as his instrument would allow and only started singing the last chorus when it was almost silent.

“I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we could do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you”

His expression looked hopeless and utterly desperate as he crooned out the last two lines. He let his hair fall to cover his face and Jaskier could just barely hear his panting breath over the sound system as the crowd exploded. Geralt tipped his head back and took two deep breaths before straightening up and getting on with the show but Jaskier was stuck.

He was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture of him, but he really couldn’t care less. The fact that Geralt moved right on to a song called ‘Burn Motherfucker Burn’ didn’t matter either.

Jaskier jumped down from his arena seat, whipping out his phone and sending the band a tweet, because apparently that’s what musicians did now?

“Record it. Please. It’s either that or sing me to sleep every night. You choose.”

He stayed for the rest of the show and walked to his car in a haze. Before he backed out of his spot he checked his phone like always and his heart nearly stopped at the two top notifications.

One public reply: “Both? -G”

And one direct message: “If you’re still here and want to grab a drink, I’m just backstage.”

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room.

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised.

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible even as unshed tears glimmer

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final.

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him.

he lost.

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs.

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever.

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain.

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple:

he wants to cry.

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry.

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all.

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy.

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions.

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain.

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower.

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right.

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt.

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline.

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!!

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look.

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips.

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you.

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him.

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word.

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch.

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips.

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi@knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall@miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine@hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @limiworld @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi @yoontaethings @sunshinejunghoseokie @delacyrose224@jiminiesmagicshop @hitsussi @fanfictonreader05 @hyungieyoongi @lolalee24

#bts reactions #namjoon reaction #jin reaction #yoongi reaction #suga reaction #hobi reaction #bts hyung line #bts angst #bts maknae line #bts x reader #this is seriously a bummer of a post lol #bts fanfic #bts scenarios

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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jisungsjheekies · 3 years

Text

When Paths Collide

Pairing: Lee Sangyeon x Female reader

Genre: Royal! au, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Requested: No

A/N: This is the first piece I’ve written in a year so I hope you enjoy. Also, if you see any errors, pretend you didn’t lol

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

When you’d agreed to your best friend’s idea of having you participate alongside her in the annual ball, you didn’t think anything of it, knowing her parents would never allow it. After all, you weren’t of royal blood. But this was Chae you were talking about here and what the Princess wants, the Princess gets. Besides, who were you even kidding? The King and Queen had always treated you as their own, having practically grown up in the castle after you’d lost your parents at the age of seven and had been raised by your very poor aunt. So when Chae delivered the news to you, you froze in panic, unable to think of any possible excuse of why you couldn’t do it.

All of that leading up to this very moment with you and Chae surrounded by dozens of people who worked tediously to prepare you for the night ahead. Unbeknownst to you, a gown had been made in your honor, considering this was your first official ball, and you swore right there that you’d never seen anything more beautiful in life. But it was expensive, like worth more money than you could ever imagine, and even you weren’t sure you trusted it being in your possession.

“What do you think?” Your best friend appeared next to you, her flawless figure adorned in an elegant egyptian blue gown with silver embellishments covering her bust.

You took a deep breath, which had been rather difficult considering your waist was squeezed rather tightly within the corset, and glanced quickly between your best friend and the dress. “It’s…it’s..yeah.”

Her brows furrowed. “Do you not like it?” Chae asked you, sounding a bit disappointed. Quickly waving your hands to reassure her that’s not what you’d meant, you ended up sighing.

“I love it, I really do. I just don’t think it’s…me?” Your voice cracking towards the end as your nerves began to creep through. Without a word, Chae reached for the dress and walked to stand behind you, turning your figure to face the mirror as she draped the dress across your front.

The two of you standing in that position oddly made it appear as if you were the princess with Chae being the friend. Given the situation, you would’ve laughed. As if you’d ever experience this lifestyle yourself.

“My dearest best friend, with all due respect, you’re an idiot.”

A member of the royal staff was quick to scold Chae’s choice of wording but she simply paid no mind as a smile stretched across her features. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning, and with a smile as infectious as that, you couldn’t help but mimic her.

“You were born to wear this dress and quite frankly, I’m a smidge jealous considering I’m the one supposed to be seeking out my “prince” but you’re going to steal all the attention away.” Chae winked teasingly as she wiggled her brows towards your reflection in the mirror.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at her spluttering nonsense. Like seriously, who in their right mind would even so much as glance at her when Chae was the princess.

Gesturing for you to get dressed, Chae squeezed your shoulder for reassurance before turning and continuing on with her preparations for the night ahead.

Meanwhile, you remained in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection as you continued to hold the dress in front of your body. The emerald green gown would definitely compliment your lighter skin tone, there's no doubt about it, but you’d never worn anything that extravagant before and it intimidated you. But there was no backing out now. And with that in mind, you moved to finally, and very carefully, put the dress on, admittedly struggling with the zipper at first before eventually getting it zipped all the way up.

Exhaling deeply, the process had been more exhausting than it should have. Adjusting the sleeves that hung loosely off your shoulders, your gaze captured your reflection in the mirror, your jaw falling agape just slightly.

It was you, obviously, but it didn’t feel like it was you. Your reflection almost unrecognizable as you studied yourself in the elegant gown. And yet, something felt familiar about the situation. Maybe it had been all those years of you and Chae playing dress up in all her princess gowns and now here you were.

“All rea--”, You quickly turned to face Chae, who immediately stopped dead in her tracks, gawking at you. Beginning to grow insecure at the way she stared intensely at you, you cleared your throat awkwardly to grab her attention.

Chae blinked rapidly, coming back to her senses before jokingly wiping fake tears away, adding a sniffle here and there for extra effect. “They grow up so fast.” Ignoring the way your cheeks tinted pink, you rolled your eyes and turned to look at yourself in the mirror, Chae moving to stand beside you.

You smiled softly at each other. Sixteen wonderful years of friendship the two of you have had. Through thick and thin, all your hardships and successes, your loyalty to each other never frayed. And now here you were, side by side, for yet another big moment in your lives. Obviously more so for Chae than you, but that was against the point.

She must have been thinking the same when she reached for your hand, turning her body in your direction and said, “Together.”

“Together,” you repeated, squeezing her hand.

✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The royal staff guided you and Chae through the corridors, the faint sound of music filling your eyes from a distance, the music growing louder as you drew closer. Your nerves escalated the moment you all halted amongst the entry doors. The muffled music from behind the doors was all you could bring yourself to focus on as the staff informed Chae that she and you were the last to arrive and ushered for the two of you to enter as they placed themselves on each side of the door, ready to accompany you.

It wasn’t uncommon for Chae to arrive late to events, as the King and Queen weren’t overly harsh on her, something that still surprises you till this day. The same goes for Chae’s brother, Sangyeon, or so you’ve been told. Though you really wouldn’t know for yourself considering the two of you, in the sixteen years you’ve spent with the royal family, had never officially met. It was an odd fact that occurred to you but you’d never thought too much into it before.

Straightening out any wrinkles upon her dress, Chae braced herself in front of the door, waiting for the right moment. She no longer grew nervous for these events as she’s spent her entire life doing this, however you have not, and Chae immediately recognized the way your breathing picked up and you began to bounce on your feet that you were slowly being overcome with anxiety.

“Together, I promise. I won’t leave your side.” Chae quickly reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze and immediately, your shoulders dropped in relief as you took a deep breath, watching as Chae motioned the staff to open the doors.

With one last squeeze, you dropped hands and straightened your back, having watched Chae perform the same motion many times throughout your friendship. You may not have been the part, but for Chae’s sake, you sure were going to fake it.

“Introducing”, right away the music lowered as conversations throughout the crowd came to a halt, everyone’s attention turning towards the grand stairwell. “Princess Chae and Lady Y/N.”

You had attended a few royal balls before but now that you were being put in the spotlight for the first time, you struggled to comprehend just how many people there were. And every single one of them were staring at the two of you.

Applauds erupted throughout the ballroom as Chae curtsied, you quickly followed in her lead, before straightening your backs once again and presented the guests with a smile. In the next moment, the two of you began to descend the grand stairwell as every pair of eyes remained glued to your figures. It was nerve wracking to say the least, even though you knew they were mostly watching the princess, you didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself by making a mistake.

Taking slow and cautious steps, you began to scan the room before you, guests smiling widely as they watched their beautiful princess. The gaze of the King and Queen caught your eye, a look of warmth and love on each of their faces as they watched their daughter and you, someone who they consider a daughter, become the center of attention. Your smile grew even wider as the Queen gently placed her hand over her heart, something she always tended to do to let you know she was there for you. The thought made your heart swell.

Nearing the bottom of the stairwell, you continued to study the crowd of guests when a shiver ran through your body. The peculiar feeling of someone staring at you engulfed you and your eyes became a bit more frantic. There were an innumerable amount of guests, of course there was at least someone looking at you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

In one moment, you were searching the crowd, trying your hardest not to trip over your own feet, and in the next, you were frozen in place, your eyes locked with the man who now stood alongside the King and Queen, realization hitting you like a freight train.

Sangyeon.

Another shiver spread throughout your body as your vision turned white, seconds later a distant memory emerged before your eyes.

You stood before the closed doors, alone, as you patiently waited. The distinct melody of Liszt’s 6 Consolations filled your ears as you braced yourself, shoulders back and head held high. The doors swung agape, with one foot after the other, you sauntered forward as everyone began to applaud, for their Princess had arrived.

Hands gripping each side of your gown, you performed a curtsy before straightening your figure and beginning to descend the stairwell. Guests would bow respectively as you passed, nodding your head in acknowledgment as you wandered through the crowd. Your gaze landed upon your brother, conversing with a man who’s back faced you.

As you drew closer, your brother glanced over the man’s shoulder and smiled at you, excusing himself momentarily from the conversation as he focused his attention on you. You had not had a moment to glance over the man as your brother positioned himself directly between the two of you. Wrapping his hands around yours, he held them tightly together and said, “My dear sister, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” He pulled you in close before leaning into your ear and whispered teasingly, “But not as beautiful as me.” You wrinkled your nose, shaking your head in amusement before your brother regained his composure, but not before quickly shooting you a wink. After clearing his throat, your brother began to speak. “If I may, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine.”

Stepping aside, you finally received the chance to see the face of the man your brother had been speaking to before you’d interrupted. “Princess Y/N, meet Sangyeon.”

Sangyeon stepped forward, bowing respectively before you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Princess.” Sangyeon reached for your hand, ever so gently placing a kiss upon the kiss and smiled. A shiver ran through you as goosebumps arose. Your cheeks turned a subtle shade of pink at the way he gazed into your eyes.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sangyeon.”

Blinking swiftly as the image vanished, you returned to your senses. Finding yourself still on the stairwell with Chae only a step or two ahead of you, you’d discovered that it had only been a few seconds when the vision hit you but it had felt like an eternity. Your feet refused to move, still weighed down from whatever had just happened, that is, until you locked eyes with him again and noticed that he wore an expression that matched yours.

Realization seemed to hit the both of you at once and you watched as he began to propel his way through the massive amount of guests, spluttering out apologizes here and there. Meanwhile, your cursed that your feet could not move faster as you hurried down the remainder of the stairwell, catching up to Chae, the two of you reaching the bottom together but you didn’t stop moving, not even when Chae called out to you, confusion evident in her voice.

Guests glanced in your direction as you frantically weaved your way through, but otherwise, continued to watch the princess. You were bound to get lost in the crowd as you stood on the tips of your toes, trying to catch any glimpse of him but found nothing. A hand enclosed around your wrist just as you were about to hustle your way through once more and you halted in your tracks, your head turning at such a rapid pace, you could’ve given yourself whiplash.

Gently, Sangyeon tugged on your wrist, urging you to face him. Time seemed to stop as neither of you spoke a word, your eyes remaining locked with one another. Slowly, he shifted his grip from your wrist and clasped your hand in his. Without breaking eye contact, he carefully lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss upon it just as goosebumps appeared on your skin. His eyes sparkled underneath the chandeliers as his lips lifted faintly in a fond smile. He felt it too. You couldn’t bring yourself to move or even speak as the Prince bowed before you. This caught nearby guests' attention and when Sangyeon stood straight, he pulled you close enough for only your ears to hear and whispered.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Princess.”

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panharmonium · 2 years

Text

i lied, THIS is the last “in-progress naruto thoughts” post:

THOSE LAST SEVEN EPISODES HAD NO BUSINESS BEING SO WONDERFUL AFTER THE HELL THIS SHOW JUST PUT ME THROUGH. i’m so happy. i practically want to cry with relief; i’ve been so sad and down for the last two days feeling that my last moments of naruto were going to be something that i hated and that my last feelings about my first watch were going to be anger and disappointment, but THEY WEREN’T; the last arc came in from nowhere and hit me with the howling freight train of hope and joy that the actual ending of this show was supposed to have; and sure, it’s too bad that the real story will never have quite the ending it deserved, but this extra arc captured the spirit that the actual ending should have had; and that’s enough; i’ll take it; it’s enough for me that i was able to watch my last episode of naruto grinning from ear to ear.

this did EVERYTHING RIGHT.* the hopeful tone, the bittersweet feeling that things are changing and it’s a little sad but also good, the focus on ALL the different characters, the highlighting of ALL the relationships we learned to care about - THIS IS WHAT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE.

i can’t even remember everything that made me smile or laugh or Feel something wonderful tonight. konohamaru making a congratulations video for naruto. kiba and akamaru tackling ino during team 10′s “congratulations” filming. iruka being offered the vice principal position but feeling like he wants to keep teaching students one-on-one. those three academy students who keep defacing the third hokage’s bust in the courtyard (HEROES!!!! GIVE THOSE KIDS A MEDAL RIGHT NOW!!!!) kakashi telling every single person who talks to him to stop calling him “lord.” the five kage having a peaceful, happy, friendly summit and going out to dinner together. team gai going absolutely bananas together like always and lee bouncing on gai’s bed and the number of times each member of the squad is like ‘neji would never tolerate this’ or ‘what would neji think,’ because he’s still such a present part of their lives. shikamaru losing it in panic when choji’s smugly says “we??? *i* already got a gift.” choji planning on using the third gift certificate for himself and being seated at a separate table XD XD XD XD. TEMARI AND SHIKAMARU. sakura and ino competing and fighting and reaffirming as always how close they actually are and how much they understand each other. the fact that sakura has finally learned how to make food pills that don’t taste like sewage. gaara and lee being friends and wandering the leaf village together. kankuro saying that naruto would like an extravagant wedding gift, while an image flashes of naruto and hinata up on this wild podium like a circus casino with flashing lights and confetti (kankuro clearly understands naruto better than anyone; i stand by this). killer bee planning a dance performance by the raikage for the wedding. kankuro wanting SO BADLY to see gaara dancing too. gaara deciding that he should honor naruto not as the kazekage, but as a friend. shino connecting with those academy kids and instinctively teaching them to appreciate and find wonder in things they were initially afraid of/grossed out by; him being so uncertain and afraid of what’s going to happen when team 8 disbands, before finally discovering the confidence to keep moving forward alongside them. “if you’re someone who’s living in the past, and can’t see the future, are you really living?” kiba’s relentless confidence, happiness, his aggressive friendship. iruka telling shino to consider a career in teaching. kakashi replying “oink oink” to tonton in the weariest, most Done With Everything voice possible. hinata asking kakashi where he’s going, and him literally responding “i’m going to take a nap.” kakashi sprawled flat on his back in the grass. iruka’s ongoing struggle to decide what to say to naruto and in what role to address him. everyone agreeing to work shifts so they can all go to the wedding and still cover the village’s staffing needs. kakashi refusing to accept a bad compromise. COME HELL OR HIGH WATER. “nobody leaves early, and nobody comes late!” NARUTO ASKING IRUKA TO COME TO THE WEDDING AS HIS FATHER. sakura receiving sasuke’s hawk with that one-word message: “congratulations.”

i’m going to CRY. i’m so happy. this was such an unexpected gift to receive. i really thought my days of enjoying new naruto episodes were over, but a miracle happened and i was able to end my first experience with this show on a high note. i watched those last credits roll while feeling nothing but love for this story, and that’s all i could ever ask for.

#(*everything right except for you-know-what)#(every time i saw them play that orochimaru gag for laughs i wanted to put my head through a window)#(but i just decided i was going to block it out; i needed to enjoy this and i really did)#(i'm pretending those yamato shots did not happen. i do not see them they are not there)#and yeah it's bizarre seeing naruto and hinata getting married when we've never seen naruto demonstrate romantic interest in her #(he loves and respects her obviously just - he's never been IN love with her in the material we've gotten)#so yes the overarching premise feels funny if you think about it too much but you really don't have to #i didn't #i was able to just sit back and enjoy seeing all of the relationships that i missed so badly in the actual ending #being given the time and space they deserved #this was a gift and i am so lucky to have gotten it #i went into tonight's watch expecting to be miserable and instead i feel like my soul has been healed #naruto #pan watches naruto

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

We’ll Figure It Out

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Request by the babe @garbinge: Hiii 🖤 no pressure/rush but figured I’d drop a couple requests for Nestor and an OC or reader insert whatever you’re feeling! Found these prompts on a few different lists 1) “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” 2) “Do you think I could be pregnant?” 3) “I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

Warnings: language, mentions of pregnancy and periods

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I swear that I still write for all the other Mayans boys 😂 Nestor has just been a hot commodity lately with requests and who am I to say no? Also, I realized about halfway through writing this fic that I never clarified if you wanted all 3 prompts in one story...so I hope this is alright. 😅 Enjoy! xo

Taglist: @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624

When you woke up, it felt like you hadn’t gotten any sleep. You groaned, rolling over to see that you were in the bed alone. After forcing yourself to sit upright, you reached to check the time on your phone. Your eyes grew wide, not able to believe that you had slept in until eleven. You also couldn’t believe that Nestor didn’t come and wake you.

You stumbled out to the living room and saw Nestor laying on the couch, laptop perched on his legs. He looked up at you and smiled, “Nice of you to join me.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried,” he laughed, “You were basically comatose.”

You sighed as you collapsed onto the couch next to him, “Then why am I still fucking exhausted?”

He closed and put his laptop away. He gently pulled you closer, letting your head come to rest in his lap, “You sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been more exhausted than usual this week.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he gently massaged your temples, “I’m just sore, and crampy. Period is probably just going to be worse than usual this month.”

“Need me to get you anything?”

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, though. I love you.”

He hummed in approval, “I love you too.”

The two of you spent the day curled up on the couch together. You didn’t have the energy or the desire to do much else. You tried to push the pain from your mind but couldn’t, allowing yourself to curl up against Nestor for comfort.

The next couple of days ticked by, and the pain wasn’t really letting up. You were sick of feeling crampy, and bloated, and exhausted. Nestor was handling it like a champ, because it was definitely making you cranky. It felt like the longest bout of PMS ever, and you still only had some spotting. You didn’t even have a light at the end of the tunnel yet.

Nestor came home to find you, yet again, curled up on the couch with a heat pack on your lower stomach. His expression fell, you knew he was worried about you.

He sat next to you, “Do you think you should go to the doctor?”

You shook your head, “Why? So they can just tell me that it’s the pains of being a woman? No thank you.”

“Yea, but,” you could see it on his face that he didn’t want to seem pushy, or make you uncomfortable, “but you said that you didn’t even get your period yet. What if there’s something else going on?”

You sat up, “Something else?” you couldn’t hide the look of confusion on your face.

“Yea. Like, you know. What if you’re…”

The reality of what he was saying hit you light a freight train. You’d been so wrapped up in the pain and exhaustion, stuck in the thought of it just being the worst PMS in the world, that you hadn’t even thought about the other possibilities.

“Do you think I could be pregnant?” your eyes went wide.

He could feel the panic radiating off of you. He reached out and took your hand in his, “You gotta admit it’s at least a possibility, right?”

He was absolutely right, and you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t thought of that before. You’d lived your whole adult life with an extremely painful and inconsistent period, and you figured that this was just another month of suffering. Pregnancy hadn’t crossed your mind. You suddenly felt lightheaded, and it must’ve shown on your face, too, because Nestor instantly tried to talk to you and calm you down. You were only hearing a small fraction of what he was saying, too overwhelmed by the racing thoughts in your head.

“Y/N, hey,” he cupped your face in his hands, “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright? You’re gonna be alright.”

“But what if you’re right?” you shook your head, “What if I’m pregnant? What the fuck am I gonna do?”

The two of you had never talked about kids. You knew that someday, down the road, you pictured yourself with a family. But it was always something distant. You had no idea where Nestor landed with all of that, especially given his line of work. Every single scenario was running through your brain at once. You didn’t want to put all of that on him, make him feel like he had to agree to something that he didn’t really want.

“Hey,” he was trying to gently tug you off of the downward spiral that you were on, “take a breath for me, alright?” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “We don’t even know anything for sure yet. Why don’t we get some answers before we freak out too much, okay?”

You tried to take a deep breath. Everything felt like it was moving at a mile a minute but when you saw the expression on Nestor’s face, it all started to slow down. You shook your head slightly, “How are you so calm about this?”

He smiled at you, “Because no matter what the situation ends up being, we’ll handle it,” he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms tight around you, “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. And, honestly, there has never been something that has happened that we haven’t been able to figure out together,” he kissed your forehead, “We’re going to be okay.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, finally able to take a deep breath. You tried to focus on the sensation of his hand sliding up and down your back, on the warmth emanating from his body, “I love you so much,” you slid your arms around him, “Are we okay?”

He chuckled, pulling back from you slightly, “What? Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Depending on what we find out, I know this is…a lot. And I know that we haven’t talked about it, kids and shit, I mean. I don’t want to pull you into something that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I told you,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “we’re in this together. No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you. I promise.”

You rested your forehead against his. There was a lot that you had to figure out, a lot of questions that you had to get answered, but at least now you knew that you had Nestor in your corner. No matter what happened, you’d have him. He was right, the two of you had always figured out everything together and this was going to be no different. It might not be easy, but the two of you could make anything work.

“Thank you,” your eyes were still closed, “for being the one in this relationship that doesn’t instantly lose their shit all the time.”

He laughed, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Anything for you,” he paused, letting a few beats of silence pass between you, “No matter what happens over these next few weeks, I hope you know that I’ve always wanted a future with you, a family. I’ve never had any doubts about that.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

You smiled, “Good to know.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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simplyclockwork · 4 years

Note

You know that (awful) scene on Christmas Day S3ep3 where John forgives Mary and tells her he accepts her for whatever she is; well I would love to see something like that but with John telling Sherlock he accepts him; possibly post season 4 and in the context of Sherlock having been diagnosed with depression. I’d like to see Sherlock struggle with the diagnosis and John encourage him and validate his experiences. I’m over 18. Though I don’t necessarily see this as an explicit fic.

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Hello, anon! Sorry, this took a bit to get to filling. I wasn’t planning on writing today, then I looked at this prompt and my Muse ran away. I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote. The rest of the fill is below the page break. You can also read your fill on Ao3 here.

Feel free to send me a prompt anytime! :)

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“Sherlock.”

John’s voice reached him as if through a thick fog. A haze permeated Sherlock’s Mind Palace, wrapping intangible curls of mist down the halls and around his shivering form. The rooms looked faded and lacklustre, the diminished splendour of his surroundings marked by two words. Two words, repeated over and over, hanging in the air with the fog.

Clinical. Depression.

“Sherlock.”

Emphatic this time, and spoken with moderate anxiety that made Sherlock lift his head and open his eyes. He looked up from where he lay curled on the couch and blinked at the face hovering over him. Dark blue eyes, a creased brow and a mouth that turned down at the corners with concern stared back at him.

John.

“Hey,” John murmured, catching the focus in Sherlock’s glassy gaze. “There he is.” His eyes darted over Sherlock, taking in his tangled hair and rumpled clothes, now going on their third day in a row of wear. The creases deepened. “You okay?”

Sherlock felt thin—was he thinner? Had he lost weight? He couldn’t remember eating, couldn’t remember wanting to. Hunger was a faint memory of sensation, just like everything that had ceased to exist. Emotions, always so abhorrent, were seemingly out of reach. After feeling so much, so many terrible, tearing, terrifying things, Sherlock felt empty.

Clinical depression, the doctor said. Not unsurprising, considering your history of trauma and the recent events in your life.

A bottle of pills sat on the coffee table, prescribed by the same doctor who put a name to the negative space growing inside Sherlock’s head. He had yet to take them. Sherlock stared at the bottle with a listless weight on his chest. Maybe he was having a heart attack. Wasn’t that one of the symptoms, feeling like an elephant was sitting on your chest?

Sherlock felt like he had an entire herd crushing him into the cracked leather of the sofa.

“Sherlock.”

The anxiety in John’s voice deepened. Definitely present, and when Sherlock looked back at him, he saw the corners of John’s mouth shift, his lips pressing into a hard, thin line. Sherlock blinked at him with marked disinterest. Wetting his lips, he found his voice and rasped, “Hello, John.”

Instead of easing John’s apparent concern, Sherlock’s greeting sharpened the creases in his face. “When was the last time you ate something?” His words were gentle, and his eyes were sharp as he studied Sherlock’s form, squinting as they settled on his torso.

“Not hungry.” Sherlock rolled onto his other side, facing the back of the couch. Every movement required a Herculean effort, and he was tired. Bone-deep weary and exhausted.

“How about a cup of tea?” John was relentless. Like the ocean, he was as predictable as the tide and as changeable as the world the water’s surface. Sherlock stared at the back of the sofa and thought about erosion. About the sensation of being washed away.

Instead of answering, he said in a flat, empty voice, “I’m tired, John.”

A hand hovered over him, a tangible presence before it settled on his shoulder. Sherlock considered pulling away, but there were no more than a few inches between himself and the couch back, and moving felt impossible. More effort than he had to spare. It was easier to stay still and let the warmth of John’s palm seep into his body from a single point of contact.

Slowly, Sherlock realized he was cold.

“Why don’t we get you into bed?” John said gently, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on Sherlock’s shoulder through his dressing gown. “Can’t be comfortable on the couch, not with those long legs of yours.” The attempt at humour was weak, and they both knew it. Silence followed and settled heavily over them.

Sherlock made a low grunting noise when John’s expectant quiet stretched into something unbearable.

“Talk to me, Sherlock.” John’s request was nearly as heavy as the silence, making Sherlock curl into a tighter ball. Hugging his knees to his chest, he pushed his face into the cushions. John’s hand hesitated, stroked up his arm, fingers sliding to his nape. Feeling a light, gentle tug, Sherlock realized John was painstakingly working out a tangled mat of hair against the base of Sherlock’s skull.

Sherlock closed his eyes and let him, incapable of pinning down his feelings on the matter. There was only the emptiness, yawning wide and deep down. John’s fingers in his hair took the edge off, just a little, and Sherlock didn’t protest when John’s untangling shifted into a slow massage of fingertips over his skull. A soft sound escaped his lips before he could bite down on it, and John’s fingers faltered. He picked up the rhythm again, the pad of a thumb drifting over Sherlock’s temple.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” John finally said. By the sound of his breathing, he was kneeling beside the sofa. His other hand landed on Sherlock’s side, just above his hip, a firm, sturdy anchor keeping Sherlock in his body when all he wanted was to drown in his head. The hand on his waist gripped gently, and John added, “But I’m here if you do.”

Sherlock stared at the back of the sofa until his vision began to blur, then he closed his eyes and breathed a long, slow sigh. The fingers in his hair faltered again before continuing to work out the tangles and massage his scalp.

“On the table.” The words dragged out of Sherlock’s numb mouth like molasses. After a beat of silence, the hand caught in his curls disappeared, but the hold on his waist remained. Sherlock heard the sound of pills rattling in a bottle and John’s soft breathing as he no doubt read the label.

It was a few minutes before plastic clinked against the coffee table, and John’s hand reappeared in his hair. This time, his fingers combed through the untangled sections before coming to rest on Sherlock’s nape with a firm but gentle grip.

“Anti-depressants?” John asked the question without inflection or emphasis, just a soft inquiry that made it easier for Sherlock to nod silently against the cushion. John’s thumb pressed into his side with reassuring pressure. “Did you just fill them today?” A jerky head shake and silence in Sherlock’s mouth. The thumb smoothed over his waist. “Not taken any yet, then?” Another head shake and John sighed out a little breath before murmuring, “It’s okay, Sherlock.”

The words hit him like a freight train, and Sherlock tensed, curling tighter inward with his arms around his chest and his knees pulled up to his stomach. John reacted at once, pressing forward until he was against Sherlock’s curved back. His face dropped into the dip between Sherlock’s neck and shoulder, first his forehead, then his nose and finally his lips, brushing the skin in a tender touch that made Sherlock’s body vibrate with agonized surprise. The hand on his waist curled forward to draw Sherlock closer, one palm cradling the back of his skull with stunning, unexpected care.

Flashing back to the one time Sherlock held John in his arms as John fell to pieces in much the same way Sherlock felt he might, Sherlock breathed out a strained, choking gasp and pressed his knuckles against his eyes.

When John spoke, his voice was a warm whisper of air over Sherlock’s neck, his arm tightening around Sherlock’s waist. “I’ve got you,” he said, the words made tangible by the way his lips shaped them against Sherlock’s skin. “I’ve got you, Sherlock.”

“The doctor is wrong,” Sherlock finally managed, forcing the statement out through his teeth.

John’s hand stroked over his stomach, a slow, soothing movement. “Maybe,” he said, petting Sherlock’s hair with gentle repetition. “But if not—”

“He is,” Sherlock growled, curling tighter. John responded by pressing forward, keeping the contact between them.

“Okay.” His lips drifted over the bony ridge of Sherlock’s vertebra, where his neck bent forward. The touch was an electric shock, and Sherlock shivered. After days of feeling nothing, John’s warm grasp was nearly overwhelming, but not enough to make him want to pull away. “Okay,” John repeated, breathing out a sigh. “Maybe he is. We can get a second opinion.” Sherlock’s eyes popped open at the word we, but John continued before he could speak, adding, “Whatever it ends up being, if anything, it’s okay. You’ve… you’ve been through a lot, Sherlock, and I want you to know that it… well, it’s okay not to be okay.”

Sherlock made a quiet noise, neither agreement nor argument, as his eyes closed again.

Shaking his head, John pressed his cheek to Sherlock’s neck and whispered, “When we met, I was so far from okay, I didn’t even know what that word meant anymore. And then you came along and, well.” He paused, his swallow audible and physical, where their bodies pressed together. “I know things have been a real mess over the last couple of years, and worse with what all just came to pass, and I just need you to know that there’s absolutely no shame in it, Sherlock.” John’s grip tightened, voice deepening with fervency as he pulled Sherlock closer. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s nothing to feel ashamed of. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen. As cliche as it sounds, and you might scoff at it, you’re not alone. I…” John faltered before his lips brushed lightly over the skin beneath Sherlock’s ear, making him shiver. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Sherlock’s face felt wet and salty, and he grimaced at the sensation before opening his eyes. His vision wavered, lashes clinging together. Blinking the moisture away, he tilted his head to the side and felt John’s nose press into his cheek. “John,” he said in a voice that was tight and raspy.

The reply was an immediate, “Yes, Sherlock?” as John’s nose drifted along his jaw, up to his temple and into his hair. Sherlock winced at the fleeting thought of how greasy his unwashed curls must be but managed to push the concern aside in favour of breathing John in.

“I’m not okay.” The admission slipped from his lips as a jagged exhale, and his body tensed with trepidation.

But John nodded and pressed a feather-light kiss to Sherlock’s brow, brushing tangled locks away from Sherlock’s eyes. “That’s alright,” he murmured, steadfast and unshakeable in the face of Sherlock’s confession. “I’ve got you.”

#Johnlock #Sherlock #Depression Tw #Mental Health #Hurt/Comfort #Supportive John #Pre-Slash #Simplyclockwork #Prompt #Anon #Anonymous

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 4 years

Note

Hello! I have a request for the obey me bro! Could you write some hc abt a MC who would see the boys as lovely (each for their reasons) and would considers them more like cute little beans rather than demons, spoiling and pampering them as if they were children, giving them candy or patting them on the head to calm them down, buying them stuff... and so MC would be completely oblivious to their attempts to flirt! (like : you want a kiss? what if I pinched your adorable cheek instead?)

Ooooh boy this is both adorable and hilarious! I’m gonna do just the brothers for now, but if you want to see others lmk!

Content Warnings: References to spoilery stuff for Lucifer, Asmo, and Belphie’s sections, Asmo’s section also contains alcohol/clubbing

MC Treating the Brothers Like Cute Little Beans

Lucifer

MC hits Lucifer like a fucking freight train. They’ve been kidnapped and dragged to Hell, and their response to living with seven demons is... Well, he’s not sure what to call this.

The behaviour isn’t malicious or threatening, beyond dealing some serious damage to his Pride(tm), so what is he really able to do? Is this some human custom? Will he offend them if he asks them to stop? He’s supposed to be accommodating of them for the sake of the exchange program, but the last person to be so soft with him is...

He decides to deal with it. The heart-shaped foods when it’s MC’s turn to cook, the little presents, the... headpats, and other doting measures MC deems necessary. He only asks that they refrain from doing so around others, especially outside of the House of Lamentation. If Diavolo saw him like this, he’d never live it down.

And it eventually becomes quite endearing. Lucifer finds himself anticipating MC’s affection, and notices if they stop. It’s while he’s been swamped for an especially long time in paperwork that he realizes he misses it. Who knew a human like them could stir up these feelings in him...

Lucifer comes to the conclusion that if MC is so essential to his life, he should let them know. But the Avatar of Pride isn’t about to say, “Your babying has made me fall in love with you,” so instead he opts to start flirting. He gets MC fancy gifts, his touches start to linger, and he even invites them out to dinner.

And none of it gets a reaction. They coo over the gifts and smile at the increased attention, but the idea of romance seems to fly right over their head. He offered to take them to Ristorante Six and they pinched his cheek! He is The Lucifer, the son of the morning, the embodiment of pride, and a human just giggled at him and called him “such a sweetie” for trying to ask them out on a date!

Oh no. He will not let this human get the better of him. Lucifer will find a way to make his intentions clear, and this human will see him as a serious candidate to be their partner.

Mammon

Mammon lives a rough and tumble life. He’s energetic and loud, and his schemes to get riches often put him at odds with those around him. He can con people, and he can survive hostility, but MC is not the type of thing he deals with often, if ever. Part of him is convinced this is fine: he’s the GREAT Mammon, of course this human is all over him! Another part of him is flattered and greatly appreciates the attention.

But there’s a growing part of him that’s concerned that they think he’s some kind of adorable pet rather than a powerful demon. And he’s not sure if he really minds that.

He flips between grinning broadly and boasting about receiving MC’s attention, and putting on an act of being upset at being coddled by some weak human. Stop packing him lunches, MC, he can make them or buy them himself! No, don’t take it away! ...yes, he likes the apple slices.

Whenever he’s upset, Mammon will storm over to MC’s room and start grousing about whatever is troubling him at the moment, be it some plan of his that failed or his brothers’ teasing. When MC starts stroking his hair and making shushing noises at him to calm him down, he’s initially flustered and offended - he’s not a child, MC! - but his weak spot is his head, and the pats win him over in the end.

It’s become something of a ritual if he’s being honest.

MC also leaves him all these little gifts, and - that’s it. This human’s wormed their way into his heart, there’s no way he’s letting anyone else have them!

Mammon tries a variety of convoluted ways to try and “confess” to MC, but it never works out the way he wants, either because of some outside force or because MC themself just... isn’t taking the hint. He’s going to have to be as direct as possible about his feelings... Shit.

Leviathan

This must be some Normie Tactic, Leviathan thinks as MC ruffles his hair while he complains about his older brother not paying him back yet again. His crippling lack of self esteem won’t let him view MC’s intentions as genuine, and he reacts to every gift or compliment with immense suspicion. The only people who are this nice to someone always do it because they want something, and once MC figures out he’s just some yucky otaku, they’ll lose interest.

Except now he’s at a convention, dressed in a handmade and Completely accurate Lord of Shadows cosplay, and MC is dressed in an equally impressive Henry cosplay, and they’re holding his hand and asking him what merch he wants. And it hits poor Leviathan right then and there that MC is just doing this because they think he’s...

Well, he’s not sure what they think of him. The gifts, the comforting, the kind words, they all would normally read as flirting, but MC never seems to actually go anywhere with that? They’ll hold his hand, but just to make sure they don’t get separated. They’ll hug him, but only to cradle him when he’s feeling upset about something. They even gave him a kiss once, but it was on the forehead!

Is MC bad at flirting? Are they teasing him? Is this just how they are with everyone, and he’s perverting their friendship because he wants something more?

“So, have you made up your mind yet, Leviachan?” MC asks, giggling at the cutesy nickname for their favourite little bean.

“Will you just stop TEASING me already?!” the bean shouts in response, breaking their Platonic Hand Hold for dramatic effect. “If you really l-like me, just tell me! And if you’re just doing this to make fun of me, then cut it out!”

Leviathan turns beet red as he processes what he actually just said. He scrunches his eyes shut, unwilling to face MC’s rejection.

Instead, he feels a soft hand take his. “Silly Levi, of course I like you!” MC says. “You’re so adorable when you’re all flustered like that.~ Now come on, best friend, I saw a TSL poster that would be a great fit for your room!”

MC promptly drags him off towards a booth, having clarified absolutely nothing for the poor Avatar of Envy. Of all the genres his life could have become, he had to be stuck in a rom com...

Satan

Oh No. Satan tries very, very hard to be taken seriously, despite being the personification of Lucifer’s wrath and the youngest of the brothers in terms of actual age, and a human treating him like an adorable kitten or beloved grandchild is going to get on every single one of his nerves. His self-control is famously ironclad though, so he’s able to get through it with fake smiles and clenched fists.

It doesn’t hurt that MC also flusters his brothers, especially a certain someone, to an unprecedented degree, and Satan finds this very amusing. When he’s not up to humouring MC’s bizarre affections, he’ll proverbially wind them up and point them at whichever brother most recently slighted him, saying “Oh, Mammon’s been feeling a bit down lately... MC, you should go make sure he’s okay,” or, “Lucifer seems really overworked, doesn’t he?”

But his anger can’t be contained forever. Eventually, on a particularly bad day when MC is being especially persistent, Satan snaps. With a crackle of power, his demon form rushes to the surface as he vividly recounts all the horrible things he’s going to do to MC if they don’t stop with their incessant coddling-

MC responds by waltzing up to him and petting between his horns, saying that it’s healthy to vent your frustrations, and oh isn’t his feather boa so handsome!

Satan freezes. He forgets why he was mad. He forgets why he’s ever been mad, or ever felt anything else ever. Either MC is completely fearless or they... they’re not scared of him. They trust him.

He spends the next week catatonic under a pile of blankets or pacing his library of a room, sustained by tea and biscuits brought to him by a cheery, if somewhat confused, MC.

Dammit MC, ya broke him

Asmodeus

Unlike his brothers, Asmo is very familiar with this kind of attention, and he eats it up! He’s used to people giving him gifts or calling him pet names or even getting handsy with him, and he knows exactly where this is going to lead. So everything MC throws at him, he sends right back with flirting of his own.

“Asmo, your skin is so soft!”

“Thank you, darling! If you want, I can show you how I keep it this way... But I might need some help getting the moisturizer everywhere...”

“Awwww, you can’t reach your back? But you’re usually so bendy!”

They don’t quite respond to his attempts at getting spicy the way he expects, but the delayed gratification just makes it even more exciting!

Except... it keeps going like this. MC hasn’t responded to any of his suggestive pick up lines or his lingering touches with anything more than a fond smile and a peck on the cheek. This causes Asmo to do something he usually hates to do: reflect.

MC’s gestures were all very sweet, yes, but if they were trying to ply him with sweets and little fashion shows and going out dancing with him, they would have tried to sleep with him by now. But that seems to be the farthest thing from their mind.

Does MC just happen to... like him? Not to lust after him, or find him beautiful, but really, genuinely think he’s worth their time, no strings or favours attached?

Unthinkable.

The next time they go clubbing together, Asmo goes overboard with the Demonus and ends up piss drunk at the bar, sobbing in the arms of a much less tipsy MC.

“I just don’t understand!” he laments as MC fondly strokes his hair. “What do you want from me? Am I not enough? How is that possible?! I’m-I’m the- *hic*- I’m the embodiment of Lust!” His words slur more and more as he continues, his rant becoming unintelligible. “I can give you anything you desire! Who wouldn’t want that?”

MC pulls out a makeup removing wipe and carefully removes Asmo’s smeared mascara from his cheeks. “Don’t worry, you’re still the most beautiful demon in the Devildom to me, Asmo-chan~” they say as they boop his nose with the wipe.

What is he going to do with them? And what are they doing to him?

Beelzebub

When MC first meets Beel, he’s very hungry, and thus very grumpy. They quickly figure out that a steady supply of snacks drastically improves his mood, and make it their personal mission to keep their favourite giant beanstalk happy and munching. Beelzebub, for one, is completely on board with this, and will in turn tolerate MC’s... unique brand of affection. How can he really complain, anyway?

Even if they fling themselves at him at high speeds, he doesn’t mind catching them because he knows they probably have some homemade goodies on their person ready to reward him. A part of him wonders if this is some way of training him to respond to their commands even without being able to call on their pact, but they’re so unwaveringly doting that his suspicions can’t stick.

MC is also his biggest cheerleader at his games, and there’s something really sweet about seeing a small human in a stadium of demons screaming louder than anyone about their precious lovely Beelzburger’s athletic prowess.

The clinginess, the gifts, the relentless adoration, and yes, the many snacks all warm Beel up to MC very quickly, and he decides that he really likes being around them and wants to return the favour. Unlike his brothers, Beel’s quite emotionally intelligent, and goes for the direct route in his confession.

Which completely flies over MC’s head. They don’t flat out reject him, but they also don’t exactly respond in a way that suggests they even fully understood exactly what Beelzebub meant when he said, “I really love you, MC, and I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.” He thought he was clear, but apparently not.

Maybe he needs to speak their language?

MC begins finding half-eaten treats accompanied by notes written in Beel’s blocky handwriting, and notices that the Avatar of Gluttony has been vocalizing his feelings about them a lot more than usual. They find this absolutely delightful, and relish in the attention, but even still, there’s no moment of realization.

Have they been flirting with him the whole time and take his reciprocation of their affections as an unspoken acceptance of their feelings? Or do they still not understand what he’s trying to convey?

Beel wonders if he’ll ever know the truth.

Belphegor

At first, Belphie couldn’t care less about how the human treats him. He just needs them to get him out of this stupid attic. Their babying is easy to play into: he leans into the “poor helpless small bean baby brother locked away in the attic :’(“ sob story to get MC to work on freeing him faster.

But of course, organically making pacts with six powerful demons is going to take a while, so MC has plenty of time for their coddling shenanigans in the meantime. Despite the threat of Lucifer looming over them at every turn, MC still manages to sneak Belphegor small gifts or fresh linen. One time they even bring him a cow plushie from his formerly shared room with Beel. It has a new collar though, with a tag that says, “I hope this puts you in a good MOOd! :D”

That cow joke would be later known as the thing that kickstarted Belphegor’s existential crisis.

The denial is easy to keep in place, at first. Belphie is faking his whole persona, why wouldn’t this human be doing the same thing? They could just be trying to win him over in hopes of making a pact with him as well; they seemed strangely keen on the concept of collecting them from his brothers, after all. And besides, MC is human, and he hates humans.

Yes, that is familiar, that is safe. Humans are awful, and this one is no exception, even if they insist on kissing his forehead through the bars to the attic and giving him presents with increasingly terrible and saccharine puns on them. The denial runs so deep that he ends up getting angrier and angrier as MC continues their coddling.

It all culminates when they finally open the door to the attic. Free, furious, and ready to enact his revenge, Belphegor makes the first move to kill the idiotic nuisance that’s been a thorn in his side since he decided to start hating them day one. He offers to hug MC (to get their guard down so he can kill them, not because he actually wants to or anything...), but when he moves to wrap his tail around their throat, they spasm out of his grip, shrieking.

Terrified that they’re somehow aware he was planning on taking them out this whole time, Belphegor tries to back away in search of a weapon or an escape route, but is stopped by something latched onto his tail.

It’s MC. On their knees, stars in their eyes, hands wrapped around the base of the fluffiest part of the Avatar of Sloth’s tail, tickling themself with it and giggling violently.

Belphegor blanches. “Are you really this stupid?! Do you know what I just tried to do to you-” He lets out an undignified shriek of his own as MC gently, but insistently, tugs on his tail to force him to come closer to them.

He finds himself in MC’s lap, being held like a child. They cuddle him closer to their chest and say, “I know you want to be a big scary demon-” he is dammit, if it wasn’t for his hesitation their stupidity, they would be dead right now, “-but I know you’re just sad, and angry, and alone. So you can’t scare me, Belphie-bean.”

Belphie-bean. The Devildom’s biggest traitor has been defeated by cow puns and Belphie-bean. Belphegor falls asleep in MC’s arms, the first of many naps taken to process this development in the sick joke that is his life.

#Anonymous #obey me imagines #obey me:swd #obey me #obey me headcanons #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mc #fan mc #mine #headcanons #long post #my writing

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phantom-curve · 3 years

Note

For your prompts: 5. trepverter for Willex, please?

this one kind of got away from me, but hopefully it still mostly captures the essence of the prompt! and if not, it's at least a cute little fluffy Willex moment that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. set in an AU where the boys are alive, here is some flustered Alex ft. supportive Reggie and Luke.

trepverter - a witty response or comeback you think of only after it's too late to use (Rated T for swearing with a Trigger Warning for mentions of homophobic parents)

They say hindsight is 20/20 but Alex never really paid much attention to that until the day he found himself knocked flat on his back, elbows scratched and head pounding as if he had been hit by a freight train instead of an irresponsible skateboarder. It probably didn’t help that he had been in the middle of trying to calm himself down, all the signs of an impending anxiety attack mounting within his system until he had finally just put his feet to the pavement and started walking to get some of the overwhelming energy worked out of his system. He probably could have been more attentive, more aware of exactly where he was going and who was headed his direction, but he figured it would be fine on a random Wednesday morning in October when the tourists weren’t really around and most kids his age were in school.

Alex wasn’t in school because his parents had withdrawn tuition payments after he had finally worked up the courage to tell them he wouldn’t be bringing a nice girl home because he didn’t want to date any girls, in fact he would much prefer to date some boys, but the pressure of keeping his identity a secret hadn’t made that possible either so he was done hiding and he hoped they could accept that. Turns out they couldn’t accept that, or him, once he made it obvious he wasn’t going to go back in the closet or give any girl the chance to “change his mind”. As if that was even possible.

It hadn’t been a big blowout, more of a silent retreat, his parents completely withdrawing any and all support from his life over the course of the last few months. And apparently that included tuition, as Alex had discovered that morning when the school called to inform him they had finished completing his withdrawal forms, and they would be sad to see him go. Which had led him to the boardwalk, and then directly into the path of whatever hooligan that had crashed into him. Maybe if he had just been able to keep his mouth shut for 3 more years he wouldn’t be lying here, breathless and bruised, and still on the cusp of absolutely losing it.

Hindsight, Alex thought to himself as he stared up at the clear blue LA sky, can absolutely kiss my ass.

“Awh, man!” A voice above him whined. “You dinged my board!”

Alex toppled off of the anxiety ledge and straight into an ocean of lost control.

“Dinged your board? Dinged your board!? Dude, you ran me over!”

He punctuated his statement by leaping to his feet, which would have probably been a lot more threatening if he didn’t immediately stagger, hand held to his head as the world spun and his stomach rolled.

“Oh shit.”

The voice cursed quietly, and then Alex felt warm hands against his biceps, steadying him until everything slowly came back into focus. There was a boy standing in front of him, black cracked helmet perched on his head, soft brown eyes staring at him with a tinge of concern and remorse. When it was clear Alex was steady once more, he released his grip and offered an easy-going smile.

“You’re right, man, I totally pancaked you. My bad, are you okay?”

There was a weird feeling in Alex’s gut. Not the kind of sickening wave of nausea he had experienced when he first stood, but more of a fluttery feeling. His brain had quieted somewhat, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just look where you’re going next time.”

His voice came out soft and almost breathy, not at all the warning tone he had meant to use, and Alex could feel his cheeks warming slightly in embarrassment. The other boy’s smile grew. He reached up and unclipped his helmet, lifting it off and then tossing his head back as a cascade of long brown hair tumbled out. A few stray pieces fell to rest alongside his face and Alex felt his mouth fall open slightly. His stomach swooped and then dropped completely, like he had just plummeted from a rollercoaster and his mind went blissfully blank. Everything narrowed down to the absolutely beautiful boy standing in front of him, face awash in golden morning light, cheeks flushed from his exertions, dimples and white teeth on full display as he grinned yet again. Alex wasn’t sure he had ever met someone so blindingly attractive in his entire life, and then the boy winked, winked!, and lifted a hand out towards him.

“I’m Willie.”

It was the best name Alex had ever heard of. When their palms met, a spark shot up his arm and straight to his heart.

“Alex.”

Thank God he remembered how to talk, because he truly hadn’t known what to expect when he opened his mouth. Willie released his grip and Alex left his hand suspended for just a second before he pulled it back and shoved it into the pocket of his jean jacket.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. Listen, I really am sorry about knocking you over. Any chance I can make it up to you?”

It took Alex an uncomfortably long amount of time to process what Willie was asking. Long enough for him to panic and wonder if it was like a date or if it was like a pity thing or oh God what if Willie wasn’t even into guys and Alex was about to make this whole thing super weird and –

A chirping sound came from Willie’s pocket. His eyes flitted away from Alex’s to pull a phone out and check the screen. Alex felt a strange twist in his heart as he watched Willie’s easy smile fall only to be replaced by an annoyed grimace and eyeroll as he silenced the phone. Without skipping a beat, he thrust it back into his pocket and pulled out a sharpie instead. Alex barely had time to register how much he liked the way Willie’s hand felt on his forearm before the other boy was suddenly bent over it and there was a cool sensation sending goosebumps up his arm as the tip of the marker scratched across his skin. When Willie pulled back, that brilliant smile was back in place and his eyebrows were dancing so merrily Alex wanted nothing more than to watch them forever.

“I gotta go, but that’s my number. Text me sometime.”

And then, before Alex could work up the nerve to say anything, Willie was tossing his skateboard to the ground only to chase after it with a few bouncy steps before jumping onto the deck and quickly making his way down the boardwalk, away from Alex. He watched for longer than it was probably acceptable until Willie was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Only then did he look down to see the numbers sketched onto his forearm in orange ink.

(213) 555-3276 Willie<3

It was the heart that did him in. That heart had to mean something, right? It was intentional. Willie had written his name with a heart. Alex wasn’t making that up, it was inked onto his own arm! He studied it as he sat on the beach, mind silently replaying every single second of his short interaction with Willie over and over again while different groups of people came and went around him. There had to be a reason for the heart. Alex fiddled with the braided rainbow bracelet on his wrist, the motion familiar and soothing. Had Willie noticed it when he grabbed Alex’s arm to write his number on? Was the heart some kind of sign?

Alex let out a groan and fell back against the sand, the texture scratchy against the back of his head where a slight throbbing still persisted. Another silent reminder of his morning encounter. He wished he had thought to say something when Willie had asked him about making it up to him. Wished he hadn’t panicked or let his stupid brain go into overdrive worrying about what might happen for so long that nothing ended up happening. If he could go back, he would have told Willie, yeah, he could make it up to him. Maybe take him out to coffee or dinner and a movie or ya know, just any kind of date in general? But Alex wasn’t that smooth, and he wasn’t quite that confident yet. And now all he had was a number in orange ink and a name with a heart and absolutely no answers to the millions of questions crowding his brain.

He let out a deep sigh and sat up again, before finally climbing to his feet. It wouldn’t do to sit and worry, even if that was kind of his specialty. Luke had a girlfriend now. And Julie was incredible, and Luke was a disaster, so obviously the guy had to have some kind of game. Alex couldn’t quite believe it, but maybe he could give him an idea of what to do in this situation. Alex turned his feet towards the apartment the boys had been sharing since Luke turned 18 and left his parents’ house for good and started the long walk back to their shared home.

Luckily, both Luke and Reggie were home, which meant Alex had two sounding boards for his word vomit as he paced in front of where they were sat on the couch. Reggie was kind of like a puppy in the sense that all he had to do was exist and people flocked to him, so he also had more experience than Alex did when it came to figuring out someone’s true intentions after a first meeting. By the time he had finished giving the boys the run down, he was feeling like they might be able to put their collective braincell to use and figure out exactly what the best course of action would be here.

“Yeah, man, I got nothing.”

Alex groaned and Luke held up his hands defensively.

“Look, dude, just cause I’m dating Julie doesn’t mean I know how I pulled it off! I’m just hoping my luck holds out until I can convince her to marry me, okay?”

Reggie was nodding thoughtfully, so Alex held out hope that maybe he would have some words of wisdom.

“I mean, he sounds like he wanted to at least like...talk to you some more, right? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given you his number. And the heart is promising!”

Alex let it soak in for a second. An idea struck him out of nowhere.

“What if I just text him and tell him he can make it up to me by going on a date?”

“Bold moves, dude. I like it”

Of course, Luke liked it. It was a very Luke-inspired move. But Alex didn’t quite have the same guts as Luke. He didn’t think he could really pull it off.

“Ugh, no. My anxiety would skyrocket the second I sent the text. I just wanna know what the heart means!”

“Why don’t you ask him that then?”

Alex didn’t like how Reggie was the voice of reason here. That was supposed to be his job.

“Because if I ask him that he’ll know I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You have been thinking about it all day.”

Alex finally reached his physical limit and stopped his pacing to fling his body onto the couch between Luke and Reggie, both boys catching different limbs and silently shifting to accompany his sudden presence.

“I don’t want him to know I’ve been thinking about it all day! That’s pathetic. Ugh, why didn’t I just say something in the moment!”

Reggie’s fingers were gentle against Alex’s scalp as he carded a hand through his hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Lex. You’ll think of something to say when the time is right. Release your worries to the wind and all that other junk, ya know? Just breathe.”

So, Alex breathed and tried to surrender his obsession into the ether. Reggie had been on a bit of a self-help kick lately, but honestly, it did help Alex more often than not, so he resolved to try and follow his best friend’s advice, even as his anxiety raged against the idea.

Turns out, the right time was exactly 11:43 pm when Alex suddenly awoke from a dead sleep where his dreams had been invaded by none other than Willie himself. He looked down at the number, the hastily scribbled name, and the accompanying heart bright against his pale skin even in the darkness of night and typed the message into his phone before he could think twice about it.

To: Willie<3 Considering you pancaked me, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me with a pancake breakfast. 9 am at Sandy’s Diner?

The responding message was almost instantaneous.

You’ve got yourself a date. Catch ya in the morning, pancake ;)

And for the second time that day, Willie wiped Alex’s mind completely blank, the word date playing on repeat until he fell asleep with his lips still curved into a smile, visions of a certain long-haired pretty boy dancing through his head.

#in other news this is my 1000th blog post!#feels appropriate to honor that with Alex losing his mind over Willie for 2k words straight #mads writes #willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willex fic

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