#appreciate it when people give me heads up on anything related

[roguemaki]

Your translation work on Gwitch has been an absolute godsend, thank you for everything! Were you possibly planning to TL the new drama CD that came out today? 🥹

You're very welcome! 😀

If you mean the Festival Blu-ray (of the Asticassia School Assembly event held at Makuhari Messe) releasing on 4/26 - then yup! I'm definitely going to TL it. It's just gonna take a little time for my order to arrive from Japan.

If there's something else G Witch related releasing today then I'm not aware of it... feel free to send me a link/info about it if so. 👍

#redtanuki #rmaki replies #i've cut down heavily on twitter use so i might miss g witch news #appreciate it when people give me heads up on anything related

[bluejeanstrash]

tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, just a little light-hearted fluff of seungcheol being a dramatic whiny baby when he’s sick, mentions of dry scalp and skin picking lol, seungcheol is very whiny | wc: 742

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

a classic cough and cold combo paired with a side of fever-related aches and pains — that was the diagnosis, not the life-threatening illness seungcheol was sure he’d contracted. he’d tried convincing you it was fast-spreading. like really fast. like it has taken over his body and has been shutting down his organs one by one for the past 6 hours fast.

‘i’m going to die. it’s not a joke anymore. i seriously feel like i’m going to die’ he tugs at the hem of your t-shirt as you clear up the mountain of tissues on the left bedside table, and then tugs again while you’re clearing up a pile of dishes on the right.

you sigh, ignoring him, and disappear into the kitchen to reappear with a fresh bowl of hot chicken soup ‘seungcheol, we’ve been over this already. you’re not going to die’

‘forget it! just get me my will. i have to make some last-minute changes’ he asks for it dramatically, draping a limp arm over his eyes.

‘you don’t have a will’ you blow on the hot soup in quick bursts before feeding him a spoonful.

‘ugh, never mind. it’s fine’ the will talk is waved off with a quick fan of the hand to make way for what he says next ‘they give everything to the spouse anyway. wait, do they?’

‘i don’t know, and we’re not married’ you remind him, stirring the hot liquid so the shredded chicken, his favourite part, rises to the top.

‘god, you’re right’ he sits up a little straighter and grabs your free hand, suddenly somber ‘do you take choi seungcheol to be your lawf-’

you force-feed him another spoonful to shut him up, a bit of it spilling onto the quilted blanket. the soup must’ve still been too hot because he lets out a little cry, whining, though it’s entirely possible he’s overreacting.

‘you’re not taking this seriously, i’m actually dying’

‘you’re not’

‘what do you know! you’re not a doctor!’ he grumbles, taking a moment to tell you he really likes the soup and really really appreciates you making it for him before continuing to rant.

‘yeah, and what about the actual doctor we called who said you’re not?’

‘he doesn’t know anything either, that hack. the people on the internet’ he picks up his phone from the bed, showing you a screenshot from some site you’re pretty sure is for hypochondriacs to confirm each other’s delusions, and taps on the screen ‘have told me i have less than 24 hours left. 24. 24!’

‘seungcheol, i can’t have this conversation with you anymore. seriously. you need to go to sleep’ you put the empty bowl aside, straightening, and then pulling the blanket up to cover him.

‘no, no, don’t leave. i want lap time’ he pouts, baby-talking his way into his third one of the day. you sit back down on the bed with a sigh as he repositions himself to lay on your lap, wriggling his head around until he’s comfy. your fingers slowly comb through his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp to soothe him. in a slightly gross but domestic act, you pick a few bits of flaky skin out of his unwashed hair, flicking them away. you should wash it for him later, you think. he’d like that.

seungcheol always found the sensation of you picking at his scalp strangely comforting, and surprisingly quite sleep-inducing. minutes pass without a single sound.

it’s quiet. finally. or so you think.

‘if i die, you can’t date anyone for the next 10 years. at least’

‘what?!’ you jerk your thighs up, pushing him off your lap ‘10 years? you’re crazy’

he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

‘i was just being nice. you shouldn’t date anyone ever, but ohmygod, i can’t believe you want to be with someone else’ he presses his fingers to his temples, suddenly coming down with a headache.

‘so let me get this straight’ he continues ‘you’re telling me when i die tomorrow-’

‘you won’t’

‘-when i die tomorrow, you’re going to bring some other man to my funeral?!’ his cheeks now hot with a shade of distressed pink.

you’re not sure where he’s got that from but you’ve had enough. you get up, grabbing the bowl, and look him straight in the eye, pinching his cute little cheeks ‘well, it’s a good thing you’re not dying then’

you walk out, leaving him right there on the bed, hot and most definitely cold.

#scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #scoups x you #seungcheol x you

[thegnomelord]

I love your monster au so much. It makes the monsterlover/fucker in me real happy. Sorry just wanted to share my appreciation.

I've been thinking too, how would you feel about writing a underwater sea creature reader? (No pressure but I hope this idea tickles your fancy so I'll infodump my ideas on you) They can live on land and stuff but drag their prospective mate into a deep underwater ravine when they want to mate. Idk how to describe it, like I have an idea in my head of what the creature's traits would be but I can't find a way to put it into words.

I'm going to give it a try though, (excuse the fact it won't make much sense, my thoughts jump around a lot. But I'll try and make it coherent.) Basically, my mind went to underwater dragons. So with most of the traits that you wrote for dragons, like the purring and the tails intertwining (and the sharing of scales). But I was thinking without wings, because you don't need them underwater. But we glow in the dark, because we are deepsea creatures we have adapted to become bioluminescent. Oh and also we have gills and stuff still when we are on land.

Idk if this is confusing or just something you don't want to write but I was hoping for you to include a more sfw part with the mating dance maybe and then then an actual nsfw part (dom top male reader??)

But at the end of the day this is just a suggestion and it's up to you if you want to write it or not. (If you do write it can it be with ghost or gaz?? gaz giving us shiny things but sea related, like shells? and/or ghost struggling through knowing how to court us. Both of them being confused of what to do because we are a new type of dragon that not many people knew existed and our courting traditions are mostly unknown??

Okay this is cool and it tickles my brain of having just this big fucking monster that's gigantic due to deep sea gigantism :D, I also picked Gaz cause I like the sea/sky duality.

CW:NSFW, subbot gaz, domtop Mreader, quick and rough

When you first joined the taskforce, Gaz didn't know what to expect. Your species had been newly discovered, barely any information about you, but something about you put some ancient part of his mind on edge, ants nipping on the sinew of his wings until his body begged to return to the safety of the sky.

First time he met you, you reminded him less of a dragon and more of a Leviathan — something that dwelled where the light didn't reach, far too big than anything should be allowed to be, bright bioluminescent markings shimmering against dark scales to lure prey into crushing jaws filled with sharp crooked teeth, horns like spears to pin down what couldn't fit in your maw, powerful legs built to swim and breach the surface of the water to catch unaware flyers like Gaz just to pull them down into the abyss to be devoured.

He would have been more. . . unsettled by you had you not been so nice.

You towered over him even in your mostly human form, but you were a gentle giant, happy to let him use you as a perch and humming along as he talks, joining in on his and Johnny's pranks and hiding them when Price eventually catches them.

And Gaz doesn't even notice when your presence no longer makes his feathers puff up, the shadow you cast over him now warm and welcoming after all the times you'd been a meat shield for him. He tils his head back to catch sight of your eyes as he leans back, soft feathers rubbing against your clothes, "Hey there big man." Gaz smiled.

You hum, your hand coming to loosely hold his hip, holding the pretty thing close to you. "Hi." You purr, the small biolights along your body flickering in seemingly random patterns, but nothing about them was random to you or your kin, your interest in him painfully obvious.

But to your dismay Gaz doesn't understand, just snorts at your colorful display. "What's got you in a good mood today?" He asks, eyes tracing the dancing lights, that instinctual bird part of his mind liking the sight, and the low rumble of your voice, and just. . . being near you.

You blink, "You," You say simply, your people aren't ones to mince words.

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your declaration, feathers puffing up, but strikes down any thoughts about you before they turn inappropriate and cause him to coo at you. "Fine, keep yer secrets." He huffs and gets out of your hold, wings stretching out to purposely show off his feathers as he walks away, tail feathers flickering.

He can feel your eyes follow after him, hummingbirds pecking at his spine and he doesn't know if he should feel that way. And all you can think of is how you could drag your pretty bird down into the abyss without clipping his wings.

. . .

Gaz watches you lazily swim around the lake near their current base in your real form, "Havin' a nice soak in there Nessie?" He asks as he walks the short pier and sits down, dipping his feet in the water as his wings spread out lazily behind him.

A low rumble leaves you like a distorted whale song, your large form pushing through the water like a submarine cutting through the ice. "Nessie?" You ask as swim over to him, "Who's that?"

"Never mind about that," Kyle grins, his eyes roaming along your large form as the biolights flicker once again in that specific pattern that means nothing to him but everything to you. "You look happy."

You shrug, "It's nice to be back in the water." Without a word you heave yourself out of the water and onto the pier, large hands clutching the wood on either side of him, a deep purr rumbling in your chest at how close he is to you now. "Did you need something?" You ask, biolights flickering seductively.

Kyle swallows drily, eyes going wide as he registers you loom over him, can smell the sea and salt still clinging to your scales, something other than fear buzzing down his spine from how close your dangerous teeth are to him. "Oh, right, uh," He clears his throat to clear the molasses clinging to it, wings spreading out in a way that got his feathers shining in the setting sun as he reached into his pocket.

"I, um. . . I got you this." He said, holding out the seashell he'd found for you. His breath caught in his throat as you looked at it, hoping you liked it; he'd spent hours polishing it until it was shining, the colors vibrant and every single scratch buffed out.

"Thank you," You rumbled and took the seashell into your hand. Your pupils dilated, a very pleased purr rumbling in your chest — oh, he was so thoughtful, such a good mate to bring a rare treat for you.

Kyle felt like a bloody peacock at the way his wings spread out, but he couldn't care less about his posturing when you accepted his gift, his heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar.

Then you ate it.

You ate his gift.

His heart shatters like the seashell between your fangs, wings dropping like a rock, never having expected to be rejected like that. "I- what- why did- if you-" He couldn't even form words to say what he wanted, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes prickled with vestiges of tears.

Unfortunately for him, you notice. "Oh, little bird, what's wrong?" Your voice is soothing, biolights pulsing in a slow and calming way as you gently pry his hand from his face, looking into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle doesn't look you in the eyes, doesn't know what the hell to feel right now, the words spewing out of his mouth before he could control them. "Why would you do that!" He hisses.

You tilt your head. "You gifted it to me." You say like it's supposed to explain everything, reaching up to cup his cheek, your clawed hand cold and wet against his skin. "It was very good." You lean in closer, a deep purr rumbling in your throat, your long tail moving to curl around his leg.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as you push you loom over him your hands on either sides of him keeping him in place, feeling himself slowly lay back as you creep over him onto the pier, heart drumming in his chest. "Wh-what?"

You snort, eyes glowing like anglerfish lures, lowering your head down to lick a stripe up his neck, claws raking down his front. "Let me show you my appreciation, yes?"

Kyle shivers at the sensation of your teeth against his throat, body heating up, your scent — of sea and salt and something very very old — invading his nose, an involuntary chirp escaping his chest. "Ah, yeah, sure just-" Kyle yelps as your claws cut through his clothes, wings quivering as they're pressed against the wooden pier behind him.

"Relax little bird," You coo softly, licking around his lips in what counts as a kiss for you when your maw is filled with vicious teeth, tongue trailing down to lick up the drops of his salty sweat. "I'll be gentle."

And gentle you are; softly licking up the blood after your fangs had left marks on his skin, sharp claws holding his trembling hips tenderly as your rough tongue worms inside him, soft purrs and deep rumbles vibrating your tongue against his prostate until he's sobbing, his hands clutching your horns to hold your head closer as his cock leaks a puddle of pre onto his abdomen.

He whines when you continue stretching him with your tongue, "Please, mate, just-" Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue once again grazes his prostate, thighs clenching around your head. "-just please fuck me already! I can't- I'm not going to-"

Kyle sobs with joy and anguish when you pull your tongue out, the slimy appendage slithering back into your maw and leaving him painfully empty. "Alright, alright," You coo, moving up to drape your body over his, nuzzling your cheek against his as you line your hard cock with his stretched hole. "Relax,"

The tip of your cock breaching his puckered hole has Kyle sucking in a sharp breath, "Easier said than done mate," He chuckles, closing his eyes and just trying to focus on your scent and just you, groaning. Fuck, you're big in all aspects, his body clenching down like a vice before relaxing enough for you to slowly push further, spreading his walls wide until you're fully inside him, your hips resting against his.

"There you go," You purr, letting Kyle adjust as you nibble on his neck, biolights flickering happily when he rocks his hips into yours. "Taking me so well,"

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your words, throwing his head back when you rock your hips, cock hard and heavy inside him, dragging against his walls with every minute movement that has him panting and whining, his legs crossing behind your back to pull your hips closer every time you pull out.

The world escapes your notice, all your attention fully on him as you focus on mating him, pulling needy desperate sounds from Kyle's lips, your large hand gently stroking his leaking dick as your cock rubs against his prostate, your unhurried pace making him cum again and again and again until he's a moaning boneless mess by the time you cum inside him.

#gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod smut #cod monster au #cod modern warfare #monster 141 au #monster cod au #cod mwii #cod x male reader

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #2

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer

Summary: Strong statements from the "feared" king of hell, deadly oversights, cute duck-shaped cupcakes and the forgotten terror that lives beneath the hotel enjoying a certain demon's broadcast.

Warnings: Self loathing, a bit of a scare, nothing else I can think of.

Taglist: open...

The crowd, and 102 notes have spoken. Funny enough, things I consider drabbles blow up, and stuff that I like and post stays forgotten, anyways that's life. Feedback is always appreciated btw.

For the ppl that voted One-shot, my request box is open if you guys want to drop something Hazbin related.

Charlie had habilitated a back door for the kitchen, heading to the street, so that groceries and the kitchen supplies that you order could arrive unnoticed and would not bother her guests. Also for you to come and go as you may see fit without drawing, as she called it, ‘Unwanted attention’.

Of course she wasn’t thinking of the swarm of questions that may come your way, but more like if they found out, she would have to break the little image she had worked on all this years, the controlled, nice and loving princess everyone knew; to show a bit of the real menace she can be. She hated exercising her authority over others because of what happened with you, it felt wrong and invasive, so she never wanted to re-enter the same void she had fell through when her mother left.

She still used a more severe tone when addressing to you and her orders, or as she calls them ‘mandatory suggestions’, orders nonetheless, and when she asks you for what you’ve heard around town. She wants to keep up with what the people say about the hotel? Not entirely, she just likes gossip.

When either Angel Dust or Husk asked Charlie where did the food come from, she either said that she ordered it, or rely on the fact that sometimes Nifty cooked, per Alastor’s suggestion, but only when he wasn’t around to bring out the fact that she was lying.

Your ears perked up at some noise coming from the renovated parlor, usually it was just Alastor messing with the king of Hell, which made your eyes roll in annoyance given his lack of battle IQ, but the stubborn stag was mildly protected by the princess’s favor, without it, his head would hang on the king’s wall, probably as a coat rack. Now, that thought brought you a smile and a small laugh.

Later at night, when most demons were fast asleep, Angel Dust tiptoe his way inside the hotel, after a long session demanded by Valentino. He tried no to groan given the fatigue, and as he stretched backwards, making his back crack.

“What the fuck?” he muttered when a candle lit up on top of the new bar table, on top of it lied a plate with a medium rare cooked stake sided with homemade mash potatoes and some sauteed vegetables, next to it a glass of wine and silverware, along with a note that read:

“You failed to attend to dinner, saved you a plate. Enjoy”

He reluctantly took a bite, but after realizing that if it were spiked with anything he would’ve already died, given that drugs in hell had a fast effect when it comes to assassination, he enjoyed every last bit of it, making small moan sounds as he did. He also complimented the selection of the wine. You enjoyed the praises as you saw him eat.

As soon as he made his way back to his room, you took the plate and various items to give them a wash. The next day, Husk earned a kiss on the cheek without knowing what he did to deserve it.

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest when the guests liked your food, even more so when they expected anxiously what would it be for the next day, as you never really published the menu for the week, only the princess knew.

Given Angel’s constant praise, you started leaving protein shakes in his night stand before he woke up, always with a ‘Drink me for strength’ note, same with Vaggie when she started working out in the mornings. Charlie took your gesture and assured that she made them out of concern, which was well received by the rest, but not so much from her towards you.

“What did we talk about laying low?” she turned a bit demonic as she whispered harshly, “If you want to starve yourself to death, be my guest, but you made me the chef of the Hotel since day one, and no one inside this walls will die of malnourishment if I can help it” you well knew of the nasty habit the princess had towards food, by sometimes (often) forgetting to eat, or drive herself to an extent of stress, that she just dismissed breakfast or launch, even both on some occasions.

“Fine. On another subject, my dad will start living here, permanently. He’s Celiac, just so you know” Gluten allergy, that caught you off guard. You made a mental note to replace flours, rice and pastas into a non-glutinous option, same as your pastries for tea time from now on.

“About time you made peace with him” she shot you a warning look but didn’t correct you, “Yeah well, I’m happy about it, it took too long” for a while she felt that it was her fault for her parent’s split, as any child of divorce would begin to feel in the first period of the breakup. That feeling diminished, but hasn’t left her system entirely, no mater how much her girlfriend reassures her of the contrary.

“Arrange his room please, I left a few things lying around, but I have a session, so, can you handle it?” you nodded, satisfied with your answer, or rather lack thereof, she turned into her cheery self. “He left to pack up a few things from the castle, he’ll be back in a few hours, please don’t let him see you” with that last bit, she left the kitchen.

The king’s room wasn’t messy, Nifty wouldn’t allow it, so there were just a few items to place around, and a massive bed to put together, piece by piece no less. It was a Belphegor’s elite brand bed, no less, it had an insane amount of screws and parts, for someone known as the queen of Sloth, it took a serious amount of effort to put up with her products.

Took you two hours to set the whole thing up. Why did it take so long to put together a bed? because when you had it perfect, you noticed that you had three leftover screws, you weren't supposed to have leftover screws, so you disassembled it piece by piece until you found a place for the damn screws. The instructions were worse written than a menu in a Cantonese restaurant when the owner is obviously not Cantonese and wrote up the whole thing in google translate.

You took a big breath, satisfied with your work only when you put on the last blanket over the foot of the bed. “Weight blanket” you muttered with the fabric in between your fingers. Right in between the bedspread and the sheet there was a fairly heavy blanket, it lead to something obvious, two, either anxiety, or the king was missing his wife to the point he needed a weighted hug over him.

Your ears caught the sound of wings, he would arrive in no time.

You only had a millisecond to think, either run to the door and risk being seen, or put on the veil, jump out the window, but you were at penthouse level, that would probably leave you quadriplegic, on the other hand you transferred your tunnel system between the walls from the old hotel to the new one, you would just have to push the fake tile behind the bathroom door.

You ran out of time.

Still in your place, like a statue, you put the veil carefully over your body, this time without your eyes being able to be seen through.

The fallen angel dropped one single portfolio, the same blowing up into a swarm, no, a tsunami of rubber ducks, pieces of clothing, all ending up scattered all over the room, giving you an opportunity to make your way behind the bathroom door.

“Oh Charlie put together my bed? That ought to be a lot of work” he ended the sentence with a singsong tone before jumping onto the mattress. ‘That’s a shit ton of baloney, I bust my ass and the little devil gets credit for it? Fucking fantastic’ you mentally growled.

“Lily, if you could see her, she looks more like you every day” his voice cracked, “I wish…I wished I knew how to help. What could I possibly offer her? Advice? Experience? On what?! falling, being a constant disappointment? She did more things than you and I did in ten thousand years”

“I feel so useless” peeking over the door you saw the tiny king, wrapping himself in his six enormous wings. ‘Majestic’ you thought, after seeing millions of demons since you died, it was the first time you saw someone so beautiful. It made sense, he was indeed the prettiest angel God ever created, the best singer too.

How can someone like that, ethereal, could be troubled by things so…earth bound?

In an instant, he jumped out of bed, brushed up his hair a little, then walked out the door with the most fake smile you had ever seen. Boy you knew about fake smiles.

Later in the afternoon, around tea time, you changed up your regular flour for almond, it was definitely a different experience in terms of texture, but in terms of flavor, it could pass for regular flour, no one was going to notice.

Three types of cupcakes: Salted caramel, red velvet with vanilla stuffing, and cookie dough cupcakes shaped as ducky ones.

Alastor wasn’t a fan of sweets, so a mildly coffee infused cake with a caramel dressing with coarse salt on top, did the trick amazingly. Paired with a nice cup of Orange Pekoe tea to send him down memory lane. When you picked his plate up, there wasn’t a single crumb left.

The rest of the Hotel fancied your pastries, and loved sweets. Red velvet was a well-received classic, but it consisted of a vanilla flavored cake, and pair it with a filling of the same flavor might over do it. Instead, you added orange juice to the mix, the citrus smell with the sweet vanilla swirl on top  were the sensation in the redemption session.

The only questionable thing about the mix was the berry tea that Charlie liked to drink during her sessions.

You baked small batches of cookie dough balls only a quarter of time, then poured the gluten free vanilla cupcake batter on top of it, keeping the cookie cooking at the bottom while you prepared the chocolate icing. When still warm you used a duck shaped scraper for the cake to take shape, then use the icing to make spikes, horns and little faces on them when it had cooled down a bit.

Why were you making special things for him? Pity? Empathy? Maybe both, but you were far too busy remembering the steps to the king’s room to bother.

All the ducks seemed organized, it definitely was the same mess, but perhaps there was some sense in his insanity. The plate was placed carefully in his night stand, along with a saucer and the tea cup filled with chamomile tea.

“Stop, freeze right there” you were about to place the hand written card when the distorted voice of the king froze your nerves in place, good thing that you were wearing the veil.

“Riddle me this, I’m connected to your every step, but I’m not your shoe. What am I?” he was near but stayed right in your blind spot, as he walked towards you. “Answer” his voiced sent chills down your spine, made your teeth sharpen as well as your claws, and your ears perk up defensively.

“You’re a shadow” your answer brought in him a subtle laugh, “Even through that shield of yours, dear, you cast a shadow, I saw a glimpse of it make it’s escape through the bathroom” was it that simple? Did anyone else in the Hotel had been as perceptive as him, no they would’ve ask Charlie or Alastor about it.

“So? How long have you been lurking in the Hotel?” walking past you, he brought up the tea cup to his lips, making a grimace, “Drink it, you look either sick, or worse, anemic, you’re three tones paler than your daughter” he shrugged, apparently aware of his state.

“I believe I asked you a question” his eyes shifted colors, just like Charlie’s, “None of your beeswax” you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to, “I’m your King” the little heavy step he did was hilarious, but laughing would’ve get you killed.

“So what?” he widened his eyes at your boldness, dismissing it entirely after a laugh, “Mm, how about you answer my question and then I might consider letting you go?” his boot was on the edge on the veil, one move and he would see you, “How about you stop being a bull on me and enjoy my cookin’?” he took a moment to actually see the cupcakes, a tender smile drawn on his face.

When he looked back at where you where, all he saw was the veil falling gracefully to the ground, likewise it dissolved into the air.

“I fucked up” your heart throbbed painfully in your ear; the rush was real.

Your room was underneath the Hotel, a system of catacombs led to different fates to those stupid enough to enter, only you and the princess knew of the correct way. The space wide consisted of black brick walls, a twin size bed placed on the corner, a wooden wardrobe, the rustic eighteen hundreds themed bathroom, and a set of seven iron candle holders screwed to the wall.

“Good afternoon Hell!” Alastor’s voice became present through the radio you kept on your night stand, “I’m in a jolly mood on this occasion, a well baked pastry would put a smile on anyone, even in the crankiest demon in hell” he laughed, then continued on topics from a simpler time, then the screams of his new victim.

You rested your tachycardia on your bed, focusing on your breathing and Alastor’s voice, to make your heart slow down to a normal pace.

“Thank you for listening, it was a pleasure to entertain you. Now, a small request from a friend in between the walls, I hope you enjoy this one, dear” he placed the dusted vinyl on the player, allowing it to roll one of your most liked songs, Cuban Moon by Carl Fenton’s Orchestra.

Slang, jazz, the demoness that haunted Alastor’s brain was definitely from his timeline, probably the same state he lived in. But what really itched his brain, was the axe. “It’s an unorthodox method to kill someone, the blade loses its edge quickly and it would require a brutal force to cut through bones…unless” he pondered over an open binder with pieces of old newspaper that fell with him, parts of the news were about him, but the front page was about someone else.

The next day, Lucifer walked fast down the stairs, grabbed Charlie by her shoulders and demanded, “Who is she? The demon living in the walls?”.

Your note for Lucifer read the following: "Someone who swore to love you through sickness and health, and still left, is not worth your tears."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Baloney: same as nonsense or bullshit

None of your beeswax: Slang for 'none of your business'

Bull: Slang for police-man

Stay tuned ;3 Part 3

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin art #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar #radioapple #dad beat dad #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

[astrolynnworld]

blue confessions

pairing: matt x reader

summary: matt confesses his feelings to the reader at the countdown of midnight

warnings: fluff! new years, confessions, love, romance.

a/n- should of been posted yesterday but oh well 🫠

word count: 979

i do some last minute cleansing and preparations as i get ready to start my year anew and fresh.

nick had invited a few friends over so we can celebrate our last hours of 2023 together.

i finish getting ready and put on my coat so i can head over to the house.

everyone arrived at various times but i was one of the first people to get there.

i’ve been friends with the triplets for about 7 years now, at first i met nick but he soon after introduced me to his brothers who i’ve been close with every since.

especially matt, matt is really like my best friend. since day one, matt & i have have a different type of connection where we understand each other on a different level

he’s always been there for me, as i have with him.

“hey!! happy new year” nick says as he opens the door to let me in

“happy new year!” i say while going in for a hug

“wow it’s been in a long year.” i continue

“tell me about it.. a lot has happened this year, from hitting 5 million subs to going on tour again.. it’s been a crazy year”

“yup, sad to see it end but ready to watch it go” i laugh

from the corner of my eye i can see chris coming up the stairs

“oh hey chris! happy new year” i say as i walk in for a hug

“yup! new year.” he greets back, “where’s the food?” he proceeds to ask

“chris shut up. it’s on the way, you can wait.” nick answers annoyingly

i chuckle at their banter

“where’s matt?” i ask out loud

“he’s probably in still his room getting ready, you can go check on him if you want” nick responds

i nod and make my way down the hall to his room.

i do my little signature knock that i do so he knows it’s me

“come in!” he shouts from the door

i open the door and walk in to give him a hug

“heyyy matt!!” i gleefully say

“why are you so happy?” he asks with a confused face

“cause it’s new year’s eve!!” i respond with more enthusiasm

“big plans for 2024?” he asks

“no plans, just hopes and wants.” i respond

“yeah? what do you hope and want?” he asks again

“i kinda hope for a genuine connection and relationship..” i say shyly

“really?”

“yeah. i just feel like im tired of meaningless flings or situationships. we’re only getting older.. i want something real” i say

“i feel you 100%” he reassures

“yeah.” i look down, “but anyway! do you have anything you’re looking forward too?”

“not really. i just wanna let the year play out how it’s supposed too.” he replies

“yeah i see th-“ im interrupted as the door swings open

“our friends are here. stop hiding in the room” says nick

“we’re not hiding” matt says as he gets up to make his way to the living room

i follow shortly behind

after a few hours of party games and jokes, we just hang around to enjoy our last few minutes of 2023

i go in the kitchen to grab some water and shortly after, matt follows along

he nervously stands there in silence for a bit pretending to be occupied before striking up a conversation

“before the year end i kinda just wanted to let you know that i really do appreciate our friendship” he says sentimentally

“aww matt, that’s so sweet.”

“i know i don’t really say it often but i do love you. maybe in more ways than i should to be honest.” he looks down

“huh? what do you mean?” i ask

“well you’re the person i can count on the most, other than nick and chris. you’re always there for me when i need you to be and i feel like i relate you on a deeper level. you just understand me as a person and i love and appreciate you a lot for it.”

i go in for a hug, “matt i love you so much! you’re gonna make me cry”

he hugs back but doesn’t seem fulfilled

“matt what’s wrong? you seem unfinished?” i ask still embraced in his grasp

“cause that’s not all i want to say. i just don’t know how to say it” he says

suddenly we hear our friends in the other room start the new year countdown

“well you better hurry before the new year begins” i chuckle

“six.. five” we hear from the other room

i stare up as he looks down at me with his mouth agape as he prepares himself

“two.. one-“

“i’m in love with you” he spills

“HAPPY NEW YEAR” i hear from the other room as i stare at him in silence

“this is probably the worst timing but i really couldn’t keep it in anymore. i can’t go into another year feeling regret for every day that i don’t confess to you how i fee-“

i break his monologue with a kiss

“i love too matt” i look up at him with a smile

“are you being serious?” his confused look making me chuckle

“yess matt. of course i do! like you said, i understand you on a deeper level. and i know you understand me just as well. i enjoy every second i spend with you and i love being around you, you always make me feel special. i also kept my feelings tucked in but i love you just as much” i confess

he smiles and places a kiss on my lips while placing both hands on each of my cheeks

“can i be your boyfriend, y/n?” he whispers into my lips as he holds my cheeks with both hands

“i’d love nothing more” i smile up at him

———————————————————————

a/n- hope you guys enjoyed this cute little story

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo triplets #fluff #fanfics #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo fanfic #chris girl #christopher sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #romance #writers on tumblr #short story

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 2: Operation, Find Caroline a Cowboy

gif by @bodybebangin

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He doesn't even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust.

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Chapter 1

Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a teacher and my free time is fairly limited. We're at a point in the school year now though that is much less stressful, so expect fairly regular updates, at least for the next few chapters.

Comments are so appreciated! I'd love to know what ya'll like and what ya'll think I could improve upon.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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We don’t talk for the rest of the walk, but the silence is comfortable, like it always is between us. Kayce and I have never asked too much of each other, have always read each others’ moods as if they were our own, and that apparently hasn’t changed from the five years we’ve spent apart. It’s glaringly obvious to us both that neither is up for idle chit chat. 

And while I’m really not up for small talk, the silence does, unfortunately, give me entirely too much time to overthink. What felt like such a natural decision, what felt like fulfilling my duty this morning, now feels foolhardy, and quite possibly too risky. Now this isn’t to say that I’m doubting my choice. Helping Mr. John, helping Kayce, helping the family and ranch that raised me, that picked up my pieces and glued me back together over and over, is a no brainer. Helping the people and the place I love most in the world feels as natural as breathing. But smoothing over a murder? That’s- No, I’m not doubting my choice, but I’m sure as hell doubting my sanity. When I said the Duttons needed a criminal defense lawyer, not a PR specialist, I wasn’t exaggerating. And if I’m being honest, this job feels more like that of an accessory than a public relations consult.

The front porch of the big house comes into view well before I’m ready. This dinner may be a reunion of sorts, but it’ll undoubtedly be a business meeting as well. Steeling my nerves for such talks doesn’t come quite as naturally to me as it once did. I feel like a knight with rusty armor. Weak at critical points, weak where it matters. More aptly, I feel like a little girl again, staring into the headlights of a train with no way to move and no way to stop it. I’m no coward, please don’t think that of me, but you know that feeling of impending doom? The one that makes your spine tingle and your stomach drop to your knees? Dread is probably the best word. That’s all I can feel as I stand at the bottom step of the Dutton’s porch. 

I must hesitate for too long, or stare off into space, or look absolutely fucking terrified, because in a flash Kayce is back down the two steps he’d already taken and by my side. He doesn’t say anything, you’d think we’d taken a vow of silence, but just looks at me imploringly, resembling a curious puppy so much I almost crack a smile. And then Kacye, sweet Kayce, wraps his calloused hand around mine and tucks it against his chest, over his heart, before tipping his head, ushering me up the stairs. Once I’m half way up I get a fond, “Atta girl,” and what woman doesn’t love being praised like an obedient mare. I snort in response and kick out my foot to trip him, but only a little bit, on the last stair. Can’t have hime getting too full of himself.

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Dinner is nice, but rather awkward if I’m totally honest, mainly due to the fact that Beth and Jamie are in attendance. Let’s just say Gator clears the table well before dinner should truly be over. To my surprise, we don’t talk business, but rather I’m questioned, interrogated really, over what I’ve been up to the past five years and why haven’t I called and would it really kill me to send a text every few months. Beth is the one who leads this inquiry. Jamie and I were never particularly close, so he remains silent for the most part, and he leaves in a huff shortly after Beth throws a fork like it’s a trident directly at his forehead. Can’t say I blame him, even I can only handle so much of Beth when she’s at her worst.

My interrogation is blissfully, or so I thought, cut short by Mr. John when he asks, “So, ya’ll have any plans tonight?” He folds his napkin meticulously, trying to look nonchalant but missing the mark by a shameful amount. If I thought that feeling of dread had left me, I was wrong.

I narrow my eyes and prepare to defend myself against an interrogation of a different kind. Before I can grit out a suspicious, “No, why,” however, Beth pipes up. “Actually Daddy, since you asked,” at this she turns to me, “Caroline, how do you feel about heading into town and getting gloriously drunk and then gloriously fucked? You’ve been gone far too long, so you’ve got to be re-initiated, re-tainted if you will.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “You’re far too shiny, like a little cherub.”

Jesus Christ, I think she’s suggesting I fuck a townie. And Mary and Joseph I haven’t even so much as kissed someone since my divorce - ok, well maybe a peck or two here or there, but that’s besides the point. Here I was, so worried about talking business, about skirting around the subject of murder, only to be blindsided by an age old Dutton scheme. Operation: Find Caroline a Cowboy. Well if Beth thinks I’m about to get biblical with some rando she is absolutely, positively looney tunes. Now, how to communicate all of that in a tactful way? Taking a shallow breath, I part my lips and prepare to spout some placating, buzzword bullshit. Something along the lines of, “Well, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually really tired. Maybe later this weekend?” or “How about we just kick back in the bunkhouse tonight, save the salaciousess for this Saturday?” Before I can even utter a word though, Kayce butts in on my behalf.

“Do you maybe think you could save the corruption for later, Beth? I’ve already promised the boys that I’ll bring Caroline around for cards tonight.” While his voice is calm, casual even, Kayce gives himself away the moment he begins to bounce his leg, the tap tap tap of the heel of his boot loud in the otherwise quiet room. He’s uncomfortable, maybe even irritated, which aren’t we all at least a little bit when speaking to Beth, but there’s something else. A boyishness to his demeanor that I haven’t seen since high school. There’s also the fact that we had decidedly made zero plans to visit the bunkhouse tonight. So. Interesting.

I’m certainly not the only one to notice his odd shift in behavior, as Mr. John’s lips curl into a smirk and Beth’s face arranges inself into a pleased, self-satisfied expression. She frequently wears the look of someone who knows enough to destroy literally any given person’s life, but this look is more playful, one of a cat that’s pinned a mouse by its tail. Ignoring Kayce, she turns her attention back to me. “Caroline, sweetheart, don’t even think about screwing any of those cowboys. I know old habits die hard, but trust me when I say not a single one of them is worth a ride.” Now, to be clear, Beth knows, I know, Mr. John knows, and even Kayce knows that Beth has only ever screwed one of said cowboys out in that bunkhouse, still, her dig elicits the desired reaction from Kayce. And furthermore, she makes it clear that she’s not just trying to set me up with any old cowboy. I’m on to her. Operation: Find Caroline a Kayce.

With a cringe of disgust and a flushed face, he exclaims, “Fuck’s sake Beth, I’m not taking her out there to pimp her out.” He’s stopped smoothing the tablecloth, but now he’s exasperatedly running his hand through his still damp hair. Shit, Kayce. You think he’d have learned by now how to not play into Beth’s hand. Some people just have to learn the hard way I suppose. 

Beth’s eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Well you’re not a very good bestfriend then, are you?”

“Fuck you.” Kayce mutters, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantlly.

“Maybe you should be saying that to her.” Beth points at me with her napkin, dropping it onto her plate as she rises from the table. “This has been fun. Possibly the best family dinner we’ve had all year.” Planting a kiss on Mr. John’s cheek she says, “Love you Daddy, have a drink with me later, will you? I think we should talk.” Then, rounding the table to me, she strokes my hair, almost motherly, “Caroline, sweetheart, clear your schedule Saturday. Me and you are going to paint the town red.” Finally, reaching Kayce, she sighs, “Goodnight, dummy. Let me know if you’d like help finding your balls.” And just like a tornado, she’s there wreaking havoc one moment, and gone the next.

The dining room is uncomfortably silent for a beat after she exits, until Mr. John blessedly breaks the awkwardness yet again. “Beth’s antics aside, I don’t think ya’ll should be going out anywhere tonight. We’ve got several important meetings lined up tomorrow morning and I need both of you sharp. Especially you Kayce, tomorrow will require you to tell a very particular version of events and I can’t risk you fucking that up. Alright, Son?”

Looking slightly cowed, Kayce nods his head in agreement. “Alright.”

Having determined this hell of a dinner has gone on long enough, I begin to make moves to excuse Kayce and myself. “Dinner was delicious Mr. John, thank you for having me. And thank you for such fine company.” I may be lying out of my ass, but my momma didn’t raise me to be rude.

Mr. John exhales a dry laugh and rises from the table. It’s moments like this where his and Beth’s resemblance is striking. “No need to thank me, honey. You’re family, you’re welcome at my table anytime.” Pushing in his chair he surveys Kayce and I with calculating eyes. “Why don’t you two head on home, you both look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”

Gee Mr. John, I wonder the hell why?

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Our walk back isn’t nearly as silent as our walk to the house. To say Kayce is pissed would be putting it lightly. “What in the actual fuck was all that? I mean, Beth was no surprise, but what shit is Dad trying to pull?”

“Kayce, your daddy barely said a word.” I’m more focused on the words left unsaid.

“He didn’t have to say anything Carrie, he sat there like a smug bastard and let Beth say it all for him.” Kayce may as well be pitching a fit the way he kicks at the ground, arms hugged tight to his chest like a wronged toddler. Honestly, the image is kind of amusing, so much so that I have to stifle a laugh. I must not do a good enough job, because I can feel the glare that Kayce shoots through the side of my head. “What?”

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I’m quick to hide my growing grin. “Well first off, I’m gonna overlook the fact you pulled out my forbidden nickname. But second, do you remember that Christmas when we were thirteen? How Beth hung mistletoe from literally every single doorway, and how your daddy actually enforced the kissing rule?” I raise my eyebrows high, daring him to conveniently “forget” an awkward moment from our childhood as he often pretends to do.

The tips of his ears turn pink, but he sighs his agreement. “Yeah I remember, we must’ve kissed two dozen times. At the time I thought dying would’ve been a kinder fate.”

Asshole. I punch him in the arm, hard. “Wow. Thanks a lot. The sentiment is shared.” Rolling my eyes and checking for invisible dirt beneath my nails, I continue. “Anyways, what they’re doing now, Beth and your daddy, is just an enormous escalation of what they did then. I don’t think Mr. John will rest in his grave until I give him a grandbaby - with you.” I look at Kayce pointedly. It’s no secret that Mr. John, and Beth by extension, have been holding out hope that me and Kayce would fall madly in love and have lots of babies. When Kayce married Monica the teasing and hinting stopped, after all Mr. John would never disrespect their marriage in such a way, and when I married Judd it was almost like a fence went up between us, between myself and the Duttons that is, but now that both of our spouses are out of the picture? I’m certainly not surprised the trouble has started back up.

I expect Kayce to splutter and turn a darker shade of red. Despite his gruff exterior he’s always been reserved and easy to embarrass. He surprises me though when he mutters, “Maybe we should just give him what he wants then. Get him and Beth off our backs.”

I shock myself with the cackle that bursts its way out of my body. It bubbles out partly because of the utter glee I get from Kayce having a sense of humor for once and partly from the insanity of such a suggestion. “So you’re telling me, that your solution to getting your daddy and Beth to leave us alone, is to have a baby together? Yeah, because they definitely would have no interest in our love lives after a stunt like that.” I bump his hip with mine. “I can just hear Beth now, ‘I’m thinking a Fall wedding, you look horrible in bright colors and nobody wants to wear a suit in eighty-eight degree weather.’ We’d never hear the end of it.”

Kayce shrugs, shooting me a wry grin. “Hey, if we marry each other at least we’ll know what we’re getting into. No surprises.”

“Yeah, and no sex,” slips past my lips before I can swallow it down. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Good job Caroline, talk about fucking, or not fucking, your best friend some more why don’t you. Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Pink from the roots of my hair to my chest. And what a fatal mistake I’ve made by opening my fat mouth. My whole life I’ve had to be one step ahead of Kayce, embarrassing him before he can embarrass me worse, yet here I am giving him a golden opportunity.

His grin only widens. “I hate to break it to you Carrie, but to make a baby people have to have sex.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, adding insult to injury. “You know when a man loves a woman…”

I elbow him in the ribs before he can continue. He laughs at my embarrassment just as much as he groans from the pain. “Oh shut up.” Now I cross my arms, increasing my stride so that his arm falls from my shoulders.

He doesn’t even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust. If Kayce had always been shy and reserved in his day to day life, where I had been bright and obnoxious in mine, the topic of sex is where we switched places. I think calling myself a prude may be a tad harsh, but I certainly have never been one to broadcast my sexual business. Kayce on the other hand has never shied away from flirting, or kissing, or having sex in nearly every one of Mr. John’s pastures - you don’t get someone pregnant at nineteen by keeping it in your pants after all. 

Playing the game I had with Kayce in the bathroom earlier today had felt safe, probably because I was the one in control, but this battle of wills feels altogether different, like someone is poking at an insecurity, at a bruise I didn’t even know I had. It’s confusing at best and humiliating at worst. Throwing his words back at him, I huff, “Now Kayce Dutton, you know this conversation is entirely improper, so I suggest you drop it. And also,” I whirl around on the step I’ve just taken. Thank God we’ve reached the foreman’s house because I don’t know how much longer I can participate in this back and forth before I’m forced to will myself out of existence. “Who says I’d even want to have a baby with you? Good authority or not. I know ya’ll’ve gotten new ranch hands since I’ve last been here, all of whom I haven’t gotten to size up yet. You never know, maybe one of them is babydaddy material.” I poke him firmly in the chest. “Don’t assume I haven’t got options.” Before Kayce can respond I storm up the remaining steps and into the house, kicking my boots off perhaps a bit too aggressively before striding into the kitchen. What I plan to do in the kitchen, I don’t know, but I still don’t know which room I’m staying in and the living room feels too cozy to stew in, so the kitchen it is.

Kayce saddles in much more calmly, but his fierce expression gives his true feelings away. “Are you serious?” He grunts, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, mad, confused, hurt - for some reason that alludes me, I might have found the rocky timbre of his voice sexy. 

“Serious about what?” I avoid his gaze petulantly, pouring myself a glass of water for a lack of anything better to do.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He groans, tipping his head back and rubbing at his eyes. “Are you really picking a fight over whether or not we should get imaginary married, have imaginary sex, and have an imaginary baby? You do hear how crazy that sounds?”

“So now I’m crazy?” My voice is cool, and serious, even though at this point I realize I’ve lost the argument. Even though I’ve realized there never should’ve been an argument in the first place.

Any fight Kayce had left in him drains away. I see the moment that it leaves his body, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “Caroline, honey, what’d I do?”

Almost as if there’s an invisible string connecting us, my body relaxes too. I blow out a breath, dump my water down the drain, and come to stand in front of him. No island between us. “You didn’t really do anything, just poked at a sore spot, that’s all.”

Sensing that this may be a conversation best saved for later, Kayce graciously changes the subject. Scratching at the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing towards the bathroom with the other he murmurs, “Well uh, if you still wanna have that spa night we should probably get going, we’ve got a early morning tomorrow and if I’m gonna let you take my spa virginity we’ve gotta do this thing right.” That earns him a hard exhale, the ghost of what could’ve been a laugh. But he must know not to expect much else, that I’m still nursing my bruised ego, because he carries on. “So why don’t I go get that bubble bath started and you can sort through your uh lotions and potions, decide on how best to pretty me up. And then maybe we could talk, about anything you want.” He begins to walk backwards, making his way towards the bathroom. It’s odd to hear the soft pad of his socked feet on the hardwood and not the click of his boots, but also kind of nice, endearing.

“Okay,” I breath, “Yeah, that’d be - that’d be nice.” I move to walk past him, into the hall where I’d left my bags. “I think you’ve got a bit of a sunburn so I’ll see if I’ve got an aloe mask for you. If you plan on putting yourself back on the market you’d better start taking care of your looks.”

I’m very purposefully facing away from him, so I don’t see the melancholy on his face so much as I hear it in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. My days of chasing tail are definitely over.” I don’t reply, not too keen on opening that can of worms further, and so an uncomfortable silence settles over us. It’s only broken when Kayce sighs, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll be in the bathroom whenever you’re ready.”

Still looking down, I pause the mindless shuffling I’d been doing through my bags, “Alright, just give me a few minutes.” Having found the masks I was looking for well before now, I finally rise from out of my crouch, left knee popping in protest. “Like you said, you deserve a proper first spa night,” I turn my body to reveal my profile, pretending to check the label of the plastic tub in my hands, “I’ve gotta make sure I pull out all the stops. You know I don’t half ass anything.” Feeling generous, I finally offer him a small smile, turning to fully face him.

The relief in his eyes catches me off guard. “Don’t I know it.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t know what I expected when Kayce said he’d go run a bubble bath. Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t consider that such an activity is typically done alone, certainly not with a friend, and even more certainly not with a totally platonic, albeit sexy, boy bestfriend. When I finally make my way into the bathroom however, I’m greeted by the sight of Kayce settled into the comically large clawfoot tub, chin tucked to his chest so that bubbles cling to his beard, eyes unfocused and contemplative. “Didn’t realize I invited Santa Claus.” I joke, at a loss for anything else to say. Too scared to say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.

At the sound of my voice his head jerks up, the sudden movement sloshing water just shy of the lip of the tub. “Santa Claus?” He furrows his eyebrows. He really does look like a puppy.

“You’ve got bubbles,” I gesture to my chin, miming a full beard.

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah, I guess I just got bored and,” he shrugs, “I’ve gotten used to playing with Tate in the bath. You’re lucky I didn’t break out the bubble mohawk.”

“The bubble mohawk?” I giggle, “I don’t know, I think I’d like to see that actually. Just make sure I’ve got a camera on me when you do break it out, yeah?” Lining my “lotions and potions” up on the counter, I look away, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here, or what Kayce expects me to do, to say.

He must sense my hesitancy because he volunteers, “I hope I got the water hot enough. I know how you women like to scorch your skin off, but I’m afraid I’m just a bit too delicate.” He’s pushed himself into a full sitting position now. The water pools just under his chest and it takes everything in me to meet his eyes.

“So we are taking a bath together then?” I huff. “Because that’s not weird at all.” Still, I move to pull my blouse up and over my head, clipping my hair up so that it no longer hangs down my back. “And if you’re not actively in pain, then no, you don’t have the water hot enough. But that’s alright, I’ll manage.”

Ignoring my comment about the water, his eyebrows furrow once again in confusion. “Why’s it weird? You’re the one that suggested it.”

“No. I didn’t.” I shoot some side eye at him, because who in their right mind would suggest such a thing. Hopping around to remove my socks before balling them up and tossing them into the hall so that they don’t get wet, I continue, “And it’s weird because usually when grown adults take a bath together it’s only because something else is gonna follow.”

Rolling his eyes, he insists, “Yes. You did. You said you normally take a bubble bath for spa nights, so here we are, taking a bubble bath. And it’s not weird. I’m wearing my underwear, and I assumed you’d wear yours too. It’s no different than going swimming together.” He sounds way too exasperated for a conversation that is this stupid.

Remember how I said Kayce and I have never had trouble reading each other? Yeah I take that back. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I sigh, “That was not a suggestion. That was a statement. But thank you for the clarification. Now before I literally die of embarrassment, would you like the lavender hair mask,” I forcefully lift one colorful jar into the air, and then another, “or the apple?”

Looking as fed up as I feel, Kayce responds gruffly, “The lavender.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @cheneyq @targaryenpower @starset21 @darlingmunson30 @ilovemrytleturtle @screechingtriumphtiger @chlo-feigh @twoheartedfool @softi92 @hannahufflepuff @its-moonblr

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #john dutton #beth dutton #monica dutton #yellowstone oneshot #kayce dutton oneshot #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton x you #kayce dutton x original character #kayce dutton fic #kayce dutton fanfiction #kayce dutton smut #eventual smut #friends to lovers

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

it's already january 1 in my timezone so ... time to be sappy

this blog is full of surprises on my end - from asks that made me go ' wait that's a very good idea ' and changing the direction of the story , me drifting away from the normal ask blog format to a story one , and ... well , having a dedicated community ! truly , i never expected there's this much demand for rag doll torment . i'm sorry that i don't reblog every fan content , even though this is not my first time being in the spotlight this is my first time having attention of this kind , so ... please know they're very much appreciated ^^;;

another thing i didn't expect is for people to actually engage with the mod ... ! idk i didn't expect to get asks relating to me , and i'm (: when i get some ! i guess it's nice to know that people also care about the artist behind the blog

i'm glad that i could be an inspiration to many . i'm very flattered that i even inspired some people's ask blogs ! really you guys are free to run with the 'anons are the voices in the character's head' concept i would love to see other's takes on it !

to start the new year , i want to personally give shoutouts to some other ask blogs that i like , or are interested in !

@kaufmo-is-alive - UNDERRATED !! i just love how fun this blog is and i see the creator has put a lot of work into it ! if you like kaufmo and the circus members being silly , go check it out !

@ask-a-hiding-jester - this has a very interesting premise and also there's a lot of plans behind this that i'm interested in , so ... (: if you like horror , go check it out !

@ask-pomni-anything - this has very cool art and also has a bit of a story going on , i really recommend checking it out (:

@pomni-xddcc - they ruined my life <3 !! and also was the inspiration to why i opened this blog in the first place so ...

thank you , really ! this is everything i asked for . might sound stupid but as someone who has personally grown up on fnaf and undertale ask blogs , i've always wanted to do this kind of thing - so it's very nice seeing it get this much love (: very touched !

ok enough sappiness expect the new comic in a few

#[ ooc ]

[dangerouslyknown]

Hi! Please do headcanons for gojo like you did Higuruma x

Satoru Gojo Headcanons 💎

A/N: Thanks for the request! My JJK obsession is hitting like a truck. I hope I delivered these Gojo headcanons well, mwah

Contents/Warnings: General headcanons, relationship headcanons both SFW & NSFW. Reader/partner is referred as "his S/O" or by they/them so gn!reader

General Headcanons

He used to play Moviestarplanet. He was sooo popular too. He had lots of friends and he made the silliest movies/artbooks which people loved

He likes to sing and usually he sings whatever is stuck in his head on random occasions, without really trying to sound good

...but oh boy if you ever get the chance to do actual karaoke with him... He sings beautifully when he puts the effort in. What a gorgeous voice, it almost surprises everyone

He goes crazy about Lady Gaga's songs and he loves to do silly little performances whenever he hears any of her songs

Gojo is also a Swiftie???

Somehow I feel like he is TERRIBLE when it comes to spending money. He hasn't had a day in his life where he had to worry about financial stuff, so...

He's the type of guy buy an expensive ice cream machine, then accidentally break it and buy a new one like it's nothing

He used to troll people online as a teen...

Actually, he probably still does it for the heck of it. He isn't one to do anything super offensive, but he enjoys messing with people

SFW Relationship headcanons

He hasn´t been in many relationships in his life, mostly because he rarely lets anyone close. Bro has trust issues :(

He dislikes being vulnerable in front of others, but his S/O is who he shows his true self. It is not something to take lightly

He KNOWS he is attractive and it flatters his ego when he is complimented on it, but if one wants to win his heart, you need to go deeper than that. He wants a person who truly appreciates him beyond looks

His love language is gift giving. He will gift his S/O anything they desire, and it´s his way of showing he cares. He gets excited like a kid in a candy store when he brings his S/O something and waits for them to open the gift

Most of the time it doesn't even have to be anything expensive. Of course he likes to spoil his S/O, but sometimes he just sees something small, which reminds him of them and he decides to buy it

Then, his unofficial love language is being annoying. He would ask "would you still love me if I was a worm" and whatnot

Related to that, he would act all smug and probably provoke arguments with his S/O just to entertain himself (but he's not malicious about it of course!)

When he sees something romantic, he would say "Ewww, sappy romance stuff" and then do exactly those things in private

He likes to show off with his relationship? Y'know, like posting about it in social media and PDA

This also ties to when he holds great pride in the thought that he's able to protect them no matter what. Maybe he's also a bit jealous and likes to show others that his S/O truly is his, and only his

Looooves to dress in matching clothing with his S/O!

Also, if he'd play online games with his S/O, he'd definitely want to do matching usernames (Sometimes it'd be cringe, but that's a part of why he loves doing it)

(NSFW under the cut)

NSFW Relationship headcanons

Leans towards being more kinky tbh

This man likes to have fun, okay? He is super adventurous in the bedroom. He's always coming up with new ideas for his S/O and him to try, and he usually is the one to initiate

He'd love to bring in ropes, blindfolds, toys of all kind and everything you could think of. He wants to use them on his S/O, but isn't against the idea being toys or ropes used on him either blindfolds wouldn't even work on him though

He´s a fan of playing with the dynamics. The vibes he gives is 50% pillow princess and 50% daddy, so there's never a dull moment when he switches up things with his S/O

He lives for teasing in the bedroom. You are not going to get anything easily from his arrogant ass: If he's a sub, he's going to be a brat. If he's a top, you need to beg him

He is capable of being serious during intimate time, but most of the time there's going to be funny and goofy moments

I could 100% see him doing something like slapping his dick against his S/O's face, then grin. At the same time it's hot but it's also hilarious (in his opinion)

Speaking of his cock, I think it's bigger than average. Length is impressive, then girth is more average-ish

Definitely very vocal during sex. He will not shut up whether it's whimpers or dirty talk

I think he loves to fuck his S/O from behind. He loves to kiss the back of their neck, their shoulders and all over their back while going at it

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo imagine #jjk #dangerouslyknown #dangerouslyknownworks #dangerouslyknownrequest #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #Gojo relationship headcanons

[sharptoothed-gaze]

Rant about qsmp management below:

After reading the testimony of the ex-head writer of the qsmp and other past admins I’m so confused. Like,, who the fuck was the one making calls saying “this specific task has to be done within a day” out of nowhere???

For what purpose?? It makes zero sense to me how you could require /any/ team to come up with so many assets so quickly when the head writer, designers, social media accounts, AND translators all had no clue what they were ultimately going to be used for. Where the fuck was the crunch coming from? There isn’t a rule saying mc servers must have a rushed event every specific number of days, so nothing /had/ to be done this way.

I’m just so fascinated by the short sightedness of this system?? Especially because these dates and deadlines were made up entirely internally. Fans didn’t make up when Purgatory /must/ go live. The social media accounts were only told about the event a bit before us, much to their panic and confusion. Then, that sudden announcement results in fans getting excited for a new event, all while the head writer was being told they had a day to write scripts for everything. I’m so confused how a project could so consitantly create its own issue. Workers were clearly suffering this way and for no reason. A basic level of scheduling, a simple calendar, would fix this. Hell just put dates on the discord server in a shared channel only used for announcements so people can see.

This entire failure is something so solvable too which is probably what gets me! Like wtf, person at the top of the pyramid, you’re the one making the rules?? The dates are what you make them to be higher ups! Nothing was stopping the decision makers from pushing their expectations back a bit and giving people even just a week to work.

This entire thing reads like a non-creative with zero management experience being in charge of the project. That’s the only way I can wrap my head around someone thinking script writing, modeling, and website design could happen /consistently/ within a few hours notice.

That’s the kind of opinion my mom would have about anything art or creativity related. It’s disheartening as fuck when someone essentially thinks you press a button and then you just instantly spit out work. It shows that they don’t understand the time and effort required to make something good.

Such a blatant lack of understanding or appreciation like that grinds my gears. No matter how you cut the cake, after a certain point it shows an unwillingness to care and a lack of respect. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE THIS IS A CREATIVE PROJECT!!! The qsmp /required/ a high level of care about these fields if they wanted to maintain the image they had.

—-

Anyway, I know this is a negatively skewed rant and it’s very frustrating, but I want it to be clear that Creatives will always deserve better. Everyone deserves better than a manager who doesn’t understand/give a shit about their craft. If that is the case, they at the very least, need to hire someone who does.

#y’all let me know if these needs other tags #It is pretty much a frustrated rant about management #which I understand not everyone wants to read #dispite this all I love you qsmp community and admins #I see your work and I appreciate it daily #qsmp #qsmp discourse #qsmp neg #qadmins situation

[bwabys-scenarios]

what do you think kurapika is like before you start dating?

A/N: I’m taking Kurapika requests rn!!

Whenever Kurapika and you get together, he becomes a lot softer, easier to be around for both you and others.

So before… well…

Kurapika isn’t a social person unless he needs to be to obtain the scarlet eyes or information on the phantom troupe. He doesn’t like large crowds, or being around loud people. So when he was forced into these situations before you were there to help him through it, he’d struggle.

He had a pretty short temper, and because you weren’t around to help soothe him and keep him on his best behavior, he tended to lash out when stressed or angry.

He’s distant, moody, argumentative if need be. Not someone you’d want to be around for long periods of time. Kurapika was also a very hate filled man. He let his hate take over his heart so much that it took him a while to realize that he loved you.

With you, Kurapika has become a much more agreeable person, but mostly just for you. He loves you dearly, and would do anything to keep you safe from harm. He’s kind, in a way that not many people get to see. You see him when he’s weak, vulnerable. And he appreciates that he can be something other than the hate filled man others see him as.

If you want to know how he was specifically with YOU before you two start dating, the answer is… shy and distant! It takes him a bit to realize his feelings for you, and when he does he becomes distant. He doesn’t want to be in love, it makes completing his goals harder.

But when he learns that he physically can’t function without you, he shyly begins courting you. He realizes that if he wants you, he’ll need to work on his temper.

Kurapika is a gift giver. He buys you jewelry, stuffed animals, little trinkets that relate to your interests. He may not be the most educated in pop culture, so he learns the most he can about the things you like so he can give you the perfect gifts!

This man is TOUCH STARVED. He may not realize it at first, but he’ll be subconsciously making physical contact with you as much as possible. Whether this be putting a hand on your shoulder while talking, taking your hand while walking across a busy street, or cupping your cheek when you’re upset, he’s thinking up an excuse to touch you!

Now, if you touch him, he’s melting. He loves when you run your fingers through his hair, gently squeeze his hand while asking if he’s alright, bumping your hip against his playfully. Any little touch is making him blush.

He’s shy, so I hope you’re ready for the confession to take a whiiilleeee. Kurapika may not seem like it, but he’s pretty insecure, especially since he hasn’t been taking the best care of himself the past few months. His hair is longer, he’s lost weight, and there are bags under his pretty brown eyes. Even when you smile and tell him how handsome he looks in his new work uniform, he still struggles to believe it.

He takes courting you VERY seriously. He’ll announce to you one day that he wants to court you, and you’ll tilt you head. “Are you asking me out? Because y-“

“No, no I’m courting you. Please, let me show you how much I care for you before you reject me.”

“But Pika, I wanna-“

He just hugs you, beginning to tear up. “I know I’m not the best option in the world, and I’m always busy, but I truly do love you. If you give me a chance, I promise-“

You pull away before cupping his cheeks and kissing him. When you lean back, you can see his eyes are a pretty shade of scarlet, showing you just how much he truly did love you.

“Pika, will you be my boyfriend, you big goof?”

And all he can do is nod, tears in his eyes.

#kurapika hxh #kurapika x reader #hxh kurapika #kurapika headcanons #kurapika #kurapika hunter x hunter #kurapika x y/n #x reader #anime x reader #headcanon #requests open #reader insert #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x hunter x reader #fem reader #female reader #anime x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader

[morallyinept]

Hey D! How are you feeling after the carnage of Jettsgiving?

Still bad huh? Oh, you poor thing. 😕 I think I'll be having words with Javi G... I think you need to rest up.

No, no I insist, buddy.

Aww. I know you want to help with Self-Care with Dieter & Jett this week, but you're in no fit state. Look at you...

I know, bud. Let it all out. It's okay. I think I know someone who may be able to help us out this week...

Hey! Pedro! 👋

Do you fancy filling in for Dieter this week?

Excellent!

Happy Friday everyone! Time for some Self-Care with Dieter Pedro & Jett!

Whilst Dieter recovers from the antics of Jettsgiving, this week we're going to have a look at some of the ways Pedro has practised self-care and kindness to himself.

These come in the form of quotes from some of his interviews, which I feel have relevance to the way you can show yourself some self-care too, and that a lot of us can probably relate to.

So, are you ready Pedro?

Great! Let's dive in!

Self-Care With Pedro Pascal

Anything Is Possible

Life is all about learning, whether that's absorbing factual knowledge or new skills, or whether we learn from life's lessons directly.

You learn from the moment you're conceived. As an accumulation of cells, you start to learn how to grow and develop in the womb, and even though you don't remember it, those base motor functions of learning stay with you for life.

Pedro is correct when he says anything is possible. Your learning and growth starts with you. Don't be afraid to challenge yourself, branch out and discover something new.

It's always scary or daunting to switch things up, to shake out of the mundane, or search for something new and exciting in your life. A little razzle-dazzle...

That's the spirit, Pedro!

Don't be afraid to take a leap - even if it doesn't pan out the way you wanted or predicted. Making mistakes is how we learn and move forward.

We might not always get it right the first time we try, and that's okay.

It's Okay To Indulge

Go ahead, indulge. Having a treat, or indulging in something fun gives us a serotonin boost and makes us feel happy.

Whether that's a microwave pizza like Pedro, or a slice of ooey chocolate cake (like me!), or a strawberry sparkle face mask like Dieter, treating yourself is a great way to show yourself some appreciation. To give yourself a moment or two of self-love, or as a reward if you managed to achieve something.

Indulging in something you love can also help pull you out of a funk when you're feeling blue, so go head, treat yourself, lovely. You deserve it!

Life Is For Fun. And Pasta.

It's all too easy to apply unnecessary pressure on ourselves at times. This can come in many forms too, from conscious pressures like work, college, family etc... and unconscious by the pressure we inadvertently put upon ourselves.

Writing, for example. You may feel like you have to get this fic out in this time or that time; you have to churn out as much content as you can because others are expectant of it.

Take a breath and breathe. In and out now. Slowly. That's it.

Life is for fun. As Pedro says, have as much fun as you can. Write your fic, bub. But write it for you and on your terms, not because of any pressure from anyone else.

Patience is a virtue most people have - they'll wait for you.

Seek out the fun in life. Limit your time online and get out there. There is a great big world out there and our time here is fleeting. Blink and you'd miss it. Carpe Diem, my friends.

By taking a moment to check in with yourself and allow yourself some time away from these pressures, most of which are always self-imposed, you can regain some clarity and also come back refreshed and ready to handle those challenges with ease.

And please, don't go to bed with a full tummy of pasta. Not unless you wanna end up like Dieter...

Poor baby.

Age Is Just A Number

Probably one of my most favourite things Pedro has said. And that I can relate to myself.

It's easy to lose sight of your dreams if you feel like you haven't achieved them by a certain age.

We all have some sort of pre-conceived idea of where we see our life going from a young age. Whether that's to fall in love and settle down, have an exciting career, have children, travel etc... whatever it may be.

And, when we find ourselves veering off that path, more often than not we procrastinate and worry that it's too late when it takes us some time to get back on track.

But it's never too late to achieve or seek what you want out of life. Never.

Personally, I'm discovering new things now that I hadn't considered when I was younger. Priorities shift, for whatever reason. Perhaps life throws a curveball and you find yourself having to adapt.

Either way, if you want it, go for it. Your age should never stop you from seeking happiness or fulfilment in your life.

You'll only regret it later on if you don't.

☝️This is some really great advice, Pedro. You're so wise...

Some Things We're Not Meant To Know

You can't ever predict what's going to happen in life. Even if you're prepared for it.

You can only try and do what's right, for you. Even if there is someone out there who doesn't agree or wants to do it with you.

Don't ever be afraid to go it alone, if that's what you need to do. Your happiness and contentment should always come first.

You might put something out there into the world and it's not met with the praise or reception you would have wanted.

I'll use writing as an example. I often see writers here feeling disheartened because their stories haven't got the engagement or the notes like others might have. And I'll be honest and say that I have felt like that at times too myself.

But don't compare your efforts to someone else's. You can't predict whether people will like it, agree with it, enjoy it, read it... All you can do it write it first and foremost for you.

If you're writing for the numbers, just for the engagement, you're doing it wrong.

Do it for YOU.

Embrace Who You Are

If you're someone who struggles with any kind of anxiety, then I hope you can find comfort in Pedro's words here about his own.

I made a post previously in a bit more detail about how Pedro deals with his own anxiety, and I feel it's incredibly admirable for anyone who struggles with it - whether in the spotlight or not - to embrace and accept it as a part of who they are.

It can be a tumultuous time coming to terms with it, wishing that things didn't affect you as much. And being envious or bitter that others might deal with situations better than you do is perfectly natural to feel like that.

But you never know what or how someone else is feeling. It might be that they are better at masking it than you are, but that's not to say that they aren't immune.

Don't compare yourself. You are who you are, and that person is wonderful.

Let me tell you, there is nothing wrong with you. Your feelings and emotions are valid. You are not weak. You are not helpless.

And you are stronger than you think.

Helping Others Helps Yourself

There is nothing more rewarding in self-care as there is at helping others.

Sharing and showing kindness towards others is one of the most selfless things you can do. Extending that help can ultimately make you feel good about yourself too.

When you invite good karma into your life, it can really alter your perception on the world to see more of the positive, especially in a world where it's easy to be so overwhelmed by all the negative that happens.

Showing kindness also has health benefits due to feeling more happier and at ease. Resulting in less stress and worry, which we all know can be detrimental to our mental and physical health over time.

So, when was the last time you spread some kindness? It's never too late to brighten someone's day, even if it's a stranger.

You'll never know the true impact that kindness can have on someone else.

Thank you so much for stopping by today, Pedro! You've been a great help whilst Dieter recovers.

See you again soon, handsome. 😊

Here D, how are you feeling? I've made you some soup. Eat it slowly. So, Pedro really had some great things to say this week, don't you think?

No?? Jealousy becomes you, my dude. Don't worry, you're still my main man. Budge up, I'll give you a cuddle.

Uh D, is that what I think it is...? 😳

As you can see, normal programming will resume with Dieter next week, folks... 🙄

Until next time, stay kind, stay creamy. 🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do You. Then do Dieter.

More Dieter and Jett Self-Care here.

ℹ️ Dieter and I always strive to bring you unbiased, fact-checked advice. We're not licensed therapists, so we do a lot of research to ensure we can provide helpful and informative posts. Well, I do. Dieter mostly sits around eating KitKats.

#self care with dieter & jett #self care with pedro & jett #pedro pascal #dieter bravo x female reader #self care #be kind #do you #then do dieter #you are stronger than you think

[ptsdangeldust]

tw rape / abuse / suicidal ideation / self harm

can i just fucking say that the "poison" scene was just fucking flawless to me. as a survivor of rape and psychological abuse it was so fucking hard to watch and hit on every note i wanted it to. the suicidal ideation, the self destruction, the pain, the torment, the addiction, the hopelessness, everything.

[this got long LOL big analysis of ep4 basically]

also it's a little funny how easily i called it when the pilot came out that angel was gonna have ptsd and cope with it through hypersexuality . like this was obvious from the start to me and they do telegraph / foreshadow it from the first episode pretty well in my opinion. like ALMOST too much. but at the same time i'm kind of glad. like that's what i like about the show is that it *is* so raw and over the top when it talks about this kind of thing. that's why i like campy edgy uncomfortable shit bc where the fuck else am i gonna hear anyone specifically hit the perfect sweet spot of just exploitative-feeling enough to feel palpably uncomfortable in a way that just like. perfectly conveys this message. in my opinion, obviously.

it's like so crazy to me that i had this exact high expectation for the show and adjusted for edginess and got exactly what i wanted and then some. like. god. they hit every note in succession all at once and then tied it off with a beautiful, nuanced but genuinely well paced and well thought out resolution.

"loser, baby" was so fucking perfect as the counterpoint to "poison" in this episode. also charlie coming in and being purehearted but not knowing what she's doing and making it worse. but angel ultimately understanding that she meant to help and it's not her that's the problem obviously. and then husk is ultimately the one to give a shit about angel (with some encouragement, which like i honestly appreciate that he doesn't take angel's bullshit and isn't just the like Token Black Savior who has no character or agency of his own [of course i'm white so don't take me as the authority on this issue but i'm certainly aware of it]) and like not only try to stop him from self destructing but like relate his experience and make him admit he has a fucking problem. sooooo much of abuse is built on making the victim think they're at fault for what they're going through. the way val makes him look in the mirror and say "yes" outloud to himself over and over while literally holding his head and threatening him was such a good way of driving that home. and then we see angel have so much pride poked at so easily when he's called fake because he's SO aware he's putting on an act. he lets himself be exploited because he thinks it gives him a sense of control. can't be called fake if i'm an actor. can't prove i'm ever real. never have to BE real. never have to admit that anything is wrong and come to terms with it.

and so husk comes right the fuck out and says it. you're a loser. you're washed up. you're a has been. you're self destructive. you hurt everyone around you. ..... and you're not alone. THAT'S the important part. that's the real thing that gets you out of abuse. people. not being alone. like not just KNOWING that THEORETICALLY you're not alone but actually having people show up and help you and put in the work and relate to you and listen to you and let you listen to them. that's why abusers chronically work to isolate people. because it's so much easier to exploit someone who has absolutely no support system. who only answers to them. who has no one to turn to if shit goes sour.

ok also the fucking hypersexual self harm? i have NEVER seen that portrayed so accurately and so explicitly before. i feel like basically every single time i see it talked about at ALL in media it's either 1) portrayed as like sexy or ultimately good 2) strays totally the opposite direction and is talking more about cycle of abuse shit (which yes that's also important but not what i'm after) 3) really just hinted at / i have to like extrapolate it from vague hints or 4) exists in shitty media that is not ultimately trying to tell a story about escaping abuse it's just talking about a tragic waif and trying to make you feel sad. which is just another kind of exploitation really. so it was very refreshing to see it made very clear that angel was going around *trying* to get drugraped (which is NOOOOOT the same as consent. but i'm not going to get into that) because he was trying to hurt himself. he knew it wasn't good for him and he sought it out anyway. he could have wound up dead and he did not care. that's how low his self esteem is. that's how little he thinks of himself. that's how absolutely terminal his suicidal ideation is. i like used the word 'passive' at first but no i would not call that passive he is clearly actively suicidal hsuidguhds (ftr passive suicidal ideation is like. 'i wish i could go to sleep and not wake up.' but not actually acting on it. active is when you start purposely not looking both ways when you cross the street. that's basically what angel was doing)

anyway yeah. ep4 was kind of the peak for me i'm ngl HUIDGHIS obviously i'm very excited to see where things are going in general but especially more huskerdust........ i would like live if they didn't actually end up together but it feels clear to me that they genuinely care about each other and at least angel does seem to have... romantic-leaning feelings for him. would be cool if they had some scene where husk is like just cuz i care about you doesn't mean i'm going to be your magic saviour through love or whatever. bc i feel like it would be so easy for angel to immediately want and/or expect that. i did personally coming out of my abuse where i was absolutely desperate for real actual non-abusive love of any kind but i was NOT remotely healthy enough to truly accept it then even if it had actually been handed to me and i wound up in something that was..... better, yes, but ultimately still toxic and not completely ideal. not abusive, no, just not like. healthy. lol. but i do have good healthy happy love now so i'm glad lol <3 but like anyway this is a common thing with abuse survivors and it would *make sense* to see it but like i wouldn't put it past them to just go straight into "and then angel got better immediately and they got together and everyone lived happily ever after the end" HSDUIGSHUID but like idk man. we'll see LOL

also i did want to comment on like...... the fact that the scene was worked on by someone with a legit rape fetish who was like straight up into angel/val as a ship and thought it was like cool and fun or whatever. like. i really don't think the scene itself came off as glorifying rape or abuse. it's blatantly obvious that it's not good and the emphasis is placed entirely on angel's pain. and like it's. it's not porn. it's evocative. it's explicit. but the purpose of the scene is not "look at this hot sexy sex" it's "look at this horrifying abuse". like yes obviously there are gonna be people who get off on it but people can get off on anything if they try hard enough. porn is art explicitly meant for jacking off. not everything about sex is porn. i think if you interpret it as glorifying sex you're honestly out of your goddamn mind. the song ends with angel talking about how he wants to fucking die because of it. is that glorification to you?? really???

ultimately, *I* think it's good. i think, objectively, the team did an extremely good job. give them an award or something. i swear. where's the oscar. my boy angel needs his oscar LOL

... one last note, because this is tumblr: this is very triggering material. probably it should've had a better warning of some kind. but it is telegraphed/foreshadowed like i said and the show is rated 16+ on amazon (i feel like it should be 18+ imo but it's like. it's repeatedly listed as being for adults/"R rated" in promo material at least) and sex and violence are listed right there at the top of each episode where it shows the rating so like. idk man. that's as much warning as is usually given for this kind of thing ngl. i absolutely am not saying it's not triggering. but it is important to portray triggering things. it is important to talk about these things to give people in these situations someone to relate to and to give them the language to understand how to escape abuse, first of all, and like also art in general *should* be challenging. i think they genuinely said important, unique things and said them well. they did wayyyy better than i thought they would. for real. like esp coming from viv knowing her past like. clearly someone in the room actually knew what they were doing lmao (one of the writers for hazbin also worked on the episodes in helluva that covered similar abuse recovery material so. you know)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #? ig #my post

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Hello! I know you're one of the people who ship Moon and Solar (TSAMS) And y'all have gotten me into the ship as well! XD I'm not caught up on the lore of the show(s) So i haven't even seen Solar IN SHOW before (i am very behind to before Lunar was Sun and Moons brother :' D) But I have some ideas I'm debating writing for the ship buttt....I have no clue how Canon Solar acts??? Do you know if theres somewhere I could find a Summary on his personality? (and I suppose...new Moon?) I'll probably unintentionally make them OOC...never written for anything TSAMS related, but i'll try!

And is there a ship names thats...like used for them instead of Solar X Moon or is it just called that?

Anywho, I hope you have a good day/night!!! You make awesome stuff! (And I know theres been some people making drama over the ship, I hope you don't let them get to you too much tho!! <3 /P)

🦈Anon

AWESOME!

Heheheh. Thank you. I've been shipping these two since June 2023 so I'm glad I can share the brainrot and some people are more welcoming and cool then I expect. (mostly the ones who can't think critically are the youtube audience but that's expected. Since a lot of the youtube target audience are... like.. minors or really young adults who can't conceive the concept.)

I rewatch that Episode where Solar changes his name and rebuilds the Daycare in a week just for Moon constantly cause it's just... so much admiration and appreciation Moon has for Solar in that episode. I swear I don't know if it was a flub on the actor's part... but I swear Moon calls him 'sexy' as he's dragging him to charge. the stock sound effect of "OOOOH" doesn't help my APD and I've listened so many times and I have no possible idea what Moon could be saying to Solar other then 'come here you stupid, sexy-...." (trails off) sooo... idk. I might have misheard that severely but that's just what I'm hearing.

Like, in terms of New Lore of the show, it gets pretty complicated.

So complicated in fact, TSAMS themselves released a new video on the subject.... But it's NOT a very good guide, as it misses a lot of things. (and no I don't mean the stupid guest cameo stuff) this is more or less an abridged take on what happens with no emotional impact:

Like, this is a good starting point if you want the barest of bones, but it misses so much stuff. I think they don't even mention how Solar gets introduced into this family. lol. Just like "yeah Im here and I helped kill Eclipse" fheahehf. It's a super well made video though, and I don't mind the editing mistakes (clearly when the actors change the avatar on screen.... whoops. Happens a few times)

There is also the Fan Wiki, but as of now, it is incomplete, (@twinanimatronics is working tirelessly on updating the wiki and I wish they got more reconignition from the tsams community as a whole ) but it does give a decent look into Solar

There is also the huge TSAMS Lore Document, which Ceph(twinanimatronics) also worked on which contains a further detailed explanation of the story so far, for those who don't have time to watch 2 years worth of youtube content that aren't in a concrete playlist. (TSAMS. PLAYLIST YOUR STUFF PROPERLY. YOU HAVE TWO YEARS OF LORE HERE)

Liike.... yeah... this is okay but like..

This is VRchat. Aka the lore. Which also includes when they play videogames in VRchat, which don't impact the story... Like Uno, Amongus and SCP stuff.....

And it doesn't divide the arcs. Something that TSAMS severely needs more then any other SB Show channel.

Also, in the early days, the gameplay videos USED to be part of the lore. As the concept of Eclipse itself, being a rouge evil ai that lived in Sun's head (as it was presented initially but we know the truth it was the killcode moon planted in Sun when they separated.)

These days, they kinda dropped the gameplay videos being directly connected to the over arching plot. Other then just saying that their vids are pre-recorded or "we're back" after an annual halloween takeover.

Not to mention... When Earth and Lunar got a show, they became intertwined with the Sun and Moon show. LAES is very much it's own thing, but it's the ONLY Security Breach Show that consists of two Original Characters spawned from the Sun and Moon show. A rarity. So their lore continues off from the Sun and moon show, giving more info on Lunar these days and Earth (their sister)

Then you have the Monty and Foxy show (which is my least favorite of the shows... Personal Preference. I try not to complain cus I know some people like it. But I do not like the plot points in that show, or the character writing and weird directions they take while being connected to the same universe.)

And Monty is a character voiced by Davis, who also voices Sun. So Monty started out as a prominent character on the Sun and Moon Show, and then got his OWN show... at a point in TSAMS history after Eclipse got the star and killed Lunar.

So yeah. I wish the playlists were better organized here. So we knew when each era starts.

(people say Matpat should get on this show lore... And noooooooo no thanks. Keep him away. We got you covered. Ceph honestly has enough info to make a video guide at this point.)

But long story short, Solar is a "Good Eclipse" from another dimension that the Old Moon introduced to Lunar, when Lunar was struggling with his trauma of leaving Eclipse. Good Eclipse and Lunar become friends.

Anyway, here are some key episodes that outline NewMoon and Solar's relationship, as Solar had never met the Old Moon.

Old Moon had never met Solar. It was New Moon who introduced himself to Solar to help defeating Eclipse once and for all. (and by this point lunar had died)

He was actually surprised that this Moon was a chill Moon and could be reasoned with and talked to, considering he was living a rather oppressive life from his own Moon.

There's also a whole episode saga of just these two bantering and talking while they work on the satellite together. I can't remember which specific episodes those are.

You can also see the difference between the Evil Eclipse and Good Eclipse here in one of my all time favorite episodes:

Moon saving Solar's life: (also the death of the bad Eclipse)

Everything is good and happy after Eclipse dies for awhile. (aside of Ruin and Bloodmoon wrecking shit) He goes back to his own dimension... and you get to see what his sad life is like:

From his Moon calling him "byproduct" and failure very often.

But... Something happens and Solar is forced to come to Moon's dimension

here's Solar at his poor little meow meow "I have nowhere to go" stage and just... thought to go to Moon immediately due to their history.

Moon's only question about Solar moving in, is that if he wanted him to blacklist his dimension once he heard what was going on with his Moon.

And immediately, Solar jumps in to help Moon with his problems.

Also during the halloween takeover part 2 electric boogaloo, Solar was the one to help get Sun and Moon back after being teleported to a different dimension with no hopes of returning

Also, after Ruin was cured and Bloodmon ran off, Solar rebuilt the ruined Daycare in a week. And Moon is so grateful for it. (i rewatch this episode a lot. It cemented the ship in my mind and built the commodity that they've been building up for months)

We also get what Solar's daily life is like so far... How out of place he feels, being someone from a different dimension, despite the Brothers (and sister's) insistence, he still doesn't really feel like he's part of the family. He feels like an outsider. (He also has less opportunities to hang out with Lunar. As he expressed interest in playing games with him like the good old days, and as of recently, they have not yet)

also a good example of the Celestial family changing minds on family dynamics because they are robots. Lunar flat out rejected Vegeta-Animatronic is his brother even if he technically is. Like, they're robots. They can change their relationships to each other based on their word. I like to see it more flexible then it is in reality with actual people/humans.

Moon also trying to make Solar feel comfortable and feel like he's adjusting well here. Expressing his concern for him doing so much for him and his family. And hoping to not pressure him into so much work.

As of recently, his Sun died, and he killed his Moon. And in his therapy session (on the Lunar and Earth Show) he expressed regret over "Leaving" them...

But he has not properly told anyone about this.

My reasoning is that he probably thinks that the family will jump on the chance to call him "Evil" .....They don't have good luck with Eclipses.... and every Eclipse they met other than him has been Evil. (that must weigh on you. Every version of yourself is deemed as evil across every dimension. You are the only good one. Maybe there is something wrong with you)

I'm already at the video limit, but on Lunar and Earth show, there is an interesting episode where Lunar goes into Solar's head, and his mindscape looks like the Willy Wonka TV room, because it was a movie he watched with his Sun before they separated and Sun died. Showing that he did care about his Sun a whole lot... Which is probably why he doesn't interact with our Sun that much alone.

He also compartmentalizes everything before he can feel emotions, playing his own memories in third person as if he's not experiencing them.

Not to mention, he organizes and separates his thoughts on NewMoon and HIS Moon, just so he won't associate the two.

I also missed what episode it was, but Solar is always the first to call Moon out when he's being angry, or irrational, and Sun admits in his therapy session, that Solar is the only person who can calm Moon down. (mainly cus he's used to it, but unlike his old moon, this moon listens)

Anyway...

I love Solar a lot, can you tell?

#danachan's replies #danachan's asks #solarmoon #solar x moon #Solar analysis

[turbulentscrawl]

Identity(V) Headcanons: Luca Balsa

Next up!

Again, I am new to the IDV fandom, and I have never played the game, so these headcanons are informed by my ongoing lore dives sourcing the wiki, japanese twitter responses, comics, stageplay, and more! Some of these may relate to or even contradict character backstory, and some of them are just pure vibes for me. If you like it, consider shooting a request ;)

-So to start, I personally headcanon that Luca initiated the fight that led to the electrical accident. He’s always been hot-headed and impulsive, especially in regard to the source of his pride. I don’t think he intended for the confrontation with Alva to end anywhere near the way it did, but I do think he felt a good shove or two were well-warranted when he found out "his" ideas were being stolen. It’s when Alva fought back a little too viciously that the accident happened—and it well and truly was an accident. Not that it matters much when the only survivor doesn’t remember the event at all.

-He has headaches regularly, and terrible migraines at least once a week. He’s yet to find a way to relieve the migraines and, even worse, they are typically followed by an episode of more intense amnesia. Under normal circumstances, Luca’s memory problems are manageable. He doesn’t remember the accident, and there are massive blackouts in the memories beyond it, but on the average day he only struggles with small details of more recent events. During these post-migraine episodes, though, he completely loses all context for where he is, what he is doing, and who the people around him are. Most of the time, the important bits come back…but not always.

-Forgotten memories are also sometimes sporadically triggered by something mundane. A word, a texture, a sound, and suddenly he’s frozen stock-still in the face of a one-person cinematic viewing. By the time he turns to tell someone about it, though, the memory is gone again.

-To try to combat these issues, Luca keeps notebooks stashed everywhere. He writes down anything that might be important, as well as anything sentimental. The obvious issue with this, however, is that he doesn’t always remember where he keeps these notebooks.

-Despite his memory problems, his personality is largely in-tact. He maintains a lot of gentlemanly mannerisms and is cordial, if not outright friendly, to just about everyone he meets. Generally, he’s only “rude” in the sense that his attention tends to shift very abruptly.

-He’s the sort of person who appreciates variety. In people, food, scenery, just about everything. Part of why he gets along with so many people is because he can genuinely appreciate all manner of skillsets and hobbies. Likewise, to be a friend to him you only need to show appreciation for his work; understanding is not a requirement.

-It’s canon that he dislikes noise, but enjoys music. These might seem like clashing sentiments, but what it really comes down to is expected noise. Music can be relaxing, inspiring, rush-inducing! It holds your mind’s hand and hurries it along its thoughtful way. JUST noise is…chaotic, distracting, and sometimes startling. Plus, Luca likes being able to hum along while he works.

-It’s common to be static-zapped if you touch him. Long-term contact can even cause your hair to start standing on end. Unfortunately, it isn’t something he can control, so just be prepared to deal with it.

-The best Love Language to give Luca is Quality Time. He can honestly work with pretty much all of them, but Quality Time checks multiple boxes—especially if you’re good with parallel play. For one, he gets so busy with his work that it sometimes makes him feel guilty for neglecting the people he cares about. If you’re comfortable just hanging around his space, doing your own thing while he does his, it’s easier for him to check in with you between the erratic come-and-go of his thoughts. Those small bits of time add up, and he feels much better about his workaholic nature. Second, the more you permeate his memory, the less likely he feels he is to forget you. One of the few things he doesn’t struggle to remember is himself, his own name, and if you’re always there maybe it’ll be the same for you.

-He has trouble balancing his priorities. He often foregoes food, sleep, hygiene, and even his loved ones in favor of working on his invention. Sometimes he’s so absorbed in it that he doesn’t even understand the weight of hurtful decisions, but even when he does, he’d find it difficult to change.

-It’s also never impossible for the emotions that caused the accident to rear their head again. If someone were ever to intentionally sabotage Luca’s work or unapologetically steal his ideas, he may very well lash out with violence. Even if it were an accident, there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t be enraged.

-Luca has no idea what he’d do with himself if he ever did finish his invention. The guilt he feels for what may-have-happened is confused and warped, and he keeps it buried beneath his weighty obsession with the one thing he’s never forgotten…but if it were ever to be out of the way, Luca might be consumed by darkness.

#idv #identity v #luca balsa #idv prisoner #idv x reader #luca balsa x reader #turbulentscrawl #identity v x reader

[kitsune-oji]

Hi! Nice to find your blog! I just read your "There is no guarantee you will be different", and I loved it! I was wondering if I could request the same thing for Lucifer? And/Or Satan? Especially as these two have anger issues. And I think it could be interesting?

I especially loved to finally find a prompt/story where it's relatable for this type of trust issues. Thank you!

There's No Guarantee You will be Different

Mc who has been hurt a lot in the past (betrayed, lied to, used) even by those that promised otherwise and were nice at first and struggles to trust others because of it. Not understanding why someone would actually like/love them or not believing them, being scared of getting hurt again and again like in the past.

Of course! Sorry this took so long but I hope you like it :)

Characters: Lucifer, Satan

Other: Barbatos & Beel, Mammon

-> feel free to request this with other obey me characters too

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort-y, implied intimate actions (Lucifer), implied violence against third parties (Satan)

"You keep saying you love me, you keep promising that you will never leave, that you'll never hurt me... How do you know that? There's no guarantee. In the past, I've trusted those who told me all that and in the end, they ended up breaking all their promises anyway. Please, don't promise me things you can't keep. Even if you think you can keep them now, you don't know how it will be in the future. Maybe you'll get sick of me too, just like everyone else. I love you too but... I'm just scared. I'm sorry."

Lucifer

"...no, I guess I don't know that. You're right but you're also wrong. I love you right now and that is the truth. I can't see myself not loving you in the future and you can't expect me to act the way others have before me. ...their actions say nothing about your worth, even if it may be hard to recognize that. I'll make sure you will understand your worth. You should be proud to be yourself."

Lucifer is upset over the fact that you would hold him to the same standards as those who have hurt you in the past but after the initial displeasure, he understands that that isn't what he should be focusing on

He's convinced that the main problem is the fact that your confidence and self image has been damaged from your prior experience and that helping you build yourself back up will make you less anxious about the relationship you two have

Honestly, he's not wrong

Lucifer pays attention to verbally recognize any achievements you make and praise you for them

Sometimes, he asks you to tell him good things about yourself and will reward you for every thing you can list with confidence. Your rewards depend on what you like, obviously ;)

It's incredibly sweet when someone like Lucifer makes an effort to voice and show you how much he thinks of you. Not just the affection he as for you, which is plenty, but also how he appreciates you as another person. The skills you have, how much you do for him and his brothers, the effort he sees you put into your self-betterment and anything else positive he sees

You're an amazing person and in his eyes, everyone who has hurt and left you in the past are downright dumb and not worth your time anyway

Satan

In the first moment, it pisses Satan off so badly to hear those words that he has to go outside and search out the street cars he regularly goes to just to clear his head

Once he isn't so angry anymore, he feels bad over the fact he just stormed out like that

"I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you, just at the fact that you feel this way. They had no right to hurt you like that and I can't understand how they couldn't see how wonderful you are. You weren't appreciated by those you loved in the past but I'll make sure not to make the same mistake. I know it's hard for you to trust me but please, give me a chance to show you I'm different."

Satan regrets his initial reaction and wants to make it up to you even more

Honestly, there's a part of him that wants to make the people who hurt you pay and if you let him, he will. You won't have to hear about it if you don't want to, everything is up to you

He tries to find romance stories where the main character has gone through similar pain as you did and find love in the progress of the book with the intent that it may show you that there is always hope

If you want, he can read them to you as well

Little notes of poems and anecdotes are scattered everywhere from your school books to your lunchboxes talking about Satan's love for you and what makes you so lovable in his eyes

He makes a list of all the romantic dates he has heard or read about and wants to try with you. You can rank them with him and then Satan will do his best to make everything come true one by one

Yet the most touching and convincing situation for you were the times when Satan was so lost in his rage that he couldn't see clearly and yet the mere sound of your voice calmed him so quickly that you almost go whiplash from the way he switched around

Even cats didn't always work to make Satan get out of his blinding wrath but every time you manage to do just that, it makes you feel that you truly mean as much to him as he claims and it reassures you that maybe, this time will be different after all

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #gn mc #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #X reader #Hurt comfort #Comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #Writing