#i love how vivid your colors are he looks so full of life
Text
Rut Season Headcanons
feeding the people as promised 😔
General headcanons / all characters:
Horn/antler growth in real life animals increases exponentially during mating season, so I like to think that demon horns also increase in size during ruts.
They run hot during their cycle; flushed cheeks and blown pupils are common.
Certain animals actually “play wingman” to their siblings, helping them with courtships rather than competing with them, to increase the chance of family genes being passed on.
In line with this, the brothers shockingly fight less during rut, and are more likely to share MC during this time.
Heaven forbid a lesser demon makes a move during rut though, or there will be a brawl.
MC can calm them down and ask for mercy on the other demon’s behalf, thankfully.
Belphegor
Between his engorged horns and how much energy his cycle takes out of him, he has trouble holding his head up at times. He nods off more often during the season.
He has a deep heavy scent, something like oud or dark dark chocolate, that just surrounds him during rut. It’s a pleasant musk meant to appeal to mates; a hazy miasma that just melts your brains.
He’s so pliant the entire season. You can climb atop him any time you see him dozing somewhere and he’ll let you use him as long as you like.
The out-of-your-mind-horny hormones and drowsiness makes such a funny combination. He’ll be struggling to keep his eyes open and still climb on top of MC to mount up because they cooed at him and asked him to please them.
He’ll practically collapse right after but dammit he’ll get the job done.
It’s pretty entertaining how quickly they can rouse him just by offering themselves, really. Like waking a kid on Christmas morning, he’ll sit up even as his eyes have barely opened, all wobbly still as he reaches for MC or stumbles over to them.
He doesn’t have very flashy displays or colors like some demons, but he makes absolutely the most inviting nests. That combined with his little demon love perfume and the fact he really is just gorgeous to behold all stretched across the pillows full demon form–he still has a very strong appeal all his own.
Beelzebub
The most territorial during rut. Extra defensive of the house, his brothers, and MC. Definitely starts the most brawls with other demons at this time.
Sometimes it’s out of protectiveness, sometimes it’s to show off for MC, other times it’s just to blow off steam from how hormonal he is right now. He’s locking horns left and right.
Will straight up swing his horns or scuff the ground at other demons the way bulls do before they charge, to make them back off.
Rut is the only time lesser demons can’t appease him with an offering of food. All that’s on his mind right now is knocking skulls together and bending MC over the nearest piece of furniture.
He’s very insistent on making sure MC is fed, even more so than usual.
He can even be a little pushy with it, holding more food to their lips even as they struggle to chew what he’s already given them. He wants to see their stomach so full. It may be hard to convince him that they can’t eat any more.
I love the headcanon that he can rub his wings together to make noise the way some bugs do. I like to think it’s a hypnotic, polyphonic sound, like the tinkling of furin chimes. ( https://fb.watch/oSx4Q-bHBh/ )
The “song” can induce a pleasant daze if you don’t resist it. With everything willing and consensual of course, you could let him lay you down and take care of you for a while.
The iridescence on his wings grows more vivid during rut season, the tips taking on an almost stained glass look. With his big horns and more demonic features unveiled, he really is beautiful to see.
Asmodeus
We know he handles it the best. He retreats to his room with tea and slippers and chocolate and handles the hormonal storm like a pro. Though, there’s moments where he’s clearly straining, taking deep calming breaths that sometimes come out shaky.
He breaks now and then, even after centuries of practice, when no amount of self-care and happy thoughts can soothe the boiling heat inside of him.
Those nights, he just cycles through every toy and wand he owns, unable to keep himself sated for long without help. If MC accepts his invitation they will be there all night.
Like Belphegor, he has some pheromones going on, though much less intense–more like a natural perfume.
A heady scent like honey clings to his skin. It’s warm and he smells like sex incarnate–fittingly.
Absolutely no sparring or clacking horns. Demons who challenge him get ignored. If someone threatens MC or his brothers at this time he’ll just skip the brawl and slice them open with his claws. You’re reminded that even if he isn’t interested in the usual rut fights, he is absolutely still an effective killer.
His main mating display is preening and adorning both himself and his person of interest–so, not too different from his usual shows of love, really!
Though, his bubbly demeanor melts away to something much more sultry. He’s less playful and far more direct with his flirtations now. His gaze is so heated and his words are slower and dripping with need.
Where he would typically propose some cheerful invitation or giggle through some innuendos, during rut he’ll put his hands over MC’s, and look at them with half-lidded eyes, and tell them exactly what he’d like to be doing together right now.
Satan
Oh his face is so flushed and lovely during rut. A permanent blush on his pretty cheeks the whole season.
He can’t focus on anything. His mind is clouded and his whole body feels so hot. All he wants to do is bury himself in MC and taste their lips.
Naturally pretty good at avoiding fights though, with how practiced he is at keeping his temper down and controlling himself. No demon has the nerve to challenge him to spar anyways.
Bets are off if MC asks him to challenge someone, though. They murmur in his ear that they’d like to see him put on a show and a thrill runs through him, tail flicking around and his breath quickening. RIP the nearest demon.
MC can straight up sic him on people like an attack dog while he’s in rut. He won’t pick any fights himself, but he’s eager to display his strength for them if they ask.
It’s okay; demons are good sports about it. Everyone fights everyone during rut. No hard feelings.
The amped up demon forms are out all season. It’s too much to maintain a human glamour while your hormones are raging. Not only do his horns swell but a second, smaller pair appears. His blue eyes deepen like a storm rolling over the sea and a small, ephemeral flame can almost be seen flickering above his head, depending on the light.
He’s the biggest on scenting. Any chance he gets he’s nuzzling on MC or burying his face in their hair. He loves breathing in their scent and he loves leaving his behind on them.
Probably the most forward with his advances. At some point he’ll just herd MC into his room, even bumping them, gently, with his horns once or twice to urge them forward, then lock the door behind them and enjoy them for a few hours.
Leviathan
Fantastic at nesting. Could honestly just make a little love nest to hide away the whole season if MC agreed to it.
Those little spots/scales going up his neck on his demon form are definitely bioluminescent during this time. His horns reach higher and branch out more.
Probably one of the more likely ones to get into a brawl, actually. He’s a jealous bitch who was coaxed into a fight over a game show. Now imagine this is his mate we’re talking about, and combine that with raging rut hormones.
It’s less of a fight and more of a mauling, though. T’is the season for everyone to be reminded that he is the 5th most powerful demon alive. The few demons willing to challenge him are absolutely mangled. He shreds them in mere moments.
He loses some of his shyness in the desperation for relief. His body is aching to be touched and there’s only so much he can handle before he pulls MC in and tells them what he needs right now.
There’s so many love bites. Their skin is so soft and he can’t help but nip at them in those heated moments. If they don’t mind it, he’s more fond of marking than scenting.
Typically he’d be embarrassed about hickies or love bites showing on MC, but he’s extra possessive during rut and his sin is soothed knowing that they’re walking around with clear marks from him for any competitors to see.
Mostly he just wants them close, held snug against him, wrapped up in each other.
Mammon
He'll brawl for MC, but no one is willing to challenge him. He is unbelievably powerful. Rut makes him so frightening that even the witches usually chasing him avoid him for the season.
Also, he’s more focused on pleasing MC than dueling other demons, so he doesn’t get into many sparring matches.
His spiraling horns elongate and gently curve back like those of an eland. It's hard to keep his wings tucked away when he wants to show them off for his partner so badly.
He’s already down to bone at a moment’s notice on a normal day, but during his cycle? Mans is desperate. He’s squirming in his seat whenever he sees MC, fidgeting and biting his nails, until they can slip away together.
If MC is in reach, his hands are on them; on their knee or feeling up their thigh, anything to feel them.
When they aren’t nearby he pleasures himself just to get relief. His libido is usually high, and during his cycle it’s off the charts. MC could keep a tally of how many times they’ve caught him in the act, though it usually leads to them joining him.
His main form of display is gifts, of course. Not just flashy things; he brings MC snacks and tidbits throughout the day, or their bag or keys or a hoodie to stay warm because hey it’s chilly out today, or whatever he thinks they need at that moment.
It’s nesting behavior, with him constantly checking in to ask if they’re hungry, cold, comfortable, ect.
He wants to show that he can provide even without money. He’s an ancient beast who’s been prowling the three realms since before grim or bank accounts–or debt collectors–even existed. If he’s there, MC is taken care of. End of story.
There’s nowhere he shows that best, especially when rut is making his heart race and his blood feel like fire in his veins, than in the bedroom. All MC has to do is ask, at any time, and he’ll eagerly show them how generous he can be.
Lucifer
Oh he is gorgeous in his seasonal plumage. Homeboy invented peacocking. He is 10 million years old. He predates every colorful bird and flashy feather in existence. Peacocks were probably modeled off him. You want a mating display honey you are looking at the blueprint.
The tips of his wings take on an ultramarine hue like ink seeping onto paper. Eyespots appear on his outer feathers. They’re faint at first glance, but they flash when the light hits them, like when a cat’s eyes catch the light.
Let’s not forget that it’s not just 4 wings either, canonically he’s been said to have twelve total in full demonic form. It is the definition of a display when he unfurls them all for you.
Another character who is not going to be locking horns with anyone. He’s as feverish and flooded with hormones right now as all of his brothers are. Any demon who would challenge him in this state is just going to be hit with some ancient-dark-destroying-angel shit and be struck blind or have their insides instantly liquified or something.
He’s very tender during his cycle, actually. I know we imagine rough-and-feral when it comes to ruts, and he’ll still have MC babbling and incoherent as he desperately pounds into them at some moments, sure–
–but what he wants most right now is to sink into MC and let their scent envelop him and let their touch ease some of the fire pulsing through his body. He can’t get enough of kissing them and the sound of their heartbeat helps quiet his frenzied mind.
He’s still absolutely insatiable, naturally; at some point Lucifer just takes the rest of the season off because he knows he’s not actually going to get anything else done until it’s over.
#obey me#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me beelzebub#obey me satan#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon
415 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh oh oh can I request the Diasmonia boys having a nightmare about losing the MC and waking up to them beside them, relieved that it was just a dream and cuddling them?
Lilia Vanrouge:
Lilia woke up in a cold sweat, a little shaky but otherwise he seemed totally normal. He had been dealing with nightmarish things since he was young, and he thinks this might be why he can envision such horrible things happening to you. He was constantly tugged this way and that, never getting to choose his own path until much later in his life. He’s able to have a sigh of relief when he sees you laying in bed next to him, reaching out to touch stroke your hair, being careful not to wake you. He felt a little foolish now but he knew there were plenty of enemies roaming the earth who would be eager to take you from him, so if he wasn’t careful… No, he’d rather not think negatively now, not when you’re looking so cute beside him.
Malleus Draconia:
Malleus woke up to a storm outside, sighing as he realized he couldn’t control his emotions in his sleep and that if he didn’t get a hold on that it could prove to be a problem in the future. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, the dream coming back to him in full color despite the fact he’d rather forget it. It had been an old fear, one of losing you to some random circumstance that was so far out of his control even he felt useless, but it seemed to have reared its ugly head again. He could still feel the warmth of your body beside him despite the now chilly night, sliding back down in bed and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You find his grip is iron tight the next morning, not allowing you to slip out of it until he had risen as well.
Sebek Zigvolt:
Sebek just felt irritated, disappointed, he had been trained as a bodyguard his whole life and he was quite proud to say that he was good at it. He knew how to fight, he knew how to use his magic, he knew how to look for signs of danger—Why did dream him have to be so easily influenced by emotion? Why did dream him not act and instead remain frozen in fear as he was confronted with one of his worst nightmares? He’s squirming in bed as he tried to get back to sleep which quickly woke you up, startling him when he heard your sleepy voice asking him what was wrong. He mumbled out something incoherent before sternly telling you to go back to bed, his nightmare slowly ebbing away as you rested your head on his chest and threw an arm across him.
Silver:
Silver felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes as he rose, hands rubbing at his eyes as he tried to wipe the sadness and sleepiness away. It was too vivid for him to stomach and he found himself pushing the memories of the nightmare with all his might, frustrated that such a shining weakness was showing itself now. He knew his father had once talked about the fact that our loved ones could always be used to exploit vulnerability, but Silver had trained hard since that moment. He wanted to protect all those around him but most of all you, who laid beside him now completely unaware of the emotional turmoil he was going through. He hesitated but nudged your arms open, resting his head against your chest so he could hear the soothing beat of your heart that eventually allowed him to fall asleep again.
#Lilia Vanrouge#Sebek Zigvolt#Malleus Draconia#Silver#TWST#Twisted Wonderland#TWST Imagines#Twisted Wonderland Imagines#TWST x Reader#Twisted Wonderland x Reader#Silver x Reader#Lilia Vanrouge x Reader#Sebek Zigvolt x Reader#Malleus Draconia x Reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Dream of You
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Summary: Dean dreams of a life with you, but do you?
Word Count: 1.7k
Warings: Couple Curses (4x), Mutual Pining, Fluff
Authors Note: I don’t know why, but I love writing some vulnerable fluffy Dean so much | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
Dean rarely remembered his dreams if they weren’t some kind of nightmare; they were usually the most vivid, most reoccurring. On occasion though, he would get a dream that wasn’t full of bloodshed, loss, and torture. Those were his favorites, because they involved you and him having a life together; something he knew he’d never have.
His favorite dream involved you sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a glass of iced tea sitting on the table next to you. You were reading one of those mystery novels you secretly loved, already half way done with the book even though you had just picked it up the night before. You were barefoot, and wearing one of his flannels – the color of it changed with every iteration of the dream. He was mowing the lawn, sweat dripping down his back and face, while you sat in the shade of the porch. He would catch you every so often peering over your book to watch him, quickly going back to looking at the pages when he caught you. When the two of you made extended eye contact you would mouth, “I love you” to him.
The dream was always too short, but it was enough for him. It was enough for him to want that: you, that life. But it was something he knew he’d never get. You were so close yet so far from this reach.
He woke up staring at the ceiling. The spot next to him was empty like it usually was, but sometimes he would dream of you sleeping there next to him. He had dreamed of waking up with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your temple…your lips. “Good morning beautiful,” he would say to you, before you would smile and reply back, “Good morning handsome.” Dean clutched the sheets of his bed, wanting that moment to be real.
Getting up from his bed he made his way to the kitchen, not even bothering to look at the time. Whatever the time, he was up now, and knew he wouldn’t be getting back to bed anytime soon.
Walking into the kitchen he saw you. Your hair was unbrushed and in your pajamas; on your laptop sitting cross-legged on the chair. Your water bottle sitting next to you on the table. You looked up at him and smiled. “Hey Dean. Can’t sleep either uh?” You asked.
Dean shook his head. “I don’t even know what time it is.” He admitted.
You looked down at your laptop and looked back to him again. “2:33.”
“Fuck.” Dean replied.
You unscrewed your bottle and took a sip as Dean came to take a seat across from you. “Did you have a nightmare? Or is it just one of those sleepless nights?” You asked. You knew Dean was very prone to nightmares, and you hated that he had them so often. He would always look so tired the next day, drained. You were accustomed to nightmares as well; this life would do that to you. When you had first met him, Dean denied having nightmares, saying that there was nothing that kept him up at night. But over the years, he began to confide in you all the nasty details and you would just listen. Telling him to be as graphic as he needed to be. You didn’t want him to hold back, especially if it was going to make him feel better. You knew how rough this life and nightmares could get. Like Dean, you too had grown up in the life.
“Sleepless night.” He replied. You were happy that it wasn’t a nightmare for once. “I want to sleep but have a lot on my mind.” His thoughts were of you.
“What’s on your mind?” You asked. You always asked what was on his mind. You were his best friend after all.
“Just thinkin’ about what life would be like if I stopped hunting.” At first, he was going to lie to you, tell you he had been thinking about all the things he needed to get done, or wanted to get done. But he knew you’d see right through him; you knew his tells.
“Oh yeah?” You were intrigued. Having these conversations with Dean were some of your favorites to have because you felt like you got to know another side of him, a deeper more gentle side. On the outside he looked slightly intimidating, rugged. But deep down, in reality, he was one of the nerdiest men you had ever met in your life who just wanted someone to love him the same way he loved them. For as long as you had known him, you had feelings for him. The feelings changed over the years from lust to love. You knew Dean didn’t feel the same way about you, and you were okay with that. You were happy to at least have him as a friend.
When you weren’t having nightmares, you were dreaming of a life with Dean. Dreaming about doing mundane things that old married couples do. Going grocery shopping, shopping for a new TV for the living room, or cooking one of your moms’ recipes. Your favorite dream that you had was the two of you in the kitchen. Baking supplies were on the island in front of you: bowls, measuring cups, cake mix, eggs. You had a notebook out with a cake recipe that you had wanted to recreate for a while but never got the chance to. You had started adding ingredients to the bowl when Dean would wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Badass hunter turned baker who knew?” Dean would say to you before leaning in and giving you a kiss on the lips. The kiss was where it always ended; but that was all you needed. The dream was short, but it was one you cherished and never wanted to let go of. You knew you’d never get a life with Dean; he was so close yet so far from your reach.
“It’s just little things you know? Mowing the lawn, drinking a beer on the porch, watching a Jayhawks game on the TV.” He grinned for a moment. It’s just little things you know? Mowing the lawn with you watching me, you and I drinking a couple of beers on the porch, watching a Jayhawks game on the couch together. Is what he really wanted to say. All his plans involved having a life with you.
“Are you by yourself in these or…are you with someone?” You asked, a little afraid of the answer. You didn’t want to pry too much, but you were curious.
Dean thought about your question, unsure if he was willing to reveal the truth to you or not. You had been in his life for years, always being by his side no matter what he said or did. You were there when he had the Mark: being one of the only people to calm him down, you were there when he was a demon: being a somewhat willing prisoner when he took you away from the Bunker, you were there when he came back from being gone for months while he was possessed by Michael: being the only person he would talk to about it, not even Sam. He trusted you, more than anyone. Needed you more than anyone. He didn’t want to lose you. But he needed to be honest, maybe he could spin it to being friends if you had rejected him. “I’m with you.”
You felt your breath catch, your heart started beating fast. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You had no idea why you were emotional. “Really?” You couldn’t help but give him a soft smile.
“Really.” He looked at your face, trying to find some indication that you had felt the same way. He didn’t know if the smile or tears in your eyes were a good or bad thing. “Don’t cry Sweetheart.” He said, taking his thumb and wiping away a rogue tear that fell to your cheek.
“I’m just…I dream about that too actually.” If he was being honest, you might as well be honest too.
“Really?” Your comment took him by surprise. He had no idea that you had similar feelings. But it had made him feel better knowing.
You nodded. “Yeah. I uh, dream about the two of us doing mundane things together. Like going grocery shopping or watching some shitty horror movie on TV while we have Chinese take-out.”
“Like an old married couple?” Dean asked, slightly grinning. He had liked the sound of that: being an old married couple with you. His response made you laugh a little, being an old married couple were your exact words.
“Yeah, like an old married couple.” You replied.
“I have this, dream sometimes. You’re, you’re sitting on the porch reading one of those mystery novels you like, and I’m just mowing the lawn.” He paused for a moment, picturing the dream in his mind. “Sometimes, I would catch you peering from your book to look at me. And, one of those times, the two of us would lock eyes with each other and…”
“And what?”
“You’d…You’d mouth…Fuck.” He didn’t want to say it.
You gave him a confused look. “I’d mouth fuck?” That is not what you thought his dream would come to at all. You had thought that it would be more romantic than that.
Dean shook his head. “No, no. I. If I say it, there’s no going back.”
“No going back? Dean.” You rested your hand on top of his. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you.” You had a feeling about what his next words were going to be, why he seemed so afraid to say them. Three little words that would drastically change the relationship between the two of you.
Taking a deep breath Dean looked at you. “You’d mouth, I love you.” A part of him regretted saying it to you. But another part of him needed to say it to you. These feelings of wanting you, dreaming of being with you had plagued him for years.
A smile formed on your lips. “Do you ever say it back to me?”
He nodded. “Always.”
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x you#spn imagine#spn one shot#supernatural one shot#supernatural imagine#dean winchester imagine#reader insert#female reader#supernatural#spn
937 notes
·
View notes
Note
sleepover !! on the plane of dad!steve: what about steve finding out reader’s pregnant? they’re young enough for it to be a shock, but established relationship or casual hookup is up to you
i hereby name this the first installment of my dad!steve blurb series: the "crazy little thing called love" universe <3
By all accounts, you and Steve did everything right.
Sure, you got married pretty young, but after surviving the end of the world four separate times, you thought you were deserving of the rapid elopement. You moved into a little apartment outside of town shortly after, working like dogs until you could afford a down payment on one of those pretty houses people put in magazines.
Neither of you minded that it was in the middle of the suburbs — that it was “expected” of the Harringtons to live within white picket fences. You were just grateful you didn’t have to live in his vacant childhood home that his parents were kind enough to offer as a present for a wedding they didn’t attend. Steve was more than happy to let the place rot.
It takes your entire first year of marriage to fully decorate the place.
The pool in the backyard is lined with white and yellow striped lounge chairs. The living room is more plants than furniture. The kitchen cabinets are painted green to match the tile in the bathroom. And the bedroom’s got a gallery of photos of the both of you on one side and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on the other — Steve stores his vinyls on the upper shelves and you stash your books on the lower ones.
You’re finally getting settled into your new life in your new house when you realize your period is late.
By two weeks, to be exact.
You don’t even realize it until you’re grocery shopping.
Steve mans the cart while you strike through the list, as per usual. He’s trying to choose between two similarly scented body washes — accidentally squirting some on the tip of his nose in the process — when you return from the feminine hygiene section.
You didn’t need tampons, you realized while standing in front of the vibrantly colored boxes, because you had a full pack at home for a period that never came.
Steve uses his sleeve to wipe the peppermint-scented soap from his nose when you return, looking pallid and ghastly — like you’ve just seen a ghost looking for period underwear. His hand slows before falling to his side. “You okay?” he cautions.
You nod before the words catch up to you. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m— Yeah.”
“You could at least try and sound a little more convincing,” he laughs as he puts both bottles back. Neither was worth getting soap up the nose, turns out. “C’mon. Just tell me. It can’t be that bad, right?”
In his head, you’ve just seen someone from high school. You saw an old friend or a mean girl who hated you for no reason or a boy you had a fling with. They tried to chat you up while you were deciding between regular and super tampons, and the unexpected encounter’s got you all shaken up.
The image is so vivid in his head, Steve could laugh just thinking about it.
You clear your tightening throat, inching closer to him when another couple enters the aisle. You whisper like you’re telling him a secret. “My, um… My period is late. By, like… a lot.”
Steve’s blood runs cold. His eyes go wide and he forgets how to breathe. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. That’s— That’s bad, huh?”
“Yes,” you agonize, breathless. “Yes, that’s bad. That’s very, very bad.”
“Alright, c’mon. I’m standing right here,” he half-jokes.
“I just got promoted. If I have to take a year off work for maternity leave, I’ll be right back where I started.”
Steve can sense the panic radiating off of you. It’s rising with vigor like a faucet turned on high in a stopped-up kitchen sink. Once it starts overflowing, it’s harder to stop. Despite his own distant worry, he tries to quell your own.
“You might not even be pregnant, right? So why are you already worrying about maternity leave?” he questions with a gentle laugh. He takes both your arms in his hands, squeezing you in a soft reassurance. “You’re right. You just got promoted. Maybe, you know— Maybe you’re just stressed out about it. That’s all.”
“Yeah… You’re probably right.”
“Let’s take a test first, huh? Then we can start panicking.”
He presses a kiss to the tip of your scrunched nose.
You’re able to breathe again.
You pick out three different brands of pregnancy tests, shoving them quickly into your cart and hiding them beneath your groceries like sex toys.
The boxes are stacked on top of each other as they move slowly on the conveyor belt at the checkout counter. The older woman with pink lips and pinker nails smiles as she scans them through.
“It’s exciting, huh?” she gushes, smacking bubble gum between her teeth.
“Yep,” you nod, though the word comes out slightly strangled.
Steve’s charming smile wavers. “Totally.”
The paper bags of groceries are quickly abandoned on the kitchen counter when you get home. You’re far more worried about the pregnancy tests, and Steve’s more concerned about calming you down.
He sits with you on your shared bed, back propped up against the headboard, with you in between his legs. He works your palm with his thumbs, smoothing out the tension you seem to hold there. His chest you lean upon rises and falls with deep, even breaths.
You’re not sure how he can be so calm about this, but you’re almost comforted by it.
Almost.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?” Steve admits after a minute or more of pure silence. “If you were pregnant. Actually, you know, I think I’d be pretty happy.”
“I know you would be. It’s totally different for you.”
His brows furrow, though you’re not looking at him to see. “What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t have to be the one to take off work. I’d have to drop my entire career, and I’m— I’m just getting started. It would change everything for me.”
Steve hums to himself. It’s not the pregnancy that scares you, not the birthing process or the late nights or the constant crying. It’s the thought that you wouldn’t have a life outside of it all.
“I’d be here to help you, you know?”
“I know,” you sigh softly, tiling your head on his shoulder so you can stare up at him. His chin juts closer to his neck so he can look down at you too. “But for a while, we both couldn’t work. For the first couple of years, probably. And we can’t get a babysitter because we wouldn’t have double incomes, and… I don’t know if I’d trust someone to take care of our baby anyway—”
Steve tries not to smile but completely and utterly fails.
You’re already talking like it’s a for sure thing — you having a baby. His baby.
He doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
“Hey. It’s okay,” he almost coos to end your panicked rambling. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. Let’s just take this one step at a time, yeah?”
You take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Yeah…”
He waits for you in the bedroom while you check the tests in the adjoining bathroom. He offered to come with you, of course, but you told him you could do it on your own. You said they’d probably be negative anyway, that it likely was just stress delaying your period, and that you were just making a fuss over nothing.
It’s quiet for all of ten seconds.
“Fuck!” you shout, a bit louder than you intended, muffled from the bathroom.
Steve winces.
“I take it they were positive?” he questions when you storm back into the bedroom, completely and utterly frazzled.
“We’re so stupid,” you chastise, pacing ahead of the bed. “We’re so, so stupid.”
Steve finds it in him to laugh, still a bit dazed by the results. “We’re not sixteen anymore. We’re married. Married people have kids—”
“But I’m not ready yet!” you shout with wild eyes. Your hands flail at your sides as you gesticulate. “I wanted to wait, like, five years, at least. I wanted to be CCO before we even thought about having kids.”
“Things don’t go as planned sometimes, babe. We know that more than anybody.”
He was right. After saving the world, you shouldn’t be shocked by anything anymore. You were so jaded by the time spring of 1986 rolled around that Vecna hardly scared you. The thought of uprooting your life to raise a child frightened you far more than any alternate dimension and monsters without faces.
“I was just announced Vice President, Steve. No one else in company history has gotten to oversee the marketing department so quickly. You don’t know what it’s like in the firm, alright? It’s vicious. They’ll replace me the second I’m gone.”
“No, they won’t,” the boy says with so much confidence it almost makes you angry.
“You can’t know that—”
“I do know that, actually,” he argues as he slides to the edge of the mattress to meet you. His larger hands engulf your shaking ones. His honey eyes twinkle as they gaze up at you. “‘Cause they’d be idiots to let you go. ’S why I married you, yeah? There’s not another person in the whole world like you.”
“It’s just something I’ve always wanted, you know?” you sigh, less prickly than before, but still visibly terrified. “I’ve been dreaming about corporate savagery since I was twelve…”
Steve grins. “You can still have all that. I’ve seen you set monsters on fire — you can raise a kid and run a company. You’re the most badass person I’ve ever met.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“If I can’t work, we’ll be living on your income. I don’t… I don’t want you to have to work more than you already do.”
“I’ll be okay,” he promises, squeezing your trembling fingers. “You’ll take maternity leave for however long you need to, your coworkers will grovel hands and knees to get you back, and I’ll… I’ll stay home with the baby.”
Your face scrunches with worry. “Is that something you want?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a dad, you know? I can’t… I can’t really see myself doing anything else.”
Steve always thought he was broken in that way. His dad was already building businesses by the time he had a kid. He coached Steve to do the same — to graduate, to spend thousands on a degree, to have ten assistants by the time he was twenty-five. But Steve never wanted that. Not Ever. Especially not after the tenth near-death experience.
He just wanted to have a family of his own.
He wanted to be with you and to be still. That was all.
“Besides, you always said you wanted a house husband,” he jokes with a crooked smile.
That makes you laugh. A giggle sputters from your lips before you can stop it. The sunshine feeling overpowers your lingering worry.
“I would like that,” you concur with a sheepish grin.
You can picture it so clearly — Steve with a baby, greeting you with a kiss when you get home, a spit-up towel thrown over his shoulder, hair mussed and jaw stubbled. It was something dreams were made of.
Your potential reality.
Your future.
“We’re gonna be the happiest damn people on the planet, babe.”
You lean down to kiss him. It’s hard, though, because you’re both smiling so wide.
Your laughs entwine, pressed into one another, as Steve flops back on the bed and drags you down with him. He rolls you onto your sides, one hand propping his head up and the other resting on your belly.
My kid is in there, he marvels in his head. This is where my baby’s gonna grow.
“What do you think about Apple?”
Your brows pinch together. “What?”
“For, like, a girl name?”
“…Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Apple for a girl and Wolfgang for a boy,” he jokes with a wide smile on his rosy lips. He shrugs. “And if we have twins, they can be Apple and Wolfgang. Really rolls off the tongue, don’t ya think?”
“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”
With your hands cradling his jaw, you pull him down for another interrupted kiss.
“What about Moon or— ah,” he gasps with wide eyes. “Or Rainbow?”
“Steve!” you groan.
“What? Tell me Rainbow Harrington isn’t the cutest damn name you’ve ever heard.”
“That is so not a baby name.”
“Anything can be a name if you make it a name,” he argues with all of his Steve Harrington sass. “Like Queen… Or Journey.”
“Yeah, let’s just name all our kids after your favorite bands,” you quip, giggling.
“I know you’re joking, but that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
You shake your head at this boy and his wild head filled with wilder thoughts.
You sit in silence in your marveling, letting him ramble on — “There’s Roxy and Berlin and- wait, do you think babies can be named after numbers? Because, like, B-52 is a badass name. Sounds like something out of Star Wars, huh?”
You can’t believe you married this man. You can’t believe you get to be married to this man.
You’re stuck with Steve Harrington and his dumbassery for life.
God, you can’t wait to spend forever with him.
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#bug's blurb sleepover
798 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unexpected Tension
Connor DBH x fem!Reader
Summary: Gavin teases Connor once again but this time you stood up for him
Warnings: mature language
WC: 973
The bustling atmosphere of the Detroit Police Department filled the air as you made your way through the precinct. As a detective working closely with Connor and Hank, you were no stranger to the occasional banter and friendly jabs exchanged among the officers. However, today seemed to be different, and Gavin Reed was at the center of it all.
You walked into the station, noticing a group gathered near the coffee machine. Hank stood among them, his arms crossed, and a smirk played on his lips. Connor, ever the picture of stoic professionalism, was enduring Gavin's typical snarky remarks about his personal life.
Gavin's voice carried across the room, "Come on, Connor, admit it. You've never had a good time in bed. Just look at you, all stiff and robotic. I bet you've never even been laid!"
You watched as Connor's LED flickered yellow momentarily, an indication of slight discomfort. His face remained impassive, but you could sense the tension building within him. You couldn't stand by and let Gavin's taunts go unchallenged.
With a confident stride, you approached the group, your presence commanding attention. Your reputation as the femme fatale of the station was well-known, and you were more than willing to use it to your advantage in this situation.
"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.
Gavin's eyes widened as he turned his attention towards you. "Well, well, if it isn't our very own vixen detective. What brings you here?"
You locked eyes with him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Just couldn't resist the chance to defend Connor's honor, Gavin. You know how rumors spread around here. And let me tell you, I happen to know firsthand that he's quite the impressive lover."
The room fell into an instant hush. Hank's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement evident on his face. Connor's LED turned a deep blue, betraying his astonishment. You had his complete attention, and you could see a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of curiosity and perhaps even appreciation.
Gavin's face contorted into an expression of disbelief and jealousy. "You're full of shit. There's no way you and Connor have ever..."
"Oh, Gavin, dear," you interrupted, leaning in closer, your voice dripping with mock seduction. "Let's just say I've had the pleasure of experiencing Connor's unique... talents, and it was absolutely incredible."
Connor's LED turned a vivid shade of red as his programming attempted to process the unexpected turn of events. He glanced at you, searching for any sign of deception, but your poker face remained intact.
Gavin's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. He knew you were teasing, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was driving him mad. His competitive nature wouldn't let him back down so easily.
"Oh, really?" Gavin sneered. "Prove it."
A mischievous smile curled on your lips as you took a step back, crossing your arms. "Oh, I would love to, Gavin, but that would be unprofessional. You'll just have to take my word for it."
The room erupted into laughter, the tension diffusing as everyone realized the absurdity of the situation. Even Connor managed a small smile, a trace of warmth in his eyes.
Gavin huffed, his pride wounded. "Whatever. Just keep your wild fantasies to yourself. We've got work to do."
With that, Gavin stormed off, leaving you, Connor, and Hank in a cloud of lingering amusement. Hank chuckled, clapping a hand on Connor's shoulder.
"Well, Connor, looks like you've got yourself a reputation," Hank teased, a twinkle in his eye.
Connor's cheeks tinted with a touch of color, but he met your gaze, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, agent. I appreciate you standing up for me, even if it was... unconventional."
You winked at him, your playful demeanor still intact. "Consider it a small payback for all the times you've saved my ass in the field, Connor. Besides, it's always fun to see Gavin squirm."
As the laughter and banter filled the room once more, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie between you and Connor. Perhaps this unexpected turn of events would bring you closer, and who knows what other adventures awaited you in the future.
A few days later, you found yourself alone with Connor in the break room during lunchtime. The air was thick with anticipation as you caught his gaze, your voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone.
"So, Connor," you began, your tone teasing, "about that little fib I told Gavin…"
Connor's eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of blue. "You want to… make it come true?"
A mischievous grin played on your lips as you stepped closer, the atmosphere charged with unspoken desire. "If you're up for it."
Without hesitation, Connor closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. In that moment, the boundary between fiction and reality blurred as the electric connection between you intensified.
The days that followed were filled with stolen moments and secret rendezvous, where you and Connor explored the depths of your desires. The lie that had ignited it all had transformed into something real and intoxicating, a connection that went far beyond anything either of you had anticipated.
As for Detective Gavin Reed, he remained oblivious to the truth, his jealousy fueling his determination to prove himself. But in the end, it didn't matter. The bond you shared with Connor was a flame that burned brightly, casting aside the doubts and insecurities that once lingered.
Together, you and Connor forged a path of passion and companionship, navigating the intricacies of human emotions and discovering the true meaning of love in a world that was still learning to accept the androids who sought to understand it.
#detroit become human#detroit rk800#dbh connor#dbh fanfic#dbh gavin#dbh x reader#dbh hank#dbh#dbh rk800#dbh x you#bryan dechart
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
BTS (as holidays)
Because I’m feeling nostalgic
Jungkook is Halloween. A fright followed by sweet laughter and a hug and kiss to raise your heartbeat even higher. Late nights out prowling the darkness, because it’s just you and him while the world is asleep. You happiness can scream, because you’re not scared to show your love for each other under the black of night. He grabs you by the waist walking down a dark alley, pulls you into a spin under the stars, and you screech in a fit of giggles. His lips are as sweet as candy, his touches make you shiver. He kisses all your fears away, smiles devilishly against your mouth. “Boo, I love you.”
Taehyung is New Year’s Eve. The rush of anticipation courses through your veins when he holds you in his arms. His smile is as bright as fireworks, eyes twinkling when he looks down at you. He hugs you tight in the cold night air after drinks, arms running up and down your shoulders in loving gesture to warm you, but his lips work even better at the task. Taehyung’s love feels new every single day, you’ll never get tired of the fire behind his kisses. He bellows out your name followed by, “I love you!” You grab his outstretched arms hurriedly, shushing him, laughing, not really caring about the scene he makes. He’s too mesmerizing, makes you feel special, younger. He holds you tight, moving in a dance and you follow shyly, letting him twirl you. He asks you if you trust him and your lips curve into a smile. 3, 2, 1…
Jimin is Valentine’s Day. You’re enamored, wondering how is there so much love in one man alone? Affection in his smile, his soft voice, his loving eyes, so much love. A fuzzy blanket full of warmth on a February morning, your favorite drink steaming next to you, his body snuggled against your back asking if you're okay. A day in the park, drinking and laughing, fingers woven together, his chin on your shoulder, singing you a soft song in your ear. A night out in fancy clothes, food beautifully presented and tasting so good, his hand on your thigh, his chin tilted towards you, a grin so wide and laughter so sweet. Every day, it’s love.
Namjoon is Chuseok. So thankful you found each other, Namjoon feels like the family you’ve always wanted. He envelopes you in his arms, appreciative for every moment that had to occur to bring you and him together, a serendipitous encounter blooming into a love stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. You feel lucky to have him, on days you sit shoulder to shoulder working on different projects but still enjoying each other’s company, even on gloomy days when the branches of your love grow wilted leaves, his roots are strong enough to keep you grounded. He cherishes you, lays soft kisses upon your knuckles, a devoted man. He takes you to the top of a summit to look out at the coppery landscape, the sight makes you think of your place in the world, how you belong by his side. He kisses your forehead, whispers “Thank you, baby,” and bends down, landing on one knee...
Hoseok is Holi. When you see him, life once dull becomes injected with vividness. Instantaneous, love-at-first-sight, bright smiles, loud laughter, hands unable to keep to themselves, an infatuation with each other that burns white hot fire through your veins. Two very different beings, North and South poles, a magnetic love that has you conjoined at the hip, wanting to spend every waking moment together. You live in a technicolor state of happiness, blossoming emotions that makes you want to cheer and dance. His thumb drags across your skin, a kaleidoscope of sensations erupts as your bodies press together. A love bite, hearts beating in sync, a cheeky smile that colors your world. You’re falling hard already, captivated by everything he does, every touch he gives you. Your feelings are only just blooming, yet, the result, will become the most beautiful sight ever witnessed.
Yoongi is Lunar New Year. He was always there, until he wasn’t, and then you both realized what you needed was in front of you all along, a new beginning to a story, one that speaks not only of friendship, but of love. A new phase, a new chapter, and new shift in feelings. A love letter written, read out loud softly with eyed cast down, giving him courage to say all the things he wanted to tell you for so long. Your heart glows, sparking with each brave confession. Your best friend, your north star, your guiding light, your only regret was not seeing it sooner. You left your answer on his cheek, a red lip print. Tomorrow, everything will be better, now that he knew you loved him too.
Seokjin is Christmas. His presence is all you need, nothing fancy, just pajamas and socks in the kitchen, singing to songs like two carolers, a pair of lovebirds nesting for the winter. Cooking together as a couple, the oven heat warms the household, but it’s his laughter that provides the real warmth, Seokjin’s sweetness could melt the iciest snow. He makes you laugh, moves around you laying a hand on your hip, and you look at him from the corner of your eye and joy fills your heart. He catches your eyes and winks and the thought crosses your mind, “I could marry this man.” He leans over you to watch you chop, guiding your hand expertly, cozy against you. He lets you take the first taste, fixated on your reaction. You light up, cheerful and bright, egging him on to try it too. He doesn’t show his worry, qualms that it…he…might not be good enough, only smirks and raises his brow as if to say, of course it’s perfect, we made it together, and together we are miraculous.
[masterlist|as kisses|as drinks]
#bts imagines#namjoon fluff#seokjin fluff#yoongi fluff#hoseok fluff#jimin fluff#taehyung fluff#jungkook fluff#bts fanfic#bts au fanfic#getting back in the swing of things
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
hcs on how tbbs rooms would be like? (and rex and fives because they b my kings) and I think fives room would be an absolute abomination 🤣🤣🤣
Oh I like that idea! Thanks for the ask :)
The Bad Batch (+Rex and Fives) With Their Own Rooms HC's
Hunter:
Hunter is a mixture of neat and messy. Actually, the room seems relatively orderly, he doesn't have much decoration either, just two posters of his favorite bands. And the only real mess you can find in his room from time to time are his music disks spread on the bed. He loves music, old rock songs mostly.
You know that scene with Tom Cruise in "Risky Business"? Old time rock & roll?
If you just barge into his room, you might well find him in a situation like that. Or very wrong singing along an AC/DC song.
There aren't many colors, Hunter is rather reserved about that, you'll find at most something in colors of his batch or earthy colors, colorful is not his thing. On one wall hangs a dreamcatcher, he doesn't really believe in it, but somehow he likes that thing. Oh and that drawing of a naked lady.
Echo
Echo is super neat, everything has its place and order, he always knows where everything is, and he doesn't like at all if someone changes something in his room without asking. The colors in his room are relatively sterile, almost everything is white.
Echo doesn't really own any decorations, he has one potted plant, a small rubber tree that he lovingly cares for. He also owns two framed pictures, one that shows him together with Clone Force 99, the other is with Fives and Rex, both of which he cherishes, dusting them regularly and looking at them, remembering good times.
His bed is always made correctly, almost to the millimeter, whoever enters the room must always take off his shoes and don't let anyone in street clothes sit on the bed, Echo can't take it.
Wrecker
Quite a mess in this room. Mainly dirty clothes spread on the floor and unwashed plates on every cupboard and table, because he constantly snacks something.
He likes it lively and colorful, he even has strings of lights along the ceiling that glow colorfully, his walls are painted sea green and his bedding is more colorful than a damn rainbow.
He has a lot of decorations, a lot of junk, hula dancer figurines, colorful posters, movie posters and tons of sports trophies.
All in all a very vivid and chaotic room.
Tech
It's very clean in here, but also total chaos. Paper chaos. Tech likes to do old-fashioned hand-drawing of his ideas, creating blueprints, blueprints of all sorts of things that come to mind.
His walls are pinned with drawings, bills, math problems he wants to solve, fantastic drawings of space speeders he's designed.
He usually falls asleep at his desk, his bed is full of papers anyway. But the genius supervises the chaos, as they say. He always knows where which drawing is, even if tons of them are lying, hanging and stacked in his room.
He doesn't care about decoration and colors.
Crosshair
You will never have seen a room so clean and tidy in your entire life, and never again will you. Absolute perfection whichever way you look at it.
Sorted, tidy, flawless.
It's so clean here, you could theoretically eat off the floor. He has an extra room for his guns and even a display case with velvet bedding for his rifle. His clothes are so organized in the closet, even his bedding in the closet is ironed and folded.
So I honestly suspect a slight OCD behind it, but that's just a guess.
Colors are dignified, black, white, silver, the furniture modern. He does have some esthetic nudes on his walls, nothing too naughty, just esthetic.
Rex
Everything has its place. Simple, practically oriented, pragmatic.
He doesn't really have much decoration, pictures of his closest comrades, the closest brothers, but otherwise rather nothing. He doesn't really have the time or the nerve for houseplants.
He's not overly neat, but neater than most men. As I said, everything has its place with him.
The colors in his room, are blue and white, the colors of his legion, his calling, his pride.
The only thing that is messy now and then in his room is his bed, he doesn't always have time and often doesn't feel like making the bed before he leaves the room. Often he has to leave very quickly, without warning.
Fives
Chaos, clothes on the floor and on the unmade bed. The desk is cluttered, take out packages, paper trash and other stuff- mostly reports he actually still has to fill out and give to rex.
His closet has a simple system, he just opens the door and throws things in, total chaos in there too.
The only thing that is always neat and clean are his shoes. Don't ask me why, I don't know.
He has a lot of nudes on the walls, of all kinds of women of different species and skin color, from green to white to pitch black, all shapes and colors, plus size, slim and athletic. He is an epicure.
@andyoufollowyourheart
@clone-whore-99
@brynhildrmimi
@kaliel2310
@misogirl828
@tech-deck
@pink-peachie-pie
@chxpsi
@nahoney22
#star wars headcanons#the bad batch#clonelove#clone force 99#tbb#sw tbb#tech#tbb tech#tbb headcanons#headcanon#rex#commander rex#captain rex#fives#arc trooper fives#arc 5555#crosshair#bad batch crosshair#clone trooper crosshair#commander crosshair#crosshair bad batch#crosshair tbb#crosshair the bad batch#wrecker#bad batch wrecker#clone trooper wrecker#tbb wrecker#wrecker bad batch#wrecker tbb#echo
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제2장)
pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest
wc ≈2.6k. unedited. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but the story does develop a little more. hongjoong is introduced as wooyoung's friend. hongjoong jokingly flirts with the reader. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart". hongjoong and the reader mildly curse.
“hyung.. this is beautiful.”
“you think?”
“absolutely!”
seonghwa and san stood side by side in the art studio, their eyes fixed on the finished piece that would become the cover art for san’s new album. the canvas displayed an absolutely breathtaking combination of colors, and the raw emotions from the soul seemed to leap off the surface. to say it was capturing and alluring would be a total understatement. it was the perfect combination of paint, love, passion and longing - a true window into both artists’ souls.
san’s eyes glimmered with awe as he took in and absorbed every detail. the painting depicted seonghwa’s elusive muse with hauntingly expressive eyes, ones full of love and fear and yearning, painted with a delicate and carefully crafted mix of blues, purples, and hints of gold. behind them was a whirlwind of vibrant, dramatic and contrasting hues, capturing both the intensity of emotions that san poured into his music, and the conflict of emotions seonghwa fought within.
they both continued to stand in silence, letting the artwork speak for itself. the whole room seemed to hold its breath, even the dust particles seemed to stop in time - as if in complete deference for the deep, profound connection between music and its visual counterpart.
san finally broke the silence, and time seemed to flow again.
“i mean - seriously, seonghwa. this is more than i could have ever imagined. i would be lying if i said i was surprised though - only you could pull this off.”
seonghwa smiled humbly, a soft pink blush creeping back onto his cheeks.
“you’re too kind, san. and i want you to know that - it has been an honor collaborating with you. my only regret is not doing it sooner.”
with a chuckle, san lightly punched seonghwa on the shoulder.
“then may this be the first of many.”
“... hey san?”
“mm?”
seonghwa took a deep breath.
“i listened to a bit of the title track. you know, just so i knew how to put your own voice, your own words, your own emotions, into visual form. and i’m just curious…what inspired you?”
san’s smile softened as he averted his gaze, eventually opting to close his eyes and take a moment to relive the melody before answering seonghwa’s question.
“what inspired me? well… it's a mix of things, really."
“you don’t have to tell me.”
"no, it’s okay. honestly, the entire album, is a reflection of my whole life journey. it's about the highs and the lows, the love and the heartbreaks, the gains and the losses, and the constant search of meaning and purpose. each song represents a different chapter of my life. except for one.”
“that’s beautiful, sa- sorry, except for one?”
san meekly looked back at the painting, his eyes tracing the careful, delicate strokes and vivid colors that bounced back at him.
“yeah. the title track you mentioned. i wrote and sang it for you. well, more so how i think you feel about the person you keep painting.”
seonghwa’s eyes widened in surprise, his head snapping to look at the other with complete awe. his heart began to race, and his hand quickly flew to his chest. the room returned to its original silence - one that seemed to go even deeper as san’s words sank in. the humble painter was completely taken aback as he struggling to find the right words to such a jarring reply.
"f-for me?" seonghwa finally managed to splutter, something san smiled warmly at.
“yeah. for you. and that person. i mean... even though i said i wasn’t able to understand you, anyone can still see the true love and longing you have etched into your features. you’re not able to see the way you look at them whenever you bring them to life through your passion of art. and that's what inspired the song. it’s my own personal perception of your own personal emotions."
seonghwa stood there, still stunned by what he had just heard. the thoughts and emotions that had been buried deep within him, the ones he thought he had concealed and hidden away from the rest of the world, had just escaped san’s lips in word form.
"i… never expected you to see it," seonghwa murmured, his face now tinted pink. "you know me. i’m not an emotional person. i thought i was good at hiding my feelings."
san laughed and shook his head.
“hey, hyung, listen. i do know you, and you’re right - but also incredibly wrong. while you may be good at hiding your emotions from others, you can’t hide them from me. and when it comes down to your art, your mystery person, you can’t hide them from anyone. the vibe is beautiful, at times bittersweet - so in a sense, hyung, you and your muse have become my muses.”
the revelation that san’s title track was inspired by seonghwa and his emotions left the studio enveloped in yet another silence - this time one of profoundness and comfort. it simply became a moment between two artists and an enthralling muse.
"san," seonghwa finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “thank you for understanding me in a way that no one else ever has. and… thank you for giving my thoughts and my muse a voice."
“hey, you don't have to thank me. i couldn’t have done it without you.”
“and through the pages of time, i��ll still search every space,
and through the darkness of shadows, i’ll still chase every trace,
and though you maybe may be a love undefined,
i’ll give to you this promise, ‘til our destinies
can entwine…
~
“through the realms of dreams, i’ll journey far,
for the love that's written in every star,
with every heartbeat, i’ll stay true,
until the day, the day i finally
find you.”
“oh my god, wooyoung…”
you gawked at your best friend, who grinned at your reaction.
“so? what do you think?”
“i think it’s amazing. you really wrote that?”
“yeah.”
you shook your head at him, the rest of your body paralyzed in its place.
“dude, you have to take that to a recording studio or something.”
“hah, you really think so?" wooyoung replied with a playful smirk, trying to hide the genuine feelings of relief he felt at your positive response.
they were inspired by your love for your muse, after all.
but of course, he could never tell you that. not when you were already deeply troubled by the unfulfilled feelings of love and longing you had for him. he figured if you were to know, you would figure it out in your own.
“maybe i should consider it - though, i don’t want to put an end to everyone else’s careers.”
you nudged him lightly with your elbow, poking your tongue out at him playfully before letting out a laugh.
"okay, mr humble. if you’re going to be like that, i’ll take it all back. the fame’s already getting to your head and you haven’t even left the room yet.”
feigning the utmost shock and betrayal, wooyoung gasped dramatically and draped an arm over his eyes - which in turn, resulted in probably your biggest eye roll to date.
“oh y/n, you wound me once more! you’re so willing to retract your compliments - were your words merely superficial?”
you couldn't help but laugh loudly, drawing a few curious glances from your classmates. which of course, only resulted in wooyoung laughing loudly at you too.
“okay, okay. come on, wooyoung, you know i’m just kidding," you teased, nudging him again. "but seriously, i think you should at least try and contact a few studios. even if you don’t hear back, it’s worth the effort. you have a true gift for art. it’s beautiful, just like your photography."
as he absorbed your words, wooyoung’s playful demeanor shifted to a warm, gentle one. he looked at you softly, a small smile etched into his features.
“thank you, y/n. all jokes aside, your support means a lot to me. i’ll consider it, i promise.”
returning his smile, you took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. but before either of you could even have the chance to speak again, a scoff caught your attention.
peering over the shoulder of the purple headed boy in front of you, your eyes landed on another student, who you immediately recognized as one of the more recent transfers into the fashion department. you guessed he would roughly be around wooyoung’s height if it weren’t for his shoes, he sported a rather colorful mullet and he was dressed head to toe in a messy array of clothes and accessories.
you arched an eyebrow at him, noticing a glint of amusement in his intense gaze. he looked like he was holding back a laugh, as if he found something amusing about the conversation you were having with your best friend.
"what?" you questioned, eyes narrowing at the unique man.
rather than replying, he shot you a wink before making his way over, seemingly unaffected by your scrutiny.
“nothing," he replied casually, his chunky platforms causing him to tower over wooyoung - something you had to hold back on joking about. “i just couldn't help but overhear the two of you talking about music. and then some sappy shit."
a playful grin tugged at wooyoung’s lips as he sized up the new arrival.
“oh, so you were eavesdropping, huh? you’ve got quite the sharp ear. but i suppose that’s to be expected by such an esteemed musician like yourself.”
you glanced between the two, a puzzled look taking over your once suspicious expression. you were aware of this guy - he was hard to miss - but they seemed to share a camaraderie that you weren't aware of.
“wait, you two know each other?" you blinked, still trying to figure out the dynamic between them.
the vibrant multicolored haired man extended a heavily ringed hand, swiping his pierced tongue along his bottom lip and shooting you another wink.
“pleasure to make your acquaintance, sweetheart. the name’s hongjoong. but you could call me yours for tonight, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
you quickly pulled your hand away from his rather tight grasp, a slight blush creeping onto your face.
“uh… nice to meet you too, i guess. but i think i’ll stick to calling you hongjoong."
“yeah,” wooyoung snickered, clearly amused by the interaction. “unfortunately for you, ‘sweetheart’ isn’t really the one for cheesy pickup lines, hyung.”
“oh, i see how it is,” hongjoong chuckled, visibly unfazed by both of your responses. “well, the offer still stands.”
you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this newcomer you now knew was named hongjoong. he certainly had a magnetic personality that demanded everyone’s full attention, but despite his playful demeanor and rather straightforward flirting, there was still an underlying feeling of genuine warmth radiating off of him. wooyoung looked comfortable - and you laughed when hongjoong flicked his forehead.
“you know, i appreciate it, but i’m still gonna pass,” you replied to him. “so how do you guys, you know, know each other?”
“wooyoung and i met when the fashion department and the photography department collaborated on a project last semester. we made the pieces, they took the pictures. then they served as our professional photographers when we had a showcase modelling our creations.”
wooyoung chimed in, his eyes glinting with fondness as he recalled the encounter.
"we were assigned together. honestly, i thought it would be a disaster at first. hongjoong has such a wild and bold sense of style and i’m all about subtle elegance. but somehow, our creative differences ended up complementing each other perfectly - i really got to gain some experience with experimental looks and got to expand my portfolio. it could really help me if i wanna apply for something surrounding haute couture.”
as you listened to wooyoung speak about his collaboration with the uniquely dressed man with a belt made of chained up teddy bears, you couldn't help but admire a rare instance where fire and ice were actually compatible. never in a million years had you thought someone as poised, sophisticated and traditional as wooyoung could come close to being friends with someone as bright, daring and unconventional as hongjoong. but alas - here it was in front of you, a strong friendship between two polar opposites (besides their humor).
“that’s amazing," you said, nodding your head in approval. "i think it’s amazing how two ‘contradicting’ art styles can create one extraordinary art form.”
hongjoong smirked at your words and took a little bow.
“thank you, sweetheart. you bet it was extraordinary. our work had people talking for weeks. did you read the local paper? we got an article and everything. it’s all about pushing boundaries, you know? not just in art, but every aspect of life is more exciting when you dare to step out of your comfort zone and take that risk."
you nodded again in agreement, finding yourself captivated by hongjoong's outlook on life.
“besides,” hongjoong continued matter-of-factly, “the exposure really helped with my music career.”
you tilted your head, eyes darting to wooyoung.
“wait. music career?”
“yep,” wooyoung reaffirmed. “hongjoong’s in an indie rock band.”
you were taken aback, pleasantly surprised by the sudden turn in conversation. though the subject of hongjoong being a musician came up earlier, you weren’t sure how serious wooyoung was being.
"an indie rock band? that’s incredible! why didn’t you say so when you scoffed at us?”
hongjoong shrugged with a nonchalant grin.
“you judged a book by its cover sweetheart. but yeah, now the cat’s out of the bag, we started playing gigs at local venues and have been slowly building our presence in the music scene. now we play at festivals, and shit. you and wooyoung should come along next time. i’d like to see some familiar faces that don’t belong to the groupies trying to get into my pants.”
the more you learned about hongjoong, the more fascinated you became. he was a true artist in every sense of the word, an epitome even, excelling in multiple creative avenues. suddenly it all made sense why his and wooyoung’s friendship worked so well – despite their differences, they were both passionate and unafraid to explore their own personal boundaries.
“you know, that sounds great, i’d love to come to one of your gigs one day. hey, i was just talking to wooyoung about the possibility of him making music. what do you think? genuinely this time, don’t be a smartass.”
“well,” hongjoong’s eyes shifted back to wooyoung as he considered your question. “i didn’t know wooyoung was interested in making his own music, but from what i know about his ethic and from what i heard just before, i don’t doubt he would excel in the industry. tell you what - i’ll speak to the others, maybe we could collaborate on something.”
as soon as hongjoong’s preposition left his lips, a spark of excitement danced in both your and wooyoung’s eyes. the idea of combining their talents seemed like an incredible opportunity to create something special - and your mind began filling with possibilities.
it was apparent that wooyoung thought the same, as he barely managed to get out a faint “are you serious?" - something hongjoong chuckled at.
“of course! i think our styles could create something powerful. i trust your artistic abilities, so let’s give it a shot. but just know, i hold a high standard and i’m going to be tough. i may believe in freedom of expression but i’m still a perfectionist.”
“understood, hyung. i won’t let you down."
~
TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading
#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez oneshots#ateez fluff oneshot#ateez fluff imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#park seonghwa oneshot#park seonghwa imagines#park seonghwa fluff#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa x y/n#ateez series#ateez angst
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
What are your favourite art books? 💕💕love your work
thank you! 🌟 oh artbooks?! that's actually a really interesting question hmm... I don't physically own any (expensive ⚰️) but I've seen them online for some games and artists I like! idk how interesting they'll be if you're not into those specific games but nonetheless i think the art is a treat to see even without context! i'll answer under the cut, this ended up being rly long
Dai Gyakuten Saiban 1 & 2 / The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (Kazuya Nuri)
- Nuri's soft lilac shading is so beautiful + unique to his art! I also appreciate that this artbook is mainly full of sketches and renders you don't see in game. They're so expressive, I wish other artbooks had more doodles of the characters goofing off, you can tell Nuri loves these characters a lot hehe (how often can you say the lead artist drew april fool's furry designs + canon animal plushie designs for the mcs)
the doodles that really stuck out to me are spoilers so i won't share those, but they really feel like snippets from a slice of life anime which humanizes the characters so well
Fire Emblem Echoes (Hidari)
- Hidari's designs are so classy and elegant, the way his fabrics all have a palpable weight and texture to them, and his coloring is so warm... there's a good reason why his designs keep getting circulated with praise every once in a while hehe. I really hope they bring him back for another game!
a personal favourite... she's very pretty!!
(on a side note i rly love Nuri and Hidari's female character designs, it's refreshing to see! not to say that modest designs are inherently better than more fanservicey ones, but i find that the female character designs are even more memorable because of it! it's mainly a personal preference)
Fire Emblem Awakening + Fates (Kozaki Yusuke)
- god of drawing armor and anatomy in perspective... his poses are so dynamic because of his mastery of foreshortening. I love seeing his work in Heroes, it only continues to get better over the years! plus he designed Lucina and Inigo so :D
as much as i love his artbooks my favorite art from him comes from fe heroes! his units have the most unique posing in the game, it always makes me excited to see more of his art (i especially love how conscious/deliberate he is with body types in his designs)
Persona 5/ 4/ P4 Arena Ultimax (Shigenori Soejima)
- Soejima's art influenced my artstyle a lot back in 2017(?) and 2021! (I mainly enjoy his b&w rougher style since it's so bold and also a fun style to draw in, although his painted stuff is fantastic as well) I enjoy seeing the Persona designs since they're so different to what I usually draw and it's really hard to capture the grace he draws them with (especially P4's)
this video of Shigenori Soejima drawing live changed me in 2017
youtube
persona 4/arena ultimax have my favorite persona designs out of the modern games!
Death Stranding (Yoji Shinkawa)
- It's a shame you don't see Yoji Shinkawa's artwork in the game much (to my knowledge) because it's stunning how vivid, gritty, and yet effortlessly elegant it is. The monster designs are so haunting gahhh it's so cool! The mastery he has with ink and brush is insane he can be so loose with the lines and yet it conveys everything you need to know
the full body ink sketch of die hardman... it's so loose and yet it's very controlled aghh it's so impressive (i saw hunter schafer got her portrait drawn by him and like. imagine yoji shinkawa drawing you. ohmygod)
Okami (Takeyasu Sawaki, Kenichiro Yoshimura, Mari Shimazaki)
- when I was in middle school I didn't even know games could look like this?! The obvious traditional Japanese art influence makes the designs really unique even compared to modern games. The calligraphic brush strokes are so striking and I especially love the subtle ink bleed outside of the outlines, it honors traditional media so well. honestly this game's style in general is one of a kind
love how playful these are! i forgot how much i loved this game
Journey (Matthew Nava)
- (although it is an artbook I've only been able to see a few of the pages! Nava does have an archived GDC talk where he presents the book that I still have to take a look at) I found the color script for the complete story interesting since it shows both the color corresponding with the literal height of the mountain for the hero's journey that the game was so inspired by. Plus the alternate designs for the iconic main character are so cute!
masterfully crafted experience... i think this is the first time i've seen a color script for a game? (although i guess i'm not that familiar with games)
These aren't actual art books but I really like the concept art for them:
Transistor (Jen Zee)
- my favorite Supergiant game! It's a shame there's so little of the concept art out there (I'm pretty sure I saw more years ago but I couldn't find them more recently... link rot grr...) Jen Zee's painterly style is gorgeous and the colors are so warm, so uncharacteristic of the cyberpunk genre we're typically familiar with! her art was also a big inspiration for me when I was younger
Apex Legends
- apex does have an artbook but l mainly enjoy looking at the character designs and the transition screens for compositions (especially the season 4 Revenant's trailer ones, one day I hope my background/environment art can reach a level anywhere close to that). The character designs and overall setting are different from my usual style so it's cool to see the attention to detail in fabric texture, prop design, worldbuilding, etc. and try to apply it to my designs
this transition has such a strong sense of narrative in the illustration, it impressed me so much i drew something inspired by it (i'm not sure who the original artist is, i thiiink it's liam mcdonald...?? i really hope i'm not misattributing it;; out of the concept artists his illustrations look the most similar...?)
I'm interested in Outer Wilds' artbook and Disco Elysium's but I don't think I can look at those without spoilers! both phenomenal games that i really need to finish (i know outer wilds' main story but not echoes of the eye)
hit the limit on pictures 😔 and i've been sitting on this ask for a while... I feel like there are more artbooks that aren't coming to mind ahh I should really keep track of them better! thank you for the ask, it was nice to revisit these again 💞
#my asks#anonymous#this took a while bcs i wanted to hunt down the artbooks + write my thoughts on the art instead of just listing them
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Defender Strange - 'greeting the sunrise' part one
a Defender Strange x Female Reader fic [continued from]
summary: a sweet & unexpected friendship flourishes between the Sorcerer Supreme and a Sorceress in training at Kamar-Taj
characters: Defender Strange, Sorceress Female Reader/Y/N
genre: friendship, pining
rating: general audience
word count: 3.4k
author's note: If you've been following this story, this installment may confuse you; it's part three of four (so far) and one I hadn't planned until I decided to post it all on AO3. As a result, you may already have read the events of part four (some smutty goodness). All I can ask, is please bear with me, as I plan to continue once both parts of 'greeting the sunrise' are posted. Thank you for reading!
You tossed and turned on your narrow bed, restless as your mind replayed the events of the evening, irritated that the oblivion of sleep continued to elude you. Doubting how much longer you could maintain your assertion that you saw Stephen as merely a friend; you had nearly given yourself away a number of times tonight and your sensible self was busy insisting it was time to cut and run before he recognized how hopelessly you were carrying a torch for him. Surely you could request a transfer to one of the Sanctums, so that you didn’t have to walk away from this new life, which you adored. New York would be best--especially because as Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen’s central place remained in Kamar-Taj--but you’d gladly embrace London or Hong Kong if they allowed you the necessary space away from him…and the foolishness you couldn’t escape as long as he was near.
You flipped onto your back, sighing hard, then softening as your mind replayed that beautiful moment again and again. The fleeting brush of his lips upon your fingertips—even now, just the memory made them tingle pleasantly, while recalling the gentle husk of his humble entreaty roused a warmth in your chest, filled with love and hope and longing. The longing you had already learned to live with; it was part of you now, in every waking breath you drew. The hope, though…you couldn’t afford to hope. The world you both inhabited dictated it would only be a of waste of energy, detracting from your focus on mission.
You needed to sleep; it was already nearly midnight, and you would need to be up with the dawn to ready yourself for one final training session on harnessing sufficient energy to create eldritch weaponry, before the Master of that discipline put you to the test. But all you could think of was Stephen. How, invariably, at the end of the day, stray hairs would fall from the binding of his ponytail, to lay soft against the warm, precious skin of his neck and frame his handsome face--both inviting your fingers to sweep them aside, though you would never be that bold. Of the handful of times you had caught him watching you, wearing a soft, unguarded expression; soft, so soft, as though his thoughts were also soft, sparking in you for a moment, the expectation he had soft feelings to confess. Your cheeks would fill with a telltale flame, so that you had to turn away before he realized your face had colored for him.
And his eyes, whether the pale crystal blue they appeared in sunlight, vivid blue by torchlight and firelight, or so dark in low light as his pupils went full and left only rims of their mutable blue-green—were as twin North Stars to you. Stars you would gladly trust to guide you if you ever lost you way or foundered in the shadow of mystic challenges you had yet to face. When you looked in Stephen’s eyes and let your eyes linger while allowing yourself to feel what was forbidden, for those brief seconds it seemed he recognized your truth and somehow felt the same way too.
Though you lost track of how long you lay in unwilling contemplation of the man who unwittingly owned your heart, sleep came eventually, once you found your wits and laid your arms at your sides to call upon the practice of your order, breathing deeply and steadily, relaxing to your three-syllable mantra. One you could never share with a single soul. Stephen’s eyes.
_____________________________________________
Little could you know that in his quarters across the compound, sleep confounded Stephen as well.
Successful personal relationships had eluded him his whole adult life. Since his years at Columbia, through post-grad and internship and residency, he’d been far too single-minded in his pursuit of excellence--in his drive to be the best in his chosen field—to be capable of forming true and lasting friendships. Let alone caring about his growing isolation. Stephen’s quest had monopolized his energy and caused him to sublimate his emotional needs. And worst of all, had forced him to abandon a part of himself that might have grown him into a different sort of man. For he had forgotten the romantic that lived quietly in the corner of his heart.
Despite the cold, harsh, sardonic treatment he’d suffered as Eugene Strange’s firstborn son, his mother Beverly had provided a soft, kind, and loving counterpoint. Her piano lessons opened a new world to her brilliant boy’s precisely mathematical mind. These weren’t just notes on paper—she taught him that they lived and breathed and were meant to express the wide range of human emotion and experience. Stephen had embraced her view wholeheartedly, eventually surpassing his mother’s skill and leaving him to crave for ever more, like Beverly’s little backyard flower garden thirsted for merciful rain in the cruel grip of a high, dry Nebraska summer. While a sixth-grade crush on a winsome English teacher got him reading well-above grade level, in search of the sort of romantic literature that Stephen believed might win her heart (and left him devastated when she returned to school after summer vacation a newly made Mrs. Baxter nee Williams).
Come freshman year of high school, Stephen had insisted on taking Latin, despite parental protests and the incredulous reactions of his boyhood friends. He’d had an inkling that mastering that ancient tongue might come in handy, and not too far in the future—he had felt a pull in two directions: medicine or medical research, and a career involving the language arts. Having developed an unforeseen love for the study of languages, along with their origins and idiosyncrasies—and having discovered he had such an aptitude (along with the stunning realization that he had a humble talent for writing poetry, upon having penned a handful of poems as a means of wooing a couple of girls that he’d fallen for)—Stephen had seriously considered a future in the study and teaching of Classical Literature.
Though medicine eventually asserted itself as his future vocation, Stephen had parlayed that Latin into learning most of the Romance languages by the close of his junior year and had remained well in touch with the roots of his surprising and deeply imbedded romantic nature. But in the late summer before he was set to depart for a full ride at Columbia University, those idealistic, creative qualities had gone into a deep, dark, numb sleep after he had failed his sister Donna. At the cost of her life. That was when he had turned his back on the useless dreams and puerile fantasies of a Romantic.
Having been unable to save Donna from drowning to death, Stephen’s goal ultimately became expunging away the guilt he felt over it, which lived in every cell of his body. He had never defined his mission as such but had carried it with him into every operating theatre in which he worked his miracles; it lay silently beneath the words of every journal article he authored and every speech he gave. It was the invisible wall that perpetually separated him from true satisfaction. From feeling he at last had done enough.
After that, Stephen rarely allowed himself to grow close to anyone, refusing to name his fear of loss and the attendant vulnerability as a weakness. If he didn’t commit…if he didn’t allow himself to care too deeply…he wouldn’t need to manage the pain when they inevitably left him. Oh, he had college buddies alright, but none with whom he would stay up into the wee hours of the night, half drunk on cheap, warm beer, discussing philosophical questions, fully drunk on the hopes of a brilliantly managed future—or debating which coed was the finest lay on campus.
Yes, he had played the field. With his easy charm and remarkable physical grace and good looks, Stephen rarely got a ‘no’ when he approached a pretty girl to get to know her better. Few of those liaisons ever lasted long enough to be called relationships, and that left him free of encumberment as he reached for each rung on the ladder of his success. Christine Palmer—on again, off again, strong-willed, smart as a whip, able to appreciate and top his oft corny humor, soft-hearted and kind, patient beyond any woman he’d ever known—was the one exception to that rule. And because of his fear—and his growing arrogance amidst his meteoric rise to become the preeminent neurosurgeon in the country—he had hurt her shamelessly numerous times and finally lost the best and most tolerant soul when it came to his incalculable flaws. In Stephen’s mind, the idea of finding someone new to love and be loved back despite his selfish nature, was hopeless indeed.
And yet slowly but surely he had found someone he could love. Someone that already felt like home, as each day you showed him the sort of care and understanding that he had accepted years ago was never meant for him. Stephen’s affection had grown from pleasant anticipation for the evening teas you shared when he wasn’t off on a mission, to a quiet ache in the center of his chest when he had to miss that nightly ritual. An ache that had grown more constant and more keen of late, ushering him to sleep each night, greeting him upon awakening, waiting to remind him in those rare moments when he wasn’t fully focused on his duties, that it remained. He felt it even in your presence now, tempered with the sweetness that came with recognizing that—against all expectations—he was already in love. Along with the strengthening belief that you felt the same for him.
But what joy could he take in this? Stephen could long with his whole soul to make you his, silently cherish everything that made him love you, but the fact remained: his life was not his own to lead as pleased him. As Sorcerer Supreme, his duty to humanity was sacrosanct; for the sake of mankind, he must always be ready to make the toughest choices and most painful sacrifices, even unto that of laying down his life. There could be no room for a pursuit of personal happiness in that simple equation. And what woman should have to settle for never being her man’s top priority—and living with the constant shadow that the day might come when he wouldn’t return to her, by virtue of a higher commitment?
Besides, he was your superior and his feelings for you had to be out of bounds. Nothing in the books, scrolls, and secretly inscribed relics that had come to Stephen when he assumed that auspicious mantle, indicated he was excluded from the commonsense rules about romantic relationships, let alone close friendships, with those under his command. He couldn’t allow himself to be compromised. Stephen knew that he should nip these feelings in the bud before they flourished into something he could no longer resist.
As Sorcerer Supreme he should put distance between you and himself by assigning you duty at a safe distance from Kamar-Taj. Given enough time, such a separation might serve to lay to rest his tender feelings for you. He could even tell himself that forcing you away was to keep you from harm. And some nights he would even resolve to take this course of action—until you ended up crossing his path come day, either near at hand or from across the compound, and then came that beautiful ache reminding him that he was more than his title and his mission, driving home the truth: no matter the consequences, he couldn’t bear the thought of sending you away.
_____________________________________________
And thus, Time held its sway and the seasons transitioned quietly from late spring to high summer, while your feelings only deepened. You and Stephen grew to know each other even better, and even in the silences of time spent together, there lived an ease and sense of compatibility that you were sure would be noticeable to anyone seeing the two of you together. If you would’ve had the courage to speak of it aloud, Stephen might have told you that Wong (his closest friend and right-hand man in all matters of the Mystic Arts) had made a share of comments—not questioning, just merely observing—regarding the nature of the friendship he witnessed flourishing between the Sorcerer Supreme and a Sorceress still in training. Advising his superior and fellow Master to be cautious enough, as he proceeded, to avoid any appearance of favoritism—while remaining silent on his opinion that the two of you appeared to be a good match. Even a beneficial one for Stephen’s emotional health.
Come summers end you would be facing a series of tests that would determine if you were fit and ready to earn the rank of Master. Though you would never ask for his help to prepare, Stephen read the signs of your fraying nerves and your mounting fear of failure easily, from having experienced the same himself. He remained patient when you would suddenly turn skittish if the topic of your readiness arose and didn’t offer a word of disappointment when you had to call your time with him short in order to practice and study. If you had asked for help, he would’ve agreed in a heartbeat, regardless of appearances. And all the while, you both became scrupulously careful about any physical contact—as though the sweet interlude on the evening of the spilled tea had become a line neither dared to cross, out of the knowledge that once you did, there would be no stopping until your secret, mutual longing found its ultimate satisfaction.
This particular evening, Stephen arrived late for your teatime, having only returned from a far-flung mission an hour before. Not even stopping to eat (reckoning you would be sure to provide a snack of sorts with the tea), he had quickly showered, fixed his hair, and trimmed his goatee, not wishing to come to you battle singed and reeking of his efforts. Not just to keep you from worrying for his sake, but mainly because he now aimed to always appear his best in your presence. It had been years since he’d cared about such a thing, for his long familiarity with Christine Palmer had eventually worn that caution away.
He found you pacing back and forth across the veranda, head bowed over your clasped hands as you murmured words too quiet for him to make out—so focused on running through the litany of spells you would be tested on in two days’ time, that when he spoke your name, you gave a little start.
“Hey…hey there, Y/N,” he coaxed softly, “Didn’t mean to startle you. What’s up?”
You looked up at him, smiling faintly, though the low-grade panic in your eyes was enough to tell him what he needed to know. “Sorry,” you started, “I’m kind of distracted tonight. Maybe…maybe I should go…”
“Oh.” Stephen allowed his genuine disappointment to color his voice—quickly discerning the source of your distraction. Sure in the knowledge that he could—and as your friend, should--provide a diversion enough to calm your nerves. “If you really need to, yeah, of course you should. But, uh…maybe stick around a little while first? I just need to unwind some…this last mission almost went south because of clashing egos among the Defenders, and I had to play tough guy referee.” He called upon his most pleading, puppy dog eyes, “I find comfort in your company, Y/N. I have from the start. A little bit of that would go a long way to helping me find my balance tonight. Know what I mean?”
You gave a little shrug and your smile grew soft and pleased and pretty. “Well, how can I refuse to give the Sorcerer Supreme my assistance if it’s in my power?” When you took to your accustomed seat and began to pour out, Stephen followed suit, accepting the cup you offered, along with your query, “So…would you like to talk about it?”
He took a sip, humming appreciatively at the perfect balance of tea and honey you’d provided. “For now, not so much. Maybe you could just distract me. Fill me in on what you’ve been doing the past few days—how your prep for testing is going. And if there’s any good gossip going ‘round,” he chuckled, flashing you a wink, “I’d like a thorough update.”
Bright humor filled your eyes, and with it an understanding that his request was meant to relax you when you were in need of exactly that. You leaned a bit closer to him as you set down your cup—and Stephen had to restrain the urge to mirror you. To lean in the rest of the way and cradle your beckoning cheek and finally, finally taste your lips, after the countless fantasies of doing so, every time you got close to him now. He knew the time was coming soon when his resolve would fail, and he could only pray that when it did, you would welcome it as the sweet, long-awaited trespass that fate had ordained could no longer be denied.
“Well, it just so happens there’s been some drama behind the scenes in the kitchen,” you began in a playful tone, “An impromptu competition—no one knows how it started—each of the past three days, we’ve been given multiple versions of the same dish and asked to rate them best to worst.” Stephen huffed in amusement, and you grinned, “Yeah, it’s so…un-Kamar-Taj-y, right? It’s almost like they’re competing for a spot on the Food Network or something…”
The warmth of the cup in his hands was but a pale imitation of the wonderful, familiar warmth filling his heart just watching your dear little mannerisms as you supplied the ongoing details of the cooks’ battle royale for kitchen supremacy. Without missing a beat, you picked up a napkin covered plate and pulled back the cloth, revealing a fresh batch of sel roti, offering him first choice. As one of his favorite kinds of sweet bread, Stephen took two, knowing he’d be going back for more shortly. Without having to ask, he already knew that you’d made them yourself; they were rarely on the dining hall menu, and with the cooks in some sort of heated competition, he was sure none would have taken the time for the deep fried dish. He hadn’t failed to see that lately, you made sure that only his favorite snacks accompanied the nightly teas.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he told you when he reached for a third treat, “I’d rate these as best, if you were part of the kitchen rivalry.”
You parted your lips as though to reply, but then merely nodded; the blush rising in your cheeks was enough to show you valued the complement. Enough to make him wish to find a way to see to your needs, as it seemed you did so effortlessly for him. Halfway through his second cup of tea, Stephen lit on an idea.
Trying to sound as casual as possible, he introduced the topic that you’d been tip toeing around. “It’s two more days,” he asked softly, observing your reaction carefully.
“Yes,” you sighed, casting your eyes on your lap, “I’m just about as ready as I can be.” When you braved looking up, he could see the stubborn doubts that still lingered, coloring your lovely features with anxiety. “I suppose all I can do know is trust that I have this…right?”
“Honey, you do,” he insisted immediately, “You just have to relax and believe.”
“I wish I could…”
Stephen nodded, ready to wager you’d accept his proposition. “If you’d allow me, I can help with that…” You had opened your mouth as if to object, but he waved you off. “This is nothing I’d do as Sorcerer Supreme or even as a Master of the Mystic Arts. It’s an offering of friendship—in much the same way that you make sure I’ve got a delicious snack to go with my cup, which you keep ever filled.” And the way warm thoughts of you usher me to sleep each night and greet me every morning I awake. “It’s a simple thing, really—but if you accept, I’m betting it can help you face your tests more calmly and centered than you’re expecting to be…”
(to be continued)
part one - 'of secret longing and hidden grief'
part two - 'of spilled tea and more than sympathy'
tagging: @harlekin6 @valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn @doctorstrangeaskblog @frostandflamesfanfic @ben-locked @aeterna-auroral-avenger @paperclippedmime @ironstrange1991 @strange-dreams-are-made-of-these @clea-strange-is-the-way @fantasyfan4life @fanartka @blue-iris-messenger @strangelockd @strangesunicornsparkleunicorn @cerene-ciderr @lovecleastrange @ninetiesloki
if you've asked to be tagged and I left you out, please let me know
Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!
#my writing#'greeting the sunrise'#No Defense for the Heart#Defender Strange#defender strange x female reader#defender strange x y/n#pining#mutual pining#doctor strange fan fiction#doctor strange fanfiction#stephen strange fan fiction#stephen strange fanfiction#doctor strange in the multiverse of madness#defender strange#doctor strange#stephen strange#doctor strange x female reader#doctor strange x y/n#stephen strange x female reader#stephen strange x y/n#Strangebatch#My Eternal Muse
53 notes
·
View notes
Note
Blue hasn't had enough love as of lately,so in honor of the latest update from JoJo about the colors I present to you : This
(this is my first time writing so go easy on me plz)
Blue couldn't see what was so hard about this.
Just do it. He thought to himself
I've dealt with scarier things then this! Come on!! Get it together coward!!"
Lifting both hands up in unison slapping the sides of his face so hard it was bound to leave red hand prints on both sides.
As he sat there hands to his face staring down at his own reflection in the puddle of water not far from him,knew that deep down insides he was being a bigger baby about this then usual (even if he would never in his life would ever admit it) and despite his valiant efforts to motivate himself, he simply couldn't shake off this...this....This....!
"Uaarrgha!!"
He didn't even know what this was! Was it Fear? Jealousy? Anger? Insecurity? His big Ego? Pride? All of them!?? None of them!??? Who in the goddesses names knows! He sure didn't,but there was one thing he could pin the source of his emotions down to.
He took a deep breath. Head tilted up,back slumped against the wall, eyes shut then exhaled. His hand reached down to pick up the bouque of blue flowers from the ground as he opened his eyes and stood back up straight again. He walked to the edge of the wall and peeked his head partially out to see them.
Y/N
His spouse, his gem,his sweetheart,the rupee to his eye,the love of his life with all the moon and stars above put together was there,sitting with his brothers-or more precisely the versions of himself-or were they more like parts of him?? Either way they were all there, sitting together enjoying a picnic date under a the shade of a tree with the bright warm sun shining down on them, laughing,talking, enjoying the company of each without a care in the world.
The sight of it was almost ethereal.
He knew what to do.
He really truly did.
Then why did he still feel so lost.
He want so badly to be the one to do it (especially on his own as blue) but yet he also wanted to run away and never think about trying this ever again.
There was so much he wanted to do with Y/N as just blue that he never got the chance to since they had started dating but his voice and body always betrayed him.His defensiveness,his aggression,his pride,his anger,he was aware of himself,he was aware how difficult he could be around but he still tries to be better,especially for Y/N.
Whenever he tried to remember himself as "Four" everything seemed much easier between him and Y/N. Whenever "Four" wanted to hold Y/N's hand he would, whenever he wanted to present them a gift he just did it, if he wanted a kiss? He got it! Wanted to hug thier S/O? Call them pet names? Dance with them? Tell them he loved them? To "Four" it was like stomping a twig in half with your foot, effortless.
But for Blue? fighting a herd of monsters on low health alone for him would be less nerve wraking then this.
He still remembers the first time they went out together, well, "they" as in Four and Y/N,not Blue, he remembered how much they fun they seemed to have had on that date,how they once said blue was thier favorite color,(he knew they actually meant "literal" colors but he still liked to have his own interpretation) how amazing they looked that night,how danced for what felt like hours,how thier hands intertwined with his perfectly as they walked through town and how at the end of the night they had....
Blue placed his fingers onto his lips before covering it with full hand as the red in his face became more apparent and real as the fond memories of thier soft lips having touched his became more vivid, remembering the numerous times they did it forehead,on his cheek,on his nose and practically everywhere on his face.
Blue wished to be that, to have that.
The thought of it even happening made his face a dark of red that would rival even the tomato colored having tunic counterpart.
"They're your S/O, idiot,you've dated them long enough to not be this chicken scared to get them flowers!" Blue irritably whispered to himself.
"Shit." He cursed to himself as the sudden realization had just hit him.
But that was the thing ,wasn't it? "Four" has dated Y/N long enough to not be scared to get them flowers, but Blue ? Even if he was still technically the Four who did these stuff with Y/N it still didn't change the fact that this was essentially the first "date" he's ever been on with Y/N as just Blue, (even if the other colors were there too you know,but whatever ig), and in fact with anyone for that matter.
He fell back down on the floor, back pressed against a ruin wall arms on his knees and head down as he placed the flowers down then crossed his arms over his head.
"Fuck, Hylia be damned if this is where my limit of courage is at! Come on! You've got to be joking! I am the Hero of the Four Swords! Hero of Minish and men! Hylia's chosen warrior!This is stupid! Just get it together! This is completely dumb!"
It was stupid,he was stupid,this was stupid, everything was stupid!
"I don't have to do this! I don't have to be here!What was even the point in all this! This idea was a dumb and stupid idea! I shouldn't have ever thought about this! Aarrrgghh!! Screw this!" Picking up the flowers he tossed them to the ground and stomped on them
He should be at the forge getting commissions done! He should be at the knights training ground sharpining his skills! He should be out doing quests for princess Zelda! He should be at Castle town making sure there isn't another monster or pirate attack! Not standing here behind a stupid ruin wall trying to muster up the strength to just give flowers to his own S/O !
This was stupid! This was dumb! He was out of here! He was leaving!
He turned and started to walk the opposite direction of where the group was into the forest stomping and fuming until suddenly-
Part 2 will be coming soon~
(btw don't be afraid to give me some tips and pointers and as well as your opinion on this if you want! Thnx!) 🥰
How... dare you...
This is so cute! BUT THEN YOU HIT ME WITH THAT KIND OF ENDING?!?!?!
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
the council (my mutuals) has spoken, and they have agreed to my request to present a short piece of literature written by yours truly (they wanna see my villain monologue ajdhskdh)
now presenting:
the villain monologue i wrote spawned from my Good Pizza Great Pizza AU
tw: violence, death
context: my ovenist, Terry, has time powers
he can reset the day at any point (when he resets it goes back to the moment he woke up) but he cant go beyond a day
there are these things he calls ‘set in stone events’ where basically, no matter how many times he resets or how much he changes things, these events happen no matter what (ex. the initial rivalry with Alicante and all the times he’s visited the shop, meeting Plant Lady, the cult trials, PizzaCon, Nasir asking for help in taking down Bechamel, being picked to help investigate in Chapter 5)
resetting also takes energy out of him and when he resets a LOT he starts to get sick
this takes place after chapter 5, and everyone (the rivals, Dr Price, Plant Lady, Cicero, Octavia and Terry’s friends) is in his shop celebrating and hanging out but then suddenly the deep dish gang shows up
the gang causes some uh.. violence and like. kills some people there and Terry resets bc he doesnt want that to be permanent but unfortunately it is a set in stone event
there is a lot of resets and attempts in saving his friends, and in this iteration he is tired, a little sick, traumatized, and on the verge of a mental breakdown (i love him <33 thats why im putting him through pain <33)
because of some tragic backstory stuff before the events of GPGP, he snaps and like skillfully takes out all the deep dish gang members, saves the others and scares the hell out of everyone there, forces the gang members to huddle together in a corner and is like. holding them at gunpoint (he took one of their guns)
one of the members tries to attack him again while he’s distracted (talking to his friends) and then the member gets beat up again lmao
and like. Terry’s snapped and he shot the member in the leg and is stepping on his throat so he goes on a villain monologue to let out his hysteria otherwise he might kill somebody
so here is that monologue!! (this is more context than i realized akdhskhs) tell me what you think!!
“Anyone can choose violence in a fit of rage, can choose it when they are overcome with an emotion they can’t handle in any other way. It takes real skill and effort to choose violence as calmly as I do. Well… maybe not ‘calm’ per se, but… hmm… how do I say this…
Ah, I know.
It is not a fire or a storm or an earthquake or thunder and lightning that causes the violence. It is not a disaster that brings it about. There is no red in the sky and there are no screams ringing in your ears. There is no color except white and black with shadows of gray, and there is no sound except a silence that encompasses your whole being.
And you’re standing there, in that scene — in that moment. You’re looking at your hands, and you’re shaking, but at the same time, you are still. Unmoving. Stagnant. You can’t tell if your vision is blurring or if your body is truly as unsteady as it feels. Maybe it isn’t your body at all, it’s just your mind. All in your head.
And at first, you feel nothing. You see nothing. You hear nothing, except for the silence so loud it’s as if it is ringing in your ears. A silence so loud it weighs down on your empty body. You don’t move an inch. Your eyes widen. Nothing changes.
And it’s in that moment in which I choose violence. Bringing life and death and order and chaos into that stagnant and still image. Bringing meaning and emotion into that hollow shell of a person. That shell that was as still as a statue, and maybe it was a statue, but then I colored it and now it’s like they’re alive.
Painting the gray world with red and blue and yellow and with all the colors that could ever exist! Isn’t it so beautiful? Such a vibrant, vivid picture full of life and all that it encompasses and all that it implies. A shell now full of meaning and feeling, moving in every change and changing in every move.
I set the moment ablaze and the fire is the only warmth I have ever felt, all I will ever feel. The fire roars in red and the music plays over the screams and wails of the tortured — or perhaps, the wails and screams are the music. The storm is blue and gray and bright and loud, the bass line of the symphony of pain and anguish.
Isn’t it so wonderful? So amazing? Isn’t it just so beautiful, this violence?
Ah, but it’s not something vermin like you would ever understand. Your violence is mindless. It’s full of rage, but without the passion. It is not a fire that burns up everything in its path and falls back down in ashy embers. It is not a storm that thunders in your ears and strikes you with fear as the lightning grows more frequent and gets closer. It is not an earthquake that shakes you to your very core, an erratic and sudden change that knocks you off your feet.
Your violence doesn’t paint a beautiful picture or compose an epic symphony. It is more akin to… a bee sting. A sloppy punch, a shaky kick. A slap that stings, but only for a second. A moment that doesn’t last or leave much of an impact. A violence that is meaningless and artless and crude.
My violence is deep. Passionate, even. It wounds, it burns, it scars. It lasts for more than a moment, less than or equal to a lifetime. Yours is a violence that instills fear, but mine? It instills anxiety. Dread. A primal fear, or maybe even deeper than that. A violence so strong it hurts even me! It scares me. …maybe I’m the only one who’s afraid. The only who’s hurt.
But does that really matter now? No! It’s beautiful. It’s freeing. It’s destructive and bloody and red and loud and quiet and blue and yellow and it’s just so much of everything—!
My violence is the paint on an empty canvas, the music notes of a song, the life of a picture, the impact of words! It is a violence that hurts and it hurts forever.
My violence is the opposite of me, I think. The only good thing that I could ever do. The only good thing that could ever come out of me, and it’s inherently evil, haha! But it’s beautiful, isn’t it? It lasts forever, and I don’t. I don’t.
Your violence is cliché. Lifeless, sloppy, boring. Done to death. Meaningless, worthless. Just like you, actually. Just. Like. You.”
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Any Port in a Storm
pic source
Chapter : 2 of 5 ( chapter 1 is in here)
Relationship : Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader childhood friend
Summary : The story timeline previously took a pre-amber lead outbreak, but for this chapter it's from three years after they moved to a New World Island, right when Flevance's incidents happened.
.
Perhaps, the time passed in the three years made you completely forget all of the traces of Flavence, Law's existence even. Sometimes you look around for distractions, mostly after school time or during the holiday break. Instead of Flevance's weather, this spring climate town is way much better. It's the prettiest town you've ever seen. The soft but vivid color of pink in this spring climate does change the color hue of your sight. Because of the spring climate, every corner of downtown is filled with flower shops. The eye-catching variety of flowers is a part of your everyday life.
There's no doubt you'd love them, but a little trigger of the daisies makes you cough mercilessly. You went to the doctor last month, got cough syrup and other colorful bitter medicine, so you naively thought it would surely be better. Alas, it never went well until the point you kept a little secret about how your throat began coughing up flower petals and blood. In the midst of being amused by vomiting the flower petals, you will probably be ready to accept any fate soon. This kind of disease is somewhat too imaginative, too fake, as it exists only in folklore. So, que sera sera.
.
Every Monday morning, in the breakfast you're in, today's newspaper is served on the dining table. For your father, read the headline news. It's like his ritual before going to work. Mostly economic, fitting his profession as a banker, and stuff like world government politics, including the marines. You are confused about how your father didn't touch the breakfast yet, yours was already in the stomach.
" Father, your breakfast has become an artefac..." You say it to him, but his loud gasp catches you off guard.
His hands were just trembling behind the newspaper, mumbling something you didn't catch. Your mother, who was confused by his attitude, started to peek next to your father. What kind of madness was he subjected to that made him this noisy? It's Monday morning when you stepped into the last chapter of your memory line about the Trafalgar Law.
" I'd a sneaking suspicion that the WG had gone insane! " said your father, covering his face with a palm full of palms. If there are no language restrictions at the dining table, he already shouts the swear words.
" That's a lie! What a hoax is that? Why was there a novel virus living in the Flevance? Why was the WG so wicked to demolish it? " Your mother said it in a somber tone.
She is trembling and immediately runs to grab dendenmushi in the living room. During the dial, she shouted and repeated the name. It's the Trafalgar family. The Trafalgar's name you heard was crystal clear. It keeps beaming, filling up every fiber in your auditory canal. Your guts tell you the worst scenario from their pattern, something happened in Flavence, and of course, it's about Trafalgar as well. The dial your mother made has never reached them ever since.
From across the room, you could listen to the lyrics of the song that became your father's current favourite. It plays on the moderate size of the dendenmushi, which has a form like a gramophone. He shamelessly replays it every time at breakfast, it makes your ears bleed. But in this case, a song didn't bleed your ears out, your heart did. The sudden and devastating Flevance news bruised these three people's hearts.
Earth angel, earth angel
My darling dear
Love you all the time
Earth angel, earth angel
The one who I adore
Love you forever and evermore
It's Monday morning, when you perform to vomit the bright yellow with the hints of orange color from marigold petals mixed in the trickle of a vivid blood red. Such poetic, vivid colors even subdued the horror of the disease. A yellow marigold is well known to represent the sun's bright light, it brings zest to the person. Others have said that the marigold has also come to represent the despair of love caused by the death or brokenness of a relationship with someone we care about.
A marigold, the birth flower of Law's.
______________________
Long after the post-Flevance, an amber lead outbreak, Flevance lives as the vanished white town it had forgotten about. The WG seriously banned people who still talked about what was happening there. Many years later, when the winter passed and the ice melted in a river full of cherry blossom petals, no one knew that only one young boy had survived, and through 'a cursed name' he'd be ready to set the storm.
_____________________
.
.
Lyrics by The Penguins
#one piece#trafalgar law#one piece law#one piece fanfiction#trafalgar law flavence#trafalgar law x reader#slightly hanahaki#Spotify#one piece x reader
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heatwave
Okay, listen. I’m trying to write a fanfic about Steddie, because this is my life now? Maybe I’ll post it on ao3 if I feel very brave.
This is a part of Steve’s POV
--
The heat has been unbearable for the last couple of days. Steve was sweating, while sitting still. After his shifts, he hid away in his parents home. There was a pool in the garden, which sparkled in the sunlight, promising sweet relief. But he was avoiding the common rooms of the house, when his parents were home. He also especially avoided the pool, it brought back painful memories of endless dinners at the Holland's house, before they sold it, once they ran out of money to spend on looking for Barb.
Besides that, nobody really looked after the water, so it already developed a greenish hue.
Steve always saw the guilt in Nancy's eyes, sometimes the anger she felt towards herself, the world and also him, every time he tried to enjoy himself in the garden since then.
After a while they both felt it in every kiss. None of them talked about it, put it into words, but it was there. It was in the air.
Sometimes, he saw Barb, sitting on the edge of the pool. It wasn’t Steve’s own memory, but he saw the picture Jonathan took, with the camera he dropped and it haunted him. So much indeed, that it became a colorful, vivid memory. So was her delicate, dead body, being eaten, the vines extracting every drop of life she had in her. He wasn’t there when Nancy had to find her, but in his mind's eye, he saw her.
How many times did he wake up, a muffled scream on his lips, because his mind imagined one of the kids wrapped up in vines, with dead eyes, a creature crawling out of their lifeless mouths, which has been feasting on their insides.
The naked helplessness he felt, in the face of death. So unchangeable. The Steve he was in high school thought, with charm and a good family name, you could make everything go your way, if you had to.
He remembered Jonathan talking to his little brother’s lifeless body, in the Byer’s old home, his voice was full of guilt and despair. He left the room, but he can remember small, pale Will. Dark circles under his eyes. His shallow breath. He looked so fragile, like he would break if you hugged him too tight. He felt Jonathan’s pain and guilt and also the fierce burst of energy he got swearing to protect them.
Steve used to wish he had a little brother. He imagined it would make the world feel less alone.
Since it was time for summer break, everyone figured Nancy was due to arrive in town, at least they talked about it on the phone a couple of weeks back. He didn't know if Jonathan was with her.
Steve admired her sharp mind, quick wit, her loyalty to Barb and her curiosity towards the world around her. Always eager to get to the bottom of things. Jonathan was a better match, when he was very honest to himself.
What would his family give, for him to be half as ambitious as Nancy Wheeler.. Steve jumping from job to job that didn't have any real career opportunities was a thorn in his family's eyes, especially his fathers, his son refusing to step into his footsteps was the final nail in his coffin, he said on several occasions.
Nobody would blame neither Nancy nor Jonathan for not visiting town.
After the earthquake. the south half of the town was decimated. Many people left, never to come back. With them, business left. Chances left. Young people left. Hawkins was a ghost town, for the most part.
His parents left, more definitely than before. Steve, on the other hand, wanted to stay.
Not a lot of people came back after the evacuation.
He felt rebellious and stupid, trying to 'be his own man' and by doing so creating even more distance between him and his family, than there was before ‘the event’.
His family’s love was always conditional. Some of those conditions, he simply couldn't try to fulfill anymore.
His childhood was over, his teenage years were over. So were the times he had enough energy to uphold an image of what other people wanted him to be.
His transition into adulthood was more abrupt and more brutal, than the average Joe’s, understandably.
If he would talk about it, which he didn’t, he’d probably say, his youth was over the moment he watched Billy die. The way life just oozed out of him while seeing Max without the spark at all gave him a perspective he never wished on anyone.
There was no time to contemplate his past or his future. Most of the time, there was just surviving in the moment, whether it be physical or psychological. No room for soft emotions, for grief, for nostalgia, for hope. Keep trying to go on. Keep everyone else to go on.
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Can’t You See That You’re Lost Without Me? - Chapter III
Nameless Ghouls(Ghost band) x Black!OC
Series Summary: Asteria is forced out of her home and old life, but maybe it’s for the better.
Chapter Summary: Asteria gains mountains trust, with flower crowns.
Warnings: Fluffy meeting, probably bad writing, and idk what else
I would love and very much appreciate any constructive criticism, please interact (like or comment, reposts if you really want to) if you enjoy. Comment or dm me if you want me to start a taglist.
Papa walks me back to my room so that I can read through liber ghoulius eorumque historia and prepare to meet the ghouls. I skim the table of contents, squinting to comprehend the small messy font, stopping when I find one titled Gaining a Ghoul’s Trust. Skip straight to that chapter, I learn that there are six different types of ghouls — air, quintessence, earth, water, multi, and fire.
I skimmed through the information, making it through the first three ghouls and how to gain their trust when a knock rang through my new room. After resting the book on my desk, I open my door to see Papa standing before me.
“Ah, Asteria, are you ready to have a short introduction to the ghouls?” He asks me smoothly.
“Sure.”
-- --
“I’ll go in first, and just be careful the ghouls are often wary of new presences. Even the ones who brought you here may end up feeling threatened by you, now that you are in better shape and conscious,” he warns me, concern and worry prominent on his features. I only nod, watching as he slowly pushes open the heavy door and walks inside. I slip in behind him, his taller stature shielding me from the gazes of the ghouls.
Papa briefly informs the ghouls of my presence, before stepping aside, allowing me to be seen. I glance around the eight tall figures scattered around the large room. After a few short moments of staring at all of them and being stared at in return, the shortest masked being charged at me, their red iris narrowed into slits. Their eyes now seem cat-like as I back up quickly, he is, however, grabbed quickly by two of the much taller ghouls. I recognize one of them as the purple-eyed ghoul who had found me in the woods, the other had light-blue eyes. This one seemed shy as he avoids eye contact with me the entire time I watch them hold the red-eyes ghoul back.
The aggressive being calms down rapidly, as though all of their energy is zapped out of them. I stare on, wide-eyed, as they drag the, now, unconscious person out of the room. With a few of them gone and less attention placed on me, I took some time to look around the room. It has a large stage in the furthest part of the room, various instruments scattered around, and a few large couches are placed in front of the stage. A half kitchen with a fridge, microwave, and sink, the walls lined with soundproofing foam.
“Um… Hi, I’m Asteria.” I introduced myself with a small wave. Only two ghouls return my wave, seeming to be the least wary of my presence. Papa then takes my hand and begins leading me back to the door I came through.
“You will have just over a week to get used to them and gain their trust, before beginning the full extent of your job. I find it best you start with the air ghouls, they are the most open and easily trusting.” Papa informs me, holding the door open for me. Before leaving, I calmly wave the white-eyed and dark blue-eyed ghouls over to me, as they had been the only ones to wave back.
-- --
As I walk through cool halls, passing large windows with a lattice pattern, looking out into a vast garden. As I observe the warm autumn colors, the leaves begin to change and grass withers away slowly, only to notice an out-of-place patch of vibrant green plants as well as a few vivid colored flowers. My steps come to a halt as I move closer to the window, the new growth occurring in the transition season that is fall sticks out like a sore thumb.
Upon closer inspection, I notice a ghoul at the epicenter of the lively plants, seeming to be in its element. At this, I realize it’s the abbey’s earth ghoul. I find the nearest door and slowly make my way outside, making sure to keep my hands in front of me to appear as less of a threat. The ghoul doesn’t pick up on my presence until I step into the patch of green, their eyes shooting open quickly as their head turns to me. I raise my hands in front of me, my palms toward them, halting my approach. I recall the information on gaining an earth ghoul's trust as the ghoul sitting before me calmed slightly.
It is best to start outside, where they feel calmest and grounded. As with gaining any ghoul's trust, approach slowly, and just stay in their presence for some time. They will trust that you aren’t a threat any more if you also respect personal space and any parts of nature around you. A small gift or trinket that resembles nature in any way and you will have fully gained their trust.
I slowly inched my way closer to him, my hands still extended in front of me. I sit beside him with a good three feet between us, my legs crossed beneath me. I feel his eyes on me, but I keep my eyes on the vibrant flowers and plants surrounding me, some out-of-season vegetation flourishes around, no doubt a result of the earth ghoul’s powers.
Noticing some daisies and chamomile flowers near me, I realize the perfect gift to give to him. I calmly reach towards the beautifully growing flowers and weave them together in an alternating manner. As I do I think of the meanings of the two flowers and how they coordinate perfectly what I am using them for.
I soon run out of chamomile flowers near me, so I place down the partially made flower crown to get some that had grown farther away. However, before I could stand more of the bright white flowers rapidly grow before me. I glance beside me to see the ghoul’s eyes staring at me curiously from behind his mask, his hand motioning for me to continue what I was doing.
I pluck the last flower I need and close the crown, although it’s missing something. I glance around searching for something to tie it all together, when some ivy vines catch my eye. I quickly wrap the vine around the tied flowers loosely before turning to the ghoul beside me and presenting the crown to him. He only stares at it with his head tilted to the side slightly. ‘Adorable.’ I shake my head just slightly to remind myself to focus on the task at hand.
I begin to raise the crown placed on his head, but he flinches back before I can, my actions seeming to have startled him. I pause, and gesture to show him what I’m trying to do with the crown. He loosens the tension in his shoulders and moves back to how he was, allowing me to place the flowers on top of his silver mask.
I smile at him, the flowers complementing his vibrant green eyes greatly. The corners of his eyes crinkle leading me to believe he was smiling back at me.
“What’s your name?” I ask curiously.
“Mountain.”
#ghost band#nameless ghouls#papa emeritus iv#ghost band x oc#ghouls are hot#koifics#nameless ghouls x oc#oc fiction#papa and the ghouls
1 note
·
View note
Text
Today's Daily Encounter 26th September 2022
Beloved Hymns: O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”1
Samuel Trevor Francis was born on November 19, 1834, in a village north of London, but his parents soon moved to the city of Hull along the English Coast where his father was an artist. As a child, Samuel enjoyed poetry and even wrote a little volume of his own poetry. He also developed a passion for music, singing in the church choir as a child. But as a teenager, he struggled spiritually, and when he moved to London to work, he knew things weren't right in his heart.
Later he wrote, “I was on my way home from work and had to cross Hungerford Bridge to the south of the Thames. During the winter's night of wind and rain and in the loneliness of that walk, I cried to God to have mercy on me. I stayed for a moment to look at the dark waters flowing under the bridge, and the temptation was whispered to me: ‘Make an end of all this misery’. I drew back from the evil thought, and suddenly a message was born into my very soul: ‘Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?’ I at once answered, ‘I do believe,’ and I put my whole trust in Him as my Savior.”
Francis went on to become a London Merchant, but his real passion was Kingdom work— especially writing hymns and preaching in open-air meetings— which occupied his remaining seventy years. He traveled widely and preached around the world. He died on December 28, 1925, at age 92. His hymns were written with vivid and colorful words, allowing us to visualize God’s love for us!
Oh, the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of thy love,
Leading onward, leading homeward, to my glorious rest above!2
Suggested Prayer: Dear Heavenly Father, how great is your love for us! You sent your only Son to die for our sins in an act of selfless love. Thank you for your mercy. In Jesus’ name, Amen. 1. John 3:16 (ESV). 2. “O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus” hymn by Samuel Trevor Francis (1875).
Today’s Encounter was written by: Veronica B.
NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness
for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon
Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or
if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ,
please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.
Daily Encounter is published at no charge by
ACTS International, a non-profit organization,
and made possible through the donations of
interested friends. Donations can be sent at:
http://www.actscom.com
ACTS International
P.O. Box 73545
San Clemente, California 92673-0119
U.S.A.
Phone: 949-940-9050
http://www.actsweb.org
Copyright (c) 2016 by ACTS International.
When copying or forwarding include the following:
"Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2016
ACTS International.
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
dynamicquest
Dynamic Quest
blackbutlercharacterpoll2023
Black Butler Character Poll 2023
caroalvrz
Caro's Glitter
burygods
𝗤. HOW DO I BECOME IMMORTAL﹖
black-suns-rim
Big Papa