#ethoslab x male reader

[patxhwrk]

greetings. could u write a little imagine thing for ethoslab? watcher!reader or dsmp!reader thanks! preferably male reader. take ur time if u do write it. stay hydrated.

my fuck this is such a good idea thank you anon for being so smart

anyways dsmp reader with angst sorry about that

completely forgot u asked for an imagine so have a whole fic instead. I might write a seperate imagine for this one too tho

-ˋˏ✄— Bubbling Memories

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Ethoslab x Male! DSMP! Reader

Pronouns: he/him

"You're more home to me than any house is."

.navigation. // .hermitcraft & empires smp masterlist.

CW!!

—Mentions of character death

—Implications of self-harm & attempt su*c*de

—Blood

—Derealization(?)

Every second spent in that lawless server—ironic, considering it had been laws that started wars—was spent in the echoes of left behind misery. There was never silence in that world. If you managed to stumble upon even a sliver of quaint and quiet, you would find that it would have been better to have the ear piercing noise.

Y/n was lucky enough to have been left with one life. The last thing he remembered from the old server was the sorrowful eyes of his friends waving goodbye as he left. The portal—it vaguely reminded him of a nether portal if it was pink—shrunk as Tubbo's and Ranboo's backs turned to leave.

He hugged the blue stained yellow sweater closer to himself as he turned towards the new server—his new server—as the habitants greeted him with warmed welcome arms.

He was half afraid of building something that took effort. But one reassuring conversation with Xisuma—the man somewhat resembled Dream. Why was his mask fucking green?—coaxed him into building one of the biggest and best things he had ever created in his life. Well, it was just an "improved" Logstedshire, but it was the thought that counts, right? Building it reminded him of the time he spent with his brothers—though one had been a ghost, it was fine. He even put a bell where he and Tommy would—!

His hands stopped swinging the bell.

Tommy was dead. His younger brother had visited Dream in the prison where he was left to die. And he left his brother because he was too much of a pussy to confront the same man who had tormented him until he had a knife barely glazing at the skin of his throat.

He shook his head, running his hands through the mop he called hair as the bell ringed a final time. It silenced before it stilled. And then Y/n left his base.

Voices rang in his ear—was it his?—as he scolded himself for building something that gave him so much horrible memories more than the good ones. Why can't be just be like Ghostbur? Forgetful of the sorrows and always looking at the sun even through dark clouds.

His arms found comfort in himself, wrapping around each other as his nails dug into the skin under the yellow sweater. Wilbur wouldn't mind if he stained it, right? Wilbur would reassure him that it was fine, he was fine, it was all fine. And then he'd take the sweater and wash it. Because Wilbur was a good big brother.

No, Wilbur's dead. His brother was long dead before Philza killed him. Ghostbur wasn't like Wilbur, either.

He walked aimlessly around the server. He would have reminded himself of Ranboo's enderwalking state if he was in his own head. He watched as he passed by builds, ignoring the calls of concerned friends—friends? He had friends now?—as his feet brought him further and further from the build that he longed to blow up. Longed to tear into shreds bare handed as the memories of a pain long buried but never forgotten bubbled back to his head. Longed to feel the blood coat his fingers as his fists crashed through the shards of glass that showed the reflections of himself—a man who was too much of a coward to save his little brother. Too much of a coward to stop his father from killing the brother he looked up to. Too much of a fucking coward to just shove the knife through his chest, in the same place the sword dyed the sweater blue.

He longed to let his hands, his arms, his whole body fucking hurt. The seating hot pain that followed, the ache, the numbness, before it disappeared and he'd wake up with one less life left.

A hand was placed on his wrists. Cold, it was so fucking cold, as it pulled his shaking hands away from the yellow—now red stained sleeves—sweater.

It jolted him awake. Whether it was the cold, the tug of his arms, the way his voice called to him, or his concerned eyes searching for something—just something—in Y/n's unfocused stare.

"Y/n, hey," Etho's voice was gentle. He was patient as he tried to bring Y/n's eyes to his own. "Hey, hey, I'm here."

"I—Etho?" Y/n's voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible to Etho if he hadn't been paying close attention to him. "What—?"

Etho's arms wrapped around his midsection, pressing him against himself as his hand raised to hold Y/n's head gently. "Thank void you're okay."

Hesitantly, Y/n wrapped his arms around Etho's neck. He hadn't realized his legs were shaking until his whole weight was leaned against him. But Etho didn't complain, he was strong enough to carry Y/n if he ever needed. And he did now.

Y/n sniffled. He didn't stop the tears flowing out of his eyes as he buried his head on Etho's shoulder. And Etho let him. He buried his head on his hair as Y/n's whole body shook.

Pressing a feather light kiss on the crown of his head, Etho whispered in the quiet forest. "It's okay, you can cry. But it is never your fault. None of it is."

Y/n's eyes searched the distance, and he realized just how far he walked when he spotted the world border a distance away. He sniffled and hiccuped as Etho gently and patiently combed through his hair.

He shook off his thoughts before it could remind him of a memory long past and buried himself further into Etho's clothes. It smelled like redstone, and the glowing red dust was enough to tell Y/n that he was working on a project before hand.

"Let's get you home, shall we?"

"No, not my place. Please don't bring me back there, not again."

Etho nodded. The pain in Y/n's voice stung his heart, and he knew he had to make him feel better. He kneeled down for a short second just to hook his arms under Y/n's knees and bring him up to carry him easier. Y/n's head still nested on his shoulder as he took off to the direction of his own base.

"My place, then."

"You don't have a proper base yet, Etho." Etho felt the upwards tug of his lips. His eyes glanced down to Y/n's whose reddened eyes watched the path they took.

"Hey, it's a home to me and it'll be a home to you!" He laughed to lighten the mood. Y/n's quiet chuckles followed after him and he smiled down at him.

"Thank you, Etho."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Y/n could take down improved Logstedshire when he felt better. Then, he wouldn't have to do it bare handed. Or alone, he reminded himself, as his eyes found dual coloured eyes.

Right now, he was just content to be with Etho.

—PATCHWRK !