#a thing that has nothing to do with either of those things

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[fanzou]

To Be Vigilant

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x GN!Reader

✗ Genre: Fluff

✗ Total WC: 0.8K

“‘N…. I don’t know, he’s just so… handsome and masculine and so great in all the right ways.” You say so dreamily, palm propping your head up.

Robin just takes it all in, not ‘cause she wants to. But because she has to. She really does love you. Truly. Had it been anyone else she’d probably grow just a smidge irritated. Well, not like she wasn’t right now. This, here, right now, her zen time? She’d likely pick up a book and enjoy her favorite drink and go to town, and that was the initial plan—but alas, here you were talking about Zoro like a schoolgirl in love.

So yeah, she was a smidge irritated but she’d tolerate it, for you.

“Do you want me to stop talking about him?” You smile, sheepishly while tracing the outline of the wooden table.

If Nami was here, she’d answer with the most blunt and straightforward, YES! ever. Pity for Robin that she wasn’t there to accompany the two of you.

She smiles back, just a little lighter. “I can’t promise I won’t cancel you out while you do.”

You whine her name, resting your head on her shoulder while she swirls her coffee around with a spoon, you have a light grip of her arm.

Like seriously, if it were anyone else.

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Would be the logical approach, and she, by all means, is right. But you often defied logic, many times reaping the consequences. This was one of those times. “You never truly know what he might be thinking.”

“That’s just it. It could go so wrong!”

“It could also go right.” She peers down at your desperate figure, clinging onto her like she was your life-line.

Shit, couldn’t argue with that.

You sigh in a last effort of defiance, “I think I’m fine with liking him from a distance. It’s not doing me any harm right now,” you resume in your own activity—that being fiddling with your fingers, pulling away from the black-banged woman. “Yeah… I mean, watching him work out in the Crow’s Nest is kinda hot.” She giggles at your remark. Wow, that’s kinda surprising.

She’d probably regret it though, it grants you a chance to egg the topic on, “There’s something so charming about his attitude and personality, though. Like he could be such a good boyfriend—No, he’d be a great husband.”

Robin says nothing, a little hm, flipping to the next page over.

And this is where you kinda start feeling bad, it’s not the first she’s gotten an ear load about how dreamy and handsome you thought Zoro was. Probably wouldn’t be the last, either. You’ve yapped Nami’s ear off about it and she was not as generous when it came to your rambles. Partially because there was so much she could take and partially because she cringed at how highly you spoke of him. She couldn’t take it anymore, so… you moved onto your next victim. A voice of reason, (like you’d ever listen to reason anyways.) Robin.

Surprisingly she speaks, “You should be more careful with where you say things.”

…Okay? You look back up to her after your arms are crossed over the other with your cheek leaning on top for a little duration of time, and get a look at the woman as an effort to make her push a little further into her statement.

But she doesn’t. Abruptly Robin stands from her seat, she closes her book and brings her coffee with her. She looks over to the door, as if someone was there—then to you.

“I wish you the best of luck with the swordsman.”

You giggle, “You say that like he’s—”

Oh.

Oh.

And then your worst fears come true. You lose vision of her, and then it’s replaced with the thief of your heart.

Oh shit.

His tone is condescending, and he lifts his head up as if to mock you, “Like I’m?” His shoulder is leaning against the door frame of the room; you’re frozen in place. Eyes as wide as flying saucers, hands gripping the nearby surface. You whimper very slightly.

Shit, was this her plan all along? Was that why she giggled at what you said? She wasn’t really trying to egg you on to speak anymore but, it was so perfect. She did this on purpose, get you to spill in possibly the most convenient time possible. You should’ve known. She’s never taken interest like this before.

And how couldn’t you sense his presence?!

Your palms are sweaty, you’re hot all over, “Like… like…” But he only grins, and it’s so sadistic, he takes delight in your shocked state. He’s truly the devil.

“Guessin’ we’ve got lots to talk about, huh?”

[spidori]

Possible twist on this, what if Danny's ghostly side *is* actually Doomsday, or at least his soul?

Got a little rambly, so putting that under the cut.

The short summary is Doomsday's soul has an obsession with resurrection, and has developed the ability to push back through to the living realm and construct living bodies to do so.

He ends up pushing into and regenerating Danny during the portal turning on, then doesn't want to take over, even if he could kill what his soul now sees as a part of himself, because cooperating like this turns out to be a fantastic survival strategy, not to mention Danny's DNA quiets down the anger and violence written into his own. So he just stays, a symbiotic soul now completely chimeric to Danny's own, and they survive.

What if the portal couldn't open unless something was trying to do so from both sides? And Danny accidentally resetting the safety cutoff switch only worked because Doomsday's soul "happened" to be punching its way through the veil for his resurrection at the same time?

I kinda like this idea for a few reasons actually. Especially since it provides a really good reason for Danny surviving; it's always kinda bugged me, since Danny doesn't seem particularly obsessed with anything in the show, at least not nearly enough to help him survive the moment of becoming a halfa; and I know obsession is pretty much if not entirely Phannon, and the show just has him essentially chosen by the narrative, which is fine, but I don't want to give up all the narrative potential that obsessions offer.

So Doomsday got beaten by Superman, as he do. Goes to punch his way back through the veil and regenerate from whatever matter, as his ghostly ability allows him to; obsession with resurrection and survival will give you that kind of ability if you have enough ecto, and the scientist who made Doomsday spared no expense in the resources he provided, so Doomsday is a lot like Spectra if her obsession wasn't quite literally skin-deep.

He's in the process of pushing through (it's a process to break the boundaries of reality, ok. It's why he can't just instantly res every time he's killed) when the weak point he's making suddenly shatters inwards, and he goes from pushing against nearly infinite resistance to suddenly nothing pushing back at all, and instead goes absolutely Flying into the portal, and *SMACK* right into a body. A fully formed pile of organic matter, exactly what his soul would normally have to slowly and painfully construct, but also in the process of being obliterated by the conditions of portal formation and a ton of electricity from the other side.

Welp, can't have that. That's a perfectly good body right there, ain't no way Doomsday's obsession would let that go to waste. Not like he hasn't survived those things before either, so how to survive them is already incorporated into his soul. So that's what he does, he keeps Danny from dying, as is the first half of his obsession. He also fuses himself into Danny, giving him a body, and satisfying the second half of his obsession as well.

The thing is? That's actually exactly where his obsessions end? It's not like he *wants* to rampage, that's all trauma and conditioning from his "upbringing" so to speak. It's literally encoded into his DNA, something he only kinda has at the moment, since he managed to save Danny's body from damage so well. And Dannny? Doomsday saved him so well his mind is even still intact. Doomsday can't kill his mind to take the body either, the whole process had the side effect that his soul doesn't differentiate between Danny and Doomsday any more, and destroying himself goes directly against his obsession. So, as long as Danny isn't trying to kill himself, there won't be any differentiation by the underlying obsession, and the Doomsday part of the soul will just try to help the overall being survive. Eventually, the two aspects of souls coexist as a single fused soul long enough that they go from symbiotic to something better described as chimeric, with no real boundary to differentiate them, just gradients across where bits originating from different existences have found points of connection and blended together at the edges.

One cool ripple effect from this is that it adds a lot to Dan. Danny was, unintentionally, trying to destroy Doomsday by ripping him out like that. It triggered the *Survive* obsession, which designated the Danny part as the threat, letting him be differentiated as a-part-of-self-causing-threat-so-needs-to-be-removed instead of something of the self to still be protected.

The rampage that follows is just the Doomsday anger-in-his-DNA part coming back to the surface a bit, even if it is mixed with parts of Danny and Vlad that got pulled in during the process. The only real difference is that the soul has come to view ghostly existence as another form of survival through all the time as a halfa, letting it not try to resurrect as a living being, and instead keep access to all the ghostly powers it's picked up in the process of surviving as Phantom.

Danny gets experimented on by either his parents or the GIW and dies over and over and over again but because of his unusual ghostly creation he keeps coming back and with each return he changes. Originally the changes with each death were subtle. His skin would be a shade greyer, his flesh would be tougher, his powers a bit stronger.

Then the changes became far more apparent, the deaths reaching past the multiple thousands. He’s grown and he’s grown a lot. His skin is grey and spikes protrude over his being. His face no longer resembles what he once was, now a terrifying being with razor sharp teeth and spines imitating a beard jutting out of his jaw (wait how long has he been doing this? Has it been THAT long? Surely not.) Danny just wishes he could be free, not to be put under simulated trials over and over and dying again and again.

The Justice League heard word of unusual power disruption and reports of unethical experimentation at an absolutely massive underground research facility. Superman chose to lead the charge, rounding up scientists and directing other league members to find the server room and to find, collect, and then destroy all research this group might have found.

Going deeper and deeper into the research facility, there are dozens upon dozens of inhuman entities in massive glowing green vats, all of which seemingly in a comatose state.

At the farthest and most secure part of the facility, having broken through dozens of secure locks, doors, and security drones, Superman comes across the largest containment of all; one holding a being hooked up to dozens of monitors and in a similar comatose state as the others, the beast within is someone Superman knows very very well. Doomsday.

[essycogany]

Sonic And Amy Are A Unique Couple

This is a quick Sonamy rant /ramble session. With a few added clarifications too. Enjoy!

This couple is more unique than you’d think. It’s cool if anyone disagrees. I'm all for a polite debate and respect your opinion. But if you're willing to hear me out, I'll be willing to explain myself as clearly as possible. Great? Awesome! Let’s get started!

Amy doesn't want to change Sonic. I will scream this until I'm not able to speak any more that Amy loves Sonic for who he is. She always has but it wasn't until IDW that she expressed it out loud. Still one of my favorite moments between them.

Does that make their relationship unique? Not really. What makes their relationship unique is what Amy loves about Sonic is kind of the reason they're not a couple yet. Sonic is an ongoing force that can’t be stopped or changed. Of course, he’ll allow someone to join him on a race, but he still keeps going. Not to say Sonic won’t stop to smell the roses (pun not intended) but he’ll do it on his own time. Amy always likes to take advantage of those moments and best of all, Sonic doesn’t mind. Even during their old chases, he’d slow down for her. Says a lot about the connection they have but there’s more

Their chemistry is…something for lack of a better term. Their back and forth is so interesting to me. Sonic does like Amy back. Notable examples here but to put it shortly, Sonic doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to romance. Sometimes he’s not into it and other times he’s chill. Sometimes Amy is ecstatic and other times she's bashful. I'm looking at you Sonic X.

Every time Amy’s occupied, is when Sonic wants her the most. Amy on the other hand wants Sonic to enjoy his freedom. Neither of them stops to think about how maybe they can have it both ways.

I'll also mention romance isn’t about “being tied down.” That paints romance as if it’s some kind of chain being rapt around your neck or being forced to be with the person. That is not romance. It’s keeping someone hostage. Something Amy would not do. Every time she’d joke around about marrying him Sonic didn’t take it seriously. Heroes included.

Sonic’s line in Heros: “Amy, knock it off. There's no time to play!” Dude knows Amy was messing with him. She was written to be girly, childish, adventurous, and cartoony. No, it wasn’t always executed well. Hello, Sonic Freeriders Amy! But I think this scene summons it up the best.

Important thing to mention as well is Sonic is an outspoken and honest character who rarely lies. It’s either you get the truth or you get nothing. He’s not the type to spare people’s feelings either, so if he had a problem with Amy in the past, he’d tell her directly. I do think she'd also stop if he genuinely told her to. The last thing Amy would want is to tarnish their friendship because of her actions. This loyal girl is so sweet.

Not to mention this is a popular trope in Japan too. The trope was what their relationship was based on.

Back to my original point Sonic and Amy aren’t a traditional couple. That’s a good thing. If they became canon their relationship wouldn’t change if they got together, but also they don’t need labels either. Romance isn’t or shouldn’t be a burden on you. That’s not how love works and that’s not what Sonic believes Amy to be. If that’s the case he wouldn’t be friends with her. Whether you ship Sonic with Amy, someone else, or no one, there should be no doubt Sonic values her friendship.

I’ll also add that Amy is just as up for an adventure as Sonic is. It’s why she loves him so much. They’re a power couple and love going out to travel, so there’s no staying in one place for these two.

In Sonic Adventure 2 you can tell Amy’s intuition when it comes to Sonic. Close to the end, she saw him looking a bit down and noticed his mood shifting a bit. “What’s the matter, Sonic?” “Oh, it’s nothing.” She knows him so well. I don't know what connection they run on but it’s inspiring.

These two don’t have a typical girl/boy relationship. I know some people say, “Well, why can't Sonic and Amy stay friends? Not every male and female relationship needs to be romantic.” You're 100% correct. Here are some examples.

The difference between other relationships is that Amy was created to be a Minnie to Sonic’s Mickey. Which is why these two are treated differently compared to others. Including in merch. There are more examples but I digress. The point is this specific pair is always going to have nuance even if they’re only friends. It doesn’t stop until Amy doesn’t love Sonic and even if it shouldn’t define her, it should still be a part of her. She might work without romance, but we already have other amazing female characters for that.

No one’s obligated to ship them because of this of course. Again, your opinion is still valid, and I will always stick to that point.

Last but not least is their friendship (or situationship) as a whole.

The funny thing is their friendship is what makes their romance the most compelling. The appeal to Sonic and Amy’s dynamic is how much platonic energy they have. Romance doesn’t always mean you need to be lovey-dovey. With Sonamy it’s their powerful friendship that makes the (somewhat not platonic) interactions memorable. You don’t have to choose romantic or platonic. It can be both. I wouldn't be a Sonamy fan if I didn't think their relationship was plain. I'm here because of how different they are.

And I love them to bits. Look at this panel and tell me it isn't running with situationship fuel.

Another fun detail is in recent years despite knowing Amy still loves him, Sonic hugs her back. Even the moments in Sonic X he carries her are moments he offers to. Even when it wasn't necessary.

Can’t forget about the recent asking Amy out to a dinner panel in IDW. He's never done that before. There's a familiarity between the two of them however you look at it. I LOVE them for it.

His moments of genuinely being excited to see her are not due to some development but because Sonic’s passion for Amy has noticeably increased. Why am I bringing these up? It’s because one thing that hasn’t been talked about when it comes to romance is actions. Sure, Sonic doesn't fully confess his feelings to her outwardly. But why do you have to be obvious and in people’s face when it comes to loving someone? In Japan, love is mostly shown through what you do more than what you say. That stuff can happen there but it doesn't always have to. The “Sharing an Umbrella, Amy,” line in Frontiers carries a lot more weight when you think about the implications.

Please read this post by @egalitarian-tomboy if you're interested in the implications of Sonamy in Frontiers.

The up-to-interpretation view of whatever they have together is the main reason I and so many people ship them. It’s not the fact that they are close, but the progression of their closeness. To make a long story short, the appeal of Sonamy is the fact that they don’t have to be traditionally romantic to be an interesting couple. Amy represents expressive love and Sonic represents emotional love.

Stay creative! 💜

[saladscream]

Anatomy of a Manservant (final part)

Merlin’s arse is adequate.

One can only assume.

There is nothing inherently wrong with it, Arthur muses. Neither spectacularly hideous nor epically callipygian. It’s just an arse. A firm, slim, functional, male arse. Arthur has certainly never lost sleep over it. As it were.

No, the thing that makes Arthur slightly befuddled this evening as he walks into his chambers is: why is he getting such an unexpectedly closer view of said arse wriggling at eye-level? And by his bedside?

His blurted ‘Merlin, the HELL're you doing?!’ will never convey the magnitude of his dismay.

But the arse freezes guiltily, awkwardly suspended mid-air as Merlin, precariously balanced on the armrests of a seat, is interrupted in his suspicious endeavours to mess with the elaborate canopy atop Arthur’s bed. An eye and a cheekbone peer over Merlin’s shoulder and gaze self-consciously down on Arthur who is doing his best judgemental posture, hands on hips with the dose of affronted pout and frown.

The ensuing, not-so-enlightening exchange unfolds thusly:

“Merlin?” the prince prompts primly.

“I’m retrieving an apple.”

“An apple. Up there?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Of course it is.” Whereupon Arthur gives his manservant his most aggressively toothy, mock-sweet grin. “Get down.”

And Merlin does, only not in the way either of them expects as the seat topples sideways, sending Merlin’s booted feet one way while his wide-eyed noggin tumbles in the opposite direction. There’s a split instant where it looks like he is going to crack his head open on the bedside table, so Arthur just reacts on sheer instincts – and ends up with an armful of Merlin, princess-style.

What follows is an uncomfortable amount of breathing and blinking, from both participants. No one says anything, because from a silly bit of mundane acrobatics, things could have escalated to tragically stupid death right there in Arthur’s chambers and they both know it.

After surviving countless bandits’ ambushes, bloody battlefields, and terrifying encounters with magical beasts, Arthur isn’t sure he could have forgiven Merlin for accidentally dying on him falling from a fucking chair. Something tightens painfully in his chest at the dreadful thought, even as his fingers clench and dig into the infuriating man now more or less reclining in his arms.

Amid the icy churning fear at the unnervingly close call and the boiling, unthinking anger at the idiocy of the predicament, a criminally indulgent part of Arthur takes the time to idly wallow in the experience of carrying the dear, lanky bane of his existence. There is a soft, sweet, familiar commotion in his heart as he bears the full weight of him, feels the warmth of this body, counters the pull of those long, dangling limbs. One of Merlin’s hands is reflexively gripping the back of Arthur’s shoulder for support, and that too feels lovely in a completely irrelevant way. And so, Arthur remains rooted to the spot, a conflicted prey to a slew of contradictory emotions that he has no apt name for.

The breathy, confused, but not-quite-sheepish ‘thanks’ that Merlin murmurs damn near finishes him.

“Merlin, you idiot!” Arthur snarls through gritted teeth.

He should drop the man on his thoughtless, bony arse is what he should do. And probably give him a half-hearted kick in the thigh for added effect. How dare Merlin be so aggravatingly incautious, anyway? He could have died, the insufferable clod. He could have injured what serves as his stupid, careless brain. And where would that have left Arthur?

There’s a black, frightful chasm opening up in his soul just thinking about it. Because it’s not just that he somewhat fancies the braies off his manservant, is it. It’s not even about how appealing Merlin is or the temptation he represents to Arthur’s starved, unchaste instincts. It’s about so much more.

Merlin isn’t merely a sum of engaging physical attributes. Admittedly, he does have deep, beautiful eyes and perfect, luscious lips. He does have oddly sensual hands and troublingly suggestive forearms. His throat is as eminently lickable as his hair is strokable. And his cock, from all unreliable accounts, is enviably large. But no matter whether Arthur’s regal endurance wavers at the idea of becoming more intimately acquainted with Merlin’s hard chest, long legs and cute ears.

All these things have never been at the root of Arthur’s complicated feelings for Merlin. These things have never been more than the pesky, unsubtle trimmings adorning the core of inexpressible admiration, fragile longing and unmentionable love that have resided in Arthur’s fortress of a heart since the day the two men so inauspiciously met.

Because Merlin is not just physically attractive in his own right, he’s also the annoyingly loyal friend who follows Arthur wherever he goes, regardless of how dangerous it gets. Merlin is the argumentative prat who gives Arthur his opinion whether it is welcome or not. Merlin is the brave fool who think he’s discreet in his well-meaning, not-as-secret-as-he thinks use of magic, even though it could earn him the stake. Merlin is also the irredeemable ass who thinks it is absolutely fine to prank a crown prince. But most importantly, Merlin is the loving man who always wants to hug Arthur and makes the bad things go away. And no one has ever truly, freely wanted to be and do all of these things for Arthur before.

So it’s not mere frivolous infatuation that makes Arthur’s heart startle and stumble in his chest every so often. It is far more than that, actually.

And it is at this point in Arthur’s laborious epiphany, that Merlin’s quiet ‘Arthur, I think you can put me down now,’ brings him back to reality. He drops Merlin abruptly and watches him bounce and flop onto the bed. The slate blue eyes shine with humour and affection and also just a hint of concern.

To which Arthur can only mutter a tart ‘Why do I even put up with you?’

Merlin scowls and lobs back something about him being the only one willing to do the rotten job. And then he sits up and proceeds to remove his boots, much to Arthur’s suddenly febrile puzzlement.

Arthur’s brain has another one of those weird hiccoughs as a dark, debauched and extremely deluded part of it considers, for a very brief but very vivid interlude, that Merlin might be undressing so that they may let the simmering tension that has become a defining feature of their friendship lead them to its natural but unwise carnal conclusion.

But of course, Merlin is only taking off his filthy boots so that he doesn’t soil the opulent bedclothes as he stands on the bed to chase the damn forsaken apple. He thwaps the fruit out of the canopy from underneath and it bounces off of Arthur’s head, like a punchline straight out of Gwaine’s jokes.

Merlin snorts and grins unapologetically – until Arthur grabs him by the front of his tunic and drags him off the mattress.

All yanked-up close, Merlin’s eyes look huge and alert, but not worried. There’s a quiver of something flitting across his lips and a faint flush over his cheeks. He swallows and whispers a low ‘Sorry, that was not on purpose.’

Arthur is keenly aware of it. Keenly aware of everything that Merlin is or isn’t and does or doesn’t do. He always has been. Much like he’s always been aware of the half-looks and half-smiles that Merlin has always trained on him unobtrusively. All the unfinished gestures and untold truths. All the hidden attachment and concealed devotion. All the forbidden things Merlin has been and done for Arthur over the years.

“Do it again and suffer the consequences,” Arthur warns quietly.

“Is that a promise?” Merlin says, the words gently teasing.

At such close quarters and with Merlin standing on nothing but socked feet, they gaze into each other’s eyes in a way that feels unusually intimate, and perhaps that is why Arthur is able to see more than what he usually sees. For once, the inner workings of Merlin’s feelings seem a little bared, and they’re made of selflessness, patience, love and inevitability – all eased with a dash of dry humour and easy lust.

Arthur is many things, but a coward he is not. And though his heart threatens to hammer its way out of his ribcage, he tightens his hold on Merlin’ s tunic and leans in to finally express the depth and might of his gigantic lack of discernment the only way he knows how: with a breathless press of his lips to Merlin’s.

The rest of the scene is rather predictable and probably not worth the gentle reader's time. Let it be simply known that a lot of impatient, clumsy groping and ravenous, inelegant kissing ensues.

Fortunately for them, Merlin is amenable to taking it from there and giving Arthur the full, comprehensive tour of the anatomy of his manservant. It is a thorough, athletic affair that lasts until dawn, but by the end of it, Arthur is privy to all the soft ticklish nooks and dark sensitive crannies, all the sweet, earthy or briny tastes, all the rough, puckered or silky textures. And in return, Merlin learns that he is loved and treasured beyond the shadow of a doubt, and that Arthur is a noisy lover – vocal during intercourse and babbling after the deed.

As they fall asleep, Arthur’s hand amorously cups Merlin’s slightly sticky arse. An arse that is more than merely adequate, if truth be told.

Stupendous would be more like it. Just like the rest of Merlin.

*Fin*

[And that, folks, is the end of this mini-series!! I want to thank you all for liking ❤️, reblogging 🔁, commenting 💬, and generally cheering me on. 💖💖💖

I would never have written so many parts if I hadn't been encouraged to do so by your feedback and infectious enthusiasm. If anyone needs an example of how supporting and showing love to a writer can make a difference to the amount of fic they write, this is certainly it! 😅🥹❤️

I'm hoping I can post a properly edited (and illustrated??) full version of this series on AO3 in the not-too-distant future.]

Tagged: @miyriu @neptunesyellowsands @dollopole @shuukichan @merlininthedogpark @kintsugikid-moonysversion @toomanyfanficsbruh @blueliketheclues @solnishkomoon @evedaser @storigami @bertytravelsfar @graceless-angel @knightswaypoint @bivirtualtrash

1 - Merlin's eyes

2 - Merlin's lips

3 - Merlin's hands

4 - Merlin's throat

5 - Merlin's hair

6 - Merlin's ears

7 - Merlin's legs

8 - Merlin's forearms

9 - Merlin's chest

10 - Merlin's penis

[harmonysanreads]

i feel like yan!phainon wouldn't want to restrain you physically like tie you up or keep you locked up in a room and etc i think he'd have some form of self-conscience that he's a hero and that doing the above will make himself seem otherwise so he like protects darling at all costs and ends up being overprotective (like the last post you made) because he doesn't want to resort to physically restricting behavior? unless you make things difficult for him but that's just how i think of him for now whjebdjwhebewf praying hoyo cooks with him

I was quite certain about this as well but after recent news of Flame Reaver, a different thought is bugging me if I am to be honest.

Frankly speaking, for an unknown duration of time, Phainon was a man who had nothing left ; his home, the people he once held dear, even his true name had to be left behind. Only vengeance, hatred, a desire for revenge or, perhaps a promise he'd made kept him living an excuse of an existence. You could say that is still the case now, on a deeper level at least. But Phainon would like to not dwell on the negatives all the time. He has a valiant objective, a name that instigates respect among the people, friends that he can fight alongside with, status and wealth.

However, is he sure that those are things he... wants? In a temperate mood, he might say yes. But in all honesty, he isn't sure. In a particularly low-point in his life, he might outright say no, as well. But there is something else, someone else that makes his heart ache at the thought of letting go and leaving behind — you. You're not someone that was pushed to him to carry like all his duties, even if you are, he'd rather take a meteor to his face than give you such label.

Saving Amphoreus through the Flame-Chase? Getting vengeance in Aedes Elysiae's name? Nothing comes close to what he feels when the possibilities are replaced with your name. This is the one mission he'd put all his certainty to. If he is destined to be a hero, he'd much rather be your hero — or, try to. In the beginning it was relatively easy and it was rather difficult to complain about his ‘antics’ when they could be rationalized with some thinking. Not that many people would be bothered to think either, whatever keeps their prophesized Deliverer happy they guess.

Things truly start to become complicated when a shadow from a distant time gets involved in the picture — for you, that is. You see, despite how suffocating Phainon would get in the past, it was well-known to everyone that you held the reigns in the end. It was always ridiculously easy to get Phainon to bend to your will as well, as despite everything, he is a simple man deep down. So, when one day you find your usual tactics completely fail against him, faced with a determination to keep you hidden like he'd die the most gruesome death without making it a reality — no one knew what to do.

Phainon apologizes to you without sparing a breath throughout the ordeal, groveling for a sin he knows he won't receive mercy for. But that is okay, he's always said that he'd take it with a smile even if you sneered at him with a death-sentence. As long as you're safe from that other him, he's willing to go to whatever low is necessary.

[yelenasdiary]

Hiii! If its no trouble I'd like to request a fic!

(If it is just ignore this lol)

So the basic idea is Agatha comforting reader

You can make up like whatever reason you want for reader being upset I just cannot for the life of me find any Agatha comfort fics : )

Tyyy

You're Safe, My Darling

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x GN! Reader

Summary: Agatha comforts you after you wake up from a nightmare.

Fluff & Comfort

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know! | 0.7K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I can completely understand the need for wanting more Aggie that isn’t so smut centred! I hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid’s Dream Masterlist 2025

Agatha’s back rested peacefully against the headboard as the moonlight’s comforting silver cast washed across the bedroom. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose; her eyes glued to the book in her hand while you slept peacefully beside her. One hand softly ran through your hair, evidence of how you fell asleep in the first place. Her eyes, following along with the black, small, printed words in her hand.

A strangled whimper left your lips, the sound instantly cutting Agatha’s attention from her book. Her expression softened, her gaze on you as your body trembled beneath the thick blanket. 

“Darling, wake up” Agatha murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum as she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. 

You gasped, your eyes snapping open, wide and haunted. You sat up abruptly, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Agatha..” You chocked out, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper. Agatha didn’t hesitate to gently pull you closer, wrapping her arms around you for comfort. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here” she said, gently rocking you.

Slowly, your trembling subsided as you burrowed your face into the crook of Agatha’s neck, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a dissolving world. The scent of her body lotion brought a sense of comfort. “Everything was…. burning….I couldn’t….save them” you began, remembering the horrible nightmare.

Agatha tightened her hold, feeling the raw emotion in your voice. “Save who, my dear?” She asked softly. 

You trembled again, “them…the innocents, trapped. The others….their scremas, I can still hear their screams” you went on as Agatha held you a little tighter, her heart aching with empathy. Your dream sounding all too familiar to the witch. 

“It’s okay my love, it was just a nightmare” the woman assures you, “you’re safe and nobody is trapped” she added, her voice thick with comfort as she gently pulled you back, cupping your face with care. Her eyes were soft as you met her gaze. “I would never let anything happen to you, ever. You’re safe sweetheart, I promise”

You stared into her eyes, searching for any sign that this might just be a part of your twisted dream. “This is the third dream this week” you replied, your voice full of fear. Agatha nodded, “I know, it’s been tough” she spoke, siding with you on your unspoken concerns. “Maybe we lay off on the horror movies for a bit” she suggested. 

“But you love horror” you replied. 

Agatha chuckled lightly, “I do but, if I want a horror show, I’ll just pop over to the Maximoff’s for 5 minutes”.

Her playful tone was enough to make you chuckle, “there is nothing wrong with them” you argued, playfully. 

“Ha! And there is nothing wrong with Rio either” Agatha said with a cocked brow. You leaned into her hold once more, the warmth from her easing the lingering chill. “Maybe we stick to action movies for a little while” you said softly. 

Agatha gently rubbed your back, “please none of those mission impossible films, I will cry out of boredom and don’t test me on that”. You chuckled once more, “don’t worry babe, I won’t force you to watch those!” You assured her.

“Thank Salem for that!” Agatha sighed with relief as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck again. Her lightful banter taking the edge off as you focused on the way her hand felt rubbing your back. Agatha smiled softly to herself as you made yourself comfortable in her arms, even though it was just a nightmare, she meant her promise to keep you safe.

The wind outside seemed to soften, no longer whispering through the trees. Your breathing began to slowly even out, “get some rest, darling” she said in a soft whisper, “I’ll be right here”. She added, pulling the covers over the two of you. With a gentle flick of her wrists, Agatha weaved a spell, a shield of protection to ease your mind. 

Soon, your body completely relaxed, your face serene and untroubled as you slept peacefully in the woman’s arms. She watched over you, her eyes filling with love as she watched the soft rise and fall of your chest. She placed a kiss on the top of your head, not wanting to wake you.

“You’re safe my darling” she whispered.

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[inkdrinkerworld]

SOFT DOM REMUS HELPING READER GET OM HER GRINDDDD like i love working out and school and stuff sometimes I find hard to keep going once the motivation wears off not out of lack of discipline but more out of negative self talk he would nooooooot allow that

Reader’s having a it of negative self talk, mention of their body not looking the way they want it to and having lumps and rolls (I thought of what I say to myself to make it a bit realistic) but please don’t read if that’s gonna be triggering <3 thank you for your request, lovely

You’re on your third outfit and all you see when you stare into the mirror is nothing to be proud of.

You huff as you basically rip the dress of your body, pout in full effect as you rifle through your clothes for a good outfit.

“I swear to god nothing looks right.”

Remus turns from his spot in the bathroom where he’s shaving his face with a frown. “How do you mean dove?”

There’s not much for him to alarmed about yet.

“There’s something wrong with how I look I’m telling you, Rem.” A few shirts fly from your pile.

“I have to wear pink or red tomorrow for work and it’s like everything I own in those colours either make me look pregnant or like I’ve got extra limbs.”

Remus shakes his head and sets down the razor as he makes his way to you.

“Could it be that you’ve just gone off your period so you’re still a little bloated?”

You don’t want to hear reason right now.

You’re ugly and that’s all. But it’s not, because it’s untrue.

“Or a second thing which is much simpler, I’m just unattractive. And nothing’s right on me because there’s lumps and rolls.”

Remus shakes his head, stern as he meets you in the closet and sets your hands to your side with firm pressure.

“Cut it out.” His tone cuts through the air leaving no room for arguments. “You’re a day off your period dove, some bloat is normal. I understand that you don’t feel comfortable in your body right now but that’s no way to talk to or about yourself.”

Remus has a way of melting down the fat of every negative conversation you try to have with yourself and helps you be neutral about your body.

Your bottom lip juts out just so. “I just want to feel pretty.” There’s a lot less attitude and upset in your tone, just a little sadness Remus wants to wipe away.

He nods, kissing your forehead as his eyes scan your rack dresses. “How about you wear that red and white dress? And I can curl your hair tonight and help you do the bun tomorrow morning?”

You nod, tears gathering in your eyes. “I didn’t mean all that.”

Remus smiles, stroking your face. “It’s alright to be frustrated with the way you change baby, but there’s nothing wrong with the changes.” He kisses your nose. “Plus, no matter what you think, you’re the most gorgeous person on the planet.”

You giggle, a little shy under his doting. “Can I wear your jumper to bed?”

Remus rolls his eyes but it’s all fond. “This one yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

[wh1spersofwinter]

pathetic bf!seunghyun (headcannons) ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

summary: bf!seunghyun who is incredibly down bad for his gf.

an: hello! this is my first fic on this account, im so excited to share it with you. i hope you enjoy <3 (ALSO, please ignore any spelling/grammar errors i didn’t proofread.)

bf!seunghyun who: didn’t care for love/relationships until he met you.

bf!seunghyun who: swears carless whisper by george micheal played in his head when he laid eyes on you for the first time.

bf!seunghyun who: likes to spend his down time making you playlists and/or writing you songs/raps. he likes to communicate through music.

bf!seunghyun who: calls you sweet girl and thinks it fits perfectly. you are his sweet girl. he thinks youre the sweetest, most angelic being hes ever met.

bf!seunghyun who: will agree to just about anything for your sake (“yeah i dont know, i just dont really feel like going out today” he mummered to jiyong, burying himself further into the fluffy cloud that was his bed, dead set on spending his night curled in bed. until you walked into the room. “seunghyun, lets go out tonight, i need to get out of this house.” seunghyun shot out of bed, unraveling himself from the covers and intertwined your hands, “yeah, sweet girl, lets go.” suddenly alive and full of energy. unaware of jiyong snickering behind him.

bf!seunghyun who: genuinely believes he cant go more than an hour without having his hands on you in someway. wether that be his hand in yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, his fingers curled in your hair, or his fingers inside, yes inside the waist of your jeans, resting against the warmth of your skin.

bf!seunghyun who: when you two sleep has to either be little spoon or lay on top of you (while you scratch his back.)

bf!seunghyun who: is only comfortable with you touching him

bf!seunghyun who: literally calls/texts you every chance he gets. in between recordings, while in the bath, while getting his hair done. he’ll text you every thought that crosses his mind. (itll be three in the morning and youll get a text from him like, “i just realized, nothing is ON fire. fire is on THINGS.”)

bf!seunghyun who: does things for you he knows you can do yourself, such as, brushing and drying your hair after a shower, carrying you from place to place in your shared apartment, brushing your teeth, grabbing things that are just out of reach, tieing your shoes, no matter how much you insist you’re perfectly cable. he cant help it; youre his angel.

bf!seunghyun who: genuinely tears up when you get mad at him (you immediately feel horrible and give in.)

bf!seunghyun who: loves to lay his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair (he falls asleep immediately.)

bf!seunghyun who: hangs onto every word you say. he’ll remember something you vaguely told him months later. (“hey, sweet girl, i got you one of those sun…sunny…sonny..angels…whatever you call them,” he said when he came home from the store, placing the sonny angel box on your lap, then, planting gentle kisses onto the corners of your lips, your nose, your temple, your eyelids. you smile, wondering how the hell he knew you wanted one. you giggle, placing your hand on his cheek and rubbing your thumb across his soft skin as he leans into your touch, “how’d you know i wanted one?” he looked at you as though the answer was obvious, “you mentioned it when you saw a tiktok video in..may” may was 8 months ago?)

bf!seunghyun who: apologizes by getting on his knees, putting his head in your lap, and kissing your hands profusely. muttering over and over how sorry he is and how he’ll do better.

bf!seunghyun who: follows you around everywhere like a little cat. always hovering over your shoulder. if you guys are sitting on the couch and you get up to get a glass of water, trust, he’ll get up and go with you with a content smile on his face. he has attachment issues.

bf!seunghyun who: when your making out and you pull away, looks at you, breathing all hard, like he physically needs more.

bf!seunghyun who: when he has to travel for work will send you a poem a day. (“hey, sweet girl, you will never be unloved by me. you are too well tangled in my soul; hello, my sweet girl, my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. love you always.”)

bf!seunghyun who: is completely obsessed with you.

[waynes-multiverse]

Alex, this was amazing!! I absolutely loved this! I think I laughed throughout without pausing. Like, I was cackling vividly 😂😂

Dean:

He’s not sick. Because he doesn’t get sick. Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

That already took me out. First two lines. Bravo. You've done it 🤣

I'm guessing this is post Chuck lmao

“I’m find,” he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

You know why I picked it 😝 (👏👏👏) And not the flannel and the runny nose, yikes. Loved this exchange (and callback) lol

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

Took a brief second from laughing, so I could push tears out of my eyes 😭

But absolutely agree, you'd have to wear Dean down and force him into it lmao

Beau:

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn’t even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

Back to laughing. My God, that was the sneeze of the century 😂😂

“Nah, can’t be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today,” he says.

Mutually exclusive, obviously 🤷‍♀️

“How long until I’m allowed out, warden?” he asks.

Seems like the man flu hasn't swallowed the charm either 🥰

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, uh…can I have some chicken noodle soup later?” “Of course, baby. I’ll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you.” “And some saltines?”

And that's the moment I realized Beau's like my husband when he's sick 😂 (🙄)

It's like you were in my house and wrote a transcript of the last man flu epidemic of 2024 😆🤌

(PS: Real proud for finding that gif 😂)

A good add-on for Beau would be talking about his symptoms and aches... constantly loll. ("Babe, my throat is still dry and very weird right here. I googled and it says it could be laryngitis, cancer or the Marburg virus." 😂)

Ben:

Oh and then, Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben... I thought for sure he'd be the worst, like this virus is a personal attack on his virility 🤣 But I was pleasantly surprised when you brought in memories of his mother 🥹😭

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back.

That immediate fuck got me so hard 🤣🤣

He’s a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to.

Ah, yes, gramps 😂🫶 (And he honestly shares that with a lot of old man in hospitals and nursing homes who have to be repeatedly told to stay in bed lol)

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. “I’m getting you a yacht for Valentine’s Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim.”

*snorts* Of course the brat's online shopping for yachts 😆

“Why can’t you put some fucking steak in it or something?” he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough. “Why can’t you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you,” you snipped back.

Oh God, all their bickering was amazing! It's honestly always one of the most fun things when writing SB – the sheer frustration of the reader 😭😂🙈

And I loved the addition of Priestly!! 😍💚💙🤘 (I've been thinking of finally writing that one-shot for him lol)

“Aw, that’s still good,” he argues.

Great idea, man. Add a stomach bug to that man flu lmao

“Know what would really make me feel better?” he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

I could also totally see him turning into a Monica there 😂

“When you’re feeling better, you can ask me that question properly.”

Oh, oh, thank God! The relief I felt 😂 I mean, it's so, so sweet, but also you're very sick, dude, and germy... like, it's a lot 😆

(And I also sincerly hope there will be a proposal follow-up one-shot/drabble... maybe? 👀)

I loved this so much! You were spilling nothing but truths here! 😂💯🩵

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2

[coichii]

VALENTINES ✭

—(🎧)—> scenarios on skz & their valentine’s day with you

pairing -OT8 SKZ (seperate) ♥︎ fem!reader

genre - fluff

word count - 1.1k combined

warnings - sexual innuendos, 16+ advised. sorry if some parts are longer than others 🥲

CHAN

gets veryyyy romantic

takes a day off of work just so he can spoil you

wakes you up around 07:00 am to breakfast in bed, doesn’t take thank you for an answer

explains all the things he has planned as you munch away, blushing everytime you squeal at all his ideas

ask you to wear something pretty for when he takes you out

surprises you with a walk around the city

just sits there and smiles as you step into different shops around the district, handing you his card when you need it

takes you out for a rooftop dinner afterwards, it’s super romantic and he’s acting very flustered

got you flowers for when you came back home too

and the night was filled with, you know what ☺️

let’s just say you were sore afterwards

LEE KNOW

doesn’t make much of a big deal about it, kinda of wants it to be like any other day of loving you, just with a bit more sugar

wakes you up sweetly, and plans to spend a day with you after work

gets you a small bouquet of flowers on his way home, adds a heartfelt card to it aswell

surprises you with it before tackling you and the cats to the couch to watch some cheesy romance movie

gets distracted half way through and kinda just stares at you

gets a little emotional when you read his card out loud, especially after he sees those pretty tears start to well up in your eyes

tries not to let it show though

definitely cooked you and him an amazing homemade dinner

it’s a whole romantic display too with candles and dim lighting ☺️

listens as you dump your mind onto him

stares at you with stars in his eyes as you just go on and on and was his heart racing like this before??

nice peaceful sleep

CHANGBIN

barely gets any sleep prepping for valentines day

buys everything the day before, and waits until you fall asleep to put everything up in the living room

wakes you up sweetly with kisses and cuddles, definitely murmuring little “i love you”’s along the way

gives you a card and bouquet right away, loving the look on your face when you see them

downstairs is a romantic display of balloons and flowers, chocolate lays on the table in a cute heart shaped box

super cute throughout the whole day, texting you little messages as he works

takes you out for a surprise dinner that night, somewhere fancy and up high

the dinner is romantic, filled with small and large confessions of love from him

HYUNJIN

the most articulated of them all

others plan for days but hyunjin plans for WEEKS

literally right up his alley

wakes you up all sweet, starting your day off with a long confession of love before getting up

hyunjins plan was a scavenger hunt, leaving little notes of hints on where to go next across the apartment and having you find them

each note had a small treat on it like a lollipop or a small love letter

the final surprise is a display like chnagbins, filled with lots of chocolates

the difference is changbins is more red, pink, and white whilst hyunjins is very dark red & sexy

has you put on something comfortable but pretty at the same time as you two go out for a spa day

honestly the most ideal date getting to lay their with your boyfriend with a face-mask on as you guys talk about nothing and everything at the same time

can’t stop kissing you either

HAN

actually very nervous to show you what he prepared

thought what he was doing was too simple for you and got all timid

whole time it was all you wanted

basically planned out a little relaxation pod for after work in the living room

little a pillow fort with snacks and heaps of blankets with a little basket of Disney cds to watch

he thought it was simple, so he doesn’t really understand why you run up to him and start kissing his face saying I love you over and over again 😭

also slipped a tiny love note in your back before you went to work for you to read there :((

the pillow fort is so cute with perfect dim lighting and a romantic yet simple aroma

you guys just sit there all warm and cuddly while watching Disney classics all night

when you fall asleep he carries you to bed and tucks you in before wishing you good night 🥲

whole time he couldn’t even sleep because all he could do was stay up thinking about you

FELIX

do I even need to state that he home bakes you something?

…and do I need to state that it’s heart shaped brownies?

CANTTTT get off of you the entire day

like we all know he’s very physical but he is rlly rlly fluffy today

surprises you with your favorite flowers and a handmade card

honestly just treats you like a princess

gives you your own personal spa day filled with a massage and bathing you in a soap that he brought specifically for that day

after that, it’s a handmade dinner thats displayed beautifully

now he’s wondering what you’re crying for

he sings you to sleep that night, singing various love songs because he knows you love his voice

but you’re not allowed to go to sleep until he gives you an entire speech on how perfect and loved you are

SEUNGMIN

sigh…

my boys kinda akward

didn’t know if he was supposed to ask you to be his valentine since you guys were already dating 😭

he did anyways and best believe he was stuttering and blushing like a kid asking out their 5th grade crush

on Valentine’s Day tho, he’s definitely more lovey dovey

he’s kind of like Minho where he wants it to be like every other day just with a little more sugar

his gift to you wasn’t anything physical or a card like the other guys were

instead, it was him pulling out his guitar and singing a song that he had written about you that wasn’t released

when I tell you it had the most beautiful lyricism and melody I’m not lying

safe to say you cried

JEONGIN

poor old Jeongin was the most nervous

decided to do one of those basket things (like a boo basket or a burr basket but for valentines)

filled it with a plush, chocolate, roses, perfume, lotion, etc

he handed it to you blushing and everything

stayed home while you went to work which was weird because he usually leaves before you

but it all made sense when you came home to rose petals on the floor leading to the bedroom

He didn’t mean for it to be sexual at first but it just turned out that way 😭

you guys definitely do just cuddle tho

he’s just staring at you so lovingly and pressing kisses all over your face

in love

[motheroffeline]

Infatuation (pt. 2)

Happy late Valentine's Day guys! I would have posted this yesterday, but I was kinda busy sooo yeah here it is lol.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!!, extremely dark, oral (m receiving), sex, photographer!OC!character!Ari x Dom!Aaron Pierre, nicknames (daddy, baby, etc.), explicit name calling (dumbass, bitch, slut,etc...), bondage with zip ties, squirting, fingering (f receiving), humiliation, dubious consent, omniscient third person, and mentions of blackmail. Taglist: @kaylalb @alexinmotion @ovohanna24 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @honeys-archives @fairygoround Summary: Ari leaves the right-wing room of the venue with a sullen faced Aaron Pierre which gives reason for suspicion. But, after knowing what Ari has on him, he declares that he will take a "momentary" break from the limelight and cameras to reconnect with nature. In reality, Ari plans to condition him into being her personal object. But will she always be in control?

(The story will pick up at Ari's house to clear up any confusion.)

______________________________________________________________

"Mmmmmmm, I'm sucking this dick good ain't I daddy?" Ari had immediately demanded that Aaron strip naked when they went into her house. It wasn't like Aaron was a weak man, he was over twice the size of Ari and could have cracked her head but why didn't he? Pure shock. The idea of someone close to him betraying him in such a manner left him completely stock still regarding how to handle the situation.

Aaron lets out a guttural moan as Ari deepthroats him, licking and sucking his dick like it was all she could do in life. They were out in the woods nobody knew where he was, and the press would lay off for a while because he announced his hiatus. "What was this bitch up to?" He thought to himself as he stared down into her dark brown eyes as she completely devoured him. Her braids had come unraveled because of how aggressively she was bobbing her head up and down.

"Didn't know you'd be a silent lover, Mr. Pierre. You could at least say something." Cocky, Ari was very cocky about the way she thought he was wrapped around her finger. Those beautiful everchanging eyes would close in arousal and then open with horror at the sight of Ari on her knees.

He was deep in thought and the cusp of cumming all over Ari's face, but he continued to think and think when suddenly it came to him: he would pretend to engage in her sick game. Ari wasn't a normal young woman by any means, going behind anybody's back and stealing information was a fucked up thing to do. In short words, the bitch was crazy and not in a wannabe way either.

"Ari, fuck, keep doing that thing with your tongue, please? I'll be a good boy... ah, I'm gonna cum on your face." He said with genuine arousal as Ari smirked around his length. Some dark part of him wanted to fuck her throat like a fleshlight and tie her down, really give her what she wants. In a blur, he had reluctantly pushed Ari away from him. She was on her back lying on the floor like there was nothing in the world to worry about, staring at him saying "try me" with her eyes.

Everybody that knew Aaron knew that it was very hard to make him angry and even harder to get him to physically engage with anybody, but this was a different situation he had found himself in. This woman had interrupted the flow of his career and his life because she wanted to fuck around and fuck around, he would do with her.

Recognition flashed in Ari's eyes as she stared at the 6'3" man who was no longer entertaining her antics. There was a stark contrast in his eyes, a look of pure determination and sadism brewing just underneath it all. She started to back away from him, but he just walked closer and closer backing her up against the wall.

"Enough is a fucking enough, Ari. I'm tired of this blackmail shit and the childish shit, all of it! You're making me go crazy with how fucked up it all is. Threatening my damn family and then me are you right out of your fucking mind? Like I wouldn't fight back or some shit some time or another well the novelty is gone now, dumbass. I cannot live the rest of my life knowing that you may be doing this to other people. I gotta deal with this shit, now!"

Ari was truly frightened at the deepness of his voice and the conviction in his words as he set his eyes on her. She hurriedly got up from the floor and tried to run somewhere, anywhere but he caught her by the wrist with a bruising grip. She kicked and screamed but he dragged her all the same with a passive look in his eye.

Aaron dragged her into her bedroom unknowingly and pushed her on the bed. Coldness seeped in through the windows making the bed railing cold against her back as he forced her against it. After a long time of silence, Aaron finally said, "I'm gonna tie yo ass up." Sweat dripped unto Ari's nose and she could determine what would happen if she were to be bound by the pure glee in his eyes.

He paced out of the bedroom ignoring Ari chastising and cursing him because what she said didn't even matter now... no, not really. After some time of looking through Ari's cluttered pantry and in her kitchen drawer he finally found a pack of zip ties. Ari was crumpled up on the bed like he left her and it sent a surge of arousal right to his dick at the tears running down her face.

"Nahhh don't cry now, bitch! You wasn't doing that shit when you made me eat you out at the party, you wasn't doing that shit when you was sucking my dick today. You really scared? I personally don't give a fuck. Now, if you get up and decide that you wanna run I'll slap the shit out of you and I don't even hit women but I'll make an exception for you, Ari... Goddamn monster..."

Ari shivered as Aaron secured her arms and legs with the zip ties, his eyes gleaming with something she thought only belonged to her. Deep blue and hazel eyes stared at her through thick lashes observing her every struggle through the zip ties. Her eyes darted across her room hoping that something or someone would save her, but the situation was hopeless.

Aaron practically shrugged off his clothes as he got on top of the bed with Ari and she drooled at the sight of his dick hanging between his legs, balls swinging like a pendulum. She was conflicted on how to feel: turned on by how he was taking action or scared of what those actions would be. He ripped the panties off of her and the fabric breaking against her skin caused Ari let out a mortifying scream. Upon her scream, Aaron smiled and pushed two fingers inside of her core which caused her to moan.

He stroked her g spot, his fingers rubbing against the shallow part that she could never find with her own fingers. Drool ran onto her pillowcase as he dug her out with his fingers trying to draw an orgasm out of her. The way Aaron was looking at her made her clit jump with arousal and she felt herself humping against his fingers.

"M'so good, gonna cum on your fingers.. ahh, right there, right there up some more, please? You feel so good.." Ari felt embarrassed as the muddled moans left her mouth but she couldn't stop them from coming out because of how perfect everything felt even knowing that she was tied up turned her on.

"You soaking up my fingers real good... hear that shit? I know you about to cum go ahead and do that for me baby so I can fuck you." His voice pushed her over the edge and she squirted all over his fingers and the pressure pushed the two intrusions out. Aaron began to rapidly slap her clit with restrained force causing her to form a little puddle beneath where she lay.

He slapped his dick on her mound before rubbing the head in her arousal and pushed in so slowly that Ari could feel every single inch. It was like something she had never felt before and she found herself squirming as he pushed more of himself in. His dick was really splitting her open and she knew in that moment that her ass was his now in a whole lot of ways.

"The fuck you running from, Ari? You want this dick that's why you did all that dumbassery with the photos and the personal information because why else would you go do it? I bet your mama them ashamed they raised a slut like you. But, you love it don't you, Ari? This feeling of being completely. taken. over." He gently thrusted inside her three times, and it already felt like she was being pushed over the edge for a second time. He was digging her shit out like he hadn't fucking anyone in a while, turning her out like it was his job to do it.

After every thrust, his balls would smack against her clit making her yelp but she couldn't even touch him with the way her hands were bound. He flipped Ari over on her stomach and drove his dick back in with a passion hitting every single spot inside of her that had her vision blurry with tears. The bed was creaking as he fucked into her, his brows furrowed with pure, unadulterated lust as he felt Ari's walls flutter around him.

"Ohhh shit! You better cum on this dick, bitch. Mmmm, give me that shit. You thought it was cool didn't you? Blackmail me and then fuck me the rest of your life, right? Well, as you can see the shit didn't work and it never would have. Didn't nobody tell you not to go chasing after every dream? Now look at you, dream turned into a nightmare didn't it?" Ari came around his dick as he kept fucking into her at a punishing pace because he had not yet cum.

As Ari felt his throbbing dick against her walls and the veins rubbing against her insides a growing irony began to form inside of her head: the secluded nature of her house wasn't really helping her right now and the fact that she got the zip ties prior because she thought that she would be tying him up. It was like her life was being written to go exactly the way she didn't want it to go.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum in this pussy. Hope you on birth control, Ari." He grumbled as he thrusted into her for a last time, completely filled her to the brim with his seed as she whined from the full feeling.

Aaron pushed Ari back on her back and stared at her for like 10 minutes. The birds were chirping happily outside because it was morning now and the warmth from the windows did nothing to thaw the coolness inside of the house. His eyes were a forest green now with a hint of hazel but the lust never left his gaze and now it was targeted.

"Ari, I'll play the sick game with you since it seems like you got everything set up for us to play it. I know you still got them photos on your laptop and stuff but it's ight. Everytime I see you going out of your way to try to defame me and fuck with my family I'll do something even worse than this. Just play with me and see what happens, Ari."

To be truthful, Ari found herself wanting to test his boundaries all over again.

[lockandkeyblade]

@dclovesdanny since you asked to be pinged if people did stuff with your prompts

Hey so- what exactly just happened?

This is the question Danny doesn't have an answer to, and it really doesn't seem like Red Hood has an answer either. He'd thought he was running into the middle of a gang fight-- had definitely heard the scream of a child, which was the tipping point to, y'know, running into said fight, rather than away.

There had been a kid, and sure, there'd been a few heads to knock together for a few minutes. But the moment booted feet slammed into the ground heavily enough for the sound to carry, everyone stopped. They looked.

One of the guys he'd headbutted grins, even though he's missing a tooth. In the time it takes for Red Hood to walk up to Danny, everyone else scatters. And they seem happy about it.

"...That's not the usual response you get, right? Like, sure, the running, but the-" Smiles? Danny thinks he can be excuse for not realizing just how close the man had gotten by that point, so when he turns around he almost winds up pressing his nose into kevlar.

It does absolutely nothing to hide the scent of the man wearing it, which is-- yeah sure, poetic description of all the underlying nuances of said scent go here. The guy smells like gunpowder and sweat, is what he smells like.

Danny tries his damndest to hide the fact that he has to swallow in order to keep talking. Who gets a mouth full of saliva over B.O and guns? He does, apparently.

"Joker's not back out, is he? No whacky new toxins we should be worried about? 'Cause that wasn't normal."

"Sure wasn't." Red Hood agrees. It should be impossible to tell, with the helmet and all, but Danny feels the second those eyes stop surveying the scene, and start surveying him. "I'll handle it." "Sure, big guy. You do that." His Haunt-- his terf, his responsibility. That's the thing he likes about Hood the most; he takes that responsibility seriously.

Seriously enough to have Danny smiling dumbly up at him like a lovesick puppy for a hot minute, until his brain catches up. Then he takes a step back, Red Hood's gaze rooted on him all the while.

That shouldn't be attractive too. It absolutely is.

"Alright, well- see you 'round, Hood." He offers the man a lazy salute, turning on his heel while consciously thinking about how he is going to walk away normally, he is not going to preen. He is not going to try for something that leaves his hips a little looser. He's-

"Y'know, Scrappy," Hood calls after him. That nickname is awful. Danny loves it. "You ever feel like running from me with a smile on your face, call me."

He turns back around, cautious but maybe a little more dry in the mouth than he was a few seconds ago. Hood's still just standing there, completely relaxed. It's not a threat, or a claim. He's not about to just pounce after him, even if Danny did decide to take flight.

Hood's not that kind of alpha. Danny already knew that. But he'd have to be a brick wall not to pick up what's being offered, slowly tilting his head to the side. Purposefully baring a little more of his neck than he needs to, really.

"I'm not that kind of omega, mister Hood." He isn't. He really, really isn't. But-- "But I'll keep that in mind." --He's actually tempted to be, for once.

When he finally does walk away, with the goofiest smile on his face, Danny thinks he sees something in the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

It looks like a kid pumping their fist in the air?

The stupid smile gets wider.

Dead on main x omegaverse

Danny had met plenty of knot head alphas who had either flirted with him since he was an omega or bullied him since he was a male omega. He had resigned himself to being alone, especially since he had died.

Then, he met Red Hood, an Alpha who was known for not putting up with knot heads in his haunt, known for protecting omegas on the run from knot heads who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Danny had to fight back a blush.

Jason had met plenty of omegas in his life who acted like fainting flowers, reinforcing the stereotypes that people like Bruce and Dick had to fight to break through for most of their lives. He hated those kinds of omegas.

Then, he met Danny, a scrappy omega who broke the Joker’s nose during their first meeting and protected a bunch of street kids by volunteering to be dosed with fear gas during their second meeting. Jason was never so glad he wore a helmet.

Crime Alley knew that the new scrappy meta had a crush on Red Hood. All of Red Hood’s goons knew Red Hood had a crush on the meta who bit Scarecrow on one occasion.

It was everyone’s mission to get those two together.

[fridgemissionmaster]

Mephistopheles x Reader: Mephisto and the Not-so-Great Valentine's Day Date

AN: So... the holiday kinda snuck up on me and only did it hit me the day before yesterday that, A. Valentine's Day was coming up and B. Obey Me! is a dating sim and I should probably have something for the holiday and I literally just finished this so this has not been beta/proof read, so there are probably a few grammar/spelling mistakes BUT I GOT SOMETHING DONE ON TIME AND I FIND THAT GOOD ENOUGH!

damn it

Damn it

DAMN IT!

How could HE of ALL people be, LATE!? And on a day as important as this!

He already had his outfit chosen and laid out, offerings on his bedside table, valet scheduled ahead of time to be ready to leave, alarms set, attendants assisting in preparation, he took every precaution AND YET SOMEHOW HE’S RUNNING LATE! He’s never late but somehow THIS TIME HE IS!

There was no excusing this misconduct, how was he to face you now. If he were to court anyone let alone you for that matter, you deserved nothing less than his best yet here he was, disheveled, out of breath, face flushed from the run over here.

Was it the shame or nerves that made his heart pitter-patter so, a lump beginning to form in his throat.

ENOUGH! He was better than this, to get so flustered. Yes, he messed up, however even he has before, it was not the end of all things.

“Ah M- Oh, Lucifer. Hello.”

“Mephistopheles.”

The man eyed him up and down, clearly unimpressed with the sight. Of all demons to answer the door it just had to be that man. Slowly, deliberately, he smoothed out his light pink button-up.

…

He had kept you waiting, if Lucifer was the one opening the door and not you, had he disappointed you enough for your date to be call off? The least he could do was apologize.

“How is MC? I’d like to see them if they’d have me.”

A deep sigh escaped the man before him.

“MC-”

The ground shook, a mighty crash erupted from the once deathly silent house, a cacophony of voices yelling.

“-… is occupied at the moment.”

“Occupied!?” The appalling gall! “Is MC even alright!?” 

“Les!” It’s you! Though his sight was immediately obscured by black feathers he managed to squeeze past, darting into the house.

In your sprint your foot got caught on the carpet sending you tumbling forward! Thankfully you were just within arm’s reach.

“PDA POLICE! UNHAND MC!”

“Yeah!”

“Wait! We still-”

“MC you can’t go with the wall broken!”

“Yeah- uh, only you… can fix it?”

“THE HELL WAS THAT!?”

“Look just- SHUT UP!”

“I have chocolate.”

“Are you hurt?” Looking you up and down there didn’t seem to be any injuries, but humans are such fragile things, did something in you get hurt?

You lightly shook your head before abruptly standing up. “STAY!” Though Mephistopheles himself wasn’t under your command he could still FEEL the raw power behind your voice. Something so strong the force of it alone left him in such utter aw he almost didn’t notice the demons around him collapsing to the floor. “I’ll be back later, I don’t know when, don’t wait up for me for dinner. If I catch ANY of you or your familiars stalking us, you know what will happen, got it?”

With their nods you smiled, taking Mephisto’s hand. You squeezed it so tightly before running off with him in tow, the demon tripping his way out the door his knees too weak from your display moments before.

“M-MC, where are we going?”

“Away from here!”

Your footfalls tapped against the cobblestone streets racing along, down one road, turning at the next. Soon you slowed down taking a moment to rest on your knees.

“Sorry about that. I was ready but right before you got here they dragged me back in with excuses to stay.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing. If I had been here on time we could already be on our date.”

You just stared at him. Why were you staring at him? You took out your phone, looking puzzled. “It’s just a few minuets past when we were to meet.”

“Just?” You… didn’t care?

… Well, you do have many suitors, either those brothers had managed to lower your standards for basic decency, or it didn’t matter for you would have gone out with one of them if he hadn’t arrived.

Gently he took one of your hands into both of his own. “Allow me the chance to make up for this grievance, if you’re willing, I do still have a date planned.”

“What? No, dude-” A light chuckle shook you. “-you were at most a minuet late, you’re fine. You don’t need to be so serious.” Your free hand found purchase on his shoulder before rubbing up and down his upper arm. “Just relax, we’re supposed to have fun today.”

Relax? How?

You’ve bewitched him don’t you know? Just as you had just about every other being. You have countless people after your heart and asked him on a date on such an important human holiday! You chose HIM! And in return he had to show you nothing less than his best! To impress you, to prove to you he’d make for nothing less and an exemplary partner!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN RELAX!? What could that even mean in this context?

Unlike Lord Diavolo, Mephistopheles was never meant for the spotlight, he is to assist from backstage, but if it would keep your gaze on him longer and to not be drawn away he’d perform the greatest show, for you to see only the best he had to offer!

What nonsense could you understand that he was unable too?

��So! What are we doing?”

“Well you requested I do ‘simple’-” It’d be too much of a fuss and delay to properly fix his outfit, so he partially untucked his top and ran a hand through his hair so at least it wasn’t completely out of place. “-and with your advice I believe I’ve planned just that. Lunch, a walk and a show.”

“Hmm” Your gaze traced over him, from his black slacks to the pink top, the edges of the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves embroidered with black lace and tiny jewels. Was it… too much?

“Lovely.” It was almost too easily how your hand slid into his own, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s get going!”

“Of course.”

The streets were bustling as they always had. To everyone else it was a day just like any other yet that could not be further from the truth for the pair of you.

So… Valentines day. After looking into the holiday when you mentioned it was coming up it was fascinating how the story of two separate priests and an older society festival combined could have spread so far and come to be a day of love, if something similar had happened in the Devildom the day would likely be a much different affair to the romance and reds, pinks and whites… well… perhaps the red would be still be there but for blood, like that older society’s festivities.

Humans, such fragile things, yet the more he looked the more fascinated he was, by how so quickly everything happens, much of it would do to be put in the paper for others to learn, yet that’s also the problem, everything going by so fast he could hardly keep track of all that happens in a few hundred years… Just as now, chatting and laughing away and in the blink of the eye already their pair of you stood before those open doors.

“What’s this place.” Your eyes practically sparkled upon entering. Immediately you crouched down scanning over the little gachapon machines that lined the wall.

“Sharpest Slice, the only generationally owned and operated pizza places in the Devildom. Exceptional really, it’s rarer for a family to have multiple generations, let alone for the younger ones to continue their family’s work outside of nobility.” He wasn’t surprised you found yourself being drawn to the arcade corner. “It was a few centuries back when we made the article about this place. The whole of the first and second generation works here from cooking, to repair, to making and enchanting the little toys in the machines.”

“Oh, these little guys are enchanted?”

“Yes, but with the way the machines are built you can’t tell unless you get one or see one move through the window. The enchantments are changed regularly so it’s always a surprise even if you get something you got before.”

“Huh… you’re right, I can’t sense a thing.” Back to hovering around the machines you held out a hand, drawing it closer and farther, around the little door and window likely still looking for some reading or sign of the magic.

… So this is what he looked like to his clubmates when they first got here.

“Order whatever you like, I’ll be back in a moment.” With some grimm placed in your palm he curled your fingers over, giving you a soft pat before trotting off.

When he scouted out here for your date he was surprised by how little coin the exchange machine could except. In fact the last visit all the grimm he had was worth too much for the machine. Good thing the owner stopped him before he attempted such or else he may have broken the thing, or accidentally had it drop all the change it had.

By the time he was done you came trotting over asking what to do first. He found himself before one of the mini claw machines. There were mostly plush key cha-

Immediately he tossed in a few coins activating the game.

“Hmm? … Oh, gluhschwanz!” You pointed to just the little plush dragon key chain he had his eye on. “For Rubezalis?”

“Ruby would love it.”

“Good luck!” You perched yourself on his shoulders as if that could somehow transfer said luck into him.

…

..

.

“You actually did it!”

“Excuse me!? Actually!?”

“Well, yeah! All these crane games are all rigged so you can’t win.”

Taking the little push thing he looked to you, brow raised. “Really? I know my clubmates won a few things when we came here to interview the first owners.”

“Eh? Let me try!” and so you activated the game…

…

..

.

And nothing but air was gotten. “Ugh.”

“You wanted the wyvern?”

“Yes.”

“Let me try.”

…

..

.

“Here you are.”

“… Okay, how! I’ve never seen these things work!”

Mephisto stared at you for a moment. “MC… you say they’re all rigged?”

“Yes.”

“… Perhaps it’s simply your skill at the game.” That or somehow ALL the machines in the human world were broken which he doubted.

“It has nothing to do with skill!”

“Well let’s try another then.” He gestured to another machine.

“Bet.”

“Bet? Bet what?”

“No, bet- it- human turn of phrase.”

“Hmm?”

And so you tried again. And again. And again. And again. Mephisto tried giving you tips, even the plush toys began trying to hanging on to the claw yet still… “See!” You only meant to gesture to the machine but a bit too much force from the frustration seemed to find it’s way to your hand having you smack the thing.

“MC?”

“I’m fine.” With a sigh you stood up, turning your back to the machines. The little plush toys wobbled, whether jeering at your defeat or encouraging your win, Mephisto wasn’t sure.

“… Bet I could get a higher score than you.” Gingerly you pointed to a pair of the same arcade game standing side by side.

“Given your track record so far…”

“That’s it! We’re playing!” Looping your arm around his own you practically dragged him off to your dueling ground.

“What would we even bet?”

“Uh- we can decide later!”

“Three, two, one, GO!” Admittedly you immediately got a head start, clearly this was a game you knew well. Mephistopheles hadn’t played too many of these kind of… pixely, shooty, flying, score, combo games??? before, but your smug smile was showing you were too quick to count him out. What was he if not a fast learner? He couldn’t help the smug smile, catching you check his score from the corner of the eye and try focusing on your own game. Good, he was hoping you’d give a chall-

He froze losing a life. Your mischievous giggle rang in his ears as you pulled your lips away. He swore he could still feel your heat as you kissed his cheek.

So, the pair of you were allowed to play by under handed means?

Sure, he’ll play.

“WAH!” You jumped, instinctively batting at tip of his tail that he dropped on your head. The moment you realized it was just him it was back to the game, spamming the fire button as fast as you could! Unlike your distraction he managed to get you to let go of the controls, this couldn’t go unpunished!

And thus your tattled continued, a playful shove here, a standing in front of the other’s screen there.

Soon a triumphant laughter erupted as well as the most beautiful bright smile you had ever seen graced your senses. “I WON!” Crow’s feet at the corners of his closed eyes, sharp canines on full display, the bridge of his nose crinkling up, perhaps the softest expression you had ever seen on him.

“Nah, I definitely won.”

“Ha?” He looked to you confused, so unguarded for a moment before glancing between your screens.

You interrupted before he could even speak. “I’ve never seen your demon form before, you’re gorgeous.”

Could your words really have caught him so, for him to be so… not surprised but something like that, not as harsh.

Like Barbatos you couldn’t pin down an exact human world creature his features were like but you could find similarities. If you had to find a comparison though the closest one could find would be a Chinese dragon, flowing fur running along a thin line on the top, before stiffening and forming a fish like fin at the tip. Even his horns, branching like cherry blossom trees in paintings, running back instead forward or out to the side like most horns you’ve seen.

“You’re even blushing.”

“That’s- I-”

“Say, isn’t showing one’s demon form an honor, the highest form of dress?”

“… yes?”

How were you doing this, looking to him so… so…

He lacked the words.

There was this twinkle in your eyes. “Glad I can make for a worthy opponent.”

A worthy opponent indeed.

Mephisto placed a hand to his chest seeing his now once more gloved hand landing on that fluttery dark green ascot. “… I had thought to be like this, but this is a human holiday, so it would only be appropriate I adorn myself in your colors and form, would it not?”

He didn’t dare move even as you stepped closer, only a breath apart.

“You’re so swee-”

BANG

You both flinched as the sudden sound practically attacked you. A few demons followed it, beginning to surround the gachapon machines. You almost followed too but couldn’t right away, finding yourself wrapped protectively in Mephistopheles’ arms, even holding his can up and in a defensive stance. With an awkward cough and stiff opening of his arms he let go.

Quickly the pair of you made their way just in time to see A. the gachapon machines had toppled over with many of the capsules scattered across the floor and B. the toys inside breaking out going on the attack directly or working together to chuck knives, forks, other toys and capsules your way. And that was how the pair of you as well as many other customers found yourselves ducking into the kitchen for safety. Being wacked with little plastic balls could surprisingly hurt.

“Mephisto!” The man came sprinting in.

“They blocked the exits.”

“Why!?”

“I don’t know! And neither dose anyone else! The ones who make the toys are on vacation so no one can get in contact to know what they even did to the toys!” His tail smacked against the counter sending the toy clinging to it back out to the dinning area.

“Well, the magic allowing them to move is weak, we can subdue them.”

“Remember how I told you this is a family run business.”

“Yeah.”

“The chefs are fighting with the others who want to break the toys because their siblings made them!”

“I’m going back out there.”

“MC, those things will stab you!”

“Well, we can’t break them, so we just have to undo the enchantment! You said they place new ones on them regularly, that should be fine, right?”

“Well, ye- Wait!” He immediately followed as you ran past back out to the front counter.

You managed to snatch one of the plush key chains, holding it firm enough so it couldn’t escape but not so much as to be squeezing it. “… How can such weak magic do so much?”

You both held your breath concentrating on the little soft chimera. Surprisingly it didn’t do much once in hand, not even squirming, at most resting it’s muzzle against you.

Curiously Mephisto reached out a finger to pat it on the head only for it to buck him away. “Usually the enchantments are something simple, changing color, moving to simple commands, giving hugs… reacting to emotions!” The pair of you looked to one another coming to the same realization.

Gently you stroked the toy with your thumb concentrating, searching and feeling for those faint traces… “Love… Les?” The demon dropped his head on your shoulder.

“Once again you’ve captured the heart of every being in the room. Rioting because they’re upset you didn’t get to win again.” Slowly he got to his feet. “If the enchantment is to react on love, it should be simple enough to dispel.” You didn’t even think before taking the hand outstretched to you, pulling you up. “Shall we?”

And alarm rang, their pair of you felt a water spell activate drenching the pair of you as well as the rest of the restaurant just as a terrible heat began to emerge from the back.

Next thing you knew you were held tightly, standing across the street from the restaurant, a green fire could be seen through a window toward where the kitchen was. Thankfully it seemed most, if not everyone else was out too.

…

“Maybe I sensed anger and not love.”

“… Yes I believe we got the enchantment wrong.”

Though the pair of you were sopping wet at least the emergency fire system going off would probably be enough to wash away whatever enchantment the toy were under. You noted to yourself to never mention this incident to anyone, if it reached Solomon’s ears surely he’d double your assignments, you barely had any time that wasn’t RAD work or apprentice work as it already was!

“Les?” Mephisto’s breath shuttered before he let you go.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Quickly he made his way towards the demon who you made your order to at the counter. They seemed to exchange something before the demon practically lunged at Mephisto, gripping him in a tight hug before running off.

You had a feeling about what just transpired but you couldn’t help asking once he got back. “So what happened?”

“Although we didn’t get our meal, we still enjoyed the services of the place and thought I could at least compensate for that.”

He overpaid by a lot, honestly you didn’t know if he knew he was or not, but if he did you wouldn’t be surprised.

As if in a panic Mephisto patted himself down, sighing upon taking something out of his inner coat pocket. “Good it wasn’t washed away.”

“Oh?”

… He couldn’t bare to look to you as he presented the bar, the ribbon wrapping around the corner partially undone. “It’s tradition to make chocolate for whom you wish to be your Valintine, right? And since we can’t get pizza anymore you could at least have this.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you? You hadn’t even tasted to know if it’s to your liking yet.”

“But you took the time to make it for me, that’s enough. Besides, you made it I’m sure that even if it’s a flavor I don’t personally like it’ll taste good.” It was interesting to try to unwrap what with the paper disintegrating from the water. It thankfully easy enough to simply rub off.

Though you said you accepted his offering no matter how it was he couldn’t help focusing on the awful nerves that bubbled in his gut. First he was late allowing the brothers that chance to bother you, then… ALL THAT at the restaurant. He knew he could do better and that was the worst part. Still, the least he could do was make your day better.

“Oh, what’s this jell on the inside, it’s delicious! And why dose it tingle so much!”

“You told me once you wanted to know more about Demous, so I thought to add some to the chocolate. Most of the bottles I could find had such high concentration. Many of the more flavorful ones could knock even Lord Diavolo off he feet, but I couldn’t compromise on the taste, so it took some time to find one with low enough concentration that it wouldn’t harm your liver while still keeping the tas…… What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing! Nothing. I love it.”

“No.” You shrunk a little under his gaze. “You made a face just now. Is it not to your liking?”

“…” now it was you who couldn’t look him in the eye. “Demonus doesn’t ha-uh… effect humans. H-hopefully you didn’t spend too long finding this one, I’m- ahem, I’m sorry!” You shook a little trying to clear your throat.

…

Those three months were still worth it! Learned a lot about Demonus then he thought he could about how to make it less effective!

“MC?” You kept clearing your throat. Now beginning to pat your chest.

“P-pen- EpiPen.” The moment you got the thing out of your pocket Mephisto took it, helping you to the ground before popping off the cap and sticking it into your leg.

…

And there was nothing else he could do. Sitting at your bedside as you napped. The moment he arrived at the castle it was as if Barbatos and Diavolo knew you would be arriving, the butler whisking you away to tend to you. Already Mephisto had given Diavolo a list of the ingredients he used. It seemed you had tried everything on it in some form or another already… except for the alcohol. Of course. With you napping at least he had the chance to give it to Barbatos to check if all humans would be allergic or just a few.

Would you even want to see him after this, he POISONED you, made an attempt on your life! Thankfully with magic and him getting you here in such a quick fashion you should be fine with a few hours but, your life is so short as it was, and he stole several hours. Yet despite this shame he couldn’t seem to keep himself from your side any more than he already had.

“Les?”

Though he faced you he could hardly get words out, but he had too! “I’m so sorry, MC.”

“… Eh, one of the more peaceful attempts on my life.” You tiredly chuckled, slowly sitting up. “H-hey, it wasn’t that bad. Every time I try something there’s the risk of that, who knows, maybe the pizza would have gotten to me.”

“… Barbatos says you’re free to go whenever you wish.”

“Oh, good! Could we still catch that show?”

You almost flinched seeing how he looked like you just slapped him! “You… still want to continue the date?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well…” He closed his eyes thinking for a moment. “We missed the show, and it’s getting too late for a walk without the more dangerous creatures beginning to stalk about.”

… Slowly, he took your hand. “Would you come home with me?”

“Oh?”

He adjusted himself so he could better face you. “Allow me the chance to make you some proper Valentine’s Day chocolate. I still have ingredients left over and I won’t add anything extra to it!”

“Hmm… only if I get to make you chocolate too.”

Clearly you left the man bewildered, of all things, that seemed to catch him off guard. “I wanted to make you chocolate too, but every time I tried they got eaten, or the ingredients were eaten, or someone else shoved their way into the kitchen and messed up everything.”

“If that is what you wish, of course!”

“And we could still get that walk in now!”

“Of course.” Walking to his place… There weren’t exactly too many places to stop and rest like at the botanical garden he was planning to take you too, but his leg could push through!

And so the pair of you began to trek, you simply waving bye to Diavolo much to his chagrin, but at least the prince didn’t seem to mind.

It was about half way he began to notice that pain spark from his ankle and up. He had taken enough of your time, he couldn’t ask for more of it for his own sake. Besides you seemed to be enjoying yourself, pointing out a shop and describing an incident where Satan and Asmodeus ended up dragging you into being in a commercial or how the jingle off in the distance reminded you od a song you liked back home. You burst our laughing as Mephisto described some of the misadventures he and Ruby got into in the forests around the mansion, like when Mephisto couldn’t find anything worthy of the front page of the paper so Ruby started spreading rumors there were ancient ferocious dragons only for that to turn up as not so much as a rumor but kinda true as Rubezalis manage to accidentally lead some to RAD who turned out to be the most cuddly creatures one could meet.

Later and later it got, he just hoped there would be room in the kitchen for the pair of you to work without getting in the way of the staff’s dinner prep. The doors opened before you, not even needing to knock.

“Oh, I was just gonna call.” The teen was lounged across some of the steps of that grand staircase like it were some comfy couch. He ran a hand through that long bright teal hair, pulling some of it away from his face.

“Hey Rubezalis.”

“Hey MC.”

The boy quirked a brow, immediately Mephistopheles tried loosening the tight grip he held onto his cane but it was too late, Ruby getting up and quickly making his way over.

“Guess you’ll be joining us for dinner. You two should have a seat, I’ll tell em to add another portion.”

“Actually,” Mephistopheles placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder just as he tried walking past. “we haven’t discussed that yet.”

“So what are you doing?”

You piped up. “Making chocolate.”

Ruby gave his brother a pointed glare his gaze flickering to that tense leg for a moment, lightly knocking his foot into his brother’s gaining smallest, quietest wince. “Cool, cool. Standing around sounds awful though. Well, you kids have fun.”

“Oh, wait, before you go.” Quickly Mephisto pulled that little plush key chain out of his pocket and placed it in Ruby’s hands. The demon couldn’t help beaming seeing that excited twinkle in his little brother’s eyes.

“Wait, you got me something for me and not your date.”

“No, he did!” You held out your keychain gaining a small smile from the youth.

“Good. Welp, see you.” And with that he walked away, hooking the keychain to one of his beltloops. “Hey, tell Ma we should go to Ristorante Six for dinner.” With that order given an attendant scurried off.

“Let’s be off, the kitchen’s this way.” Just as Mephisto turned you to one of the doors he felt a light tap on the back of his head. Over his shoulder from the corner of the eye he spotted his little bother giving him two thumbs up, mouthing ‘good luck, try not falling flat on your face’ before hopping up those steps.

“… Rubezalis cast a spell on your shoes.”

“Yours too. I don’t see the harm in leaving it be and letting him have his fun.” You nodded at Mephisto’s words, agreeing as he led the way through that gigantic house.

With a shaky sigh he leaned against one of the counters alleviating some of the pressure on his leg. While he separated the measuring cups and bowls, you were gathering the sugar and other ingredients from the cabinets he pointed out.

“A-AH!”

“MC!”

You both felt it, that little spell suddenly coming to life, shoes stuck to the ground, the sugar you held sent flying into the air as you crashed into the demon beside you. Cups and bowls in hand clattered about, tossed away cradling your head and neck to chest.

Well… he fell on his back and not face.

Damn it

If this were ANY other day, his leg wouldn’t have locked up from the pain and he could have kept the pair of you steady, but no, he couldn’t and now

now

The pair of you laid there, just absolutely covered in sugar.

Everything just kept going wrong.

His face so unbearably hot, his eyes stinging a little, this embarrassment just eating him up.

“Are you alright, MC- MPH”

.          .          .

Slowly you drew back, your eyes half lidded, smiling, looking to him so adoringly. “Sorry, your lips were too sweet to resist.”

“I, what?” Quickly he sat up. “How? How can you kiss me, this date has been nothing but terrible!”

“Well… maybe it wasn’t idea, but-” you ran a hand through his hair dusting some of the sugar off… and making those take on a darker red hue. “You’ve been so thoughtful this whole time. From the planning, your outfit, even your chocolate, you always put your all into everything you do, it amazing! And even the EpiPen I shouldn’t have been surprised but I still was, demons don’t have allergies so you could only have learned that for me.”

“Surprised? Of course I knew! No harm can come to any of the exchange studens while you reside in the Devildom.”

“I think you just care about people, more than you like to admit.”

“You-” You can’t just say something like that! “Bet.”

“Huh?”

“I won that bet, remember? I know what I want. A… another kiss.”

“… boo.”

“BOO!?” The man practically shot up, yet you still sat in his lap.

“You should have asked for something better.”

“SOMETHING BETTER!?”

“Yes, you don’t need a bet for that.”

A light laughter escaped you as the demon was unable to look to you anymore.

“Double or nothing.” Somehow he managed to force his flustered self to face you once more. “I bet you I can take you on the most extraordinary date! One that meets my standards.”

“Ooh, and what if you lose?”

“You decide.”

“Then I’ll have to take you out! And what if you win?”

“… I’d still like a kiss.”

“Okay. But I say that’s a separate bet. So…” You couldn’t help that giddy giggle feeling the man practically melt under your lips.

So he had another chance. No matter what he would make it a good date, that he promised to himself. But… if even such an awful day could have something like this happen… maybe it’s wasn’t completely terrible after all.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh. 

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.