#keeping track of what you were saying? what for!

[fandoms-x-reader]

Apologize

Requested Anonymously

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers say something too harsh to MC so MC refuses to talk to them or interact with them. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 8,242

It wasn’t unusual for Lucifer to get snappy with others.

He was constantly overworked and over exhausted and his brothers liked to cause as much trouble for him as possible.

But, no matter how tired he was, Lucifer always did his best to keep his composure around you.

He had been working really hard on a specific project for Lord Diavolo recently and you could see how tired he was.

You made frequent trips to his study, bringing him his favorite drink and massaging his shoulders whenever you could to try to help.

But, now Lucifer was barely able to keep his eyes open anymore and you couldn’t stand to see him like this.

You carefully approached him and gently rubbed his arm, taking a seat next to him. He didn’t even look up from his papers.

“Lucifer, I think you should take a break,” you told him honestly.

“I don’t have time for that Y/N,” he replied, continuing to work.

“At least for a little bit? A break would do you some good,” you tried again, and he let out an irritated sigh.

“I already told you, I don’t have time for that,” he reiterated, more annoyed this time.��

But, you were really worried about him, so you didn’t want to give up so easily.

“Lucifer,” you began again and he slammed his hand down on his desk making you let out a small gasp.

“What I’m doing is important and I need to concentrate, so if you’re just going to keep pestering me then just leave because, at this point, all you are is a nuisance,” he stated coldly.

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the sting of his words but not knowing how to react. He didn’t even care enough to see that his words had hurt you.

“Fine,” you muttered before getting up and leaving his study.

 Lucifer was really in the thick of it with work so he didn’t even realize the words that he had said and how they must have hurt you until later.

He was still in his study and he sat back in his chair, rolling shoulders as he let out a small groan of pain. They were sore from spending so much time in the same position. Usually, you would try and massage them to help prevent them from getting to this point.

He then looked down at his teacup and noticed that it was completely empty and had been for a while. But, you always made sure to bring him his favorite drink so that he could continue to work.

That’s when Lucifer began thinking back to the last time he saw you enter his study and what happened the last time. 

He let out a deep sigh as he replayed the words he had said to you in his head. Surely, you knew that he didn’t mean them, right? He loved you and you had to know that.

He wanted nothing more than to go and apologize to you but he had to keep working. It was his responsibility.

Meanwhile, you avoided Lucifer’s study at all costs. You were just trying to help Lucifer and if he couldn’t see that then you didn’t have anything else to say to him.

Lucifer only lasted one day without seeing you when he started to grow concerned. He tried sending you a couple of text messages, not wanting to leave his study, but he was met with crickets and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He had reached a point in the project where, perhaps, he could take a small break and he immediately went to your bedroom, knocking on your door.

There was no answer and while he was tempted to break it down to make sure you weren’t in there ignoring him, he kept his composure.

You had just come back from the kitchen, a drink in hand when you saw Lucifer standing in front of your bedroom door.

You stopped in your tracks as the two of you made eye contact and you took in his appearance.

He looked even more miserable than he did the last time you saw him.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just staring at each other.

After another moment, you spun on your heels, trying to retreat back to the kitchen.

Lucifer was in front of you in an instant, inches away from you and the close proximity itself was enough to start revitalizing him.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, his deep voice wanting to make you swoon after not hearing it for an entire day. But, you stood your ground.

“Why shouldn’t I be? Since I’m just a nuisance to you and all,” you replied, your eyes filled with noticeable seriousness and hurt.

It took a lot to make Lucifer falter, but when you threw his words to you back at him, he nearly winced as if you slapped him.

He took a step closer to you before telling you, “You know that I don’t really think that.”

You let out a small sigh as you looked down to the ground and Lucifer realized that maybe he had really messed up this time. Maybe you really didn’t know how he truly felt about you. 

He gently raised your chin with one of his gloved hands so that you were looking at him before gently pressing his lips on yours in an intimate kiss.

When he pulled away, his eyes locked with you as he told you, “You could never be a nuisance to me, because I love you.”

And those were the words you were waiting to hear - the ones that always made you swoon even if you were mad at him.

“Please, come back and join me in my study,” he asked, his hand dropping down to interlace his fingers with yours.

Under his intense gaze, you couldn’t help but feel your resolve cracking as you allowed him to lead you to his study.

Once there, you told Lucifer, “You still have some making up to do.” Lucifer smirked slightly at your words before sitting down on his chair and pulling you into his lap.

You nearly spilled your drink at his actions and his smirk only grew. “I still have some work to do, but this way, I can pay attention to you as well,” he told you, one arm wrapping around you to keep you in place while the other continued to write on the document in front of him.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Lucifer continued to speak before you could, his lips inches from your ear as he told you, “Then, when I’m done with this, you can have my full attention.”

Mammon had just completed a long photoshoot for a magazine that wanted him to be his model.

It was a lot of work, but the paycheck was worth it and he already knew what he wanted to do with it. Take you on a date!

Mammon was so excited to take you out that you couldn’t help but say yes.

He was always in a good mood whenever he came into money, no matter how that may be, but it was even better when he got to spend time with you because of it.

He had a whole plan to take you to a traveling carnival that was passing through the Devildom and the two of you left almost immediately.

The carnival was a lot bigger than you were expecting, filled with rides, food stalls, thrill acts and so much more.

You had been enjoying your time with Mammon there and it was one of the rare times that you got to see him drop his act and just be himself around you without the worry of one of his brothers being around.

He was even holding your hand the entire time, a small blush coating his cheeks as he tried to play the action off like it was no big deal.

After going on one of the more thrilling rides, the two of you decided to take a break and you sat down on a nearby bench as you watched one of the acts that was performing.

Your head rested against Mammon’s shoulder and this thumb traced circles on the back of your hand.

Suddenly, a random demon appeared sitting right next to Mammon and looking at the two of you. 

You raised your head to pay attention, confused as to what he wanted and the demon leaned in closer, talking in a quiet voice. Mammon was about to tell him to get lost when the demon spoke. 

“You’re Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, right?” the demon asked with hope in his eyes.

You and Mammon shared a look, questioning how this demon knew Mammon and that was all the confirmation he needed.

“I knew it!” he said with a smile before adding, “Please, sir, follow me and I’ll lead you to the undercover casino.”

Mammon’s eyes widened at his words. “Undercover casino?” Mammon asked. He didn’t know there would be one at this carnival.

“Yes, you’re one of our best patrons. If you come with me, we can treat you to the full service,” the demon replied and you could practically see Mammon’s eyes light up with gold.

“Mammon, I don’t think we should-,” you tried to say but you were cut off by him jumping up, a large smile on his face.

“Lead the way!” Mammon said and the demon lit up as he began showing the two of you the way.

“Mammon, I think this is a bad idea,” you told him and he gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Don’t worry! We’ll only stay for a few minutes,” he replied, and you let out a small sigh. It was never a few minutes.

And you were right, just like you knew you would be. The two of you were there for at least an hour as Mammon’s train of thought was completely taken over by his greed.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you want to keep playing, you’ll have to put up more money,” the dealer stated and Mammon searched his wallet for more. Empty. 

“Y/N, loan me some money, will ya’?” Mammon asked and you could feel yourself start to get annoyed. 

“Mammon, you already lost all of the money you earned from that job. Let’s just call it a night,” you tried to reason with him, but his lips turned into a frown.

“C’mon, don’t be such a killjoy. I’m gonna win big this time, I know it!” Mammon tried to convince you, but you were done with the casino.

“Mammon, we should go home,” you stated more firmly.

“I spent the whole night doin’ what you wanted, so the least you could do is spend some time doin’ what I want!” Mammon argued.

His words cut you, but you tried to gain control of the situation. “Mammon-,” you tried once again but he cut you off with a loud groan of frustration.

“If I wanted someone to ruin my fun then I would have taken Lucifer,” Mammon stated before muttering, “Jeez, I don’t even know why I took ya’ out in the first place.”

Your heart dropped at his words as you felt tears sting your eyes, but you wouldn’t let him see them fall. Fine.

You searched through your things to find your money and handed it to Mammon who had a large smile on his face at the sight of it. “Bet as much as you want. I’m going home,” you stated before walking away and back to the House of Lamentation.

Just as you knew, once again, Mammon lost all of the money you had given him and now he had nothing left.

He looked around the casino for you and when he couldn’t find you, he started calling you and texting you. Did you really leave?

As the money-hungry fog started to lift from his mind, Mammon was able to start thinking clearly and he realized just how badly he had messed up. 

He continued to try to call you as he made his way back to the House of Lamentation, but you refused to answer his calls.

When he got to the house, he immediately went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door, but he was met with more silence.

He tried to get you to open the door the entire night but when he realized you weren’t going to, he sulked back to his room. How was he supposed to fix this if you wouldn’t talk to him?

Your silent treatment continued for the next few days. You wouldn’t talk to him at RAD and you would lock him out of your room before he had a chance to talk to you back at the House of Lamentation.

Mammon was growing more and more depressed about it too. He wasn’t sleeping, he was barely eating, and he felt like there was nothing he could do about it.

You had purposefully been only leaving your room at times when you thought Mammon would be out of the house or asleep.

It was too painful to see after the things he said to you when you were just trying to keep him from getting further into debt.

It was a little after midnight when you decided to go to the kitchen to get some food. You managed to make it to the fridge with no problem, but right as you grabbed the item you wanted, Mammon suddenly entered.

The two of you looked at each other in shock, neither one of you expecting the other to be there.

You wanted nothing more than to go back to your room, but he was blocking the exit.

“Uh…hi,” Mammon said, looking down at the ground. He was nervous and under any other circumstance, you would feel a little bad for him.

He didn’t say anything else, so you decided to try to push past him to get back to your room.

But as you passed him, Mammon gently grabbed your arm. “Wait,” he said, finally bringing himself to look at you and you paused to listen to what he had to say.

He was bad at speeches so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I miss ya’.”

And his puppy dog eyes and those words that sounded so sad were enough to almost make you cave. Almost.

Mammon could tell it wasn’t enough so he continued to say, “I’m sorry about what I said. You’re the only one I want to go out with and I don’t know why ya’ even agreed to go out with me,” he told you honestly and you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, shattering the walls that you had put up.

You gently reached up and cupped his cheek with one of your hands and he immediately leaned into your touch. 

You pulled away after a moment and began walking to your room, leaving a very confused Mammon standing there.

You turned back to face him when you realized he wasn’t following you and you motioned towards your room before asking, “Are you coming?”

He got a big smile at your words and he nodded his head, letting you lead him to your room.

As soon as you shut the door, Mammon engulfed you in his arms, pulling you onto the bed and refusing to let go.

You let yourself melt in his embrace before telling him, “No more gambling on dates.”

He gently pressed his lips to yours before replying, “Promise.”

There were a few things that Levi was uptight about and those things usually had something to do with either his anime, manga, or videogames.

Other than those things, Levi was usually pretty nonchalant. He didn’t care what others did or didn’t do and he didn’t complain if they didn’t spend time with him.

He just usually did his own thing and you admired him for that.

It didn’t take long for you and Levi to start hanging out, common interests bringing the two of you together.

And Levi soon found that he was going against all of his beliefs as a shut-in. He was starting to actually care about what others did. Well, about what one person did in particular.

Things that Levi used to love to do by himself didn’t seem as fun when you weren’t around, so he tried to invite you over as much as he possibly could.

You didn’t mind at all because Levi usually invited you to do something you liked doing anyway.

Levi never had someone that liked the same things he liked as much as you did, which is probably what added to his infatuation of spending time with you.

And it was like a secret that only the two of you shared, or a language that only the two of you knew how to speak.

Or, that’s how Levi thought of it until he caught you and Solomon talking at RAD.

You had mentioned one of your and Levi’s favorite games to Solomon and he had, surprisingly, known about it.

So the two of you started talking about all your favorite characters and mechanics of the game. 

In your defense, it was a completely innocent conversation between friends, but Levi didn’t see it that way.

What he saw is the way you smiled at Solomon as he spoke, in a way that Levi only wanted you to look at him.

And what he heard was the way you sweetly laughed at Solomon’s jokes, with a laugh that was supposed to be reserved for his ears.

And then, you invited Solomon to come over to the House of Lamentation and play the game with you and Levi.

His sin had taken over him faster than he could process what was happening and he stood in between you and Solomon in his demon form, a very unhappy look on his place.

“Levi? Are you okay?” you asked him, worried when you saw the form he was in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, sending a glance to Solomon.

“We were just talking,” you replied, confused as to what he was getting at.

“You invited him to play our game!” Levi snapped back and you and Solomon shared a look as you realized why he might be upset.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” you replied honestly. Solomon and Levi were friends and Solomon had come over lots of time to play games with Levi, so why should this time be any different?

But your words seemed to only set Levi off more as his insecurities got the better of him.

“Well, it might not seem like a big deal to you but it’s a big deal to me,” he replied and you could hear the hurt in his voice. The conversation was spiraling and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“Levi, I didn’t mean anything by that,” you tried to reason but he was too far in his head down.

“This is what I get I guess,” he stated and you looked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned. 

“It means I never should have tried to be friends with some lame normie who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves,” Levi snapped back and this time it was your turn to be hurt.

“Let’s all calm down,” Solomon interjected, trying to de-escalate the situation and Levi’s demon form caught the attention of Lucifer. Levi knew furthering the fight would only get him involved, so he backed down.

“Whatever,” Levi muttered before walking away and Solomon turned to you. 

“Are you okay?” Solomon asked you and you replied with a short, “I’m fine.”

You went back to the House of Lamentation with the full intention of avoiding Levi and giving him the silent treatment, which was all too easy to do because he didn’t leave his room after the fight.

You were both getting more and more miserable as you spent time apart, but Levi was upset because he thought you liked Solomon and you were upset because of what he said to you so neither of you were ready to apologize.

After about a week of the two of you not speaking, it was starting to affect everyone else as well.

Solomon decided to do something about it since he was technically involved.

He came to Levi’s room, fully expecting Levi to not answer the door; but, he had.

Truth be told, Levi had only opened it in the hopes that you would be on the other side but he was largely disappointed when he saw Solomon standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Levi asked and Solomon gave him an innocent smile.

“I was hoping to talk to you for a moment,” Solomon replied. 

“About what?” Levi asked and Solomon’s expression turned to a serious one.

“About Y/N,” he replied and at the mention of your name, a blush rose to Levi’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Levi replied, attempting to shut the door to his room but Solomon stopped him.

“Please, just listen,” Solomon said and Levi, having no choice, let him continue.

“The only reason that Y/N and I were talking about the game was because they were telling me how much they’ve been enjoying playing it with you,” Solomon told Levi. 

“So?” Levi asked and Solomon wanted to roll his eyes at the oblivious demon.

“They were telling me about how much they’ve been enjoying spending time with you,” Solomon tried to further clarify.

Something clicked in Levi’s mind this time and his cheeks burned a furious red as he understood what Solomon was trying to say. 

He quickly slammed the door on Solomon’s face to process the new information on his own and then he felt like a total idiot for snapping at you.

It only took him a few more minutes to show up at your door, nervously knocking on it. 

You opened it a few moments later and Levi saw his own miserableness reflected on you. 

“I…I know I messed everything up a-and you’ll probably never forgive me. But, I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you wanted to play some games,” Levi said practically in one breath before he could chicken out of it. 

He held your favorite game in his hands along with some snacks, hoping that you would let him in.

“Why would you want to spend time with a lame normie like me?” you asked and Levi winced at your words. He deserved that.

He let out a defeated sigh, casting his gaze down at the floor before telling you, “Because I don’t think you're lame. You’re the most amazing person I know. But, if you don’t want to play that’s fine, I’ll just leave you alone.”

His dejected look pulled at your heartstrings and you couldn’t help but stop him by gently grabbing his arms.

He looked back at you with hopeful eyes and you told him, “Maybe we can play for a little bit.”

Levi immediately rushed into your room, a bright smile on his face that was contagious as he set everything up.

This was only the beginning of his apology and he was going to make sure he made up for what he said.

And maybe, just maybe, along with an apology he could also confess his feelings for you.

Out of all the demon brothers, Satan was the best at holding a grudge.

After all, he had been holding once against Lucifer for his entire life. 

Satan was a classy demon but he was equally stubborn and if he didn’t want to back down from a fight, there was no making him do so.

So, when the two of you got into a fight, you knew that it was going to be one with lasting consequences.

Satan had invited you on a day trip that involved a long train ride both to and from the destination. 

He didn’t want you to be bored so he offered to lend you one of his books.

Everything was going so perfectly and it was a very romantic outing filled with sweet nothings and intimate moments.

But, then the time to go back home came and that’s when it all started falling apart.

You were frantically trying to search your bag for the book that Satan had lent you while you waited for the train to arrive, but you couldn’t find it anywhere.

 Satan noticed your frantic movements beside him and he raised an eyebrow as he looked at you. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked you as you continued to search.

“Your book,” you replied, and the content expression that was on his face moments before dropped as he felt a flicker of anger inside of him.

“The book I let you borrow?” Satan asked as you closed your bag with a frustrated sigh.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Satan, I must have left it on the train when we got off it,” you told him, a contrite expression on your face. You felt awful.

“How could you be so careless?” Satan asked and you were taken aback by his words.

“I didn’t mean to,” you argued but Satan’s wrath was only growing further and once he went down this road, it was almost impossible to stop.

“That was one of my favorite books! I only let you borrow it as a gesture of kindness,” he stated.

“Satan, I told you I was sorry. I’ll buy you another copy when we get back,” you responded.

“It won’t be the same,” he snapped back, refusing to look at you now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you replied and you knew those words were a mistake because if he wasn’t angry before, that definitely set him off.

The two of you engaged in a very heated exchange as others looked on and the only thing that stopped you was the arrival of the train.

You and Satan refused to talk to each other the whole way back and you sat in anger and embarrassment for causing such a big scene.

You immediately went to your separate rooms as soon as you got back to the House of Lamentation and you were left to wonder how such a simple thing could ruin not only the way back but the entire trip when the two of you had been so happy together moments before that.

Satan could admit to himself that he may have overreacted a bit, but admitting it to you was a completely different story. And, you believed that you already apologized so what else was there to say?

Which left the two of you at an impasse. You wouldn’t speak to each other or even look at each other despite the ache you had for each other.

The others had heard about what happened and tried to get the two of you to talk. After all, they all agreed that you were fighting over something trivial, but neither you nor Satan gave in.

It wasn’t until the two of you got stuck in a situation a couple of weeks later that he realized how stupid the argument was.

Satan was reading in the library at the House of Lamentation and you walked in to grab your own book, not expecting him to be there.

As soon as you saw him, you averted your gaze, focusing on finding the book you were looking for.

Satan kept occasionally glancing at you while you searched, but he didn’t say anything.

Finally, you found the book you were looking for, but it was in a stack of books on top of one of the bookshelves.

You were struggling to reach it and could use some help. Specifically from a demon who was already there.

Satan kept his eyes on his book, a smug smile threatening to form as he knew you needed help and would have to talk to him to ask him for it.

But, you refused to give him the satisfaction, so you tried to grasp it yourself, causing them all to tumble.

You let out a gasp of pain as they fell on top of you, one of the larger ones hitting you in the head and knocking you out.

Satan was on his feet the instant he saw what happened and he quickly approached you with worry in his eyes.

You had a small cut on your forehead that was bleeding and when he saw that you were knocked out, the guilt instantly flooded him. He should’ve just helped you.

He carried you to his bedroom and treated the small cut on your forehead before sitting next to you, watching you sleep.

He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for a fact that you were okay.

A little while later, you began to stir and when you fluttered your eyes open, you were met with concerned, green ones.

“How are you feeling?” he asked you immediately and you slowly began to remember what happened. 

“My head hurts,” you admitted and he nodded his head, handing you some pain medicine.

You took it gratefully and as it fell silent, you realized Satan had just talked to you.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him again. He must have known what you were thinking because he let out a small sigh before climbing into the bed with you and pulling you into him.

You moved your head back just a bit so that you could look at him.

“I’m sorry for overreacting and for calling you careless,” he told you as he lovingly looked into your eyes, gently brushing some of your hair out of your face before leaving his fingers tangled in it.

“I’m sorry for losing your book,” you replied, savoring every moment of the touch you had craved.

“I can always get another copy,” he reassured you, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you, “You’re what I’m afraid of losing more than anything. I can’t ever get another copy of you and I wouldn’t want it.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips before replying, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Satan smiled at you before pulling you onto his chest so that he could hold you.  

Asmo was quick and witty when he wanted to be.

His greatest fighting tactic was his words and everyone knew that.

He could be mean to those who deserved it - but you would never deserve it.

You would never be on the opposite end of Asmo’s repartee because he simply loved you too much.

So, when Asmo said something to you that had crossed the line, he didn’t even realize it until after he said the words.

You had been having a particularly rough day and you sought Asmo out for some comfort.

He immediately suggested that the two of you have a spa day. It was the perfect way to relax!

Of course, Asmo was already fully prepared for a last-minute spa day.

He told you to just sit back and relax while he got everything ready. He knew that you would need extra pampering that day so he wanted to give you the full treatment.

And Asmo was the best at pampering you - but because of the rough day you had, you were on edge.

While doing different things, Asmo would make small comments about how you could improve certain aspects of your hair and skin routine.

Things like - your hair feels a little dry, you should try using a better conditioner. Or, your skin’s starting to look wrinkly, you need to start a better skincare routine.

To him, these comments were all coming from a place of love. He was just trying to give you advice since he had tried almost every beauty product known to the world.

But with you already being frustrated, the comments started to sound more like nagging; and, they began making you feel a bit self-conscious.

Wanting to avoid an argument, you suggested stopping the spa for now, but when Asmo kept pressing you for the reason, you snapped slightly. 

The small argument quickly blew up into a bigger one and Asmo resorted to using his quick wit as a defense mechanism.

By the end of it, you had both said things you didn’t mean and you had left his room quickly, seeking solidarity in your own.

Asmo was the biggest attention seeker in the entire house, so he doesn’t take being ignored or avoided by anyone very well.

But he especially doesn’t take it well when it’s coming from you - the person he loves the most.

The day after the two of you fought, he expected you to be mad, but he had already prepared an apology for that.

The thing about Asmo is that he’s not afraid to apologize for something he did if he feels like he was in the wrong, unlike some of the other brothers.

Besides, the sooner he apologized, the sooner the two of you could make up. And that was his favorite part of any argument.

But, with you not speaking to him and avoiding him at all costs, how was he supposed to apologize?

Asmo only lasted one day of you ignoring him before he was at your door, tears in his eyes begging you to talk to him.

He was very dramatic with his begging, but with how dramatic Asmo usually was, it was par for the course.

If you let him in, he’ll immediately hug you, his arms wrapping around you tightly while he rests his head in the crook of your neck, crying as he apologizes as many times as it takes for you to forgive him.

He didn’t mean to say those things - he would never hurt you on purpose. It was just in the heat of the moment. He’s a very passionate guy after all.

Those are things he’ll tell you, his lips brushing against your skin as he says it, his hands sliding down just a little past what would be considered proper.

All things he knew would chip away at your walls.

He knew everything about you, especially when it came to things you liked. Things that made you cave no matter the situation.

Your resolve was shaky now and Asmo knew it, gently placing kisses on your neck and you subconsciously leaned into his touch, ever so slightly exposing more of your skin to him.

“Asmo,” you warned as he continued his kisses. You wanted to be mad at him, and you wanted to sound mad. But, your walls were crumbling under his touch and when his name left your lips, it was filled with love instead of anger.

A hint of a smile formed on his lips as he heard his name and he looked into your eyes, his eyes drawing you in even more.

“You’ll forgive me, won’t you Y/N?” he asked innocently - far too innocently for the thoughts currently running through his mind.

His lips were inches from yours and you let out a small sigh before closing the gap between the two of you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. 

You supposed you could let him off with a warning this time. After all, you were the one who snapped first.

Asmo wouldn’t hold it against you though. All that mattered was that the two of you made up.

Beel was absolutely panicking when he realized that you weren’t speaking to him and were avoiding him at all costs.

Mostly because he had no idea what he had done wrong and since you weren’t talking to him, he couldn’t even ask you.

It must have been something bad given the silent treatment. But, he couldn’t even think of something small he might have done - let alone something big enough for you to give him the silent treatment.

He thought about the last time the two of you interacted.

You were in his room with him, and he had pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

Your head was pressed against his chest as he held you close, a peaceful smile resting on his face.

He felt content and slowly but surely drifted off. 

The next thing he knew, you had moved off him in a rush, exiting his bedroom before he could get a word out and you had been avoiding him ever since.

But, you had a very different recollection of what had happened.

You were cuddling against Beel as previously stated, and you were feeling content as well. Everything just felt right when you were in his arms.

But, only a few minutes into cuddling Beel told you, “I don’t know why we’re still doing this.”

Your eyes immediately snapped open as you tried to process what Beel had just said.

“What?” you asked softly.

His hand was tangled in your hair, holding your head in place, so you couldn’t look up at him to see if he was being serious or not.

“I think this pointless,” he murmured again and your heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t really mean that, right?

“Beel,” you tried to say, but you were cut off by him continuing to speak.

“I think you should go,” he added and you decided to listen to him, pushing yourself off of him and going to your room, locking the door.

You hated that he could hold you so lovingly while he simultaneously broke up with you.

Seeing him was painful so you avoided him at all costs and you didn’t want to hear any excuse he might have so you refused to speak to him.

Beel had been doing everything he could to get your attention, but he failed at every attempt.

The lack of your presence had taken a toll on him. He had been feeling sad and lonely and he missed you more than anything.

Not to mention, he had seen you looking upset and he wanted to know what happened. He wanted to know why you were sad because he hated seeing it.

He would do anything to make you happy, he just wished you would let him help. Whatever it was - he could fix it.

He only lasted a couple of weeks without you before he decided he had to do something.

So one day when you had just gotten home from RAD, he picked you up and carried you to his room, shutting the door and blocking it with his body, despite your many protests.

He knew that his strength overpowered yours so you wouldn’t be able to push past him.

You could use the pact against him to get him to move, but he was hoping you wouldn’t resort to that - he just wanted to talk.

When you realized that Beel had you trapped you let out a sigh, sitting down on his bed. You couldn’t avoid him forever.

“What do you want, Beel?” you asked him, looking anywhere but him. And the way you said his name angrily instead of the affectionate way you used to say it hurt.

But just hearing your voice, even if you sounded mad, was like a breath of fresh air.

He moved closer to you, his big puppy dog eyes, staring at you with so much love as he tried to figure out what to say.

“You seem sad,” he told you, carefully sitting down on the bed next to you and you let out a scoff.

“Of course I’m sad,” you replied and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you.

“Why?” he asked innocently and you looked at him incredulously.

When he saw the look you were giving him, he asked, “Did I do something? Is that why you won’t talk to me?”

And now your eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he wasn’t making any sense.

“You broke up with me,” you stated simply and his eyes widened as he stared at you in disbelief. He would never.

Seeing the look of confusion on his face, you decided to recount the details of that day, telling him everything he said to you.

And his expression went from one of confusion to understanding as he realized what had happened.

Beel had a dream after he fell asleep cuddling you. The usual suspect - Mammon - was trying to get Beel to do something he didn’t want to do. He remembered saying all of those things to his brother in his dream - but he didn’t have any recollection of saying them out loud.

“What?” you asked as he finished talking. He was asleep?! 

A small blush coated your cheeks as you realized that you never looked at him. He kept you in place at first and then you were so upset that you walked out without sparing another glance towards him.

Beel pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you the same way he did that day, holding you close to him.

“I love you so much. I would never break up with you,” he told you quietly, hoping that you would accept what he was saying as the truth.

You immediately melted into his touch as you realized it was all a big misunderstanding and your skin felt hot wherever his met yours.

Beel let out a deep breath of relief when you began to relax and he was determined to never let you go again.

The last couple of weeks had been hard on both of you and if nothing else, it was only proof as to how much you loved each other.

He just hoped that his dreams never interfered with your relationship again.

Like Satan, Belphie is one of the most stubborn when it comes to apologizing or admitting he was wrong about something.

He handles issues with the silent treatment in the hopes that they’ll either resolve themselves or simply go away.

He’s never been one for taking the initiative and he’s even less motivated to do so when it comes to an argument.

The two of you had been bickering more than usual thanks to the eldest brother.

Belphie had been slacking off a little too much at RAD in favor of napping and it was starting to affect Lucifer.

He had tried to ask Beel to help his twin brother keep up with his studies, but there was only so much that he could do.

If Belphie didn’t want to do something, then, simply put, he wasn’t going to do it - no matter who Lucifer sicced on him.

But, still, Lucifer asked you to try since you had a bond that was both very different yet equally as important as Beel’s bond to Belphie.

You didn’t want to do it - plain and simple. You knew that it would put you in a hard place with Belphie.

But, as the human exchange student, you couldn’t help but feel like part of your responsibility was to help the demon brothers.

And whether Belphie believed it or not, you were just trying to help him. You knew that if he didn’t get caught up with his studies, the punishment from Lucifer would be much worse than your nagging.

But, after a few days' worth of you waking Belphie up to beg him to do his homework, both of you were getting fed up with it.

Belphie kept complaining about how you sounded like Lucifer and you kept telling him he was acting like a brat.

It didn’t get much further than that though until one night when Belphie decided to be particularly stubborn.

You came into his room just like you had been doing, but it didn’t matter what you did, Belphie refused to get up.

You tried to reason with him, you tried to remind him of what Lucifer would do if he didn’t get up, you even tried to bribe him, but nothing worked.

You sat next to the bed for a while as you tried to figure out your last step, and then an idea popped into your head.

You hated it because you knew that Belphie would hate it, but he left you no choice.

After preparing yourself and running through your plan multiple times, you got up and looked at Belphie who was sleeping peacefully.

You let out a small sigh before leaning closer and grabbing his favorite pillow that he was lying on as well as his favorite blanket.

In an instant, you had snatched them and ran off with them, seeking refuge in your room.

You had barely gotten your door locked when you heard Belphie trying to get into your room.

“Y/N, open the door,” Belphie said, as calmly as he could, but he was already mad.

“You need to do your homework, Belphie,” you replied.

“Just give me my blanket and pillow back,” he responded.

“After you finish your homework,” you reiterated, internally sighing at the situation. You didn’t want to act like his parent and you silently cursed Lucifer for asking you to do this in the first place.

“Ugh, you’re being so annoying!” Belphie snapped, but you were expecting some backlash about this situation.

“You’ll be thanking me later when you don’t have to deal with Lucifer,” you stated and you heard him let out another frustrated sigh.

“This is exactly why I hate humans,” Belphie stated, more to himself than anything, but you heard it loud and clear.

His eyes widened slightly when you opened the door to your bedroom, a look of hurt on your face.

He opened his mouth to take it back but he was cut off by you roughly shoving the blanket and pillow into him before slamming the door in his face and locking it again.

Belphie knew that he went too far so he decided to give you some time to cool off.

The next time he saw you he promised himself he would make it up to you.

But when he saw you next, you refused to look at Belphie, let alone talk to him. And that made Belpie annoyed all over again.

“You’re being childish,” he told you, only furthering your anger towards him.

“Says the one who can’t even be responsible and do their homework without someone breathing down their neck!” you snapped back.

The two of you didn’t talk after that for a long time - too long in the brothers’ opinions.

They knew that you and Belphie were too stubborn to talk to each other on your accord, so they decided to take things into their own hands.

You were sitting on your bed reading when suddenly the door to your bedroom burst open.

You looked up to see Belphie being shoved inside against his will by Beel before he shut the door, making sure to stand guard so Belphie couldn’t leave.

Belphie had a small pout on his face that, despite still being mad at him, you thought looked adorable.

He let out a small sigh, avoiding all eye contact as he did his best to come up with a way to get out of this situation.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, but you both knew it was pointless. Neither of you were leaving until you talked to each other.

Belphie was the master at winning arguments, but just this once, he asked himself what the point of it was. He cared about you way more than winning the argument.

“You know I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, still keeping his eyes anywhere but on you as he spoke.

Your eyes immediately went to him. Was that his version of an apology?

“I was only trying to help you, Belphie,” you explained and he gave you a defeated look.

“I know,” he replied. That’s why this whole argument is pointless.

Belphie moved over to your bed now and sat down next to you, the two of you making eye contact for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I caught up on all my studies,” he added and you let out a breath of relief. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

You were the first to reach out, gently taking his hand in yours. You stared at your intertwined fingers before softly saying, “I missed you.”

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of you, all feelings of the fight disappearing. He was just happy to be in your presence again.

Belphie moved quickly, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you down into the bed.

“Bel-!” you shouted in surprise but you were cut off by him placing a finger to your lips.

You were laying chest to chest, his face only inches from yours, his arms keeping you there.

“If they hear us talking, they’ll come in; and, I’d rather not be interrupted for a while,” Belphie told you with a sly smirk before placing his lips on yours.

You immediately returned the kiss, a smile forming at the feeling.

No matter what you or Belphie said in the heat of the moment, you knew that your love for each other would never change.

[little-jana]

"Meant to Be"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Brief mention of child abandonment, emotional themes, adoption, foster care

Summary: Spencer and his wife never planned on having kids just yet—but when they find an abandoned baby near the FBI headquarters, everything changes.

a/n: request by anon

The day had started out like any other. You and Spencer walked hand in hand through the streets of D.C., enjoying the crisp morning air before he had to head into work. Being married to an FBI agent meant cherishing moments like these—the quiet ones, the normal ones.

But then, as you passed by a quiet alley near the FBI headquarters, a soft, muffled cry stopped you both in your tracks.

Spencer stiffened beside you. His hand instinctively tightened around yours. "Did you hear that?"

You nodded, scanning the dimly lit space between two buildings. At first, there was nothing but dumpsters and scattered debris. But then, just barely visible near the wall, you saw it—a small baby carrier.

Your heart lurched.

“Spencer…” You whispered, already moving toward it.

He was right beside you as you knelt down. Inside the carrier was a tiny baby, no older than a few months. Their chubby cheeks were flushed pink from the cool morning air, and their big brown eyes blinked up at you in confusion.

A note was tucked beside them.

Spencer grabbed it, his hands trembling slightly as he read aloud. I’m sorry. I can’t take care of him.

That was all. No name, no details. Just a heartbreaking confession.

You swallowed hard, instinctively reaching out. The moment your fingers brushed against the baby’s soft blanket, he let out a tiny whimper, his tiny hands grasping at the air. Without thinking, you scooped him up, holding him close to your chest.

Spencer let out a shaky breath. “We need to call the police.”

You nodded, but your eyes were locked on the baby. He felt so small in your arms, so vulnerable. He had no idea he’d been abandoned—he just wanted warmth, comfort. Love.

Spencer made the call while you rocked the baby gently, whispering soothing words. When he looked up at you, something in his gaze softened.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the moment everything changed.

---

A few hours later

The baby—who the doctors estimated to be around three months old—was in good health despite being left outside in the cold. You and Spencer stayed with him at the hospital, waiting for Child Protective Services to arrive.

You hadn’t put him down once.

Spencer watched you the entire time, his mind whirring. He had always imagined you holding a baby one day, but it was supposed to be later—years later. Yet here you were, cradling this tiny boy like you were meant to be his mother.

And Spencer felt something shift inside him.

“Do we know his name?” you asked the nurse, adjusting the blanket around the baby.

She shook her head. “Nothing was left with him. For now, the social worker is calling him ‘Baby Doe.’”

You frowned, looking down at him. “That doesn’t seem right. He deserves a name.”

Spencer hesitated for only a second before saying, “James.”

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“My mom used to read me The Turn of the Screw by Henry James,” he explained. “I always liked the name.”

You smiled. “James. I like it.”

The baby—James—yawned sleepily against your chest, and something inside Spencer clenched.

He wasn’t ready for kids.

But suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he could imagine letting this one go.

---

A few days later

Spencer came home late from work, exhausted and distracted. The case had been tough, but it wasn’t what was weighing on him.

It was James.

You had spent every spare second checking on him, calling social services, asking about his placement. You hadn’t said it out loud, but Spencer could see it in your eyes.

You wanted to keep him.

And the terrifying part?

Spencer wanted that too.

As soon as he stepped inside, he found you curled up on the couch, your phone clutched in your hands. You looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately alert.

You took a deep breath. “The social worker called. James’ birth mother doesn’t want him back. He’s being placed in the foster system.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted.

Foster care.

James was so small, so vulnerable. He deserved better than being shuffled between homes, never knowing where he belonged.

The words were out before Spencer could stop them.

“What if we take him?”

Your eyes widened. “Spencer…”

“I know we didn’t plan for this. And I know it’s fast, and crazy, and maybe completely irresponsible. But…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want him to go into the system. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to him. We could do this. We should do this.”

You stared at him, searching his face. “Are you sure?”

Spencer let out a breathless laugh. “No. But when I see you holding him, when I think about him going to strangers instead of us… I know I can’t just walk away.”

Your lips trembled, and Spencer reached for your hands.

“Let’s foster him,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And if—if things go well, maybe one day we can adopt him.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded. “Okay.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was certain.

James was meant to be theirs.

---

Six months later

James had turned your world upside down.

Sleepless nights, endless bottles, diaper changes—it was nothing like the quiet, controlled life Spencer had envisioned. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because now, his days started with James’ giggles and ended with you rocking him to sleep.

Because every time James reached for Spencer with his chubby little hands, his heart ached in the best way.

Because Spencer had thought he wasn’t ready to be a father.

But he was.

And as he stood in the doorway, watching you hum softly as you cradled James against your chest, Spencer knew he had never been more certain of anything in his life.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmured.

You turned your head slightly, smiling. “About what?”

Spencer rested his chin on your shoulder, watching James sleep.

“About us being ready.” He swallowed thickly. “About him being ours.”

You reached up, lacing your fingers with his. “We should make it official, then.”

Spencer’s breath caught. “You mean…?”

“Let’s adopt him.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face. “Yeah?”

You turned in his arms, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah.”

Spencer kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt into it.

James might not have been in their plans.

But he had been in their hearts all along.

And now, he was home.

[dubioushonour]

Drafted this up after this post broke containment. Good heavens. For funsies, here is a retrospective of things I learned from this poll and other humorous highlights now that the vote is over:

You can't edit the wheel once it's gone live because it changes the URL. Sorry aroace community, I forgot to put No Sex on there and by the time I remembered it was too late and this had like 30k notes 😔

For everyone mad they got something extremely terrible- my three test spins were Drowning, Suicide, and Major Character Death. The Wheel is not only impartial, it is merciless!

I would say like maybe half everyone reblogging understood the assignment so I'm maybe half proud of you, Tumblr.

Several instances of "I don't like what I got but considering what I do to MY blorbos, I get it and I can't even be mad" which I thought was very amusing.

Inevitably, with 300 tags, there were going to be ones people were unfamiliar with (especially older fandom ones or the really niche kink tags). Some people looked them up! Many did not. (Many people regretted looking them up and others learned something new about themselves! Yay!)

In a similar vein, there was a notable population of individuals spinning this wheel who don't read a lot or ANY fanfiction, or have a familiarity with AO3 at all, and they consistently had a VERY bad time with this.

Some people were very, very upset to get #Teeth. Others were VERY enthusiastic about it.

Fewer people were happy to get #Slime (but some were!)

Many people were confused about #Robot Sex. I don't know how I could have been clearer tbh.

A nonzero number of adults were unfamiliar the word "cunnilingus".

I'm not sure what the odds were, but I think it was VERY funny how often the sex repulsed aroace crowd kept getting porn/romance tags VS how often the kinky allosexual crowd kept getting the No Romance Queerplatonic Non-Sexual Unrequited Crush Gen tags. Sorry for the character assassinations/sorry you didn't get laid!

Anyways I don't think I actually learned anything lol. If I did this again I would keep better track of my tags and make it 400 or 500 because I want to see how awful the wheel would look.

Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (fourteen)

lewis hamilton - "yes, please keep doing that."

tags: smut/pwp, ferrari driver!reader, rivals/teammates/lovers, oral sex & fingering (reader receives)

sinful sentences catalogue

you didn't have a kink, you thought the idea of a hand kink was stupid. you didn't look at hands on the internet, you didn't get wet to the sight of them in public. it wasn't a kink.

but you had a thing for your teammate's hands. formula one driver's hand pretty big hands, but it wasn't just that fact that made lewis hands arousing. it was how tactile he could be with them, how he wore his rings.

when you jokingly said let's compare hand sizes in an attempt to brush off the rough weekend together. he complied and you felt something stir in your core.

"look at that." lewis said, his dark eyes looked away from your hands and towards your heated face, "quite the difference." but all your could hear was the thumping of blood in your ears.

you linked your fingers with his and leaned towards him, he laid back on the bed with you on top of him. you held hands while you went in to kiss him deeply on the lips.

you and lewis had been dancing around this since you both joine ferrari. when carlos and charles got the boot (sorry!), two legacy drivers were snatched up from their teams and dumped into the red seats. lewis had seven world champions and you had a much less impressive three. you had been in each other's space for a long period of time and being on the same team meant a forced proximity that only made everything boil over.

sometimes you wanted to kill each other and other things you wanted to fuck like rabbits in the garage. as was the nature of teammates.

you looked at one another, you on top of him. his other hand was at your waist. you realized how lovely his eyes were and it made something shudder through you. before you could say a word, he leaned in to kiss you square on the mouth once more.

with a little help from you, he got you onto your back. he let go of your hand and reached for your jaw. he looked into your eyes once more. the gaze between you two was heated.

you swallowed and he smiled. it was like the spell between you two was broken. the dance was over and there was finally a conclusion between you two.

he asked, "do you want this?"

you nodded, "i..i do." and without thinking grazed your tongue across the top front of your teeth. you unbuttoned your jeans, you kicked them off your legs and to the bottom of the bed to be found in the morning.

his larger hands were on your breasts where he palmed them with a little force. he was testing out what made you squirm, he knew that you went hot when his words were cunning on the track. but he wanted to put his talented fingers to use to make you moan.

"look at you." he said softly, "i wish we had done this years ago. all that time of you and i pushing each other on the track." he chuckled fondly at the memories, "how the press pitted us together. my greatest rival." affection on the tip of his tongue before he took the bottom of your t-shirt and pulled it up over your head.

clothes were shed and before you got straddled his waist to get the show on the road, but he kept you pinned down to the bed. you gave him a quizzical look and he winked at you before he kissed at your hip. he gazed up at you and said, "you like my hands, let me use them. and my tongue too." then licked his top lip for extra effect. it made your cunt clench.

you knew after this, you two would still be teasing one another. you would still be intertwined, but now was lovers too. he dipped his head down and kissed your inner thigh.

"fuck."

lewis chuckled as he kissed your slick pussy, he dragged his tongue across your folds for a moment, but kept one hand on your thigh to keep you down. he wasn't having his teammate make a quick escape. not when he wanted to gorge himself on your beautiful cunt.

"how's that?" he asked.

"yes, please keep doing that."

lewis smiled against you and hoisted your hips up a little to get better access to you. years and years of rivalry. it wasn't super serious, it was more friendly in competition. see who could come out on top and a few times you've surprised him. he liked that you were on a different level than most of the drivers who had come in, you made a name for yourself in the world of racing.

when he first started his career, he thought you two would make quite the power couple. but your paths never crossed in that way. you both dated other people, but always remained in each other's orbit. maybe it was time to change that your careers were nearing its twilight and now on the same team, maybe it was time to give the two of you a chance.

one up the bond that charles and carlos had on the team and actually go all the way with a relationship. as lewis started to finger you, he knew that you wouldn't go easy on him on the track. not that he'd want that, any victory against you would be earned. he heard your sweet moans and continued to finger you as he worked his tongue against your clit.

it felt right. he took his time with you, he wanted to pleasure you. maybe a small part of him wanted to outdo any other guy you had ever been with. that popstar from england or the engineer from germany. the hockey player and the businessman from the united states. quite a colourful cast of men you had been with, but lewis wanted to outdo them. make the years of dancing around each other worth it.

and with the sounds you were making, he was achieving his goal. he kissed your clit before he pulled slightly pulled away his head to look up at you. he wanted to admire you as he pleasured you. his lips shiny with your wetness that went down to his chin. he said softly, "look at you. a world champion taken apart by my fingers. i can see why you like them so much." he slowly licked his lips.

when you tried to hide your face from the rush of heat in your cheeks he laughed. you were normally so stoic on the track, but there you were under him completely coming apart. "i bet you thought about me. in hotel rooms across the globe, wondered what i was up. some nights i bet it took all your power now to come to my hotel room. but don't worry." he kissed your slit once more, "i spent many, many nights thinking about you. when you won your first championship, i wanted to shower you in champagne and then kiss you."

his words were sultry and it made your stomach leap. the tension could've been solved years ago. the realization made you drop your head into the pillows and your hand found the back of his head. he went back down on you, he worked his magic and you felt the heat in your core.

you moaned and a string of curses left your lips. you let him touch you, feel you. you realized that you liked his fingers a lot more than you initially thought. you shakily exhaled as the pleasure accumulated in your core. there was something deeply erotic about him. about this entire thing.

to be so close to him. you held onto him tightly and pressed his face further against your needy cunt. he quickened his movements between your legs and you tensed up. your voice got a bit higher and the lust burned your blood as you moved your hips a little as you climaxed on his tongue.

the continued to pleasure you through your orgasm. he only stopped when your hips touched the bed once more. laid out in a panting mess as you felt the aftershocks of pleasure.

lewis moved up to face you, he rubbed your cheek with his thumb and you melted into his touch a little while you panted heavily. you eased into one another as lewis wiped his mouth clean of your wetness with the back of his hand. both in bed naked together, his cock prodded against your stomach.

you noticed the feeling and opened your eyes to look at him. you smiled lazily, still blissed out before you took him by the shoulders and pinned him to the bed. his dark eyes grew wide and then chuckled as you straddled his waist.

your hand spread across his strong, tattooed chest as you said, "think we're dont, hamilton?" you winked at him, "think of this as endurance training. you'll need everything you can get, because i'm not going easy on your next weekend."

lewis took the challenge and gripped onto your hips. there was a twinkle in his eye as he said, "of course, but after this i'm giving you a little training of my own." <3

[steviewashere]

I kinda feel like Steve wasn't as popular as he's made out to be. Like, maybe he's got a bit of a reputation that proceeds him—ladies man, The Hair, and Steeevveee Harrington. He takes care of himself, takes care of his dates. The guys around him oversell his personality a lot, how many people he can get in bed with him, the way he can instantly charm a person.

But then you meet him and it's just.

This is the guy you're talking about?

The guy who forgets how to use his tongue sometimes and just does one of those little finger waves? The guy who, if he thinks you're not paying attention to him, will just stand there and make a bunch of goofy faces, lost in thought, muttering song lyrics under his breath? The guy who keeps making the most dorky references to music and movie culture—he quoted something from Star Trek on one of his dates. And the guy who will run into walls when trying to make a swift exit?

Dude is awkward. He is clammy. He is stuttering over his words and trying to cover it up with his pretty smile—which, yeah could be charming, but in his own special streak of charming. Every romantic gesture he pulls is more outlandish, garish, and brash than the last; he is fumbling matches for candles, though, and he is sticking himself in the thumb with the thorns on roses, he is spilling popcorn all over himself on movie dates, and he is tripping on his own feet while trying to carry a girl to his bed upstairs.

Every time a girl kisses his cheek, he's immediately flushing head to toe, smiling all crooked, eyes all soft. He almost forgets to kiss them back.

When he dates Eddie, though? Oh my god.

Eddie flirts with him and Steve literally squeaks. Eddie watches him while Steve is playing basketball, he fumbles the ball and falls onto his knees on the court. Eddie tucks hair behind Steve's ear, Steve is blurting out his entire hair care regime—all because Eddie murmured about how soft it was. Eddie rubs his back while they're cuddled on the couch, Steve gets a boner so fast that he nearly blacks out. Eddie makes them dinner once, tells Steve to just sit down at the table while ushering him out of the kitchen, and Steve is in such a daze of love that he runs into the doorjamb face first and breaks his nose.

When Eddie tells him he loves him? Steve literally screams and has to take a lap before saying it back.

Every time Steve flirts, he has to back track five steps. Every time he compliments Eddie, he has to clarify that it's a compliment because they all come out so aggressively to the point they sound like insults. He tries to quote Shakespeare and, sure it's a love quote, but it's from some incest scene and Eddie laughs before telling him what it really means.

I don't know. Steve just embarrasses himself a lot. Like he definitely has the capacity to sweep somebody off their feet, romance 'em or whatever. But when he's really, really in love with somebody (whether it be after a few dates with a girl, the person he's in love with is Nancy, or even Eddie)? Steve is not chill whatsoever.

Everything that rumors said were just complete lies. You wanna know who started them?

Tommy.

It was Tommy trying to cover for his best friend. Because he saw Steve smile at a girl once, flirt with her, get a date with her. But he had a piece of broccoli stuck between his two front teeth. He couldn't save the interaction even if he tried, Steve was too enamored to quit. The only saving grace Tommy could think of was sell Steve as this handsome, charming, romantic guy—even though the Steve he knew was dorky, a major geek in private, awkward as hell, and funny half the time (his jokes were very hit or miss).

(Also, imagine gay Tommy just trying to reason with himself that his crush—his best friend—is actually not the awkward guy he really is. And maybe he still likes Steve. But Jesus. That piece of broccoli was huge! How did Steve not feel it?)

Anyway. Cringe fail Steve is something very important to me.

[meinii]

“be my valentine forever”

summary: it’s valentine’s day, but you haven’t even heard from Sylus. he must have forgotten… or so you thought

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

valentine’s day had never been a big deal to you—at least, that’s what you always told yourself. but this year, it felt different. maybe it was because everyone at work had been receiving flowers, chocolates, and gifts all day.

maybe it was because you had seen couples walking hand in hand, smiling, whispering sweet nothings to each other

or maybe it was because Sylus, your arrogant, smug, too-clever-for-his-own-good lover, hadn’t even mentioned valentine’s day once

you knew he was busy. ruling over Onychinus wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, and he had a habit of getting wrapped up in his own plans. but still… not even a text? not even a simple happy valentine’s day?

so by the time your shift ended, irritation had settled in. you walked out of the building, ready to head home and sulk—only to freeze in your tracks

because standing right outside, dressed in his usual sharp black blazer draped over his shoulders, was Sylus

and in his hands? a massive bouquet of red roses, dark petals velvety and rich. an expensive-looking box of chocolates sat on top of them, tied with a sleek ribbon

his red eyes found yours instantly, sharp as ever, but there was something playful in them, something teasing

“took you long enough” he said, his lips curving into that knowing smirk

you crossed your arms, trying to keep up the front of being mad. “oh? now you remember valentine’s day?”

Sylus let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the scent of roses and his cologne mixing in the air. “did you really think I’d forget?” he tilted his head slightly “you wound me”

“you didn’t say anything all day.”

he leaned down, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek

“because I was planning a surprise”

before you could protest, he slipped an arm around your waist and led you toward his car—a sleek, black vehicle that practically screamed power and wealth

“get in” he said, opening the door for you

“and if I say no?” you teased, still holding onto your stubbornness

his smirk deepened “then I’ll just carry you.”

you huffed but slid into the car anyway, pretending not to notice the way your heart was racing. once Sylus was behind the wheel, the drive was smooth, the city lights flashing past. you wanted to ask where you were going, but the way he kept glancing at you, amusement dancing in his eyes, told you he wouldn’t spill

when the car finally came to a stop, you blinked in surprise

“the luna park?”

but something was off. it was quiet. no lines. no crowds

Sylus got out first, walking around to open your door before holding out his hand

“rented it for the night,” he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world “figured we deserved some privacy.”

your mouth fell open slightly “you… rented out an entire amusement park?”

he hummed “it’s valentine’s day, isn’t it? I don’t like sharing.”

your irritation melted instantly, replaced by warmth so strong it made your chest ache.

taking his hand, you let him lead you inside, the colorful lights of the park reflecting in his red eyes

the first thing he did was take you to one of the stalls, where plushies lined the shelves as prizes

“which one do you want?” he asked

you pointed at a soft-looking crow plush, its dark feathers making it stand out among the rest

Sylus arched a brow but didn’t question it

instead, he rolled up his sleeves, picked up one of the balls, and in a single throw, knocked down every target with effortless precision

the worker—who must’ve been paid well to stay late—looked half-impressed, half-terrified as he handed over the crow plush.

Sylus placed it in your arms, his fingers brushing against yours

“it suits you” he murmured

“because you gave it to me?”

his smirk softened, just slightly “because it’ll remind you of me”

you couldn’t help but laugh, hugging the plush to your chest. as the night went on, you rode the ferris wheel, played more games (where Sylus, unsurprisingly, never missed a shot), and even bought matching headbands—yours with little stars, his with tiny black horns

“I’m not wearing this” he said at first

“please?” you tilted your head, giving him your best pleading look

he sighed, muttering something under his breath, but he put it on. and even though he pretended to be unimpressed, he didn’t take it off for the rest of the night.

eventually, you both found a bench near the carousel, the distant sound of music filling the air. you pulled out the box of chocolates he had given you earlier and opened it, picking up one of the pieces

“eat with me” you said, offering him one

Sylus glanced at it, then at you “I don’t eat sweets”

“just one,” you insisted “for valentine’s day”

he sighed again, but when you placed the chocolate against his lips, he didn’t pull away

instead, he let you feed it to him, his gaze never leaving yours as he bit down

“happy now?” he asked, voice lower than before

you grinned, popping a piece into your own mouth “very”

there was a brief silence, the world around you feeling far away. Sylus reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before settling at the back of your neck, pulling you closer

“be mine,” he murmured “not just today, forever.”

your heart skipped a beat “is that your way of asking me to be your valentine?”

his lips twitched “do I even need to ask?”

you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of chocolate “yes,” you whispered “forever.”

Sylus smiled against your lips, and for once, there was no arrogance in it. just something deep, something real

[athesists]

What’s funny is that there’s a fucking shit ton more ways to keep track of where your child is in today’s day and age than literally 10-15 years ago. There is more ways to make sure your kid is still alive and good than there was 10-15 years ago when cellphones were still in the early stages. There’s more ways now to keep your kids safe but so many parents have grown fearful because “little Johnny can be grabbed and taken from us!” yet little Johnny has a watch on him that you can literally track, message, and call. Be fuckin for real. Quit micromanaging your kids, let them form agency!

Rules for outside when I was a kid (I’m 22 now):

Be mindful of the neighbors, always say hella to those you see at the MINIMUM

Be in when the street lights come on in my case: or be at your cousins house, parents will come pick you up

If you are leaving the neighborhood you MUST ask for permission.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 12: Used As Practice

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Masterlist | Taglist

Bluesky

user1: yo thank god

user2: you’re alive!

oscarpiastri: really?

↳y/n_rb: admit it — you were sad and worried for a minute there…

↳oscarpiastri: not even for a second

↳y/n_rb: well that’s a big ass lie — me and my nurses were watching the race and they kept playing the radios. You guys kept asking about me!!

↳oscarpiastri: well you know…we needed to make sure you weren’t gonna come careening around the corner in a fury… liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, landonorris

↳logansargeant: oh man don’t lie like that — you had mark texting me like crazy to see if I was there yet

↳y/n_rb: awww you do care!

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑

charles_leclerc: we are all glad you’re ok y/n!

↳y/n_rb: I think I got more bumps and bruises from the student nurses using me as a practice board then the car crash tbh

↳alexandrasaintmleux: mon bébé im so glad you’re ok!

↳y/n_rb: oh Alex babe nothing is capable of keeping me from you — not even some stupid frenchie liked by alexandrasaintmleux

francisca.cgomes: Mon amour, je suis tellement heureux d'avoir de vos nouvelles! My love, I’m so happy to hear from you!

↳y/n_rb: Gorgeous gorgeous girl are you free next weekend? Cause I’m not sorry to say you’re gonna be down a boyfriend extremely soon

↳francisca.cgomes: always for you 😉

↳y/n_rb: the best prize I could have asked for this weekend!

↳francisca.cgomes: 🥰🥰

user3: so what actually happened?

↳y/n_rb: I got run off the track by an idiot, got a head wound which started bleeding profusely, was taken to the hospital…

↳y/n_rb: …agreed to let the student nurses try their hand at stitches (a mistake I’ll not repeat), watched the race (congrats Lando!)

↳y/n_rb: now I’m hunting down a Frenchman

↳user4: so no feeding tube?

↳y/n_rb: just a concerned American logansargeant yelling at me to eat something that’s not a redbull!

↳logansargeant: THATS NOT A MEAL

Private Messages, Pierre and y/n

Bluesky

Private Messages, The Grid - Unserious

Bluesky

user5: oh my god that’s fantastic

user6: she’s probably seething

↳logansargeant: oh she is

y/n_rb: when I get out of these handcuffs

↳redbullracing: we’ve talked about this y/n…

↳y/n_rb: the betrayal from my own team…

pierregasly: help me

↳user7: this is the funniest thing this year

↳pierregasly: it really isn’t…

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @yawn-zi

[blindmortal]

this silly feeling called love ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚ | y.jw

❀ | idol!jungwon x nonidol!reader ₊ ⁺ fluff & w.c 946 ; wherein jungwon confesses cause he just can't take it anymore

author's note: i don't really know how i feel about this one lol. belated birthday post for jungwon <3 and a little something before v-day ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

─── ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Messages flooded through the chat so fast that Jungwon struggled to keep track of what the viewers were saying.

“Woah, guys,” he chuckled, dimples peeking through as he leaned closer to the screen. “Slow down, I can’t read.”

Jungwon, did you have dinner?

He hummed, thoughtful. “Yeah, Jay made curry.” A pause, a flicker of something fond. “It was good.”

His gaze drifted, skimming the screen, until a question caught and held.

Jungwon, have you ever been in love?

His fingers stilled. A quiet settled over him, though the chat still pulsed, still pulled at him with a hundred voices.

Vanilla and rosewater. The hush of night air slipping through an open window, the warmth of laughter half-swallowed in the dark. A brush of silk against his wrist, the weight of a gaze that never quite met his own. The feeling of something just within reach—only to vanish like breath on a mirror.

Heat stirred at the base of his throat, curled along the edges of his ears. His pulse thrummed, light and restless, like wings against his ribs.

He exhaled, slow. Smiled, small.

“Have I ever been in love?” he echoed at last, voice softer now, almost distant.

The chat buzzed, waiting. But he only laughed, shaking his head as if to scatter the thought before it settled too deep.

But they didn’t buy it.

You’re blushing

So you have been in love!

Seems like he’s actively crushing on someone~

He couldn’t help the soft giggle that bubble out his throat. “Guys, come on, I don’t like anyone.”

Yeah, you looove them

His fingers twitched where they rested. His smile lingered. He said nothing.

“Goodnight guys,”  he waved, “sleep well! Remember to stay warm~”

He ended the live, and the silence of his room weighed down on him. His gaze flickered to his phone, his notifications empty of a specific contact.

Maybe he was reminiscing about the way your warmth had seeped into his clothes as the two of you lingered outside on a night far too cold—the way your fingers curled around his wrist, hesitant at first, then certain, as if they belonged there. How the world had felt quieter then, the air laced with the scent of frost and distant chimney smoke, yet all he could focus on was the press of your body against his, the steady rise and fall of your breath.

Or maybe it was the way you remembered the little things. How you always noticed when he was tired, nudging a cup of tea toward him before he even asked. How you knew his favorite songs before he ever said them aloud, humming them under your breath in a way that made him wonder if you had been paying attention all along.

Maybe it was the way your absence felt heavier than it should. How silence wasn’t just silence anymore—it was missing something, missing you.

Call it need, call it desire, call it recklessness.

But there was no mistaking the flutter in his chest when someone spoke your name, the way he stilled at the faint trace of vanilla in the air, or the way he found himself smiling at the mention of chewy cookies—because he knew just how much you savoured them. He would giggle into the quiet like a man set free from the psych ward.

It was this feeling he couldn’t rub off.

It was this silly feeling called love.

This feeling that had him dialing your number despite it being one in the morning. The same feeling that had you picking up, your voice groggy and thick with sleep.

“Won?” your voice croaked through the speaker. “Everything okay?”

“I love you.”

His voice came out breathless, fingers gripping his sheets, sweating forming into beads at his forehead.

The silence from your end had him reeling.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m just springing this on you, but I had to tell you. I love you. I love the way you smell, like... like vanilla and something else that I can never quite place but always reminds me of home. I love your pretty face, and your pretty voice, and your pretty laugh when I make a stupid joke that’s not even funny but you laugh anyway, and it makes me feel like I’m actually good for something.”

He paused, his voice cracking slightly, fingers tightening around the phone as though holding onto his words might make them easier to say.

“I love you, and I can’t stop thinking about you, even when I’m out with friends, even when you’re nowhere near me, even when I’m in a completely different continent—hell, even when I’m standing in the middle of a long line for coffee, all I can think about is you and how much you’d love the smell of vanilla latte. How you’d think the trees are pretty, even the ones that look dead, and how you’d smile when at kids passing by. I—”

“I love you too.” Your voice came out in a soft giggle, still hazy from the sleep.

Jungwon’s heart fluttered in his chest as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he swore he could hear the smile in your voice.

“But you just had to tell me this at one in the morning while I was asleep?” You teased.

His lips curled into a sheepish grin, the nervousness from earlier melting away. “I... I couldn’t wait,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper now. “It felt like I’d explode if I didn’t say it.”

“You’re silly.”

He smiled into the phone, his heart a little lighter, a little fuller. “Silly... in love with you.”

130225 © blindmortal 2025. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

[detectivedarling]

As with all things in life, one fact builds on the other, and a lot stands behind the current situation. First, Danny counts in his head, ghost fights are hard to capture on video. Second, the few videos taken of Phantom not in a fight are carefully kept secret. Third, sending those videos over any form of internet seems more dangerous than it's worth.

It's why Bruce, two years after Danny told him about his previous vigilante life, still has only seen Phantom in the mostly low quality videos he could scrounge up from the internet. Which was, admittedly, a lot. Bruce is pretty good when it comes to that. Danny doesn't think Tucker would have been able to find everything Bruce has, and Danny knows for sure he himself wouldn't have found half. If even a third. Not that he was ever much interested in finding videos of himself, seeing his ass get kicked from a different perspective never sounded particularly fun.

But here he sits, next to Bruce, with a high priority, carefully cushioned post package. A simple USB and film card sits inside the many layers of bubble wrap.

Tucker jumped on new technology the second he was able, curious for all things digital, while Sam more often stuck to the old and 'better' looking devices. The film card is hers, from the years after she got a ridiculously expensive and old fashioned camera for her birthday and used it with dedication. It was nearly all aesthetic shots and poetic, environmental moments, but she had some special film cards for filming her life, her friends. She had an even more special card for filming when Phantom was involved.

She rarely did. The film needed to be hidden carefully, so no one sniffing through her stuff could find any hints to Danny's identity. Tucker's occasional digital photo or video were always copied to an equally hidden USB and scrubbed from whatever he used to film on. Danny, for all that his family had never once snooped in his stuff, didn't dare save anything.

Bruce starts with the film card because Danny asks him to. He sets up something compatible, and the film starts with a scratch and a laugh, Danny's breath stolen away as he looks at Sam's bedroom, from before she hung up the goth-ified star string lights Danny and Tucker had gifted her on her thirteenth birthday. Her TV is colorful, the image of a scoreboard for Mario Kart with flashing images of racers. Danny leans in to read. Sam is in first, he's in seventh, and Tucker just barely managed to claim eleven.

Which is why she recorded the video. Tucker covers the scoreboard with his body, just a little too late. I was distracted, okay?! His voice carries through the speakers as he yells at her, eyes pointed behind the camera. Sam as laughing, that fun middle ground of mocking and friendly.

"I'm injured," Danny mumbles, barely speaking over Tuckers ranting. He can't bear to cover the sound up. "Just- just a warning."

Bruce rubs a thumb over Danny's hand. He doesn't look away.

Sam almost giggles. Distracted, uh-huh, she teases and the camera turns to look at Danny beside her. At Phantom beside her.

It's a funny first video for Bruce to watch. Of all the (admittedly not very many) videos Danny's friends have taken of him as Phantom, the first Bruce sees is from the same day as the video Bruce was watching when Danny told him about being Phantom. It's the aftermath of a ghost fight.

Phantom is bleeding. He's sitting on a mess of towels, under and behind him to prevent any ectoplasm from getting on Sam's chair. His right eye is shut, the mess of blood splattered over his face during the fight cleaned away, but a thin trail of it still drops from under it. His left arm is sluggishly dripping blood and sucking it back up. It's cut off at the mid point of his forearm, grown from his elbow. It would take a few more hours before the hand comes back fully formed. His eye shouldn't take much more than one, at the time of the video.

His shoulders are shaking. Phantom is bleeding, injured and dismembered, but his shoulders are shaking from the laugh he can barely hold in.

Our seventh placer, everybody, Sam speaks to an audience that was never meant to include any more than the three of them. Danny can't imagine Bruce not watching alongside him. Not distracted like our dear Tuck.

Sometimes Danny would come out of a rough ghost fight wishing for nothing more than to grieve in peace. To lay and be in pain, to be alone or comforted quietly by his friends. Sometimes Danny wanted the room to be as somber as he felt. Other times he needed to be alive, even as he couldn't transform back before he finished healing, he needed to be present and distracted, he needed to be pulled away from the pain of being pulled apart. This was one of those times.

Phantom falls back against the cushion, laughing. It hiccups with the blood in his lungs, but it's happy and free.

Tucker groans. I wanna play Doomed

The camera turns down as Sam prepares to stop her filming. Build Danny a setup for playing one handed instead of whining next time. Until then, it's Mario Kart.

The video ends.

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[tojisteddy]

Always, forever.

or: the one where you and Toji make your way home after getting stuck in the snow on Valentines Day.

cw: 1.5k words, pure fluff, curse words.

most recent toji core masterlist

“Good God, it’s cold as SHIIIIIT!”

“How many times are you gonna say that?”

“Until you get it into your thick ass skull.”

Valentine’s Day.

A time for romance. For love. Cute dates, chocolate, sweet kisses, proposals, and red hearts. For warmth with a loved one.

Well that didn’t happen this year, there was a blizzard.

The only people who were out and about were the people who had to work through the snow unfortunately and even then, businesses were closing early. With canceled Valentine’s Day plans and little to no food in the house, you and Toji made the treacherous journey through the falling snow to the grocery store. It was supposed to be a thirty minute trip, max.

But one thing about Murphy's law— it will always get worse.

You two had finished grocery shopping and headed to the car. Well what’s wrong with the car? The ten minutes you were in there, the car got stuck in the parking lot. So you and Toji were forced to walk in the snow. Streets we’re empty as ever, it’s fairly dark out, and you were cold as fuck.

“I told you wear a your scarf, but you don’t fuckin listen!” Toji griped, you two finally got to the main road that would lead you to the house. It looked miles away through the 7 inches of snow.

“I did listen! ‘it’ll be quick,’ you said. ‘yer over thinkin,’ you said! You know who didn’t listen? You! I told you we should just walk but you said the car would be able to make it, now look!” You raised your hands, gesturing to the current situation.

You looked over at Toji who was ignoring you. Sticking out his tongue to catch the snowflakes that fell from the sky.

“If my hands didn’t feel like they were gonna fall off, I’d sock you. I’m soooo serious.” You tried suppressing your chuckles but some still managed to get out. He looked so cute when he did childlike stuff like that. You could never stay fake mad for long.

The only sound being the crunch of snow from both of your feet. You were a shivering mess. You stopped in your tracks for a second, stuffing your hands in your turquoise coat pocket and shuffling them around to heat up.

“Why’re you stoppin?” Toji just six feet ahead of you. Tall ass.

“I’m inch resting to gettin hypothermia or somethin! My hands are freezing!”

“You don’t have gloves on ma?”

“What gloves?!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot over the packed snow.

Toji finally turned to look at you down to your hands. But he felt movement in his back pocket.

Oh, right!

The taller man marched his way over to you, taking his large hands in your and brought them to his mouth to breath on them.

“Better?”

“A little.”

He rubbed them a bit for more heat to circulate around them, then pulled out the black mittens that he accidentally put in his back pocket before you two went to the supermarket. Slipping them each on your hands.

“I- why do you have my mittens on?!” You frowned, glancing down to see your hands and there this big man was. With your like green flowered mittens on that you’d bought for yourself, being stretched out to greater capacity by Toji fucking Fushiguro.

“They’re warmer.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You run warm Toji!” You whined, and Toji playfully whacked your forehead with the back of his hand.

“So? This is reimbursement for all my lost hoodies.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

A devilish grin formed on his face, pecking your lips and turning to keep walking. “I will, when we get home baby.”

You groaned in annoyance, a silly smile on your face.

You two walked for another ten minutes, snow finally ceasing for the time being but still hard to get though. Somehow you’d managed to get farther away from Toji who was making his large strides like it was nothing. This couldn’t have been his first time tracking through the snow like this.

It wasn’t, but that’s another story for a different day.

You stopped again.

“Mama—“

“—I don’t think-“ you clasped your heart in fake agony, “-I don’t think I’m gonna make it!” You yelled out, setting the over filled grocery bag in the snow. You crouched down. You were sick of walking through the thick snow, even though you were warmer, the bag was heavy, your body was heavy. This was all exercise you didn’t sign up for.

“If you don’t make it, we’ll just die out here then. together.”

Your brown eyes whipped up at him, who was completely resolute with the statement. Your eyebrows furrowing, mouth slightly agape from shock.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” A cheeky grin on his face.

…

Oh this guy, seriously this guy was something else. Your lips formed into a pout, bringing your knees closer to your chest. Toji clicked his tongue, huffing and puffing as he marched to you again. Standing you up on your feet by your armpits like a child.

“Seriously though, we really gotta get home mama. Dogs ‘re waitin for us.��

“But ‘m tiiiired!” You whined out, “can’t we just take a break?” You looked up at the man. Big brown eyes, snowflakes danced on your lashes and a cute pout in the perfect combination. You looked too damn cute for your own good.

Toji flicked your head again, “this is your break Doll.”

Before you could object, the man had your grocery bag in your left hand and took your right hand in the other. Gently tugging you forward so he could grab his two grocery bags he’d sat on the snow.

“You just need a little motivation. You like music right? Sing something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything baby.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. Leading you two through the snow, making sure the very few cars that passed didn’t come near you. You quickly thought of whatever subject that came to mind. Snow.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful—”

“—Too close to our current situation.” The older man sighed, “Something else.”

“You said I could sing anything!”

“Anything but that!”

You squeezed his hand tighter, showing him how irky he was being but he didn’t react. You went through your mental catalog again, going through genre to genre like changing the radio station. And then you hit something good.

“I been on my worst behavior~ but, baby, I don’t need no savior—”

“—Love Ariana, but I don’t wanna hear that.”

You gasped, “How do you know that? You’re an Ari stan?”

Emerald green eyes rolled, “you’ve been playin it like your life depends on it all fuckin week!”

“And another thing, because Positions Deluxe is her best work to date—“

“—god damn, Doll. Just shut up and sing something.”

You grumbled, something about Toji being an ass. But complied none the less. Your eyes went down to your held hands, to the sky, the houses with chimneys puffing out smoking. You started humming an intro, a little joy entering you with each heavy foot step.

“There must’ve been an angel by my siiide~”

“Something heavenly lead me to yooouuu!”

“Look at the sky!” You made your way ahead of Toji, still hand in hand. Some kind of adrenaline hitting you.

“What color is it baby?” Toji hummed.

“It’s the color of loooove~” you belted out.

You weren’t a phenomenal singer, neither was Toji once he joined in. But the man loved seeing that giddy smile on your face, your skin heating up from how much you were smiling you were doing in the moment, breath forming in the harsh winter air, lyrics wrapped in giggles.

He swore he fell in love with you all over again at that moment.

Your voice filling the small Japan streets, as you lead the two of you home.

“Shit, we made it!” You yelped out. Jumping for joy as you two finally made it to the top of the hill where Toji’s fairly traditional home sat.

“Baby come on! it’s freezin!” Toji called out to you as you fooled around outside the gate of the home. You finished your mini rushed project, dusting your hands of snow and snagging the grocery bag to join your spouse and dogs in the awaiting home.

The night was cozy.

You two put a beef stew on before heading to the shower and bath (of course). Eating a much needed, soothing, and itis inducing dinner with a wine for you and a beer for Toji. Sitting comfortably in the large, stolen sweatshirt that once belonged to the older man. The dogs were right at the feet of your bed when the two of you called it a night.

Sade’s ‘Kiss of Life’ filling the both of your ears again, vanilla essential oil diffuser filling the air of your bedroom, putting you two in a much needed, deep slumber.

Snow gently trickled down on your quiet home.

Two small makeshift snowmen sitting comfortably inside of a heart under the stone nameplate of the house that read ‘Fushiguro.’

a/n: my v day post being pure fluff is crazy lol. But happy Valentine’s Day, much love to everyone. Genuinely think Toji isn’t one to do much for Valentine’s Day but he’d always set aside time for you.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Greenness

{Sung Jinwoo/Reader}

《Greenness: The quality or state of being simple and sincere.》

-

A teddy bear cradled in your arms, you take a deep breath. Chocolates and roses in hand as you glance over at the time. Patiently waiting by the door you keep the coffee thermos strapped to your chest. Along with the other items in your grasp. 

Finally the door opens, lo and behold a tired-eyed Sung Jinwoo. Hair messy and posture sluggish, his attire, simple clothing sagged over his body. Hidden underneath the poor young man were dozens of bandages littered on his skin. Scrapes and cuts from former E-Rank raids. 

Praying that your heart won’t beat out of your chest like a saturday morning cartoon, you take a deep breath…

Then immediately release the air as you place your items down, engulfing the male tightly in your arms. The male squeaks in bashful embarrassment, while you pay no mind, caressing his messy locks. Sprinkling kisses all around his forehead as he does nothing but melt into your arms.

“I heard a yell, what's wrong-! Oh…” Jinah stopped in her tracks, an amused yet deadpan expression crossing her features. Mouth twitching in as she watches her older brother be smothered like a kitten. 

“At least have some decency..” She mutters, not upset, but not exactly thrilled that they were blocking her way out the door. At least her brother looked like he was having the time of his life.

-

Treats and gifts placed on the kitchen counter, Jinwoo pours some water in an empty vase, carefully placing the red roses in. Sighing in relief for not being cut from the trimmed thorns.

“I brought some flowers for your mother too!” You call out to him as he places the vase down on the kitchen table. 

“You didn’t have too…” You shoot him a look. 

He sighs. “Thank you.” Jinwoo says sincerely, walking over to your side as your hands rest on his palms. Tracing the few bits of skin that weren’t wrapped in bandages.

Hiding your frown with a shrug, “you know Jinwoo… We could always try looking for a more…Careful job?” You offer, gazing straight at him. Patiently waiting for his reply as his brows furrow and lip downturned. While it was a cute look, you knew it wasn’t a happy expression.  

“We both know it’s not that simple.” “But we can try?” You reiterate. Jinwoo looks away, not wishing to argue. You bite your tongue so you won’t say something you’ll regret.

You knew Jinwoo was stubborn, not because he wanted to be. But HAD too. His world was tuff, of course he doesn’t want to go into dungeons. Jinwoo didn’t want to end up in the hospital every time he got hurt. He wants to provide money for his mother’s treatments and the best schooling for his sister.

Yet that took money, so dungeons and odd jobs were his best bet.

You knew he would grow and become stronger for not only their sakes, but his own.

But… Until that time comes, you can’t help but selfishly deter him from his path. With every small chance you’re able to get. Almost determined to deny his destiny to become the Shadow Monarch or, the strongest Hunter in the world of SL. 

Believing that maybe it was the best option you had. Instead, maybe the two could find a well paying job? He could relax, the bruises and cuts etched into his skin could fade and no longer seeing that hopeless smile whenever a bill came in. That defeated look on his face after each time he woke up from the hospital will disappear.

Each attempt thwarted by the story's pen, you ignore the feelings of disappointment and go along with the day. Washed away by the smile on Jinwoo's face when you held in your arms. Fruitlessly wishing to keep him there longer.

“Well, c’mon Jinwoo! I don’t wanna’ keep your mother waiting! As her future in-law, I have to present myself accordingly!” You say with sincerity, as Jinwoo follows after. Laughing as you roll your eyes at his oblivious self.

-

While your affections for the E-Rank Hunter were clear as glass. He remains blissfully unaware. Chalking up each date to a “hang-out”.

“You wanna’ go to the park together? Oh, sure!”

Believing a romantic picnic date in front of a sunset to be, “just getting dinner with a friend.”

Or gifts?

“Thanks, but you didn’t have too. I’m no longer hospitalized..”

Pity gifts, you MUST have forgotten to give him while he was in the hospital.

Finally asking permission from Jinah to date Jinwoo while IN FRONT OF HIM!

“That’s really sweet that you asked Jinah to have permission to be friends with me…”

Jinah shoots a glance at your exasperated look. Dolled up in your nicest clothes, with gifts for her and him. Even the younger Sung looked done with her brother's guilelessness.

No matter how many times you try to explain, he brushes it off. Not because he wanted to reject you, he just chalks it up to your affectionate nature for him. WHICH WAS FOR HIM! You curse the pen for writing him to not recognize your genuine gestures of infatuation.

Not giving up, you choose to be a little subtle about your attempts to win his heart rather than bluntly telling him. Seeing that it wasn’t working.

-

“Something’s different about Jinwoo…” You mumble, playing off to obliviousness as Jinah gawks at you. 

“You just realized now!?” 

You nod, patting down your apron as you glance at the time of the stove. Waiting to take out the desired item as Jinah listens to your words. “He got a new shirt! It looks really nice on him!” You chirp as the younger Sung groans.

“You two are so DENSE! AUGHHH!” She huffs. “As someone who’s been pining after him for, I dunno… Forever! You’re just clueless as him!” The poor girl whines, pinching her nose in annoyance. 

“A match made in h-” “Jinah! Language!” Jinwoo chastises as he walks into the room, arms crossed with a stern look.

You watch the two siblings bicker as you glance back at the stove. 

Of course I noticed, he’s finally on the right track. 

You smile, ignoring the sound of the timer ringing as you turn to Jinwoo.

“S…Sorry. I think I might’ve been a bit charred.” You laugh, gazing distantly at the screen in front of Jinwoo. Watching it close as Jinwoo laughs with you, “It’s okay, I’m sure it’s still delicious.” 

“Yeah.”

“If not, there’s new restaurant that opened up near by!” Jinah pipes up coyly. Pushing you further to Jinwoo as she throws a cheesy grin at her brother. While she was sick of the pinning the two of exhibited. Jonah at least didn’t want her brother to lose!

“Fine, will get take out.” Jinwoo relents, grabbing his keys once again as you follow after him out the door.

“Thanks!”  

The door closes shut as you cling to his side, the warm night air lingering on your clothes as he starts conversing about his day and vice-versa.

-

Pausing in your steps, your eyes linger on the plush bear situated on the table, a vase of roses and chocolates placed nicely on the table. Bag of food in hand, you glance around the area for any signs of another presence. Finding none other than Jinwoo, you realize that Jinah must of left. 

“Jin-!”

“Jinah went to go get dinner with a friend. I was hoping… Maybe if it’s alright.. It can be just us tonight?”

Tossing the food on the table, you rush over to the couch. Eagerly patting the seat cushion next to you. 

Jinwoo takes slow steps over, regardless of his taller statue. Muscular massive frame, nicely trimmed hair. You grab him once he is finally seated. With the strength of ten S-Rank men, he doesn’t squeak of embarrassment.

Rather, he indulges without any once of shame as sprinkles of kisses shower all over his face.

Silent tears fall from your eyes, letting them fall away into his dark tresses. For a moment, Jinwoo stills, eyes fluttering shut. Not wishing to see your tears, even with his new found confidence. He couldn’t bear to see you weep for him.

Why cry for him? He’s finally found success; he could follow through with his goals! So why cry?

Jinwoo bites his tongue. 

Ceasing your kisses, the male frowns. Opening up his eyes to a cheerful face. Tears wiped away as if he merely imagined it. 

Arms slowly falling back to your sides, Jinwoo grabs hold of them. Tracing your palms, the texture was familiar to him. Grinning softly, the smell of chocolate lingers in the air as the roses by the table start to wilt.

-

Omake: 

(Y/N): "Here’s my proposal, I give you love and affection and you get kisses and we can work out the finer details."

*Jinwoo, sitting on the couch as you hold a wedding ring.* “... Counter proposal.” *Holds out wedding ring too*

(Y/N): “I see your point. But counter-counter proposal-”

-

Notes:

So, I wrote this in mind of a silly romcom kinda thing!

I also wanted to try and explore more Jinwoo before his Re-Awakening arc. I hope I did well enough. I’ve been watching a bit solo leveling so I hope I characterized him well enough? 

In the beginning, Jinwoo has some really bad self-esteem. I mean c’mon! He is belittled for being the weakest hunter! So when hearing genuine praise, I don’t see him as someone who accepts outright. He is downplaying his achievement because he sees himself as weak still. But after his Re-Awakening,

(Y/N) still sees Jinwoo before his awakening because there have been times where yeah, he gets the crap beat out of him for being a bit too cocky. Yet even with his newfound strength he’s still in a story that gives him “problems to solve.” And he knows that! He has to keep leveling up. I tried to write some parallels to the two cause I thought it’d be fun. 

I also just love the trope of idiots in love, theres a lot to work with! Also, I know some readers just wanna give lonely jinwoo affection! I see yall! 

[I honestly hope to write more Male Leads from Manwhas. Cause it’d be fun to branch out!. Happy Valentines Day! Send in your own interpre tations! I’d love to read them! Comments, fan art, hearts, reblogs are appreciated! Thanks for reading! See Ya’ll!]

[holyhaech]

hiiiiii!!! can i request Jisung with the 3rd prompt please

stupid cupid

f!reader x park jisung (fluff, secret admirer)

you wake up on a random monday, normal as ever. everything following your regularly scheduled programming. well, until you get a text. it’s probably just your friends, asking you to join them at the party on friday, it’s valentine’s day after all! you already told them you’d go, but maybe they were just double-checking?

you open the text to see that it’s from a random number with the contact labeled “smu cupid”. what kind of stupid prank was this? i mean sure, you had no valentine. but this was just ridiculous. one of your friends must’ve signed you up for this.

you sigh as you read the text.

“you are beautiful, i love your smile. i see you smile from the back row of prof. lee’s lectures, usually when you talk to your friends. god, i wish i could be the one to make you smile like that one day. - andy.”

odd. i mean, it’s sweet and all, but it has to be written by a bot. there’s no one in your lectures named andy. not to mention the whole back row is usually too busy playing roblox to notice anything in front of them.

so you make it your mission for the next 2 days to track down this andy guy. you look back during your lectures, glancing at the back row, which confirms your suspicions. no one in the back row does anything but play video games.

little do you know, there’s a guy directly behind you 2 rows back. he looks at you every lecture, then hides behind his macbook once you turn around. he wishes he wasn’t so shy. but alas, that’s who park jisung was. the quiet nerd in the back of the lecture hall.

you gave up on the third day, thursday the 13th. there’s no chance that someone was going to as you to be their valentine. you convinced yourself that you were okay with that. the messages didn’t stop though, one per day.

tuesday: “i love the way you did your hair today, if i was yours i’d braid your hair every day if i could.”

wednesday: “you’re so smart it boggles my mind! how did you know the answer when no one else did? you amaze me everyday.”

and now, thursday: “this sounds weird but could you go to the big lawn at 4pm? i get out of my last class at 3:30, so i want to ask you something.”

well here you are, 3:58, standing in the middle of the big lawn, looking like a loser. the clock keeps ticking down, with you doubting this whole thing more and more every second.

at 4:02 he shows up, out of breath with flowers in his hand. your secret admirer was none other than park jisung? the boy you had a crush on for all of freshman year? this had to be a joke.

“you’re…andy?” you ask, suspicious.

“uhh yes! it’s my english name. my korean name is park jisung.” you extend his hand holding the flowers, handing them to you.

“i can’t believe this.” you say incredulously.

“did i do something wrong? ireadthatflowersaregoodforconfessionsandtheseremindedmeofyouand.” he rushes through his words, panicking

you cut him off with a kiss on the cheek. “it’s perfect jisung, thank you.”

his cheeks turn crimson. “oh, you’re welcome.” he responds meekly.

“i just wanted to say that i’ve had a crush on you since two years ago, in english 101. and at first i thought it was just a fleeting thing, i don’t know i’ve never been in love before. but my feelings just kept growing the more and more i saw you. i was just wondering if you would like to be my valentine? sorry that all sounded really creepy.” he stops himself to find you making eye contact with him with a bright smile on your face.

“i like you too, jisung or should i say…andy.”

he looks back at you with wide eyes, obviously not expecting this reaction.

you pull him in for a soft kiss. he melts into your lips, sinking into you with every passing second. you pull back to take a breath, with him panting in front of you.

“i love you, yn.”

“i love you too.”

you come together in an embrace, slowly rocking back and forth, enjoying the sunset behind you both.

a/n: title is inspired by nct dream's stupid cupid. hope you like this anon! i feel like it kinda sucks but oh well! we're our harshest critics ig. made this bc i'm tired of the fuckboy jisung allegations!!! that man is a capital L LOSER. he would cream his pants from just a kiss, its true!

[shanastoryteller]

Dean is taking too long in the basement.

He should have been right behind him, but he isn’t. Sam gets the kids out and goes running back downstairs, gun held in front of him, which ends up being pointless. The rawhead is head.

For a moment, he thinks Dean is too.

He’s pale and cold in the water and Sam sees the tazer and knows exactly what happened and if his brother is dead, he doesn’t care about personal gain or consequences or any of that shit, he’s brining him back no matter what.

But his pulse flutters weak and too fast under his fingers and Sam doesn’t even spare a moment for relief before he’s shouting, “CHRIS! CHRIS! I need you!”

Nothing happens.

Fear clogs his throat. “Paige! Wyatt! Leo!”

He never bothers the others. He’s trained with them, even fought with them while he was at Stanford, but at the end of the day he’s just another witch and Chris is his whitelighter. But his brother is dying.

No one comes.

He calls 911 then, because as long as Dean isn’t dead then he can be healed, and he’ll worry about what’s going on with the Halliwells later.

~

The doctors can’t do anything, Dean’s already resigned himself to death, and no one’s answering his calls.

He’s pacing in the hall outside of his brother’s room, not wanting Dean to see him unraveling but not able to bring himself to go too far away. It’s not like he’s going to drop dead the second Sam looks away, he knows that.

He knows that.

It doesn’t matter if no one’s answering his calls. He knows other witches, he can track down another whitelighter if he has to. Even then, whitelighter healing is the best solution, but not the only one. He’s loathe to attempt a healing spell on his brother, just in case it goes wrong, but he knows the stasis ones well enough. Dean won’t like being put in a glass case like Snow White, but it’ll keep him alive while Sam finds a solution.

“Sam!”

He turns to see Chris striding toward him and he should be relieved, he is relieved, but the terror and stress he’s been managing since yesterday all course through him at once and come out as rage. He grabs the front of Chris’s shirt and slams him into the wall, thankful there’s no one around. “Where the hell have you been?”

Chris doesn’t fight him, not that it would do him much good to try. Chris may be the stronger witch, but Sam can hand him his ass easily. “Sam-”

“Dean electrocuted himself saving children,” he says, “He almost died! He – they said – his heart–” It’s almost too much for him all over again, but then he notices the blood down Chris’s neck, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, the bone deep exhaustion that Chris is so good at hiding from everyone except for him and Wyatt and occasionally Phoebe. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Sam wonders if his grip is pressing him down or holding him up. “There was a demon attack, we were in the underworld. They had Peyton, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m your whitelighter, I should have–”

“Shut up,” Sam says gently. He pushes Chris’s hair aside, but whatever wound left the blood is long gone. “You’re not just my whitelighter. You’re my friend. I know you wouldn’t not answer for no reason, sorry, I just. It’s Dean.”

He offers him a weak grin. “Yeah, I know. Older brothers, right? Always causing problems.”

Chris knows that better than most.

“Sam, I can’t heal him here,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Sam says. “Secrecy, mortals, I get it. I’ll get him out of here and to the motel, then I’ll call you, alright?"

“Alright,” Chris says, then frowns. “What are you going to tell him? He’s going to have questions.”

“He’ll get over it,” Sam says firmly. “I wouldn’t expose you guys like that.”

Chris shrugs. “I mean, I get why you don’t want to tell him, with your dad and everything, but he does have a right to know. Just because his powers are bound doesn’t mean he’s not a witch too.”

Sam stares.

He frowns. “What?”

“You,” he starts, then changes tracks. “Dean’s a witch?”

Now Chris is the one staring. “Of course he is. It runs in families. If you’re a witch, Dean’s a witch. He’s just had his powers bound and you haven’t.”

“But,” he starts. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You were too young. Doing it before the child’s first birthday can lead to, uh, some strange results.”

Sam understands that him being a witch descended from Melinda Warren means his mother was a witch, but he’d never really thought about it before. She knew what he was, what Dean was, and had planned to keep it from them forever. If she hadn’t died when he was six months old, she would have bound his powers too.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t have the space to figure it out now. “Okay. Well, that’s probably a conversation more appropriate for when he doesn’t have a heart condition. Go, clean up, I’ll call you when we’re ready.” Chris nods, but before he goes Sam grabs his wrist. “Hey. Peyton’s okay, right?”

He grins. “She’s good. And maybe next time she won’t think it’s a good idea to sneak to the underworld alone.”

Knowing Peyton, it probably won’t be much of a deterrent.

~

Dean isn’t afraid of dying.

It’s just that this is a really bad time.

Dad’s missing, the demon that killed their mother is after Sam’s girlfriend, never mind what the hell is going on with Sam and the weirdo vision he’d had about their house. Vision. It’s enough for sweat to prick out over his skin in worry.

And now this, him frying his heart and leaving Sam on his own, the one thing he never wanted to do.

“Hey.”

He looks up, trying to force a smirk, but it falls off and he’s just left blinking. Sam’s lost the stubborn fragility he had before, smiling at him like everything’s going to be fine. Maybe it will be. There’s a jump in his chest that he thinks might be hope and not his heart giving out on him.

“We’re getting out of here,” Sam says, slapping his leg. “AMA, come on, you know the drill.”

“Alright,” he says, bemused. If he’s going to die, he hadn’t been all that keen to do it in a hospital bed anyway.

The doctor is less than impressed. Dean lets do Sam do all the talking and eventually the doctor rounds on him and demands, “Why are you doing this? It makes no sense!”

He actually has no idea why he’s doing this, so he just shrugs. “If my brother says we’re going, then we’re going.”

Which is apparently not the right answer by the way he goes white to the lips, but Sam smiles at him, so he really can’t bring himself to care.

They eventually get out there, Sam helping him from the wheelchair to the Impala, and being back in his baby, even in the passenger side, is another hit of relief. Of course they reach a second problem when they get to the motel and Dean realizes he’s not certain he can make it to the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, parking the car as close to the room as they can get, and says, “Don’t be a baby. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

He considers arguing against it, but he’s exhausted, there’s no one around, and he’s already lost a significant amount of big brother credibility by getting fried in the first place.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but only rolls his eyes before looping an arm around Sam’s neck. He grimaces when Sam gets an arm under his knees, lifting him up with at least a grunt of effort. He’s kind of irritated that his baby brother can lift him this easily at all, even though it’s not exactly a surprise. Sam’s grown up a lot since he left for Stanford, adding inches of height and muscle, and it’s not exactly like he was a weakling when he left. Still, being carried by his little brother like a princess is almost as bad for his ego as nearly dying in the first place.

Sam doesn’t comment on it, however, easing him down on the bed closest to the door, even though he’d be a speed bump at best to anything coming after them. It sends a well of fondness through him that he expresses through a scowl.

“Lay down and keep your eyes shut, okay?” Sam says. “No matter what you hear or feel.”

Dean blinks at him. He figured Sam had a plan, but he hadn’t expected it to be so immediate. “Why? What are you doing?”

“Not letting you die,” he answers promptly. “Don’t argue with me. It’s not going to hurt. Just trust me for five minutes, okay?”

He’s been trusting Sam for a lot longer than five minutes. “Fine, whatever.”

He lays down on his own, because he can at least do that, and Sam doesn’t look nervous or worried or guilty, so whatever thing he’s about to try is probably fine. Although he really has no idea what the hell Sam thinks he’s going to pull out that can fix his heart, but he closes his eyes and waits.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing, which he hadn’t expected. A moment later it opens again, but there are two sets of footsteps. He tenses. “Sam?”

“It’s alright,” Sam says, his large hand settling warm and comfortable on Dean’s shoulder. “Just relax.”

Relax? How the hell does Sam expect him to relax when –

There’s a hand on his chest, one he doesn’t recognize, and he barely keeps from leaping off the bed. Then there’s a warmth, something comforting, like being held by his mother or his dad’s proud look or how it feels every time Sam reaches for him. Then he’s breathing in, chest expanding comfortably in a way it hasn’t since he was electrocuted. He’s not cold anymore, not exhausted, the creeping feeling of death chasing him whisked away in a matter of seconds.

It leaves him terrified.

“Sam?” he says, and it takes everything to keep his eyes squeezed shut.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing again and Sam says, “It’s okay, you’re okay,” and Dean’s eyes pop open and he’s shoving himself onto his feet.

It’s nothing, it’s easy, just like it was a day ago. Sam is smiling, relieved and okay, and Dean grabs onto his shoulders and shakes him. “What was that? Who was that? What did you do, Sammy?”

“A friend,” Sam says. “Dean, don’t worry, it didn’t cost me anything.”

He scoffs. “Right, because what – hoodoo priests and witches or whatever the hell that was just help out hunters from the goodness of their hearts? What did you do?”

Sam presses a hand to his chest, where his heart is now beating strong and sure in his chest, none of that stuttery crap of before. “I didn’t give anything. It’s okay. Sometimes people just help each other out because they’re good people, Dean. Like you do, when you saved those kids last night.”

“We saved those kids,” he corrects, because he wouldn’t have been able to both fight the rawhead and get the kids out on his own. He and Sam did it together.

“Right,” Sam says, mouth tugged up in the corner. “There’s no trick, no price. They’re someone I know that was willing to help, that’s all.”

Dean presses for more information, but Sam refuses to give it, and eventually he has to give it up. At least for now.

He’s glad he’s alive. He’s glad he won’t be leaving Sam alone.

And most of all, he’s glad he’s going to be around to pry out of Sam whatever secrets he’s keeping from him.

let the beltane fires burn

The Halliwells are descended from Melinda Warren, are the branch in which the greatest power resides, the line that would birth the most powerful witches to walk the earth.

It's not the only line.

Deanna knows about hunters, knows what they don’t know and don’t understand and that they killed her family. But Samuel didn’t kill her family. Samuel’s a good man who saves innocents, the same way she was raised to, if not how she was raised to do it.

She’s all alone. It’s not safe to be a witch.

The day before her wedding, she binds her powers.

When Mary is a year and a day, she does the same to her. It’s safer this way. Better. The world is so unkind to witches, even ones like them, born into it, with their power baked into their blood. Better to fight evil with bullets and knives than the strange terrible thing she’s destined to give her daughter, that her daughter is destined to pass along to her own daughters.

She never tells Samuel. There’s no reason to.

When Mary is old enough, when she’s talking of running and rebelling and all those things Samuel thinks will never come to pass and Deanna knows almost certainly will – running and rebelling is in her blood as surely as the magic, but there’s no binding potion for that – she tells her daughter what they are. What she’ll have to do to keep her future daughters safe, if she has them. It’s the only potion she ever teaches Mary how to brew, the only one she’ll ever need.

The day after Dean’s first birthday, Marry brews the potion and feeds it to him. He cries more after, doesn’t settle as quickly, and John worries and Mary reassures him and tells herself she’s done the right thing. Whatever it is that Dean feels he’s lost, he’s better off without it. She’s going to be normal. Her children are going to be normal.

She intends to do the same for Sammy, but she burns above his crib when he’s six months old.

~

John sees Sammy levitate a toy towards him when he’s two years old and shouts so loudly that he drops it, tears running down his face and wailing in the face of his father’s anger. Dean comes running from the other room and reaches for Sammy, letting his brother’s chubby fingers tangle in his shirt. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide.

He doesn’t answer, rubbing his hand over his face and heart pounding in his chest.

What did that demon do to his son?

What did it turn him into?

Is Sammy even human anymore?

He doesn’t react to salt, to holy water, to silver. John loses his temper every time something moves inexplicably and eventually it stops, by the time Sam’s in kindergarten he’s just like all the other kids.

John watches, fear and suspicion and something uglier caught up inside of him.

What is his son?

~

Sam figures out young that he’s a freak.

Dad and Dean just think he’s weak, just think he has nightmares, and he lets them. He only practices the telekinesis when he’s alone and every time he almost gathers the courage to tell his brother or father about it, to finally come clean, he’s viciously reminded how much they hate the things they hunt, how they’d never accept it, accept him, and as soon as he tells them what he is, he’ll lose them.

He doesn’t know what he is, really. Only that he’s not normal.

Eventually he stops seeing things in his sleep, instead getting them when he’s awake, more vivid and real than the monsters that plague his dreams. He sees people being hurt, people who need help, and it goes against everything he’s been taught to leave them to their fate.

But how can he explain it to his family? He can’t.

He’s thirteen the first time he sneaks out and saves a woman from one of his visions, finding her in the dark alley he’d seen her die in. He puts a bullet in the man’s chest, but it barely stops him, and then she and him both are getting a fireball thrown at them.

Sam shoves his hand in front of him, pushing back against the heat, refusing to die the same way his mother died.

The fireball returns to the man, catching him in the chest and he screams, disappearing into the fire until he’s nothing more than a smudge on the ground.

“Wow,” the woman breathes. Sam turns to her, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, when she continues, “I’ve never met a witch with active powers before.”

“I’m not a witch,” he says automatically, thinking of bargains made with demons, of hex bags and rotting meat and blood sacrificed.

She looks between him and the smudge on the ground incredulously. “Are you sure about that?”

Yes. No.

He doesn’t know what he is.

She leads him back to her apartment, stacks books into hix arms, and then makes him a sandwich when his stomach rumbles. His age worries her, his ignorance worries her even more, and everything she’s saying sounds like kooky new age bullshit except for the way that it explains everything he’s never been able to.

There are witches and demons and monsters nothing like anything his father’s ever talked about.

~

It’s easy to research, at least, because his dad thinks there’s a kernel of truth in every piece of supernatural bullshit. Dean makes fun of him for digging into girly, feel-good crap rather than the harder stuff, but his dad just seems relieved he’s taking an interest all. Sam starts taking notes, keeps them all in a folder until Dad buys him a journal, patting his back when he hands it over like it’s a rite of passage.

To Dad, it’s his first hunting journal.

Sam runs his hand down the soft leather spine and knows he’s starting his book of shadows.

The visions don’t stop. He saves more innocents, some witches and some mortal, and keeps the record of all the creatures he’s killed in Latin to discourage Dad and Dean from snooping. He uses his telekinesis on hunts only when there’s no other option, only when there’s someone’s life on the line, and he’s as careful as he can be not to get caught.

It should be a relief, to find out there are other people like him, to know that he’s a force for good in the world.

There’s no way he can explain the existence of a different type of witches to his father without putting a target on their backs.

Some witches have been targeted by hunters, ones who were trying to help but got caught in the crossfire, ones that had turned evil and needed to be stopped, but it’s not often he finds a witch that regards hunters with anything but fear. At least when his family are the ones sniffing around, he can give them a heads up, can tell them how to avoid their attention.

He’s had a lot of practice, after all.

~

Sam is sixteen when he’s a little too slow.

The innocent is safe and the demon is killed, but his chest is torn open and he’s bleeding out on the pavement.

“Oh no, oh no,” the woman he’d saved chants, pressing her hands against him, even though it’s pointless, even though it just sends a bolt of pain through him. Fuck. He doesn’t want to die. Dean is going to devastated. “Paige! Help me! Paige!”

There’s a bright light in the corner of his eyes and an woman around his dad’s age with bright hair red hair is leaning over him.

Then she touches him, but her touch doesn’t hurt.

He looks down and the wound on his chest closes, skin clear and unharmed, pain retreating to only a memory.

“He saved me,” the woman says. “He can move things!”

The redhead’s eyebrows rise. “You have active powers?”

They’re always so surprised by that. Sam’s more impressed with the fact that she just healed him. “I get premonitions too. What are you?”

“You get,” she starts then cuts herself off. “Where’s your whitelighter?”

He stares. “My what?”

She raises a hand to her head and groans. “Oh, someone’s really messed up somewhere. Leo!”

~

Guardian angels are real, called whitelighters, and apparently witches with active powers who go around saving innocents are supposed to have them to help keep them from getting themselves killed in the process.

Leo, who’s something called an elder with a kind face, says an unconventional witch deserves an unconventional whitelighter.

Chris Halliwell is his age, half witch, and also has telekinesis.

Oh, and he’s apparently his cousin. His very, very, very distant cousin.

“Are all witches related?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” Chris says, long dark hair and hazel eyes doing more to aid his claim of family than the spell his mother had cast. He and Chris look more related than him and Dean do. “We’d thought all the other branches of the Warren line had died out. You’re a surprise.”

Great. He’s a freak even among witches.

~

It’s so much easier now that he’s not desperately trying to piece together everything on his own, with only the occasional help from the innocents he saves. Chris is sarcastic and annoying and funny and more than having a guardian angel, Sam’s relieved to just have a friend he doesn’t have to lie to for once.

The Halliwell house, with its potion ingredients and powerful witches and home cooking, is only an orb away. He mostly hangs out with Chris, of course, but Piper always invites him to stay for dinner and Paige checks in on him, feeling somewhat responsible for him since she met him first, and Wyatt’s friendly enough but Chris sends him packing whenever Sam’s there.

He’s pulling doubletime when it comes to saving innocents, doing it as a witch and as a hunter, and he’s still maintaining straight As on top of it all while lying about half his life to his father and brother. It’s a stack of cards that’s bound to fall apart.

Going to Stanford is about more than just escaping his father.

It gets him close enough to San Francisco that he won’t need to be orbed to the Halliwells. It’s supposed to give him some breathing room, to let him focus on being a witch, to let him get his education. He does more good as a witch than as a hunter, but it’s not like that’s something he can explain to his family.

He’d wanted out, needed out, before he gets himself or someone else killed trying to balance it all. But he hadn’t thought his father would kick him out. He hadn’t thought Dean would let him.

He goes to the bus station but doesn’t buy a ticket. He calls Chris and spends the rest of the summer at Halliwell manor, burying all his hurt under training with Chris and saving people and getting ready to start college in September.

~

Jess wears a pentacle around her neck and keeps salt in small bowls in each of the cardinal directions and Sam doesn’t intend to tell her that he’s a witch, but when he ends up saving her from a darklighter attack, that decision is taken out of his hands. Coming clean about the hunter part takes longer, but it’s a bit of an easier sell once the knowledge of the supernatural is already out there. The thing that surprised her most of all is that things like bullets and steel can be used successfully against monsters, rather than the existence of monsters themselves.

Three years later when Dean shows up at their door, Sam can’t bring himself to deny him. It’s one weekend. He’d never wanted to lose his family in the first place.

When he returns home to Jessica pinned to the ceiling, he doesn’t even have to think.

He yanks her down, catching her in his arms just as fire effulges the place she’d been. He pushes the fire away from them, but it fights him harder than demonic fire usually does and leaves his hands burned and blistering. He doesn’t care. Jess is bleeding and in shock but still alive, breath rattling against him. “CHRIS!”

Dean’s yelling for him, but Sam can’t let him in. He throws his hand out, keeping his bedroom door closed even as his brother throws his body against it, still screaming his name.

Chris orbs in, eyes going huge. “Sam, what-”

“Heal her then go,” he snaps, the smoke already hurting his throat. “I’ll explain later.”

He puts his glowing hands over her bleeding stomach and the wound closes, her body going slack and her breathing easing even as her eyes roll back.

Sam tenses. “Is she-”

“Fine, let’s go, your hands,” Chris says, hands already glowing as he reaches for him.

“SAM!” Dean shouts, sounding like he’s about two seconds away from trying to shoot through the door.

“You can heal me later,” he says. “Thank you. Go.”

Chris shoots him a bitchy look that Paige says they share and then he orbs away. The fire’s covered almost the entire room now and Sam finally lets go of the door.

Dean stumbles in, pale, already reaching for him.

Sam stands and finds his knees buckling, gritting his teeth to keep himself upright. “Take her,” he says urgently, pressing Jess into his brother’s arms. “We have to go.”

“You think?” he snaps, but he’s gentle with Jess. Sam shoves him towards the door, slamming it behind him just as it surges after them. Keeping the flames from killing them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. No wonder he’s exhausted.

They stumble downstairs, away from the fire, and someone’s already called the ambulance.

The story’s an easy sell because it’s not like anyone would believe the truth. They say Jess took sleeping pills and Sam came home to flames. He pulled Jess out and has the burns to prove it. Dean saw the flames in the window and went up, helping to get them both out.

It’s almost true.

“He had yellow eyes,” Jess tells him after. “He was – Sam, I’ve seen demons, I’ve fought demons. He’s something else.”

“Different kind of demons,” Sam says. There’s the underworld, and there’s hell. Underworld demons go after witches mostly. Hell demons go after mortals and are a lot harder to kill, ironically. “It’s the same demon that killed my mother, Jess, and now it’s after you. I have to take care of this.”

Dean’s too relieved about Sam’s determination to rejoin the hunt to question him too closely about all this. He knows better than to think that will last for very long.

Chris agrees to watch over Jess for him even though she’s not technically one of his charges. They layer protection spells on her, including one cast by the power of three, and even this yellow eyed demon will be hard pressed to break through that.

Hell demons are tricky. They’re not as susceptible to witch magic. But Sam’s not just a witch.

He’s a hunter too.

[alphajocklover]

Hey, so I just downloaded InstaJock, and for some reason, my pecs and especially my nipples have been feeling really sensitive lately. My hair’s been greying, and I have a strong urge to “feed the youth…” any idea what’s going on?

So you used InstaJock, an app that is supposed to change you into a jock instantly, but the change wasn’t instant, and now your hair is gray and you have an urge to… breastfeed? I’ll admit, out of the many, many weird things that happen involving that app, this might be the weirdest. Just to be clear, I’m not kink shaming. Pecs are my favorite muscle group myself, and I’d be lying if I didn’t find the concept of ‘muscle tits’ hot as fuck. What shocks me is that the guy who's been messing around with InstaJock is getting so… daring! Most people in the TF community wouldn’t dream of messing around with InstaJock, since it and the guy who created it are so dangerous, but whoever has been using it to mess with people seems to be exclusively using it. My best guess is that either they’re someone who worked on the app and still has access to it, or that they specifically want to mess around with The Master, or… both. That doesn’t leave a lot of people. I looked into the programmers, but that lead went nowhere, so I’m moving onto people who are personal enemies of The Master. Hopefully I’ll have some concrete answers soon. But for now, let's get back to you. 

From what you’ve described, I’m pretty sure that you’re transforming into a very specific kink. I could probably find a better way to say this, but I’ll just call it what it is: you’re turning into a  muscle Daddy with milky mega muscle tits. If you think my word choice was a little crass and kinky, then I should remind you that everything about this is kinky. I mean, the main focus of my work is men being turned into dumb jocks, what were you expecting to see? But I'm getting off track again, and you probably want the specifics of what is happening to you. The physical transformation is, surprisingly, the most simple part of what's happening. You’re becoming a classic Muscle Daddy, with slightly thinning salt and pepper hair, a respectable amount of body hair, and thick manly muscles that will have bubble butted twinks drooling over you. The only big difference between you and a classic Muscle Daddy is, while, your pecs. Or I suppose I could call them your tits, since that's what they are. They’re bigger and beefier than any pecs have any right to be after all, and with how they keep leaking milk, tits is the best word for them. Normally you’d probably be embarrassed if someone called your pecs titties, but for some reason the word itself seems to make you shiver with pleasure. Which brings me to the more complicated part: your mental changes. You’ve already experienced the beginning of your mental changes, your strange urge to ‘feed the youth.’ I’m afraid to say that that urge you mentioned, that strong desire that is already digging its way into your every thoughts? It’s only going to get stronger and stronger. It’s going to worm itself into your mind and fill every thought, until it gets so overwhelming that it's all you can think about, and it will only fade once you’ve found some unsuspecting, kinky twink to drink your titty milk.

That brings me to the most complicated aspect of your transformation. It's contagious. Anyone who drinks your tit milk will slowly transform into a pec obsessed muscle daddy, just like you. The good news is that after you’ve transformed someone you’ll start thinking properly, at least for a little while. But it won’t be long before both you and your latest victim are on the prowl for another man to convert. In a few months your group will have grown exponentially. However, there is some good news. While you will eventually become overwhelmed by your desirees, there is a way to calm them, and put off transforming anyone as long as you can. By milking your pecs, you’ll be able to relieve some of the pressure. Just make sure you dispose of your milk properly. And don’t drink it if you can. That could have some… unexpected consequences.

**I'll admit, this one is a little out there, but I enjoyed writing it! Muscle Tits are hot.**

[genderisareligion]

The elusive "TERF" is actually just a mirror

All its devotees know is projection. When I started this blog in late 2020 I more frequently used the tag #DARVO in action to start keeping track of the blatant lies TRAs spew that are really just a tell about their crowd (DARVO = Deny Attack Reverse Victim Offend, a strategy used often by DV abusers) and I just have to start making this cumulative post because:

They're now saying John Money was a radical feminist. Lmfao 💀 The male cracker extraordinaire (we don't even think males can be feminists let alone human most of the time) most responsible for the word gender's mistranslation as something that describes human behavior rather than the behavior of languages (most of which aren't even English), the idiot torturer who's a major reason the intersex community has to guard itself so fiercely against "normative" surgeries, who once claimed that anyone skeptical of his "girl = pink, boy = blue, I must fix anyone else" theories actually just believed that "masculinity and femininity are baked into the genes and women should get back to the kitchen" (sound familiar? What are "TERFs" always being accused of?) Like bro that's you

"TERFs are fascists who need everyone to fit into the male or the female box" actually gender abolition would mean no more boxes besides the purely categorical chromosomal ones we can't help from birth, and actually trying to force everyone to fall somewhere on a scale of femininity and masculinity and positing intersex conditions as the "middle" creates an unnecessary dichotomy amongst particularly females, where a woman born with PCOS is considered "less female" than one without regardless of how she "identifies," and the more "masculine" you are (whatever that even means) the more your body requires meds and surgery.

"TERFs align with fascists" but y'all are the ones with the Big Pharma billions paving your way so lol sorry not sorry but as a Negro it's giving the way they used to experiment on us for profit, refine their methods for research and leave us for dead or permanently disabled. And y'all think it's empowering? You think they actually care that you're personally fulfilled? You think they won't pull another Henrietta Lacks? You think all these detrans people are just flukes? They'll take your thousands of dollars until you're in debt and pump you full of more dubious "treatment" as long as it means they get to keep quietly going home to their white picket fences where all their loved ones are fine pretending they're heroes rather than profiting off others' pain. What is fascism if not allowing the medical establishment to "correct undesirables"?

"TERFs are Nazis" but the "first ever transgender surgery" on "trans woman" Lillie Ebe was performed by literal fucking Nazi Erwin Gohrbrandt who believed "mentally ill people were considered 'feeble-minded' (this was an actual, formal term) and homosexuals were considered to also be 'feeble-minded' and have inferior genes." Fun fact, Lillie was also a fucking Nazi.

"TERFs are all white supremacists" but everyone I just mentioned up there is a fucking white supremacist and not even Google agrees with you there, searches for the word TERF are done almost entirely in Western nations like the US and UK, whereas searches for radfem are balanced worldwide and in fact an African country is #1 on one of those lists, and you can't argue that those searches are by TERFs themselves because "try Googling TERF right now and seeing how many if any positive references show up"

I have more after 4 years lol but lemme cook