#she doesnt need a brother figure

[cairos-wing]

Runt is the younger sister Troy needed and Troy is the hypeman Runt needed send tweet

(Also I have a new HC that the Overseer couldn’t see Blink’s face through the cog mask thing but could see wing tips and chin and kinda assumed Blink looked like Wolverine Hugh Jackman and they were totally gonna co-ordinate something less formal the moment “the right hand” was done hunting down the Inventor)

[bmpmp3]

post ankle-twisting clarity

[foxcassius]

can you even belieeeeeve that i am almost done w the buttonband on jake's sweater. then in its just one more sleeve and done babey!!!!

[angelstrawbabie420]

crazy how i have no one

[mxdotpng]

best part abt having an ff14 oc is creating side content for ur wol's character development, completely unrelated to the msq going on

[aria0fgold]

Okay! I got a small cast going finally. I have Pandora and Gertrude on one side, then there's Annika and Mary on the other side with dear Leiano in the middle of two pairs of lesbians.

[janeyseymour]

Christmas Traditions

it's sad girl hours and this was not edited in the slightest but i hope it doesnt suck okay i will go back into my depression pile of blankets bye

Summary: Christmas and the holiday season comes with many traditions. Melissa indulges you, but she springs a few surprises out along the way.

WC: ~4.6k

Christmas and the holiday season has always been one of your favorite times of year. From the time you were a kid all the way up until now, you’ve leaned into every single Christmas tradition that you can find and figure out. It doesn’t matter that some traditions may be a bit different here in America as opposed to the ones that you have back in Ireland- they bring you joy all the same.

This is your fourth year celebrating Christmas in Philly, but it’s your first Christmas living with your girlfriend Melissa. It’s also your first Christmas without your parents flying across the Atlantic to come and be with you. You’re elated to celebrate with the redhead, but you can’t help but be brought down in spirits at the quiet reminders that your parents won’t be joining you. So instead of letting yourself drown in your sorrows, you fully throw yourself into Christmas festivities.

“My love,” Melissa chuckles as she watches the amount of decorations that you’re putting in the cart at Target on Black Friday. “Do we really need all of this stuff?”

“Of course we do!” you reply with a kiss to her cheek. “I still can’t believe that you don’t decorate unless I’m around!”

Your girlfriend goes to say how it just isn’t worth all of the effort, but who is she to ruin your good spirits? Instead of scoffing, she just chuckles and pats your shoulder. “I was just waiting for the girl who would make it all worth it.”

You beam at her words of affection.

By the time you’re finished stocking up on decorations for the house, you’re pushing a cart, and so is Melissa. You hand your card over sheepishly without even looking at the final amount that you owe- you don’t really want to know how much you just spent.

You can only guess that it’s a ridiculous amount of money seeing the way that your girlfriend’s emerald eyes widen as big as saucers, followed by her shaking her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Dear God,” the redhead mumbles. “My Christmas bonus better be good this year.”

When the two of you get back to the house and unload the car, Melissa begins to unravel some of the lights. You frantically reach for the bag and begin stuffing the string that she had undone back into the plastic.

“Hun, what?” your girlfriend looks to you.

“It’s tradition that we decorate on the December 8th!” you tell her with a giggle. “I may be in America now, but I do like to keep some of my Irish traditions.”

The redhead, used to having cameras to catch her incredulous looks, turns in search of one, but comes up empty. “What other traditions are there that I haven’t been privy too for the past three years?”

Your eyes twinkle as you explain the many traditions that you followed in your home country, some that she knows you follow, others that she has yet to experience with you. You tell her of the tradition of Midnight mass on Christmas Eve (which usually isn’t actually at Midnight), to which she tells you that’s a tradition for her too. You explain how Ireland loves their Christmas markets filled with merry and bright spirits. Melissa promises she’ll take you to Christmas Village in center city, and if you really want, she’ll venture to take you out to see the various light shows and markets around Philadelphia and the suburbs of Philly. You tell her how your brother used to make you do a Christmas Day Swim with him; you let her know that you will not be participating in that tradition here. You tell her of the boxes of biscuits and how it almost always started a fight in your family because nobody wanted that last cookie to finish off the layer and be able to start the new one. You speak of how your family back in Ireland always puts a ring of Holly on the door as you point to the bag that has the wreath in it. She’s especially excited to partake in your tradition of 12 pubs- and you tell her that you think you might want to do it with the Abbott crew since your family won’t be here to do it with you this year. 

For as much as your eyes were sparkling as you speak of the traditions that you hold back in Ireland, when you reach the one that perhaps means the most to you, a sadness creeps into your eyes.

“And the reason I bought all of those candles…” you trail off quietly. “It’s an old custom, and I- I know my mam has one in each window all year round. It’s to welcome strangers and to remember those who are far from home.” You sniffle quietly. “Mam keeps them there as a reminder that we are always welcome back home.”

Your girlfriend isn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she settles for just kissing you softly and wiping away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

You laugh just slightly bitterly. “God, this is supposed to be fun. I shouldn’t be sitting here crying.”

“It’s okay to miss your family,” your girlfriend reminds you. “That’s perfectly normal, especially around the holidays.”

“I think I’d rather just throw myself into celebrating and getting into the Christmas spirit here and at Abbott.”

And because you begin to throw yourself into the Christmas spirit to distract yourself from the blues, Melissa finds herself also participating in festivities that she usually wouldn’t do otherwise.

As soon as December hits, you have that silly little elf in your classroom and causing mayhem to entertain your students. When Melissa comes to pick her students up from your art class, her children are instantly asking why you have an elf but she doesn’t- why doesn’t Santa want them to be watched in her class? Your girlfriend sends you a huge glare; she hates that stupid elf tradition, and it will only cause her classroom to be destroyed every day with the mischief that the ‘elf’ will get into. Nevertheless, she promises her students that she knows Santa, and she’ll ask him to send one of his finest workers to her classroom.

You get a text from your lovely girlfriend mere minutes after she’s picked her students up from your class.

I hate you for this, you read.

You chuckle at your phone before typing out, No you don’t. You love me.

Just know that you’re in charge of my elf.

The next morning, her classroom has an elf, and her room has been decorated by ‘Buddy’. Her students are thrilled, and you can’t help but grin brightly when she tells you that her students love the decorations that you put up.

On December 8th, a Sunday, you wake up bright and early. Decorating is something that you have always absolutely adored doing.

“Babe!” you jump on your girlfriend with a grin that morning.

Melissa groans. “Y/N.”

“It’s December 8th! We have to start decorating!”

The redhead only responds by pulling you on top of her. She holds you tightly to her chest and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Five more minutes.”

“That’s five minutes of time we could spend decorating!” you tell her.

Melissa peels her eyes open and glances at the alarm clock. “Hun, it’s… eight in the morning.”

“And we’re usually up at 6:30 for school,” you tell her matter of factly. “We slept in an hour and a half longer than usual!”

Green eyes roll, but she does allow you to pull her to a sit. “Do you know how lucky you are that I love you?”

“I’m the luckiest girl alive!” you giggle as you kiss her nose. “How about this? I make breakfast and coffee while you wake up, and then we can start decorating?”

When you see the beginning of a head nod, you leap out of bed and practically sprint down to the kitchen.

“Woman has damn near lost her mind,” the second grade teacher grumbles as she pulls herself out of the warm bed and follows you downstairs.

You already have bacon in the pan and the coffee brewing by the time you feel Melissa’s arms wind around your waist. Breakfast is quiet, and then you’re practically bouncing in your seat with excitement to decorate.

“Alright, mi amore,” your girlfriend chuckles. “Let’s get decorating.”

By mid-afternoon, you have just about everything decorated. The banister is wrapped with green, the Christmas tree is up and adorned with lights, tinsel and ornaments with the star sitting atop it’s tip, her flat surfaces are covered in trinkets that make you think of winter and Christmas, the holly is hung on her door. The outside is strung with lights that you know will look stunning at night. Melissa can only chuckle along and indulge in your love of the holidays.

The last thing that you have to do is put up the candles in the windows- something that you don’t necessarily want to do because you know it will bring down your spirits, but it must be done. So with a glint of sadness in your eyes, you line each window in the house with a candle. You know that across the ocean, your mother and father have already decorated, and their candles are out too- a quiet promise that home is always waiting for you when you need it.

As you look at the candle sitting in the front window somewhat longingly, your girlfriend knows what she has to do- somehow, she has to get your parents over here for Christmas. Her arms snake around your shoulders, and she pulls you close to her.

“You did a nice job, mi amore,” Melissa tells you earnestly. “It looks great.”

You lean into her affections, a sad smile on your face. “Can we watch a Christmas movie?”

“You don’t want to go to Christmas Village?” 

“Not today,” you sigh softly. “I’m kind of tired from decorating.”

“Then a Christmas movie sounds great,” your girlfriend smiles as she kisses your cheek. “Go get comfortable.”

It only takes about ten minutes for you to change into your favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms with the Grinch on them and for the redhead to get popcorn before the two of you are settled in on the couch.

It takes about thirty minutes of laying on the couch with your girlfriend’s fingers weaving through your hair gently for you to fall asleep. Your girlfriend glances at the clock. It’s not too late to call your parents and try to orchestrate getting them here to surprise you for Christmas. She video calls them.

“Hello?” your mother answers.

“Hey,” the redhead smiles into the phone. “It’s Melissa. Listen, I was thinking… you should come join us for Christmas this year.”

Your father furrows his brow. “Is Y/N okay? Where is my girl?”

Melissa pans the camera so your parents can see that you’re sound asleep on top of her. “She’s okay, just a bit down that the two of you aren’t here. We decorated today, and she set out the candle, and it kind of upset her.”

Your mother sighs softly. “My poor girl. We just don’t have the money to fly out this year.”

“What if I offered to pay for your flights, and you can stay with us?” Melissa bargains. “We can surprise her, and I think she’ll want the two of you to be here when I give her her Christmas present.”

Both of your parents brighten at that- they know what you’re getting for Christmas from the redhead. “You think we can pull off surprising her?”

“I think so,” the second grade teacher chuckles. “I doubt she would be onto us, as long as we aren’t too obvious.”

And so, by the time you wake up from your slumber, your parents have a flight to Philly and back for the day before Christmas Eve, a hotel room to stay in for that one night, and a flight back to Ireland after the new year- not that you have any inkling of what’s going to take place.

The next weekend, Melissa takes you out to Christmas Village in center city. You spend the day drinking spiked hot cocoa and hanging off of her. It’s sweet, it’s warm, it’s cozy- it always is as long as you’re with that wonderful girlfriend of yours. Your gloved hand is somehow always in hers, or her arm is wrapped around your waist. You find little trinkets that are all too expensive but purchase them anyway in the spirit of Christmas. It helps lift your spirits, but when you get home, you see those candles again. Your heart sinks just slightly, but you have to admit that you’re quite ready to curl up with your girlfriend in yet another pair of fuzzy pajama pants and watch another Christmas movie.

It feels like December simultaneously goes by like it’s nothing and also drags on as you wait for your favorite holiday. But finally, Winter break is upon you, and you find yourself getting ready to go out for 12 pubs night with the Abbott clan.

“Thank you for doing this for me.” You kiss Melissa’s cheek as the two of you put on ugly sweaters and cozy pajama bottoms to go out in.

“I know how much you love your traditions,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes playfully. “Just know that next year, there ain’t no damn way I’m putting on a ridiculous sweater again to go out.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” you giggle, but you nod. “I meant thank you for letting the crew come here and stay over if needed after tonight.”

“Oh,” your girlfriend sighs out. “That. I’d rather them stay safe if we’re going to get as hammered as we did last year.”

You laugh at the reminder of what happened last year- you had barely made it home in one piece, your parents hanging off of you, more drunk than you think you had ever seen them.

It isn’t long before your work friends are at your house, dropping their things in various rooms that they’ll be staying in. Jacob grins when he’s allowed to go put his things in what used to be his room before you came into the picture.

As Mr. Johnson wanders in, he makes an offhanded comment about all of your apparel.

“Never thought I’d see the day badass Melissa Schemmenti would be in the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen,” Ava comments. She turns to you. “You got her wrapped around your little finger.”

“Whipped,” Mr. Johnson grins. “As the kids would say.” He then accompanies his words with a whipping motion and sound effect, much to the displeasure of your girlfriend. 

“So,” Janine bounces on her toes in excitement. “What are the rules?”

“Well,” you smile. “Everyone already did a great job with the first rule of wearing a Christmas jumper. But, we will be going to twelve bars tonight. Each bar has it’s own rule, and if you break a rule, you have to finish off your drink in one go. Additionally, every four bars, we have to drink a pint of water so nobody actually gets hurt doing this…” You shudder at the memory (or lack thereof) of a few Christmases ago. “Finally, we can only be at each bar for thirty minutes.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Mr. Johnson fist pumps. “I was made to win this game.”

“I’m just so glad to be immersing myself in other cultures,” the history teacher smiles.

“Try to keep up boy,” Ava rolls her eyes. “You’ll be on the floor by the fourth bar.”

Janine gives Gregory a nervous glance, but he just wraps am arm around her shoulder and squeezes gently, promising that he’ll cut her off when needed.

And Barb, who somehow managed to find a Christmas sweater with pirates on it, declares that Sea Barbara is coming out tonight. 

At the first bar, you aren’t allowed to use your dominant hand for anything. Jacob forgets quickly and has to down his beer. At the second bar, there is a no swearing rule. Ava’s first word is “fuck” when she sees her ex-boyfriend. She chooses to shotgun her seltzer. At the bar where you aren’t allowed to use nicknames, Melissa calls you “babe” and she calls Barbara “Barb”. With a roll of those striking green eyes, she finishes off her drink. At the bar where nobody is allowed to use their native language, you’re forced to finish off your beer when you give up on trying to perfect your American accent. Once you’ve ordered your waters, Janine declares that she thinks she’s finished drinking for the night- to which Gregory agrees. Jacob informs the group that he believes he maybe has one or two more bars in him, and then he may have to tap out.

Once all of the pints of water are finished, your group races off to the next destination- the one where if you get there last you’ll be forced to sing a Christmas song off the rest of the group’s choosing. Poor Mr. Johnson has to give a terrible performance of “Dominic the Donkey”, complete with the animal noises. Jacob taps out after beer comes out of his nose from laughing so hard. That leaves you, your girlfriend, Barbara, Gregory, Ava, and Mr. Johnson to continue on with this challenge. At the arm pub, Sea Barbara finally comes out, and your girlfriend has to convince her to keep her shoes on because of the near freezing temperatures. Melissa holds your beer, she holds Barb’s, Barb holds Gregory’s, he holds Ava’s (much to her surprise and happiness), and the principal gets tasked with holding Mr. Johnson’s. At the no toilet pub, you all unfortunately lose that challenge, and you’re out of that bar in less than the allotted thirty minutes. Gregory taps out after that one. The eighth bar, you’re all forced to compliment a stranger. You almost lose the fiery principal at this bar because when you look away for one second, her lips are locked with a man’s. Waters are downed quickly. And then you’re onto the final four bars.

You’re drunk, Melissa is getting to the point in her drunkenness where she just wants to hang off of you. Sea Barbara has taken to speaking in an accent- if only you had gone to the accent bar once she had already hit this point. Ava and Mr. Johnson both seem to be doing quite alright though. You’re beginning to wonder if they have been drinking for the last few bars.

At bar nine, you have to take a shot. That’s an easy in and out kind of bar. At the no phone bar, Ava immediately breaks the unspoken rule of no documenting this outing as she goes live on Instagram to show the charades that the five of you are all partaking in. You choose a terrible shot- one that if Ava or Mr. Johnson don’t take, you’ll know. It’s quite clear that they are indeed drinking when you see their faces, and Ava’s voice rings through loudly.

“What the fuck is this shit?” the principal screeches. “Why would you get this for us?”

Melissa just chuckles. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“What the hell you mean that wasn’t-”

Barbara taps out after that one when she begins gagging after the shot goes down. “That was awful.”

And so, at the eleventh and twelfth bar, it’s down to you, Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“Can I have a pint of Heineken please, Guinness?” the four of you ask. And as luck would have it, you’re all served Guinness. Yours is downed easily, having a taste for the Irish drink. Melissa makes a face once hers is gone. Ava once again takes a video of herself drinking the beverage. Mr. Johnson shrugs, and the liquid goes down in one swallow- how he’s able to do that, you don’t think you want to know.

“And on that note,” Melissa wipes the beer that dribbled down her chin with the hem of her sleeve. “I think I’m done.”

“No!” you protest. “You almost completed the challenge! We just have to get to the last bar!”

Your girlfriend stumbles down the road with you to the last bar.

“Everyone has to get a drink at the last bar,” you tell them with a drunken smile. “I’ll even allow you all to choose your own drink so there’s no gagging.”

By some Grace of God, nobody ends up hugging the porcelain that night. The next morning, however, nobody is thrilled to be awake. The eight of you all claim that you’re never drinking again.

“Until New Years!” Ava chimes in as she rubs at her temples.

It takes until about noon for your last guest to head out, and then it’s just you and your girlfriend laying on the couch attempting to revive yourselves from these killer hangovers.

“It was fun though,” you sigh softly.

Melissa groans. “I’m gettin’ to be too old for this shit.”

Christmas Eve finally comes and presents itself, and you find yourself in the midst of a chaotic as ever Schemmenti Christmas dinner. Seeing your girlfriend with your family reminds you of what you’re missing out on this year, and you have to excuse yourself for a few minutes to shed a few tears. Of course, your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead of the family.

“Mi amore?” you hear your girlfriend before you see her.

You quickly wipe at the tears threatening too escape your eyes. “I’m fine. Just missing my mam and dad right now a little more than I expected to.” Your eyes wander to the candle that’s sitting in the window above your bed.

“You’re allowed to miss them,” Melissa tells you softly as she sits on the bed next to you.

“I know,” you mumble as you lean into her. “I just didn’t think it would hit me this hard. I miss Ireland.”

“Just a few more months, and we’ll be in Dublin for Spring break with your parents,” your girlfriend offers quietly as she kisses your temple. She doesn’t reveal that you’ll be reunited with your parents tonight at Mass once your guests leave.

You hum, wipe your tears, take a steadying breath, and stand. “Alright. I’m good. Let’s get back down there.”

It’s a bit later that you’re cleaning up after the Schemmentis leave for the night. Mass starts at ten, so you have a bit of time to clean up and freshen yourself up before you have to head to your parish. 

The two of you exit the car and walk to the church hand in hand. You’re seated in your pew and chatting quietly with each other when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice asks- a voice that you know so well but aren’t expecting to hear.

In an instant, you’re whipping around to look at the person beside you, and there are your parents in the flesh. Your arms are wrapped around them tightly and happy tears flow as you truly grapple with the fact that they’re here in Philly with you for Christmas.

This year is the first and probably only year that you end up missing Christmas Eve mass.

“How- how are you here?” you ask as you practically skip down the street back to your car. “I thought you couldn’t make it work!”

“That girlfriend of yours really loves you,” your father chuckles. “Got us tickets to and from Dublin.”

You practically jump on your girlfriend, kissing her fiercely. “I can’t believe you did this for me!”

Melissa just shrugs with a laugh as she kisses you back gently. “I know what my girl wants.”

It’s a nice and warm Christmas Eve, the four of you drinking beers and catching up on life before you feel your eyes beginning to grow tired. As much as you want to keep your eyes open, you find them drifting as you continue to try to keep up with the conversation.

“Just like you’ve always been,” your mother tells you with soft eyes. “I think it’s time you head up to bed, love.”

With a quiet sigh, you heave yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen. You grab a plate and set a few cookies out on it before reaching for the Heineken that you had bought a bit earlier in the day. You set it on the coffee table with a smile before making your way over to your mother and hugging her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper as you kiss her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

You reach for your father. “In case Santa wants a treat,” you tell him cheekily as you press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you guys. Goodnight.”

You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Come Christmas morning, you’re up bright and early with a smile on your face. You practically dance your way down the steps, and you squeal with childlike delight at the half eaten stack of cookies and finished off beer. Melissa can only chuckle at your antics.

The two of you exchange presents quietly as you wait for your parents to wake up. It’s wonderful.

When your mom and dad (finally) make their way down the steps, breakfast is served. Melissa really outdoes herself today. The meal is light and warm, and filled with cheerful conversation. And then the four of you make your way back into the living room, and you settle in your seat by the Christmas tree.

“So, I actually have one more present for you,” your girlfriend tells you.

You raise a brow. “Mel, I thought we said only two gifts each.”

“Well, I think this one is the exception,” she tells you softly.

You don’t notice that your mother had strategically set up her phone to record what is about to take place.

“Okay?” you lean forward with excitement. The redhead hands you the small box wrapped in beautiful gold paper and lined with red ribbon. 

By design, it takes you a few second to get the wrapping paper off of of the box and open it. In that time, your girlfriend subtly slips herself off of the couch, pulls the ring box out of her sweatshirt pocket, and is on one knee.

There’s an ornament in the box, and it has the inscription, “Our first Christmas engaged”.

“What?” you whisper to yourself as you thumb over the beautiful script. “Melissa.” And when you turn to face her on the couch, you don’t see her green eyes like you expect to. You lower your eyesight, and there is the second grade teacher down on her knee.

“Marry me?” she asks simply.

You just stare at her, eyes wide, with your hands clapped over your mouth. You can’t believe that she’s asking you to marry her.

“Say something!” your dad implores you to answer.

“Yes!” You tackle her on the floor in a hug, and your now fiancee can only laugh as she attempts to slip the ring on your finger.

It’s only a few hours later that your parents are asleep on the couch, and you’re laying on top of Melissa by the Christmas tree, admiring the rock that now sits on your finger perfectly.

“Good Christmas?” she asks you softly.

You nod and lean up to kiss her. “The best.”

TAGS:  (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[slut4celebs]

Diss Me

Billie Eilish x Reader

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. The smut is literally so quick guys, but cunnilingus warning.

Word Count: 1,348

Request/Synopsis: "a fanfic where Billie and reader have a feud in the music industry, readerbeing the only artist who sells as much as billie does and is about billie's age, reader one day writes a diss song which is clearly about billie (but doesnt say her name) but people start to realize that diss says a lot of things which come across as really flirty. When they meet at the VMA's billie goes up to reader to demand some answers about this and reader straight up flirts with her? It can become smut or fluff from there, up to you." In which Billie and the reader have a love-hate relationship.

Please request here. :)

There was a scoff heard around the room as Billie took her headphones off. (Y/n) was at it again, trying to start bullshit drama with her. Her fingers tapped on the table in front of her in thought. For two people never meeting, there was a strong tension between the two of them. Maybe it was because they started their career at the same age, became hits at the same time, and often have their successes compared rather than mutually celebrated. Billie looked at her brother, who had a raised brow, trying to figure out exactly what her sister had been watching.

"Have you heard this new diss track about me?" She questioned, not even sure if she wanted her brother to hear it. After all, the lyrics at one point went 'I might hate her but man I wish those blue eyes stared down at me while I give her cunnilingus.' Finneas rolled his chair over to her, holding a hand out to his sister to listen to the song, and he adorned a smirk as he shook his head at (Y/n)'s antics, obviously trying to bait Billie. "I don't even know what to think of it. Is she hating on me or is she flirting with me?"

Finneas leaned back in his chair, turning back to his soundboard. This was supposed to be a writing session, but Billie was too busy obsessing over (Y/n)'s new song. "Your name isn't even in the song, Billie. What if she isn't even talking about you in it?" Oh, she definitely was talking about Billie. What gave it away was 'Your peak was at your green hair, babe.' Which wasn't at all true if HIT ME HARD AND SOFT was anything to go by. Which it was. Billie felt annoyance rumble in the pit of her stomach as she tapped her shoe. "Listen, why not just ask her about it Saturday? You two are going to see each other." Finneas reminded her with a knowing look before putting a beat together.

Billie rolled her eyes over her brother's nonchalance over this. Scooting in, she began writing some lyrics, backlash to the song. In that moment, Billie decided she needed to get her frustrations out as she wrote angrily on her paper. Her brother couldn't help but be amused over this long feud going on between the two. After all, Finneas could see that the two were very talented artists who were turned into enemies due to the media. But honestly, they would be such a force to be reckoned with if they just set aside whatever animosity they had for each other. They could probably even write a duet that would stun the world. However, people might not get that chance if they didn't get over themselves. If they would stop playing into the media's games.

Billie walked down the VMAs red carpet in a suit jacket and the currently infamous and trending bubble skirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face with gold pins. She couldn't help but feel irked when a figure got ushered behind her on the carpet. It was (Y/n), she knew by the yelling. Anyone else, she would love to share the carpet with. (Y/n), though. She'd rather be dead than there at this moment. Billie turned her head to meet (Y/n)'s gaze, a look of mirth in her eyes. "Come on, let's get a picture of you two!" People kept cheering. They couldn't just decline the photos so they posed along the carper, getting some solo shots as well.

Once inside, Billie glowered at her. The look made (Y/n) want to laugh as she kept walking forward, ignoring the thick tension. "What the fuck was that song?" She asked, growling. (Y/n) tilted her head, feigning confusion and innocence. "Oh, fuck off. Don't give me that. I reached my peak in my green hair era? You want to give me cunnilingus?" She crossed her arms, obviously not as amused as (Y/n) and Finneas were over the lyrics. There was a palpable silence that passed through them. Billie was obviously waiting on an answer. A real answer, not some bullshit (Y/n) might manufacture in the moment.

(Y/n) was about to answer when Billie pulled her into the restrooms. "If you really want to give me cunnilingus, do it. Right here, right now. Get on your knees and I'll show you who has reached their goddamn peak." She growled, the demand making (Y/n) look at her in shock. There was no one in hell that Billie was serious right now, right? But by the look in her eyes, (Y/n) could tell she was joking as her hand moved, no eye contact breaking, locking the door. "Look at you, now. You had so much to say on your diss track, but now that we're face to face, you're short on words?" She questioned, a brow raising.

Her mouth went dry as she licked her lips, looking up at Billie. "No, not lost on words, just surprised. I meant my lyrics, I do want to give you cunnilingus as you stare at me with those blue eyes." She stated, placing her purse on the counter and dropping so hard on her knees, they'd probably bruise. Billie couldn't help but feel powerful at that moment, making her musical arch-nemesis fall to her knees so easily. Billie fingers couldn't help but slide through the girl's hair in admiration, unaware she was even doing it.

(Y/n) slid down Billie's panties and immediately got to work, sliding her tongue through Billie's folds. She moaned at the taste of the girl's dripping cunt before her tongue circled around her clit. The action made Billie weak in her knees as (Y/n) began to suck on her sensitive nub. She gripped the bar that was to hold hangars as (Y/n)'s tongue made its way to her entrance. It started as kitten licks then progressed to (Y/n) eating Billie out nosily like she was her first meal in years. The sound of squelching and the mixing of their moans filled the bathroom, and Billie couldn't help the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head. (Y/n) pushed her face in deeper to her cunt, her nose hitting Billie's clit as she worked.

Embarrassment hit her with how quickly (Y/n) made her cum. The girl pulled away, both of their chests heaving. One from cumming, the other from slight suffocation of her own doing. Slick coated (Y/n)'s chin and she went to clean it as Billie's racing heart started to finally calm. "I don't hate you," (Y/n) said, shocking the black haired girl as she fixed herself. (Y/n) was applying her make-up, looking at her from the mirror. "I wrote the song because I always thought you hated me." She admitted, retouching her red lipstick, going over it with clear gloss.

Billie's brows furrowed. Making her way over, her hands fell to her hips. "I don't hate you either." She said softly. A small smile danced on (Y/n)'s lips as she turned around. The two kissed, messing up the freshly done lipstick, but neither of them particularly cared at the moment. Right now, they were just lost in each other.

"Well, how about this… We go out there together, we have fun, and then… We can go on a date or something." (Y/n) offered, holding out her hand to take Billie out of the restroom. Billie agreed and the two walked out as if (Y/n) didn't just single-handedly deliver Billie's best orgasm to her. For the rest of the night, they just spent time getting to know each other, dropping the hate that the media had forced them to have for each other. Hate that neither one of them actually had for each other. It was evident, though, that this was a case of the media putting two brilliant women artists against each other, but they were breaking the cycle.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

.

Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

[fragileporcelaine]

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ brothersbestfriend!rafe saves you from a tragic date

you decide to download some dating apps due to your non-existent love life, after swiping left at some weird matches until a guy catches your eye ethan baker you swipe right intrested at his profile, minutes later a message is sent.

" Hey! your really beautiful " he types

you smile at the sweet message and type back " aw! thank you, your not too bad yourself " a few messages turns into you and ethan constantly messaging for 3 days straight until ethan decides to make a move

" I really do enjoy speaking with you, so would you like to go on a date with me? " you grin because you really do like him you quickly type back " of course! how about that really nice restaurant that just opened in figure eight on friday? "

friday finally comes around and you put on a short jean skirt, red floraly scandalous shirt, you hear a knock on your door and know its ethan.

" hey ethan, its nice to finally meet you! " you say with a cheeky smile on your face, ethan leans down and kisses your cheek.

" hey gorgeous, same with you, the reservation is really soon, we really have to get going " he holds your hand and leads to towards his car, ethan walks straight to the drivers side expecting you to open the passenger seats door yourself, you brush off this one mistake thinking in your head " hmm, maybe its not that serious to him "

" sorry is it okay if i put my headphones in, just nerves you know " you look at him hoping it doesnt bother him

" yeah of course i'd rather talk when we're at the restaurant too not good at multitasking " he says nervously laughing

you eventually get to the restaurant and your about 15 minutes into the date, you like ethan, you have a good feeling about him until you dont.

" how did your last relationship end? " you ask curiously

" oh, well she broke up with me due to my "misogynistic views" she called it apparently saying her job should be cleaning is misogynistic? " he said rolling his eyes

you immediately have a weird feeling in your stomach but brush it off. another 15 minutes go by.

" hey so after this we're going to mine, i have some wine" he confidently says expecting you to agree.

" could you excuse me, i need to go to the bathroom " you stand up and walk away fidgiting with your hands, " i need to get out of here " you think to yourself. you message your brother hoping he responds

" please pick me up this dates going horribly " you rapidly message him. he responds as soon as the text goes through " can't. "

you look through your contacts wondering who else you can message, rafe cameron your brothers bestfriend, you sigh knowing you and his friendship isn't the best, but he's your last resort " please pick me up, this dates tragic and i feel really unsafe " you type hoping he responds, 2 minutes go by, no respond. you walk back to the table tragicly hoping you somehow get out of this. 3 minutes later you hear a slam coming from the entrance.

rafe cameron.

rafe walks towards you plopping his motorcycle helmet on your head " we're going " he says nonchalantly. ethan stands up " who the fuck are you " he says in an agressive tone stepping towards rafe. " one inch closer and your leaving with your nose broken. " ethan steps back almost in fear. you feel your face getting warm as rafe grabs your hand and leads you to the front door holding your hand softly.

rafe hops onto his motorcycle holding your hand making sure you dont hurt yourself, he takes your hands and put them around his waist making sure your secure and safe,

" thank you so much rafe. " you say breaking your silence, rafe doesnt respond and starts speeding away to your house. after a very silent couple of minutes you get to your house and rafe leads you to your front door.

" hey do you want to come in for a second? " you ask rafe hoping he agrees, to your luck he nods and steps inside, you both walk towards the living room and you fall down onto the sofa in relief.

you start rambling " listen im so sorry i know its a friday night and i just took you away from whatever you were doing like im just so sorry and i should of waited and i could of messaged my brother again and like- "

" stop speaking. " rafe says in a soft tone

" excuse me? " you say almost confused.

" i said stop speaking, do you want to know what i was doing? "

you nod waiting for him to continue

" i had a bunch of friends over. "

" oh my gosh im so sorry "

" stop speaking. " he says with a rougher tone " i saw your text i saw you felt unsafe i saw you needed me, i grabbed my helmet i grabbed my keys and i left. i didnt say anything i just got on my bike and i got to you, because i will choose you over everyone else every time. "

you furrow your eyebrows, again waiting for him to explain what he meant. rafe steps towards you looking down at you sitting down.

" what are you- what are you saying? " you say knowing your face is turning red

" i will choose you. "

" okay but what about my brother " you say almost laughing thinking this is a joke

" over your brother every time. "

" what does this mean? " you say feeling something you've never felt before.

rafe crouches to get to your eye-level " i'll show you what this means " rafe kisses you on the lips for a second. " but i'll show you on a different night, when you havent just came back from a shit date. "

rafe walks towards the door not allowing you to get out another word. next thing you know you hear the engine of a motorcycle driving away.

[perseephoneee]

okie dokie does a Dean Winchester x reader fic work? Had an idea way back in s1 when jess first dies, (older sister, who kinda takes sam under her wing) reader ended up meeting dean through sam. They had similar personalities but (reader) was more of a hopeless romantic than Dean. Sam on the other hand could totally see them together but Dean always denied it.

“Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak, you creep” “The hell? I do not do that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

so they left ca and travelled and maybe in s2-3 (doesnt have to be accurate) they end up back in ca because of a case or cause reader called sam for help. (not expecting dean to show up as well) and after shes not in danger, turns out they get along really well.

"Im not an arm rest, dean." "Mhm, then why are you so short?" "I'M 5'3 THATS NORMAL"

and just fluff..? idk man let me know if its not what you want to write, i can totally change it💜

not a steak (dean winchester x f!reader)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ 1k celebration

wow remember when i could actually write things in a timely manner? yeah, me neither. i miss those days (that never existed). whomp whomp.

You don't necessarily remember the exact moment that you met Sam. He's been a constant in your life since you were his TA as an undergraduate, watching this freakishly tall freshman so eager to succeed in your class. He made your heart soft, and he made you feel protective. Even though he was so much bigger than you, a naivety in his persona made you take extra time to ensure he succeeded. He ended up getting an A in the class.

You do remember when you met Dean, however. You had heard stories of Dean from Sam the few times you'd catch lunch outside of school. By this point, you were a grad student, filling the void of the older sibling that Sam unconsciously needed filled. You never pried for too many details, and that's how you got people to shut up really fast. But you did meet Dean right as he left town to look for his Dad. Dean was coarse and dismissive of you as if you were just another roadblock stopping him from taking his brother. When you finally got his attention, it was just to size you up before wordlessly climbing into his car. Sam seemed apologetic, but mostly, you were just worried. You had every right to be. Jessica died a week later.

The thing about you is that you can't let a dead dog lie. Where's the fun in that? You'd much rather figure out ways to raise them.

Sam was brilliant, but he let enough details slip to allow you to research him. And you were a law graduate student; you knew a thing or two about studying. Random newspaper clippings, shoutouts of various names, and blog posts allowed you to figure out the supernatural aspect of his life that he had kept from you. You should've been more surprised, but you were more excited than anything. There was more out there. What a strangely relieving thought.  

This knowledge proved helpful when you realized you had a poltergeist.

The new place you moved into was charming and Victorian, the dream of everyone with a Pinterest board. It was in fairly decent shape, and with your roommates, you guys thought you could polish it up to something livable during your suffering years of graduate school. Unfortunately, the price was too good to be true, which led to the unfortunate circumstance of hauntings culminating in one of your roommates in the hospital, barely alive. You called Sam that night.

"Hey Sam, it's me…" you trailed off at that, feet tucked under you as the machines' beeping cut through the silence. "I need your help."

The next day, he was at your door, enveloping you in a hug. He smelled exactly the same, and you didn't realize how much you missed him. Dean was with him.

"I'm Dean," he nodded, holding out a hand. You raised a brow.

"We've met."

"I would've remembered someone who looks like you," Dean scoffs, an easy smirk on his lips that probably made many women swoon. You just rolled your eyes, going back into your house and hoping Sam followed.

A week later, the boys were still here. This ghost was frustrating, and it was more the principle of it that was pissing you off more than anything. You let the brothers stay at the house since it was safer in numbers and cheaper. Plus, your roommates took a wide berth of the place before returning. A routine developed in the short time they were here. You cooked breakfast, Sam made coffee, and Dean woke up at some point. You and Sam would enjoy the paper before something happened (usually related to the crossword that Dean was totally not interested in), and you ended up bickering with the older Winchester until Sam got fed up with it and shut it down.

"Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak," Sam muttered to Dean when you weren't around, having stormed off to some other corner of the house. Dean almost spit out his coffee.

"The hell? I do not do that. I have no clue what you're talking about."

Sam just nodded, hiding a smirk behind his book as Dean grumbled about not checking you out.

For the first time that week, Sam was out that night. He was following "a lead." What that lead was, no one knew, but it meant you were alone. With Dean. In a house. Without supervision.

You grumbled something about making dinner. Dean followed you.

"Are you lost?" you asked, hands on your hips as Dean plopped himself at the counter.

"I'm following the food."

"Of course you are."

"Please, no more rabbit food," Dean groaned. "I can't take it anymore."

"Oh no, definitely not," you smirked, pulling out some steaks from the fridge you had been saving. Dean's eyes immediately lit up. "You're helping me cook these. I'm not letting your dumb ass sit around while I prepare a meal."

"You're bossy," Dean grumbles but doesn't complain further as he removes his flannel and sets it on the chair. You ignore that he looks really good in a t-shirt and return to grabbing ingredients. To his credit, Dean is good at letting you tell him what to do and following through. He is definitely a better chef than Sam, who has burned many things in your kitchen. Dean is an excellent sous chef. You tell him as such.

"The hell? I am not a sous," he says while furiously stirring butter.

"It's a compliment, you knobhead."

"Knobhead? What 1950s show are you living in?"

This conversation went back and forth for a while. But you finished cooking a meal, which is always considered a success in your book. Dean devoured him almost immediately before you could even finish cutting through it. Then, it was just you attempting to finish your meal in peace. This was difficult, as Dean continuously kept eyeing your food, hoping you might give it to him, and then would complain outwardly when you didn't.

"You're not going to finish it," he drank his beer, once again looking at your dinner. You glared.

"I can finish it."

"A girl like you doesn't finish an entire steak."

That comment pissed you off. You finished your steak in two bites, shocking Dean, and then proceeded to grab his glass of beer and down it in one gulp. You slammed the glass down, raising a brow. "You have no clue what type of girl I am."

You grabbed both your plates and made your way to the kitchen, putting them in the sink and starting to clean the dishes. You barely made it through a plate before Dean pushed you out of the way.

"Dean—"

"I'm not questioning your ability, but in my world, the one who doesn't cook cleans. So, sit your ass down," Dean said before you could chew him out. You bit the inside of your cheek and sat down, still glaring at him as he washed each dish meticulously and put them either in the dishwasher or on the drying rack. When he was done, he threw the dishtowel over his shoulder. The domesticity made you soften. "I'm sorry for earlier."

You blinked, not really expecting any sort of apology from Dean Winchester. You did expect that you would not get anything besides those words.

"I don't understand women."

You laughed at that, leaning on your hand with your elbow on the table. "Aren't you a self-proclaimed ladies' man?"

"I know how to sleep with women, but I don't get what goes through your heads," Dean leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You want one thing and then a different thing, and I can't keep up."

"So, you're admitting you're slow." Dean threw the towel at you. "Women aren't that complicated; men are just bad listeners. You included."

"I can listen."

"Really? What was I frusterated about at dinner?" you challenged, getting off your seat and leaning over the counter. He blinked a few times.

"That I kept asking for your steak?"

"No, that you presumed that as a woman, I couldn't finish a steak."

"Well, that's not what I said," Dean replied, getting defensive. You just rolled your eyes, grabbing the wine bottle on the counter.

"Oh, also, insight into women; they lie about how good men actually are in the bedroom," you winked, leaving the room and taking the wine with you. You could almost hear Dean's jaw drop.

"It ain't a lie, princess," he intercepted you, his stupid legs moving much faster than yours. You frowned but didn't say anything. Dean took a breath, locking eyes with you. "Why do you insist on always pushing my buttons?"

"Because it's fun? Because you're both annoying and easy to annoy?" you shrugged, clutching your wine bottle to your chest. You didn't know why you picked on him, besides the fact he could be an absolute ASS sometimes that needed kicking. No, you suppose it goes back to early schoolyard days where instead of 'flirting,' you'd push the person and maybe claim to the entire class that they had cooties. To this day, you still had no idea what cooties exactly were, just that you never wanted to catch them.

"I think you like me," Dean smirked. He had crowded you against the wall leading to the living room. Your wine was an innocent bystander clutched to your chest. Maybe not as tall as Sam, but you still had to look up to see him. "I'm gonna prove it."

"Excuse me?" you breathed any sort of bite to your words caught in your throat as he reached up to your face and stroked your cheek. His hands found purchase holding your neck, tilting your face even higher and infinitely closer. Dean took the wine bottle out of your hands, your last line of defense, and stepped away for a second to put it back on the counter. His hands found your face again.

"Hey princess," he whispered, voice sultry. "Breathe." You couldn't do such a thing even if you wanted to because his lips were on yours, and he tasted like the draft beer in your fridge and apple pie. He was gentle, too gentle, and you wanted more. Your hands, first unsure of what to do, grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. One of his hands moved to your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. He was everywhere all at once, masculinity encapsulated, and you were drowning in it. He pulled away, letting you breathe, the command you forgot to follow. "I wanted to do that since I saw you."

"Bullshit."

"Honest to god— well, not god, but honest— but then you had to go and be increasingly difficult," Dean scoffed, still holding on to you.

"You don't even remember the first time we met."

"Of course I do; it was a week after my Dad disappeared," Dean responded. "You were wearing pajamas and had a raincoat wrapped around you as you asked Sam not to go so that you could figure it out together. I was curt, and you looked like you wanted to call me a thousand horrible names, but you let it go as we drove away."

You smiled a little at that. "You do remember."

"What can I say? I like pushing your buttons."

You smacked him on the chest, earning a laugh as you fought off your smile. You did finally get your wine and let Dean choose something to watch. About halfway through your movie (and three glasses of pinot noir in), you got distracted by a makeout session that would've made your teenage self swoon, but it didn't progress more than that. Neither of you wanted to go too fast. Most of the time, it was just light conversation, cuddling, and the realization that maybe you two were much more alike than you thought.

Both of you fell asleep like that on the couch, blissfully unaware of the morning light. Sam came home early in the morning, dropping his bags before seeing the both of you entwined on the couch. A smile crossed his face.

"Finally."

taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea @qardasngan @evasmlp

[doodler16]

The way Viv treats her shows reminds me a lot of when I was like 13 and made my first fanfic that got so popular the fame went to my head and the following happened that I also see with Viv:

Keeps introducing more OCs, doesn’t kill the darlings, tortures and puts the least favorites or ones based off people that author hates into unfortunate situations

Ships. Ships everywhere. Even if theyre incompatible, theyre now a thing

Plotholes everywhere

Randomly inserts shit that author thinks is cool or is heavily into at the time even if it makes no sense

Author treats themself as god and anyone who has a problem with the work is just a hater

Author keeps posting trivia in side blogs or qnas and doesnt actually answer stuff in the actual media

All these are pretty accurate and have already happened with Vivziepop multiple times. I remember when I watched a YouTube short interview that featured Vivziepop stating “I’m not afraid to kill a character off 😈” It’s pretty laughable because it’s either a side character nobody will remember or someone who is important to the main cast that isn’t completely dead.

Yeah, a ship has taken over the fandom and by extension the show like Helluva Boss. Yup, Lots of plot holes in Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.

Number 4 is interesting because it has happened many times except Vivziepop just steals from fans and employees especially if she likes your idea (even if it dumb and doesn’t fit the story). The trivia is painfully accurate, it’s not just Vivziepop who does it. Ayy lmao and other content similar to him does that. Even Prime Video did that in livestream that had trivia when Hazbin Hotel was debuting.

“Did you know that Vivziepop’s favorite characters are the red, edgy, super hot, Bambi middle school OC, Alastor and the neglectful father figure who really needs be called out more, super depressed onceler: Lucifer who literally looks more like Charlie’s little twin brother. The playbill had trivia too.

[kichikichiko]

Hi! Can you write the demon brothers with little sister reader? The reader is the 8th of the family. It must be so cute since all the brothers will care so much for their only little sister.

Our little Angel in Hell

This is so cute wtf 😭 Sorry for being so late anon Ive been busy with stuff and only got the motivation do write it now! Hope you enjoy ❤️ Synopsis: HC of the 7 demon brothers with their only sister after Lilith (who's younger than them all) Pairing: PLATONIC OLDER BROTHER! Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub and Belphegor & lil sister! reader Note: Nicknames (Dove : lucy | Goldie: Mammon | Shellfish: Levi | Angel: Asmo | Rose: Satan | Hamster: Beel | Moonshine : Belphie ) CW: I PUT A LIL CAMEO OF MY OBEY ME OC "Kojika" (Asmodeus' part only) IN HERE FOR FUNSIES BUT SHE DOES NOT HAVE ANY EFFECT TO THE STORY AT ALL 🤠 Platonic siblinghood, fluff, hc, not proofread, nothing else!! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Your brothers love you DEARLY. At this rate, "Love" is already an understatement. They would do anything for you and spoil you rotten. You want plushies? Food? Books? Make up? A sacrifical human for a ritual (/j) they'd to it all for YOU.

After losing Lilith, not only did you take it hard but they did as well. Not wanting to lose their only remaining sister, they've become more over protective.

LUCIFER

♤ As the eldest sibling and the head of the family, it is to no surprise that he holds the most composure out of the brothers.

♤ Around his other brothers he appears as "harsh" (but they all know he just cares for them) but around you, he doesnt even try to look stern. Everytime he looks at you his gaze softens and he smiles slightly

♤ "Mammon I'm taking away your credit card privellages" Lucifer sighs while taking away Mammon's credit card for the 5th time this month.

"Give it back Lucifer! An auction for this awesome gold car figure is coming out TOMORROW I NEED IT!" The white hair demon groaned.

You walked into the scene with a smile "Hi Lucy, is it okay if I get this thing on sale tomorrow? Ive been waiting for it to come out for a while now."

Lucifer's frowned expression turned soft in an instant and he gave you a nod "of course, just don't spend too much."

"OH FUCK YOU LUCIFER" Mammon screamed.

♤ If hypothetically he doesnt allow you to get something, instead of giving you a glare, he pats your head and shakes his head a little "Sorry Dove, but not today. We can get it another time okay?"

MAMMON

◇ Mammon is the greediest among his 7 siblings. He is the embodiment of the deadly sin, greed anyways.

◇ He HATES sharing and he doesnt hide that, but with you? He is more lenient.

◇ Don't get me wrong, he hesitates and tells you no sometimes, but other times if not most times, he is more willing to give you something or lend you something, albeit with his snarky/ stuck up personality 😭.

◇ youve been staring at a certain display case everytime you and Mammon pass by, and the yellowed eye demon couldnt help but notice it.

◇ At first he wanted to ignore it, but seeing at your longing/ awed gaze he folded.

◇ "Oi Goldie, you want that?" He pointed to the item on the display case, his hand on his hip trying to act tough and unbothered.

"Uhm.. yes but I don't have any mo-"

Mammon cut you off and walks into the store. "C'mon let's go get it."

LEVIATHAN

♧ Levi loves games, he's always cooped up in his room and rarely comes out.

♧ When he plays a multiplayer game, everyone knows how competitive this demon can get

♧ So to spare themselves from the death glares and the not so PG 13 name calling, they avoid playing him... well unless they truly wanna pick a fight with him.

♧ When you play games with him though, he's a completely different person.

♧ He's patient and kind when teaching you the basics

♧ During your first few games, he'd allow himself to take the loss

♧ He wont admit it, but he loves to see the way your eyes shine and how youre mpre determined

♧ This way, you'll play the game longer and spend more time with Levi

♧ [ROUND 1: PLAYER 2 WINS]

Your eyes shine and you smiled widely "YAY I WON! Beat that Levi! I just started the game and I won against you on. The. First. Try!"

Levi rolled his eyes and smirked "Don't get too cocky Shellfish, I might just beat your ass in the next round"

"Bring it on big bro" You grinned, holding the controller tightly.

ASMODEUS

♡ He's aware you've lost the only female influence in your life (Lilith)

♡ you being surrounded by so many masculine energy worries Asmo

♡ Not wanting you to lose your feminine side, he decided to take on the role of being your main "female influence" in your life.

♡ He is the perfect man for the job

♡ He will take you out for shopping, to the salon, kareoke, photo booths, manicures and pedicures, spas. You name it he'll do it

♡ He's even be the one you go to for sex ed/ advice bc.. well come on

♡ If youre into none of that that's fine too, he'll be your irl diary and listen to whatever you have to say... even hot boiling tea you cant keep to yourself😁

♡ "Asmo!! Are you free?" You opened the door to his room with a smile

Your brother looks at you through his mirror as he was doing his skincare "Yes sort of. Why?"

Your smile turned into a grin as you closed the door behind him and jumped onto his bed "I've got delicious tea"

Seeing your hands on your cheeks and your facial expression made Asmodeus return the grin "Oh yeah? Is it piping hot tea?" Finally facing you as he asked

"Piping.HOT!" You responded unable to contain your excitement "Miss Kojika was finally caught going out with Simeon"

"No way you better not be kidding Angel. Wasn't she just complaining about not liking Angels before?"

"Yeah but you see the way her cheeks turn pink at the MENTION of the Angel Simeon" you made sure to remind him.

♡ The conversation went on for hours, and both you and your brother are happy to have someone to talk to like this.

SATAN

□ Somewhat simillar to his older brother Levi. He gets impatient and is angry quite often, especially at the mention of Lucifer.

□ His way of escape is through his love of cats OR his abode, his sanctuary: his personal library.

□ During the times he disappears, it's a sign that he does not want to be bothered by anyone. And the only one who can bother him is you.

□ He wont exactly call it "bothering" when it comes to you, because he knows you have good intentions and only want to help him.

□ Especially if he just came out of Lucifers office after a heated argument

□ You were in the kitchen when you heard the door to Lucifer's office being slammed shut, followed along with heavy footsteps stomping away. You knew instantly that it was Satan's footstep.

Without wasting another second, you finished up the dishes and went straight to the hallway leading to his abode.

"Satan?" You knocked. "It's me, (name)"

After a few seconds, you heard a muffled "come in" and you twisted the door knob open. "I heard you walking out of Lucifer's office before."

Both you and Satan knows that he didnt "walk out" but you both decided to not correct it.

"Just another fight" he answered quickly while reading a book. "Same as always."

Slowly walking towards him, you took a seat beside him and smiled softly "Dont listen to him. You know he can make no sense sometimes... most of the times" you shruged. "Besides Im here for you. Whaddya say we do something fun?"

Satan's stern face turned soft, and when he made eye contact with you, he smiled "Sure. Thank you, Little Rose."

□ You've got his back, and he's got yours.

BEELZEBUB

♤ the hungriest brother. He just never stops eating.

♤ Whenever anyone catches Beel, he's always got something in his hands to munch on.

♤ And sometimes he's not willing to share his food.

♤ Whenever you ask though he's willing to give you a bite or 2. Hell maybe even give you the whole darn thing if he sees you TRULY enjoying the food.

♤ "Wow you seem to REALLY like the snack more than I do, Hamster..." he'd joke, mouth still full.

♤ Whenever youre feeling hungry he'd take the time out of his day to cook you (and him) some food.

♤ When he's feeling experimental and want to try a new recepie, he'd call you down to try his food and if you like it he smiles earnestly.

♤ Nothing makes Beel more happy (other than food) than seeing you enjoy his cooking.

♤ Even if you ask for it or not, he starts cooking for you more often. It's his love language and you dont seem to mind it. Cooking is a tedious job indeed and you appreciate your brother's efforts to keep your tummy full and happy.

♤ VICE VERSA! You love to bake and cook for your brothers.

♤ If you dont have the talent for either, Beel will be the first gobble up your food and give you a big thumbs up in approval. While the rest of your brothers have a hard time even swallowing the first bite

♤ Beel appreciates your effort and doesnt want you to become disheartened.

♤ But next time he'll supervise you in the kitchen and give you some tips and tricks

BELPHEGOR

♧ SILLY GUYYY

♧ You and Belphie are both the younger siblings (Beel as well but hes regarded as older than Belphie)

♧ And Youngest tend to stick together!

♧ You like having sleepovers, even though its a little bit of a silly ideas because you already live in the same estate as your brothers.

♧ Theyre usually busy so whenever you want this specific want of yours to be endulged you always go to Belphie.

♧ and he never says no to sleeping.

♧ With Belphie you both like to build tent fords together and watch movies together while eating popcord (that you both made sure Beel does not see nor smell because he'll pounce on the both of you before you have the chance to walk out of the kitchen)

♧ Other times you both would go online to buy matching onsies for your sleepover

♧ You both do this so often you end up having a closet full of matching onsies together.

♧ Sleeping with Belphie is indeed very relaxing. And Belphie likes having you around especially

♧ Usually the avatar of sloth put on a pair of Pyjamas and goes to sleep instantly, however with you around, he'll make the effort to put on essential oils, ambiance (if you'd like) and night lights 🤍🤍

♧ "Wow Belphie you put a lot of effort for the sleepover today!" You smiled looking at his room in awe

Belphie smiled and yawned "Of course, anything for you Moonshine. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

♧ Safe to say you both will sleep in to the point your other brothers will have to drag you both out of bed to start the day

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼����𖤣❀

Masterlist

Requesting

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 19

Lena gives Kara the right of way, and lets herself be led into the kitchen. When they enter the room, Kelly and Alex straighten at the sight of them, while Esme remains focused on pawing thru the fridge for the elusive cider.

Kelly's gaze remains gentle and perceptive-- Kara sees her focus dip to their joined hands before sliding to her wife. Alex, meanwhile, is scrutiny incarnate, her gaze hard as she scans Lena imperiously.

"Hi," Lena says quietly.

"Hi Lena," Kelly returns easily. "I'm glad you could come."

Lena relaxes a little. "Me too. Thank you for having me. You have a lovely home."

"Probably not what you're used to," Alex says, her tone carefully neutral. Kara spots Kelly's grip tightening in warning around Alex's hand.

"It's been a while since I've been home," Lena allows. "So this is a nice change of pace, for sure."

"Oh? Where do you live?"

"I split my time between Metropolis and Star City when I'm not on tour," Lena replies easily enough. "But of the two I consider Metropolis more my home. I grew up there."

"I didn't know that," Kara says.

"Mhmmm," Lena hums. "We in the city most of the year because of my brother's band. When they weren't performing, they were auditioning, so it was just easier to live there full time."

"You have a brother?" Esme says, perking up.

Kara feels Lena tense a little, suddenly realizing she might have shared too much. But it's too late to back pedal.

"We're not in touch anymore."

Sensing Lena's discomfort, Esme thankfully doesn't pry any further. Kelly keeps the silence from stretching too far.

"Well, we happy to have you. We figured you could share the guest room with Kara--"

"Or you can take the couch," Alex inserts. She studies Lena for a reaction, but Kara comes to her rescue.

"With me is fine," she says. "Unless you all fall asleep to the witchy thing--"

"Hexed! Mom, Lena watches Hexed!"

Finally, Alex relents, her posture sagging a little as she lets her guard down. "Then she's got good taste."

"She's got a crush on Samantha Arias," Kelly whispers theatrically.

Kara barks a laugh as Alex splutters indignantly. "I do not!"

"Do too!" Esme joins in the teasing.

"Don't worry, baby," Kelly assures her wife playfully. "She's on my hall pass too."

That makes Alex stop. "She is?"

Kara opens her mouth to mention having met Sam, but Lena nudges her sharply. She looks over and clicks her mouth shut when Lena gives her a look that says 'not now'.

"Well," Kelly says, even as Alex still gawks at her, "looks like we need to stock up on cider and spooky snacks, so why don't we head to the store while you two settle in?"

It's not the most subtle segue, but Kara is grateful for a chance to talk with Lena privately. Once Esme is shuttled off into the car, Alex gives them one last hard look before closing and locking the front door behind her.

Lena sighs. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"It helps that Esme's your biggest fan," Kara offers with a wry grin. Then she sighs. "Let's sit."

Lena nods, and they sit on opposite ends of the couch, orienting themselves to face each other. Lena looks nervous, and though Kara's first instinct is to ease that, she holds back. What was it that Kelly had said? Growing pains.

"Those pictures sucked to see, Lena," Kara says carefully. "I understand they were outside your control, but... it still hurt."

"I know. I just-- don't know how I can fix it. Like I said... it comes with the job. I signed up for it... but you didn't. I get that."

Lena sounds miserable, and looks it too. But Kara doesnt have any more ideas than Lena does.

"Maybe being with you means signing up for it," Kara allows, thinking out loud. "But what happens when I start being part of the scandal. What happens to Esme?"

Swallowing thickly, Lena lifts a helpless shoulder. "I don't know."

"Me neither. But it's something I have to consider." Kara slumps further into the cushion. "Also, I-- I don't know where I stand with you."

Concern flashed across Lena's features. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, but... I'm in your court, Lena. I'm... an intruder. And I care enough about you that when I see something concerning, I want to ask about you, but.... I don't know if I'm allowed to."

"You can ask me anything," Lena says.

"Okay." Kara meets her gaze and holds her. "Why didn't you want to meet with Morgan Edge alone?"

Lena's cheeks lose all color in an instant. Her entire body seems too lock, her hands clasped in a white knuckled grip.

"I don't expect an answer," Kara says quietly. "But that's what I mean. I don't feel like I have the right to ask about this. And I suspect plenty of other subjects will make me feel the same way."

Lena stares at her, eyes wide. Kara reaches out to clasp her wrist, but Lena pulls away. Hurt lances through Kara's chest, but the tight sound of Lena's breathing concerns her more.

"Lena--?"

"What else," Lena croaks.

Kara hesitates. "Lena..."

"What. Else."

Taking a deep breath, Kara carefully forges ahead. "We started this content to simply see where it goes. Do you still feel that way?"

Lena doesn't respond.

"Because it doesn't feel casual anymore. Joining you on tour was certainly impulsive, but it wasn't casual. I thrust myself into your life, and you invited me to, but... I can't really bring you into mine, can I?"

"I'm here now," Lena says, voice tight.

Kara nods. "And I'm grateful for that. But... you wouldn't be able to go to the store with Esme to get cider. Or even take a walk around the block."

Lena releases a short breath. "No. Not without putting her in danger."

"I know you would welcome Esme into your world as warmly as you welcomed me. But for her it would be temporary. For me, if I choose this, it would be permanent, and complete."

She watches Lena inhale again as though to speak, but she doesn't.

"I don't think we'll find a solution before the others get back," Kara continues. "But I wanted you to know where I'm at. What I have to think about."

Lena nods. "I understand. Thank you."

Finally, she meets Kara's gaze. A small smile, but it and the glint in her eyes are sad. She swallows several times before she's able to speak again.

"Can I... do you mind if I take a minute before the others get back?"

Kara nods readily. "Of course."

Lena rises stiffly, then retreats to the powder room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Tears burn at Kara's own eyes, but relief overwhelms them. Relief that the unspoken burden of worry and uncertainty that has been weighing on her, has now lifted in the speaking of it. Perhaps it's selfish of her to now make her concerns now Lena's burden as well, but... would it have been fair to either of them to keep it to herself?

By the time Alex's car pulls back into the driveway a few minutes later, Kara's hands stop trembling, and Lena re-emerges with clear eyes. Their eyes catch as the front door opens, and Lena offers a reassuring nod: whatever happens next, it won't affect tonight.

True to Lena's unspoken promise, the evening proceeds without a hitch. She gamely weathers Esme's velcro presence, listening with interest as she rambles about school gossip and the boy she likes in her history class. And after dinner, they watch Sam bewitch and enchant on screen while munching on sweet snacks and sipping cider out of mugs shaped like skulls and cats and candy corn.

That night, however, the air grows taut between them the moment the guest room door shuts.

"I can take the couch," Lena murmurs.

Kara pauses. "Do you want to?"

Lena shrugs. "No. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable--"

"Hey," Kara interrupts softly. She closes the space between them. "What we talked about today came from a place of love. It hasn't made me uncomfortable." She hesitates. "Has it made you uncomfortable?"

"I mean... a little. I don't like uncertainty, much. And with us in a gray area, I don't know what's... appropriate."

Kara smiles. "Sharing a bed can be as appropriate as we want it to be."

"Kara..."

"I plan to sleep on the right side, fully pajama'd. I don't figure we need to make things any less certain than that."

Lena chuckles in spite of herself, but isn't quite convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Kara assures her.

Finally, she gets a small sigh of resignation. "Okay."

Kara's efforts are enough to banish the tension for a few minutes, but it comes back in full force once they crawl under the blankets. They face away from each other, but Kara can feel the stiffness in Lena's frame, a tension that takes root in her own limbs.

It lasts for several long silent minutes before Kara speaks up.

"You know I wouldn't have said anything, if I didn't care. Right?"

Lena sniffles. "I know."

---

The next morning, Lena lingers long enough to have breakfast with Esme and see her off to school. Once she clears her dishes, Lena collects her overnight bag and offers Kelly and Alex a soft smile.

"Thank you for having me," she says.

"Our pleasure," Kelly returns. "Thank you for coming. I know it was a long trip, and it meant the world to Esme."

"She's wonderful, truly. You've raised an amazing person."

Kara escorts Lena to the driveway. Once Lena stows her bag in the back seat, she turns back to Kara with soft, sad eyes.

"You're not coming back, are you."

Somehow, Lena saying it first makes it easier for Kara to concede. She shakes her head. "No. I don't think so."

"And us?"

Kara takes Lena's hand in hers, and Lena twines their fingers together.

"I care about you too much," Kara says, "to do this halfway."

Lena anxiously rocks on the balls of her feet, lips pulling against burgeoning tears. "Yeah." She manages to meet Kara's gaze. "So, back to normal life?"

"Ehhhhh...." Kara hedges. "The fact I dropped my job the first chance I got is a clue I might not like it very much. Maybe I'll look for something I'm more passionate about."

That brings beaming smile to Lena's face. "That sounds like a great idea. You deserve to find... whatever you're looking for."

Kara lifts her hand, cupping Lena's cheek. "And you, Lena Luthor, are stronger than you think. You deserve to work with people you trust."

She hopes Lena understands her meaning, and from the stunned half-open set of her mouth, Kara suspects she does.

Kara leans in one last time, kissing the corner of Lena's mouth. "Thank you, Lena. For everything."

Lena nods against her. "You too, Kara."

And then Kara watches Lena climb behind the wheel and carefully drive away. As she stares at the winking tail lights, even though her chest aches and her eyes burn, she can't help but feel as though a brand new life is just waiting to unfold.

[hobieszeze]

Street kid (and him as an adult who is stable. And psa a lot of these are him as an adult, you can tell which ones are him as an adult)

Street kid hobie who:

Taught himself how to cook, as well as started cooking for others in his community who didnt know how to but also needed food

As an adult he volunteers daily after protests to help make a differ and change in others lives

As an adult he has probably took in multiple different homeless kids or teens or told them where to go to be safe (we do see that with gwen in the movie as he lets her stay and she kinda ran away from home, and he was there for her)

Probably has nightmares from the unsafe streets he mightve been in, scared about cops causing harm where a lot of homeless people are.

Has witnessed homeless people get framed from osborn and the cops take them away even though they didnt do anything wrong

Street kid hobie who really got to see how horrible the world is and can be, learning it very quickly and really without anyone to lean on

Street kid hobie who had parental figures at the community volunteering for poor people (prob middle class people trying to help those who have it worse since the rich people were like osborn)

Street kid hobie as an adult whod literally donate and help get more systems stable for those who are homeless.

Street kid hobie who wonders what his parents were like and wishes to have a family

Street kid hobie as an adult who finds love and wants a family with them (aka reader or ocs!)

Street kid hobie who doesnt realize that everything hes done for others by giving back and helping his community has changed tons of peoples lives

Street kid hobie who teens/younger adults then him visit him and tell him how much he changed their lives and how much he helped them. And the teens/younger adults go on a rant about how they looked up to him as their father figure or older brother figure

Hobie who ends up crying after realizing he spread what he wanted to in the world and did what he wanted. He helped those and saved those like the way he wanted. He offered a figure for them that he needed.

Street kid hobie who still gives back or does whatever he can to his community whenever he has the options to, as even the tiniest things make a big difference.

Street kid hobie and his partner (the reader or ocs!)adopting a kid or a couple of kids who need homes<3

This isnt much of an xreader its much more of headcanons but still! Love for hobie fr fr🩷🩷

[whereslynx]

Can you write one with cesar being in love with yn (she a gangmember too, age like maybe 18/19 or so) but she already has a bf but he doesnt know? (Bf can be in the gang too, maybe oscar or sad eyes or joker…) thank u 😘

a/n: no problem! uh, the more i proof read my work, the more i realised how it got slightly angsty. so i am super sorry if that’s not what you wanted. i just figured it would since oscar is his older brother, yk?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The late afternoon air buzzed with quiet tension as the crew continued their meeting, everyone grouped around the cars parked in their usual spot. You flicked the lighter in your hand one more time, eyes glancing over the circle where Spooky, Sad Eyes, Joker, and a few other Santos were deep in discussion. The mood was serious, but there was a certain swagger to it, a confidence that came from knowing they ran things around here.

Spooky, as always, commanded the conversation with his calm but authoritative tone. “We got the supply coming in, but it’s the drop that’s risky. Everyone’s eyes are on us right now, so we need to play this one real tight,” he said, scanning the group with a level gaze. “Ain’t no room for mistakes.”

Sad Eyes, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, chimed in, his voice low but sharp. “We can make the drop easy if we split up. Hit ‘em from different angles. Less eyes on us, less heat.”

Joker, ever the joker, couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Or we could just roll up with the whole crew, guns blazing. Problem solved.” He laughed, but when Spooky shot him a look, he quickly cleared his throat, trying to get serious. “Kidding, kidding.”

You caught the slight smirk on Oscar’s face before he shifted back into his stance as a leader, nodding thoughtfully at Sad Eyes. “Nah, Sad’s got the right idea. We’ll split into pairs. You and Joker take the south side,” he said, pointing to Sad Eyes. “I’ll handle the main drop with you.” He shifted his gaze to you, pointing, as you look up at him with a nod. “The rest, hold our shit down ‘round the streets.” He ordered, his gaze flickering between the rest of the Santos. “We keep it clean and no one gets caught up.” He said, but it was more like an order—a threat.

As they laid out the plan, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander again. You’d been in the game for a while now—just as long as any of them, and you knew how these moves worked. But tonight, it wasn’t the job that had you distracted. It was something—or rather, someone else.

“Y/N, you with us?” Spooky’s voice snapped you back to the present. His eyes were on you now, along with the rest of the crew. He always seemed to know when someone wasn’t paying attention.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said quickly, straightening up and putting the lighter back in your pocket. “Just thinking ‘bout the drop.”

Sad Eyes gave you a knowing look from across the group, his lips curling up slightly at the edges. “You sure, Y/N? Seemed like your mind was somewhere else,” he teased, though there was something more in his eyes. Something that told you he had an idea of what was on your mind.

“Nah, I’m focused,” you shot back, keeping your voice casual. “Just don’t want us getting caught slipping.”

Joker chuckled, clearly loving the tension in the air. “Better keep your head in the game then, Y/N. Don’t want Spooky getting on your ass.”

Oscar rolled his eyes at Joker’s comment but didn’t say anything, turning back to the group. “Alright, we’re done here. Get everything in place, and we’ll move tomorrow night. No mistakes.”

The meeting wrapped up, but the undercurrent between you and Sad Eyes lingered. There was always something there, something unspoken but undeniable. Little did he know, though, that you were already spoken for.

And not just by anyone. By someone in the same crew.

As everyone started breaking off, chatting in smaller groups, Sad Eyes drifted closer to you. He leaned against the car beside you, his eyes catching yours. “You know,” he said, voice low so no one else would hear, “you’ve been quiet today. What’s up with that?”

You shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. “Just thinking ‘bout business.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper now. “You sure it’s just business? ‘Cause I’ve been getting this feeling… like maybe there’s something you’re not telling me.”

The intensity of his gaze was impossible to ignore. You could feel your heart rate picking up, the pressure building. Sad Eyes had no idea, and part of you hated keeping it from him. But the other part of you knew how complicated things could get if he found out about the person you were really with. If he knew you were with Oscar—thee Spooky. Everything would change. Not just the relationship with the Santos, but the respect you had in the crew.

You didn’t fear much, but you did fear the possibility of your crew disregarding your efforts in the Santos because of your relationship with Spooky.

You shrugged off Sad Eyes’ words, keeping your tone light. “Shiiit, I’m good, Sad. Really. Just focused on what we gotta do, that’s all.”

But you could feel his eyes on you, studying your face, like he was trying to peel back the layers of what you weren’t saying. For a moment, you thought he might push it, ask more questions, dig deeper. But then he let out a small sigh, shaking his head with a faint smile, the tension easing.

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll let it slide… for now,” he said, his voice still laced with curiosity. “Just don’t keep me in the dark too long. You know how I get.”

Before you could respond, Joker’s voice cut through the air. “Yo, Sad! We hittin’ this show or what? Get your ass in the car!”

Sad Eyes looked over his shoulder, smirking as Joker revved the engine like a show-off. Then, with one last glance at you, he pushed himself off the car and nodded. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling the weight of everything still unsaid between you both. “Later.”

He jogged over to Joker’s car, sliding into the passenger seat as the engine roared to life. As they pulled away, you stood there for a moment, the quiet of the street settling around you. The truth still hung heavy between you and Sad Eyes, but for now, it would stay buried.

For now.

You glanced up, catching sight of Cesar standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a wall with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on you, like always, that quiet intensity in his eyes. It was something you’d grown used to over time, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. His expression was hard to read, but there was always that undercurrent of something more than just casual interest. It somewhat reminded you of how Oscar gazed at you before you two had gotten together.

Cesar was younger than most of the guys in the Santos, still rough around the edges, but he had this presence about him. The kind that made people listen when he spoke, even if he wasn’t saying much. He had to work twice as hard to prove himself, not just because of his age, but because he was trying to step out of Oscar’s shadow. He wasn’t just trying to belong; he was trying to show everyone he deserved to be there.

You could tell he was watching you again, like he was waiting for something—maybe for you to say something first, maybe for a chance to get a little closer. He always had that look, like he was holding back, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how.

But you knew Cesar, and you knew that look well enough to understand what it meant. He had a way of making things complicated without even trying.

You flashed him a small smile, nodding your head in his direction. “You good, Cesar?”

He blinked, as if just realizing you’d caught him staring, snapping out of whatever thoughts had him so distracted. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just… thinkin’.” His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way he did when he was trying to play off how nervous he actually felt. His eyes flicked toward you, then darted away like he was scared you’d catch too much in them. “Thinking, huh,” You laughed, almost like a gesture to tell him you knew it was bullshit without saying it, “Right, so we’ve both been thinking this whole meeting, huh.” You tilted your head, sarcasm lacing your tone.

“About what?” You crossed your arms, letting your weight shift to one side as you studied him. You already had a pretty good idea of what was running through his mind, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. Cesar wasn’t the type to just come out and say things, and you enjoyed watching him try to navigate through whatever he was feeling.

He hesitated, his lips parting as if to answer, but then closing again just as quickly. “Nothin’ important,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders like he wasn’t sure how to make the words come out right. He didn’t want to look at you, not directly, and it was kind of cute how awkward he got around you sometimes.

But you weren’t about to let him off that easy. “C’mon, Cesar, spill it. You’re not exactly good at hiding when something’s on your mind,” you teased lightly, taking a step closer, your gaze still fixed on him. You saw the way his jaw tensed, like he was fighting himself—wanting to say something but holding back.

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, there was that same intensity, the same look that always made you feel like he was seeing right through you. But he quickly looked away again, dropping his hands into his pockets. “Just… wonderin’ how things are gonna play out, you know?” He cleared his throat, avoiding the real answer, still dancing around the edges of what he really wanted to say.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how hard he was trying to keep it together. You knew what this was about—he’d been like this for a while now, ever since the tension between you two started to build. He didn’t know about Spooky, and part of you wondered if that’s why he was always watching you, waiting for a moment to step in. You could see it in his eyes, that quiet yearning he tried to hide. But this was Cesar, and he wasn’t going to make the first move. Not with all the history hanging over his head.

You bit back a smile, watching him squirm a little more, enjoying how flustered he was. “Well, whatever you’re thinking about, don’t overthink it too much. You’ll drive yourself crazy,” you said, your tone playful, but there was a weight behind your words. You weren’t ready to let him in on your secret, not yet.

There was something in the way Cesar looked at you, something you’d noticed since you got jumped in, but never called out. It was like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. You weren’t blind; you knew Cesar had feelings for you, had caught the way he stared a little too long, how he got flustered when you teased him. But there was a problem—a big one.

The streets weren’t a place for soft feelings. There were rules, unspoken ones, and messing around with someone else’s girl was a quick way to cause problems—big ones. You hadn’t told anyone about your relationship yet because, well, sometimes keeping things under wraps was safer. But Cesar was making it hard. Real hard.

Cesar shifted awkwardly, his foot scuffing at the dirt as he trailed off. “I was just, uh…” His voice dropped a little, barely audible over the street noise. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. You know, sometime. Just us.”

You felt your chest tighten slightly, catching the nervous energy coming off him. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with all the things he wasn’t saying. César was younger than most in the crew, but he had heart. He was smart, loyal, always there when things went sideways. You had a soft spot for him, sure, but this… this was complicated. There was no denying that the kid had feelings for you—he’d made it pretty clear in his own awkward, quiet way—but things weren’t that simple.

Cesar’s cheeks flushed just a little, and he quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to hide the nerves that were so obvious in his body language. “I mean… nothing serious. Just thought we could, I don’t know, talk. Get to know each other more.”

His voice wavered slightly, betraying the casual tone he was aiming for. There it was—that awkward, hopeful tone that always tugged at your heart a little, even if you weren’t about to admit it. Cesar wasn’t smooth, not like some of the other guys in the crew, and that innocence made his feelings for you all the more obvious.

You sighed inwardly, knowing this was a delicate situation. Cesar wasn’t just any guy—he was part of the crew, and messing with his emotions could cause a ripple effect. But beyond that, he was Oscar’s little brother. That added a whole different layer of complication. You were already navigating enough as it was, trying to keep your relationship with Spooky under wraps. The last thing you needed was César catching feelings for you.

But the way he looked at you, with that quiet, intense gaze, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment—it made it harder to brush him off. He had that sincerity, that almost naïve sense of care that was rare in the life you led. Most people in the gang had walls built high, but Cesar? His were still only half-built, and part of you didn’t want to be the one to finish the job.

You pressed your lips together, glancing away for a moment to collect your thoughts. How do you tell a kid like Cesar that this wasn’t going to happen without crushing him? You didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, you had to be careful. The last thing you needed was word getting around that Spooky’s girl was flirting with his little brother. The fallout could be messy.

You finally looked back at him, a small, almost sympathetic smile on your lips. “Hang out, huh?” You kept your tone light, teasing just a little, though there was a trace of hesitation in your voice. “What kind of hangout are we talking?”

Cesar’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, the hope in them made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just talking about kicking it. You knew that. He knew that. But you also knew he wasn’t going to come right out and say it—not yet, at least. His feelings were written all over his face, though, and you could see him struggling to keep it cool, like he didn’t want to scare you off.

“I dunno,” he said, his voice softer now, almost shy. “Maybe just… hang. Talk. Get away from all this for a minute, you know?”

You could tell he was testing the waters, trying to gauge your reaction, and for a second, you almost wished things were different. In another life, maybe. But this wasn’t that life, and you couldn’t afford to let this go any further.

You sighed again, this time audibly, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. “Cesar,” you started, your voice gentle but firm, “you know we’re in deep with the Santos right now. I’m not sure it’s the best time for… whatever this is.”

His face fell just a little, the hope dimming in his eyes as he looked down at the ground. He shifted his feet, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but you could see the hurt creeping in around the edges. “Yeah, I get it,” he muttered, forcing a small smile. “I was just thinking.. never mind.”

Before you could respond, you felt someone’s presence approaching behind you, the familiar swagger in his steps making you mutter a curse under your breath. Great timing.

“Yo, you ready to bounce or what?” a deep voice asked, cutting through the tension. You turned to see Oscar—Spooky—walking up, his usual unreadable expression in place. His eyes, however, lingered on you just a little longer than they probably should have, a subtle look passing between the two of you that no one else seemed to catch.

You felt Cesar’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, confusion and something like suspicion flickering in his gaze.

You cleared your throat, your casual tone betraying the tension coiled in your chest as you pushed off the car. “Yeah, I’m good. We done here?” Your words felt light, but the atmosphere had shifted. It was thick now, like the air before a storm—heavy, waiting for something to break.

Oscar gave a brief nod, his eyes flicking over to Cesar for a second, scanning the scene like he could sense the same shift you felt. “Yeah, we’re done.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, his voice low but steady, “You need a ride?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” you replied, forcing a small smile. But there was no mistaking it—the air between the three of you had changed, heavy with unspoken things.

Cesar stood a few paces away, frowning as he glanced between you and Oscar. His brow furrowed like he was trying to put the pieces together, but something just didn’t quite fit. “You two, uh… you cool or something?” he asked, his voice uncertain, like he was testing the waters.

Oscar didn’t flinch. His gaze hardened, a subtle shift in his posture as he met Cesar’s eyes. The look was cool, calculating—his usual calmness, but there was an edge there, one that spoke volumes. “We’re cool, lil’ homie. Why?”

Cesar shifted his weight, swallowing hard as his confusion deepened. He tried to play it cool, but the uncertainty was clear in his voice. “No reason. Just… wondering.” His eyes darted between you and Oscar again, like he was chasing down a truth that was just out of reach.

You could feel the walls tightening. This wasn’t going to be easy. You weren’t one for games, not when it came to this. Not with Cesar. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him or drag this out longer than it needed to be.

You exhaled, stepping closer to Cesar, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Look, Cesar. There’s something you don’t know.” You tried to keep it calm, to keep it light, but your words came out heavier than you’d meant.

His eyes locked on yours, confusion etched in his expression. “What do you mean?” He took a small step back, his gaze flicking between you and Oscar, his instinctive suspicion rising.

You glanced over at Oscar, who stood still, arms crossed, but his eyes—those sharp, yellow eyes—were fixed on you. He nodded ever so slightly, giving you that silent go-ahead. It was your call, and now was the time.

You swallowed, then let it out in one breath. “I’m with someone. I’ve been seeing someone for a while.”

Cesar blinked, his brow furrowing deeper. “Wait, what? Who?” His voice was a little higher now, his brain racing to process this new information.

Your gaze moved back to Oscar, who hadn’t budged, but the quiet intensity of his presence was there. You let the words come out softly, without hesitation. “Oscar.” You didn’t need to say more. It was obvious. But you said it anyway. “I’m with him.”

Cesar’s eyes widened, his expression frozen in a mix of disbelief and shock. His mouth moved, but no words came out at first. It was as if the world had shifted on its axis, and he was still trying to catch up. “Spooky? You’re with Spooky?”

You nodded, your voice soft, but firm. “Yeah. It’s been on the low for a minute. Didn’t want to make a thing out of it.” You glanced at Oscar again. His expression remained steady, but the look he gave you was filled with something softer now. There was a flicker of something that might’ve been pride, or understanding—maybe both.

Cesar stood there, stunned. His face shifted between emotions, confusion, surprise, hurt. You could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to piece this all together, and it made your stomach twist. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you couldn’t hide this anymore.

He shook his head, disoriented. “I didn’t know… I wouldn’t have—” His voice cracked slightly, the hurt more evident in his tone now. “I didn’t mean to—”

You quickly shook your head, stepping closer to him. “It’s alright, Cesar,” you said, your voice soft, trying to calm the hurt you could see in his eyes. “I get it. You didn’t know. But now you do.”

Cesar exhaled, running his hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. His gaze dropped for a second as he gathered himself. When he looked back at you, there was that tight jaw of his, the look of someone who was fighting to keep his cool. “Damn. I really didn’t see that coming,” he muttered, shaking his head, his voice low.

Oscar, who had been quiet until now, spoke with that calm but firm tone of his. “Ain’t nothing to worry about, lil’ homie. We cool.”

Cesar’s gaze flicked to Oscar, and you could tell there was a flicker of uncertainty there. He was still piecing it all together, and that was fine. He would come around. He was tough. But there was a slight tightening around his eyes, the disappointment too heavy to hide.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re cool,” he muttered, his voice tight as he glanced at you one last time. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off, his steps heavy and deliberate, like the weight of the moment was still pressing down on him.

You watched him go, feeling a pang of guilt tug at your chest. It wasn’t like this had been easy for you either. But it was out now. And things would change, for better or worse.

Oscar’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you close, his body warmth a comfort in the sudden cold of the moment. His fingers tightened slightly around you as he leaned in, his voice low and steady. “You think he’ll be alright?”

You sighed, leaning into his side, letting yourself relax just a little bit. “He’s tough. He’ll figure it out.”

Oscar shrugged, but there was no doubt in his voice. “He’ll be fine. We cool.”

You let the silence settle around you for a moment, the weight of it still there. The guilt, the uncertainty. But you knew, deep down, that this was the life you had chosen—complicated, messy, and real. But at the end of the day, you were with the person you wanted to be with, no matter how complicated or difficult that might make things.