bryan-writes

[bryan-writes]

Hello my loves!!

I’m currently working on a JJ Maybank fanfic and haven’t been writing as many oneshots… is there anything y’all would like to see me write?

I’d love any requests for oneshots, blurbs, anything short!

Xoxo🫶

[bryan-writes]

Hello lovelies!!

For those of you who have been reading my creepypasta fic I have some news!

I started the fic last summer and was super excited and started writing it without a real plan, so I’ve decided to delete it and rework it a bit so it flows better! I’d like to have a better plan for it (including a posting schedule and full plot!)

Thank you guys sm!! I’ll have it started up again by the end of next month :))

[bryan-writes]

Love is in the details— Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: You’re helping Fred redecorate the flat above Weaslys’ Wizard Wheezes :)

I wrote it w fem! Reader in mind but there aren’t any pronouns mentioned (correct me if I’m wrong pls!), domestic fluff, short and super sweet!

Lettme know if y’all like this one :), I wanna write more oneshots! Pls send requests if there’s anything you’d like to see me write <3

The beautiful dividers are by @cafekitsune :)

The flat above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was a disaster zone. Half-assembled furniture was cluttered in corners, mismatched paint swatches smeared the walls, and an old sofa sat awkwardly in the middle of the room, like a relic of chaos. The air smelled faintly of fresh paint and Fred’s cologne— a scent you could never quite place but always made your heart race.

“Alright, love,” Fred said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the mess with a grin. “What’s next on our list of tortures?”

“Second,” you continued, grabbing the checklist from the table, “we need to decide on a color for this wall. And I swear to Merlin, if you suggest purple and gold stripes again, I’m walking out!”

Fred gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me! Those stripes were a stroke of genius!”

“They were an eyesore,” you countered, grinning.

“Fine, fine. You pick, but don’t blame me when it turns out boring.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping through the paint swatches. “You’re impossible.”

Fred leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder as you browsed. “And yet, you’re still here. Must mean you secretly like me.” His breath tickled your ear, and you nearly dropped the swatches.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, though the warmth spreading up your neck betrayed you.

Fred’s chuckle was low and soft, but he stayed close, watching as you pointed to a soft blue. “This one,” you said firmly. “It’s calming. You need calming.”

“Are you saying I’m not calm?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked. “You? Calm? Never.”

Fred straightened, grabbing the paint can with exaggerated determination. “Fine, calming blue it is. But you’re doing the edges.”

“Deal.”

Hours later, you were both covered in streaks of blue paint. A smear trenched across Fred’s cheek like a war stripe, and your arms looked like you’d been in a battle with a very enthusiastic artist. Despite the mess, the wall was finished, and it looked… surprisingly good.

Fred flopped onto the old sofa, groaning dramatically. “I’m a broken man.”

You laughed, sitting beside him. “Oh, please. You painted, like, two-thirds of one wall.”

“Exactly,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “I’ve given everything I had. My blood, sweat, and tears.”

“More like your bad jokes and terrible painting!”

Fred’s grin softened, and he reached out to brush a streak of blue off your cheek with his thumb. The playful atmosphere shifted slightly, the air growing quieter, warmer.

“You’re good at this,” he said, voice lower than before.

“At what? Painting?”

“Making a mess look like a home,” he said simply.

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, focusing on a random spot on the wall. “Well, someone has to keep you in check.”

“You’re good at that too.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that said more than words could.

“You’ve got a bit of paint… right here,” Fred said, his fingers brushing your cheek again. His touch lingered this time, and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you.

“Fred…” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“Yeah?” He said softly, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a second.

You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken something that had been building for weeks, maybe months. Your hand moved on its own, reaching up to rest on his wrist.

���I think…” you began, but he didn’t let you finish.

Fred leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of kisses, testing, waiting. When you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his free hand sliding to your waist. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his paint-speckled shirt.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Fred grinned. “So, does this mean you secretly like me?”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re impossible.”

“But loveable,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your nose.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your smile softening. “Loveable.”

Fred pulled you closer, and for a while, you both forgot about the mess around you. The flat above the joke shop might still have been a work in progress, but for the first time, it truly felt like home.

[bryan-writes]

Undone— Satan x reader

Summary: You’re in attendance at a demon council meeting and completely distracted and enamored by Satan’s demon form. He notices.

Fluff, a little hint of spice?, small makeout sesh, cheesy flirting, short and sweet, soft Satan <3

credit to @strangergraphics for the dividers!! Check them out <3

Satan’s presence commanded the room. His demon form was a perfect balance of elegance and raw power— the sweeping horns, the golden adornments glinting under the chandelier light, and the sharp contrast of his piercing green eyes against his midnight-black attire. You couldn’t keep your composure as you stood by his side at the demon council meeting. The room was vast and intimidating, but all you could focus on was him. He was magnetic, his every movement exuding authority and grace, and it left you utterly breathless.

When Satan turned to address one of the council members, his voice was steady and authoritative, carrying an edge that made your heart skip. He glanced at you occasionally, offering a faint, reassuring smile when he caught your wide-eyed awe. He noticed, of course. How could he not? Your gaze never left him, and every small movement of his sent a ripple of butterflies through your chest. Your thoughts were a mess, hopelessly entangled in just how breathtaking he looked. You tried to focus on the proceedings, but his presence consumed you, leaving you hopelessly distracted.

Caught off guard, you stammered, “I-I wasn’t… I mean, you just… you look amazing.” Your cheeks burned as the words tumbled out, and you bit your lip, wishing you could take them back. The heat spreading across your face was unbearable.

Satan’s smirk faltered for just a moment, before softening into something warmer. “Amazing, hmm?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly as he studied your expression. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Coming from you, that means more than you know.” His voice dipped lower, and the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten.

Before you could respond, Satan offered his hand. “Come with me. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Your hand found his almost instinctively, and you let him guide you out of the council hall and back to the House of Lamentation. The walk was quiet, but tension buzzed between you, unspoken words lingering in the air. You kept stealing glances at him, marveling at how the moonlight seemed to soften his sharp features, highlighting the elegant curve of his horns and the glint of gold on his clothes. By the time you reached his room, your heart was pounding all over again. He opened the door, gesturing for you to enter first, and the familiar warmth of his space immediately wrapped around you. The scent of books and faint traces of his cologne made you feel both comforted and electrified.

The door clicked shut behind him, and when you turned to face him, the intensity in his gaze made you forget how to breathe. Without a word, you stepped closer, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck. You whispered his name once, almost reverently, before pulling him down into a kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. Satan’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as if he couldn’t bear any space between you. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his usual composed demeanor utterly gone. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just enough to draw a soft, breathless groan from him. His lips left your briefly, trailing down to your jaw and neck, leaving you trembling with every touch. His hands wandered, tentative but firm, as if he was memorizing every part of you he could reach.

When you both finally pulled back, his face was flushed, his hair was an absolute mess, and faint marks from your kisses were already visible on his skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at you, his emerald eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. You could barely catch your own breath, your lips kiss bitten and buzzing from his attention.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice low and hoarse. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

You didn’t need to think twice. Nodding, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, gentler this time, as if to soothe the storm you’d both unleashed. Satan exhaled a shaky breath, guiding you to his bed and pulling you down with him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish. He adjusted the pillows, ensuring you were both comfortable, before letting his hands rest on your waist, his touch grounding and steady.

Nestled against his chest, you felt his steady heartbeat under your ear, a stark contrast to how yours still felt. Satan buried his face in your hair, his voice a quiet murmur. “You… you have no idea what you do to me.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Still, it’s maddening. You’re maddening,” he murmured, though his tone carried nothing but an intense fondness.

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence for a while longer. You shifted slightly, turning so you could look up at him. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze softened further when it met yours. Reaching up, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, marveling at how dispelled and endearing he looked.

“I like seeing you like this,” you admitted quietly. “All undone. Just for me.”

Satan’s lips quirked into a small, lopsided smile. Only for you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned down to capture your lips in one last, lingering kiss, his touch slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor the moment.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut as his breathing slowed. The weight of the night began to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand. Whatever the world had in store for tomorrow didn’t matter. For now, you were here, in his arms, and everything felt right.

[bryan-writes]

Navigation

Bryan • she/her • nineteen • taurus • lover of all things whimsical, magical, creepy, and strange •

asks will always be open// requests, prompts, and headcannons are open!

I’ll write for pretty much anything! I really love Harry Potter, the marauders characters specifically (although Fred was my first love). I’ll write for the creepypastas, Obey me!, Haikyuu, teen wolf, outer banks, many of the slashers, Mike Schmidt, stranger things, call of duty. Honestly pretty much anything I’ve ever dabbled in is open, if you want to see a fandom I haven’t listed (bc there’s MANY more) feel free to ask!

My masterlist will be below this, check it out to see everything I’ve posted so far, and thank you for checking it out!! <3

The divders used were made by @strangergraphics! I love her work so much, give her blog some love <3

Masterlist

Series

Creepypasta

The witch in the woods// Tim, Toby, Brian x fem!reader (coming soon!)

Haikyuu

Rooms full of light// Miya Atsumu x fem! reader (coming soon!)

Oneshots

Obey me

In the quiet of your arms// mammon x reader

Keepsakes of a hidden heart// mammon x reader

Undone// Satan x reader

Harry Potter

Backstage blooms// Sirius x reader

Green smoke and golden smiles// Barty crouch jr x reader

Love is in the details// Fred Weasley x reader

Headcannons

Obey me

Headcannons about the seven brothers

Headcannons of the brothers missing MC

Headcannons of the brothers with an MC who has a chronic illness

Prompts

Nothing yet…

[bryan-writes]

Obey me headcannons— the seven brothers

This is dedicated to a lovely anon who requested headcannons for how the brothers would react when you have a chronic illness. I didn’t know if they wanted me to post the ask publicly, so I’m just putting the dedication here. Thank you so much for requesting anon, you’re so sweet!💕

Chronic illness (not specified), the use of a rollator and other mobility aids, super fluffy, comfort <3

Credit to the lovely @enchanthings for the dividers!

Lucifer

Lucifer is a fortress of reliability in your life, an unwavering pillar in the chaos of the Devildom. He watches you carefully, noting the subtleties of your condition— the furrow of your brow on harder days, the way your hand lingers on your pink rollator for balance. His care manifests in quiet ways: ensuring there’s always a chair nearby when he knows you’ll need to rest, crafting detailed excuses to Diavolo when you can’t attend RAD, and personally delivering your assignments to keep your workload manageable.

When you’re bed-bound, Lucifer steps into your room with his usual air of authority but softens immediately at the sight of you wrapped in blankets. He reads to you in his deep, velvety voice, carefully pacing his words so they become a soothing balm. “You’re resilient,” he murmurs one evening, his fingers brushing yours as he places a glass of water within easy reach. “But that doesn’t mean you have to face every struggle alone.”

Mammon

Mammon hovers without hovering, pretending he’s just hanging out when he’s really making sure you’re okay. He carries your cane for you if you need to use your rollator, and though he tries to act nonchalant, there’s a noticeable spring in his step when you let him. “What, you think I wouldn’t look after ya?” He says, grinning ear to ear, though his hands tremble slightly when he sees you falter during a dizzy spell. He’s always ready to catch you— literally and figuratively.

On days when you can’t get out of bed, Mammon becomes your personal sunshine, bringing you snacks, fluffing your pillows, and cracking jokes to make you laugh. “If ya need anything, just call your Great Mammon,” he says dramatically, plopping onto the chair beside you. And when you fall asleep mid-conversation, he’ll quietly tuck your blanket around you tighter, his face soft with adoration.

Levi

Levi spends hours researching chronic illnesses online, desperate to understand how he can help. He’ll shyly offer you gadgets he’s customized, like a compact fan for your rollator or an extra comfy cushion for your wheelchair. He insists on taking breaks during outings to give you time to sit, disguising his attentiveness as “oh, I just wanted to look at this anyways.”

When you’re stuck in bed, Levi turns your room into a haven. He sets up a laptop with your favorite shows queued up, brings snacks, and nervously asks if you want co-op a game with him. “I can carry you,” he says, both in-game and out, his voice tinged with both humor and sincerity. If you fall asleep during his anime marathons, he doesn’t mind, the sound of your steady breathing comforts him.

Satan

Satan is a master of planning, adapting seamlessly to your needs without making a fuss. He always knows the best routes to avoid stairs and will casually suggest a detour that leads to a bench, ensuring you never feel singled out for needing to rest. He notices when you’re pushing too hard and gently redirects your focus, his voice calm and reassuring: “There’s no shame in taking a moment.”

On bad days, Satan becomes a quiet source of comfort, bringing you books to read aloud if you’re too tired or simply sitting beside you while he reads. “Your strength inspires me,” he says one evening, his fingers brushing against yours as he passes you your meds. He means it— it's in the reverence of his voice, in the way his gaze lingers on you like you’re the most remarkable story he’s ever known.

Asmo

Asmo loves to help you feel beautiful, no matter how your body feels. He decorates your pink rollator with ribbons and charms, insisting that it’s “an accessory, darling, not just a mobility aid!” He’s always attuned to your energy levels, subtly adjusting plans to suit your needs. “It’s not about where we go,” he says with a dazzling smile, “it’s about being with you.”

When you’re bedridden, Asmo brings the spa to you. He sets up scented candles, does your nails (even if you’re too tired to care), and reads silly magazine articles aloud just to hear you laugh. “You’re gorgeous no matter what,” he says, his voice soft, stroking your cheek as you doze off. “I hope you know that.”

Beel

Beel is all about practical care. He carries snacks with him at all times, just in case you need salt or energy while out. He’s quick to offer his arm for balance, his movements so natural that you never feel burdensome. If you ever need to pause, he kneels beside your chair or rollator, keeping eye level with you and saying, “take your time; we’re not in a hurry.”

On bad days, Beel stays by your side. He cooks your favorite meals, even if you can only manage a few bites, and keeps his voice low and soothing. “I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he admits one evening, his large hand carefully cradling yours. “But I’ll be here for you, no matter what.” The sincerity in his eyes makes you feel safe, even on your hardest days.

Belphie

Belphie is all about creating restful spaces. He drapes blankets over your rollator when you’re not using it, insisting it “deserves to be cozy too.” He has a sixth sense for when you’re overexerting yourself, tugging you toward the nearest soft surface with a sleepy grin. “You need to rest,” he says simply, offering his lap as a pillow if no chairs are around.

When you’re confined to bed, Belphie takes it as an excuse to nap beside you. He’ll murmur quiet reassurances as he tangles his legs with yours, grounding you with his warmth. “Don’t push yourself,” he whispers, his hand resting lightly on yours. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” In those moments, his love is the softest kind of devotion, steady and unspoken.

[bryan-writes]

Omg I loved your obey me headcanons, do you think you could do some for the brothers what you think they’d do if they missed MC? Like certain things they do to comfort or remind themselves of their beloved sheep 🙏

Hi anon, thank you so much omg🫶!! I hope you like these, I think I ended up making them a bit more sad than intended so I added their reactions to you coming back home to them!

Obey me headcannons— the seven brothers

Things the brothers do when you’re away, and how they react when you come back home to them <3

A tiny bit of hurt and a lot of comfort!

Credit to the lovely @strangergraphics for the dividers!

Lucifer

He buries himself in his work, convincing himself it's better than dwelling on the ache of your absence. His office fills with your ghost— he catches himself glancing at the empty chair you’d occupy during late-night talks, and every note you’ve left him sits neatly on his desk like a shrine. He wears the cologne you once complimented, hoping the familiar scent will carry your presence. His piano becomes his greatest solace; he plays songs that remind him of you, the notes heavy with longing.

When you return and he sees you, it’s as though the weight of millennia slips from his shoulders. His mask of calm falters as he quietly pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. He murmurs something like, “You shouldn’t leave me for so long,” but his voice cracks at the end, betraying just how much he missed you. Later, he’ll pour you demonus and ask you to stay with him while he plays for you, his music much softer and warmer now that you’ve returned.

Mams

He gets restless, roaming the halls of the House of Lamentation as though he might find you around the next corner. He tends to talk to your things— your jacket left on his desk chair, your favorite blanket— telling them stories he wishes he could tell you. At night, he holds onto a trinket you gave him, flipping it in his hands like a talisman. His brother’s tease him for constantly staring at his D.D.D., waiting for a text that doesn’t come fast enough.

Mammon’s reaction is immediate and chaotic when you return. He practically trips over himself to get to you, scooping you up in a hug so tight it almost knocks the air out of your lungs. He doesn’t stop talking— apologizing for nothing in particular, asking if you missed him, bragging that he knew you couldn’t stay away for long. Later, when you’re alone, he’ll quietly place your trinket back in your hand and confesses, “I couldn’t let this outta my sight while you were gone.”

Levi

He surrounds himself with distractions, marathoning your favorite shows and games just to feel closer to you. He tries to send you messages about every little thing, but halfway through his typing, he worries he’s being annoying and deletes them. His room becomes a shrine to your shared moments— he keeps a space clear for you on the couch, even though he knows you’re not there. The silence feels heavier without your laughter during cutscenes.

When you return, he’s so overwhelmed that he freezes in place when he sees you, blushing furiously and stammering about how he “didn’t even miss you that much.” But when you sit beside him and grab a controller, he can’t help the grin that breaks across his face. Later, he’ll shyly gift you a little figurine he made while you were gone— a character modeled after you, his way of saying you’re always a hero to him.

Satan

He writes. He fills pages with letters he’ll never send, his thoughts spilling out in poetic lines that ache with longing. He haunts the bookstores and libraries of the Devildom, searching for volumes you might have enjoyed, and carefully sets them aside for you. At night, he reads your favorite book, fingers brushing the margins where your handwriting lingers. He leaves a single fresh flower in your room each morning, a silent reminder of his quiet devotion.

When you return, Satan greets you with perfect composure, though his trembling hands give him away when he places the flower of the day into yours. “You’ve kept me waiting,” he says with a teasing smile, but his eyes are glassy, full of relief. Later, he’ll read to you by the fire, pausing to press his forehead into yours between chapters. You’ll find his letters hidden in your room days later, each one an unspoken promise of how deeply he missed you.

Asmo

His world feels dull without you. He dresses up every day, hoping to catch your attention from afar, even though you’re nowhere near to notice. He talks to the mirror as if it were you, imagining what you’d say about his newest outfit or skincare routine. His D.D.D. becomes his lifeline, full of selfies and voice messages he’s too nervous to send. Every love song feels like it was written for you, and he hums them softly, thinking of you.

When you return, Asmo runs to you in a whirlwind of perfume and tears, wrapping you in the sweetest embrace. “Darling, don’t ever leave me again!” He cries, holding your face in his hands as if to memorize every inch of it. He pulls you into his room to show you all the things he’s been saving to share with you— lipsticks, photos, and little notes he wrote about how much he loves you. That night, he clings to you, whispering over and over how radiant you make his world.

Beel

He finds himself lingering in the kitchen, making your favorite meals and waiting for you to join him. He starts carrying extra snacks that remind him of you, just in case he runs into you somehow. He visits all the places you used to go together, hoping the memories will starve off the hollow feeling in his chest. At night, he leaves an extra plate at the dinner table, unable to bring himself to break the habit of setting a spot for you.

When you return, Beels smile is so wide it feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. He immediately offers you something to eat, wanting to share every meal he made while you were gone. When he hugs you, it’s gentle but firm, as though he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re really there. “I made too much food while you were gone,” he admits bashfully, “but now we can eat it together.”

Belphie

His dreams are filled with you, and he sleeps more than usual to chase the feeling of having you near. He steals one of your pillows or blankets, keeping it close so the scent of you lulls him to sleep. On sleepless nights, he stares at the stars, thinking about all the times you’ve stargazed together. He pretends he doesn’t care, but his room feels colder without you, and his naps are restless.

When you return, Belphie’s reaction is subtle but heartfelt. He’ll act nonchalant, lying on the couch with his hat pulled low, but his hand reaches out for yours the moment you’re close. “Took you long enough,” he says with a smirk, tugging you down to lay beside him. He’ll wrap his arms around you like a cocoon, murmuring softly, “Don’t go anywhere this time.” His breathing evens out quickly, finally content with you in his arms again.

[bryan-writes]

Hey! I don't know if you take requests but I like collecting headcanons of people

so do you have some Obey me headcanons?

Have a wonderful day<3. (if you don't take requests then feel free to ignore)

Hello anon, I hope this is what you were asking for! Thank you sm for the request, I hope you have a wonderful day as well lovely<3!

Obey me headcannons— the seven brothers

Just a bunch of cute head cannons I have about the brothers :)

No warnings!

Lovely dividers by @cafekitsune <3

Lucifer

A total plant dad in secret! He has a small collection of rare plants in his office (hidden away from Mammon ofc). He enjoys their low-maintenance nature and often has a calming ritual of watering them and reflecting after a long day. You found out by accident once, and gift him small plants whenever you visit the human realm (a spider plant, dracaena, snake plant).

He's a classical vinyl collector. I feel like this one’s pretty popular, but he has an extensive vinyl collection (mainly of classical or jazz) and insists they sound better than any digital recording he’s heard. He prefers to listen to them alone, insisting his brothers will only ruin the experience, but he’ll never deny or turn you away if you ask to join him.

He’s a total fancy sleepwear enthusiast. You’d think it’d be an Asmo thing, but Lucifer has a collection of luxurious silk and satin pajamas. He believes that “even in sleep, one must uphold dignity” (he gave you that speech the first week when you wobbled through the kitchen in an old, stained band shirt).

Mammon

He’s absolutely adored by stray animals in the Devildom, but especially by cats. They tend to follow him around (much to Satan’s dismay), and he’s always a bit flustered about it but secretly loves it. Sometimes he’ll even sneak treats and treasures to them (things like fancy ribbons and long necklace chains).

He’s a total hoarder too, keeping a collection of things that remind him of you specifically— small trinkets, wrapped, tickets/receipts, photos (I wrote a oneshot for this if you want more!). He keeps them hidden, safe from his brother’s prying eyes and questions.

He also has a ton of good luck charms. A little ceramic ladybug, a pressed four-leaf clover, crystals, a horseshoe, etc. He’s convinced they’ll bring him good luck and fortune in his schemes, even if he doesn’t quite remember where they all came from. His favorite good luck charm is you though. He refuses to leave the house in the mornings without a good luck kiss.

Levi

It’s no secret that Levi loves the ocean, keeping a fish tank that he’s decorated to look like the real deal. He’ll watch Henry swim around in the rare moments he’s unwinding, taking the quiet time to find inspiration for his gaming and anime stories.

He totally has an otaku daily planner that he’s decorated with anime stickers and fan art. He tracks everything from game release dates to plans with you— which he surrounds with little hearts. He’ll doodle in free spaces and will bring it with him everywhere.

He’s a total random trivia buff, with a surprising amount of knowledge for most obscure topics. He’s like the caps of Snapple bottles, popping off with a random fact that relates to the conversation every now and then.

Satan

Satan is an avid audiobook listener. He likes to experience different narrations of the classics he loves, often falling asleep to them. There have been countless times where he’s recorded you reading to him just to later listen to your voice when he naps.

Over the years, he’s secretly given each of his brothers a nickname of a cat breed based on their personalities. He calls Mammon a Bengal (for their boldness) and Lucifer a Maine Coon (dignified and regal) for example. Nobody knows he does this, and would rather die than tell anyone.

Satan is a tea connoisseur. He loves to experiment with different tea blends based on his current read. He’ll make a “Wuthering Heights” blend on stormy days or a “Sherlock Holmes” blend when he’s feeling particularly investigative.

Asmo

Asmo has a vast collection of rare perfumes and fragrances from both the human and demon realm and can identify perfumes by smell alone. He’ll often make blends for you that he thinks “capture your essence”, and makes you wear them on date nights.

He creates outfits based on moods, and very rarely based on occasions or weather (although whatever he wears is beyond beautiful anyway). If he’s feeling even slightly out of sorts, he’ll wear a specific scarf to “help align his vibes”, insisting you wear a matching one with him.

Asmo has an elaborate manicure routine, and he offers special “spa nights” just for you (it’s become a weekly routine). He does all of his brother's nails, but never treats them to full nights of face and hair care that he does with you.

Beel

He loves to experiment with recipes, trying to come up with “the ultimate snack” with a variety of unique flavors. He has a small notebook filled with random snack ideas he wants to try with you, including “infernal honey nachos” and “fiery chocolate popcorn”.

He will occasionally build the most elaborate and beautiful blanket forts in his room, to hide from his brothers for quiet time and snacks. He’ll sometimes invite you to join him for late-night snack chats.

Beel loves trying to combine Devildom foods with human foods, attempting to make hybrids like “hellberry pizza” or “demonic takoyaki.” He gets super excited when you introduce him to new human-realm foods and suggest new fashion ideas.

Belphie

He has curated playlists for every possible sleeping scenario ever. He has a “nap in a meadow” playlist and an “underwater dream”, which he’ll share with you if you ever want the “perfect sleep/nap vibes.”

Belphie has a habit of sketching while sleepy. He doesn’t remember half of what he draws, but he’s done some surprisingly good doodles of you, the brothers, and his dreams. You’ve started keeping them to collect in a sketchbook for him.

He actually puts some thought into his “lazy look.” He has favorite clothes that he feels make him look effortlessly comfortable and will proudly say, “Fashion is all about making it look like you didn't try.” (You’ve seen him get mad when his hair won’t look ‘the right amount of disheveled’, whatever that means).

[bryan-writes]

If I asked for requests, would y’all send some??

Pretty please🙏🙏🫶

[bryan-writes]

Green smoke and golden smiles— barty crouch jr x reader

Summary: you find yourself at a Gryffindor party, celebrating with Lily and the marauders on a win against Slytherin. Barty decides to crash it, prank the Gryffindors and steal you away to get to know you.

Hufflepuff reader, fluff, Barty calls reader darling and my lady, super cute!

Credit to @strangergraphics-archive for the lovely dividers :)

The Gryffindor common room was alive in a way that only followed a narrow victory against Slytherin. Laughter and voices bounced off the stone walls, and red and gold streamers, charmed to burst into mini-fireworks, spiraled across the ceiling in dizzying loops. Near the bar, which boasted an impressive line-up of Butterbeer, Firewhiskey, and an alarming amount of snacks, Lily Evans was chatting animatedly with you, the token Hufflepuff in the crowd. Your easygoing friendship with Lily had opened doors you’d never anticipated, including one straight into the rowdy, reckless world of the Gryffindors.

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced around, feeling a familiar, comfortable warmth. James was being his usual self, arm slung around Lily’s shoulders as he tried and failed to impress her with exaggerated retellings of his quidditch heroics. Sirius was close by, grinning and tossing popcorn into Peter’s mouth like it was some kind of game, while Remus sat on the sofa next to you, watching them with a faintly amused smile, occasionally chuckling at your comments and sipping a warm mug of Butterbeer. You were surrounded by friends, wrapped in warmth and cheer, and yet there was something gnawing at the edge of your mind— a sense that tonight wasn’t going to stay peaceful for long.

In the back of your head, you could practically hear the gears of fate turning. After all, a win this close against Slytherin? They wouldn’t let a game this hard fought go without consequence.

And that’s when it happened. The Gryffindor portrait door burst open, the fat lady yelling obscenities as Barty Crouch Jr. strolled in, looking like he had every right to be there. With his classic lopsided grin, he paused at the threshold, one brow arched as he scanned the room with a gaze sharp enough to unsettle even the most stalwart lion. Trailing behind him were a small group of his Slytherin friends, each wearing expressions that ranged from smug to wary as they took in the Gryffindor revelry.

A hush fell over the crowd for a heartbeat. Then, true to Gryffindor form, James leaned toward Sirius with a snort, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Since when does Crouch drop by without hexing someone first?”

Sirius grinned, nudging him back. “Just give it a minute.”

Barty, meanwhile, held up his hands, that smirk never leaving his face. “Evening, Gryffindors!” He announced, voice effortlessly cutting through the chatter. “Thought I’d drop by to congratulate you lot on your narrow— and I mean narrow— victory today.”

A few students raised their Butterbeers, chuckling, though Lily rolled her eyes, muttering, “Oh, this should be good…”

He walked right up to her, bowing with an exaggerated flourish. “Lily Evans! Captain of this unruly pride of lions.” His grin widened and his eyes flitted around the group. “A spectacular game, truly. It’s Gryffindors like you who make these matches worth every bit of trouble”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not all you’re here for,” Lily said, unimpressed but unable to hide her faint smile. Barty’s charm had an annoying way of creeping up on even the most suspicious of people.

You were trying not to laugh when he caught sight of you, and his expression shifted from playful to intrigued, his eyes narrowing just a bit as they took you in. Then, in one smooth motion, he turned from Lily and closed the space between you with a look of casual interest, leaning in just close enough to spark a thrill of excitement in your stomach.

“And who might you be, tucked away here among all these lions?” He asked, eyes gleaming.

“Y/N,” you replied, fighting to keep your tone neutral. “I’m here with Lily.”

”Y/N,” he repeated slowly, as if savoring it. “The one and only Hufflepuff in a den of Gryffindors. Fascinating. Tell me, darling, how does one of your gentle disposition find themselves here, surrounded by all this… ferocity?”

”Just lucky, I suppose,” you quipped, surprised at how easily the words came.

He let out a low chuckle, glancing at the marauders with an amused smirk before looking back at you. “You’re certainly braver than I’d have guessed,” he murmured, a spark of something playful in his eyes. “Though, I’d advise staying close. If I know Gryffindors, there’s bound to be some… retaliation.”

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Retaliation? For what?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, nothing too sinister. Just a little fog to set the mood.”

Before you could question him further, a loud pop echoed through the common room, and in an instant the space was filled with thick, swirling green mist, tinted in unmistakeable colors. There were shrieks and laughter as green fireworks began going off, Gryffindors stumbling blindly, coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces. Even the maraduers were caught off guard, fumbling around in the chaos, yelling and laughing as they tried to locate each other.

In the confusion, you felt a hand slip around yours, warm and steady. You didn’t need to see his face to know it was Barty. With a grin you couldn’t see but could practically feel, he pulled you through the haze and out into the hallway, leaving the chaos behind you.

Once outside, he turned to you, grinning as he gave a mock bow. “My lady, saved from the treacherous fog by none other than yours truly.”

You laughed, catching your breath, swatting at the green powder bound to stain your sweater. “Saved? You started that!”

”Perhaps,” he said, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself, “But you can’t deny I got you out in one piece, can you?”

”I suppose I can’t,” you admitted, unable to stop smiling. “Though, I have to admit, that was… well-executed.”

”I’m a man of many talents, what can I say?” He shrugged, as if leading a stealth operation into the Gryffindor common room was just another day for him. Then, his tone softened, though the mischievous light never left his eyes. “But tell me, Y/N… what are you doing here?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to scrutinize him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to chat me up, Crouch.”

”Trying?” He raised an eyebrow, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. Here I thought I was doing a splendid job.”

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up at his confidence. “Maybe you are, just a little.”

”Only a little?” He asked, feigning disappointment. But he was smiling, that lopsided grin that could probably melt ice if it tried. “Well, that’s a start.”

He took a step closer, eyes flickering over you with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s not every day I meet someone who can handle a little chaos with such grace. Most would’ve hexed me by now.”

”Maybe I have a soft spot for chaos,” you teased, feeling bolder than usual.

“Oh, dangerous,” he murmured, eyes lighting up. “And here I thought Hufflepuff were all sweetness and sunshine.”

”Well, maybe we are,” you replied, unable to hold back a smile. “But we’re also more than people think.”

At that, he let out a laugh, warm and rich. “I’ll have to remember that.” Then, offering his arm with a wink, he leaned closer. “So, what do you say, darling? Feel like risking another adventure tonight?”

You glanced back toward the common room, where the Gryffindors were slowly recovering from the smoke bomb. The thought of slipping away into a night of spontaneity with Barty felt like a much better way to spend the rest of your evening.

Grinning, you looped your arm through his. “Alright, Crouch. Show me what you’ve got.”

With that, he led you down the hallway, the two of you walking in step as the night stretched out before you, filled with possibility, laughter, and just the right amount of trouble.

[bryan-writes]

Keepsakes of a hidden heart mammon x reader

Summary: you find a keepsake box hidden under Mammons bed, you find out it’s filled with things that remind him of you <3

Super fluffy, soft mammon, established relationship

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers :)

Under the gentle flicker of the low-lit room, you found yourself rifling through a small, unassuming box you’d discovered half-hidden under Mammon’s bed. It looked like it had been haphazardly shoved there, but with enough care to keep it safe from the curious eyes of any of his brothers. Immediately interested, you’d pulled it out— completely forgetting about finding your favorite hoodie (of his).

In a house filled with demons and secrets, finding something so personal felt… special. You knew mammon wasn’t one for big gestures, at least not the planned kind. But the box was a testament to something raw and real, with its unpolished appearance and lovingly held keepsakes.

The first item you pulled from the contents was a wrinkled movie ticket. You remembered that night so vividly, the way Mammon had tried to play it cool as he offered to take you out to a movie “just cause he was bored.” But you knew the truth; he’d been fidgeting, sneaking glances, trying to hide the spark in his eyes. It was an action movie— explosions and over-the-top stunts. But halfway through, Mammon’s hand had found yours, fingers fumbling a bit as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He hadn’t let go until the credits rolled, and was even reluctant to let you go then. Now, as you gently held the ticket in your hands, you realized he had kept it as proof of that little victory, a reminder of the night he dared to hold your hand in the dim light of the theater.

Then there was a small, doodled note with a ridiculous caricature of Lucifer wearing glasses that Mammon had drawn in one of your many free moments in class. It was simple, silly even, but it had been you who had egged him on, whispering ideas as you both laughed quietly in the back of the lecture hall. You hadn’t noticed at the time, but Mammon must have held onto that scrap of notebook paper, like a private joke meant only for the two of you— a memory, immortalized by a poorly sketched Lucifer with eyebrows furrowed and glasses crooked.

”Hey, Y/N!” Mammon’s voice snapped you back to reality, a hint of panic coloring his tone.

Your gaze shot up to see him standing at the door, eyes wide, his cheeks flushed with a shade too bright for his usual demeanor. “What’re ya doin’ with that?” His usual bluster was there, but it sounded thin, like it was more for show than anything else.

You bit your lip, smiling softly. “I… I found this. It’s really cute, Mammon.”

Mammon fumbled, trying to snatch the box back, but you held onto it gently, pulling out a small bracelet made of cheap, colorful beads. It was slightly frayed, as if it had been through a few too many close calls. You remembered it well— Mammon had won it for you at a fair, some human world event he’d dragged you to, insisting he’d win the biggest prize. Instead, he’s managed a small, kitschy beaded bracelet, but the moment he clasped it around your wrist, he’d looked so proud.

“Why… Why do you keep these things?” You asked softly, curiosity and affection mingling in your gaze as you looked at him.

Mammon’s gaze flickered, unsure, like he was debating how much of himself he could afford to let you see. He scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but you. “I dunno,” he muttered, voice a bit rougher than usual. “S’just… they mean somethin’, ya know?”

When he finally met your gaze, there was a softness there, a vulnerability you had only ever seen in fleeting moments. He took the bracelet from your hand, rolling the beads gently between his fingers as if recalling the way your eyes had shone under the lights of the fair.

He swallowed, fingers brushing against a crumpled piece of a napkin. “This… this one from the night ya made me laugh so hard, soda came outta my nose.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “I thought I was gonna die from embarrassment, but… ya made it feel like a good memory. I… guess I wanted ta keep that.”

With every object he touched, another story unfolded. The wrinkled petal of a flower you had tucked into his hair during a spontaneous picnic. A tiny, faded polaroid picture of you two at an arcade, Mammon’s arm slung over your shoulder and you half hidden in the crook of his neck, his grin stretched wide and utterly carefree.

It was like listening to the chapter of a love story that Mammon had never found the courage to tell. In the quiet of his room, among all the bits and pieces of your shared memories, it was as though he was giving you a glimpse into his heart, wholly unguarded.

When he reached into the bottom of the box, he pulled out a little golden trinket— a small, old-fashioned key, polished and well-worn. He looked at it for a moment, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

“This… this one’s kinda stupid,” he murmured, holding it up to the dim light. “Got it ages ago. When I was a kid, I used to think it opened a door to somethin’ special. Kept it with me, hopin’ it’d mean somethin’ someday.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “But I guess… I didn’t really find out what it opened ‘til I met ya.”

Mammon’s words hung in the air, weighty and soft. You felt your heart swell, warmth pooling in your chest as you met his eyes. He looked almost nervous, waiting for some kind of reaction, as if he were baring a piece of himself he’d never meant to show.

You smiled, reaching out to clasp his hand around the small key. “Maybe it opens the door to memories, too,” you whispered. “To all these little treasures you’ve collected along the way.”

Mammon blinked, his blush deepening as he realized how closely you held that moment between the two of you. “Ya… you’re weird, ya know that?” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. But his voice was softer now, and his hand stayed in yours a bit longer than necessary.

You sat in comfortable silence, Mammon’s hand warm against your own, fingers entwined with a gentlest that only he could muster, a soft and unexpected contrast to his usual bravado.

In that quiet moment, you understood. Love was something Mammon held onto in quiet ways— through secret boxes of treasure, hidden smiles, and worn-out trinkets that only mattered because they were tied to a memory of you.

And as he settled beside you, both pouring over every silly, precious item in his “treasure chest,” you knew that you would never really see those little memories the same again. They meant so much more to you now.

[bryan-writes]

Backstage Blooms sirius x reader

Summary: you get a call from Lily asking you to cover as the marauders merch girl, and over the course of a week you and Sirius can’t deny the feelings blossoming between the two of you.

Rockstar Sirius x florist reader, no magic, cheesy flirting, reader is mentioned as girl, fluff, happy ending, short and sweet <3

Credit to @steddiecameraroll-graphics for the beautiful dividers :)

The day had already felt too long by the time your phone rang, vibrating on the counter of your cozy flower shop. The scent of fresh peonies mixed with the earthy aroma of eucalyptus, your hands delicately arranging stems when Lily’s name popped up on the screen.

”Hey, Lils,” you answered, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you tied off a bouquet with a silk ribbon.

“Y/N! I need a huge favor.”

There was a frantic edge in her voice that immediately put you on alert. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

”I’m fine, but—ugh, it’s such a mess. The merch girl for the band? She just quit. Right before the show! I need someone to stand in just for tonight. Please?”

You hesitated, glancing at the neatly organized chaos of flowers on your counter. “Lils… I don’t know. I’m not really familiar with running a merch table, and—“

”Y/N, doll, it’s literally just handing out t-shirts and records. You’ll be fine! Plus, it’s The Marauders! You know them. James will keep Sirius from bugging you too much, I promise.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a bold promise.”

Lily chuckled on the other end. “Okay, maybe I can’t guarantee that. But please? I’ll owe you one.”

With a resigned sigh, you leaned against the counter, eyeing the half finished bouquets spread across the marble. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.”

”You’re a lifesaver! I’ll see you soon!”

As you stepped into the venue, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. The scent of wildflowers still clung to you, but now the air was thick with anticipation, sweat, and the low hum of amps being tested on stage. You found your place behind the rickety merch table, the crowd already buzzing with excitement for the show.

It was loud and it was beyond chaotic— but in a way, it was also exhilarating. You loved the energy of live music. It was so different from the serenity of the flower shop, but you were no stranger to rock shows. The chaos felt like home in its own way.

A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our resident florist, moonlighting as merch queen.”

You looked up to see Sirius Black leaning against the table, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, dark hair falling across his face just so. He had that usual glint in his gray eyes, like he knew he was being shamelessly charming and didn’t care one bit.

“Sirius,” you greeted, giving him a mock-serious look. “Shouldn’t you be warming up?”

His grin widened as he leaned in slightly. “Maybe I’m already warm enough.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the laugh that tumbled from your lips. “That was a stupid line.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, admit it— you missed us.” His grin widened, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I think I missed Lily.”

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, cutting through the noise of the venue. “You’ve been hiding away in that flower shop of yours. It’s about time you came out to play.”

”Someone’s got to keep the world beautiful,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t spend all my time at shows.”

Sirius’s eyes softened just a fraction, but before he could say anything else, James appeared, clapping him on the back. “Oi, Pads! Leave her alone, we’ve got a show to get to!”

Sirius straightened, flashing you a grin before he allowed James to pull him away. “Catch you after the show, flower girl.”

You found yourself at the merch table more frequently than you anticipated after that night. What started as a one-time favor turned into something more regular, each gig blurring into the next, and somehow, Sirius always found his way to you. Sometimes it was just for a quick hello before the set; other times, he lingered, throwing playful comments your way, testing your patience, but also making you laugh.

You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly the shift began, but it was undeniable. Between the cheeky banter and the easy flirtation, there was a growing connection you hadn’t expected. You noticed the way his eyes would search for you in the crowd during their sets, the way he seemed more at ease when he knew you were nearby.

And it wasn’t just him.

Your own heart started to flutter when you knew you’d see him. What was supposed to be a temporary role became something you looked forward to— partly because of the thrill of the live shows, but mostly because of the way Sirius would smile at you like you were the only one in the room.

A week passed in a blur of music and late nights. Every evening, you’d step into the venue, feeling a little more at home. It wasn’t your world, but it was easy to fall into the rhythm of it, especially when Sirius was there.

But one night, Lily caught you just as you were packing up the last of the merch.

”Hey, I found a replacement,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes watching you carefully. “You won’t have to keep doing this anymore. You can go back to your flowers.”

You blinked, the words sinking in slowly. Of course, this was always supposed to be temporary, but something tugged at your chest— a faint, unexpected ache. You weren’t ready to leave yet. You had grown to love the rush of these nights, the music, and… Sirius.

“I… right. That’s good,” you said, forcing a smile. “It was fun, though.”

Lily grinned knowingly, her eyes flickering toward the stage where Sirius and the boys were still packing up their gear. “Yeah, I think it was more than fun.”

The next morning, the bell above the door of your shop chimed as you were pruning some roses. You expected a customer, but when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Sirius stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking a little out of place among the pastel blooms and soft light. His usual confidence seemed slightly muted, but the familiar spark in his eyes was still there.

“Sirius?” You asked, setting down the shears. “What are you doing here?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug, taking a few slow steps into the shop. “Lily said you wouldn’t be coming to the shows anymore… not for merch, at least.”

You tilted your head, feeling the weight of what he wasn’t saying. “I guess she found a replacement.”

Sirius paused for a moment, glancing around at the flowers before meeting your gaze again. “I just… thought I’d rather see you here than not at all.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. For all his usual bravado, there was a softness to him now, something vulnerable lurking just beneath the surface.

“You could’ve just asked me to come by,” you said, smiling gently. “I’d still love to hangout, even if I’m not working the shows anymore.”

Sirius let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “That’s the thing. It’s not just hanging out, Y/N. I like having you around. More than just in passing at shows.”

He took another step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot, but… would you maybe want to come to the next show? Not to work, or even just hang out. But to be, you know, backstage. With me.”

Your smile grew as you looked up at him, warmth flooding your chest. “Are you asking me out?”

Sirius’s lips curled into that familiar mischievous grin. “I suppose I am. Took me long enough, didn’t it?”

You laughed softly, stepping toward him, closing the distance between you. “I’d like that.”

He let out a breath, one that sounded like relief, and then he smiled, hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the happiness blooming in your chest. Before either of you could say another word, Sirius leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The smell of roses and fresh air swirled around you, mixing with the feeling of his hands on your waist, pulling you into him, deepening the kiss in a way that made your heart race.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low. “So, next show… you’ll be waiting for me?”

You smiled, your breath still unsteady. “I’ll be there.”

”Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing your again in a gentle kiss, “because you’re the best part of the night.”

[bryan-writes]

In the quiet of your arms Mammon x reader

Summary: Mammon has a nightmare where he loses you, and wakes up to find his bed empty— you come back and find him in a state of panic.

Nightmare, happy ending!, established relationship, hurt/lots of comfort, mentions of blood/death, soft mammon

Credit to @steddiecameraroll-graphics for the beautiful dividers :)

The nightmare clung to Mammon like a vice, tightening with every breath he took. Dark tendrils wrapped around his thoughts, choking the air from his lungs. But as hard as he tried, Mammon couldn’t break free.

He was running, always running— his breath ragged, his heart slamming against his ribs— but no matter how fast his legs moved, you were slipping further away. Y/N— his human, his everything— lay before him, broken. Blood stained the earth beneath you like spilled ink, dark and endless, as if it might swallow him whole.

“Stay with me!” His voice cracked, desperate and raw. He dropped to his knees beside you, trembling fingers brushing your skin, but your warmth was quickly fading— slipping between his fingers like sand. He could see it in your eyes, the light that you shone with was dimming.

You were leaving him.

A scream clawed its way out of his throat, but when he tried to hold you closer, his arms passed through empty air.

Mammon awoke, heart hammering, drenched in cold sweat.

The darkness of his room greeted him like a heavy shroud, suffocating and oppressive. He felt the remnants of the nightmare lingering, curling in the corners of his room. He sat up, panting, eyes wildly searching— but you weren’t there.

His bed was empty, his room silent.

A void opened inside of him, deep and gnawing, a primal fear clawing at his chest. His hands shook as he fumbled for his D.D.D., calling out your name into the silence, but the device slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor.

“No, no, no…” Panic rushed through him, an icy torrent sweeping him away. He stood, stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he checked every inch of his room, heart slamming against his ribs, breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

The world was spinning, closing in, pressing against his chest until it hurt. He could still see you— broken and lifeless— when he closed his eyes. He couldn’t lose you.

Not you.

When you returned from your trip to the bathroom, the scene you found stole the breath from your lungs.

Mammon was on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, hands gripping fistfuls of his hair as though trying to keep himself from unraveling completely. His golden eyes— usually gleaming with mischief or arrogance— were wide and wild, filled with a terror you’d never seen before. The great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, reduced to something fragile, something broken.

You knelt beside him, touch feather-light against his shaking form. “Mam’s… I’m here.”

He flinched at the sound of your voice, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze locking onto yours, searching your face in disbelief.

“You… you’re here,” he whispered, voice hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite trust his own eyes. His hand reached out, trembling, brushing against your cheek as though testing whether you were real, whether you would disappear the moment he blinked.

Tears finally broke through, rolling down his cheeks in heavy silence as he realized you were really there.

“You were gone—” His voice cracked, raw and vulnerable in a way he rarely let anyone see. “I-I couldn’t find ya… I thought—“ His words broke off into a choked sob, and he pulled you against him, holding you tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You wrapped your arms around him, grounding him in your warmth. You could feel the weight of his fear in the way his hands shook against your back, the way his breathing came in shallow, uneven bursts. You slowly stroked his hair, your fingers weaving through soft strands, whispering reassurances into the quiet. You tangled yourself into him on the ground, letting him press closer, as if the heat of your skin could melt away the lingering traces of his nightmare.

“I’m here, Mammon,” you whispered again, firmer this time, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His breathing slowed, but the trembling didn’t stop entirely. You could feel his heartbeat, frantic and uneven, as if he was still trapped in that dark dream. You stayed still, holding him even closer, letting him find solace in the steady rhythm of your heart. Your fingers kept brushing through his hair, over his back, each touch a promise: I’m with you.

Minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity, the room so silent that your breathing seemed to echo. Gradually, the chaos in Mammon began to ebb. His grip on you loosened, just enough to be able to look at you— really look at you. He studied you like you were a lifeline, his gaze tracing every soft curve of your face, every shimmer of warmth in your eyes, every rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re… really here,” he murmured, disbelief and awe threading through his voice. “I thought I lost ya..”

“You’ll never lose me,” you replied, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, soothingly. “I promise, I’m right here. And I always will be.”

The softness of your voice, the certainty of your words, seemed to chip away at the last of his fear. He closed his eyes, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “Ya don’t get it,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I… I can’t lose ya. I don’t know what I’d do without ya.

Your heart swelled at his confession. Gently, you cupped his face, guiding him to look at you again. “You won’t,” you said, each word a promise sealed with the warmth in your gaze. “I’m here, and I’m staying.”

He leaned into your touch, hands slipping from your waist to tangle with yours, fingers intertwining as if he were holding onto something sacred. He breathed out slowly, the last traces of his fear fading with each exhale.

For a moment, neither of you moved, time slowing as you remained wrapped up in each other. The storm in his heart has passed, and all that was left was you— steady, constant, and real.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft and lingering, and he closed his eyes at the feel of your lips against his skin. “Mams,” you whispered softly, your voice warm as a summer breeze, “I adore you.”

He opened his eyes, the golden warmth in them softening as he gazed at you. Slowly, he lifted his hand to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I adore everythin’ about ya,” he murmured, voice quiet but filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter. “And I’m never letting’ ya go.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch, and before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours— a kiss that was gentle, tentative, and full of unspoken promises. He kissed you as though you were the most precious thing in his world, a reverence in the way he held you close.

The kiss lingered, soft and slow, before he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

Time seemed to melt away, the two of you wrapped in each other's presence, his fears now just a distant echo. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths, the warmth that now filled the room.

For that moment, you were safe.

And you knew that, as long as you had each other, you always would be.

[bryan-writes]

#Belle!!🫶

reblog this and put which disney princess was your childhood favorite in the tags. it’s for science

[bryan-writes]

Hey hey!

I honestly had no clue what to make my first tumblr post, but I want to start posting on here cause girly’s got a lot to say!

I’m Bryan, I’m 18 and a writer. I’ve got a lot of fics and oneshots I wanna start posting, and I’d love to grow an audience and make some friends!

Welcome to the blog :)!!