#cashmere elbow warmer

[mcleodhandcraftgifts]

[asheewrites]

Sick Call for Healer 5

The slightly suspicious microwave indeed stopped to turn or to vibrate and then the light switched off. After the dinging sound. It still was somewhat off. Maybe magic was the better choice to get anything done here.

After exhausting the natural availabilities. Maybe a familiar bowl would help the angel feel a little bit better. Glancing around, the only ‘bowls’ he could find in this laboratory were metallic and…

… was that platinum?

Another look confirmed that there were several beholders that were indeed massive and almost pure platinum. With raised brows, he acknowledged the expensive tastes in lab equipment. The pure material cost was… substantial. In the ten to hundred thousands? It did beg the question in what price classes the chaos in those walls played. It’s not consistent. Some bookshelves seemed to be cheap glued-together wood, the glassware partially C-grade. The carpet not particularly high quality...

Walking back into the living-hobby-room, he looked around and saw maybe a genuine oil painting crammed into a corner. Cashmere wool in the wool bin. Genuine silk she was spinning. Directly around the corner was a small desk with a dedicated lamp and small tools to maintain mechanical pieces. Those seemed to be… clockworks. And those also did not look… cheap.

So this particular angel at least had an eye for quality… sometimes. Taking this into account, the whole area looked more intentional. Not only tidy, but a somewhat coordinated chaos – somehow.

If he had to be honest with himself? He liked the place. Definitely not his style. But it had charme. In a slightly too cold way. He was certain there was no draft in the room. But the windows already made it feel that way.

For emphasis, a cough came from the mastermind behind it. And it wasn’t from the same spot he left her in. Taking three more steps around the next shelf, he saw her stand there and take a deep breath.

She turned when he made another step on the naked wooden floor. Her expression and deadpan. Raphael, apart from a barely visible sickly feverish blush, she looked like she was supposed to be taken seriously. Posture straight, eyes clear, mouth unamused and looking down on him, even with the height difference.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at this apparently intact and slightly aggressive archangel for about five seconds. Until she visibly recognized him, her shoulders slumped, her features softened and she smiled apologetically: “I’ll… have… tea ready in a moment” and she sneezed into her elbow, only slowly standing up to her smaller-looking height with a groan.

Hm. So. That had happened…

He definitely had to put in a veto on the moving around, if he had anything to say about it. She looked at Asmodeus while he stepped closer, big questioning eyes watched at him, she apparently had absolutely nothing to input on the matter.

After setting down the soup on the table, he nudged her sternum with two fingers. The most miniscule of pressure was used. The angel unceremoniously fell back onto the couch, knees buckling as soon as they hit the slightest resistance. Didn’t even try to keep her balance. Simply accepted the falland landed. Didn't brace for an impact in the slightest. But then sat there, looking bothered: “… can’t make tea that way”

He put a hand on his hip, almost not believing it. That was… even less sensible than he had expected: “You do not need to make tea, angel. In fact. You’re not supposed to do anything. You're supposed to rest.”

When she did absolutely nothing but look up with a blank expression, he put a hand on her forehead to check how the fever was doing. Since her skin was undoubtedly and significantly warmer than his own hand… it seemed to be a very active immune response. Plus: the angel closed her eyes and leaned against his hand with a relieved sigh.

“… how did you let it get that bad, mh?” He ran his hand over her hair and stroked over the mess on her back.

Another staring moment, then she said: “… haven’t slept since five years,” she shrugged very slowly and then tried to move to get up again.

“Oh no, you don’t…” He pushed her down in the cushions and just… let a miracle take care of a full tea can and some cups, plus soup bowls and a ladle, when he was already at it: “See, there’s tea. No reason to move. Now… you know it’s helpful to actually sleep, right? I know we don’t have to, but you can.” Fevered doctors might forget the simplest things.

“… can’t. Tried. Milk… n melatonin… n warmth… n bed-nest… n… yeah... no…” She shivered the words out.

Seeing that, Asmodeus grabbed the original blanket… and another one from the pile... pulled her a bit away from the backrest and wrapped them around her. She grabbed the ends thankfully and nestled. The angel probably didn't even notice that he sat down next to her: “You did take medication. Right?”

After the usual waiting period, she nodded: “Ibuprofen… and vitamin C… didn’t… didn’t do much.”

He could see that. Well. Maybe she just needed soup to finally get some rest: “… be prepared for the oldest home remedy then. We’ll get you healthy in no time,” then again, she did basically sleep in on his lap before. So what was that about.

[wasprosblog]

A Guide to Buying Leather Gloves

Leather gloves are more than just keeping your hands warm. They're a way to add a touch of class to any outfit. From fancy nights out to everyday wear, leather gloves can elevate your look. But with so many choices, picking the right pair can be confusing. Don't worry, this guide will make it easy!

Understanding Leather Types:

The type of leather significantly impacts the look, feel, and durability of your gloves. Here's a breakdown of some popular options:

Lambskin: Renowned for its unparalleled softness and luxurious feel. Ideal for dress gloves and formal occasions.

Deerskin: Appreciated for its buttery softness and remarkable suppleness. Perfect for driving gloves and everyday wear.

Nappa Leather: Characterized by a smooth, full-grain finish and a soft, supple texture. Versatile and suitable for various glove styles.

Peccary Leather: Often hailed as the "king" of leathers, prized for its exceptional softness, light weight, and unique pebbled grain. Perfect for high-end dress gloves.

Goatskin: Known for its natural water resistance and durability. Popular choice for work gloves and driving gloves.

Different Glove Styles:

Leather gloves come in a variety of styles, each serving a distinct purpose:

Formal Gloves: Defined by their elegant design and immaculate finish, perfect for formal events and black-tie occasions. Consider opera gloves, elbow-length gloves, and classic dress gloves.

Casual Gloves: Designed for everyday wear, offering a touch of sophistication to your outfit. Popular choices include fingerless gloves, convertible gloves (with removable fingertip covers), and short-cuff gloves.

Driving Gloves: Characterized by a snug fit and perforated leather for breathability, providing excellent grip on the steering wheel.

Winter Gloves: Lined with materials like cashmere or wool for warmth and insulation, perfect for cold weather wear.

Usage:

While aesthetics are crucial, consider these functional aspects for a truly satisfying purchase:

Lining: Lining materials like cashmere or silk provide warmth and comfort. Unlined gloves offer a more breathable and lightweight option for warmer weather.

Touchscreen Compatibility: Look for gloves with conductive materials on fingertips if you plan on using your phone while wearing them.

Fit: The perfect fit is key. Gloves shouldn't be too tight, restricting blood flow, or too loose, compromising dexterity. Opt for a snug fit that allows for slight movement.

Wrist Closure: Choose a closure system that provides a secure fit and prevents the gloves from slipping off. Buckles, straps, and zips are common options.

Matching Gloves to Your Style:

The right pair of gloves can elevate your entire look. Here are some tips for pairing leather gloves with your outfit:

Formal Attire: For black-tie events, stick to classic opera gloves or elbow-length gloves in black or white. For formal occasions with a less strict dress code, consider elegant dress gloves in neutral tones like beige, ivory, or grey.

Business Casual: Add a touch of sophistication to your business attire with leather gloves in colors like brown, tan, or black. Opt for short-cuff styles or fingerless gloves.

Casual Wear: Elevate your everyday look with casual leather gloves. Fingerless gloves pair well with jackets or sweaters, while short-cuff gloves add a touch of polish to a simple outfit.

Caring for Your Leather Gloves:

Leather gloves are an investment that deserves proper care. Here are some tips for maintaining their beauty and longevity:

Storage: Store your gloves in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Use a cotton glove insert to maintain their shape.

Cleaning: Regularly clean your gloves with a gentle leather cleaner and conditioner specifically designed for leather goods. Follow the manufacturer's instructions for the best results.

Waterproofing: Treat your gloves with a water-repellent spray to protect them from rain and moisture. Reapply the spray periodically as needed.

Final Takeaway:

Leather gloves are more than just an accessory. They're a way to express yourself and add a touch of timeless style to your look. 

With so many options to choose from, there's a perfect pair of leather gloves waiting for you. 

So go ahead and pamper your hands with the luxurious feel of leather!

[michelleleewise]

I actually have a fluff request this time! 😂

So I saw these two prompts:

You look really cute in that sweater

No, like.... It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes.

And I thought... wearing Loki's clothes. And maybe reader fashions it in a way that ACTUALLY LOOKS LEGIT and it takes Loki a moment to realize...wait... that's mine!

If you want to change the phrasing of the prompts that's fine...If you have a different garment in mind that sweater or whatever...but that's the idea!

Thanks again!

-💜💎

I loooove this!!! In my mind, Loki would have the softest, warmers sweaters 🥰💚🥰💚. And here we go.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Green Sweater

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, bit of smut, like a hint.

Sunmary: Loki always had the nicest sweaters, you resisted the urge as long as you could.......

You sat on the floor, sipping wine as you folded yours and Loki's clothes. He was away on a mission for the next couple days, so you decided to catch up on housework before he got home and demanded all your attention, and you loved it. Since he moved in with you a year ago, he decided the only thing he needed when he got home was you, in the bedroom.

You smiled at the memories as you made it to his sweaters. Holding his favorite to you smelling it. Even after washing it it smelled like him. You really wanted to wear it, knowing it would be soft against your bare skin, but you weren't sure if you should, it was his favorite. You folded it, setting it aside as you finished folding.

The next day you got up, going to the dresser looking at the sweater, running your fingers over the soft cashmere. You decided to go for it. Pulling it out, you laid it on the bed, pulling on a pair of black leggings you slipped the sweater on. It was admittedly to large for you, but you had a plan. You tightened the waist, looping it in the back, tying it into a loose knot, showing off a bit of your stomach, you rolled the sleeves up to your elbow, cuffing them so they wouldn't slide down as you pulled the neckline to the right, sliding it down your shoulder.

You looked in the mirror, twirling around and smiled, it was super comfy as you wrapped your arms around yourself "no wonder it's his favorite." You smiled as you got to work on your chores. You were finishing mopping, hearing the door open "Darling? Where are you?" You heard Loki. "In the kitchen love." You called out as you heard him toss his boots by the door.

You felt his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you to him as he kissed your neck. "I missed you." He sighed as he kissed your exposed shoulder "not as much as I missed you." You said, turning your head to look at him as he pressed his lips to yours, moaning as he pulled your hips to his, running his hands over your exposed stomach. He pulled back panting, taking you in "You look really cute in this sweater." He said running his hands over it. "Thank you love, you like it?" You asked, pulling away from him to model it for him as he hummed.

"have you worn that before?" He asked as you twirled around. "No, first time." You smiled, rinsing the mop out putting in the closet as he watched you. "What did you want for dinner love?'You asked lacing your fingers behind his neck "is you an option?" He asked smiling. "Nooo, but if your good, dessert." You winked as he blushed. You ordered Chinese as he showered and changed. Setting the table as he hugged you again "Darling, are you certain you haven't worn that before, it looks very familiar." He said sitting down. "Well It should be familiar, it's yours." You smiled as his eyes widened.

"A...are you upset?" You asked as he stared. Blinking a few times "Hmm? Oh, no...like.....it's just....I can't believe your wearing my clothes." He said smiling. "Well, its just. when your gone, I miss you so much, and today I decided I wanted to wear it to......feel close to you." You said looking down. "I won't if you don't want me to." You said looking at him as he got up, kneeling in front of you "no, no im not upset in the least darling, if anything, I'm....flattered." He smiled, running his hand up your arm. "You can wear whatever you like of mine, don't ever think that would upset me." He said as you hugged him.

"Green is definitely your color darling." He smirked, running a finger under the hem of the sweater. "So, have I been good?" He asked looking up at you. "Exceptionally." You smiled kissing him. "How about, you go to the bedroom and I'll put the food away." He winked as you kissed him again. "Don't take too long, I reeeeally missed you." You whispered against his lips as he smiled. You got up heading to the bedroom "Oh, and darling?" He asked as you turned around "leave the sweater on." He winked as your cheeks flushed. "As you wish my king." You smiled heading to the bedroom. It was going to be a long night.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

@vbecker10 @high-functioning-lokipath @lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @lonadane @xorpsbane @daggers-and-mischief @sinsandguilt @commanding-officer @lulubelle814 @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokislittleprincess @juulle987 @catalina712 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[mizukiri]

Penny Dreadful - Chapter One:

DECEMBER 16TH 2028

 "Hello Urchin." He softly greets her, and Penny needs to remind herself that her father and Linda have been worried sick about him. 

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Penny continues in her cold disapproving tone while she nears Lucifer, her arms crossed. Her previous quadruple D (drunk-dead-demon-dude) is not forgotten so easily. 

Lucifer's brilliant white wings are a vision to behold, as usual, flexing to their grandest state before he tucks them away into their incorporeal-other-dimension form. His black suit reveals no signs of wear, although there are traces of blood on his dress-shirt collar. He smells of brimstone and smoke again, and she's pretty sure she knows exactly where he's been for the last six months.

"I considered you may react as such, and I can explain." He tells her, holding up his hands submissively as she continues her march towards him. At twenty, she knows she has always terrified him, but instead of binding him with the torturous embraces of her youth, she seizes his elbow and turns him on the heels of his Louboutins towards her original bounty.

"You can explain as we follow one of your friends. I assume that's what this is about." As soon as the words are out of Penny's mouth, he roots himself and her momentum has her turning to face him.

"I'm afraid that we share a mutual interest in your target—"

"Fuck—"

"Pardon? My child I have no need—"

"WHATINTHEACTUALHELLPENNY?!" Seems to come out in one singularly loud breath, as though she is angrily singing her way over to them. For the briefest of moments when he appeared, Penny had forgotten her. But Lucifer had a way of causing that within her, visions of tackling him repressed deep in her heart.

"Penny?" Lucifer lifts a brow at Beatrice Penelope Jane Espinoza, standing in front of him.

"Want to go there right now Sam?"

"Duly noted." The corner of his mouth curls up, and he bows his head gently at her.

Vae swallows, her eyes bright and wide. Penny can see she is breathing erratically solely from the steams of breath coming from her mouth.

"And who might your uh, angel-winged-five-seconds-ago-and-now-clearly-not, friend be?"

My mom's partner. Satan? My step-devil? That had always been Penny's favourite moniker he held, but she decides against it in this instance. 

"Vae. This is my stepfather I was telling you about," and she swears out of the corner of her eye she can see Lucifer stand a little taller (if that's even possible) and smile.

"You speak of me?"

"Of course, dummy." Penny gives him a dubious look. "How on Earth can I get around that?"

Vae starts to giggle, her whole face going red as she looks back and forth between Penny and Lucifer. 

"Right, of course. Are we still not going to address the issue I'm currently having with the ethereal white wings?" Vae is doing that thing she does with her whole arm when she's circling a situation in front of her that she needs to get to the bottom of. Penny also registers that she is looking at her step-devil with a longing that Penny has watched women project for as long as she can remember. But Vae also seems far more interested in finding out precisely what she had seen more than throwing him to the snowy ground.

Penny looks over to Lucifer and sighs.

"Lu...ook Dad, could you maybe, help a daughter out and explain to my roommate and longest friend, since I left home... exactly, what she may have seen?"

Lucifer's eyes travel between the two young ladies in front of him, and his shoulders sink as he resigns to Penny's request.

"Right. Well, first— is it possible to meet you back at the loft? I never actually allowed Hell to freeze over and while immortal I'm not impervious to this..." and she watches him wave his hand with fluid grace at the snow falling around them, "temperature."

A brisk wind picks up, and she watches as he fights a shudder standing there in nothing but his suit. They're wasting time, and he doesn't seem to be that concerned about her quadruple D. 

"Are we not tracking... someone?"

"You might be Urchin. But I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well that's just fucking perfect. Isn't it?" 

Scowling, Penny turns from him and takes Vae by the arm, turning her back towards the park entrance. 

"Come on Vae," Penny sighs, "Let's go home."

"What about—" And the sound of Lucifer leaving interrupts Vae, who was turning around to address him.

"Right. Wings."

~***~ 

"Are we not going to talk about the fact that your stepfather has wings? Like straight up, gorgeous angelic—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home," Penny tersely answers. They are almost halfway home before Vae has seemingly come down from whatever level of shock she had been suffering from. Vae feeling better, however, also means Vae being her usual talkative self. 

"How about the fact that he smelt like sulphu—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home." 

Penny relishes in a brief reprieve before Vae starts again. 

"He said 'allow Hell to freeze over.' "

"We'll talk—"

"He said immortal."

"—about it when we get home."

"I guess the immortality makes sense. I mean when I was processing it all, images of your Mom as a hot cougar or having you when she was like twelve kept popping up."

"Vae."

"Nicely done by the way, Penny's mom because DAAAAAAMN girl, your dad—"

"Vae."

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell me you want to sleep with my stepfather." 

"Don't you?" 

"NEVAEH!" 

"Oh please. You have eyes," and Vaeh dramatically rolls hers before crossing her arms and adding, "don't pretend you don't know that kink exists."

Penny remembers when they had boundaries. Vae did warn her, but Penny wasn't expecting L.A. to catch up with her so fast.

 ~***~

 In her bedroom, she finds Lucifer, freshly showered, and redressed in a crisp white dress shirt covered in a grey cashmere sweater. He's brushing his hair in her vanity mirror when he sees her. 

"I see you found the extra clothes Linda sent me in your in my closet." Penny tells him, sighing and leaning up against the doorframe. 

"I would have preferred more than just one suit, and a Burberry at that. If it's black it might as well be Prada. Nonetheless I appreciate the good Doctor thought of something a tad warmer. Now, your friend—"

"Vae."

"Vae, what exactly is you're expectation?"

Penny sighs. "I don't expect you to lie, if that's what you're asking."

"Yes," and he places her brush down before rubbing the bridge of his nose impatiently, "but what, for your sake my dear, am I omitting here?"

"Just, take it as it comes. She thinks Mom is dead or maybe has dementia? It's easier when they don't straight out ask. She knows you were missing; she saw your wings, and she knows me as Penny. The name we chose when we agreed I was being stationed here undercover, so... that being said."

"Right. Well as you know time in Hell moves much differently than here—"

Penny cuts him off. "Yes. Yes. Millenia’s, probably ten. Put it back in the deck Lucifer. You're choice this time."

"Right..." He stares off beyond her and nods, swallowing. "Well, I'll do right by you Urchin, as best as your favourite celestial parent can." 

"That's... not fair, regardless of how accurate, in the moment."

"Well, we're all doing our best."

"Are you? Because after Vae goes to bed you and I," Penny practically snarls, "are going to have our own conversation about how you abandoned training Charlie—"

"About that—"

"—After being an absolute asshat to both Dad and Maze." 

"So, you heard about that did you?"

"And you know how I got to hear about that? From a very concerned Linda who took your note to mean something COMPLETELY different than what I think you intended."

"I was TRYING to communicate!"

"Then the same day I receive three bloodied feathers from Maze, after a text that read, and I quote, 'A gift from the King of Fuckery.'"

"Oh, so you got my gift!" He exclaims.

A giggle echoes from the floor below, and Penny steps out of her room to see Vae waiting for them in the living room. Turning back, Penny leans in towards him.

"Lucifer?" She whispers harshly.

"Yes, my dear."

"You have ten seconds to get downstairs or so help me Mom you're going to lose more than three feathers."

 ~***~

 Vae sits in Penny's favourite chair, where she keeps her knife and scotch, sitting on her knees. Her hands are placed in her lap like a child waiting for their instructor this evening, amber brown eyes wide with wonder.

She had always imagined Penny had some insanely wild upbringing. Vae had fantasized that it involved chauffeurs and private jets, boarding school and the social elite. 

Months ago, Vae had found a hidden photo of what she had assumed was Penny's incredibly beautiful parents, all surrounding her as she blew out nine candles on a cake. It had been tucked in Penny's dresser and had been accidentally seen while putting Penny's socks away. So when Vae witnessed him appear out of nowhere, with ethereal white wings, she had assumed that he was Penny's father. Their colouring had seemed to her, the most similar.

But this?

Vae isn't a private investigator, but she has always been keenly inquisitive and observant as far back as she can remember. That and an hour trip back home? She's pretty sure she's figured out some details. 

He said Hell. He said immortal. No one denied angel wings.

Penny is sitting closest to her on the couch, her feet tucked up underneath her as she takes a knife and soap carving out of the end table that separates them. Vae watches while Penny takes the tumbler of scotch and pours him a glass. He takes it graciously from her and sips, slightly wincing.

"I'm not legal yet. It's not like I have Macallan or Woodford Reserve on hand." Penny tersely tells him.

Penny's impossibly-handsome-most-likely-an-angel-possibly-the-devil stepfather crosses, then re-crosses his legs, placing his hands over his knees and exhaling loudly. 

"Alright Vale,"

"Vae—"

"Vae, what would you like to know about?"

"Wings. Angel?"

"Once."

That adds up. Vae looks over at Penny, who is doing an excellent job of pretending her soap carving is far more interesting than the conversation happening in the room currently. Vae swallows down the silence. There is one part that isn't making much sense to her.

"And Penny called you Sam."

"For Samael. The name Father gave me."

"Father as in God?"

"The only Father I've ever had."

"Right."

Silence once more. Penny's impossibly-handsome-definitely-a-fallen-angel-was-there-a-Sam-name-for-the-devil? Stepfather holds her gaze with a wry smile plastered on his face, but she senses sadness in his eyes. He told her his name, so why does she feel if she were to refer to him as Sam, it would bother him immensely? 

"Why do I feel like I'm being lied to?"

"I do NOT lie Miss Vae, friend of my daughter." 

"What should I call you then sir?"

He looks at Penny, and she sighs before saying. "She's going to find out sooner or later."

"Lucifer Morningstar."

Vae's signature giggle of wonderment springs forth in awkward waves. Lucifer laughs, charmingly along with her, but Penny, Penny, chooses to remain silent if the point needs to be driven home. Vae's eyes go slightly bigger as the realization hits, and then...

And then she's laughing hysterically, a gasping wheeze as tears are falling out of the corners of her eyes.

"Vae?" 

"It's natural Urchin, although the delay seems to be a new variable, almost all humans go slightly mad at the sight of divinity."

Vae finds this even more amusing and is holding her side and going slightly red.

"I didn't." 

"Yes well, you were never for following norms were you dear?"

"Vae?!"

"I'm sorry..." Vae manages to get out, "I'm sorry Penny... but... You don't like taking the Lord's name in vain?" And she's back to dying of laughter as she tries to spit out, "But then you called him a flying fuck?!"

"Once." Penny's eyebrows almost lift into her hairline as she turns to Lucifer, her hand holding the blade lifts a finger in protest. "Maybe twice. And sorry-not-sorry."

"So, let me get this straight Miss Vae, you just found out that celestials, divinity, God, and the Devil are real, and your reaction seems to be one of mocking my adopted offspring?"

Vae nods her head fervently. "You can't see the humour in this? How can you NOT see how bullshit-cuckoo-bananas this all is?"

"Oh, so you’re merely mocking me, and calling me a liar," and flames are alight in his eyes. 

"Lucifer!" Penny chastises. 

But whatever Lucifer's desired effect may have been, it doesn't seem to have worked because now Vae is practically falling out of the chair laughing at Lucifer and Penny. 

"YOU DO THE EYE THING EVEN!"

"Urchin, I don't know if I have the fortitude to handle this ridiculousness much farther."

"They literally relaunched the Diablo television series last year, and she wouldn't let me talk about it at ALL with her! I mean Penny even told me that all her parents worked in law enforcement in some way or another. So, I mean, while I'm aware this is my current reality. You can't blame me for thinking I've had a stroke and have woken up today to live in this fairy tale wouldn't you agree?"

Lucifer leans back on the couch and takes another sip of the scotch.

"This is so unfair, Penny. This whole time we kept listening to Rose and David talk about future religious upbringing for their non-existent progeny at our dinner party and you didn't even mic drop them? And we have lived together for almost a year, and this is how I find out? What the Hell was going on back there? What were we chasing? Why does Satan have bad ass angel wings? I mean I'm an arts major and I've heard of the Gentlemen Devil archetype but this," and she waves her arm at Lucifer. He is sitting there, his hair in light curls from no product, a five o'clock shadow already appearing even though he seemed to have shaved before they got back.

"This, I gotta say seems a tad on the nose."

"Archetypes exist for a reason Miss Vae."

"I'm not finished." Vae tells him, and he appears shocked by her blatant rudeness. "—sir, Morningstar sir. Sorry. But again... but I'm going to roll with it."

"Like do I watch that show and I know your entire life story? Is that on purpose? How did you meet Penny's Mom? I know she said you were partners for years before you got together. I thought you guys had married, does the Devil write vows? Is it before God? Do Satanists get it right, or do you despise them?"

"Vae—"

"If you're here what's going on with Hell? Wait are Hell and Heaven real? You don't seem evil; do you work with God? That's what always threw me off... why punish the bad if you're all about it am I right?"

"Vae—"

"Urchin, dear, let me." Lucifer says, holding his hand out gently in Penny's direction and placing the glass of Scotch on the table in front of him. He turns his gaze back towards Vae and smiles.

"No. No. Through a case. We were partners four years before we became partnered. Yes. Yes, I wrote them and yes. They get some right and some wrong, like every being and organization on the planet, and yes because I abhor most organizations that misinterpret the truth. I am here, meaning Hell has no ruler currently, and yes both are very real." He pauses to take another sip of the scotch Penny poured him but does not seem to wince this time at the lacklustre taste, "I am pleased to hear that you skipped past the exam's evil portion. So yes, I punish the wicked, those whose guilt sends them to my kingdom, and yes, I work with God. I think that covers everything. So please, do you have any more banal queries you'd like to subject me to Miss Vale?"

"Vae—"

"Or will you relinquish my time so I can spend what little I have with my daughter before returning to my post?"

Vae rolls her eyes. "Passive aggressive gentlemen devil? You've underhandedly praised my ability to weather this, but then chastise me for wasting time? You can just say you'd like some alone time, just please don't kick me out, I also pay you rent."

Both look at Vae inquisitively.

"Right Penny. A top floor apartment that's 2300 square feet in Greenwich Village and you're telling me that one of your other three parent's name is on the deed?"

Penny and Lucifer exchange looks and shrugs in understanding. It seems Vae is more than capable of deducing elements without the two other investigators in the room. 

"Penny, I know how articulate you can be and how well-bred, but I've also seen what you can do in 5.4 seconds to that—" and Vae points to Penny's practice target, "—you lovingly rename every month depending on who has pissed you off. I know to buy you the ramen that is spiciest, that you need at least three expressos a day just to function, and that when I really annoy you, I can always rely on chocolate cake to get back into your good graces. So I am asking you, as what I had assumed was your best friend: What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

"Vae." Penny sighs, turning her body away from Lucifer and towards her friend.

"I know I have ALOT to catch you up on—a lot. And you deserve answers, and you know I don't lie."

"OOOOH OOOOH You said you don't lie." Vae is snapping her fingers and pointing at Lucifer, every snap causing him to wince. "Why do they call you the prince of lies?"

"My twin brother Michael used to bare a striking resemblance to me, even though I've never been one to see it, it's all in the posture. Anyways, he has always been the one to enjoy deceiving humans. From my understanding, he has changed a lot also since his fall."

"When did that happen?" Vae asks.

"When I was twelve, or was I eleven?" Penny asks Lucifer.

"It was after you initiated martial law at our family dinner, Urchin."

Vae looks slightly horrified.

"I started a food fight. Martial law to him means I started a food fight."

"You're little act of vigilantism ruined a very lovely Armani suit that night Beat...iful daughter of mine?" 

Vae gives them a confused look. Lucifer and Penny so weird around each other, she assumes it's because he's been missing (from the smell of sulphur probably back in Hell) for the last six months. But there's an undercurrent that Lucifer needs to do a lot more than show up to get Penny to calm down. 

"So, you're saying that Michael liked to lie and because he looks like you everyone associates it with you because you have a bad wrap." Vae postulates.

"That would summarize the situation very well indeed."

"Twin stuff."

Penny eyes Vae as though she can tell Vae is bringing another new thing to the table she wasn't expecting. Vae doesn't give in to Penny's expectant look. Vae is now acutely aware of JUST how much Penny keeps from her, and she's allowed to have secrets too. 

"Vae we need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

"No, I know that. I understand you and I, but I'm saying, Lucifer and I, we need to discuss some things. Privately. And tomorrow? Tomorrow when you get up? We will go grab breakfast," And Penny turns around, "ON HIM, wherever you want to go. And if he is still here in the morning, I will make him come with us, and you can subject him to as many questions as you want."

"Please," Vae eyes him suspiciously, "He's already made it clear he's going to be gone by morning."

"True, but he's still going to leave me an allowance because regardless of who he is, Lucifer's still my dad, and if he leaves, I promise I will fill you in. But I have to find out first."

  ~***~

"My child—" but Penny holds up a finger to Lucifer and waits for Vae to leave the bathroom and return to her room. She looks up to see Vae watching them suspiciously as she walks out of the upstairs bathroom and into her room, a brush stroking her hair as she paces towards her door. The door closes, and then Penny puts her finger down.

"Cut the crap Lucifer, I heard you say he was a mutual suspect."

"Then why call him a friend? you knew I could deny that."

"For that reason. You don't have friends in Hell, you have subjects. If you wanted me to track him, you would have agreed."

He looks at her with such wistful pride she is taken back. "You have so much of her in you. Her bravado, and keen mind."

"Dad stop! I don't want to talk about Mom." They both stop and break eye contact; the emotion is a little too raw for either of them. It was a slip into old habits, comfortable years ago, yet painful in their current state.

"Well then, the next part is going to be rather difficult, as that is why I'm precisely here." 

   FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 7:06 P.M. | | 

  Trixie thumbs her iPod's volume to the max, watching everyone around her argue in a pantomime to the music. Gathered with her at the table are angels, adults, a demon, the Devil, and God.

Charlie is asleep in the pack-and-play that Linda set up in her bedroom. 

She kind of envies Charlie right now.

She tries to get her mother's attention by staring lasers at her, but Chloe is too busy yelling at her Dad sitting to her right, wincing. The bench that they share with Maze and Michael is vibrating underneath the eleven-year-old. She looks at Maze to her left, who is currently pointing at Linda and Amenadiel. 

No one is paying her any attention, except for one. 

She looks back at God and gives him her best Who-do-you-think-you-are? Scowl, the one she mastered last year when she met Eve. 

No one asked Beatrice if she wanted to be here, listening to this.

She had no choice in the matter. 

Okay, well, she did demand a seat at the table, but she thought it would be a typical awkward family dinner, not watching every adult in her life outside of Ella and school lose their temper on each other.

She picks up her fork and scrapes a bounty of mashed potatoes on to it. Maybe it's the music that inspires her, or perhaps it's the frustrations of being trapped with a bunch of adults who are behaving worse than her seventh-grade peers. Still, she looks up at God once more, meeting each other's eyes, and he smiles kindly at her, an invitation for what is about to happen next.

Like a miracle, white fluffy clouds of potato fly through the air catching the attention of the adults around her as they reach their final destination, landing with a resounding sloppy sound on God's right cheek. 

And as the track dies out, the adults– speechless stare at her in awe, and she pulls off the headset of her ears and sighs. 

"Finally," she murmurs and picks up the knife to cut into the roast beef on her plate. 

She hardly participates as carrots begin to bounce of chests, potatoes slap against faces and into hair. There is still an uproar, but the cacophony now has squeals of laughter interlaced between ridiculous insults. She looks up at her original target, and he continues to smile warmly at her, not engaged in the foolishness around her.

 FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 11:06 A.M.

 Eight hours before Trixie started pandemonium at the dinner table, she had been sitting in her room listening to the hurried whispers of her mother on the phone. 

"Dan, he asked that you be there, and really? After everything in the last few days you owe him."

She's anxious. And bored. And continuously feeling the battles that her mother and father seemed to be facing. Her birthday is next month, and she's pretty sure they both haven't even had time to think about it because usually, they're asking her what she wants for a special treat, perhaps a gift, anything at this point.

"No... Nonono... I mean God, as in you friend Amenadiel's dad. Your once frenemy Lucifer's father? HIM. He's asked that you be there. So essentially you're saying no to God Dan."

She moves from sitting on her bed to the chair at her desk and pulls out her coloured pencils and some paper before slapping it on the surface. 

The school counsellor took her aside recently and helped her understand that she's frustrated and sad when she feels like this. And that when she does, she can always turn to her artwork, and so she does. She draws aliens and herself on Mars, even though she realizes that her childish dreams of being the first president of Mars are soooo three years ago.

But she doesn't see the harm in pretending, so she draws her mother first, a smile on instead of the tears that Trixie has gotten used to pretending not to notice. Then her Dad, his arms up in the air, cheering her on. She draws Maze because Maze was the first to take the dream seriously and can't imagine what life was like before she met Maze. She loves Maze and misses coming home to her every day. She doesn't understand how adults can be so hot and cold with each other. A few weeks ago, before Lucifer got back, Maze was spending almost every day with them.

"And you know what, Dan? I can't wait to watch you squirm because it's God Dan, and now that we are aaaaallll up to speed, I know you dated Lucifer's Mom, and so do you!" Before lowering her voice and harshly whispering, "because I'm petty, and you tried to kill my boyfriend."

Trixie had missed Lucifer, but it had been a long time since he and her Mom had been getting along. It seemed like ever since they left for Rome, her Mom had just been lost. So, when he left, and she could see just how upset that made her mother, she talked to Maze about it and found out exactly where he had gone. Maze doesn't ever speak to her like she's a child; Lucifer does.

Trixie finds herself drawing him, using red to create his glowing eyes. Trixie learned from her father and mother a long time ago you don't give up any information on anything unless someone asks you a direct question. Trixie has known precisely who Lucifer is and what that entails from the moment she met him. 

Sure, she has accepted she'll always be urchin, or offspring. But he doesn't push her away like he used to. She also knows that he praises her most when she's clever and conniving, which makes her feel great. He saved her from those scary men who showed up when she went to see him and Eve. She saw his eyes then, even with Eve desperately trying to hide her behind her skirts. She watched him throw them through the stained glass and pick them up like they were nothing. It made her feel safe. He and her mother saved her from Malcolm. He came into her life, saving her mother, and her mom told her that he left it doing the same thing. 

Lucifer never lies to her; everyone else in her life has. More than once.

Trixie also now knows what a hooker is.

"Trixie-babe?" 

Trixie turns around to see her mother standing in the door-jam.

"Time to pack up; I've got Ella coming to get you to go for a girl’s night."

"What? Come on."

"What's wrong with that? I thought you liked Ella?"

"I love Ella, but why can't I have dinner with you and the family?"

Chloe pauses for a moment, her left eye twitching slightly, but that's all her face betrays.

"Why would you wanna hang out with a bunch of boring old adults? Come on Monkey, you're going to totally love this!"

"No! You're lying!"

Chloe squints her eyes at Trixie, and she can tell her mom is deducing right now, so she sits still while she assesses the situation.

Trixie watches as her mother's eyes fall on the drawing on the desk.

"This is really important to you hey?" Chloe asks, sounding resigned.

Sometimes her mom doesn't talk to her like a child; That helps.

"Mom, I know you're worried. It's God. It's a big deal."

Her mother's eyes narrow again. 

"You're not that quiet, and even if you were. I figured it out pretty early. Maze and Lucifer have always told me the truth." 

Chloe removes herself from Trixie's door and heads over to her daughter's bed. Trixie turns in her chair so she can face her.

"Yeah, I guess that helps, hey Monkey? Having adults in your life who treat you like your not a little kid."

"Lucifer treats me like a little kid Mom, he just never lies to me." Trixie looks back at her drawing. "He saves that for himself."

Chloe's eyes go wide.

"Well, that's definitely not a deduction a little kid would make, especially one so astute." And Trixie looks back to her mother, shrugging.

"We all have our moments. Can I ask you a question Mom?"

"Anything baby. You can always ask me about anything, and if I have made you feel like you can't, for however long, I'm really sorry about that."

"When did you start believing?" 

Trixie watches Chloe's eye twitch.

"Was it when you took us to Rome?"

Chloe's eyes fill up with tears, and she nods quietly.

"Was it because you were afraid?"

"So afraid baby. Afraid for you, afraid for me. Afraid for Lucifer even."

Trixie nods and gets up from her chair and moves over to the bed. Trixie knows if she tells her mom that she overheard that her dad tried to hurt Lucifer, it will break her heart. Sometimes adults forgot she was there. She knows it's not just her mom though, she and her friend Celine have been talking about it when they walk the school halls at recess. So instead of bringing up Dan, Trixie tries a different approach.

"Who... doesn't know?"

"Ella."

Trixie's shoulders drop. She knows how this conversation is going to end. Her mom is going to tell her that she needs to go for her safety. That angels and demons, while totally wicked-awesome, are also dangerous. And everyone is kind of mad at each other right now, and Lucifer really doesn't like his dad, and it's just not the place for an eleven-year-old mortal kid from Los Angeles. 

"Well, I'm going to tell you the truth then, Monkey. I'm still not entirely comfortable knowing about angels and demons, and God and the Devil are real. Monkey don't you ever miss when it was just you and me?"

Trixie shakes her head; it's a lie. She does miss it, but she fears that if she admits to her mother, in this moment, that that information will be fodder for her mother to send her away. She needs this; she needs to see Maze and her dad, Lucifer, and Charlie. If her mom makes her go with Ella, she feels like it's her mother lying too. So, she lies.

Chloe looks slightly hurt, but she smiles sadly and nods. "Okay baby, I'll call Ella and you can stay."

  ~***~

Penny sometimes lies awake at night, remembering this lie. Now that loft is silent, and Lucifer's headed back to the Penthouse to make arrangements for her upcoming travels, Penny finds herself thinking about that day once more. As she rolls over to try once more to go to sleep, she twirls the ring she wears and sigh, biting her lip in a way that would remind most of her mother. As she drifts off, she can't help but let her guilt remind her, once more, that if she had not lied— if she had gone with Ella if things may have ended up differently. 

[we-rule-the-kingdom-inside]

number 6 please for that kiss drabble 👀

so I know this is y’all straight up asking for a sad but there’s too much gold glitter in my heart??? but anyway I gave it a go in honour of july 9th so happy last kiss day to all those who love to party hard on this beautiful national holiday :)

(kiss meme: a kiss on a falling tear)

*

It happens like everything else that has happened for them.

Twilight falling in shadows through the university gym windows. Muscles pinched tight — exhaustion, frustration, hands tangled, Oikawa sneering down at Tobio, Tobio glaring up at Oikawa. A breakthrough. A jump serve smashed along the end line like a hurricane. Summer is thick and humid on the ground and Oikawa is gulping down air by the mouthful, but Tobio grabs his jaw in both hands and kisses him anyway, hard and insistent and clumsy, missing his mouth on the first try, catching the drip of sweat on Oikawa’s cheek on the second, and Oikawa is not even mad.

Oikawa kisses back so hard he can feel Tobio’s breath rattle in his chest, but Tobio doesn’t give it up for even a moment, fingers furtively threading through the damp hair at the back of Oikawa’s neck, kissing slow, small open-mouthed kisses all over Oikawa’s lips like Tobio has studied too many stupid romance movies about kissing, and his stupid handsome mouth not actually been kissed nearly enough.

Oikawa is going to change that. He nips at Tobio’s bottom lip and he can feel Tobio’s heartbeat jump so hard it’s like it’s his own, pounding red hot in his throat, in his hands, deep in his gut.

Tobio’s feet slide on the smooth gym floor. “Are we—” He suddenly looks bewildered. His gaze flickers darkly and for one wild, ridiculous moment it’s like watching a rally of Oikawa-san’s flushed mouth, Oikawa-san’s fingers brushing over his hips, Oikawa-san’s tongue tasting his teeth and Tobio is somehow even more tempting with his face bright red and blotchy like this, flustered, still chasing, and Oikawa almost can’t stand it.

“Yes! We’re whatever this is, Tobio-chan!”

Oikawa grabs Tobio by the elbows so he can shut him up with another kiss and he really should have known better, should have known that love, just like a jump serve, like a perfect set, like a setter dump— is something that once Tobio learns from watching him, can only one day be used against him in turn.

*

There’s nothing that could have made Tobio stay. The contract with the Italian team is just too good, and Tobio is just too good.

“You’re never prepared for winter!” Oikawa carefully folds his treasured Burberry scarf so Tobio can take it with him. Their apartment was never that big to begin with but with most of Tobio’s things packed into storage, it’s like ghosts have already moved into the empty space. Oikawa can feel them cold at the back of his neck, freezing his chest piece by piece, but he won’t let them. He won’t. “And it’s probably a crime to look unfashionable in Italy!”

Tobio scowls. “It’s the one you always wear.” But he takes the scarf, fingers stroking it, distracted. “I’m always too hot anyway—” Sandalwood and musk whiffs up from the cashmere, the ghost of Oikawa’s cologne hanging in the air between them.

“Oh,” Tobio says. “Oh,” Tobio says again so quietly, so fragmented, and Oikawa almost can’t stand it.

Sunrise creeps unwanted along the edge of the window. Tobio’s flight leaves early in the morning, but time is moving so slowly it’s like there’s nothing else in the world except them sitting in the middle of the floor, pushing the small miserable pieces of what’s left of their life together back and forth between them as if it was just that easy to cross an ocean.

“Don’t you dare say anything else, Tobio-chan! I’m not crying!”

Tobio is staring at him. Tobio’s eyes are much too bright and unwavering and blue in a way Oikawa has never seen before and a year seems like no time at all and a year seems like forever, and Oikawa watches as something trembles through Tobio’s hands clenched at his sides, but they stay right there.

“We can be whatever we are like this, too,” Tobio mutters instead, leaning over to press his lips to Oikawa’s cheek. Stays just like that. Just like in the movies. Oikawa can feel Tobio’s lashes fluttering close, Tobio’s mouth shaking against his skin, too, and he can’t stand it, he can’t stand any of this. “I’m not crying either, Oikawa-san.”

His hands fumble for Oikawa’s now, and it seems impossible how ice cold they are. But no matter how long Oikawa holds them tight in his, his thumb smoothing over and over and over the callused palms he knows like his own, wants to touch them so he can keep knowing them, they don’t get any warmer until the sun does rise, and time starts to move again, moving the both of them along with it.

There’s nothing that could have made Oikawa keep Tobio back.

They both have always deserved the world. It was just that the world was never offered to Oikawa, too.

“I’m going to crush him and his Italian team,” Oikawa says to the new day, but his words sound empty even to him.

[itsclydebitches]

Can we have a prompt with hugs? After everything going down this volume I think Oz/Oscar need all the hugs!

Apparently I’m really bad at coming up with excuses for hugs so here, have some super classic fic cliches… 

(Updated prompt list is here!) 

“I officially hate you.”

Now, now. No need to get snippy just because we’re cold.

“You mean I’m cold.”

I assure you, Oscar, I am just as capable of sensation even while ‘riding backseat,’ as you so eloquently put it. You know that well enough by now.

“I don’t know anything because I can’t think because I’m cold!”

Up ahead Ruby and Blake exchanged glances. Oscar’s one-sided fight—going on ten minutes now—had done a lot to lift the group’s spirits. They hadn’t expected the grimm attack on the train, nor to crash land in Mistral’s wintery wilderness when a manticore’s blast had decoupled the luggage cars, half of their group still on top at the time. Though Ruby supposed things could be worse. Jaune, Nora, and Ren were still on their way to Argus, their last look at one another a silent, We’ll reconvene. No one had been injured thanks to Weiss’ quick thinking—even the relic had remained secure against Oscar’s hip. They’d found a path to follow. Beyond some general grumbling at the situation itself, there wasn’t too much to complain about.

Well, except the cold.

“We’re really not dressed for this weather,” Blake admitted, pulling her coat closed over her midriff. “I should have at least grabbed my other coat…”

Ruby shook her head. “You know there wasn’t time. Besides, it’s not like we thought we’d be out here any longer than the fight. Ugh. Fights keep me so nice and warm.”

Blake’s lips twitched. “Want to spar while we walk?”

“…Is that a thing people do?”

“It’s a thing we can do.”

With a blur of rose petals Ruby was suddenly launching a punch at Blake’s face, easily dodged with a quick turn of her heel. Ruby went ploughing into the snowy bank in front of Qrow (who neatly stepped over his niece, barely blinking) and shrieked something about being even colder now. She was up a second later though, the two of them flitting ahead as they tried to work out how to keep a sparring match moving forward.

Oscar watched with hands wrapped tightly around his elbows and his nose buried in the crook of his shoulder.

It seems Ms. Rose has improved her technique after all, Ozpin commented, both of them following the arc of Blake’s body as Ruby managed to sweep her feet out from under her. Already they were both a little rosier in the cheeks. Would you like to join them? Ms. Rose is not wrong to think that movement is one of the best ways to keep warm.

For a moment longer Oscar watched the flurry of semblances and long limbs. He grimaced. “Don’t think I can keep up with them.”

You sell yourself short. You’ve just gotta play a lil’ dirty, eh?

Oscar stumbled, thrown by the advice. It took him a moment to realize that Ozpin had only said the first half. The second had come from Yang at his shoulder. Voices got garbled like that sometimes.

He turned to find her grinning. She at least appeared warm enough while in the mood to tease. “No one ever said a good fight was a fair one,” she continued. “Ruby? Super ticklish. Go for anywhere along her side and you won’t even have to worry about landing a hit. Just touching her there will send her into a fit of giggles. Blake? I love her, but that long hair is a disaster waiting to happen. At least Weiss keeps hers tied up. Grab a decent handful and—bam! You’ve got her right where you want her.”

Oscar’s eyes strayed up to Yang’s own hair. “Then shouldn’t you…?”  

I would recommend you not complete that sentence.

Yang’s sharp smile said exactly the same.

“Never mind.”

“Keep walking,” and Yang gave him a thump on the back hard enough to nearly send Oscar into the snow.

“Is this what having sisters is like?” he muttered, low enough that the rest wouldn’t hear. Except Ozpin of course. It was always Ozpin, picking up on every stray, stupid, impulsive thought that flit through his head. Oscar had found it overwhelmingly invasive at first—who wouldn’t?—but now it was just…a thing. One more thing in his life with upsides and downsides. Right now at least, when Ozpin filled their consciousness with barely repressed amusement, the upside was an emotion so strong Oscar could almost pretend that he was warm.

Almost. His boots were meant for muddy fields and years long use, not insulation. Oscar wanted to say that his toes were numb, but if that was the case then why did they hurt? He grit his teeth and kept slogging forward, leaving a shambling trench behind him.

“You’re, like, a bajillion years old,” he said, teeth starting to chatter again. “Haven’t you learned anything useful in all that time? Like how to keep from becoming a human popsicle?”

Beyond conventional means we currently have no access to? I’m afraid not. I may be knowledgeable and long-lived, Oscar, but I am no god.

There was a tinge of self-reproach in those words, an emotion Oscar didn’t understand, but he knew better than to ask about it. Instead he just bent his head against the wind and closed stinging, running eyes.

A second later Oscar walked directly into Weiss.

“Watch it,” she hissed, pitching forward. Oscar instinctively made a grab for her arms and ended up chest-to-back as he worked to keep them both from losing their balance. In theory? Not a bad way to stop a cold, wet fall. In practice with a girl who had two inches on him, not counting the heels? Kinda awkward.

Yang was making a noise somewhere between a squeak and a car backfiring. “That’s one way to keep warm!”

And so was blushing. Oscar felt what little heat was left in his body rushing into his cheeks. “Um… sorry. Wasn’t looking.”

Weiss just rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. Besides, Yang might be an idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—but in this at least she’s right,” and to Oscar’s utter shock Weiss pulled him around to her left side, slotting him neatly against her hip. One arm wrapped down around his shoulder while her scarf—some sort of cashmere material that was softer than anything Oscar had ever owned—swayed against his cheek.

“Weiss?”

No need to call attention to a kind act. Especially one that benefits you both.

…Right. Weiss was shivering too, even more badly than Oscar, though she somehow hid it better behind a stony expression, squared shoulders, and a carefully lifted chin. Oscar had heard the group call her Ice Queen more than once. Seemed a little funny that an Ice Queen kept giving tiny, almost imperceptible sniffles from her red, runny nose.

“You two are disgusting,” Yang said, coming up on Oscar’s other side. She draped an arm around his shoulders, overlapping Weiss, like that was a thing they just did, normally, and beneath her skin thrummed a semblance hot as fire.

“You three,” Oscar corrected, missing the brief surprise that crossed Yang’s face, settling into something wary. She didn’t remove her arm though and Oscar was too busy trying to bury himself into the warmth. Weiss kept pressed to his other side as the four of them kept up an awkward, lumbering pace through the snow.

Yang opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sudden cloud of rose petals swarming around her shoulders. A second later they reformed into one little sister, clinging monkey-style to Yang’s back. She briefly staggered.

“Ruby!”

“Warm,” came the only answer, muffled as Ruby buried her nose against Yang’s neck. A very cold nose based on the shriek that tore from her throat. Ruby just hummed and reached over to wrap her free hand into the fabric of Oscar’s shirt, tugging them even closer.

Weiss let out a huff that clouded the air in front of them. “We’ll never reach… wherever it is we’re going at this rate.”

“Better than dying before we get there,” Blake said, finally catching up to her easily distracted partner. She did look warmer, red in the cheeks and panting even as she shivered. She immediately slotted herself next to Weiss and tried to adopt the hip-bumping walk they were all practicing.

As the smallest Oscar felt rather squished. But squished in a good way. Like when his aunt crushed his ribs during one of her infamous birthday hugs. Or when Morado two farms over had once let his dogs pile on Oscar and wouldn’t call them off no matter how much he claimed he couldn’t breathe.

Good squished, Ozpin echoed. Oscar thought he could feel the nod of their head, even though they hadn’t actually moved. Yes, I’m quite familiar with that feeling.

“You are?” There were a few curious glances at his whisper. 

I am indeed.

And Oscar had a…sense. What literally felt like a new sense, an alien smell or touch or sound that suddenly flooded through his being, the feeling of memories re-surfacing when they weren’t your memories at all. Oscar’s shoulders felt the press of hands he’d never seen, his chest was tight with emotions not his own. Someone’s fingers ran through his hair and brushed a tear from his cheek and straightened glasses he’d never worn. Oscar took a deep breath and felt his whole body engulfed in a hug that was everything and nothing like the ones his aunt gave him. It was lifetimes worth of them. All at once.

“The hell are you lot doing back there?” Qrow called. He had started walking backwards, surprisingly balanced as he watched the group huddle and scoot through the snow. His lips twitched, catching sight of Oscar’s astounded expression. Attributing it to Weiss’ arm now wrapped safely around his waist. Yang’s arm linked through his. Ruby’s face buried halfway between her sister’s shoulder and her friend’s hair. “Lil’ chilly?”

“Something like that,” Blake said, all but purring the words as Weiss tugged her closer. An exhausted, but otherwise happy chuckle spread through the group.

We’re getting there, Ozpin noted. It was for Oscar’s ears only, but it turned his chuckle into a laugh that the whole group got to enjoy. 

They bottled the sound up, drank it down, and let it warm them from the inside out. 

[synkiller82]

Collapse Into Me Chapter 5 - Dazzle

“Did you see the latest akuma attack?” Alya rambled as she sat up from Marinette’s chaise lounge. “Ladybug was AMAZING!  Chat Noir was great too, but the way she used her lucky charm this time—”

Marinette tuned out her friend’s rambling as she continued to sketch in her notepad.  She loved Alya like a sister, but she wasn’t in the mood to listen to a play-by-play of her latest victory of Hawkmoth.  Alya had asked her to design her Winter Formal dress, and Marinette knew she needed to get started now if she had any hope of making three or four outfits before the dance.

“What are you working on over there?” Alya sighed and shook her head as she realized her friend wasn’t listening.  She lay on her stomach and peeked over Marinette’s shoulder to see four outfits, two male and two female, completed on the page.  Marinette was finishing the suit of a boy who bore a striking resemblance to Adrien.  “So, what kind of suit are you thinking of, hmm?”

“Well,” Marinette answered without looking up.  “Since this is for the Winter Formal, I would use a warmer fabric.  I would love to use Cashmere, but it’s REALLY expensive.  I’m sure I can get a blend that will look just as good.”  She picked up her alcohol markers and began to color the completed sketches.  “I’m thinking a light grey, fitted two-button suit that shimmers in the right light, paired with a white dress shirt and midnight blue vest and tie.  That way our ensembles would complement instead of matching.”

“So, he’s asked you to go?” Alya asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not yet.”  Marinette answered without looking up, focusing on the complementing dress.  “If he doesn’t the colors could always be changed.  He would look just as great in a black suit with a white or green shirt and silver accessories.”  She sighed, sat up, and put down her marker.  “Who am I kidding?  He’s not going to ask me to go with him.”

“You never know, Marinette.” Alya slid to the floor next to her friend to rub her back.  “You two have become a lot closer over the past month or so.  Maybe he will ask you.”

Marinette shrugged, but didn’t reply.  While she was hoping that Adrien would ask her to the dance, she was having to remind herself that they were nothing more than close friends and he had plenty of more suitable options for a date, such as Chloe or Kagami.

“What’s going on in there, girl?”  Alya asked, pulling Marinette from her thoughts.  “I know that look.  Tell me what you are thinking.”

Marinette flopped onto her back, arms and legs spread out.  “I just don’t know why I keep doing this to myself, Alya.  I don’t think I’ll ever make it out of the friend-zone, but my heart won’t stop wanting more.”

“I thought you said you were over your crush.” Alya interjected.

“I am.”  Marinette assured as she continued to stare at the ceiling. “I’m not going to stalk him anymore or memorize every little thing about him.  I understand now just how crazy and creepy I was acting over the past two years.”  She propped up on her elbows to look at her friend. “However, I still have feelings for him. I want to make sure he smiles every day, because his dazzling, genuine smile makes the world a brighter place. I want to be the person who makes him laugh, to hold him when he cries, and to lift him up when he is low.  I want to enjoy all the little moments of life with him.”

“Why haven’t you told him all of that?” Alya prompted, curious to know the answer herself.

Marinette groaned and fell back to the floor.  “I am pretty sure his father wouldn’t approve of a simple baker’s daughter.  While my parents’ business is successful, we are not among the wealthy and elite.  We both know Adrien will marry someone of his own social circle if his father has anything to say.”  She sighed heavily.  “With all of that, it’s better that I just keep my feelings to myself.  I don’t need to add to his already stressful life. I’m really happy with what we have.”

Alya shook her head. She was sure that Adrien had feelings for Marinette, even if he wasn’t aware of them yet.  “Well, I think that anything is possible, girl.  You just need to keep your head up and continue to show him who the real Marinette is.  I’m sure he’ll fall for you eventually.”

Marinette sat up and smiled at her friend.  “Thanks, Alya.”

“However, this does lead to something else,” Alya stated.  “What about Luka?”

Marinette’s face fell. “Alya!” she groaned out.  “What about him?”

“We all know your compass has been going crazy for him too.”  Alya stated matter-of-factly.  “Not to mention the things he has said to you.  When you told me about his declaration at the TV station before he performed a few years ago, I thought I was going to melt into a puddle.  He likes you girl and you have left him hanging.”

“I have not!” Marinette countered as she crossed her arms and pouted.  “I talked to him a little while after that and told him that I couldn’t return his feelings, but that they were appreciated.”

“And what did he say to that?” Alya mirrored her friends pose, upset that this was the first time she had heard about this.

“He said that he didn’t care.  That the song he heard was still mine and would continue to be.”  Marinette shrugged.  “I still don’t know what to do with that, so I let it die and we have become friends as well.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Alya sighed as she placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder.  “You are going to have to do something soon or this could blow up in your face.”

“What else should I do, Alya?  I told Luka I couldn’t return his feelings.  It’s not my fault if he won’t.”

“Please be honest with yourself.  You still have feelings for him as well, but you won’t let them in because of the Adrien-shaped spot in your heart.”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again and nodded.  She couldn’t argue when her friend was right.

“Exactly.  Luka is a very perceptive person.  I’m sure he knows you still hold a candle for him and, if I were him, I would be acting on it before it gets snuffed out by someone else.”

Alya’s words rocked Marinette to the core.  It had never occurred to her that Luka would act on anything.  He was always so gentle and passive.  Would he really be bold enough to proclaim his feelings again, still knowing there was a chance at rejection?

Marinette shook her head. These were thoughts and problems for her and Tikki to work through.  For now, she just wanted to hang out with her best friend and enjoy their time together. However, Hawkmoth had other plans. Marinette and Alya gasped as the house shook and a loud roar was heard.

“No WAY!”  Alya squealed as she leapt up and grabbed her stuff. “Sorry, girl, gotta go!  The Ladyblog needs me!”

Marinette shook her head and watched as her friend took off toward the latest akuma.  Once she was sure she was alone, she transformed and headed off to fulfill her duties as Ladybug.

[minuete-blog]

Philes’ Xmas Advent Calendar Prompt Day 18: Mittens. Tagging @today-in-fic @txf-prompt-box @only-txf-fanart

Mulder and Scully wait for an informant. Post-Dreamland II

A No Show

“Mulder, what are we doing here?” Scully asks shivering from the frigid weather.  She wore her heavy coat, but the temperature drastically dropped once the sun set.  She adjusts her navy cashmere scarf to better cover her red-tipped ears and quickly places her hands in her coat pockets.  She feels the moisture of her breath on the scarf.  The two of them are standing nearby a children’s playground in the DC area under a lamp pole.

“My contact wanted to meet me here,” Mulder answers, “He said he’s got something big to tell me.”

“Big enough for you to wait out at a park in the cold on a Friday night, Mulder? A Friday night.” She emphasizes through clenched teeth to refrain from chattering, subconsciously moving closer to Mulder to seek warmth, bumping into his right arm in the process.  She remains vigilant, looking for another human being in the dimly lit park.

“You didn’t have to come, Scully,” Mulder reminds her.  She shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. Your buzzwords were ‘informant meeting.’  There’s no way I’m leaving you alone to handle a meeting, however pointless it may be.”  Mulder manages to look offended.

“Give me an example when an informant of mine came up short.”

“Area 51.”

“You said that rather quickly, Scully.”

“That occurred two weeks ago, Mulder.  By the way, Kersh’s assistant has been ogling you ever since we came back from Nevada.”

“Yeah? I didn’t notice.” Scully huffs at his response.  She takes her hands out of her pockets and rubs them together.

“You have to be blind not to notice, Mulder.” She mutters into her cupped hands as she tries to warm them up with her breath.  She’s beginning to think her heavy coat is nothing more than a fashion statement.  Mulder’s expression is unreadable for a brief moment before he shows one of concern.

“Are you that cold?” Mulder goes and touches her left hand with his right. “Scully! Your hands are freezing!”  He starts to rub both her hands in his vigorously.

“You don’t happen to have gloves or mittens stowed away in your coat pockets, do you?” her joke fell flat as he continued to focus on her hands, frowning that her fingertips were taking on a bluish hue.  

“Jesus, Scully.  I’ll have to remember to pack some hand warmers in my pockets during the winter season. You take the phrase ‘Cold hands, warm heart’ literally.”  Mulder pauses and checks his watch, “It’s been half an hour, already.  The guy’s a no-show. 0 for two on the informant front.  Come on.  Let’s get you someplace warm.”  He places her left hand into the crook of his right arm and starts to head back to the car. She slips her right hand into her pocket as she maintains his pace.

“Maybe he found out you no longer work on the X-Files.  Did you update your business cards?”   He says nothing. Scully sighs.

“Mulder, we have to lay low.  Keep our noses clean--”

“Hard to keep it clean with the pile of bull shit we have to deal with,” he replies angrily.

“Have you reached out to Agent Fowley regarding about your potential informants?” She asks tentatively.  “You’ve mentioned before that she’s keeping an eye out for you.”  Mulder’s slows his pace as he turns to look at her confused, slipping her left hand out from his arm in the process.  

“For cases that relate to anything she and I both saw at that facility. But no, I haven’t spoken to her recently.” Scully nods, adjusting her scarf with her left hand before placing it in her pocket. Eyes downcast, she continues walking.

“What’s this about, Scully?”

“I wonder if she’s been withholding information that you’ve been seeking since our reassignment.”

“Diana wouldn’t do that, Scully,” he answers immediately, “Spender would, but not her.”

“Okay.” Mulder reaches out to gently grab her elbow to stop her. He waits for her to look at him.

“Scully, whatever reservations you have against Diana—“

“Mulder, she’s your friend, and I know how much you value your friends. You trust them unwaveringly.”

“You’re my friend, Scully.”  

“I’m your partner in this case, who’s in dire need of warm shelter, preferably someplace that serves food.”  He chuckles.

“How about I treat you to that new Thai place you’ve wanted to try?”

“Yeah?” Scully shoots him one of her rare smiles. The one that makes his chest tighten, makes him wonder about alternate universes —one where he leads a normal life and asks a girl he likes on a date.  He smiles softly at her.  

“Yeah.”  

[mcleodhandcraftgifts]

[pennydreadfulbook]

Penny Dreadful - Chapter One

Content Rating: M Relationships: F/F + F/M  Content warnings: No Warnings

______________________________________________________________

DECEMBER 20TH 2028

 "Hello Urchin." He softly greets her, and Penny needs to remind herself that her father and Linda have been worried sick about him. 

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Penny continues in her cold disapproving tone while she nears Lucifer, her arms crossed. Her previous quadruple D (drunk-dead-demon-dude) is not forgotten so easily. 

Lucifer's brilliant white wings are a vision to behold, as usual, flexing to their grandest state before he tucks them away into their incorporeal-other-dimension form. His black suit reveals no signs of wear, although there are traces of blood on his dress-shirt collar. He smells of brimstone and smoke again, and she's pretty sure she knows exactly where he's been for the last six months.

"I considered you may react as such, and I can explain." He tells her, holding up his hands submissively as she continues her march towards him. At twenty, she knows she has always terrified him, but instead of binding him with the torturous embraces of her youth, she seizes his elbow and turns him on the heels of his Louboutins towards her original bounty.

"You can explain as we follow one of your friends. I assume that's what this is about." As soon as the words are out of Penny's mouth, he roots himself and her momentum has her turning to face him.

"I'm afraid that we share a mutual interest in your target—"

"Fuck—"

"Pardon? My child I have no need—"

"WHATINTHEACTUALHELLPENNY?!" Seems to come out in one singularly loud breath, as though she is angrily singing her way over to them. For the briefest of moments when he appeared, Penny had forgotten her. But Lucifer had a way of causing that within her, visions of tackling him repressed deep in her heart.

"Penny?" Lucifer lifts a brow at Beatrice Penelope Jane Espinoza, standing in front of him.

"Want to go there right now Sam?"

"Duly noted." The corner of his mouth curls up, and he bows his head gently at her.

Vae swallows, her eyes bright and wide. Penny can see she is breathing erratically solely from the steams of breath coming from her mouth.

"And who might your uh, angel-winged-five-seconds-ago-and-now-clearly-not, friend be?"

My mom's partner. Satan? My step-devil? That had always been Penny's favourite moniker he held, but she decides against it in this instance. 

"Vae. This is my stepfather I was telling you about," and she swears out of the corner of her eye she can see Lucifer stand a little taller (if that's even possible) and smile.

"You speak of me?"

"Of course, dummy." Penny gives him a dubious look. "How on Earth can I get around that?"

Vae starts to giggle, her whole face going red as she looks back and forth between Penny and Lucifer. 

"Right, of course. Are we still not going to address the issue I'm currently having with the ethereal white wings?" Vae is doing that thing she does with her whole arm when she's circling a situation in front of her that she needs to get to the bottom of. Penny also registers that she is looking at her step-devil with a longing that Penny has watched women project for as long as she can remember. But Vae also seems far more interested in finding out precisely what she had seen more than throwing him to the snowy ground.

Penny looks over to Lucifer and sighs.

"Lu...ook Dad, could you maybe, help a daughter out and explain to my roommate and longest friend, since I left home... exactly, what she may have seen?"

Lucifer's eyes travel between the two young ladies in front of him, and his shoulders sink as he resigns to Penny's request.

"Right. Well, first— is it possible to meet you back at the loft? I never actually allowed Hell to freeze over, and while immortal, I'm not impervious to this..." and she watches him wave his hand with fluid grace at the snow falling around them, "temperature."

A brisk wind picks up, and she watches as he fights a shudder standing there in nothing but his suit. They're wasting time, and he doesn't seem to be that concerned about her quadruple D. 

"Are we not tracking... someone?"

"You might be Urchin. But I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well that's just fucking perfect. Isn't it?" 

Scowling, Penny turns from him and takes Vae by the arm, turning her back towards the park entrance. 

"Come on, Vae," Penny sighs, "Let's go home."

"What about—" And the sound of Lucifer leaving interrupts Vae, who was turning around to address him.

"Right. Wings."

 ~***~

 "Are we not going to talk about the fact that your stepfather has wings? Like straight up, gorgeous angelic—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home," Penny tersely answers. They are almost halfway home before Vae has seemingly come down from whatever level of shock she had been suffering from. Vae feeling better, however, also means Vae being her usual talkative self. 

"How about the fact that he smelt like sulphu—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home." 

Penny relishes in a brief reprieve before Vae starts again. 

"He said, 'allow Hell to freeze over.' "

"We'll talk—"

"He said immortal."

"—about it when we get home."

"I guess the immortality makes sense. I mean, when I was processing it all, images of your Mom as a hot cougar or having you when she was like twelve kept popping up."

"Vae."

"Nicely done by the way, Penny's mom because DAAAAAAMN girl, your dad—"

"Vae."

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell me you want to sleep with my stepfather." 

"Don't you?" 

"NEVAEH!" 

"Oh, please. You have eyes," and Vaeh dramatically rolls hers before crossing her arms and adding, "don't pretend you don't know that kink exists."

Penny remembers when they had boundaries. Vae did warn her, but Penny wasn't expecting L.A. to catch up with her so fast.

 ~***~

 In her bedroom, she finds Lucifer, freshly showered and redressed in a crisp white dress shirt covered in a grey cashmere sweater. He's brushing his hair in her vanity mirror when he sees her. 

"I see you found the extra clothes Linda sent me in your in my closet," Penny tells him, sighing and leaning up against the doorframe. 

"I would have preferred more than just one suit and a Burberry at that. If it's black, it might as well be Prada. Nonetheless, I appreciate the good Doctor thought of something a tad warmer. Now, your friend—"

"Vae."

"Vae, what exactly is your expectation?"

Penny sighs. "I don't expect you to lie if that's what you're asking."

"Yes," and he places her brush down before rubbing the bridge of his nose impatiently, "but what, for your sake, my dear, am I omitting here?"

"Just, take it as it comes. She thinks Mom is dead or maybe has dementia? It's easier when they don't straight out ask. She knows you were missing; she saw your wings, and she knows me as Penny. The name we chose when we agreed I was being stationed here undercover, so... that being said."

"Right. Well, as you know, time in Hell moves much differently than here—"

Penny cuts him off. "Yes. Yes. Millenia’s, probably ten. Put it back in the deck Lucifer. You're choosing this time."

"Right..." He stares off beyond her and nods, swallowing. "Well, I'll do right by you, Urchin, as best as your favourite celestial parent can." 

"That's... not fair, regardless of how accurate, at the moment."

"Well, we're all doing our best."

"Are you? Because after Vae goes to bed, you and I," Penny practically snarls, "are going to have our own conversation about how you abandoned training Charlie—"

"About that—"

"—After being an absolute asshat to both Dad and Maze." 

"So, you heard about that, did you?"

"And you know how I got to hear about that? From a very concerned Linda who took your note to mean something COMPLETELY different than what I think you intended."

"I was TRYING to communicate!"

"Then the same day I receive three bloodied feathers from Maze, after a text that read, and I quote, 'A gift from the King of Fuckery.'"

"Oh, so you got my gift!" He exclaims.

A giggle echoes from the floor below, and Penny steps out of her room to see Vae waiting for them in the living room. Turning back, Penny leans in towards him.

"Lucifer?" She whispers harshly.

"Yes, my dear."

"You have ten seconds to get downstairs or so help me Mom you're going to lose more than three feathers."

~***~

 Vae sits in Penny's favourite chair, where she keeps her knife and scotch, sitting on her knees. Her hands are placed in her lap like a child waiting for their instructor this evening, amber-brown eyes wide with wonder.

She had always imagined Penny had some insanely wild upbringing. Vae had fantasized that it involved chauffeurs and private jets, boarding school and the social elite. 

Months ago, Vae had found a hidden photo of what she had assumed was Penny's incredibly beautiful parents, all surrounding her as she blew out nine candles on a cake. It had been tucked in Penny's dresser and had been accidentally seen while putting Penny's socks away. So when Vae witnessed him appear out of nowhere, with ethereal white wings, she had assumed that he was Penny's father. Their colouring had seemed to her, the most similar.

But this?

Vae isn't a private investigator, but she has always been keenly inquisitive and observant as far back as she can remember. That and an hour trip back home? She's pretty sure she's figured out some details. 

He said Hell. He said immortal. No one denied angel wings.

Penny is sitting closest to her on the couch, her feet tucked up underneath her as she takes a knife and soap carving out of the end table that separates them. Vae watches while Penny takes the tumbler of scotch and pours him a glass. He takes it graciously from her and sips, slightly wincing.

"I'm not legal yet. It's not like I have Macallan or Woodford Reserve on hand." Penny tersely tells him.

Penny's impossibly-handsome-most-likely-an-angel-possibly-the-devil stepfather crosses, then re-crosses his legs, placing his hands over his knees and exhaling loudly. 

"Alright, Vale,"

"Vae—"

"Vae, what would you like to know about?"

"Wings. Angel?"

"Once."

That adds up. Vae looks over at Penny, who is doing an excellent job of pretending her soap carving is far more interesting than the conversation happening in the room currently. Vae swallows down the silence. There is one part that isn't making much sense to her.

"And Penny called you Sam."

"For Samael. The name Father gave me."

"Father as in God?"

"The only Father I've ever had."

"Right."

Silence once more. Penny's impossibly-handsome-definitely-a-fallen-angel-was-there-a-Sam-name-for-the-devil? Stepfather holds her gaze with a wry smile plastered on his face, but she senses sadness in his eyes. He told her his name, so why does she feel if she were to refer to him as Sam, it would bother him immensely? 

"Why do I feel like I'm being lied to?"

"I do NOT lie, Miss Vae,  friend of my daughter." 

"What should I call you then, sir?"

He looks at Penny, and she sighs before saying. "She's going to find out sooner or later."

"Lucifer Morningstar."

Vae's signature giggle of wonderment springs forth in awkward waves. Lucifer laughs, charmingly along with her, but Penny, Penny, chooses to remain silent if the point needs to be driven home. Vae's eyes grow wider as the realization hits, and then...

And then she's laughing hysterically, a gasping wheeze as tears are falling out of the corners of her eyes.

"Vae?" 

"It's natural Urchin, although the delay seems to be a new variable, almost all humans go slightly mad at the sight of divinity."

Vae finds this even more amusing and is holding her side and going slightly red.

"I didn't." 

"Yes, well, you were never for following norms, were you dear?"

"Vae?!"

"I'm sorry..." Vae manages to get out, "I'm sorry, Penny... but... You don't like taking the Lord's name in vain?" And she's back to dying of laughter as she tries to spit out, "But then you called him a flying fuck?!"

"Once." Penny's eyebrows almost lift into her hairline as she turns to Lucifer, her hand holding the blade lifts a finger in protest. "Maybe twice. And sorry-not-sorry."

"So, let me get this straight, Miss Vae, you just found out that celestials, divinity, God, and the Devil are real, and your reaction seems to be one of mocking my adopted offspring?"

Vae nods her head fervently. "You can't see the humour in this? How can you NOT see how bullshit-cuckoo-bananas this all is?"

"Oh, so you’re merely mocking me and calling me a liar," and flames are alight in his eyes. 

"Lucifer!" Penny chastises. 

But whatever Lucifer's desired effect may have been, it doesn't seem to have worked because now Vae is practically falling out of the chair laughing at Lucifer and Penny. 

"YOU DO THE EYE THING EVEN!"

"Urchin, I don't know if I have the fortitude to handle this ridiculousness much farther."

"They literally relaunched the Diablo television series last year, and she wouldn't let me talk about it at ALL with her! I mean, Penny even told me that all her parents worked in law enforcement in some way or another. So, I mean, while I'm aware this is my current reality. You can't blame me for thinking I've had a stroke and have woken up today to live in this fairy tale, wouldn't you agree?"

Lucifer leans back on the couch and takes another sip of the scotch.

"This is so unfair, Penny. This whole time we kept listening to Rose and David talk about future religious upbringing for their non-existent progeny at our dinner party, and you didn't even mic drop them? And we have lived together for almost a year, and this is how I find out? What the Hell was going on back there? What were we chasing? Why does Satan have bad ass angel wings? I mean, I'm an art major, and I've heard of the Gentlemen Devil archetype but this," and she waves her arm at Lucifer. He is sitting there, his hair in light curls from no product, a five o'clock shadow already appearing even though he seemed to have shaved before they got back.

"This, I gotta say, seems a tad on the nose."

"Archetypes exist for a reason Miss Vae."

"I'm not finished." Vae tells him, and he appears shocked by her blatant rudeness. "—sir, Morningstar, sir. Sorry. But again... but I'm going to roll with it."

"Like do I watch that show, and I know your entire life story? Is that on purpose? How did you meet Penny's Mom? I know she said you were partners for years before you got together. I thought you guys had married. Does the Devil write vows? Is it before God? Do Satanists get it right, or do you despise them?"

"Vae—"

"If you're here, what's going on with Hell? Wait, are Hell and Heaven real? You don't seem evil; do you work with God? That's what always threw me off... why punish the bad if you're all about it, am I right?"

"Vae—"

"Urchin, dear, let me," Lucifer says, holding his hand out gently in Penny's direction and placing the glass of Scotch on the table in front of him. He turns his gaze back towards Vae and smiles.

"No. No. Through a case. We were partners four years before we became partnered. Yes. Yes, I wrote them and yes. They get some right and some wrong, like every being and organization on the planet, and yes, because I abhor most organizations that misinterpret the truth. I am here, meaning Hell has no ruler currently, and yes, both are very real." He pauses to take another sip of the scotch Penny poured him but does not seem to wince this time at the lacklustre taste, "I am pleased to hear that you skipped past the exam's evil portion. So yes, I punish the wicked, those whose guilt sends them to my kingdom, and yes, I work with God. I think that covers everything. So please, do you have any more banal queries you'd like to subject me to Miss Vale?"

"Vae—"

"Or will you relinquish my time so I can spend what little I have with my daughter before returning to my post?"

Vae rolls her eyes. "Passive-aggressive gentlemen devil? You've underhandedly praised my ability to weather this, but then chastise me for wasting time? You can just say you'd like some alone time, just please don't kick me out. I also pay you rent."

Both look at Vae inquisitively.

"Right, Penny. A top floor apartment that's 2300 square feet in Greenwich Village, and you're telling me that one of your other three parent's name is on the deed?"

Penny and Lucifer exchange looks and shrugs in understanding. It seems Vae is more than capable of deducing elements without the two other investigators in the room. 

"Penny, I know how articulate you can be and how well-bred, but I've also seen what you can do in 5.4 seconds to that—" and Vae points to Penny's practice target, "—you lovingly rename every month depending on who has pissed you off. I know to buy you the spiciest ramen, that you need at least three expressos a day just to function, and that when I really annoy you, I can always rely on chocolate cake to get back into your good graces. So I am asking you, as what I had assumed was your best friend: What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

"Vae." Penny sighs, turning her body away from Lucifer and towards her friend.

"I know I have ALOT to catch you up on—a lot. And you deserve answers, and you know I don't lie."

"OOOOH OOOOH, You said you don't lie." Vae is snapping her fingers and pointing at Lucifer, every snap causing him to wince. "Why do they call you the prince of lies?"

"My twin brother Michael used to bare a striking resemblance to me, even though I've never been one to see it, it's all in the posture. Anyways, he has always been the one to enjoy deceiving humans. From my understanding, he has changed a lot also since his fall."

"When did that happen?" Vae asks.

"When I was twelve or was I eleven?" Penny asks Lucifer.

"It was after you initiated martial law at our family dinner, Urchin."

Vae looks slightly horrified.

"I started a food fight. Martial law to him means I started a food fight."

"You're little act of vigilantism ruined a charming Armani suit that night Beat...iful daughter of mine?" 

Vae gives them a confused look. Lucifer and Penny so weird around each other, she assumes it's because he's been missing (from the smell of sulphur probably back in Hell) for the last six months. But there's an undercurrent that Lucifer needs to do a lot more than show up to get Penny to calm down. 

"So, you're saying that Michael liked to lie and because he looks like you everyone associates it with you because you have a bad wrap." Vae postulates.

"That would summarize the situation very well, indeed."

"Twin stuff."

Penny eyes Vae as though she can tell Vae is bringing another new thing to the table she wasn't expecting. Vae doesn't give in to Penny's expectant look. Vae is now acutely aware of JUST how much Penny keeps from her, and she's allowed to have secrets too. 

"Vae, we need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

"No, I know that. I understand you and me, but I'm saying, Lucifer and I, we need to discuss some things. Privately. And tomorrow? Tomorrow when you get up? We will go grab breakfast," And Penny turns around, "ON HIM, wherever you want to go. And if he is still here in the morning, I will make him come with us, and you can subject him to as many questions as you want."

"Please," Vae eyes him suspiciously, "He's already made it clear he's going to be gone by morning."

"True, but he's still going to leave me an allowance because regardless of who he is, Lucifer's still my dad, and if he leaves, I promise I will fill you in. But I have to find out first."

~***~

 "My child—" but Penny holds up a finger to Lucifer and waits for Vae to leave the bathroom and return to her room. She looks up to see Vae watching them suspiciously as she walks out of the upstairs bathroom and into her room, a brush stroking her hair as she paces towards her door. The door closes, and then Penny puts her finger down.

"Cut the crap Lucifer, I heard you say he was a mutual suspect."

"Then why call him a friend? you knew I could deny that."

"For that reason. You don't have friends in Hell, you have subjects. If you wanted me to track him, you would have agreed."

He looks at her with such wistful pride she is taken back. "You have so much of her in you. Her bravado and keen mind."

"Dad, stop! I don't want to talk about Mom." They both stop and break eye contact; the emotion is a little too raw for either of them. It was a slip into old habits, comfortable years ago, yet painful in their current state.

"Well then, the next part is going to be rather difficult, as that is why I'm precisely here." 

  FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 7:06 P.M. | | TRACK TO BE PLAYED HERE.

 Trixie thumbs her iPod's volume to the max, watching everyone around her argue in a pantomime to the music. Gathered with her at the table are angels, adults, a demon, the Devil, and God.

Charlie is asleep in the pack-and-play that Linda set up in her bedroom. 

She kind of envies Charlie right now.

She tries to get her mother's attention by staring lasers at her, but Chloe is too busy yelling at her Dad sitting to her right, wincing. The bench that they share with Maze and Michael is vibrating underneath the eleven-year-old. She looks at Maze to her left, who is currently pointing at Linda and Amenadiel. 

No one is paying her any attention, except for one. 

She looks back at God and gives him her best Who-do-you-think-you-are? Scowl, the one she mastered last year when she met Eve. 

No one asked Beatrice if she wanted to be here, listening to this.

She had no choice in the matter. 

Okay, well, she did demand a seat at the table, but she thought it would be a typical awkward family dinner, not watching every adult in her life outside of Ella, and school lose their temper on each other.

She picks up her fork and scrapes a bounty of mashed potatoes on to it. Maybe it's the music that inspires her, or perhaps it's the frustrations of being trapped with a bunch of adults who are behaving worse than her seventh-grade peers. Still, she looks up at God once more, meeting each other's eyes, and he smiles kindly at her, an invitation for what is about to happen next.

Like a miracle, white fluffy clouds of potato fly through the air catching the attention of the adults around her as they reach their final destination, landing with a resounding sloppy sound on God's right cheek. 

And as the track dies out, the adults– speechless stare at her in awe, and she pulls off the headset of her ears and sighs. 

"Finally," she murmurs and picks up the knife to cut into the roast beef on her plate. 

She hardly participates as carrots begin to bounce of chests, potatoes slap against faces and into hair. There is still an uproar, but the cacophony now has squeals of laughter interlaced between ridiculous insults. She looks up at her original target, and God continues to smile warmly at her, not engaged in the foolishness around her.

        FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 11:06 A.M.

 Eight hours before Trixie started pandemonium at the dinner table, she had been sitting in her room listening to the hurried whispers of her mother on the phone. 

"Dan, he asked that you be there, and really? After everything in the last few days, you owe him."

She's anxious. And bored. And continuously feeling the battles that her mother and father seemed to be facing. Her birthday is next month, and she's pretty sure they both haven't even had time to think about it because usually they're asking her what she wants for a special treat, perhaps a gift, anything at this point.

"No... Nonono... I mean God, as in your friend Amenadiel's dad. Your once frenemy Lucifer's father? HIM. He's asked that you be there. So essentially, you're saying no to God, Dan."

She moves from sitting on her bed to the chair at her desk and pulls out her coloured pencils and some paper before slapping it on the surface. 

The school counsellor took her aside recently and helped her understand that she's frustrated and sad when she feels like this. And that when she does, she can always turn to her artwork, and so she does. She draws aliens and herself on Mars, even though she realizes that her childish dreams of being the first president of Mars are soooo three years ago.

But she doesn't see the harm in pretending, so she draws her mother first, a smile on instead of the tears that Trixie has gotten used to pretending not to notice. Then her Dad, his arms up in the air, cheering her on. She draws Maze because Maze was the first to take the dream seriously and can't imagine what life was like before she met Maze. She loves Maze and misses coming home to her every day. She doesn't understand how adults can be so hot and cold with each other. A few weeks ago, before Lucifer got back, Maze was spending almost every day with them.

"And you know what, Dan? I can't wait to watch you squirm because it's God Dan, and now that we are aaaaallll up to speed, I know you dated Lucifer's Mom, and so do you!" Before lowering her voice and harshly whispering, "because I'm petty, and you tried to kill my boyfriend."

Trixie had missed Lucifer, but it had been a long time since he and her Mom had been getting along. It seemed like ever since they left for Rome, her Mom had just been lost. So, when he left, and she could see just how upset that made her mother, she talked to Maze about it and found out exactly where he had gone. Maze doesn't ever speak to her like she's a child; Lucifer does.

Trixie finds herself drawing him, using red to create his glowing eyes. Trixie learned from her father and mother a long time ago you don't give up any information on anything unless someone asks you a direct question. Trixie has known precisely who Lucifer is and what that entails from the moment she met him. 

Sure, she has accepted she'll always be Urchin or offspring. But he doesn't push her away like he used to. She also knows that he praises her most when she's clever and conniving, which makes her feel great. He saved her from those scary men who showed up when she went to see him and Eve. She saw his eyes then, even with Eve desperately trying to hide her behind her skirts. She watched him throw them through the stained glass and pick them up like they were nothing. It made her feel safe. He and her mother saved her from Malcolm. He came into her life, saving her mother, and her mom told her that he left it doing the same thing. 

Lucifer never lies to her; everyone else in her life has. More than once.

Trixie also now knows what a hooker is.

"Trixie-babe?" 

Trixie turns around to see her mother standing in the door-jam.

"Time to pack up; I've got Ella coming to get you to go for a girl’s night."

"What? Come on."

"What's wrong with that? I thought you liked Ella?"

"I love Ella, but why can't I have dinner with you and the family?"

Chloe pauses for a moment, her left eye twitching slightly, but that's all her face betrays.

"Why would you wanna hang out with a bunch of boring old adults? Come on, Monkey, you're going to totally love this!"

"No! You're lying!"

Chloe squints her eyes at Trixie, and she can tell her mom is deducing right now, so she sits still while she assesses the situation.

Trixie watches as her mother's eyes fall on the drawing on the desk.

"This is really important to you, hey?" Chloe asks, sounding resigned.

Sometimes her mom doesn't talk to her like a child; That helps.

"Mom, I know you're worried. It's God. It's a big deal."

Her mother's eyes narrow again. 

"You're not that quiet, and even if you were. I figured it out pretty early. Maze and Lucifer have always told me the truth." 

Chloe removes herself from Trixie's door and heads over to her daughter's bed. Trixie turns in her chair so she can face her.

"Yeah, I guess that helps, hey Monkey? Having adults in your life who treat you like your not a little kid."

"Lucifer treats me like a little kid. Mom, he just never lies to me." Trixie looks back at her drawing. "He saves that for himself."

Chloe's eyes go wide.

"Well, that's definitely not a deduction a little kid would make, especially one so astute." And Trixie looks back to her mother, shrugging.

"We all have our moments. Can I ask you a question, Mom?"

"Anything, baby. You can always ask me about anything, and if I have made you feel like you can't, for however long, I'm really sorry about that."

"When did you start believing?" 

Trixie watches Chloe's eye twitch.

"Was it when you took us to Rome?"

Chloe's eyes fill up with tears, and she nods quietly.

"Was it because you were afraid?"

"So afraid, baby. Afraid for you, afraid for me. Afraid for Lucifer even."

Trixie nods and gets up from her chair, and moves over to the bed. Trixie knows if she tells her mom that she overheard that her dad tried to hurt Lucifer, it will break her heart. Sometimes adults forgot she was there. She knows it's not just her mom though, she and her friend Celine have been talking about it when they walk the school halls at recess. So instead of bringing up Dan, Trixie tries a different approach.

"Who... doesn't know?"

"Ella."

Trixie's shoulders drop. She knows how this conversation is going to end. Her mom is going to tell her that she needs to go for her safety. That angels and demons, while totally wicked-awesome, are also dangerous. And everyone is kind of mad at each other right now, and Lucifer really doesn't like his dad, and it's just not the place for an eleven-year-old mortal kid from Los Angeles. 

"Well, I'm going to tell you the truth then, Monkey. I'm still not entirely comfortable knowing about angels and demons, and God and the Devil are real. Monkey, don't you ever miss when it was just you and me?"

Trixie shakes her head; it's a lie. She does miss it, but she fears that if she admits to her mother, at this moment, that that information will be fodder for her mother to send her away. She needs this; she needs to see Maze and her dad, Lucifer, and Charlie. If her mom makes her go with Ella, she feels like it's her mother lying too. So, she lies.

Chloe looks slightly hurt by her lie, but she smiles sadly and nods. "Okay baby, I'll call Ella and you can stay."

~***~

 Penny sometimes lies awake at night, remembering this lie. Now that loft is silent, and Lucifer's headed back to the Penthouse to make arrangements for her upcoming travels, Penny finds herself thinking about that day once more. As she rolls over to try once more to go to sleep, she twirls the ring she wears and sighs, biting her lip in a way that would remind most of her mother. As she drifts off, she can't help but let her guilt remind her, once more, that if she had not lied— if she had gone with Ella if things may have ended up differently. 

[ao3bronte]

Smutember: Foreplay

Masquerade on AO3

It's lunchtime on the first day back at school after spring break and it’s warmer than normal for this time of year. As a result, the four of them are settled beneath the shade of an old oak tree in the courtyard outside for the first time this year, chatting quietly and eating their lunches. Adrien sits cross-legged across from Alya and Nino in Versace jeans and a Kelly-green Pierre Balmain cashmere sweater that brings out the colour of his eyes; Marinette tries not to marvel at him the yarn grade of the fabric.

"That's the thing!" Alya gesticulates wildly, "No one knows what happened! No one was there to film it, no one actually saw Ladybug defeat him. We don't even know what happened to the guy!"

"She's been talking about this non-stop by the way," Nino points to her with his thumb, harried like he’s heard this a thousand times before, "She's full-on obsessed."

“It’s insane! Everything is insane!”

“It’s been a week Alya.”

“I don’t care! I’ve been moderating thousands of comments non-stop on the LadyBlog. I’m going to need to hire an assistant at this rate.”

“Don’t look at me,” Nino takes a bite from his sandwich, “I’ve got a real job.”

“Why wait tables when you could work with me? Think of all the fun we could have—”

“And that’s enough of that,” Marinette interrupts, spinning leftover pasta around her fork, “Can we change the subject?”

“No, we can’t. I need to know what happened and I’m not going to stop until I can figure it out.”

"I wouldn’t worry too much about it," Adrien shrugs, forking a strip of chicken breast.

"Easy for you to say," Alya interjects, "You weren't even here!"

“Yeah man, you didn’t see the craziness first hand, it was wild. Where were you anyway?”

“Monaco, and I still saw it on the news, my phone was blowing up for hours. But Ladybug saved the day, and she always will," he turns to Marinette and smiles, "I trust her to do the right thing. She’s certainly saved all our skins a million times before. Remember troisième?"

Nino nods in agreement, “Dude, it was like everyone got akumatised.”

“Everyone except the two of you,” Alya pouts at Marinette, “I always wondered what you would turn into.”

“Lady Croissant?” Nino snickers and Marinette goes to throw her fork at him, “No no, Madame Macaron! How dare the people of Paris snack on potato chips and hamburgers when they can eat sweets!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Marinette stabs the end of her fork into Nino’s arms and he falls over in mock-pain, holding his ‘wounded’ appendage, “How would that even work? Why would I be mad enough about macarons to get akumatised?”

“No, Marinette would definitely be akumatised by Chloe,” Alya says, bunting her boyfriend with her elbow, “Honestly though, how have you not been akumatised by her already?”

“Beats me,” Marinette shrugs and gets back to her pasta, “I guess I’m just lucky.”

Adrien gives her a funny look and Marinette returns it, “Are you all right?”

“Hm?” Adrien blinks slowly, “Yeah no, I was just imagining what you would look like as Madame Macaron. Bright pink dress maybe? Would you throw macarons at people?”

“Enough about Madame Macaron,” she shakes her head in playful indignation, “Why aren’t you making fun of him? He hasn’t been akumatised either.”

Nino and Alya turn to Adrien and pause to consider.

“Monsieur La Mode? You could like, target the hipsters or something.”

Adrien gives him an incredulous look, “Really? That’s the best you can come up with? I’m thinking more like Le Blagueur!”

Marinette raises a brow and takes another bite of her pasta, “What? How is that an evil superpower?”

“I would tell really bad puns until the city of Paris gave into my demands!”

“Well, considering someone almost took over the city with a flock of pigeons, I guess that could work,” Alya nods approvingly, “I like it.”

“Right?” he sides up to Marinette and bumps her shoulder with her own, watching the blush spread across her cheeks, “Think of the pastabilities.”

Marinette rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, “One more pun from you today Monsieur and I’ll—”

“Now now, don’t be a putain-esca.”

Nino oooohs as Marinette scooches closer, eyeing Adrien fiercely.

“A putain-esca? Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Adrien narrows his eyes and grins, “You’re right, can we put this little disagreement pastas?”

“Pho the love of god, stop it.”

“Ooo! She gives as good as she gets! Go ahead, penne for your thoughts?”

“Your puns are soba-d.”

“I dough’t know what you’re talking about. My puns are amazing.”

“Alright, I’m done,” she aims her fork at him and Adrien artfully dodges out of the way, “What has gotten into you today?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just doing it fusilli reasons.”

“UGH!”

Marinette throws her hands in the air and looks over towards Alya, who’s happily videotaping the whole exchange on her mobile while Nino watches over her shoulder and nods in appreciation.

“You too? Ugh,” she flops backwards onto the grass and stares up at the sky beyond the leaves of the tree, feeling the warmth creep up into her skin. It’s the heat she so often attributes to her powers as Ladybug, the one that begs to be as close to the Chat Miraculous as possible. Licking her lips, she wonders why it’s suddenly flaring now and hopes to goodness it isn’t because she’s subconsciously associating Adrien’s little pun war with Chat, because that? That would be humiliating.

~

“I had the best day at school today.”

Marinette lands beside Chat at their usual starting position for Monday Night Patrol, “Yeah?”

“I did! It was awesome,” he flicks his hair out of his face and settles in his usual hunch, “I got to hang out with my friends again. I haven’t seen them in ages.”

Marinette nods and sits down on the ledge he’s perched on, “I haven’t seen my friends in a while either. It was nice to catch up.”

“Right?” Chat smiles and Marinette catches his silhouette in the moonlight, “It felt like normal again.”

Marinette pulls her leg up, tucking her thigh against her abdomen, “It’s starting to feel like it. I’m glad the news is focusing on other things now, like this heat wave.”

“It’s been warm for April hasn’t it?” Chat replies, looking like he wants to tug at his own collar. Like hers, his magical suit is fused to his body and she can only imagine how hot he must get when he’s inside it during the summer months.

“Do you like the heat?”

“I don’t mind it,” he shrugs, “I get a mean tan every summer when I go to St. Barths. But I also like the cooler weather.”

“Wait, what? You go to St. Barths every summer?!”

Chat’s eyes go wide, “Uh, well. I mean, not every summer. I’ve been there like, twice and I, I was just exaggerating because, you know, I…I do that sometimes. Anyway, enough about me. Let’s go patrol the mean streets of Paris!”

Chat leaps off the ledge and disappears into the night before Marinette can even come up with a reply. She’s baffled more than anything; St. Barths is expensive!

She leaps after him and they fall into an easy rhythm after a while, joking and cajoling each other into doing silly parkour inspired tricks across the city. There’s no real rush or sense of urgency; Le Papillon is still AWOL and the streets are fairly quiet, meaning that there isn’t a whole lot going happening to worry about, and it suits the two of them just fine.

The heat beneath her skin is back and soon they’re leaping across rooftops side by side, never less than a metre away. The itch always pulls them back into each other’s orbits until they eventually collide, driven together by the magical forces between them, not unlike that of gravity. Conceding, they pause to catch their breath at Le Perchoir Marais, a rooftop lounge in St. Gervais that’s become a bit of an icon in their personal history.

After all, it’s where this whole mess started in the first place.

“Remember the first time we landed here?”

Marinette blushes profusely, staring at the couches made of wooden pallets, “Mmhmm.”

Chat steps into her personal space and grazes his claws along her arms, “I thought it was the best night of my life.”

Marinette plants her hands on her hips, “What?”

“That is,” he closes the gap between them and weaves his fingers with her own, pulling her closer, “Until the next night, and then the one after that. In fact, every night we’ve been together has far surpassed the night before it.”

Marinette smirks and shakes her head, “You are such a romantic.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing M’Lady.”

“Love doesn’t just happen Chat. You’ve got to work at it, it takes time and patience and two people who actually want to make it work.”

“Well, I think I have my side of it down pat,” he says, gesturing for her to take a seat. She does and he sits down beside her, the moonlight catching the subtly mirth in his expression.

“You know how I feel about this,” she cautions and Chat just shrugs.

“Who’s saying we’re even having this conversation? I’d much rather be doing other things with my mouth anyway.”

Marinette is grateful for the change of subject, “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” he purrs and captures her lips with his own, the itch of his Miraculous rearing its head. She grabs onto the back of his neck and quickly pries his lips open with a swift flounce of her tongue, diving in with vigour. He responds in kind, both of them clearly consumed by the itch, but there’s a different edge to it that softens Chat’s kisses and his gentleness only makes her more and more restless.

He breaks apart to breathe, "Do you remember the first time I swept you off your feet—"

"I'm pretty sure I swept you off yours, if I remember correctly."

"Semantics, Ladybug. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—"

"You kind of collapsed against that railing over there—"

"When we first kissed against the railings—"

"And I had to haul you upright because I thought you were fainting—"

"It was the most magical moment of my life up until that instant —"

"And I thought you were going to cry—"

"My knees were weak knowing that I had finally gotten my wish—"

"It was kind of funny to be honest—”

“Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you talk over me like that?”

“Yeah? I can think of plenty of other things I’d rather be doing over top of you.”

Chat gulps, “Is this your way of telling me to shut up?”

“Is that not obvious?”

Chat goes to open his mouth in reply but she is so done, so done with him talking. She feels things when he talks and she’d rather not feel anything but the feel of his body against hers, his skin against her skin. When her emotions were promptly thrown onto the backburner, things were so much easier; after all, having sex with him was so much easier than making love.

“Let's do something productive with that mouth of yours,” she mutters, pushing him onto his back on the pallet couch. She covers his eyes with one hand and detransforms, using the other to slip the mask on over her head. She’s already wearing a skirt and hastily pulls her panties down past her thighs, flicking them onto the cocktail table to her left. She’s finally rendered him speechless, what with the way she nearly tears her skirt off as she crawls closer to him and, seeing nothing but pure eagerness in his expression, she presses her clit to his face and lets him do what he does best.

For all his terrible jokes, he certainly has a talented tongue and god, the way he runs it against her lower lips and uses his nose to spread her open is perfect in every way. It's been ages since they've done this, ages since they've just decompressed together and fucked each other without a care in the world, ages since they just gave in to the itch. Too many emotions this week, too much of everything and Marinette forcefully shuts her mind down so she can just concentrate on his tongue and teeth and lips.

She grinds down against him and he grips her thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing bruises into her skin. She likes it a little rough, likes the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that forces her to focus on nothing but him and he exploits it, knows it and takes advantage of it, grazing his teeth against her clit. She throws her head back and keens at the way he soothes the sting, alternating between licking and sucking with his lips. His pace is torturous, slow and purposely inconsistent, and it's driving her insane.

Frustrated, she bucks her hips and he gets the hint, reaching back and scratching his fingernails against her ass and thighs. It feels good and keeps her centered, keeps her focused on the pleasure and not on the identity of the boy underneath her, eager and impossible.

Intrinsically, he senses her flickering focus and ups the ante, doing things with his tongue she's never felt before. She wonders what kind of things he had to watch in order to learn them and imagines what he'd look like stroking himself, imagines that snap he'd sent her a few weeks ago with his hand around his cock.

Eyes closed, she braces one hand on the rooftop railing and busies the other with her breast, pinching her nipple through the lace of her bralette. The sensation makes her practically gush into Chat's mouth, the friction delicious as she closes her eyes and begins to lose control of her rhythm. He takes the reins and keeps her going, urging her closer and closer to release and god, it feels good when he hums against her just like that and yes, Chat, right there, faster, oh!

Marinette arches her back and comes, heedless of the sounds she's making. She loses control of her hips and grinds down, a victim to the way her toes are curling and her lips are screaming, lost in the sensation. It feels amazing and sucks the life out of her all at once, all encompassing and addictive.

Coming down and still shaking, she manages to sit back on her haunches and happily lets Chat manipulate her body to free himself. Her limbs feel like rubber, sated and debauched, and she shivers at the way he licks his lips and grins.

"I love it when you scream my name like that," he gloats and Marinette's not quite working at all cylinders yet and grunts at him in response.

“Chat got your tongue?”

Marinette just glares at him, mentally daring him to make another stupid joke. He laughs and crawls forward instead, kissing her chastely before responding.

“Care to return the favour?”

[sascerides]

Someone Else’s Body - A (ghostly) short story

She hadn’t been in a body for a while when she opened her eyes. A year to be specific. It’s always a year. One day a year in a body. One day a year looking for unfinished business. Looking for rest. Year after year after year of never finding either.

The feeling was strange at first. It always is. Breathing in the cold air on this last day of October.  Watching leaves fall to the ground. Wondering if the last body felt like this. It probably did but she did not remember.

She sat there for long. Feeling her fingers and her toes. Her lungs expanding with each breath. Did being alive always feel this strange? She wouldn’t know. Not anymore. It’s been so long. For years and years and years she has only experienced this one day every year. In a new body every year. Somebody else’s. What she does the rest of the year she couldn’t tell you if you asked. But no one ever does. People don’t ask that sort of thing.

Lorna Williams. That’s who she used to be.

For 23 years it was the only thing she’d ever tried to be. Well. Lorna Jackson until she met Harold but what difference does it make now?

She barely remembers his face. Only his grin when she fell. She no longer remembers much of who she was before that. Who she is today she didn’t know yet, but after all these years it barely matters.

This year she found herself sitting on a park bench. This body was young, she could tell because nothing was hurting yet. Somewhere inside, the real owner of it was asleep. But she let them sleep. From what she knows about humans, they probably need it more than her.

In the early years she wondered why. Why she kept coming back. Year after year after year. Was it because of what Harold did. Did she stop being Lorna too soon? Is she paying for something she did. Unfinished business.

That was back then. By now she doesn’t care anymore. Or as the humans say these days. I’ve run out of fucks to give. About fifty years ago to be precise. There is no business to finish anymore. It’s the same drill every year. Find out who you are. Take a deep breath. Try to get through the day without wrecking too much havoc. Go to sleep and no one will be the wiser. It’s tirering, really. But there’s no way around it.

When she opened her eyes this year it was afternoon already. Most of the day gone. That’s good. Less hassle for me.

She never knows what to do first. It’s like starting over every year. Figuring out how to walk, how to talk. Figuring out who she is this year and what she looks like. Silently hoping this year will be the last. Perhaps this year, I will finish my business. Perhaps this year, I can rest. She stood up. Blood rushing through the body she had borrowed. Wind on her face. The weight of a body on the feet on the ground. One foot in front of the other. This is how you do it. Here we go. Slowly walking in no particular direction, she found herself wandering into a store. Might be a store this body knew. No way to know yet.

The world has changed a lot over the years, she knows this. And yet, every year it looks the same. Women’s clothing stores look the same. Even if the clothes have changed. She walked through the store touching this and that item. Frills and denims and wools. Sweaters and jackets and jeans. Does no one wear velvet anymore? Lorna didn’t know what she was looking for. Perhaps, she just wanted to feel. She just wanted to see. To exist as much as she could right now. After all. Existence is fleeting and she knows that better than anyone. She was walking slowly. Letting her fingers run over fabrics. Listening to the music. The beat resonating in her bones, the singer almost screaming into her ears. Her eyes being stabbed by the sharp fake light of the store. The shop assistant speaking to someone behind her as she took out a dress to get a better look.

“Excuse me sir, can I help you!”

Even shop assistants still sounded the same. Lorna kept looking. Feeling the knit of a sweater that somehow glittered in the light.

“Excuse me? Sir?” 

And then. A touch. Lightly. Gently on her elbow but it had been so long since someone touched her at all. She jumped. Turned around. Eyes wide. The shop assistant jumped back. Then her face lit up in a smile

“Donnie! I didn’t recognise you from behind. Sorry I scared you! Are you looking for anything?”

Donnie? Right. Lorna looked around for a mirror. Found she was standing right in front of one. The man who looked back at her from the mirror was tall. Handsome. His long, dark hair gathered in a bun, the shadows of a beard on his jaw. Donnie. I presume.

“Donnie? Are you looking for something?” The shop assistant asked again. “Something for Michelle?”

“Uhm... yeah…” Lorna said. Hearing Donnie’s voice for the first time.

“How is she?” How’s Michelle? Good question. And more to the point. Who is Michelle? “Michelle’s good yeah... she’s good” Lorna said searching the shop assistants face for clues. She looked surprised. “She’s getting better?” “Yeah” Lorna said. Hoping Michelle was getting better. Whoever she was. Or this could turn nasty for Donnie. Whoever he is. She tried a smile. Don’t wreck havoc. The shop assistant didn’t smile back. Don’t wreck havoc for gods sake, Lorna. Don’t bring attention to yourself. “It was a nasty fall she had” the shop assistant said. Something in her voice almost accusing. “Down the stairs”. “Yeah” Lorna said. “She’s getting better though. Little by little.” Distract her Lorna. Don’t wreck havoc. “I was thinking... maybe a scarf... it’s getting cold isn’t it?” She was 23 years old when it happened. Lorna. When Harold made it happen. One moment he was smiling and kissing her neck at the top of the stairs. Playfully. Like he always was. The next he was standing over her laughing a manic laugh that slowly turned to tears and then into a cold dead stare as he called up her mother from the phone in the living room. Lorna watching from above as he tearfully explained what had happened. None of it true of course but that did not matter now. Harold was long dead and so was she. None of it mattered now. “Donnie!” The shop assistant was handing her a scarf. Cashmere. Or something meant to feel like it. “You’re a bit spaced out today aren’t you?” “Huh?” Lorna said with Donnie’s voice. “Yes I suppose I am. This one is nice. Do you think she’ll like that?” “Yeah. Yeah I suppose she will. But... you don’t usually buy her things” the shop assistant winked “got anything to apologise for?” I don’t know. Does he? In the back of Donnie’s skull Lorna could still hear Harold laughing. Even after all these years. She had nothing to say. Don’t wreck havoc. Instead, she laughed Donnie’s laugh. It sounded like Harold’s. She bought the scarf and she left the store. Never looking back. No business to finish here it appears. The thing about borrowing someone else’s body for the day is you never know how much is you and how much is them. Lorna knew the way to Donnie’s home. Not because she’d been there before. But because bodies know that sort of thing. She simply allowed Donnie’s feet to take her there. Slow and steady. Letting the body do what Donnie would normally do. Don’t wreck havoc. She was feeling her feet on the asphalt, the weight of the scarf in her hand. The bow the shop assistant had put on the package. The taste of the smog in the air. Was living always this vivid? This loud?

She let Donnie’s feet bring her to a door, she felt in Donnie’s pocket for a key but found the door unlocked. Inside, he found a woman in the living room folding what she assumed was Donnie’s shirts.

Just as bodies know where home is. She has found they know who home is as well. Their hearts start to flutter when they see the one they love. Their stomachs get bubbly and their brains get lighter. Their faces get warmer and their palms get sweaty.  She looked at the woman and Donnie’s body did none of this. Instead, she felt his chest tighten. She felt his fists clench and she saw the woman’s eyes widen in fear even as she smiled.

“Donnie Darling” She said and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she stood up “you’re early”.

The woman stepped closer, she held her breath and she kissed Donnie’s cheek “Is everything alright?” Lorna had held her own breath like that once. Many times. Back when she still had her own breath to hold. She would sit like that folding the laundry. Wearing a silken scarf to hide the bruises on her neck. Harold would come home all smiles and laughter and he would take her in his arms and kiss her. His kisses were always so gentle at first. His lips on her cheek and then on her mouth. His hands on her shoulders. First his palms then his fists. First his laughter then his shouts. It always went like that. Even now she could feel his fingers closing around her shoulders. His accusing eyes fixing her gaze. Even now she could feel her fingers closing around Michelle’s wrist Donnie’s eyes fixing hers. Michelle averting his gaze in a well rehearsed dance that the two of them had danced many times before. Bodies know what they usually do and Donnie’s hands knew where they would usually go. Michelle turning her head, unintentionally revealing a bruise on her neck. Michelle was pretty. She was small and thin, her eyes tired and large and scared. She was wearing a turtleneck shirt and Lorna knew all to well what it was meant to hide. She fell down the stairs. Just like I did. Just like Harold made me do.

Bodies know what they want to do but this wasn’t just Donnie’s body right now. Today it was Lorna’s too. She took a step back, letting go of Michelle’s wrist. Donnie’s hand shaking with Lorna’s shock.

“I’m” She said with Donnie’s voice but her own quiver “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you”

Michelle said nothing. She only stood. Her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out her next move. She has heard this kind of lies before. Michelle swallowed. Then, she took a step backwards. Slowly bending down to pick up the laundry basket. Lifting it awkwardly, clearly in pain on her left side. She never took her eyes of Donnie. Lorna opened Donnie’s mouth. Then closed it again. She had no words. I never tried it from this side before. Michelle backed out of the room, putting the laundry basket down and returning. Her large, fearful eyes still locked on Donnie. She moves like an animal in a cage. Did I move like that? Did I look that scared. “I” Lorna started, Michelle freezing, suspicious. “I bought you a gift” she said, Donnie’s hand reaching down for the package on the floor. The bow had been squished, but it was still a gift. And she has no idea what to do with that. Lorna held the gift forward towards Michelle. Michelle smiled. Her form softened. As if she relaxed a bit. She’s thinking he’s good tonight. She’s thinking he’s come to his senses. She’s thinking he loves her again. Lorna remembered that feeling. She remembered those thoughts and she knew they were lies. She wanted to pull Donnie’s body away from Michelle. She wanted to run out the door. She wanted to tell Michelle it was all lies. That she was not Donnie. That she shouldn’t trust him. Instead, she stood there, silently, as Michelle took the gift and got up on her toes to kiss Donnie’s lips. A cold, unsure kiss. A hopeful kiss. A kiss that promised more than it was ever going to get in return. “It’s beautiful Donnie” Michelle almost had tears in her eyes as she wrapped the scarf around her neck. “But... why?” “I just… I thought you deserved a present” Lorna said. The words sounded strange in Donnie’s voice. As if his voice wasn’t made for saying things like that. “You do so much for me” I love you. She almost said it. She almost did, but she knew it was a lie. She knew it wasn’t true. She knew those words would wreck more havoc than they would do good. She doesn’t need any more lies. She deserves better. Years ago, she had wanted desperately to hear Harold say those words. But it was not her place to say them now. It was not her place to give this woman hope. I may have business to finish, but this isn’t it. Then, something inside Donnie’s brain clicked and Lorna felt more herself than she had for years. She wasn’t just borrowing Donnie’s body for the day. Right now. This body was hers and she couldn’t keep her self back any more. She stepped forward and she touched Michelle. Gently. Michelle stiffened. Suspicious again. Suspicious of love and of gentleness. Suspicious of touch. Lorna held Michelle in her arms and she looked her straight in the eye. “He’s hurting you. Isn’t he?” She said. And the voice wasn’t Donnie’s. It was her own. Michelle ripped herself loose. She took a step back. Her eyes wide in fear and confusion. “What do mean? Who ’s hurting me?” Then, as if remembering herself she stepped forward again. Taking Donnie’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry. Donnie. Of course you’re not hurting me. I love you” She said. As if reading a script. And she has read it before. As did I. Back when. Lorna had no words. Had no idea how to get out of this. She took a deep breath. She looked at Michele. Standing there pale and scared and confused. The feeling of her kiss still lingering on Donnie’s lips. Then, she turned around and she let Donnie’s feet lead her into their bedroom. Leaving Michelle standing small and puzzled on the living room floor. “Donnie?” She heard her say behind her “What are you doing Donnie? Don’t you want your dinner”. Lorna grabbed a bag and she opened Donnie’s closet. She pulled down a shirt and stuffed it in the bag with the hanger still attached. What else will he need? What does he need to leave?  She could not do this on auto pilot because this wasn’t something Donnie wanted to do. Inside. She could feel him stirring. Fighting back. She never did this before. She never fought against the body like this. She never messed in anybody’s life. But Donnie’s life needs messing in. She opened a drawer and pulled out socks. Underwear. A gun. A gun hidden underneath the socks. She stood there. Gun in hand. Breathing hard. Donnie slowly waking up inside her. Then, she heard Michelle’s footsteps in the hallway and she stuffed the gun in the bag and zipped it shot. Donnie stood in the front door. Lorna pulling him out of the house. Michelle crying in the hallway. Lost for words. “Donnie. Donnie don’t leave” Was all she said but Lorna could hear she didn’t mean it. She just knew this was was she was meant to say. Lorna put Donnie’s hand on the handle and she opened the door. She marched Donnie’s feet out the door and then she turned around. She opened Donnie’s mouth and she spoke with Donnie’s voice but not his mind. “You deserve better than me Michelle. You know you do”. Then, she closed the door as Michelle sank to the floor, tears in her eyes. Of relief or desperation Lorna could not tell and neither could Michelle. I remember that feeling and I still do not know. Lorna got in Donnie’s car and she drove him to a motel. She opened Donnie’s purse and she checked his body into a motel room. Inside, Donnie was reeling in his body. Afraid, angry, confused, Lorna let him, it was nothing to her. She let Donnie’s body sink down on the bed and there she is now. And where do I go from here?

---- Lorna sits on the bed in Donnie’s body. She can feel him fighting her form the inside. She can feel him waking up. Soon, she will leave Donnie’s body and her time as him will be over. She will go back to drifting. She will go back to non-existence to unrest and unfinished business. And Donnie will… What will Donnie do? Lorna thinks about Michelle. About her frightened eyes and her cold kiss. About the bruises on her neck and her fake smile. She thinks about Harold’s laughter when she fell and his tears when she did not get up again. When she closes Donnie’s eyes she can imagine Michelle lying there on the floor the way she did so many years ago. For now, Michelle is alive and safe at home. And Donnie. Donnie is sitting on a motel bed screaming inside his body while someone else is in control. About time he found out what that feels like. Lorna looks at the gun in Donnie’s bag. She looks at Donnie’s hands and she bends down and picks up the gun. Donnie’s hands tremble as he tries to regain control. Desperately. Lorna ignores him. She thinks about Michelle. About how scared and relieved she was to see Donnie leave. She thinks about herself lying on the floor. About the anger she felt watching Harold cry over her body. How she wanted to strangle him. To bring him to the ground. To drag him down to hell with her. About how she spent the first ten years in other people’s bodies trying to find him. Trying to find some way to get revenge. About how Harold lived his life happily and died peacefully in his sleep. It has been years since Lorna felt anything very much but right now she feels that anger again and she knows she won’t let Donnie leave this hotel room. She will not let him go back to Michelle. This ends here. And she will make it so.

Lorna holds the gun with Donnie’s hands. Donnie is fighting her but she is still in control. For just a little longer, there is nothing he can do.

She opens Donnie’s mouth and with his teeth she bites down on the barrel of the gun.

Perhaps this is my unfinished business.

This year, I challenged myself to write 12 stories. You can read more about that here.

This was story number 9 and I wrote it as a bit of a halloween special. Because. Well. Ghost stories are cool.

The rest of my stories are here

Thank you for reading :D

[gr8nan-blog]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Free People Fingerless Elbow Cashmere Blend Gloves. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[qn310396]

Sparsil Women Winter Arm Warmers Cashmere Fingerless Long Gloves Solid Warm Mittens Elbow Thread Knitted Sleeves 50cm Glove

[lisamarionsmith]

Lisbon: Luvaria Ulisses

As the home is a mirror of its inhabitants, one look at this store will tell you all you need to know about its gloves. Luxurious, high-quality, trend-resistant—treat them with the care they merit, and their ageless style and good looks will serve you well for years. 

Inside the diminutive boutique, you choose from those on display. Your size? The woman behind the counter, she knows just by looking. A leather cushion slides across the counter. Your elbow is propped up, then she slides the glove onto your hand. Inside, the softest cashmere envelopes each finger; outside, buttery leather gleams on the hand. Another pair—silk-lined. The fit is sublime, as if made from a mold of your hand. “Like a second skin,” the woman behind the counter says. The cashmere would be warmer, but the silk is irresistible. As if it is the glove that chooses the owner, not the other way around.

Buttery brown leather lined in cream silk are slipped into more silk—the store’s signature bag—and taken to their new home.