#i promise the next obey me piece will be better ^^;

[monstersflashlight]

Lusty for love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Cupid (monster) x fem!witch reader || sex pollen, (light) dub con, breeding, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink

You were stupid. A bit more stupid than normal at least.

You were trying to get some new potions to work when you accidentally spilled the pink powder he gifted you specially for lust potions. The pink powder was obtained from the cupid species, they produced it on their wings and any human or monster would instantly fall into a lustful frenzy once they touched it. And that’s why it was so hard to get, they had to give it to you specifically with a very clear intent of lust...

Your cupid friend gave it to you as a birthday present, and you were supposed to drop an itty bitty quantity in each potion because every time someone used the powder, he would feel it. You promised not to use much, always controlling how many potions you’d make… But you weren’t expecting for it to slip your fingers and pretty much cover your whole body. Your skin was tingling and your brain was barely coherent when you dialed his number.

“I need your help,” you whispered against the speaker, not letting him even say hello.

His response was instantaneous: “What happened?” You could hear him batting his wings in the background, and you were sure he was already mid air coming to get you. He must have felt the powder activating.

“I- I dropped the pink powder on me,” you confessed, your breathing labored and your skin tingly.

Fuck, you were about to burst and you didn’t even move. You’d never felt such intensity before, it was like every inch of your body was electrified and caressed at the same time, even the touch of the clothes over your body felt erotic.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The air against the phone was enough to know he was rushing to your house, his wings almost deafening in the background.

“Please, please…” You barely made sense, your brain was fuzzy in a way that made your clit tingle and your panties were so wet you could already feel your juices ruining your pants.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. In other circumstances you would have blushed, your unrequited crush on your cupid best friend making you feel all kinds of emotions. But you weren’t thinking straight, and he was talking again: “I’ll be there in a few minutes, take your clothes off, rub your pretty little clit until you are dripping wet because as soon as I cross your window I’m going to be inside of you, and I won’t stop until you are dripping with my come for every single hole.”

His words drove your brain into a frenzy, the effect of the pink powder getting even stronger as you did as you were told, pulling at your clothes so fast and hard you broke something. You didn’t care, you’d deal with whatever tore later on. You laid on your potions table, not caring about everything falling down or the million little pieces of glass that were probably on the ground, you had only one focus: obey. Your fingers found your clit and you started rubbing rapidly, moaning against the phone.

“You sound so sweet, good damn it. I knew you’d be perfect,” his words meant nothing and all at the same time, your inside twisting and turning as your pussy contracted over nothing, making you whine and beg. “I know, love, I know.” You could hear him breathing hard, the powder probably affecting him too, and with each movement of his wings you could feel him getting closer.

The second your window opened with a big crash, you were begging for him and he was falling to his knees next to the table, not caring about the glass, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs as far apart as possible. He set his big body between them, his wings so wide and soft you felt the tickle against your knees when he pushed your legs over his shoulders.

The first contact of his tongue against your tender flesh feels like lightning hitting your body. And it only turned better when his dexterous tongue found your clit. He ate you out like a starving monster, fucking in and out of your pussy with his forked tongue until you were screaming his name and asking for more. More. More.

You came in less than two minutes, with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and your brain turning into jelly inside your head. It was so much and so little at the same time. You needed more. You needed him inside of you in any way you could. You pushed your torso up, pulling your legs off his shoulders and shoved his chest back until he was a few feet back. You jumped off the table, not even feeling the tiny glasses on the ground as you walked over them.

It was like your orgasm only made you hornier, more desperate, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. “Let me suck you off, please, please…” You begged, your eyes fixated on his dick straining against his pants.

You fumbled with the zipper, and he helped you, looking at you with such tenderness that your heart was about to explore out of your chest. But first: dick.

“Okay, love. Okay. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me.” His words sounded like a promise, and your brain was so fuzzy you could only nod as you fell to your knees. “Open up,” he ordered, taking himself on his hand and caressing your cheek with the other. He fed you his cock and you swallowed it down greedily. “That’s it, such a good witch for me, such a pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your tongue over his head, pressing against the underside where you knew he was most sensitive. That cupid anatomy book coming in handy when you were wrapping your hand at his base and squeezing until you felt the ridges inside move. He cursed over you, his hand grabbing your hair so harshly you felt the tiny spikes of pain, but that only made you moan louder around him.

He cursed again, telling you nonsense as he moved his dick in and out of your mouth slightly. “Fuck, your mouth, love. You are perfect. You are so good to me. I’ve been wanting to have you like this forever. Good goddess, your mouth.” You grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer, further down your throat, but he stopped you. “None of that, I… I need you. I need to be inside of you. After that you can play with me all you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” your voice was airy and low, and without a doubt you knew your whole body was pink all over.

He helped you to your feet, claiming your mouth in a brain melting kiss before grabbing your ass and helping you back onto the table. His fingers found your pussy at the same time he positioned himself on your opening. “You are so wet, fuck.” He pushed the tip inside, and you were indeed so wet he slipped right in.

He cursed in so many languages you weren’t sure how many words he said, but you were in heaven. You reached Valhalla or whatever other heaven there existed out there. All at once. None at all… You touched the stars and came back to your body when he moved his hips back, pushing right back in and drawing a scream out of your lungs.

And then there was no more playing, only frantic fucking and dirty words.

“Do you like me, love? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you? Do you like when I say dirty things to you?” You shivered, nodding frantically as you rolled your hips, chasing some of the pleasure he was promising you with his thrusts. “Of course you do, you love to be fucked this hard, this fast… You never had it so good, did you? None of your stupid boyfriends was as good as me. Say it.”

“None were… None as good as you…” Your voice was trembling, his thrusts too fast and harsh, but you couldn’t complain. You wouldn’t. It was that good.

“I know darling, I know nobody was as good as me. But you didn’t let me tell you that, did you? You were always with one or another, never enough time for me to fuck you as you deserved. To treat you as you deserve. To make you fucking mine,” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust that hit right over your G-spot, sending sparks of desire and pleasure to your brain until you were drooling over the table. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you don’t like me like that and I’ve been pining over you for nothing,” his anger was palpable in each thrust of his hips inside your pussy, his ridges undulating and massaging you from the inside.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T. YOU ARE RIGHT!” You screamed as another wave of pleasure washes over your body.

But he wasn’t listening to you, he was too focused on his actions, on driving you insane. “You can’t because you like me. You’ve liked me as long as I’ve liked you and you’ve been denying us both. For what? For some flimsy human dick? No more, love. You don’t go back to anyone else anymore. You. Are. Mine. To. Please.”

“Yours. Yours. Yours…”

And then there’s fireworks behind your eyelids and your brain is short circuiting. You could barely hold your body up as he expanded his dick inside of you, the cupid trick of locking inside your tight pussy was multiplied by a thousand because of the pink dust, and you could only scream silently as he bred you to the brim and your vision turned white behind your eyelids.

You came back to your body resting over his chest, the soft feathers tickling your cheek as you looked down at his wet dick, still half hard. Your body still craved him, and you were about to act on it when he said: “For what’s worth… I really like you like that, too, love,” he whispered against your sweaty forehead, his breathing labored as his dick twitched in your line of sight.

You threw a leg over his middle, rubbing your still dripping pussy over his dick. “Prove it.”

And he did.

(He was also true to his promise to leave you leaking and bred from every single hole, but that’s a story for another day...)

[abigailovesz]

𓂃 when COWGIRL!READER, JJ & the pogues all go on their first gold hunt. 𓂅   

season 1 jj + the poguesˎˊ˗ & protective!jj

"alright, you guys got rope?" john b questioned from the drivers seat, you in the back beside jj, who was fiddling with his little surfboard he probably made out of the trash on the streets. Pope and kie in the very back while sarah sat in the front. "got it" pope confirmed.

"grappling hook?"

"we don't have a grappling hook, we're not batman."

pope, ever the smartass, spoke again to john b. The twinkie made a small turn into the property of ms.crane's home, crickets and the sound of the vans wheels surrounded the atmosphere, proving how dark it was outside. the van came to a halt, and jj spoke. "lets go get rich, guys"

you nodded, shifting to sit upward now that everyone was ready to get out. "yeah, hell yeah" john bs footsteps crunched against the rocks around the the vans side door, opening it with a loud slide. "lets go get that wheat in the water." pope commented, making jjs head perk up.

"weed? i'm up for weed?"

you laughed, hitting jj's arm playfully. "wheat, jj. He said wheat." jj rubbed his arm where you hit it, making a faux pained face and gently hitting your arm back, like a little tap that's it. all of you made your way to the vine covered fence, sarah in the front of the makeshift line, kie behind her. "ladies first," kiara said, watching sarah lift herself up and over the fence.

"ah, nope, this one's a woman, not a lady" he pointed at you then his back hit the fence and he put his two hands together, gesturing for you to use them for help. "jj, a lady and a woman-" john b said, but trailed off when you obeyed and easily used your boots to find its place on his palm, shifting up and climbing over the fence.

you all carefully walked through the weeds, toward the house but then the lights suddenly turned on. JJ grabbed you in one swift movement, following the others behind a tall tree. "flashlights." kiara commanded, slapping the flashlight repeatedly, same as the others.

"okay, so, she has motion sensored lights." your voice, southern, rang out quietly into everyone's ears with a small pant from the sudden adrenaline. jj bounced his camo bandana off his mouth, humming under his breath while his arm stayed very close to you. "we could uh..move really slowly, maybe?" he suggested.

sarah made a face and shook her head the slightest bit. "what?" pope scoffed and looked at jj. "that's not how it works." john b then spoke, eyes wide while whispering. "Oh, shit, lets throw a rock at it."

"that's a really good idea, lettin' the old granny know were boutta break into er' basement" your sarcastic response made jj chuckle but you covered his mouth. "Throw a rock at it?" pope said in a disbelieving tone. "anybody got any better ideas?" kie asked, crouched down beside sarah.

"what about the breaker? In the circuit box on the porch. We used to play hide n seek here as kids, and if we were brave enough we'd go all the way up to the porch. I've seen it." sarah recommended, making you nod but jj gave you a disapproving look.

"crain chops people into pieces"

"yeah, but so what, she's like 85"

kiara sighed and looked at sarah. "here, i'll go with you." sarah nodded and you smiled. "oo, can i go?" jjs eyes widen, shaking his head and grabbing the loop of your jeans. "nuh-uh, i really dont want her to get chopped up," he said toward the others, tugging you closer.

"Me?chopped up? never" you said, standing up and making jj's whole arm lift up from still being looped up in your jeans. "oh, come on jj, she literally owns a shotgun, dont you?" john b looked up at you, still crouched down. " yep, yeehaw right?" you joked, grabbing jj's wrist and dropping it. "no, no- wait, promise you'll stay right next to sarah? or kie, please?" jj stood up, a finger pointed at your face.

you sighed, looping a pinky around his own. "pinky promise, dude" you let go and turned around, quickly following behind kie.

a/n: there not together yet!! but, obviously we can tell jjs crushing. (sorry its short, but you get the protectiveness, hopefully??")

[ravenromanova]

First time

Parings: Wanda x Female reader

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!!! Mommy kink, Thigh riding, Fingering, Oral, Tribbing, strap on, vibrator and blindfolding. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kinkmas masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!! - Wanda masterlist

~ It was quiet in the compound for once which is nice. The only things that could be heard was the crackling of the fire place, the christmas playlist you put on and your lovely girlfriend making dinner. This was your first christmas with Wanda since you and her made it official and you were incredibly nervous.

You wanted to make this holiday the best for her after everything she has been through. She had told you a few months after she joined the team just how much she loved christmas and how magical it was with her family. So in turn you wanted to make this the most perfect christmas she’s ever had.

The plan was that after dinner you two would exchange the gifts you had gotten for each other. And then you planned on taking her to your room which was set up with christmas lights, candles, pillows and some other gifts for Wanda.

“Dinner is almost done malysh” Wandas soft voice echoed through the kitchen and living room and you got up to go sit at the dining room table. As you sat at the table you took a moment to admire how pretty she looked. Her fiery hair was tied into a bun, Her face was bare so you could see all her freckles, She had on one of your hoodies on along with some black sleep shorts. To you she was the epitome of beauty she was your own disney princess in your eyes.

Once dinner was done she plated the paprikash and then walked over to the table. You gratefully took the food as she handed it to you with a smile on your face.

“Thank you baby” You beamed as you started eating the food. “I swear youre the best cook to exist” Wanda smiled at your praise as a blush crept over her cheeks.

“Thank you malysh” She said still blushing as she ate her food. “Oh i also was wondering if you wanted to make cookies tonight” Wanda asked with a child like gleam in her eyes.

“Well i have a few things planned for tonight my love but we can make cookies first thing in the morning if thats okay?” You didn’t want to give to much of your plan away but you also didn’t want her to feel rejected. “I promise my plan is a lot better than cookies” You continued hoping she wouldn’t be upset.

“Okay!” She said happily. “You’re definitely better than cookies so i think i’ll make an exception…just this once” She pointed her fork at you and the both of you broke out into giggles.

After the laughter died down the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you continued eating. Once the two of you were finished you grabbed the plates and started cleaning up since Wanda had cooked.

“Go sit by the tree my love” You said from the kitchen to which Wanda obeyed and patiently waited for you to return.

You finished cleaning up and then made the two of you hot chocolate and then sat next to her. “Okay so i have a few of your gifts down here and then the rest are upstairs” You started as you handed her the the gifts that you had gotten her. “I want you to open these before we go upstairs” Wanda nodded as she gratefully took the gifts.

She started opening the gifts with a smile on her face which quickly turned to confusion when she opened a red lace lingerie set. “What’s this?” She asked holding the piece up with an eyebrow raised.

“Well i saw that in the store when i was shopping so i got it for you” You said cheekily and then she opened the next one. Wanda then held up a pair of handcuffs with a curious look.

“And what is this for?” Wanda asked again and you slowly moved closer to her.

“That is for tonight my love” You husked in her ear before you softly bit it. Wanda shivered under you touch and she could feel wetness pool in between her thighs.

See the thing is you and Wanda had been dating for about six months now but you’ve never had sex. It wasnt that you didn’t want to but you didn’t want to rush her into anything and make her uncomfortable. But within these past couple of weeks you could tell Wanda was starting to get antsy. She had started drooping subtle hints that she wanted you in a more intimate way. So you teased her a little and decided that christmas was the perfect time to have your first time with Wanda.

“Do you mean what i think you mean?” She asked breaking you out of your thoughts. You smiled at the redhead and nodded to which she quite literally jumped on you,

“I thought tonight would be the perfect night for me to show you just how much i love you” You said as your hands came to rest on her hips. Wanda smiled and grabbed your face as she brought you in for a bruising and passionate kiss. Instinctively she started grinding her hips down on your thigh.

“Please” She begged. “I need you malysh” Wandas breath got caught in her throat when you pushed her clothed core against your thigh even more.

“How can i say no to you?” You asked with a smug smile as you swiftly picked her up and brought her to your room.

When the two of you got to your room her eyes lit up like the lights on the tree. Wanda hopped out of your arms and went to admire the set up you made for her. There were her favorite red and white lights, her favorite rose water and ivy candles from bath and body works, you placed her favorite snacks on the bed side table, her favorite blankets were scattered on the bed along with some extra soft pillows.

“You did all of this for me?” She asked with slight tears in her eyes as she looked up at you. You smiled softly as you took her face in your hands and kissed her with the same passion as before.

“Of course i did. You deserve the best babygirl” Your voice was soft as you spoke making her blush. And before she knew it you were laying her against the pillows on her back.

You took a moment to admire how beautiful she looked right now. Her fiery red hair was sprawled out on the pillows, her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and god those tiny shorts she’s wearing was making you crazy. She giggled as she watched you practically drool over her and beckoned you over with her finger.

“What other gifts do you have for me?” Wanda asked curiously as you loomed over her. You smiled as you reached over to the bedside drawer and opened it. Then you quickly pulled out a red vibrator, a black and red strap along with and black silk blindfold.

“These are the other gifts i have for you my love” You said with a smile as you settled yourself in between her thighs.

Her eyes widened with wonder and excitement as she looked at the toys you laid out for her.

“P-Please fuck me” She begged starting to feel the pulse in between her thighs become even stronger.

“Anything for you” You smiled and kissed her passionately. And while you were lost in the way your girlfriend tasted she quickly removed both of your clothes with a flick of her wrist.

You were quick to start leaving wet open mouth kisses along her neck and chest making her mewl. Wanda grew impatient and shoved your shoulders down to where she needed you the most.

“Patience darling” You warned them grabbed the blindfold. “What’s your color baby?” You asked caressing her cheek.

“Green so fucking green” She said almost pathetically and you chuckled at her eagerness.

“Good girl” You praised with a smile placing the blindfold over her eyes. You then started kissing her chest again and bringing one of her nipples in your mouth and started sucking harshly.

“Oh god” She moaned at the feeling of your warm mouth around her sensitive nub. Wanda clawed at your back as you moved to her other one giving it the same amount of attention as the other.

“So fucking pretty” You praised her again moving down to her dripping core.

You then licked a stripe from her pussy to clit making her moan out loudly. Wanda nearly combusted when you wrapped your lips around her clit and started sucking harshly on it. Her sounds were the prettiest you could’ve ever imagined.

“Oh fuck mommy” She screamed as you shoved two fingers into her and started massaging her walls. You started hitting her g-spot making her back arch off the bed and her walls involuntarily clench around your fingers.

“Please don’t stop” Her words were broken as they left her lips making you smile as you ate her out. You continued your assault on her pussy like a woman starved and she loved it.

“You taste so fucking good baby” That was what made the flood gates burst and Wanda came all over your face with a scream.

“Give me another and then i’ll make you cum with the strap.” Wanda nodded at your words. The fact that she couldn’t see what you were doing drove her insane but yet turned her on even more. In all honesty Wanda loved not being able to see what you were doing because it added to the erotica of it all.

You parted her lips with your fingers before you started to solely focus on her clit. The feeling of you sucking on her already sensitive nub again was making her second orgasm build up faster than before. You moaned as you ate the witch out which sent vibrations straight into her core. Wanda clawed at your back again leaving red marks.

She squirmed and wiggled under your touch which made you hold down her hips with your free arm. “Hold still baby” You commanded to which she nodded and tried to stay still.

Wanda could feel her orgasm come closer and you started sucking harder. “OH FUCK MOMMY!” She screamed as she squirted all over your face leaving a mess on you and the bed.

“Such a good girl” You smiled coming back up to her and giving her a sloppy kiss to which she moaned at the taste of herself.

“Color?” You asked softly making sure she was okay and taking off the blindfold which made her smile.

“Still green malysh” Wanda smiled and started kissing your neck making you hum in acknowledgement.

“You ready for the strap baby?” Wanda nodded enthusiastically at your words and you laughed.

So you quickly put on the strap and handed her the vibrator. “Use this while i fuck you” You told her as you turned it on for her.

“Yes mommy” She nodded with a big smile on her face. When she put the vibrator on her clit she immediately moaned out in pleasure.

You settled between her thighs and placed the strap against her slit before slowly inching yourself in. Wanda’s head flew back against the pillows as you bottomed out. Her walls involuntarily clenched around the strap as you gave her time to adjust.

“Move mommy please” She begged to which you immediately obliged and started moving at a slow pace at first.

You quickly picked up the pace and started fucking her a little harder. “Oh fuck” She mewled as you started going harder. Between you fucking her into tomorrow and the steady vibrations on her clit she knew she wouldn’t last long.

“You look so pretty wrapped around mommy’s cock baby” You stated as you watched her pussy swallow your strap. The sight was so pretty her walls clenched around the strap as her juices flowed out of her god you were addicted.

“I-I’m gonna cum again mommy” She whimpered as the strap hit her spot over and over again.

“Give it to me baby come on” You demanded as you started thrusting faster and harder. Wanda turned off the vibrator and tossed it on the bed before she pulled you to her needing you closer.

“O-Oh fuck!” She moaned holding onto your shoulders as her third orgasm crashed over her. The orgasm was so intense she saw white spots as she tried to calm her breathing.

You gave her a second before you slowly pulled out of her making her whine at the loss of you. But her protests her cut short after you took the strap off and threw it on the floor before you laid next to her.

“You did so good baby” You praised giving her a kiss on the forehead as you wrapped you arms around her bringing her in to your chest.

“That was amazing” She said with a smile as her emerald eyes looked up at you.

“You were amazing” Your words made her smile even bigger and she nuzzled into your chest. “I need to clean you up mama don’t fall asleep yet” Wanda shook her head in protest. “Baby come on” You tried again but the witch still shook her head.

“No” She protested and flicked her wrist again and suddenly you were both clothed again and she was clean.

“You’re ridiculous” You chuckled at her actions shaking your head a little.

“But you love me” Wanda said innocently with a smug smile.

“You’re right i do love you” You kissed her head and then pulled the blanket over the both of you.

The two of you quickly fell asleep holding onto each other and relishing in you first time. It was everything you could’ve ever wanted. She was everything you ever wanted.

~The end~

[freelancelobotomy]

gravity part 2 please!!!

freudian [s.r.]

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

summary: After fleeing Vegas and hiding out in a grimy Montana motel with a supposedly "abandoned" kitten—and the weight of your role in a murder—the last person you expect at your door is Spencer Reid, your ex-situationship from the FBI Academy, here to retrieve his friend’s missing cat.

content warnings: fluff, angst, guns, mentions of sex, reader is mean but its okay bc Spencer was meaner, death, almost kiss

a/n: this is pt 2 to gravity which you can find here. It kinda wont make any sense if you don't read it first but it!

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The sound of bare feet slapping against wet pavement might be the least sexy sound on earth. Which is ironic, considering seduction is your entire brand. It’s the reason Saesha recruited you in the first place. You’re hot—long legs, sultry voice, those eyes that never blink first.

You sometimes laugh at how absurdly contradictory your life has become.

Graduated high school at twelve. Wanted to be a profiler. Ended up part of a murderous vigilante cabal. Spencer Reid broke your heart when he left—and saved your life when he killed Saesha and cleaned up the mess you made.

Moonlight dances on your flawless legs—and on the sewage puddle you just stepped in. Perfect. This morning’s pedicure was a waste. Your crimson-polished toes now carry tetanus as a plus-one.

A siren wails in the distance.

You duck behind a trash can.

I'm so fucking scared. My life is over. The thought is sharp and breathless.

Something brushes your arm. Furry.

"AH!" you yelp, imagining the worst—a rat.

“Mrow.”

A tiny black kitten stares up at you with glassy eyes too big for its head. It’s absurdly adorable.

"Hey, little guy," you whisper, scooping him up. He melts into your arms with a rumbling purr.

No collar. No home. Well—he has one now.

The motel is the kind of place you don’t even want to touch with socks on. Threadbare sheets. Mold in the shower. The wallpaper's been peeled back like it was trying to escape.

You’ve been holed up here for a week. Montana feels far enough from Vegas—for now. Next week, you’re catching a train to North Dakota. Then out of the country. You're spacing your movements so they don’t raise suspicion. Also, you’re bringing the kitten—who you've named Jiji, after the one from Kiki’s Delivery Service—and bringing a pet onto a plane requires paperwork.

It’s risky. You’re attached anyway.

You're fresh out of the shower, damp hair wrapped in a towel. Buldak noodles spin slowly in the microwave when there’s a knock at the door. Probably Greg, the motel owner, bringing the clean sheets he promised three days ago.

You open the door—and freeze.

Of course. It’s him.

Spencer Reid.

“Y/N?”

Your body reacts before your brain does. You stumble back, make a beeline for the drawer beside the bed—the one with your gun.

“Relax! It’s just me! I’m—I’m unarmed! Check me!”

You rush him. Weapon drawn. Your hands are fast and clinical, patting him down with muscle memory. You don’t forget the ankles—he always kept a second piece there. You yank up his shirt.

“Hey!” he yelps, eyes wide.

“Turn around,” you snap. He obeys. You lift the back of his shirt, checking for wires. None. Just spine and skin.

No lies—yet.

“What the hell do you want from me, Spencer?”

You get a better look at him now. He’s a mess. Eyes bloodshot, dark circles, lips cracked. He's been crying.

“I was catsitting. For my friend Emily. Well—not because she trusts me, but JJ’s on maternity leave and Garcia’s on vacation. Emily's on sabbatical and no one else was available. So I brought her cat to Vegas during a case. Checked him into one of those ‘cat hotels.’” His voice shakes, spiraling. “And he got out. Because the hotel was incompetent. Emily loves that cat–and–I lost him. And then—Garcia tracked his microchip to this address and—”

“Mrow.”

Jiji hops onto the bed like it’s choreographed.

“You have Sergio?” Spencer gasps.

“Who?”

“The cat! Emily’s cat! Why would you steal her cat?!”

“I found him by a dumpster! No collar. I didn’t steal him. Finders keepers.”

Spencer blinks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in years.

“It’s… it’s really good to see you again.”

You blink back. What the actual fuck.

“Yeah. You too.”

His eyes lower to the floor.

“I’ve had a rough few days. Made me… reevaluate some things. Can we talk?”

You nod slowly. You need to figure out why he’s pretending last week never happened.

“Come in. Sorry for the mess,” you lie.

“It’s not messy,” he replies automatically, stepping inside.

“Why do you have a gun?” he asks, gently. “Why’d you pat me down?”

You study him. He really doesn’t remember.

You breathe once. Twice. Then you lie the way you were trained to lie—grounded in truth.

“Alexander…my ex. He just got out of prison,” you say. “He used to hit me. Last thing he told me, as they shoved him in the car, was that he’d find me and kill me. Lately I’ve been getting weird messages from burner accounts. Slurs. Insults. I got scared. So I left town.”

The pain is real. But the reason is fake. Neither is the fear. As long as he doesn’t catch you off guard, you’ll be fine.

“Y/N, you should’ve called. The BAU handles cases like that all the time.”

“I deleted your number.”

His gaze softens.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

You sit through it. Again. Nodding in the right places. Keeping your face a mask.

Then finally: “You said you had a rough few days. What happened?”

Spencer swallows.

“My friend Ethan was killed. Active shooting at a night club. I—I tried to help. I shot a chandelier that crushed the gunman. But it brought down the ceiling. Debris hit my head. I don’t… I don’t remember any of it.”

He smiles bitterly. “First time in my life I’ve ever forgotten something. And it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

You rub his back, guilt curling hot in your chest. You didn’t mean for Ethan to die. You didn’t mean for any of it.

“All we know is that it was a terrorist cell. The other members all killed themselves before we could interrogate anyone.”

Control your microexpressions. Control your microexpressions. Control your microexpressions.

“Ethan…when did he pass?” you ask, softly.

“He uh…died at the scene.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You thread your fingers through his. “I'm here to listen if you need to talk. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

He hesitates. Then says, “I’m staying in Vegas a while. Visiting my mom. The funeral’s next week. When you come back… you can give me the cat.”

“I was planning on heading back tomorrow, actually. Want to drive back together?”

“I was gonna leave tonight, but… yeah. That sounds good. Flights were crazy expensive anyway. Holiday weekend.”

“You drove?”

He nods. “Didn’t have a choice.”

“You need coffee?”

He shakes his head.

“No. I need sleep. You’re right. I’d be nodding off at the wheel by now.”

“Then stay the night,” you offer. Your hand grazes his thigh lightly. The contact is casual. It lingers anyway.

He clears his throat. “I—I don’t want to intrude.”

“Jiji and I don’t mind,” you smirk. “Right, Jiji?”

“Mrow.”

“Oh. Listen to that. He says you can’t stay.”

Spencer chuckles. “Man of the house has spoken.”

“Got a bag?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab it.”

“And I’m paying for gas.”

“No, you’re not.”

“If I can’t pay for gas, I’m keeping the cat.”

He stares you down.

“…Fine. You can pay for the gas.”

He returns smelling like lavender and wearing the cologne he wore that night at the Savoy.

You turn off the lights and slide under the covers. You should leave things where they are. Clean break. New passport. Fresh start.

But Spencer doesn’t remember. And you can’t help but wonder.

Should you get involved again?

It’s a question for tomorrow.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You wake up to silence. You turn.

Spencer’s still awake.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay? It’s, like… three something in the morning.” You ask, concerned.

“Yea…Yea—I’m sorry If I woke you. I get…nightmares. They keep me up some nights..”

You hesitate.

“Want me to lie next to you? That helps me when I can't sleep.”

“I…” He fumbles. “I mean, studies show that sleeping beside someone you trust can reduce cortisol levels and—”

“Spencer.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He slips into the bed beside you. Close. Warm. He still uses that stupid lavender shampoo. You feel his arm flex as he adjusts the covers to make sure you’re both tucked in evenly.

You’re both quiet.

Then—you move first. You always move first.

You drape your arm across his chest and rest your head against him. His breath catches.

“I knew it,” he says.

“Knew what?”

“That you—Nothing.”

“No. Tell me or go back to your bed.”

“You and your either-or fallacies,” he laughs. “Fine I’ll tell you–”

“Ha! I knew it!” you shout, springing off his chest, finger pointed like you’ve just cracked a decades-old cold case.

Spencer blinks, incredulous. “Knew what?”

“That you want to sleep with me!” you grin, then pause—realizing how it sounded. You clamp a hand over your mouth. “I mean—sleep next to me—”

“Freudian slip,” he smirks, victorious. “I knew it. You want to sleep with me.”

“Oh please.” You scoff, crossing your arms like you’re not suddenly way too aware of how close you still are. “And you think I’d just do that with Jiji in the room? How bad of a cat mom do you think I am?”

“Cat mom?” Spencer snorts. “More like cat burglar.”

You roll your eyes, resisting the smile tugging at your mouth. “You think you're soooo funny.”

“You think so too. Your carotid’s pulsing faster than usual. Pupils are dilated. You’re flushed—”

“Oh my God, I hate profilers,” you mutter, spinning away from him and yanking the blanket over your head like a dramatic teenager.

But your heart’s thudding too fast.

His laugh is quiet behind you, warm in the dark. You pretend not to notice how he’s shifted slightly closer. You definitely pretend not to notice how good he smells, or how the back of your neck is tingling from proximity alone.

You force yourself to shut your eyes.

Somehow, against all logic, exhaustion drags you under.

You wake to a strange pressure.

Your first thought is Spencer’s arm. He’s wrapped around your waist—just as you suspected. His hand is splayed across your stomach, his breathing slow and even.

Your second thought is your heart. It’s racing. Not just fluttery, not butterflies—warning bells.

That’s when you feel it. Cold. Metal.

The barrel of a gun.

Pressed against your temple.

“Get up,” a voice growls, low and intimate. “And don’t make a sound.”

Your blood freezes.

It’s Alexander.

And he’s come to make good on his promise.

[itadoraki]

Sewing the Empire of Beauty.

—————————————————————————

Vil Schoenheit x R.femele ( stylist gothic )

—————————————————————————

.

.

The clock was 6:45 p.m. when Vil entered her studio - a room wrapped in translucent black curtains, lit by electric candles suspended on thin cables, as if they were floating. The shadows projected soft shapes on the luxurious fabrics that spread across the floor, benches and mannequins.

She was there, in the center of creative chaos, with a measuring tape hanging from her neck, scissors around her waist and her fingers stained by dark tailor's chalk.

- "You arrived early," - she said without looking, focused on adjusting the collar of a shirt with matte black lace. - "I was waiting for you only after the rehearsal."

Vil leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, her eyes sliding through her creations like someone who analyzes works of art.

- "The rehearsal ended earlier because I couldn't concentrate. The image of you sewing with that fiery look got stuck in my mind."

She looked over her shoulder, an arched eyebrow.

- "Don't provoke me, Vil. I'm working with unstable satin. One more compliment and I'll cut myself."

He smiled from the corner, approaching with elegant steps.

- "Sholl I shut up in front of an artist who transforms darkness into elegance? You're... dangerous. Like a dress with invisible zippers."

She turned completely now, leaving the piece on a mannequin bust. She wore a tight black dress with asymmetrical cuts and lace socks. A dark rose was stuck in the hair. It was a gothic, unique style, as if it had come out of a macabre haute-couture editorial.

- "Do you think I'm dangerous?"

- "I think she's the only woman who makes me question if I'm the one who dictates the rules of the game."

She approached, defiantly.

- "And yet you came here... knowing that I don't create to please catwalks, but to provoke the world."

Vil gently held her hand, observing the black line stain on her ring finger.

- "And that's why I'm here. Your fashion is bold, visceral... different from everything I've ever worn. And yet, it dresses me better than any brand in the world."

She looked away for a moment, visibly touched, before letting out a theatrical sigh.

- "You talk as if you wanted to be my next collection."

- "And if I say I want to?"

She looked him in the eyes, serious, and pulled out a sketchbook.

- "Then take off that shirt. I want to trace the seam directly on your body."

Vil obeyed with a restained smile, taking the piece with the grace of those on stage.

She ran her fingers on his shoulders, then on his back, gently marking the alignment points.

The silence was dense, tense - full of intentions.

- "You know I don't design for anyone," - she whispered. - "My clothes are for those who are not afraid to reveal themselves."

- "And you think I'm afraid?" - Vil's voice was low, defiant.

She landed the pencil on the center of his chest, drawing the beginning of a Gothic necklace, with fictitious chains and inverted crosses.

- "I think you hide more than you show. But I have time. Sewing your truth will be my most intimate project."

Vil held her chin lightly, leaning until their noses almost touched.

- "Then unveil me... piece by piece."

She laughed, lowered, and kissed her collarbone before whispering:

- "But be careful, Schoenheit. I sew with threads that hold hearts."

- "I'm already stuck."

And that night, between dark fabrics, pins, intense silences and subtle promises, two artists - one of beauty and the other of shadows - began to create something beyond aesthetics.

They were sewing an empire. One of which only they would be kings.

—————————————————————————

[softonstyles]

Part Five

Part Four

A/N: another slow burn, but i promise it'll be worth the wait ;) always happy to hear your thoughts, please don't hesitate to share them <3

Word Count: 1.3K

“Now, look straight ahead — right at my breasts.”

Aurora obeyed, leveling her gaze with Charlotte’s chest. But the shimmer of body glitter dusted across Charlotte’s decolletage caught the light, causing Aurora to squint instinctively.

“Careful!” Charlotte warned. “I don’t want to mess up your wing.”

“I’m trying,” Aurora muttered.

“Try harder.”

Aurora stilled, leaning back in the chair to avoid the glare from Charlotte’s vanity lights. In the middle of their dinner preparations, Charlotte had enthusiastically offered to do her makeup. At first, Aurora hesitated, preferring her usual natural look over Charlotte’s bolder style. But as always, Charlotte had a way of wearing her down.

Her back had been turned to the mirror since they started, leaving Aurora both apprehensive and intrigued about the final result.

“And. . .” Charlotte murmured, her tone serious with concentration. “Finito! Done. Wait, is ‘finito’ Spanish or Italian?”

Aurora swiveled to face the mirror — and froze. The reflection staring back at her was strikingly different from the one she was used to. Sultrier. 

And undeniably alluring.

“You made me look amazing,” she breathed, bringing a hand to her flushed cheeks. “And Italian — at least the way you used it.”

Charlotte grinned, basking in the compliment. “You achieve that effortlessly on your own,” she replied. “And shit, I need to get better if I plan on flirting with any of the staff tonight.”

Aurora met Charlotte’s gaze in the mirror and smiled, genuinely touched. “Thanks for this, Char. You really didn’t have to.”

“Are you kidding?” Charlotte scoffed, moving closer and resting her hands lightly on Aurora’s shoulders. “Anything for my Biggie. Plus, your baby skin is made for makeup. I’ve been dying to practice on you.”

Aurora chuckled before turning her attention to her hair, smoothing back any stray pieces and adjusting the sleek bun that complemented the sultry cat-eye Charlotte had meticulously crafted. Once satisfied, she stood and crossed the room to where her dress lay on the bed. She had originally planned to wear something simple, more understated. But Charlotte had swiftly vetoed that idea after a deep dive into TikTok reviews of the restaurant.

“It’s got a sexy vibe,” she’d declared. “Live music, intimate lighting. That sort of thing. Trust me.”

Now, as Aurora slipped into the wine-colored dress — its elegant boat neckline skimming her collarbone, its modest slit hinting at just enough — she couldn’t help but second guess herself. The sheer black stockings accentuated the length of her legs, making the entire ensemble feel. . . daring.

Aurora adjusted her earrings, catching her reflection once more. She looked powerful. And slightly out of her depth.

“This isn’t too much, right?” Aurora asked, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “I mean. . . it’s just dinner.”

Charlotte furrowed her brows, scanning Aurora’s outfit from different angles. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we look fantastic,” Aurora started, running her hands over the dress she had splurged on for her twenty-fifth birthday. “But shouldn’t we save outfits like this for bigger occasions? Birthdays, engagement parties. . . something more special?”

Charlotte stilled, her eyes locking onto Aurora’s in the mirror.

“Aurora,” she said, voice softer now. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, and God, sometimes I swear there isn’t much — it’s that we can’t keep saving our favorite dresses for only special moments.” A pause. Then, quieter, “Do you know what I mean by that? Because there’s no guarantee we’ll see the next one.” Her eyes drifted, thoughts elsewhere.

Aurora knew where.

“So instead of waiting for special moments, we should make every moment special.”

Aurora smiled, genuinely touched by Charlotte’s words. Beneath her carefree exterior, Charlotte carried a quiet wisdom — an old soul wrapped in a young, impulsive spirit.

And, in true Charlotte fashion, she couldn’t resist adding, “Plus, we’re only this young and hot once!”

————— ୨୧ —————

Aurora was adjusting the strap of her black mesh kitten heel when she felt it — that unmistakable shift in the air. Her fingers stilled just as Harry appeared in the doorway.

His gaze swept over, slow and assessing, before settling on her eyes.

“Aurora,” Harry began, like he was saying her name for the first time. He exhaled softly. “You look. . . stunning.”

Before she could even process the compliment, Charlotte came striding down the hall, a black jacket slung over one shoulder. “Let’s go, guys!”

Aurora looped her arm through Charlotte’s as they made their way down the narrow staircase of the three-story walk-up, trailing just behind Harry. Outside, his sleek black Mercedes idled at the curb, its hazard lights casting rhythmic flashes against the pavement. As they approached, Harry stepped ahead and opened the passenger door.

“Oh,” Aurora hesitated. “That’s okay, Charlotte can sit up front.”

Charlotte scoffed, already reaching for the back door. “Not a chance. Guests always get shotgun.”

Harry turned to Aurora, a slow grin curving his lips. “Guests always get shotgun.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks as she gave a flustered shake of her head. “Thank you,” she murmured before ducking into the seat.

Aurora settled into the plush leather, fingers tracing the cool surface as she watched him circle around the car. He slid into the driver’s seat with ease, starting the engine in one smooth motion before holding out his phone.

“You’re in charge,” he said, his tone light but laced with something teasing. Then, God help her — he winked.

Aurora swallowed hard, willing herself to stay composed as she took the phone with slightly unsteady hands. She opened his Spotify and bit back a smile as she scanned his recently played songs. Her heart gave a small, traitorous leap when she recognized most of them.

After a brief moment of deliberation, she selected Something in the Way by Nirvana. The haunting melody filled the cabin, low and hypnotic. 

“Solid choice,” Harry murmured, his voice rich with approval. He didn’t reach for his phone, leaving it resting in her lap as if he trusted her implicitly.

The city lights blurred past the windows, streaks of gold and red against the night. Aurora stole glances at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. The black silk of his shirt caught the glow of passing streetlights, and her breathing nearly stopped when she caught the faintest glimpse of ink peeking from his undone collar.

Harry remained focused on the road, his profile calm, commanding. One hand rested lazily on the wheel, steering with a grace that made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t dare name.

How could someone look so devastatingly good without even trying?

And worse — how was she supposed to just sit here, inches away, and pretend to not notice?

Her thoughts spiraled before she could stop them.

What if Charlotte weren’t in the backseat?

What if Harry were taking her out, just the two of them?

What if he said her name the way he had in the doorway, but softer, just for her?

Aurora blinked hard, snapping out of her lust-filled thoughts just as the car slowed in front of the restaurant. Harry shifted into park, handed his keys to valet, and stepped out.

She watched him move — unhurried, composed — as he came around to her side. The door opened.

“Ladies.” His voice was smooth, smile easy as he offered an arm to both Aurora and Charlotte.

Aurora exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Let the night begin.

Part Six

————— ୨୧ —————

Tag List (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda

[sludgevomit]

I unscrewed the top of the capsule-like bottle that was clenched between my latex covered fingertips. Setting it down on the rolling steel cart that carried my array of surgical tools. They varied in cleanliness, ones were covered in rust and grime. Some so pristine, they shone under the bright lamp. Next to the tray was your body that laid without movement on an old slab of wood attached to metal legs. Porous material had collected years of bodily fluids, now sending splinters into your back. Blackened eyes blooming as blood pooled underneath the sockets.

You angered me when you protested against coming into my loving arms. You should have known after all of this time - it is better to obey Herr’s words. His treatment not only benefits you, but him as well. Allowing him to get rid of the flame that burns within. The overbearing desires to bring a safe, new world of trauma and abuse to bodies of soon-to-be dead flesh. A deep-rooted need to turn humans into pathetic whores who crave defilement and mutilation.

As my hand hovered over a no. 11 scalpel, your body began to twitch as consciousness faded back in. Eyelids opening with immediate peril soaked in your pupils. Squinting as you had to readjust to your rare intake of lighting. Frustration settled into my veins. Rage fuelled my actions as my hands moved to flip the homemade table you laid upon. Your naked body scrambled to the floor, thud echoing around the stone walls. The bottom of my boot slammed against the lumbar column of your spine. Pulverizing the bone over and over. The crack of vertebrae fracturing into minuscule pieces mixed with the howl releasing from your throat. With quick moves, I straddle your paralyzed waist and place my hands around your neck. Bringing my lips to the crest of your ear; releasing vile whispers. A venomous snake sending promises of destruction as it crushes its prey to death. Pressure flooded towards my erect cock as the feeling of your damaged larynx slipped underneath my gloves.

[brewsterispunkk]

FIND YOU AGAIN

pairing: mando x reader

WC: 1.5k

rating/warnings: none yet

summary: “i will look for you in every lifetime, until we finally stay” or, the beginning of it all

a/n: heyyyy. so i’ve had this in the works for forever. i’m so happy to finally share it with you. this chaoter is mostly exposition!

series masterlist

PART ONE: a long time ago, in agalaxy far, far away

i. the beginning

You freeze in place in your seat at the dusty cantina when he walks in, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

You’ve never seen a mandalorian before. Not a real one, anyway.

You grew up on Corellia, scavenging the streets of the bustling industrial planet. Naturally, you’ve seen a few pieces of stolen and ancient beskar through the years, but never a full set. Never full beskar armor.

If you weren’t so scared, you would ogle the imposing man like everyone else in the cantina.

You’d been licking your wounds, deciding to day-drink in the local cantina.

You knew it would be only a matter of time until Aven sends one of his goons again after you to collect what he’s owed.

The cut on your cheek from the last time he’d threatened you stings in response. You wince. If you were anywhere else in the galaxy, on a planet like Coruscant, it’d be easy to disappear into the masses. Here, though, it’s nearly impossible. You’re backed into a corner. Maybe a mandalorian is better than the Twi’lek and Zabrak Aven sends to do his dirty work. At least this will be clean.

Your breath freezes in your throat when the Mandalorian comes to a stop on the barstool next to you.

Shit, you think. This is it.

For a moment, you allow yourself to think of all you wish you could’ve done. How much of the galaxy you wanted to see before your life ended. Now, you’d be spending the rest of it in carbonite.

You take a shaky breath as the beskar-clad bounty hunter sits on the stool beside you.

“Okay,” you turn to him. “I won’t put up a fight.”

His helmet tilts toward you as you address him. You gaze into the black of the t-shaped visor.

“I know you’re here for me. I didn’t pay—I get it. But, please, can I say goodbye to someone first?”

His helmet tilts to the side at your words.

“I won’t try to run, I promise.”

“You—“

The words die in his throat as the doors to the cantina swing open. You freeze as the three men you’ve come to recognize as part of Aven’s circle storm in.

There’s the two usual suspects: the twi’lek and Zarback, plus a new man, a human with a scar and an eyepatch.

Their eyes scan through the room and stop on you.

Fuck, maybe the Mandalorian wasn’t sent to get you.

Panic rises in you as they begin to make their way toward you.

Maybe you will die today.

“Get up,” you barely have time to register the deep, modulated voice before a gloved hand is pulling you to your feet roughly.

“Eyes forward, hands behind your back,” he orders. “Now.”

You’re dumbstruck: what the hell is going on? But, you obey. It’s your best bet.

Wordlessly, he clips metal handcuffs around your wrists behind your back, grabbing them with one hand. The Mandalorian shoves you forward roughly.

“Walk.”

You do, tripping over your feet. Your eyes find Aven’s goons at the door, their own eyes watching your exchange with the Mandalorian. They look as confused as you feel.

“That’s right, don’t even think about running,” the Mandalorian pulls you backward toward his chest, the corner of his helmet kissing your cheek. “Because I will catch you.”

You shiver and nod as he pushes you out of the cantina and into the hot, dry Jakku sun.

- -

You take the job because you’re on the run, and you need to get the hell off of Jakku.

Once you leave the cantina, the Mandalorian leads you roughly to the back of the building, coming to a stop in an alley.

Without saying a word, he turns you around and unlocks the cuffs that bind your wrists.

You rub them tenderly. The metal-covered man comes to stand in front of you.

“Those were the men after you, I take it?” He asks.

You furrow your eyebrows and nod.

“I—yeah. What was that?”

“You looked like you could use the help,” he shrugs.

You blanch.

“Well, thanks,” you blink. “But, I don’t know if you’ve done more than delay the inevitable. I’ll be dead by the end of the week if I don’t get off this rock.”

He tilts his head, causing the silver of his helmet to glint in the sun. You sigh.

“I owe this guy—Aven—some money. A lot of money, actually. Then last week, he tried to get me to pay in…other ways. He didn’t take it well when I refused him.”

It was terrible. Your skin crawled just remembering the way his eyes raked over your body when you’d gone to make one of your monthly payments.

“Hm,” the Mandalorian hums.

“So, thanks, but,” you deflate, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

“What if,” he begins, his voice nothing more than a modulated grumble. “You owe me one.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“I helped you out. You owe me a favor.”

“I’d be happy to return it, uh, sir,” you say, tripping over what to call him. “But, you don’t have much time to cash it in.”

“I need help. On my ship.”

“On your…ship?” You ask, heart leaping.

This could be it. Your ticket off of this planet, your freedom.

“I-I’m not a mechanic. I’m a scavenger, I can’t—“

“You good with kids?”

“—what?”

“Kids. You good with them?”

You blink, lost for words. This is …bizarre. A Mandalorian—one that just dragged you out of your favorite cantina—is asking you for …childcare? It’s so comical you almost laugh.

“I guess?”

“I need someone to watch my kid while I work. Travel with me. I can’t keep an eye on him and hunt at the same time.”

“You have a kid?”

He nods.

You stare at the impassive face of his mask and wonder. You’re at a crossroads: do you accept whatever fate Aven has planned for you, or put your future in the hands of a man you’ve only just met?

“Will you take the job?”

You take a breath, before closing your eyes tight.

You open them, and nod.

- -

“He’s …yours?”

The baby is green. The baby is green.

He has big, endless, black eyes and a little button nose situated under. His forehead is wrinkled, and he smiled under clawed hands. He’s …cute. Albeit in a strange way.

You have never before seen a life form even remotely like him. It’s fascinating. What is he doing with a Mandalorian?

“He’s adopted.”

You chuckle at the awkward admission.

The Mandalorian—or, Mando, as he told you to call him—is holding the baby at his hip, in the cockpit of his ship, the Razor Crest. What will be your home for the foreseeable future.

He’s given you the tour already.

The ship is old—pre-empire, but it gets the job done. It’s small, but you’ve never needed much space to live. You’ve never had much space to live. This is just fine.

There’s one bunk. Not ideal, but again: you’ve lived in much worse. He told you that you can take shifts sleeping, that way the kid will always have someone up if he needs it.

The way he cares for the kid is… heart-warming. It seems almost strange: a man so big and hulking, capable of causing so much damage, being so gentle with such a helpless creature. It makes you wonder why he’s trusting you, someone he just met, to care for him.

“He have a name?” You ask, looking at him. The kid just stares at you with big eyes and coos, nonsense coming out.

“Uh…no,” Mando replies. “I usually just call him ‘kid.’”

You’re taken aback, but nod nonetheless.

“Alright. ‘Kid’ it is.”

Mando nods and sets the baby down in his hovering crib.

“Do you…need to retrieve anything before we leave?”

You shake your head and fold your hands in front of you.

“Everything I can own I keep on me. I’ve never had the need for more.”

Mando is silent at that and nods.

“Before,” he says after a moment of silence. “You said there was someone you wanted to say goodbye to. Do you—“

“No,” you interrupt a little too sharply. “I mean, no. There’s nobody.”

For a moment, he looks at you, and you wonder how a visor can hold so much emotion. He stares at you like he can see right through you. And maybe he can under that helmet. Either way, it makes you squirm.

You clear your throat.

“So we can, uhm,” you sit down near one of the windows in the cockpit. “We can leave whenever.”

The mandalorian just nods and goes to prepare for take-off.

Later, before the ship makes the jump to hyperspace, you watch as Jakku fades into a sandy dot in space.

You’re struck with the strange feeling the rest of your life is about to begin

[thegodthief]

Write about the time you broke: A promise

In my defense, he broke it first. I was only the first to seek professional assistance making it official. For all that he did prior to the critical event, I was willing to forgive him unconditionally. For all that he did to me, I was willing to forgive him unconditionally, because I promised I would in our marriage vows. I had no other choice but to uphold them, right?

My water broke early, but labor didn't follow. I was in the hospital and facing the very increasing possibility that I was going to have a six-week premature child very, very soon. I wrote down some instructions for him. Call these people, tell them what's happening, they will help. We need baby supplies, now. Here is where I have hidden the emergency credit card. There's only this much credit available, so buy these specific things first. If you're not sure what to do, talk to the people on this list.

The next day, he comes back and asks for more money. He didn't get any of the things on the list because he always wanted these two gaming consoles and why buy formula when breastfeeding is free and besides, it's his money too because we're married and he can do what he wanted with it.

He broke his promise to me that he would use the funds responsibly.

He had been breaking his promises to me from the day after we got married. But this time, there was no forgiving him. Our child was depending on him to be the adult he promised me he would be when I consented to becoming a mother.

"... to love and obey."

Something snapped and it wasn't the cervical plug. In a voice that still terrifies me to this day, I calmly said, "There is nothing else to give. Whatever happens next, I'll take care of it, myself."

He never realized the importance of what I said, or that he wasn't the person I was talking to.

Two months and one week later, the generosity of beloved friends in the area culminated in what I can only describe as a risky evacuation from a risky situation to go back to my parents' home. But I didn't divorce him upon arrival to the no-fault state. I still had hope that he would grow up, that our marriage could be saved, that my child could have a better relationship with their father than I had with mine.

With family support, I got a job. Office work. Secretarial. I had to dress nice. And I did. Business casual, without any room for innuendo. I had to interact with a lot of blue-collar men, but they learned to respect me as I respected them. At least they didn't say anything rude to my face.

Six months later, he came to visit on vacation. He went through all my clothes and disapproved of each and every one of them. "These show off too much skin. I don't want the warehouse guys looking at you with ideas."

"What ideas?"

"What a man sees, a man wants, and I don't want anyone wanting you."

"Wanting me, like how?"

"You're really that dumb, huh."

I am a sailor's daughter. I know what happened in every port. When the husbands are away from their devoted sweetheart back home. When they think they can get away with it. "I guess I really am."

The next morning, I'm up and getting ready for work. I'm wearing my favorite outfit, a brown skirt and blazer with a white blouse underneath. I'm wearing black stockings. I will likely be in the warehouse so I'm wearing stable black pumps. I have a few pieces of jewelry that my mother was lending me because looking poor is worse than being poor. The skirt falls just below my knee. The warehouse workers call me "Hermana" ("Sister").

"You can't wear that to work."

"I am wearing this to work."

"No. I am your husband and I don't want you wearing that. Take it off, right now."

I looked at him via the mirror's reflection. "You are my husband, and I am wearing this to work."

"I miss when you just wore sweats all the time and never left home without me. You didn't show anything to anyone but me. And I didn't have to worry about anyone taking you."

I chilled. What was he admitting? "Who did you take in the way that you're worried someone would take me?"

His eyes moved from my ass to my face via the mirror's reflection. His face scrunched in a flash of disgust and rage. "Who are you to challenge me?! I am your husband! Either you take that off and put on something I will pick for you right now, or you are not going to work today, if at all!"

"... 'til death do us part."

"I'm going to work, as is, right now. And when I get home, we will have a conversation." It was the same level voice I used in the hospital room almost a year prior. And it terrified me just the same, as I knew even in that moment, that I was not going to have a conversation with him, but with myself, and specifically with the last piece of myself that was afraid to break a promise as solemn and holy as a marriage vow.

He stood up to stop me and I whirled around to face him. Whatever he saw in my face, it made him decide to retreat across the room and growl demands based on his interpretation of our marital vows.

"What are you going to do if I shred all your work clothes while you're gone?"

"You're going to try that? In this house? Around my mother? You're really that dumb, huh."

I left for work and thought about the matter the entire day. When I got home, he was very loving and caring and wanted to be very personal with me as if the morning never happened.

Instead, I moved the crib into the guest room and remained there until his vacation ended and he had to return to his work. The first day after he was gone, I got a new cellphone with a new number and began the process of filing for divorce with my family's support and encouragement.

It took several years for everything to be resolved. He fought dirty every step of the way. And I realized that while I still was in love with the ideal of him that I still vainly hoped that he would become, I could not take that chance when our child would be the one paying the price for my continued mistakes. The promise I made in that hospital bed will always take precedent over the promise I made to someone that I realize never existed.

And for all that has happened since, I have taken care of it, myself.

[onceuponmyanime]

Obey Me Devildom

GIF by elopawa

*I've always wanted to write about little Fluffy segments on the side about how MC felt in a new place like the Devildom with all these people she should be afraid of but finds an odd sense of belonging.

So this is just my small take on it.*

The Narcissistic Fifth Born…

"I look dazzling today as well, don't I?…"

"Why don't you wear something other then the boring ensemble hanging in your wardrobe?"

Asmodeus always had a habit of making everyone else's fashion choice, and today I just so happened to be his next target.

I was a little surprised he even noticed me, let alone what I was wearing.

It's not like I had many options in the Devildom, I didn't exactly pack to go on a year long internship.

"These are the only clothes I have."

"That just won't do." He clicked his tongue. Grasping my hand in his, he proceeded to drag me down toward the same room as before which was filled with clothes and multiple mirrors.

"Pick four outfits." He prompts as he moves me to the center of the room rather abruptly.

I lifted my brow quizzically.

"I don't think that's…" He waved his hand in dismissal.

"You need at least four outfits each for certain occasions. And it helps that everything you choose mixes and matches with the other pieces."

He began throwing articles of clothing on the bed, some colours I could never bring myself to wear along with some very risque-looking pieces of fabric.

"I can't wear those!" I help up the thing that was barely there. "I may as well wear nothing at all."

He laughed, almost indulgently.

"It's to wear underneath your chosen attire silly, although I wouldn't be opposed to you wearing them or not."

Even though Asmodeus was such a natural flirt, I couldn't believe he'd suddenly turned his charms on me.

"I'll think about it." Spying a few tops and a few bottoms, I reached for four of each and gathered them in my arms. "Thank you for the clothes, I will pay you back as soon as I can."

Again, he waved his hand carelessly.

"Think nothing of it, just promise me I get to see you in those undergarments." Suddenly his smile looked almost rakish. "Or better yet, should you need any help with putting them on, I would be happy to lend a hand."

I couldn't stop the blush from spreading across my face, so I quickly got out of that room as fast as I could.

But not before I could hear the sound of his laugh following me down the hall.

[notmoreflippingelves]

Hi! I just read your post about Mateo recently. If I may, can you give me any specific instances in the narrative of the show where Mateo isn’t called out as heavily as they should have? I’m just curious?

During the Shuriki returns arc in particular, Mateo makes some pretty glaring mistakes that I feel like he should've gotten much more flack for (and based on what we see elsewhere in canon, I feel pretty confident that if Gabe, Naomi, Isa, or Esteban at least --and possibly even Elena-- had made these mistakes, they wouldn't have been swept under the rug nearly as quickly as they were for Mateo).

While it's unfair to completely blame Mateo for Carla's manipulating him during the "Rita" arc, I feel like it's reasonable to hold him a *bit* accountable. He did after all blab highly confidential information (on more than one occasion) to try and impress a pretty girl with how clever and important he was. (Something tells me that if any of the others had done likewise, they would've been called out for it. But because it's "beloved" Mateo, we don't even get "wait, you told Rita how to get into your workshop? And you've known her for only a few weeks? What were you thinking, Mateo?") Moreover, he never even apologizes for this or promises to do better/be more careful with such important, sensitive information in the future.

Even more aggravating is his behavior in "The Scepter of Night." Mateo is so eager to play the hero and claim all the glory for himself that he twice (!) disobeys a direct order/abandons the plan and goes looking for the scepter piece on his own. This directly leads to Fiero and Victor finding the scepter piece and (temporarily) stealing it. And it's really only due to luck and very conveniently-timed infighting amongst Shuriki's allies that Elena and co. are able to get the scepter piece back. While Mateo does receive some (brief) criticism, it's nowhere near the level that it should be.

Also noteworthy Elena doesn't really get particularly "mad" at him (especially considering how angry we see her get at other characters even for more minor things) . She's not truly, actually angry at Mateo (and Gabe and Naomi are only a bit angrier); she's just a little frustrated and disappointed at him in the moment. And apart from a (very short) little "do better next time" speech, Mateo doesn't face any real consequences or lingering resentment unlike other characters who do.

When Isa obeys direct orders in "Sister of Invention," she has to face consequences (Elena grounding her). Similarly, Elena holds a grudge against Esteban for days (if not weeks) after he interfered with the Feast of Friendship (a much lower stakes mistake than Mateo's imo). Moreover, it's possible to interpret Esteban's staying behind in Avalor when the others go to see the Norberg Lights as a punishment (either self-inflicted or imposed by Elena) for his actions in the previous episode.

In contrast, Mateo just gets a brief "I expected better from you" speech from Elena and Gabe jokingly assigning him push-ups as punishment (which he immediately takes back when Mateo tries to do them). I'll give Mateo a little bit of credit for actually apologizing this time (which he doesn't always do). But it's still frustrating that everyone is so ready to forgive and forget Mateo's missteps immediately while this same courtesy is seldom shown to others.

I think it's worth directly comparing a few Mateo-centric episodes with a few more similar ones that focus on other characters so that we can see how there does seem to be a noted narrative bias in his favor compared to the others.

Let's start with two "feeling kind of insecure" episodes: "Spellbound" for Mateo vs. "Naomi Knows Best" for Naomi. In the former, Mateo expresses doubt that he's capable of rising to the occasion as royal wizard. No one (except Gabe and he gets over it by the end of the episode) blames him for not having reached his full level of confidence and potential right away and not being able to immediately solve the problem. And Elena in particular (and by extension the narrative) gives him so much validation and support. Whereas in "Naomi Knows Best" (and to a lesser extent "Finders Leapers" and the "Carla-as-Rita" arc as well) the narrative "punishes" Naomi for her feelings of self-doubt. We're told that *if only* Naomi had trusted her gut instincts and stood her ground right away, Elena and co would not fallen right into the trap and that Naomi needs to screw her head back on straight and embrace confidence ASAP to fix her mistake.

When Mateo feels insecure, the narrative gives him every reassurance about how capable and special he is, that he can learn at his own pace, and his insecurity isn't really such a problem after all. When Naomi feels insecure, the narrative encourages her to get over her doubts as quickly as possible because unlike with Mateo, there's "no time" for her to wallow in self-doubt and actually the fact that she even had said doubt in the first place is what "caused" the disaster.

On a slightly different note, Naomi is also called out for taking a little free, fun time for herself in "The Last Laugh" when the group needs her, and yet somehow I have a feeling that Mateo would've been allowed to take a day off if he wanted without any protest. He complains about long hours in "Movin' on Up" and Elena gives him the big royal wizard's chambers for him to relax and unwind in. Naomi asks for one (1) day off to spend with her childhood friend for her birthday , and suddenly it's big drama. (And at the time, Naomi asked for said day off, all Elena needed from her was help doing paperwork. The Team Ash stuff came up unexpectedly.)

Similarly whenever Gabe and Mateo get their little rivalry on ("Spellbound," "Party of a Lifetime," "Captain Mateo" and a few other examples) , the narrative either presents them as equally at fault or Mateo as the only one in the right.

When Gabe brings in Bronzino to train the Royal Guards in magic, it's specifically because Mateo failed to explain how and why he was training the guards in the way he was. If he'd just explained how they were going apply the seemingly basic exercise they were doing to real magic, Gabe likely would've allowed Mateo to continue the training at his own pace.

(Also like. it's super hypocritical imo for Mateo to get annoyed at Gabe feeling impatient/impulsive about their apparent-lack-of progress when Mateo himself is easily the second most impulsive character in the show after Elena.) Mateo feels entitled to keep important information to himself (or blab it to a cute girl he barely knows) even when its no one else's best interest. He's only okay with being "cautious and patient" when he specifically is the one setting the pace. And yet, Gabe is the only one who is called out for his behavior in this episode--even though he might not have acted as he did if only Mateo had trusted him and the guards with an explanation in the first place.

And then there's just a few other "dude not cool" little moments that never really get acknowledged/Mateo never apologizes for. For instance, there a two low-key terrifying Mateo moments in "Captain Mateo" that are not only not acknowledged but are also framed in context as Mateo being just "so funny and quirky". Near the end of "Should be in Charge," Mateo magically gags Gabe so he can't protest anymore about Mateo taking over as leader of the mission. And this is after having already enchanted one of the stationary suits of armor to come to life and fight Gabe. (Gabe admittedly does lightly shove Mateo out of the way during his parts of the song, but that's still a far cry from literally drawing a sword on Mateo as Mateo does via magic to Gabe.)

It's played for laughs (The Grand Council is just smiling happily in the background throughout the scene which is so yikes), so it's easy to overlook what's actually happening. Frankly, it's pretty horrifying that Mateo's natural instinct upon his experience/authority being questioned is to literally attack and then silence. (And attack and silence someone who is supposed to be one of his best friends and closest allies at that!)

Rather than the narrative acknowledging that maybe it's a bad idea to immediately grant power to someone to someone who is so retaliatory against fairly minor criticism, the Grand Council just gives Mateo exactly what he wants and doesn't even offer a "maybe next time, let's not gag or attack our friends, okay?" alongside it. I mean sure Mateo does step down as captain at the end of the episode, but it's very specifically presented as his and Gabe's voluntary choice and not an order from Elena/the Council.

[solidrockistand]

Praise of God's Law Pt 2

9. How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word. (I said I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth with a muzzle, so long as the wicked are in my presence. Psalms 39:1 ESV)

(Do good to your servant according to your word O Lord. Psalms 119:65 ESV)

10. I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. (I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. Psalms 9:1 ESV)

(Receive instruction from his mouth and lay up his words in your heart. Job 22:22 ESV)

11. I have hidden your word in my heart that i might not sin against you. (And these words that i command you today shall be on your heart. Deuteronomy 6:6 ESV)

(Then you will walk on your way securely, and your foot will not stumble Proverbs 3:23 ESV)

12. Praise be to you O Lord; teach me your decrees. (Now obey my voice; I will give you advice, and God be with you! you shall represent the people before God and bring their cases to God, and you shall warn them about the statutes and the laws, and make them know the way in which they must walk and what they must do Exodus 18:19-20 ESV)

(Oh, let the evil of the wicked come to an end, and may you establish the righteous, you who test the minds and hearts, O righteous God. Psalms 7:9 ESV)

13. with my lips I recount all the laws that come from your mouth. (The law of your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces Psalms 119:72 ESV)

(Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in your love i trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. Psalms 143:8 ESV)

14. I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches. (Your testimonies are my heritage forever for they are the joy of my heart. Psalms 119:111 ESV)

(My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises. Psalms 119:148 ESV)

15. I meditate on your precepts and consider your ways. (Oh, how i love your law! I meditate on it all day long Psalms 119:97 ESV)

(Oh, let the evil of the wicked come to an end and may you establish the righteous you who test the minds and hearts O, righteous God. Psalms 7:9 ESV)

(Nothing can be hidden from God; he searches minds and hearts. He knows our motives, let this be our comfort. God knows what's currently happening and he knows what's going to happen. If we surround ourselves in God's word, he will guide your path for what is going to happen next.)

16. I delight in your decrees I will not neglect your word. (PRAISE THE LORD! Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in his commandments. Psalms 112:1 ESV)

(Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word. Psalms 119:37 ESV)

Psalms 119: 9-16 (NIV)

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: This one hurt! -Danny Words: 2,178 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Let The Grass Grow' -by Ruel

XVIII: This Apollo Is Not Demure nor Mindful

"Bring me the flying chariot!" Ara runs into battle. "Nyssa, Malcolm, assessment of weak points, hand over weapons—Lily, go with them and come back with a strategy! Nico, you come with me—Put that down, Harley!"

Everyone rushes to aid the Athena statue, Chiron stays on the ground while Ara and Nico climb into the chariot and fly to the automaton's head. "I'd like to point out that I work better on the ground!" Nico exclaims, clinging to the vehicle.

"You're a last resource!" Ara shouts back. "You weaken too fast nowadays, I gotta keep an eye on you—"

"I'll be fine!"

"Bomb!" Ara stretches out her palm and Nico places the item on it. She tosses it and the automaton stumbles to the side by the force of the explosion, but it's a strong design, and Ara fails to see weaknesses. This looks like it took time to make, these men had centuries to plan the perfect way to level her camp, hoping for its weakest moment, and they consider Ara's time to be just that.

Nico swears loudly. "Are those Myrmekes?" He squints. "Carrying Apollo?"

Ara groans in dislike. "He brought Mama?"

"IMPOSTER! I AM THE REAL APOLLO! YOU'RE UGLY!" Apollo screams. The statue slams a hand against him and tosses the ant away, ripping out its wings. 

"He loves falling nowadays, doesn't he?" Ara says, ignoring for a moment that she promised not to make fun of him.

"Put me down on the ground!" Nico demands, spotting Will going to aid his father.

Ara obeys, but only because she wants to hear if Apollo has any prophecies that could be of use. The moment he sees his chariot, he climbs in it, demanding her to go back up. "What's the plan?" She asks.

"I shoot plague through the ear, you drive!"

"How is that going to kill this thing?"

"Because I want it to!"

"I don't feel confident in your plan."

"How about this..." He draws the last arrow on his quiver. "This is my last shot. Failing isn't an option."

"I like that attitude," Ara fixes her gaze on the statue.

Apollo looks down at his arrow with wide eyes. "Did you just speak to me?" He frowns. "But you're an arrow, shooting you is the whole point..." 

"Are you talking to that thing?" Ara asks in confusion. "We're on a tight schedule here, dude, you—NO!" The statue stumbles forward and smashes the pavilion under one foot. "No! That's gonna take ages to fix, you foul piece of—!"

She summons lightning and it comes down right on the statue's head. Ara has half a second to feel happy before she discovers that was a terrible idea, now the automaton is ready to go for another five rounds.

"You can't hear this arrow talking?" Apollo places the item next to her face.

Ara slaps it away. "No! Don't touch me while I'm driving!"

"What would you suggest, O Wise Missile of Dodona?" Apollo brings the arrow back to his side. "My quiver is empty."

"I can give you arrows if that thing won't do it," Ara reaches for Almighty and clicks on it twice, the weight of her quiver making itself present. "Hurry, Apollo, this thing is walking to the cabins!"

The former god grabs one and stares at it, then speaks in a choked voice. "I can't!"

Ara glares at him. "Apollo!"

"I forgot the enchantment! Did Michael ever—"

"No, he thought I would abuse those tricks!" Ara makes a face. "He didn't think highly of me when it came to weaponry and magic tricks, now that I think about it. Perhaps he knew what he was doing when he nicknamed me Beast..."

Apollo looks like he wants to dive deeper into that statement, but then his eyes widen and he yells at the arrow on his quiver. "The enchantment does not start plaguey, plaguey, plaguey!"

"Can't you just sing like in the nest? About sickness and plagues and..." Ara pauses, coming up with a new plan. "Music! You told Harley automatons are sensitive to some waves or whatever, right? I can stun it!" She points at the box between her feet. "Sonic bombs! That can slow it down!" 

Apollo grabs one. "Cover your ears!"

Luckily they're high enough that the campers won't get the full blast of it. Ara pulls Apollo down after he tosses it, the chariot swerves impulsed by the soundwave and Ara struggles to keep it from toppling. The statue vibrates and stays still for five full seconds. Ara nudges Apollo excitedly. "It works! Now we just need to keep it coming..." She has two sonic bombs left, she'll need something else to slow it down.

"Hey, Bronze Butt!" A voice causes her to see in brighter colors: Percy's here. Her brother and Mrs O'Leary land on the statue's head, but the hellhound freaks out and pees over it. Percy slides off without seeing and falls flat on the liquid. "What the—Mrs. O'Leary, jeez!"

"Nemo!" Ara calls, reaching to pull him into the chariot.

Percy jumps and holds onto her, Ara gawks at the pee that he smears on her hand. "All right, who unleashed the giant bronze guy?" Her brother grunts. "Apollo, did you do this?"

"I am offended! I am only indirectly responsible for this! Also, I have a plan to fix it." 

"Oh, yeah? How's that going?"

"Listen, if you're gonna be insolent at least do it while keeping this thing away from the cabins!" Ara says. "Mrs O'Leary, out of the way!"

"Are you wearing a flower crown?" Percy squints while their dog shadow travels away. "Are those growing out of your head?"

"Percy!" She urges him.

He extends a hand and calls for the sea. "Hey, Bronze Butt! You stink! Take a shower!"

Ara tosses the second sonic bomb and the boys duck, then Percy wraps the statue in a whirl of seawater and drags it closer to the beach. "Well?" He looks at Apollo. "Start helping!"

Ara sees her campers running after them, shouting and tossing all kinds of stuff at the giant Apollo while careful not to get stepped on. Lester whispers behind them frantically, and Ara can feel the power emanating from him, tickling her neck. 

"Get me next to its ear!" He exclaims suddenly.

Ara takes a sharp turn that almost causes Percy to fall over. "Watch it!" He rasps.

"Stop fighting! Don't breathe!" Apollo shouts his commands anxiously one after the other.

Percy seems less than happy, every time he's close to Apollo his oxygen privileges get revoked way too frequently. "Shoot it at three!" Ara grabs the last sonic bomb. "One... Two..." Apollo tenses the arrow on his bow and Ara tosses the bomb, which explodes and stuns the automaton one last time. She waits for a second and then screams. "THREE!"

Apollo shoots and Percy drags the statue into the sea, sinking it further into the sand to make sure it can't move once it recovers. Apollo's arrow cutting through the wind is one of the most beautiful things Ara's ever heard, and the sight of it falling straight into the Colossus's ear is just as great.

"Scatter!" She shouts at the demigods below.

The girl hadn't noticed before, but the statue's nostrils are sealed. Once, Leo told her that if a person tried to hold their nose and keep their eyes open while sneezing, they were likely to pop their eyeballs right out. Now she gets to see that on a large demonstration dummy. 

The statue sneezes making a noise almost as horrid as her sonic bombs, his ears pop off just like the top of its head, and they get gallons and gallons of oil over them. "Eurgh!" Percy recoils in the chariot. "Man, this sucks!"

"Take us down, General..." Apollo slips sideways.

Ara lands the chariot where Will, Austin, and Kayla are. They quickly gather around their father to bring him back, Percy slips out of the chariot, and Ara drives the thing a bit further away to make sure the statue doesn't flatten it. The Colossus sneezes again, and Ara runs up to the crowd. "So is that thing dying soon, or...?"

"It's just hay fever, I think," Apollo sighs tiredly. "The best I could do in this punny, weak excuse for a teenage body I'm stuck in."

"You're alright," Ara nudges his shoulder and lowers her voice. "Make an offering."

"What?" Apollo frowns. 

"The statue. Offer it to your dad as proof of your good deed."

"But I barely did anything!"

"Lester," Ara orders. "Do it."

"Oh, mighty Zeus! King of Olympus!" Apollo speaks loud and clear. "Please take this statue as proof of my full commitment to right my wrongs!"

"Good luck fitting that in your backyard, McQueen..." Ara mutters with satisfaction.

The statue sneezes a third time, toppling backward and landing on the water. As soon as it touches the surface, it turns into gold and white foam until it disappears.

It takes an hour to get rid of the oil, the hyacinths are still stuck on her head, but the roots feel weaker. Once that's done, Ara goes out to evaluate the damages done to her camp. The docks will need to be rebuilt, the pavilion too, and the barriers need to be put back up again.

Percy and Lily are with her, helping where they can. Ara's octopus was returned, Meg gave it back to Apollo before disappearing into the woods because she didn't want Ara to think she was a thief, which of course, only made Ara feel even worse about everything.

Percy decides to stay the night, so now he's chatting with Ara on the Big House's porch a few minutes before curfew. Ara tells him everything and he listens in silence, though his expression grows concerned. 

"Ara, if that's all true then..."

The girl leans on the woodrail and sighs. "Apollo got a prophecy," she says carefully. "I don't know if Apollo... if Lester is my obligation, but..."

"But you're going to help him," Percy says knowingly. "It will be tough, Ara. It's not just one thing to recover, one bad guy to keep an eye on. We're talking about three oracles and three emperors who, by the sound of it, are monsters."

She speaks quietly. "Nero called New York his city, and that felt gross, Percy. My campers, and demigods we don't even know, they're all at risk of ending up on his side of town, and the only way to take them down is by retrieving the oracles—by turning Lester back into a god. Meg is out there and she's..." Ara's voice fails her. "She needs me."

"We all do," he says, though he doesn't sound angry, just tired. "Estelle too."

She knows that. And she knows no one will be glad to see her go, and she knows that if Leo comes back and she isn't here, he'll be upset. She can't afford to dwell on it anyway. Ara is the daughter of Olympus, and if there's ever been a quest that concerns her, this is it. 

She's used to this, ripping off the bandaid, being the detached character that goes where she's needed. It requires a level of control over emotions not many have, but she's always been good at numbing out her despair. She excels at pretending the thought of dying has never crossed her mind when in reality she thinks of it at least five times a day.

Ara heaves a sigh. "There is nothing you can say that will keep me from going, Percy."

"I know I can't stop you. Not even our parents can't stop you. I mean, when I showed up without you Mom didn't even look surprised. Paul asked a few questions, but we all knew this was coming. Things can't be normal when one of us is the daughter of Olympus, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

Ara slides down and sits on the floor, her back against the railing. "If it were just Apollo..."

"But it's never about the gods, is it?" Percy sits beside her. "There is no one else that cares about demigods more than you do... And that's great Ara, but it comes at too high of a price."

"I know you think I wasn't aware of it when I became a General, but I knew," she rubs her forehead wearily. "The thing is, when you grow up like I did, abandoned, then overlooked, until you're finally given something precious, you do anything to keep it safe. Anything. I can live with all of you resenting me for leaving, but I cannot stay and watch everything die knowing I could've made a difference."

"I think you're a little Atlas," Percy says, eyes misty. "But like, a good kind. One that takes the weight of things without complaining."

"I complain all the time," she laughs dryly.

"You barely complain," he insists, placing an arm on her shoulders and pulling her closer. 

Ara gulps down the lump in her throat. "I keep having this feeling... like this will be my last big quest."

The boy buries his nose in her hair, the smell of hyacinths strong and exquisite, but it makes him think of a corpse beautifully decorated, and he has to push back a shiver. "You... you can do it. Look at all you did this week and with almost no help!"

"Apollo helped..." At her brother's silence, she sighs. "Yeah, almost no help."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[sallysgrancanwrite]

Chapter Sixty-Two

Masterlist

Chloe was healing quickly and was soon able to come home, after having been in the hospital for three weeks. It was less time than anyone had anticipated. With her injuries they felt it would be longer. She may need back surgery. The Dr said for now it seemed like it was okay but they would wait until she was up and walking more. Which, he did not want her doing for several weeks yet in order for her back to fully heal.

Bob and Edith made up the bedroom downstairs for Chloe as walking up stairs was not something she would be doing for quite some time. They hired a nurse to care for her until she got on her feet.

“I don’t need a nurse. I have all of you and I can learn to take care of myself.” Chloe argued.

“That may come on time,” Edith told her, “but for now you need a nurse. Especially at night if you need help and we’re all upstairs asleep.”

“It’s just for a little while Chloe,” said Beth.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.” She said pouting.

They all headed to the kitchen for a bite of lunch when sheriff Tom stopped by.

“Tom, hi. Are you hungry? We have plenty.” said Edith.

“No, no. I just stopped by to tell y’all that Michael made bail this morning. We of course had to release him.” Tom replied.

“But how could they! “ cried Chloe. “After what he did to me he should be denied bail!” She yelled.

“Chloe, I understand but my hands are tied. It is up to the judge.” Tom said. “I’m so sorry. Please let me know if he violates the restraining order or causes trouble. I’ll arrest him again.”

Chloe sat and cried while Beth knelt next to her and held her. They had hoped he would be denied bail but obviously bail was set at an amount he could afford. He only had to come up with 10% of it. And he was rich as hell.

“I pray he obeys that restraining order.” said Edith.

“I doubt he will. Give him time. He’ll try something.” said Bob, disgusted with the whole mess.

They decided not to discuss anymore of it around Emma. She didn’t need to hear all this grown up talk or see them so angry. They all got up to the table to eat.

Once they were done Edith and Chloe pulled out Emma’s school books and had her sit down to do her school work. They didn’t want her to get behind. They noticed she was struggling to focus.

“Emma, is there something bothering you? You are not paying close attention, which is not like you.” said Chloe.

“I’m afraid of daddy coming and hurting you again.” The little girl replied.

“Oh honey, we’re safe here with granny and granddad. They won’t let anything happen to us. And the sheriff won’t either. I promise.” Chloe told her.

“Are you sure he can’t break in Momma?” Emma asked.

“No he can’t break in. We’ll keep the security system on. Okay?” Edith said.

“Okay granny. If you promise he can’t.” Emma replied.

“I promise,“ said Edith.

“Now how about we work on some addition? Chloe asked her.

“Okay,” replied Emma.

Beth was waiting tables when who should walk in but Michael. He asked to be seated in Beth’s section.

“What do you want Michael,” Beth asked as she poured him coffee.

“Now is that anyway to talk to a paying customer?” He sneered at her.

“Just give me your order.” Beth sneered back.

“I’ll have a nice juicy steak with fried potatoes and green beans. Then I’ll have a piece of peach cobbler with ice cream warmed up. After I’m done with my steak, though.”

Beth wrote the order down and gave it to Craig, the cook.

“How does he want the steak?” Craig asked.

“Hold on.” Beth said.

“How would you like your steak Michael?” She asked him coldly.

“We’ll I’ll take it medium rare please.” He retorted.

Beth walked back to the kitchen.

“Craig, he wants it medium rare.” She told the cook.

“Coming right up.” Craig said.

Beth waited on a few more tables and the. Michaels order came up. She wanted to spit in it but thought better of it. She needed the job. She walked it over to his table.

“Here’s your order. I’ll be back after a bit with your cobbler.” she told him.

“Why, thank you Beth.” He said, all sugary.

God she hated this man with every fiber of her being. The sooner he was jailed the better for everyone.

She went about cleaning tables and doing side chores when he summoned her.

“I’m ready for that cobbler now Beth.” He told her.

She grabbed a plate of cobbler, warmed it up in the microwave and put a scoop of ice cream on it for him.

“Here you go.” She said flatly.

“Thank you. You can take my dishes please.” He told her.

She reached over and gathered up his dirty dishes and was taking them away when he stopped her.

“Could I have more coffee please.” He said trying to act all sweet and innocent.

He was far from sweet or innocent and if it was the last thing she did she was going to see that he spent the rest of his life in prison.

[smilinplanet]

Excerpt from WIP Chronicles of Maaris 001.2

Please give me any/all feedback you can. Feel free to ask all the questions and thank you for taking the time to read it. Tw: Depictions of blood, violence, and death.

<<<Previous

From a distance, Farren hears the painful wails of those who made the unfortunate mistake of pursuing his sister. Soren whimpers and squirms in his arms. He shushes them as he pats them on the head. Over his shoulder, Soren’s eyes peer into the darkness as six Guardians emerge in ashen-grey cloaks with silver trim surrounding them.

“Farren Ira Vexx, you are under arrest for kidnapping and treason.” One shouted, drawing her weapon.

“Do I get to play? I want to play! Let me out Fare please.” Vega begs, buzzing with glee.

“Leave so I don’t have to hurt you.” Farren pleads.

“Your crimes can not be forgiven.” She barks, and a dagger flies slamming into Farren’s shoulder, narrowly missing Soren. The next blade soars past Soren’s face slicing their cheek. Soren wails in pain, grasping their cheek.

“Vega devour your prey.” Farren raises his hand, and a dark cloud of starlight seeps from his hand, the two behind him are enveloped in fog; Vega travels through their throats and noses, ripping the life out of them while their worst nightmares are played before their eyes. Her incandescent light bleeds through them, wreaking havoc. The rest of them lunge toward him, slashing, Soren gripping onto his neck for dear life. Their clinging to him makes his efforts to block them hard, causing him to get cut. The sound of clashing blades rings beside him, and their lifeless bodies fall to the ground.

“Vega come back.” Farren commands, halting Vega’s assault.

“But I was having so much fun!” Vega pouts, but obeying she bleeds back into him. Farren turns to his sister holding her blade to the remaining Guardian’s throat, pushing him to his knees.

“Be a good boy and tell us where Tavius is.” Celine questions, her slender hand replacing the dagger, and tightens her grip. “If you do, I might leave you walking away with this with your sanity intact.”

“I promise you this will go much smoother if you just tell us.” Farren beseeches, under his skin Vega is jittering with excitement.

“You and your whore sister won’t get anything out of me.” The Guardian gasps, “You are filthy traitors, and Stephan will never succeed. You have betrayed your brothers and sisters for a monster.”

“Brother, you should have better manners when my hand is on your throat.” Celine growls in his ear. “My patience and mercy are thin.”

“Celine, we need him,” Farren warns.

“There is no mercy in murder.” He spits out as blood drips onto the ground.

“Please, tell us where Octavius is,” Farren questions as Celine’s grasp tightens.

“I don’t know…” He chokes out.

“Now,” Celine tsks, “You shouldn’t lie. I’ll make it painless if you don’t lie.”

“Gaelle will damn you and your soul will never enter Selia.” He chokes out, underneath her fingertips, his skin begins to fall off his body like ash. Piece by piece, his life leaves his eyes, until there is nothing left but a pile of dust.

“You are pushing it Celine,” Farren cautions, as he watches his sister seem to struggle carrying Soren down the path towards the Drunken Raven.

“I’ll be fine Fare.” She dismisses him. “It was only a few spells; I’ve literally done wor-”

“Big spells!” He interrupts.

“Let it be!” She huffs as she walks further ahead of him.

“You know using too much every day could kill you.” He harps, following close behind. The children sleep soundly in their arms, and the tavern comes into view. They are a distance away, but the boisterous patrons can be heard.

“Oh, spare me, don’t lecture me on overusing magic.” She counters. “I don’t say a damn thing when you summon Vega.”

“That is entirely different, and you know it.” He argues, “summoning a Nebula is not just ‘using’ magic, it’s a bond.”

“Bullshit!”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t you whatever me." She mocks, “You know it’s the truth and I can’t have you dying on me little brother.”

“Celine, I’m a grown man.” He huffs.

“You are still little to me.” She laughs before opening the tavern-inn door. The room is full of drunken cheers and the scent of beer and sweat; as they enter, they are addressed by a portly man with a long-braided beard seated behind the check-in desk. As Celine makes her way to the desk, Farren sets the children and cub in the nearest chair before slumping in one himself. At the end of the dining hall, a loud group begins to drunkenly sing.

"There once was a bird in a pub, There once was a bird in a pub, He asked for a drink so he could think, There once was a bird in a pub, The bird had his drink, but he couldn't blink, There was once a bird in a pub, A man named Daven named it after the raven, the Drunken Raven will treat you well, And how the raven sat at the stool till he fell, There once was a bird at the pub."

Whack! Farren jolts forward after receiving a smack to the back of the head, courtesy of his sister. She motions towards the stairs; they make their way to their room for the night. As they enter, they are hit with the stale and moth-eaten covers of the beds and chaise. They put the children into their bed, while Farren takes a spot on the chaise. The silence between them becomes heavy, and a gnawing feeling builds in Farren’s stomach.

“Celine”

“What is it Fare?” She responds by giving him a side eye.

“What is the plan for the kids?” he questions.

“We take them to Stephan and train them to do what the empire needs.” She answers with a shrug as she lays her weapons on the nightstand.

“But they are just children.” He whispers.

“So were we Fare.” She hisses at him clouded eyes with pain before laying her head on the pillow. “Leave it alone.” Farren tucks his hands underneath his head and stares up at the ceiling focusing on the drips from the ceiling; there is a shifting coming from the other side of the room, and from the corner of his eye a small figure comes into frame. Soren. Who is staring at in curiously with bright umber eyes.

“Who are you?” They ask in a small voice.

“I’m Farren.” He answers flat as possible.

“I mean who are you to my mom?” They ask in a sarcastic tone. He blankly stares back, trying to figure out the best way to answer.

“A friend.”

“Where are you taking us?” she questions.

“To see your uncle.”

“I don’t have an uncle.” She states with a confused look.

“Y- Yes, you do,” he sighs. “His name is Stephan Wraith.”

<<<Previous

[archived-kin]

how to bond with your not-so-vengeful spirit

note from kin: this is a sequel to this, but you don’t have to have read it to understand this one! as a reminder, in case you’ve forgotten or haven’t read the first part, you’re the ghost of a human who was accidentally killed by satan while he was on one of his ‘rampages’, and now your spirit basically follows him around everywhere. you can make yourself physical enough to move/touch objects/people, but only satan can see you - for now

this takes place quite a while after the last one ends, so your dynamic with satan has changed a fair bit (he likes you more now and you like him more too, but you also still enjoy making fun of him (though you don’t to do a lot of that here))

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, satan, lucifer

pairing(s): satan/reader (it can also be read as platonic though since i don’t think anything too overtly romantic happens)

warning(s): mentions of death (not super graphic, mostly just in passing)

genre: i guess it’s kind of angst?? but also fluff???

“Satan! Satan!”

Your voice floats up from somewhere on the lower floor of the house. At first, he considers ignoring it, but then he pauses, unsure of whether that’s mischief or genuine terror he can hear in your tone. He lowers his book, practically holding his breath in an effort to listen as carefully as possible.

“Satan!”

That settles it. He marks his place and sets his book down as your calling reaches a crescendo. You’re a fickle spirit, but even you couldn’t fake a distress as abject as that. He pulls his jacket more securely around his shoulders, then takes off at a run down the corridor, then down the stairs.

“Where are you?” He hisses under his breath as he emerges onto the ground floor, not daring to speak any louder in case one of his brothers hears him and thinks he’s lost his marbles.

“SATAN!!!!!!” comes your plaintive wail in reply.

He slows down for a moment, looking back and forth in an effort to glean the direction that your voice is coming from. Something resembling anxiety or fear bubbles at the pit of his chest as you call again, this time sounding quieter - weaker, almost. Has something awful happened to you? He can hardly bear thinking about it.

His pace speeds up, and finally he skids around a corner and into the corridor that leads to the kitchen, where he thinks he can hear your voice the loudest. The door to the spare room is locked as usual, but the kitchen door seems to be swinging back and forth on its hinges without any physical interference - a sign that you’re close by.

“[Name]?” He calls as loudly as he dares, stepping into the kitchen and looking around. It’s completely void of any demons, but the light is flickering frantically. You must be around here somewhere.

“I’m here!” He hears you say desperately. “Here!”

“I can’t see you,” He says, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible in hopes that it’ll reassure you a little. “Can you make yourself visible?”

“Visible?” The light’s flickering seems to settle a little. “I’ll… I’ll try…”

Try? You’ve always been able to pop in and out of visibility in the blink of an eye, seemingly without any conscious effort - Satan’s always assumed that it’s a second nature kind of thing. Is there something stopping you from being able to do so as easily as usual?

A long, tense silence follows, during which the only thing Satan can hear is his own, laboured breathing - something moves in the corner of his vision. He turns around so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash, then freezes. Your vaguely shimmering form is curled up in a net, swaying helplessly from the ceiling.

This can’t be right - you’re a ghost, you should be able to pass right through that net like you’ve been able to pass through every other physical object you’ve ever encountered. He takes a deep breath and clenches his hands, digging his nails into his palms in an effort to settle the alarm bells rapidly beginning to go off in his head, and looks closer. It looks as if there’s a kind of purple energy running through the net like electricity, leaping from string to string as if it can’t bear to stay on one track for too long.

You attempt to reach through the mesh towards him him, but an invisible barrier seems to stop you. Your entire body fades in and out of view, one moment vaguely opaque and the next nearly invisible, and as he catches a sudden, clear glimpse of your half-transparent face, Satan feels something unpleasant drop into the pit of his stomach. You’re crying.

He’s never seen you cry before. Hell, he didn’t even know ghosts could cry - but what else could those tears be?

“What happened here?” He asks, thunderstruck. You attempt to put on a brave face, but the the way that your voice wavers gives you away.

“I don’t know,” You answer feebly. “I was just floating around, like always, and it came out of nowhere. And now—”

You try to fling yourself out of the net once more, but it holds fast. Despite your efforts, your panic cuts through facade and into your voice with ease. “—now… now I can’t move…!”

There is nothing a free spirit hates more than being kept in a cage. Satan remembers having read that a while ago. He can’t imagine how helpless you must feel right now - reduced from being able to fly about, unbound by any physical law, to being unable to even leave the room. Your anguished expression reminds him of a caged and cowering animal; he feels a horrible pang in his chest.

“Hold on,” He instructs, trying to keep his voice even to disguise the rage rapidly beginning to bubble up inside him - how dare someone do this to you? “Breathe.”

“I can’t breathe, wiseguy,” You mumble with a little of your usual cheek, attempting to pull a face. Your voice lacks real bite, though, and your expression only crumples almost as soon as it comes. “No lungs, remember?”

Satan shakes his head, but inwardly breathes a deep sigh of relief as he pulls a chair over and pulls himself up onto it. If you have the energy to make quips right now, then surely you’ll be alright in the end...

“Do you know who put this here?” He asks, hesitantly reaching forward to touch the net. The invisible barrier that blocked you earlier seems to go up as soon as his fingers get within an inch of the mesh - and he can’t seem to break it no matter how hard he pushes.

You shake your head. “No…”

He tries the first spell that comes to mind, a kind of slicing charm intended to cut through the net, but it only bounces harmlessly off of the barrier - no effect whatsover. He frowns. The fact that this trap seems so infallible already brings to mind a certain suspect.

This is one of those household protection spells; it’s basically the magical equivalent of a mouse trap, intended for things like poltergeists. And it’s a very well-cast mouse trap, at that: no points of weakness, and power constantly running through that acts like some kind of reinforcement. That already takes Belphie out of the equation, since it’s pretty unlikely that he’d expend a portion of his limited energy just to make something like this.

It also eliminates Beel and Mammon, since neither are particularly good at this variety of spell. And Satan doubts that Asmo or Levi would bother to learn it, either...

He’d already begun to suspect it as soon as he saw you, but it’s becoming obvious that Lucifer is the most likely party to be responsible for your capture. Who else would have enough latent magical power and personal immovability to cast such a perfect spell?

Satan feels the corner of his lip curl up in a snarl, but quickly schools his face back into something calmer, not wanting you to think he’s angry at you. He’s only barely holding himself back from charging out of the room to throttle his older brother; the only thing stopping him is the fact that he doesn’t want to leave you alone in here.

To be honest, he isn’t entirely sure when you became so important to him - when you went from being some annoying ghost that just wouldn’t shut up to being arguably the closest thing that he’s ever had to a best friend… ironic, considering that he was the one responsible for your death in the first place. In a strange way, he’s almost grateful it happened - after all, if your ghost hadn’t been somehow tethered to him, your paths probably never would have crossed. And he supposes that there’s a certain selfish comfort to knowing that you can’t exactly die again - he doesn’t need to worry about your mortality.

These days, it feels almost like a piece of him is missing whenever you’re not bobbing just beyond his shoulder, firing little quips at him every two minutes like a one-liner machine gun. It makes something abundantly clear: you’re essential to him now.

He can feel a dull throbbing beginning at the tips of his fingers as he continues to try spell after spell, a clear signal from his body that he’s overdoing it, but he just grits his teeth and persists. You attempt to help, swiping at the net and kicking and thrashing furiously, but it refuses to give way.

Your anxiety only seems to peak as you begin to realise that your chances of escaping the net are becoming slimmer and slimmer, and you pop out of sight entirely for several seconds as you struggle to maintain visibility. The kitchen light flickers so aggressively that the bulb pops, and the room abruptly dims, lit only by the oil lamps hanging from the towel line.

“Calm down, calm down,” Satan murmurs in what he hopes is a reassuring voice. Comforting people has never been his strong suit. “It’s alright.”

You’re shivering, as if you’re cold. Satan knows that you haven’t been able to even feel a breeze for a long time, but even so, he reaches forward as if to try to warm you with his own hands. Not even a full five seconds later, he abruptly freezes.

The kitchen door has been banging itself open and shut for the past two minutes, disturbed by the sheer distressed energy rolling off of you in waves, but now the sound of it colliding with its frame over and over abruptly stops. And it isn’t because you’ve calmed - it’s because someone’s caught it.

And, of course, that someone is Lucifer.

“I see that the trap was successful,” He says calmly, completely ignoring Satan as he levels a glare at him so resentful that it wouldn’t be surprising if a thunderbolt suddenly struck him on the spot.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” Satan asks through gritted teeth as his brother walks further into the kitchen. The door slams shut behind him so forcefully that it sounds as if it’s broken a hinge, but Lucifer doesn’t even flinch.

He’s gazing at a spot a few inches to the left of where you’re actually hanging. In the net, meanwhile, you’ve calmed - or at least stilled - and your narrowed eyes watch his every move.

“There’s a spirit haunting the House of Lamentation,” Lucifer says after a moment, still staring at that spot without even blinking. He sounds vaguely surprised by Satan’s hostility, but doesn’t appear to be paying it too much mind; after all, it’s pretty standard. “According to Beel, it’s been hanging around the kitchen a lot recently.”

You’ve started struggling again, but now that the spell-caster is in such close proximity, the net’s strength only seems to have increased. While Satan keeps his eyes fixed on Lucifer, he does raise a hand just in front of the net, pressing his palm against the barrier, as if that’ll reassure you somehow.

“How does Beel know that?” He asks in the kind of chilly tone that usually sends most of his brothers running in the opposite direction. Not Lucifer, though, of course.

He doesn’t answer the question, instead carefully lifting a hand and passing it through the empty space he’d been looking at earlier. A moment later, he takes a step back, looks Satan up and down, and finally realises what an odd position he’s taken up, “...what are you doing?”

His eyes pass over the chair that Satan’s standing on, then up at his hand, apparently hovering in mid-air for no reason. Lucifer’s smart, Satan’ll give him that - he seems to put two and two together almost immediately. He raises his right hand, then brings it down in one, sweeping motion - and the net abruptly splits down the middle.

You drop like a rock at first, not expecting the sudden release, but quickly right yourself before you hit the floor. Satan catches himself smiling at the relieved look on your face, then quickly pulls it back into a frown. He’s still supposed to be angry at Lucifer, after all...

He feels you tug on the back of his jacket as you drift behind him. After a moment, deciding that it isn’t worth trying to pretend you don’t exist (considering Lucifer’s obviously already aware), he holds his left hand out behind himself; a moment later, your ghostly fingers thread with his own.

You aren’t completely physical - you likely don’t have the energy to make yourself so - but he can definitely feel your touch. It’s feather-light and oddly cool. He squeezes your hand. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he marvels a little at the fact that his fingers didn’t simply pass right through you.

He doesn’t know if you actually felt it, but you seem to have appreciate the gesture anyway. Your other hand pulls gently on a lock of his hair, and he knows you well enough by now to know that that’s your way of saying thank you.

Lucifer watches all of this with an increasing look of revelation on his face. Though he can’t see you, he knows you’re there - he’s almost certain. He can glean as much from Satan’s odd behaviour.

“What is our spirit’s name?” He asks steadily.

Satan opens his mouth, part of him wanting to correct Lucifer with a snarky ‘my spirit, not yours’, then snaps it shut again. A split second later, another tug on his hair lets him know your answer to his unspoken question - it’s alright, just tell him.

He almost wants to ignore you - being the only one who knows of your existence almost makes him feel special, and it’s a secret that he doesn’t really want to divulge. If his brothers were to know you were around, at least two of them would be interested in trying to interact with you, and that would mean you’d have less time for him…

Catching himself, he gives himself a mental punch in the arm. You’re not like some secret teddy bear that he can clutch to his chest for all of time. Besides, he already spends nearly every waking hour with you (not that he has much choice in the matter, since you can’t stray too far from his side), and it isn’t like you’d abandon him completely. He’s still the only one who can see and hear you, after all.

Suddenly hyper-aware of Lucifer’s increasingly impatient stare, he clears his throat and answers, “[Name]. The spirit’s name is [Name].”

“I see.” Lucifer nods, eyes wandering a little, clearly trying to figure out exactly where you are. Try as he might, Satan can’t help but feel a tiny sense of victory at his clear cluelessness. “[Name]... are you able to make yourself visible to me?”

“No,” You say aloud. “I’ve tried, but it’s never worked.”

Lucifer doesn’t show any sign of having heard you, so Satan repeats your answer for you, albeit with significantly more strain in his voice. Despite his inner monologue, he’s still not too thrilled about sharing your existence with someone - especially since it’s Lucifer, who’s the reason Satan started hiding it in the first place.

“Very well,” Lucifer says, choosing a spot just beyond Satan’s shoulder and deciding to look there. He’s actually looking at your shoulder, which is closer to you than you’d have thought he’d be. “Do you have any means of communicating other than through Satan?”

You’re silent for a moment. Then you drift away from Satan - he crushes the little voice in the back of his head that says he misses your cool touch - and over to one of the frying pans on the wall.

Satan turns to watch as you shake your arm out, then attempt to knock on the pan. The first time, your hand passes right through it; the second time, though, you succeed in making a clear bong.

Lucifer’s eyebrows raise a little, and he nods. “That works. Two taps for yes, and one for no  - do you understand?”

You look over at Satan and pull a face. Your usual energy seems to be returning. “Whose boss does he think he is?”

He just snorts a little and shrugs. You wrinkle your nose, thinking, then reach over to the pan. Bong.

Lucifer doesn’t look impressed by your attempt at a joke. “Clearly you do if you’re able to respond.”

Satan heaves out a slight sigh, though he finds himself smiling despite himself. Lucifer, meanwhile approaches the pan, keeping his eyes focused on it as if he thinks you might be possessing it.

“Are you a poltergeist?”

Bong.

“A wraith?”

A pause. You look over to Satan; he hesitates, then nods. You fit the definition well enough. Bong, bong.

Lucifer goes quiet for a moment. Then he asks, “Were you human?”

Bong, bong.

“Did you die here in the Devildom?”

Bong.

“In the human world?”

Bong, bong.

“How did you find your way down here?” Lucifer asks, then pauses, remembering that the two of you can only communicate through the pan with yes or no questions. He turns to look at Satan, evidently expecting him to relay your answer.

You’re not giving one, though. You don’t look like you even have an answer.

After a moment, Satan says awkwardly, “They don’t know.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows again. He looks to the pan once more, then hesitates for a long moment, as if he isn’t sure how to phrase the question.

Finally, he asks, “Did Satan kill you?”

You go rigid in midair. Satan tenses in his seat, straightening up so quickly that it’s as if someone’s just shoved a live wire into his back. The two of you share a look; your expression is conflicted, and his is stricken.

After a moment, your expression smooths out a little, and you give the pan one, decisive knock. Bong.

Lucifer frowns slightly. Then he begins, “Then let me rephrase. Was Satan responsible for your death in any way?”

Satan’s eyes fall to his lap. He knows that the answer to that question is a resounding yes.

He feels almost a little sick. In the beginning, he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t to blame for the ghost following him about like a duckling after its mother - after all, he never intended to kill you. He’d thought of it as throwing a pebble into a lake; the pebble didn’t kill you, one of the ripples did. Is an architect responsible for the person who falls to their death from the top of his building?

More recently though, as he’s come to look on you with much more tolerant (dare he say affectionate?) eyes, he’s realising that he isn’t the architect. He was more of… a construction worker, who swung his crane around without looking, and accidentally knocked that person off balance in the first place.

You, meanwhile, don’t answer for a long while. Then, finally, you knock on the pan twice.

Lucifer doesn’t seem surprised. Somehow, that makes Satan feel worse than he would have if he’d just gotten angry. “I see. When?”

You pause again, screwing up your face in an attempt to remember, then give the pan three taps in rapid succession.

“Three years ago?” Lucifer asks. Bong, bong. “And have you been here since then?”

Bong, bong.

Silence again. Then, “Are you seeking revenge?”

Bong. Satan manages a slightly wan smile as you say aloud, turning back to give him a little grin, “Nah. We’re cool now.”

Lucifer thinks for a long while. Then he turns to Satan. “Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

Satan debates ignoring him, then decides that, if he’s already got one foot in the grave, he doesn’t want to dig it any deeper. He might as well tell the truth. “...no.”

“I thought as much,” Lucifer says with a sigh, and now he just looks disappointed. It hits Satan like a large rolling pin to the head.

You, meanwhile, noting the rather dismal look on Satan’s face, drift away from the pan and back over to him. Lucifer manages to catch the unnatural movement of a lock of Satan hair as you give it a tug; he raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on it.

He draws a chair and sits across the table from Satan, who’s refusing to look at him. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Satan keeps his eyes focused on his shoes, then replies steadily, “No.”

Lucifer is silent for a moment, and Satan is almost sure that he’s finally set him off, but then he sighs and shakes his head, seeming to concede defeat. Satan almost wants to scream in frustration - just get, ANGRY, you weirdo! Why are you suddenly getting all parent-y and mature NOW?

Unbeknownst to Satan, though, Lucifer was putting a lot more than two and two together when he finally came to terms with your existence. He’s not stupid enough that he hasn’t noticed that Satan seems to be in a much more consistent good mood as of late, despite the fact that he’s been going out and socialising a lot less as well. He’s heard Satan talking to himself, too - no matter how sneaky he thought he was being, there’s just no hiding something of this degree from the people you live with - and at first he’d put it down to something like an Internet friend, but then he’d caught Satan whispering to himself in the common room without a D.D.D. in sight.

And, yes, he did entertain the notion that his brother had just lost his marbles entirely, but he has more faith in him than that, so he’d decided to just be patient and keep watching. Now that he knows of your existence for sure, he’s pretty sure he knows why Satan has suddenly been so much more pleasant to be around.

The older brother voice in the back of his head is a little sceptical - he doesn’t even know what you look like, let alone what ulterior intentions you might have. The more hopeful voice, though - the one that he usually shuts down on any other given day, but one that he’s willing to listen to right now - says that, if you really were a malicious spirit, you’d probably have already done something by now. Three years, and somehow the other brothers only started noticing your presence within the last month… it’s almost commendable.

Satan’s never been particularly sociable - he has acquaintances, but not friends, and he has connections, but not bonds. So, in a way, Lucifer’s glad that he has you, even if it was a rather unfortunate situation that attached you to him in the first place.

He’ll have to properly talk to Satan about it later, just to make sure there wasn’t any other collateral damage, but he’ll give it time. To be honest, he’s not even that angry. All of the demon brothers have killed beings before; it isn’t anything particularly new.

(That’s a whole other can of worms that probably should never be opened.)

He looks at Satan. He’s still staring at his feet, but his tense expression seems to have relaxed somewhat. Even as Lucifer watches, the corner of his lip quirks up into a small smile, and he raises a hand to bat at thin air with a quiet snort.

One of his jacket sleeves pulls itself into the air and drops over his face, seemingly of its own accord, and here Satan actually laughs out loud, exclaiming a half-reproachful and half-joking, “Stop that!”

He seems to forget that he’s not the only demon in the room, and Lucifer is struck by the almost boyish look on his brother’s face as he abruptly turns and swipes at the air. It’s a look that he thought he’d never see again, and yet…

A smile tugs at his own lips, and he silently gets up to leave. He pauses in front of the door, and maybe, if he looks especially hard, he can see the faint outline of a figure matching each of Satan’s movement, wearing the boisterously innocent kind of grin that only humans with their endless optimism for the universe can.

The conversation isn’t anywhere near over, but Lucifer doesn’t feel like continuing it, and Satan clearly doesn’t, either. He steps out of the kitchen without either of you noticing, and goes on his way down the corridor. In a way, he almost feels like he doesn’t belong in there right now.

When the two of you are together like that, there isn’t any room for a third person.