#obey me second gen

[mageofseven]

Thanks again for the request! I think I will start with Belphie's story for this post and write Levi's in another one. I hope you enjoy it, Nonnie!

Also, I actually managed to get this written up quicker than I thought! For once, my ADD was working with me instead of against me lol

~

Lucifer|Mammon|Levi|Satan|Asmo|Beel

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Belphie couldn't catch a break. After being up all night helping MC birth their twins, the Avatar of Sloth was exhausted as all hell, as was MC. The couple was asleep in bed, each with a newborn on their chest, Judas on MC's and Lilith on Belphie's. Not the safest sleeping situation for the babies, but the accidental parents didn't have many options.

It was 5am when Beel came to wake them up for RAD...and saw the scene before him. The redhead approached the bed for a closer look. Two babies...one cuddled up to his less than baby-friendly brother. Honestly, this man's brain broke for a moment.

He gave a light shake to his brother. The sleeping man gave no reaction; he was just too deep into sleep. Plus, the older brother didn't want to shake him too hard with the baby on his chest.

After a few attempts though, Beel accidentally woke up his niece. The girl gave a wail, but neither parent nor her twin so much as stirred.

The demon went through a box in the corner of the attic and pulled out a green baby blanket before approaching the small, cold babe. He gently raised Lilith up into his arms and wrapped her up in the blanket. The cries calmed into cute little whines. Beel smiled down at her and carefully ran a finger over her light fluff of hair, avoiding her little horns.

The baby on MC's chest made a sleepy little coo. The uncle raised his head at the sound. Just as Beel thought to grab a blanket for the boy, he heard foot steps at the door.

"You two cannot be late aga--." The oldest froze in the doorway, just like the previous brother. Unlike Beel however, he took in the full scene.

While Beel only saw the babies and nothing more (which hey, he has his priorities in order at least), Lucifer saw the state of the whole room. Piles of used blankets strewn around the room, bed stained with blood and who-knows-else, a naked and uncovered MC with a baby on her chest as she slept next to Belphie, and lastly, a second baby in Beel's arms.

...It's always something, isn't it?

Lucifer let out a big sigh.

"Have you tried waking them?"

Beel explained that he did, at least with his twin, but the man was knocked out cold.

The oldest went back over the box that the other brother recently pilfered through and picked out some onesies along with various other green baby things.

"Let's just get them cleaned up for now. I'll need you to stay home to help me with this."

Beel only nodded in response, still captivated by his little niece, who had just reached up and grabbed his nose.

~

"Belphie!!" The woman shook her boyfriend awake with a force like she meant to kill him (which, I mean, fair enough considering--).

The demon launched up in a panic, shoulder sore from her shaking.

"What? What happened?!"

"T-The twins are gone!!!"

The man scanned the bed before eyeing the clock on the stand next to him.

It was 12:45pm.

"Shit..." The sloth demon let himself fall back on the dirty bed.

"Belphegor!!"

He rolled his eyes at the human.

"Relax. One of my brothers probably has them."

Though Belphie really hated that thought; he knew that he had a lot of explaining to do.

"But--"

The seventh brother let out a big sigh before sitting up and giving his girlfriend a kiss.

"I said I'd take care of you three, didn't I?" He whispered. "They're okay, I promise."

That settled the human down a down a bit.

"Now just...I dunno. Go take a bath. I'll check on them."

In truth, Belphie himself also needed a bath after sleeping in that gross bed, but considering MC was the one who had to push those little gremlins out, I'd say she needs it more.

~

Belphie went downstairs, searching for any signs of his brothers. Eventually found a bright green bassinet in the living room. It wasn't until he was already next to it that he realized Beel was in the room too. On the couch, the big guy had one of twins laying on a towel as he was cleaning them up and getting ready to put on a fresh diaper.

'Ugh, gross.' He thought.

The demon started getting flashbacks of when Satan was born. Though it was obviously a different situation, the blonde's birth was a sudden birth just like Lilith and Judas'. Unlike his twins, Satan's birth happened at the worst possible time.

If he's honest with himself, Belphie hated Satan when he was born. I mean, Belphie had just lost his sister; they all had. His entire world felt like it had been shattered and tossed upside down but hey! You're not allowed to be depressed now! New family member! The baby comes first! This smelly, screaming, angry gremlin comes before you whether you like it or not!

That's the message he felt like he was given at that time and he hated it. He resented Lucifer for creating Satan (even though the man had 0 choice in the matter), Satan for existing, and the rest of his brothers for seemingly being okay with it. He felt like they all tried to rob him of his grief back then and he hated it.

"You okay?"

Belphie zoned back in to see his brother staring at him.

The younger brother nodded.

The baby, now cleaned up and back in his onesie, started making babbly sounds from Beel's arms. The redhead smiled down at his nephew.

The sloth demon moved his gaze toward the baby in the bassinet, his daughter. His daughter. In what world would he have ever thought he would have one of those?

Lilith cooed as she reached out her arms to her dad.

"I think she wants you to hold her."

Belphie pursed his lips at his brother's comment. After staring at her for a moment more, the demon bent down and carefully picked up his daughter. Matching violet eyes stared up at him and he felt...what? Honestly, Belphie wasn't sure. He just felt void with just a tinge of something else. So much has been happening lately that he still felt pretty disconnected to himself.

Beel patted the cushion next to him. Belphie sighed and took a seat next to his brother and son. Son. Just what the hell happened to his life?

The two just sat in silence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me about them?" He mumbled.

Beel shook his head.

"I'm waiting for you to feel ready."

More silence. The younger brother mostly just stared into space. After a while, he lowered his head to stare down at Lilith. He shook his head.

"I didn't know...and apparently, MC didn't either..."

He proceeded to tell his twin about his night and how these babies suddenly came to be. Even with an expressionless face, Beel could tell what his brother must be feeling.

"I know it had to be hard..." The redhead glances down at the babies and frowns as a thought comes to mind. "Are you and MC keeping them?"

"MC wants to...so I guess I'm stuck with them."

Belphie was aware of how horrible he sounded, but he couldn't help it. Since the days when Satan was a baby, all he saw kids as were burdens where you aren't allowed to have your own feelings or emotions. You had to sacrifice over and over for them and told that it's just what you have to do. Honestly, Belphie felt like he lost so much of himself over the centuries as it was; he didn't want to have to give up anymore.

Still, these are his kids, not some random baby one of his brothers popped out that he was also suppose to call 'brother'. These twins exist because of his choices and MC wants them so much...

Belphie closed his eyes. Regardless of what he felt, he had to push through. These twins...they didn't ask to be born; none of this was their fault. This man knew he couldn't take out his pain on them. It just wasn't right.

The demon was suddenly brought away from his thoughts by a touch. Lilith had a hold on his nose as she laughed. The muscles in his face twitched. Belphie isn't much of a smiler, but that was almost a smile from him.

The dad took his daughter's hand way from his face and just held it. It was so small, so delicate. He looked from Lilith to Judas, who kept patting his hands against his uncle's, and made a promise from within himself.

Belphie was gonna give his kids everything he could and wasn't going to make his problems their problems. No matter how shitty of a person he felt like, he was never gonna be shitty to his kids.

[amor-immortalem]

Azalea’s new haircut

Do you really have siblings if you’re not taking the time to tease them with things they don’t wanna hear?

[natsaffection]

can u write an smutty hate sex story with nat as the mean boss and reader a her assistant 🤭

Distraction. | N. Romanoff

G!P CEO!Natasha x Assistent!Reader

MINORS DNI!!! (18*!)

warnings: Office sex, nat has a penis, Mommy kink, rough sex, spanking, choking, begging, dirty talk

Word count: 1,6K

A/n: I was carried away and hope that’s the task you asked for..Because I totally forget the hate in it :,)

It was a relaxed day, as usual. You got up early today, got ready and showed up at work quite early. Before that, of course, you stopped by Mrs. Romanoff's Cafe to get her usual latte. You paid with the company card and are now sitting ready in your chair, behind your desk. 

You had already started sorting your work and when you saw the plan for today, you had to pause for a moment. You see a name on the list, and you knew what it meant. You try not to wrap your head around it until you notice your colleagues tense around you. You look at the time and realize that there is one minute before Mrs. Romanoff enters. You take another deep breath and stand up and a few seconds later, you hear the elevator door open from far away and get ready as you do every day. She entered without taking her eyes off her phone. Everywhere you could hear a 'good morning' until she arrived in your hallway. She walks past your desk, and before she could open her own office door, you stop her, "Mrs. Romanoff? Your latte." She stopped and looked up at you. 

You hold the latte out to her and she takes it. She smelled it for a moment and then looked directly at you, "What's on the agenda today?" You knew the question was coming. Like every time, and you were prepared, "Nothing big for the first three hours and at noon you have a meeting with..Mr Stark.." You knew what Natasha thought of him. Nothing at all. However, he is one of the biggest sponsors of the whole company, and so Natasha has to put up with him. 

You see how one of her eyebrows twitched, and then she went to her office and the door closed.

You had spent the first few hours planning Natasha's future plans and meetings and notifying the people to be there. You wrote a few emails and made a few phone calls. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't even notice Tony Stark marching into Natasha's office. 

You know what that entails, and you were lucky that her office is a good distance away from the other colleagues....

You could barely concentrate because you kept trying to catch sounds from the room, but it was no use. The walls were just too thick. After about 20 minutes, the door opened again and Tony came out. He had a different face on, like he did a few minutes ago, so you knew it was business as usual. He looks at you, sighs, and walks out. You try to find connections until you saw the message on your laptop to come to Natasha's office. So you take another deep breath, stand up and walk in.

You like her office. It was definitely bigger than your apartment and was all glass on the left. It also had a huge rooftop terrace that was great for summer. There you had also held the introductory conversation with her and..signed the other contract, for moments like this one. 

She sits at her table, massaging her forehead, "I'm afraid that conversation didn't go well?" If you didn't have such a..relationship with her, you would never have asked that question. But you're here for that very reason. To take away the stress she has. 

She sees you and leans back in her chair, "As usual. This guy is just too cocky! Thinks he has the right to boss me, ME, around! Just because he..Urgh!" She loosened her shirt and undid the first two buttons that were on it, "Come here..." She looks at you and you immediately obey. You walk towards her and bypass the table. She turns in your direction, and indicates that you should sit on her lap. You sit down and her hands immediately settled on your thighs and she looks up at you, "Mommy needs a distraction, do you think you can help me with that?" Her tone was gentle. You just nod, and suddenly you notice a pull in your right thigh. She knees you as it wasn't enough, "Y-yes, I can help here..." She looks deeply at you and smirks, "Good girl..." She turns you both back to her table and leans you on the front so your upper body is flat on it, "Always so good for me..." 

You slowly get ready, but again you had to shamefully admit that just the way she talked to you for the last two minutes was enough to make you so fucking horny. She fucks well..So well that so far no few people had ever made you climax again.

You hear her undo her belt and a little later you notice her pushing your panties to the side and grunting out, "As always..Do I make you so wet, baby?" Fuuck, if she keeps talking like that it will be over in a few seconds, "Always for you, mommy..." That's what she liked about you. You were so fucking obedient, you have manners and of course a good pussy. 

She smirked at herself and pushed right into you. You slid your body forward, and she held you by the shoulders to keep you still. "Fuck..No matter how many times I take you here, you're still so fucking tight, fuck!" She pushed in further and further until you could feel her completely. You try to hold on somewhere to somehow accommodate the feeling, "Stark really thinks he'd do a better job than me..What do you think, Baby, huh? Could he replace me?" You had to pull yourself together not to forget the question right away, "n-No..No one, AH! No one can replace you..!" Your statement seemed to trigger something in her as she suddenly pushed into you faster, "That's right. I'm the only one who can run this place!"

She got rougher. She grabbed your cheeks and pushed into you with more force. You couldn't take it anymore and let out a loud moan. But it was interrupted when Natasha put a hand around your mouth, "How many times do I have to tell you that while I enjoy hearing your sounds, it's more than inappropriate here? Do you want everyone to know what a slut you are for me?" You shake your head, "Thought so." 

"hmph!!!" She pushed in as deep as she could, feeling her orgasm getting closer and closer. "That's right. Show me how good I make you feel!" She didn't care. If someone could hear you, it is your fault and not hers. She took her hand away and sped up her movements. All you could hear was the moaning and skin contact in the room.

"Nata-mommy, please..." you plead. You completely lost your self-control and just wanted your releases. "Please what?" She is annoyed. Do you want something from her now too? Why can't anyone here work independently?

"Do you need more? Do I have to do all the work again? What are you getting paid for anyway?" She moans and snaps her hips at you. "Fuck, Tony really wanted me to know you'd be better off with him..." she snorts. She holds your ass and spreads you open so her eyes have the perfect view of her cock ruining your pussy, "What do you say, would you rather go to him? Do you want him to take you like this?" She began to move even faster, her hand sliding down to your clit, "No! Only you can- fuck! Can- so well...”

She slows down and smiles as she sees your body start to shake more and more. She pulled her hand from your clit and wiped it on your ass, and you were afraid she was done with you, "Please! D-Don’t stop! Please mommy, let me cum, please..." Your face was already so wet and red that anyone would know what happened if you left this room in the next few minutes. So at least it should be worth it....

She leans over you, her chest pressing against your back, "Relax baby..I can feel your fucking fear in your pussy..." You close your eyes, ashamed of being so easy to read. "It's okay..." Her hands slowly slide to your back and push you further down onto the table, "Just stay like that for me, and you'll get filled, is that what you want? Do you want mommy to fill you?" 

"Yes please!!!" you whine. She slaps you hard on your ass and grabs your neck. She pulls you back to her. She fucks you harder and faster as her hand slides down to your clit again and starts rubbing it.

"Fuck!!!" You cry out, and Natasha just had to laugh. "Come on, come on my cock Y/n, cum...!" She moans out as well, and your voice breaks off as you release on her cock, and you squirm in all directions. Natasha clenches your neck with strength to keep her from moaning all over the room as well. Your eyes rolled back and you sobbed. When you came down completely from your height, you collapse like a lifeless body in Natasha's arms. She wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder, "You did great again, thank you..."

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[meowsgirldrawing]

Obey Me Next Generation Idea(aka-My au)

What about poly Au with the bros? I assume with demon culture, MC having kids and the bros all being the dad wouldn't be too surprising as I think monogamous relationships are seen just the same as polyamorous. Like neither really matter honestly in a "oh this is a big deal/drama!" Sense.

Plus its the 7 lords, they can do whatever the fuck they want

I know MC is mostly human but I think having kids is still possible as they got magic plus their pacts with the bros might make them stronger. Plus, historically, woman have been able to have multiple pregnancies, like more than 4 at least, so still- not impossible.

Just let me have my next gen shenanigans

ONTO THE KIDS PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Varya (1st Born) (she/her)-25

Daughter of Mammon

Is more demon than human, possibly the most demon out of the kids.

Holds a very smiley but deadly aura around her.

Seems the opposite of Mammon in behavior but you can tell by her subtle acts towards her family, shes his kid alright.

Is the type of person to shake a person's hand but hold a knife in the other.

"Looks like a cinnamon roll, can kill you"

Lights up at the mentions of crocheting, dogs, and weird but oddly alluring creatures around Devildom.

She does have a small habit of gambling when out with Mammon, but is actually able to keep her wins because no one expects it through her gold-winning smile.

Mess with her family and its on sight.

Lilith the 2nd (3rd born-1st triplet) (she/her)-21

I headcannon Lucifer to at least be the only one to name their daughter after their sister. Not to replace, never, but to honor her.

Is in a strange middle between Half demon-mostly demon

Sweetheart by default

That big sister you can always talk to and she wont judge.

Will make passive agressive remarks when peeved off.

Definitely denies acting like Lucifer yet can do the stance-arms crossed and glare- exactly like him.

Even does the whole hand chest like him too. Shocked look and all.

Calls all the brothers papa but Lucifer father, not as a distance way but thats just how she's always been.

Theatre kid- almost always lead.

Anna from Frozen vibes at times.

Hopeless romantic too.

Basically Lucifer if he actually showed more emotions.

Daddy's girl 100%

May or may not be in a secret relationship with Diavolo's heir👀

Rhomb(2nd Born) (he/him)-23

Son of Leviathan

Named after the Loch ness Monster

A nice balance between human and demon

But has "mutations" that make him have scaly patches on his body, his tail out almost 24/7, and bad eyesight.

Stern attitude most of the time.

Big bro protector

Tallest of all the kids

Softer on the younger kids but will smack a bitch if they act up.

Cant play video games much cause eyes so turns to more physical games that include puzzles.

Likes games with strategy to follow like War tanks, or chess. Is the type to make a DnD game the best cause he makes amazing stories too despite not reading much.

Likes mystery shows too and tries to figure it out before the answer is revealed, could go on rants about why. Gets it right 11/10 times.

If Leviathan wasnt his biological dad, people would believe he was Satan's kid.

Doesnt like cats tho.

Quinn (4th Born- 2nd Triplet) (He/they/doesnt care) (21)

Asmo just thought Quinn was a pretty name so picked it lol.

Also a nice balance between human/demon. Tho his wings stay out constantly.

Very much vibes from that yellow bird in Rio.

Laid back personality but is an outgoing dude.

Also very protective of their siblings, and will not hesitate to cut a bitch.

Isnt as flamboyant as Asmo but does have a just as great fashion sense.

Has a hard time dating as people automatically assume hes just like Asmo so will try to date him for that reason only.

Love his dad but hates the reputation he gets because of being said son.

So he resorts to just sticking to his siblings or the few friends he trusts.

Besides MC, is the second most popular face to pop up on Asmo's Devilgram

Fucking adores axolotls for no particular reason, just loves them to no end which Asmo makes sure to get many axolotl themed plushes, shirts, etc. for him.

Libbey(Liberty) (5th Born- 3rd triplet)(she/her)-21

Another balance between human/demon, maybe a tad more on the demon side.

Tho, also has "mutations" like very enhanced hearing.

Bookworm to the max

Loves reading dramas and fantasies, but seems to enjoy multiseries more than stand alone.

Very quiet and shy kid of the group.

Sometimes cant even talk so signs instead because earaches or headaches.

Likes cats but perfers reptiles more.

Has a small turtle in her room from the human realm, set it up beside her bed and everything. Their name is Casey after one of her favorite human novels she read.

But despite all this, isnt called the daughter of wrath just for nothing beside biology reasons.

Is like Satan 2.0 when pissed, she wont yell or scream but you can just tell from the drop of room temperature and the subtle tilt of her head.

Her eyes glow an electric green when shes pissed.

Had more anger issues when younger, but cause Satan knew how to handle his better now, taught her how to aswell.

Satan is probably the main one to understand her issues with such a problem, despite being more mellowed out now that shes older.

Is definitely a cryer when really angry tho.

Ryder(6th Born) (1st twin)- 19

Ngl, everyone was surprised that they had twins. Including Belphie himself.

But then again, they did have triplets before them so....eh?

Ryder is a tad more human than demon, but still powerful enough to have his own demon form like his older siblings.

His tail is seen smaller than Belphie's, and a bit thinner too.

The sloth genes affact him only so much, making him more likely just want to procrastinate then outright not do anything.

He honestly enjoys the human world more than Devildom, mainly cause everything is less..hectic per say.

Hes the type of brother/older friend that will cover for ya if you have to hide something but will subtly suggest how to fix whatever their doing.

Like one time Quinn came home slightly tipsy and past curfew, and he snuck them into his room. Though he scolded them in the morning, he covered for Quinn at breakfast, saying they ate too much sugar last night, thats why hes queasy and has a headache.

Quinn did fix that habit up quick after Ryder threatened to leave him on his own next time it happened.

Calls everyone bro or dude, no matter their gender.

Gen z vibes too in most areas.

Has a fixation with cow bells for some reason, likes the noise is all he can say.

If he were told what Belphie did to their mom/human parent way before they were born, he says "Cowabummer" while screaming inside.

River(7th born-2nd twin)(they/them)-19

How is this Belphie's kid?

Too hyper, tad crazy

Probably has ADHD, who knows.

While Ryder is the slightly responsible twin, their the reason why Ryder needs to be said twin.

Their just about the same range of human/demon as Ryder, can have a demon form, but only uses it to fuck with people than to actually be scary with it.

They may have alot of power, but their personality alone can kill people.

Is the type of kid to crawl on the ceiling when they were 2.

Is also the type to hop outta window to get to the lower floor faster. Thank Belphie for their demon powers otherwise we'd have another Lillith situation.

Has scared even Lucifer at one point, has made him yelp out of surprise. Will not go on how, no matter how much Papa Satan and Belphie ask them. Just has a toothy grin when they ask.

When calm, is actually a pretty chill dude. They like odd patterns and get fixated on the most random things.

MC gave them one of those sand timers that you flip to restart and when she came down to tell them food was done about 2 hours later, she found them sitting on the table, holding it while watching the sand go down. They use it now to relax and focus on when overstimultated or just having too much of a fuzzy head.

Has spent nearly a how week with Leviathan because they got hooked on one anime with him. Now has frequent solo movie nights with him cause.

"They're tad confused, but got the spirit"

Literally had to have someone (Rhomb) explain to them what the LGBTQ+ letters meant. Legit thought it was just new alphabet pattern, was still happy to find out what it all means.

If you told them what Belphie did to their mom before they were born, they'd think it as a joke. Dont tell them otherwise or they will cry.

Frankie(8th Born)(She/her)-16

Everyone thought that she would be the biggest child when MC was pregnant with her, since y'know, it was confirmed Beel's kid.

Yeah, she came out small. Like scary small for a baby.

It was then everyone knew she would be the most human. Has a little demon in her, but clearly not enough to have a demon form nor mark.

Lucifer's wallet cried in relief.

She does eat a good bit more than the average human but overall, nothing compared to Beel.

She does adore sweets to the max, especially gummies. Give her some and she'll love you forever.

Sweetest little sunshine in the world, everyone adores her. If they dont, then they will soon.

Shes like Mirabel in encanto, kinda wishes she had more demon powers but is still overall happy with who she is.

When her a Beel are with each other- OH MY DIAVOLO, THE CAVITIES PEOPLE GET- TOO DAMN SWEET AND PURE

Like big papa Beel and his sweet little girl all smiley and pure. Best father-daughter relationship out of all the siblings and fathers.

Shes kinda like pinkie pie from MLP but like more hyper as fuck. Can and will speak so fast when excited that it just comes out as squeaks at that point.

Since her more human side, shes more likely to stay in human world when their mom is on Buisness there, so she has alot of human friends.

Shes in gymnastics, which definitely helps keep her figure more smaller despite all the sweets she eats. Does work out with Beel too.

Mess with her and you have a whole army on yer ass.

"Bounce to the beat of my own drum!"

You can just tell how much I love this dear. HA

[twiceasfrustrating]

Who's to Blame?

Rating: General Audiences  Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Lucifer & Mammon & Asmodeus & Beelzebub Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Beelzebub, Asmodeus Additional Tags: fluff, threats of comedic violence (it’s Lucifer my dudes), Cerberus (mentioned) Summary: Lucifer is determined to figure out which of his brothers managed to unleash Cerberus, but they all deny any involvement.  A/N: I wrote this months ago and never shared it publicly. I refuse to go back and edit it. Word Count: 811

“Which of you did this?” Lucifer’s voice was distressingly calm. The same kind of calm that told each of his onlooking brothers that he was exactly two seconds away from tying one of them up in the basement and seeing how long it took for them to starve or go mad – whichever came last.

“Did what?” Asmo asked as he finished buffing his nails to a perfectly rounded tip.

Lucifer held up a frayed leash, covered in mud.

“I don’t get it,” Beel said as he looked at the leash.

“One of you managed to let Cerberus out and had to leave my meeting with Lord Diavolo to go searching for him. Whoever it was will find themselves strung from the basement ceiling as a new chew toy for him."

"It wasn't me," Mammon immediately shouted in his defense. "I wouldn't go near that basement."

"You literally tried to rob one of the tombs down there last week because you thought someone may have been buried with their jewelry," Asmo huffed.

"I only suggested it. Don't go making me a criminal when I ain't one."

Everyone in the room stared at him in uncomfortable silence.

"Why aren't the others being asked?" Beel finally broke the awkwardness.

"Satan has been out nearly all day," Lucifer clarified, "Leviathan hasn't left his room in just as long judging by the trash built up in there, and Belphie won't wake up for me to interrogate him. Now, which of you is responsible?" His magic swirled around him, threatening to ruin whichever one of them didn't own up to it.

"I'm hurt that you'd think I'd do anything to endanger poor, sweet Cerberus like that," Asmodeus said in an exaggerated tone. "I could never."

Beel tilted his head in confusion. "I thought you didn't like Cerberus?"

"And that's why I clearly couldn't be the one at fault." Asmo's face twisted into a sneer from even thinking about the possibility. "Imagine the horror of smelling like dog. It doesn't match my aesthetic."

It was terrible logic, but Lucifer had to admit that it was very Asmoesque logic.

He turned to the other two. "And your excuses?"

"It wasn't me!" Mammon quickly reiterated his last defense. "I would never go to the basement."

"You think that's enough logic to defend yourself?" Lucifer glared, his magic cracking the air around him so harshly that it sounded like a bullwhip.

"You don't believe your sweet little brother?"

"We're all his little brothers, idiot," Asmo muttered under his breath.

"Shadup!"

"I haven't heard a reason why it couldn't have been you." Lucifer's voice grew darker and darker by the moment.

"It just couldn'a been!"

"Mammon is afraid there are ghosts in the old tombs," Beel said as he held his stomach, obviously thinking about sneaking away to grab something to eat. "He never goes down there."

"I'm not afraid!" Mammon barked. "I just dun' have a reason to go down there."

Lucifer shut his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose. At least this particular incident wasn't Mammon's fault, but that only left one last suspect.

He turned to Beel. "And you?"

Beel seemed to think about the question, but shook his head. "I didn't let Carberus out. He was sleeping when I went into the tomb this morning."

"Beel," Asmo sighed, "That means you were the only one that went to the basement."

"Oh…"  The pieces finally seemed to click into place.

Lucifer's rage seemed to reignite. His demonic form overtook him instantly. "Why were you in the tombs?"

"You were gone all night at Diavolo's place, so I was checking on him to make sure he had food and wasn't lonely." Beel looked downward at the ground like a scolded puppy. "I didn't realize he got out."

There was a beat of silence before Lucifer folded his wings back and dropped his demonic form. "I see. Make sure you clean him up. He managed to make a complete mess of himself."

"Okay…"

"Is that it?!" Mammon yelped. "You would'a hung me from the rafters if I did it!" Not that he wanted that for Beel, but it felt unfair.

Again, Lucifer's form shifted and his dark aura circled around them. "I still could, if you're volunteering."

Mammon winced. "Ehhh… Nevermind."

"Good." He went back to his human face and turned his back on the lot of them. "I have to get back now. Ensure that Cerberus doesn't get out the next time you check on him."

Then he was off, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

Asmo laughed lightly as soon as Lucifer was out of range. "You really got off light there, Beel."

Beel looked at him in confusion.

"Nevermind." He looked at his nails, admiring his work once again. "Let's just say that Lucifer really does have a soft spot for big puppies."

[mr-bas00nist]

I haven’t sent a message in a hot second Jesus Christ

Anyways, the new fic posted gave me an idea.

What if pyramid trapped reader in some sort of room? Like, kidnap, cuz he got jealous of reader flirting with someone else? Or some shit like that lol.

Aw this one’s kinda cute, this gave me more fluff than smut vibes to be honest so hopefully that’s alright 🙌

Pyramid head was quite a jealous and possessive creature. Whenever you went anywhere when you came back he was always on you whether that be sexually or not sexually. He doesn’t wanna lose you! A match he’s always got you on his shoulder knocking down survivors, giving you hatch all that good stuff.

Even if he has a duty to fulfill, hooking you, hurting you and killing you, he does so in a much sweeter way. Shocking, the executioner showing mercy? It’s new for him to. But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t killing toy. The entity isn’t please about pyramids head unwillingness to obey her but, she likes you a lot.

and I mean why make her mad?

But Pyra couldn’t care less about her strong dislike. He didn’t care if she liked you or hated you he loved you and that was all that mattered.

You were in a match with your beloved you quickly realized. You were honing in on a gen as Felix looked around cautiously. He looks at your focused form with a smile. “Wow you know your really brave.” He says with a smile. Your attention his directed to him as you quirk an eyebrow. “Really?” He nods with a smile.

“You don’t really fear any of the killer and that’s so impressive to me you know! You really cool man.” You laugh winking as a light blush spreads across his face. You guys finally finish the generator when you look at Felix. He smiled shyly blowing a kiss.

You smile smugly at the blonde before he runs away to another gen. You turn around to see pyramid head in the room next door to you. You can sense that he’s angry as hell. How dare he flirt with you! “Slow your roll handsome nothings gonna happen.” You reply nonchalantly. He leans his head down on yours weighing you down. “Baby your heavy-“ He swings his knife at you cutting you sharply. You grunt as he twists his knife sending you into the ground.

Did he just put you in a cage?

After he goes after your other teammates he tilts his head at your chained form. “Your so fucking immature I swear.” You roll your eyes. You swear you could see him laugh for a moment before he goes to find the other survivors. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” all you had were your thoughts and feelings to get you through this difficult situation.

[spnfanficpond]

November/December 2023 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Five-Finger Discount by @talltalesandbedtimestories

This story is so smartly written - so many fantastic descriptions and lines of dialogue and it flows so beautifully. I didn’t want it to end. If you don't already have an obsession with Dean's hands, you will by the end of this fic.

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Nominated by @annahmiraculousmillenium

A New Form by Kenophobia (AO3)

I'm nominating this story because it introduced me to a new tag I really like now: "Shapeshifter Dean" Sam is bossy (and Dean actually obeys!) Bobby is in there! John dies! And other cool things I don't want to spoil. Also, it's gen.

~*~*~

Nominated by @glygriffe

Said the Salmon to the Sea by @bendingsignpost

A mesmerizing (or mermaid-rising?) Dean-centric story about change, about the fact that it comes whether we want it to or not, and how the heck we deal with it. “If this is as far as we can go, it’s as far as we can go,” Dean says with a heavy shrug. Slowly, Sam says, “It’s as far as I can go.” “Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

The Angel of Emetgis V by Kayliemanlinza (AO3)

I read this as part of the Dean/Cas Reversebang 2022 (with beautiful art by @missaceriee) and the concept of true-form Castiel as an alien meeting "grease-monkey" Dean in deep space is compelling as much as how love is expressed between species. (Here is the original DCRB post that made me discover the story)

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Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Unlikely by @apocalypseornaw

This story was written for me for the Secret Santa hosted on the Pond. It's a lovely fic with Ketch/GN!Reader, something there kind of is a lack of (both with GN and Male reader inserts). And like, also with Ketch lol it was a really nice pick-me-up as I'm not having the best of times right now, and it made me read an author I didn't know before, so it's a win-win Situation!

Follow That Car! by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD (AO3)

A really nice, short Ketch/Dean story with a side of murder. "I wish to fuck you, Dean" is forever embedded in my brain.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Spotless by @stusbunker

This is a Dean x reader AU with SO MUCH DELICIOUS PINING!!!! And now Bela's involved! And the reader gets to watch Dean and Bela make heart eyes at each other!! SO MUCH YUMMY ANGST!!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

Care and Feeding by foolishgames (AO3)

Sam is somehow turned into a cat. The best stories are the first and last ones if you are not an S/D reader, then can be read as mostly Gen.

Dissecting the Bird by nigeltde (AO3)

♥♥♥ Just right.

The Witch and the Wolfen by meus_venator (AO3)

I love everything about this story- meus has an amazing talent and this is one I reread often- plus, it just got a second story!

Sounds Like Truth Feels Like Courage by Sprinkle888 (AO3)

Well-written SPN story. Gen, no pairing, but it doesn’t need one. Sam binds them together with some MoL magic rings and finding out how they work is a riot. Some angst, temp character death, but ends happily. 10/10 recommend. Also posted on my Tumblr.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Slither by Tiamatv (AO3)

I absolutely love this story! The show of cultural differences between Dean and Castiel that even the reader will miss the cues. Lol! The conversation about sex was hilarious especially since Dean doesn’t ask. 😂 Wait until you read the word “clasp”. Poor Dean. Look up the word: hemipene. This stems all the hilarity in the fic. Just wait. Just wait. It’s hilarious!! SPOILER: Castiel is a naga refugee that is half human and half beautiful snake, and Sam basically “adopted” him as a charity project that turns into Dean’s charity project that ends up making him very happy very quickly.

Rubber Duckie Boots by Hexentaenzerin (AO3)

This such an adorable meet-cute. I love it! I also love that Dean wears rubber duckie boots while videoing carpet cleaning videos for his business, which Castiel absolutely loves to watch. Just can’t get enough of seeing Dean in those boots. Castiel even buys a rug to try to get Dean to notice him. **squee** It’s great! The ending is so Dean and Castiel. ❤️❤️❤️

Weighted by Tiamatv and amireal (AO3)

I absolutely love this fic because I actually sleep with a weighted blanket and when my kids are sick, they love their own. I even have one in the car. It’s light but enough to feel it. This is just so fluffy and romantic all thanks to our favorite redhead introducing weighted blankets which helps so much. It’s been shown to even help babies but blankets aren’t great for them. Anyway, they’re so cute and that scene where Dean opens his eyes all slow and gentle with “hey”, just broke me. My husband and I do that periodically and it just means more snuggles and sleep. lol. Poor Castiel thinking he couldn’t have Dean which I understand since Dean has said so much he is straight or implied it rather often. Ugh. This was done so well. I admit I wish there was more especially with Dean exploring this new aspect of himself and with Castiel. Curious to see what their bumps in the road are and how they handle it.

Close Encounter of the Fourth Kind by Fathersalmon (AO3)

First, this is smut. Second. It is fucking hilarious! I rarely find crack in smut. You have to read this hilarity. Dean’s sassy mouth is just amazing in this while Castiel just ignores him. 🤣 If you want to laugh, read this!

Firelight Glow by bleuzombie (AO3)

I just love how it progresses and the ending is great though. It’s so sweet and fluffy. Their connection is so tangible the reader can feel it like the characters do. It also has Trans Dean Winchester, which I always love to read, especially by @bleuzombie who knows how to write them so authentically and truthfully.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spencereliotwinchester

Stray Hearts by blujay44 (AO3)

It's definitely a weird one, but I really like how fluffy it is. Really, though, it's weird... but it's a feel-good one, especially when Jensen comforts Jared.

Pastiche (orphaned work on AO3)

This is literally one of my favorite SPN fics ever. I reread it a lot. Features Autistic!Jensen and loveable goldenretriever Jared who just wants to get to know his neighbor.

Flash by ellia (AO3)

Short, sweet, almost possessive... Also features my two favorite boys: Jensen and Christian.

For the Taking by veronamay (AO3)

Steamy, sexy, bdsm, Jared and Jensen. What more could you ask for??

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

House of the Rising Son by @kittenofdoomage

I really love the idea of Sam and Dean being the bad guys! The story as a whole is so goood!

Blood and Honey by @kittenofdoomage

Dark!Winchesters are my favorite kind of tropes! This is such a great story, very well written!

Baklavas For Your Birthday by @cloverhighfive

This is very cute!!!

Muddy Soul by @impala-dreamer

This is so good! Its very dark at times and you absolutely need to mind the tags! But this is such a great series!

Strangers by @smellingofpoetry

Very cute story!! I liked it!!!

I am my beloved’s and my beloved’s mine by @heavenssexiestangel

Very cute! Very fluffy!!!! I liked it!!!!

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester, and @heavenssexiestangel!

[rarepears]

And then after the crush reveal, Shen Jiu hunts down OG Shang Qinghua for marriage because the rat

-atleast likes him

-has a successful "career" of a majorly underappreciated peak

-his father is successful and supports his son

-who else would want a late-starting badmouthed street urchin but a rich second gen peak heir/lord who has mediocre looks and a rat like attitude.

There is a baby trap plan somewhere in there too though he gets caught (and accepted into the family- Shen Jiu; WHAT?!) And they have a hasty wedding with a fat baby 8 months later.

Bonus+

Airplane Shang Qinghua, wiping his tears. "They grow so fast."

Mobei-jun carrying multiple artifacts in a chest-"mn." While plotting to do the same to HIS DILF.

Mobei Jun: let me PROVE to you that I make a good mate by showing you just how well I can assert dominance over your son and make him obey me like I'm his parental figure.

Airplane: *looks up from his writing* Airplane who totally was paying attention to what was going on in the room and not daydreaming about the next addition to his Diary of a Wimpy Disciple series: Oh that's nice?

-o-o-o-o-

The babytrap plan is accidentally aided by Mobei Jun who is just SO EXCITED about a new addition to the family that he steamrolls over and starts playing mother hen/overbearing mother in law to Shen Jiu, fluttering about in worry about the baby's health.

Shang Qinghua has no room to protest - if he does, Mobei Jun is ready to put him in time out (in the Endless Abyss). Plus there's a looming sect leader (and other peak lords) who's very protective of their shizi...

Also the Cang Qiong sect: Don't worry Shen Jiu, you might be stuck with Shang Qinghua has a husband and parent of your only child, but harems are a thing and we will support you if you want a harem!

Shang Qinghua: ...

[More in the #Shen Yuan and his siblings transmigrate into PIDW and are all Cang Qiong peak lords… the previous Cang Qiong peak lords au]

[mageofseven]

Feel free to ignore this, remember the posts about MC asking the brothers if they could have another baby. Shouldn't you also include the new kids to the Brothers Kids Bio or no? That is up to you

Hmm. I'll admit, I thought about it, but the truth of the matter is most of those kids don't exist.

Like, I wrote what would happen if each of the brothers said yes and what child would be born from it, but in truth, most of those kids didn't have the best odds.

With those posts (first of which found here), I labeled each with how likely the men would be willing to give MC another child.

So kids like Mammon and Beely's sons? You can bet your booty that they made her a mommy for the second time.

Satan's daughter Julia and Belphie's twin sons though? Yeah, they very likely wouldn't happen.

Still, I've thought about adding them before and since you apparently have too, Nonnie, I might add them to the list at some point.

[mrs-han]

Soft lips traversed down your chest, teasing the perky nub of your breast. Hands soft to the touch slid up your thighs with slow and careful precision, memorizing your shape.

You arched your back, eager for more. You wanted nothing more than to open your eyes, to cast your gaze upon the man touching you with so much care, passion, and affection that it made you cry night after night.

But every time you teased the possibility of peeking at him, you’d hear that voice. Deep and sonorous, enchanting you to obey.

“No, darling. Keep your eyes closed. A little while longer, my love. Just a little while longer.”

You listened and obeyed. But it came at such a heavy cost to you. Husbands and wives… they looked at each other, didn’t they?

Your reality was based in a world where marriage wasn’t grounded on the fantasies of love, but of the realities of advantage. You were at the age where marriage was inevitable, and you accepted your fate with grace.

The wedding itself was quick and uneventful. Your face remained covered by a heavy cloth throughout the ceremony, one you thought was normal for wives to don.

Once the union became final, you had expected to see your new husband - to hold his hands and give him a respectable kiss on the lips.

But you were never given that opportunity. No, he disappeared with the wind with the simple vow of meeting you again.

And he kept his promise. Every night, a quarter past midnight, a hush fell over your room as your husband whispered, “Close your eyes, my love.”

When your friends spoke of their new husbands with disdain or pleasure, you could at least place faces to names.

But you had no answer when they asked of your spouse; the excuse of him being busy with work was far overplayed.

But tonight would be the night you would try — try to touch him before he could touch you, kiss him before he could kiss you, and finally, finally lay your eyes upon him.

You adjusted your pillows and pressed your head firmly against them, impatient as the clock slowly ticked toward it’s destined time. It was impossible for you to stay still, fidgeting with your hair and nails; You were going against his wishes for the first time. What if he was terrifying, a demon or a warlock—

Frigid air brushed past you, taking your breath away. Even as you trembled in fear, you kept your eyes open.

“Darling… no… no, what are you doing…?”

… How did he get in? He didn’t make a single noise; hinges on doors didn’t squeak, there was no sound of heels tapping against tile.

Yet, you knew it was him by his alluringly overwhelming presence, the silky undertones of his voice. You sat up.

“No…!”

You had expected more gargoyle-like features from your husband. Fanged teeth, bulging eyes, several faces in one head. But what greeted you was a man so… so…

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tears blinding your vision.

Awe turned to disappointment. Your husband was shielding his eyes.

“What… what’s wrong?” You inquired gently.

“Darling, I need to go.”

“Go?” You stood, your nightgown billowing behind you. “Go where, we… this is the first time I’m seeing you…!”

“You aren’t meant to see me.”

“But why not, we — we’re married!”

“Darling —”

“Please —!”

Your arms ensnared him. He let out a shuddering breath.

“Nothing… nothing should stop me from seeing you! You’re my husband… we’ve been betrothed before time began! Let me see your face… please, let me look upon your face for a few more seconds…”

Your husband — devoted, loving, and kind — cast his eyes upon you. Eyes full of sorrow, and pain, and regret.

A tear from his eye landed upon your cheek. You pressed your body against his… firm and warm… and your fingers nimbly wiped his cheek. “Don’t cry, love… we’re together now, aren’t we…?”

His embrace, sudden yet welcome, filled your soul. Here he was… this was him, your betrothed, your eternal partner. Your tears fell blissfully from your eyes and over your cheeks.

It was in your state of bliss that you failed to notice the dagger in your husband’s shaking hand.

You felt it’s spike pierce your skin.

And you screamed.

[bijoumikhawal]

Creation By Angels

Did God have the assistance of the angels in the creation of the world? Most say that God created the world by Himself, and not by means of an angel and not by means of a messenger. But some say that God commanded the angels, and they obeyed Him. In this way the heavens were created with the light of the angels, and some say it was even the angels who stretched out the heavens, Gabriel in the north and Michael in the south. Others say that when God created the world, He created all things in the form of angels, for they are the foundation of all created things. The angels were emanated from the splendor of His glorious light. Then the heavens were created upon this foundation of angels.

Those who say that God worked alone insist that none of the angels were created on the first day. But those who claim that the angels assisted God say that every kind of angel was created on the first day, and that God had a partner in His work of Creation. For just as by the word of Yahweh the heavens were made, so too were all the hosts of angels made by the breath of His mouth (Ps. 33:6). And since breath comes before speech, it can be concluded that the angels were created first. Not so, say the others. In this case, God reversed the usual order of breath and word by creating with the word although no breath had as yet emanated from His mouth. Thus the heavens were created first, and the angels followed.

On this, however, all agree: once the world was created, the angels came to play an important role. Each day, before the sun rises, the angels lead the sun through a heavenly stream, to cool it off and prevent it from scorching the earth. Then the angels guide the sun in its journey. The angels also serve as messengers of God. When they are sent to this world to carry out a mission, they become clothed in a body formed from air or fire.When they are sent by God’s word, they become winds, as it is said, He made His angels winds (Ps. 104:4), but when they serve God as ministers, they are made of fire. Thus they appear in human form, but as soon as they complete their duties, they divest themselves of their bodies and return to their spiritual state.

So too does an angel serve as the prince over each of the elements. Gabriel is the Prince of Fire, Rahab the Prince of the Sea, Ridya the Prince of Rain, and Michael the Prince of Hail. There are also four angels that surround God’s throne, the archangels Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael. That is why it is said in the prayers recited before sleeping, “May Michael be at my right hand, Gabriel at my left, before me Uriel, behind me Raphael, and above my head the Divine Presence of God.”

There are differing accounts as to when the angels were created, and these differences are directly related to the question of whether or not the angels participated in the creation of the world. The Book of Jubilees places the creation of the angels on the first day of Creation. Other sources, such as Targum Pseudo-Yonathan on Genesis 1:26, Midrash Konen and Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 4, put the creation of the angels on the second day. Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer says, “As for the angels created on the second day, when they are sent as messengers, they are changed into winds, and when they minister before God, they are changed into fire.” Targum Pseudo-Yonathan says, “ And God said to the angels who minister before him, who were created on the second day of the creation of the world, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness’ (Gen. 1:26). Genesis Rabbah 1:3 places the creation of the angels on the fifth day.

The rejection of the notion that the angels participated in Creation derives from around the third century. The day on which the angels were created thus becomes of crucial importance. If on the first day, as in The Book of Jubilees, which dates from the first century, it suggests that the angels were available to assist God. But this was seen to raise questions about the singularity of God’s role, and therefore most later texts describe the creation of the angels as taking place on either the second or the fifth day of Creation.

Why were the angels not created on the first day? So that it would not be said: “Michael was standing in the north with Gabriel in the south, and together they spread out the heavens and the earth” (Midrash Tanhuma, Bereshit 1). This purposely alludes to Isaiah 44:24: “It is I, Yahweh, who made everything, who alone stretched out the heavens and unaided spread out the earth.” However, whenever the phrase, “so that it would not be said” appears, it can be assumed that heretics—and sometimes those within the tradition—were saying such things.

A version of this statement in the Sefer ha-Bahir 22 adds God to the equation: “All agree that none of the angels were created on the first day. It should therefore not be said that Michael drew out the heaven at the south, and Gabriel drew it out at the north, while God arranged things in the middle.” It seems likely that, as in the case of all such repudiations, the rabbis are referring to an existing tradition within Judaism (possibly by Jewish Gnostics), even if those who asserted it were regarded as heretics. Ironically, the rabbis’ own sacred texts have preserved the existence of these heretical myths, which might otherwise have been lost.

As a warning to those who would put their faith in the angels instead of in God, B.Berakhot 13a states: “If trouble befall a man, let him not cry to Michael or Gabriel, but let him cry to Me and I will answer him at once.”

The idea that the angels were created by the sayings of God comes from the verse By the word of Yahweh the heavens were made, by the breath of His mouth, all their host (Ps. 33:6).

The debate about the participation of the angels in Creation can be seen as a continuation of the mythic dialectic within Judaism, as it swung between a monotheistic view and a mythic view that was ready to incorporate other supernatural forces, including the angels and other heavenly figures, such as the Bride of God and the Messiah.

116-117, Tree of Souls by Howard Schwartz

[anysin]

Fic: Hunting For Safety

For @parasiticghostwasps, a 98 Knives gen with some Knives/Vash and a hunting theme! Knives protects Vash against a bounty hunter by hunting the hunter down. CW for death and violence and inexplicit incest.

Hunting For Safety

At night, Knives opens his eyes at Vash's side, finding his brother's head on his shoulder. He smiles, kissing Vash in his hair before disentangling from his brother, having to work a bit to loosen the grip of Vash's limbs around his own. He makes sure to leave Vash as undisturbed as possible before leaving him in their camp, taking off into the desert.

The human who has been following them is a skilled hunter; it took Knives a while to become aware of his presence in the first place, and even after that the human had been able to avoid detection before Knives had finally been able to spy him back. Knives doesn't know who has hired the human, and why he is just following them instead of trying to kill them, but Knives doesn't care; now that he has studied the human and knows how he works, the hunter's luck has run out.

Knives isn't going to let anyone who is a threat to Vash live.

He finds the human camped behind a large rock in the desert, sleeping against it with his hand on his weapon. Sleeping very lightly, because as soon as Knives has him in his line of sight, the human tenses up, head rising as he lifts his weapon and whips his arm towards Knives. The human fires thrice, his aim as straight as it can be. Knives evades every shot, grinning as he charges on.

"Stay back!" the human shouts, a sweet, distinct note of fear in his voice as he bounces up to his feet. He keeps firing his weapon, reaching for another one, and Knives lets him, lets him waste his bullets, avoiding each and every one with laughable ease. He thinks of Vash and how his body moves like water, beautiful and impossible to capture. Knives makes sure the human can see his smile in the dark, his gleaming eyes.

"Run," he says once the human's is out of bullets, and to the human's credit, he obeys instantly.

Races with Vash are joyous; Knives loves to chase him and tackle him and wrestle him to surrender and laughter, to kiss him until he's breathless. Races with humans are a different kind of joy; the human is desperate and stumbling and on the verge of screaming in fear, and Knives lets him flee and almost disappear from his sight before starting to run himself. Knives isn't human and now he isn't holding back anymore, so it doesn't take him long to catch up with the human, drawing his own gun once he is close enough to hear the human's ragged breathing, the little winces he makes he as he runs. He shoots the human between his shoulder blades, sending him to the sand.

When Knives hurts Vash, it hurts Knives right back. The human's pain means nothing, and Knives can watch him go down without even blinking.

The human is stubborn; even though wounded, he crawls onward on the sand, kicking it at Knives, even stopping to grab rocks and trying to throw them, only to be stopped by the pain of the bullet wound. Knives strolls behind him, letting the human run out of strength before closing the distance between them, placing his foot on the small of the human's back.

"Speak, or I'll extend your misery," Knives declares, pressing his foot down as painfully as he can. "Do you work alone?"

It takes a second press for the human to answer: "Yes."

"What are you trying to do?" Knives asks, cocking his gun as he points it at the back of the human's head. It's only now that he notices that the human's hair is blond, like his own. Like Vash's.

"I was hoping you would lead me to money. You seemed too carefree for ordinary travelers," the human says, quickly this time. "Please, don't kill me. I won't say anything about you, either of you!"

"What is there to say?" Knives asks, his voice sharpening.

He can see the human opening his mouth to reply; Knives doesn't wait for words to spill out, pulling the trigger.

Watching the blood seep into the human's hair, Knives thinks of Vash back at the camp, sleeping without a worry. Knives wants to keep him like that, with him forever.

He knows Vash better than that, but he hopes they can hunt in pairs one day anyway.

[quinn-ispurechaos]

SPOILERS FOR NIGHTBRINGER

✮ Obey Me thought dump ✮

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This is your last chance broski

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

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So I haven't finished the normal lessons yet and I barely started the hard right? I've been busy grinding on both games since I started OMSWD in like Feb 2023 and currently sit in lesson 30 ish normal and like haven't reach level 20 hard. And then I started the new game because I had enough knowledge to feel comfortable doing so not to mention spoilers that got me into actually downloading the original after denying to for two years.

But while doing some grinding on nightbringer, I got a text from Levi.. And like I haven't seen anyone talk about how this mf said Zoinks.

I'm sorry. What?

This man was like ah yes lemme add a Scooby-Doo ref .

I'm only saying this because no one actually says that.

That ik of.

Sir are you a fan of Scooby-Doo? Specifically Shaggy?

Kinda normie of you Levi.

Does the show even exist in the past or relatively at all?? Because the lore is already kinda fck rn with our off brand snapchat hybrid tiktok app that is popular in the past and yet not in our present. It confuses me but not to the extent of where I actually care much.

I think my favorite think is the off brand Mauraders Map they included. You're telling me they didn't see how fcked up the HP franchise was and took the opportunity to make us a gen neutral as possible in game, even giving us a sheep as our MC representative mascot instead of plain Jane Doe and then in the second game give a big fck u to HP? Honestly it's just funny to me.

Also in the lessons I've only had one Perfect combo and I seethe with rage when I "accidentally" miss one and don't get my combo finish. Sometimes I wonder how competitive I am but then again I have this thing with certain games that if I don't get it perfect I will spend time redoing everything till I get it. The Ruri Chan battles reminds me of guitar hero and the piano tiles game. Mostly guitar hero tho because of the hard and extreme battles are hell incarcerated and gives me the rage I had when doing hard on GH.

These are my thoughts, have them.

Hell discuss in the lil comment area.

Lemme see what yall think <3

[twiceasfrustrating]

Bon Appétit

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Solomon & Simeon & Luke & Raphael Characters: Solomon, Simeon, Luke, Raphael Additional Tags: fluff Summary: It’s Solomon’s turn to cook dinner at Purgatory Hall. Simeon and Luke want to live through the night, however, so they try to find a way to get out of eating. Word Count: 580

"If we drop our forks on the floor and bend down to pick them up, we’ll have about ten seconds to crawl for the door before he gets suspicious,” Simeon whispered low enough that only the child next to him could hear.

“He’ll come looking for us if we disappear,” Luke whispered back, trying not to breathe through his nose and inhale the stench of whatever the meal in front of them was supposed to be.

"Think of it like a game of hide-and-seek." A very dangerous game of hide-and-seek.

"What are you two whispering about?" Solomon asked happily as he set two glasses of water on the table and took a seat with the others.

"N-nothing!" Luke squeaked nervously.

"We were just saying how wonderful your," Simeon paused to think of the right word to describe it, "creation looks and how it would be a shame to eat it."

Solomon beamed with pride. "Don't worry about it. I made it to be enjoyed."

The two angels gave each other a side glance as Simeon lifted his fork to initiate their plan. Before he could drop the silverware, however, the third angelic resident of the hall walked through the kitchen doors.

His ever expressionless face stared at the three of them sitting down inquisitively. "What are you doing?"

"Raphael," Simeon said cheerily, realizing the universe had just given them the perfect out, "Solomon was just showing us a new recipe of his."

"Oh?" He seemed curious and that was a good thing for Simeon and Luke.

Luke seemed to catch onto Simeon's plan quickly. "Yeah! He said he wanted to try making something new and gave us some to try."

Simeon wondered if he should be concerned about how accustomed Luke had become to lying so readily, but that was the lesser of his issues at the moment so he would let it slide.

"Unfortunately," Simeon picked up where Luke left off, "it seems he only made so much."

"I'm sorry," Solomon apologized. "I underestimated how many ingredients I needed to make a serving."

"Oh…" Raphael sounded disappointed and that was their perfect opportunity.

"You can have mine!" Simeon and Luke both shouted at the same time.

They both looked at each other worryingly, realizing they were now going to have to find a way to get rid of their plate.

Simeon cleared his throat. "It wouldn't be right for us to try Solomon's cooking without you."

"Are you offering me one of your plates?" 

"Yes!" Luke chirped as he pushed his plate toward the empty seat at the table. "It would feel wrong not to."

Raphael walked up to the spot and stared down at the divine looking meal now in front of him. "Are you positive?"

"Please," Luke was practically begging now, because he would have to eat it if Raphael didn't. 

"Thank you." He accepted it graciously as he sat down.

"Don't thank me." After all, it made the young boy feel awkward to be thanked for manipulating his friends. "I'm happy to share."

"Luke is such a good kid." Solomon almost sounded proud. "I'll make you another serving some other time. Okay?"

"Don't go out of your way." He was literally begging.

Solomon smiled at him. "He's grown into such a fine young man."

Simeon smiled politely, trying not to give away how easily he'd somehow taught Luke to lie through his teeth.

And wondering how he was going to get rid of his plate now.

[lazalmas]

For we have made an end of all things

- Title from Siegfried Sassoon’s poem “To my Brother”

Tags: Angst , Angst no Comfort , Gen , Explosions , Blood Loss , Concussions , Confession , Character Death

Character Tags: John “Soap” MacTavish , Simon “Ghost” Riley , John “Soap” MacTavish & Simon “Ghost” Riley

Plot Summary: A mission goes wrong, and Soap finds himself paying the price.

Word Count: 2360

Author notes: I haven’t written angst before, nor have I posted fic to tumblr. i’ll post this to ao3 once it’s running again. in the meantime, hope you enjoy feeling sad.

(“To my brother”, by Siegfried Sassoon, was originally titled “Brothers”. His younger brother had been buried at sea, after being mortally wounded. He was twenty-eight.)

-

Ghost was shaking him.

“Solid, sergeant?” He asked, and Soap twitched. John MacTavish had seen a lot of things in his career, but nothing could prepare a man for this.

“Solid.” The voice that came out was furled in his mouth, soft at the edges. Quieter.

The team they'd been sent to extract had perished.

“Look at me in the eyes, Soap. Are you equipped for this?” There was a sense of untethered frenzy to Ghost’s voice. It urged him to obey, mouth beginning to form a repeated affirm when Ghost interrupted him, grappling his head to stare at him deep. “Johnny.”

One of Ghost’s pupils bled into the dark brown of his iris. A past head trauma, barely noticeable in the dark. Both eyes searched him, impossibly black, flicking over his face and twitching arms. He must have found an answer somewhere in Soap’s frame, because he waited.

“Yes, L.T.” He said, because what else was there to say? He’d follow Ghost anywhere.

Ghost was off him immediately, stance square and low and moving. Speaking lowly to Price over comms, informing him of what they could see as he kept scanning the area. Soap’s body caught up, now, and he was at his six, gun slung over him back in practised hands.

They cleared the rest of the room, no longer needing to take refuge behind the large cart near the threshold.

“I’ll check those back rooms, Makarov may have left a surprise for us.” Ghost finally turned back, tense but limber. Soap nodded. “Do not go near those bodies until I get back.” Melting into the darkness, he left as his callsign would suggest. No surprise they still had to be on edge. The number of tripwire bombs they’d had to disarm just to get down here was concerning. Then there was the complex bit of wires Soap had been tasked to defuse just to get through the main door. The enemy may have left in a hurry, but they had known others were hot on their tail. Intel was sparse, they’d only connected this base to Makarov by luck (and misfortune, for the team who were closest to respond. Immediately out of their depth, the 141 had been issued, but these things took time. Precious time. Even the smallest number of hours, minutes, seconds. Even now, with Price and Gaz caught up with securing the sister-compound that had been discovered.)

There was a sound.

Soap wasn’t afraid of the dark. His senses meshed well enough together from time in active service that it meant little if he couldn’t see what foe lurked within darkened spaces. No, but sounds.

Sounds meant something was waiting for him. Not someone, rarely did that evenly paced, familiar sort of susurration belie anything breathing. A remote bomb, however?

The ticking was speeding up.

“Brace yourself, L.T..” He whispered into his mic. Crossing the room, searching for where the sound grew louder, he grimaced. “Or don’t. If I don’t find out where this sound is coming from, it won’t be our problem anymore, anyway.” Speaking helped his movement, emboldened him with its familiarity. The ease in which he shone his hand torch was welcome. Just another day at the office.

“Must’ve missed one of those wires,” Ghost replied easily. The place must truly be empty. “Getting worse in your old age?”

“I’m only twenty-eight.” He complained goodnaturedly. “Though I wish someone would tell my hairline that. Dread to think how much grey is in your hair, sir.”

“No mirror wants to show me.” Soap huffed a laugh, at that. “Area’s clear, returning point.”

“Any more task members?”

“…One.” Ghost’s voice told him the answer to his next question. He still had to ask.

“Alive?”

“Negative.”

It was part of the job.

Ghost detached himself from the shadows, footfall wet. Soap saw the blood on his hands, kept looking for that pesky sound. Must’ve been a right mess, finding that last soldier. Being kept alone when your allies had all been captured is never a good sign. Soap knew not to ask. He only regretted lost time.

“Ah! There you are, gallus bastard-“ Soap said, finally catching a glint of wire with his torch. Following it along, it led under one of the deceased’s foot through a table.

“Good time to search those bodies, then, sir?” Just another day at the office. Ghost nodded at him, barely, and Soap was glad he’d foregone eating on the plane.

“Must’ve been triggered by fading rigour mortis. Either they knew we’d come, or there’s evidence here we need. On me.” Ghost was a hulking beast of a man. Soap was always still a little impressed that he moved so swiftly, without a trace. Some part of him he hadn’t quite smothered yet, gushed.

“Aye.” He said neutrally, and they got to work checking each body for traps before descending on the one that was attached to the wire. The soldier’s limb had been extended unnaturally, tied so tight the skin at her ankle had gone purple. When it had sagged, well. It had all been put into action. “Jesus.” She was the only one unmasked. Soap closed her eyes to the world, the state of her broken body, her teammates.

Ghost was doing a strange sort of thing with his breathing. “L.T.? You, erm…” Soap trailed off. There were more wires and c4 packaged near the wall behind a facade, clunky and pre-made. Put there and plugged together, not built from scratch, which made it intimidating to the untrained but easy work for Soap. Some mental calculation was needed but it was very light work.

“I’ll let you focus.” His voice was gruff. More distant than before, edging away.

“Now that we’ve found it, it’ll be fine. You okay?” It was hard to talk over his shoulder while balancing the soldier’s leg, and it was twisted work trying not to jostle her body until he knew he could cut the twine keeping her there.

“Affirmative.” Was the blank reply.

“Sir-“

“Less talking, sergeant. Defuse that shit and let’s regroup. No signs of what we need here, just a sick assortment of human traps.” Orders were orders.

He hesitates, just once. He’d started to cut through the wires, slowly, noting any change to the power source or oxidiser. Soap was so sure he had identified all five parts of the pentagram, knew it like the back of his hand, and had paused very, very carefully.

That’s all he did, and yet…

There’s a large boom. Not that he’d know. There’s a blink between him noticing the flashing red light go static, and being woken up cast out from the table and half pressed into the floor. When he opens his eyes fully, the room is mangled. Half cast in concrete. If it were dimly lit before, it’s fucking witching hour, now. The ceiling is scattered around him and ash floats in the air.

Soap’s hand is busted. That’s the next thing he sees. He’d been going to check his gun, and came short. There’s a chunk missing from his arm, and the finger joints are uncooperative but connected, thank fuck.

Never an easy time of it.

“Ghost,” he coughs. There’s something in his neck. He doesn’t need to look down to know there’s glass shards stuck in it. He can feel it moving when he shouts, “Come in, Ghost.” Nothing. Soap swaps to the shared line without preamble. “Trap explosion, I’m alive. Just waiting on Ghost.” Every word stings him.

The line is silent. Not even a crackle. Must be broken, shit, shit, fuck-

“Soap.” Distant, weak but unmistakably cheery as a morgue. Ghost’s voice.

Oh no.

“That you under this concrete, L.T.?” Soap could kiss him. That’d have to wait, clearly, but he was so glad to not be completely isolated under this mess.

“No.” He replied flatly. “Yes, it’s me. What happened?”

“I- I dinnae ken what happened, must’ve been more complex than I realised, or-“ Ghost started talking, and Soap shut up.

“It’s not like you to make mistakes. I don’t think you’ve made any today, Johnny. This was intentional, the enemy is too smart for this to just be blamed on sloppy work.” His calm voice was soothing in the best way, letting Soap step back into himself. “They knew we’d try defusing it. It must’ve been a failsafe.” Beat. “It’s okay, Soap. You couldn’t have known.”

“Your comms still work?” Soap tried to keep his tone even.

��…Price?” Deathly silence followed.

“That’d be a no, then.”

“This isn’t going to be easy. Anything weighing you down?”

“I can move, the c4 I could see this side of the wall was cut away. How’s it looking for you?” Please be on the other side of this giant mass of stone and not actually under it, please, fuck.

“Not good. There’s concrete on my leg. Hurts like a bitch, it’s crushed. If it’s still there.”

The panic was threatening to start cloying his senses, and Soap could hear the pain in Ghost’s voice. Helplessly, he cleared his throat.

“You’re on the erm, large side, so-“

“Get to the point, sergeant.” People don’t appreciate subtleties anymore.

“I can see a gap. It didn’t crush you completely.” He finished.

“So-“

“I bet we can lift it.”

“How bad did it hit you, Soap? Can you stand? You were right in front of it.” Ghost sounded contemplative, and Soap tried to shrug. The glass made him regret it immediately, but he could do it! Nerve damage eludes him yet again!

“Few shrapnel wounds and burns, but the blast was clearly targeting the internal infrastructure. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, obviously.” Thank the stars for that. “I can't stand with nothing to stand on, though. The floor’s decimated. I can crawl if it comes to it, but I’m right next to you.” He’s not sure how well this will work, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“Okay. Let’s hope there’s enough air down here until Price and Gaz realise we haven’t checked in. In the meantime, let’s get this off me.” Soap hadn’t thought of that. They were underground anyway, fuck, getting excavated wasn’t on his expected plans for today.

He’s glad they’d agreed on short, frequent updates between them. It wouldn’t take long, but the time between that and getting manpower over to them was anyone’s guess. Their poor predecessors in pieces around the site didn’t fill him with high hopes. But Price was a stubborn little shit when he wanted to be, and Laswell wasn’t much better. It was terrible to say, but they were simply better connected, and valued higher for it.

Clambering around one of those predecessors to get firmly planted knees at the concrete made him sick, but it was all he could do. Focus on the living, John. Ghost needed him.

“On three?” He called to his CO.

“Two.” Came the response.

It must’ve been agony for his leg. It was agony on Soap’s arms to lift, but slowly, inch by inch, they got it up and Soap heard the hissing breath as well as dull dragging of Ghost’s tactical gear before he exhausted himself and the beam came crashing back down. “I’m out.” Ghost told him. “Knee’s fucked, but I’ll live.”

“Signs of concussion?”

“Negative. Apart from perhaps the worst headache I’ve ever had. Didn’t black out when the shit hit the fan, but barely.”

“Great. My vision’s double, had a bit of kip when it happened but nothing else as of yet.”

“Keep an eye on that, Soap. Stay awake.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice didn’t sound very good. Hazy.

“Don’t fall asleep on me until we get seen to, that’s an order.”

Shaking his head made everything spin. He vowed not to do that again. “Anything to say, best do it now and keep going.”

“There’s glass in my neck.” He muttered.

“What?”

“Might not make it to exfil, Ghost.” Soap said, loud as he could. Moving that much weight really took it out of him. There was so much blood.

There’s a certain point, he’s realised, where the human body notices just how wrong it is to see the internal, external. It ignites a dumb sort of fascination in him. His blood was so red, dark and coppery, and most importantly, not stopping. There’d been the most pitiful attempt at scabbing over, earlier, but exertion had burst the wound back open.

“Johnny.” There was that warning tone. Usually Ghost used it when he was too busy for Soap’s nonsense, or his dialect had made him unintelligible. Soap had spoken clearly this time, but he repeated himself anyway.

“Tore a few things. Losing blood fast.”

“Tourniquet not helping?”

“Rather not hang myself, L.T.”

“Shit.” Shit indeed. Soap wanted to laugh.

“Didnae think this’d be how I went. Thought it’d be explosion related, sure, but someone else’s? And so poor a make-up, too. This was manufactured, Ghost, only altered to fit the job on site. If only I’d had time to see.” He sounded insulted. He was. This should’ve been a simple job. But life was like that.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.” Ghost was angry. It didn’t seem to matter.

“That’s unlike you, eh Ghost? Thought you’d been immovable as always. Listen. I ken I’m sounding defeated, but that’s just how it is, y’know? I’m glad I got you out.” He’s sagging against the stone, now. Spitting blood between words, he hopes he isn’t too hoarse to be heard.

“Johnny-“

“You were like a brother to me.” He cut him off. “I know we don’t talk about it,” A large glob of red catches in his throat, and he’s not strong enough to get it out. His ribs are screaming at him, lungs despairing at the liquid forced to share its airspace. “I’m sorry.” This, he knows, isn’t loud enough to carry through. Ghost is saying something, barking it loud, but he’d never been the best listener. It might be swearing. It might be pleading.

At least there’ll be more oxygen to keep Ghost until he’s found. That’s a nice thought.