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starks-hero · 1 year

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Oh, Little Horned One of the Old Oak Tree

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Becoming the avatar of an ancient Celtic god came with some unforeseen side affects; side affects which you are yet to tell Steven about.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, slight body horror if you squint, Steven is a ridiculously supportive boyfriend in the face of fuckery and we love him for it

a/n: giving the reader a supportive god/avatar relationship because it's what they deserve

It's not that you hadn't tried to clean the blood, you'd done your best. But it stained the tips of your fingers and left the porcelain tiles of the bathroom a dark red.

You weren't entirely sure where it had all come from, but the damp, matted hair surrounding where the antlers had sprouted from your head served as a good indicator.

It shouldn't be happening, not yet. You had at least another fortnight till the next eclipse, (if your notes were anything to go by.) But you knew the moment your muscles began to ache and your bones began to creak that it was indeed happening, and it wasn't going to stop regardless of how upset it made you.

You'd tried to call Jake. Then Marc. But you didn't want to risk Steven answering the phone.

The bathroom was the closest refuge you could find and as it would seem it was far from the most ideal of places. You'd torn down the shower curtain in your haste to hide and all but shattered the delicate tiles beneath your feet.

The mirror had also fallen victim to your havoc, an almost artistically applaudable webbed crack spreading out from the centre of the glass where your elbow had made contact. A handful of rouge shards littered the floor and made quick work of slicing open your palm.

You glared at the offending piece of glass before picking it out of your hand and throwing it across the room with enough force that it was embedded in the opposite wall like a well-aimed dart.

You could still make out your reflection through the broken glass pane. Antlers sprouting from the crown of your head, winding off in all different directions. There was a pale glow to your eyes and ruins and ancient symbols wrapped around your arms and the expanse of your chest. And if your abundance of new features hadn't already qualified you for your own Magic: The Gathering card, you'd also doubled in height.

This would be a fucking delight to explain.

You took a moment to thank the gods for Stevens's late shift at the museum before steadying yourself with a deep breath.

You'd felt every bit of it; the stretching, twisting and growing of entirely new bones. And if the persistent pain in your chest and spine was anything to go by you figured it was far from over.

You could hear the deep, resonant voice of your deity, distant and far off, like rushing water over rock. His words were gruff and shaped by his accent as he apologized profusely; and as ego-boosting as it was having an eldritch being admit defeat and practically beg for your forgiveness, you found yourself in too much pain to truly enjoy the moment.

“Cernunnos,” you cursed the god's name.

Your legs were still crammed uncomfortably against your chest and the bathroom door whilst your antlers continued to do a glorious job of scrapping the paint job off the ceiling.

Another wave of pain hit, burning through your veins and seizing hold of your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, each attempt at a breath snagging in your throat like leaves catching on dead branches. The horrid sensation of shifting bones hit your chest and you doubled over with a hiss.

“Please make it stop.”

“I'm sorry, fia beag,” (little deer) the god said, his reflection appearing in the mirror shards. His antlers filled out the frame, putting your own to shame and his eyes, (despite, like the rest of his body, being those of a stag, which as far as species go aren't the most emotionally expressive–) were almost apologetic. “I've tried my best, I asked Manannan to reverse the tides to change the lunar phase and buy us time but it's too late.”

It was heartwarming really; how Cernnunos cared so much, enough to ask a fellow god to inconvenience the entire ocean all in the name of saving your love life. You were glad to have him, even if he was the reason you were going through pain worse than fucking childbirth.

“I'm sorry.” The god's ears flattened against his head and you wondered if you'd said the last part aloud.

“What's the point of all this again?” You'd shifted before but it was never irregular and never this bad.

“A thousand years ago my worshipers adored when my avatar arrived at Imbolc in this form!” Cernnunos sounded excited.

“So it was to show off?”

“To make the people feel seen and protected,” he countered.

“And it's something I have to go through because–?”

The god was quiet for a moment. “Old habits die hard?”

Cernnunos had off-handedly mentioned (downright bragged) about the pact he'd made with the moon sometime before the construction of Newgrange. That his avatar would be gifted with a godly form the night of each lunar eclipse. You weren't well versed in ancient deals between eldritch beings but apparently, it's not the kind of agreement you can back out of a millennia down the line.

And apparently, another moon-related god had initiated an eclipse two weeks ahead of schedule. (your money was on Khonshu over Artemis.)

“It will be alright, little one,” Cernnunos promised. It was soothing having him near, but he tended to have that effect. With him, you were like a fawn, comforted by the knowledge that it was protected by its elder. “Besides, it's not as though this night could get much worse for us.”

Almost comedically, the struggle of key in lock sounded and then the front door opened.

You and the god stared at each other, quite literally, like deers in headlights.

“Love? I'm home–”

Steven's voice sent your flight, fight, freeze response to full throttle and you beckoned for Cernnunos to leave as quietly and frantically as you could. The god seemed reluctant, but another chorus of a British accent from the other side of the door and he relented.

The glass rippled like water on a lake and then he was gone.

You could hear Steven moving around the flat, carrying out his usual routine of removing his name tag, unbuttoning his over shirt and tossing his bag on the couch.

You held your breath when the floorboards of the bedroom creaked and silently prayed he'd just call it a night in favour of finding you hiding in the bathroom looking like something straight from Pans Labyrinth. When he called out for you again you sent your head back against the wall with enough force to crack the tiles.

“Love, you alright?” There was three gentle raps on the door. “Darling?”

“I'm fine,” the words were unsteady. And had your voice gotten deeper?

There was a beat of silence outside the door then, “You don't sound fine.”

“I'm just not feeling great,” you managed. Just go, Steven. Please just go.

“Oh, darling, are you sick? Here let me–” The terrifying sight of the door handle turning caused your heart to almost hammer out of your chest. You rushed to press your foot against it and watched in horror as the timber split right down the middle. The door was barely clinging to the hinges.

You could hear Steven's shock on the other side of the door, a string of curses followed suit. “Y/N–”

“Just leave it, Steven!” you bit out. You hadn't meant for the words to sound so animalistic, so angry. But the only thing currently preventing your life from crumbling was a splintering door and your refusal to move your foot. You were allowed to be rash, you thought.

“Alright, you're scaring me now–”

The universe really wasn't letting up with its ironies today.

The wooden door panels creaked and splintered as Steven tried to open it from the outside. You kept your foot firmly pressed to the middle, but as the hinges began to groan you felt the sturdiness give way. It felt like you had your foot against a wet piece of tissue paper; you were going to tear right through it.

With one more shove from Steven's side, you were forced to surrender.

The door swung open with truly theatrical measure and Steven stumbled in behind it. Instinctually, you pushed yourself against the back wall, forgetting your new height and putting your head through the ceiling as you did.

Chaos is too kind of a word for what followed.

The sound that left Steven fell somewhere between a startled shout and a scream of genuine terror. You reached out and Steven fired back, his feet tying themselves in knots and sending him to the floor.

You struggled to pull your head out of the crater you'd left in the roof. A fine layer of debris and dust covered you and somewhat important-looking wires were strung across your antlers like poorly hung Christmas lights.

Almost on cue, the bathroom light flickered twice and came away from the ceiling, ending up in several pieces on the floor.

The dark apparently did nothing in making you look less menacing as Steven continued to voice his fears. And loudly at that. He hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot just outside the door.

“Steven, please–” you crawled forward at a snail's pace, each movement purposely slow.

He watched you with frantic eyes, his heart hammering like a rabbit against his chest. You'd never seen him so scared.

As he clambered to his feet, you dared to inch closer, but it was the opinion of the shattered tiles beneath your feet that you weren't moving nearly fast enough. You slipped on the porcelain shards and were all but thrown in Steven's direction.

Your rack broke your fall by all but embedding the tips of each spike in the wall surrounding the door frame. You'd put your head through so much wood and plaster in the past few minutes you were beginning to sympathize with mounted deer heads.

Steven was staring now, expression boarding on mild fear and absolute confusion. Then, his eyes flicked to the broken mirror behind you, and then his reflection in the window to his right.

Marc and Jake had taken their sweet time.

Steven looked between you, the mirror and the window and then back at you. Then it visibly clicked.

“Oh, oh my gods, Y/N you, you're-” he swallowed. “-what's happening?”

“It's my time of the month.” The joke went down like a led balloon. Steven swayed on his feet.

“Steven, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sort of. No, not really.”

You craned your neck as far as your current predicament would allow for. “Are you going to pass out?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” you said the word beneath your breath. He hadn't run which, all things considered, meant this was going fairly well. Even from the awkward angle you were stuck in you could feel his eyes on you, shifting from one monstrous feature to the next, lingering on the markings and the fucking antlers and the–

“Love, you have blood– you're bleeding.” And just like that, a flip switched in Steven's mind at the sight of you wounded. This man was a true enigma and a wonderful one at that. “Here–”

He approached and then almost immediately hesitated, bouncing back on his heel the moment you shifted.

You weren't exactly a threatening sight, shoulders wedged in the door frame, covered in dust and splintered wood and head practically pinned to the wall. You looked like a drunk stag that had lost a fight to a tree.

Steven shook himself and stepped close enough that your laboured breaths ruffled his curls. He was doing an admirable job of hiding the fact that he was shaking.

“Alright, bloody hell um–” He regarded the situation and then nodded. “I'll push, you pull.”

Steven braced his hands against your shoulders and you grabbed hold of the door frame. It's not that you needed the extra help; out of all the things you'd conquered whilst serving as an avatar freeing yourself from a plaster wall ranked fairly low on that list.

But Steven was touching you in this form, his palms pressed to your broadened shoulders and you weren't about to jinx it.

The wall cracked and fissured as you freed yourself, several deep punctures left where your antlers had been. You twisted and manoeuvred your way out of the bathroom until you could straighten up to your full height.

Thank god Steven lived on the top floor. Higher ceilings.

“Okay, woah–” Steven took several steps back as you stood. You towered over him, antlers bleeding into darkened shadows against the ceiling. Okay, now 'intimidating' might be a more fitting word.

You lowered yourself to your knees in an attempt to seem less frightening. Now that you were eye to eye, Steven could see the worry in your expression as you regarded him softly.

“It's alright. I'm adjusting,” he said, voice still trembling. “Just need a quick adjustment period...”

You gave him time and let him lead.

And that's how you ended up in the kitchen, legs crossed as you sat on the floor whilst Steven sat on the counter in front of you. He held a wet flannel in his hand, droplets of water creeping down his arm.

A dry cloth sat folded on the counter beside him, as well as a box of plasters with 'good job!' written across each one.

It was as if his rationality was being overridden by his need to care for you as well as his overall steveness.

Steven dabbed the crown of your head gently, his hands shaking as he did. There was still a dull ache where the antlers had sprouted. Steven rung out the flannel over the sink and the sight of the blood running through his fingers and over his knuckles made you feel ill. His hands were always so soft, they weren't meant to be stained with blood.

You blinked as a small trail of blood seeped from your head and trailed down between your brows. Steven diligently stopped the flow with the cloth and cleaned you up. Your nose twitched at the dampness of the cloth and Steven smiled.

The first smile you'd seen all night.

His actions slowed, hand stilling as he watched you. Beneath the pale glow of your eyes there was something so familiar. He smiled again.

“Hiya love,” the words were so soft they made you feel warm.

“Hi.”

You raised your arms, the markings and symbols on your skin catching in the dim light. Your hands circled Steven's wrists gently. He pulled back and for a terrifying moment you thought he'd gone completely; deciding that he'd had enough, that you were too much like this and he was drawing the boundary line here.

Instead, he dropped the blood-stained flannel in the sink basin and held his hand back against yours, palms pressed together. It was an adorable comparison. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the top of your palm, in fact, you were certain you could close your hand over the entirety of his own. There was a moment shared in comfortable silence then Steven asked, “Y/N, what is going on?”

The question was gentle and filled with wonder. There was still a trace of a smile on his lips. It made you feel like you could finally tell him.

“Avatar stuff. I suppose my god is a little more... flamboyant than yours.”

Steven laughed and the sound comes as a relief. “Khonshu didn't want to give me the time of day, let alone a– a bloody godly alter ego.”

A beat of silence.

“Did it hurt?”

It was heartwarming that that was his next question.

“A little,” you answered somewhat honestly. “But I'm alright now.”

He finished cleaning you up in a peaceful silence. He took the time to wash the blood from your hair as best he could and plaster your injured hand, (for the emotional boost more than anything.) It took several plasters to cover the expanse of the wound, each overlapping so the supportive catchphrase now read 'good good job good.'

He sat in front of you now, having spent the last few minutes tracing the spirals and patterns on your arm. His earlier fear had completely given way to wonder; it wasn't easy to forget that the man was a mythology nerd through and through.

A boyish laugh crept past his lips. “I wonder how Marc and Jake will react.” He looked up at you to gouge a reaction and his smile fell slightly. “Oh.”

“Steven–” you scratched the back of your neck. This was going to be a bitch to explain. “-Jake only knows because... well–” you made a vague motion with your hands that the four of you had come to recognize meant 'Jake.'

Steven nodded in understanding.

“And Marc just sort of found out by accident.”

Steven nodded again and you could visibly see the process going on behind his eyes.

“And um– why didn't any of you tell me?” His voice adopted a higher pitch at the end of the question, likely in an attempt to take the edge off.

You took a sudden interest in the floorboards. “I didn't want to– you know.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Steven gasped.

“Oh, oh love, you didn't think... you didn't think I'd be scared did you?”

A quick exhale of amusement from you. “You seemed fairly scared.”

“I- well yeah, yeah.” He conceded. “But not of you. Never of you.” His hands found yours again, the staggering difference in size almost humorous. “I just wish you could have felt like you could have told me, that's all.”

A warmth settled in the centre of your chest and you felt the corner of your eyes dampen. Any attempt of yours to not cry was immediately foiled as he inched closer and put his arms around your neck. His knees buckled against your crossed legs and he sank against your chest.

“For what it's worth,” you smiled against the crown of his head. “I think your reaction probably ranks highest out of the three.”

“Yeah?” He asked lightly. His curls tickled the end of your nose.

“Yeah. Jake used some pretty colourful language, most of it was in Spanish. And Marc pulled a gun on me–”

“He pulled a gun on you–?!” With the exclamation, Steven shot back to look at you.

“Like I said, you take first place.”

“Well, the bar wasn't set awfully bloody high was it?” He glared at his reflection in the kettle and you smirked, closing your arms around him and caging him to your chest. There was something so soothing, so primally comforting about being able to hold him, hold all of him, like this.

You nuzzled against his chocolate curls and to anyone on the outside looking in the action would have looked downright primal. Animalistic. But it couldn't have felt more intimate.

“I could get used to this, I think.” Steven's words were barely above a breath. “You're just a big teddy bear, really. More of you to love.”

His hands slowly and deliberately retraced your shoulder, then your neck, down the expanse of your chest... “What do the patterns mean?”

“Some of the symbols stand for attributes or characteristics; strength, courage, loyalty,” you regarded your arm, from your bicep down to your wrist. “Some of them are his symbols, some he added when I agreed to be his avatar and others, I've never really taken the time to find out–”

Steven hummed, not in a dismissive sense, rather in a way that showed he'd listened to each word like the gospel.

“I've got a book on ruins and ancient symbols, only bought the thing for the hieroglyphics really but maybe we could have a look? Do some homework?” A playful nudge accompanied the last question and you caved. As if you stood much of a chance to begin with.

That's how you ended up laying on the bed, (well, mostly on the bed. Your back was against the headboard and your legs still hung over the edge. Steven straddled your middle, an open book and notepad to his right, a highlighter between his teeth and a marker in his hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed as he traced his thumb over a symbol just beneath your collarbone.

You shivered despite yourself.

He'd mapped everything out, using the marker to gently draw on your skin, making connections and jotting down notes. It was like watching a scholar at work and you were honoured to be his study.

“Sorry about the bathroom,” you said rather out of the blue.

Steven glanced up at you, rebellious curls falling against his brow. His confusion melted into gentle amusement. “Don't worry about it, love. Needed redoing anyways, I reckon.”

Then, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he went back to his translations.

In a form that most could only phantom in the darkest corners of their imagination and with a god willing to bend the seas and skies at your will, Steven Grant somehow remained among both the most curious and most cherished things you had.

Key ➳

Cernnunos - Celtic god of wild things, fertility and animals

Manannan - (Manannan Mac Lir) Celtic god of the sea

Imbolc - the Celtic festival that marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It celebrates the return of life and light as it is the time when the ewes come into milk, when the first flowers appear and when the day noticeably lengthens.

Newgrange - famous 5,200 year old passage tomb in Co Meath, Ireland

‘fia beag’ - gaeilge for ‘little deer’

thank you for reading!

tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

#mary on a cross “you're beauty never ever scared me” vibes >>>#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #steven grant x y/n #steven grant #moon knight #☘️#one day I'll stop making all my stories have irish themes #but not today

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | epilogue: november

summary: sugar has her baby marking the beginning of a new chapter for the berzatto family.

warnings: husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns, the end

wc: 1300

listen to: 'lean on me' -- bill withers & 'chinatown' -- bleachers (because it's so make my heart surrender au coded) on the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: well, folks! this gets us from here to the carmy as your baby daddy au. BUT i think it's time for me to let these two ride off into the sunset and go on their merry way. i have loved this story, these characters, this world since it filled my brain with a story that begged to be told, and forced me to write it because i couldn't stop thinking about it. i wrote something quite sappy in the a/n a few chapters ago, so i'll spare us an encore performance of it and just say this: thank you for reading. thank you for being a part of this story. thank you for being a part of their journey. i will pop into this world and perhaps maybe write oneshots from time to time, but... it's time, my loves. :) would anyone be interested in a behind the scenes look at this world like i did with 'burn your life down?' let me know!

part five | masterlist

November

After sixteen long hours, Sugar’s baby comes: a perfect, rosy-cheeked, healthy baby boy that sends you and Carmy rushing to the hospital. Sugar hadn’t wanted you to come till she was ready to push, and by the time you got the text from Pete, you’d sped to the restaurant, ready to drag Carmy out of there, regardless of how busy it had been.

Besides, everyone knew what was going on – on the edges of their seats, phones at the ready to hear any and all news about the new member of the family, and more than happy to support so that you and Carmy could show up for Sugar.

“Carm?” Sugar asks for her brother, as you and Pete hug it out in the waiting room. You can’t even tell that the man’s been up all night; the excitement and joy in his eyes overshadowing any and all fatigue.

Carmy excuses himself from you and Pete’s congratulatory embrace, making his way into the hospital room where his sister lays, propped up on her bed, baby in arms.

So much has changed for the both of them: his sister, now a mother, and he, an uncle. Carmy takes cautious steps forward, the reality of it all beginning to hit him.

“Hi,” she smiles, in complete awe of her new baby.

“Woah,” Carmy says, though completely incapable of hiding the smile that begins to form over his face. “You made that.”

“I made that,” she chuckles with an eye roll, glancing from the baby, to her brother, then back to her son. “And he’s the most perfect thing in the world. Baby boy, I want you to meet someone. I want you to meet your uncle.”

Carmy carefully sits in the chair right next to the bed, turning his attention to the baby.

“Can you say hi to your Uncle Carmy?” Nat coos, shifting so that she can properly introduce her son and Carmy.

“Oh my goodness… look at you,” Carmy says, his eyes full of wonder as the sleeping baby shifts in Sugar’s arms.

He’s not sure what to say, the words caught in his throat. He can feel it – that this is something momentous – but it’s as if he doesn’t know where to begin, lost in the magnitude of what’s happening right now.

“Hey, little guy,” Carmy finally manages to get out, his voice stuck in his throat.

Sugar chuckles again, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“How ya doin?” Carmy asks, looking over at his sister this time.

“Great. Just great,” she replies dryly, earning a laugh from Carmy, because it really has been one hell of a night.

When she opens her mouth to answer this time, her words come out much more genuine and soft as she adds, “I am though. Really. I’m great.”

Carmy nods in understanding, his eyes searching his sister’s face for any more of a reaction. But he knows that this is a dream come true for her -- that being a mother had always been the plan. Carmy chooses to focus this time on the sleeping baby, who’s tucked his head into her chest, seeking out warmth and comfort in this strange, new world.

“Bear?” Nat asks, as Carmy lifts his head to look at her once more.

There’s something urgent in her voice that grabs his attention and he’s not sure what she’s going to say next.

“Yeah?” he asks back, his eyes wide.

“So I want to talk to you about something,” Sugar says, his voice softening even more as she looks down at her baby boy. Carmy nods once, letting her know that he’s ready as Nat continues. “I uh… well, Pete and I have been thinking a lot about this. And… I wanted to talk to you about it before we move forward with it.”

Carmy swallows, leaning in this time.

“After we found out we were having a boy, Carm, we talked a lot… about what we would name him and… with his due date being in November… I don’t know. And look at him now, meeting him... it just feels right,” she begins, emotions welling in her voice. “We-, well, we want to name him Michael. If that’s okay… with you.”

Carmy has to stop for a moment, frozen in time as he hears the name. It’s not like he gets emotional about these kinds of things very often, but then again, this is all new to him – new to the little families they’re building; a new generation of Berzattos.

“Uh,” Carmy croaks out, his voice stuck in his throat as he realizes he’s much more moved than he expected to be. “Uh yeah, Sug. I… it’s okay with me.”

“Are you sure? Because I didn’t know if you wanted to use the name or-,” Sugar begins to explain.

“No, it’s-, it’s okay,” Carmy is quick to interject. “If it feels right. I mean we haven’t even-, you know, we’re not talking about… yet….”

Sugar nods in understanding, because she knows that you and Carmy have only been married for two months now. Hell, she's your best friend; she'd know if either of you were talking about having kids.

“So,” Carmy says, his eyes suddenly feeling watery. “Guess there’s a new Michael Berzatto then?”

He takes another look at his baby nephew, joy and grief both trapped inside his chest. Carmy's overwhelmed by it all: hearing his name, what this means for the Berzattos, this new beginning. He thinks back to what you said to Sugar on your wedding day -- that this could be the start of a new chapter for all of you -- the reality of your words reflected back to him now, all in one tiny package of new life.

"Welcome to the world, buddy," Carmy manages to say, his voice soft and full.

And it's as if every single thing that's led to this moment, and every single possibility that the future may hold rush before his eyes.

“Welcome to the world, baby boy,” Sugar whispers, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Wanting to give Carmy and Nat time alone together, you spend the first part of your hospital visit with Pete in the waiting room, as the teary-eyed man recounts the intensity of the last eight hours. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he speaks, that this is a dream come true for him – becoming a father.

Soon enough, Pete is ushering you into the hospital room, more than eager to introduce you to your new nephew. By the time you and Pete join her and Carmy, the new Berzatto is fast asleep on her chest, while Carmy sits quietly next to her. There’s an energy between the siblings, something you notice right away, and you can only imagine that this is emotional for the both of them on so many levels.

“Hi,” you grin, looking from Sugar to Carmy, as you join him by her bedside.

“Hi, sweetie,” Sugar greets you. Carmy smiles at you, as your hand comes up to rub comforting patterns over his shoulder and back.

“Pete,” Nat begins again. “Carmy and I were just talking… about his name.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete asks, smiling hopefully as he exchanges a look with his wife.

She nods, a full conversation happening between the new parents with just one look. Pete lets out a heavy exhale, smiling at his wife as Nat answers with:

“Yeah."

Carmy clears his throat, his arm closest to you squeezing you closer to him, gently leaning his head against your side in search of comfort.

“What’d you decide on?” you ask curiously, the air seemingly tense with feeling.

“Michael,” Sugar answers, exchanging a look with her brother this time. Carmy squeezes your hip, and as you search his face for a reaction, you can tell he's holding back tears.

“His name is Michael.”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #natalie 'sugar' berzatto #pete the bear #sugar the bear

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sprout-gt · 1 year

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I heard that your ask box was open…

a size shifter whose default is tiny but constantly shifts up to be in regular human society, who also hangs out with a bunch of collage frat bros so he doesn’t know if they’ll accept him if they knew he was tiny. Just the everyday strain of sizing up, trying to make sure his height is consistent but failing a lot, excusing himself just so he can have a small break, and don’t get me started on the hi-jinx that happens when he’s tiny at a frat club and tries to hide or he’s tiny in his apartment and his friends get in somehow and they don’t notice him on the floor. And don’t get me started on when they find out!

This scenario has bounced in my head so much like

this is a really interesting scenario, thanks for submitting it!! (and also, holy shit, the potential?)

i imagine the physical and emotional strain of trying to shift constantly would be pretty taxing, especially if you have to focus on getting your height exactly the same every time. the spike in heartrate every time the topic of height gets brought up, and concentrating hard on not shrinking from the nerves.

the shifter really likes his friends and loves hanging out with them, he just can't predict their reaction. every time he ducks away to shift into a more comfortable height in some tucked away in some secluded corner he can feel the pressure weighing down on him.

the shifter would probably be in a perpetual state of anxiety that any of his friends would call him out on his weird behavior at any time, because he doesn't even know how he would respond.

but i'm imagining when the shoe finally does drop, it's completely unexpected. maybe the shifter is hiding out in an unoccupied room, half his height just to give his mind some rest. and of course this is the one time, the one time, he neglects to check that the door is locked behind him.

one of his closest friends barges in excitedly, clearly looking for him, eyes immedietly locking in on his friend who not three minutes ago was eye level with him. the shifter immedietly snaps up to his reduced height. He's completely panic stricken, mind buzzing with anxiety and at a loss for what to do next.

his friend closes the door quickly behind him, locks it with a soft click, and slides his back against the door till he's sitting, equally unable to think of what to say. now, they both realize, they're at eye level again.

i imagine that the shifter confides in his friend about his size-shiftiness, and feels the weight that has been slowly crescendoing within him finally disperse. they have a really honest conversation, and his friend promises him he won't tell a soul, but he will be there if he needs him.

now, when the shifter is hanging out with his friends, he feels much calmer knowing that when the conversation moves to height, he has someone who will immedietly change the topic. if the friend notices him go a little quiet, clearly focusing on maintaining his height, he'll pull him aside so he can have a little break- while having someone to talk to.

there are a million different directions this can go, what a tasty idea.

#g/t #g/t prompts #g/t scenario #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t hurt/comfort #kind of?#ask #very good prompt yes yes #there's nothing that makes the brainworms scream like size shifting

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marsbar17 · 9 months

Text

A part two of that Revenant oneshot I wrote for @dontbethatguy20

Hope you like it! And merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

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Days passed since you confronted Rev. You tried to avoid him for as long as you could, not wanting to accept what youd learnt or what you felt about it. But alas, the games seem to be your downfall.

"Stop getting in my line of sight for fucks sake." You grumbled, moving your sniper over so your scope was clear again. You looked down your sight, taking in a squad consisting of Bloodhound and Fuse as they looked for loot. And then your sight was disturbed by red and silver metal. "Rev! Fuck off!"

"I want you to look at me." Revenant pushed the barrel of your sniper out of the way, forcing you to look at him face to face for the first time in days. It scared you, but not in the usual "murder robot staring you down" scared, it was like the scared when you meet your crushes eyes for the first time after realizing you like them. Not that you liked Revenant like that, pfff no way.... right?

"Fuck off." Thats all you said to him before shifting your sniper over once again and looking down the scope. You zoned in on Fuse, the one who moved the least, and aimed right between the eyes.

Right as you went to take the shot, your sniper moved and you alerted the enemy squad. Bloodhound immediate pulled out their own sniper and took aim, and you had to scramble away from the ledge you were on. You took cover behind a rock, Revenant following and sitting beside you.

"Why would you do that you jerk?!" You yelled at him, assuming he was the one to nudge your gun as you shot.

"I wanted your attention. You've been ignoring me." Revenant scooted closer to you, and you scooted away in return.

"God you're like a lovesick puppy." Sighing, you strapped your sniper to your back and faced him. "Well, you've got my attention. What the fuck do you want?"

"You've been stressed, I can practically feel your heartbeat skyrocket everytime you see me." Revenant pointed out. You're face turned beet red, and you stuttered trying to come up with a response. He just stared the whole time, waiting patiently. After a while of struggle, you just sighed and turned away from him.

"Now is not the time for this conversation. Wait till the game's over." You peaked out from your cover just to come face to face with the mask that Bloodhound wore, and next second you were waking up in the medbay once again.

You had to stop getting distracted during the games. It was hard though when Revenant wouldn't let you go. You changed clothes, and opened the curtain around your bed to see that Revenant was standing in the same place as last time. He watched you as you approached, grabbing his metal hand and dragging him to your room in the big building. Sitting him down on your desk chair, you stood before him with hands on your hips.

"Look, all of this is just wrong. You shouldn't be able to love me. I shouldn't love you. We shouldnt-"

"You love me?"

It had slipped out, and you turned away from him quickly to hide your blush. You hadn't even admitted that fact to yourself, why did you just blab it to him? Curse your inability to shut up. Aw fuck it man.

"Fine, yes. I love you god damnit. I don't want to but I do. But this is wrong. We shouldn't love eachother, what will people think?" You started pacing, something you did when stressed. Revenant's eyes followed, expression blank as it always was.

"It doesn't have to be a public thing." He suggested, grabbing your hand to get you to stop pacing. You looked at him, and the realization that you loved a fucking robot hit you. It seems so stupid, so fucking stupid. How did this happen?

"But-"

"Stop." Revenant interrupted you. Again. "Stop giving me lousy excuses. We don't have to be public, we can take it slow, we don't even have to be a couple until you want to. Just let me love you."

You hesitated for a while, looking into his eyes. Somehow he had said exactly what you wanted to hear, and you relaxed a bit. Making a decision, you sighed.

"Okay. I admit it. I love you, and I want you to love me."

"Thank you."

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Thank you for reading! As always, requests help me very much and reblogs help spread my work. Doing both takes seconds, so if you want to go for it! Merry Christmas!

#apex legends #apex fanfic #apex revenant #revenant #kaleb cross #apex x reader #revenant x reader #writing #merry christmas #i wrote revenant like a lost puppy bdbdjsk

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claireriddle25 · 1 year

Text

Fandom: Harry Potter

Love interest: Mattheo Riddle

Movie night at the Malfoy Manor with Mattheo Riddle

Fluffy,cute, not really smut just little bit teasing

Words: 741

The doors to the Malfoy manor open up and I enter the mansion that feels like home to me. Even though Draco is only my second cousin, it feels like we are siblings. Our whole friend group decided to stay for the holidays at the Malfoys and I couldn’t be happier to see Narcissa. Draco and her are already walking up to me and hugging me. Lucius luckily is in France for work and Narcissa would leave shortly after the whole group arrived to catch up with her sister Andromeda. I hex my bags to my room and go after them to make myself feel even more at home. I couldn’t wait for my girls, Daphne Weasley and Pansy Parkinson, to arrive. We not only share a room at the Malfoy Manor but also at Hogwarts. I throw my bags onto my bed and jog back down because I hear familiar voices from Mattheo and Lorenzo. My heart rate slowly picks up when I make eye contact with dark brown eyes. I go over to hug Enzo, making Mattheo jealous. When I turn around to hug him, he pulls me into one of the best hugs, and I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on between us. The eye contacts, dancing at parties and caring about each other but not wanting to destroy our friendship. We just love to make each other flustered or jealous. After them all my friends roll along. Mattheo and Enzo go to the room that is on the left from the girls room and Theo and Blaise walk into the room next to them.

Us three girls lay on Daphnes bed and gossip. I start to shift around, uncomfortable because I'm still wearing my trousers and a long sleeve and my hair sleeked back. I walk to my closet and Daphne and Pansy also ask for more comfortable clothes.Playfully I throw some clothes onto them and just change into a dark blue hoodie and joggers set. I just finished when I heard Narcissa call us. We all walk down to say goodbye and then decide to all watch a movie together in the TV-Room that is hidden from Lucius. I throw myself on the couch and feel how the couch sits down next to me because nobody else than my cousin's hot best friend, Mattheo Riddle, sits down next to me. Blaise grins from the couch across from us at me and I just roll my eyes at him but can’t t hide my smile. A house elve enters the room and brings as some snacks and Theo never seemed happier when he saw all the food.Daphne is currently discussing with Draco about the fact that she knows more muggle movies and that we should watch some muggle horror movie.

When we start to watching the movie, I can’t denie the fact that it is scary. I can feel myself getting closer to Mattheo. All of a sudden I flinch at the action in the movie and feel myself touch Mattheos arm on an accident . I just see him smirking and feel his hand pulling me as close as possible to him. I feel his breath on my neck and get goosebumps. All of a sudden the movie seams less scary and less important. I can't denie the fact how I feel safer around him and how I can't seem to concentrate on the movie. Feeling Mattheo's hand on my hip and his stare on me, I bite my lip, feeling his grip harden. My breath gets faster ,but I won't give him attention. Instead I lean forward to grab a snack. I feel my hoodie riding up and his hands go lower on my bar back ,and I lick the taste of my lips with my tongue. When I lean back his hands leave my back only to return on my inner thigh.

We don’t even realize that the movie is over till everybody starts talking. I just know that Blaise and Pansy know exactly what happened ,when I saw them grinning at us from across the room. Before more of our friends see what is going on between us ,we shift a little bit away from each other, but I can still easily smell Mattheo‘s expensive cologne. We all start discussing the movie, but I can’t help but smile when I realize that Mattheo remembers even less from the movie than I do.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #draco malfoy #harry potter #friends #slytherin

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roxy-bat-wolf-pack · 4 months

Text

Supernatural:

Wish I May, Wish I Might ✨️

Part 3

Roxy

My eyes reopened to the familiar sight of a hospital ceiling. They must have had me on some damned good painkillers because my bandaged arm didn't hurt at all when I shifted around in my bed.

"Well, well, look who's awake." Dean's voice sent a rush of relief over me. I looked to my right to see him in a padded chair, smiling at me.

"I'm glad you're finally up. These chairs are killing my back." His tone was joking, but I could tell by the way he stretched and twisted that his words had truth to them.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, and right on cue, Sam walked into the room, holding a tray of hospital cafeteria coffee.

"Hey! You're awake!" His voice somehow managed to be both exited and concerned, " How are you feeling?" I tested putting pressure on my arm to sit up.

"It's painful, but more than anything I want to get out of here. Did the doc say how long I gotta stay?"

"She said as long as their are no complications when they check you at noon, then you are free to go," Dean answered. I glanced around the room for a clock.

10:38

"Ugh!" I flopped myself back down only to find that the bed wasn't as far away as I expected. Sam had silently pushed the controls to raise it to a sitting position. In the following silence, memories of the night prior started to flood my mind. The manor, the witches, the dagger. My stomach tensed when I remembered the drive to the hospital, the stitches. I must have passed out at least twice. Sam set the tray of coffee down on my bedside table, pulling me from my own thoughts. I instinctively reached for a cup.

"Woah, hold on." Sam took the cup from my hands. "Doc says no coffee till you're better. So this," He placed a new warm cardboard cup in my grasp, "is a hot chocolate. Something about the coffee being bad with the meds they gave you."

I glared down at the cup as if it had personally asked the doctor to restrict my coffee intake. Even still, the warmth of the cup was a pleasant change from the overbearing chill of the hospital.

I took a long sip, savoring the sweet, creamy chocolate. I felt the warmth drip down my throat and coat my stomach. The moment was pure bliss. Sitting there with my hot chocolate, my brothers by my side, a job well done. If it wasn't for the hospital setting, I would've wanted to live in the moment forever.

Then he walked in.

The man had an aura I couldn't quite describe. His reddish brown eyes shifted around the room, assessing my brothers before standing tall and focusing on me. I'm not sure why, but my instinct was to hide. It was a new feeling. Dad spent so many years making sure the instinct was fight, not flight. Something about him gave me the sense that something dramatic was about to happen.

"Hello," He started. His voice was melodic, with an undertone I couldn't quite place. "My name's officer Reno." He flashed his badge too quickly, then flipped the wallet it was in to review a notepad.

"I'm just here to ask some follow-up questions. It's standard procedure after someone's been impaled with a uh," He glanced at his notes, " decorative katana?"

Dean chuckled. "Officer Reno, huh?" He questioned, eyes narrowing.

"Yea, unfortunate coincidence." The man replied nonchalantly. His face a perfect mask. One that I was an expert in.

"Let me guess, Reno," I piped up, surprised by my own sarcastic tone. "Did you see anything strange? Smell any sulfer? Those kinds of questions?" He just smirked at me and closed his notepad.

"Hunters?"

"We dabble." Sam said, trying to make it sound casual. He was trying to keep our family name out of the conversation.

"We took care of this one," Dean said, mumbling a little, "no thanks to you," After. I shot him a glare.

"I just got to town," the guy answered, most likely in response to Dean's hostility.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you got to town a little sooner, it could have been you in the hospital bed and not my sister."

"Dean!" I snapped before giving the stranger an apologetic look. "He's just looking for someone to be angry with. He already killed the witch that stabbed me, so now he's looking for the nearest living person." The mans eyebrows raised.

"Witches? Well, that's not my normal gig anyway. Not sure how much help I would have been.

"Your normal gig?" Sam questioned. Truthfully, I was just as curious. Hunters didn't normally discriminate against what creatures they kill.

"Yeah, I um, I'm a monster hunter. Werewolves, vampires, swamp things." He said the last with a little wiggle of his fingers to show disgust. I stared down at them puzzled. It was as if something was lingering just out of sight. Some electric shockwave that trickled through the air, sending sparks my way.

"Well, sorry I couldn't be more help guys." He said before turning to leave. Just before he crossed the threshold, he turned back to look at me.

"Real names Finn, by the way. Finn Smith."

Then he left just as a group of nurses walked into the room. They passed by as if they couldn't even see him. I kept my eyes on him as long as I could. Something about the shape of his broad shoulders, the sway of his long red curls, the shape of his eyes. It all looked so familiar to me.

And just like that, he was gone.

The doctor came right after the nurses to start the exam to clear me. I glanced at the clock.

12:00

That's not possible. It was 10:38 only 10 minutes ago. I readjusted the cup in my hand to find it was no longer warm. I looked to Sam and Dean, but they just stepped out of the doctors way. Besides Dean's unnecessary frustration at Finn, they didn't seem to notice the loss of time. I barely heard the doctor as my mind went back to the man who had just left my room.

"Finn Smith." I tested the name in a whisper, and it felt wrong on my tongue. It didn't fit him at all. Even when he was trying to be honest, he lied.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #sister winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #oc love #protective sam winchester #protective dean #Spotify

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immoralimmortals · 22 days

Text

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 33: Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One (4)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Neither the girl nor the Akatsuki would call themselves gamblers…yet here they are. Half of Zetsu’s been playing the long con all his life, and the other’s just here for the ride and the thrill of it. What sort of combination does that make when you shuffle the cards and put chips on the table?

Author's Note: The song for the title and breaks is Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood. The song sung within the chapter is Black Mambo by Glass Animals.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We only ever notice what's in front of us

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There’s a slight twinge as the rag doll’s stitches resettle with the changing position, this shifting of the skin that encases thinly-threaded metal and his menagerie of human organs. The weather is surprisingly pleasant, enough so that he tugs at his headpiece till it pulls off, hair allowed be combed by the breeze. The ghost of her fingers is in the wind; it only happened the one time, but he can still feel her there, on his lap, like it was yesterday. Gemstone eyes close, concentrating on the sensation, wondering if to indulge is without sin—

“Oh. Huh.”

…Eyes open. Hidan stands over him, holding two plates, one in either hand. The dying maples arrange a red behind his shoulders from this angle, complimentary to the lining of his cloak that gets to show off, unlike how Kakuzu tightly closes his own collar to hide as much of him as possible. The older man must appear annoyed, as Hidan ends up excusing his own stare.

“Didn’t expect ya with yer hair down,” he says, twinge of caution in the back of his throat. “Usually save that for the inns or somethin’.” The threaded man just shrugs, reaching up to take his lunch from the reaper who so generously walked the five feet inside and back to deliver it to him. Hidan blinks at his quiet, awfully curious of this strange mood. “Just...felt like it?”

Plate balanced on his lap and mask unceremoniously pulled down, a “yeah” is mumbled before chopsticks bring a slice of ankimo between his teeth to chew. He, however, shortly adds a questioning hum even with his mouth still full, once the younger man’s dish gets level with his gaze. “The hell is that…?”

Now lowered to sit upon the restaurant’s porch, too, the skeleton reaper gives an angry, accused grunt. “What!” Violet-pink eyes shift back and forth with several self-conscious blinks. “Wanted to...try something new.”

How hypocritical, then, to judge the rag doll for the same. Kakuzu ogles the tuna sashimi. “...You hate fish,” he states confidently.

“Yeah? And?”

Kakuzu lets his silence speak for him. Pink tinges Hidan’s cheeks, fluttering lids continuing to attempt to brush off his partner’s scrutiny, though now at least attempting confidence by locking pupils onto red and green.

“...I guess I just. Wanted to see why she likes it.” And the silence continues. What else is there for Hidan to do besides get guarded? “What, you don’t have room in all those hearts for someone else? Bitch?”

…Kakuzu begins to grin.

“What?”

Then Kakuzu begins to chuckle.

“What?!” The chuckling continues, unexplained. Hidan’s face heats. “What?!”

The unmasked man takes a gamble. “You’re awfully cute when you get red like that.”

“KAKUZU!” A few crimson leaves fall a couple hours sooner than planned, rattled with the volume of a man doubly embarrassed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read over my shoulder, breathing down my neck

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

How far the woman has come in a matter of days. The keys of the piano not only ring out so much more easily under her touch, but she— using a skill impossible prior— can now watch and instruct someone else on how to follow her lead. Deidara sits next to her, spot where Sasori was before, drinking in her advice on how to arch his wrists and what notes sound best when played together. It’s so adorable how his tongue sticks out, just a little bit like when he’s working on his clay.

His visible eye glances back to her not once but twice, and she realizes she herself has a big, dumb smile on her face. The glance is mirrored, her looking away and looking back, smile shrinking a bit.

“Caught you looking at me instead of the keys, un.”

And now she’s bright pink to match the new broach at her neck.

“Sorry. I just...noticed that thing you do.” She interrupts herself, but the mistake has already been made; Deidara hums at her questioningly. “With...your tongue?”

“What thing?”

Oh god, he doesn't know, does he...? You gotta be kidding. “You stick it out when you’re concentrating.”

Now he’s rosy too. “I do not!” He absolutely does and he knows it.

“I—” Well...facts are facts, but to insult with telling the truth ain't fun, either... “—Sorry.”

“No, no" the blonde interrupts, removing his hands from the keys; they seem to grin with either anxiety, tension, or excitement. "Don’t back up! We’re arguing now, Takara-chan,” he says deviously, and it reminds her of when he asked her to pinpoint exactly why she likes stories about alienation. Deidara glances to make sure his fingers are poised above the correct notes, waiting to turn his glance back onto her accusingly before pressing a particularly dramatic chord. Drama queen. “What do you mean I stick my tongue out when I’m concentrating?”

Taken aback, all his tutor can do is blink and stutter. “That...you...do?” The chord is pressed again, twice as if trying to provide a sense of menace.

“Is that all you got?”

“I— yes!" the woman counters, and though her brow curls, she is most certainly grinning just like the mouths centering his palms. "Deidara…there isn’t really more I can say! I just see you do it!” A pause...oh. Maybe...she misunderstood his tone. Apologetically, her next words come much softer. “I...don’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You’re not,” he answers reflexively, though most certainly he is. Gosh...it's like she can't so much as be excited without feeling bad. Good thing he's here to train her out of it. “But the consideration is...appreciated. Now..." The man reposes, wrists lifted and ready to continue to something that makes her a bit more happy. "...Where were we?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Are we on the same page yet? I'm getting old here

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So...what then?”

The rain is heavy as usual, steeping the most mysterious hidden village of all in swathing cold and humidity. It’s a dreary, uncomfortable combination, but it is a necessary one. To cease the rain is to lower Amegakure’s guard, and it needs it now more than ever. The sky is blue-grey and dark, lanterns like round phantoms, floating in the darkness to guide the way of the God's chosen people. The leader of the Akatsuki stands at the mouth of his visage, a statue with a long, slender tongue with a lamp at the end, just out of touch of actual drops so he is instead misted by the minuscule particles that come from impact upon stone and brick. His orange hair is quite a contrast to the gloom, almost like a candle to light up the dark. Uchiha Madara is seated, this persona lacking any of the whimsy or bounce that his newly beloved Takara is so accustomed to. It's quite a pair, him and Nagato, who appears so much more meek if you get around his real body.

“I’ll repeat myself,” the masked man says in a much deeper voice. This conversation has gone in circles, and everyone here knows it. “You live with us.”

A blue-haired woman narrows her gaze, glancing over her shoulder as she too faces the village she protects. The way the holy people refuse to even turn their chests away from the entrance...it really has been an uphill battle convincing them to let go. “We still fail to see the benefit of this.” But to that, the true leader cocks his head coyly, confident enough to let a bit of the playfulness seep back through.

“But don’t you?”

Drip.

The rain collects on the edge of the cave's mouth, splashing just next to shinobi sandals. Pain frowns just a little bit harder, those eyes of his with rings within somehow piercing even with no pupil to keep a focus. Ah yes, he does, the Uchiha notes. Finally starting to crack. The man with fiery hair has one last line of defense, one who uses her calm voice to insist one more time:

“If we change residency...what would that accomplish?" Konan requires upfront. "This is our village. We are needed here.”

...A black glove is brought to press where his heart should be, feigning hurt. “I thought you were dedicated as I am to getting to the bottom of this,” “Madara” returns; the hand lowers to join the other, both now steepling his fingers at the tips. “Leave one of your paths here, increase surveillance.” As if that’s even possible. “Come back with me. We’ll make a solved puzzle of her yet.” Another pin is plunged in to seal the deal. "Besides...it's looking more and more like your diplomacy skills are needed for our little...problem."

The sound of rainfall hushes any further argument from the godly man. His angel glances to him, evaluating with irises that although are really orange, too, now glisten closer to gold in this bluish hue, paled with the eternal twilight her village lives within. She sees the way his heart is being tugged; she sees it because she feels the same curiosity within herself. But her friend...is a god. Will he decide if to follow this request is the necessary thing to do, or will it merely be an indulgence to avoid...?

Drip.

“Well?” the spiral prods.

…

The purple all-seeing orbits are shut, the Deva Path choosing to close his eyes to create agreement rather than admit his true subordination. “...We’ll arrange for our arrival.”

And to Obito’s satisfaction, he’ll make a dollhouse for his dear performer yet, every human being at his disposal a toy for her to play around and feel special, replicate the perfect life he wants for everyone— that he will make into reality someday. The woman draws in flawed creatures like the moon does moths at night. It is destiny that a girl from outer space is here to match his plan to save the world. He will get to learn, at least a little bit more, what it really means to make a universe worthy for others to live in.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Come on, don't you get it? What the heck?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few minutes later and he's across the continent, silly voice returned and his arms swinging wildly with the unexpected gift he's come back to. What a wonderful thing to return to, it nearly makes him like being alive. “W-w-w-WOW!” He double takes with a twist of his neck sharp enough to break a spine, and as Tobi dips down to so very visibly trace his stare from her feet to her face, he revels in how flustered the fellow performer gets. With an emphasized giggle, gloved hands pick up the ends of her cape. “You look so CUTE, Takara-chan!” More than cute, but he’s Tobi now, and Tobi doesn’t know how to say things like “marvelous” and “regal” and “magnificent.” So cute it is. It makes her fumble and blush regardless.

“You...you really think so?” She twists just a little bit, side to side with her hands folded in front of her lap and a shy gaze looking away though a smile is plastered underneath it. Tobi, her fool, nods in enthusiasm.

“Uhuh!" The masked man looks up at her from his hunched position, having gripped edges of the moody black fabric so it looks like a bonnet around his head. "Did Sasori-senpai make it for you?”

She blinks with her eyes so beautifully, so wide like the stars could fit inside. “How’d you know…?”

“Becauuuuse!” he draws out. Because he knows everything. “I told you he likes dolls! And I told you he likes it when things are pretty! And now you are too!”

...

Her silence puts a pit in his chest. Oh, dammit. He’s implied that she wasn’t before. Too late to backtrack, though; the imperfections of Tobi are a necessity to maintain, however rude and guileless. And so he must watch her growing disappointment, the way the edges of her lips— wait. No. She isn’t...sad about that? She's starting to smile! He tilts his head, a bit more sincerely this time, but no different angles will change what’s in front of him. She is, in fact, happy to have become pretty. A sweet voice rings for Obito to hear:

“Awfully nice of him,” she understates, worried about making such a potentially dangerous man jealous. Tobi and Sasori alike...she has no idea what boundaries there are to step around, what Tobi meant by “protect” before and what the puppeteer intends by beautifying her. Relax your praise, lest the masked man think something is wrong. But she has no reason to worry... Her joy is Obito’s joy, now. And he tells her so:

“You’re worth it!”

A boop of her nose and Tobi runs away, lest his metaphorical heart explode in his chest, leaving a confused, naive woman to flutter her lashes and wonder what that means, too.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, I could drink your blood

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The setting sun warms the dark cloaks, the clouds upon them now appropriately themed for the ones in the heavens above. Hidan exhales, tugging the ends up his collar in a flick. Getting fuckin' cold... But even so, usually the reaper doesn't fidget so much; it's the third time he's done that since the home base got in sight. Kakuzu furrows his brow.

“...It isn’t like you to be nervous.” A pause...and then some doubt. Kakuzu tilts his head more into Hidan's space as they stand on the front porch of the house, trying to gauge him more accurately past the gleaming red light. “Right?”

The skeleton spits to the side; this empathy his partner has shown the past few days has been...bizarre. Out of place enough to make him uncomfortable. He won't admit it, but Hidan's still a bit tender from that period of time...the one where he found out in the desert what Kakuzu did to her, the way the rag doll couldn't so much as communicate, save them some fucking stress. Anything approaching emotionality with Kakuzu makes Hidan antsy now. “Why would you care?”

Well. Damn. There goes Kakuzu thinking just because he can get along with one person that he can with another. Fuck him, I guess. His eyes narrow and he tilts his head further down. This, of course, just confuses Hidan even more.

“Why are you so fucking weird today!” he demands.

...And then it hits the old man. His green irises roll down to stare at the bottom crack of the front door. Perhaps he has felt a bit...light. A bit more...vocal. He has good reason, of course, but... ah hell. How do you tell someone as thick-skulled as Hidan that you just had your first kiss in decades? Whatsmore...won’t it just piss him off to know? Clearly he has ideas of his own. Didn’t take too kindly to being called “cute” too, so it’s probably not like they can share… He just shouldn’t have said anything, taken his own advice that keeping your mouth shut when you aren’t sure— that is the best thing you can do.

Hidan raises one brow with an upturning, impatient hum, observing his fellow immortal become silent with rage— wait. Blink, blink. No. The anger he’s so familiar with is absent. It’s something more pensive… Yeah. Pensive... His mouth opens to ask, perhaps in a tone more kind, but his head darts back to the door—

Creaaaak.

And just like that, Hidan is abruptly confronted with the fear that Kakuzu so keenly spotted:

There she is, fingers curled around the edge, big, big eyes he could get lost in. It's all he can see, unable to read body language, even see if she smiles. He swallows. Tentatively, slowly, his arms come forward, hers to do with as she wishes, just in case walking into him is all the lady can muster. “Heyyy. Takara.” he greets awkwardly. The corner of his mouth pulls up but shrinks as soon as he doesn’t give it conscious attention. Will she? Won’t she? Will it be like their first reunion— so warm and welcome— or their last? Will she ever hug him once again?

…

Oh, silly Hidan; he had no reason to worry. The door pulls open and just as he stutters— witnessing her new attire— his words are cut off with a small “oof” from his own throat. Her arms are thrown around him. And just like the first time they said goodbye, when this building was so much worse, he doesn’t know what to do. He freezes. And then...slowly...one Jashinist melts into another. The man's head turns down and his nose finds home in her hair. She smells like...— He doesn’t fucking know. Something nice. It’s more likely he’s gonna find smells that remind him of her than the other way around. Everything reminds him of her, after all.

She drifts away and he watches something incredible: she goes to hug Kakuzu and he...lets her. And...holy shit. Hidan's eyes widen as his partner hugs her back.

Abruptly, something in Hidan feels a bit more full. A second later, the woman's stepped back, big grin on her face and Kakuzu's hands still in hers, a slight swing in her arms with residual delight. Is she even the same person they saw a few days ago...?

“You guys came just in time!” She winks. Indeed, her voice didn't even stutter. “I taught Deidara a song!”

Okay, now that's just too many fucking things at once. Hidan holds his palms up for a pause, pursing his lips and narrowing his stare. “Hold up— first off—” He points, index finger gesturing up and down. “What is this?!”

“I— oh!” She’s beaming; still quiet, but she kind of always was before. What matters is that she looks...happy. “I got a new dress!”

He tsks. “Obviously! I mean—” ...No, that’s kind of all there is too it; she got a new dress. ...Let’s move on to the second thing: “Okay. Song. Song?" Hidan asks skeptically, folding his arms. "You taught him a song?! What, ya making a band?”

“Nooo!” God, she’s sounding more and more like Tobi, trailing her words like that. For the love of Jashin, angel, don't go learning anything from fucking Tobi! Oblivious to psychic pleas, the performer's hands let go and hide behind her back. The way she rocks back and forth is bordering on too cutesy. “Just...he got interested in trying a new art.” Ah, that puts a click in Hidan's brain; his mental tone for the situation is suddenly more like hers, having something to be proud of.

“Well, well! It’s about time someone recognized this girly had some talent.” He claps her back, causing her to give her own small "oof", though smile does not waiver. Briefly both eyes are closed...but she cracks one open at her friends.

“There's...something you should know, though.”

“Yeah?”

And now it is clear that the wink has returned, distinctly devilish. “He doesn’t know he’ll have an audience.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you let me, baby

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“W— Takara-chan?!” The blonde flusters, watching as both the named woman and the one and only Tobi have finished dragging in Sasori and the zombies. What the shit is happening?! “You didn’t tell me this would be a recital, un!” God... he can feel the way Sasori stares at him, judging already like his posture at the piano alone is worth killing him for. He asked for lessons to impress, dammit, not to be a laughing stock! But the lady looks so happy, her smile so wide...what, is she really evil? Maybe he WAS right, she’s not all sugar and sweets after all, subjecting him to this. Hidan smirks in a way only he can as he finishes following his fellow immortal in— so very, very callous.

“What, you gonna pussy out of this?”

Deidara's response is all instinct: “What?! NO! It’s just…” His brow furrows; logical, be more logical, save at least a bit of face. “I only started learning today… I figure it’ll be a frankly boring performance." He turns to his tormentor, looking her up and down for any sign of mercy or lack thereof. "Wouldn’t it be, Takara-chan?”

But she shakes her head, looking so delighted with her eyes closed, perhaps to hide her true, devious expression. “No..." she sing-songs, "I think you’re ready.” Eyes open; they look sincere, at least… “Just...trust me?”

And despite how his visible, blue stare narrows, Deidara hunched over the piano must at least attempt to maintain his cool, lest he look like even more of an idiot than he already is does. “Alright." The facade drops, mono-e-mono spoken from one artist to another: "You got one shot, siren.”

...

She doesn't flinch, not a fucking bit. Just keeps that smile, so persistent it either means something wonderful or that she's hung a sword right above his head, waiting to fall.

...The pianist wannabe sighs. There's no choice, is there? And though verbally or otherwise each other man present questions what that nickname is, Deidara himself can only take a breath and press the keys as red dusk glimmers through window glass and over nervous hands.

...Dum. Dum-dum-dum. Ding. Dum. Dum-dum-dum. Din. Dum—

It really is a rather simple tune, a thruplet of beats with two notes in between that alternate pitch. It’s nice yeah...but childish. Childish on its own. He doesn’t notice the siren approach until she starts using the top of the piano as an impromptu drum. Her lips part, smooth and soft and so very, very cool:

"What’ll it be now, Mr. Mole?"

Whispers Sloth in curls of smoke

His instinct is to jolt up— and he almost does— but he catches himself in time to stop his body...though not his twitchy glance. Her eyes are hooded, in this new dress of hers, she looks...frankly, seductive. The smile on her face remains, though its meaning is yet again questioned. Deidara blinks up at her, persistent to keep tempo despite a distracted mind.

"Take a back seat, or play pharaoh

Dance with me and shake your bones"

Her eyes close and with a rhythm in her shoulders, she drifts from drumming (Tobi has inexplicably taken over the role; bastards fucking planned this—?!), and she reaches her hand forward to no one like she’s on stage. Fingers curl like whiffs of incense, gradual and sensual. Kakuzu notes that back when she performed for cash, her arms were always full; the grace she displays is rather...admirable. The broach is unbuttoned and the cape is allowed to fall down her shoulders, draping more like a boa down her arms with spare length of the fabric dangling down towards the floor. It swishes with every...single...movement, no matter how small— especially with how small. Masterful...precise...—

Shame her manager didn’t know how to play the piano himself, back when she had a larger audience. She drifts now, slowly swinging her hips and raising her arms over her head. Was she always this lost in her own universe, each time she sang before with a guitar? Was the barstool and an instrument all that was trapping the woman from being like this...?

Slow down, it’s a science

He’s been waiting to bring you down

Snake eyed with a sly smile

—A thumb and index finger mime stretching the corners of her mouth across her face—

He can hold you and shake you, child

She’s come a long way in just a couple of days. In her head alone she hears an interlude coming, and so she swings around to Deidara’s side, raising a palm to ask him to pause. He does, allowing her to lean onto the piano and reach over to enter the nine-note in-between of the chorus and verse two, repeated a few times before the metronome inside her is satisfied. She nods at him in thanks, wavering her hands with the palms facing down to indicate shyly he can keep going as before. The switch is back on for the show to continue, and the woman then stands tall again, chin raised as she tells a story of sorts. The sky is a beautiful shade of crimson behind her as she stands in front of the window, looking either like an angel or an omen. She looks so lovely all the same.

The title of the song is snuck in and the chorus begins anew. Once finished, she uses the instrumental, this time, to so eagerly explain her thoughts:

“It’s about gambling,” she elaborates, opening her eyes and glancing over her shoulder at them; it really is like a turn of a dime she goes from someone so confident to...well...herself. As such, she can't resist telling them exactly what is so neat about this song. “A mole trying to win against a sloth, but he’s on the sloth’s territory. He’s teasing the mole about how he can’t win. ...Wait. Listen— listen to this next part—” And just like that, she reenters the zone, a roll in her shoulders and tangling her cape around her wrists in such a way that Sasori is more than pleased that his effort is paying dividends.

"Wanna play cheat now?" says the sloth

A domino flush to his nose

Tickle that cheek and take your throne

Pump your veins with gushing gold

She has forgotten so soon she’s made a few dangerous bets of her own. It has started to become dark outside, and she doesn't see what's been waiting out there, just for her. Who has seen her dance...just for him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drain you of your love

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everyone, bar Kisame and Itachi, spends the evening with her.

The performer finishes a giggle before putting the piping hot cup of tea to her lips, herself seated on the floor. The new clothing is so elegant that even in such a graceless position, it puddles around her like it was made to be bundled in such a way, crinkle in a circle like the wrappings of a floral bouquet. Sasori mentally notes how he has, indeed, perfected yet another form of art, holding his own cup as he sits on the arm of the couch. He won’t drink it, no...but there’s a sort of ritual in seeing the steam rise up.

“So...Takara-chan,” Deidara prods, feeling a bit more confident himself after seeing how the level in her cup has, indeed, become lower. “Tell me again about the kind of stories you like.” He asks again now because of the audience, of course; if she subjects him to public opinion, so must he do to her. If she has opinions, they're worth having in front of others. It's not like she's stupid, after all, and maybe he and her and Sasori can actually teach the zombies a thing or two about the more refined things in life. And besides...he actually has been meaning to ask for a while, and it’s only just now she’s really found her tongue again.

Though perhaps she is even better at talking than before.

She hums, thinking with a finger to tap her cheek as a Hidan in the background crosses one leg over the other and props his chin up with his palm, lips pursing. She’s still smiling, the reaper notes, but she’s dodging the question; he can see it in her eyes before her voice confirms. “I...I don’t think you guys would like the kind of stories I like...”

“Why?” the scorpion pokes before anyone else can; coming from him, you know he genuinely is curious if he’ll ask you to elaborate. But ignoring the oh-so-rare blessing, she just flutters her lashes.

“I— Well—” The smile is gone. Let's get that back, thinks the next man to talk:

“I bet it’s mushy gushy!” Tobi butts in, playing into the situation with a flippant wave of his hand. “Takara-chan likes cute things! Sooo, she must think we don’t like cute stories!” ...Damn. He’s got a point there, so others begin to guess:

“What?" Hidan blinks, cocking his head so he looks through the corner of his eye. "You think it’s too sappy?”

A chuckle. “Too romantic?” Deidara teases.

And an ever so slight smirk. “Perhaps there’s an unearned happy ending…” Sasori suggests.

Kakuzu...has a decent idea, and they’re all absolutely dead wrong. She does, after all, like nonfiction so very much...and what does nonfiction tend to have so much of? Her smile is so sweet, even as she’s about to say the truth.

“No… It’s...the ones that don’t have happy endings at all," the performer confesses, so quiet like she's admitting sin; she shrinks into her shoulders, holding the cup of tea to her chest and letting its warm swathe her, like it can make the shame go away. They're her friends...she has to trust they'll understand, right? "...People don’t like to hear about those.” At least not in her prior experience.

And everyone besides the rag doll blinks in surprise. Seconds pas...and she begins to shy away now not in a literal sense but in a way he has seen her do before at the bar: she covers up her embarrassment with a persona who grins like nothing hurts. Gathering all her strength, the woman begins to look up again, deciding to focus on the blank, black darkness outside with so many faces to choose from.

“Think about the song I told you guys. I’ll explain it from the top."

One by one, the men present begin to settle into what's to come. Deidara does his signature grunt; Sasori blinks his dull brown eyes; Hidan shifts once again in his seat and purses his lips even more; Kakuzu feels a corner of his mouth stretch. And Tobi sits so very patiently, gripping his feet with his hands as he sits in the corner.

"One character is a mole, and it comes down into the lair of a sloth," she narrates, making sure to take her time in order to lead where their imagination should follow, "Deep deep in the jungle to play a game of dominoes.” Do they have dominoes…? They don’t ask in time for her to explain, which is probably for the best. “The sloth is a kingpin, encasing the mole and him in this grand, intimate throne room where no one can hear you scream. Leopards laze everywhere, appearing asleep but paws twitching as if they’re ready to slice the mole open any second...at any suggestion, valid or not. The sloth smiles and accuses the mole of cheating...”

She lets the situation sink in before asking the big question:

“So...is there a way out?" Turns out to be more of a metaphorical proposal, a puzzle to solve, rather than having a clear cut answer. "Either the mole will lose or he’ll get too excitable: either argue too much about the accusation and give the leopards an excuse to attack...or he will win. Calmly. But what...then? What stops the sloth from just...killing him?”

An inhale sinks through her nose and down her chest, and she closes her eyes and hears the animals outside; it’s no jungle, per say, but the forest around her new home is stories and stories deep with life, waiting to eat or be eaten. She sings under her breath, once again, the final lines of the song. It's much more poignant now that it's only words to hear, no luscious, enrapturing tune:

We can hold you

There’s something funny about this, innocent little civilian surrounded by the most deadly creatures on the planet; sort of matches the lyrics, really. The point is sufficiently proven: there is no happy ending for the mole. But that doesn��t really answer the question...

“So..." someone asks after indulging the sound of crickets for too long, "Why indulge in these kinds of stories...un?”

A quiet. It’s such a thick, velvety night outside, the kind where if you were out there and stretched your arm out, you couldn't see your fingertips. She looks out the window of the piano room but the stars are again covered up, the only shapes seen ones of nature— branches and leaves and the rolling wind. There is no answer in there, but she still stares as if it’ll walk right up and explain for her.

...And for one last time this evening, this woman closes her eyes and sighs. What a strange, wistful girl. Oh well.

“Sometimes it’s not about the ending, but the journey to get there.”

And though this sounds so typically dreamy and vague to everyone else... Kakuzu, unfortunately and once again, knows better. It makes his five hearts ache, if she’s told him the truth that time at the end of summer, laying under the stars he taught her to read, smell of lakewater stagnating his lungs. Her story didn't have a happy ending, after all.

…

He’s wrong, though, that no one else here to witness tonight knows this about her, too. Tobi stares into the darkness thicker than smoke, giving a questioning hum to himself.

A moment later, the back door is opened and the masked man walks right up to the one in the shadows. His visage of a playful, grown man yet child is still put on, but Zetsu knows who Tobi really is, can read between the lines of saccharine words and double entendre.

“Whatcha hidin’?”

The half of Zetsu’s face with visible features purses his lip. They’ve witnessed the entire day, every single person...and somehow...it all comes back to her. It’s a talent, really. But something...feels off. He’s in mind only accused her in the past of playing some sort of game...but doesn’t Tobi, too? And he sees nothing wrong with that.

So why, in their combined mind and heart and soul...does something seem wrong? Wrong as they saw Hidan blush, wrong as Deidara looked up at her guiding hand, wrong even...as “Madara” set his trump card on the table, to bring every Akatsuki into one, big, strange family?

The frogs and the bugs and everything low to the earth know the lyrics to her song, though you only hear if your ears are already so used to being alone in the dark. Alone, that is, besides the two of him.

“...Explain to me again why you’re keeping her,” Black Zetsu asks. Tobi tilts his head, absolutely unwilling to answer that question so blatantly while others— however unlikely— may be within earshot.

“Huh?”

But Zetsu does not elaborate. She’s smiling, the image of her through the window so bright, a laugh audible but muted through the glowing glass. A second later and arms dressed in white and black raise with a yawn, and a cloaked arm moves over from out of sight and pulls the blinds shut. The view of her is gone, the light she emits taken off of his face with no notice whatsoever. Something inside Zetsu stirs...

Maybe he needs to make use of his leverage over the ghost after all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Until you hate me

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#zetsu x reader #obito x reader #akatsuki x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu x reader #deidara x reader #sasori x reader #theres so many in this chapter yall...#aswtn fic #songfic

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twittytelly · 2 years

Text

An Unexpected Gain

Epilogue - Seven Months Later

Colin Shea X Female Reader

Previously…

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is my submission @the-slumberparty‘s Week 2 Writing Challenge: Blast From The Past. I know I promised to write an epilogue to this in 2020, and I actually started to write this a year ago, but I hated every version of this that I’d written. I just want to say thanks to @navybrat817 and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for hosting these challenges and giving me a reason to kick myself in the arse and get myself motivated to get this finished. Maybe one day I will revisit these idiots, but I’m not going to promise anything.

Warnings: All the fluff, brief mention of childbirth but nothing graphic

Word count: 568

Moodboard by @imanuglywombat

Once Upon a Time in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, Colin Shea had forgotten why he didn't like hospitals. Maybe it was something to do with cold, bright lights, or the smell... To be honest, he didn't really care any more; what he had witnessed just hours before was pure magic, and he was sure he was going to be in awe of you for the rest of his life. A small part of him wanted to stay with you in the small cocoon of your hospital room forever, but he couldn't wait to get home and begin his new role, raising his son.

The labour had been long and arduous. Unsurprisingly, Colin had been by your side for the entire thing, his support unflinching. When the midwife placed the small, mucus-covered human onto your chest and the baby started bellowing, he didn't think it was this possible to be this happy.

Colin was reluctantly making his way back to the car to fetch your phone charger. Squinting as he stepped into the early morning sunlight, Colin tried to remember how long he had been in that hospital room for. The last couple of days had been like a particularly vivid fever dream, that felt like an eternity and just a few seconds at the same time. Pausing to take in his surroundings, he wondered if the birds in the sky and the nurses making their way home from the night shift knew that the world had changed irreversibly overnight.

Rentering the building charger in hand, Colin decided to forgo his morning coffee until he was certain that you and the baby had settled. However, as he strode past the gift shop, something green and fuzzy caught his eye that immediately stopped him in is tracks.

When Colin went into the gift shop and took a further look at the chartreuse creature, he smirked in recognition. Picking up the inanimate amphibian, and looking into it's large yellow eyes, Colin knew that it was coming home with him. He could just imagine the look on your face when he presented you with the cuddly toy, but Colin couldn't think of a more appropriate first buddy for his child.

Sure, despite the inside jokes of frogs, princes and jesters; your relationship was nothing like the pile of fairytale books that was sitting in the nursery. There were definitely some communication issues that needed to be straightened out, especially when you decided to be cohabiters, not neighbours; but the pair of you were now stronger than ever in your new home in North End.

As Colin reached the till, and reached into his pocket for his wallet, his fingers brushed against the velvet box that he had kept on him since he had made a sneaky visit to the jewellery store a few weeks ago. He was not planning on getting down on one knee just yet, but after the way he had found out about the pregnancy, he was too scared to try and hide it at home.

Colin wondered what would happen if he could go back in time to tell his smug past self about how you would quickly become the love of his life, and how he would become a father. While commitment and fatherhood were truly an unexpected gain of the friends with benefits arrangement, he wouldn't have changed any of it for the world.

Taglist: @mrs-captain-evans @whiskeyncoke-redux @supersoldiersruined-me @katiew1973 @kelbabyblue @amiquette @feelmyroarrrr @patzammit @daydreamerinadazedworld @denisemarieangelina @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bellaireland1981 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @georgeweasleydumbhoe @ladydmalfoy

#navy and roo's sleepover #mrs-captain-evans writing challenge #mce writing challenge #twittytelly writes #Chris Evans #colin shea #colin shea x reader #colin shea fanfiction #colin shea x you #colin shea x y/n #what's your number #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #captain america #Steve Rogers

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joshslater · 3 years

Text

The Lost Year of Gain

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Dude, you have most of the ingredients you need. You only lack commitment, if you don't mind me saying so." Steve is having another one of his coaching moments. I much prefer when he helps me with my form than him trying to be my shrink. I'm not quite acing all the tests, but I'm pretty darn close so I think I'm in a better position to analytically approach my exercises than he is. It's not like he is my coach anyway. He's just a big dude that happens to be at the gym most of the time when I'm working out. He helped me use some equipment correctly one time, and since then he's been friendly. He knows what he's doing, so I'm not ungrateful for his tips, but there is nothing more to it. Not even a gym buddy. A gym acquaintance.

On the other he does know what he is doing. He's easily the fittest person I personally know, and it wouldn't surprise me to know that the reason we see each other so often at the gym is that he spends most of his time here. "It's not that easy. I have a lot of other things to think about," I retort.

He's putting down his weights and looks at me with undivided attention. His chest is still heaving while his body is desperately trying to re-oxinate after his latest set, way heavier than anything I could muster. "I don't know if I've told you I study sports medicine. I've taken an interest in sports psychology and how it interacts with more recent neurological research. I think I might be able to help you there."

That he studied sports medicine was something he'd mentioned on a weekly basis, but I've always assumed it was mostly how to apply creams and massage strained muscles. "Like my motivational coach or something?" I don't mind him telling me to aim for the stars to hit the moon, as long as it doesn't steal time from studying.

"Nah, dude. You'll do it all by yourself. I'll just help set you in the right direction." "So, what ARE you proposing? Drugs?" "No. Not unless you want to anyway. I've been working on a kind of hypnosis thing I'd like to try out. Considering doing a thesis on it, actually. It'll make you really motivated for a set duration, like a year or so." "Hypnosis? I don't think. Well. I..." "Dude, I know. You think you are too clever. It actually works the other way. If you are too stupid you won't pick it up as easily." "What do I need to do?" "Just shake my hand," Steve says as he reaches out his hand. I reach out to grab it, but he quickly grabs my arm by the wrist, moves it to my forehead, and says "sleep".

There is like a disorienting wobble. The whole room is shifted around and I'm standing at a different spot, facing a different way. It's such an odd sensation, like I just woke up from a dream. Eminem's "Till I Collapse" is playing in my ears way too loud. I hate hip hop, I never play music at the gym, and I never play it this loud. Somehow I know it is coming from the phone in my hand and confused I look down at it. The phone is definitely my trusted old phone in my old Hulk case, but nothing else makes sense. I'm wearing gloves all of a sudden, but more shocking are the arms connecting the gloves to my body. They are huge, veiny, pure muscle arms. I'm not wearing the T-shirt anymore, but instead have some sleeveless thing on with the side of a pair of much more developed pecs than mine peeking out.

I turn towards the mirror and can't believe what I see. It's me alright, with a new haircut that is more tightly cropped with a machine on the sides. But going further down, below my face, things starts getting really unfamiliar. The neck is clearly thicker and everything the loose sleeveless shirt doesn't cover is massively bigger than moments ago. Just looking at how the shirt sits on my shoulders tells me it hides more changes. I grab hold of the hem of the shirt and pull it to the side. I'm stacked. Squares like a waffle iron, and not just from starving myself a washboard. I'm properly jacked with a wide waist and even wider shoulders.

My gears are slowly turning to try pull myself out of amazement and spit out solutions. Clearly this has something to do with the conversation I just had with Steve. I hit the button on the phone to get the lock screen and I'm just as startled by what I see. Same date as before, but one year later. What the hell? Did he knock me out for a year? I remove the glove, unlock the phone, and start look through what's in there. It looks very similar to what I would have expected from myself. Notes from classes. Messages from friends. Only things different are the meticulous workout schedule and diet notes. It's like my life had went on for a year without me.

Shit. Exam in three weeks according to the schedule, and I can't remember anything from the past year. I look back into the mirror. Perhaps... no, definitely worth it.

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oh-no-a-whovian · 2 years

Text

Two more lonely people Part 18

NSFW 18+

Summary: “no matter what happens, I love you”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 25 and Bruno is 50) swearing, violence, blood, alcohol, death, injury, trauma, some smut, oral (f). any others let me know please.

Word count: 2828

Masterlist PT1 Next

It’s hard to hide the fact that inside you’re freaking out. What if Evaline was telling the truth? She lied about other things, why wouldn’t she throw in a curveball and tell the truth. She’d do anything to get what she came for right?

“When will we know?” Alma asks, looking to you by the doorway as she rubs her son’s shoulders, trying to comfort him while he eats another of Julieta’s arepas. The bite wound is gone from his skin, no signs of scarring like what covers your arm, just some blood soaking into his shirt and some holes in the cloth.

You brought him back to casita, a bleeding dizzy mess, barely able to stand and everyone was already waiting for you. Julieta was already making food to heal both you and Bruno. Dolores had heard everything, your conversation with Bruno, the confrontation, the fight, right down to your limp as you supported Bruno’s weight all the way home.

His sisters and mother were horrified at the sight of the blood coating his clothes, still seeping from the wound. A storm cloud formed above Pepa’s head instantly, soaking her clothes and showing everyone how she feels. Julieta practically shoved an arepa in each of your mouths the moment you walked through the door, watching eagerly for the healing to work. Felix had ushered Antonio to his room so he couldn’t see the brutal sight and though their parents tried, they couldn’t get Mirabel or Camilo to go to their rooms.

“Umm, a month.” you sigh sliding your hand through your hair as you try to breath even, tears prickling your eyes. “He um… He won’t be able to shift until his first full moon. Nothing will change about him till then.” You tell them. The guilt inside you feels like it’s burning you up, destroying you on the inside. This is all your fault. His whole family is here, worrying for him and you feel like the cause of their distress. “I’m so fucking sorry. This is all my fault.” You sob.

“No, mi vida.” Bruno says, rising from his seat and pulling away from his mother to wrap you in his arms, finally strong enough to move again. “This isn’t your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” He whispers as he kisses your temple, his chin scruff scratching your cheek. As much as you love him and want to believe him, you can’t stop. Your mind keeps trying to come up with ways you could have stopped Matt from biting Bruno and each time it deepens the belief that you failed him.

“What are you gonna do if she was telling the truth?” Camilo asks from his spot, sitting on the window frame.

“we’ll have to take precautions.” You sigh “maybe shifting in the tower, blockade the door… maybe even in the vision cave itself…”

“wh-what about y-you?” Bruno asks, trying to push through the anxiety rising in him. you can tell each time he thinks about the worst-case scenario ‘cause his heart rate picks up, his blood pressure rising each time.

“I will be with you” you cup his cheek, pressing your forehead to his “every step of the way.”

“at least I’ll be in good hands then... or paws” he smiles, the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more prominent at his amusement.

“funny” you huff, giving him a small smile despite the negative thoughts in your mind.

“Tio Bruno” Mirabel says, trying to get her uncle’s attention. “Why don’t you use your ability? Look into the future and see what’s gonna happen?”

“I uh di-didn’t think of it, years of not using it I suppose. I’ll get right on that.” He tells her, fiddling with your fingers in his hand as he looks to the ground by his feet. You notice his heartbeat change a tiny bit; the lie obvious only to you. “I um... I wanna rest for a bit…” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ll do it later and tell you what I see at dinner.” Another lie. “we’ll be down later, just need to talk about a few things.”

You snatch the plate of arepas and wave goodbye to your friends as Bruno leads you out of the room, practically dragging you up the steps and onto the platform. He takes the plate from your hand the moment you reach his bedroom, placing it of the little table beside the door.

His hands are on your before you even have the chance to pout about wanting to eat the arepas. He pulls you tight to his body, his lips on yours, kissing you hungrily. One of his hands slides down, squeezing your butt in a firm grip, and the other pressing the middle of your back, holding you to him.

You want to pull back and make sure he’s okay, this action unusual for him, but you also never want him to stop. His kiss is making to breathless, and his touch is making you wet, squeezing your butt and slowly pulling your skirts up as he tries to get his hand under them.

“Are you okay mi amor?” you ask, smiling but watching him with worry as he finally pulls back for a breath of air.

“Si, I just…” he smiles, staring at you with what you can only call love. His eyes seem to take in each of your features one by one, cementing them into his memories once more. “I need you. There are so many thoughts going through my head right now, I need something to ground me or at least distract me f-for a bit.”

“Oh well if that’s the case. Whatever you need” You grin leaning forward pressing your mouth back to his, the rush from before simmering just below the surface. You grip the edges of his ruana tight, running your tongue along the seam of his lips, begging for entry. He moans into your mouth as he lifts your thighs around his waist, pinning your back to the door. He sucks and nibbles on your tongue and lips, kissing his way along your jaw and down your neck to your collar bone, leaving you a breathless mess as he grinds into you.

He's not normally one to take control, usually a blushing moaning mess, pliable to your every wish. He loves having you in control.

He holds you tight, transferring you to the plush bed with a heavy puff of the duvet. He whispers apologies into your skin for being rough as pushes your skirts up, kissing his way up the inside of your thighs. His desperation sets a fire I your belly and you’re already soaking wet as he hooks his fingers in your underwear, dragging them down.

Threading your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, you gasp as his lips wrap around your clit. He teases you with the tip of his tongue, swirling tiny circles as his scruffy chin hair scratches lightly against your folds. As he teases you, the urge to hold him there and grind on his face rises in you, making you grip his hair tighter much to his delight.

You want him to keep control though, to see where he goes with it. you taught him what you enjoy in great detail, making him blush with each word of praise as he got it right. Clearly, he’s using a couple of those lessons as he spreads your folds with his slender fingers and laps his tongue through the moisture. His moans are muffled in your heat as he presses his tongue into you, his free hand gripping your thigh tight, holding you against his face. He's drinking you in like a man starved and desperate, sucking on the sensitive flesh till you’re moaning gibberish.

You’re an exhausted mess by the time he’s finished with you, taking what he needs after he’s pushed you through your first orgasm. He filled you with his cock, his face buried in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. You came a second time with him inside you, your pussy gripping him tight as he spilled inside you, his mouth open and brow furrowed as he moaned into your skin.

You enjoyed every minute; you just hope he’ll tell you what’s wrong when he gets back from the bathroom.

~~~~~

Bruno’s POV

Part of him wanted this, he’d be lying if he said otherwise. He wanted to be like her, to see what she sees, to spend every full moon by her side. he wanted to feel it all and be exactly what she needs. And now he just might, but if what Evaline said is true, it’s gonna come at a massive price. Now he hopes that Julieta’s cooking worked.

With all the shock and stress of it his mind focused on one thing. If what Evaline was saying is true maybe the other part is too. If he is now like [Y/N], he can get her pregnant, make a child and a life with her. It made sense. Months of unprotected sex and not even a scare? The thought of her baring had driven him mad and the moment he had enough blood back in his veins he was hard, making him painfully aware how much that turned him on. He was silently hoping for months that maybe he hadn’t missed his chance.

It was like a hunger overcame him, desperate and greedy, and although she seemed concerned, she wasn’t complaining.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind now?” she asks when he finally stepped out from the bathroom. She’s laying on her side, her head propped up on her hand and her skirt riding high up her thigh. “And why you lied to your family about looking into the future?”

“I couldn’t help you… seeing that in the vision didn’t help.” He admits as he collapses beside her. The vision showed her angry with them, but it didn’t show him bleeding out beneath her or her fighting for their lives, for his life. All it did was create anxiety and, in the end, didn’t even help. “When you told me not to do a vision for you, you were right.” He’s not ready yet to tell her the other thing on his mind, that part of him wants a child with her.

“obviously” she smiles at him, cupping his cheek, scratching her fingers through his scruff. “That doesn’t mean that in certain circumstances it’s not useful.”

“You think I should look?” he asks. He feels exhausted, can practically feel the familiar bags under his eyes, so he’s not even sure he actually has the strength to do a vision.

“it’s entirely up to you, mi amor. I’m not gonna tell you when you should or shouldn’t use your gift” fuck he loves her. There are times where he just can’t wrap his head around it. How’d he become the one blessed with her love and affection. No matter what his decision, she’ll be with him.

“I won’t. I want to live the rest of this month free of the burden the next full moon may bring.”

“Fine by me” she smiles, leaning down and kissing him sweetly.

~~~~~

Dolores’s POV

Dolores heard her friend leave casita again a few hours after the attack by the river and has been keeping an ear on her since. [Y/N] called out saying she was heading to check on her mother, making sure Dolores knew where she was going. She listened as her friend walked all the way to her home by the market.

It’s always made her smile whenever [Y/N] would do that, telling her something even when she’s on the other side of town. whenever she needed comfort or a distraction from the sounds she didn’t want to hear, she focused on her friend or Mariano. Hearing them out there, living their lives, eases her mind and brings her peace.

‘I’m leaving you and we’re leaving Encanto’ Dolores hears Evaline say, a ruffling sound of clothes being hastily shoved into a suitcase accompanying her voice.

‘wha? Yo-you’re leaving me?’ [Y/N]’s father Liam slurs, already drunk even though it’s barely passed two pm. ‘why?! Evaline, you will fucking explain yourself now!’ he shouts as he grabs a hold of his wife’s arms, making Dolores jump.

‘Something happened…’ she sobs ‘we can’t be together… I can’t it’s too much!’ she cries.

‘Tell me woman!’

‘Your… Your daughter bit us… me and Matty…’ she lies, crying crocodile tears. Dolores’ heart pounds at the thought of what this woman saying, spinning a tale to manipulate. What will she gain from telling such falsehoods? ‘I tried to hide it from you… bu-but when I asked her why… she said she wants to ruin your life for what you did’ The man is silent, but Dolores can hear his feet stumble back in shock. ‘She hates you so much and she wouldn’t even tell me why… what are you doing?’

‘What I should have when she was a child.’ The man practically growls, slamming a door and stomping along the wooden floor. ‘Killing the bitch’

Dolores is on her feet in a flash, racing from her room and into Isabela’s, not even knocking before barging in.

“Isa! You need to get into town now!”

“What? why?” her cousin asks, turning away from her statue made of carnivorous plants.

“[Y/N’s dad is going to kill her.”

~~~~~

[Y/N]’s POV

You hum as you fold the laundry and place it all in the basket, pulling each piece one by one from the line to take in. Your mother had to pop to the market before they pack up, having forgotten something when she went earlier. You’re always happy to help her when she needs it.

Sudden pain erupts in your skull as you’re knocked to the ground. Your vision is blurry, and you can’t think straight as you try to focus on the person standing over you, what kinda looks like a thick branch in their hand.

“You really hated me this much?” your father angry voice meets your ear as you try to shake away the disorientation. “I never thought you the type to be cruel.” He growls.

“I d… I don’t know what you’re ta-talking about.” You try to say, slurring and stuttering, unable to form coherent thoughts.

“You think you can lie to me now you little bitch?” he shouts, grabbing the front of your dress and slapping you across the face. “I knew you were a monster the moment you turned the first time.” He sneers.

“I didn’t do anything!” you cry, trying to push him away to no avail. The impact to your head was too strong.

“You turned Evaline and Matt to hurt me!”

“I didn’t” you try to shake your head only to make your mind spin more. “She was werewolf before I was even b-born. He was born a werewolf…”

“Stop lying!” he screams, dropping you with a thud as he looks around the small yard. His eyes focus on an object by the wall and his wrathful frown turns into a sadistic grin as he steps over to it. he lifts it with emphasise, staring up at the three prongs on the end with bloodlust in his eyes.

“No. please” you beg, trying to pull yourself away from him. once again, you’re seeing the monster you thought you’d escaped, the same scent of alcohol wafting around him. “I didn’t”

“This town, hell this world would be better off without a monster like you in it” he stalks toward you, the pitchfork tight in his anger filled grip. “I’m doing everyone a favour” he snarls, pointing the prongs down at you and holding it high above his head. “I should have done this years ago”

You see the flash in his eyes as he’s about to force the weapon down into you. The look of pure hatred. You close your eyes and wait for the pain, but it never comes.

Your eyes blink open to see shock on his face, his grip around the pitchfork loosening. Blood seeps into his shirt around a sharp vine speared through his chest, getting longer and longer as it’s forced through his body.

You glance to the back door of your home to see Isabela, her eyes wide with horror and her hand up as she controls the vine killing your father. As soon as she releases it, sending it back into the earth, the man collapses to the ground beside you. The monster that has haunted your dreams for years is finally dead.

“Isa” you whisper as she races to your side, lifting you into her lap and holding you close as she cries into your hair.

“it’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” she mumbles in your hair over and over. “Mi mama is coming, everyone is coming”

A/N: for the person who thought her dad would be pissed about being manipulated. Didn’t remember all of Bruno’s visions, eh? Two more chapters! We’re almost done! Remember! Like and reblog to share the love!!!

two more lonely people tags:

@pink-hufflepuff @kyriekurokami @goblinenby @fraujar @ducks118 @lemonbaby @sylum @life-hater39 @abelbai000 @sarashitposts @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings @elysiadjarin @multifandombtch @insanitybyanothername @inthewindsomehow @gloryekaterina @anactualvelociraptor @originalsoulcollector @hlxoos @tangerine-kitten @psychomanias @nectamburne @mary-wolf @wo1fwitch @jesuisravenclaw @shaddow-darkcloud @ryou-cosmos @puck-the-puppy @totofranken @butchcupid @mintymonicalei @azeret-mirror @a-gay-cryptid @cl0vr @tigreost @kenzi-woycehoski @acdassenza @coffee-cupps @krazyk99 @small-town-wayward-daughter @unstableyetloveable @nikt-wazny-y @animeluver23 @fuxkyoshizz @slytherinxhunter @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

#bruno madrigal x reader #bruno my beloved #bruno magridal #encanto x reader #reader insert #disney's encanto #werewolf reader

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize.

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide.

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness.

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal.

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to.

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you.

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn.

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting.

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was.

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something?

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled.

“Once you… … … it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!”

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze.

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow.

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying.

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!”

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed.

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach.

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated.

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group.

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either.

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible.

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed.

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?”

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room.

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long.

“They’re awake!”

“Thank heavens…”

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!”

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place.

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.”

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…?

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.”

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room.

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly.

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.”

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?”

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?”

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone.

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep.

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming.

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words.

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body.

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.”

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured.

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on! Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement.

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again.

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be.

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.”

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done.

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…”

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?”

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.”

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…”

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.”

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up.

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?”

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it.

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying.

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.”

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained.

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position.

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.”

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?”

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.”

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?”

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.”

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.”

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.”

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.”

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours.

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.”

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed.

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head.

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.”

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?”

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?”

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!”

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.”

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!”

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.”

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good.

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side.

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.”

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.”

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.”

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.”

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall.

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat.

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in.

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking.

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!”

“ ‘s too...hot.”

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?”

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…”

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep.

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears.

“They shouldn’t be down here!”

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.”

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.”

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape.

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back.

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?”

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.”

“Don’t underestimate him.”

“Should we wake them up?”

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.”

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him.

“Beel, you alright?”

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered.

“In a--”

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!”

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel.

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked.

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room.

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?”

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.”

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped.

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.”

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders.

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.”

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you.

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered.

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.”

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.”

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.”

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony.

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Beel--”

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal.

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…”

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.”

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry.

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips.

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.”

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.”

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin.

“Not to me,” he assured you.

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?”

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.”

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now.

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way.

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you.

“Having fun are we?”

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you.

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you.

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug.

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?”

You tilted your head. “Levi?”

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back.

“Let me down!”

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy.

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.”

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.”

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.”

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?”

“A little…”

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you.

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.”

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!”

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub.

“But I don’t know what you need!”

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.”

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk.

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.”

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.”

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.”

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character. If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?”

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?”

You brightened. “Sure!”

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.”

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know.

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--”

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little.

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…”

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?”

“Right here.”

“Water?”

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.”

“D.D.D.?”

“You can see it in my hands.”

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?”

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.”

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?”

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?”

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked.

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.”

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?”

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--”

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!”

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!”

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…”

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.”

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!”

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?”

“Yes.”

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?”

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud.

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo.

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress.

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.”

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.”

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?”

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.”

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case.

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?”

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-”

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.”

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!”

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.”

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.”

“Wow, that really sucks for you.”

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next.

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?”

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat.

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?”

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…”

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?”

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…”

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.”

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.”

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.”

“But I-”

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you.

“I don’t want your rag water.”

“Fine.”

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?”

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.”

“Belphie!”

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.”

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.”

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.”

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!”

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…”

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!”

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question.

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!”

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips.

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound.

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted.

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly.

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked.

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.”

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him.

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds.

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door.

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild.

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left.

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen.

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?”

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.”

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him.

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!”

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?”

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest.

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?”

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked.

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could.

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop. Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver.

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.”

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face.

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same.

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?”

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.”

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters.

“Asmo…”

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms.

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground.

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.”

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw medication #tw vomit

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