#it's not that cringe. it's a little cringe but it appeals to my sense of humor so i don't care that much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obae-me · 8 months

Text

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

No one asked for it, but I wanted it, so here it is! I was going through some of my old stuff, particularly this series because it was a personal favorite of mine. And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated. Partially because of nightbringer, but also because my writing style has changed a bit over the last few years. So, I figured I'd go through it all, edit a few things, take out a few bits I didn't agree with character wise, and add some details here and there to make it all flow a little better! Lucifer's chapter especially got a chunky overhaul (yeesh that one made me cringe). The changes aren't enormous, but just enough to make a difference I think. And now I get to put them all in one nice little post! I'll still be keeping my older versions on my masterlist. It'll be kinda neat to have both there for comparison's sake. Plus I added a little bonus scene at the end that's... a teaser of things I have planned. See if you can guess what it is. Oh, and if you're new here, hi! Enjoy a silly fic I made!

Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Sickness, fainting, blood mention, gagging, fighting, medication use, brief taking of double doses. General sickfic things.

It spread as a rumor first. The halls of RAD were always abuzz with the latest news; the newest trend, an upcoming event, what Diavolo was having for lunch. However, lately the only thing everyone seemed to be talking about was a new airborne virus. Students clustered less frequently in the halls, sharing hushed whispers on who had been most recently afflicted. You had been assured that humans should be immune to this particular strain but to still err on the side of caution. Take the proper steps to keep yourself in good health. Waves of sickness like this always came closer to the wintertime, much like the human realm. And while the air in the Devildom carried a general sense of anxiety, no one in the House of Lamentation seemed worried in the least.

“We’re technically fallen angels, not demons.”

“Psh, you think a little virus is enough to affect us? No chance!”

“There’s no way any of us will get sick. Don’t worry.”

Pride was rampant throughout the House. So…perhaps it was only fitting that Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it.

He had shown symptoms a few days before, beginning with not having the energy to scold Mammon. Then it snowballed from there. Almost losing his balance while going up the stairs, putting too much sweetener in his coffee, failing to focus over relatively mindless things, it concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice…or perhaps they were pretending not to, taking advantage of Lucifer’s odd state and doing whatever their sinful little hearts desired. No one thought it could be that serious, otherwise they might’ve done something about it. Kept a closer eye on him… But this was Lucifer after all. He got like this sometimes, they all claimed. He was simply working himself too hard again. But…even so…you knew something was off. This was more than just your typical burnout.

Did you dare risk damaging his pride to ask? You weighed the outcomes in your mind, deciding in the end to go check on what was wrong that night. Hoping to appeal to him, you had even made some of his favorite tea. You’d even prepared a second cup for you, secretly wanting to maybe share a moment of time together… Stepping slowly to ensure you didn’t spill a single drop, you went straight to his bedroom, knocking on his door exactly twice in even beats. No answer. His study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf which served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” you called, holding yourself back on worried feet. Waltzing in unannounced did not always grant you the warmest of receptions. He preferred to have some sort of warning. Although, this time there was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” you asked again, your voice slightly louder. Still nothing. You couldn’t hear any music… and he wasn’t often known to wear headphones. Just a peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to make sure he wasn’t inside. You stepped forward and poked your head through the doorway.

At first glance, the office appeared empty, his overly grandiose chair devoid of its demon. However, after a better look, you noticed that he was inside, just not how you expected him to be. The Prideful Lucifer was crumpled on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was just a scattered mess on the floor.

The heart in your chest nearly stopped, your mind jumping to various grisly conclusions. Somehow you managed to put the teacups aside without dropping them like one might do in a dramatic soap opera episode. The musical sting was audible in your mind. You rushed to him, moving him with a strained grunt so he was flat on his back. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him, checking for wounds. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Burning crimson cheeks flushed brightly on skin as white as a sheet. You checked his breathing. Constant, luckily, but shaky. There was a faint tremble throughout his body. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face. To say he looked terrible was an understatement.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that someone would pick up quickly. But who to call? Your mind ran through everyone you knew. Mammon? Barbatos? Diavolo? Perhaps Beel was your best bet. He was dependable. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone, and Beel was easily as strong as three of you.

You dialed Gluttony, doing your best to not bite your knuckles in worry. Each echoing ring felt far too long… Pick up… Pick up! “Oh, MC, you called at a good time.” The breath that came out of you was almost a gasp. “I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel- Beel! I… I came into the office and… Please come down to Lucifer’s study, I- I need your help! Lucifer- Lucifer he’s…not well.” Your voice shook, doing your best to form comprehensive words aside from the panic. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride. Even though it would be fairly obvious once Beel got here…

Beelzebub’s tone went more serious. He swallowed whatever food he had left before speaking again. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed, but not by much. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket and knelt beside Lucifer’s body. His head was lifted up with your shaking hands, letting him use your lap as a pillow. You brushed away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were certain that Lucifer would rather die than be discovered like this. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he scanned back over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, Belphie is taking a nap, Asmo’s out, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. It didn’t matter how long you had been around him, any time Beel was able to show of just how strong he was, it left you in awe. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?” Beel asked. For a second, you blinked in a stupor before you quickly nodded, bolting as fast as your feet would take you up the stairs towards the second floor to his grand master bedroom.

Careful of potential eyes, you looked around for anyone before opening the door. As Beel said, you could hear Mammon and Levi going at it, but they were a few rooms away. You invited yourself inside, leaving the entrance open just a crack so Beel could easily come right in. Now to prep Lucifer’s bed. It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like eternity- but was realistically only a few minutes- both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” you asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel’s mouth tightened. It was obvious he was worried, but he shook his head. “We… can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You stood there, jaw open, not able to fully process the words. “’We can’t?’ W-What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“It’s sort of an unspoken rule… If Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “I- but- we can’t- That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard! If it were someone else, Lucifer would have everything covered as soon as possible!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Belphie away… and to make sure Diavolo doesn’t find out. He tends to be a worrier.” Beel explained. He shrugged, glancing over at his brother for a moment as he thought. “I’ll go keep watch over this room. Maybe if you take care of him, he won’t be as upset. Please…take care of him MC.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something as he stress ate.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you returned to the room, you froze. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. A relived sigh released all the built up tension in your lungs. “Oh, thank Diavolo… Lucifer, are you okay?” His head swung around at you, eyes a bit wide. He didn’t notice you had entered. “MC… what’re you doing in here? I--” He cut himself off in shock as you placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on his nightstand. You got the rag damp, wringing out the excess.

“Do you not remember?” you asked him, raising a hand to put the rag against his face. Embarrassed and clearly overwhelmed, he swatted your touch away and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing! There’s no need for it.” He scowled, but his dry lips were a bit poutier than he intended. “I don’t know what’s gotten you to believe you needed to come in my room, but I don’t remember inviting you. It’s about time you took your leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they normally did when he was upset. They just sounded tired. Strained. You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was clearly lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two fully ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after.

You’d defied him before and hadn’t died yet. Sure there had been close calls, but… what was going against him one more time going to do? “I’m not leaving," you told him.

Lucifer disapproved. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter. A few more red splotches showed up on his face… “Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Sometimes stubbornness needed to be met with more stubbornness. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. Seeing him like this was torture… although there was something about seeing Pride be humbled that gave him further access to your heart. He wasn’t some untouchable distant concept. He was a person who got sick sometimes, just like you. Once more, you ran your hand through his hair, tender fingers rubbing at the pressure points on his scalp. Even him just being this close made you hot. He was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer… And I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to ask, I’ll do the begging, just please let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his face hidden. For a second, he motioned as if he was going to push you away… but he pulled you closer, his grip on your clothes getting tighter. Acceptance… You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. His throat cleared as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was clear he had a lot to say, but he kept everything to himself. Lucifer’s eyes wandered, looking at everything in his room except for you. Slowly, you reached towards his neck, taking the stuffy tie off of him. Kneeling down, you removed his dress shoes, tucking them aside. He loosened a few of his own buttons, already looking a little better without so many unnecessary layers. Finally, you took both his hands in your own, feeling the curves of his palms before stripping his hands of their gloves. When he got back inside his bed he turned away from you. Sulking and feeling thoroughly defeated probably. Flustered, if you could allow yourself to think so. You tried hard not to smile. He would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

With a hand on his shoulder, you urged him to lie on his back. Once he begrudgingly did, you pulled the blankets up to his neck and had the rag in hand again. You ran the cool fabric across his cheeks before folding it up and settling it across his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. And not one of his cursed ones. You placed it on the player, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to keep him up. It started with a soft piece, something calm and hauntingly beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down from cherry to coral- in other words, just a touch. However, it was enough to make you feel less antsy at his condition. You had been so close to contacting Diavolo, but now it seemed as if you didn’t need to. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into you. A soothed hum left his throat. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before. “Please…don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words. You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. A shiver ran through his body and it was hard to tell if it was from your touch or from the fever.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.” He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh, he seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

Lucifer recovered fairly quickly. What had left lesser demons bedridden for a week or so only had the eldest brother recovering for a handful of days. Now, he had done his best to keep himself isolated, but once his siblings eventually learned how bad off he had been- despite your best efforts to keep it a secret- they all came in on their own time to check on him. At the end of the day, even if they often had each other by the throat, they cared for each other deeply. You had to wonder if the extra unexpected TLC was part of what got Lucifer back up on his feet so rapidly.

Mammon was in and out of Luci’s room pretty frequently. Despite yours and Pride’s warnings, he was determined to do his duty as second in line and take care of his sibling. So, no one was all too surprised when Greed fell ill not even a single day after Lucifer was symptomless. But, what did catch everyone off guard was that Mammon was not the only one who got suddenly sick. Out of every other brother, Satan was also next to fall ill to the Devil’s Cold. Lucifer commented proudly that Wrath had been excellent in his service, bringing him specially crafted potions to lesson pain and bringing him up special meals to restore his vigor. All was revealed much to Satan’s dismay. Apparently it was meant to be a secret. He tried to twist it into some sort of reverse psychology prank, but everyone knew Satan was acting out of worry. So, a proper deed was returned in kind, Lucifer looking after the both of them to the best of his abilities. Such a doting older sibling through and through. Although, despite the rare opportunity to have Lucifer wait on them hand-and-foot, Mammon and Satan were both acting strangely difficult. Satan’s denial of Lucifer’s fussing made more sense, strained relationship and all, but Mammon’s sudden cold stubbornness was rather uncharacteristic. So, while the eldest was busy finishing the two extra workloads of Student Council business, he asked that you check up on the second-eldest.

You eagerly agreed. For not only was Mammon being reserved towards his siblings, but also towards you… It was a sensation you weren’t used to, him being so close to you and all. This would be a good excuse to see him. Approaching his room, you knocked on his door, pressing your ear against the expensive looking wood only to hear a groan from inside. It wasn’t what you would define as a dismissive groan, so you let yourself in. Overhead completely off, extra light from his displays all dimmed, you were left stumbling around in darkness for the light switch. Once you flicked it on, the pained moan you heard before returned, albeit louder this time. Seemed he was sensitive to light at the moment. You bit your bottom lip and flicked his light back off, opting to use the glow from the screen of your D.D.D. instead.

The faint light gave you enough vision to spot giant lump under the covers of his bed. Not a single part of Mammon’s body was exposed. He was all bundled in a ball. You came over, a nice hot drink in your hands in a shiny golden-colored mug. Lucifer had told you that the concoction was good for demons, and among that one of Mammon’s favorites. To you, it just smelled like cinnamon and milk.

You gently pressed your hand over the bed lump, shaking it slightly as you announced your presence with a soft voice. “Mammon, it’s me… Lucifer sent me. I have something for you.”

The blob of blankets shifted, little chirps of discomfort making their way to your ears. He scuttled away from you at first, the blanket pulled tighter around him. It required several minutes of coaxing for him to come out. The covers fell away as he finally sat up in bed, hair sticking up every which way. His black tank-top was sticking tight to his torso, his face devoid of the normal vibrancy it usually held. Not only that, but it seemed the exhaustion had him stuck halfway between his demon and human form. His body marks were present across his body, but they were very translucent. His horns were absent from his head, but you could see his wings tucked against his back. His nails were the sharpness of talons. Normally, his eyes shined at you, little flecks of gold floating in the seas of blue. Now his color was dulled. But at the sight of you, a bit of him perked up. You were a much needed presence. Even if he talked up a big game over text about ‘not needing to see you’, at the end of the day, having you at his side was what he wanted most of all. You could read from his expression that he regretted not having you come in sooner.

You held out the drink for him, and he reached for it with shaking hands. Worried he’d spill it, you cupped your own hands around his, giving him the added support as he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking mini sips while giving himself breaks to breathe in-between. You frowned… He was barely able to hold and consume his own drink. When he was done drinking it, you put the half-empty mug aside on his nightstand.

“Th-ank you, huma-hu… MC,” he croaked, his eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He let his hand dangle over the side of his bed, his fingers almost grazing the floor. Your heart ached seeing him in this position… but you secretly had to admit, he was being awfully cute. His tsundere nature was gone, you only wished he didn’t need to be this far gone to be sweet with you. You ran a hand through his crazed hair. A little greasy. He would need to wash up. You’d let Lucifer handle that one. Mammon turned his head slightly, just enough to see you with one eye cracked open. You saw it glisten with tears for a split second before he turned back into his pillow. Lucifer was probably caring in his own demanding way, but you wanted to bet he’d never been treated like this before.

You shook your head a bit at that thought and went about rummaging though his clothes to find a cleaner outfit for him to wear. Lucifer could help him get changed out of those sweaty things later. You folded up a suitable replacement and placed it on his couch, pushing aside empty shopping bags. Then you sat beside Mammon on the mattress, reaching for the rag Lucifer had brought to him earlier. Mammon must’ve been tossing and turning for a while, seeing as it was at the end of his pillow case, threatening to fall to the floor. You dipped it in the bowl of cool water that was left on the nightstand, feeling the feverish warmth dissolve out of it.

“Mammon…Mammon, turn your head,” you asked. He raised up his dangling arm to reach for the covers…and pulled the fabric over his body with a huff. You had been wrong, apparently. There was still a twinge of tsundere left in him. It was comforting, at least, knowing that he still was the embarrassed little demon with that playful attitude you adored. You covered up a small smile with your hand. “Mammon, please. Pretty please? Pretty please with Grimm on top?” You pleaded with him, leaning on him with your own body till he squirmed under your pressure.

“Oi…” he croaked. “Fine…” He shuffled around under his sheets before showing just the upper part of his head, his gaze plastered on anything other than your face. You tried hard not to chuckle, you really did. He was being so stubborn about this. You placed the cool rag on his forehead and heard him sigh. You used a finger to pull down his blankets so you could see his features. You cupped his chin to move his head and guide his gaze towards yours. You stroked his cheek and watched a twinge of color return to his cheeks as he blushed.

“Do you need anything else, Mammon?” You asked him gently. It was a bold move to ask Greed what he wanted. You could only begin to imagine what he’d ask for. Cold cash? A new pair of shoes? A car? At the moment though, you didn’t care what he asked, you’d get it for him if it was within your power…and your budget.

To your surprise, he frowned at the thought of being pampered, apparently. He licked his cracked lips and shook his head. “N-Nah…you can…go.” Had hell frozen over? Was this why Lucifer had asked you to check on him? Was he so miserable right now, he couldn’t even turn to his sin? Or was there something more to it?

“Mammon… you’re not being greedy by letting me help you. I can grab you whatever you think you need. Hell, I’d go fishing in Lucifer’s wallet if I thought it would make you feel better.”

The second-born tried to laugh a little but just ended up coughing. After he wrestled control over his own lungs, he blinked a little, thinking. “Can I…have some water, maybe?” He talked as if this was a new sensation, as if he had never coveted anything in his life.

“Of course. Anything else?” If you managed to poke and prod a little more of his sin to come out, you’d feel a little better.

“I…don’t know…” Poor Mammon seemed pretty out of it, like he was dangerously close to falling asleep, but being forced awake by the sheer discomfort in his body. If you could help him out, he might stop tossing and turning.

“Okay,” you nodded, a little idea illuminating in the back of your mind. If he couldn’t be greedy, you’d be greedy for him. “I’ll be right back with a few things, okay?” His fingers snagged onto the end of your sleeve, upset at the thought of letting you go, but his hand dropped back to the bed. With an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, you left his room.

A quick text was sent to the other residents of the House, requiring a quick meeting in the common-room. You tried hard not to pace as you waited for each brother to trickle in, a curious look on all their faces. Lucifer showed up last, his arms folded but appearing more concerned than frustrated. “I’m assuming this has to do with Mammon,” the eldest chimed in before anything was said.

“Exactly.” Turning your head, you gave each brother a determined look before setting your plan in action. “We’re all putting together a Get-Well-Basket for Mammon!”

A sleepy voice raised a little. “Huh?… A Get-Well-Basket?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you know, like a little assortment of gifts to show someone you care. It doesn’t have to be much, but just grab things you think would make him feel better! Oh, and he likes words of affirmation, so you all have to write a nice note!” A few of them tried to groan, but you were hearing none of it. “Go on! Right now! The master of your pact demands you! Don’t make me use ‘stay’.” The grumbles turned into quick agreements as the able-bodied set off in their quest to prepare their brother a basket. You hurried off to your own room, grabbing an open Akuzon box off your floor, a set of pens and a stack of sticky-notes off your desk. Then you looked around for something to give your precious demon of Greed. A lot of the things you owned… had been bought by him. You guessed you hadn’t realized till now how much he bought things for you. He deserved some nice things back… Not wanting to leave Mammon waiting too much longer, you snagged a nice pair of socks and a crystal you’d bought at a nearby magic shop. They got thrown in the box as you went back to the common-room.

A few other brothers were already there by the time you returned. Pleased with them, you set the box on a nearby coffee-table and handed each of them a pen and a note. “Now, your little letters. Make them nice or I’ll force you do them again!”

Dramatic huffs and puffs were made for the show of things, but they all seemed to really think about something nice to say. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Beel wondered aloud, speaking as he recently entered the room. Different eyes flickered down to the floor. Seems they all were wondering the same thing but none of them knew how to say it.

“Not the best,” you admitted, taking a few of the brother’s gifts and settling them in the reused box. “Which is why I thought this little pick-me-up would do him some good.” The rest of the demons fell silent, finishing their notes and attaching them to their gifts.

“Tell him- Tell him I said to feel better,” Levi sighed, giving you a little wave before returning to his bedroom.

“Yeah! Tell him that if he misses out going to that party with me next week, I won’t ever forgive him!” Asmo’s eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, kissing his note before putting it with his gift. The other siblings had similar sentiments, their well-wishes eventually compiled into one box. You found yourself smiling. This would help for sure. With the box and the water he originally asked for in hand, you returned to his room.

Mammon was sitting up again when you came back, his knees tucked against his chest, his finger tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his blanket. The soft light coming from a book lamp on his nightstand helped you keep from tripping on the floor. When you walked in through the door, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile. His eyes took turns observing you and the curious box in your arms. “Wha’s that?” he wondered, his words slurred slightly.

“It’s for you.” In a few steps, you were back at his side, giving him the water first for him to drink before settling the Get-Well-Basket at his feet. “From me and all your brothers. To make you feel better.”

It was clear he was confused for a good while. “For…me?” But then, that little glimmer in his eyes returned as he started to rummage through the box. He read a few of the notes, scoffing and tossing most of them aside. Whatever they all had wrote had clearly touched him and made him embarrassed. It seemed as if this idea of yours was a success.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

The demon of greed had to think deeply again before putting the box of gifts on the ground near his bed. He sighed a little, letting his legs leave his chest and go flat under the covers. Mammon hesitated before holding his hand out. “Y…Yo…” Even if he hadn’t fully said it, it was clear what he wanted in his time of need. You.

Something in your chest squeezed. You took Mammon’s hand and pulled him towards you, embracing him in a hug. His weary head rested on your shoulder, his shoulders relaxing, the tension leaving his body as your hand found it’s way between the joints of his wings. “You didn’t have to ask. I’m here whenever you need me. It’s not selfish to want someone by your side when you don’t feel well. And I want to be here...with you.” You could hear his little gasp as you held him, his breathing eventually becoming slower, calmer. With you at his side, he finally had enough peace of mind to relax. “Get some sleep if you can… everybody is waiting for you to get better…”

Mammon was now well on the mend thanks to your efforts. Sprung up like quite the spring chicken with you doting on him. He got his energy back faster than Lucifer did, but his symptoms lingered longer. It was rather amusing actually. Hard to steal stuff while your sniffles give away your location sneaking through the halls. Although, even with two counts of demon-caretaking under your belt and a self-proclaimed gift of healing, you had yet to check up on Wrath. Not to say you didn’t want to, you just… couldn’t. Banned, in fact. Deterred by Lucifer himself. But you just wanted to help. Lucifer was constantly busy, not to mention that his knowledgeable yet vengeful younger brother was expending all his strength that he should’ve used to recover busting the house to pieces in several fever-fueled rampages. It had seemed like the logical choice, and rarely did Lucifer prevent you from keeping an eye on his brothers. So why now of all times?

“He’s being…unreasonable,” was Lucifer’s answer. Out of all the possible reasons, this seemed among the most pathetic. A rearranged ‘because I said so’ with some vagueness sprinkled in. Disappointing.

“If I remember correctly, you were also pretty unreasonable,” you stated, trying to hold back a smirk steadily curling across your lips. He just scowled, glaring you up and down, trying to decide if he abhorred your backtalk or found it endearing. He leaned back in his cushy seat in his study, placing down his much too expensive pen by the pile of work he needed to finish by tonight. Another lecture on getting better rest tickled the back of your throat, tempting you. Recovered or not, he needed to give his body proper sleep lest he fall into another bout of sickness…

“And if I remember correctly, we agreed it would not be discussed again.” His sharp expression softened just a touch, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks as he recalled how you took care of him in his weakened state. Before he thought about it too hard, he cleared his throat. Staggering hairs were brushed away from his forehead as he folded his arms in front of his chest. It heaved in a sigh. “His body and mind have been considerably weakened, therefore he has little to no control over his anger. He is Wrath, and I shudder to think what may befall you should you try to talk to him right now.” He peered deep into your eyes, taking note of your unwavering stance and stern composition. “And yet I suspect you’re going to go see him anyway.”

Bingo. Your hobby of thrusting yourself into dangerous situations formed another greying hair on Lucifer’s head. With a look equal parts exhaustion and worry, Pride lifted his hand and snapped his gloved fingers. Something in the house shifted. The magical lock placed on Satan’s room was broken for you. Although, Lucifer had to go over some rules, ensuring that, at the very least, Beel would be just outside should anything happen. You were to be whisked out of there at the first trace of danger.

The demon’s door was right in front of you now, and for a second you hesitated. You took a deep breath, clutching to your chest some medicine and a hardcover book from the human world containing old fables. Knowing him, he’d probably read it already, but it was worth a try. You knocked on the door, glancing a look at Beel before loudly stating your presence to the inhabitant of the room. Pushing the door open, you were pleased to find that so far you were unharmed, which was admittedly a great first step.

However, you quickly found yourself awash in a sea of books. A mess in Satan’s room was pretty normal. But this… was on a new scale. Honestly, you were almost impressed. Books and scrolls were haphazardly stacked, covering the floor, basically everywhere. You couldn’t even see his bed, it was hidden somewhere in this labyrinth of tomes. You held your breath, not even daring to breathe for fear everything around you would come tumbling down. The last thing you wanted was to be crushed to death. If the books didn’t kill you, you had a wary feeling Satan might for disturbing his ‘organized library’. So, you carefully weaved your way through slender passageways in the piles before you found, what you assumed, was Satan’s bed.

The reason you could only ‘assume’ is because at this juncture in time it hardly looked like a bed at all. Just a quick glance and it would’ve blended in with any other heap in this room. It was camouflaged with more books, torn pages, binders, pamphlets, a few cat figures, dioramas, etc.. Self reminder to check to see if there were any shows on demon-hoarders in the Devildom…

A jagged green-tipped tail dangled from beneath the bed-pile. It twitched and flicked, sending some novels skidding across the floor. You inhaled deep through your nose.

“Satan? It’s me.”

Satan’s tail whipped across the space between you and the bed. It struck one of the impossibly high stacks of books, sending it teetering and tottering threateningly before it crashed down. If you hadn’t taken a few steps back, you would’ve been one with that pile… You huffed to yourself. Rude… You wanted to help him and this was how he was treating you?

“Satan, please.” A book whizzed past your head and you winced, the sting of a little paper-cut blooming across your cheek. The air in the room was suddenly noticeably hot. You knew these were demons. You knew they were capable of destroying you in seconds, but that didn’t stop your stubborn nature from feeling absolutely offended. And so, as if you had a death wish, you scolded him. “Satan!” You strutted over, throwing the covers back and sending even more clutter to the floor, but at least you could look at him. But a part of you wished you couldn’t.

Teeth were bared as his mouth formed a menacing scowl. Hair was messy and untamed. His eyes were glowing an unnatural green, a lens behind his irises reflecting back at you like a creature in the shadows. A deep resonant rumble emanated from his chest. He looked absolutely feral, but it wasn’t till he pressed himself into the corner of his bed and the wall, knees close to his chest, that you put your fear beside yourself. Yes, at first glance you may have been entirely convinced he was going to tear your throat out, but then you ran your gaze over him a few times… His face was covered in patches of crimson. He was only wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and stripped boxers covered in kittens wearing top-hats. There was a sheet of paper skewered onto one of his horns, and he now was curled up protectively against the wall in a little ball. He was scared.

“Get out,” he demanded. It would’ve been threatening sounding if his lungs didn’t sound as if he swallowed a squeaky toy. He was wheezing, fingertips shaking, his tail protectively curled up against his legs, the tip of it quivering.

To be honest… you wouldn’t leave this room right now for all the Grimm in the Devildom. “I’ll leave after I’m done helping you out a bit,” you assured him, but he didn’t want that answer.

“Get out! Out, out, out!” He clutched another book in his hand and chucked it in your direction with a shout, this time missing you by a mile. You blinked. Was he…having a meltdown?

“Satan, throwing stuff at me isn’t going to make me leave any faster, so cooperate and I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.” You smiled softly at him. Wrath had no retort nor nearby ammo left, so he tucked his face into his knees, letting you get to work. It would take you hours to clean the room, but you did what you could for the moment, tidying up at least the chaos surrounding his bed. How he would’ve slept with that mess on him was beyond your understanding. Or maybe that was one of the reasons why he was being so cranky. Books aren’t exactly great nest material.

You shook off his blankets, puffed up his pillow, and then took a hesitant scan at the medicine you’d put on his nightstand. Lucifer had told you where to get it. Supposedly a powerful medication that tasted as bad as the one taking it felt. It was also administered as a liquid, because for all their power, demons hadn’t made capsules a widespread thing yet. You had no idea how you were going to get Satan to take it.

Maybe being sweet first. “Satan,” you cooed, sitting yourself beside him on the bed while he remained curled up in a tight angry ball. “I have some medicin-“

“No.”

Figures, you were reaching with that one. Maybe begging? “Satan, please, please, please, pleaaaaase take-“

“Bite me.”

You scoffed aloud. He was absolutely, without a doubt, being a brat. On par with Belphie right now. You took a moment to recall how you convinced Lucifer and Mammon. Lucifer was only won over when you stood your ground and told him what to do for a change, challenging his pride. Mammon, you went out of your way to get him things, stoking his greed. With wrath…did you? Time to indulge in a little more sin.

“Satan, I swear to the Father above and Diavolo below, if you don’t quit fighting against me when I’m trying to help you, I’m going to shove this entire freaking thing down your throat till it’s the only thing you can taste for decades!” You raised your voice, shouting at him with a fury in your chest you’d never used before, ever. Especially not against Satan. But, against all odds, you were alive, and instead of smoke coming out of his ears, Satan looked up at you from behind messy bangs. Shocked beyond belief, his mouth slightly ajar, he uncurled himself from his position and sat up slowly, his head looking down.

“Tch.” He puffed air through his teeth, giving in finally. Your attempt, while perhaps mediocre without any demonic snarling and mysterious fog, was successful. You hummed to yourself in glee, taking the cap off the bottle and pouring in the medicine. It smelled God-awful, and you felt sympathy for him, but if it was going to make him feel better, he needed it. You held it up to his lips. He growled in frustration but then parted his mouth to let you pour in the foul mixture.

Already pale skin turned even ashier as the glop slid down past the lump in his throat. He looked like he was going to be sick. He slumped his posture and began to release shuddering coughs that nearly turned to gags. You instinctively put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down along the ridge of his spine. Once he was done with the episode, he sat back up, swaying in his seat back and forth until you held onto him, gently bringing him back down onto his pillow. You moved the hair out of his eyes and sighed in relief. Thanks to whatever magic Devildom medicine had, his redness had already gone drastically down, and he looked fairly calm for now. Mellowed out. Some strong stuff…

His eyelids couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or shut, struggling to fight sleep. “Rest,” you whispered, getting up off his bed, pulling the covers tighter around him, urging him to go to bed. After you helped him, then you would leave him alone, that’s what you promised… even if you desperately wanted to stay. With a little turn, you picked up the book you had brought with you. He grabbed your wrist before you could even attempt to leave. A tilt of the head, and he sleepily read the cover before letting his hand drop back onto the mattress.

“I bought that…for you,” he mumbled. With a grin, you nodded. He had bought it for you during the adventure to London. It was filled with old fairytales and fables, the authentic gruesome kind, not the kind human kids grew up on. Both had their perks in his mind, but Satan seemed particularly fond of the ones that broke free from the stagnant ‘happily ever after’.

“I brought it here for you to read, but you need sleep. Besides you have plenty of other books here…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for his horn that still had the paper stuck to it. You yanked it free with a light chuckle.

“But…” He wanted to argue, but had no energy left to. “Will you…” Satan started, gripping at his own sheets so tight you thought he would rip holes in them. “Read…to me?” Your heart soared so fast you almost went lightheaded. You sat back down on his bed, fussing over him just a bit more, fixing his messy hair. He groaned as you did but let you do it anyway.

“Of course! I’ll read for you whenever, Satan. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You…” He almost sounded frustrated, like he couldn’t comprehend how you could be so kind especially after the mood he was just in. Then he settled as you flipped the book open to the first page, recounting terribly sad events with a terribly soft voice. Every so often he’d correct you if you fumbled on a word, or correct the inaccuracies of the story itself, but eventually he went to sleep. His eyeballs moved frantically under his eyelids as he slept. His voice would squeak out some incomprehensible word while he dreamt, his fingers twitching in random increments. You noted that his tail that was draped off the side of the bed was now gently curled against your leg. His demonic appendage was rough, sharp in some places, and yet you could hardly feel it with the way he was holding you now. He was comfortable around you.

You used the stray paper that had been on his head as a bookmark, placing the book back on his nightstand for later. “I guess they all get to live happy ever after this time,” you whispered to him in his unconscious state before you pressed the back of your hand against his cheek. Your knuckles tickled his jawline, making his face twitch closer to your hand. “Sweet dreams, Satan. Feel better.”

Lucifer and Mammon were now considered fully healthy and back on their feet with Satan not too far behind them. For a few days, there was hope that the worst was over. It wouldn’t spread any further. The sound of sniffles and the scent of disinfectant wipes would finally dwindle. But, whenever you hope too hard, things always seem to go in the opposite direction. Hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning, and not too long after Satan had finally returned to the table. The twins had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for. Sleeping in and skipping the morning was his whole shtick. His brothers were usually more concerned when Sloth did show up for breakfast. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

Putting your fork down, you offered to go check on them. After all, morning breakfast was not the same without the two of them. Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You had wanted to protest, but Lucifer was nothing if not the voice of reason. He was right. You had seen Beel’s hunger-driven rampages before. Demonic destruction wasn’t something to sneeze at- no pun intended. Plus, Lucifer was their brother first-and-foremost whilst you were still just some human that had the luxury of living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch Lucifer had given you had won you over to his words. You could trust him to handle this one… He ambled away from the table, and with a few long steps, exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining, clearly disturbed. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Everyone’s are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise with a raised hand. He held it up for a moment before his arm dropped into his lap. Another loud crash sounded from above, Satan’s eyelid twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a sob and went to leave the room, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he touched the doorknob.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To take a nice hot sanitizing shower!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and pirouetted right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No… No! No, no, no, I’m sick, I knew it! Of course it would be me! I’m gross and miserable and… do you know how long it takes to fully clean a keyboard?!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse. It was difficult to tell just from audio alone who Lucifer was wrangling. Maybe both Beel and Belphie at once?… Normally, Satan would work on figuring the little mystery out, but it seemed as if he’d met his limit already. People were fist-fighting, two people were having meltdowns, and it was only breakfast. The intellectual usually had no problem going to classes, enjoyed them more than others actually, and yet the look on his face screamed truancy. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room,” Satan reasoned.

“I told you all, I think he snuck into my room a little while back! One of my figures was moved! I bet Mammon got his sticky fingers over everything! He gave me the cold!”

Add accusations onto the daily list. They all might end up going though their daily atrocities before lunch today. Now the only three brothers left at the table were verbally sparring, one tense word away from physically— You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. You thought too soon. Unfortunately, this sort of scenario happened often. So, you excused yourself, knowing none of them were listening, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. The dish struck against the wall a few inches from you, luckily not shattering. It clattered to the floor as a waffle slowly slid downwards. While you were still unharmed and food-free, you left the dining room. After wandering the halls trying to find a safe and silent place, you sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway. You’d just wait for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” you sighed. --

Lucifer confirmed it. Beel and Belphie…both of them had caught the cold, and the eldest had spent the past hour or so attempting to force them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, and you shuddered a bit to think about the sort of tactics he employed, but when all was said and done, he had taken the time to seek you out. It was clear to you that even with all his power and prowess…he was exhausted. With Beel’s physical power and Belphie’s cunning, it seems even Pride had broken a bit of a sweat. There was still plenty of Student Council catchup to be done too… and now he had the twin’s work to start on. He needed a helping hand, and while he didn’t express it bluntly, he did ask for your assistance.

Apparently they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you or the house apart. Lucifer still addressed you with a bit of concern. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this.” On one hand, he appreciated the work you had done. On the other… “I’m concerned for your health. Diavolo was fairly confident you couldn’t get infected, but we still don’t know for certain…” His voice drifted, slightly disappointed in himself, feeling like there was more he should be doing. “Regardless, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, you were sure you were immune. You’d been in direct contact with nearly all of them and hadn’t so much as sneezed. Lucifer wasn’t entirely convinced, obviously mentally preparing for the worst of outcomes, but he let you do what you needed to do. And that was taking care of the two youngest.

Homemade soup; the medicine for the soul or so people said. Something comforting and filling yet easy for the stomach. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most soothing meal you had ever made. Two steaming bowls were settled on an elegant silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You carefully balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly tapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. Unlike the other brothers you had cared for so far, someone actually opened the door for you for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy and slightly reddened. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. Heat radiated off of him in nauseating droves. If you had thought the other brothers had burnt up, nothing compared to Beel’s temperature. Even just standing beside him made you dizzy. As if hellfire was roaring through his veins. His shirt stuck to the skin around his torso, sweat beading down his forehead. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “Soup!” You exclaimed quietly, feeling a mite proud of what you’d created. “You never came down for breakfast so…” You must be hungry, you kept the last part to yourself.

He frowned deeply, being rather dismissive. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body confirmed that there was indeed a lump in Belphie’s bed. Many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, his arm raised to shut the door. Your attention snapped away from Belphie, back to the demon at hand. Was he shutting you out? Really? He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. Your leg served as a quick wedge, feeling your knee temporarily painfully pressed between door and frame. As soon as he realized he was hurting you, the door was thrown back open.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day! How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, trying to convey the care and worry you held for him through your eyes. Beel always advocated for taking care of your body. Those words you shared were the ones he had used on you once before. He was somehow always aware of what you had eaten and when. Same for his brothers. Sure, his sin might take over and he might accidentally eat your food, but he still determined to make sure everyone he cared for was well fed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. His normally sturdy legs wobbled as he stumbled a bit, gripping the end of the door-frame for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull. It broke your heart. Beel seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and proper sustenance on the other side of the door. Curse this tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms and make him feel protected and cared for… even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place. You didn’t happen to eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, did you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face. The contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little? I… made it for both of you.”

It wasn’t often you attempted to employ the puppy-eyed look. However, it seemed necessary in this instance. All these demons were weak to you, and you knew it. You could only hope it was enough this time… Beel was stuck having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. If he wanted to eat or not… Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. If this was what he wanted, could you really change his mind? Just as you were about to leave, the door was pulled back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. Crossing the room, you waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. As he nodded, you settled by his hip, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first. He was hesitant, but it was clear he was starving. His sin was tearing him up inside. He was only prolonging the pain. “Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Gluttony couldn’t quite find the words to describe what he was feeling. But you understood well enough. You’d been sick before in your life. You knew what it was like to feel the hunger pains alongside the nausea. Eating made you feel worse. Not eating made you feel like hell. He must be miserable. This was probably a rare feeling for him.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, your hand coming up to rub his shoulder.

After taking a minute to mentally prepare, he took your advice to heart, starting with a simple spoonful. He blew away the steam and took the smallest bite- or slurp- you’d ever seen him have. He chewed on some of the softened vegetables before swallowing. There was no need to ask how it was. His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s…so delicious. May I…eat it?”

You chuckled, grinning with relief as a little bit of color came back to his face, his expression not looking so pained. Sounded like he was already breathing easier too. “Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up sleeping for days on end like he’d been known to do a few times before… With one of the twins looking already worlds better with some warm food in his stomach, you went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll be your personal chef till you feel better.”

With a contented sigh, Beel buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room. Relaxed lungs brought in deep even breaths. He was still ridiculously hot, but not unbearably so anymore. His words devolved into sleepy mumbles. “You’re so much better than any food in the world…”

The twins were sick, Lucifer was working himself ragged, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like…well…like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them…all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is the Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside.

Eternal moonlight had it perks, but being able to tell time was never one of them. What hour was it now? Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and while you did promise to be his personal chef, it was beginning to overwhelm you. Not only chef, but you’d been hired in several other new ‘departments’. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. The librarian and storyteller for the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. The beauty product tester and fashion assistant for Asmo who refused to let any of his brothers touch him with a ten foot pole. The lawyer for Mammon who was apparently determined to get himself into trouble more so than not lately. And also Lucifer’s new temp secretary. You had so many reminders set on your phone for things he needed to get done. But the eldest was determined not to let things fall apart just because a few of his brothers were ill.

Should you be getting paid for this?…

Tired feet were dragged across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you; a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Laying down felt nice… Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already, the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some specific answer explaining why your body hurt in places you didn’t even know existed, you wouldn’t be able to. This would probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. —-

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body struggled to navigate the obstacles of this place. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. Lips moved as you could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. No matter how hard you squeezed your lungs, no sound came out. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to reel in reality, to settle yourself back into your senses, the dream drifting far behind you now. A squeak sounded. A harsh squealing grind of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. It left a strange feeling in your teeth and pumped your mind with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, the alarm for danger blaring on high alert.

It was hard to see through all the darkness. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The only thing you could see with your adjusting vision was a shadow creeping around your room. It staggered. Drifting around as if searching for something, a deep inhuman growl rumbling through it’s disfigured body. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. Was it hunting for something?…

A few options for survival bubbled up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart decision. One loud noise, and the creature would more than likely beeline it straight for you. Besides, with the demon brother’s sporadic schedules, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. Your room was all the way down near the kitchen…your roommates blissfully asleep upstairs. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause an instant game over. However, that did remind you to lean over to put your device on silent. You would not be that stupid survivor in the horror trope that got killed due to a notification. Oh, if only you had given in to Lucifer’s odd request to install some sort of security system. You had denied it. Said it sounded more like a baby monitor than anything else. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, just as blinded as you were in the darkness. Maybe you could make a run for it… it seemed rather sluggish. But assuming things could get you killed. But what other options did you have?… Right now, the thing was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had. It was settled. You’d book it out of here and run to someone else’s room… Just look for an opportunity… The wailing mass was getting closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was rattling harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! Heat was waving off the creature and onto you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, wandering without a purpose. You quietly swung your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, writhing, it’s shape melting away before a humanoid hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O…w…”

The familiar voice washed over you in a refreshing shower of familiarity. You pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. Although you didn’t waste too much time before rushing to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. The shell it had shed felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” You nearly went off on him, ready to spend the rest of the night giving him a Lucifer-style lecture. But, too tired to do something like that, you simply wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. Eyes rolled in your head, embarrassed and annoyed by your own paranoia and stupidity. Although that sort of paranoia had let you live in the Devildom thus far. That and a ridiculous amount of luck… Though if the other brothers found out you mistook Belphie and a puffy duvet for some sort of lumbering undead slug-monster, they would never let you live it down. Speaking of which…you suddenly remembered that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. Before they could claim another victim, you snagged your shoes and tucked them away in a not so trippable place. Then you returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, although as you did, you nearly reeled back. Sloth was burning up.

“…anna…o…ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. Chipped nails clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy and infernal temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you had tried tugging off of him was somehow twisted around his limbs. After turning him on his back, you worked on unraveling him, feeling his hands paw at your body. He was deep in some fever dream, one bad scene away from thrashing… Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith…Beel…”

Might as well have heard your own heart crack right then, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Once you could see, you went right to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were grateful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. Panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, lips so dry they were nearly bloody. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you returned to his vicinity, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He contorted and attempted to roll as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead, keeping him against the ground using your own body. In only a few seconds, the cloth was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe…Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Soothe, wipe, cool. Over and over as the fire in him refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? Were you just making things worse? You fought with yourself and your emotions for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. It seemed as if he broke though the worst all in a second. Belphie’s breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, wearily and weakly.

“Ahh…haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M…C…”

Overjoyed tears stung your eyes. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t quite awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him, tilting his head back with the brace of one of your hands. Thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. To keep from falling over, he leaned his body against you. It was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately, your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. A sigh left his shallow lungs.

With what little energy he had left, he practically clawed himself towards the far side of the bed turning in several agonizing increments to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. There was still a mess on the floor… but you left it where it was as long as the universe was done sending demons tumbling through your room. You rushed over to the light switch and turned the brightness off. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, taking him into your arms and feeling him immediately get comfortable. At least he was no longer boiling. He was a little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. With a few sleepy nudges, he had his head tucked under your chin. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back, and in return, he squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, leaving you winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s Sin or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

Normalcy slowly began to trickle back into the House of Lamentation. The twins were feeling better, most everyone was returning to classes, routines were falling back into place. Everyone was finally convinced this was all over. Even Lucifer, who liked to account for the worst, was acting rather optimistic lately. Although you yourself, who had loved soaking up every sickly cuddle and embarrassing (and rather blackmailable) favors, was secretly a bit disappointed. It was great that they were all doing better! But…perhaps part of you liked feeling needed.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan, were all well past this illness, and with Levi and Asmo doing everything they could to avoid their siblings, it was assumed that this misadventure had burnt itself out with the twins. Although, one person in the household was determined not to let this go. Levi was doing his best to convince everyone that he was extremely ill.

“I searched my symptoms on SpiderWeb MD! If I’m not sick I’ve been cursed and I only have a few days left to live!” he would complain. His siblings were all convinced that Envy had caught nothing but a terrible case of hypochondria. At one point, he’d even sent his last will through the group chat should he perish an untimely demise. A lot of his stuff went to you, which was deeply touching considering he had a hard enough time letting you look at his stuff much less touch it. Music records would go to Lucifer, manga to Satan, cosplay outfits to Asmo, his special snacks to Beel, and his body pillows to Belphie. Nothing was left for Mammon, which caused a small riot in itself.

It had been several days since anyone had seen or heard any trace of Levi. Everything he needed could be ordered on Akuzon, and he’d been taking classes exclusively online. It got to the point where everyone had been certain he’d never leave his room again. Of course, the eldest had checked on his little brother regardless, but he’d been written off with a clean bill of health. After that, Lucifer had been convinced he was just craving attention. Levi would hole himself away over the vaguest sign of symptoms and not come out till he was ready. No one believed him. For a while, they had you convinced as well, assuring you that he hadn’t been sick for centuries. There was nothing to be worried about. However, you still carried that worry with you, that infuriating kind of angelic trust that drove the brothers crazy. But ‘what if’, you wondered, what if he’s sitting in his room right now with no one to help him?

The only semblance of interaction you’d had with Levi in the past week was dropping off his Akuzon packages to the front of his door. You’d knock, be forced to ramble off an impossibly confusing password, and then leave for him to drag his packages inside. The first time you’d done it, you’d waited, only to watch him pop his head meekly out the door. Upon seeing you, he squeaked and promptly slammed the door shut. Now he would wait for you to fully depart before grabbing his loot. But today, you were determined to see him. Sure he was a demon, sure everyone had promised he was fine, but something left you uneasy. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was okay.

Making your way down the hall, continuously shifting your arms to keep things balanced, you approached Levi’s room with several packages in hand. The number of items he purchased was getting larger and more concerning with each delivery. Seeing as your hands were occupied, you gently kicked his door three times with the tip of your shoe. You crouched down low near the floor, placing his items neatly in a pile. Stiffly, you uttered the strange password Levi encouraged you to memorize to confirm the drop-off and assure him there was no one else in sight.

“The water dragon, caretaker of the mystic lakes, looks up to the heavens…” You paused, waiting for his response. A few seconds. Then a minute. You couldn’t help but raise a brow as a little jolt went through your chest with worry. Typically by now, Levi would be in the middle of his segment of the password. This all was routine. Taking a few steps forward, you pressed your ears to the cold wood of his door. All was silent. From the top? You walked a few steps away just to round the door again, making your footsteps heavier, louder. Then you attempted the entire process again. Using your fist this time, you knocked loudly against the entrance to his fortress of solitude. Uttering the incantation once more, you found yourself almost shouting the code phrase. There was still no response.

Throwing caution to the wind, you gave yourself access into his room. You winced once the light from inside hit your face, expecting some sort of curse or hex to flood your body. Air soothed your lungs when you discovered you were relatively unharmed. It didn’t require any amount of searching to locate the demon. Curled up, in demon form…at the bottom of his fish tank. Of course, you knew these people were not quite people, but that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping and your human brain to somersault over itself in panic. That wasn’t normal! You stammered over your words, dashing forward to press your palms against the glass.

“Levi! What the-” You cut yourself off as you looked around for anything that could assist you with this…emergency. Underwater! He was underwater!

How many times have you been scolded for acting before thinking? Too many to count, especially down here where the wrong misstep could kill you easily. Did you still end up jumping into the fish tank? Yes. Yes, you did. Using Levi’s desk and shelves, you climbed up, throwing your body into the water. It wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be based on how chilly Levi kept his room. It was a bit nippy, but nothing terrible. You sunk down, grabbing the horns sticking from Levi’s head. God, how were you going to pull him out of here? This tank was the size of his wall! As soon as you began to tug on the horns, Levi’s eyes snapped open. His tail wrapped around your waist once he recognized your face. You ended up getting flung out of the tank, dangling in the air a few inches above the ground as the chill of the oxygen on your wet skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Levi gripped the edge of the glass.

“What?! I-I- that was totally- MC! I can’t believe-” He settled you to the ground as he climbed his way out of the water, almost slipping and falling from the tank. A large pool formed on the floor beneath your feet. As he tried to find his words, gasping in shock at finding you in Henry 2.0’s tank, he started coughing. He bowled over, his arm covering his mouth as his lungs squeaked and wheezed as he seemed to cough uncontrollably. Levi’s chest began convulsing so painfully, tears started speckling from his eyes, only to get swept up into the moisture already streaming down his face. His tail, still around your body, clutched to you tighter, like an involuntary form of comfort for him.

“Levi…” You approached the demon of Envy, both of you dripping wet, and you pressed your forehead to his. Despite having soaked in water for however long he had been in there, he was burning. His little gasp at your form of contact drove him further into his coughing fit. You apologetically rubbed his back, helping him catch his breath while you scrambled around to get dry clothes, nearly losing your footing on the wet tile.

“Don’t!” He pleaded with you as you pulled open his drawers.

“You need dry clothes, you’ll get even sicker if you’re soaking!” His face started to flush as some color came to his cheeks. He had yet to relinquish his tail from around your person, wrapping around you tightly like the firm squeeze of a hug, following you around like a drenched puppy. “Why in the world were you in the fish tank anyway?!” A proper scolding was in order. After all, how ridiculous had that been? “I was worried you’d drowned…” You muttered that last part to yourself as you plucked out a t-shirt with the decal on the front from some anime you couldn’t recall. A random pair of shorts was added to the mix, throwing the dry outfit to him alongside a much needed towel. Clutching the articles of clothing to his chest, he blushed even harder. The muscles of his tail forced you to turn with your face to the wall as you felt the soft scales finally slink away. You could hear him stumble around as he struggled to get himself dressed. He wasn’t acting like normal.

At that moment, all the guilt that had been building up these past few days washed over you. He really had been sick after all. How long had he been here alone, taking care of himself because no one would believe him enough to take care of him? But Lucifer had said he’d been checked… Did he get sick after that? Or was there something someone missed? Although, the when didn’t quite matter now. No chance fretting too much over something you couldn’t change. You had the chance to help him now.

“I was hot…” Levi answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then next time hop in the bath! Don’t go scuba diving in a fish tank! A fish tank, Levi!”

It was as if you could feel him wincing at your firm words. It wasn’t often you raised your voice at them. Envy wasn’t taking the tone too well, shuddering as he inhaled broken quivering breaths. He didn’t have an answer for you on why he made the decision he did. Rationalization probably went out of his mind once the fever set in. Had he really been that hell-bent on not leaving his room? “You can…look now.” Turning away from the wall, you found yourself tutting. Levi had put the clothes over his wet form, the towel simply lying on top of his head, the horns holding it comically up away from his body.

“…I should’ve been here to help you.” You placed your hands over the dry cloth, getting it away from his branching horns, gently rubbing into his skin. Too weak to shoo you away or say anything about it, he simply covered his face with his hands as you used the towel to dry him off. “But I’m here now…and you don’t have to worry as long as I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” You started with his hair, working your way down to his arms. Your gentle motions, your soft tone, your overall comfort, it was enough to weaken his walls of anxiety. A few steps and he was right next to you. He slumped, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. Your skin was still cool from the water, and he sighed as his forehead came into contact with it. His tail ended up curling around you once more, clutching your torso tightly as he gripped onto your clothes. “Come on,” you urged him, leading him over to his bedding. It was better than the fish tank only by a small margin, containing a ton of pillows and several plush blankets to act as a cushion inside. At least it was dry…

“Sorry…” Levi gasped, as he lifted himself into his nest. The tickle of his word turned into more harsh coughs. You leaned over the porcelain walls of the tub to pet his head. He nearly melted into your hands. He curled up, nestling further into the cushions as you pulled a blanket partially over him.

“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you, I should’ve been by your side by square one. That’s what people who care about you do…” You gave him a sweet smile as he teared up a little, pulling a body pillow close to his chest as he covered his face. He simply gave you a hum in response. “I’ll go get some medicine and bring in those packages for you, and then I’ll be right back.” Taking a step back, you felt the tail wrapped around your body gripping you tighter. “Levi,” you cooed, petting the smooth scales with your hand. “I’ll be right back, let me go.” He reluctantly complied, silently pulling his tail into the tub with him, curling around his own body for support. Running your fingers through your still wet hair, you went back out to the hall, dragging Levi’s packages into his room before setting off to grab some medicine. A quick sneeze shuttered your body, leaving you lightheaded as you leaned against the wall to keep yourself upright. A chill ran through your spine. Shaking your head, you picked up the pace to your bedroom to change into warm and dry clothes.

As soon as you were no longer dripping, you grabbed the medicine bottle from off the table in your room. Collectively, the household had almost gone through the entire container, leaving only a few servings left. You bit your lip and then briskly headed back to Levi. In the short amount of time you’d been gone, it seemed as if he already drifted off to sleep. You shut the door behind you as softly as you could manage, then came over to the sleeping otaku. All these demons, you recalled, claimed to be so scary and intimidating, yet all of them managed to look something like this. Levi was clutching his tail, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the side of the tub. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you brushed your hand against his cheek anyway.

“Levi… Levi?” You called, watching his eyelids flitter as they slowly opened. “Here, take this, it’ll help you feel better.” You held a capful of the remedy to his lips. A flicker of stubbornness and defiance flashed in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially with how nicely you were treating him. He’d take it with a smile if you had asked him too. Placing the medicine aside, you turned down the lights in his room, watching the reflection of the water dance across the ceiling. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Levi?”

You heard him squeak before he spoke. “You cuddled with each of my brothers…”

Stifling a chuckle, you merely blinked at him. “You want me to cuddle with you?”

He used his arm to cover his eyes. “Y-you said it, not me!”

“Move over then,” you grinned, lifting your leg over the lid of the tub to make your way in. It was a bit awkward, being a bathtub and all. There wasn’t as much space as you expected. The sloped sides guided you into Levi’s body, where you could feel every muscle inside him tense. “Alright, here we go, sleep will make you feel better.” You rested your head right next to his, noses almost touching. His lip twitched in embarrassment, but once more he pressed his forehead against your neck, exhaling deeply as he allowed his body to relax. “There you go…” You rubbed his back as he got in close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. Apparently regular doses of constant attention was the best kind of medicine for a touch-starved demon. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough. Sometimes he would do this and cause the other previous afflicted to do the same. You’d even caught Lucifer clearing his throat in your vicinity once. They were all milking this to the last drop. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone… Even cases in the Devildom were dropping. The whispers at RAD were returning to normal discussions. The worst was over.

That was… until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, hair on your arms standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned.

“MC…” The eldest instinctively took a step towards you. “Oh, thank Diavolo,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, quelling the stress headache, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” He began the head check, ushering his brothers closer to him much like a teacher making sure the whole class was there for the field trip. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your throat shut, forgetting how to properly breathe as the group sprinted down the halls.

Mammon was the first to reach the door, throwing all caution to the wind as he immediately kicked the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, coming clean off it’s hinges, and you attempted to peer in. A firm hand grabbed you by the back of the collar and yanked you back. Lucifer pulled you behind his body. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Every square inch of you was desperate to scream, to run to Greed, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head. There were no visible injuries, in fact, he was barely even bothered, just frustrated.

“For the love of... Asmo!” The second brother growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens once every few centuries, and every time it happens, it gets—“ Something else broke to pieces, shrapnel embedding itself in the door-frame. A mess. “Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame to shield you out while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound.

“C-come on, it’s best if we go…N-now. Like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me…you all did this to me!” Ah, right. Of course the blame would lie with the most recently infected. And now you were standing right next to the target.

“Oi!”

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of Levi’s grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest. You felt the frantic beating of his heart. Everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, razor sharp claws atoms away from brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy. The glimmer you so often associated with Asmo was gone.

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor.

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, there was a list of misadventures you could bring to the table, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Good call. Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. Perfectly on beat. A living pendulum.

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to…critique your…survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Real rich coming from Wrath. Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers.

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

“…Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning. It all still felt like a dream. They couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak… But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just…reached out to him…

Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded six different ways. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the bratty youngest sibling was chastising you. And Mammon…Mammon was…dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most.

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.”

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “Heartbroken?! That scream meant nothin’! He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that…almost hurting you because he doesn’t look photo-ready… Nothing’s worth getting yourself killed over! Nothing!” Mammon’s words… sunk in the deepest. Or his tone did at least. He was truly upset with you. Lucifer raised his arm a bit towards Mammon, signaling to settle down. Mammon scoffed and turned again, letting it go.

“Okay… I get it… but enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers.

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure after the last few weeks he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand.

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.”

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said everything I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway.

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. They might not listen to you at the moment, but you had to try. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The fiery-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?”

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.”

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. Demonic bodies could reach some serious temperatures.

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Although you didn’t want to push your luck too much. They could physically remove you from the room if they so desired. Luckily, Belphie was much too tired to continue bickering.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his twin following after him with Levi in tow.

A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?”

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it.

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet.

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea.

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I can’t see a single thing, I swear. Not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no… No, no, no, it’s okay.”

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I- I- I- I’m sick and- and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick…but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!”

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same.”

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both…am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly.

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working. Double the dose meant double the drowsiness, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs.

“It’s not…fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t…deserve this…I wish I was…as beautiful…as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep.

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do.

“I tried warning them fallen angels or not, they were still in the demographic to get sick.” Solomon sighed wistfully, but the whole time he never lost his smile. As you recounted your encounters over the last few weeks, the sorcerer giggled. “What I wouldn’t give to see some of those scenes.”

The angel across the little table from you had to agree, although he looked a lot more sympathetic to the brother’s plight than the human did. “I’m really glad they’re all feeling better though. I bet you’re enjoying your newfound freedom, aren’t you, MC?”

You settled down the mug against the tabletop, sitting back in your chair, basking in the ambiance of Purgatory Hall. The House of Lamentation really had been come to feel like your home, but a change of pace was so refreshing at times. The angel’s dorm was so much brighter, quieter. No shouting, no nagging, no chaos. You could sip on a warm beverage in peace. “It’s nice knowing they all feel better,” you stated, having to admit to yourself that your termination of demon-nurse was doing you some good. Retirement life was nice. “No more worries.”

Both men agreed, Simeon pleasantly humming to himself. “Still, you could’ve asked us to help out. I bet it was difficult looking after all of them.”

“Can’t be much different than usual, can it?” Solomon interjected, laughing to himself.

They both were right. But, it’s not like you had hated it. You all felt…closer now. They had allowed you to see a part of themselves no one else got to see. That made you feel special. But being able to kick your feet up and get some much needed sleep was what your doctor ordered. You picked your mug back up and finished the last of your drink. The warmth of it spread throughout your body, seeping down to your toes and fingertips.

When Simeon noticed your cup was empty, he stood, holding his hand out. “Here I can take that for you.” You didn’t really want to impose, but you were the guest, and it did feel nice being taken care of today. They’d pampered you nicely. Taking your jacket at the door, leading you to the living room where you were given sweets and treats handmade by Luke and Simeon. You got more comfortable on the couch and gave the angel a thankful nod. Simeon turned away from you and Solomon, his steps halted as a high-pitched squeak filled the room. “Oh, sorry.”

Your head tilted a bit. “Sorry for what?” Had he stepped on a loose floorboard?

Solomon held himself back a bit before clapping in a bit of glee. He seemed endlessly entertained. “Doesn’t Simeon have the most petite sneeze? Bless you.”

Simeon looked back over his shoulder, actually looking a bit embarrassed over it. “It’s quite a normal sneeze thank you…” He shot his roommate a little look before leaving the room. You watched him go, a sensation of familiarity bubbling up to your mind. This felt… no, it couldn’t be. You were over-thinking things. There was absolutely no way it was happening again. Nope. You would refuse fate itself. Simeon took good care of himself. You couldn’t assume every sneeze was a sign of illness.

There was no one left to get sick. The story was over! The series had come to an end! All wrapped up in a pretty bow and everything!

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #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 #sickfic

551 notes · View notes

pro-sipper · 4 months

Note

What do proshippers generally believe about shipping real people? Stuff like creator x creator or celebrity x reader?

That it falls under the umbrella of "you should be allowed to write anything you want". Once again, it's not my personal thing. There's no real life pairing I read for, and the whole "blank x reader" is not appealing to me at all.

But I have no problem with people writing that stuff, or knowing it's out there. I saw someone a while back say that it's basically just writing about another character, and I agree with that. No matter how much a creator posts or how open a celebrity seems with their personal life, we're still only seeing a tiny snippet of their lives. We have no clue who they are when the cameras aren't recording because we just don't know them. And whatever someone chooses to write about is mostly stemming from that particular persona that they happen to put on for the world and that's it. It's completely separate from our reality because they're basically just writing about another made up character

The problem I have, and it's what I imagine most proshippers also take issue with, is when people start blurring the lines between fiction and reality. To me, there's a world of difference between posting something on ao3, and speculating on secret relationships in the comments of someone's youtube video. Or between talking about something on tumblr, and tagging the person directly on twitter.

I just don't understand people who condemn rpf and talk about how gross and invasive it is, but think it's funny to tag celebrities on twitter to bring up (what they think is) cringe-worthy fanfic tropes that people have written them into. Or people who print out fanworks to shove into an actor's face at a meet and greet and ask them what they think about it. That's where the lines get crossed, to me.

I think ao3 and tumblr still have an air of mysticism to them. A little secrecy, a little privacy. In the sense that someone in the public eye would have to put in a little work to find this stuff for themselves. They'd have to go to the site and search themselves up to find anything. As opposed to just about anyone in the world being able to force this content in their line of sight with a simple @ on a site like twitter.

So to me the problem isn't that this content exists. The problem is when people don't know how to keep fandom stuff private. Write all the rpf you want but remember at the end of the day these are real people, not your blorbos. You don't know them. It's inappropriate to say these things to them personally (which yes, also includes tagging them on twitter or in the comments of their videos). But it's also inappropriate to run up to them with other people's content just to say "look what these FREAKS wrote about you!!" And I think people either forget or just genuinely don't care about the latter.

#proship #proshippers #pro ship #proshippers please interact #proshipper #proshipping #rpf #real person fiction #asks #anonymous #sip rambles #i know its so much crazier in this day and age than when i was a kid #with social media and stupid stuff like tiktok basically being a requirement of the job it seems #and celebs posting constantly and having a quick way to interact with fans #or content creators whose entire brand exists on social media apps like tiktok #who seem to be posting 24/7 and broadcasting their whole lives #and i know most of those types of creators mostly have younger followers who probably do very easily get sucked into #feeling like they know that person like thats their friend #and i also dont think that type of creator really discourages those feelings bc... they want followers and $$$#but idk just write your fic and read it or dont do either and just leave celebs alone irl please please please

82 notes · View notes

mamayan · 9 months

Text

Don’t Cry: Part 2

Yandere Giyuu Tomioka x Fem! Reader

I love him so much~

Don’t Cry: Part 1

TW: Yandere themes•NSFW•Lying Giyuu•Slight Violence•Vanilla Sex•Sweet Submissive Giyuu•Fem! Reader•Implied Virginity Loss

I’ve been spelling his damn name wrong and I only realized when I read it in Hiragana and was like “cool cool, I gotta edit my other works of him now!”

Tags: @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @sunandflame @giyuuzas

Once you’d bathed, courtesy of the sweet little girls who aided you earlier, you were promptly put to bed in clean clothes. Your swordsman sitting beside the bed, staring off into space but it was having a human presence which comforted you. The small bed didn’t allow for more than one body, but inwardly you cringed at the urge to drag him into it with you despite how close you’d need to be with him. It might also be because you’d need to be so close. Confusion and embarrassment swirled within you, your mind racing despite your body beginning to give into fatigue. Your eyes were heavy, struggling to stay awake long enough to sort the complicated emotions waring inside of you.

“Giyuu…” your voice was a little hoarse as you whispered his name.

“Yes?” His head turned and looked over at you, demeanor relaxed and confident, his eyes speaking more words than his lips.

Are you alright? You imagined him wanting to ask, but he likely already knew the answer was no. You didn’t ask the multitude of questions you had, because now you weren’t sure you even truly wanted to know. Instead, you asked for something simple.

“Will you hold my hand?” and he watched as your own soft one slipped from beneath the blanket. His eyes were darker in the dimly lit room, cast over by the red glow of the lamp and making his gaze nearly like the bottom of the sea. Black. His skin even paler in contrast.

His hand gingerly moved before it enveloped yours. Larger, warmer, and much rougher than your own. It was like you could safely breathe again with the contact, your tense muscles and knotting insides loosening as you squeezed his hand. He gave one back, looking at you with a half lidded gaze, and for a moment you were struck with envy because how had you never noticed his lashes were so long and thick? He was prettier than he ought to be, but it certainly didn’t lessen the masculine appeal. You briefly remembered, before he’d become twisted and abducted you, a time you’d seen him like a friend. You were more outgoing than him, more willing to speak up and initiate, and in this subtle moment of stillness, you asked a question which seemed both probable and ridiculous.

“Do you like me?” it felt wrong to speak too loudly.

You carefully observed his impassive expression. Giyuu didn’t tell you much nor did his face show how he felt, but his actions were pages in a story itself. He told you through weeks of bringing your favorite foods to you. He told you through small gifts and trinkets. He told you through acts of service and time spent beside you. It just didn’t make any sense. You were certainly the most horrendous creature when he’d taken you prisoner, snide and cruel with your tongue and even cruder with your disdainful actions of dumping hard prepared meals to the ground and stomping them. He was patient though, and while the weeks of isolation occasionally drove you to the brink of madness, you realize it must’ve not been intentional if he’d left to perform his obligations to the people. His burden so heavy and lifted alone.

“Hn,” he nodded, a noise of affirmation which shocked you silly. You truly didn’t expect an actual answer. Possibly just a look, which would leave you micro-analyzing it until you could somewhat satisfy yourself with an answer which proved plausible.

“Why…?” This wasn’t a self deprecating question, you weren’t asking as if you didn’t know your own lovability, but because you never let yourself be as such. Even when you’d first met and the relationship was forming, you’d never left any question that you’d not been looking for a lover. Your actions and words keeping a firm divide between you and everyone else. Especially Giyuu.

So why? Why form the attachment? Why look closer? Why want?

Why save me…? But those words were left unspoken.

His grip tightened around your hand, not painfully, but enough that you realized you weren’t looking at him anymore. Your eyes focused on the edge of the bed. You glanced back up, into those vast pools you wondered if someday might drown you in the sorrow they held.

His lips parted, pausing for a moment, but his brows furrowed and he seemed to have to force the words out.

“Because it’s you,” he murmured, somber tone not letting you become irritated at his vague response, letting him finish instead. “It’s you who reached your hand out first… who was there for me even if you didn’t notice I was suffering…” you hung on every word like a hook to keep you tethered to world around you.

“It was you who told me to live.” His expression changed, looking much like the tragedy he sealed within those dark blue orbs, and it was filled with a kind of loathing.

“Even though I’m weak—,” you wanted to tell him he’s wrong, “-and the people closest to me died while I lived on,” it’s not your fault but the words died in your throat, “—you told me to live.” His eyes were harder, more convicted and less overflowing with the loathing you realized was towards himself.

You didn’t remember telling him such words, maybe it was when you’d found him injured, marks adorning him with what you now realized marked his path on an endless journey of pain and loneliness.

You’d go crazy too. You’d do reckless and self destructive things as well.

You weren’t sure where it came from, fear perhaps? A desperation to believe in him with finally enough evidence to convince yourself it’s not wrong? Whatever the case, carefully you lifted your torso up, the blanket falling off your shoulders as you used your grip on him as leverage to pull him close. Your free hand dug into the fabric of his clothes, clean despite a battle that shook your entire world, as you tugged until he relented and leaned close so you could kiss him.

You should feel wrong. You don’t.

His lips are thin but soft, and he’s pliant as you essentially manhandle him to lean completely over you. His elbows now braced on either side of you as you snake your arms around his neck and let the scary world fade away. You weren’t the sort to hide behind a man and cower, and tomorrow you’d put up a brave front despite the cowardice and fear that has beholden you, but for now you let him drape over you. His presence such a comfort you can’t seem to recall a time it hadn’t been. There was a time, but it wasn’t rising to ruin the moment.

Neither was Giyuu, who was albeit visibly startled, but obediently giving you control as you tested different pressure with your lips.

He seemed to finally find his bearing though, as he broke the kiss and pulled up just enough to connect your eyes again. He was flushed, cheeks warm as he shyly regarded you.

“Is this for comfort or…?” he was hesitant and a look of guilt perhaps flashed through his gaze, but it warmed you further and caused the itch in your chest to spread as you tightened your hold on him to prevent escape.

Not like he was making even the barest attempt.

“Because…” he looked at you with his full attention.

“Because it’s you…” and it was enough. His eyes widening a fraction before you leaned up again to kiss him, this time with more passion. Giyuu didn’t speak or express himself much, but his actions did. This time, your actions spoke, as your fingers moved up his neck and into his hair. He made a noise, deep in his throat, but you were too focused on the softness of his hair. The fluffy thick strands easily allowing you a grip as you gently tugged.

He kissed you back harder, and while it felt a bit awkward, you felt even more desperate to touch him. You’d heard hushed gossip before, the acts between lovers, and you experimented as you licked his bottom lip. The shiver which wracked his body not slipping from your notice as you did it again, and then nipped.

“You…” he sounded slightly breathless, but his narrowing gaze telling as you teased him. You were merciful, as you finally slipped your tongue into his willing mouth, and this time he moaned. The shiver went up your spine this time, the noises he made going straight to your core as your grip in his hair and around his neck increased fractionally. It was odd and sensational all at once. His tongue not as aggressive or dominant as yours but still responsive and eager as he kissed you back, his hands still perfectly where he left them.

It was you exploring him. Hands softly trailing down his back, before moving over his shoulders and chest, the hard plains of his body undeniable.

This was not cold and stoic Giyuu, cruelly leaving you all alone. This was warm and responsive Giyuu relinquishing to your desires as you eagerly arched your back to press closer to him even as a zap of pain shot up your ankle.

It was easy to ignore as your body heated up, fingers gripping and tugging as you pushed his haori off his shoulders.

He pulled back fully, having partially fallen out of his chair and onto you at this point, taking his haori off completely and setting it gently in the chair as he fully climbed above you to settle. Silent and balmy, his eyes without a single ripple in the sea they held in their depths. His black uniform, one which you realized matched everyone else’s, was rumpled and creased from your pulling at the fabric.

You let your hands wander, up his forearms, over his collarbone where his hair was spilling out of the tie he used to keep it back, and around his neck. He didn’t stop you or pull away, as you let his pulse beat beneath your hands and for a moment, you felt like you held his heart between your fingers.

“I hated you…” you confessed softly, and while you felt more than saw him flinch, he didn’t move or speak besides that.

“I thought you were crazy, cruel for taking me without permission and even crueler when you’d leave me alone for so long but…” your eyes flicked up to meet his, pooling with guilt and sadness. “Giyuu, do you think we could start over differently?” Your hands roamed the smooth skin of his neck up to to cup his jaw. His lips were set into a firm line, dark gaze serious as it locks with your own.

He seems to melt in your hands, his eyes nearly closing completely as he leans a little weight into you. He resembled a cat momentarily, those upturned eyes a bit sharper when not fully open.

“I would be grateful… to love you not so shamefully.” Your heart nearly stopped at such a confession.

He said love… not like.

Did you love him? It felt difficult to breathe, as you answered yourself easily.

No. You didn’t love him. In truth, there was a deeper part of you terrified of him, because he possessed strength and skills which rendered you pathetically at his mercy. If he were weaker, you’d have escaped him long ago. No, you didn’t love him, but when he let you do as you pleased with him… well, you certainly liked him like this. Pretty and obedient to what you wanted. Relaxed and languid like a juggle cat, silent and graceful but watching.

As you pressed yourself up against him, whispering in his ear your request, he didn’t hesitate with you. Gentle as always, he switched your positions, careful of your injured foot as he settled you atop of him. You got to look down on him now, the light shifting to brighten his features and ease the sharp lines and shadows which cast him in a dangerous atmosphere.

He looked… harmless like this. As if he hadn’t slaughtered a demon like one might swat a fly.

You knew logically you shouldn’t be doing this. As your hands move over his chest, more intent on removing clothing than anything else though. Deftly popping buttons and opening up his top, a smooth pale chest revealing itself to your eyes.

Your brain cried that you were simply touch starved, shocked and slightly traumatized from the events of the last day, and completely run by hormones and pent up frustration.

You were not thinking with your brain tonight though, not as your eyes drank in the sight of the beautiful male beneath you. His flushed skin, heavy breathing and somewhat shy gaze was enough to have you feeling ravenous.

“Sit up,” you murmur softly, pleased as he listens, letting you remove his top and push him back down, climbing a bit higher to return your lips to his. He’s littered in old scars, some more silvery and healed than others, his body refined by tightly corded muscles which had no give. He was harder than steel yet incredibly soft where he wasn’t marred by either training or demons. You kissed him deeper and with more meaning now, and as you cupped his cheek to turn his head, you delighted in the husky groan he released as you licked and sucked at his neck. His shiver leading you to an especially sensitive area, where you mercilessly left your mark.

As you sat back on him more fully, aware of the dull throb of your ankle and grateful for the extra medicine you’d been given, you take him in. He’s more covered in softly sucked bruises and little bite marks than scars anymore, unable to hide the reddened skin as he looks up at you patiently, docile gaze betrayed by the death grip he has on the bed sheet. Visibly struggling not to touch you too.

It wound you up tighter.

“You can’t touch me until I tell you to.” He hadn’t and likely would not even if you didn’t vocalize it, but he didn’t miss the teasing glint in your eyes. His smile indulgent and contagious as he nods, staying perfectly still as you loosen your robes and allow the top to slip away and reveal your upper body. Giyuu took a sharp intake of breath, lips parting as you allow him to take you in.

Less embarrassed by his reverent eyes.

“So pretty…” his praise further emboldened you, as you teased him further by touching yourself. Your hands dragging up your stomach and to your breasts, where you lightly rolled your nipples as they hardened. He wasn’t blinking. The once cool room becoming much, much warmer with you both radiating heat and unrepressed lust. You moved gently down his body, cautious with your own as you settled your center directly over his erection still covered by his pants.

“Ngh,” he huffs, his head digging into the pillow as you grind down, clothes and friction your ally as you murmur in pleasure.

“Feel good Giyuu?” You’d abandoned your teasing show in favor of chasing the ache building inside you. You could tease him later, maybe tie his wrists and see how confident you became as you made him beg for you, but you wanted more now.

“It does, you do,” he quickly affirmed, his eyes a bit hazy as they look up at you. Your image reflected almost like a mirror through his glassy eyes. He couldn’t help bucking up from beneath you, putting a little more pressure and it earned him the gift of hearing you moan.

The first trickles of pleasure addicting as he did it again.

“Stop.” He stilled, looking a bit startled and cautious before you smiled in reassurance. Although it wasn’t comfortable and your muscles were stiff and achy, you held your weight off of him so you could work at the tie keeping his pants up. “I’ll do it.” You assured as you caught his hand move to help out of the corner of your eye.

“Hn,” he quickly set his hand back where it was, though his punishing grip on the sheet returned.

You didn’t love him, but if he stayed like this beneath you, it wasn’t difficult to imagine such a day would come sooner rather than later.

Your previous interactions always wrong because you never took lead and it was painfully obvious now that he was waiting on that. The only lead he ever took was taking you, and the reason being your safety above all else was difficult to hate.

He took your nonverbal cue to lift his hips, letting you drag his opened pants down along with his undergarment.

His cock was just about as pretty as him you noted. Your body slightly trembling as your arousal spiked, hand confidently gripping him in your fist as he jolted and choked on a moan.

“Ah,” he grit his teeth, your grip not very tight but it was the sensitivity of his cock which heightened the sensation of having you touch him.

“So pretty Giyuu, am I hurting you?” Your tone nearly purred as he takes you in.

He didn’t say it out aloud. He didn’t say a lot of things out loud, but this was the most animated he’d ever seen you. Gaze hungry and full of want and it was directed at him. Your teasing smile and soft hands were all for him in this moment. He felt like he was floating, as you began a steady pump, plump little tongue darting out to wet your lips and he felt mildly shameful as a whine left him. The image in his mind filthy as he struggled to stay still like you’d told him. To not touch you even though you looked so soft and he was damned because he wanted to hold you close.

You’d never been so forward with him, and it solidified every action he took as right, because this felt too wonderful to be wrong.

He was sweating, struggling to think and if he wasn’t so good at controlling his breathing, he would’ve came already.

His lips quivered but his watery gaze would not look away as you slid your fingers up his cock, following the velvety skin and slight curve of it, and only dancing the tips over the head of his cock before falling down over a vein which had his muscles locking painfully to stay still.

His face was even redder holding the noises in.

“Do you like when I touch you Giyuu?” You whispered to him like lovers might exchange secrets.

He shook, stoic facade gone and replaced by a young man terribly desperate for more and entirely unsure how to get it.

“Hn, y-yes, but—,” he couldn’t speak and not let out the moans and loud puffs of air escaping his lungs. He truly couldn’t look away at you smeared his precum over his cock and used it as lubricant to better stroke him.

“But…?” You drawled, head tilted cutely and he was mildly baffled by how calm and steady you looked now. Like the roles were entirely reversed, and it set his heart pounding aggressively within the confines of his chest. He felt nervous but excited, because despite all else, your eyes were on him. Your hands were on him. You were quite literally on top of him. He couldn’t want for much else.

Your hand stopped moving, and he could care less of shame or embarrassment as he whined pathetically. He was nearly tearing holes into the mattress.

“Please,” he choked, nearly dying in relief when your hand once again moved only to stop again. His heels dug into the bed.

“Please what Giyuu? You need to use your words right now.” He felt this might’ve been revenge, for all the times he’d been unable to answer you in the past, but now if he didn’t answer then there were consequences. Like your hands not being on him.

Words seemed a lot easier when given an ultimatum.

“Please don’t stop touching my cock and please don’t stop touching me,” it was said in pure desperation and with such conviction it startled you. Your pretty eyes widening, and Giyuu felt flooded with emotion as you became even more vibrant above him. Your smile so lovely it would’ve dropped him to his knees if he were standing.

The smile he was always so desperate to protect and keep entirely to himself. He’d given up long ago on the notion of letting you go. He couldn’t. Not then and especially not now as you tightened your grip and began stoking him again.

He truly lost it when you lewdly spit down onto him, slicking his cock up further until an audible squelch filled the small medical room as you pumped him closer to his finish.

“Such a pretty cock, it really matches you Giyuu. Look, your face is as red as the tip,” he couldn’t stop himself.

“Please let me cum, I need—fuck, ah, please,” his scrunched up features lovely, and you couldn’t help tightening your grip as you grinned.

“Okay Giyuu, go ahead, make a mess.”

Your permission and actions had his hot cum flooding from the tip and coating your hand and himself. The raw pleasure leaving him shaking and lost as he moaned and panted, eyes widening almost panicked because your hand was still moving.

“—!, wait, please—,” he almost broke and touched you, to grip your wrist and remove it from him as the pleasure became borderline painful.

“No, you can come again.” The firm way you spoke made him squirm, gritting his teeth as his face twisted and he really did come again because it was too much. His hiss of pleasure and pain delirious as his eyes shut to block any further stimuli. He came less, but still his seed seeped out and over, you released his cock and watched a pearly bead slide slowly down his shaft as it lay against his abdomen now. Smearing his own release on his stomach.

His eyes were teary, tired, and so precious.

“You did so good,” your praise and sugary tone filled him with warmth.

His answer filled you similarly, “Thank you.” His voice a little hoarse. His gratitude open and honest as you leaned over him to kiss him again. Softer and sweeter than your earlier teasing and overstimulation.

You could feel him hardening again beneath you, twitching as you swirled your tongue languidly with his own, pulling back occasionally and adoring how quickly he followed.

It made your subconscious relax, to have this man submitting for you.

You didn’t touch him, instead carefully leaning on one arm and using the free one to untie your robes completely and let them slip off your waist. Leaving you as naked as him.

You didn’t let him look, too lost in exploring his mouth and breathing him in. His minty scent more muted after mixing with his sweat and making him have a deeper woodsy quality to it.

Your hand, still sticky with his cum, moved to lightly trace over your clit. The spark of pleasure sharper as you moaned into the kiss, Giyuu’s own groan following as he realized what you were doing.

He broke the kiss this time, but his face was so desperate and eager as he begged.

“Let me, please, I want to touch you too—,” you cut him off.

“No.” You smirked, loving how enthralled he looked as he watched you touch and tease yourself. You were already so wet, just from making him feel good and fall apart for you. The low wet noises of you running your fingers through your folds and testing a finger inside your hole clearly audible thanks to his good hearing. Watching was different though, as you stuffed yourself with two fingers, despite his own being wider and longer.

It took him a moment to realize which hand you used.

“Fuck,” he nearly snarled, face scrunched in a look of both agony and euphoria.

“Do you like seeing me use your cum to finger myself?” Your throat felt tight, the lewd act turning you on further as he seemed to struggle.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, I need to touch you please,” he didn’t say aloud that he also wanted to cum inside you too. A small part of him nervous it’d drive you into denying him to further to make him beg more. “I want to feel you now, so use me…please,” your steady movements inside your pussy stopping as you considered his offer. An idea formed.

“Give me your hand,” you ordered, and his right was in your awaiting palm in an instant. You gripped his wrist, drawing his hand to your wet heat and smiling even as you moaned and shivered, his gaze too focused on your directions.

You let him slip in one finger, and then another, sighing into the stretch and rocking your hips forward.

“Can you stay still?” You asked.

He nodded, though most of his focus was elsewhere as he relished the feeling of your tight hot walls pulsing around his fingers and squeezing.

You less bounced and more rolled, letting his long fingers touch and reach where you previously could not, as your free hand moved to your clit. You moaned freely, not mindful in the least because your room was so far removed from the the rest of the mansion it hardly mattered. It felt so good, and when his fingers shifted just a little to curl more comfortably, they hit the perfect spot that had your toes curling on your uninjured foot. “Oh, Giyuu, don’t move,” you felt close, your own fingers playing with your clit and hastening your release.

You came hard, your head thrown back as your hips shook.

Giyuu’s hand was soaked in your release, fingers still obediently inside you and still as you came down from your high.

The pleasure slightly washed by pain, your ankle throbbing but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not when everything felt right like this. Giyuu was similarly mesmerized, your figure above him riding through your orgasm and the way your cunt clamped and spasmed around his fingers making him even hotter. He wanted to feel that around his cock too.

“My love,” his saccharine words caught your focus, heavy eyes tiredly but kindly regarding him. That was everything to him, the festering wound in his heart from all your previous rejections seeming to heal with just that look. “May I…? Please, I want to be inside—ah,” you either took mercy or lost patience, not entirely sure. You wrapped a hand around his cock and easily lined yourself up, his blue eyes widening as you let yourself sink down.

Giyuu doesn’t have a cock which instills fear or disappointment. Though much thicker than than he is impressively long, he still stretched you almost painfully as you took him inside of you. You panted, taking each inch slowly as your sweat slid down the curve of your spine and cooled. Despite the pinch and mild initial discomfort, the image of Giyuu beneath you looking ruined made it all worth it. He seemed to be both suffering and ascending, muscles taunt and he finally did tear the sheet.

“Fuck so tight, ngh,” he nearly bit his tongue when his tip touched the farthest point inside of you, kissing your cervix gently. His voice pitched higher than normal, almost boyish in quality as he fought to keep his eyes open and on you. He didn’t want to look away, to miss the way your own face scrunched and struggled for a moment. Then you settled and stilled, gooey walls encasing his cock like a hot vice and driving him wild.

“Please please, I need—,” he would’ve given you his damn life if you asked for it at this point. When a few warm tears finally escaped their pools, you chuckled and reached out to wipe them away.

“Okay, you can—mm, you can touch me now.” It was nearly amusing how relieved he appeared. His normally impassive expression so far removed from this man now. He was extremely expressive it seemed, when he was being overwhelmed with pleasure.

His hands were tentative as they ghosted over your outer thighs, the clammy feel of his palms adorable when he finally used pressure to hold on to your hips.

He didn’t do anything further than let his hands slide over your skin, over your stomach and up to your breasts where he mimicked how you touched yourself earlier. It had you bearing down and making him moan and twitch beneath you. It felt better, the sensation of being so full no longer as alien as you tested with a roll of your hips.

It earned you both a shock of pleasure, your moan deeper than his own.

You did it again, before finally using what little strength you hand in your legs to lift and sink down onto him.

“You’re so deep Giyuu,” you still had energy to look victorious though. Pride sparkling on your face as you grinned, looking too cheeky and lovely for your own good.

You set a very slow rhythm, not out of choice but more because it was all you could offer. Giyuu didn’t seem to mind, his flushed cheeks and reddened eyes looking directly up at you as you moved. The sticky and warm wet mess coating you both from your releases making the glide smooth and painless.

It dried a bit on your inner thighs and cooled on his heavy balls as you moaned and used his chest as leverage to lean your weight onto him. Your shaky movements slowing further as you lost your breath. It felt amazing now, but frustration mounted the harder it seemed to become to chase your release. Your body too exhausted and weakened to contribute as you liked.

You shouldn’t have been as shocked as you were when he spoke. “Can I move too please my love?” He wasn’t looking for control, but to ease the furrow in your brow as you trembled from muscle failure. You nodded in relief, moaning happily as his hips shifted to hit even deeper and began to buck beneath you. He didn’t ground you further to him though, despite being tempted to do so. His hands on your hips shifted to lightly rest on your ass and no more. He still kept the languid pace you’d originally set, and you cried out as the tension inside of you grew higher. You did your best to move with him, expressing how pleased you were with small kisses across his chest and neck, moving to finally take his lips as one hand tangled in his hair again.

The light wet noises of your bodies moving echoed, the sloppy kiss you shared matching in intensity as you breathed and relished in his choked whines and gasps.

“You feel so good…” he murmured against your lips, cock twitching and aching to spill inside you, barely holding off release to feel you tighten and come apart too. “Please, I’m close, may I…?” His voice husky.

“Giyuu too, your cock is so warm and thick. Do you want to cum inside me?” He moaned, burying his face in your neck as you giggled and gasped when his tip hit a new spot inside you. “Oh yes, right there—,” you ground down to force him harder into the spongey area, his breathing getting deeper and more strained as he worked to move his cock in that spot exactly how you wanted it. “Fuck, love, I can’t— please let me cum,” he was close to crying again, really and truly ready to sob because it hurt to hold off.

“Harder, so good for me Giyuu, not yet—I’m close,” your praise made his head dizzy, but when you said you were close and finally did come, he nearly passed out because he forgot to breathe. Hot tears spilling again as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes,” you moaned long and loud, “—go ahead and cum, that’s it, fill me up baby,” you weren’t sure where this side of you came from. Whether it was innate or because he seemed to crave it, it hardly mattered. You encouraged him as you came apart, feeling his cock twitch and pulse as he whined and let go at last.

White hot pleasure flooded you both, but you more literally as he came inside and his hips stuttered up into you even deeper. His pubic bone and hair digging into the sensitive skin of your clit and driving your pleasure higher.

You collapsed against him, limp on his chest as he caught his breath and came back to earth.

Giyuu noted you were completely asleep. Breathing even and your features relaxed.

He allowed himself to hold you close for a few minutes, basking in the heaven of having you willingly in his arms.

His hand coming up to trace your jaw and cheek, then your nose and lips. His smile so real and genuine as he looked at you.

You were cleaned up thoroughly, a warm clean cloth used to get you both semi-decent as he redressed you carefully. You didn’t even stir.

He felt mildly guilty he kept you awake like this, but too happy with what occurred to feel much else. Once he’d cleaned up, ignoring the holes he created in the fabric of the bed, he placed you once more on his chest to sleep, his hand moving over your head to pet your hair down as listen and feel your heart beat against his own.

He’d done something terrible to you again, but really, he couldn’t muster up the same feelings of guilt he once felt in the past.

Your ankle would heal, and the priest was a necessary evil. You were safe in his arms now, weren’t you?

#Demon Slayer #Giyuu Tomioka smut #KNY Giyuu smut #18+#Yandere Giyuu Tomioka #Sub! Giyuu Tomioka #Fem! Reader x Giyuu Tomioka #yandere Giyuu x reader #x reader #kimestu no yaiba #kny Giyuu Tomioka #kny yandere #water hashira #part 2 #I finally spelled his name right

279 notes · View notes

volleypearlfan · 1 year

Text

On Cringe Culture, Kids' Shows, and Elitism

i'M nOt rEaDiNg aLl tHaT" Ok, scroll down for the TL:DR. (Also on SpaceHey and Blogspot)

The now ex-CEO of Disney, Bob Chapek, has stated the animation is only for children. Never mind that this is the same company that owns The Simpsons, and was founded by a guy who said, and I quote "You're dead if you aim only for kids. Adults are only kids grown up, anyway."

Naturally, this has caused universal backlash within the animation community, with many people defending animation as a medium for everyone, not just kids. However, the animation community was also mocked by outsiders for using kids' shows, such as Gravity Falls, to prove that animation is for everyone. In fact, the animation community (more specifically the western animation community) has always been cruelly harassed by outsiders for watching cartoons, especially ones aimed at children.

There is nothing wrong with watching children's shows AT ALL. Watching kids' shows doesn't make you immature, a pedophile, or whatever bullshit that outsiders want to spew. Remember the Walt Disney quote above; many kids' shows are designed to be appealing to multiple audiences, including adults. Kids' shows with adult appeal (or ones that don't annoy the living daylights out of parents, or are legitimately good for kids) are more likely to be praised and recommended by said parents than, say, Cocomelon.

However, because of the stigma attached to kids' shows, many animation fans feel the need to hate on/ignore slice-of-life or comedy cartoons, while only praising plot-driven or "dark" ones like Gravity Falls, The Owl House, and Avatar, and say that they are "not for kids." Again, there is NOTHING wrong with liking kids' shows (these shows do feel more YA-ish though, but that's another subject for another blog). All three of these shows are very high quality, and you don't need to justify your enjoyment of them to outsiders. The constant prioritization of dramatic cartoons over lighthearted ones in the cartoon fandom creates a sense of snobby elitism, and leads to...

...fans of lighthearted shows like Big City Greens and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic being bullied for liking said shows because they are "childish." Which, in turn, leads to fans of lighthearted kids' shows trying to make their shows seem dark in order to make the elitists like them. Back in the day, many bronies made dark fan works based on MLP such as "Cupcakes," "Smile HD," and "Rainbow Factory" and put them out in public with no age restriction, resulting in a bunch of traumatized children. The bronies also acted like they were the target audience and not children.

Apart from the bronies' fan works, MLP also suffered from exaggerated darkness on TV Tropes subpages. Speaking of TV Tropes, there was a very infamous incident regarding the kids' show "Ready Jet Go!" Aside from the stigma surrounding general kids' programs, you also have the stigma attached to preschool shows that they are dumb and for babies (never mind that babies/infants are too young to watch TV, and if they watch it before they turn 2, it would really hurt their brain. Look up the Baby Einstein controversy for more info), especially with GoAnimate users making it hip to hate on Dora and Barney. Not every preschool/elementary show is the same as Cocomelon. There are many high-quality programs for the little ones such as Arthur, Cyberchase, Sesame Street, Bluey, Mister Rogers, VeggieTales, Oswald, Blue's Clues, LazyTown, Bear in the Big Blue House, and WordGirl. Can you really blame fans for liking them when they’re just so good?

With all this in mind, someone once made a Nightmare Fuel page for Ready Jet Go on TV Tropes in order to make it more popular, because the user felt alone in liking the show and it was a big comfort for them. They also cited the snobbery of the cartoon community as a reason for their making the page on the Nightmare Fuel cleanup thread. The page was eventually deleted because it was mocked cruelly by 4chan. It didn't make the show more popular, it gave it a bad reputation.

The user shouldn't have to had made that stupid page with examples exaggerating the show's supposed scariness. If it weren't for the cartoon community being a bunch of elitists, as well as the kids/preschool show stigma, this wouldn't have happened. The sad part is, even though the page is long gone, the page STILL gets brought up by RJG haters to mock the show, its' fans, and TV Tropes for "pissing their pants over Ready Jet Go" which is beating a dead horse at this point. Seriously, make like Elsa and LET IT GO. Please stop bringing it up, and if you’re reading this blog, please don’t look it up. Please have sympathy for Ready Jet Go fans. We’re actually a very nice fandom.

The 4chan bullying also ties into cringe culture. On sites such as DeviantArt, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, Reddit, and 4chan, many people are considered "cringe" and cyberbullied for "crimes" like making a colorful character or watching cartoons. The cyberbullies in question are just a bunch of pathetic lowlives who bully people for being happy, because they think that bullying happy people will make them feel better about their disgusting selves.

As noted here, cringe culture affects autistic people the most. Autistic people tend to get really passionate about their favorite things, or "special interests," and like to talk about them all the time and make their own characters. But according to some unwritten rule of society, your OCs have to be as deep as Shakespeare, and you're not allowed to like 'childish' things even a little bit. (I think it's worth mentioning that the Nightmare Fuel person was autistic themselves). Many proponents of cringe culture participate in concern trolling, acting like they don't want so-called "cringe" people to be bullied and want them to be good artists/writers. Cringe culture doesn't make people become better creators, it makes them become boring creators and repressing their true passions.

Every autistic person is different, which is why it's called the autism spectrum. However, it is true that a lot of autistic people enjoy children's media, likely because of how calming and simple they tend to be. For example, Thomas the Tank Engine is very popular with autistics because the engines' emotions are easy to tell, and the show has a chill atmosphere (by the way, the Thomas fandom is a frequent victim of cringe culture). Plus, it legitimately has Tolkien-level lore dating back to the 1940s. I'm not even kidding, look up "The Island of Sodor: Its People, History and Railways." It always pisses me off when outsiders act surprised that "tHOmAs tHe tRaIn hAs A fAnDoM?!?1!" It's based on a book series that's existed since 1945, of fucking course it has a fandom, dumbass.

TL;DR - 'Animation is for everyone' and 'it's okay to like kids' cartoons/lighthearted cartoons' are statements that can and should co-exist. Also, autistic people can like whatever they want and those who harass them are the scum of the earth.

771 notes · View notes

venbetta · 6 months

Text

Completely random thought and yes it's fnaf related

But I was thinking about how Toy Chica is so sexualized both by the fandom and in canon (...it feels intentional, alright). When I was younger and in the fnaf fandom (2014-2015), I never thought Toy Chica was hot or even that attractive, but of course seeing how everyone back then made that kind of art of her (and the other animatronics) at the time, I don't think I thought about it too much. I think I subconsciously understood that people are gonna sexualize everything on the internet, hence why rule 34 exists.

Plus I wasn't a furry at that age.

But now, I'm kinda like... it's so strange? I'm not judging, I literally find Glamrock Freddy (and the other glamrocks) hot- I'm a furry, lmao, but Toy Chica feels weird to me. I'm a lesbian and I find myself not finding her that sexually appealing, honestly (in a similar sense with Roxy and Glam Chica too). She's got "made for the male gaze" type of appeal that makes me kinda cringe a little.

She's that one "hear me out character," sort of the Lola Bunny type character that teen boys would be embarrassed to admit they have a crush on. Once again, I'm not judging, but honestly, I'm gonna look at her under a completely different lense

I came up with the conclusion that makes me like Toy Chica a little more and my personal headcanon; T. Chica is sapphic and for the girls.

She gives the vibe of being disgusted by men but loving women, that's just me. She'll eat a man for breakfast. I don't know how else to explain it.

#this is just an interpretation #and a headcanon sort of #I think Toy Chica is for the girls #fnaf #fnaf 2 #toy chica #rambles #ven speaks #fnaf headcanons

88 notes · View notes

mediocre-daydreams · 1 year

Note

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲: send me a character and “opposites attract” duo (ex. grumpy x sunshine, loner x popular) for a blurb!

finnick odair (popular/shy) please! i think it'd be so sweet :)

ok so i just started typing and this emerged and i'm not sure how well this fits the request or if it makes sense but you've got me in my finnick feels and now i have this urge to write for him but bro i have so many WIPs how could u do this to me :(((((

finnick odair x reader // 1.2k

you have an odd relationship with finnick. are you acquaintances? begrudging friends? enemies just for the sake of having someone to squabble with? in any other situation, you’d want a definitive answer. but it’s the 75th hunger games, and in all honesty, you couldn’t give less of a damn about finnick odair.

you’ve only met him a few times, when the capitol invites all the victors for some frivolous celebration for anniversary of a glorified massacre. it’s horrible, you’re more than aware. but some part of you feels a little better that you get to see finnick, because as much as he is confusing and for reasons unbeknownst to you, he seems to have your back.

the parade is twice as busy this year but the capitol spectators seem thrice as enthusiastic. you silently thank your designer for prematurely accepting your death, because it means he didn’t bother to design something extravagant (by capitol standards) and embarrassing (by your standards).

“well, don’t you just look ravishing?” a male voice sounds near your ear and you feel a warm breath tickle the side of your face.

you fight the urge to grab the nearest sharp object and stab your opponent. you turn your head, slowly and intentionally, to the source of the noise and are unsurprised at who you find. “finnick?” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“surprised to see me?” finnick grins, flashing you those teeth that must’ve been capitol-modified. they aren’t, of course. finnick hates everything capitol, and that’s the only reason you let him stick around. there are no other reasons.

“um, no.” you wish you could come up with a better, wittier, cleverer, flirtier response, but there’s something about the way he smells—luxurious and a little briny and so fresh it’s almost cold, but the heat from his bare chest says otherwise… “no, i’m not surprised. i saw your reaping.”

you cringed, remembering how he’d volunteered for annie and how defeated he’d looked on that stage, standing next to his old mentor and trying to avoid eye contact with his crying ex-lover. annie had never been the same after her games. perhaps you shouldn’t have brought that up.

“i’m flattered,” finnick grins at you again, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. he’s got one elbow on a table and even though his free arm hangs loosely by his side, you feel trapped where you are. or at least you’re in no rush to get away from him.

“okay, well… that’s good?” you mumble, not sure where he gets his endless chain of banter from but wishing you could have some.

“it’s good,” finnick repeats, shaking his head in amusement. he runs his hands through golden curls, meticulously styled and sprayed to look effortlessly tousled, and you’re sure his styling team is somewhere nearby wishing death upon you for being the reason their pretty boy has (god forbid) a strand of hair out of place.

finnick calling your name with that lovely voice of his snaps you out of a daze you hadn’t realized you were in. you blink, slightly caught off guard. “sorry, what was that?”

“i said, see something you like?” finnick’s grin is more smug now, almost feline. he looks like he’s about to pounce and ruin your life with those damn eyes. or, spear you with his trident in the quarter quell. neither seem particularly appealing.

“no!” you deny. “no- i mean, that’s not what i meant-” you stammer, eyes jumping everywhere but his polished chest. had his team rubbed him down in baby oil? he was glowing, all tan skin and smooth planes and well defined ridges and-

“no, you don’t like me? i’ve gotta say, i’m a little hurt,” finnick teases. “and here i thought we had something going on.”

“gah, i didn’t mean that! i’m not ogling you, is all. ‘course i like you, as long as you’re not going to kill me on the first day,” you manage to get out.

“hey, your words, not mine.” finnick shrugs, a smirk gracing his lips. “but just for the record, i am ogling you.”

your eyes narrow in confusion.

“i mean it,” finnick continues, swallowing, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker away yours for a moment. almost like he’s nervous. “you look nice. you look really… pretty.”

it’s not a groundbreaking or particularly romantic statement, but it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen finnick around someone who isn’t mags, and that means something to you. “i think you’re pretty too, finnick.”

his confidence returns. “y’know, i’m told that quite a bit. but it means a lot more coming from you, sweetheart.”

you purse your lips. “don’t get cocky, or i’ll take it back.”

“no take backs!” finnick sighs and licks his lips thoughtfully. you’re not sure if he’s trying to entice you on purpose, but either way, you’re enticed.

the conversation is lulling and it’s really finnick’s fault. you’re not much of a conversationalist. “uh,” you begin, not sure why you opened your mouth when you had nothing to say. “um, your horse is… well groomed. and- uh, your chariot- yeah.” you want to kill yourself. you’re going to die in a few days anyway, so you might as well die before you lose all your dignity to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

finnick snorts, unattractively horse-like, and you’re only a little comforted to know he’s not as perfect as he seems. “well, i’m sure the gamemakers will be pleased to hear that the procession is up to your standards.” he turns away from you to pat the side of his horse’s face and you get a good look at his high cheekbones and impossibly sharp jawline. you hate this man.

the horse doesn’t seem to like finnick much. it flares its nostrils and finnick is forced to retreat, taking a step back and finding himself against a small table, useless and meant for decoration. atop it rests a bowl of sugar cubes, which are also useless and probably meant for decoration. you want to scoff at how dedicated the capitol is to performing false hospitality down to the last detail.

finnick turns to see what he bumped into and his eyes light up. he pinches a cube of sugar between his pointer finger and thumb and rolls it around, pretending to examine it. he returns his gaze to you. “some sugar for my sugar?”

you want to gag. finnick is so disgusting and you can’t imagine who would fall for his cheesy pick-up lines. not you, that’s for sure. “no thanks. i’m… allergic.”

“allergic to sugar? really?” finnick frowns, tossing the sugar cube in the air and catching it in his palm easily. “i’ve never met someone with a sugar allergy before.”

you shrug, caught up in your lie and grateful that finnick didn’t call you out on it. you didn’t know if you’d be able to survive the embarrassment of your verbal slip.

the sugar cube really is for show. he places it on the table with disinterest and curls his lip mischievously. “well, i suppose it doesn’t matter. you’re sweet enough to give me a cavity as it is.”

you can’t help yourself. “are you flirting with me?” your mind runs faster than your mouth, it seems, and now you’re pretty sure you’ve screwed up the chance to talk to this man ever again.

finnick looks at you oddly, raises his eyebrows, and purses his lips to hide what would probably be a stupidly smug smile. “no, with the horse.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #1.5k celebration

635 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 1 year

Text

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part one

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: mentions of drugging/use of sedatives, minecraft talk, swearing, nothing really to note yet, but this story is rated explicit so is strictly 18+ ONLY.

word count: 4.1k

a/n: gif by moi. happy december! christmas is officially within reach and i am fucking buzzing. i originally started this last year but with the arrival of mini foli, i never got around to working on it/finishing it sooo better late than never i guess? lmao. cringe cheesy hallmark romance coming right up! i hope you angels enjoy x

“It’s fuckin’ November.”

Jack glares at it, picking up his distorted reflection in the absurdly large golden baubles being clipped onto the branches and curling his nose slightly at the ruffle of cheap tinsel as it gets draped and wound around the thick body of the tall tree. He studies it with a heavy air of judgement, deciding very quickly that it’s tacky.

What’s with the plastic shit nowadays? Where are the real trees? The ones that throw off heady waves of pine and shed their dry needles all over the damn floor?

And why the hell is everyone so hell bent on celebrating Christmas so damn prematurely? What’s the rush? Everyone celebrates through November and it leaves no excitement for December. By the time Christmas eventually rolls around, surely everyone’s sick of trees and gaudy decorations and that damn chirpy ear drilling music —

Tequila tsks lightly, slapping his friend's arm affectionately as he continues on to Champ’s office.

“Aw, c’mon man, don’t be a grinch! Gotta get that Christmas spirit flowin’.”

He was a Christmas person, Whiskey discovered. December the year they met, partnership still fresh and admittedly unstable, the man had been humming Christmas songs and munching on gingerbread and candy canes like they were going out of fashion. If it wasn’t for his damn good company and decent sense of humour, Whiskey probably would’ve requested a transfer.

Whiskey grunts, tearing his eyes away from the bright and merry decorations and following along after, fingers running along his belt and tucking in any stray untucked pieces of shirt that had rucked up during his walk.

“I ain’t a grinch – it’s November. Act accordingly.”

Tequila’s still laughing and poking at the so-called Scrooge when they breeze past Champ’s ever busy secretary and into his office, delivering a breezy two fingered salute as the man in question turns from gazing out of the floor to ceiling window running along the length of the room.

Champ eyes them both seriously, features pulled into tight scrutiny, before he smacks his lips quietly and levels his gaze on Jack.

“You still stealing gifts and telling kids Santa ain’t real?”

Tequila hides a snort in his palm and Jack gives a little glower, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

“I’d never.”

Champ’s face eventually breaks into a grin and he gives a low chuckle, lowering himself into his chair with a small exhale that blows out from around the press of his lips.

“I will admit I’ve never seen the appeal of celebrating a month early.”

“Thank you,” Jack’s head rolls to eye Tequila critically.

The man remains unbothered and lets his shoulders lift into a small shrug, a grin stretched across his lips. “I don’t even care. The second spooky season ticks over midnight on October 31st? It’s Christmas.”

“You’re a damn embarrassment.”

“Man, you love me.”

“Fellas,” Champ rumbles with mirth and catching both men's attention, “enough now. Shall we get to it?”

Time rolls by as Champ gives Tequila his next mission and Jack listens attentively, throwing in his opinion when asked and preparing for whatever is coming his way next, but in a strange turn of events, nothing comes. He frowns as Champ finishes up the meeting, slipping the thick framed glasses from his nose and throwing them softly onto his desk.

“Uh, sir?” His confusion only grows when it becomes clear Champ had nothing for him. “What about me?”

“What about you? You are takin’ some leave – startin’ this afternoon,” Champ says, reclining into the aged leather upholstered backrest and watching the deepening twist of Whiskey’s features with a shine of amusement.

Leave? Is he being stood down? He wasn’t aware of any misdemeanours or wrongdoings during the latest missions — everything had gone smoothly, despite the minimal hiccups along the way… but that wasn’t anything unusual, hiccups were a part of the job. He hadn’t been reprimanded for any decision or direction…

Do they find him lacking? Sure, his back protests every now and then, but he was still in his prime. He had years left, with aims to get somewhere higher up when he could no longer do field work. Do they think he doesn’t have it in him anymore?

An odd feeling of desperation builds in the pit of his stomach. This is his life. What would he do without it?

“Sir, I assure you I’m more than capable of handlin’ any assignment –”

“I know that,” Champ cuts in, soft and reassuring, “but you’ve accumulated quite the collection of vacation hours.”

Whiskey blinks in bewilderment, “... and?”

“You’re a workaholic,” Tequila whispers teasingly, lips tugging up into an amused side grin. “Means you need to get a hobby, man.”

“I have hobbies,” he snips in return, defensive.

Silence overcomes the office space and it feels slightly stifling. He swallows, readjusting himself in the seat to sit straighter as his eyes dart between the disbelieving expressions of both Tequila and Champ, and what makes it worse is nothing comes to mind as quickly as Jack needs to prove them wrong.

There’s not a damn thing to back up his argument. Does he work too much? Maybe. That’s not a bad thing – he’s damn good at his job. Sure, he spends more time out in the field than at his home, but again, that’s not a bad thing… he’s just busy. What does it matter, anyways?

Their brows raise, sensing their little victory, and Jack wets his lips, ready to deflect.

“Why’re you so interested in what I do in my free time anyway? I’m fine, I like to keep busy.”

“There’s keepin’ busy, and then there’s overdoin’ it,” Champ says in disapproval. “We’re not havin’ one of our best agents work himself into the damn ground. You’re takin’ a vacation and that’s it.”

In search of some back up on the matter, Whiskey exhales softly through his nose and lets his eyes roll to his partner, who remains uncharacteristically quiet. Tequila pointedly avoids his gaze and takes an interest in picking at his cuticles as he slumps down in his chair.

“You in on this?” Jack accuses, a twinge of irritation grating his tone.

Tequila blinks innocently, his eyes finally meeting his friends. “What? ‘course not.”

Giving a quiet grunt, Whiskey turns back to Champ and sighs.

“And if I refuse?”

They can’t fire him, they wouldn’t. Would he be stood down? No field work for so many weeks? Couldn’t he just gift his vacation hours to someone else? Hell, Tequila loves any excuse to get away — he’d give them all to him if it meant still working like normal.

Champ smiles, anticipating his reluctance.

“Ginger’ll activate the sedative Tequila here put in your drink and we’ll see you right to your accommodations.”

Jack's eyes snap back to his partner, his nostrils flaring.

Tequila smiles guiltily, “Merry Christmas?”

—

Glen Ridge is a small town with a modest population, but was surprisingly open and welcoming to tourists, used frequently by travellers for its snowy peaks just bordering the town centre.

With the centre buried deep in the valley, the mountains provide a pretty picture no matter what street you walk along, and the thick forests sprawling opposite give a sense of comfortable seclusion, like you were closed away from the world in a wonderful little winter paradise.

Even Jack can’t deny the roll of calm that overtakes his body as he enters the town limits, taking in the smiley faces along the sidewalk and the charming old school feel of the shops and cafes lined along the road.

It’s picturesque, practically straight out of a movie.

His cabin has the same feel much like the town did — old, comfortable, cosy. The timber structure of it was nestled amongst some towering trees, with a wonderfully creaky porch swing sat stationary on the porch. Inside reflected the out, with stained timber shiplap walls stretching towards the tall cathedral ceilings running throughout.

It was nice. As far as accommodations go, it wasn’t bad for a forced vacation.

He wanders, finding the bathroom, and then the master bedroom, the large what looked to be handmade king bed looking wonderfully welcoming with a hand stitched throw, thick duvet and fluffy pillows. No, not bad at all.

There’s a single bottle of Statesman Whiskey sat centre on the kitchen countertop, with a large emerald coloured envelope perched against it. He eyes it in vague curiosity, and plucks it from the stone top before fingering the envelope flap out of the way and pulling a card free.

An overly joyful cartoon reindeer greets him and he grunts at it, rolling his eyes and flicking the card open, wincing at the sudden screech of Christmas music playing loudly from it.

Merry Christmas, Ebenezer. Don’t be pissed at me. Enjoy your break, old man.

The icy resentment that had grown in the pit of his stomach cracks slightly, giving way to an affectionate warmth and understanding. Sure, he’d been pissed at the kid for not giving him a heads up and slipping him a sedative, but Tequila had meant no harm or cruelty. He wasn’t built like that, not with those who meant something to him.

Regret tugs at his insides the more his eyes trace the words. He didn’t say goodbye before he left, admittedly quite sour over being practically forced out of work. He wasn’t going to be humiliated by being sedated and carried to his vacation spot, and the irritation over the situation had only grown as he cleaned up his desk and passed along the work he still needed to complete to other agents.

It felt wrong.

He hadn’t even been allowed to take any of his usual work tech from the office. No laptop, no tablet… hell, Ginger even put locks on his phone. He wouldn’t be able to reach the Statesmen headquarters, or any other agents privately, and vice versa. He was truly on his own, with no temptation of work clouding his mind and keeping him from enjoying some down time.

He doesn’t even know where to start.

Jack sighs as he wanders back into the main area, his hands finding his hips as he looks around his lodgings, taking in the cosy feel of the lounge and the vacant fireplace, soot and flame remnants licking up the brick.

“Well,” he drawls dryly to himself, “now what?”

—

“Just in town for a few weeks,” he smiles at the stranger, jaw clenching with the effort of keeping the growing irritation out of his features.

It’s the same answers over and over. The townsfolk were incredibly kind and open, often stopping along their way to ask how he is, what he’s in town for and how long is he staying, but with each question having the same direction as the ones asked by previous passersby, the small talk gets old fast.

He lingers in the cereal aisle of the small grocery store, smile turning somewhat stiff as the conversation moves on, answering any other questions directed towards him with a patient expression. Are you single? What do you do for work? Have you travelled much? Where are you from?

Despite the impatience steadily building in his system, he ensures to keep his attitude easy and charming, quickly winning over the trio of elderly ladies crowding him into the breakfast foods until they seemed satisfied with the information he had provided.

His cheeks ache from the force of keeping up appearances and he ensures to make it quick upon leaving the store with his groceries, ducking his head and hiding behind the yellow tint of his sunglasses to avoid meeting any other strangers’ eyes who seemed keen for a chat.

It almost works.

“Hey mister, would you like to buy a cookie?”

Jack’s steps falter at the younger voice, and his head turns to find a boy standing behind a little foldout table just outside the sliding store doors. His eyes drop to study the individually bagged gingerbread men, each obviously decorated by the hands of a child with uneven icing and odd designs.

“He don’t look much like a festive gingerbread man,” Jack says, pointing to a particular cookie and the bright blue icing covering it in some sort of blocked blob.

“That’s because he’s wearing diamond armour,” the kid replies frankly, the silent duh obvious in his tone.

What the fuck is diamond armour?

“Is that right? You do these yourself?”

“My mum bakes them – she’s got a bakery. I decorated them, though. I made the icing, too. My sister says she likes it. She’s kinda why I’m selling them – I want to buy her the doll she’s wanted all year.”

“That’s real good of you, kid. She’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

“So…?”

“So what?”

“You gonna buy a cookie or what?”

Jack snorts in amusement, shaking his head. “Maybe another day.”

“You’re gonna say no to a kid trying to do something nice for his baby sister? It’s Christmas, mister.”

“And?”

“Well,” the boy shifts, a small frown pinching his brows, “what if I don’t have enough for her doll? I’m trying to do it all by myself and I made her a promise, but if I break my promise she’ll be crying on Christmas and I would’ve let her down and I can’t let her down because I’m her big brother and she should be able to believe in me and if I can’t do this, then she won’t talk to me and I love my sister and I want her to talk to me and… and —”

Tears build in his eyes.

His lower lip startles to wobble.

Ah, hell.

First day in town and he’s already making a kid cry. Tequila would never let him live this down if he knew. A quick look around tells him no one had caught him terrorising a child — yet — so he juggles the bag of groceries into one arm and dives a hand into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Alright, kid, alright… I’ll take the fancy diamond fella.”

It’s funny how quick the tears dry up once the money is handed over and stashed in the little tin covered in cartoon stickers. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book – hook, line, and sinker.

The kid grins in triumph, popping a small blue bubble of gum between his lips and Jack frowns playfully at him, unable to stop the pull of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well played, kid. Does that kind of stuff work a lot on your mama?”

The boy shrugs loosely, popping another bubble of blue gum. “Nope, stopped working on her years ago. Works all the time on strangers in lame cowboy hats, though.”

The brief wave of surprise gives way to a heavy flood of amusement and a laugh rumbles from deep in Jack’s chest, his grin widening, “You’re alright, kid. What’s your name?”

“Gabe,” the boy grins in return, cheeks creasing with dimples.

“Gabe,” Jack hums, “I got my eye on you. You’re lucky I don’t string you up like a Christmas ham for insultin’ my favourite Stetson. Am I free to leave now, or are you gonna trick me into buyin’ more?”

“Depends… how much money you got?”

Jack laughs again, shaking his head and continuing on his way, tucking the blue man into his grocery bag and grinning at the loud goodbye Gabe shouts after him.

—

You eye the handsome stranger from your place in the kitchen, unbothered as flour flicks up from the bowl in your hands and dusts the front of your apron. He’s alone as far as you can see, and when you squint extra hard, you find no ring on his finger when his hand rises to fix the Stetson perched on his head.

A cowboy?

And a very pretty one at that.

“You’re making a mess,” comes an amused murmur next to you, and your eyes immediately fall away from the cowboy and drop to the noticeable catastrophe in your hands.

“Oh, fuck!”

Most of the mixture had flicked out of the bowl due to the distraction currently standing at your shop counter studying the treats on display. José chuckles, a wet cloth already in his hands and he gently ushers you to the side to take care of the small disaster.

“Go on, go talk to him,” he grins, wiping your mess away and chuckling lowly at your wide eyed panic.

It’s the possibility of embarrassing yourself that keeps your feet firmly planted in the safety of the kitchen. You were… shaky at best, your experiences with men lacking after focusing on nothing but the kids and the bakery for the last few years. You preferred it that way, you think. No distractions.

You didn’t have room for someone in your life then, especially after everything. You didn’t have the patience to foster a new connection at that point in your life, you didn’t have time to dedicate to another… but you can't deny the ache of loneliness that surrounds your heart now. The focus and dedication of building a new life came at a cost, and the empty feel of a bed every night reminded you of that harsh fact.

“No, no I can’t. Besides Stacy’s already doing a great job of—”

“Stacy, I need your help back here!” José calls before you can stop him.

Startled, your head whips back to the front of the store.

“No, no, no—”

It’s too late.

You hear Stacy politely excuse herself from assisting the handsome cowboy and then she’s entering the kitchen with a smile, more than happy to be dragged away to a fresh batch of pies by an all too smug José. You give him a soft glare and sigh, wiping your hands down the front of your apron and stepping out into the front, not wanting to keep your customer waiting for too long.

“Hi,” you greet politely, heart picking up a bit in your chest as his eyes fly to you, “sorry about that. How can I help you?”

His smile is rich and warm when he looks at you, and it’s impossible to not let the small bud of attraction building in the pit of your stomach grow stronger. He straightens, the leather jacket hanging from his shoulders parting around the thick burgundy scarf wound around his throat as his hands bury in the front pocket of his dark denim jeans.

“Hey darlin’, I’m after s—”

It’s typical. Of course something would have to go wrong, someone would have to interrupt. It’s so typical you should’ve expected it, but you still jump in surprise. The door slams open and Gabe rushes in with a loud “Hi Mum!”, bringing a sharp breeze of icy air into the shop, before running back behind the counter and brushing past you to dump his school bag in the corner.

“Hi baby. I’m so sorry,” you murmur, turning back to the man, heat washing along under your skin as the stranger’s eyes dart between you and Gabe, “this is my son.”

A grin slowly forms on the strangers lips, and your stomach tightens at the sight of it.

“Yeah,” he drawls deeply, “we’ve met.”

Apparently only just now bothering to notice that you had a customer and were in the middle of serving him, Gabe perks at his voice. His body straightens and he openly grins at the stranger, obviously pleased to see him and your brows furrow lightly in confusion.

“Hi, lame cowboy!”

Your confusion evaporates.

You’re mortified.

“Gabriel!”

Your son had always been… lax with his verbal filter, but never at the level of insulting strangers. What is he playing at? The heat in your cheeks grows until they throb, and you fight the urge to run back to the protection of the kitchen.

Leave it to your son to insult the first truly attractive, seemingly unattached, man to walk into town in what feels like years.

“I’m so s—”

“No, no – he’s fine,” the stranger quickly cuts in, his smile still friendly and your internal alarm calms slightly. “It was a comment from our conversation yesterday.”

“He bought the diamond armour gingerbread man,” Gabe explains. “Did you like it?”

The stranger looks down at him, a more serious expression overtaking his features. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, kid… hand on my heart, it was the best damn gingerbread man I’ve ever had.”

Your insides twist at the compliment, thrilled that he enjoyed something you had baked, and a self satisfied smile threatens to spread across your lips. His eyes fly to meet yours and your smile turns somewhat shy under his approving gaze, the teasings of his own smile causing the corners of his lips to twitch.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you say softly, heart running wild.

His lips part, but Gabe beats him to the punch.

“Did you want another one? I have some leftover from yesterday – hold on, wait right there!”

Gabe turns and disappears into the kitchen without another word. Silence falls over you and the handsome stranger, but it doesn’t seem to feel uncomfortable… in fact, it’s quite the opposite. You give another small smile when your eyes meet, relishing in the warmth running along under your skin.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you note with a tone of interest, leaning against the counter. “Are you just passing through…?”

“Jack,” he supplies with an easy smile, “Jack Daniels.”

“Like the whiskey?”

His smile widens, and he turns to lean a hip against the front of the counter casually. You become hyper aware of the fact that there’s just the width of the counter between you and it does nothing to calm the flutter of butterflies building in the pit of your stomach.

“Exactly like the whiskey. I’ve got a cabin for the holidays… boss decided I work too much.”

You laugh softly, head tilting as you appraise him, studying each line and crease of his face with appreciation. “Well, do you?”

Jack gives a small unbothered shrug, a deep chuckle oozing with guilt falling from his throat. “Probably, but I got nothin’ else to do so it keeps me busy. Plus those bills won’t stop comin’ in.”

“I know the feeling,” you reply.

Your index finger dances along the cool countertop as you deliberate your next question, clinging to the small wave of confidence you've been riding since stepping out of the back.

“Does your other half not think anything of your work habits?”

You hope the way the question is phrased doesn’t come across as completely fucking obvious, but you know you’ve failed when a wider grin starts to pull at his lips, something more playful seeping into his eyes. His gaze flickers over your face, briefly dropping to your lips before rolling back up to meet yours and the small action comes to settle low in your stomach.

“No other half to complain about it, I’m afraid,” Jack replies wistfully, and it’s exactly what you want to hear.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, tongue coming out to wet your lips, “that’s too bad.”

Gabe reappears in the next moment, halting whatever direction that particular conversation was heading, and you smile softly at him, stepping aside to let him lay the remaining gingerbread men on the counter. He quietly orders them into a neat line before looking expectantly at Jack, his fingers tangling together in waiting.

The man in question studies each man carefully, lips pursing in thought as he bends to get a closer look.

“I’ll tell you what, kid,” he murmurs, crossing his arms on the counter and levelling his gaze with Gabe’s, “I’ll take ‘em all and give you a nice tip for your great service, and you go buy your sister that doll — deal?”

Gabe hurriedly nods, his lips stretching into a wide grin as he eagerly shakes the hand Jack holds out to him. You warm further at the kind gesture, unable to stop the ache of your smile as Gabe eagerly packs the cookies into a bag and accepts the offered cash with a heartfelt thank you, his giddiness obvious as he beams up at Jack.

“You both take care now,” Jack smiles, his Stetson dipping as he gives a nod of farewell.

Cowboy.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jack,” you call to him, welcoming Gabe into your side as he presses himself close to you.

Jack half turns as he leaves, giving you a radiant final smile that you're sure will haunt your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80,@danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave,

jack daniels tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94,

#folijollyxmas #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal x reader

729 notes · View notes