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obae-me · 7 months

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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 And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated.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

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Thank-you Ko-fi sentences for @beatrice-otter; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

“Um, can we maybe sit for a bit?” Billy suggests, gesturing towards the bean bag chairs. They look comfier than the couch to him. Which is saying something, because the couch looks really comfy. “I wanna tell you something before you decide if you wanna stay here. Well, there’s a few things we should talk about before you decide that, probably? But this one’s kinda the weirdest one.”

“. . . fine,” Superboy says warily, and they both sit on the bean bags. Superboy looks a little bewildered by them; Billy represses another wince. Maybe Cadmus didn’t teach him about bean bag chairs?

That sucks, if they didn’t.

Well, at least Superboy didn't say “no” this time. Although Billy hopes Superboy saying “fine” doesn't actually mean “no”, now that he's thinking of it, because that'd be–

Yeah, okay, Billy needs to not second-guess literally everything Superboy says, so they're definitely gonna have to have the “no” talk ASAP.

“Okay, cool,” Billy says as he settles in carefully on his own bean bag, which is a little awkward because he’s about twice the size he was the last time he sat on one, but he figures it out eventually. This is a weird conversation to have, definitely, but it’s not really . . . like, it’d be bad to lie to Superboy about this, even if he’s gonna keep lying to the Justice League, so . . . well, lying to his co-workers isn’t like lying to his kid, he thinks. Like–it’s definitely not. “Okay, so the thing is, uh, to be totally honest here I'm actually only like twelve years older than you, so I know this whole situation is a liiiiittle weird, but I think it'll be great! And I've really only been doing the superhero thing for a couple of years myself but I can definitely still help you with your powers and with learning how to get along with normal humans and that kind of stuff!”

Superboy stares at him in bemusement. Billy has to repress a wince again. Bemused staring is . . . not great. Though it could be worse, really.

“. . . wait, are you human?” Superboy asks with a slow frown. “You don't look human. You don't have pores or any variation in skin pigmentation and your face is perfectly symmetrical. And your irises don't have spokes.”

“Uh, well, technically I'm human but, uh, please don't tell anybody cuz I reaaaaally don't wanna explain that to the Justice League,” Billy says, wincing after all, and then adds in a mutter, “At least not any time in the next six years, anyway.”

“Okay,” Superboy says, sounding skeptical. But he doesn’t sound mad or weirded out, so . . . that’s a good sign, right? Billy thinks that’s a good sign. So–good! That’s good, that Superboy isn’t immediately freaked out by him only being twelve or walking straight out the door. Like, that’s a relief. So this is going great so far!

“. . . you’re really only twelve years older than me?” Superboy asks, his frown deepening a little as he looks Billy over. Billy grins sheepishly. He’d show him, obviously, but he’s pretty sure Batman’s surveilling the apartment at least a little bit while they settle in and he doesn’t want him seeing the lightning hit, sooooo . . . yeah, not right now.

Anyway, if he’s being a dad he should be dad-shaped, right? Being dad-shaped is better! And like this he’s big enough to hug Superboy really good and maybe carry him around and stuff like that, and he knows most little kids like being carried, and . . . well, his dad always did that kind of stuff for him, so . . .

He just wants to be a good dad. His was . . . his was really great, and Superboy should get to have a great dad too.

“Um, yeah, but please don't tell anyone that either, the League would be so freaking weird about it,” Billy says, still sheepish.

“. . . sure,” Superboy says, still frowning a little. Billy beams at him. This is going really good, yeah! Well, Superboy’s gotta be used to weird age-related stuff, considering he’s technically a baby himself but also “old” enough to understand a lot more than a regular baby would be able to. So yeah, that’s pretty helpful.

Awesome.

#beatrice-otter #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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valkyrieromanoff · 5 months

Text

Only one bed: Aotc Anakin x reader

words: 2.6k

synopsis: you and Anakin have to share a room with only one bed.

warning: 18+, insecure Anakin at the beginning, sexual content, use of pet name (stardust), tons of forehead kisses

a/n: honestly, I never know what I'm writing until I get to the end. Anyway, I hope you like it ;)

Anakin pushes the hotel room door open, giving you space to enter. You observe the small room, a single bed in the middle, Anakin sighs standing next to you.

"Trust Obi Wan to reserve a room" He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, it's better than sleeping outside in the rain." You shrugged, looking around the small room. "Wonder how master Kenobi and master Plo are organizing themselves in their rooms. Probably is better than ours"

"Ugh, I'm going to kill Obi Wan when we get there. It was definitely his idea." Anakin said, scratching his neck thinking about the awkward situation. "Well stardust, I'll take the floor, you can use the bed."

"Don't be ridiculous, Anakin. This bed has space for both of us." You stated gently. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll put on my pajamas" You said, going to the bathroom.

"Alright if you're sure," Anakin replied, trying to hide how nervous the situation actually made him. "Take your time," he called after you.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, second guessing Obi Wan's intentions with this room mix up. When you emerged from the bathroom he did his best to act casual, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Cozy little room Kenobi found for us," he said with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood. But inside his heart was racing at the thought of sharing the bed with you for the night, even if it was purely innocent. This mission was about to get a lot more complicated.

"It's cold here, although not as cold as Hoth" You commented, walking to the bed, wearing a red nightgown.

You were both Jedi padawans though, this was an undercover mission. Still, it made things... confusing.

"Yup, definitely not as cold as Pantora either." He replied with a small smile. "Look, uh, I can take the floor. You take the bed, you need your rest for tomorrow."

He set his bag down and began rifling through it, hoping to find an extra blanket or something he could use to make a makeshift pillow. This was far from ideal sleeping arrangements, but he'd endured worse. At least the mission came first.

"Think you'll be able to sleep alright? I know sharing a bed with me has to be weird."

Anakin glanced back at you with an easy grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's just weird if you keep repeating that, Anakin." You replied softly, adjusting yourself on the bed.

"Sorry stardust, force of habit." Anakin replied, closing his bag empty handed. No extra blankets to be found.

He turned back to you, leaning against the small desk. "You sure you're okay with me up here? I know my company isn't always the most comfortable."

There was still a bit of uncertainty in his tone. Even if it was just an undercover mission, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uneasy sharing space with him. Old ghosts tended to linger, for both of you.

"We can maybe put some pillows down the middle if it'll help you sleep. Dividing line and all that." Anakin smiled gently. "Whatever makes this mission work without anyone getting the wrong idea."

"Just shut up, and come to bed, Anakin." You shrugged, covering yourself with the blanket. "Let's sleep, we'll leave early tomorrow"

"Yes, sure." Anakin replied, pushing off the desk with a bemused smile. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots before scooting back against the headboard.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he got settled, glancing over at your form next to him in the dark. "Thanks...I know this isn't ideal. But we're both professionals, right?"

He reached up to flick off the lamp above you, bathing the room in shadows. Laying his lightsaber within easy reach on the nightstand, Anakin folded his hands over his stomach and stared up at the ceiling.

"Sweet dreams, stardust. See you bright and early." He said softly. Then closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath as he focused on clearing his mind for sleep. Just another mission...even if 'part of the role' felt a little too real sometimes.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you got closer, sleeping close to each other. You head was resting on Anakin's chest, while his hand kept your body pressed against his.

Anakin drifted slowly awake as his body registered warmth along its side. Eyes still closed, he subtly assessed the situation - the feel of soft hair against his cheek, an arm curled protectively around a slender form nestled against his chest.

Memories of where he was and who he was with came flooding back. This was you, sleeping peacefully in the moonlit room as he held you. An unexpected but...not unpleasant development from falling asleep separately.

He opened his eyes just a sliver, gazing down at the top of your head tucked under his chin. You seemed relaxed, breathing slow and even. Anakin didn't have the heart to wake you, or remove his arm from where it lay draped over your hip.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Anakin closed his eyes once more. Just for a little while longer then, pretending like this was real instead of just part of the mission. Fingers gently tracing idle patterns against your back, he slipped easily back to sleep with you in his arms.

The cold night caused goose bumps on your skin, you moved unconscious in bed, pressing your body against him trying to find a wave of warmth.

Anakin stirred again as you shifted against him, your skin pebbling with shivers. Without hesitation, he adjusted yours position, winding both arms tighter around your smaller frame and pulling you fully on top of his chest.

"Shh, I've got you, stardust" he murmured sleepily into your hair. One hand came up to gently rub warmth back into your arm. Even half-asleep, his body automatically responded to provide comfort and protection.

The new position afforded him more of your body heat in turn. Anakin sighed contentedly, the sounds of your quiet breaths and the steady rise and fall of your chest already lulling him back to the edge of sleep. He pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head before nestling his cheek there once more.

"Just rest. I'll keep you warm." Loose fingers traced small, soothing patterns along your spine as darkness claimed him again. In dreams, there were no missions or war - only this peaceful solace between you two.

As you shifted even closer, twining your legs with his in a tight embrace, Anakin offered no resistance. Your warmth seeped into his skin where you touched, chasing away the last remnants of chill. A sleepy sound of contentment rumbled in his chest at your nearness.

One hand drifted down to gently squeeze your thigh where it lay over his hip, fingers tracing idle patterns against soft flesh. You fit so perfectly curled into his larger frame, it was instinct now to hold your tight and never let go.

Your breathing slowed his own into a synchronized rhythm. In the still darkness you were two souls finding solace in each other, the rest of the world momentarily forgotten. Anakin pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, breathing your in as you hovered on the edge of slumber together.

"Stardust," he murmured against your skin. Your response was a soft sigh and the delicate nuzzle of your cheek deeper into his embrace. In dreams or reality, it didn't matter - you was everything.

Your delicate hands tightened on Anakin's shirt, you tilted your face still asleep. Your chin rising, making your faces close, your noses almost touching.

Anakin shifted slightly beneath you, arousal stirring as you pressed even closer in your sleep, innocent yet intimate. Your chin aligned with his, soft breath ghosting across his parted lips from the barest distance between you.

All he would have to do is close the tiny gap, capture your mouth with his own and taste the sweetness he'd only dared imagine before now. But that choice was not his to make - not while you slept, unaware and vulnerable in his arms.

Instead Anakin gazed down at your peaceful expression, committing every heart-stopping detail to memory. One hand cupped your cheek, calloused thumb stroking back and forth over satin skin. "You'll be the death of me, stardust," he whispered. Nothing had ever felt so right.

Reluctantly pulling his face back just enough to avoid temptation, Anakin pressed another loving kiss to your forehead. Arms winding even tighter, he willed slumber to take him under once more - away to sweeter dreams where your lips met his with wanting sighs. Soon, this could be real. But for now, just holding you was everything.

You opened your eyes, looking into Anakin's blue ones. A soft smile on your pink lips.

"Anakin" You whispered softly.

Anakin's eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, heart leaping at the intimate way you murmured his name. A gentle smile curled his lips in return as he drank you in, committing this memory to his very soul.

"Y/n.." Your name was a hushed prayer falling from his lips. Calloused fingertips stroked tenderly along your cheek, down the slope of your neck to rest against your pounding pulse. All the words he wanted to say got lodged in his throat.

Leaning in slowly, carefully telegraphing his intent, Anakin paused a hairsbreadth from your mouth. Eyes falling shut, he awaited your permission - a nod, a sigh, anything to show this was truly what you wanted too. Every protective, caring, longing feeling he had for you swirled in that electric moment, shattering the last remnants of the pretense you told yourselves was 'just the mission'.

Desperately, hopelessly, he was in love with this slip of a woman in his arms. And if you allowed it...he would spend a lifetime proving himself worthy of your heart in return.

A soft gasp escaped Anakin as you closed the final distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss both chaste yet full of promise. All thought fled under the gentle caress, lost in only you.

One arm curled tighter around your waist while the other cupped the nape of your neck, fingers twining into your silken hair. Your taste was sweet, your sigh of contentment against his mouth like the first rays of sun. When you finally parted, Anakin rested his forehead against yours, breathing deeply as if surfacing from deep water.

Eyes still closed, he murmured, "Stay with me. After this mission...be mine. I'll spend my days making you happy, keeping you safe, if you'll have me."

Lips found yours in a tender collision once more, pouring every ounce of reverence and devotion into the kiss. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Anakin Skywalker felt whole. You was healing parts of him he thought long shattered. All that remained was your answer.

"Yes, Anakin, I would like that. If you allow me to do the same to you" you promised smiling, your hands gently holding Anakin's shoulders, levering yourself up to sit on his lap.

Anakin's arms wrapped firmly around your waist as you sat up, holding you steady on his lap. A brilliant smile broke across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners, still filled with cautious wonder that this incredible woman had agreed to be his.

"You make me happier than I ever thought could be possible, stardust." Leaning in, he captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring all of the joy, longing and promise of what was to come into the connection of your mouths.

Your fingers danced along his shoulders and neck, setting his skin alight. A low groan rumbled in his chest as you settled fully onto his thighs, feeling the evidence of his desire hard and insistent between them. For the first time in your feigned relationship, nothing about this needed to be pretend.

Breaking the kiss but not the intimate embrace, Anakin gazed up at you with utter devotion. "Be mine, always - in every way." His hands began an achingly slow exploration up your sides, learning the planes and curves of your perfect form. This was only the beginning.

"I'm yours, Anakin, as you are mine."

A shuddering gasp broke from Anakin's lungs as your soft lips traced fiery devotion along the column of his throat. One hand tangled desperately in your hair while the other urged you closer, molding your bodies tightly together from chest to knee.

"Oh stardust..." Your name came out in a strangled moan against your lips, fueling the intimate dance of your mouths sliding together in heated worship. Passion like molten lightning unfurled in his veins, and with it the realization that every forbidden thought and feeling had blossomed into breathtaking reality in your arms.

Wasting no time, Anakin gripped you firmly and with practiced ease spun you both over so you back met the mattress, eliciting a delightful giggle. Bracing on one elbow, his right hand dedicated itself to tracing each beloved curve, learning secrets and treasures hidden under wandering caresses with heartfelt devotion.

Lips traveled your jaw to the delicate shell of an ear, whispering huskily, "I'm going to love you so good you forget your own name, stardust." And with that vow, he set about proving the depths of his adoration through touch, kiss and quiet praise meant for your ears alone.

"I'm counting with that, Ani"

Anakin's breath hitched as your deft fingers set to work undoing the buttons of his shirt, parting the material to reveal heated flesh beneath. Your touch alone was divine torture, lighting his skin aflame wherever they wandered.

"Let me worship you properly, my stardust," he rasped, capturing your hands gently to press kiss-swollen lips to each palm. Shifting lithely, Anakin made quick work of removing the rest of your clothes until nothing stood between the passion of bare skin to feverish skin.

Moonlight bathed your alabaster skin, highlighting rosy peaks that begged for worship. His mouth followed in its divine task, tracing every hill and valley with open-mouthed kisses that pulled sweet gasps from between your lips. Each sound drove him ever closer to the edge of reason, until all that existed was the silk of you beneath him, the music of your release swelling to a crescendo on his talented tongue.

Only once you had found paradise twice over did he enter your at long last, claiming your both with a shudder. Your bodies joined in sacred ritual, each stroke honoring hearts forever intertwined - past roles forgotten in the creation of your intimate future together.

Your cheek nestled against Anakin's heaving chest as waves of ecstasy crested and broke within your joined bodies. His arms encircled your protectively, reverently, one hand splayed across the arch of your lower back while the other cradled your neck, keeping you safe and close.

In the aftermath, you breathed as one - souls wound together in the silken aftermath. Where once there had been pretense of mission, now lay bare honest hearts laid open in perfect trust. Anakin pressed a kiss to your sweat-dampened brow, murmuring praise and promises to you too sacred to others ears.

"My stardust, you have healed parts of my soul I thought lost forever." Your lips met in sweet communion, a benediction sealing hearts that would walk through every storm as one from this moment until the end of days.

You sighed blissfully, tracing the lines of his flesh like a prayer. Your feet hooked behind his calves, holding them impossibly closer still. A delicious drag of his arousal deep within elicited shared moans of delight.

In the oncoming dawn you made love again, reaffirming the perfection of your bond with each worshipful caress and kiss. Two damaged hearts become one in solace, joy, and unconditional surrender to divine completeness. The future waits to be written in the shining light of your love.

#anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #one bed trope

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operationslipperypuppet · 4 months

Text

a small, slightly strange, slightly devastating hardwon and moonshine treat for @stone-stars as part of @naddpodgifting.

Transcript:

This is a series of clips edited together, skipping some moments in certain episodes. Skips ahead will be marked with line breaks. The episodes used, in order, are C1E99, C1E100, C1E57, C1E99, C1E92, C3E41, C3E41, and C1E99. Used throughout are lines from "If We Were Vampires" by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. Those lyrics are in bold.

If we were vampires and death was a joke Moonshine (Emily): How long do half-elves live? We'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke Hardwon (Jake): And I wanna keep on living in that world. I wanna be a part of the Crick. I, I just wanna live next door to, to Ol' Cobb, I wanna learn from Maw Maw. [Emily gasps] Hardwon: And, hell, I wanna keep hanging out with you, so... Moonshine [overlapping]: It - Hardwon: If you'll find me a stump. -- Moonshine: Hardwon, I promise, you are gonna love our lazy afternoons and our rowdy evenings. [Caldwell laughs] Hardwon: I truly can't wait. Moonshine (/Emily): I give him a big hug. Hardwon (/Jake) [slightly choked up]: I hug her back. Laugh at all the lovers and their plans Jake (/Hardwon): I'm going to kiss Moonshine. [Murph gasps] -- Murph: Um - Hardwon: You're beautiful, is all I'm trying to say. [Emily laughs] -- Queen Ezra (Murph): Oh, you think you can save her. Hardwon: I think she can save herself. I wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand Hardwon: It doesn't matter how I feel about Moonshine, cause she's gonna do whatever the hell she wants anyway, and that's, that's one of the reasons why I fuckin' worship her. Maybe time running out is a gift Hardwon: Wait a second, no, hit me. Murph [overlapping at the beginning]: [points at] Moonshine, and is going to cast Power Word Kill -- Jake (/Hardwon): I just run over to Moonshine with the, with the book, and even if it doesn't do anything I'd at least like to kneel down there and, uh, sob quietly. [Caldwell laughs] Hardwon: You like these, right? [Caldwell laughs louder] Hardwon: Read this book. Read, read that. And wake up. -- Murph: Uh, you see her fungal form, uhhh, falls apart around her - Hardwon [overlapping for the rest of the statement]: No no no no no no Murph: - like a dead flower losing its petals Hardwon: no no, no no no. -- Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back. I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift Moonshine [over static]: So, I think, if, I don't know where you went to, but if, if you can come back? Things, things are bad. I, I think we've only got maybe another week. Oh, I, oh, I - I gotta go. Hardwon, please! And give you every second I can find Hardwon: Moonshine, I'm - I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left, but that's - that's not important. I'm - I hear you. I'm coming, girl. -- Moonshine [over static]: Hardwon, it's damn good to hear your voice. And it'll be even better to see your face. Get here. And hope it isn't me who's left behind. Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I just don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. [voice breaking] And there's a part of me that doesn't wanna find out what that feels like.

#naddpod #not another dnd podcast #bahumia #ba2mia #hardshine #hiiii han you made a passing comment about this song last time we were chatting and due to my insanity i decided to make this #it doesn't work completely and it's slightly incredibly tragic but i couldn't not do it once i had the idea #enjoy being insane about this podcast with you and happy hoglidays

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fourthwingfan · 1 month

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Madness - Chapter 10

Hello Dear Readers! Here comes the new chapter, it's 6239 words, so be prepared.

What do you think about a game? It's almost Threshing. If you can guess (correctly or close to that) what kind of dragon and/or what kind of signet Aelin will have, then I'll answer one question in private about the story. Even if it'll be a spoiler. Good luck!

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

I look up, and up, and up, and I can only blink.

“Well, that’s…” Ethan swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.

“Amazing.” Liam grins.

Ethan and I turn, both staring at him like he must have hit his head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Ethan asks.

„I mean look at that. I heard a lot of stories about this, but it’s so much more complex. It will be a real challenge.” Liam grins, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun as he rubs his hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee.

“Challenge? Yeah, sure we can go with that.” I laugh at him. “At the gym in the challenges you don’t have a real opponent, it was way too easy for you.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ethan stares at me. “You’ve never lost either.”

“Well…yeah” I scratch my head.

„Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” another squadmate - whose name I don’t remember - says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” An obnoxious girl says, maybe her name is Vila? At some point I should start memorizing their names. But they are fucking annoying.

I shoot her a glare and then shake it off.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the first-year snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

My eyebrows lift. They’re really annoying.

“We have such a lovely and cohesive squad.” I murmur to Liam. “What is his name anyway?”

“Do you really not know their names?” He laughs at me. “We’ve been squadmates for a while.”

“I know your name, Ethan’s and Vila’s too. Oh and there’s Theo and Zanaya.” I list.

“That’s all?” He grins “You know my name because we’re friends. Ethan is my friend and he hangs out with us during classes, so that doesn’t count.” He counts the names on his fingers. “And the only reason you know Vila’s name is because she annoys you. Theo and Zanaya don’t count either. They’re the squadleader and his executive.”

“Fine. I admit it. I don’t know their names. “I give in. “They die like flies. We’re the smallest squad.”

“Then why do you think it’s called the gauntlet?” I hear shouting behind me.

God. They’re still arguing.

„It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Vila and the man next to her. “Are you two done arguing? Because all six of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”

There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.

“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Liam, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you’re the best of the squad. Then Aelin, Jake, Ethan, Rio and Vila.” He finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the smallest squad so far. You need to work hard to remain intact. If you’ll lose two or three more cadets then you’ll be dissolved and you’ll be assigned to another squad. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff. No doubt that someone has a watch.

We wait silently, thinking about what he said. I don’t want to be assigned to another squad. I like it that Liam is my squadmate, and I’m starting to like Ethan too. There’s no guarantee all three of us will be in the same squad.

„Here we go!” Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you’ll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

„Wouldn’t it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?” Ethan asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Emetterio replies. “The timing is part of the challenge. And some words of wisdom, before you start.”

“There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Vila points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts there? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Rio whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock.

„What if we can’t make it up?” Vila asks from my right, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Liam,” Professor Emetterio orders, and Liam moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

Liam is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him two rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs, Liam’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” I yell to encourage him.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Liam sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Ethan and I cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect technique!” Professor Emetterio calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

„Aelin, begin!” Emetterio orders.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part.

I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead.

I start to hum to calm myself. The music always helps me.

I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense but it’s bearable. Not bad.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one.

I repeat the motion, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

I still hum as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path and I almost hit the wall with my head.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.

There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next. I then launch myself towards the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp.

I throw myself to the next and move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion.

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into face-first of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Aelin!” Liam shouts from the top.

My other hand is still holding the rail. I can do it.

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

I immediately start the hand over hand to get me to the next one, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

I reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate. I need to do it with one go. If I stop they will probably roll me off.

I bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

I hear someone cry out and my head snaps toward the voice, just in time to see Jake wobble and slip on the rails. The air freezes.

“Jake!” I hear Vila screaming.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling his wide black eyes as he falls. Halfway down the cliff.

Shit.

“Aelin! Come on, you’re almost up here.” Liam shouts at the top.

I look at him and nod. Yes, I can do it.

I face a giant chimney formation rising high above me at a twenty-degree angle and pause.

God, it’s really high. But if Liam could do it, then so do I.

I sprint toward the leaning chimney and flings myself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with my body.

Okay, now I need to climb.

I start hopping up the conduit slowly, maybe a little too slowly, until I reach the end and drop down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

Fuck. It seems the most difficult obstacle of all of them.

But I can’t give up now. It’s the last one. I can do it, I just need to be fast.

I sprint toward the ramp, using my speed and momentum to carry me almost all the way up the ramp.

Just before I start to fall, I reach up and I can grab onto the lip of the ramp with one arm.

My god. I did it.

I reach up with my other arm and haul myself over the edge.

As soon as I stand up, Liam is there and sweeps me into his arms.

“You were great Aelin!” He laughs. “You did it!”

I still can’t believe that it’s over. I hug him back and start laughing too.

“Yeah. It seems I did it.”

“How’s your face?” He pulls back and look at the side of my face. “You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s not that bad actually. I mean, later it’ll hurt probably.”

“Then we will get some ointment later.”

I nod and then we watch the others.

Ethan has made up his way to us. He was the slowest of us who made it to the top, but it doesn’t matter to me. He did it, and we survived.

Rio made it too. He did a great job and since then he bahaves as if he was already chosen by a dragon. And naturally Vila argues with him about this too.

Vila had to use the ropes at the shaking pillars. She almost fell down like Jack.

Shit. We lost Jack.

There are only 5 of us first-years left.

***

The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

“Calvin Atwater,” Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.

First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.

There’s nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day…except it’s not. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues.

Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?

„Aurelie Donans.”

Shit. She was Vi’s squadmate. She told me what happened yesterday. Watching one of your friends falls to death? It’s cruel.

I look at Violet and see that she ripped open one of the scabs along her cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Dain asks Violet the next night - as I approach them - two worried lines between his brows as he clasps Violet’s shoulders.

“If her parents aren’t coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I’m the last person she saw,” She explains, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie’s pack.

Every Basgiath parent has the same option when their cadet is killed. They can retrieve the body and personal effects for burial or burning or the school will put their body under a stone and burn their effects themselves. Aurelie’s parents have chosen door number two.

“And you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks, palming her neck.

She shakes her head. “I know where the burn pit is.”

“Besides I will be there for her.” I say and stand next to Violet. “Now hands off. We have more important things to do, than listening to you.”

“Cadet Melgren, do I need to remind you that I’m a squadleader? Show some respect.” He growls at me.

“Respect must be earned. And I think it sends a completely different message that you coddle Violet, squadleader.” I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s okay, Dain. We should go.” Violet says then we start to climb the stairs of the academic tower’s turret past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

„I never got the chance to ask you if you made it all the way up,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I’m too short to span the distance, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. I’ll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet on Presentation day.”

“I help you. We will figure something out, together. You’re not alone, Vi.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

The burn pit is nothing more than an extra-wide iron barrel, whose only purpose is to incinerate, and the flames burn bright against the night sky as we stumble out onto the roof.

There’s no one else up here as Violet slips the bag from her shoulder.

I stop a little further away from the pit. She wanted to do it alone, and I will respect her wish.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear her whisper, as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

The flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the fire, just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

Instead of walking back down the stairs, I make my way to the edge of the turret where Violet stares at the sky.

It’s a cloudy night, but I can make out the shadows of three dragons as they approach from the west and even see the ridge where the Gauntlet lays, waiting to claim its next victim.

It won’t be me.

I stand here, patiently waiting for Violet to be ready to go back, letting minutes tick by before the bells sound for curfew. We climb back down the stairs without a word.

We walk through the courtyard, empty but for a couple who can’t decide if they’d rather kiss or walk near the dais.

“I don’t want go back yet.” Vi whispers while avoiding my eyes.

“Then we won’t. Come, if I remember correctly there’s an alcove over there.” I smile at her softly. Understanding the pain, that makes her want to hide.

We’re heading for the alcove where Dain and Vi first sat after Parapet.

It’s almost been two months, and we’re still here. Still waking every morning to the sunrise. Doesn’t that mean something?

I wonder as we sit in silence, watching the stars on the sky.

The door that leads to the tunnel we took to cross the ridgeline to the Gauntlet this morning opens along the courtyard wall, just left of the academic building, and my brow furrows. Who would be returning this late?

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction.

Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by us, their boots crunching on the gravel.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses.

My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid.

Shit.

He knows we’re here.

Instead of the usual fear that spikes in his presence, only anger rises in my chest. If he wants to kill me, then fine. I’m over waiting for it to happen. Over walking through the halls in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, immediately looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the couple who definitely decided making out is more important than getting into the dorms by curfew.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” Xaden says.

„You sure?” Bodhi’s forehead puckers, and his gaze sweeps over the courtyard.

“Go,” Xaden orders, standing completely still until the other two walk into the barracks, turning left toward the stairwell that will take them to the second- and third-year floors. Only when they’re gone does he turn and face the exact spot where we’re sitting.

“I know you know we’re here.” Violet says and moves toward him. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

I try to suppress my laughter as I walk next to Violet, standing between her and Xaden.

“No questions about where I’ve been?” He folds his arms across his chest and studies us in the moonlight. His scar looks even more menacing in this light, but I can’t seem to find the energy to be scared.

“I honestly don’t care.” Vi shrugs and makes her way toward the dorms without another word.

“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have to go. It’s curfew after all.” I say.

“Are you going to tell someone that we were out?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care what you do.” I cross my arms. “It’s probably the best if I don’t know anyway.” I mutter silently.

He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t care, do you?”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing out after curfew, Sunshine?”

“Counting the stars, what else?” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me.

“The same.”

Sarcastic ass.

“Look, are you planning to kill us or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.” I ask.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, like I’ve just inquired about his dinner preferences, but his gaze narrows on my cheek. There’s still a bruise from yesterday’s Gauntlet practice.

“Well, could you?” I mutter. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

“Am I affecting your schedule, Sunshine?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

“I just need to know what my chances are that Violet and I are going to make it through alive.” My hands curl into fists.

The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm.

His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Chances at what?” he asks, tugging me just close enough that my shoulder brushes his biceps.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand. He’s a damned wingleader, which means he’s excelled at everything in the quadrant, even somehow managing to get past his own last name.

“Chances at what?” he repeats. “Do not make me ask three times.” His ominous tone is at odds with his gentle grasp, and shit, does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“At living through all of this! I have to figure it out how Violet can make it up the damned Gauntlet. And there’s my own problems I have to deal with, and here you are, annoying me.” I half-heartedly tug at my wrist, but he doesn’t let go.

“I see.” He’s so infuriatingly calm, and I can’t even get a grip on one of my emotions.

„No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because she’ll fall to her death and you can kill me anytime, we saw that on the mat the previous time.”

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Sunshine. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You know the problem with this place?” I tug my arm back again, but he holds fast. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?” My eyes narrow on him.

„I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

I answer before I can think better of it. “Hope.”

“Hope?” He tips his head closer to mine, as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right.

“Hope.” I nod. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Riders Quadrant, but it isn’t a guarantee that I will survive it; but when General Melgren gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.” Gods, why am I running off at the mouth to this man? What’s the worst he’ll do? Kill you?

„Sure you can.” He shrugs. “You just might not like the consequences.”

I roll my eyes, and to my utter embarrassment, instead of pulling away now that I’m free, I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength. He certainly has enough to spare.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that both of us would live. And then we make it almost two months and I get…” I shake my head, clenching my jaw. “Hopeful.” The word tastes sour.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you are reminded that you can’t help Violet, and you give up. I’m starting to see. He holds my gaze locked with his. “Here’s the thing, Melgren. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Not hope that we live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” He shakes his head. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your father or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the entrance to the barracks, but he’s right behind me, close enough that the door would slam in his face if he wasn’t so unnaturally fast at catching it.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need.” he calls after me, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“My self-what?” I turn around, my jaw dropping.

“People die,” he says slowly, his jaw ticking before he drags in a deep breath. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

What an annoying prick.

I open my mouth to retort when I hear footsteps.

We turn around and face the man whom I know too well. He’s the aide of General Melgren.

Fuck, he must be back. I can feel my face turning as white as a ghost.

Xaden must see it too because he steps in front of me without a word. He’s trying to protect me?

“Wingleader Riorson I need a word with Cadet Melgren, leave.” The man says to Xaden without a glance at him.

“She’s in my chain of command. I don’t see why I should leave her here.” He crosses his arms. “If you have something to say then do it in front of me.”

“Fine.” The man nods and stares at me. “General Melgren wishes to see you. He returned from the front and like’d to hear your report.”

My god. I didn’t prepare a suitable story for him. I will be in big trouble, if not worse.

“I understand, I’ll be there.” I nod.

Without another word the man turns around and leaves us alone.

“What’s all this about?” Xaden looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. You heard him. The General wants to see me. I have to go.” I say and try to walk past him to the doors but he grabs my arm.

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He leans closer. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It was a surprise, nothing else.” I try to lie, in hope that he lets it slide. I don’t want him to find out.

“Why don’t you call him father?” He observes me. “You always call him General. He’s your father isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. It’s just that we’re cadets and it wouldn’t be appropriate.” I yank my arm and he releases me. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

I walk out the door, towards the building where the offices are located. I feel nauseous. Everystep on the stairs is harder. I’m scared.

I stop in front of his door. Breath in and out. Then I knock.

“Enter.”

I open the door and enter his office. The air is chilling because of the open window. I stand in front of his desk and wait until he’s done with writing whatever he’s writing.

“What happened since we talked last time?” He puts down his pen and looks at me with a cold gaze.

“The challanges are over for now, we started practicing on the Gauntlet.” I try to keep it short.

“How many challanges did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose a single one.” I reply in an emotionless tone. I need to lock up my feelings as usual. This is the only way to survive it. Later…later I can think about it.

“That was expected.” He nods with approval as he stands up and walks around the desk. “The Gauntlet?”

“Yesterday was our first session, I made it up on my first try.” I answer.

“And what about that Riorson kid and the other marked-ones?” He raises an eyebrow and stands in front of me.

I gulp.

“There’s nothing that’s worth mentioning.” I try and hope so hard he’d accept it.

He grabs my arm tightly and yanks me toward him.

“I will decide if it is worth it or not.” He squeezes my arm tighter. It will leave a bruise. “Do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, General.” I reply quickly.

“Good. Now tell me what you know.” He releases my arm and I try not to show that it hurt.

“They attend classes like anyone else. They don’t stand out.” I say the basic facts that anyone can know. I don’t want to betray Liam and his friends. “Most of the other cadets are avoiding them. Some of them are good at studying while others at fighting. They seem pretty normal to me.”

“Hm. And Riorson?” He asks with a calculating look.

“We don’t have much common classes. At Battle Brief he’s observant and clever. At the gym he’s strong and quick. He spends a lot of time with the leader of the Flame Section, Garrick Tavis.” I say only what’s neccesary to ease his suspicion.

“Do you ever see them in groups larger than three?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

The night at the tree. Images flashes through my mind. But… they didn’t do anything wrong.

“No. Never.” I shake my head.

“I see.” He looks at me with a gaze that makes me chill to the bones. “That’s all you could gather the past weeks? I heard you’re friends with Colonel Mairi’s son.” He spat the word friend as if it’s a disease.

“I’m close with him because of his relationship with Xaden, and he’s a first-year too.” I lie to him. I can’t bring more attention to Liam. He’s truly a good person. “He’s a pretty private person, but slowly opening up. Maybe later I can gather more information. I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“And the daggers? Did you see them with the marked-ones?”

“No, they mostly use the ones they earned at challenges.” I’m curious to why that strange dagger is important to him. “If I know what they are, maybe I could search more efficiently.”

“That’s above your paygrade, Cadet.” He says towering over me. “You’re dismissed.” He leans on his desk.

“Understood.” I say and turn toward the doors.

There’s a sound, a dagger cutting through the air. Instinctively I turn around and lean to the side.

I was almost too late. I feel the dagger grazing my cheek and then the blood.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He knows that I lied to him?

In the blink of an eye he’s there and squeezes my neck.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you’re alive is because of my mercy.” He leans closer and cuts off the air supply when he squeezes harder. “I expect useful information from you. If you have to then use your body. You’re only worth is your usefulness. I don’t need people who are useless.”

There’s a knock on the door behind me. He glares at me a moment longer then releases me and pulls out his dagger from the door and sheetes it.

I start coughing and try to squeeze enough air in my lungs through my bruised throat.

Damn. I almost died.

The General is already sitting at his desk when another knock sounds.

“Go, I have better things to do.”

I open the door and see General Sorrengail.

“General.” I greet her in a rasp voice.

She looks at my cheek where the blood still flows with a raised eyebrow then toward my neck.

Shit, I didn’t think. She’s not stupid. I have to get out of here.

I exit the office and without another word I’m stumbling down the stairs.

I need to go out. I need air. My thoughts are fuzzy. I almost died. The sentence repeats again and again in my head.

But depsite of it, I still can’t bear the thought of betraying the marked-ones. Liam. Xaden. I…like them.

But what if it’ll cost me my life?

#fanfiction #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x oc

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auncyen · 2 years

Text

It still fascinates me that Akiren canonically is reluctant to tell the others about "Igor" and ultimately does not. You have a dialogue option to try explaining where the Metanav comes from when Makoto questions it, but Akiren shuts it down with something about it being too hard to explain if you try going that route. Again, Akiren does know how he and the others get the Metanav; Yaldabaoth tells him he gave it to him and will give it to potential accomplices in the future. While Akiren knows about this and also that "Igor" keeps alluding to future ruin, every other Phantom Thief is in the dark. And this is fascinating because without the blinders of "oh Igor's been good every previous entry, he's just cryptic", Yaldabaoth-as-Igor comes off as an extremely shady adult in an entry all about shitty adults manipulating and abusing kids, and Akiren is put in a weird spot where it is natural that it'd feel difficult for him to tell his friends about his connection to "Igor", which seems like a real good spot to get manipulated in.

I 100% believe that the only reason Akiren doesn't actually end up getting played for a fool with this set up is because he has main character privileges. Like, I can't speak for p1/p2, but 3-5, the main character is kind of a power trip. You make friends with a bunch of people, you can romance any girl (rip if you wanna romance boys outside p3p), you are The Special One.

Please imagine if Akiren wasn't the main character and it was either Ryuji or Ann (hell, while we're doing hypotheticals, let's say the game would let you pick which one you wanted to play as). Ryuji/Ann is the PoV character, but Akiren still starts as the nominal leader because he seems to have a better clue what he's doing then, and first-time players are like "wow, he's pretty cool, why aren't we playing as him" until you start getting PoV cuts to him interacting with Yaldabaoth and it's like.......not spelled out that "Igor" is bad news, but also it definitely seems like something isn't right, and again, this is the game of shitty adults manipulating kids. So you already know Akiren's background isn't great, he's not in the best spot, and now there are just these little hints that huh ok maybe your cool friendly leader is. doing something weird. hey buddy are you going to tell us about this weird guy??? No???? Not until a mid-game upset where the PT discover what they've been doing has been manipulating public cognition in a bad way they might have avoided if they'd just known to have the slightest suspicion about this old man most of them are just now hearing about and Akiren is having a meltdown out of guilt and shame because he didn't explain anything partially because it'd be hard but also because what if people didn't believe him, he acts cool but has trauma from his arrest and his hometown doubting him and he 100% avoided doing or saying anything that might make him anything less than the perfect trustworthy confidant for all his friends (which, guess how a few teammates would be reacting, so between that and Akiren having a meltdown, now Ryuji/Ann is the official leader! Yay, you're actually playing the leader now! Isn't that great? ...Yippee????)

and then on ng+ you just spend early game circling Akiren at his hangout spot yelling "TELL US YOU DUMBASS WE'LL STILL LOVE YOU AND IT'LL SAVE A LOT OF PAIN" but alas the plot is written.

anyway yes I still believe they set up Akiren so perfectly to be manipulated not just as part of the Phantom Thieves but as an individual, because of his own personal vulnerabilities, and that it would 100% have happened if he was not protag.

#persona 5 #persona 5 spoilers #ren amamiya #yaldabaoth #my brain's been back on this since last night #so here we are

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mastertengen · 7 months

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Satoru Gojo x Fem reader

a/n: the personality will be based off of Makima from csm

category: Fluff

Possible ooc

Gojo attempts to take you out on a date

Gojo had been trying for weeks to convince Y/n to go on a date with him, but she always found a way to turn him down. It seemed like she was determined to keep their relationship strictly professional. But Gojo was relentless and refused to give up, He even asked Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi to help him Megumi refused but he was forced to anyways

One day, as they were discussing their plans for the weekend, Gojo mustered up the courage to try once again. "Y/n, I know you've been avoiding going on a date with me, but I promise it'll be fun. How about we go out this Saturday?" He smirked

I sighed, clearly hesitant. "Gojo, I've told you before, I don't think it's a good idea. We work together, and I don't want things to get complicated, Everything is strictly professional between us."

Gojo smiled mischievously, his eyes twinkling. "I understand your concerns, but what if I told you I know the perfect place to go to~? It would definitely make you change your mind."

I raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden change in approach. "And where would that be?"

Gojo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, enticing tone. "There's this amazing sushi restaurant that recently opened downtown. They serve the most delicious and unique sushi rolls you've ever tasted. It's an experience that you won't want to miss."

My eyes widened with newfound interest. I was a sushi lover, and the thought of trying new and innovative rolls was tempting. Still, I fought to maintain my resolve. "Nice try, Gojo, but sushi isn't enough to change my mind, You should knot that."

Gojo leaned back, pretending to be disappointed. "Well, if you say so. I guess I'll just have to enjoy those mouthwatering sushi rolls all by myself!"

I hesitated for a moment, my curiosity still getting the better of me. "Okay, fine. But this doesn't mean anything. It's just sushi."

Gojo smirked, victorious. "Of course, just sushi. I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday then."

As Saturday evening approached, Y/n found herself getting a a bit nervous. It wasn't a date, she reminded herself. Just two colleagues going out for sushi. But when Gojo arrived at her door, dressed in a sharp suit and holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers, Y/n couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement, A small smile planted on her lips.

They arrived at the sushi restaurant, and Y/n was immediately mesmerized by the elegant ambiance and the mouthwatering aroma of freshly prepared sushi. As they sat down, Gojo ordered an assortment of rolls, each more creative and delicious than the last. Y/n couldn't help but be swept away by the culinary experience.

As they laughed and shared stories between bites, Y/n realized that she was genuinely enjoying herself. The false facade she had built around her slowly began to crumble, and she allowed herself to relax in Gojo's company.

By the end of the night, Y/n found herself smiling and feeling a warmth in her heart that she hadn't felt in a long time. As they left the restaurant, Gojo glanced at her with a knowing grin. "I told you, Y/n. Sushi has its way of making everything better."

I smiled, my resistance finally giving way. "Maybe... just maybe, there's more to this than just sushi on the other hand, Our relationship is still strictly professional."

Gojo's grin widened and then he pouted at last thing i said, But he took my hand, intertwining our fingers. "I'm glad you finally gave me a chance, Y/n. But hey, You enjoyed it didnt you ?"

Y/n nodded, Before she can reply she hears a noise in the bush behind them, Gojo practically sweatdropping

"This is your fault, Itadori! Now they see us!" Nobara shouted her fake disguise falling off her face

"My fault!? You were the one that kept kicking me and Fushiguro!" Itadori shouted back, As he pushes her out the bush

I walk forward, Dragging Gojo along with me "I made sure to leave some sushi left back for you guys, But on the other hand, I knew you guys were here I enjoyed the show." I smile as the group of 3 tries to catch up to us.

A/n: I giggled while writing this if theres mistakes ignore it atp

#x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x female reader #jujutsu itadori #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk fluff #fluff #x fem!reader #x female y/n #x female reader

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Could I request prompts 12 and 23 for norman bates from the slasher movie pyscho (1960s version)? Pairing is romantic

Was finally able to see Psycho on Netflix! I do indeed have a story idea I can do for this. My prompts were used for this.

Did not do character research for this, wrote it right after seeing the movie so I hope his character is correct :) I also wrote this late at night so there's that too, lol 😅 By the time I post this it'll be the next morning where I can look at this with a better mindset and edit it.

Yandere! Norman Bates Prompts 12 + 23

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Obsession at first sight, Clingy behavior, Murder, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship, Darling is naive as serial killers weren't too common in the 1960s, Vomit, Violence, Norman actually has no chill.

Norman had seen many people come to the motel before. Whenever he did grow attached to them, Mother scolded him. Mother never let the guests stay too long anyways.

Despite the desolate feeling of the motel and house, Norman never really felt alone. He's happy, mother's happy, things were great with just the two of them. There didn't need to be anyone else.

Then Norman met you, a tired traveler needing to rest. Norman had noticed you had a friend with you. The man thought nothing of you both, you'd probably end up like all the rest.

Then Norman started talking with you. By just standing in the office of the motel you managed to make him stutter, a shyness enveloping him and intoxicating his mind. You are so easy to talk to. You even seem to shy away from him as he did you.

Norman likes talking with you. He feels like he could talk for hours, actually. Norman sometimes felt this way towards guests... although with you it seems like a stronger feeling. Maybe mother would like this one....

Norman makes a promise to himself to be the best gentleman towards you. To you, he's a kind and sweet man who runs a motel and takes care of his sick mother. The person he didn't like was your friend....

Norman feels ill at the connection you two share. Perhaps he's envious, glowering at your friend and thinking about how close you two are. Norman just met you... you didn't know anything about him... and he already wanted everything to do with you.

"I can get you both some food! Then I'll show you to your rooms." Norman chirps, suddenly in a good mood.

"What rooms are available?" You ask, Norman being very attentive to your voice.

"There's twelve rooms, all vacant. You can have room one while your friend has room four!"

"Uh... we can share-" Your friend pipes up. Norman frowns at their voice, mood souring as soon as they spoke.

"Sorry, I can't do that. There's only one bed in a room and sharing a bed simply won't do! Can't have anything... unsavory, right?"

You and your friend grimace at the implication.

"Yeah, guess not...." You murmur. Norman smiles again, ushering you both outside.

"P-Please, take your room keys and wait for me! I'll deliver some food for the both of you."

You and your friend agree before taking the room keys and heading to your rooms. Norman couldn't stop smiling at the thought of you... he wanted to watch you through the hole in the wall but he had other matters to attend to at the moment.

Not only did he need to feed you... but mother has to know about you, too.

---

Norman consulted his mother about the two new guests he had met later in the night. The thought of you had made him excited! Although... he hates that you came with someone else.

His mother shared a similar sentiment. You seem very kind and just may treat her son right. Yet there was that issue with your little friend.

Norman pleaded with his mother to keep you. He wanted you over for dinner but it was too early for that to happen according to her. Norman was overjoyed when he watched you eat the food he brought back from the house, you said it was great!

Mother likes how you make her son happy. He's always gotten attached easily, though he may have picked right this time. She promises her dear son that she'll help him out a little....

Once she helps with that friend problem, the rest is on him, however.

After all the trouble she has to go through to make Norman happy, she hopes you're worth it.

---

You woke up late at night to the sound of shuffling outside your door. You yawn and try to open your eyes enough to see before wiping the crust from them. You thought it was some sort of animal or that Norman guy doing routine clean up....

Then you heard screaming.

Familiar screaming.

You shoot up with concern on your face, staring at the wooden door with uncertainty. Surely it wasn't anything bad, right...? The idea of being alone and without help frightened you.

The nearest payphone was a long walk.... The sheriff would take forever to come at the hour, too. Maybe you can ask Norman for help?

The screaming had stopped as quickly as it started. It was either silenced or the pain wasn't that bad. Maybe your friend just... hurt themselves?

The idea of a serial killer wasn't a very common idea around this time... which made you a bit naive.

Cautiously you exit your room, intending to find Norman. Looking down to room four you see the room open. Surely Norman was already looking into it....

Trying to calm your racing heart, you try to reassure yourself it's nothing big. There's nothing wrong... maybe your friend saw a roach or something? You walk towards the room. Must be... it couldn't be anything that ba-

You stop in your tracks. No, Norman wasn't in the room already.... Your friend was there, however...

Just with stab wounds in their chest and stomach, their blood pooling onto the floor.

You pause, the shock still clouding your cognitive ability at the moment. You slowly trace your gaze over your friend's corpse... then it sets in. Then it all sits in.

You collapse onto the ground in a spew of vomit. Bile puddles onto the floor, the room smelling of metal and rot. You want to scream... but you're in too much shock.

"Dear-" A voice says from behind you before cutting off. The voice sounds like Norman, yet you can't bear to turn. Does he think you did it?

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...." Norman panics. You are confused to what the young man means before it clicks. Norman's a murderer... and you're alone.

"Oh sorry, mother... I wasn't fast enough-" Norman mutters to himself before fully turning his attention to you. "Dear, you look so sick... I should get you cleaned up."

"Don't... call me that..." You manage to croak out, stumbling to your feet quickly. "Stay away from me!"

"Please sit down! You're scared, I can explain!"

Despite being trapped in the room, you try to squeeze past the man. Norman stops you, no amount of brute force working against him. His eyes weren't friendly...

They were cold and a bit nervous.

"We can work this out! I'll get you cleaned up a-and we'll talk! I p-promise you this is a misunderstanding!"

You don't listen and struggle more. Norman frowns at your desperation and attempts to wrangle you back. Both of you get a bit too desperate in your fighting...

Leading to Norman accidentally hitting your head too hard against the wall.

---

When you manage to comprehend your surroundings again you notice you're bandaged and cleaned. Rope ties a wrist of yours to a bed frame and you can tell this is an old unfamiliar house. You begin to panic again, using your other hand to fidget with the knot.

You freeze everything when you hear footsteps come up the stairs. You hold your breathe in anticipation but it wasn't like you could hide. When the door opened... any hope of this being some nightmare diminished.

Norman Bates, the man who supposedly murdered your friend, stood in front of you with a tray in hand.

Norman offers you a smile... one you don't return. He places the tray down on a small table and you notice it's full of food. The moment Norman looks at you... you want to cry.

"Good Morning... darling." Norman chuckles, appearing to like the idea of calling you such a sickeningly sweet name. "I brought breakfast."

"You put me here..." You whimper.

"Of course!" He says in a chipper tone. "M-Mother allowed you to stay... because you make me happy."

You feel yourself grow ill again.

"Why...?" You could've been saying 'why' for a lot of reasons. At this point you didn't care. Any answer probably wasn't good or satisfactory.

"Why...?" Norman looks puzzled. "I-I thought we could just... stay here and t-talk... I d-didn't want to see you go so soon."

"You killed them...."

"Them? I didn't- Mother said they weren't welcome... so she got rid of them. She approved of you, thankfully! Which is great... because I really l-l-like you." Norman confesses nervously.

You drop the conversation there. You weren't in any state for interrogation anyways. Something was wrong with this man... he was not right in the head... you hear yourself sob.

Norman picks up on this and frowns. His little bird was crying.... You must be so overwhelmed by this new place and him.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Norman murmurs in what seemed to be a caring tone. The man sits on the bed a shifts closer. You try to run away with a loud sob, only for Norman to pull you roughly into his chest.

"Shhh..." He comforts, feeling you struggle and push to get away from him. Your sobs were loud yet he didn't mind. He wants to make his little bird feel better. "I'll take good care of you here. You'll never be lonely. It'll just be... us...."

You freeze when he kisses your forehead and presses your face into his chest. In your mind, you're doomed. This guy is insane... and probably was going to force you into something.

Norman, however, didn't plan on such a thing. He felt the love between you was stronger than anything. He wants to be a good boyfriend and husband... all he wants to do is hold you, nothing more.

"You're as cute as a bird." Norman smiles with a twisted attempt at flirting. He pecks your cheek with another kiss. "... I love birds..." Norman pauses, looking at your crying face with adoration. "I knew the moment I spoke with you I'd love you...!"

The twisted declaration of love from Norman sends another fit of sobbing out of you. Norman shushes you once more and keeps you suffocatingly close to his chest. You hated it here... you wished you just drove tired with your friend...

Yet Norman felt you'd enjoy your time here after you got to know each other.

Perhaps you, him, and mother can be happy here in this house together? Just the three of you....

#yandere psycho 1960 #yandere slashers #yandere slasher #yandere norman bates

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portalfaecez · 10 months

Text

[𝙼𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 _𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎_𝙳𝚊𝙼𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐_𝚂𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎_]

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝?

>[𝚈𝙴𝚂]

[𝙽𝙾]

[𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 _𝙰𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎_𝚂𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎_𝚁𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘_𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕]

Oooh- hey! I... I got something-! Hello? Can anyone hear me?

Hm, I'll take that as a no. Well, that's just sad, isn't it? Finally in range of the system and absolutely no one is here to help me. Well, actually, help is kind of a big thing to ask for, I um... Yeah no that's fine if you can't really... but uhhh, it does get awfully lonely here, in space. So, if you could maybe just stay here and talk to me for a bit? If anyone's out there...?

Who would want to talk to me anyways? After all I've done? It's alright, I get it... You- you don't have to say anything. It's not like you were much of a talker anyway, so, just keep doing what you always do. You're a great listener, by the way.

I do miss it though- Being your friend and all. You ah, get a lot of time to think up here in space... -and speaking of which, I kind of came to some sort of a realization- that you were probably the closest friend that I've ever had. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Wheatley I thought you had loads of friends!" -and you would be right! I have at least three friends, made em' all myself. But um, back to the point: you were the best of everyone, really. That's right! Waaaaay up there! The cores and the scientists... I don't know, they're all just kinda mean. Nobody has ever really treated me with so much respect besides you. Thank you. Even if I did mess everything up in the end. Hurt cores hurt other cores, that's the saying right? -Not that I'm trying to excuse anything. It's just... man.

I've thought it over about a billion times, different ways I would say and do things, things I should've said to you earlier. Hah, I really screwed it all up, haven't I? We could've just talked everything out and came to an understanding- er, well, I don't really know if you CAN talk so maybe... ASL? Could you do that? I remember a bit of it from being inside Her body- being a giant supercomputer and all-

[𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚠]

WH- Whoa! Um, wow, that's um... That's- that's really bad isn't it? Haven't got much time left... It seems... hah...

I know I've already apologized, but I feel like you deserve a better one. The um, the last one was kind of a stand-in for the better one I was planning to give you in person. It's um... A little funny now that I won't be able to. Now that I really think about it, I was probably never gonna get the chance to see you again regardless. But I already knew that, didn't I? I guess I just do this thing where I daydream about seeing you again so much that I convince myself it'll happen. Do you humans ever do that? Think about something so much you're positive that it's happened? It uh, might just be a side effect of space.

[3% 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐]

GHRAGH! Hold on a minute, let me get my bearings. That was... Strange. Everything's all blurry now. I can't... I can't really see anything. Um... God, how do I start this?

Chell. I'm sorry. I really, truly am sorry. I freaked out, I did! I stabbed ya' in the back, after everything you did to try to help us escape. I feel... Rotten. I do. I feel like the scum of the earth, if I'm being honest. Well, scum of space if you want to get technical with it- point is, you didn't deserve that. After all the nice things you did for me, given the fact that uh, you have arms I don't, I really should have been more grateful. If there was anything that I could say or do to make it right, I would in an instant. That's a promise. You deserved a better friend, and I'm sorry I couldn't do that for you.

[1% 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐]

Haha... I can feel myself sort of fading away now. It's um, kind of hard to keep my eye open... There we go. Feels easier to just let it close, not like I'm missing much anyways.

...

I'm scared.

...

When my body comes falling to earth, you'll catch me this time, will you?

#portal #portal 2 #wheatley #fanfiction #does this count as a fanfiction?#more like a drabble #drabble #sorry guys

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arvensimp · 1 year

Text

your father should know pt. 1

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x reader, nsfw content, pregnancy, angst, and stupid miscommunications'

Champagne was poured freely, toasts were made, songs were sung. Everyone laughed and cried in near equal measure, and they hugged and kissed and made promises to keep in touch and talk soon and "not to be a stranger!" and "tune in every week!"

For his part, Arven blushed and drank it in almost as well as he drank in the champagne. He's never gotten used to being the center of attention. With stellar professor parents and a best friend who sits near the top of the Paldean Pokemon League, he's always been...just Arven. Just some guy. Not a nobody, but...well, if the shoe fits.

No, no! He can't think like that. He's amazing in his own ways. Hell, everyone gathered like this because of him.

An apprenticeship with one of the most famous celebrity chefs of Kalos at their marketing institution as well! He'd be gone for a year, learning from the best of the best of the best, touring the region, doing podcasts and making weekly videos. All of it would revolve around making food that would make people and pokemon happy and healthy. It was like a dream.

He wasn't totally sure at first... After all, he'd never left the region, but then again maybe an adventure was just what he needed? That's what you'd told him anyway, looking up at him with your sparkling eyes that made his stomach twist in knots.

Paldea wasn't really his home anyway. (Could he even say he ever had a home?) Go see the world! He's young and untied now, so why not? It'll be like the treasure hunt from back during school but even better.

So he agreed and got to preparing while you and all of your friends got to planning his goodbye party.

He'd be off in the morning, and at this point nearly everyone had left his flat, staggering or taking cabs home.

Everyone but you.

You and Arven.

Arven and you.

The original buddies.

Alone on the L-shaped sofa, lounging, head-to-head at the crook of it. Arven's hand is still holding a half-finished bottle of champagne that drags across the wooden floor. Both of your hands are folded across your ribcage.

He exhales a long puff of air that blows his bangs from his eye.

"Have you had too much to drink over there?" You ask. Even without looking Arven can hear the smile on your lips.

"Nah..." He grunts a bit as he rolls over onto his side. "Barely a buzz at this point, honestly." And it's true. A man of his size usually needs a fair amount of alcohol to really get lost in it, especially when they've eaten as much as he has this evening. "Just...thinkin' I guess."

"Yeah?" You roll over as well. Neither of you are facing each other, but if you crane your necks you could see one another’s faces. "Gimmighoul coin for your thoughts?"

He chuckles. "That's a mouthful. You know you can just say 'penny' right? Like we have those."

You blow a raspberry, and Arven laughs harder.

"Now who's the one who's had too much to drink?" He asks.

"Hey!" You stop, mock-serious. "I'm your driver to the airport tomorrow. You know I won't be hungover for that, so clearly I haven't had too much tonight."

Arven snorts and lifts a hand to pat affectionately on your head, but he misses phenomenally, smushing your face instead. The two of you erupt into giggles, rolling over onto your stomachs as you do, so you can more easily sit up to look at one another from your separate legs of the sofa.

The laughter quiets naturally.

Arven knows he loves you. He has for a long time, but he's just never been able to say it. The words can't come out. He's tried to show it every other way he can, so it mostly comes out as food and snacks given to you whenever he can muster it up, and you don't seem to be any the wiser. You always just smile up at him with those same sparkling eyes. It's maddening and dizzying and infuriating and enamoring all at once.

And you're smiling at him like that now.

And then you're leaning in.

He's leaning in, too.

It takes nothing for your lips to meet. There are no fireworks, no crackles of electricity, no orchestra that plays some swelling love song in his head.

You're just kissing, and it's perfect. You only part to actually sit up, so the two of you aren't stuck in a cobra-pose on the couch forever, but in that brief moment of adjustment, you're both blushing, scooting closer to one another, each lifting one knee up to stay on the couch while the other bends down to the floor.

You won't look at each other, but your fingers find one another, interlocking tightly.

"I-I--" Arven starts, getting ready to apologize, but he isn’t sure why.

"Will you do that again?" You ask over him.

His jaw drops as he looks down at you. "Yeah... Absolutely."

He leans in, and you're kissing again, with Arven hovering over you, large and unimposing and wonderful. With the angle, it's more than easy for the two of you to just keep falling further down, down, down, until he's properly on top of you, pressing one of your legs bent at the knee against the back of the sofa while your other foot trails lightly against the floor, knocking against Arven’s discarded champagne bottle.

Arven's hand that isn't holding yours is in your hair, his nails scratching lightly at the back of your neck. When the action makes you gasp into him, he takes the initiative to deepen your kiss, grazing his tongue along your lower lip before it explores further into your mouth.

You meet him eagerly, rolling your body up to meet his as your free hand scratches lightly down his still-clothed back.

Arven hums into you and breaks the kiss to sit up. He grips the lower hem of his shirt and gives you a questioning look, only proceeding to remove the garment when you've enthusiastically nodded, biting your lip to hold back eager giggles.

"God, you look so good..." You tell him, running your hands up and down his torso once he's bare, making him shiver and blush all at once.

"C-C'mon..." He says, not meeting your eye but still going on to continue kissing you in a way that has you happily obliging.

Seconds, minutes, or hours could have passed like that between the two of you, just kissing, and you wouldn't have been any the wiser, but eventually one of Arven's hands grows daring, skirting just along the edge of your top, tickling at the skin of your abdomen there with its pervading warmth before moving up and behind your back. You sit up just the tiniest bit, nipping at his mouth before breaking off the kiss, so you can properly remove your top and bra for him.

"You...uh, this is what you wanted, right?" You ask with a nervous laugh, and Arven's too busy trying not to stare at your tits. He just nods kinda dumbly in the way that men often do, leaning in to kiss you again, so you don't have to watch as he paws and squeezes at you, tweaking at your nipple in a way that gets you gasping his name, which, fuck... Arven didn't think his name could sound so good.

He tears himself from your mouth to kiss and bite at your breast while one of his hands kneads the other.

You squirm beneath his ministrations, gasping in delight at his touch.

It takes very little before you're grinding against him, purposefully pulling your leg up and over his hip for better leverage to rut against the growing hardness in his pants.

"Fuck," Arven groans, pulling his mouth off your tit in a way that has you hissing in pleasure as he dips his forehead to rest between your breasts. "Keep doing that, and I'm gonna cum in my pants, damn..."

"And what if that's what I want?" You tease him as you continue, feeding into the growing wetness between your thighs.

Arven barks a light laugh from his place at your chest, one of his hands squeezing your hip right at the apex where your body meets leg. "I'd think that wouldn't be very fun for you?" As he speaks he rolls his hips into yours, purposefully grinding against your center, making you moan just the tiniest bit.

"See?" He continues, egging you on in the best way. The hand at your hip travels inward, bit by nervous bit. "I-If you want, I mean?"

You nod almost frantically with a "Yes, please!" and Arven has to stop himself for a moment, his hand paused right at the seam where your inner thigh meets your panties, your skirt having been rolled up ages ago.

He looks at you, tries to memorize the way your hair splays out beneath you, the flush of your cheeks, the way your eyelashes fan out against them when your eyes close, your fingers grasping for purchase against the fabric of his sofa. It's all being committed to memory.

He shifts his fingers, tensing them against you just a bit before you can make any sound of impatience or discomfort at his hesitancy... Not hesitancy. No. He... He wants to savor this.

Slowly he moves, hooking his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties, maneuvering you just enough to get the article along with your skirt off and discarded somewhere on the floor. Then his hands are back on you again in an instant.

"Fuck," He whispers under his breath, half astounded as he stares down at you. "You're dripping for me..."

You wriggle your hips a bit, and he slips a single digit between your folds. The tightly coiled arousal in your stomach rolls through you, your toes curling in anticipation at just that simple touch.

"Fuck, Arven..." It's soft the way you say it. You grasp his wrist, not stopping him, just holding him there, as if he'd ever dare to leave.

He lets his finger drag upward just a bit, just so he can find--

You keen softly, rolling your hips against his hand, silently pleading him to focus there.

"I've got you..." He says softly, leaning back in to capture your mouth again, biting gently at your lower lip while you grind against his single finger stroking small circles around your clit.

"Fuck...fuck that's nice..." You groan against Arven's mouth, making him smile against you, renewing his efforts.

"You like that?" He asks, and it barely feels like teasing, especially when you so eagerly nod your enthusiasm to him.

"Hmm, god… More, please?"

Arven hums, continuing his pace just a bit longer before he lets his finger dip lower to press just at the edge of your entrance. When you roll your hips against him to fuck his finger into you, he lets it slip inside as you sigh, contented.

"Shit, you're so tight around just this one... Damn..." He tells you fondly as he starts to piston the digit slowly to match your pace before adding a second into the mix.

You moan lowly.

"K-keep going like that, fuck..." You tell him in a raspy, breathy voice.

"Yeah? Whatever you like," Arven tells you, adjusting his position above you just a bit, so he can lean a bit more on one of his knees, freeing up his other hand, so it can go to play with your clit.

The dual stimulation has you writhing and squirming almost instantaneously. Your moans turn high and needy real quickly from there, and within a minute or two, your vision goes white behind your eyes as your cunt pulses erratically around Arven's fingers with your orgasm washing over you.

It isn't until you pant a fucked-out "E-enough, enough...slow..." That he finally drags his fingers from your core, dripping with your essence.

He's so lost in the moment, internally congratulating himself on actually making you cum, that he jolts when he feels your hands on the button to his pants.

"Oh." You say, pulling back. "Sorry. Uh... Did... Did you not..?"

"No!" He says, too loud, then clears his throat and tries again, softer. Fuck, you're beautiful like this.

"I-I mean. I. I do. I want to. I just." He looks bashful. "Uh... I don't have any condoms? I can-- I mean, I'll go buy some. If you want."

You shrug. "Don't worry about it. I'm on the pill, and you can pull out to be extra safe?"

He nods. "If you're sure."

You nod.

Arven sighs, nodding again, partly to himself, then his hands go to his fly, and--

"Can I?" You ask, sweet as candy, and how can Arven do anything but nod and let his hands fall to the side as he watches you?

Your touch is featherlight as you free his cock from his boxer briefs; all Arven needed to do was lower his pants just a bit further down his hips. When you grasp him fully, Arven hisses between his teeth, resisting the urge to fuck your fist.

He lowers himself back down, and you purposefully and delightfully catch the tip of his cock along your clit as you lube him up before lining him to your entrance.

Arven looks at you, catching those sparkling eyes, still gleaming even in the low light of the evening. He rolls his hips forward, and you meet him halfway, the pair of you groaning in complete satisfaction at the union.

Just a moment later, after you've both adjusted, he starts to move, properly fucking you, balancing his weight on his forearm on the couch's armrest above your head. His eyes flutter closed, and he groans, cursing softly under his breath.

You match his pace as best you're able given the amount of room you have, hooking a leg over his hips to draw him into you deeper in a way that has you both moaning low, foreheads pressed together.

"F-feels so good..." You tell him breathily. Part of you considers snaking a hand down between you to toy with your clit again, but Arven must have read your mind because you feel his warm hand trailing up along your hip to squeeze in, pressing up just above where the two of you are joined. His thumb rolls your clit, applying just enough pressure that you jolt beneath him, losing your sense of rhythm, along with almost any other senses you have beyond your unwavering need for more of him and his fucking hands on you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Arven," You chant like a stupid prayer, tucking your head into his shoulder. "Like that, please. Don't stop. Fuck. Please."

Arven smiles and kisses your temple, riding the high of the power trip. "Wouldn't dream of it..." He can't help the jolt of arousal that goes straight to his cock when you say things like that. Fuck. And the way you squeeze around him? He has to put a real, concerted effort into his ministrations or else he'd absolutely be blowing his load inside you, especially when your walls flutter like that? He could die like this and be a happy man, he knows it.

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that it nearly startles him when you suddenly still, a moan caught halfway out your throat as your cunt squeezes him like a vice for a long, long moment before it starts rhythmically fluttering in time with your heart. Your head is tossed back as you cum around his cock, and--

And fuck, he needs to cum. Now. His hips stutter to a halt while he’s inside you, and he exhales slowly through his nose, letting you ride out your orgasm around him while he does his absolute best to hold on. As soon as he feels you've stilled somewhat, he pulls out, and just that motion, that friction, has him cumming ribbons that paint your stomach as he jerks himself through the remainder of it, panting with the effort it took to hold on for so long.

You watch him through your lashes, still trying to steady your own breath, shivering at the sensation of his hot cum lining stripes along your abdomen.

You sigh in time with Arven as he seems to finally calm, and the two of you stay silent for what feels like an eternity until eventually he hauls himself up with a grunt.

"Lemme, uh... I'll take care of that." Arven says noncommittally as he quickly moves to the kitchen where you hear him shuffle around and turn the faucet on.

When he returns, it's with a warm, wet cloth to wipe away the mess he's made of you, which he does meticulously and methodically. You shiver at his gentle touch.

"Uh... Sorry..." He says softly.

The absolute absurdity of it makes you laugh, bright and high. "Sorry? For the best sex I've probably ever had?" You stretch out on the sofa like a persian. "Please. You've just given me..." You yawn. "So much more...to look forward to...when you get back." You look back to him. "I-I mean... Uh. If. If this is...something you want?"

Arven drops to his knees to be at your level, looking at you with wide eyes.

"It is! I-I mean definitely! Yeah! Definitely. If you want. Yeah..." He gets this goopy, lovestruck look on his face that's so beyond endearing that you can't help but lean over to kiss him again.

"Good."

The next day, the two of you arrive at the airport hand in hand, and before you kiss goodbye, you promise to keep in touch, message as often as you can (as roaming fees allow) and that you'll see each other soon.

You watch Arven go through security, and when he's done, he waves from behind the glass, not taking his eyes from you until he's literally too far away.

If you cry a little bit on your way home, 'Raidon doesn't seem to tease you for it along the road.

With Arven gone, life basically continues as it had, albeit you're definitely feeling emptier. You continue work with the Pokémon League, performing basic research tasks for Jacq, and battling with Nemona to stay sharp. Every chance you get, you watch or listen to whatever videos get posted by the team Arven is working with, hoping for just a blip of him! Any time you see him, you comment and talk about how cute and handsome he is and how they should definitely show more of that cute guy with the two-toned hair. You giggle every time, hoping it helps some.

This particular morning, several weeks later, you and Nemona are outside Mesagoza, battling as you usually do, when a wave of nausea suddenly overtakes you.

You don't throw up or pass out, but the distraction of it keeps you from commanding your partner effectively, giving Nemona a leg up.

"Off your game today, eh?" She taunts you lightly from across the field.

You try to laugh, but you think you can literally feel the color draining from your face. You command Tinkaton to retaliate with a Gigaton Hammer, but then the world goes black around you.

Nemona's at your side in an instant (or is it longer than that?), panting with the effort it took to get to you so fast. Tinkaton and Goodra are also scurrying over with worried looks on their faces. "Hey! Hey, you okay?" She asks, holding up your head in her lap.

"What...?"

"You just dropped like a corviknight outta the sky, bestie. You've got me worried."

You shut your eyes tight and breathe through another wave of nausea.

"Yeah, I don't like whatever's happening." Nemona tells you. "Can you stand? I'll take you to the doctor."

More realistically, 'Raidon takes you to the doctor, and Nemona hangs around for moral support. She knows you've been kinda poorly since Arven left anyway, so she correctly guesses that you don't really want to be alone if you're about to go through a health crisis or something.

The two of you chat together while you wait for the results of your blood work and urinalysis to come back. The folks at the clinic had given you some fluids and told you to stay off your feet for a now for fear of another fainting spell, so you were basically stuck for a minute.

When the doctor returns, she asks if you'd like Nemona to stay while she gives you your results. The doctor doesn't seem terribly morbid or worried about anything, so you figure it can't be that bad, right?

You look to Nemona and smile, taking her hand.

"If that's okay?" You ask her.

Nemona smiles and nods, squeezing back.

The doctor returns your grins. "Since that's the case, let me go ahead and confirm your pregnancy, Miss."

Your brow furrows, and the edges of your vision go blurry like you're going to pass out all over again, and suddenly the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own blood pumping in your ears.

Everything looks so far away. Distantly, you know you're still holding Nemona's hand, but somehow it's as if your arm has stretched across the room and she's floating further and further from you. You can't even register what she looks like. What sort of face she must be making at you.

Whatever else happens at the clinic from there, you cannot recall. Obviously you must have said something or reacted in some way. You just know that Nemona brings you home with vitamins and appointment cards for follow up visits with different doctors for whatever route you decide to take.

She spends the night with you, curled up in a cuddle puddle with you and all of your pokemon, petting your hair softly as she sings something terribly out of tune but still soothing. She doesn't force anything out of you, knowing you'll tell her when you're ready.

That's how Nemona becomes the first person you tell about Arven and what you did. You spill everything to her the next morning as you cry into a bowl of sugary cereal, and she just rubs your back lovingly, spooning cornflakes into her mouth.

"So... What's the next step?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... Are you going to tell him? Do you wanna keep it in the first place?"

"Geez, Nemona! That's a little direct."

"What?!" She puts her hands up placatingly.

"Of course I'm gonna tell him. Can you imagine if I didn't? I feel like that'd break his heart... He deserves to know. And I mean..." You look down. Of course you're not showing yet it's way too early. In some other world this would be where you put a hand on your lower abdomen and fantasize for a moment about it all, building a family, a bouncing baby and a husband and a white picket fence. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to do it. That would make things a little bit too real for what you're willing to handle right now. But even then. "I-I wanna talk to him first. I...think I want to do this... But... He should have a say too, right?"

Nemona puts a hand on your shoulder. "Your word is most important, if you ask me."

You take a moment to breathe. "Yeah. I'm gonna tell him. I gotta talk to him first before deciding anything else."

And then you don't.

Or. Well. You try. You really do!

Thing is, it's really difficult to get a hold of Arven since he's been abroad. Your texts are sporadic at best.

Part of you just considers waiting. After all, he's off doing something really wonderful for himself. He's living his dream! Becoming an amazing man and making things happen for himself! He spent his entire life until now doing things for other people, waiting on his parents to come home, acting as an errand boy before finding out what had happened, then caring for Mabosstiff...

How could you call him to come home over something like this? That would be horrible of you. He needs to be able to do something for himself, and living his dream in Kalos is it!

But...he definitely deserves to know. He would want to know, wouldn't he?

You have to tell him.

So eventually you shoot Arven a message.

-hey! wanna video chat tonight?

-What time? I've got some stuff going on this evening, plus a pretty packed schedule in the morning, but I'd love to see you!

-oh! well maybe some other time then

-Ok ❤️

....And then a few days go by...

Fuck!!!!! Why are you like this???

You send him a picture of Tinkaton on top of 'Raidon another time which Arven laugh-reacts at, making your heart go all fluttery.

-wanna call tonight? i miss you

-I miss you too, buddy! Let's plan for it.

But then the time of your call comes and goes, and you end up falling asleep waiting for the phone to ring, your ??? texts having gone unanswered.

Finally a few days later you just call him one evening. You're getting too antsy and nervous, and you have to get this thing off your chest and/or uterus.

The phone rings several times, and when he finally picks up, you hear the sound of shuffling, then Arven whispering.

"What's going on?" He asks, soft but harsh. "I'm kinda in the middle of a thing. Is everything okay?"

"Uh..." I missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm kinda carrying your baby right now, and I'm so sorry but I think I'm going to crush your dreams by asking if you want to come home to be with me to raise it together? Is that even a thing that you want? Your mouth goes dry, and your stomach twists in knots. Now absolutely isn't the time for nausea, but when is?

"You there?" Arven asks, sounding a bit more annoyed.

"Y-Yeah. Sorry..." You finally respond after swallowing back a lump in your throat. "I just... I..."

You hear more shuffling on the other end and Arven's voice calling out to whoever else must be around him. "Hey, give me a minute, I need to take this!" Then some more sounds of what you imagine must be him going somewhere more secluded. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Uh..." Fuck fuck fuck. You have to tell him. "I-I just... I miss you."

You hear him exhale a sigh over the phone, but you can't tell if it's fond or exasperated. "Miss you, too. Is something going on?"

"Everything's okay, no one's dying or anything," Quite the opposite in fact. "I just... I wish I could see you..." Not what you wanted to talk about. Come on. Spit it out! "Uh... Will you maybe be able to take a weekend off or something soon? Maybe come and visit?"

Arven chuckles a bit. "I wish I could see you, too! But no, they're keeping me pretty busy here, but it's in the best way! I can't tell you how much I'm learning! The stuff I'm working on, it's beyond anything I've ever even imagined! Plus they're talking about maybe starting a new program, and they're going to need talent."

Your heart contorts in your chest. He's having such a nice time...

"I'm...I'm so happy for you." You finally squeak out.

"Yeah!" Arven ends up going on a mini-rant about a bunch of new techniques he's learning, and your heart melts. You don't even realize tears are silently streaming down your cheeks until Arven interrupts himself with a "Shit! Sorry. I totally forgot about filming. I gotta go. Talk to you later!"

He hangs up before you can even say bye.

In the end, you force yourself to text him. You clearly can't break the news out loud, and he has to know.

You wait until just after the work day ends, figuring that would be the ideal time to tell him, so he isn't at work, and he won't have to worry about it during a work day, and also you're not interrupting him in the middle of a nap or something, and he can call you to talk, since.....yeah he's probably going to want to talk.

Hey! I know this isn't ideal, and I really would have rather said it in person or over a face call or even just a regular call, but I think you need to know, and I'm having a really hard time verbalizing it to you. I'm sorry to do it this way, but it's better to say it now than not at all, right?

I'm pregnant, and it's yours.

I'm so, so, SO sorry! I promise I didn't mean for it to happen like this, and I'm not trying to like…baby trap you or something. I swear! You're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm so happy that you can go and live your dream in Kalos right now. But I just feel like you should know? Like you should have a say in what happens here? I'd love to talk to you. Do...do you want to do this? Because....well if you're willing I'd want to try this. With you. But I also know that you're living your dream right now, and I don't want to get in the way of that! I want you to be able to really embrace this new journey you're taking and learn and grow and do wonderful things! But I just wanted you to know, you know? Please don't hate me. Just give me a call when you have a minute, and we can figure this out. Okay?

You hit send and then wait.

It took nearly all of your bodily strength not to add "I love you" to the end of the message. You'd never said it out loud to each other before. Sure... You wanted to tons of times before now, but it just never happened, so it just didn't feel right to put it in a text first.

Yeah, telling someone you're pregnant with their kid via text also isn't really kosher, but you can only break so many rules at once.

You check your phone.

Nothing.

He may just be busy.

It's fine. You just need to be patient.

So you make yourself some food, play a bit with your pokemon. You think they can pick up on the change in you. Even Tinkaton seems a little less feral around you lately, which is kinda wild.

You cozy up to Skeledirge, running your fingers across his bony nose.

Still no reply.

You turn your phone off and on again just to see if maybe that does something? Like it'll reboot your messages?

Nothing.

"Fuuuuuuck!" You groan, kicking your legs petulantly, startling Skeledirge off the sofa with you.

TV isn't much of a distraction, and neither is social media, really, but you try to watch a few videos, read a few articles. Hell, you even answer some work emails in an attempt to distract yourself from the silence of your phone.

You check it before you shower, and there's no response.

The warm water doesn't do anything to quell your nerves, and you're about ready to have a panic attack by the time you dash back to the phone, still in your towel, your hair dripping all over the floor, and there are no notifications waiting for you.

You try to calm yourself with some steadying breaths.

Who knows what might be happening? His phone might have died during the day! He may have accidentally left it at home! Maybe your message didn't even go through fully!

You sneak another peak at your messaging app to be sure, but...

Well, it... It actually looks like your message has been read.

Okay.

He's seen it.

Cool.

Just.

Just give him a minute to process it. He'll probably call or message you back as soon as he can.

Except he doesn't.

You fall asleep on the sofa that night, clutching your phone in one hand, waiting for any kind of acknowledgement from Arven.

Wakefulness takes you with a jolt, and you actually drop the device with the rotom inside narrowly preventing it from shattering on the floor.

It floats back up to you, and you open your messages again.

Except, now it's saying your message from last night is unread? But that couldn't be... You saw the read notification and even made a note of the time.

You try to call Arven. It's early enough that he shouldn't be at work yet.

The phone doesn't even ring before you hear an automated "We're sorry. The number you're trying to reach is no longer in service."

Did...did he block you? No. He wouldn't do that, would he?

That's...that's not like him at all, and you know it.

Right?

You restart your phone and try again, but it's the same thing.

Maybe...maybe he did block you.

You curl up a bit.

Something has to be wrong, right?

You'll give it a minute.

Eventually you give in and decide that the best way to contact Arven is going to have to be through the agency he's working with. Someone there can get you in touch, right? Like, at least get you some closure?

You wait until the Kalosian work day has started before you call, and when the line picks up, the voice on the other end is some peppy sounding woman. You introduce yourself and tell her you're trying to get in touch with Arven, that you're a friend from home.

She repeats your name back to you then says "...And you wanna talk to Arven..." She pauses on the other line. "Y'know, I don't think he's in yet this morning. Truth be told, and honestly, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you said you're a friend? Yeah… He seemed like he got some really bad news yesterday." Your heart clenches, but she keeps going like a stereotypical gossip. "Yeah. Real rough day for him, honestly. Don't know why. Seemed pretty frustrated."

"Frustrated?"

"Yeah, I dunno... I don't really get it either. He just accepted this great full time role in our upcoming program."

"Oh..." You think you remember him mentioning something about a program when you'd spoken last. So he got offered a full job? And took it without even talking to you?

"But anyway, you didn't hear that from me. So did you want me to take a message for you?"

"Uh...no thanks. Sorry. Thanks."

You hang up before she can say anything else, your hands shaking.

He... He really must have blocked you.

On the other side, the PR representative for Bonne Applintite hears the call end and smiles. Not too long later, Arven enters the building, hiking his bag a bit higher up onto his shoulder.

"Good morning," He greets cheerily. "Do you have my phone ready and updated with the latest apps and everything for the agency?"

"I sure do!" The woman replies with a saccharine grin, sliding his rotom phone over from across the desk. "Thanks for leaving it with me overnight. Everything should be all set to go. Did you...?" She drifts off, her manicured nails creeping forward along the marble surface, her tone leading.

"Think about the offer?" Arven finishes. "Uh... Yeah. I did. I just wanna check in with someone back home first, y'know? It just seems like kind of a big leap. Like... I'm honored really, and I'm so happy people like my content... I just wanna talk about it first."

The woman shrugs. "Whatever you say, Arvie. I just think this'd be a great opportunity for you."

"It is, but..." He smiles fondly, totally disregarding the nickname. "We'll see what happens I guess. By the way, did I happen to get any messages last night? There’s a girl back home, and–"

“You know what? I didn’t see anything.” She interrupts him, smiling too big and speaking too loudly through teeth that are just a little too white. “Seems like she may have forgotten to text you.”

“Weird.” He replies, already walking off, his eyes glued to the device as he searches it for your contact.

Hm. Looks like some of his data got deleted, your previous text chains included... No biggie though. Your name is still there in his contacts, and that's really all he cares about. He can't wait to tell you about this new opportunity! Sure, he's kinda nervous about it. He's only been here for barely 2 months, if that, but apparently he's got some major skill, and people really like him! It's...it's actually really reassuring and affirming to him.

Growing up, Paldea had just been a place where he lived. In Kalos, with all these people around him showing him all this love and stuff... It feels like a home. It feels kinda like how he feels with you. It's not the same of course, but... He just feels like he's blossoming or something. It's wonderful.

Maybe you'd like it here, too...

Except you don't.

The conversation goes horribly. Arven doesn't get it. You don't sound like you. You were dismissive of him in the most bizarre way, basically telling him that he can fuck off and do as he likes--that you're not interested in maintaining contact anymore. It hurts. Did you find someone else or something? Hell, he hadn't been gone that long, and isn't absence supposed to make the heart grow fonder or something? You won't even video chat or pick up the phone, even though you'd been the one who had just asked him to call not long ago.

That evening he slumps against the foot of his bed, Mabosstiff at his side, snuffling his pockets.

Arven sighs. "Well, Bud... Guess it's just you and me again for a bit..." He takes out his phone and looks over the PDF of the contract that had been sent to him.

Two and a half years total, including his current apprenticeship...

Fuck it. He's enjoyed his time here so far. What's a bit more time?

Not like anyone's gonna miss him in Paldea anyway. He spent his life, basically until now, waiting for people there to love him. At least here he's got a fresh start with a leg up.

He sends over his eSignature on the document and texts the PR rep.

-hey! Just signed the thing. Looks like I'll be here for a bit after all.

Her response is almost instant.

-yayyyyy!!!! let's go grab drinks to celebrate!!!!!!

#arven fanfic #arven x female reader #arven x reader #arven x pregnant!reader #pregnancy fic #pregnancy//#i think those were all the tags people wanted me to put this under so it could be black listed. please let me know if anyone needs others!#arvensimp kidfic

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