#but it smells SO BAD that i would rather suffocate than smell that right when waking up u know

[pumpkinbxtch]

sumn about dionysus’s daughter and percy being obsessed w each other irks be in so kind of way, can i req something about it???

I would come back from death for you .⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

— percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader

warnings: none, i think

a/n: ok, here comes my confession. I don't know if this is something that counts as "obsession" as such because there are different types of it. I wanted it to be a more tender or cute obsession. I don't know, maybe I'll explore more but with a darker side.

The emotion was devouring him from the inside out. He knew he would be leaving in a few days, and even though he'd rather fight Hades himself than give his life on a silver platter, Percy couldn't help struggle with the thought of not being in your arms again.

— I'll go with you — you said, even though you knew it wouldn't happen. — I don't mind dying with you if it's the only way to keep us together.

Really, he wouldn't mind too, but he knew he had to keep you safe. Dionysus would never forgive him if anything happened to you, and to be honest, neither would he. You'd stay; that was the right thing.

The best deal he could get for now was to be together as much as possible until the day came.

You didn't say it, but it had become an obsession for each other. barely at night could separate to go to your respective cabins, and of course, not counting those times when you or he would sneak away to spend more time together. Some campers watched, they knew what was going on but still turned a blind eye because who were they to judge? Besides, it suited them to maintain the discretion or Dionysus would truly be in a bad mood, as having Percy Jackson as a son-in-law was enough for him.

That night, you had already turned off the lights, only the moonlight accompanied you, and you let out a deep grunt that turned into a gasp when you heard a knock on your door, you squinted your eyes and then heard two more knocks, three in total.

Obviously it was Percy, and you quickly got up before anyone could see him in front of your cabin. As soon as you opened, he slipped in between the door and closed it by pressing his heel. When you smelled the worn sunscreen on the curve of his neck, you let out a sigh; it was as if during the time you hadn't been together, you had been slowly holding your breath, suffocating without him.

— I missed you — he murmured, squeezing your body a little tighter. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and leaned back to look at you.

— It's only been an hour since dinner, Pers — you said, and he smiled at the nickname taking your hand to walk with you towards your bed. in the end, you were the only one to sit on the edge of it because percy stayed watching your bedside things, fiddling with and looking at your makeup.

— I'm leaving tomorrow — he said, still with his back to you as he struggled to read the label of a lipgloss, the one that suited you so well and that he never feared smudging when he kissed you.

Your heart raced. —Tomorrow? But...

— Things have changed, Chiron told me — Sadness and anger evident in his voice. Percy wanted to set the world on fire with Leo's help just because he hadn't had a couple more days with you. Instead, he took your perfume in his hands and brought it to his nose to smell it. Trying to imprint it in his memory, at least, until he returned and could smell it from your own body where it mixed with thousands of other scents resulting in your characteristic one. The one that drove him crazy.

That idea made him laugh, in fact you were the daughter of the man who could made men crazy with a snap of his fingers, so Percy believed you had done something similar to him, the only difference was that he was happy with it. He would jump blindfolded out of the grand canyon for you if you asked him to.

After a minute, he understood that your silence wasn't exactly a good thing, and he ran his fingers over the other beauty items on your wooden dresser, before turning towards you putting his weight on the dresser.

— Everything will be fine — he was convinced, but the tears threatening to fall from your eyes brought him to his knees before you, so quickly that you held back a sob seeing him on the floor raising his hands to caress your cheeks as if you were something religious that he was worshiping. Her turquoise eyes shone in the moonlight with empathy and they let you know that you had never felt that kind of religious love for which you would die until you had him.

Ugh, you were so in love with each other that it was ruthless to separate you even for just a little while.

You bent down to kiss him, and he stretched his neck to reach your lips desperately, without wanting to lose any piece of you.

—It will take much more than death to keep me from coming back to you— he whispered inches away from your lips, and you smiled because you knew he was serious about that.

With time on your shoulders, you settled on the bed, and he cuddled with you until you fell asleep while he stroked your hair and kissed you on the cheek; you had never felt so safe in someone's arms.

And it was in the morning, just after their last kiss, that your body began to ache for him and his absence. You returned to your cabin, cranky and teary-eyed, looking at the mess he had left on your dresser last night and smiled, recognizing your boyfriend's quirks, but little did you know that all Percy was doing was looking for things he could carry with him during his quest. Things that were yours and reminded him of what he had to fight for.

—Nice hair claw, Percy— Piper joked with a pink spark in her eyes, and he smiled proudly.

Leo dramatically put his hand on his chest and sighed loudly. — Better no one get in HIS – our – way because someone's waiting for him.

“Yeah, better not” he thought.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧ #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson blurb #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fluff

[giverofempathy]

ok you guys know i love winter but i'm really over it now i want it to be spring and a bit warmer :(

#salisha speaks #mostly so i can sleep with my windows open again i feel like im suffocating when its closed #but my asshat of a neighbour has a fireplace as sole heating system and idk what kind of wood he puts in there #but it smells SO BAD that i would rather suffocate than smell that right when waking up u know #i hope we can move very very soon so i can just have them open without the gross smell #like i loveee a fireplace i love a good woodsmoke but not from whatever wood he uses #im pretty sure he just throws anything in there. like painted wood even

[luveline]

JADE I love Hotch sm I’ve been waiting for you to mention him again! If you wanted could you do something about reader having been through a rough relationship and just being so happy about how domestic and gentlemanly hotch is (when he’s home)? Tysm I love everything you do, constantly cheering for you babe!! ❤️

hi! i think i made reader more confused than happy but i hope this is still okay, ty for your request lovely! tw for bad/unhappy previous relationship, fem!reader

You didn’t know men could be so kind when you’re in a relationship. It’s not as though you’ve never met a sweet guy before, you met Aaron through Spencer, and Spencer’s nice. It had been his interference that eventually led to Aaron asking you out, and his assurance that made you confident enough to say yes. 

But being friends with Spencer hadn’t really erased any of your boyfriend-related assumptions. They’re boys. They don’t want to be suffocated by you and your need for affection. What Aaron wants, if the past is any indication, is a relaxing weekend with space and time alone. 

He’s lying on his couch. He woke before you, and you don’t understand why he hadn’t woken you up too. To get some time away from me, your brain supplies cruelly. It isn’t a fair assumption. Aaron wouldn’t have invited you to spend the night with him if he didn’t want to see you. He wouldn’t have asked you to go steady with a bouquet and a shiny tennis bracelet you’ve yet to take off a month later. 

Right?

“Come in here,” he calls. 

You put down your cup of coffee and walk into his living room. Aaron holds out his arm, touching you as soon as you’re in reach. He sits up and it’s so odd, why would he bother? It’s only you. 

“What, you don’t want to sit with me?” he jokes. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you say, a little too fast, a little too strung-out. 

He’s kind about your unsure moments. Likely because he knows exactly what you’re thinking —considering his job, and his ability to analyse even the criminally insane with brutal accuracy, Aaron must know why you act the way that you do. What you can’t understand is his patience. 

“Well, for future reference,” he begins, collecting your hands in his and giving them a squeeze, “I always want you to sit with me. As long as that’s what you want.”

"Oh, good, “ you say, taking back control of one of your hands, pressing your palm to his broad shoulder. 

Aaron smiles sweetly, like his lips are glued with sticky taffy. You take it as an invitation to stand between his legs, and slowly, so slowly, wrap your arms around his head and neck, your cheek pressed to his hair. He grasps your waist with a mirrored fondness. He smells so nice. He always smells clean and warm, sandalwood and something earthier in his aftershave.

It doesn’t take him much manoeuvring to sit you in his lap, or rather sit you in the corner of the couch with your thighs over his. You laugh as you settle, your hands falling down his chest. 

"I'm really glad you could come over. I know I've been busy with work. You never complain," Aaron says. 

"Why would I complain?" you ask, wanting to put your head on his shoulder. 

He looks at you long and steady. 

"You can do it," he says. "You can lean on me." 

"How do you know?" you mumble ruefully, doing as he allows, your face hiding in his warm arm. 

"I'm very good at reading people. And I like you more than I like most people, so I'm even better." He drags a lazy hand up and down your leg. "I know you like affection more than you like air…  and I know you don't like asking for it. I know you think it bothers me when you do ask." 

His hand slides between your thighs. "But it doesn't," he says warmly. "Whatever you've been told, it won't bother me." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

Aaron leans down to kiss you. You have to sit back to make room for it, and you feel strangely like crying as he presses his lips to yours. It's chaste. His hand squeezes your thigh. 

"I want you here," he says. 

Oh, you think. "I knew that," you murmur. 

"Good. I don't want you to doubt it. Things were hard for you before, and it was difficult for you to believe me when I said I–" He presses his lips to your cheek. "Had feelings for you," he says against your skin. "I'm sorry people haven't been kind to you." 

"Why would you be sorry for that?" 

"Because I care about you, and the things that happened to you." 

"It wasn't your fault. I was the idiot. I'm the one who stayed." 

"I would love," he says, gently, slowly, so you're sure it isn't a scolding, "if you could be as kind to yourself as you are to everyone else. Please don't blame yourself for how you've been treated. It's not fair." 

"I just don't get why you're so nice to me," you confess, sitting back again. You're surprised he can hear you, you talk so quietly. 

"Because that's how this works. That's how love is supposed to work," he grins, like he's aware of how close he is to sounding corny. "I'm nice to you because you mean everything to me. There isn't a single part of me that wants to be mean to you." 

"He wasn't mean," you say. You bite your tongue hard. After a moment, you continue, "He just didn't like me the way that you do." 

"He," Aaron says, pulling your legs into his chest, "should have. I don't want to keep on at you, I'm too used to telling people what to do, I'm sorry. I just want you to know that it wasn't… normal. Alright?" 

"This is normal?" you ask, smiling, feeling better for his reassurance but wanting to move on before the day becomes all about you. 

"No, this isn't normal. This is perfect." 

You laugh, delighted by him even if it is corny, and turn in his grasp to hug him. He laughs too, a rare sound. It's strange —he doesn't hug tightly, but you get an overwhelming feeling of security regardless. For the first time in a long time you indulge in affection without thinking that the person you're cuddled up with wants to be somewhere else. Aaron wants to be here, and nowhere else, and he wants to be with you. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #You criminal minds fic #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 16

MASTAPOST

tell me what u like about the chapter :D guess where the story's going, anything! gimme fuel qwq

Damian lay on his belly on Phantom’s chest as the boy floated just underneath the surface. It was night time, and the Atlantean town they’d sacked was far behind them now. Here they only had the stars to accompany them, wobbling and swaying over the distortion of the water.

They were so close… Damian pushed himself up with his arms. His head breached the surface, water washing over his face like a veil. His eyes widened as he took in the beauty of the night sky, much more comfortable without the blinding sunlight when he’d first tried this.

There was something comforting about the stars, something beautiful outside this world that would be there no matter what, even in his most miserable nights with the League. It was something he missed when he moved the Manor underneath Gotham’s smog-filled skies.

Damian pushed himself further, balancing himself on his tail and hip fins instead of his arms. The gentle sea breeze prickled at his wet scales, causing him to shiver. It brushed against his ear fins and gave a sense of immeasurable calm. Just him, Danny, the stars and the whistle in the wind.

And a feeling of suffocation.

Damian’s lungs demanded air. Or was it water? He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the sea from above it rather than underneath, but it didn’t help. He inhaled again, but the pressure remained.

What- What was this madness?! Sirens could breathe over water. This was indisputable. Danny had been able to breathe and talk over water the night Damian was transformed. Damian was able to breathe air and talk then. Damian sucked in more and more air, desperately trying to sate the need for oxygen. Why couldn’t he breathe?!

 Damian’s vision twisted. His head spun. His chest felt like knives being stabbed into it.

Hands grabbed him. Danny pulled him back under, where the water provided sweet relief. Damian clutched his chest, as if any moment now he would drown again.

“Are you ok Damian?” Danny’s hands hovered over him, like he was fragile china. Damian scowled.

“Why couldn’t I breathe? What has happened to me?” Damian asked, demanded, heavy with accusation.

“Dude, your lungs are water balloons right now. You gotta empty ‘em out before you can breathe air.” Danny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damian’s cheeks burned. He turned his back on Danny and crossed his arms.

“I was aware. I was merely testing you.”

Danny poked him in the sail, the sensitive touch causing Damian to hiss instinctively. “I mean if you’re the siren expert, then by all means!”

Damian did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he surfaced again, determined. Instead of inhaling in panic, trying to pump air into lungs at full capacity, Damian focused on exhaling, on pushing the water out.

His throat cramped with pain. The young siren gargled and gasped. His throat clamped and throbbed, like he was pushing a jagged boulder up. He barely managed to spit out a meagre drop of water before Danny dragged him under again.

The older boy pulled him to his chest, stroking his back as Damian coughed and hacked.

“Ok that was my bad, are you ok?” Danny said, ear fins drooping. Damian wheezed, his eyes closing as the pain abated.

“Do you go through this every time you surface?” Damian shuddered. What would happen to him once he got home? He wouldn’t be able to walk, and now couldn’t even breathe without immense pain.

“Hehe, no.” Danny deadpanned. “You’re supposed to use your gills.”

Danny tapped on his own gills. Instinctively, Damian moved his elbows to cover his. Lately he had been keeping sane by not thinking too much about the creepy feeling of having water flow through the slits in his chest, how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel. How it gave him a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited.

“Just open up your gills, and let the water drain out. It’s that simple.”

Damian sputtered. “What did you say?”

Danny shrugged, like he was explaining grade school mathematics to a two-year-old. “Like this.”

Danny’s gills flapped open. It was only from years of stoic training that Damian did not gag at the sight of Danny’s pale flesh revealed underneath his aquatic breathing apparatus. His eyes trailed to his own set of gills.

“Is there another way?” Damian was not avoiding this issue, nor was he ‘procrastinating’ as Richard would insipidly suggest. He was merely searching for a more optimal alternative.

“We’re sea creatures, Damian. I consider myself lucky for being able to not drown in air at all.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. He was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul. He could face this. Being unable to breathe above water would make him a liability on this journey. He had to push through.

Damian prepared to resurface, gathering his nerves.

“Just relax. You can do it, Damian. It’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Encouraged by the prospect of not hearing any more puns, Damian pushed his upper half over the surface. Accordingly, Danny also pushed closer. This high over the water, Damian wobbled as his body adjusted to his weight in the air.

The pressure started to mount on his chest. Damian focused on the slits between his ribs, on the alien feeling of wind blowing into them and hitting exposed flesh. He squinted his eyes and tried to push the water out through his gills. He flexed and contracted his arms and stomach, searching for the unconscious switch in his brain that could activate the write muscles.

It was too much. He went under again.

“This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.” Damian huffed, chest heaving from strain.

“I can tell.” At Damian’s glare, the older boy raised his hands in defense. “Hey, you looked legit constipated up there. I was starting to worry you’d actually make a mess of yourself. Now, like I said, all you need to do is-”

Damian hissed at the older boy’s mockery. “I can take care of myself. I need no advice to do something as simple as breathing. Thank you.”

Damian glared at the surface, the invisible barrier between this world and the old one, and redoubled his efforts. The pressure came back. Damian twisted his body and nerves, but he couldn’t get a single gasp of air in. He sank. He re-emerged, he suffocated again. Each time Damian pushed himself further, only to be met with the same difficulty. Each time left him sorer, more cramped.

Until after many an attempt, Damian slumped against Danny’s chest, scaled skin warm despite the cold, deep-sea looking appearance. His muscles turned to jelly, even as he feebly pushed against the older boy’s scales for another attempt.

The young siren felt soft hands wrap around his waist. Damian tried to push away, to wiggle out. Danny’s chest vibrated with a low him, and it was like his strings were cut, and Damian’s resistance ceased. All he could do was mutter weakly.

“What are you doing?”

Danny surfaced, arms keeping Damian under, until they began to pull him up too. Damian’s heart accelerated. He could not stop the frightened chitters forcing their way out. His fins went rigid. Was this it? Did Phantom finally lose his patience, and decide Damian was no longer worth the effort? This was bad. He needed to escape and he needed to escape yesterday.

But as Damian began to struggle, the rumbling vibrations from the elder’s chest intensified, and the small boy went limp again. His muscles, sore from exertion and rendered even weaker by the strange biological signal, refused to move. All he could do was tilt his head away, trying to delay the inevitable. Helplessly, he watched the surface creep closer and closer, until he went over.

Damian waited for his death. In his prayers, he apologised to Father, to Richard, even to Drake, for everything. In this moment, as tears pricked his eyes as he was helpless but to drown in fresh, oxygen-rich air, Damian resigned himself.

The pressure did not come.

His chest tingled. Pinpricks poked the skin and outer scales, and along the lining of his gills. Water ran down his chest and over his abdomen. Damian blinked, and looked down.

His gills were open, fully open, gaping wide and exposing his insides for the world to see, but they were open. And water flowed out of them, emptying his lungs. Damian gasped, and felt sweet relief as cold, burning, fresh air finally filtered into his body. His body wracked from the sweet release, chest struggling to accommodate the big greedy gulps he took.

“And now you shut them, keep the air going out the other way.”

Damian nodded glumly. That he could manage. A swift motion, and the flaps of scales and skin shut tightly, leaving only thin lines on his body to suggest that he ever had gills in the first place.

For a moment, he felt human. Even as he actively commanded his breaths, he felt more like a normal human again than he had in the last 48 hours.

“T-thank you.” Damian said, cursing the weakness in his voice. Not to mention how it sounded completely different now, travelling through water instead of air. It was unnerving, but he couldn’t place why. He felt too tired for more riddles about his body. “You have saved me a great inconvenience.”

Danny quietly chuckled. “It was literally what I told you. You need to loosen your muscles to get the water out. This whole time you’ve been all tight and wound up like a spring lock. Dude I think you even sleep all locked up too. That can’t be healthy.”

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable. Any threat could walk by and do with you whatever they pleased. In his life, there would be danger at every turn. It was a sentiment he’d expressed to the others in his family when they too voiced the same concerns.

He would never be safe in this life.

A finger poked his cheek. Damian snapped his teeth at the infantilizing gesture, only for it to retreat back just as quickly. He turned around and looked up, muscles no longer rendered limp by the subjugating vibrations.

Danny pointed to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s a good night to stargaze, isn’t it?” A comet whizzed by in the night, a streak of white trailing behind it, like an artist’s brush across a canvas. Now that he could breathe again, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of calm again, treading water and watching the stars shine.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #danny phantom #mermaid au #merboys #mermaid transformation #transformation angst #animal instincts #mer biology #sirens #damian drowns in air #drowning #suffocation #comfort #fluff

[lychniis]

⚘— ( i ) AND THIS ALL CONSUMING HUNGER // JING YUAN.

i. SYNOPSIS : guides will be guides and men will be men. you've tested against madness and tempered the poison power brings. the general of the luofu is a new assignment and you swallow your fear. ( jing yuan x reader )

ii. WARNING(S) : was previously a long one shot but hey look, a part one to a tentative snapsot series hahahahaha i'm so inconsistent. allusions to workplace exploitation, guideverse au, sentinel jing yuan and guide reader, guys i promise i'll try to explain soon, a bit rushed imo and i hope to fix that in later parts, reader is not in the best place, pre-canon events, this goes a little farther back.

i. A BLACK HOLE. That is what the cloud knight called him as he led you down the long walk —  endless, old and hungry; eternally hungry as it devours the moons and the stars and the very matter of space. 

A black hole. The words rattle in your skull. It sparks alarm ( more than once ), of morbid thoughts and funerals without a body to grieve for. It makes you feel many, many things, and think of near insanity, and fingers that claw at sheets with a hunger that is never sated, a hunger that rends flesh and bone and grips at you with emaciated hands, begging begging begging.

You shrug it off with little success. Black holes were black holes, men were men and guides were guides. There was no place for fear in your line of work, not when you’ve gazed at madness in the eye and coaxed it away. 

The knight looks at you with pity behind his visored helm. “You could always back off.” he offers, after a moment of tense silence. Your nails dig into your skin. Maybe he saw your anxiety. Maybe he smells it. Maybe he’s played this song and danced this dance so often he’s grown used to the jittering and the shuffling. 

How many people has he seen off? How many of those faces returned with none of the brokenness? How many returned at all?

“I doubt that would be an appropriate thing to do.” you speak up, hating how raw you sound, how diminutive. It was the right thing to say. That company booklet says so, with its corporate graphics and white toothed smiles plastered on the cover. It screams the gradual rotting of old art and passion. It makes you miss your home world and the murals long painted over with billboard signs.

He shakes his head. 

“The General holds no qualms in letting guides go. He encourages it, in fact…” his chipper attitude fades to a subdued sort of expectancy. 

But we cannot, he almost says. This, this you know. He sounds reluctant in a way that is mired by guilt and entrenched in suffocating marshland, and his voice trembles with hidden desperation. Your hands twitch. A part of you wishes to indulge in cowardice for once, to run. 

( Fool. Fool, you should leave. Walk away while the door is still open.

Fear holds no place here, you tell that voice sternly. It scuffles and spits. It wants to live, to keep living. It is a cornered animal with its teeth borne and its claws laid out. It was you, deep down and you despise it, this selfishness. You wished it erased away, bit by bit, piece by piece till its ashes were sifted to the floor and forgotten. )

He relaxes a bit when you don’t budge, satisfied with this seeming bravery, or wild idiocy. He pauses by the gates and hands you an ID card. There is a quiet beat; it’s like the world is dissolving, into static and incomprehension, like you were sinking too deep into something you’d rather stay away from. Your throat is parched. You wonder if you could ask for a drink of water before taking up your duties. 

The cloud knight’s name was Yutie. He tells you he’s been the general’s guard for years uncountable. You don’t try to sum it up in your mind. To the Xianzhou natives, a decade was a passing moment. To you, it felt like eternity upon eternities. 

“It’s never been this bad,” he explains, tapping at the keypad. The doors let out a mechanical whirr whirr whirr, like they were going to fall apart any second. He swears, slamming his fist on the device ( you were ashamed to admit you flinched — he looks a tad bit apologetic, at least ). They slide open easier this time. “The General usually keeps his health in check. The most he needs are top-ups to prevent any unnecessary accidents…”

Accidents.

Dead guides. Guides sucked dry, dry of everything, from their soul to their very essence to their life itself. Guides like you. Guides lulled in, offered money, offered a job, guides like you perhaps, at the cusp of desperation. What are you doing here, why did you agree to this — 

“What changed?” you ask, drumming staccato against the surface of the card. 

Yutie dips his head down. You see another flash of his gaze beneath his helmet and the faintest wisps of dark hair. “There was an expedition.” his tone softens. He sees demons beyond the world in front of him, the kind you see in your nightmares. “It was long, and painful…the General returned victorious, but he expended too much and now…”

Yutie swallows. You could practically feel the nervous energy buzzing off of him. 

“...and now he’s like…this.” you finish helpfully. 

“And now he’s like this.” he nods. “Will you help him?”

You purse your lips, and that twisting ache in your chest deepens into a gaping pit. A black hole. The word itself scares you. To you, it feels like something deep, empty, vast. It feels like sinking underwater, down trenches with no end. It feels stifling and it shrinks you down to something small and swallowable. 

Men were men, guides were guides and fear was a passing glance. You shut your eyes and mutter it over and over. “I’ll try. I don’t know if I can…but I will try." It's a sincere enough effort, every trembling syllable hanging heavy like lead, like titanium. “I will try.” you repeat. You fool yourself into it. You repeat it, over and over. You will try, you will try, you will try.

He looks down. You feel the nervousness break away and fragment into a somber hint, and a hopeful one. You wonder what kind of man Jing Yuan may be for his guard to care about him so. 

You hope he is kind.

Aeons, you hope he is kind. 

ii. YOU FEEL IT BEFORE you see it, the cloying smokiness, the stench of ozone, the buzz against your skin. It was lightning in a bottle set loose, the beginnings of a storm, a hurricane that could rattle the roofs of houses and blow away trees from their roots. It was danger, and your throat burns against it.

Help him, that part of you screams as instinct overtakes fear. You don’t have to look at him to know the extent of his corruption — not with how cold his hand was when you took it. Not with how you tremble beneath that shuddering weight and push past the initial barrier. It slips and pushes you back, once, twice, thrice. You wheedle your way in, grabbing at whatever you could find. 

What you find is emptiness.

You panic. You feel tugged and frayed at the corners. You feel like you’re unraveling —

— you keep going, your fingers pressed against his palm as your essence filters through. 

You don’t want to look at the pale faced illness that would have settled over him or the fragility his bones move with. That was always the hardest part, crying for the ones you could never save, letting their faces creep into your mind at night. You do not want to give him a face. You do not want him to haunt you, if this twists into something unwantable.

( You could die too. The thought springs forth like a scathing mockery. It smiles — if thoughts could smile — and it bears a sharp toothed edge to it. You stop thinking immediately, no no no, no more of that. )

He devours it, then demands more, more, more. You don’t have more. You doubt you have more, and you, a fool and bleeding heart in its pathetic entirety — you let him take. 

Reality begins slipping into a jumbled mess of shapes and words. You tamp down the deluge. Your head feels light, and you feel heavy. For a moment, you imagine the stars in front of you, and hurtling through space watching constellations being rendered down and broken apart. 

A hand fixes round your wrist. The grasp is clumsy, weak yet warm against your skin ( and it’s gentle and it’s kind. You want to tear it off of you. You want to cry and cling to it ). The line is severed and you double over, your breaths strained, haggard like someone untangled that painful web growing in your chest. You think you taste iron in your mouth.

“Enough.” There is a finality in the way he speaks and you obey, stunned and dissonant. When you look up, the General is staring back, the gold in his eyes, hazy, sickly though tugged free of the madness. He hasn’t recovered, not fully — he was still a smeared painting in that sense with none of that fine refining or rendering. A face still legible, still knowable but lost in its definition and depth. 

Oh…oh, you wonder how he dares to still be so beautiful. 

Harsh aureate softens to mellow honey. His fingers brush against your palm, the touch featherlight, the brush of wings against skin. “You have done enough.” he says, softly, gently. “Go, get some rest.”

The manual sinks at the back of your eyes, all clinical white smiles and lifeless art. Their instructions were drilled in like second instinct, like some sick mantra. “I haven’t — ” you barely let the words out. You were tired. You want to sleep.

“Go.” he repeats ( stop being so insistent, you nearly snap. Your voice crackles and crumbles — thankfully ). “We can talk later.”

There were parts of you that were tugged at with phantom hands, parts you never wished to be torn at. For a moment, you stand, your mind nothing but hazy static. He looks apologetic. The situation sinks in, the hunger, a black hole. That visceral feeling in your gut, the surreality, the terror.

You had almost died.

Bitten lips part. A choked cry tumbles out. It’s numb emptiness. It’s everything at once.

You almost died. 

It settles in thick and you feel parts of you fall away, left behind in that room. You hear attendants call out in worry as they fuss over the man. You feel Yutie’s hand on your back. You look back and see the chasmous guilt in Jing Yuan. An attendant says something. He smiles, nods, pulling on an air so free of distress — you wish you were a good liar like him. Maybe you could lie to yourself and think of a you and a life that didn’t feel so empty.

The glimpse is gone. You see walls now. His voice fades away as the distance grows.

“Thank you.” says Yutie. There is a silent awe in the way he speaks to you, like you were some godling sent from the heavens itself. You do not understand that — you were only doing your job. But you also see why too. He was kind. He was kind in a way you had least expected and he was tender, so painfully tender. General Jing Yuan is the Luofu’s beloved in that sense and to care for a man like him was no surprise. 

( It’s loyalty, the type of loyalty so deeply ingrained into their bones and their instincts — an iron that refuses to rust. It is impressive, you mindfully nod at this, just a little touched at the sight. At least someone was loved. It may not be you, but it was still someone, and it lets you see that the universe, no matter the horrors it holds beneath it;s shroud, was still capable of the kinder, tender things. )

Despite that, the sinking feeling remains. Your contract wasn’t finished with. You had a long way to go. That iciness returns. It’s constricting around your neck. It does not leave. Death had left its mark on you, a permanent reminder of your fragility. 

You know what it was, your old friend, a bedmate, a shadow hovering over your shoulders and taking and tearing and grinning as it sets fire to what sanity you hold close. It holds the ashes. It scatters them and laughs. 

You do not utter its name. Demons had a nasty habit of showing their faces when called.

iii. THE NEXT DAY, you don a coat, lock your room door and head back to Jing Yuan’s estate from Petrichor Inn. The Luofu’s nightlife has bled away to silence and the world feels asleep around you. You try not to make a sound lest you disturb it; it feels like something you had little right to tread upon this stillness with heavy footfalls.

Yesterday repeats itself. You meet Yutie at the entrance. He hands you your ID. He leads you to Jing Yuan. He stays behind at the doorway and gives you an encouraging nod. You curl your fingers and take a step in, incense stimulating the senses — it eases you a bit. It smells nice. It smells familiar ( jasmine and hibiscus and sandalwood ).

He’s awake. You wonder if he’s slept at all ( he’s not, with the way his shoulders slope ). Your muscles itch. The air is still saturated with that uncomfortable buzz. It’s less staggering, less like the upended chaos that stormed through placidity and more like a subtle shift, the waves slowly creeping up with the onset of the coming tide.

Breathe.

He’s smiling at you. That is good. It is better than latent annoyance. It is better than that voracity.

“Good morning.” You greet. You gather yourself and your lips tug at the corners. It was a professional, distant, but it;s a smile of your own. 

“Good morning.” He hums. “Have you eaten?” 

A strange thing to ask right off the bat, but the small talk between the awkward silence is a buffer you welcome. Anything to lay in the incoming conversation as gently as possible ( you brace yourself. You tell yourself to be brave, be brave, be brave ). “Not yet.” you admit. “I’d like to see this through first.”

“Your payment?” Jing Yuan wasn’t being rude with the context at hand. You still stiffen. It’s instinctive, and you despise how it makes your hands cold like fractured ice and stale snow. 

“Your guiding.” You clarify, stilling the tremble. “You're…in need of some more help if you wish to make a quicker recovery. I could help schedule some appointments during my stay here.”

He considers you with a cool look. You feel like a butterfly gutted through and pinned up to be ogled at. “You hardly seem eager to take that stand yourself.” he notes with a wry tilt to his head.

You’d have argued back at his response, but his shrewdness claws away the words and leaves you gaping at his bedside. Jing Yuan peers down at his sheets, then shuts his eyes. There is an impatient twitch to his fingers. You wonder if he wants to strangle someone ( or maybe it’s you. Maybe you feel stripped away raw and your only instinct was to scream ).

Your chest rises and falls. “If there is any issue you have with me, I could put a word in and call another guide.” An innocent suggestion, uttered too quickly. You want to wince.

“No, no, it’s not you.” He’s quick to shut it down. There is a mixed amusement there, tugging at his lips. It’s like he knows something you don’t, or sees something you can’t. It’s frustrating. “Heavens, it's not you at all. Your performance was hardly what I’d call subpar…” you wait for the ‘but’. 

“...but I am sure you are aware that I'll suck you dry, yes?” Yes you were, and even you were selfishly terrified of death ( and you feel stupid. So stupid ). Jing Yuan could smell fear, it was a blatant point to him, something you chide yourself for ( you should have hidden it away better ) — and his offer for freedom, ah it was tempting. You could walk away now and wash your hands of it. You could leave this behind and think little of it. 

…at least until your boss brings about the questions. The chiding. The reminders, your training. It makes you feel sick.

( There is something else too.

Perhaps a naive voice, a young child who once told someone they wanted to help people. A child from a world before the strain, the strife, the hours overtime — where greed was never quite a concept beyond wanting more chocolate after dinner. )

“I’m not sure if I'm in the position to refuse.” you admit. “I’m under contract. Your recovery is of utmost importance and I cannot afford any violations.” It’s the tamest way you could lay out your reasoning. You don’t want to get into the messier details, where the ink bleeds and splatters through the pages. Those are the parts most try hiding.

He softens up. There’s less of a regimented edge to him. You relax your shoulders, let your nerves soothe. “So you’ll stay.” he says this with a heavy sort of acceptance. You catch a taste of melancholy ( bitter, like dark chocolate ). “In that case, you may proceed.” 

“Alright.” you patter closer and pull up a chair next to him. Jing Yuan watches you; he always watches you and your jittering returns as the seconds tick by. The clock feels a little too loud. The lights feel a little too bright. He holds out his arm. You smooth your fingers over his skin, feel the tautness of muscle and the faint brittleness of bones underneath. 

( Alive. )

Your thumb stops above his pulse. It’s beating fast — a little too fast. “You’re nervous.” you whisper.

“Am I?” he smiles. His pulse slows as he breathes. Shrewd man. 

“You’re still nervous.” you point out. “You’re just good at hiding it.” He chuckles. The sun seems to reflect in his eyes. It would be easy to consider him something else, something a little less human. But you feel his warmth in your hands. You feel his pulse and you try smiling. It’s gentle, as gentle as you could muster forth. “It’s alright. You can try talking about things. They’re good distractions.” 

Jing Yuan only seems more amused. “You’re acting like I'm a petulant child. In my experience, guiding is far more pleasant than say, needles poking at flesh.” ( He turns his hand over and the feel of his pulse slips away. His fingertips are calloused. There are no scars. The Xianzhou natives never live with those. )

You often wonder what it’s like to receive it, guiding. Then you banish those thoughts. They are not yours, never yours to mull over beneath the eyes of the night. 

His eyes slip shut. You fall into the void, feel the devouring beneath the surface with its too tight grasp and the hunger it holds. Your chest stirs. You guide him.

iv. HIS MONOLOGUE : 

There is touching. More touching than what he’s used to. And it’s not enough, never enough. It’s fleeting, featherlight. He’d call it that sensation — in how a plum blossom would fall, would brush against his cheek. In how the rain patters against his hair. 

He watches you. It’s interesting, he reasons, between the whitewashed walls of his room and the creaking of his bed. Your eyes barely meet his. Your hands, they flutter over his arm, over his pulse. It’s surgical, precise, he’s tugged apart and opened and he tries to think of the things you might see as you slip inside. 

Gentle. You’re gentle. Jing Yuan feels you hold his soul. It’s warm. The monster stills. Some of that creeping emptiness disappears. There was a dissonance there, once upon a time. It was devastation and it was a weight. Jing Yuan despised it, despised its cries, despised how it took more than it should.

He feels light.

When you pull away, he feels greedy. He almost asks you to come back ( to stay, maybe a little longer, maybe forever ).

You’re tired. There is a newer burden, a newer nervousness dragging you down. Jing Yuan watches you leave. A bitterness floods his tongue, edged with iron.

( Stay. )

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

"aine it's been ages, are you on hiatus?" "nah i'm just lazy."

so my ideas and concepts for this au basically peaked, spilled over and i settled on the horrifying thought that this cannot be a single oneshot anymore.

so uh, hey here's a snapshot series. there's no actual plot to it, thank god ( you ;long fic writers...you awe and scare me ) but i plan on writing a few tied in oneshots here and there when i feel like to expand on it. consider this in introductory post??? a meet cute.

now to clear the air, what is guideverse? okay so it's kind of an au where there are sentinels, beings with supernatural power juice and guides who make sure the sentinels don't get too drunk on the supernatural power juice and do an oopsie.

that's the most barebones way of explaining it, but there are a few writers who have explained it better i think XD. in short, guides calm sentinels down and stop them from corrupting. in this case, the reader tends to the mara encroaching on jing. yes yes.

in the famous words of shaoji, don't worry "this story will be heartwarming and wholesome :))))))." trust me bro. my sources are so valid.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill this form up!

taglist — @dustofthedailylife @meimeimeirin @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @ofoceansandtombsanew @ollieink @chiyoso @hleb-chan-sky @thesparklingwriter @localplaguenurse @khxii-i @laughterofthetombs @euniveve @meritamiau @achy-boo @dumbitchpdf @timeofsilversstuff @pearlsxandxpeonies @francisnyx @cynicalmusings @iridescene

AINE | 2024. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

#&&. my writing !! #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #jing yuan x y/n #my god guys this took way too long to finish lol #help help XD #i'm done though thank god #guideverse #guideverse x reader

[shigarakis-cumdump]

Intoxicating Love

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: You saw a new ad for a pheromone perfume online and you figured you'd give it a shot. Who knew it would work so well...

Cw: none

Word Count: 1.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t get to see Dabi much, and when you did, his attention was always elsewhere. He seemed like your little dates and hangouts were taking up his time, like he had better things to do. 

While scrolling on your phone, you get an ad for a new perfume that says, “Your boyfriend won’t be able to resist!” It was a pheromone perfume, something you had never heard of before. It said it smelt like musk, honey, and cinnamon, which all sounded like good scents to you. You placed your order as quickly as you saw the ad, and waited several days for it to arrive. 

When you had the perfume in hand, you sprayed a bit and it smelt sweet and warm. It didn’t make you feel anything like the ad said, but it smelt good nonetheless. You sprayed a bit on your neck and chest as you were getting ready for your date with Dabi. You planned a movie night at your place, and he should be arriving any minute. 

There was a loud bang at your door, and you raced downstairs to invite him in. 

“Hi Dabi!” you say enthusiastically as you practically drag him inside. 

“Someone’s excited to see me.” he says, throwing off his shoes and letting them go anywhere. He leans down to meet you and gives you a kiss. Almost immediately, he can sense something different about you, although he didn’t know what. 

“How was your day?” you ask. 

“It was definitely somethin’,” he replies. You were hoping he would add on, maybe give you some details or maybe notice your new smell, but he was just as cold as always. Your smile faded a bit, maybe it doesn’t work like the ad said. The two of you head into the living room where there’s tons of snacks laid out on the coffee table. You had a few choices of movies, and Dabi picked the horror one to watch. 

It was hard for Dabi to focus on the movie, not that he often came over for the activities you two did regardless. But it was a different feeling. Rather than his usual boredom, he kept getting the urge to fuck you. Don’t get him wrong, he always made sure to do that before he left, but his body was being impatient today. 

“Dabi, you okay?” you ask. He didn’t even realize his leg was bouncing since his mind was racing with thoughts of you underneath him in bed, crying his- 

“Dabi?” You batted your lashes, hiding a cynical smirk. Maybe the perfume was working after all. 

“Yeah, sorry doll. Long day,” he says, trying to evade the truth. 

“Do you need anything?” 

“Yeah, c’mere.” Dabi replied, opening up his arms to you. You jumped right in and tucked yourself between his chest and arm, being warmed by the heat he produced. He squeezes you tightly, almost a little too tightly just to bring you closer so he can smell you. 

“What’do you got on? It’s suffocating.” 

“Oh, I got this new perfume! Do you like it?” You ask. 

“It’s not bad,” he blankly replies. Truth be told, Dabi was obsessed with the smell. It was better than anything he ever smelt before and it was becoming insufferable to just continue sitting here and doing nothing. A bulge was growing in his pants, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You sneakily brought your hand over and started palming him slowly, just a tease. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t tease me like that..” he grunted. His hips jolted into your hand, desperate for more pleasure. You slipped your hand under his waistband and took hold of his dick, giving it small pumps. Dabi was looking down at you, thinking of how badly he wanted to ruin you and make you cry for him. Growing impatient and ever more horny, he huffed and stood up to take his pants off quickly. Dabi then pinned you to the couch, holding your hands above your head and craning his head down into the crook of yours to get another whiff of your perfume. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy, doll..” he groans, grinding his hips into yours. You giggled and matched his movement. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Dabi trailed one down your chest and burned your shirt off, exposing your tits for him to squeeze and kiss. You wanted to touch him back and make him feel good, but his other hand kept yours pinned down thoroughly, making sure you couldn’t escape. 

Fuck, so pretty under me like this, so helpless.” 

“Just for you~”

“Good girl, all f’me,” he replied, “let’s take these off, they’re just getting in the way..” he burned your pants and underwear off next, leaving you completely exposed to him. You squirmed because of the cold air, but that was quickly replaced with the heat of his hands down by your cunt. Dabi teased you a bit, rubbing your clit in small, circular motions. He was soaking up all the pretty noises you made for him, and he could feel you getting wetter by the second.  He took his 2 fingers plunged them into your pussy and stretched you out, scissoring and pumping them to warm you up. You whined and bucked your hips at the feeling, muttering Dabi’s name over and over. 

“What, you feel that good just from my fingers? We can’t have that..” He released your hands and lined his dick up with your hole before plunging in, taking no time to ease you into it. 

“Ah, fuck!” you screamed, eyes shutting tightly. Dabi caged you in, leaning over you with a heavy demeanor and a look of lust in his eyes. He was feral, hips speeding up as if he was humping you like a dog, not too worried about your pleasure since he could only focus on his raging hard on. “Slow down, Dabi, it’s too much!” You beg. You hug him, nails scratching up and down his back, leaving pretty red trail marks. 

“You feel too good, doll, fuck you’re so tight, keep squuezin’ around me like that, shit,” he said. Dabi’s face was latched onto your neck as he left dark hickies to remind people that you were his. You bucked your hips to match his pace, the only sounds heard in the room were slapping and moaning, the movie on the tv long forgotten. 

“Dabi, I can’t, I’m gunna cum!”

“Cum for me, doll, cum all around my cock, c’mon..” he groans. His thrusting doesn’t slow even as you’re coming down from your high, and you get overstimulated. 

“Dabi please, It’s too much, I can’t take it!” You’re shaking and twitching, cunt overstimulated by the constant pounding of his dick in that sweet spot. 

“Just hold on a little longer, baby, I know you can do it.” he tells you. 

It feels like an eternity before Dabi finally fills you up. He’s panting above you and you can’t help but smile at him. Some silly perfume made him crave you so bad, and boy did it work. Maybe you would wear this more often…

#dabi x reader #bnha #afab! reader #dabi smut #dabi #dabi bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #dabi drabble #dabi my hero academia #pheromones #pheromone perfume #begging #shigarakiscumdumpwrites

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Epilogue

Andy Barber x You (Reader)

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, age difference, cheating, explicit language, TW: Assault/Attempt murder

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

“Doctor Ashner, please come to Ward 507. Doctor Ashner, please come to Ward 507…”

The buzz of the overhead speakers startles you a little, but you quickly shake it behind you as you figure out which direction is the E.R. From there, it is fairly simple to ask a nurse where is the most recent Uni-stabbing victim.

The nurse points towards the end of the E.R. hall, “That one, with the curtains shut. We had just finished stitching him up.”

You reply with a “thank you” as you head in his direction, taking in a sharp inhale as the smell of blood and medical alcohol puts your nerves on edge.

Slipping through the blue surgical curtain, you see Andy Barber lying on the hospital bed, one of his arms bare, with a stitched-up wound that looks like a centipede carved onto his flesh.

He must have sensed you, for he opens his eyes, his gaze landing on you, and he manages a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Standing uncomfortably almost with needles under your feet, you point to the corner of the bed, “May I sit?”

“ ’course.” He moves his legs for you to make a bigger space to sit.

You both fall into a cloud of silence, suffocating you.

His other arm, the arm that is not stabbed, explores little by little, finally taking your hand in his.

Your gaze falls to your joined hands.

You did not move away.

An awkward silence fills the space. Though you are in a hospital with medical staff a curtain away, Andy feels like being in court, watched by thousands of eyes and awaiting the judge to deliver the sentence – awaiting you for your conclusion … or whatever it is that could define this relationship, and he firmly believes with a large percent of probability, that you would execute the bond between the two of you.

“I-uh,” you struggle with words, clearing your throat for good measure, “How are you feeling?”

Andy’s gaze lands on his arm. The wound looks hideous. But he barely felt a thing while being stitched up. “They gave me something, some anesthetic spray of sorts.” He explains carefully. It is bad enough you found out about Laurie and his lying, he doesn’t want you to add “junkie” to the list of “Things that Andy Barber might have done to irritate you”, “The nurse said adrenaline helped. But – um, the pain would come up when the chemicals start to fade.”

You let out a small “Oh”. Then silence dawns upon you again.

For you, you don’t know what to say; for Andy, he has his mind full of things to say, but he has no idea how to start.

But clearly, the silence bothers him more than you, because he could not stand a second more with this suffocating atmosphere. Andy sits up a little, before confessing to you, “I am sorry. I truly am. For this mess. I am divorcing Laurie, and she’s …” Realizing he’s speaking ill of his soon-to-be ex-wife again, Andy changes the subject, “We are both not really happy with this situation.”

“How long?” You choose not to look at him, but rather at your hands.

“Sorry?”

“How long-” You inhale deeply, preparing yourself for the harsh answer he is about to offer, “have you and Laurie been together?”

“… Ten years.”

You truly know how to grasp the key point of this conversation, Andy thinks to himself.

“Ten-” You sound both surprised and angry, which is fair. He probably deserves your anger. You stop yourself from bursting out the curse on the tip of your tongue, “And you’re divorcing her, why?”

“There are … several reasons.”

“Well, name one.” You snap at him. Quickly gathering your emotions together, you clench your teeth from bursting out again.

Andy nods. He definitely deserves it.

“She’s cheating on me.” Andy adds, “Twice.”

Good. Because he’s surely not a cheater. But you bite that back, “I see.”

He calls out your name, but that doesn’t bring your eyes towards him, only making your hand escape his grasp, “Give me a chance, please, I promise I’ll make it right.” He whispers, close to begging, “Please don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. The past weeks have been miserable...”

To which you would snort, but you try to be as expressionless as you can.

“… I need you. I haven’t felt …” His voice sounds broken, “happy, for a long time. I’m a terrible person and I know it. I shouldn't have started yelling the last time we met. I’ve said … vile things. They were mean. I apologize. I know I cannot say this enough, nor ask for your forgiveness because -” He smiles bitterly, “I deserve it.”

“I accept your apology.” You take great courage in saying this, “That doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you’ve done. I need time to process my feelings and you as well.”

He whispers your name under his breath.

“I don’t think we should see each other.” The name “Andy” gets stuck in your throat like a log, paining you to say the rest of your mind, “And don’t – not this time – don’t use tricks or whatever, trying to apologize again, or come knocking at my door, or say hello even if we bump into each other. Just…” You shake your head lightly, “I need you to give me space, and vice versa.”

“Okay.” He murmurs, “I promise.”

“Do, not promise, okay?” You can’t help but be reassured. Because you know, with one more look from his direction, or one more word, your heart would undoubtedly leap his way.

“Okay.” He looks up at you, carefully asking, “Can I still like your Instagram posts?”

A rush of laughter comes unexpectedly out of your throat.

You smile, “Yeah, you can like the posts, but … don’t comment.”

He speaks your name one last time, as you get up from where you were sitting, gaining your attention. The syllables escaped his perfectly full and pink lips, hooking your heart to beat for him again.

I love you. He manages a smile, “Take care.”

“You too.” You once wished him to get hit by a car, but getting stabbed is somewhat getting even from your side. And now you wish the best for him. Wish the best for whatever works out for him.

You run into him in the Starbucks near the Sackson House two months later. The semester is coming to an end, and you are reading a few dozen papers to write your research proposal, which you’ve settled on discussing a book of YA fantasies based on one of those boring literature theories.

You are sitting beside a small table in the back of the shop, relieving yourself from prying eyes and busy customers in the front. With music playing in your ears, your attention focuses on the dragging on criticism of fantasy novels in the pdf file, without noticing a man standing next to you and pulling a small notepad out of his pocket.

He scribbles something and puts the sticker on the table.

May I join you?

That captures your attention. That familiar writing with the y tilting towards the right.

Andy. You let out a soft sigh, inching your gaze higher to take in his warm radiant smile and the beard. The beard that you dreamt of chafing your skin even after your brief conversation in the hospital.

God, you miss him. In more ways than you could have imagined.

All sounds stop. All living beings cease to exist but him.

“Yeah, um, seat’s empty.” You gesture towards the other side of the table, stumbling on your own words.

“Hi.” He takes the seat, placing his coffee on the table, and his backpack near his feet, “Hope you don’t mind.”

You would prance on him. Just fall into his embrace that you know would be burning warm. Your fingers itching to connect themselves to his hand.

“I-uh,” Andy scratches the back of his head, “wanted to tell you I got what I deserved, really. It’s not – I was – I want to tell you that you won’t be seeing me anymore here.” He glances around the coffee shop.

You meet his eyes, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Due to the whole Laurie incident,” Andy sucks in a breath sharply, “the Uni held a panel for this … thing, and they could not tolerate – well, my situation.” He chuckled drily, “In short, we have come to terms with the mess and the university required me to resign by the end of this semester and I’ve found a job as an associate professor for Boston University. I’ll be working for BU by the start of the next semester, so…”

It goes without saying that you won’t be seeing him anymore.

“I’m sorry to hear this.” You chew on your lower lip, fidgeting with the straw in your cup, rather than focusing on his face and his sad smile.

“Yeah, no – um,” Andy shakes his head in the smallest of motions, “BU is closer to my house anyway, only about a five-minute drive.”

“Congratulations, then.”

“… Went on a court too.” Andy blurts out before you say anything else, “My lawyer filed for a restriction against Laurie from approaching me – she’s had … some sort of mental illness, taken to a nursing facility in Baltimore by her parents since the judge ruled for a divorce.”

“That’s … nice, I guess.” You murmur, unsure whether the twisted feeling at the bottom of your heart is supposed to be joy or sorrow.

Now that he’s a free and single man, it doesn’t make much sense if he would continue to dwindle on you or your failed relationship, does it? But you are happy for him, truly, for getting what he wanted and a better job offer – BU is more famous than the one you are studying at, which probably comes with better benefits and a greater chance if he one day wants to earn tenure.

“Well, this is it.“ He sighs.

“This is it.” You repeat what he says, almost mechanically, afraid to look into his eyes again.

Coward. You tell yourself, only a coward would be fearing a proper goodbye.

Because deep down, you know that when you look into the pool of blue, you would see nothing else than fierce, determined love, that insane obsession of gravitating you back towards him. Or the more devastating sight: the lack of it.

What’s worse, you can’t think of a reason to stop yourself from being pulled in his direction.

You should hate him, along with the horrible things he had done to you – you still do, but you can’t shake off the fact that even though the relationship had been toxic to some extent, you always forgive him easily. Because you love him.

“Speaking of,” Andy searched his bag, before placing a small velvety box on the table, “I have something for you, and I would like you to have it.”

He pops open the box and reveals its content to you: “It’s uh- something I wanted to give you two, three months ago when we were -” He stops dead in his tracks. Clearly, he meant that “when you were good”, but he skips this part of his speech, “I know that our relationship is over and it has most certainly gone beyond the point of salvaging, but I’d still like you to have it.”

Your gaze roams over the expensive diamonds that form a ring as a pendant of the necklace.

“Andy, this is…” You shake your head. It’s too much. The gift is too much. Too expensive. Too shiny. And too painful to remind you that Andy believes he needs to move on as well.

“It’s a day collar.” He interrupts your unfinished sentence, “And I want you to have it no matter what you decide, whether you want out or - ” The sad smile makes its way to his face again, “I guess it’s not quite possible that you still want me after all … this.”

“You know that this Laurie incident would be an eternal trust issue that lies between us if we, on a hypothesis, get back together, right?” Your jaw ticks, burying your face in your hands subtly.

“Yeah, I understand.” He replies in a low voice.

“And you also know that the stabbing – one of us is bound to feel guilty towards the other, and my conscience is eating me up?”

“Yes.” He whispers your name.

“This is really fucked up if we get back together.” You put down your hands, and push the box in his direction, emphasizing, “Really, really fucked up.”

“I know.” He could barely manage his smile without forcing it, “I’m the most fucked up factor.”

You close your eyes. You must be fucking loco after hours of reading papers in a small confined space. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Why do you have to like him? Why?! There are fucking 3.5 billion males on Earth and this is what you choose? This one is the one that your heart desires?

How can you be this stupid? How can your heart turn a blind eye to all the hurt and bruises, the tears and cries?

You can almost hear your heart sniggering in response.

Andy, however, interprets your sanity just fine.

“You don’t want to see me, I get it.” He slowly gets up from his seat, pushing the box back to you as he does so, and buttoning up his suit jacket.

“Sit.” The word leaps out of your clenched teeth like a fucking world-class Olympic gymnast. You are mad. Mad as hell, both at yourself and your traitorous heart that crushes itself onto your ribcage at every beat, “I’m not done.”

He lets out a quiet “Oh” and sits back down, hands over his knees like an irritatingly good pupil in class.

“You – ” You start, but words hide from your tongue faster than an alphabetical monster chasing them to the end of the world, “I - ” The sheer frustration of not being able to form a complete sentence in front of this man you both hate and love washes over you. For Christ’s sake, you have wanted to prepare a full speech when you meet him again to slam that into his face since you are living perfectly fine on your own, no man needed. Not a single male creature was needed in sight.

But you crave him.

And you were probably going to regret your decision decades from now, but hey – at least your heart wanted it that way.

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard…” You seethe, “I can’t – I can’t live without you. I don’t know how to deal with this, want you and hate you at the same time. I just can’t.”

His sane brain is urging him to leave, because that’s what’s best for you, for him, for you both. His sane brain is screaming not to bring you any trouble.

“If you betray me like that again, swear to fucking God I’d run you over with my car.” Your hand curls into a fist on the table, adding to your previous threat, “Twice.”

His emotions, on the other hand, lock the sane part of his brain up with heavy ropes and chains, throw the key over the fire and dance in triumph.

“We should start over. Get this past behind us.” A sincere smile makes its way to his lips. He leans forward, a flash of watery sweeps his eyes but just as quickly, he blinks it away, grinning, “Hi. I’m Andy. I’m working as a professor in English Literature. Pleased to meet you.”

You shoot a harmless glare in his direction, and an eye-roll, “I’m fucking pissed off and I’m going to work on my dissertation. Unless you have something that desperately needs to come out, don’t utter another word before I finish reading this one.”

Andy shrugs, “Well, since you’re working on your dissertation, you know I’ve still got some connections with my colleagues and we could surely put in a good word -”

“And for the thousandth time, I said no.”

You nearly growl this time. To which Andy smiles.

That smug bastard thinks he can shortcut the way to your heart by allowing a teensy bit of bias introduced to the grading of your work.

“You wish.” You murmur under your breath, ignoring the way how he not-so-subtly places his hand over yours, and enjoying his coffee with a dazzling grin.

A/N: Finally! The main story of Andy/Reader is finished! I'm so happy for all your support and love for this story. There are a few drabbles/one-shots that are still in progress for this series, but in general, it's complete and I hope I can see you in another story <3

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

#andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #professor andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst

[lynbaccha]

Primo's new summon is something he has not seen before, but the feeling is kind of mutual.

(Includes me bending the lore timeline, because I can. I mean, young Primo, can you blame me?)

The summoning was never an easy task. It was always about control. Each side fighting for it, each side struggling to get what they wanted. Most importantly, however…

Would the other side lose the battle? Would the other side make a mistake and bend, unwillingly, to the summoner’s mold?

This ghoul didn’t want to lose. For what felt like hours it fought back. Almost like a barbarian in legends against an enemy kingdom. All alone. Doing everything in its power to remain as a master of its own life. 

But, like a tired animal after a dragged out chase, the ghoul made a mistake. And thus, Papa’s magic got a hold of it. Its wrathful scream of defeat echoed in the ritual chamber, as it was dragged up from the debts it calls home. 

Then, silence. During it, the smoke subdued and smell of sulfur vanished, as soon as they have appeared, revealing the summoned demon. 

The battle was over. Papa had won.

Primo, exhausted and worn in his own right, expected to face confusion and questions, at most. Every ghoul so far had those. Why me? What is my purpose now? And countless more.

Not with this one, no. 

It remained silent. So silent it threatened to suffocate the surrounding atmosphere. Its piercing eyes slowly, cautiously, scanning the room. All the new ghoul had to offer to others, was fear and hostility. Not that anyone blamed the poor thing, though. The situation, when put into perspective, must have felt terrifying. 

However, because of how hostile and fearful it was, Primo immediately recognized the situation as dangerous. On top of that, the male ghoul was big. The biggest one he had seen so far. Slender looking, like a water ghoul, but they had powerful horns, and muscles, like an earth ghoul would. 

Did he summon a hybrid?

No matter... This situation could turn ugly. And he knew he had to prevent it.

So, Primo approached the new ghoul. The moment he moved, the other male’s head snapped directly towards him. The ghoul’s gills flared up, and a low growl left his chest. The demon was cradling a glowing lantern in his arms, as he curled into himself.

The other ghouls almost held their breath, ready to jump on the new summon. Their job was to serve and protect Papa, and they took it seriously. The options all together were worse. And they hope the new guy will realize it sooner rather than later…

Under the demons watch, Primo took a few stepped closer, as he observed his new summon with as kind eyes as he could muster. In response, the ghoul showed his sharp teeth. The tail trashed behind him, and the young human man could see a stinger on it.

This is bad...

”Calm now…,” Primo spoke softly, and stretched his hand. Before he could say anything more, he felt a sharp pain in that very same hand, mere seconds after the new ghoul has buried his teeth in Papa’s flesh and bone.

From that, it was chaos.

Primo was pulled back by one of his ghouls, and the new summon was pulled into the other direction by two others. In an attempt to restrain the big ghoul, the rest twisted his arms enough to make him drop the lantern, that rolled directly in front of Primo. New Papa immediately picked it up, as the ghouls tried to restrain their fellow demon.

The effort was nothing but futile, as the chamber soon filled with snarls, growls and sounds of broken bones. The massive hybrid was pure rage and terror, and he felt threatened. Primo’s other ghouls tried to scratch, bite, and hit, and the hybrid did the same.

Primo observed. The new ghoul was panicking. In despair, even. After the lantern, it’s only possession…

And the moment the aggressive ghoul locked its eyes on him, he knew what to do.

The order was absurd to his ghouls. An order to stay back. To let the new summon to come to their Papa. The other ghouls fought against their Papa’s orders for a moment, until Primo reminded them of their duty. To obey their Papa.

The leap the new demon made was almost too sudden. Ghouls are faster than humans, much faster. However, this one was, again, was just summoned. Exhausted and not in its full strength. Without that fact on his side, Primo knew he would have been done for.

He reached the injured hand he carried the lantern in towards his ghoul. The hybrid came to an immediate halt, crouching a little in front of Primo. He wasn’t sure what to do, and it clearly was thinking the way out of the situation in front of himself. Both physically and mentally. This human cannot be trusted, Primo just dragged him from their home…

Why? That is the question Primo saw in the other’s eyes. Simple, yet full of confusion and uncertainty.

Gently, Primo put the lantern in the ghouls arms. Its owner’s another hand immediately reached to cradle the object, while the other was still tensed to its side. The demon’s gaze lowered to check for any damage to the possession, and he expressed its relief with a gentle bonk against the lantern’s glass.

Then, the two met each other’s eyes. Primo’s own were filled with compassion, as he laid his injured hand onto the other one’s arm. The demon tensed up a little, inhaling a sharp breath… Before he could relax, and feel the peacefulness in that feathery light touch from the being that he should despise.

”Easy now, tesoro,” Primo spoke once again. ”Easy now…”

The ghoul in front the Papa was full of confusion. Absolutely speechless in front of such kindness. From a person that dragged it off from its home. Even more confusing was that the ghoul couldn’t clearly remember when was the last time he had received gentleness. Scars on the gray skin told that much. The blind, green eye, framed with a scar, acted as a tattle tail of its brutal past.

”What is your name?” Primo asked. The ghoul answered with a blink. His name hasn’t mattered since small forever. He didn’t really need to even remember that. Just that he has one...

Yet, with surprising ease, the slightly strained voice whispers against the pressuring silence, gentle gaze of the another, and familiar warmth of the artifact;

”Arvak...”

#the band ghost #primo #papa emeritus i #nameless ghoul oc #nameless ghoul oc arvak #water ghoul #earth ghoul #oc backstory #i'm bad at tagging #i'm bad at writing #but fuck i enjoyed to even try to convey feelings of these two in this small fic #lmao

[p4latinus]

toots [part 2] | genshin characters [crack headcanons]

characters: bennett, fischl, venti, raiden ei, dainsleif, scaramouche, kamisato ayaka

genre: crack/fluff/humour (sfw), headcanons

tw:  the entirety of this is purely fart humour lol, mild references to shit

part 1 available here . 

bennett ✰

i have 2nd hand embarrassment

his farts r an earthquake

like a richter scale would be off charts

gift him a pack of diapers

pls i’m begging

on a lucky day he gets caught for farting

but doesn’t shit himself

smells like eggs + salmonella

no but do u guys know how bad egg farts are

like how much they stink???

bennett’s farts sound like eggs boiling in a shell.

fischl ✰

farts in soprano

talks over her fart to cover it up

“why yes, it was the divine flatulence of prinzessin der verurteilung. one shall experience such satisfaction & serendipity aft a SPLENDID BANQUET TO BE FEASTED UPON WITH THE MOST EXQUISITE members of court.”

yells to suppress the volume

oz’s last words: mein frauline… *tanjiro disgusted face*

no but it’s like gacha

sometimes her farts are loud

but sometimes they are quiet

or they stink like a mf—

either way she will over explain & complicate her reason to fart or wtv

venti ✰

… there’s a reason why dvalin beefs w venti

barsibatos more like barsiba-no

he’s drunk most of the time

so his farts gotta be nasty

poor diluc probably hates his job

as a god, he could renew his organs anw

no big deal am i right?

but his farts smell like he held them since the archon war

i’d rather throw myself off the cathedral than to smell venti’s silent wind breakers

probably would use his anemo power to prank others

smell a sudden whiff of diffusion? he blew it to u.

raiden ei ✰

bro i’m laughing my ass off over this

she is so used to farting w every yoga pose in her euthymia

plus no one heard her farts for centuries

the puppet shogun was not programmed to fart anw

ei … oh ei…

her diet consists of junk food & desserts so it’s inevitably horrendous

no pun but her farts would be thunderously loud

plus it can go on for so long bruh

even yae miko would turn to her like

‘this mf hitting the third gear’

dainsleif ✰

his pants r so tight, i just know that the gas particles r suffocating

like father free me pls… *chokes*

doesn’t seem smelly tho

just kinda high pitched

idk his farts seem cowardly to me

like they are too afraid of ripping a hole in his tight ass pants

if he wiggled his ass, his pants would rip & then his farts would be unleashed

like an abyssal roar

BAAAAADDOOOOMMMM PROOOOOOOTTTTT PRAAAATTATATATATAT PREEEEEEET BOOOOM PRAAAAAATT POOOOTTTOTOTOTOOTT PRETRETRETE PREEETTT

probably why those husks couldn’t forget dainsleif

like if u heard *that*, i don’t think u would either…

scaramouche ✰

oh god lol

it smells like pencil shavings & taco bell

a puppet has to clean its system ok

no but srsly what was ei thinking

considered to use his fart as a medieval torture device ONCE

then figured it would be too embarrassing if the culprit lived

instead he farts leisurely in his own room

kinda short & snappy like his temper

some what high pitched & airy farts

ayaka ✰

good lord she is good at holding her farts

but when she goes back to the kamisato estate

thoma secretly wishes to quit his job

loud whirling farts echoing down the hallway from the bathroom

everyone would suspect it’s ayato

until some uwu chick comes out like “delighted to make ur acquaintance”

nah man u gotta run

if only her farts smell like sakura petals

but they smell like powdered collagen induced mala hotpot

ok but if she was desperate to fart in public, she would hide in a cryo sprint

so the floor would be a wet puddle of ice and a slight bubble cracking the surface

it probably sounds crunchy

#genshin x reader #genshin humour #genshin funny #genshin x y/n #genshin crack #bennett x reader #genshin bennett #fischl x reader #genshin fischl #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin bennett x reader #genshin fischl x reader #genshin venti x reader #raiden ei x reader #genshin raiden ei x reader #raiden shogun #genshin raiden ei #genshin raiden shogun #raiden shogun x reader #genshin fluff #dainsleif x reader #genshin dainsleif #dainsleif #raiden ei #genshin scaramouche #kunikuzushi #scaramouche #scara #genshin scara

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 22 - face sitting

twice 1.1k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Park Jihyo NSFW

🖤 warnings: a distracting workplace environment, very indulgent descriptions of oral haha oops, oral sex 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

Usually you're smart and in control enough to not tease her at work, but today is not one of those days.

It's your manager's fault for putting you and Jihyo on the same shift so many days a week. How anyone expects to get coffees made and pastries nuked in the convection oven and customer service prioritized with your girlfriend around is beyond you.

Stronger folks than you could probably have resisted swatting at her ass when she bends over for syrup under the counter, nudging her in the tits more times than is necessary when reaching for cups. But you're not strong like that, and it's so much fun to mess with her. Not so much that she messes up at work or gets in trouble or anything. Just enough.

Jihyo is fun, though, and she returns your jabs with glee. Overturning the ice tray in front of you was dirty pool, but you started it, so you can't be mad that she's returning the same energy.

No customers have complained, so it's fine.

She comes in for her break, much later in the day, right as you're finishing yours. There's one long bench against the back wall, uncomfortable and usually half-covered in boxes of supplies, and you're sitting on the free end, scrolling on your phone, when she walks in with her brown-bagged lunch and an unimpressed look.

"Lemme sit."

"Your seat's right here," you say, gesturing to your lap, without looking up from the phone.

"Ha, ha. Scoot," she deadpans.

"Oh, my bad. Your seat's right here."

You gesture at your face this time, and Jihyo's expression of utter exasperation is worth the workplace sexual harassment risk (not that she would report you, and not that she minds, she'd kick your ass and call it a day).

"I'm gonna do it and I'm gonna suffocate you," she grumbles, moving you bodily to one side so she can sit down, too.

"You can't threaten me with that, it's the ideal way to die."

Because, see, Jihyo is basically the hottest girl you've ever met, and the best and coolest and funniest, and the idea of spending your last moments beneath her is kind of sexy, in a morbid way.

"It's not a threat, 's a promise," Jihyo says.

As she starts in on her meal, you wander unhappily to clock back in. Jihyo makes sure to kick you squarely on the back of the knee as you pass her, deadlegging you like a schoolyard champion. You deserved that one, you can't deny it, as you hobble and whine your way back to the service counter.

That night, at her apartment, you're really hoping that it was a joke. Just the killing-you part. You'd rather not die tonight, before you've washed the sour-milk smell out of your hair.

But the face-sitting part? You've been looking forward to that part all day.

That's why you're tugging a naked and tousle-haired Jihyo off your lap and up toward your head, where you're laying comfortably among her throw pillows.

"C'mon," you say, hooking your arms around her knees to pull her better.

"You don't have to," she says.

She's laughing, though, and letting you maneuver her, so you figure her protests are all politeness.

"I absolutely do."

Facing the headboard, she's got something to hold onto, which is good because you don't intend on coming up again until you absolutely have to. You finally get her situated, one of her strong thighs on either side of your head, knees dimpling the pillows.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," she says dubiously.

"You're not."

"I haven't moved, of course I'm not."

"You won't," you amend. "Please, I'm dying. Starving, even."

"You're gross."

"I know. And yet, here you are."

Jihyo mumbles something else about you being a pain, but she does lower herself slightly, just within reach of your mouth.

Heaven.

You're sure that she doesn't get exactly how much you wanted this or why, but that's fine, because here she is, for you to extend you tongue and lave tentatively over her folds, to feel her out. She's wet with anticipation, not dripping but interested, ready to play. Perfect. You'll get to take your time, work her up at your pace.

It might have been a joke at work, but there was truth in it. You love this.

"You're hovering," you say.

She shivers over you at the feeling of your breath as you talk. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I said already, you won't."

"What if I break your neck or something?"

"That is a price I'm willing to pay," you say soberly. "Also, you won't."

She's light, even if she doesn't think so, and her legs are still supporting her if she sits down fully. You can handle it. You tilt your head to one side to peer up at her face.

God, Jihyo's beautiful. Even with her brow furrowed uncertainly, chewing on her lower lip, she's stunning. Her short hair falls around her face as she looks down at you, her hands planted on the wall to help support herself.

There is nothing you need more in the world right now than to make this beautiful girl feel good.

"Come on," you coax, arms still around her thighs, urging her down.

Finally, she sits.

"There we go," you mumble against her.

There's not really time or space to say anything else, not when she's so firmly against you. The position nestles her against your nose bridge and your mouth, all perfect access and zero effort. A dream. Eyes closed, surrounded by just scent taste soft skin everything Jihyo, you have nothing left to do except to follow your instincts.

Which are pretty good, luckily for you, after lots and lots of practice. It's not like math or strategy help as much as basic bodily geography and enthusiasm do, in matters like this. You lose track of how much time passes, as you lick her out, short ripples over her clit, broad stokes over her entrance, down the length of her, that taste of just musk and girl-

After more of that indistinguishable time, Jihyo begins grinding down on your face, just slightly, like she's still afraid of hurting you.

Fucking finally.

You can tell that she's searching out different sensations, different spots. When you're focused downward, your nose nudges her clit, and she keens, hips rocking into it.

It's hard to fathom that there's anything in the world but her, right now.

You're not gonna suffocate, no matter what her worries might be. But you wouldn't really be complaining either way.  

#kinktober 2022 #kpop kinktober #twice jihyo fanfic #twice jihyo smut #park jihyo fanfic #park jihyo smut #twice fanfic #twice smut

[rafescoke]

hiiiii!!

Can I please request a rafe x reader based on that song need to know by doja cat.

Basically the reader heard rumors about the rafe’s and he’s past with his ex. Basically all saying how he was a 10/10 on bed. The reader is furious but sad and quickly confronts the rafe. You can choose the ending. Smut or fluff ending!!

Also pls post the rafe x reader, jj fic with the 19 chapters plsssss!!!! I beg you!

Need To Know ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: The reader confronts Rafe about his past

Warnings: Straight smut, hella angst, substance, swearing, Rafe being a total dick

A/N: this one shot’s too long but i hope you will love it. i poured all my love into this however this isn’t my best work and im sorry!! 

p.s, i’m always open for requests <3

“Hey! thanks for coming,” Topper smiled, hugging Rafe’s side before kissing (Y/N)’s cheeks. He ushered them both to the middle of the ongoing party, to the centre where all of Rafe’s friends were hanging out. 

(Y/N) is never a fan of parties, especially the ones that she will have to tug on Rafe’s collars for them to finally enjoy the night alone. However, she passed up the chance of watching netflix with her partner tonight to go to Topper’s birthday party, since, it was, well, Topper’s celebration. 

If it had not been for Topper, she wouldn’t even bat an eye to this party, especially when she knows the amount of girls silently crushing on her boyfriend of 6 months now. Rafe’s incredibly handsome, with his hair messily parted and his blue eyes shining everytime they’re exposed to the glowing sunlight of Obx. . .  (Y/N) couldn’t justify why he would even choose her. 

“What are you thinking?” Rafe playfully groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s waist near him. His fingers played with the hem of her dress, giggling when she hissed, swatting his hands away. “Seriously. You’ve been quiet since we got out of the car.”

“I just don’t like the attention’s you’re getting tonight,” she sighed, rolling her eyes when Rafe poked her, an amused expression plastered on his face. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’re this proud prick.”

Rafe laughed, throwing his head back, his hands still around her waist. She waited for him to regain his posture before kissing his cheeks. 

“Go and find Topper. I know you want to kiss him.”

“Not as much as I want to kiss you,” Rafe replied, laughing again when (Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him before walking away to go and get some drinks for herself. In truth, Rafe doesn’t understand why she would feel so inferior towards other girls; she’s simply the most beautiful girl he’ve ever laid his eyes on. No one can ever compare to (Y/N), and that’s for sure.

(Y/N) muttered a thanks when someone handed her a beer, standing on her toes to search for her friends. When she couldn’t see any of them, she began making her way towards Rafe and Topper. She decided that instead of waiting alone in the resting area of the club while everybody else is socialising, she would rather listen to whatever Rafe and his friends were conversing, knowing that somehow she’ll find something interesting in the discussion.

That was when she bumped into a figure, causing the person to drop the drink they were holding onto her front dress. (Y/N) groaned, not liking how she was already ruining the branded new dress she bought with Rafe. The smell of strong alcohol wafted into her nostrils, causing her to scrunch her nose.

“Watch where you’re going,” the person said, and  (Y/N) rolled her eyes before finally leaving the scene, not wanting to stir any unnecessary drama. She knows it will always end up dirty and Rafe will have to calm her down in the car. 

(Y/N) pushed her way through the swarm of sweaty bodies as the dress reeked with alcohol clung onto her body, and she momentarily regretted her choice of wearing a skin tight short sequin dress to a club where dropping drinks on someone is just something that is bound to happen.

She sighed when she finally reached the bathroom, quickly washing her stains with the cheap toilet paper. It left some white bits on her dress when she finally removed them, and she groaned again before washing the fabric under the running water. Her day was going totally bad, and she dreamed of the night she could’ve spent with Rafe if only Topper wasn’t born on yesterday’s date 19 years ago. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” a loud voice shrieked, followed by group of shrill laughs. “God, I really wish I’m still with him.”

(Y/N) raised her brows at the familiar voice, but thought none of it. Topper wouldn’t invite Rafe’s ex, he knows what she did to him. There was no way she was allowed to be in the private part of the club, unless someone had brought her as their plus one. 

(Y/N) shook her head at the thought, trying to focus on the stains that seemed to be making everything hard for her.

“He has this habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s receiving head,” the voice continued, and  (Y/N) stopped in her tracks.

That’s exactly Rafe. Whoever the voice was, she was talking about Rafe. Rafe has this habit of running his long fingers through his hair while he’s whimpering, and it always drives (Y/N) crazy. 

She thought nothing of it, thinking about the possibility of another guy doing the same thing. It’s a common thing anyways; she wasn’t going to pull the crazy jealous girlfriend card that night.

She turned to pull another tissue paper, her ears still intently listening to the group of friends who seemed to not mind receiving any attention from their bold topic. 

“Now he’s with that (Y/L/N) girl. I honestly don’t get why he would be with her. Oh and-” the voice squealed, “Do you know that Rafe called me when they were talking?” 

What?

“What?” her friends asked in disbelief, and  (Y/N) didn’t move a muscle. She pressed her back against the tiled walls, listening close. Her heartbeat beat faster, and she could feel her head getting lighter.

“Yes! It was like, the first month they started getting close? He told me he couldn’t get over me and that he tried everything including finding me in her.”

(Y/N) felt the walls closing in, and quickly got to her feet to splash some water onto her face. She felt like dying right then and right there, but she knew she had to at least hear more to, now identified, Rafe’s ex girlfriend.

“He drove to my house and we just talked, you know. . . and then he told me something, and I refused. He got mad, I guess, and we fought like always, and he left me to be with that girl until today. Kinda sucks to be her, you know? Like the second choice kind of thing?” she continued, an amused tone lacing in her voice.

At that point,  (Y/N) had heard enough. She walked towards the exit as fast as her heels could take her, not stopping to stay goodbye to her now approaching friends. She could feel her hot tears crashing down, but she didn’t feel like crying in the club and having random strangers coming up to her to soothe her down.

When the night breeze hit her square on the face as she finaly exited the suffocating club, she let out the hardest cry ever as she tried to find any available taxis through her tears. There were none, seeing that it was only 9 p.m. and people had just starting to arrive, so she decided to walk to nowhere until she finds any yellow vehicle.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” a voice called out from behind her, and she turned when a hand pulled her shoulder. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Where’s Rafe?”

“Kelce, I’m not feeling good. I just want to go home, okay? Please, oh my god. I can’t do this right now,” she cried, covering her eyes with her palm. Kelce pulled her into a side hug, allowing her tears on his new t-shirt. When she finally soothed down, he tried to find an answer in her face again.

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you now, I just-” she took a deep breath, “I just can’t. Can you um, call a Uber for me, please? My phone’s with Rafe.”

“What? Why would your phone-” he sighed, taking out his own phone. “Borrow my phone. It’s safer this way. Call a Uber, get home, and don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

(Y/N) nodded, kissing Kelce’s cheeks before ordering a Uber, waiting by the sidewalk impatiently. She was scared Rafe would come out to look for her, and she didn’t feel like talking to him. 

She felt like shooting him in his ribs until he’s begging for her to stop. 

When she got home, her fingers trembling and her dress now ruined, she stripped out of her clothes and got under her covers. Her mother tried asking her about why she had come home earlier than expected with a running mascara and a smudged lipstick, but decided to let it pass when she didn’t answer, knowing that something has indeed happened. 

She felt like screaming. She had trusted him so much, and he was even the first guy to take her virginity. Now she felt disgusted, thinking about how she had allowed herself to the sweet words he had given her before.

She couldn’t ignore the memory of the night she first experienced sex with him, and the whole sweet care he had provided after.

It was Friday the 13th, and Rafe decided it will be a good night to watch some type of a horror movie.  (Y/N) agreed, being a fan of horror, but until one point, she was bored with the super-slow plot and boring characters. 

She played with Rafe’s fingers, intertwining them with hers, before she got an idea midway of the female character’s scream that echoed throughout her bedroom. 

“Rafe,” she said, and Rafe hummed in response. His eyes were fixated to the screen, not paying any attention to her. She whined, “Rafe. . .”

“Yeah?” He finally looked down to her, and laughed when he saw the face she gave him. “What the hell is wrong with you? The best part’s coming up. Watch it, the guy’s going to- fuck.”

(Y/N) had slipped her hand into his basketball shorts, teasing the outline of his v-line. Rafe’s breath shuddered, and he grabbed her hands before things escalate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grunted.

“I just wanna try something,” she replied innocently, and Rafe swore he felt like his heart stopping right then and right there. She was that sweet girl, and he has never saw this side of her.

“Can I?” she asked, and with a tiny nod, she continued her movements as Rafe’s eyes stayed glued on the television screen, though his mind was already on cloud nine. 

She was so good, and Rafe couldn’t explain the feeling inside of him when he watched her palmed him, her mouth slightly open and her hair falling down to her shoulders. Rafe felt like attacking every inch of her, wanting to give anything that she desired. 

“Stop,” he said, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum from just your hands.”

“I want you to,” she said, and Rafe cursed. He liked, scratch that, he loved and is obsessed with the way she did anything to him, with her innocent eyes and her teasing smile. He felt like fucking her numb every single time she purposely brushed her hands against his buldge in the restaurant or bumping her bottoms against him when playing golf.

And when she would deny her actions, god, he felt like giving his all to her until she couldn’t walk.

“Rafe,” she said again, with that gint in her eyes. She leaned onto him, and he shievered when he felt her lips brushing with his earlobes. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned, not wanting to look her in the eyes, afraid that he would do things he will regret the next morning. He felt her fingers around his chin, forcing him to look at her. 

“Please.”

“You told me you wanted to wait,” he said softly.

“I’m done waiting,” she had said, and that was enough for Rafe to crash his lips against her soft ones, pushing her lightly to her queen sized bed. He felt her hands playing with the hem of his shorts, and being an impatience fuck like his dad, he guided her hands to his already hard penis, craving for her touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes to the euphoric feeling starting to form in the pit of his stomach. His fingers fumbled with her shorts, trying to untie the waistband, and grunted when he couldn’t gues the knot.

(Y/N) giggled, untying the ribbon, sliding her shorts to the edge of her bed as Rafe waited with his eyes staring at her hands eagerly, like a prey waiting to attack. 

Once her shorts were off, Rafe didn’t waste anymore time to place kisses from her stomach down to the sides of her aching core.  (Y/N) couldn’t take it anymore, after so many nights of trying to picture this exact moment in her head whilst fingering herself, pretending like it has been Rafe’s fingers instead of herself, she wanted to feel him around her so bad. 

“Please, Rafe,” she begged, looking at him with the innocent eyes again. She moaned when he inserted his fingers in her, pleasuring her the way pornstars would from the many porn videos his cousin had taught him to watch since he was 10 before.

“Oh my god,” she screamed, not able to comprehend the strange feeling in her stomach. She tried to close her legs, only for Rafe to gripped them apart tightly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do that again and I’ll leave you hanging.”

It was the way he had said that that left  (Y/N) all red, pushing herself against him to reach her end. She felt a sudden feeling approaching, and gripped Rafe’s wrist to tell him. 

Rafe laughed when she had came around his dingers, feeling her juice soaking up his fingers and her bedsheet.  (Y/N) sighed, still heaving from her high, making a mental note in her head to love this other side of Rafe Cameron.

“Suck,” he said, placing his two soaked fingers in front of her face and watched her as she sucked on them like a little girl who’s licking off a lollipop that her mother had bought for her. He felt like cumming just from the sight of her face.

“I want you inside me,” she had said again, and Rafe groaned to look away, not wanting to be a regret she had made the next morning. He looked at her again when she sat on his lap, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Please?” she whispered, and before he knew it, she licked his ear to the the side of his lip before placing a soft peck on his lips.

Rafe has never removed his basketball shorts as fast as he did that night, not even when he had felt an animal crawling in his pants in the pet shop when he was 8 that resulted Sarah into having a laughing fit when they found out that a hamster had gotten into his pants.

He positioned himself in front of her slit, waiting for any new demands for him to stop now that she had changed her mind. But there was nothing, only  (Y/N) demanding for him, and without wasting any more time, he slowly slided into her, strecthing her hole.

He grunted when she felt her closing in, knowing that if she kept doing that, he’ll finish straight away.  (Y/N) screamed as he fucked her with a quick pace, causing him to quickly pull her head close to him to whisper into her ear.

“Shut up, princess. Don’t want mummy and daddy to wake up, do we?”

(Y/N) shook her head, wanting to reach her end soon. She moaned against her mattress, smelling Rafe’s scent from it, and liking the way he would whimper when he hit her g-spot.

“I’m so close, baby, fuck-” he cursed, his pace getting sloppier. His fingers with his cold rings intertwined with hers as he slammed into her for good measure, and pulling out to aim on her face as she tried to regain her breath.

(Y/N)  felt a shot of hot load landing on her face as she finally looked up to him, his sweaty chest heaving from the ungodly practice they just did. Rafe groaned, feeling himself getting hard again from the sight of her with his load all over her, and quickly turned away to grab a clean towel to clean her up.

That night, with a soft lullaby playing from  (Y/N)’s record player that Rafe had bought for her in Italy, he ran his fingers through her hair as she snuggled close, watching the moonlight brightened the ocean.

Rafe sighed, now wrapping his arms around her, forcing himself to not touch her breast in any way. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you had pictured in your mind.”

“Are you kidding?” she turned to face him, “God, Rafe. That’s exactly how I wanted it with you.”

Rafe chuckled and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, “God. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Riing! Riing!

(Y/N) wiped her tears with her fingers before pressing on the green button, bringing the phone to her ears when she saw Topper’s name. She decided that he deserved an explanation after she had ran off from his birthday party.

“Tops?”

“Hey, baby, you didn’t pick up my call. I have to use Topper’s phone but, um-”  (Y/N) heard the crowd sang happy birthday, “But um, are you okay? Kelce told me you were crying and I-”

“I’m fine. You should sing happy birthday to Topper.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said to a voice in the background, and tried to talk to her again. “What is it, baby? The line’s kinda shitty here. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. I know you’re not. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing, Rafe. Go and enjoy yourself.”

“God,  (Y/N), don’t pull this shit on me,” he sighed, and she waited until the background noise lessen. “Okay, I’m at the smoking area. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“You used me.”

“I’m - what?” he asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I heard her talking about how you drove to see her and you told her that you tried finding her in me,” she finaly confessed, her voice breaking. A tear slowly rolled down her red cheeks and she quickly wiped them away.

“Baby, it’s not how it sounds like.”

“Then what is it?” she yelled, clutching onto Kelce’s phone like it was her life support. “Fuck, Rafe, I gave you my everything.”

“Baby, I swear, it’s just-”  

(Y/N) waited for him to finish his sentence, and sucked in a breath when she heard the voice that had caused her this misery.

“Rafe! What are you doing here?”

“Fuck,  (Y/N), I’ll come by to your house, okay? Please, don’t do anything stupid, I’m coming back home-”

(Y/N) pressed the end call, letting go of the breath she was holding before finally throwing her head back against the pillow. 

#Part 2

add yourself to the taglist!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron smuts #outer banks #outerbanks #outerbanks imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smuts #outerbanks x reader

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

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

Word Count: 18,300

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

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then everything went black again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... … how are they?”

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

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

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

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

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

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

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

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

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

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

“Beel, you alright?” 

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

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

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

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

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

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

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

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Having fun are we?” 

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

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

“Let me down!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little…” 

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You brightened. “Sure!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

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

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

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

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

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I-” 

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

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

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

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

“Belphie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asmo…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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