#i hate hate hate drawing asmos hair from that side so this is practice for myself

[with-love-from-hell]

The Brothers Taking Care of a Sick MC

Request by @theorriginalolivejar

“... Sick reader bc FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP MAKING ASMO SQUEAMISH AROUND SICK MC *ahem* no hate to the headcanons but I personally don't like them bc it makes Asmo feel shallow. ”

Thank you for another great request!  I agree with your point that the squeamishness makes Asmo feel a bit shallow and I HC that he doesn’t like it when his brothers or himself are sick, but he drops all of that when it’s MC. I am going to do this one in the form of head cannons for how each of the brothers would react to MC being ill rather than just Asmo, but I will pay special attention to him!  (Read under the cut).

Genre:  comfort, fluff

Mc characteristics: Gender neutral (they/them pronouns), Very ill

WC: ~2k

Cw: vomit, swearing, nudity and shower/bathing scenes. 

Asmodeus

Asmo was coming to your room to wake you up for your scheduled hair appointment with him (Obviously you couldn’t be late for that!) 

He knocked on your door politely and waited for an answer. 

When you didn’t respond he decided to just come right on in!

“Aw, Mc. You look so peaceful lying there, but we are gonna be late!”

He got nervous when you didn’t respond to him...usually when he barged into your room you were up immediately to scold him, and he was talking rather loudly. 

He approached you and tried gently shaking you awake, still not getting a response.

Okay NOW he’s full-blown freaking out. 

He will pace around in a frenzy at first before he calms down enough to assess the situation. 

He approaches you again and places a hand on your forehead. 

Oh dear...you are completely broiling. 

He will immediately run to the kitchen to get some water and a cold towel and call Solomon to bring over some medicine that will help heal you. 

When he comes back you’re not in your bed though

Fuck where could you have gone?!

Cue violent vomiting from the bathroom. 

Ah. Well, at least you’re awake...

He will come to your side in an instant and rub your back while you continue throwing up. 

Once you’re done, he will help you back into bed and do what he can to make you comfortable, or even draw you a bath if you request it. 

Expect gentle cuddles, back rubs, soft speaking about how wonderful you are, and a wonderfully comfortable atmosphere (filled with music, soothing scents that wont upset your senses, and mood lighting)

He will absolutely refuse to leave your side unless he is using the bathroom or grabbing you something that you need, even when Lucifer scolds him to get to class. 

He will even clean up your room/bathroom for you so you don’t have to deal with it once you do start feeling better. 

He will also leave you some self-care products (lotions, scrubs, face masks, etc) for the days following your sickness so you can get back to your glowing, radiant self. 

He checks in on you more now, and is way more attentive to when you are feeling crummy. He will not let you get this sick again if he can help it- but he supposed it did give him a good excuse to pamper you...

Beelzebub

He was rummaging through the kitchen after practice, but wasn’t finding anything particularly satiating to his hunger. 

He remembered you had a shoebox of goodies under your bed from your last visit to the human world and figured he could just pay you back later. 

He especially hoped you had those little cherry-liquor filled chocolates like the last time he snuck some food from your stash. 

But he is shocked when he enters your room and you are in bed. Didn’t you have plans to go to dinner with Diavolo and the other exchange students tonight? 

He is embarrassed by his attempts at stealing your food and turns to leave but stops when you groan- seemingly in pain. 

Oof this boy is at your side in an instant. 

“Mc, are you ok!? Are you hurt?!” 

Concerned Beelie mode activated. 

Once he finds out you are ill, he will get you anything you need, completely ignoring his own hunger in favor of caring for you. 

Will make you some nice chicken and ginger broth and help feed you. 

Will also carry you to the bathroom when you feel like throwing up and do whatever you need him to while you are vomiting. 

You may be able to convince him to help you into the bath, but he may be very nervous about helping you disrobe. 

He will quite literally never leave your side until he is convinced you are feeling better- and even then he will be much more protective and attentive to your needs. 

He can’t have his favorite human feeling so deathly sick ever again. 

Mammon

Does it really matter why he was barging into your room???

He just wanted to spend time with ya! That should be reason enough!

But then he doesn’t see you in bed and he gets worried. 

Its Saturday- its not like you have school. Did one of his brothers get to steal your time first? Ugh of course they did. They’re always tryn’ta steal your time away from your first man!

Then he hears you violently heaving in the bathroom and the color drains from his face.

He will barge on in there with no regard for your privacy because of how worried he is. 

When he sees you vomiting, he will be by your side in an instant, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of your face. 

He will offer to shower with you, but refuse to even look at you while doing so because he cant possibly stand the notion of seeing you naked. 

He’d probably explode if his gaze lingered too long tbh

He would try to help you get dressed after but that wouldn’t go so well for the same reasons. 

He would be the best at giving snuggles though. 

He absolutely would refuse to leave your side for any reason, bribing Beel with food instead to get you things you needed. 

Would probably put on a movie or tv show to try to distract you from your sickness, but he doesn’t know what else to really do beyond that. 

He’s doin’ his best, ok?!

Satan

You were supposed to meet him in the library after classes to talk about a book you had recently started reading

It was one of his favorites and he had been excited to discuss your thoughts on it.

Well, you didn’t show up.

He. Is. PISSED. 

He wasn’t pissed at you per say- he probably figured one of his other brothers stole your attention away and resulted in you forgetting...but he was still upset he didn’t get to spend time with you. 

He walks straight to your room in a huff and pounds on the door, demanding to know why you left him hanging.

(He didn’t even know if you were there, but he hoped you were so he didn’t have to go searching everywhere for you). 

Fortunately, you were there!

Unfortunately, you answered the door and Satan saw how deathly ill you looked. 

Your eyes was sunken and the color was completely drained from your face. Your eyes were half-lidded in fatigue and your body was trembling.

He doesn’t feel upset that you bailed on him anymore. He is now in full concerned mom mode.

Satan immediately swoops you into his arms bridal style and brings you to his room. 

Its comfier in there, he reasoned

Really he just didn’t want his other brothers getting the chance to take care of you if they were to see you like that. 

He laid you into his bed and tucked you in, and you passed out immediately. 

He practically sprinted around the house like a mad man gathering items (antacids, towels, multiple bottles of water, a self-heating kettle, various types of tea and bouillon cubes, seltzer, heating pads, etc). 

He returns and scatters everything around his room and starts giving you top-tier care. 

He will sit in bed behind you with your upper body propped on his chest and he will read to you. 

Once you feel too tired to stay awake to listen to his reading, he will then give you a gentle shoulder, neck, and scalp massage until you fall asleep. 

He will literally drop anything to take care of you when you’re sick again in  the future. He like’s being able to be the first person you go to when you’re not feeling well. 

Lucifer

Lucifer became really annoyed when you didn’t come down for breakfast or answer his texts about why you weren’t at the table with the others. 

He finally gave up after trying to call you for the 3rd time and you didn’t answer. He figured he would just go straight to your room. 

He didn’t see you in bed, but saw your bathroom door open and heard the shower running. 

He called out to you and you didn’t answer. after a moment, he announced he was going to come in anyway. 

God he hoped you heard him because Lucifer doesn’t know if he could stay composed if you were suddenly naked in front of him. 

He ended up finding you passed out in the shower after seeing your hand on the floor, peaking out from the other side of the wall. 

He forgets his embarrassment at the idea of you being nude in an instant and is at your side. 

God damn, you have one hell of a fever.

He noticed traces of vomit on the floor, most of which had been washed down the drain from the water, but figured you must be ill. 

He picks you up and carries your over-heated body to bed. 

He wont dress you, mostly because he feels weird doing so but also because clothes may be too constricting for you right now. 

He tucks you in with just the flat sheet and places a cold towel to your brow so you don’t burn up even more

He will then go down stairs and demand everyone remain silent for the remainder of the day, and allow you to rest. 

He will absolutely ask Diavolo if he can borrow Barbatos for a bit to help make some meals for you while you recover. 

Lucifer will not leave your side unless he is going to get something for you, or unless he is retrieving or returning stacks of papers from his office.

...What? He’s got a lot to do. Besides, he can still work while taking care of you.

Belphegor

Belphie had snuck into your room in the middle of the night for some cuddles. 

Usually you would stir a little bit when he snuck into bed with you, but this time you slept like a rock. He didn’t think much of it, and just chalked it up to him getting better at being being quiet. 

When he woke up to you already gone, he was disappointed. It was the weekend, 

why were they up and out already? Ugh, they’re probably working on homework or something. What an over-achiever. 

Belphie was about to go back to sleep when he heard retching coming from the bathroom. 

He’s wide awake now and sprinting to the bathroom. 

You had undressed to take a bath due to feeling like death, but you hadn’t gotten one foot in the tub before you felt the contents of your stomach coming back up. 

Belphie was really embarrassed at first. Why the fuck didn’t he knock?!

But when he saw you continue to heave while crying softly at the awful sensation, he softened and approached you.

Grabs a towel and wraps it around your shoulders so you would be somewhat covered. 

Once you think you’re done, he helps you into the bath. 

You may be able to convince him to get in with you and continue to snuggle, depending on how close you two are at this point. 

After the bath, he will help you get dressed in the comfiest pjs you have and tuck you back into bed. 

He doesn’t want to leave your side but he has no idea how to take care of you. 

He will probably go quickly ask Beel and Satan for help in your care, and they do most of the work while he naps with you while you recover. 

Leviathan

fuck oh fuck shit fuck what does he do.

You were just getting up to go to the bathroom and now you’re unconscious on his floor.

You had been hanging out with Levi all day grinding away at a new game he had just purchased.

He didn’t think you really look too good...you were really pale, you had deep dark circles under your eyes, and you seemed really weak. 

You mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom after hours of uninterrupted gaming, but the minute you got to your feet you got extreme vertigo and collapsed. 

Levi is standing over you with wide eyes and face drained of color and has no idea what the fuck to do. 

He finally snaps out of his panic and bolts out of the room to grab somebody. He doesn’t know who...just anybody. 

Ends up rounding a corner, completely slamming into Lucifer, knocking them both on their feet. 

“Leviathaannn.” He growls, anger festering in his chest at the new bruise that was manifesting on his chin from where Levi’s head connected. 

Levi freaks the fuck out and practically drags Lucifer to his room, babbling incoherently about how he thinks you’re dead. 

When they get back to his room, you’re not in the spot where he left you. 

"MC WHAT! WHERE ARE YOU!” Levi’s intense screeching in panic makes Lucifer wince. He was definitely going to have a migraine after all this shit. 

Then he hears groaning from his bathroom. They both go in and see you coated in vomit, lying on the floor, and groaning loudly. 

You had stirred and tried to crawl your way to the toilet, but your nausea came up quicker than you could move. 

Well...at least you didn’t barf on Levi’s expensive collectables. 

Lucifer will help you clean yourself up and instruct Levi to go get a first aid kit, some water, antacids, and to make some ginger-lemon tea. 

Originally the roles were switched but Levi nearly passed out himself at the thought of having to help you bathe so Lucifer reluctantly switched the plan. 

Since moving you too far would be a hassle, he demands Levi allow you to stay in his room until you can move again. 

He hesitates to agree but overall he doesn’t mind. Once you’re able to be awake for an extended period of time, he will binge watch a new Anime he has been itching to get you into. 

Like Belphie, he doesn’t know how to take care of you really, so he will probably rely on Lucifer to do all of the work while he just provides comfort!

#Obey Me! #Obey me #Obey me swd #shall we date: Obey me #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #headcannons #fic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me comfort #obey me requests #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me fluff #comfort #fluff #obey me imagines #imagines #GN!MC

[obeymeluv]

The Baby Assignment [Lucifer]

I have a list of actual headcanons for demon baby behaviors, but this is not that post.

You and the boys have a baby! (sort of). 

You should’ve never told Diavolo about how high schools used to have practice baby classes.

Note: most of the genders and children come from “The Bros as Dads” post.

Cut me some slack on the names. I didn’t really have them planned, haha.

Lucifer:

Extremely skeptical. This whole assignment depends on you two standing in a summoning circle and--in a flash of light there’s a KID in the middle of the floor.

It’s a GIRL! 

This triggers his demon form on reflex because he’s startled and can’t help but have flashbacks of Lilith. You’re cooing to the little girl and Lucifer feels breathless as he takes in her hair (it’s his) and those big eyes (they’re yours)

His wings flap a few times before pressing close to his body. This has caught the baby’s attention and she’s staring at him with more intelligence than a child should have.

The professor says the child will grow exponentially over the next week or so and she should be able to deliver a report on how competent you are as parents. Their developmental age will be assessed and factored in as part of the grade.

You walk carefully over to Lucifer, eyes shining and a tiny fist in your hand and oh Diavolo, he wants this child to be real right then and there!

The naming doesn’t happen until you’re back at the House of Lamentation with a massive magical trunk that will spawn child necessities. You sit in his study as the baby looks around and points to things. You name them off.

You’re in the middle of walking her over to look at his records and watching her slap things on the shelf, trying to feel them with her fingers, when he gets the idea to name her after one of the human composers he knows (”Marianna.”)

You honestly thought the addition of a literal child would throw Lucifer off but he’s prepared. It’s only then you realize he’s been alive for thousands of years and helped raise the other six people in the house

Enjoy your view of Lucifer wearing a baby sling for the first three days because unless you have a real kid together, this is the only time you’ll see it

The two of you work on a schedule and carve out time to teach the child on top of your other duties. Sometimes you’re hooked up to the sling, sometimes it’s him. He gets a kick out of seeing you tote the kid around and usually catches you tickling her feet.

Diavolo graciously lightens up on Lucifer’s paperwork load (BY A LOT!) in exchange for seeing the child and playing with them

Most of her facial expressions take after Lucifer’s and Diavolo is BEYOND amused

After day 3, Marianna gets distressed seeing Lucifer sit so long, so she’ll toddle you to Lucifer and just points until you do something about it

100% a daddy’s girl and Lucifer has a hard time keeping his pride in check. It’s coming off of him in waves

She says her first words between day 4 and day 5 and Lucifer wants to cry (he does) because the first one is “daddy”

From day 5 on it’s a constant fight to keep her close because the bros want to smother her for being so cute and are bugging her to say their names

Marianna is partial to Satan and Lucifer is secretly glad. Satan acts all smug about it.

She has Lucifer’s insistency for perfection. Mammon was messing with her tea party set up and she bit him for moving her plate in the wrong spot. That was day 6 and she had her pointy baby demon teeth. Marianna got a little whisper scolding that Mammon would’ve died for BECAUSE SHE GETS KISSES WHILE SHE’S GETTING SCOLDED? FOR REAL?! HE GETS STRUNG UPSIDE DOWN!

Marianna hates being fussed over and likes to dress herself. Whatever you or Lucifer fix, she undoes when your back is turned.

One of her favorite hobbies is sitting on Lucifer’s lap and practicing her handwriting. She also likes to brush his feathers. Marianna asks to sleep in them and will try to hide from you in them. The giggles give her away.

By day 7 she has the intelligence of (at least) a 6 year old and has velvety nubs for horns. You learned that demons like to rub their horns against hard surfaces (or loved ones) as scenting and for their growth.

She accidentally scratches you up, not quite understanding you’re human, and goes into an absolute meltdown. She didn’t mean to hurt you.

Goes into a freaking rage when anyone tries to fix you up. Wants to do it herself. This kid is a literal puddle of apologies, please hold her.

She cuddles you for the rest of that day and officially gets her own little desk beside Lucifer on day 8. Marianna pretends to write her own letters but mostly draws. Bugs Lucifer with the random stuff Satan and Levi teaches her but he doesn’t mind.

You’d bring them snacks every now and then and sometimes you’d hear them singing together (ever so quietly). You didn’t know Lucifer could sing. 

Lucifer has woken up with a fist in his face, accidentally been punched in the eye, and has been kicked away at least once since she was big enough to sleep in the bed. She takes after Lucifer in the way that she needs you behind closed doors. Marianna doesn’t sleep unless she can feel both of you next to her. 

Lucifer officially has bragging rights about sleeping with you (even if he won’t pull that). Secretly gets the best sleep of his life. Really starting to feel the parent thing. A kid with you would be nice.

Marianna gets little fluffs for wings on day 9 and they “air box” when she’s angry. She demands back scratches for how dry and itchy the feel and you figure out she purrs like Lucifer.

She doesn’t always prank Lucifer but when she does, she hides his pens and makes him play hide and seek with her to get them back

Marianna likes to help out in the kitchen and loves setting the table. She gets mad if anyone messes with the napkin folds you guys practice. She makes a tiny Lucifer screech when Asmo gets obnoxious with taking pictures for Devilgram and Mammon nearly breaks his chair trying to run out of it. She laughs like you.

Around day 10 she insists on a family day and Lucifer has this sinking feeling in his gut that she knows she won’t be around much longer. Maybe it’s a side effect of the spell. The two of you spend the day running around the Devildom taking lots of pictures. Diavolo crashes a few of those pictures.

She spends day 11 burning the midnight oil with Lucifer. Around 9 PM he’s trying to send her to bed. Marianna just drags a blanket back into his study and snuggles down. He notices all her old pictures and some new ones she’s drawn. “It’s my book,” she tells him.

“Your book?”

“Yep.” she colors in the lines carefully, the finished pages pushed away and much better than her older ones. “It’s for you guys, for when I go away. And for your school.”

On day 12 you bring her back into the class, she’s dressed in similar colors to Lucifer. She wanted to look good for her presentation and she said ‘dad always looks nice’.

Marianna talks through her book, calling back memories of building blocks and playing hide and seek. She’s very proud of the pictures from two days ago. They’re her favorite. She shows off her horns and the “dad roar”.

You and Lucifer walk her to the circle. She stands in it as the spell determines her final age. She’s about 10, pushing the limits for growth as determined by the spell.

“I wasn’t here a long time, but I had fun.” she hands him the book and gives you a much longer hug than Lucifer. You wonder if it’s her way of apologizing for having a favorite even though she was good to both of you. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” she looks up at Lucifer as she hugs him, her chin pressed into his stomach.

“Perhaps.” Lucifer takes on his demon form as the circle starts to glow, flapping one wing at her. She “air boxes” back before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

It’s a quiet, lonely silence. Very cold. There’s a subtle warmth in Lucifer’s embrace as he guides you back to your desk. It was brief, but you see why she likes his hugs. 

#Obey me! #Obey me! x Reader #Lucifer x Reader

[captainlevisteacup]

www i come back with another request *jumps jumps* what about the brothers + undateables with a m!mc who's an idol-? how would they react to mc's wearing his stage outfits around just because-?

Oooooooh I like this! Sorry this took a while, I was working on 5 other requests at the same time lol and THEN I broke my wrist by punching a door so I couldn't type hahaha im a genius, I know.

Here goes, and thank you for the request!!

The Demon Brothers + The Newly Dateables Reactions to a M! Idol MC Who Wears their Stage Outfits Casually

Lucifer

Goes to every single performance of MC'S if his schedule allows it

Somehow always has seats in the front row

Never fails to get distracted by how MC moves his hips while dancing and still singing perfectly

Loves to go to his rehearsals sometimes

Always has a bouquet waiting for MC after his performance

The first time MC wore one of his stage outfits around the house for fun, he was mildly confused and amused

It was *slightly* distracting

Considering MC's immaculate body

It doesn't help that he goes to the gym religiously because he has an image to uphold

Always gets slightly flustered when MC wears his stage outfits bc

He's just so pretty, dammit

Mammon

Eh?

Why does MC get to wear flashy stage outfits all the time, yet HE gets shit about his jacket

Not fair

Swears that's the only reason its upsetting

Totally not at all because he doesn't like how many people stare and flirt with MC

Not at all.

On the plus side, always goes through MC's choreography with him

Its often the highlight of Mammon's day, since dance is one of his gifts

Begrudgingly allows MC to style his hair sometimes

On occasion, Mammon will be a backup dancer at MC'S shows

Mc always smiles the brightest when this happens

Satan

Equally amused and annoyed

Amused because OF COURSE MC would do that

It just makes sense for MC to be dramatic enough to casually wear stage costumes around the house

It annoys him because he KNOWS it draws attention to MC

And, well, he doesn't like that

Mc never knows his, of course

Though he does start to question why his fans are all so afraid of Satan

Oh well

Satan, surprisingly, is even more helpful with songwriting than anyone else

He has a natural knack for poetry and rhythm

Most of MC's songs have been helped along by Satan

Levi

Biggest. Fanboy. Ever.

Probably the president of any and every fanclub for MC

Is delighted when he *somehow* always lucks out and gets the first ticket to the shows online

MC secretly sets aside a ticket for him and just sends the price of the ticket back into Levi's bank account

Levi is actually a really big social media promoter for MC

Runs his official Devilgram page

When MC starts wearing his stage outfits around the house....

Heart attack. Panic attack. Asthma attack. All of them.

His heart can't take it

Tries his best to avoid looking at him so he doesn't stare

Needless to say, this fails miserably

Asmo

Please.

He's the one who DESIGNED the stage outfits

MC BETTER be wearing them proudly

His heart swells with joy when he sees MC absolutely *owning* the outfits while making a sandwich

Unlike his brothers, Asmo loves when people stare at MC

Because, come on, with the makeup Asmo taught him to do and the stunning outfits? Damn right MC is stare worthy

Not as much as him, of course, but thats a different story

Doesn't really like being in the crowd of MC'S shows, much prefers the luxury of backstage

Literally has his own chaise lounge to recline on

Its even nicer than MC'S chair

Mc secretly bought it for him so

Of course it is

Beel

Doesn't like it, but for a different reason

What if MC trips and hurts himself?🥺

Aren't they hard to move around in?

They look too tight for MC to eat in😰

It takes MC going through his choreography many, MANY times to prove he won't get hurt wearing them

Beel always goes to the gym with MC

MC has to keep up a certain image, so Beel is more than willing to help him out and even coach him if he needs it

Tries to do the dances with MC, but dancing isn't exactly his Forte

He loves to watch, though

Goes to most of his shows when he can

Belphie

Doesn't care

When he decides to care, its only because those outfits just CAN'T be comfortable

Gives Asmo a ridiculously long list of comfortable and breathable fabrics to use in MC'S costumes from then on

Rarely goes to MC'S shows, but is literally always watching the livestream from his bed

Constantly hounds MC about his self care

"Go sleep. You've been practicing for the entire day. If you don't go by choice, ill just hold you hostage in my bed until you fall asleep"

Aggressively caring murder bean

Diavolo

This man is endlessly amused

Insists on getting matching costumes with him

To MC'S delight, Asmo immediately makes much larger copies of all of his stage outfits for Diavolo

Lucifer hates it.

So much. Diavolo is a prince. Not an idol

Mc thinks its sweet

MC even dyed his hair to match the prince's red locks at one point

The red hair was, of course, a fan favorite

Barbatos

Admires the beauty of MC in his stage clothes

Has an abundance of tips on how to keep then clean and immaculate

Insists that he's too busy to attend the shows, and that he could just watch the recording later

Diavolo catches wind of this and is conveniently elsewhere on the days MC performs

Barbatos knows Diavolo is full of shit, but he appreciates it regardless

Solomon

Not phased whatsoever

He's been exposed to any and every type of human fashion before

Although...he has to admit seeing MC in those costumes makes him feel some kinda way

Enchants MC'S stage outfits to glow or shimmer at certain times during the performance

Is, of course, there for every single one

Helps the brothers adjust to human world concerts

Simeon

Blushblushblushblushstutterstutterstutter

Thinks some not so holy things about the idol in front of him

Wow

○ \ \ \ ○

Simeon has seen some very beautiful clothes in the celestial realm, but this?

It hits different

Maybe its because it's HIS MC wearing them

Quickly dismisses this thought and insists they're just really pretty clothes

Listens to MC practice and provides feedback about their singing technique

Luke (Platonic)

In complete AWE

Shyly asks if he can try on one of MC'S dramatic jackets

It's 10 sizes too big for him but that just makes it more endearing

Luke absolutely loves to go see MC in concert

Always has a baked good waiting for MC after he performs

Is surprisingly the loudest cheerer out of all of them

#obey me #obey me headcanons #beel obey me #leviathanobeyme #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #simeon obey me #asmodeusobeyme #barbatos obey me #solomon obey me #obey me asks #obey me mc

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 9

chapter 8

Warnings: Victim blaming (but not from who you think it is) mention of rape, mention of underage drinking, mention of drugged drinks

When Arella returned to Mammon’s room, everything was quiet. She wasn’t so sure whether that was a good or bad thing yet. She made her way down the stairs quietly. If the demon had been sleeping, she would have hated to disturb him. She sat next to him on the bed. He wasn’t sleeping but rather just staring off into space, a blank look painted across his features- not a good sign.

“Mams?” her call was soft as she reached out instinctively to cup his cheek to turn his head towards her, but stopped. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate being touched right now, she thinks as she just settles beside him, choosing instead to just observe her boyfriend for the moment.

His eyes were far off once again. He looks so delicate right now, like any wrong action might shatter him to pieces. It makes her heart ache at the sight. He was always such a bright person, always smiling, cracking silly jokes. To see him reduced to this all due to a scene in a movie.... as much as she understood what he was going through, well, it wasn’t fun to watch and not be able to do anything to help. Arella wouldn’t initiate contact with out his express permission unless it looked like he was going to hurt himself or he pursued it himself, wanting to reestablish that Mammon had all the control right now.

She sat in silence with the Avatar of Greed for what must’ve been a good three hours. She was starting to nod off when the white-haired demon abruptly rolled over onto her before immediately recoiling away off the bed, startled at her presence. Arella’s eyes widened as she scrambled over to his side of the bed and peered over the edge.

“Mammon, are you alright?”

“Damn...” Mammon groaned as he rubbed the back of his head. He takes a moment look at his surroundings. “How the fuck did I get in my room?” he seemed confused before he looked up at his human. “Weren’t we jus’ down in the common room with m’brothers watching that horror movie that Levi wanted to see?”

Arella shook her head. “No, Love, do you really not remember? There was a scene we didn’t know about. You had a panic attack and took off... I was able to get you to calm down and you’ve been here ever since. Your brothers have been looking for you to see if you’re alright but I text them and told them you were safe.”

The demon’s face paled at that. “How...How long ago was that?”

“Three hours ago... almost four at this point. Here come up on the bed,” she reached a hand out to help him up and he took it, pulling himself up off the floor and climbing back into bed.

“’m going crazy ain’t I, Babe?” He leaned his head on her shoulder, “What sane person jus’ loses nearly four hours because of a movie like that?”

“No... No, Honey, you're not going crazy. What you experienced over and over again was traumatic. This is normal. It’ll get better as time goes on; I promise.”

“Ya sound so sure...”

“Because this is something I’ve experienced before.”

Mammon’s ears perked up at that. He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “Were you...” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the question.

“Y-Yeah...” Arella looked to the side, hoping he would read the room and not ask any more questions but luck wasn’t on her side.

“Who did it?”

“No, this isn’t about me so it really doesn’t-”

“Arella. Who. Did. It?” The demon’s gaze was intense as he grabbed her shoulders firmly. “Tell me.”

“A boyfriend I had no business dating.” She squeaked. “I was sixteen and he was twenty-three at the time. He drugged my drink when I wasn’t looking a-and it was my fault to begin with. If I hadn’t been drinking underage, it never would have happened.”

“Look at me. Do you even hear yourself right now? Why the hell do you think that? If what happened to me wasn’t my fault, why is what happened to you your fault?” The Avatar of Greed frowns.

“W-Well,” She begins, meeting his eyes nervously, “It’s like I said, I was drinking underage when I shouldn’t have been. I could have avoided that but what happened to you was unavoidable due to the very nature of pacts and their orders.”

“And so what? You made a mistake, Baby. That didn’t mean you deserved to be raped!” Arella watches at the look on his face devolves in a look of horror. “Did I? Did I force you to do something you didn’t wanna?” He worried as he was the one who pushed for them to start sleeping together.

“N-No! No, no, I enjoyed and wanted everything we’ve done together a-and you always stop whenever I say no. Things are different with us. Look...” her voice was small. “Can we stop talking about me now...I’m uncomfortable.”

“That’s fine,” he nodded as he pressed his forehead against hers and tugged her down so they could just lay in bed together. “You can talk to me if you need to...”

Arella nodded as she wondered how they had gotten here. She was supposed to be comforting him and yet it was the other way around now. The human thinks maybe she should have kept this to herself since all she managed to do was make this about herself and that’s not what Arella wanted at all.  She was a little lost in thought as he rolled onto his stomach resting his head on her chest but the sudden shift was enough to draw her attention.

“Do you mind... if I run my hand through your hair?’

“No, I don’t... What are ya even asking for?”

“I.... I don’t want to do anything without your consent...” she says as she starts to card her fingers through his hair. “I want you to feel like you’re the one in charge again.”

“Ya always have my consent, Treasure.” The demon purrs contently. They lay there for a few minutes before Mammon shoots up. “It’s been too quiet... The baby!”

Arella grabs his arm to keep him from running off, “Asmo took him tonight so I could focus on you.”

“Really?” He seems touched. “Ya didn’t have to do that. He could have slept in here in between us if I was in that bad of shape...” He laid back down. “Well since we got the night to ourselves do ya wanna...?”

“Want to what?” It took her a few minutes to realized what he was asking and a deep blush covered her cheeks at the thought of it. “I-I mean I wouldn’t mind it but are you sure you’re ready for that again?”

“Yeah... as long as I’m in control, I should be fine... Are you okay with it right now?” The demon rises up over his mate. “I just want to replace the feeling of their hands all over me with yours. Will you let me?”

The look in his eyes is somewhere between desperation and longing and Arella can do nothing but nod, feeling much the same way.

----------------------------------------------------

As the morning rolled in, the Avatar of Greed curls closer into his human, a satisfied smile on his face. Despite the earlier events of the night, he couldn’t have been more at peace- that is until he heard his child crying for him. Instinctively he hopped out of bed, threw on whatever sweat pants were closest to him and rushed down the hallway to Asmo’s room.

Thankfully the door was unlocked so he just let himself in. He found his brother practically dancing around the room in small gentle motions, bouncing Cyrus in his arms as the little one wailed and wailed. When the fifth-born spotted their brother, they turned in a way that allowed the infant to see his father.

“Cyrus, look, look, there’s Daddy.” And that’s really all it took for the boy to calm down from the wailing, reduced now to soft whines and whimpers. “Sorry, I didn’t want him to wake you two since I didn’t know how late you guys had been up last night but I guess he must just be sick of me by now.”

“It’s fine, Asmo. Here, I’ll take him now.” The second-born holds his arms out for the child and Asmo transfers him over to Mammon. “I’m here now, Buddy. Ya ain’t gotta cry no more...” He returns his attention back to the Avatar of Lust. “Thank you so much Asmo. Ya didn’t have to do this for us... especially after I ruined movie night last night...”

“Don’t worry about it,” The strawberry blonde demon smiles. “I loved spending the night with him. He’s a good sleeper and such a little lovebug. He really likes to snuggle huh?”

Mammon nods at that. “How much did he take on a bottle?”

“Roughly about two and a half ounces.” They smile as Asmo rubs Cyrus’ back. “I heard about the whole not eating much on a bottle thing.”

“Yeah, he was only taking an ounce so it must’ve been the taste of the formula that bothered him. When was the last time he ate or had a diaper change?

“Not long ago actually, he ate maybe an hour ago and he had a change about fifteen minutes ago.”

The Avatar of Greed only nods as he heads to the door with his child but Asmodeus stopped him.

“Do you still feel like a bad father?”

“I mean kinda... but it’ll get easier from now on...” He looks back at his younger brother. “I didn’t hear him at first. Shouldn’t good parents be able to hear their kids right away when they’re cryin’?”

“Mammon, both you and Arella you sleep like the dead,” The Avatar of Lust chuckles. “Not to mention, your room isn’t exactly close to mine. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t hear the little guy.  Now, if you’d had a baby monitor and still didn’t hear him, that would be a cause for concern, but look at you. The moment you realized he needed you, you came running. You’re a good father so have a little more faith in yourself, m’kay?”

“Sure...” A small smile crept up on his face. “Thanks, Asmo.”

“Anytime,” The demon smiles as he walks out with his brother. “It’s my turn to cook breakfast today. What do you think we should have?”

“I’m not sure actually,” Mammon thinks for a moment, coming up with nothing, “to be honest, eating is the last thing on my mind right now. Maybe you could just make what you usually do. It’s been a while since we had your pancakes so I’m sure the others would appreciate it.”

Asmo only nodded as they walked down the hall back towards Mammon’s room. They were met by the eldest who had been heading down to Asmo’s room.

“You’re awake.” Lucifer looked surprised. “How’re you feeling, Mammon?”

“Better,” the Avatar of Greed sighs, “I slept for a bit after I calmed down so I’m good for the time being.”

“That’s good. The end of the term’s almost here as I’m sure you know, and then we have a month break before the new term starts. I think you and Arella should take a vacation together. It might be good for you to get away for a bit. You deserve at least that much.”

Mammon looks down at his son who was trying to hold his head up every so often before it would fall back down to his father’s shoulder. “You mean with the baby... right?”

“Well, no, but if you would rather bring him with you that’s not a problem as well. If you choose for him to stay, it would be helpful for the rest of our brothers to learn how to care for an infant allowing them to help you better so the four of us don’t have to do all the work.”

The second-born looked down at Cyrus who only smiled at him as little trills and coos came from the child.

“Nah, I think we’ll take him with us- might be better that way.” He hummed, “Thanks for offerin’ though. Arella should be up by now so I’ll get goin’ back to her. See ya.”

Both of his brothers nodded as they exchanged a look with soft smiles.

------------------------------------------------------

As Mammon returns to his room, he spots Arella gathering up the sheets he had pulled of the bed after their shower last night, having dressed herself while he was gone. When she noticed them, her eyes lit up.

“There’re my boys!” She smiled as she approached them. Cyrus mimicked his adoptive mother’s facial expressions and as she stood on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his nose before shifting over press a kiss to Mammon’s cheek.

“What, just the one? I didn’t realize ya hated me today.” The demon teased, seeing if he could get more kisses from his human.

“Well, if you would bend down, I could give you proper kisses.” Arella hummed. “I’m vertically challenged, remember? You have to meet me half-way, Love.”

“Right, right,” The demon chuckles as he leans down shifting Cyrus so his head was supported in the new position. “I hear ya, Short-stack.” He smiled as she pressed little kisses all over his face before he was turning his head to catch her in a surprise kiss.

He pulled away once Cyrus let out a disgruntled cry, no longer comfortable like this and wanting more of his parents’ attention.

“Here, I’ll take him so you can get dressed. I’ll be downstairs to throw these in the wash and get him dressed.” Arella takes the boy from his father and climbs the stairs, heading out with the sheets tucked under her arm.

“Oh hey! I almost forgot but how would you like to take a vacation after the term ends? Just the three of us...”

She looked back at him before smiling. “A holiday sounds wonderful, Dear. We can go up to the human world together, to my home outside of York.”

———————————————————————-

Next

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#tw: victim blaming #tw: mentioned rape #mammon angst #obey me angst #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me oc #arella #cyrus #obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer

[sondepoch]

Part 2/2

Have Strength, My Lady (Barbatos x Reader)

Where there is the jewel of the heavens, there is the pearl of the abyss—a title that you have the misfortune of bearing. It’s only natural that Lord Diavolo wants to add you to his collection of treasures, you’re not surprised to find yourself engaged, despite feeling entirely unprepared for it. Thus far, you’ve done a good job of hiding your fear with a smile, of hiding your emotions away so that no one but you knows how you feel. But on the way to the palace, a certain demon butler sees through your facade. And when his involvement in your life increases, you can’t help that you’re falling in love with the wrong man.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ✔

MASTERLIST

The noblemen of your kingdom, though good at heart, are rather bold when it comes to you. You're not sure if it's because they're enraptured by your beauty or because they truly have no sense of self, but you've yet to find a single person who hasn't gazed upon your face in shock and then glanced down at the rest of your body, eyes hovering far too long over your chest.

"Ignore them," Barbatos had whispered when dressing you this morning, all too aware of how affected you were the last time you accompanied Diavolo at one of his parties. "Try to count all the men who have crooked pocket squares, and try not to think about anything else."

The butler's advice has worked well on you, thus far.

Every time a man begins ogling your body, you take it as an invitation to ogle his, namely the small square handkerchiefs that surprisingly few men in the Devildom wear correctly.

"Ah, Lord Diavolo!" A new nobleman exclaims, approaching the two of you. "It is a pleasure to see you, my prince. And you, my lady," You smile at the man, not missing the way his eyes skirt over your body. "The pearl of the abyss will be the most beautiful queen to have ever ruled."

You thank the man graciously, allowing Diavolo to take over the conversation as your eyes search the room for Barbatos. The moment you find him, it seems that his attention is on you, and the two of you share a secretive smile. Crooked pocket square, your grin tells him, almost laughing.

Twenty-two, he mouths back to you, adding one more to the count you two have been keeping up all night.

Indeed, Barbatos is the only reason why you've been able to last these past three hours with Diavolo. Perhaps he's the reason you've been able to last these past three weeks, as well.

It's almost amusing, thinking about everything that has brought you to this point.

The first of your interactions with the demon were uncomfortable, and quite awkward when you look back upon the way you had stumbled into his arms after your legs grew numb on the throne, and then the time you had fallen down the stairs while practicing how to walk in the current queen's heels, effectively forcing Barbatos to halt his lessons for the day and massage your aching body, and the time you'd fallen asleep while he dressed you, body leaning further and further backward until you woke up to his sputters of shock as he held you in his arms, corset still half-untied.

You sigh, each of the memories bringing a fresh shade of pink to your ears.

Indeed, the beginning of your friendship with Barbatos was quite rocky.

But after the first week passed, you found yourself growing used to the ways of the palace, and by the second week, the breakfasts with Diavolo weren't even awkward anymore. Why, just this morning, you succeeded in casting away the remainder of your fear over this marriage into the depths of your stomach, (hopefully) never to resurface again!

Diavolo halts in the middle of whatever conversation he's in, turning to smile at you. This time, you don't even hesitate to smile back, ignoring the tension in your gut as he squeezes your waist in what's supposed to be a comforting gesture.

It almost feels like you're ready to be queen.

Almost.

"My lord, might I humbly request this dance for my daughter?" You turn your gaze to the man standing in front of you, someone you recognize from Barbatos's teachings to be the earl of the seventh circle of hell. Next to him is a demongirl, a shy maiden younger than even you, by the looks of it.

A soft smile pulls at your lips when you see the way she looks at Diavolo—doubtlessly captivated by his natural princely charm. You give him a light nod, stepping back as he leads the girl to the ballroom dance floor. After all, it's natural for the prince to dance with his guests.

"I'll be back, my love," He calls over his shoulder, a wide grin spread over his lips before his figure is swallowed by the rest of the demons around you, leaving you to stand and politely wet your lips with a flute of Demonus.

Avoid eye contact, you remember Barbatos telling you, in case you ever found yourself unaccompanied at one of Diavolo's parties. Do not give any man the chance to get close to you.

To your surprise, though, it's a woman who draws your attention, waving her arm as she approaches.

"My lady!" She exclaims once she's directly in front of you. "You are so enchanting, my lady. I have waited for a moment this entire night to speak with you and tell you of your beauty—you must be more stunning than even Asmodeus himself!"

You force a smile at her words, ignoring the slight to Asmo. You've attended more than one student council meeting at Diavolo's side by now, and if you disliked people comparing you to the demon before, you hate it even more now that you know how sweet (albeit horny) the demon actually is.

"Your words are kind, Marchioness." You curtsy lightly, hiding your pride at the fact that you actually recognize her.

"You know me, my lady?" Her eyes beam bright with delight. "It is an honor! I do hope that we can be friends over the centuries in your time at the high court, my lady. Lord Diavolo requests my husband's presence in the castle quite often."

"That would be my pleasure," You respond, laughing lightly. "The prince keeps no women in his palace; I would love to have some feminine company."

"Ah," The woman in front of you drawls, understanding dawning in her eyes. You sense her tone change. "Nothing can quite replicate a woman's touch, can it, now?"

"Quite so," You respond, somewhat hesitantly. You don't recognize the strange light in this woman's eye, and you're not sure you like it. Her tone is no longer admiring as she speaks, and you don't know if it's because her earlier optimism has faded or if she truly has grown that comfortable around you in this short exchange.

"How long have you known the lord, my lady?" She asks innocently, eyes turning down to her own glass of Demonus before they flit back up. "All the newspapers say something different, after all."

You swallow, suddenly excruciatingly aware of how the demoness's eyes bore into you. Her calculating stare reminds you of Barbatos, but unlike the olive-haired man, she doesn't look like she plans to reward you with a smile and compliment after this.

"Diavolo has been in contact with my family for many thousands of years," You say smoothly, ignoring the fact that he's technically 'been in contact' with every noble family in the Devildom since birth.

"Ah, but how long have you known him personally?" The woman asks, and only now do you realize that she has you caught in her trap—keeping you locked in conversation with no ready exit, a direct question rolling off her tongue.

You have no choice but to respond.

"We met when he summoned me for the engagement, Marchioness." Your words are brief, eyes still skirting the crowds for the familiar eyes of Diavolo or Barbatos or even Lucifer, since you know he's attending.

"Ah," She responds, a sardonic smile playing on her lips.

She already knew, you realize from the prideful look in her eyes. She simply wanted me to say it aloud. But why?

"So Lord Diavolo selected you, not on the basis of any true attachment, but for your appearance, is that it?" She asks, except that this time you don't have any answer for her. At your silence, she continues: "How pitiful. It is an insult to be ruled by a queen who has no merits other than her looks. The size of your breasts may be considered ideal—"

"Marchioness!" You interrupt, appalled that she went there.

"—And your body proportions may align with what the commonfolk deem 'beautiful,' but there is nothing else to you, woman. While the prince looks at you with adoration now, as soon as you have grown old with him, there will be nothing left for him or the realm to appreciate from you. Your very queenship is a curse," She spits, "And you will bleed this realm dry for it."

You stare at her in shock, her words echoing in your head long after she's stopped speaking. Only five seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before the triumphant smile on her lips fades as she opens her lips with the promise of another assault of insults, but it's not her voice you hear.

"Enough," Someone calls from behind you, walking to your side. "Marchioness, you are dismissed. My lady is needed elsewhere."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise when she sees someone interfere—evidently having assured that neither Diavolo nor Lucifer were anywhere nearby when she approached you—but her scowl is replaced by a forced smile as she curtsies and leaves.

"My lady," You hear the familiar voice whisper. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Barbatos." You turn to the man, trying to hide how the Marchioness's words are still affecting you. You give him a fake smile, though you don't even have the energy to let it reach your eyes. "I'm fine."

He clicks his tongue once, telling you to follow him as he leads you out of the door. You maintain an appropriate distance and keep the smile on your face like a mask, acutely aware of how everyone you pass stares at your retreating form until you're out of the party hall entirely.

"My lady," He repeats once you're both in private, turning to you. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You let out a broken laugh at that, staring at the ground to avoid the pitiful look in Barbatos's eyes. Never, in all Diavolo's parties and gatherings and meetings, has anyone spoken to you so cruelly.

"My lady…" He repeats, hesitating before he steps closer and loosely places his hands on your shoulders, trying to get you to look him in the eye. No one should be leaving the party hall, but he keeps his head up in case anyone approaches. It's barely any contact at all, but for a future queen and her butler, it's still too much. "You are shaking."

He's right, you realize. It's not just your lip that's quivering, but your fingers as well, your entire body rattled to the core by the Marchioness's words. You open your mouth to say something, probably another broken reiteration that you're fine, but all that comes out is a distressed whine, and all you can do is give in to the temptation to clutch Barbatos's suit and pull him closer.

The demon sighs, throwing the last of his thoughts over propriety to the wind as he wraps you in a tight embrace, staying silent as he strokes your hair.

"She—she told me—" You try to sputter out a garbled explanation, but you're stopped.

"Shh," He whispers, resting his chin atop your head. "Do not speak, my lady."

You heed his words, silently holding onto him as the bubble of anxiety begins to sink until it's gone altogether, and you can focus on the feeling of Barbatos's arms around your body.

It's not the first time the two of you have hugged. Rather, Barbatos has found that it's the best way to calm you down whenever something happens to work you into such a disturbed state. But still, never before has something affected you this much.

"It is my fault," He says after a long while, when your shoulders aren't shaking and you're quiet once more. "It is dangerous for appearances to be caught alone with a man, but it is dangerous for your heart to be caught alone with a woman. The Marchioness is not known for her kindness, my lady. I should have warned you."

The demon doesn't say anything further, wordlessly leading you by the hand back to your room. "I cannot stay," He informs you when he sets you on your bed, fingers still rubbing comforting circles into your shoulders. "I must inform Diavolo that you've retired for the night. But perhaps afterward—"

"It's fine, Barbatos," You interrupt, sighing tiredly as you look away. "Go. He will be wondering where I am."

With that, the butler nods, leaving you still dressed as you debate trying to fall asleep now or later. It's no use, you realize when you try to rest your head on your pillow. The Marchioness's words feel like they've been branded on your heart with a hot iron that's still pressing down: You will bleed this realm dry.

If you sleep now, your dreams will be filled with her lips, her voice, her words.

You stand up, opening the door to the balcony and standing outside as the moonlight shines down on you. In the distance, you can see people still entering and leaving the castle, but for once, no one takes any notice of you.

You will bleed this realm dry.

You swallow thickly, remembering the unbridled spite with which the Marchioness had spoken. You've never met the woman in your life, so surely she cannot have a personal grudge against you. Does that make her words true, then? Will you truly bleed the Devildom dry?

You feel your lips begin to tremble once more at the thought.

There was some degree of truth to her words. You are young, not even old enough to have applied for schooling at the RAD. Your education has explicitly applied to the feminine arts, focused on bringing out the full scope of your charm rather than traditional knowledge, and there must be hundreds of thousands of little girls who are better than you at math, science, all those subjects which you've never been taught.

Doesn't that make them better suited to be queen?

You bite your lip. All this time, you've been focused on everything that you're sacrificing in favor of the realm: a normal life, the chance for a traditional education, the opportunity to be free, even the right to love someone of your choosing.

But is it a greater sacrifice for the realm, if it takes you as its queen?

You feel the first tear roll down your cheeks, a catalyst for the rest that can't seem to stop coming.

All you want to do, all you've wanted to do is make sure that the people around you are happy. But what if you fail them as a queen? What if, because of your inadequate education, you really do bleed the realm dry? What if you end up being the cause of unhappiness in your people? What if you fail?

You clutch the balustrade for support, unable to hold back the rest of your chokes and cries as all your fears come rushing to the forefront of your mind, including the one thing you've tried your hardest not to think about.

You sink to your knees, your sobs outnumbering your short breaths, and it feels like you're struggling even to breathe as your hand clutches the space where your heart lurks, not understanding why it hurts so, just that it does.

A knock at your door doesn't halt your cries, nor the familiar call: "My lady?"

"D-don't come in!" You call, placing a hand up as if that'll halt the man; but when he hears the desperate state of your voice, Barbatos wastes no time in rushing inside, eyes darting around the room before they land on your figure on the terrace, crumbled on the ground.

"My lady!"

He rushes to your side, propriety be damned, and sinks to his knees in front of you, eyes looking frantic as he checks your body for any injuries before wrapping you in the tightest hug you've ever felt. "Do not cry," He whispers into your ear, stroking your hair. "Do not cry," He repeats, the words falling like a mantra as he coos your hysterical state into calmness once more.

It's the first time you've seen the man so frantic. Usually, his true expression is hidden behind a mask of apathy and smirks, even in all the previous times he's hugged you; but seeing you broken down on the ground, tears flowing down your cheeks faster than you can count them, has clearly shattered the facade he wears.

"I-it's fine, Barbatos." You press a hand to his chest, giving him a shaky smile. "See? All good."

But the butler pays your words no heed, pressing his forehead against yours as he cups your cheek with a tenderness that you've never seen.

"What did she say?" He asks after a moment, his usual composure returning once he's wiped your tearstained cheeks. "What did the Marchioness say, to make you cry like this?"

"Nothing…" You begin, sensing the way his body tenses at the word. "Nothing that was not true."

"My lady," He retorts, unamused eyes boring into yours.

"Please," You whisper, fingers still clutching Barbatos's shoulders. "Please don't ask me about it. Just...just stay like this with me."

The demon sighs, a sound you take as agreement, and you let out a light laugh as he allows you to wrap yourself him, pulling him in for another hug. Resting your cheek against his chest, his arms cover your eyes as they reach around your body to hold you, and you can't help but feel like you wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of the night.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment.

"My lady, you are falling asleep." Barbatos raises an eyebrow down at you when you give him a noncommitted hum in response. "Come, you should change for the night."

When you don't budge from his arms, the demon decides to lift you, ignoring your protests as he carries you back inside the room. You don't make his task any easier, leaning against him with a giggle when he finally sets you on your feet, but he eventually manages to unlace your corset and remove your dress, lifting you out of your shoes when you refuse to do so yourself.

You smile as he finishes up his work, leaning into his touch freely as he holds you upright, and with a strange sense of clarity, you realize that you're truly happy, right now.

You were crying your heart out just minutes ago, but with Barbatos by your side, your heart feels lighter.

You dwell on the thought, breath hitching when you realize its implications as Barbatos puts the last of your clothes away.

Here is the part where he normally leaves, where he bows his head and flashes you his usual cryptic smile before exiting the room and leaving you to change into your nightclothes. But today, he stays by your side, pulling out the silken garments for you and wordlessly helping you into them. He stays silent as he finishes the rest of your nighttime routine for you, setting you on a chair so he can brush your hair, fetching a warm cloth to gently wipe your face, and you suspect he's about to tuck you into bed when you halt him, raising a hand.

You should not do this, you know. You should let him leave, ignore the thought that crossed your mind, and forget about the strange notion that you find happiness with Barbatos.

But you do not.

"Barbatos," You whisper. "I do not wish to sleep yet."

"Is that your way of asking me to stay or to leave, my lady?" He asks his question with his usual mysterious smile, but you can sense the undertones of concern in his eyes.

"Come to the balcony with me," You say, and Barbatos even helps you do that, holding your hand as he leads you to your desired location. He moves to let go, but when the two of you reach the railing, you make a point of holding on.

The wind has picked up now, and it blows your hair all around you, letting the (h/c) locks dance freely between you and Barbatos.

"She said that I was unfit to be the queen of the Devildom," You finally tell him, voice calm as you speak. "That my only proper asset was my beauty, and that when it would fade, so would the last of my ability to serve the realm. She said that I would bleed the realm dry."

"Preposterous," Barbatos responds swiftly, eyes gazing over the moonlit portion of the RAD campus that your terrace oversees. "Her words were spoken from a place of jealousy. There are hundreds of women like her, and they will all say equally foolish things, but you will silence them when you show them how well you can rule. You will make the realm happy, my lady, I promise you."

You stay quiet, savoring the cool midnight wind that rushes between you and Barbatos.

"My lady?" He asks after another long moment. "Was that what you've been fearing, all this time? That you would fail the realm as queen?"

Again, you stay silent.

"If that is truly the case, then I urge you to have faith in yourself and, if not, then in my teaching. I dare say that you're already prepared to rule the Devildom; you are a quick learner, and you've understood everything I have taught. The realm will thrive under you, and happiness will be as plentiful as you wish it to be."

"I do not fear that I will fail to make the realm happy." You pause for a moment, before lifting your hand to a small, flashing light in the distance that echoes softly in your ears. "Look, the people of the Devildom are still lighting fireworks in honor of our engagement." You smile, watching the red and black lights flicker: red, for Diavolo; black, for the pearl of the abyss.

"My father made them happy when he said yes on my behalf, and I made them happy when I, too, agreed to it. They're not just pleased to see their prince getting married, they're genuinely proud that it's me he's marrying: the most beautiful woman in the world. For the commonfolk, they know not what it is that makes a queen great, so that is all they look for: beauty. Something that I have been blessed with in ample portion." You pause, gaze turning to the ground. "My people will be happy; that I am certain of."

"Then what is it you fear?" Barbatos asks, turning to you.

You still aren't sure that you should say this out loud. It's as if saying the words will make them true, and this is your deepest fear. If it becomes reality, you don't know how you'll survive.

But for Barbatos, you confess.

"That I will be the one who is unhappy."

For the first time this night, the breeze seems to settle, unwilling to carry the words away as they reach Barbatos's ears, the demon turning to you with incredulous eyes.

"My lady, you…" He shakes his head softly, a sad smile coming to his lips as he brushes the last of your tears away. "It is happiness you seek?"

You nod your head meekly, staring at the ground. You don't want to see his eyes, to see what must be his disapproving stare as he shakes his head at your foolish desire. But the heart wants what it wants, does it not? You never asked to be the pearl of the abyss, to be so exquisitely beautiful that Diavolo had no choice but to ask for your hand in marriage, to be forced into this loveless life of royalty and thrones.

"I just wanted to fall in love," You choke out, loosening the grip on Barbatos's hand.

"You have not?" The demon asks, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pulls your face up to him.

"When would I have the opportunity?" You question rhetorically, thinking back to your family. Never be alone with a boy, they had stipulated. Never give your heart to a boy. "My family needed me to remain pure for the demon who would eventually ask for my hand in marriage. Even they never suspected that Lord Diavolo himself would desire me, so I have never…"

"My lady," Barbatos mumbles, though the way he says it makes you feel as if he's nervous himself. His eyes dart away before they return to yours.

"If you so desire, I might…"

You pull back, looking up at Barbatos. "You might?"

He traces your face, from cheekbone to jaw, and you only now realize that he's taken his gloves off. His jaw tenses. "I might show you the happiness you yearn for."

You hesitate, eyes widening briefly. "Barbatos, did you hear me? I said that it was love I wished for."

"I heard you, my lady."

"To be loved, Barbatos. From the heart."

"I am aware, my lady."

"And for my own heart to reciprocate—"

"My lady," Barbatos interrupts you, perhaps for the first time. "Are you truly such a fool that you have not already realized this yourself?"

Your ears redden at his words, remembering how he had called you a fool once before, at your very first interaction. The demon brings his hands to your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"My heart is yours, my lady. For the past three weeks, for tonight, and for all nights to come." Barbatos pauses, and you see the faintest tint of pink rise to his cheeks. "I had thought it best to not tell you, but if that is truly what you seek…" He glances at the ground, an uncharacteristic display of weakness. "Then perhaps you would accept this butler's attempt at giving you the happiness you so desire?"

You pause, a soft smile falling upon your lips for the first time since coming out on this terrace.

"And you call me a fool," You mutter softly, cupping Barbatos's cheeks freely. You meet his eyes, cautious and almost concerned after laying his heart bare so openly. "Are you so blind that you have not realized that my heart already belongs to you as well?"

The demon cracks a smile, one that is neither cryptic nor mischievous nor cunning but is entirely relieved as he presses his forehead against yours and lets it rest there, a gesture that is in equal parts loving as it is gentle. "Do not say that, my lady. It is dangerous to tell a man such lies."

What lies? You mean to ask, but then the demon has tilted your chin up at him and he is kissing you, the wind speeding up as it continues on in the moonlight, giving you and Barbatos the privacy you need to indulge in what your hearts have been desiring for so long.

It's the first kiss of your lifetime, the first time you've ever felt another man's lips against your own. You're not sure if Barbatos can tell, but if he does, he simply makes up for it with his own experience, lips molding against yours in perfect synchronization.

"My lady," The demon whispers. "I will not do anything you do not wish for."

"Then I wish for you, Barbatos." He pulls away for a moment, eyes questioning. You slip your hands in his, intertwining the fingers with a squeeze and a smile. "All of you."

"I am already yours," He murmurs, lifting you in his arms as he steps inside your room and locks the balcony doors behind him. But your meaning is not lost on him, and when he sets you on the bed, he does not leave your side.

The rest of the night is spent in teaching, in breathless moans of "Barbatos" and "My lady." Your lover, ever the kind instructor, never lets go of your hand as he shows you the ways of pleasure, leaving you breathless each time he kisses you, each time he touches you, each time he slips inside you.

It's happiness.

You'd seen glimpses of it earlier, snatches in all the awkward moments with Barbatos and the little jokes you grew to share, but when he exposes his entire body to you, there's no denying that the blissful warmth that spreads through your body is caused by more than just the waves of pleasure he shows you. It's true joy, being able to finally give your heart what it has desired for so long, and the smile remains on your face even as you fall asleep.

Happiness, you think.

You've never felt it so strongly.

***

The rest of the days seem to pass by far too quickly. Reality is stingy with its gifts—at last, you're free to hug and hold and kiss Barbatos, both of you taking every second of silence to indulge yourselves in each other—but with the wedding drawing nearer, Diavolo insists upon sitting in on your training and watching.

Perhaps it's a good thing?

You certainly wouldn't be thinking about your lessons otherwise.

With your future husband watching carefully, it feels like your brain has been given the extra boost it's needed to fully live up to all of Barbatos's expectations: every scenario he presents, every question he asks, every new element he introduces is met with a swift answer that encompasses everything he is searching for. At last, you've reached a point where you're able to comfortably sit on your throne for hours on end, ready to fulfill all the duties expected of a queen with precision and confidence to boot.

But Diavolo insists on continuing to watch. Continuing to stay. Continuing to impede your ability to throw your arms around Barbatos and forget everything except the feeling of his arms wrapped around your body, guiding you through the steps of this newfound love.

The demon lord has even begun to eat all your meals with you, trying to grow closer to your heart in an attempt to soothe the transition you'll face once the marriage is complete.

But you don't want Diavolo.

"Barbatos," He calls on the ninth morning, the last day before your wedding. The three of you are in your room, Diavolo having spent the night there. The demon lord had not touched you, maintaining his distance as he sat on the far side of your bed, and the two of you had merely spoken like friends. But you could detect the same traces of affection that you saw from Barbatos in the demon's own fiery eyes, intensifying as the night grew longer until they'd turned bright with the morning sunlight.

The prince has begun to fall in love.

But you have not.

And now, as he watches his butler lace up your corset, the deep orange is darkened with jealousy, noting the ease with which you relax as Barbatos's gloved fingers work deftly over your body. It was only one night you spent with him, the two of you never given the chance to exchange anything other than brief kisses the rest of the time, but he remembers every crevice, every curve. The butler's hands pull the fabric over your skin in a way that can only be described as perfect, digits brushing over your body in ways that still make you shiver.

"Yes, Lord Diavolo?" He questions, continuing to lace your corset while turning his attention onto the prince. The demon doesn't need to see to work; he already knows your body like it's his own.

"I think we should hire someone else to do this task." Diavolo gestures at your dress, yet to be pulled onto your body. "It will no longer be appropriate for a man to dress my love once she has become my wife, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps a maiden in your stead, to see to her desires and do the rest of your current duties?"

There's a moment of hesitation, a brief second where Barbatos's fingers fumble over the knot he's tying, and you see his lips purse.

Separation.

A maiden to dress you, a maiden to see to your desires, a maiden to do everything that Barbatos currently does for you.

A maiden to replace him.

"Of course. I will look into it," Barbatos responds swiftly, resuming his actions as efficiently as he began them. "Are there any other criteria you would like for my lady's handmaid?"

"Oh, not at all. You can select the demoness yourself, if you will. Just ensure that she can begin work the day after the wedding."

You sigh in relief at Diavolo's words, thankful that, if anything, he's giving you the rest of today with Barbatos. And tomorrow, if the date of your wedding counts.

At least you will have this one mercy.

"Very well," Barbatos responds. "It shall be done."

In the end, you're not sure when he finishes this task. It feels like you're by both Barbatos and Diavolo's side the entire day as you wrap up the last of your lessons, the final instructions for your training.

Still, Barbatos must have found the time somewhere, because Diavolo only leaves your side at night, when the butler is helping you out of your gown and informing you of the details about your new handmaid: a brown-haired youth of fourteen-hundred, innocent and pretty.

But you don't care about the girl, about Ho-Syun or Ha-Soun or whatever her name is.

The moment Diavolo closes the door behind you, you're throwing your arms around Barbatos, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

"My lady," He mumbles when you pull apart. "That was…"

"Hush," You murmur, pressing your lips against his once more, gently this time. You shudder as his fingers ghost over your waist, the skin exposed and flushed after being stuck in a corset all day. "I missed you."

"I've been by your side nearly every second of every day," He quips, smiling into your lips as he rubs your sides, gloveless fingers tracing invisible circles into the skin.

"So has Diavolo."

The demon chuckles, leaning back for a moment in favor of bringing a hand to your cheek. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and simply savoring the closeness. "You understand that this is how it will be from now on, my lady? Your things will be moved into his room, and when you are not alone, you will be with either him or your new handmaid." Barbatos pulls back, his eyes distant. "This cannot...we cannot…"

"I know," You murmur, knowing all too well what the butler is trying to say.

This cannot last.

"But my heart will always be yours, Barbatos." You offer him a smile, looking up and hoping to see soft eyes gazing back down at you, but the demon stiffens at your words.

"Do not say that, my lady."

He takes a step back, posture reserved and, again, distant as he avoids your eyes. You recall, vaguely, that he had said the exact same thing before, on the first night you offered your heart to him.

"What is wrong, Barbatos?" You take a step forward, trying to get him to look you in the eyes. "It is true. My heart is yours, and I...I…" You pause, fumbling with the words. You know them in your heart, and the feelings have only solidified over these past days. But what if he doesn't feel the same way? "I love you."

"Do not say that," The demon repeats, practically hissing the words as he clenches his fist. "It is not true."

"What?" You ask, shocked that he would say such a thing. "Are you denying my feelings now, after everything?"

"I am not denying your feelings, my lady. I wish they were true. But they are not, they cannot be true." He turns his body away from you, still avoiding your eyes. "Your heart can never belong to me."

"You're wrong, Barbatos." You firmly step forward, placing your hands on his chest so that he can't ignore you. "I know how I feel about you, and I—"

"You misunderstand, my lady." The demon's laughter is bitter, and for the first time, you see pain written in his green eyes. "You love me now, but for how long? How can you possibly give me your heart when your wedding is tomorrow morning? How can I even begin to ask for such a thing? If you choose to love me, you are cursed to a life of pain and sorrow, where you can never express how you feel. Should you give me your heart, the happiness you seek can never be found. Never!"

"But—"

"There is no 'but!'" Barbatos flinches when you try to cup his cheek, try to get him to see reason, to see the warmth and affection and love in your eyes. "I told you that I would give you happiness, my lady. There is no happiness for you if you give your heart to me. I shall not ask for it, nor will I accept it."

"Are you asking me to fall in love with Diavolo?" Your lip trembles, desperately hoping that Barbatos isn't saying that, hoping he isn't denying you the affection he once gave so readily.

"It is the only logical course of action, my lady."

Silence.

For a moment, you debate whether to slap Barbatos or to punch him for such cruel words—but in the end, you settle for shoving him away, loosening the grip he had on your shoulders and trying to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you shout at him.

"Wretched man! Curse you to hellfire!" You shout, now wishing that you did slap him, not even seeing the shocked look on his face as you ball up your fists, desperately wiping the tears that are pouring faster than you can stop them. "My parents were right! Men are awful, awful! Did it please you to bed me, knowing that you would just end it and tell me to move on to another man? To kiss and hold me, when you never cared?!"

"My lady," Barbatos murmurs, trying to grab your wrists so that he can approach you. "Please listen—"

"No!" You exclaim, pushing him away when he grows closer. "You're a horrible man—a horrible, cruel, awful man, and I hate that I ever believed any of your affection to be true!"

"My lady!" Barbatos shouts, his own voice drowning out yours as he grabs your wrists, forcing you to stare up into the green eyes that are now burning with anger. "Do you think that it pleases me to have to give you up to Diavolo? Do you think I enjoy watching the prince court you when I know you do not wish for it? Do you think that I like knowing that it is only inevitable that you fall in love with Diavolo, now that he has made it so that we can never even see each other in private?" Barbatos shudders, his face contorted with frustration at the sheer thought. "If you give your heart to me, you can only be miserable—but with Diavolo, you can at least grasp some of the happiness that you desire. I love you more than I love myself, my lady, so tell me: which am I to wish for you? A future where your heart is mine, and you are miserable? Or one where I have to see you with another man, but at least with some chance of happiness?"

The demon's grip around your wrist tightens, and you see Barbatos's face as the mask he wears doesn't just slip off, but breaks entirely, leaving nothing but a man in pain as he stares down at you, too broken to even cry. "Do you think I like it?" He repeats, voice barely a whisper. "That I enjoy calling you my lady when I only wish to call you my love?"

The demon presses his forehead against yours, fingers trembling; and where he was once holding your hands in place, now it's you holding him, squeezing the fingers and trying to get him to feel your love.

"Say it again," You whisper, quiet.

"What?"

"Call me your love," You murmur, eyes bashful as they gaze up at Barbatos.

"My love," He whispers unsteadily, the words sounding foreign off his lips. "My love," He repeats, with more confidence this time. And soon, those two words are filling the room, rolling off his tongue as he says them the way he's imagined all this time.

"I love you, my love." He whispers, lips ghosting against yours, his own cheeks stealing the moisture from your tears as he presses his body into yours, pulling you onto the bed. "I could say it for centuries. My love. My love. My love."

Barbatos is content with kissing you, with cherishing your body with his fingers and memorizing every inch of skin that he doesn't already have tattooed on his brain. His lips never leave your body for long, brushing over your lips and then your neck and then your shoulder, and then the clothes are gone entirely, and he has you lying on your back, all his attention focused on you.

"Wait," You mumble, pulling him up. He looks at you with eyes clouded not with lust but with love.

"Yes, my love?" He asks, a light smirk playing at his lips at the very phrase. They aren't the words of a butler but the words of a lover indeed, and you know it as well as Barbatos does.

"If I shall not give you myself for eternity, may I give you myself for this night?"

The butler's breath hitches at your words, catching your meaning despite the ambiguity with which you word them. At his nod, your cheeks flush, and you turn your bodies over with painful slowness such that you're on top of him, palms resting on his chest as you straddle his toned body.

"My love," He whispers, a hand raising to your cheek. The sound of a grandfather clock chiming twelve times does not go unheard by either of you, and his eyes furrow in concern. "The night will not last for long. Tomorrow dawns a day of supreme importance, and…" He sits up, his chest pressing against yours as your foreheads touch. "This will be the last time. Are you certain you do not want me to lead you?"

"No," You mumble, pushing his chest back down. "All this time, you have served me. Tonight," You flush, but you refuse to look away from his watchful gaze. "Tonight, I shall serve you."

His breath hitches.

You stay true to your word, body working slowly through everything despite your utter lack of experience. Barbatos is mesmerized, his eyes watching your every move as you devote yourself to his pleasure and lose yourself in the sensation, his hand clasping yours tightly the two of you come undone together.

By the time you're finished, you all but collapse on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and preparing to drift off when he flips you over, eyes impossibly alert as he drinks in the sight of your body now underneath him.

"I thought you said that would be the last?" You ask playfully, a smile on your lips.

"I was a fool to think I could resist you," He mumbles, and then the two of you are lost once more, no longer simply being intimate but truly making love as the night grows into morning, just as Barbatos foretold.

You clasp him by the shoulders, holding on tightly when he suggests that the two of you stop. "Don't," You whisper, ignoring the fact that sunlight has begun to unveil the cover of darkness in your room. "Don't stop, Barbatos."

"My love," He whispers, tilting your chin up at him. "The time has come. The ceremonies will begin in soon, you'll need to begin dressing at five in the morning, and..." The man swallows, a flash of disdain appearing in his eyes. "Diavolo will not give you any sleep when you go to his bed, either. It is for the best if you rest, so..."

He falters at your gaze, pleading and desperate.

"I do not want to waste even a second, if it is all I have left," You whisper.

The demon smiles, though it's a sad smile, the edges tilting upward as easily as they could tilt down. "Very well, my love. Not a second shall be wasted."

But even that is not enough.

Despite your silent pleas for time to slow down, it presses forward ardently, hell-bent on bringing you out of Barbatos's arms. You hold the man closer, burying your head in his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can, but nothing can stop the moment when the grandfather clock chimes five times.

You shudder at the sound, trying to hide in Barbatos's arms when it comes.

"My love," He murmurs, worried eyes brushing over your trembling form as you pull him closer and try to ignore it.

"I don't want to go," You whisper. "I don't want to leave you."

"You must, my love." Barbatos slides his hand into yours, pulling your body into a seating position. "Come, we have two hours before…" He trails off, knowing that it won't help you to be specific right now. "Two hours, my love. Let us shower."

You let the demon pull you to your bathtub, where he washes you himself. You savor the sensation of his fingers in your hair, working in shampoo and conditioner and as he cleans every inch of your skin, and you're not sure if he works so well because he's devoted to the task or because he's still trying to imprint the shape of your body into his mind so that he can remember it, even when you're separated.

He dries you with painful slowness, the thin towel between his hands just another vessel he uses to caress your figure, and his hands never leave yours for long—not when he dries your hair, not when he combs it, not when he leads you back into your room to change into your wedding dress.

"Slow," You mutter when he begins dressing you, frowning as he pulls out the thick fabric. Your eyes widen at the sight—how have you never realized, in all your time here, that the gown has been stored in your drawer the entire time?—but you decide that you'd much rather be naked, with Barbatos, than dressed, with Diavolo.

"Even with all my power, I cannot slow down time," Barbatos chuckles into your ear, trying to make a joke.

But you don't find the situation funny.

Your lip trembles every time you see your outfit, your figure beginning to look less and less like the girl who had kissed Barbatos and more like the woman that is going to be Diavolo's wife.

This was coming, you remind yourself. Barbatos and I never could last.

But was it so wrong to want it?

Your fists close as he finishes smoothing over your dress, finishes the final touches on your hair.

It is happening too quickly.

"My love, my…" Barbatos stiffens behind your back. "My lady," He murmurs.

"Stop," You say, eyes filling with tears. You never minded it when he called you that before, but you're not sure you can bear hearing him call you such a distant name right now.

But before Barbatos can even respond, someone is knocking at your door. You do not know who it is—it could be Lucifer, or one of the brothers, or the handmaid Barbatos was talking about, or one of the thousands of guests currently residing in the usually-empty castle in preparation for the wedding, but you cannot deny it any longer.

"The time has come." Barbatos whispers, eyes pulled to the door.

He motions to open it, to reveal your dressed figure to the public and eternally cast you into the arms of the public, but he thinks better of it, turning around.

"You have never looked as beautiful as in this moment, my love," He murmurs, voice muffled only by the speed with which he places his lips on yours, wrapping his hands around you in a pose that would make one think that it's him you're marrying.

And then he's pulled away, walking toward the door.

You're not sure whether he's walking out of your life, or if you're the one leaving him; but once the door opens, the message is clear.

There's no going back.

***

Barbatos goes about the rest of his day entirely normally. Hands folded behind his back, posture perfectly straight, enigmatic smile locked onto his face—one would hardly be able to tell that his heart is in agony, screaming with pain and rage and anger.

He nods at Diavolo's every comment about how stunning you look from a distance, since the noblewomen are keeping you busy with all the traditional ceremonies and matrimonial rites, and the butler even manages to laugh when his prince jokes to Lucifer about how lucky he is that the pearl of the abyss accepted his hand in marriage.

He doesn't comment that you thought you had no other choice, that you would turn around right now if you could, that you would do anything to be given the chance to marry someone else.

No, Barbatos keeps all that to himself. It's a skill, truly.

Not even Lucifer, keen as the demon is, recognizes anything unusual about the butler.

It's an hour before the ceremony that his mask slips off, and even then, it's only for a millisecond. The maiden who was calling his name scarcely notices, simply pulling Barbatos along into the room in which the noblewomen are supposed to be preparing you.

"Men are not supposed to enter—" He protests, trying to fight the woman's insistent tugs as she drags him inside the one location that Barbatos is forbidden to be.

"The bride is having cold feet! Someone must calm her, and she began crying when we said we would fetch Lucifer!" The girl exclaims, eyes urgent. Cold feet? Barbatos thinks, before understanding dawns on him. Ah, he realizes, remembering your fearful eyes. Barbatos should have spent more time preparing you to leave, he realizes.

You are not ready.

I apologize, my love.

It's his fault, he spent far too much time loving you last night when he should have been preparing you for the inevitable—his own selfish crime that you were now paying for.

He enters the tent, his eyes instantly falling upon your figure.

Did I ever tell her how beautiful she was? He wonders, approaching you where you sit, cheeks still stained with your earlier tears. They fill with water once more as your eyes meet, and a hush falls over the room after the noblewomen usher him your way, each one whispering that he must do something and quickly.

"My lady," He says, voice calm. He hates that—how he must keep his tone even, his hands behind his back, when all he wants to do is embrace you. "You have been crying."

He hates that he has to state the fact with such apathy, knowing that the gossip of noblewomen travels too far for him to risk anything that isn't perfectly within the bounds of a butler.

He hates everything about this situation, and yet he continues smiling, maintaining the mask.

But there are little things he can do, little gestures that you will understand that the rest of the women in the tent won't.

"I am afraid," You whisper. Your voice breaks in the middle, as if you want to say more but then you think better of it.

Barbatos sighs.

He kneels in front of you, fetching the handkerchief he keeps in his breast pocket. Wiping your tears with it the way he once wiped dirt off your face, he hopes you notice how he sets the square of green on the table, leaving it there with his heart so that you can use it again should you need it. I can give you this, at the very least.

"It is okay to be afraid," He says, standing up. The demon's eyes gloss over, and he imagines himself lifting his hand to your cheek, resting his forehead against yours, maybe even settling a kiss against your perfectly soft lips.

But he cannot.

There are too many people watching, too many mouths ready to gossip if he tries to touch you the wrong way, even if he holds himself back. So all he does is step back, bowing his head gently such that only you can see the love in his eyes.

"Have strength, my lady."

Your eyes widen, remembering the first time he said them.

My strength, he vows. I will give you all of it, if it may help you attain the happiness you so seek.

The noblewomen around him seem confused when he motions to leave, one of them muttering that he barely did anything.

But Barbatos knows you have shed the last of your tears for the night.

Those words gave you the power to stand tall in Diavolo's hall when you faced the prince for the first time. Now they will give you the power to face the demon lord once more, as you become wife to the man you used to fear.

Once more, he exits, a smile locked onto his face to hide the utter anguish within, not even batting an eyelid as he rattles off an excuse to Diavolo about why he is late.

I want to die, he can't help but think, as he stands on the altar, still smiling.

He never told you, but it will be him who oversees your union with Diavolo, bearing the rings and the honorary sigils all the other stupid trinkets Barbatos hates that the prince insisted on using for the sake of tradition.

He ignores Diavolo and Lucifer as they mindlessly engage in some conversation, neither demon as disturbed or affected by the wedding as Barbatos is.

Die, Barbatos thinks. I want to die.

But he dismisses the thought, knowing that it would make you sad. And when he knows that all you search for is happiness, how can he ever do anything that would wound you in such a way?

Barbatos has at least that mercy; he knows that the love of his life will be happy in the end. You would be a fool, not to be. Diavolo has only begun his vicious process of courting you, and the demon prince—soon to be demon king—has never failed at anything when he has put his mind to it. Your heart is young, and it is Barbatos's honor to have been your first suitor, but he knows Diavolo will be the last.

A cruelty to Barbatos, but a kindness to you.

It hurts him to know such a truth. But it is the only reason he has not switched realities, yet. Because in this end, you will find happiness. Even if it is not with him.

A collective gasp rises in the hall as your figure approaches, majestic in the wedding gown that Barbatos himself was given the task of selecting. You wear silk tempered from the willowy smokes of hellfire, your skin's natural radiance seeming to light the dress afire once more as you walk down the aisle.

She's stunning, Barbatos realizes, suddenly wishing that he had said it to you more often. He had not been given the privilege of fixing your makeup or selecting your accessories, that was a task assigned to the noblewomen attending. Still, they had done well, opting to dress you in black pearls instead of white, the spheres darker than even Barbatos's heart. He can't help but think how cruel it is that he's never seen you look so perfect before.

The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, he thinks, and then he wants to die all over again, to change this timeline and make it so that he is yours and you are his, and he won't have to watch you fall in love with Diavolo in these future weeks.

What have I done to deserve this?

It's the dramatic irony that Shakespeare spent his whole life searching for: that a demon so overwhelmingly strong he's left unshackled even by time can be turned slave by the very same forces to the demon lord. It's the tragedy of Barbatos: the burden he must bear, to see his only love in all the realms and realities so close to him but so far from reach.

Truly, time does not exist to Barbatos.

But that was how it was meant to be. For you are everything: his past, his present, his future. He does not need time. He has you.

Had.

The clock started ticking when the two of you met, and now he must suffer in silence as time marches onward, offering him no rest from this inescapable reality.

Die, he wants to die.

He does not want to listen as he murmurs the introductory words he memorized eons ago, he does not want to hear you rattle off the vows he made you rehearse, he does not want to see you smile that fake smile he taught you to adorn, he does not want to watch you prepare to give your heart to a man that is not him.

Die, Barbatos wants to die when Diavolo turns to him and asks for the rings, the butler forced to calm the relentless sea of emotion wrecking through his heart.

The olive-eyed demon keeps his hands steady as he places the ring onto your palm. He wants to hold your hand longer, to squeeze it. He wants to place a kiss over your knuckles and smile wryly up at you to see the blush that paints your cheeks. He wants to rip off his gloves and feel your warmth, your touch. He wants to jump forward in between you and Diavolo and stop this unholy union devoid of love and he wants to place his hand on Diavolo's chest and stop the man from leaning closer to you and he wants to cease this and no he must look away and no make it stop make it stop god please just please make it stop—

Dead, Barbatos is dead.

Or is that just the feeling of watching you kiss another man?

MASTERLIST

Word count: 9.8k

Notes: I am so sorry Barbatos and I am sorry readers for this being a day late but i am more sorry Barbatos you deserve nothing but happiness and i wrote this and :(

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I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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