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#I technically have even more but I didn't want to get them off my shelves

nicksbestie · 12 days

Text

Nooks And Crannies - M. Sturniolo

a series

part five (read part four here)

Summary : You always seem to be somewhere in the bookstore Matt works at, never buying anything, just reading, and while Matt is technically not supposed to talk to customers for so long while he's on the clock, he can't help himself.

Warnings : none!

Word Count : 1038

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : i didn't forget about this little project, don't worry!!

You stared at the bookmark, and the number scribbled onto it, pushing down the anxiety and deciding to send a message.

hi! is this matt?

You didn’t have to wait long for a response, the almost immediate ping of your phone catching you by surprise, indicating a reply.

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX : yes! i assume this is ____?

You quickly saved his contact, simply saved as “matt :)”.

“yes! how are you?”

The conversation only blossomed from there. You were glad that you lived alone now, because had you still been living at home, your family would have teased you about just how much you were smiling at your phone. You texted Matt nearly nonstop, and you had been enjoying every moment of it. It was just like your normal conversations at The Ivy, sharing book thoughts, or snippets of your day, or even funny jokes. You had received a ton of silly pictures from Matt’s brothers, as they had a habit of stealing his phone and sending random selfies. You found it funny, Matt found it annoying, but either way, you always had something to talk about. Conversation with him was never dry, which you had been slightly afraid of when you had texted him for the first time, and he always replied as quickly as possible, unless he was at work.

When you weren’t talking, you couldn’t deny the fact that you missed speaking to him. It was really nice to have someone who actually wanted and enjoyed talking to you. It was another couple of days before you could actually take any time off to leave your apartment, and of course, the first place that you went when you left that afternoon was The Ivy. It had been pouring rain, but you couldn’t stand being inside your room for one more minute. So, you pulled on a raincoat, grabbed the umbrella by your door, and began the short walk downtown. Since it was warm out, and the sun was peeking through some clouds, the walk wasn’t miserable, and you actually quite enjoyed it. You had always loved the rain, and since you had an umbrella to keep you dry, you didn’t mind being out walking in it.

It wasn’t long before you pushed open the door to The Ivy, shaking your umbrella out beforehand. You wrapped it up, putting it into your bag, and moving to a shelf that had some colorful book covers, as they had caught your eye the second you walked in. You noticed that a lot of them were new shipments, having just been placed on the shelves, and you were so excited to pick up a couple of them and pore over the pages. You read the backs of a few of them, and they seemed intriguing, so you held them in your arms as you made your way over to the cafe to get a cup of coffee. Besides, you deserved it after your insanely busy previous couple of days. However, when you got over to the counter, there was already a cup with your name scribbled on it, with it being your usual.

You went and picked it up, smiling when you noticed Matt waving at you, sitting at one of the tables with his own cup. “Was this you?” You asked, motioning to the cup. He smiled at you, nodding. “I saw you walk in, figured I’d order your usual for you since I was grabbing my own coffee anyways.” You smiled, taking a drink from it, enjoying the way you automatically felt relaxed. “Well, aren’t you sweet.” He grinned, a smirk on his face. “I try.” You read the back of the book that he was reading, nodding in slight interest, and it was at this point that you noticed the name tag being on his shirt.

“Wait, are you working right now?”

He shook his head, turning a page.

“Nope. I’m on my break, but I took it so late that I actually get off only fifteen minutes after I go back on shift.”

You sat with Matt for the rest of his break, chatting about random things, mostly books and coffee, but also how both of your mornings had gone prior to being at The Ivy. Matt had worked a short mid-day shift, so he hadn’t been there all morning, which he was grateful for. He had picked up a coworker’s shift since they had been searching for coverage due to a family emergency, and he was heading right back home as soon as he got off. You found a good book to read when Matt had to clock back in, and you dove right into it. You were enjoying the gentle atmosphere, and the time flew. You were a fast reader, so you got through a good chunk of the book before Matt got off the clock and found you still at the coffee table, coming over to say goodbye before he left The Ivy.

“So, where are you heading after you leave here?”

You softly laughed, shrugging.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. The rain has gotten a lot worse, and I was going to go walk around shops, but I’m not sure I want to go back out into that. I may just stay here for a while until it lets up, but I’m glad I got to see you! Even if it was within your working hours.”

He smiled, removing the name tag off of his shirt.

“Yeah! One of these days, we’ve got to hang out outside of this shop. I do have a personality other than work.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you do. You’ll have to show me it eventually.”

Matt looked like he was pondering an idea, so you quietly waited for a response.

“Why don’t you come home with me?”

You were slightly taken aback, and nervously laughed.

“Damn, you have to ask me out first!”

Matt smiled, shaking his head.

“Not like that. Just for dinner. You can meet my brothers, we can spend time together outside of where I work, a nice get to know you more night. If you’re not interested, I totally understand!”

You smiled at him, walking towards the door with him.

“I would love to.”

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obae-me · 8 months

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A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

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

Anyways, enjoy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satan? It’s me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Bite me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demons…” you sighed. --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should you be getting paid for this?…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O…w…”

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

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

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

“Belphie!”

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

“..illith…Beel��”

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

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

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

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

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

“M…C…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!”

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

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

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

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

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, but you owe me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #sickfic

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biahouse · 3 months

Text

Important, Gregory House x Reader

(This is my first story on Tumblr, and also my first Gregory House story. English is not my language, technically all of this is Google translate, so I apologize for any mistakes. But I hope you like it, I have a lot of ideas about our crazy doctor)

You love House. He doesn't care about anyone, but he cares about you. That's something, right?

The first time you met Gregory House was at your job interview.

You knew House's fame in the medical field, so your dream was to work with him and learn about his somewhat orthodox methods.

What you didn't expect was to be completely enchanted by the man 15 years older than you. House was moody, irritating, stupid, arrogant. A card-carrying asshole.

But there was something that made you suspicious every time he entered the diagnostic room. However, you weren't the only one.

You were good at hiding your crush on House, but Cameron always let it be known how much he liked his boss and what deeply upset you.

You were nothing compared to Alisson Cameron. Cameron was beautiful, kind, hardworking, confident. Everything you could never be, even if you tried hard.

That's why you shelved your feelings, buried them at the bottom of your chest and tried to hide as much as you could.

3 years have passed since you joined the team, and now with the departure of Chase, Cameron and Foreman, you were the only original member and House became more and more dependent on you. You have now done the work of four people.

And like a good doctor, you did your best to treat every patient who arrived at the department in the best way possible. But it was exhausting you.

The dark circles became increasingly prominent. You were sure you had lost 2kg in that week alone, since you didn't have time to eat and your hair fell out more and more every time you combed your hair.

But it was three weeks after you were working almost alone in the diagnostics department that your body reached its limit.

House and you were discussing what could be ailing an elderly man when he came up with a really interesting theory.

As always, you were sent to do tons of tests, but the moment you got up from the chair, your entire body lost consciousness.

“House” you mumbled the man’s name as you felt your entire vision blur.

"Yes?" The man responded, distractedly analyzing the symptoms chart.

"I think I'm going to pass out" was the last thing that came out of his mouth before the world went black.

•••

You heard the machine beep before your eyes could discover the place around you. It was hard to open your eyes, the bright lights of the hospital room shining brightly into your eyes.

You could feel your throat dry, and the various threads clinging to your body. It was uncomfortable and you tried to adjust yourself on the hard bed.

"I wouldn't move if I were you" House's unmistakable voice sounded in the room and his gaze shifted to the man lying on the bedroom sofa. "Welcome to the world of the living"

“Hi,” your voice sounded hoarse and you coughed, feeling your throat raw.

"Here" House stood up at an impressive speed and handed him a glass of water with a straw. You sipped the liquid with relief, your throat feeling better within seconds.

"How long was I gone?"

"2 days" House limped so he could check his devices. "You were exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished. New diet?" The man joked.

"The patient..." You started to get worried about the man they were treating.

"You're impressive" House looked at you curiously. "I tell you she's a living dead woman and you care about the patient."

“I’m fine” You waved your hand at him.

"It's not what your scans say" He shook the folder in his possession. "Why didn't you tell me that you couldn't do everything alone?"

“Because I can do it” You insisted.

"You're going to have a week off, until you can recover. In that time, I'm going to review some resumes, you need help" House said once again looking deeply at you.

"Why? You don't want new people on the team, you hate change" you tried to argue, knowing what the man was like.

"But I care about you. I think that's more important than my distaste for people" His admission scared both of you, but neither would admit it."Rest, I'll be back in a bit, with something called food"

And with that he left the room. Leaving behind your flushed face and your racing heart.

#gregory house x reader #gregory house #dr house #james wilson #house md

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mslanna · 6 months

Note

Imagine telling Raphael that you’re not worried about the final battle because Tav don’t die in real life and all of this is just a video game 🤣

Raphael existential crises

I must preface this: I am horribly bad at keeping the prompts as given. Apologies. (The first try went off completely because I didn't even read the idea right. May do something with that some other day.) Anyway, here goes: unkillable Tav in Raphael's hands...

"How many?" Raphael asks again.

"Thousands." Tav shivers despite the heat of Avernus, the huge fireplace, and the devil at their side. "I remember thousands of deaths. Everything that could have gone wrong. I remember how it did."

"And yet you live."

Tav pulls their feet up to the seat of the chair and puts their head on their knees. Is it really life, when all you remember is death? They remember Lae'zel running them through with her sword. Astarion, overtaken by the euphoria of the moment draining them dead. Gale, friendly fire of one of his potent spells.

"I guess," they finally squeeze out.

"That is quite the advantage, my dear." Raphael leans in and puts an arm around his favourite client. "You are the one that always gets away. The on that lives – wins."

"But I feel myself dying all the time," Tav whimpers and presses their face into the offered shoulder. "I walk into a fight and even as I stand unbroken, I die. Pieces of me shelve off and fall dead. I remember dying by Haarlep's hand several a dozen times. Not all of them fighting."

As much as Raphael wants to prod that specific subject, he lets it go for now. "Are you dying right now?" he asks instead. And breathes a subtle sigh of relief when the human shakes their head against his arm. "Because I will not hurt you, little mouse."

For a moment, Tav relaxes, then their body tenses again, fighting demons Raphael cannot see. He needs to get through to them somehow. A factually immortal Tav will win the Crown of Karsus. It needs to be for him. But a technically immortal Tav has much more potential. A knife to cut through the hells with.

"What is it?" he asks as gentle as he can, wondering if putting a wing around the human would help or hinder. "Are you not safe here?"

"I remember when you killed me," Tav whispers almost inaudibly. "So angry."

"Why would I be angry at you?"

"Took the contract. Took the hammer. Took Mol's contract." Tav hiccups. "Not mad for killing Haarlep. You heartless cunt."

"They are a gift from my father and I cannot touch them." The words come out harder than planned. "But I did not kill you, little mouse. You did not do those things. We are good."

"Could have. Maybe thought about it," Tav admits.

Raphael leans back and forces Tav to look at him by taking their chin in his hand. "Thoughts are not deeds. There is no thought police, no thought crime, and I will never even think about punishing you for a thought. Do we understand each other."

Tav nods. Of course Raphael won't kill them. They're the one that lives. Always. Maybe, if they just antagonise him enough now, Raphael will be the exception. Maybe, this could be the end. They lean against the cambion as soon as he lets go of their head. A part of them didn't and falls into the fire heavily a few heartbeats later.

"You will be alright," Raphael assure them uselessly. But he does wipe at the tears falling from Tav's eyes so that is something. "Take as long as you need and know I am always here for you."

There are appointments in his day, deals to be finalised and clients waiting, But what rests in his arm right now, is worth more than any of those.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #anon ask #anon answered #mel writes fanfic #sleazy second-hand car dealer

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piffany666 · 1 month

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Ok just one more punk progeny wont hurt ~

Chapter 9: differences

(Ftm Bright eyes - uses he/him pronouns)

(Lovely demi girl - uses they/she pronouns)

Tw: underage drinking

Lovely gave a hesitant knock on Bright's door.

A few seconds later Lovely was met with a very agitated looking Bright eyes.

"What is it?....you brought wine...?"

Bright's tone was initially very defensive, until his gase made its way down to the noticeably large and decadent bottle in Lovely's hands.

"Yeah I found it on one of the shelves in the hallway, its not doing any good being up there so i thought why not use it to celebrate you becoming part of the solair clan? I know you're technically not old enough to drink but hey! I think spending eternity being 19 is way too harsh of a punishment to do sober, so what do ya say?"

Bright eyes looked stunned, but nonetheless, he answered.

"I say mind the empty boxes and get your ass and that bottle in here!"

20 minutes later:

Let it never be said that Bright and Lovely weren't lightweights.

They were both sitting on the bed, pouring wine that was older than both of them combined into mugs Bright had brought up to his new room.

The blush on Bright's face was a shade of crimson against his skin. Lovely's was a deep pink.

They giggled between slurred words as they housed down the wine.

"Ok ok so- im sorry i-i have to ask"

Slurred Lovely.

"Yeah? Hic* whats up?"

Bright eyes answered, finding it increasingly difficult to sit up.

"You and Porter?"

Lovely didnt even finish before they both burst into a cascade of giggles, she didnt have to. Bright knew what she ment.

"Whaaat?"

Asked Bright eyes, as if Lovely was judging him for his taste in men.

"Nothing nothing! It's just hic* I heard from alexis that you where hehe~"

Lovely playfully nudged Bright's side, he giggled and pushed her away in response.

"Dont be gross!"

"Haha! What? I was just asking! I mean you've only known him like less than 20 minutes"

Bright couldn't help but smirk at this

"Uhh actually hehe we had already met, at a bar hic* the other day"

"Oooh! So this was like a reunion? Got it"

"Hehe yeeah, wait hic* how dose alexis know about that?"

Lovely began pouring another mug

"Oh she said she walked in on you two going at it in the hallway"

Bright eyes nudged Lovely with his mug, gesturing that hed like a refill

"Oooohh that explains why he dipped out on me"

Lovely began pouring another mug.

"He's probably waiting for YOU you know? I bumped into alexis on my way here so he's defiantly finished talking with her soooo"

Lovely was done with refilling his cup however he nudged her arm while she was pouring, indicating that he wanted more than what she was allowing him to have.

Lovely stumbled a bit because of this and for a second she worried that the wine would spill onto the bed and stain it.

"Yeeaah but I'll be damned if i wait around for a man for too long so hic* i left after he was gone for like hic* 1 minute...?"

Bright took the mug from her without any consideration that it could spill, and to Lovely's relief it didnt.

"What you gonna do if he shows up here?"

"Hic* I dunno probly turn him away"

"Heck Yeah!"

Lovely high fived the hand that didnt contain a mug full of wine.

"You know how much me and vincent hate Porter? I'm not judging you buuut"

Bright scoffed

"Why tho?"

"Hic* long story, I can already feel a headache forming"

Lovely grabbed at the skin between her forehead. Her vision was begining to blur. So was Bright's

"Damn how'd you manage to get a hangover BEFORE you're done drinking?"

"Oh piss off!"

Lovely playfully pushed him but due to his state he fell backwards instantly, the wine splashed as he fell

"OH SHI-"

Bright exploded with laughter, ignoring the wine he spilled over himself.

Thankfully he didn't get any on the bed sheet.

Once they had both calmed down, Lovely realized something.

"Wait- Wait.... Porter told us that he was talking a 'newborn' to the summit as his plus one"

Bright looked stunned, then his brows furrowed.

"Was he talking about you?!"

The question caused Bright's previous expression to change into one of suprise and confusion.

"I mean....he didn't SAY anything to me about it...?"

Lovely pushed herself up from the bed

"So you're telling me that asswhole said he was bringing you to the summit WITHOUT EVEN ASKING YOU FIRST?!"

Lovely recalled just how stressed Vincent was over inviting an additional vampire to the sumit, them being a newborn made things even more inconvenient, but the fact that the person he was inviting was not only already invited but they were the god damn guest of honour?!

Lovely was pissed, in more ways than one and it showed.

"Hey chill out! He probably didnt even mean ME i-im I was....just a one nighter i mean come on!"

"Dont play dumb! I saw how he looked at you today in that meeting, heee likes youuuu~"

He agressive tone from before had vanished and turned into a juvenile one, the kind youd expect to hear at a 12 year old's sleepover"

"Please stop"

They went back to laughing hysterically.

4 mugs of wine and 1 black out later:

"You know...I was a foster kid"

Bright was just coming to when he heard this.

"Really?....how did you know I was one too?"

"Vincent told me"

By this point they were both close to falling asleep at any moment, however, this was something Lovely had wanted to talk to Bright about since the moment Vincent had told her this piece of information, so she pulled herself together and took another sip, hoping it would keep her awake despite it being the thing causing her fatigue.

"Vincent told me that you told him"

"Oh Yeah, I remember"

Lovely once again was lost on how to continue this conversation.

"D-do you have any siblings?"

"Well-"

Bright hesitated.

"I don't know what it was like for you but in the homes i went to we all considered each other 'siblings' but biological? No. Not that I know of"

"Huh. Do you still keep contact with any of them?"

Lovely couldn't tell if he looked sad or just tired.

"I did. With one of them. But then she just...stopped"

"I'm really sorry"

For a moment they just layed there, quiet and still.

Until Bright got up and poured himself another, seemingly doing the same thing Lovely was attempting to do.

"What about you? Got any sibling?"

Lovely seemed to perk up at this.

"Yeah actually. Biological but they got adopted before me, the parents only wanted them"

Bright scowled.

"Tipical, honestly, they should do two for one deals with these sorts of things?!"

Lovely assumed he was joking due to the serious nature of the topic of discussion, so they laughed.

"Yeah Well, I was lucky enough to keep contact with them the whole time online, last year I got to meet them in person tho since I started going to damn and theyd been going there a little while before me"

Bright gave a warm smile. He seemed genuinely happy to hear that lovely was able to see their sibling again.

"They're doing good for themselves too, they have a nice boyfriend, a good friend group and they're so damn talented with magic!....I'm glad they ended up ok even without me"

Lovely gently touched his arm.

I'm hoping that even with your rough start, you can do the same"

His smile dropped as his lips parted in suprise, he didn't know how to respond. So he didn't.

He just clicked his mug with hers and continued to sip it.

The brim hiding his smile.

Vincent was still in shock in regards to what happend.

He would be lying if he said he hadn't seen Lovely angry before but this was....diffrent.

He also felt bad that Lovely had inadvertently made Sam feel like he needed to leave.

Vincent thought that the best thing to do would be to go and confront her.

But that was before he saw her and Bright laying on Bright's bed wasted.

"What the-?!"

"Ok ok so old wine....is good wine hic*"

Lovely didnt seem to notice Vincent standing gob smacked in the doorway.

"Yeah ok ok but hic* expensive wine....is good wine also-"

"What are you guys doing?"

Vincent finally got Lovely's attention.

"Oh hiiiii~ hey vinc hic* whats up?"

"A-are you drunk? Why are you drunk?!"

"Relax, I just thought we could use a drink is all"

Lovely was desperately trying to sit up, luckily her cup was empty so she didnt need to worry about spillage.

"We just established that Bright isn't old enough to even drink!"

"Oh chill out grandpa, Lovely here already got a headache"

Lovely, still stumbling over herself, pushing Bright eye's leg before falling over herself and eventually being caught by Vincent.

She looked up at him for a moment then smiled sweetly.

"Hi~"

She went to kiss him but she could barely keep herself up so she didnt succeed.

Vincent decided to excuse the absurdity of the situation and prioritise getting Lovely to bed before it got too light outside.

"Ok time to get you to bed, say bye to Bright"

"Byyee!~"

She waved lazily at him, he did the same.

Given Lovely's state, Vincent thought it was wise to ask Bright how he was holding up.

"Hey, you gonna be Ok?"

"Yeeeaah ill be fine"

Vincent trusted Bright not to do anything too stupid between now and night time.

"Alright then"

Vincent proceeded to carry Lovely into their bedroom a floor up.

Bright tried to sleep off the feeling swimming throught his head......But he couldn't.

Epilogue:

A knock on the door caused Bright eyes to jolt up from his bed.

He wasn't asleep, however he was still suprised by the sound, especially since the intoxicated state he was in amplified all sounds.

He groaned as he felt himself moving from his bed on the door.

"What?"

He slurred, voice thick with sleep.

He opened the door to Porter standing in front of him.

"I apologise for the late arrival~"

"Yeah? Why'd you run off before then? Cold feet?"

Bright had previously been told the answer to this question, however he still wanted to tease him, and see if he would tell the truth.

Porter winced at the implication that Bright had thought this entire time that Porter had left him due to "cold feet". Despite this, he coughed then gave a small slightly awkward laugh.

"N-no I do apologise for leaving its just....alexis saw us. I knew she would tell vincent and i really dont fancy having my head removed before I could get a chance to ask you something important, you understand?~"

Bright didnt answere, he did however share a kiss with Porter once he had finished apologising, he wasn't entirely sure who initiated it but he reciprocated nonetheless.

"Hmm~ may i come in?"

Bright could feel Porters breath against his lips.

Bright eyes smiled.

"No".

Then he closed the door to his room.

@darlin-collins thank you for proof reading as usual ♡

@anexistingexistence @you-think-i-care-mate

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted fic #redacted fanfic #redacted bright eyes #lovely redacted #redacted lovely #redacted vincent solaire #redacted vincent #redacted porter #ok just one more punk progeny wont hurt~

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darkmasterofcupcakes · 4 months

Note

I didn't thought of vaggie saying something homophobic.

But crackwhore was definitely said at least a few times, and probably something like how it's not because he like being fucked by 20 guys than it mean he should make the Hotel reek from it.

Because let's be honest, Vaggie is one to go for the throat, and I can see this happening.

Also, I'm pretty sure sometimes vaggie gave him looks murderous enough for Angel to feel freaked out, especially since I wouldn't be surprised if, when angry, Vaggie would give off an angelic aura or something.

Though it make me wonder if Angel worried if she wasn't in some kind of commies or fascist death squad when alive.

After all, highly judgemental military gal in hell doesn't give off reassuring signs.

I wouldn't be surprised if Vaggie once revealed to Charlie that the stuff she said when angry was "stupid shit my mom believed".

Obviously she never talked of it after, but I can see this happening.

Sidenote, but Charlie probably have the habit of bringing stuff that are on high shelves/place etc to Vaggie without prompting, because with the loss of her wings, Vaggie must have felt really shitty whenever she saw high places and just couldn't reach them, probably with some phantom pains when she instinctively tried using her wings,so Charlie took the stuff for her when she noticed that.

Vaggie is absolutely able to give off a sort of "angelic" aura when she wants to, though she obviously does her best to not use that "ability" very often because she wants to hide the fact that she's actually an Angel from everyone, for a variety of reasons.

And her aura could be especially intense when she was angry, because while it was supposed to be a secret (not that everyone basically didn't already know the truth) that Adam was her father, the fact was that he was, and Vaggie did inherit some of his high levels of angelic power, which she never actively uses, but it shows itself through the intensity of her aura when she actually allows it to show.

Vaggie rarely ever actually talked about her past to any, even Charlie. She did technically create a "background" for herself, a story to tell if anyone needed to know who she'd been before she ended up in Hell, to help sell the story that she was just another Sinner. But sometimes, when it was just her and Charlie, she would slip the tiniest bit and very, very briefly mention something about her mother. Like how some of the cruel things she said were things her mother had taught her, both directly and indirectly, as she was growing up. But she never wanted to say more, and Charlie, of course, never pushed, seeing it was difficult for Vaggie to remember her life before Hell, even if she didn't fully know why.

One of the things Vaggie had taken for granted most of her life was the fact that, because she could fly, she never had to worry about the fact that she's honestly not that all. After she lost her wings, and the initial pain was gone, she took a while to fully adjust to the fact that they were gone, and whenever she wanted to try and reach something on a high shelf, or something just too far out of her reach, her first instinct was to just try and fly up to grab it...only to obviously find herself still on the ground and feeling a bit of phantom pain from her missing wings.

It took her a long time to be willing to actually ask Charlie to help her get things from the higher shelves, but Charlie noticed sooner that she was struggling and started just usually putting things lower without being asked anyway.

#Hazbin Hotel #Vaggie #Angel Dust #Charlie Morningstar #Hazbin Vaggie #Hazbin Angel Dust #Vaggie is a Guitarspear Baby AU #Cradle Will Fall

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silence-burns · 1 year

Text

Midnight Snack

Fandom: James Bond movies

Q scratched his cheek and paused—he had oil on his fingers. He sighed, but didn't move to wipe it off. He was alone in the lab, like most days, and the chances of anyone dropping by in the middle of the night were slim.

He should’ve gone home hours ago, but the prospect of being faced with familiar dull walls and a silence broken only by the few meows of his cats wasn’t enticing. The downpour of rain and perpetually gray skies had put his cats into an almost hibernating state these past few days. His habit of playing with them before bed was put on hold, but he didn’t blame the cats—he understood, the past few days had been rough on him too.

Although it may have seemed it, Q wasn't a fanatic at his job. He appreciated the stability and various opportunities it provided him with, but he preferred to leave it behind once his shift was over.

He noticed midnight passing a few minutes ago, the clock one of the few sounds in his lab. He should've gone home, but his mind would be able to wander there, towards things that would only bring more pain. He’d had enough of sleepless nights leaving him more exhausted than when he’d laid down.

In the lab, he could at least be productive.

Q pulled the mechanism further apart. Being productive was a great thing while working for MI6, as it divided the few outstanding employees from the masses. It should've been a good thing to have those employees rewarded with new opportunities, right?

Even when it meant taking them away.

Q tossed the screwdriver onto the desk with a clank. His chest hurt again. He couldn't be free from those thoughts even in his own lab.

He leaned over his desk, forehead resting on his crossed arms. The main principles of working at a place like this had always seemed so simple to him. Do your job. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don't get attached to anyone.

He had failed, rather spectacularly, at the last point.

The elevator doors opened with a ding that echoed sharply in the silent lab. Q wiped his face vigorously, trying to wipe away any sign of what had been bothering him. The last thing he needed was questions he didn't want answered.

Q froze when he noticed it was you who entered. His eyes jumped to the bruises and cuts on your face. Only then did he notice a cake in your hands.

“You look like shit,” you said, nodding to the grayish smudges on his face.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” Q raised his eyebrows. “Did you get run over by a truck?”

“A taxi.”

“Should've called an Uber.”

“I'll be smarter next time. Care to join me?”

Q followed you to a cozy corner behind the shelves where the two of you had hidden a few chairs and a set of colorful lights over the last couple of years. Somehow, it turned into storage for all the things you might need while avoiding responsibilities during your breaks. It was better than going back to the more official part of the building.

Q sat down next to you, wondering how many of those trinkets you'd take with you after your promotion.

The cake looked pretty, although a little beaten down. He wondered where you got it in the middle of the night. Last he checked, bakeries in the area closed during the evening.

He took the offered fork.

"This place is going to feel emptier without you. When are you leaving?"

"Technically my plane is in a few hours, since we've already crossed midnight."

"A shame. Good choice for breakfast, though." Q made a small salute with the fork.

"I'm a genius, I know. Whatever will you do without me?"

"Probably finish my projects faster, since there won't be anyone breaking the test versions."

You gasped dramatically. "How rude, my dearest Quartermaster! I was only making sure they would adapt to field conditions."

“Just like your face did? Those are going to be some magnificent bruises by the time you get to the airport. You will surely make a grand entrance.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your armchair. It creaked loudly, always one wrong move away from completely breaking down, but you got used to it so much it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. For many years it was, after all.

The cake was half gone, but you barely tasted it. Q seemed too engrossed by whatever thoughts made his brows furrow to notice all the crumbles landing on his vest. He made quick progress on the cheap cake, despite it not being up to his usual tastes. It's a strange thing, how much you can learn about a person throughout a few short years, starting with the way they leave for home and ending in their favorite flavors of cake.

“I'm sure they would've been charmed by my endless grace and wit, but they will have to live the rest of their sorry lives without it.”

It took Q a while before he turned to face you, almost choking on the fork. “Am I missing something?”

You chuckled, stealing the last bite of cake. Somehow, it tasted better than the rest.

"You'd miss me a lot if I took that position, so I've decided to stay. For someone so intelligent, you really are dumb sometimes, my dear Quartermaster."

Q looked at the empty box and at the fork. For the first time in the last few weeks, his head was positively, completely empty.

"You're such an asshole," finally came out of his mouth.

"I know."

"I hope another taxi uses your face as a parking lot."

"I'm sure you'd make a video out of—"

Q's hand found the side of your face, wrapping gently around your cheek and smearing oil over it. But it was only a fleeting concern, and was soon gone when he pulled you close and firmly put his lips against yours.

Once he pulled back, Q took in your dazed expression with a satisfied smile. “Glad to have you back, agent.”

#q x reader #q x you #quartermaster x reader #quartermaster x you #quartermaster #james bond #james bond movies #quartermaster imagine #no time to die

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

Text

task force 141 + christmas wishlists

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: ewww i have finals tmmrw

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so i mentioned this in my stocking stuffers headcanon but we're gonna go in more depth here

rudy's christmas wishlist is really just legos

but like big, expensive lego sets

like i said then, he always compiles a big list of sets he wants each year

this year he's obsessed with the technic/vehicle sets

he got the vespa set for his birthday so that one was crossed off the list

and now he's looking to collect all the ferrari sets

last year he nabbed the ferrari 488 gte "af course #1"

and this year he wants the ferrari daytona sp3

he really likes the technic sets because their like a harder version of the normal lego sets

plus they're a lot more durable which is important to him

he has all his lego sets lined up on shelves around his apartment

and he already has a shelf of lego vehicles

which currently includes the ferrari 488, the vespa, and the lamborghini sián fkp 37 (he bought that for himself after he got a pay raise)

and ofc once he gets all his luxury cars/racecars collected, he plans on moving onto the classic cars collection

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so idk why this headcanon brings me so much joy but it does

but soap really really really wants a dirt bike for christmas

he rode one during a mission around summer time

and ever since then he won't stop raving about how cool it was

if we're being honest he wasn't that good at it

but honestly that just motivated him even more because now he wants one so he can get better at riding it

he wants to be able to do all those crazy flips and tricks they do

and he spends soooo much time researching bikes and watching videos of the tricks

he also doesn't even know when he would get the chance to use it

or where he would practice

since his house is not exactly near prime dirt biking terrain

but he insists he'll figure something out

his dream is definitely the yz250

he just thinks it looks so cool and sleek

but it's like ~$7000 so he doesn't have his hopes up

would definitely implode if he got it tho

john price:

alright so for christmas price really wants a weighted heated blanket

i mean can you blame him?

it gets pretty cold up in his cabin and he just wants to be able to be all warm and cozy

he honestly didn't even realize it was a thing until gaz told him about it

and now he won't stop talking about it

like he keeps hinting about how he wants it

saying things like "god it's cold in here, a nice heated blanket would be great huh?" or "my blanket is getting so thin, one of those weighted blankets would be insane huh?"

what can i say he really wants one

but he also doesn't wanna spend like $100 on one

which is why he's being so coy about it

besides a weighted heated blanket price wants cigars

i mean he always wants cigars but he wants them as a christmas gift this time

he wants really fancy ones that are really high quality

honestly his ideal holiday evening is him on the couch, with warm socks, a tea, a cigar, and his weighted heated blanket and a nice movie on the tv

simon "ghost" riley:

this year (and every year really) simon wants books for christmas

he's a fan of classic literature so he really just wants paperbacks of all the classics

paperback because it's easier to bring on missions

like i said in one of my past headcanons, i think simon was definitely an english literature major in college

so he definitely has a lot of books already

but let's be real you can never have too many books

the books on his wishlist this year include the metamorphosis by franz kafka, journey to the center of the earth by jules verne, and the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

okay we're gonna go off on a tangent here

but simon secretly wants to open up a bookstore when he retires

except, and this is gonna get kinda sad here, he knows it's ultimately just a pipe dream bc the chances of him retiring are really slim

yk since he's more likely to be killed in action...

but he still likes the idea of it in case he does make it out of the military alive

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so for christmas gaz wants new headphones and a speaker

gaz just lives his life with a soundtrack in the background what can i say

he loves listening to music whenever he can

whether he's working or training or in the shower

i like to think that he used to actually have a really nice set of earbuds

and he usually keeps them in one of the pockets of his uniform

but when he fell out of that helicopter he lost his earbuds

and he was absolutely devastated too because they were so nice

but this time around he wants headphones so that he can really take advantage of the noise cancelling feature

probably not the smartest option considering he's in the military but yk what sometimes gaz just needs a break from the outside and honestly who doesn't?

he also has a really nice speaker but then soap broke it

gaz had it next to him on the couch while he was watching tv or smthing

and then soap sorta hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to him

and then sat straight on the speaker

and since the couch at the base sucks and is therefore pretty hard

plus the fact that soap is probably like over two hundred pounds of muscle

the speaker really had no chance

so yeah gaz really just wants his music back for christmas

and off topic but he's into a lot of oldish hip hop/rap rn

like the notorious b.i.g., ice cube, 2pac, dr. dre

yk sorta like the classics

(im ngl idk if those are classics music genres confuse me)

alejandro vargas:

this year alejandro wants a ps5

maybe this is coming sorta out of left field but i feel like alejandro is lowkey a gamer

which ik doesn't make sense since we've established he's into self care and gamers never shower

jkjk no hate to any gamers im sure most of y'all have tolerable self hygiene

but yeah alejandro is actually super into video games

he has a lot of consoles but he didn't get the ps5 when it first came out so now he wants it

im gonna go off on a few alejandro video game tangents here so get ready

first off i think he and rudy played "a way out" together with no prior knowledge of the game

and so at the ending they were absolutely devastated

they also play overcooked a lot

and they let the other task force members play too

it's always interesting because alejandro takes it really seriously

and so he gets soooo stressed about it it's kinda amusing

also he's super good at super smash bros

and surprisingly he's not really a fan of first person shooter games (ironic i know)

it's just that he does that so much in real life he doesn't want to do it in games too

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chill-pills-yandere-haven · 2 years

Text

The Little Prince

An: Thank you to @187-mg for the picture and the inspiration for this one shot! All hail Nagisa! But anyway, this one is a bit dark and I got to play with the childhood friends tripe for the first time! And this drabble was a little inspired by the story of Cain and Abel if your willing to look up the details. Enjoy!

Tw: Yanderes, murder, (my search history looks like a really stupid murderer's lol, couldn't find any pictures of people being repeatedly bashed with a rock tho so may be a little inaccurate 😭), description of murder, not that explicit but not light either, Nagisa needs help, Nagisa improvs murder, don't worry, we're not killing any of the boys today, just a nameless chara

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

He was taken in and treated like a prince.

This little prince had everything he could've ever wanted, yet not a friend in the world.

One night, this little prince wanted to go outside his lonely castle. He wanted to meet other kids like him. After all, he had always been such a curious child.

On his trip to the outside world, he met someone.

Another child who, despite the little prince being a complete outsider, made the little prince feel like he truly belonged.

They had a wonderful time together. And the prince realized that that was the first time he had ever felt… human.

He found that he loved the feeling. That he loved spending time with his new friend.

Alas, he knew he'd have to leave his new friend. He didn't want to risk getting them in trouble. So he left. But before he left, he left them with a promise.

"We'll meet again someday."

And he never saw his friend again.

Nagisa was on his usual trip to the library. Ibara had gotten him into reading and brought him books from time to time, but he still enjoyed picking a couple out for himself.

He was looking through the shelves of one of his favourite genres when he noticed someone else looking through the shelves.

They looked at the books carefully but didn't scrutinize them nearly as much as Nagisa had them.

Something about them felt… familiar.

Their hair, their pretty eyes, and their face were all reminiscent of something…

No, that would be impossible.

They'd have had to have gone somewhere else by now. Nagisa assumed they had gone out of the country.

And why would they be in the same library as him? At this single moment? Fate?

He looked at them more, trying to prove that it wasn't you. But he couldn't deny it.

It was you.

The one who set his heart ablaze, who let him know how it felt to live.

He had looked for you since forever. But he hadn't even gotten your name during the one night he finally felt alive.

"Excuse me? Are you alright?"

That was your voice.

It was a lot more mature than when he last heard it, but that only contributed to its beauty.

Nagisa had spent his whole life trying to chase after you.

Now here you were.

And he had to admit, you blossomed into a true beauty.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine. But… I think I recognize you. What's your name?" Nagisa asked, feigning curiosity and hiding his excitement.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same. I think I know you from somewhere," you replied and told Nagisa your name.

So that was your name?

It was quite beautiful to him. In his eyes, it perfectly suited you.

And even better, you still remembered him!

Yes, you were a bit forgetful, but he'd jog your memory. You were everything to him. The life you gave him was a feeling he had been trying to revive ever since that day he left you. He'd do anything for you.

He didn't want to come off as too zealous though. Technically, this was your first meeting with Nagisa since you forgot your first meeting with him. He made light conversation and gave his name as well.

Yet he almost couldn't help himself. You were his saviour. You showed him what to live for. You were his god. Ever so sweet and kind.

Actually, everything about you was god-like. The way you walked. The tone of voice you used. The way you smiled at certain books. Nagisa had never wanted to be a big stitched-up stack of paper so badly. Even the way you looked at things was beautiful to him.

Juicy lips with just the right amount of plumpness to them. Nagisa could feel his face heat up as he took in the smallest of details about you. And wow, your eyes were pretty.

But then, those lips were on another's.

What?

What the hell just happened?

"Hey, you done now honey bun?" The piece of scum that had the nerve to kiss you said to you. You even held them close!

How?

Why?

Nagisa's brain was going haywire at the implications of this.

Such scum merely existing in the presence of his god, his saviour, his love. It disgusted him.

He had to get rid of it.

Cleanse you of such filth.

Maybe then, he could bask in your light.

He waited just a bit. He could be patient, he waited for you for so many years before.

He kept the filth in his sights and made sure no one could see them and Nagisa. Ibara could clean up any messes after. He had a bit of a hold on the police authority so he could force the case to go cold if he had to. After all, Ibara had done some immoral things himself. As he said though, it was all fair in the name of love.

Luckily, you left for the bathroom.

Nagisa pulled the piece of scum aside.

Nagisa made up a convincing story about him needing to talk with that waste of space because he was one of your exes and needed to tell them something. He used this opportunity to ask regular questions like what they were out doing.

Apparently, the two of you were going around the city together all on foot and you were planning on going to a cafe next. A little casual and strange for Nagisa's tastes, but if you wanted to, he'd go on any kind of date with you.

He pulled them into the alleyway where the library's big garbage bin was. Nagisa could steal their phone after and tell you that they went ahead to the cafe. Then, dump everything in the garbage and tell Ibara to be ready for a cover-up. Nagisa could escape through the other side of the alleyway.

Ibara had promised him that he would if Nagisa ever had something like this happen to him.

The body may not even be found for days as well. You'd probably think they left or something.

"So, what do you need to tell me? Something like they cheated on you?" They asked. As though you, Nagisa's god, would ever do such a thing. But even if you did, you'd have a good reason.

He was starting to tire of hearing this scum waste air.

He grabbed a rock and bashed their skull in.

One hit and they were on their knees. It was pathetic, they flailed and yelled.

"Fucking god, man, look, if you want them, you can have them! I don't give a shit about them!" They yelled.

They didn't give a shit about you?

Nagisa felt his blood boil. They had everything he ever wanted, yet he didn't give a shit about it?!

Maybe they did need to be shut up.

Nagisa banged the rock into their throat, hoping he could completely crush it. It caved in awkwardly and he could see blood pooling.

Everything was so loud, he almost couldn't take it.

Again.

More.

He needed more.

More blood.

He needed to eradicate this piece of scum from the earth.

So they could never touch his god ever again.

And so, he kept on going.

They were long dead, but something in Nagisa just had him beating them until they were a mess of guts and blood and bone and ick. Until they were completely unidentifiable.

They looked more like a chunky splatter of meat than a person now. How had he done this?

It was all too much.

The musk of sweat and blood and death in the air that somehow carried a certain sweetness to it. Everything seemed silent now, as Nagisa stood, the rock still in hand. Even the feeling of his clothes on his skin disturbed him.

His heart raced.

He had just ended another human's life.

But he did it for you.

So it was all okay, wasn't it?

This was the culmination of his love.

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dollsonmain · 10 months

Text

So uh

I'm pissed off already. This is one reason I prefer not to talk at all first thing in the morning, especially to That Guy.

I have way too much experience working with a shitty "manager". I should certainly be employed. I am a model employee other than the whole needing to sleep all the time, not being able to do manual labor, and being kind of stupid things.

Anyway, some background: There is a technical school nearby that offers high school classes that focus more closely on very specific STEAM courses for things like coding, robotics, etc. etc. and That Guy decided Son is going.

Son is suited to these courses but has no experience what-so-ever. Unlike other kids who are STEAM focused who's parents buy them all the things to let them practice and play around with related ideas, That Guy doesn't like to spend money and won't even buy the boy a viable laptop, any smart phone, or keep his iPad up to date. It's old and I got it refurbed for cheap years ago. It can't run a lot of current STEAM or coding apps, which That Guy also won't pay for any apps or programs for any reason ever other than the initial OS purchase for Windows because Windows is all he knows how to use.

In order to go to the tech school, kids have to submit applications. They don't take just anyone because there is expense. The course is free to students but the school board has to pay for transportation and probably a kickback to the technical school.

Part of that application process is a letter of intent.

To be honest, my boy is no more adept at writing a letter of intent than I am. He doesn't communicate perfectly and struggles more with writing.

It's supposed to be something like which courses he's interested in, why, what he plans to do with that education after high school etc. etc.

Son doesn't want to go at all. Son wants to work at a store. Forever. That's what he likes. He wants to arrange shelves, check expiration dates, rotate stock, and go home.

That Guy wants him to go to the tech school.

Son has a really hard time looking into the future, knowing what he's good at, and how to make that happen so writing a letter of intent with no future plan is going to be even more difficult.

He also has no chance to go to college because his father refused to start a fund for him when he was a baby (I couldn't, That Guy had removed my ability to work when I was pregnant), has no idea how much that costs, now, and thinks he can just buy Son's way through (he could but it would take an enormous chunk of his savings so I don't think he'll be willing to do it), Son's grades aren't amazing and he doesn't do any extracurriculars (he didn't do any of the STEAM clubs in middle school or his freshman year last year) because we have no way to get him to them therefore no chances at scholarships other than ones geared specifically toward special needs students, so there's nothing to put into the letter like "I intend to pursue higher education in this field at X Institution."

This morning That Guy asked me if I'd been enforcing his decision that Son would work on his letter of intent during summer break (which is almost over).

This is the part that made me mad.

I was like "...... what????" because he'd never told ME that he wanted Son to do this.

He's the one always getting on to me if I don't tell him every time Son gets in trouble at school (it's been ONE time last year and it was handled by the school, Captain OverReactin' wasn't needed), how we don't do things unilaterally, and how he needs to be informed of EVERYTHING AT ALL TIMES while he makes a point of omitting me from conversations constantly. Sometimes I'll hear them from the other room like I heard him saying he'd invited a guest over for last weekend but he'd never told me. Luckily that guest didn't show up.

The hypocrisy drives me nuts.

I had to get the entire, like, what he wanted that I was supposed to have been enforcing JUST NOW before he left for work and him trying to blame me for me not enforcing it because "we went to the same meetings", and he got an "I could have been informed of this sooner."

How, exactly, am I supposed to be enforcing something I wasn't made aware of? Especially since it's something Son does NOT want to do and That Guy refuses to listen to him?

The days and days of angry, aggressive table top gaming they've done together could have been time spent by That Guy getting what That Guy wanted done, done.

Might be time for malicious compliance. I remember when I was waiting for time to leave for basic training my mom suddenly started pushing me to get a job. I was like ".... I leave in less than a month, no one's going to hire me." but she insisted I go put in applications.

I put in ONE application at the local radio station because I'd heard they were looking for interns and put on the application "I don't want this job, I'm filling out this application so I can honestly tell my mother that I did. I leave for basic training in a couple of weeks. Sorry for wasting your time."

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maebird-melody · 7 months

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Clockwork Fic, if you're still doing this ask game?

(I am! I just started this, saved it as a draft, then forgot to post it)

Oh, that’s a fun one. I had a really involved Danny Phantom themed dream that I quickly wrote down before I could forget all the details because it seemed like it would make an interesting story. The dream took some tangents, so the WIP is still being finessed to make all the pieces fit together properly.

So in my dream, Clockwork had an ability similar to Vlad's where he could split himself into many versions of himself. Except when Clockwork splits, each version is a different age. And unlike with Vlad's ability, the “clones” aren’t lesser versions of himself that dissipate into smoke when damaged. They are all equally him.

Clockwork was living in this floating metropolis in the Ghost Zone, the buildings extending forever upwards and downwards. In this city, The Observants act as a sort of secret police, keeping the peace and ousting dissidents. Clockwork had gotten on the bad side of the powers that be, so The Observants are hunting him.

Though their intelligence network is strong, Clockwork had kept his ability to split under wraps, and no one has seen him at every age his splits can take. When The Observants catch up to him, he'd already split into four. One of him stays behind to keep The Observants in his home busy. Another is forced to distract even more who were waiting outside. And one other provides a diversion at an inter-dimensional train station while the youngest of his splits sneaks aboard the last car.

He intended to recall his other splits to his youngest self once he was safely away, but he didn't count on The Observants capturing and time-locking them. So he takes the train to the human realm and hides himself under human guise in a sprawling town ruled by a king.

This is all essentially the setup for a story set in a fairytale-like earth setting (this part of the dream started getting a little off track, so I intend to consolidate characters and plot lines).

Clockwork slowly loses his sense of self the longer he is separated from his other splits, and therefore also loses his memories. While he's disguised as a human to hide his ectosignature from The Observants, this process is even quicker.

In the dream, he gets adopted by the king, but I'm keeping him on the streets instead, which is where he starts. Maybe he'll start working for a shopkeeper and use that money to pay for a small room above the shop. I haven't decided yet. He could just go full street rat.

Also, the king and his family were originally their own characters, separate from Danny and his family, but I think I want to combine them instead. Rather than the king's son dying and Clockwork becoming the heir apparent on a technicality, it's easier having Danny as the prince. Another change from the dream, Danny isn't Phantom in my WIP.

One thing I'm keeping is their encounter in the library. Danny is hiding from his family between stacks of books, and Clockwork, who simply enjoys reading, spots him acting strange over one of the shelves. They are about the same age (by this point Clockwork has been there for years) and hit it off almost immediately.

When Clockwork finds out Danny is the king's son, he decides it's better if he keeps his distance. But then a hole opens in reality and The Observants pour out.

Both Clockwork and Danny run, but Danny isn't fast enough, and since The Observants only know they are looking for someone about that age, sensed in this location, they take Danny instead of Clockwork.

The rest of the story is about Clockwork's attempts to rescue the prince, piecing bits of his memory together along the way.

I really am excited about this fic, but haven't gotten much further than the brainstorming phase. It's gonna be a long story, that I can tell for sure, and I have other commitments before I start another big project. But this is the gist of it!

#mae answers #ask game #tag game #writing wips #danny phantom #phanfic #clockwork

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thetwotorches · 4 months

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A lot of books & videos that are centered around working with the human dead taut the idea that you should want to be a psychopomp-type figure, saying if you want to work with or interact with the dead then you need to be ready to help them move on. However, they rarely explain any dangers or concerns with psycopomp work, and I feel like surely there must be some? In your experience, what would you warn potential psychopomps or mediums about with this kind of work? How do you feel about this common insistence that every spirit worker who specializes with the dead should be ready to do this kind of work?

Hello, Snowy! Thank you for this question. It's very interesting, and I will say now that I will likely go off the beaten path a bit with my answer.

As I can only speak for myself and not the authors of any books or videos, the bluntest way to put it is that weird shit runs in my family and this particular 'task' happens to be my lot of it. I have my theories as to why, but they are ultimately irrelevant. All this to preface that I didn't exactly choose this, it's something I've been grappling with and trying to figure out since I was in diapers.

I wasn't 'ready' for anything when I watched things go flying off of my dresser at three years old, or to be carried around by my great grandfather only to wake up and be told that he had passed away overnight. I am unsure how it is for those who are able to choose this sort of thing, but when it comes as a built-in feature there is no such thing as 'ready', there is only 'well these are things that happen sometimes- better figure it out so you don't have a bad time'. Those are my personal thoughts on 'readiness'.

As for dangers....I have lived in three haunted houses, and to be honest those bothered me more than friends and family visiting me. I have watched things fly off of counters, off of shelves, heard footsteps, keyboards being used, I mean I could go on. In the previous ask I mentioned the 'dissonance' that can be extremely unnerving, and you get a lot of that living in a place that's haunted. I was a child for the first two houses and I had no tools for dealing with any of it, so my reactions were anywhere between ignoring it completely and just silently cleaning up any messes as if nothing had happened, to being so afraid I couldn't even scream, locking my bedroom door, and praying haha. The last haunted place I lived in was more recent, a few years ago, and I had a bit more awareness. When things started to go flying, I very calmly and politely asked them aloud to maybe not do that, because hey it's not fun to see! Thank you for your time. And sure enough, it did not happen again! Instead the object they previous pushed off the shelf was very politely left on my bed for me some feet away- but they didn't do it in front of me! So technically I couldn't get mad!

I feel this goes to show that simple, vocalized communication can go a long way in handling situations, especially ones that feel troubling to us. Nothing elaborate was needed in this instance, just a frank talk, a cool head, and a dose of courage.

As for the idea of *mandatory* responsibilities, such as helping others cross over, where I am at the moment I feel very ebb-and-flow about this idea. In other words, going with the flow has not only suited me but likely also probably kept me out of any significant trouble. Just as you wouldn't approach strangers on the street and follow them for blocks trying to sell them something, I have never tried to 'help' anyone do anything they never asked of me first. The agreeable ghost in my last apartment was more concerned about the lousy boy I was dating, not in leaving the house, and that's fine. It's their choice! This is my current perspective on that sort of thing.

I think if I had to recommend any 'protections', though, it would be to have a good relationship with your ancestors and also with a known spirit who specializes in this sort of thing. At the bare minimum not only are they your best tutors, but they can also be a strong shield and defense if things ever feel off.

I hope this answer has been helpful- thank you very much for your question!

#asks #witchblr

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apersonwholikeslotus · 1 year

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Tutelage

This was inspired by @rebelsandtherest fic Amity on their ao3 (their username is Elfpen)! Go read it please! It's amazing! One of my favorites! They did give me permission to write this. I know my writing isn't as good as theirs but I hope someone likes this! Also no, I don't want to know if I'm using the word Tutelage wrong.

Warnings: None, except for the mention of a gun at some point.

July 21st, 1969.

Alfred sat at home, eyes glued to the TV, part of him had wanted to stay at the NASA headquarters. But he also wanted to watch it as most of the world would. Nothing yet, just news headlines running it, 'any moment now' they had to have said it a thousand times. But nothing had happened, he leaned back starting to think the transmissions would never come. His foot tapped insistently on the floor, staring at the tv for even another moment seemed unbearable, but getting up and possibly missing it seemed even worse. He should have just stayed at NASA headquarters, at least there were other people to talk to; at home it was just quiet.

He wouldn't miss anything getting a book off a shelf would he? Alfred turned up the tv keeping his eyes trained on it as he crossed the room to the bookshelves. His head still turned every moment or so as he tried to pick something to read. Nothing seemed interesting though, he moved to another shelf, there had to have been hundreds of books on the shelves something would be interesting. Stuck in the corner of one of the lower shelves Alfred noticed an unlabeled book that he didn't recognize, he leaned down pulling it out and flipping through the pages. It was an astronomy book funnily enough, but he couldn't remember buying it or even getting it for a birthday or christmas. He made his way back to his chosen spot on the couch still searching the pages for something to remind him of where it had come from.

Nothing. The last fifty pages or so were empty, the first handful had drawings he could recognize as his own handwriting. He kept flipping, finally getting to the back cover where something had been glued to the inside cover. Alfred checked the tv again to make sure nothing else had happened, the still headlines about Apollo 11 still flashing across the screen, but nothing new. His eyes went back to the note, squinting trying to decipher the neat handwriting that he knew wasn't his. It wasn't in english either, that much was immediately noticeable. He was able to read it, the fading made it harder though and he was only able to get a word here and there, not the full message. The note wasn't signed, which would have helped greatly. A few more moments of staring at the paper trying to figure it out, and he had it...

'I've included all the maps I know. Next time I see you, I expect to learn some new ones, and hope you'll tell me how you made them.'

Suddenly he knew where it came from, everything about that trip back in 1783 rushing back. months staying with Björn, days of wandering Stockholm, evenings of stories of things that happened centuries before he was born. Sweden had been so kind: it was still odd to think that Françios had said he would have been the first to call Björn that. That night at the Uppsala observatory, they stayed up there all night. The conversation with Kasper that he hadn't thought about since it had been fulfilled and he visited him and they walked in Turku... he forgot to watch the tv as it all came rushing back. He cringed at himself, he had to have been thirteen, fourteen maybe? Alfred knew he had almost cried when he had to leave. He looked down at the book flipping back to the front pages, a new feeling filled him. It was like... homesickness, for somewhere that wasn't technically home. Of course he and Björn and Kasper had been in contact constantly since then, but he hadn't visited them like that, just to visit, for a century at least.

His eyes flipped back up to the tv, the screen had changed and now showed something that was very much not a repeated headline on a screen. The notebook stayed in his lap as he felt what seemed like the entire world hold their breath, everyone was watching weren't they? He glanced at the clock, 10:56 pm, and he was watching history happen alone in his living room.

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind"

Alfred sat back, his hand going to his forehead, they did it. He knew everything he should be feeling, but instead his first reaction was to want to call someone, and say 'did you see?' of course they would have, they would tell him good job, Alfred hated it that his first reaction was to want someone else's approval. Who could he call though? Matthieu would nod and congratulate him, but he knew his tone wouldn't offer what he wanted. William wouldn't even want to say anything good about it, just complain and offer up something he did himself... his mind went through all the people that he could call, but the weight of the book in his lap offered a suggestion.

He turned the tv up again, making sure he would be able to hear it from the front hall where the telephone was. Alfred got up and made his way to the front hall picking up the phone, and waiting for the operator. Most home phones wouldn't allow international calls, but as a government official his fortunately would.

It rang a few times before the operator picked up, "Hey Mrs. O'Connor's," Alfred knew all the operators by this point, he had the same line for so long and apparently some of them just didn't leave. He answered a few questions, thanked her for the congratulations on such an achievement. Then got back on topic,

"Mrs. O'Conners, I have to make a long distance call, how long? Well..." he hesitated for a moment, knowing after he told her and hung up he couldn't change his mind unless he wanted to make up an excuse for why he had to talk to Björn, "Stockholm?"

She made a small disgruntled noise, then reminded him it would take awhile. "Yes, yes ma'am I do know, but I really need to speak to someone over there"

She promised to do her best to make it quick, Alfred thanked her and hung up knowing it was going to be a long night. Calls could take six hours to go through and he wasn't risking falling asleep and missing it.

He went back to the living room, he looked up at the TV not sure if he should keep it on to see if anything else happened or if he should turn it off. A decision was met to keep it on, just to fill the space with noise. Alfred looked at the ceiling, what was he thinking wanting to talk to Sweden of all people?

~~~~~~~~~~

"Did you see?" Alfred didn't even wait for Björn to say Hello once he heard he was connected, there was a click the operator hanging up and he heard the Swedish man on the other end respond;

"I saw"

"I beat Russia"

"And I told you to stay out of Russian affairs" he was reminded of the warnings given centuries earlier, ones that had clearly been ignored as of recent.

"I'm sorry"

The line went silent, Alfred didn't know what to say and if he was guessing Björn didn't know either. A conversationalist he was not; and suddenly it almost seemed like a mistake to go through all of this for a phone call to brag.

"Alfred?"

He jumped hearing his name on the other end, "Yes sir?"

Björn hesitated again on the other end, he wasn't sure if he should be saying what he was about to. He didn't exactly have to hide things like he did at the beginning of their relationship. Pointing a gun at Njal was a wonderful way to start off a relationship though. He was still supposed to be the Neutral one though, if either the East or West found out differently it could trash decades of cooperation.

So instead of continuing he asked; "When can we meet in person?"

"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused by the question.

"When can I see you next"

The other end went silent yet again, "There's a UN meeting in–"

"No. Just you and I."

Alfred thought for a moment, he looked at the book still sitting on the coffee table in the living room. "I can be in Uppsala in two weeks"

"As soon as you're in Europe, call me."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks went by, and then a month, then two; it was October before Alfred did actually make it to Sweden. Even then it was almost purely by miracle, the only way to get up there had been to lie about how long a NATO meeting was running for, and go afterwards.

He stepped out of the airport, immediately shivering at the gust of wind. Alfred pulled his suit coat closer grumbling to himself about how he should have brought a heavier coat. The pickup area was bustling with activity; family members and friends rushing around to greet each other and help load suitcases into cars. It really wasn't all that different from a port seventy years ago. Alfred liked to jokingly think between his height, blond hair, blue eyes, and two hundred years of Swedish practice he might be able to pass as a Swede. The real only things that gave him away were how he wore his suits, and the deep tan he always retained.

He finally stopped watching people to scan the line of waiting cars, black volvo is what Björn had told him when they talked before Alfred got on the plane in Belgium. He heaved a sigh trying to look in car windows, there had to be thirty black volvo's and he hadn't been given a more detailed description. How long was it going to take to get a phone he could carry around?

He turned around to see if maybe he had accidentally pulled into the line of taxis behind him; only to jump a bit when a car a little too close for comfort blew its horn. The car in question's driver door opened, Björn getting out and waving Alfred over. Alfred tried to be quick to get his bags in the trunk and get in the passenger's seat, he knew how people could get if you took too long in the pickup line; or at least how New Yorkers got. As they pulled out, and onto the main road, Alfred tried to start conversation quickly:

"It's nice to see you, sir"

"It's nice to see you as well, Alfred"

"It's cold ain't it?" He started talking about the weather, only because he wasn't sure what else to say.

"It's actually warm for this time of year" Björn countered, his eyes not moving from the road for even a moment. "Why did you call me?"

Alfred stiffened at the tone of it; he had been asking himself that for the past two and a half months and still hadn't come up with an answer. "Why did you want me to come here?"

A silence settled over the car, both questions left unanswered. That was the problem about answering questions with questions; usually neither got answered. Alfred looked out the window attempting to avoid eye contact with Björn in the mirrors. He thought they were going to Uppsala, but didn't say anything when instead the road signs told him they were headed the opposite way to Stockholm. Alfred also knew though that the drive wasn't exactly short, and sitting in silence for forty minutes would be worse then just answering the question.

"I guess..." he trailed off for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I guess I just wanted to brag"

The Swede huffed, "You would have called anyone else to brag. Not me"

Alfred tried not to sound offended, covering up that his excuse hadn't worked; "Why not you?"

"If you really wanted to 'just brag' you would have called François" He wasn't wrong, Alfred needed François' approval more than anything else nowadays and with how critical of him the French were being, he had been using anything he could. But this hadn't been something he had wanted to tell François. "Why did you call me?"

"Why did you ask me to come here?" Alfred asked his question more forcefully, making it clear he wouldn't speak another word until he had an answer himself.

"Someone could have been listening to the phone lines"

Alfred laughed at the statement, "We both know that's bullshit, Björn. You're not that much of a conspirator"

"Kasper is turning me." The conversation almost changed at the mention of the Finnish personification. Alfred hadn't spent nearly as much time with Kasper as he had with Björn, it made him wonder how he was.

But they both knew what was going on, and they both knew one of them could stop being stubborn; or they could go around in circles for the next half-hour. Really the only difference between them and Alfred with William was how explosive it could get.

Alfred broke quite quickly, he had never been able to hide anything from Björn anyway. "I found that book you gave me. The one with the maps of the stars." he heaved a sigh, "And of course I found it just as they're landing the Apollo Mission on the moon, and it made me think of you, and 1783, and it just made me want you to be proud of me. It's stupid"

The silence seemed unbearably awkward to Alfred as they continued on. Björn didn't respond, he didn't even look over to Alfred for a moment. The younger kept internally scolding himself; look what you've done, you made him uncomfortable. Why would he be proud of you? Why would you want him to be proud of you? He's just a work friend at most.

The car stopped, Alfred didn't bother refocusing his vision, it must just be a stop light. They hadn't been in the car nearly long enough to be at the house. But the sound of cars still driving by made him look out the window, Björn had just pulled over to the side of the road for some reason. He opened his mouth about to ask if something was wrong with the car when;

"I am proud of you."

Alfred scoffed lightly at the words, "You don't have to say that just to make me feel better about myself"

"I'm not." Björn was looking at Alfred, he was serious as normal. But there was something different in his eyes. "When I met you, you were hopeless"

"Thanks. That really boosts my confidence"

"Alfred. You're the strongest in the world now."

"And?"

"And I can't help but think..." Björn trailed off wondering if he should say it. If he really had the right to. "I can't help but think I started that"

"Of course you did!" Alfred laughed, "Dad hated my guts, François was too busy, no one else cared. I would have majorly messed up being a country without you."

"See. So I have something to be proud of, I started it, and you built everything else."

"You're proud of yourself." Alfred argued,

Björn shook his head, "I'm proud of what you've become after what you were"

He looked at his elder meeting his eyes, Alfred almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was proud of him, sincerely. Something no one else was, at least not openly.

"You're sure you mean it?" He was almost mad about how hopeful he sounded.

"I'm sure. There's plenty to be proud of." Björn smiled, just barely, but Alfred knew it was more than most people got from him.

It was decided then that it was good they were in a car, if not Alfred would have hugged the man hard enough to crack a rib. Instead he just sat there reminding himself that superpowers don't cry when someone is proud of them.

"I'm proud of you, Alfred."

Third time a charm, and it left Alfred pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself from crying. Björn must have noticed but instead of commenting he carefully got off the shoulder and back onto the main road headed to Stockholm. The silence that settled over the car was different from the others, it wasn't awkward. It was a contented silence.

Once Alfred composed himself, he bounced back; and smiled, jokingly asking, "Can I have your "Lion of the North" title then?"

"Absolutely not" Björn responded back quickly, trying to hide a smile.

"Awww c'mon old man, you're not using it! And you said it yourself, you were my tutelage"

"I did not use that word"

"Close enough"

#aph sweden #hws sweden #aph america #hws america #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #rebelsandtherest #elfpen #apersonwhowrites

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halftheway · 2 years

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hello today i offer an excerpt from my fic like you were never gone, where sapnap & charlie hang out as sapnap tries to make sense of the chaos he's been thrown into

Spending time with his fiancé's new partners is… an interesting experience. He already knew Wilbur, but he's learning how different the man is now. Weirdly, after their conversation in Las Nevadas, he’s given Sapnap hope for Dream. Granted, being dead and being in prison aren’t exactly comparable, but he wants to believe that time away from the people he wronged will let Dream realize just how bad things had gotten and that he needs to make amends.

If Wilbur can go from the cunning ex-president that blew up his own nation to the person Sapnap sees now— warm, open, free with his affection— maybe there really is a chance he could get his best friend back.

He actually likes hanging out with Wilbur, to his surprise. Even though he’s not sure they’ll ever be more than that, Sapnap can almost see them becoming friends. It’s not hard to understand why Quackity fell for him. He’s funny, and kind, and pretty in a frustrating way.

Charlie on the other hand? He has no idea how to interact with.

The slime is just… unsettling, he thinks is the right word. Every time he thinks he's found his footing Charlie bowls him over again.

Quackity loves it, so Sapnap is trying. He really is.

This afternoon it’s Charlie’s turn to stay in the library, and because Sapnap is a good fiancé he’s on his way in to hang out. Also because his turn is afterwards. But mostly because he’s a good fiancé.

“Sapnap! What's goopin'?" Charlie greets. He’s sprawled out on the floor, looking significantly less solid than normal.

“Uh,” Sapnap says, trying not to stare. Is it doing that on purpose? Can he control his goo? “Not much? I just figured I'd keep you company.”

“Cool!”

It's quiet after that. Sapnap grabs a book at random off one of the shelves, intending to read it, but as he looks at the cover he realizes it’s written in Ender. Fuck.

He looks around for something else to do, but they’re in a library. Books are kinda all there is in here. Well. Books and Charlie, but Sapnap just doesn’t know how to talk to him. He loves Quackity, so he wants to make the effort to befriend Charlie. He just doesn’t know how.

"You don't, uh. Talk much, do you?"

He sits up, goop slowly coalescing back into his body. "I like to listen and watch more than talk."

"You were talkin' Q's ear off, earlier."

It shrugs. "Quackity's different. He listens."

"Do people… not listen to you?"

He shrugs again. "Not really! I think mostly people hear what they wanna hear from me, and not what I'm saying."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"It's not so bad," it says. "Quackity and Wilbur pay attention when I talk."

"Yeah, he's— he's good like that." He pauses and thinks for a second. "Wilbur, too."

"I like being with them."

Okay, now he can finally ask. "Are you guys… dating?"

"What's dating?"

"Well. I mean, technically dating is… when you schedule times to hang out with each other, romantically, but I guess it's also kinda shorthand for just being in a relationship with someone. Romantically."

The slime nods thoughtfully. "Then yes!"

"And that's… You know how to do that?"

"I'm older than recorded history, Sapnap from Kinoko Kingdom," Charlie says, suddenly grave. "I've seen countries like yours rise and fall countless times. Everything and everyone turns to dust eventually."

What the fuck. "That's not really an answer."

"My point is, people like to think I'm stupid, and I let them! I've spent the past few thousand years in a hole in the ground, but I know people. Before you even had words to describe it, I knew what love was."

"But you didn't know what dating was?"

Charlie waves a hand. "Having language for something and understanding concepts are two different things. I don't think words are very helpful. I prefer feelings."

Sapnap nods slowly. "Okay, then, do you know what marriage is?"

"A promise to be with each other forever, right?"

"Well, that's what I made to Quackity. Me and Karl, we asked him to marry us." He's not sure why he's doing this. Probably the possessive streak acting up, wanting to make sure Charlie knows that he belongs with Quackity just as much as it does.

"I know," he says, tipping his head to the side. "I've heard about you two."

Charlie holds out a fist, and when it opens its hand, Quackity's engagement rings sit in its palm.

"Why do you have those?"

"Quackity took them off, awhile ago. I thought you might want them now."

The rings glint in the low light. "You know what they are?"

He nods. "A symbol of that promise. They're nice, but kinda pointless."

Pointless? "What—"

"It's silly for humans to make promises they can't keep," Charlie says, looking Sapnap in the eye. "I like that you keep doing it anyway, though."

Sapnap's hands twitch at his sides. It doesn't go unnoticed, because Charlie holds his hand out.

"Take them."

He does, gingerly, and stares at them.

"Quackity likes to pretend he doesn't need people." It curls Sapnap's fingers over the rings, more gently than he would've expected. "But life would be a lot more sad if we lived it alone, don't you think?"

"Is… Is that why you're with him?"

"Maybe. He was very alone, when he found me." Part of Sapnap wants to protest, but he knows it's true. "He was sad. I changed that. I told him I would make sure he never turned to dust," Charlie continues. He laughs quietly. "I guess I made one of those promises too, huh?"

He reaches out tentatively, rests his free hand on Charlie's arm. "That's being human. You promise somebody the sun, moon, and stars because offering impossible things is the closest you can come to showing your love."

Charlie looks down at where Sapnap is touching it. Slime creeps over the edges of his hand.

"I like that."

#dsmp #las nevadas polycule #c!slimecicle #c!sapnap #there is no duo name for this i dont even know if the cc's have ever spoken #still i soldier on with my silly little au.

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

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Obviously your blog is mostly centered around the shit storm that is ACOTAR. I'm curious, how do you feel about TOG? If you've read it that is. I've always preferred TOG to ACOTAR, mostly besides Dorian owns my heart, it also seemed more sculpted I guess (that's not the exact word I was looking for, but it works), and less focused on "romance" or whatever the fuck this wasn't meant to be a pun but the fact that it was my first thought for word choice is funny. Feysand and Nessian are, even tho romance is something that happens throughout the series and becomes more of a focus in later books, and I just preferred Celaena overall to Feyre. I know the series has its issues and isn't perfect by any means at all, my very strong prescription rose-colored glasses aren't that tinted. 😂 I read the series for the first time when I was a teenager, technically I read ACOTAR at the same age but we'll overlook that for now, the characters and the story have a special place in my heart and I'm not sure if it's actually good-aside from it's clear problems-or just my aforementioned rose colored glasses.

Totally okay if you don't answer questions about SJM's other series, if you do answer pls be gentle despite telling myself I'm not I'm Soft 😂. I trust your opinion, which is why I'm asking despite being Soft. Hope you have a better day tomorrow and Hercules is an incredible choice after a difficult day. 💜

Buckle up, this will be long!!!!

Weirdly, I was living in Copenhagen and I was in a group for young people new to the city and somebody wrote about making a book club. 4 of us turned up - one from USA, one from Netherlands, one from Spain, and me - so we were just chatting about books in a coffee shop and somebody recommended throne of glass. I'd tried to read books like divergent and the mortal instruments and did not like the "chosen girl who is the best at everything" cliche so I was like HARD PASS. (At that point Empire of Storms and ACOMAF had come out that year).

I didn't think about that book again but I did keep going to the library and I read Maze Runner which I loved and still pair with my time in Denmark lmao.

Anyway. I also did reddit gift exchanges and one year (maybe 2017/2018), somebody sent me Tower of Dawn and ACOTAR. I didn't touch either for ages. They just sat on my shelf because neither appealed.

Anyway, in a bid to read the books piling up on my shelves, I started acotar and my thoughts were "this girl is so dumb" "i cannot believe she can be this stupid" "my goodness she is annoying". I then borrowed the others from a library and was a fan of the side characters rather than feyre THEN I moved onto ToG.

I really enjoyed the first book. Loved a fun competition between assassins. I wanted her and Nox to get together rather than Chaol or Dorian. 2nd one felt off? Then the rest felt like a different series. I'll be honest, I did enjoy them but it didn't hook me the same way ACOTAR did. Cannot pinpoint why.

Feyre is annoying. Caelena is annoying

Rhys is annoying and abusive. Rowan is annoying and abusive.

Side characters make both series.

One thing that I really didn't like about Tog was how Kaltain was made to be that mean, man-hungry girl in the first... she didn't need "redemption", she was literally just a courtier set in a time where women needed to marry up. Again it was SJM's nasty side coming through like she did to Nesta/Elain in book one.

I loved Lorcan and Elide. They were probably my favourite chapters to read. Plus Manon's. I really enjoyed tower of dawn too - Yrene and Chaol were also one of my favourite couples.

This is so disjointed, sorry.

Overall yes i liked tog but I've only read it once. Don't love it enough to write fan fiction, but also there's not enough to make me angry like acotar.

#anon asks

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