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matchavellichor · 1 year ago

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A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #dark sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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rae-writes · 2 years ago

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don’t mind me~ [role reversal]

om brothers x poly!reader

wc : 3.k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : why should they keep their hands to themselves if you’re dating all 7 of them?

a/n : role reversal you say? why don’t mind if I do-

first ver.

Just the feel of his presence behind you is enough to make you falter in the conversation, pact tingling faintly at the acknowledgement of his pride. Lucifer’s fingers curl around your wrist in greeting, thumbing at your sped-up pulse, while his lips place slow, open mouthed kisses against your shoulder. The sensation is sensual- sinful - as he moves to your other shoulder, and the goosebumps that follow almost make him purr. By now, you’re fumbling and stuttering, trembling hands clenched as you try desperately not to feed into Lucifer’s ego, but when you feel the lightest brush of his teeth over your skin, your eyes tear away from whoever you were talking to- conversation be damned. What was supposed to be a stern look turns almost pleading when it meets his sly one, and at the sight of his smirk peeking over your shoulder, you swear you’d do anything he wanted.

Mammon was trying to fucking talk, thank you very much- He is so upset at his brother for ruining ‘his mc time’ and if he didn’t get so mad at the sight in front of him, he would’ve thrown a fit. Instead, he’ll just settle for stealing Luci’s credit card

Oh…sure, he wasn’t excited about the conversation or anything…!!! When his brain processes just how sensual the scene is and how just a few kisses have you making that face, Levi is fleeing with his heart pounding and his face blistering…oh what he wouldn’t give to be that bold

Satan’s glad he wasn’t holding anything or he would’ve broken it. How dare Lucifer interrupt your conversation? Stupid smug bastard…though on second thought, the fourth born thinks he’ll join in- he’s gotta make sure the front of you is loved too

Asmo is a giggling mess- he’s practically floating at seeing all your cute reactions. The way your body shivers at Lucifer’s touch, the pretty blush blossoming across your face, it’s all right up his alley. Ruined conversation forgotten, he could sit and watch this the entire day!

The sixth born doesn’t really complain- he was probably hungry anyway, so he’s content just letting Lucifer do what he wants; despite that, Beel stays rooted to his spot for a while, not being able to look away from your pretty reactions until your eyes meet his (making him blush at being caught)

Unlike Mammon, Belphie will throw a fit with no qualms about it. He doesn’t give a damn- he wants all your attention to be on him again! And while he does appreciate you trying to keep the conversation going, he doesn’t want your divided attention, he wants it all!

You don’t pay any attention to the feel of him kneading the flesh of your hips, which makes Mammon bristle in annoyance. Deft hands make their way up to your waist, prodding briefly at the ticklish spots, before finding purchase along your chest. His fingers brush over your nipples, nails scratching lightly at the base of your throat, and the chuckle he lets out when you shiver is absolutely dangerous. Still irritated that you’re continuing with the conversation, Mammon’s hands move back down- only this time they go past your hips. You trail off a bit, confused at what he’s doing, but when a sharp slap is delivered to one of your thighs, the words leave your mind in favor of focusing on his triumphant blue hues. He’ll proudly bare his teeth, smug about finally getting your attention; his hands, too, celebrate by grabbing your ass possessively— go on, Mc. Finish your conversation. What was it about again?

If he wasn’t so tired of Mammon’s bullshit, Lucifer would smack him upside the head, but alas. Even so, he’ll keep the conversation going as long as you’re able just so he can piss off his little brother (and maybe make you a bit more flustered)

Levi actually hisses at Mammon, though it clearly does little to stop anything. Could be the avatar of irritation with how annoyed he looks, but not with you, Mc, of course not! He’ll just go sulk off till you’re done..that’s- that’s fine…

Good thing he’s behind you, or Satan’s tail would’ve knocked the shit outta- anyway, the fourth born doesn’t really appreciate being interrupted, so out of petty spite he’ll just stand there with a clenched jaw until Mammon is done

Oh my! Asmo certainly doesn’t mind this side of Mammon’s greed- just look at how cute your shocked expression is! He’ll get closer, trailing his fingers along your features teasingly; let’s see just what the party duo can do together, hm?

Beel’s more concerned about Mammon slapping your thigh over anything else, but once he sees you’re perfectly fine, he’ll relax again. He’s content with just picking the conversation up later but maybe a kiss before he leaves? Please?

Ohoho, no. No, no, no— Belphie is not happy with this in the slightest. Those are his thighs you’re slapping Mammon, thank you very much. He has no problem slapping Mammon’s hand in retaliation and will growl in displeasure until your attention is back on him (or will fall asleep at your feet so you can’t go anywhere)

Despite his shy nature, Levi can’t help the envy that shoots through him, so you aren’t surprised when he begins to tug at your sleeve mid-conversation. He practically whines when you hold a finger up, desperately wanting your attention on him; surely you won’t mind if he just…With a gasp, you stare at Levi completely bewildered when he yanks you to him by the waist, feeling his arms slither around you and tighten. Even though he’s the one who initiated it, he’ll bury his face into your shoulder out of pure embarrassment and busy his mouth by placing soft bites everywhere. One of your legs gets trapped between his as he ruts against your thigh, keening loudly into the crook of your neck. Forgetting all about the other person present, Levi’ll start whimpering and begging, pleading you to pay attention to him. Y-you love him, r-right?! He n-needs you, p-please! And once your hands place themselves on his hips to help his movements, cooing in his ear about being a good boy, he cries out loudly, envy finally satisfied.

Lucifer blinks, not really expecting Levi to do something like that. A bit proud of his brother for being so bold, though that doesn’t excuse ruining his conversation…he’ll overlook it just this once, however

You know when cats meow angrily and it’s more funny than taken seriously? Yeah, that was Mammon. He was appalled that Levi would interrupt the two of you like this— absolutely betrayed when you began coddling his younger brother…maybe there’s some room left for him, too?

Impressed at the boldness, Satan smirks and tilts his head, audibly teasing his older brother and laughing when you grin. He doesn’t mind the ended conversation as much as he thought he would- making fun of Levi like this is entertaining in itself

Go, Levi! That’s what Asmo likes to see, his adorable big brother finally getting out of his shell! He’ll actually slot himself behind you, cheerfully adding fire to the flaming inferno that is Levi’s red face

He’s gonna be honest…Beel didn’t even realize at first. It was normal for his brother to have his head buried in your neck, but when he caught on to your small giggles, he blinked and began blushing. Wow, Levi, you’re really going for it, huh? Good for you

Internally throwing a fit and outwardly seething, because fuck that’s a really good idea. Belphie glares at Levi’s back for the longest time before he catches your knowing eye and stammers when you pat your other thigh- sure, he’ll join, if you’re offering (like you can’t see the sheer joy that crosses his features when you do)

As a hopeless romantic, it’s only natural for Satan to be a gentleman, so he’ll stand beside you quietly while you’re in conversation. An arm wraps itself around your shoulders lovingly— but it’s all an act. His tail is sneakily slipping past your bottoms, pushing into you without a moment’s hesitation. The concern on his face when you choke up your words is broadway performance perfection and the glare you send him does nothing but make him shove his tail deeper inside you. Your conversation is nothing but stuttered words on your end, though save for the blush, you aren’t as affected as he’d like you to be. That won’t do. Satan gives you even more of his tail, purposefully ramming against the spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. His arm will tighten to keep you upright, smirk shining with smugness. He can’t stop his eyes from darkening when you bite down on his hand and he promises this conversation will be the last thing on your mind once he’s through with you.

Lucifer’s silent rage could rival Satan’s at this point- and it’s honestly funny how alike they are sometimes; Lucifer will stand there out of petty spite and start playing with you as well to see who you pay more attention to. Let the competition begin, Satan. Hope you can keep up

The rate at which Mammon’s blood pressure spikes should be an emergency. Whaat the fuck, Satan?! T-that’s a b-bit too..far…oh, your expressions are so pretty though…alright, he supposes he can forgive the ruined conversation- as long as ya let him stay and watch

Levi is on the floor, face hidden, and hand slamming against the ground to try and gain some composure. This is something he’s dreamed of doing and there Satan is, doing it like it’s natural. ‘s so not fair!…a-ah, don’t mind his tail sliding up your leg…two feels better than one, doesn’t it?

Squealing is all that can be heard from Asmo— what a good use of your tail! He’s almost jealous he can’t do that himself, though his brother looks simply ravishing while he does! Azzy will give you a fleeting kiss, wagging his fingers as he settles down for the show

Again, Beel wasn’t paying much attention to Satan himself. When your knees give out, though, he helps steady you with a hand on your lower belly- and only when he feels the faint bulge- does he realize what his brother is doing. It makes Beel flush down to his lower neck and stutter; he’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done…

Belphie ends the conversation before you do, throwing a silent fit because he can’t do that with his tail. It’s almost comical- the way he’s pouting- and if you weren’t so distracted, he knows you’d be laughing at him. The thought makes him huff and storm up to the attic— he’ll be back for you later

Asmo rarely joins a conversation, finding it boring if your focus isn’t on him, but he doesn’t mind entertaining himself while you’re occupied. Perfectly manicured hands will grasp yours, fiddling with your digits until you wiggle them in acknowledgment. Only then does a charming smile break out on his face- a warning, if you will - before he’s taking your fingers in his mouth. Asmo runs a bit warmer than most, so the feeling is shockingly hot and wet. The brief look you cast his way makes him purr and gives him the initiative to push your fingers deeper— he wants to choke on them; Azzy doesn’t have a gag reflex necessarily, but it still makes his eyes roll white when they hit the back of his throat. Instead of receiving your full attention like he anticipated, all he gets is your fingers massaging his tongue, pressing down until saliva pools. Without even glancing at him, still continuing with the conversation, he feels himself flush against his will and choke out a moan when you grin. He won’t be moving until you’re well satisfied, so he better get comfy.

Is debating whether or not to simply just walk away because Lucifer is just so done with his brother’s shit. The mischievous glint in your eyes makes him think twice, instead choosing to watch you humiliate Azzy with a sadistic grin. He’ll leave eventually, but not until Asmo is crying from embarrassment

Mammon grimaces at the loud sounds Asmo is making, side-eyeing him with intent to kill. He loves his whore brother, don’t get him wrong, but that doesn’t mean he has to be a whore on Mammon’s Mc time!…Pft- just look at the embarrassed look on Asmo’s face! Let him take a picture real quick—

Shy baby Levi is fully ready to curl up on the floor and either melt or die; how can one person be that confident?! And the way you’re continuing the conversation makes Levi even more of a mess, faintly wishing you’d make him your little toy too, though he’d never admit it out loud (unless maybe you asked)

Satan’s gotten good at tuning out his annoying brothers, so as long as you keep gagging him like that, the fourth born doesn’t mind; he appreciates you keeping your attention on him. Maybe he’ll award you with his own fingers? Open up, love, Tannie’s got a treat for you

Beel doesn’t understand why Asmo enjoys having your fingers in his mouth so much, so he’s just a bit confused. He’d love to try, it seems kind of fun actually…huh? oral fixation? Hmm…sure, give him your other hand and he’ll find out- don’t mind if he scrapes your fingers with his teeth though. He won’t bite, promise

Excuse you, Asmo, Belphie was trying to woo Mc into taking a nap with him dammit- move! He will push you down the stairs— actually..stay there, he’s quite enjoying the humiliated tears that are forming. Please, Mc, make him cry harder. It’s funny

His intention is never to spoil your conversation, but Beel just gets so hungry sometimes and food isn’t always enough to cure it. He’ll approach you and crouch down, running soothing hands up and down your legs, massaging your thighs until you pet his hair lovingly. At your affection, he beams and buries his face in your crotch area. Skirt, shorts, pants- whatever- he just wants to feel your warmth pressing against his face. It also doesn’t help that he’s got a more advanced sense of smell, so the scent of you makes his mouth water and his arms tighten around your legs. The thought of getting a taste of what’s behind your clothing alone is enough to satiate his hunger a small amount, but it’s the subtle way your fingers press into his scalp that has him pushing closer and mouthing at you. In just a few seconds, the fabric is damp with his saliva, and while that can’t be a comfortable feeling, Beel can’t stop. He thinks he can actually taste you now, his favorite flavor that’s so so close— only some scraps of clothing shutting him off from what he really wants. He’s not above begging and he’ll look up at you with something akin to a pout, nuzzling in between your thighs. The warning tug you give his hair causes him to growl; do it again, Mc. Harder. You’ll need something to hold on to, anyway.

Thankful that his younger brother is quiet, Lucifer chooses to just ignore it and continue with the conversation until it’s finished; by that point, though, the first born is quite interested in the subtle expressions you’re making, so he’ll think of something to keep said conversation going— anything

Mammon can’t even get mad at his little brother- he just looks so innocent and he actually apologizes for ruining the conversation. Even the greedy second born can’t argue with that. He supposes he’ll just go hang out in your room till Beel is done…you’ll have to pay him back later, ya know?

Personally, Levi thinks he’ll just go scream into his pillow, thanks. When you catch his hand as he’s leaving though, he can’t really help the whine that leaves him nor the speed in which he’s also getting on his knees for you. Levi’ll just get comfy with his arms around one of your legs and his head resting on your thigh (but only as long as you pet his hair)

Like his older brother, Satan can’t exactly get mad at Beel, so honestly he doesn’t even know what to do at first. While thinking of a response, Satan focuses his attention on the way your hips roll slightly against the redhead’s mouth and decides he’ll just watch for now

Asmo is grinning from ear to ear, like the smug, shit-eating kind that’s oh so rare on his pretty face. He’s so tickled at Beel’s rather desperate display, he’ll just stand there giddily before he finally skips off to go run a bath. Don’t worry- you can join him when you’re done here

Belphie won’t mind his twin’s intrusion, carrying on your conversation with no issue. When you begin getting distracted, he’ll simply walk behind you and circle his arms around your waist to hold you still as Beel gets his fill— of course, he’ll want a turn too, but he doesn’t care to wait

Being an absolute brat by nature, Belphie simply cuts off your chance at continuing the conversation. His face will only be in your line of sight briefly before his lips are on yours, uncaring of who he interrupted or what you were even talking about; he wants you, so he’ll have you. His tongue will smoothly push its way into your mouth and take over, grinning ever so slightly when yours immediately tangles with his. It’s like there’s no one else there as he wraps one of his hands around your throat, squeezing lightly until he hears you moan. He has no shame in the way he pulls you closer, slotting one of his legs between yours, nor does he mind when spit begins dribbling down his or your chin— Belphie likes it. He likes it messy because you look so undeniably his. Slowly, he’ll break away- almost giving in when you chase him with a whine -but will still make his way to your neck. His lips barely brush over the skin before he’s pulling back entirely and giving you a cocky grin. Oh, he’ll continue, you just have to follow him first.

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Lucifer’s patience thinning. He won’t give his little brother the satisfaction of breaking it, however, so he’ll just calmly tell you to come see him later while he goes to seethe quietly in his study

Mammon is not surprised (but still irritated) at Belphie’s sheer audacity. He could easily break it up, but he’s always spoiled the twins, so he’ll give you a kiss- making sure his tongue grazes yours- before backing down. Don’t get him wrong, though, he’ll be waitin for ya in your room

[cue boss music] : enter Leviathan, Avatar of Envy. His health meter’s already knocked down by this as he again wishes he could be that bold, b-but he’s totally getting Belphie back for this! He slinks back to his room with a plan…and a request for you to come game with him after

Satan has two reactions and no in between. He’s either pissed at the blatant interruption and will leave or he’ll grin at your flushed face and join his partner in crime, taking to your left side while they take turns swapping spit with you (hoping Lucifer will catch them on his way through the halls)

Who is Asmo to disagree with simply taking what you want? Good job, Belphie! Though he does think they spoil him too much, Asmo will blow a kiss, maybe take a quick picture or two, and leave his baby brother to it (do tell him all about it later)

Beel blinks in surprise before smiling a bit, playfully poking fun at his twin for being needy. There’s a cute blush high on his cheeks as he shuffles closer, silently asking to join. Once he’s settled behind you, though, his shyness completely disappears while he focuses on nibbling your neck

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asmotheavatarofhorny · 2 years ago

Text

You were in the living room when it happened.

Satan was leaning back against the arm of the sofa you were on, and you propped up your head on his knee which was conveniently right in your face as he buried his feet under you, providing a nice amount of warmth. You flicked your eyes across the page of a new novel you had been recommended as you read it aloud. It was nice. Just the two of you.

Until there were three. Asmo had practically floated in, his socked feet bouncing across the wooden floor as he ogled at his pocket mirror. He waved to Satan and kissed your cheek, opting to sit on your left with an arm hooked around your waist and his head rested on your shoulder. Okay, just the three of you. It was warmer this way, anyway.

Crunch

…

Crunch

……

Crunch—

Oh come on now.

You turned your head as much as Asmo would allow, to see the huge teddy bear that is Beel munching on some chips behind you. He gave one of his signature smiles and ruffled your hair before reaching his hands under your arms and lifting you up out of your comfortable position effortlessly, holding you up by your armpits. You would be disturbed if this wasn’t his chosen form of affection towards you. Unfortunately, this was normal. After Asmo’s protest and Satan’s grumbles at having cold feet, Beel climbed over the back of the couch and repositioned you to be sitting on his lap, his chin resting on your head as he glanced at the words in your book. Soon enough, the others regained their positions, although Satan had to either put his feet under Beel or uncomfortably rest them on his thighs, so he just opted to sit normally, a hand laid on your thigh, lightly squeezing every now and then when there was a suspenseful moment in the story. Great. Four of you. Well, at least Beel has comfy thighs.

You returned to reading, content with the amount of cuddles you were getting, although you did feel a bit less like a human and more like a stuffed animal this way. Suddenly, you heard the slapping of bare feet on the hard wood floor and a yawn. Oh shit. You glanced to your left, over Asmo’s head. A smaller demon with eye bags and purple-white hair stood with his arms crossed around his signature cow pillow. Belphie. He glided over to you, slouching the whole way. Surely his back must hurt, right? Either way, he was now climbing onto the couch and— of course. Right onto your lap. He nuzzled his head into your and Beel’s shoulders, letting his pillow fall to the ground in favor of getting closer to you. Now it was five.

A few moments, the loudness of a video game sounded. Levi. You heard a soft gasp and a small flash of light, undoubtedly him turning into his demon form at the sudden envy that his brothers’ got to cuddle puddle you and he didn’t. You heard some grumbling before he plopped down on Belphie’s discarded pillow, his face fell onto your thigh, and his tail wrapped around your leg. He commented on the happenings in your book as you read it, though he pretended not to care. ‘Normie activities’ he called it. Six. Lovely.

A soft humming filled the room before coming to an abrupt halt. Mammon. Surely he wouldn’t be content to sit across from you, right? He tried to push Satan over to no avail, as he just hissed at him and told him to ‘fuck off.’ Mammon scoffed and decided to climb up on the back of the couch and dangle his feet around Beel’s neck leaving his unsocked dogs right in your face. Thanks, Mammon. And with him, there were seven. You were just missing one brother, but you figured he was off doing some important work of some kind.

“Does anyone know where MC is? I have something to ask them—“ the signature deep voice rang through the room, before he paused and crossed his arms, pondering what in the hell is going on here. You took the opportunity to continue reading to your demons, hoping to attract Lucifer and keep your cuddle buddies from scattering. It worked, and he sat next to Satan, who ‘tsk’d’ in response. ‘It was only a trivial matter and it could wait’ he had said. Now the gauntlet was complete, and you were surrounded by seven demons who you’d attracted somehow. Good job, MC.

About twenty minutes later…

Knock

You inwardly sighed as you prepared for the worst. Your cuddle puddle stayed in its position though, so you assumed you had all come to the conclusion to sit and wait for it to go away.

…knock

Knock

Again, you continued reading and did nothing.

Click.

Goddamn it Mammon did you not lock the front door?!

“Hey, the door was open so I just decided to come in. I brought sandwiches—“ said the voice of a certain sorcerer. Solomon had welcomed himself in, and couldn’t help chuckle a little at the sight. You ignored him of course, as did the rest of your cuddle pile. Solomon weaseled himself next to Asmo, resting on the arm of the couch as Asmo put an arm around him, his head still nestled on your shoulder. Although no one took up Solomon’s offer of sandwiches. Seven demons, and two humans now.

Another twenty minutes or so passed, until you heard more footsteps enter the room. “Solomon, are you here? You left the front door open—“ a small gasp came from the direction of the voice, and a small yapping sound came from just below it. Something about being too close to MC? You weren’t sure. You don’t speak chihuahua, after all. Simeon sat down on the floor, leaning against the leg Levi had now let go of, his demon form having faded away a long time ago, with Luke in his lap. Luke crossed his arm in faux annoyance, but really he was happy to be included.

Soon enough, Diavolo caught wind of your harem’s whereabouts due to his butler’s eyes being everywhere. He merrily skipped into the room, Barbatos in tow and took a seat on an ottoman he had pulled up close to Lucifer. He attempted to lean his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, but he hadn’t allowed it. ‘Not in-front of MC’ he whispered, but you absolutely heard. Barbatos stood off to the side, opting to stand. Weird, but whatever floats your boat you guessed.

A while later, a load thumping of stomping feet disgraced your eardrums, Mephistopheles come to complain about something, no doubt. Damn he was annoying. Oh well. He crossed his arms and went on about something, attempting to drown your reading out. Mammon and Asmo simply glared at him, and it shut him up. Thank Diavolo. He decided to sit down on the floor in-front of Solomon, ‘to make sure you aren’t doing anything disgraceful in-front of the Demon Lord’ he said. Great. Ten demons, two humans, and two angels. What is it now, fourteen?

You continued to read until a pounding of running feet ran in behind you. Thirteen. She jumped up onto the back of the couch you sat on, occasionally kicking Solomon in the back. You didn’t know how exactly she found out about this, but she was here now. Hurray. Add a reaper to your harem of fifteen.

And last but not least, Raphael waltzed in, and opted to stand next to Mephisto. Even Barbatos had sat down by now, so surely he would crack and sit eventually. Right…?

A few hours later, with minimal interruptions, you had successfully finished reading your book. And on top of that, lulled a total of ten demons, three angels, a human, and a reaper to sleep with your subpar reading skills. You felt a sense of accomplishment, at least. Although Raph was still standing, which was mildly worrisome. You let your eyes slip shut, and eventually fell asleep.

You were destined to wake up sweaty and with a sore back, but it was worth it for the interspecies cuddle puddle.

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anna-the-undertaker · 2 months ago

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Do you have hc for Solomon with a teen apprentice? (Platonic obviously) Thanks if you do this♡

Solomon & Teen Apprentice MC

A Chaotic Mentor with a Purpose: Solomon thrives in chaos, and that’s exactly how he teaches. When MC first becomes his apprentice, they quickly learn that there are no structured lessons or neatly written textbooks. Instead, Solomon prefers throwing them straight into the deep end. One minute, MC might be practicing basic spells, and the next, they’re scrambling to contain a magical explosion caused by one of Solomon’s half-baked experiments. Solomon watches with that mischievous grin, completely at ease while everything around him is in disarray. "You’ve got to be prepared for anything," he’ll say with a chuckle. "The best way to learn magic is to see what happens when things go wrong." But even as chaos swirls, there’s a method to his madness. Solomon is always watching, guiding with subtle corrections, making sure MC learns through experience. He believes in trial by fire because that’s how he learned—and in his mind, it’s the only way to become truly skilled in magic.

Endearing Moments Hidden in the Chaos: Amid all the pranks and unpredictability, Solomon has his softer moments. After a particularly rough day of training—when nothing seems to be going right for MC—he’ll sit with them, his usual playful tone replaced by something gentler. "You’re doing better than you think," he’ll say, handing them a cup of tea with a knowing smile. It’s in these quiet moments that Solomon lets his guard down, sharing pieces of his life that no one else gets to hear. Stories from centuries ago, about the mistakes he made when he was younger, and the people he’s met along the way. "I didn’t get everything right the first time either," he admits, surprising MC with his vulnerability. "But that’s what magic is—making mistakes and learning from them." And even though Solomon usually plays the role of the jokester, in these moments, it’s clear how deeply he cares about MC’s progress and well-being.

A Father Figure in Disguise: Though Solomon never outright calls himself a father figure, his actions speak louder than words. He’s protective in subtle ways—making sure MC eats properly (even if his own cooking is questionable), giving them a stern talking-to when they push themselves too hard, and staying up late when they’re struggling with a particularly difficult spell. When MC feels overwhelmed or insecure about their abilities, Solomon’s there to reassure them, but in his own, teasing way. "You’ve got potential," he says with a grin, ruffling their hair. "And you’ll get there eventually. Just don’t expect to be as great as me anytime soon." He acts like it’s all a joke, but the affection in his words is unmistakable. For Solomon, who has lived for centuries, MC is a refreshing reminder of what it’s like to be young and eager to learn. They bring out a side of him that’s more nurturing, even if he’d never admit it.

Solomon’s Pranks—A Lesson in Mischief: Solomon’s love for pranks is well-known, and he sees no reason to hold back just because MC is his apprentice. In fact, he sees it as an essential part of their training. One day, MC might be practicing a simple levitation spell, only for Solomon to tweak the spell behind their back so that objects start flying around the room uncontrollably. "Oh, you didn’t know that could happen?" he says with a laugh, watching as MC frantically tries to get everything under control. "Consider it a lesson in improvisation." Another time, he’ll give them a seemingly ordinary potion to brew, but as soon as they finish, the liquid turns into rainbow-colored bubbles that float around the room, popping harmlessly in MC’s face. Solomon just watches, grinning the whole time, enjoying the chaos. "Magic should be fun, too," he’ll say afterward, handing them a towel to wipe off the soap-like residue. "If you can’t laugh at it, you’re not doing it right."

MC Gets Even—Their Own Pranks: MC eventually catches on to Solomon’s chaotic nature and starts pranking him back, much to his delight. After one too many magical mishaps caused by their mentor, MC decides to get revenge. During one of their lessons, they cast a spell that turns Solomon’s hair into a giant, poofy cloud of pink cotton candy. At first, Solomon doesn’t realize what’s happened, too busy explaining the intricacies of spellcasting, but when MC starts giggling uncontrollably, he catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. His expression goes from confusion to amusement, and then full-on laughter. "Touché," he says, admiring the ridiculous sight. "I see you’re learning more than just magic." He’s genuinely proud of MC for getting the upper hand, and their playful banter only strengthens their bond. In fact, Solomon encourages their pranks, seeing them as proof that MC is becoming more confident in their abilities.

Accidentally Calling Him 'Dad': The first time MC calls Solomon "Dad," it’s completely unintentional. They’ve been working together for hours on a complicated spell, and Solomon’s been unusually patient, walking them through each step with care. After finally getting it right, MC, exhausted and grateful, mumbles, "Thanks, Dad," without even realizing it. The room goes silent for a moment, and MC’s eyes go wide as they realize what they’ve just said. They expect Solomon to laugh or tease them mercilessly, but instead, he just looks at them with a soft smile. "I suppose that’s not the worst thing you could call me," he says, his voice unusually gentle. For once, there’s no joke, no prank—just a moment of quiet understanding between them. Though neither of them acknowledges it directly, there’s a shift in their relationship after that. Solomon doesn’t bring it up again, but from then on, his protectiveness over MC becomes a little more obvious, his care a little more deliberate.

Challenging MC in Unexpected Ways: Solomon believes that the best way to learn magic is through challenges, and he’s not one to go easy on MC. One day, without warning, he teleports them to a mysterious, enchanted forest and tells them to find their way back using nothing but the skills they’ve learned. It’s a test of everything they’ve practiced—spellcasting, critical thinking, and, most importantly, trusting their instincts. MC stumbles at first, but Solomon’s voice echoes through the trees, offering cryptic hints and riddles, pushing them to solve the puzzles on their own. When they finally make it out, tired but triumphant, Solomon is there waiting with his usual grin. "Took you long enough," he says, though the pride in his eyes is unmistakable. "But you did well. See? You’re getting stronger every day."

Affection Hidden in the Chaos: Though Solomon’s default mode is chaotic, his affection for MC is always present, even if it’s hidden beneath layers of teasing and pranks. He shows it in small ways, like making sure they have a cup of tea ready after a long day of training or draping a blanket over their shoulders when they fall asleep during late-night study sessions. He never makes a big deal out of these gestures, often brushing them off with a casual, "You looked cold," or "Can’t have my apprentice catching a cold." But MC knows better. Solomon’s care might be subtle, but it’s there in every little thing he does. And though he’ll never say it out loud, he’s proud of the bond they’ve built together.

The Disaster That Is Cooking Together: Every now and then, Solomon tries to teach MC how to cook, though it’s less of a lesson and more of a catastrophe. Solomon’s cooking skills are, to put it kindly, disastrous. But that doesn’t stop him from enthusiastically throwing ingredients into a pot and declaring, "This is going to be amazing!" MC, already skeptical, watches as the mixture turns an alarming shade of green. When the dish finally finishes, it looks like something out of a horror story, and MC can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Solomon takes a bite, makes a face, and then bursts into laughter himself. "Okay, maybe I’m not the best chef," he admits, "but hey, at least it’s memorable, right?" Cooking together becomes a tradition of sorts, where neither of them expects the food to be edible, but they have fun with it anyway.

Solomon’s Quiet Protectiveness: While Solomon’s chaotic nature often takes center stage, his protectiveness over MC becomes more obvious the longer they work together. He’s not one to hover or coddle them, but if MC is ever in danger or overextends themselves, Solomon steps in without hesitation. During one particularly dangerous magical experiment, when a spell goes wrong and nearly backfires, Solomon is there in an instant, casting a protective barrier around MC without a second thought. He plays it off later, acting like it was no big deal, but the look of concern in his eyes lingers longer than usual. "Next time, don’t push yourself so hard," he says, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness. "I’m supposed to be the chaotic one, remember?"

The Bond Between Them: Over time, the relationship between Solomon and MC deepens. What started as a mentor-apprentice dynamic slowly evolves into something more familial. Solomon continues to be his unpredictable, mischievous self, always pushing MC to their limits and challenging them in unexpected ways. But there’s a mutual respect that grows between them—MC learns to appreciate Solomon’s unconventional teaching methods, while Solomon grows attached to MC in ways he didn’t expect. For all his centuries of experience, MC brings something new into Solomon’s life: a sense of connection and responsibility that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He watches with pride as MC grows into their abilities, knowing that, despite all the chaos, he’s helped shape them into a powerful sorcerer.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me solomon

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dazyskiie-luv · 1 year ago

Text

Overblot mc/yuu but...????

TW — mention of vomiting, fighting Crowley and winning (sorry Crowley lovers), past death. I like thinking a lot tbh

not necessarily angst but it is in here! Same with fluff...this was really just me rambling.

* EDIT: WHY DID IT TAKE HOURS UNTIL I FINALLY GOT TOLD I WAS WRITING OVERBLOT WRONG.

I think about MC overbloting a lot and I also think about adding it into my own books because of how??? good??? the idea???? is???????

I genuinely imagine that even from the start MC was in danger of overbloting themself, with the stress and despair of finding out they aren't in THEIR world, away from their (family and/or friends) with possibly NO WAY BACK EVER because of some egocentric crow refusing to do more than he wants to???????

They would obviously be hella upset, stressed, depressed, anxious, etc because they know NOTHING of this world and is practically a BABY among people who lived here THEIR WHOLE LIFE.

So as more overblots happen, the more their OWN overblot is brewing. Bubbling, waiting to enter the game. Especially with the magic always getting slashed onto them. I think the only reason why they HAVEN'T overbloted just yet is because of grim

a more personal headcanon; Grim's fire, when you have a close bond with him, sorta starts erasing your blot and fueling HIS flames, making it more powerful. Essentially, think of when you're close friends with someone... you'll find it easier to fight for them right?? like you have more power to do that??? that's what its like

Now think of when MC is just TOO deep in their mind, TOO deep into their emotions and its the ONE TIME grim isn't there to help. They go to throw up blot and after panicking for a bit they just accept it. They accept that "I'm gonna overblot and probably die" because they're just too tired to worry abt themself

They don't tell anyone and since the overblot is already taking over the entire inside of their body, grims flames can't really???? get it all???? It'll always be there and it'll continue to grow and slowly grim notices that when he's feeling more powerful than ever while MC is showing obvious signs of getting ready to overblot

Grim choosing not to say anything to other people would be like... i guess out of character but at the same time i think In character????? He knows how tired MC is with dealing with everyone and honestly he's tired of it too so YASSS SLAY HENCH-BESTIEEE!!!!!

Sooner or later the others would notice too and it would be a little late to help MC since the overblot is already seeping out of their skin like they're crying. and honestly? their body IS crying. it's crying blot. And even as everyone is screaming and panicking about MC, they're just... sitting there.

Like they're annoyed everyone is making a big deal out of it considering no one cared before, and they're just like "stfu we're in class" and then focus on the teacher going "u can continue im sorry abt that."

And everyone is just??? confused?? because why aren't they going haywire or like.....???? idk..... crying in pain....????? what...........

MC just chilling the entire day while overbloting, even their overblot monster just floating behind them in peace and waving at times when people look for too long while everyone else is wary and giving them (+ grim who's always in MC's hold) a bunch of space while the teachers and dormleaders have their pens/wands/wtvr thr fuck at command just incase

but then everyone just realizes that??? MC isn't gonna???? do anything?????? and it kinda irritates them because why aren't you doing shit its freaking them out.

And lets say,,, ortho... as discreetly as he can... scans you. And it shows that you're perfectly fine??? like you aren't dying or in pain. It even shows the Blot monster being alright too like its just a guy standing there.

And now the confusion is up to 100 because WHAT????

MC and the Blot [+ Grim] just doing their everyday assignments and eating in the cafeteria with their friends being visibly tense and MC just raises an eyebrow like "whats wrong with yall tf" before continuing to absolutely DEMOLISH a burger they got for free. FREE!!! best day ever fr they'll tell you that much

I feel like the Blot would get sorta aggressive/protective when it comes to people who has like hurt MC to the point they had to take a nurse visit (half of the school but its alr we gang fr) but when it comes to crowley....??? They'll see the FULL POWER of a magicless blot monster which is actually more terrifying than the others.

The blot going hulk on crowley is so funny to imagine for me cause he'd just be running away and suddenly gets smashed into a pillar from a literal stomp. just one. and it was relatively weak compared to the Blot AND MC picking up and swinging that SAME PILLAR to smash it into crowley.

All that anger and other negative emotion finally coming out the SECOND they even so as HEAR that crows heartbeat nearby. It gave everyone whiplash but then again they also all collectively thought that he deserved it considering he hasn't truly done anything to HELP the students but just to HELP the schools reputation.

I'm half certain a student died there and he just covered it up and they turned into a ghost that haunts places. (i mean... look at the three ghosts in Ramshackle. they used to be students there I'm pretty sure????? i forgot.)

As MC is beating the DOG SHIT out of crowley the Blot is just cleaning everything up slowly because they realized that they dirted up the place :( and when MC is done they help too as the teachers all circle around a throughly beaten and bruised Crowley who has blood seeping out of his mouth while being half awake.

Of course they help him don't die because they honestly don't want the one helpful person to go to the equivalent of jail in twisted wonderland for committing murder and ykw thats so real.

I feel like as Mc stays in this overblot form everyone thats close-ish to them gets memories of things that's happened to them in the past like how MC did. But it's worse. I want an mc thats traumatized im sorry and i want it to be worse than what half of these guys went through.

I need them to feel guilty even more. Like. "Oh my god I really said that when— holy shit" FEEL BAD!!!!! Grim would already know their past because I know I would be cuddling into Grim's stomach and crying about everything.

When Mc finally stops "Overbloting", the Blot would still be there but as its own person :D How does this work????? it works bc I said it does.

The Blot™ would help MC a lot and vice versa, basically acting like parents now with how worried they get over everyone and the other. Grim is eating the attention up though as both Mc and The Blot cuddle as therapy (and bc they wanna)

Everyone (especially idia) would need time to like... get used to that because there's "NO FUCKING RECORD OF AN OVERBLOT BECOMING ITS OWN PERSON AND BEING....NICE?????"(shrouds words not mine ong) and when they do get used to it its like everyone is genuinely happier because! gasp! they are!!!

kick the crow out the seat. Both the Blot and Mc are the new headmaster contrary to the students voting them when Crowley got demoted from it.

I also feel like....??? Instead of MC goinf back home cause they realize just how BAD it was back home, they choose to have a bridge between both realities so that its their (friends and/or families) choice on if they want to be with them in twisted wonderland or not.

MC & Blot beating the shit outta Crowley as everyone watches (and cheers)

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 years ago

Text

The Arcana HCs: Giving first aid to the M6 when it's MC's fault that they're slightly hurt

~ you already know I had to do the reverse scenario! Link to part 1 below. Bone apple teeth - brainrot ~

- to set the scene -

You had recently been struck with some inspiration regarding a new spell idea and were frantically scribbling it down in your trusty notebook. You weren't sure how you would implement it, but if you could somehow combine latent spell magic with a time piece you might be able to set specific delays for it to take place ...

As you sharpen your pencil between pages of half formed plans, you hear the sound of the door opening and closing as your beloved walks in. As soon as they ask you about what you're up to, you're animatedly spewing your thought process. Just as they come up behind you for a hello kiss, you fling your hands wide in exasperation and the pencil in your hand smacks them across the face. Now you're turning around to see them wide-eyed, a tiny bead of blood welling up on their cheekbone.

Julian

Barely a moment's hesitation. This is his chance. This is his time to shine. There is so much dramatic potential for this.

See the drama, feel the drama, BE THE DRAMA

"Alas! Home I have come to greet my beloved, and I am met with the sharpest of lead!"

"Julian, darling, it's just a scratch."

"Tis the smallest of wounds doth smart the most. I am stung with the might of a thousand papercuts!"

He's throwing his whole body into the part at this point, staggering around the living room with one hand clasped over his cheek and the other tearing open his shirt to clutch at his chest

He definitely bangs his knee on a side table as he collapses onto the sofa while you approach him with your handkerchief

"Hold still, I need to wipe it off."

Clutching at you dramatically, not so subtly trying to pull you down on top of him while you dab at his cheek

"Tell me good doctor, is this to be my end? The light ... it calls to me ... is that you, mother? Say it isn't so! For I am held by my beloved angel as they tend to my wounds with all tenderness."

"You should be fine now, it's not even bleeding anymore."

Refuses to let you leave the couch

"I dare not ask you to stay by my side with this disfigurement, but let me at least know the sweetness of your kiss one last time -"

"You really don't need to be this dramatic-"

"I AM THE DRAMA"

You won't even be able to see the scratch in the morning, but his knee will be stiff for the rest of the week

Asra

Sputtering slightly, they didn't expect to get smacked in the face while bringing you tea

Doesn't realize he's injured, you were just getting to a really good point about release mechanisms and there's this tie dye inspired glitter bomb he's been working on for a while now ...

Wait, you look upset. What's wrong, how can they help, here's your tea, what's bothering you?

He's bleeding? He'll chuckle slightly as a single wave of his fingers heals it entirely, he's touched at your concern but it's nothing to get that upset about

Now you're pouting slightly, and it's adorable, and oh they can tease you about this can't they

He knows how to bide his time though, you've all but forgotten about it until later that evening when you're working on your shop inventory and he puts his hands up and freezes when he walks by

"Asra? What's wrong?"

"Oh nO, noT tHe PenCiL!"

When you wake up the next morning and go to start breakfast every knife and fork in the drawer has been enchanted to jump out of your fingers as soon as you pick them up

"Asra? What is this?!"

A smug, half-asleep voice floats across to you from the bed:

"You can't be trusted with pointy objects, MC, I want to keep my eyeballs."

"How am I supposed to make toast?!"

"I don't know MC, probably without giving the stove salamander cause to believe that it is is about to get skewered as well."

Nadia

Looking at you with both eyebrows raised, one hand slowly moving to touch her cheek

You're immediately scrambling to heal it with magic, promising it won't leave a scar, you're so sorry, it was an accident

She'll allow you to heal her and let you spew your apologies, one eyebrow raised as she regards you with a quiet smirk

"Tell me, MC, exactly how much damage could you do with a pencil?"

You're not sure if she's teasing you or genuinely curious, but hey, since she's asking may as well tell her

It's not hard to come up with ideas, half of effective magic use is creativity

The longer you talk, the more she shifts from amusement to awe. She knew that you would make a formidable foe, but with the right prompt your skillset and creativity are downright terrifying

Truly, a worthy court magician and life partner

She will develop a new habit from this, of pointing at mundane objects and asking you how you would weaponize it

Every time you answer she falls in love with you a little more

One time during a meeting with a power hungry courtier she got tired of his manipulative attempts and pointed at the quill pen in his hand

"Tell me, court magician, how could you most effectively use that to damage someone?"

She took great delight in watching the courtier's face slowly drain of color as you answered in gleeful detail

Muriel

Didn't really feel it, he gets whacked in the face way harder by tree branches all the time

But now you're reaching up at him, so gently, brushing your fingertips across his cheek with traces of magic and the most vulnerable look in your eyes

Are you? Are you about to kiss him? Okay, here goes -

You are now very confused. You just slashed him across the face with your pencil, and then he kissed you out of nowhere while you were trying to heal the scratch???

You're not complaining but you don't exactly follow the thought process here either

Now the two of you are looking at each other in awkward silence, blushing heavily while Inanna whines from secondhand embarrassment

Cue one of the most painful conversations you've ever had with him, the two of you stumbling over half-sentences as you explain yourselves, slowly wishing you could sink into the floor

At one point he asks why you didn't move away if you weren't trying to initiate a kiss, he didn't want to do anything you weren't asking for

When you tell him that you like him asking for affection his face goes up in flames

He still isn't comfortable touching you out of nowhere though, so now he has a little ritual of putting a pencil in your hand before he leans in for a kiss, so you know what to expect and have time to move away if you don't want it

Portia

"... Did you just stab me?"

Mostly just laughing in disbelief, she didn't see it coming and the look on your face is priceless

Won't let you near the scratch at first

"No, it's my battle scar! I look so cool with it, stop trying to wipe it away!"

Once you mention healing magic her interest is piqued, so she'll allow it

Now she wants you to teach her. It's been obvious that she has an affinity for magic, and being able to smooth over a scratch or blister or burn from baking would be a real lifesaver

The tricky thing is that learning healing magic requires some kind of injury to heal

You spend the evening practicing on some of the fruits in her gardens that have gotten a bit banged up, and then the next afternoon you stop by the kitchen with her to offer your healing services to the chefs

When she runs out of practice volunteers there, the two of you take to wandering the halls of the palace, asking whoever passes you if they've been recently injured and are willing to be practiced on

Nadia finds you in the gardens, asking one of the poor botanists if they know of anyone who's recently run into the poison ivy

"Portia, MC. Good afternoon. Would either of you be willing to enlighten me as to why several maids have reported concerns of illegal medical experimentation?"

She's amused by your explanation but you're not allowed to do magic practice on strangers any more

Lucio

This time it's your turn to say "oopsie", with the smuggest grin on your face

"MC! How could you!"

Cupping his cheek with his hand and giving you the biggest kicked puppy expression he can handle

Is he actually hurt? No. Can he even feel it? No.

Is this a potential way to get extra attention and affection from you? Yes, and he fully intends to take advantage of that

Will let you heal it because he likes the way your hand feels on his face but will keep using the fact that it happened to milk the situation

"How about a kiss, MC? You're busy? Too bad, and my cheek was really feeling sore too ..."

Pretty soon you can't deny him anything without him sending you the biggest puppy eyes and raising a hand (or gauntlet) to his cheek

"Lucio, that's the wrong side. I scratched you on the other cheek."

He'll rapidly switch over, sputtering the whole time with a blush and pout

"It's still sore! So can I get that kiss now?"

Eventually you get a little fed up and threaten to undo your healing magic. That slows him down a bit

Is it actually possible to "undo" healing magic? Probably not. Are you going to take the lack of attempts at guilt tripping anyway? Absolutely

He does pick up a habit of threatening people with pencils though

#the arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #muriel of the kokhuri

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dutifullynuttywitch · 4 months ago

Text

Dance féerique

(A magical bayou waltz)

Pairing: Cal Lowell x Aurélie Bajolière (f!mc)

Choices Nightbound

Rating: general (fluff)

Wordcount: 700 words

Image credit: madsmikkelsen7161 on pinterest

Tags: @choicescommunityevents for the faeries event 🧚‍♀️ @choicesficwriterscreations

It’s an unusually cool evening in the bayou. Aurélie sits on the small wooden dock behind the cozy home she now shared with Cal and his brother Donny. She looks up at the starry sky, her toes trailing lazily in the balmy water.

They had opened all the windows to let the refreshing breeze flit gently through the house. Which meant she could enjoy her own personal concert.

Cal was seated at the piano, playing her favorite song, Chopin’s Nocturne No. 9 E major.

The soft notes float up to her, carried by the cool breeze, evoking feelings of immense tenderness for this man who had become her rock, her everything during the recent trials. Fighting terrible enemies. Realizing she was half-fae. Losing her father so soon after finally meeting him. Dying.

Sometimes she’d wake up still wondering if the past weeks had been nothing but a fever dream.

Though tonight, resting under the immensity of the cosmos reflected in the calm waters in front of her, the beautiful melody flitting in soft waves, it felt more like a moonlit reverie.

As she gazes out into the confines of the bayou, Aurélie notices white specks of light twirling over the mirror-like water, seemingly dancing in sync with the melody.

Curious, she squints her eyes, trying to make out the dazzling forms. They slowly near the dock, floating on the wind.

As they get closer, Aurélie’s breath catches.

Tiny wood fairies!

Their shimmering, iridescent wings flutter daintily as they twirl and dance. Soon, the ethereal creatures encircle her, their giggles like soft chimes as they joyfully twirl, raise and dip all around her.

“Well, hello, you’re quite graceful.”

Aurélie smiles at the fairies. They grin and chatter, a few fluttering in her long wavy hair, tickling her, while others pull at her blouse, inviting her up.

Laughing, she complies and starts twirling around the yard along with the fairies, in absolute awe at this magical moment.

“You’re a sight to behold, ma chérie.”

Aurélie turns towards the house to find Cal leaning against the frame, observing her with a tender expression, a sparkle in his eyes.

The fairies pick up their chatter, a delicate symphony of windchimes now replacing the night’s melody. Inviting the newcomer to join their magical waltz.

“Well, what are you waiting for, handsome?”

Aurélie beckons him over, smiling playfully. Cal doesn’t need further encouragement. He tenderly gathers his girlfriend into his powerful arms and leads her into a slow waltz.

As always, Aurélie is amazed that this beast of a man is capable of such gentleness. Always so careful around her, protective, attentive to her needs and attuned to her emotions. He had captured her heart so easily with his kind soul.

And she fell in love with him all over again every day, through his many small gestures, gentle touches, daily bouquets of fresh wildflowers, private moonlit concerts. Countless little reminders that he cherished her.

The fairies seem to approve as they increase their wild ballet, surrounding the couple with their ethereal beauty, lighting up the air brighter than the billions of flickering stars.

Cal gazes fondly into his love’s sparkling blue eyes. He bends down to capture her lips in a languid kiss.

Aurélie melts into his strong arms, feeling his intense warmth envelop her. She parts her lips, inviting him in, relishing in this magical moment.

They feel a soft breeze as the fairies excitedly spin around them, then float up high into the air. They bid their farewell in melodic chimes, softly flitting into the dark woods.

Watching the little specks of light disappear, Cal murmurs, “You have such a beautiful soul, even the wood fairies want to be close to you.”

“You’re the one who drew them here with your wonderful moonlight concert.”

“Hmm… and here I thought I was playing only for ma douce moitié.” He kisses her nose. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes please. Though I’ll come sit with you. I love watching you play.”

They turn their backs to the serene bayou and its magical inhabitants as they head towards the brightly lit house.

Their home.

#playchoices #choices nightbound #cal lowell #cal lowell x mc #nightbound fanfiction #choices community events #choices faeries #Spotify

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hyperfixat · 2 years ago

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scumbledcrumblo hanscome bearing a req 🦚 (i am pee cock)

i will beg on my hands and knees for more of that succulent juicy thirst quenching toe curling mephisto fluff you wrote a couple dayz ago

or anything like that with ANY character

the demons possessed me when i wrote those words!! i need to formulate a recipe on how to get that perfect level of je ne sais qoi.. there are a couple drafts i have that seem to be just missing something idk brah!!

heres another day dream i had at a work meeting wishing i was hanging out with the gang ‼️bcs nothing makes me sleepier than office and professional environments

(540 words).

Obviously safety lies within the power of the prince, the duke, and the right hand. Falling asleep in a work environment is the best.

“MC, you need to wake up,” you hum noncommittally at the voice rousing you from your slumber. “Lucifer can assist you, but you need to stand up.”

Barbatos’ face is the first sight that greets your tired eyes. A kind smile graces him, and his gloves hover over your shoulder in case you need assistance.

Lucifer and Diavolo stand a couple feet away, both looking at you. Oh. You hope they aren’t annoyed.

Lucifer walks to you and Barbatos, “come on, MC. I’ll help you back to the House of Lamentation.”

You flop back onto the couch cushion and roll over, blatantly ignoring Lucifer. Diavolo does a poor job of muffling his snicker.

“MC, come on, we need to get home.” Lucifer’s gloved hand runs over your hair tenderly.

“Mghmm.” Sleep pulls your eyes down back into darkness and you bask in the cool hand on your forehead.

“Awh, Lucifer, let the human rest. They can stay here for the night, can’t they?” Diavolo takes pity on you, besides selfish intentions to keep you to himself for the night.

“I… I’d rather not break routine, and who knows what my insolent brothers will get up to in my prolonged absence.”

“You may return to the House of Lamentation,” Barbatos points out blandly.

The hand on your forehead disappears and Lucifer huffs.

“I’ll stay with them.”

“Very well,” Diavolo says funnily. “Barbatos, could you prepare a room for them to share?”

“Share?” Barbatos hesitates.

Lucifer gives Diavolo a skeptical look, and Barbatos takes leave.

Lucifer’s hand comes off your head and you groan, seeking the smoothness. He hushes you softly and then his hands are snaking under your knees and back, and you’re floating. The scent of Lucifer fills your lungs when you plant your face into the demon carrying you, a tired, pleased hum leaving you.

The footsteps sounding around you let you know Lucifer is not walking alone; Diavolo is close behind him. When they stop Lucifer hesitates at the door.

“Lord Diavolo, are you… intending on resting with us?”

“Well, if you’re offering!” He responds too quickly and eagerly.

“I was not, Lord Diavolo, but if you are set on it….”

You giggle into Lucifer’s coat and feel him sigh. The door opens and Barbatos ushers you three inside. Lucifer tosses you onto the bed with less grace than he intended (probably), and Diavolo launches himself next to you, pushing his face into your hair giddily, like a kid being told they can eat sweets all day. The bed dips on the opposite side of Diavolo and Lucifer lowers himself next to you, barely touching.

Barbatos’ eyes are heavy on you and you crack them open to gaze back. You motion for him to come closer, join the warmth of the demons around you. And boy is it warm.

Diavolo is nearly uncomfortably hot, and Lucifer radiates heat, but it’s so nice right now. You groan into the mattress, pleased.

And as you slip into dreams once again, Barbatos sits on the edge of the bed, a hand coming onto your ankle to hold.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #the fantastic three #fantastic three #shall we date diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #barbatos x reader

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idorukiss · 12 days ago

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Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Xavier would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too! 1,029 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Zayne ・ Rafayel ・ Sylus

He would never admit it, but you saved Xavier on that fateful first mission. Not from the wanderers though- He would’ve been able to defeat them all on his own, he’s lost track of how many stronger enemies he's dealt with over the years. What you saved him from was himself.

Life had become dull and monotonous for him- barely floating by and existing for the last eternity of loneliness after losing you the last time. Doing nothing more than throwing away his life against wanderers just to have some sort of purpose. You brought light back into his life once more, Just having you in his life again was more than enough. He didnt even dare to wish for more and let himself get too greedy out of fear of losing you far too soon.

But every day he got to see you for even a moment was everything he wanted and needed, it was a wonderful twist of fate that the two of you ended up being neighbors. He never went out of his way to see you, but you always happened to run into him time and time again whenever he wished to see you the most. Like fate was bringing you together

Between casual hangouts and missions together, you guys clicked hard and fast. You'd think you’ve known this man your whole life instead of just meeting earlier this year with how comfortable and natural everything is between the two of you. When did it become the norm to see him sitting on your couch reading almost every day? You can hardly remember what your life was like before he entered it.

One day the two of you are assigned a mission far away, and despite having separate hotel rooms you found yourself in his bed talking strategy and everything else late into the night. You don’t know at what point you had dozed off, but you found yourself opening your eyes early in the morning due to the sunrise pouring in. There was a sleeping figure next to you as well, with one arm gently draped over your abdomen. He looked absolutely stunning being illuminated from behind, you are almost unable to stop from gazing at his sleeping face.

You carefully reach out a hand to brush some hair out of his eyes to get a better view and he starts to stir a little, pulling you close to him while muttering that it’s too early to get up. Your heart is racing at the closeness. You could spend the rest of your life right there in his arms, it just felt it was where you belonged. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you press a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

Xavier doesn’t talk about himself all that much, greatly preferring to listen to anything and everything you have to say. You always found that odd, you loved to yap on about everything you like after all but you can’t seem to think of anything in particular he does that same for.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts “Oh Sorry, I was just thinking that I don’t know much about you….” “You don’t?” He tilts his head as he thinks “Hmm well just ask me what you want to know. I’ll glady tell you anything” “Then let’s start with an easy one, what’s your favorite movie?” “I don’t remember the name, but I’ll have to say the one you showed me last week” “That's my favorite movie Xavier, you always just agree with the things I like.. I want to know what you like” “But you were the one who showed me it, so of course I’m gonna like it.” he leans in close and gently places a hand on top of yours “And I like anything to do with you” Your face starts to flush bright red, and the only thing you can think of as a response is to nod and clasp your hand around his.

It was like Pandora's box was opened- neither of you could deny your feelings for the other any longer, and it was impossible to tell who was the more clingy about it. Sneakily holding hands at HQ when nobody was looking, spending entire days in his arms as he reads aloud the latest book he got, and not to mention the fact you'd often spend more time at his apartment than your own.

He's a strong and capable hunter, and while you know this you cant help but worry about him on missions. He's of course the exact same to you, neither of you want to lose the other. When you are paired on missions together its like an internal battle to protect the other the most, sure its not the standard way to deal with wanders but you both have the lowest record of injuries as of late because of it.

But every day was nothing but pure bliss with him by your side, you guys were in perfect sync. He always knew exactly what you wanted- sometimes before you even realized it yourself. It was almost like he could read your mind, he just knows you so well. If he could spend the rest of his long life taking care of your every need he would.

Perhaps if he ever told you the whole history behind your shared fate, you could realize just how much love he has for you. How absolutely broken and alone he was before you appeared in front of him again. How willingly he would die for you or destroy the world just to keep you by his side for a moment longer.

You trust him with your life, and let him lead your relationship into each next step without a second thought. From a surprise first kiss one morning before he left on a mission, to everything beyond that. Nothing felt rushed or like you weren't ready for it. The absolute perfect relationship with the perfect man of your dreams.

He is everything you didn't even know you wanted and more. You guys made each other complete

#love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier l&ds #xavier lads #irodruwrite #i originally didnt want to include much about myths in these but i cant seem to write xavier without including it LMAO #anyones welcome to take what ive written for these and expand upon them in proper fic form btw!! ill kiss u if u do xoxo #ALSO THANKS FOR OVER 60 NOTES ON THE ZAYNE ONE IM CRYING I DIDNT THINK YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE THESE SO MUCH AAA #next should be rafayel im thinking btw!! saving sylus for last hehe #budding relationships

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jackalopesao3 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can I pls get a fluff nsfw of Lucifer x Female Mermaid MC?

Sure can! Sorry for the wait! This took several months for me to write as writing beginnings and endings are my kryptonite! Hope you enjoy!

Lucifer x Mermaid MC

CW: homesick reader, enemies to friends to lovers (enemies to friends implied), nsfw warnings under the read more

Reader/MC is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

Salty Tears & Turning Tides

NSFW CWs: oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, Luci is dominant, light bondage, spanking, slight body worshipping

Even with his god-like powers, Diavolo’s artificial sun could not compare to the real sun of the Human Realm and you found yourself longing for that warmth on your skin. You sighed, a myriad of bubbles escaping from your lips as you floated under the waves.

The ability to breathe under water was pure bliss on days like today when the brothers were wreaking havoc during your shared beach getaway. You could go undetected for a while, letting the currents rock you into a light nap. It was a curious thing, this peaceful silence that you could only obtain by hiding away under the ocean’s glimmering surface.

You weren’t able to be in your mermaid form often in the Human Realm. There were too many eyes almost anywhere you went. Regular humans believed mermaids to be a fairytale and for your kind it was much safer that way. Here, in the Devildom, there were plenty of “fairytales” that could live their lives without hiding. You were envious of the mermaids that lived here permanently.

A pact mark suddenly tingles on the back of your neck and groan. The brothers were looking for you. You swam towards the surface, breaking through right in front of a startled Mammon who nearly falls off his inflatable raft.

“Ya almost gave me a heart attack, MC!” He quipped as he steadied the raft.

“Then maybe you should just be more alert,” you replied with a shrug before swimming to the shoreline.

You rose up, tail transforming into legs as you walked along the shore towards the glow of the campfire, Mammon trudging behind you and grumbling about mermaids.

The brothers just about scrambled over themselves to make room for you but you were feeling overwhelmed. A warm hand gently but firmly took you by the arm.

“Sit with me, MC,” Lucifer murmured into your neck.

Goosebumps pricked on your skin and you felt your cheeks heat up ever so slightly before the eldest pulled you down to sit with him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on your lap.

If you’d have known the Avatar of Pride would be flirting with you like this when you first came to the Devildom, over a year ago, you would hardly believe it. The two of you had a turbulent relationship during your first year as an exchange student. How many times did he try to kill you? You dismissed those thoughts from your mind as you had dinner with everyone.

You were quieter today than you normally were and Lucifer was the only one who picked up on it. The six younger brothers eventually meandered off either to bed or to cause mischief, you weren’t sure. The eldest stayed by your side.

“You barely spoke a word during dinner,” he remarked, scarlet eyes studying the profile of your face.

“I suppose I’m just missing the Human Realm a bit,” you answered to his unasked question. “The sun here can’t compare to the one back home. I miss swimming in our oceans, finding a sunbeam to float in beneath the waves, and I miss my family. It’s weird having no other mermaids around.”

The eldest gave you a nod before he spoke. “Would you like to go to the Human Realm next weekend?”

Your eyes lit up but you found yourself biting down on your lower lip, hesitant. “Don’t you have a lot of student council work to catch up on? I’m sure your brothers do too.”

You caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“They do not have to come with us. I would prefer just the two of us. My brothers can catch up with council duties while we’re away.”

You felt your cheeks burn and your heart thud, surely he didn’t mean? A cool hand on your chin gently tugged your head in his direction.

“They’re always taking up so much of your time. I want you all to myself,” he professed, fingertips running along your jawline.

“I’d like that,” you sputtered out while your stomach did cartwheels.

His eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb suddenly brushing over them and you gasped in surprise.

“I want you, MC. All of you. I want more of you than my brothers will ever have. Will you allow me this indulgence?”

Your entire body felt like it was going to combust at any second but you managed a nod.

“You’re sure? You know I do not intend to let you go. You will be mine and I will be yours,” Lucifer smirked, despite his confident demeanor you could see the tiniest bit of apprehension in his eyes, as if afraid you might change your mind and reject his advances.

You rallied up your courage, eyes still locked on his, “Kiss me.”

And he did, all the built up tension released into a passionate, warm kiss. You could feel his want, his desperation, and his devotion to you as his lips dominated your own.

You let out a soft yelp as he suddenly pulled you on his lap, his tongue snaking through your parted lips to dance with yours’. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands grasped onto your hips.

You could feel his length harden, suddenly pressed up against your core and you moaned into the kiss while he held you by the hips and ground against you. He groaned your name into your lips and pulled back to meet your gaze, eyes darkened with lust.

“Y/N, I’m going to claim you now,” he rasped, hips grinding against your own as he waited for your response.

“P-please, Luci-AAH!” You cried out as you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck.

His tongue swiped over the fresh mark and he hummed in approval.

“MC, my beautiful, darling mermaid, no one is ever going to question who you belong to after tonight,” he murmured against your skin before peppering your neck and chest with kisses and bites.

He pulled back to admire his work. “Gorgeous but I see there is more to be done.”

Before you can question what he meant, you felt him untie your bikini top, the cool air causing your nipples to harden. The prideful demon suddenly lifted you from his lap so that you’re on your back, on top of the towel. He settled between your legs and lowered his head to your breasts.

You softly moaned his name as his tongue danced patterns over the delicate flesh. Your hands dove into his hair as you desperately ground against him, trying to relieve the ache between your legs as he took a nipple into his mouth and began sucking, his fingers rolling and pulling at the other one.

He sucked, licked, and bit all over the sensitive mounds as you let out strangled cries of pleasure. Your hands clenched around fistfuls of his hair as he suddenly bit down on the super sensitive flesh right under your breasts, sucking hard and leaving a huge welt.

“Lucifer!” You cried as you tried desperately to grind against his erect member.

He growled in arousal and you felt his cock twitch against your cunt. In one swift motion he pinned your hands above your head with one hand and held your hips in place with the other.

“I’m going to take my time with you, Y/N but your touches are distracting. Be still unless you want to be punished,” he hissed.

You debated questioning him on the type of punishment briefly before he’s suddenly kissing down your stomach while sliding the bottoms of your bikini off.

His hands slid along the inside of your legs, mouth leaving hot, sensual kisses from your ankle to your thighs. You couldn’t help but to curse and pant as his he took the flesh between his teeth and bit.

“Oh fuck! Lucifer! I can’t! Please!” You begged, no longer able to form sentences as he ran his tongue over the huge welts he left on your inner thighs. You squirmed under his touch, forgetting his rule of no moving.

You yelped as he suddenly pulled your legs up and folded them over you so your bare ass was facing him. You didn’t have time to contemplate this new position as a firm smack to your cheeks had you squeal in surprise.

“What did I say about moving?” Lucifer tutted before delivering several more swats to your delicate rear.

“I-I’m sorry! P-please Lucifer!” You begged the demon as he admired the marks he left on your cheeks.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked, punctuating his question with another spank.

“Y-yes!” You trembled and yelped as he gave you one more smack before lowering your legs to rest on the ground.

“Good girl.”

His hands spread your legs further apart and you let out a soft whine as the cool air hit your pussy.

A finger swiped along your slit as you do your best to remain still.

“Already so wet for me, Y/N, perfect,” he smirked as he sucked on his finger tip.

“Delicious. I want a better taste,” he purred before kissing your outer lips, tongue slipping between then to shallowly lap at your labia.

“Luci! Mmm! Please!” You begged as your hands fisted the towel beneath you.

“I suppose I can reward you for asking nicely,” he smirked against your cunt, hands sliding under your ass to raise it slightly for a better angle.

“Keep them spread, Y/N,” he commanded as you spread your legs further, nearly biting through your lower lip in anticipation.

You whimpered and gasped as he stroked your swollen cunt with his tongue, swirling it deep in the folds of your sensitive labia, avoiding your opening and clit for now. Your hips bucked as his tongue wiggled closer to your clit and you squeaked at the harsh warning smack he gave you, hips stilling.

“Oh fuck! Aaaaah!” You shriek as his tongue swirls over the sensitive bud of nerves.

“Mmm! Fuck Luci! Yes yes yes!” You moaned as he alternated between flicks and swirls of his tongue against your clit.

A lewd cry escaped from your throat as his lips wrapped around your clit and he suckled firmly on the stiffened bud. You wanted nothing more than to grind against his face but you didn’t want him to stop and punish you again.

You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching with each suck and lick against your very swollen clit.

“Luci! G-gonna! Mmm! Come!”

He suddenly pulled back causing you to whine in indignation and your hands push his head closer to your cunt, trying to grind on his face. A series of sharp smacks reminded you to still your movements and you whimpered.

“Patience,” he warned, lust-filled eyes meeting your own.

His eyes remained locked on yours’ as he slipped a finger into the opening of your cunt, shallowly pumping it.

“So tight…so wet, Y/N,” you willed yourself still as his breath tickled your pussy and he swirled his finger deep inside you.

He sinks another finger in to join the one already at work, thrusting them deeper and curling them against the sensitive spot along your walls. Lewd squelches from your pussy filled the air as he pumped you and you looked away in embarrassment.

“Look at me,” Lucifer demanded with a growl, causing your eyes to lock on his.

“Would you like to come, Y/N?” He asked, never breaking eye contact.

“Y-yes! Please!” You gasped out as he added another finger and quickened his pace.

Sharp, scarlet eyes remained focused on your own and you squirmed under his scrutiny.

“Do not take your eyes off of me. I want to see your face as I make you come undone,” he ordered, planting an almost chaste kiss on your clit while curling his fingers against your sweet spot.

“A-aaah! Yes, sir!” You whined as your pussy clenched and quivered around his digits.

“Good girl, I’ll allow you to move. I want to see your body react while you come on my face,” he smirked against your cunt, tongue swirling along your folds before flicking your clit.

Your hands flew up to knead your breasts as he stroked your sweet spot with his fingers and he let out an almost feral growl. Your eyes were blown wide with lust as you watched him work you towards your climax.

“Yes! Luci! Yes! Don’t stop! Please!” You begged as his lips latched onto your swollen bud.

Your hands groped and fondled at your breasts desperately as you feel yourself peaking. Lucifer sucked harder while quickening the thrusts of his fingers, maintaining eye contact as you suddenly lost control and ground your pelvis against his face.

“I’m coming! I’m going to…fuck! Mmm-AAH!” You shrieked and pinched your nipples as your orgasm suddenly crashed through you.

Your face burned hot while he looked into your eyes, savoring the feeling of you squeezing his fingers and drinking in the site of you coming undone but he didn’t stop to give you a chance to come down from your high.

His free hand gripped your ass and pressed your cunt against his mouth while he sucked so hard on your clit that you thought he would detach it. The deep strokes of his fingers and his lips’ assault on your clit had you spiraling fast into another orgasm. An unfamiliar pressure building up in your cunt.

“I-mmm! O-oooh! Luci stop! I’m gonna! Fuck! Aaaaaaaah! Fuck! FUCK! So good! No! Wait!” Your babbling turned into another scream as you lost control of your self and and a hot liquid burst from your cunt with such force and volume that you felt the towel soaking beneath you. You quickly forgot your embarrassment in the overwhelming pleasure.

“Mmmmm a-aaah! Oh fuck! Ooooooh! Hnnngh!” You keened as you squirted again with your orgasm. Your hands were gripping your breasts so tight that you were sure you were going to leave bruises right along side of his hickeys.

Lucifer groaned into your cunt as you bucked your hips and ground his face with wild abandon. He reveled at the way you came undone a second time for him, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his swimsuit.

He gradually slowed his ministrations as you rode out your high, tongue lapping up your leaking juices.

“You taste divine, Y/N,” Lucifer smiled against your skin before kissing back up your body to your lips capturing them with his own.

He slipped out of his swim trunks, pressing his erection against your thigh, the head wet with precum.

“Do you feel what you do to me, Y/N?” He teased and positioned himself over you.

“W-what about your shirt?” Your hands went to grab the bottom of his swim shirt but he caught your wrists.

“I will keep it on,” he hesitated, eyes not quite making contact with yours.

His scars. You quickly realized, remembering how he fought in the Celestial War. You frowned and shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I want you, Lucifer, all of you.” You repeated the phrase he said to you earlier, now saying it back to him.

With that, you helped him out of his shirt and gently pushed him down so his back was on the towel.

“You’re gorgeous, every last part of you,” you praised as your lips kissed over each scar on his chest and torso.

A gasp escaped from his lips while he shivered at your touch. You winked mischievously before kissing up the underside of his shaft.

“Never hide any part of yourself from me,” you smiled and kissed back up to his lips as he positioned you over his throbbing erection.

“A-aaah! Luci-s-so good!” You moaned as he sunk you all the way down on his cock.

“You better find something to hold onto,” he growled, “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

With that he began thrusting, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust. You tried to keep up with his pace, grinding down against him the deeper he hit but soon fell behind as you cried out in pleasure, writhing against him. One hand holds you by the hip to steady you and the other slides over your thighs and to your swollen, stuffed pussy. You let out another cry when his finger began circling your clit.

Overstimulated, it doesn’t take long before you come again, spongy walls milking his cock for all its worth. It didn’t take long for Lucifer to follow, filling you to the brim with his seed. Your body went slack on top of him, forehead resting against his own while his arms encircled your waist.

“Your stamina needs some work, Y/N,” he purred teasingly in your ear, “but we can work on that during our vacation, hmm?” With that he nipped your earlobe and stood up, carrying you bridal style to the ocean where he washed the two of you off before helping you redress.

As the two of you entered the beach house, you felt him tug you away from the direction of your room.

“Where do you think you’re going, my love? My room is this way,” he smirked before quickly you pulling you into his bedroom before his younger brothers noticed.

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #lucifer om #om! lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer shall we date #lucifer swd #lucifer x y/n #obey me requests #obey me smut #obey me fic

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kyndredravenstories · 2 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 14

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/151115194

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13

Master Felix whips around and slaps Alfie's face. Hard. Alfie had been carrying a tray of glass vials, and he holds onto it with all his strength to make sure none of them fall to the shiny white floor. His small hands shake. It hurts. It hurts so very much. Master Felix likes to slap him when Alfie makes a mistake. Likes to see the tears in his eyes and the welts his rings leave behind when he hits him just right.

"I'm sorry, Master Felix," Alfie mumbles on instinct.

"Do you know what you did wrong, Number Eight?" Felix asks, towering over him in his white lab coat. His black eyes look like the vats of tarry goo in the basement rooms, his white teeth gleaming like a shark's in the pulsing blue lights of the lab around them.

"I wasn't quick enough, Master Felix. I'm sorry. Please don't punish me." Alfie doesn't really know what he did wrong. He had made a mistake, of course. But, what was it? He had to figure it out so Master Felix wouldn't be angry anymore. He brought the vials just like the Master asked for. Maybe he didn't run fast enough. And the guards had stopped him, too. They liked stopping Alfie. Liked it when Master Felix punished him.

"Useless freak." With a sneer, the man licks his fingertips and smooths them over his gray stubble. He turns away from Alfie and back to his writing desk, sitting down in his black chair and sliding close to the desk on its wheels. "Get those vials processed. That's twice you've made a mistake today."

Oh no. One more time and Master Felix will put Alfie in the tank. He hated being in the tank. It's so cold and the frozen sleeping man floating inside likes to whisper things in Alfie's head. Master Felix calls him the Progenitor, but he's more like a monster. He says things and makes Alfie see things while he feeds off of his Evol until everything goes dark and his heart feels like it will stop. It's worse than Master Felix's slaps. A lot worse.

Trying to overcome his dread and fear, Alfie rushes over to the big red spinning machine and starts putting the vials inside their matching colored slots. It's up so high that he has to pull up a step stool. He's careful not to make any more mistakes. He's careful not to break any vials or to spill any of the clear liquid. It's precious, Master Felix says. There isn't much of it, so every drop is important. If Alfie spills even a little, the Master will put him in the tank until the Monster drains every bit of his Evol.

That's how the other kids died. Now the cages are empty, but not for long. Every once in a while, the guards bring more of them to the prison in the basement. They come from all over. Sometimes, they speak words nobody can understand. But, Alfie stopped trying to talk to them a long time ago. It's sad when he makes a friend and they get put in the tank. Nobody else has ever come out of there alive. Nobody except Alfie. Maybe that's why the Master made him his assistant. Maybe Alfie is special.

Once he finishes putting away the vials, Alfie begins cleaning the laboratory. Luckily there isn't any blood to clean today. Seeing blood makes Alfie nauseous. He mops and sweeps, dusting the counters and wiping away anything that could leave a stain. That's what Master Felix likes him to do when he isn't running errands. The lab has to be clean and tidy. Leaving even a spot on the floor or the counters will be a mistake. The Master will be angry, and Alfie will get slapped. Or put in the tank. Or left without dinner. None of that sounds good.

While Alfie is cleaning, Master Felix takes out his blue recorder and begins talking to it. He does that a lot. Usually, he talks about all the things he learned and did that day. Kind of like a diary. He really likes talking to himself, and Alfie likes to listen. He pretends that Master Felix is telling a story, and it helps calm Alfie's fear. Today, he talks about how Malakai came to the lab to ask about the Progenitor. Alfie remembers that. Everyone always acts so different when the man with violet eyes comes to the lab. They say he's the strongest ever and that's why he's the leader of Noxis. But, if he's the strongest, why is he trying to become even stronger by using the Progenitor?

"The recent failure is a setback, but at least a partial transference was achieved. If only Malakai hadn't been so wounded, perhaps..."

While he talks, Master Felix licks his fingertips a few more times and brushes them against his stubble. He does that a lot, too.

When Alfie is done cleaning, he puts everything away and sits in his place in the corner of the lab between the spinning machine and the computers. It's warm here. He curls into a ball, hoping Master Felix will not notice him for a while. Interrupting his stories would be a mistake. Alfie's attention shifts to one of the screens on the table in front of him. It's a big monitor showing cameras in different rooms. He sees something moving in the basement. In the room with the cages. They're empty now, so why would anybody be there? Nervous, he squints at the screen. More movement. Like shifting shadows. He glances at Master Felix. He can't interrupt him, but he's supposed to tell someone when he sees something strange. Alfie trembles, confused.

"Number Eight," Master Felix calls. Alfie holds his breath as he rushes over to the big black chair. Alfie hates that everybody calls him by his number here. In his mind, he holds onto his name. It's the only thing he can remember before he was brought here with the other kids and put in the cages.

"Y-Yes, Master?"

"Go to the basement and leave this list with Orla." He hands Alfie a laminated piece of paper with handwritten names on it. "After that, you are free to go to the kitchens and take a meal. If you are not back in one hour, it will be a mistake. Do you understand?"

Alfie nods. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I won't make a mistake, Master."

"Get out of my sight."

Alfie runs out of the lab, tucking the piece of paper against his chest. Orla is the Floor Warden for the basement. Maybe he can tell her about the moving shadows on the camera. Maybe she'll be nicer to him if he tells her something that will make her look good in front of the Master. If he could just talk to her. But, she's so scary. She hates the kids, and she likes to hit Alfie with her cane. She knows how to hit without leaving bruises. Master Felix doesn't like Alfie to have bruises from anything except his slaps.

He makes it to the elevator and presses his thumb to the fingerprint reader. With a green flash and a ping, the double doors hiss open to let him inside. He chooses the basement floor and scans his thumb again. The screen flickers with some letters and a message, but Alfie can't read anyway so he ignores it. In seconds, the elevator takes him four floors down to the lowest place in the compound. When the doors open, Alfie steps out.

It's really dark and cold here. A lot colder than anywhere else in the lab. They have to keep it cold so the bodies don't rot, Master Felix says. Alfie smells the bittersweet stuff the other scientists use to keep dead things fresh longer. He can never remember the name for it; the word is too long. The smell is stronger than usual, which means the scientists must be doing something with the bodies. Maybe they're making more tarry stuff. Or maybe it has something to do with the "failure" Master Felix was talking about in his stories today.

Orla gives Alfie a glare when he walks timidly up to her office. She's an older woman with streaks of grey in her hair and ugly wrinkles. She's wearing the grey and indigo Noxis uniform. Her pants are creased at the backs of her knees from sitting all day and watching her monitors. He holds out the paper as he walks up to her, hoping she'll understand that he's here to run an errand.

"It's from Master Felix," he says. "I just have to give you this list and then I have to run."

Orla stands up and marches the rest of the way up to him; he can hear her heavy breathing. When she's close enough, she takes the paper then steps around and closes the door behind Alfie. He tries to stay calm. She likes it when he's scared, and she really likes it when he cries. If he can just avoid doing what she likes, she'll get bored and maybe let him go with just a few smacks on the backs of his knees with her cane. He hopes he can get this over with fast. Master Felix only gave him an hour, and Alfie didn't have dinner yesterday.

"Looks like Felix wants me to take you to the cages," Orla smiles after reading the paper, reminding him of a picture of a shark he saw once on one of the monitors on the TV in the kitchen. Alfie doesn't believe her, but he can't fight her if that's what she wants to do. She's a lot stronger, especially because Master Felix just put him in the tank last week. He still doesn't have all of his strength back.

"That's not what the Master said," Alfie frowns. "The Master said to give you the list and go to the kitchen."

"You talkin' back to me, kid?" Her cane comes down hard on his back. Alfie doesn't expect it and falls down. She hits him again, on the head this time. He raises his hands to shield himself, confused now and on the verge of tears. This isn't how this normally goes. She's never hit him this hard. Curling into a ball, he screams when she keeps hitting him. She's shouting something, yelling. The more she hits him, the sweatier she gets and the louder her breathing becomes.

And suddenly, the pain stops.

Her voice stops.

Still terrified, Alfie squints open his eyes and looks up above him. Orla has a weird look on her face, like a robot disconnected from its plug. Her face is kind of limp. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are rolled back into her head. She wavers for a second before a fountain of blood spurts from her neck. Alfie screams as her head falls off her shoulders and onto the floor, bouncing and rolling towards him. Horrified, he scrambles backwards on all fours. When he opens his mouth to scream again, a hand wraps around his face.

"Shh. Don't shout, unless you want to end up like that hag."

"I'm s-sorry," Alfie whispers. "I made a mistake. Please don't hit me. Please don't put me in the tank. Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Calm down," another voice says.

Alfie realizes that he covered his face with his hands instinctively.

"Look at me," the same voice demands. The hand leaves his mouth. Someone shifts around him. Alfie moves his hands away, peeking up towards the voice. Two figures are standing above him dressed in all black. Their faces are covered with crow masks. The tips of the beaks are red like they've been dipped in blood. One of their hoods says "06" and the other says "07". Otherwise, he can't tell them apart.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me," Alfie whispers again.

"If you do what we ask, we won't," Six says.

"W-Who are you?" Alfie asks.

Six sits down next to him. "Tell me your name first."

"A-Alfie...I think. I can't remember because..." he stops there. Suddenly, he's wondering if this is another test from Master Felix. The Master is always testing him. They killed Orla, but she liked to disobey the Master and the rules. She liked to hit Alfie and make him cry. He's glad she's dead. He just wishes there wasn't so much blood. He really hates seeing blood.

"Everybody calls me Number Eight. That's who I am. I won't tell you anything," Alfie says, his bottom lip quivering. "I won't say anything. I have to go to the kitchen. Master said to go after I was done here. Please let me go."

Six looks at the headless corpse on the floor then at Alfie again. "We just killed your friend. Aren't you upset?"

"Orla wasn't my friend," Alfie insists. "She hit me and beat me. She was a bad worker. She broke the rules, and she deserved it."

Nobody ever listened to him when he complained anyway. They all just liked to hit him. If he complains to these people right now, it might be a mistake. He might end up in the tank. He has to show Master Felix that he's loyal. That he's special.

"What do you do around here, Alfie?" Six asks him. Seven stays silent, occasionally glancing towards the closed door. Six had said his name. Not Number Eight. His name. Maybe this means Alfie is doing well. Maybe this is a reward.

"I'm Master Felix's assistant. I help him."

"I see. And, do you like helping him?"

"Yes," Alfie answers without hesitation. "Master Felix is amazing. He's smart. He's merciful. He gave me a place. Made me special. A nobody like me can be helpful if I serve him."

"I see," Six sounds impressed. "You must be really important here. Are you the youngest?"

Alfie puffs up his chest. Nobody had ever told him he was important.

"I was before, but not now. The other kids that came with me and after me were put in the tank, so they're dead. They were weak. They weren't worthy of serving the Master."

Six nods. "The tank sounds like a scary place."

"It is," Alfie shivers. Six was really easy to talk to, and he didn't look like he was going to hit him. He liked this. Maybe he could talk to him just a little more. "It's really really scary. It's cold and there's the Progemator. I don't like him."

"Progenitor?" Six asks, correcting Alfie's pronunciation. "What's so scary about him? He's just a floating dead guy, isn't he?"

"No!" Alfie insists. Nobody's ever been this interested in Alfie before, and he doesn't want Six to think he's scared. "The Progemator isn't dead. He's alive, and he gets stronger when he takes our Evol."

"Oh, really?" Six sounds surprised. "Have you been in the tank with him?"

"Yes. Master Felix puts me there when I make a mistake. When I do something wrong. I deserve it, of course. It's all my fault. I deserve to be punished and have my Evol taken."

Seven comes over and sits next to Alfie, too. He crosses his arms over his chest, listening intently. Alfie can't help but feel proud. He's said only good things about Master Felix and the Monster. Only good things. That means he's passing the test, right?

"You sound like a brave young man," Seven says. "After all, you're such an important assistant and you've survived going into the tank."

Alfie's eyes sting with tears. This is the first time anybody's ever given him so many compliments. He hopes this test will go on just a little longer.

"Does that mean your Master trusts you to go anywhere here in the lab?"

"Yes, anywhere he needs me to go."

Seven reaches for Alfie's wrist. "Can I look at something?" he asks.

Alfie hates being touched, but if its for the test, he can be patient. He nods, and Seven gingerly takes hold of his forearm and pulls up his ratty sleeve. His mark is tattooed into his skin; the black ink looks as fresh as though it only happened yesterday. It's the number Eight.

Six and Seven look at each other. They don't say a word, but Alfie feels like they're talking to each other. After a minute, they shift to sit closer together and hold out their forearms to him.

"Wanna see something neat?" Six asks.

"I think you'll be surprised," Seven says.

Alfie hesitates. Is this the next part of the test? He nods, clasping his hands together nervously. In perfect unison, Six and Seven pull up their sleeves to show their wrists. Alfie gasps when he sees the same tattoos on their skin in the exact same place as his: the numbers six and seven.

"Alfie," Seven says, "how would you feel about a trade?"

"T-trade?"

"Yes. In return for taking us to see your Master, we'll take you home with us."

"Take me...to another lab?" Alfie holds his breath, not daring to hope.

"Take you home," Six says, his tone suddenly different than before. "No more labs."

"Away...from here?" Alfie whispers, his eyes going wide.

Seven nods. "Yes, that's right."

This is a test. This is Master Felix's test. Alfie has to stay strong. This is all a trick. The second he says 'yes' someone will come out and hit him. Master Felix will laugh and slap him then put him in the tank. Maybe forever.

"No," Alfie shakes his head. "No, I won't. I'm happy here. I belong here. Master Felix made me special."

A tear runs down Alfie's cheek despite his best efforts to hold it in. It's lies. It's all lies. If he could, he would run away from here. If only these people were real. If only this wasn't a test.

"You don't trust us?" Six asks him. "What reason do we have to lie to you?" He sounds sincere. He sounds real. Alfie takes a step towards him, digging his nails into his palms.

"If..." Alfie swallows past his fear. "If this isn't a test. If you're not with Master Felix. Then...you killed Orla...and you could kill me too."

"Believe me," Seven says to Alfie's left. "If we wanted to, you'd already be dead."

"But, you won't." Alfie frowns. This is how everybody is. They all want to use him or hit him or hurt him. "Until you're done with me."

Six chuckles. "Smart and special. I definitely want to keep him now, Kieran."

"He's not a puppy, Luke. Boss won't like it."

Luke and Kieran. Were those their names?

"Boss?" Alfie asks, suddenly curious. Did they have a Master, too? They had tattoos like him and a Master like him. But, they were so strong. And they weren't in a cage. Was their Master nice? Did he hit them, too?

Luke looks over to Alfie. "Yeah, our Boss. Strongest guy you'll ever meet."

"But I thought Malakai was the strongest. He's our leader."

Kieran snorts. "That chump is going to be fish food soon."

"Fish food?" Alfie doesn't understand.

"Yeah," Luke says. "Like getting thrown into a tank but in pieces."

"Your Boss is that strong?" Alfie asks, amazed. He can't imagine anybody stronger than Malakai. "Is he...nice? Does he hit you?"

Luke shakes his head. "Never. We get to play as much as we want as long as we do our work."

"Does he let you go to the kitchen?"

"As much as you want," Kieran says, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"But, what about the numbers? Aren't you his prisoners?"

"He took us from our prison," Luke says. "And gave us the strength to kill all those who hurt us."

Alfie takes a slow shaky breath. All who hurt him. Kill them? Kill Master Felix? Kill the guards that always stopped him and got him in trouble? Killing others was for the strong, and Alfie was weak. He'd imagined so many times what it might be like to hit Master Felix back. To hit the guards that abused him. To take Orla's cane and hit her over and over until she stopped moving. But, he'd always been too weak.

"I can't do that," Alfie mumbles.

"What, kill? You don't look like a softie to me, kid," Kieran says.

"I'm not strong enough."

"You don't have to be strong to fight for your life," Luke explains. "You don't have to be strong to give back an eye for an eye." He reaches out and puts a hand on Alfie's shoulder. "You just have to have one thing. The instinct to survive. Like any beast, really."

"That's all any of us are," Kieran concludes.

Alfie wrings his hands together. "Can you...or your Boss...can you teach me that?"

"We can," Luke assures him.

It was too good to be true. Too good. But, Alfie wanted to believe it so much.

"Then...then..."

"Do you want to trade now?" Kieran asks, sounding impatient.

"Yes," Alfie breathes, scared and excited all at once. "I want to leave here. I want to kill Master Felix. He hurts me. He treats me like dirt. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him." The last part comes out as a growl, and the walls around him shake with Alfie's anger.

Luke rubs his hands together. "Alright then, it's a deal."

Felix Blaze is a man of logic and action. His lab ebbs and flows in perfect order. Not a hair out of place. One might say he runs a tight ship. His direct reports don't dare to step a toe out of line. There are no terminations here. At least, not in the traditional sense. Young bloods come to work here to prove themselves to the organization, and one word from Felix is enough to either earn a promotion or earn a place among his cages of test subjects. It's a risk a surprising many are willing to take.

Felix has earned quite a reputation of success in his endeavors and assigned projects. He grew quickly in rank, and in just a few short years, he's taken A.R.C.A.N.E and Noxis to a whole new level. An accident -- something involving an introverted young bookworm working too hard for her own good and a tenth story ledge calling her name -- led Felix to a method of mass producing LUMINIS. With her notebook and knowledge in hand, he was a rising star among his toxic and quite envious collective. A figure of envy.

But, after flying so high, the brilliant scientist's fall is all the more painful. Malakai's failed operation just hours ago is a new stain on his record. While most of his colleagues had gone home for the night, Felix remains alone in his frigid, dark, lab. He sits at a desk, the only light a pulsing blue glow coming from the eight foot tank beside him. His hands move at blinding speed as he scribbles notes and observations in impeccable penmanship. Only Number Eight remains by his side, bringing him hot cups of coffee and carrying out menial tasks.

Foolish naïve little child. An unexpected bonus brought to Felix among a cartload of worthless bodies. He possesses an interesting Evol, one full of the potential to either destroy or to elevate the RE-Birth project. For that reason, Felix keeps him on a tight leash. A prisoner given the illusion of limited freedom. First, Felix had made sure to crush his mind and his spirit. Then, he ensured that he continued doing so. The child must never know his true worth or purpose.

Now if only the other factors of the project could line up as well. Lost in his own anger and frustration, Felix laments that no one is here to witness his heroic actions. If only Malakai could see him now, picking up the pieces after their recent set-back and planning for the next attempt. See how alone he is; how he's clearly the only worthwhile worker in this lab. Damn the other scientists. So what if they'd been working without rest for over 48 hours? They're on the verge of a breakthrough. Doesn't that mean anything to them? Unworthy rats. Not even fit to lick Malakai's boots. They would need to be dealt with soon; their incompetence cannot be tolerated. Every failed attempt puts Malakai's life at risk, puts the Progenitor at risk.

Intolerable.

Disgusting.

So furious his hands shake, Felix reaches up to lick his fingers and smooths them over his growing stubble.

The Master must be informed. There must be another purge of the staff. They can start over; build again. Bodies are plenty to push buttons and fill beakers. After all, it is he - Felix - that is the true mastermind and the brains behind it all. Only men of his caliber are fit to work at A.R.C.A.N.E. Men with ambition, fortitude, and a strong understanding of their role in the great machine that is Noxis.

Hands trembling, he writes up the last of his report. Compiling data for this last attempt isn't easy. Something had gone disastrously wrong. No. Disaster isn't a good word. A glitch. Yes, that's it. Just a glitch. They'd needed more bodies than usual. More of the Blood, too. And still -- still -- Malakai couldn't couple with the Progenitor. His leader had left frustrated and weakened, his Evol unchanged, his memories only partially transferred. If only Malakai hadn't been injured, they could have tried again. But, the wounds needed a Proto-bath treatment to heal.

Again, Felix reaches up, licks his fingers, and smooths them over his stubble.

If only the Specimen hadn't escaped over a year ago. The search for him had borne no fruit, and there were no more Lemurians readily available to pull from to replenish the Blood. At this rate, LUMINIS production would be compromised and the RE-Birth project will need to be put on hold. Unless, of course, Malakai made progress in obtaining a new resource.

The girl.

The Core.

With her, none of these things would be obstacles at all.

So, why did their leader hesitate? Why did he not capture her in this last encounter? A.R.C.A.N.E needed her so badly. No tissue, no cell, would be wasted. Every piece of her body would be put to good use. The Core to power the Progenitor. Her blood for LUMINIS. Skin and bones and organs for research and analysis. She would be reborn; they'd find her, capture her, and use her again. She was perfect. A timeless resource that would never run dry.

Setting aside his notebook, Felix picks up a clipboard and walks closer to the Progenitor's tank. A man floats within, his long black hair waving with the current, his violet eyes closed in repose. One of these days, Felix would see them open. Malakai will succeed in transferring his Evol and his memories to this new body, achieving true rebirth and reincarnation in a form that will be unstoppable. Noxis will rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and the vermin of Onychinus would fade into the shadows, never to be heard from again.

Of course, these are only Felix's ambitions. Malakai has much grander plans, including the slow and methodical elimination of his greatest rival - Sylus. Felix wants to see this, too. Wants the man with the red eyes to kneel before them all and beg for his life. Once, Felix had been a part of Onychinus. Once, he had been the greatest among the ranks of their scientists. Until Sylus had swept in and destroyed his research. All of his life's work pertaining to the Aether Core, gone in a single vicious night of flame and smoke.

Felix reaches up and smooths his moistened fingers across his stubble.

Revenge would be sweet.

And, what could be better than claiming Sylus's body for research and experimentation? A power like his had never been known or seen anywhere. A monster, some called him. Or, perhaps, a result of some machination by an unknown hand. Many feared the unknown, but Felix welcomed it. All mysteries could be solved, and monsters made for fruitful study.

A ringing. Felix's phone. Blinking at the flashing screen, he frowns when the caller ID looks glitched and fragmented. The metal in the walls tends to interfere with calls here. Concerned that it's a summons from Malakai, he picks up.

"Downstairs," a familiar voice says.

"Right away, Sir."

Felix grows worried. Had Malakai's wounds been worse than they'd thought? Was the Proto-bath not sufficient? Were more Protocores required? His breathing quickens as he gathers his things and makes his way outside with his briefcase in hand. Number Eight follows him like the obedient dog he is. On the way, Felix throws on his thick winter jacket. He exits the building with a swipe of his badge, stepping out into a flurry of falling snow. A pair of headlights nearly blind him, and he rushes around the car's front. Someone opens the door for him, and he slides inside. Number Eight follows suit.

"Sir, I --"

He stops. Two men sit before them dressed in all black identical clothes and armor. Their faces are hidden behind crow masks, but somehow even without seeing their expressions, Felix can tell they are smiling. They're wearing hoods with the numbers "06" and "07" printed on them. Recognition flares. His jaw clenches. He swallows past a lump of terror in his throat, for he's heard rumors of these men and what they do at Sylus's side. One of them takes a phone out of his pocket and taps the screen.

"Downstairs," the recording of Malakai's voice plays. "Downstairs...downstairs...downstairs..."

"For a smart guy, you sure fell for this trap way too easily," Seven says.

Felix lunges for the door handle, but he doesn't even make it an inch before one of the men seems to teleport to his side. A gloved hand wraps around Felix's wrist hard enough to break bone. He shouts in pain, but this only seems to amuse his captor.

"Now, now," Seven chides from above him. "You're our guest of honor. Just stay put, would you?"

The man across from him -- Six -- chimes in, "we're not in the mood to play right now."

Felix's eyes snap to Number Eight. Six is holding a glowing dagger to his throat. The boy's bright silver eyes are dead as always, devoid of any kind of human emotion. He doesn't look scared or concerned. In fact, he looks almost angry, an expression Felix has never seen on his face.

"Let me go," Felix demands. "I don't have anything you want. You can keep the kid." He gestures with his head towards Number Eight. "He knows more than I do."

Seven shakes his head, "Speak again without permission, and we'll start removing fingers."

Felix gasps at the threat, but doesn't dare to say anything else.

"Now, if you're a good boy and you answer our questions, we might be merciful and kill you quicker."

"That's not much fun, though, is it?" Six sighs. "And who's this extra?" He shakes Number Eight, but the boy doesn't say a word. Strange. For as long as Felix has known him, the boy was terrified of his own shadow. He'd capitalized on that; had made sure to make his fears much worse. He should be shivering and shaking now, especially with a knife at his throat.

"Looks like a cute little assistant," Six snickers. "I guess he's a freebie, so I can do whatever I want, right?"

"Boss said we could do whatever as long as the scientist squawked." Seven shrugs. "No mention of the kid, so he's bonus loot."

"Let's take them to the cell," Six whines. "I wanna try out my new kit."

"He needs his tongue to talk," Seven counters.

Felix's body starts to shake in terror.

"Oh, look, he's scared," Seven chuckles, leaning forward until the sharp beak of his mask is nearly touching Felix's face. His voice drops to a low thundering threat. "Is the big bad scientist going to pee his pants?"

"You better not. These are leather seats," Six says.

Felix bites his lip, tasting blood. "W-What...do you want with me?"

The second man's mask tilts down. "Well, those documents in your bag are a good start. But, mostly, we need you to tell us where Malakai is and everything you know about that half frozen clone of his that you've been growing in your lab."

Felix starts to say something when an armored fist flies out of nowhere and punches him in the face. He goes down like a bag of rocks, coughing and sputtering as his vision spins.

"Rule one," Seven says, "no lying."

"Didn't...lie..." Felix coughs.

"You were about to. I can sense that a mile away, you know."

Number Eight whispers something. Felix balks when Six moves the dagger away from his neck and leans down towards him.

"What was that, Alfie?"

"Slap him," the child answers. His silver eyes gleam in the low light. "He made a mistake. Slap him."

"You're right," Seven says then turns and slaps Felix's face. The impact is so severe that Felix thinks he might have broken his jaw. He coughs and sputters past the pain and dizziness, spitting out a mouthful of blood along with a tooth.

"You...little freak..." Felix hisses, glaring at the child. "It was you that led them here?"

How? How was this possible? Betrayal from the child? Felix had done everything by the book. He'd been certain that he'd broken this boy long ago. Yet the silver eyes looking back at him now weren't the same ones he was used to seeing. Had these two men done something to him? Had they influenced him somehow? If so, when? This wasn't something that could have just happened on a whim.

"Careful, Master Felix," Number Eight says, his face and eyes still dead as rotting pond water. "Don't speak without permission."

Felix flinches back. Six knocks on the pane of glass separating the passengers and driver. The car takes off, and Felix struggles to get his emotions and fears under control. No matter what happens to him here, he cannot give them any information about Malakai and his plans. He glares at the twins, then at Number Eight.

"I think we've got a true loyal pawn here," Seven says. "He looks determined."

"Loyal till we really get started," Six shrugs.

Seven grabs Felix by his collar and pulls him forward. "Hey, just so you know, I want you to fight me. I've been bored lately, and I could use some human dissection to get my mind right again."

A phone rings somewhere behind Felix. Six reaches across the seat and picks up the phone.

"Yeah, Boss, we got him. We're on our way now."

A deep voice says something Felix can't make out.

"Understood, Boss."

When he hangs up, Seven speaks up. "So? What's the Boss-man want?"

"We can't kill him 'till the Boss gets a turn with him," Six practically pouts.

"So as long as we leave his eyeballs in tact, we can do whatever?"

"That was my understanding."

Both men turn to look at Felix, and he comes close to soiling himself despite the earlier warning. All of his earlier bravado vanishes, shrinking and withering like a slug in saltwater. They're taking him to Sylus, and they're planning on torturing him. No amount of fortitude or sanity will be enough to survive that.

"P-Please...I take it back...I'll tell you anything you want."

The twins both laugh in unison. "Oh, you will," they say simultaneously. "But we'll have some fun first."

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus/mc #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds sylus

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bluesylveon2 · 1 year ago

Note

After much deliberation, I think I'd love to see Rook with "I Won't Say I'm in Love" from Hercules. It started me on a brainstorming spiral. And! The little bit at the end where Megara holds the nile flower to her chest? Imagine Yuu doing that with Rook's hat. I just really like the idea, that out of all the possible options, they fall for that guy.

It could be fun if instead of the muses it's the ghosts of ramshackle, and instead of falling onto a statue, Yuu falls into the arms of a ghost that looks like Rook. Yuu doesn't know how to process these feelings and the ghosts are being menaces.

So when I first saw this ask, I was like "I got this 😎" Famous last words right there lol. I did enjoy messing with Yuu/MC tho. I hope you enjoy it, anon!

Word Count: 933

Notes: the ghost names are: Billy = short one, Don = tall one, Harry = fat one. I picked the sames based on the Lonesome Ghosts (what Ramshackle is based on) and used the actor's names

Warning: not beta read, possible ooc characters, and one irl reference

"-man!"

"-enchman!"

"HENCHMAN!!"

"Ah!" Yuu jumped and dropped the item in her hands. She frantically looked around the Ramshackle lounge. Her eyes landed on Grim, who was jumping on the other side of the couch. "Yes, Grim?"

Grim crawled up on Yuu's lap, "I'm hungry! Feed me some tuna."

"Oh, I am. I'm sorry, Grim. Let me get you your tuna for dinner," Yuu stood up, grabbed the big purple hat, and walked towards the kitchen with Grim following behind to sit down.

"You had a starry look in your eyes when you were staring at that hat. Were you thinking about Rook again?"

"NO!" Yuu exclaimed while placing the hat on the dining table. She opened the pantry and grabbed a can, "Why would I be thinking about him anyway? He is weird, mysterious, and a bit creepy."

Grim put his paws on his hips, "Mhm, sounds like your type."

Yuu almost dropped the opened can of tuna, "Grim! Eat your tuna!" She shoved the can into Grim's paws. He barely had enough time to catch it.

"Hey, this is premium tuna! Besides, what I said was true."

Yuu rolled her eyes and approached the refrigerator to hide her blush, "I only see Rook as a friend. We are just friends."

"I don't know. You don't sound happy saying that," Grim stopped eating his food to stare at Yuu, "You two have gotten pretty cozy after the Island of Woe incident. I would say a bit too close to be just friends."

"It's not like he is on my mind all the time, or I think about his laugh or the way his hair flows just right in the wind, or how eccentric he sounds when he speaks French…." Yuu sighed, grabbed a random container, and kicked the fridge closed. She headed towards the microwave to warm up her food.

Curse Grim for putting him in my mind!

"Is Yuu talking about Rook again?" Don, the skinny ghost, asked. He and the other Ramshackle ghosts materialize in the kitchen for dinner. Although they cannot eat, they stay to keep Yuu and Grim company.

"Yep," Grim smirked, causing Yuu to roll her eyes.

"Oh ho ho! I always knew you had feelings for him!" Harry, the fat ghost, laughed.

"Since when?" Yuu sputtered, her face turning red.

"Since the VDC. Billy, the short ghost, replied. "You two would always hang out, and he started spending more time here after it ended."

"A lot of people spend time here, too," Yuu pointed out and ate her dinner.

Harry chuckled, "Well, you at least accepted his gift," The ghost pointed to the food Yuu was eating. Said human looked down to find that she did grab the leftover ratatouille Rook gave her yesterday. That was also the day he left his hat at her dorm.

"It was the first thing I saw," Yuu deadpanned and plopped on her seat next to Grim.

"Sure it was, Yuu. We'll believe you for now," Don smirked. He and the other ghosts floated to the unoccupied chairs.

"I don't like him like that."

"I don't know…" Billy drawled, "It didn't look like it when he serenaded you on your balcony."

"He was just being nice because it was my birthday," Yuu replied, ignoring how hard it was for her heart not to jump out of her chest that night. She was willing to take how she felt like a princess to the grave.

"What about that time he wanted to draw you like one of those French girls?" Grim innocently asked.

"How bold!" Harry exclaimed, and the other ghosts laughed. Grim just sat there confused. Yuu felt her ears turn red as the ghosts smirked.

"Not like that! You know how he is! He is always trying to find ways to appreciate beauty."

Billy raised an eyebrow (do ghosts even have eyebrows?), "Oh, so he finds you beautiful?"

Yuu covered her face with her hands out of embarrassment. Her heart was beating fast, and her mind was thinking about Rook a mile a minute.

The first time she met Rook, Rook's soft hair that she wanted to run her fingers through, Rook's unique personality, Rook…Rook…Rook…

"Watch this," Don whispered to the ghosts and turned to Grim pointing to something on the table, "Hand me that hat,"

Yuu was praying the teasing stopped until she felt a presence near her.

“Bonjour, mon amour!”

"Ahhh!" Yuu screamed, causing herself to fall into Ghost Rook's arms and the other witnesses around her to laugh. Ghost Rook looked down at her with a smile similar to the real Rook, except Rook's smile made him look like a prince. Wait, prince? Yuu shook her head. This isn't real! "That is not funny!" she exclaimed, scrambling back and snatching Rook’s hat. She inspected it for any dust.

Ghost Rook turned back into a laughing Don, "You must admit it, Yuu. You can't deny that you have feelings for him."

Yuu sighed out of defeat, "Maybe I like him a little." Grim looked at her with a 'really?' look, "Fine, I like him a lot. Happy?" Yuu hid her growing smile by placing the hat on her head and hiding behind the brim.

The ghosts and Grim smiled, "Very."

Meanwhile, a certain blonde hunter sat on a tree, listening to the conversation through an open window. He originally came to retrieve his hat but climbed up the tree instead when he heard his name.

"Oo la la! It seems ma chérie has feelings for me after all. I must let her know that they are reciprocated!"

400 follower event (only 1 spot left!!!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x yuu #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x yuu #thank you for the ask!#400 follower event

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plnkdemon · 2 years ago

Text

NEW AND A BIT ALARMING

satan x gn!mc inspired by beauty and the beast (could be read as platonic but written as romantic) spoilers for season one but also this is non-canon compliant, interpret that how you will. uses my own pact headcanons. tw/cw: references to satan threatening mc (non-descriptive), mention of satan harming humans in the past (non-descriptive), idiots in love, terrible writing, no beta we die like mc please let me know if anything is missing.

Satan’s experiencing an internal debate, a tennis ball bouncing from court to court with enough speed and for long enough that a persistent vertigo plagues him. Ever since he’d threatened you he’d felt terrible, much worse than he could have anticipated. Initially, their hands were filled with the ridiculous body swap situation for him to think about it. The day had culminated in him once again asking for a pact with you with purer intentions, which he’d assumed was why you’d accepted.

In the moment, to Satan, the pact felt like a more than satisfactory apology. After all, giving someone else consent and trusting them with the power to control you and harass your power… is a lot. So much trust and care went into a pact – which he now understood – but after a few days to think about it, he’d started to worry. You had accepted, sure, but that doesn’t explicitly mean that you forgive his less than trustworthy behavior or even that he’s earned that forgiveness in your eyes. For all he knows, you could have only agreed to ensure he never followed up on those threats because if there’s one thing Satan knows about humans, it’s their incredible dedication to surviving even when all the odds are stacked against them. In the Devildom, that certainly applies to you.

Through the pact, he can feel discontent (or he thinks it’s discontent, but this is his first pact and no matter how much he reads about them, nothing compares to firsthand experience). It’s definitely a negative emotion, though, and Satan feels a deep need to do something to fix it. He thinks the others feel the same way if their nervous fluttering about you is any indication. Each of them is seemingly trying to help in… their own way, so to say. Asmo is showering you in self-care (more accurately, Asmo-care, because he rarely lets you do it yourself), Beel is uncharacteristically restraining himself at dinner and prompting you to get seconds, Levi is arranging gaming marathons that actually include someone other than himself at an incredible rate, and Mammon is spending half of his allowance on watches, rings, stuffed animals, coats, and basically anything that you eyes rest on for longer than a few seconds.

That’s how Satan ended up here, anxiously loitering outside your door, raising and lowering his hand as the tennis ball continues to bounce from court to court… Just as he’s about to break the door simply for being the symbol of his indecisiveness, he feels a gentle thrum in his chest. For a moment, he stops dead in his tracks in confusion before he realizes its origin: the other end of your pact. You’re calling to him.

Gingerly, he twists the knob, opening the door to the still unfamiliar room littered with pillows, softly scented candles that float in the air, and twisting vines that create a makeshift canopy to your bed. In the low lighting of your room, he finds you lounging across the comforter, DDD in hand but your attention on the demon who just entered.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come in,” you tease, tossing the phone to the side.

Satan’s cheeks flush with an emotion he never knew he could experience: embarrassment. “You… knew I was out there the whole time?” He asks and quietly shuts the door behind him. With the new information, he’s even more doubtful of his place in your personal space leaving him with an awkward uncertainty of where he’s allowed. Thankfully, you pat the bed, and he carefully sits on the edge while he rethinks every choice that led him to this point.

“Hm, sort of,” you answer. “I can kind of… sense the proximity of you guys. When you’re all the way in town or in the class next to me, but it's not like sonar. I can’t see your exact locations.”

“Oh, that’s quite useful…” It takes a second for him to regain composure and remember his purpose for coming here. “I actually have something I’d like to show you, if you aren’t busy of course.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound as stiff as he feels. If his attempt to make you feel more at home only makes you more uncomfortable then he’d have to move to another realm and change his name or something equally as dramatic.

“Sure,” you acquiesce without complaint, allowing Satan to take your hand and guide you from the room.

While he never thought himself capable of embarrassment, he now has to worry whether or not his body would betray him by making his palms sweaty or some other nonsense. The last thing he needs right now is clammy hands while he holds your… much smaller, and much softer hand. He’s getting distracted now. Great.

You let him take the lead and follow him through the dim hallways, putting your trust in the slightly tangled and confused feelings of hope and apprehension that you can sense from the demon. Satan glances back at you often, as though concerned that you wouldn’t still be there despite holding your hand, which you have to acknowledge as pretty adorable, especially from the Lord of Wrath. Adorable, huh…? The thought catches you off-guard. You have half a mind to tell yourself off, remind yourself of the cruel words he ruthlessly and unabashedly threw at you for simply denying him something. Satan is cold and dangerous, not to be trusted even from Lucifer’s own words and one of the first warnings you received upon arriving to the Devildom.

In spite of all that, you can’t help but smile a little at his persistence in ensuring you haven’t left him. Whatever he’s leading you to must be important because he’s never sought you out since the day your pact was formed and never had before then.

“Ah, here we are,” he says breathlessly, sounding relieved and more anxious than ever before. He nods to himself, releasing your hand to use both of his to swing the double doors open. Past the doorway, a room you’ve never seen before is revealed and your breath is stolen right out of your lungs, catching in your throat.

The room is more brightly lit than the hallways that had been dimmed for the evening hours, providing more lighting for the contents within: incredibly large and overflowing shelves full of books, from what looks like any topic you could possibly want. Even more books are stacked at the edges, on top of the books in the shelves, and on the couch and chairs that fill the space.

You wander inside, mouth agape but quickly spreading into a wide grin as you take in the entirety of what is apparently the House of Lamentations library. An uncontrollable burst of laughter bursts from you, and while you continue to fill up with joy, you suddenly become aware of a feeling that isn’t your own. Replacing what was once anxiety, is now relief and, if you aren’t mistaken, giddiness coming from the demon who led you to this room.

You spin around, finding him watching you from the doorway where he still hasn’t moved with a matching smile to your own that nearly takes your breath for a second time. You don’t stop yourself this time when you observe just how handsome Satan is when he looks so happy, and for once in your time in the Devildom, you aren’t concerned about the ulterior motives behind a demon’s actions.

“This is incredible,” you say, returning your attention to the shelves that must be at least 12 feet tall. You lightly drag your fingers along the spines of one row, giggling at the possibilities that lie binded into each of them.

“I’m glad you’re pleased.” He clears his throat and finally steps into the room to join your exploration. “I know my brothers were trying to make you feel more comfortable here using things that make them happy, so I thought I might give it a try.” He’s read every book in here – some more than once – but seeing your astonishment makes him look at them in a new light. He picks up a book that was haphazardly topping one of the many towers of novels that marked the end of each row, and blushes when he recognizes the familiar cover to a romance he’d read a few years back. A new light, he thinks, faithfully returning it to an empty slot amongst the others.

“I’ve always loved reading,” you comment as you reach the end of the aisle. “Thank you, Satan. This means a lot to me.” You turn to face him, gifting him a softer smile than the wide and blinding one you had when you first entered. This one specifically for him, not for the discovery or for surprise.

His hand is still resting on the spine of the book he’d just shelved. “I could offer a few recommendations, some places to start?” Satan’s thankful for his quick thinking, because he’s still a bit stunned from the realization that you’ve never looked at him this way before.

Your eyes crinkle at the suggestion, nodding immediately. “I’d like that very much.”

-`ღ´-

For days – and before either of you notice, weeks – you both spend most of your free time amongst the books that you’re speeding through almost as quickly as Satan himself. Although your time is… limited to say the least, spread thinly between the five brothers, Satan is grateful for the moments spent together which are rarely interrupted due to his family’s aversion to reading.

“Here it is! The sequel I was telling you about,” Satan calls for you and hears you dutifully follow his voice.

Due to your human stature, the top shelves were out of reach unless you were to attempt bouldering your way up them (Satan was quick to have you promise to fetch him if something were ever out of reach after finding you attempting to scale the shelves one time). As a wingless demon, Satan makes use of his tail to reach the farthest most books, but he’s very mindful of the sharp edges that line it while he grabs the one you both were searching for.

His tail relaxes, lowering with the book within its grasp and unconsciously extending it in your direction. He thinks nothing of it while his eyes scan the neighboring books for the rest of the series until he feels a soft touch. On his tail.

Immediately, his head jerks to the side, the rest of his limbs stock still in fear of what he’s expecting. To his amazement, you seem entirely unfazed, your hands simply brushing the end of his tail as you retrieve the book from its hold. Satan is searching your body for any signs of stress or pain and your face for the telltale fear that he knows like the back of his hand. He doesn’t think a human has ever come in contact with him, let alone his tail, without begging for their life and yet, you don’t flinch at his touch.

You’re flipping the novel over to read the backside while your other hand lightly strokes along the very tops of the vertebrae that form the tip. “Thank you, Satan,” you say, sending him a quick smile before making your way back to the seating area, unknowingly leaving said demon awestruck in the middle of the shelves.

When his mind catches up with reality, it takes all of his self-control (which he luckily has quite a lot of) not to jump in place or make any humiliating noises that would be reminiscent of a high school-age human girl.

-`ღ´-

After having bonded quite closely over your shared love of books, you realize that the two of you have rarely ventured outside of the four walls of the HoL’s library together. It doesn’t bother you — the room has very quickly become your favorite place to be, so you have absolutely no criticisms regarding that or, unexpectedly, for the only other person who visits as frequently as you do — though, you find yourself curious if Satan would accompany you somewhere if asked.

Your relationship is still in its infancy, but the wariness you once wore like a piece of armor around him is long since forgotten. In its place is a warm and comforting domesticity, something far too lovely for you to question out of fear of scaring it away. That keeps you from initiating anything different from your usual routine, safely cradled in between the stacks of books and fed by the mutual peeks at the other between the shelves.

Your book is open in your lap, a finger tracing the edge as if toying with the idea of flipping to the next page even though you’ve yet to read the current one no matter how many times your eyes pass over the words. Instead, your mind is elsewhere… a café, a bookstore, a cat shelter, the bar Asmo had shown you that was too quiet for his liking but perfect for you… The only thing typing each location together is the person with you —

“What are you thinking about?” Satan’s voice shakes you from your daydream.

“What?” You’re still halfway in between naming the kitten in your head and focusing your eyes on the blonde next to you.

His investigative gaze trails over you, searching for something you aren’t sure if you’re ready for him to find. “You’ve been distracted all day, and you’ve been stuck on the same page since I joined you,” he observes. While he still seems oblivious to the fact that your daydreams had drifted to him with remarkable ease, he’s on his way to figuring it out.

You force laughter, praying for him to interpret it as natural. “Yeah, jus’ lost in the clouds,” you suggest. Satan is often caught off guard by silly human idioms, but this time he seems to catch onto your trick, shaking his head as if to rid it of the questions that already started forming.

“Hm…” He continues observing you, now more suspicious to your dismay. Just as you’re opening your mouth to end the painful silence, he snaps his own book closed and places it aside. “Let’s go out. My friend offered me his reservations at Ristorante Six after something came up.” He stands, reaching down to pull you out of the plush cushions after him.

“What?” You’re starting to feel like a broken record.

“Go get dressed to go out. I’ll meet you in twenty, that should give us plenty of time before the reservation,” Satan plows forward without giving you time to comprehend. With the soft smile that you selfishly hope is only reserved for you, he nudges you into action and you can’t find it in yourself to be particularly annoyed.

Silently, you do as he says, finding your room, meticulously searching your closet, and taking a quick detour to the en-suite bathroom for any last touches in the mirror. When you make it to the top of the stairs, Satan is already waiting at the front door, distracted by a notification on his DDD. Your shoes make a soft click against the first stair but the house echoes the noise and draws his attention to you descending the staircase.

As long as you’ve lived in this realm, it really wouldn’t surprise you if the house had some form of sentience and had purposefully become more of an echo chamber than any regular old house because you could swear your steps had never been as loud as this before. The demon that you steadily make your ways towards appears unbothered by it, though, as he watches you with a hawk-like stare.

Satan has to consciously close his mouth which had fallen open upon seeing you. Given only twenty minutes, he never imagined you could manage to pull a look like this together. If he had anticipated something like this, he would’ve given you two minutes, simply because on a regular day you managed to make his heart skip a beat. Looking like this, you very well might give him the demon equivalent of an arrhythmia. If you dare smile at him too sweetly he’s certain that this dinner will end with him face first in his salad bowl due to cardiac arrest.

He meets you at the bottom, extending an elbow for you to take if you wish. Satan’s unprepared for the feeling of your hands around his bicep even though he was the one who initiated. Although, there’s hardly a better way to die, he figures.

“Shall we?” He asks, voice quiet to avoid disturbing the peace around you both.

“We shall.” You give a cheeky grin that only grows wider when you notice the pink tint along his cheekbones. This delicate feeling, something you fretted over breaking, is perhaps stronger than you ever realized. Walking with your arms hooked together and steps in sync, it seems silly to worry about now, because there’s no one you’d rather be with and something tells you that Satan feels the exact same.

-`ღ´-

“They’re actually doing it!” Levi whisper-shouts. “This is just like I Thought You Were Mean But We’re Actually Soulmates And It Took Us Way Too Long To Figure It Out So Let’s —“

“Shut up!” Asmo elbows his brother in the ribs before eagerly peeking back around the corner to continue watching the couple walk into town.

“He better treat them to all the stops,” Mammon warns, deadly serious. “No skimping on the desert, ya know? MC deserves to be spoilt. And they’re wearing the lucky gold charm I got ‘em so maybe they oughta hit up the casino while they —“

This time, Asmo doesn’t have to physically stop the next tirade as Beel’s stomach does the job for him. “Mmm, desert. You think they’ll bring home leftovers?” A drop of drool lands on top of Levi’s head, triggering the typical outburst that the family is so good at.

From his office, Lucifer watches the sidewalk from the window, a glass of demonus in one hand and smiling gently at the scene with his siblings’ commentary in the background.

#satan #obey me #obey me shall we date #satan obey me #satan x reader #satan x mc #satan x gn!mc #obey me fluff #idiots to lovers #satan fluff #obey me mc #smart ass satan

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hunnythebee · 2 years ago

Text

Stow Away

Chapter 2: The First Night

Her first night aboard the Razor Crest, and her first time on a planet that isn't Tatooine in a long time. Interacting with the Bounty Hunter is not quite what she had suspected... maybe this won't be so bad.

Warnings: Threats, some cursing, MC being embarrassed easily, Mando being stoic.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Masterlist

A/N: I am so amazed at how much love my first chapter got in one week. When I decided to post, I really wasn't expecting anybody to read it. Hopefully you will all enjoy this one and future chapters as well! I look forward to writing for all of you.

“Why didn’t you say anything back on Tatooine? You must have known when you saw me,” her voice was shaking.

He shrugged. “You weren’t one of mine.”

“But you know about the bounty…”

“Yes.”

“And you will turn me in if I don’t cooperate with you?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re holding me hostage.”

“To be fair, you stowed away on my ship.”

“Still!”

“If you want, I could still just collect your bounty anyways,” the holster clicked open.

“On second thought, what have I got to lose?”

“Good answer. There’s a spare cot over there,” he motioned behind him. “Set it up wherever you want. We will be landing on Nevarro soon, so come up to the cockpit when you’re done.” And with that, he left to climb the ladder, taking Grogu with him.

She rushed to the refresher. She felt sick, like the galaxy had flipped upside down and she was falling through the void. She splashed cool water onto her face and stared in the mirror.

“Could be worse…” she told herself with a half-hearted chuckle, “could still be on Tatooine.”

After finding the cot Mando had mentioned, she proceeded back up the ladder into the cockpit. Mando was seated in the pilot seat, and the only other seat was taken by the kid. She walked over to the co-pilot's chair and looked down into his big black eyes. Grogu reached his hands out to her, and her heart melted a little. She obliged, picking him up and taking his seat in return. She fastened her restraint and seated him in her lap. His little hand found the necklaces that dangled from her neck and began twisting and playing with them.

The landing was rough, the Razor Crest being as old as she was, that was no surprise. Mando stood from the pilot seat and headed back down the ladder. She remained in the cockpit for another minute, holding Grogu to her chest and staring out the observation shield. The planet was far from beautiful, covered in ash and dust. Molten lava oozed down nearby cliffs and flowed into rivers that spiderwebbed through the desolate plains. She stared for so long because it wasn’t Tatooine. Tears threatened her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away at.

Once she was back down the ladder, Grogu sitting happily on her hip, she was greeted with the silent stoic presence that was the Mandalorian. He was seated on the edge of his bunk, the door completely open. It was night in Nevarro City, he was probably going to rest before heading out to complete his business. She made her way over to her cot and sat down as well, facing him from several feet away. He stared at her for a moment longer than she was comfortable with and she realized he was probably looking at the kid.

Grogu had fallen asleep, his hand still clasped on her necklace. It was one of her favorites, it being one of the few that she actually had sentimental attachment to, but she unclasped it from her neck and let the chain drape over his nubby fingers. She moved him into his cradle, which was floating near her cot for convenience. She tucked him in, a small smile on her lips, and then turned back to face the Mandalorian. His gaze remained unchanged, fixed on her. It made her feel small, like a tiny creature being preyed upon by a ferocious beast. She stood, grabbed her sack, and locked herself in the refresher.

She hoped taking a shower would pass enough time for Mando to go to sleep, or at the very least go away. The water felt amazing, washing away all the sands of Tatooine. She had never felt cleaner. She hadn’t brought any soaps with her since all the soaps had belonged to Peli, so she made do with what Mando had. She picked up a bar and began to wash herself with it. The aroma filled the refresher. It smelled of incense and spices, like a market she had been to on Naboo. She held the bar to her nose and breathed deeply. The scent made her feel relaxed, which was welcomed right now.

After drying off and changing into fresh clothes, a dark linen tank, and loose pants that cinched at her ankles, she exited. The hold was dark. The only light source was the light shining in from the refresher. The door hissed shut behind her, and she was bathed in pitch black darkness. Unable to see two feet ahead of herself, she tripped and stumbled her way to her bunk. She felt extremely ridiculous when she walked face first into a wall, which was strange because she was certain that there hadn’t been a wall before. Then, the wall grasped her shoulders and turned her away from it.

Not a wall.

Her embarrassment bloomed across her cheeks as she realized she had slammed head first into her new employer. She didn’t realize what he was doing when he started to push forward into the darkness, but she had no choice but to follow his guidance. The movement stops, and she is spun around once again. To face him, she assumed. Her blood pulsed so loud in her ears that it was deafening. His hands moved to her waist, and she was pushed back, falling into the darkness. She had landed square on the foot of her cot. Her eyes must have looked wild, searching the dark for the man that had just guided her.

“Sleep.” His voice commanded through the dark.

He blended in so well he could have been a disembodied voice for all she knew, except he had just been touching her, so there was definitely a body. She sighed and crawled into her cot, discovering a blanket on it that had not been there before.

Did he put this here?

She lied back, a sudden wave of exhaustion crashing into her. She pulled the blanket up around her and yawned, feeling sleep coming. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was noting that the blanket smelled the same as the soap, mixed with a slightly more earthy scent.

When she awoke, Mando was already up, that is, if he had slept. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she stood up. She glanced over at the cradle where Grogu was still fast asleep, her necklace still tangled in his tiny hand. She trailed back over to the Mandalorian, who still had not noticed she was awake. She watched quietly for a moment while he meticulously cleaned his rifle. Then her stomach began to hurt, and she realized she was ravenous. She cleared her throat lightly to alert him of her consciousness. He didn’t turn around to greet her, but he did speak softly.

“Morning.”

“Morning. Did you sleep alri-”

“Didn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” A chill ran down her spine. “Then, um… what did you get up to then?”

“Patrolling.”

“Oh, that… makes sense.”

Silence fell between them as she searched through the cargo for some food, with no luck. Her stomach audibly growled, and she shushed it. Mando caught the interaction and laughed quietly to himself. She didn’t catch it because Grogu was awake. His big eyes peered out from his crib, and he reached out to her, cooing happily. She lifted him up and placed him on her hip.

“Hey there, little guy,” she said to Grogu, “Did you sleep well?”

He giggled while she bounced him lightly.

“Y' hungry?”

His eyes lit up at the mention.

“Me too. Say, do you know where your dad keeps the food hidden?”

The kid kriffing nodded. He could understand her. He pointed in a direction a little ways past the ladder to the cockpit, and she followed his lead. She walked past the Mandalorian, his gaze following her as she moved. Again, she just assumed that it was because he’s protective of the kid. Around the corner was a small galley with a small nanowave stove and a couple of cupboards that should have had food in them, but they were sparse. She still managed to find a few items that she could whip together for something that resembled a meal.

After she finished cooking, she carried two bowls of the stew concoction over to Mando and Grogu. Grogu’s eyes lit up with joy, and he dove straight in. Mando, on the other hand, just stared at the bowl. She left, returned with a bowl of her own, and perched on a nearby crate as she ate.

“What’re you waiting for?” She asked, mouth half-full

“I didn’t ask for any.”

“I just thought you might be hungry. If you don’t want it I can always just throw it back in the pot it’s not a both-”

“No!” He snapped, catching her offguard. “I mean… No… It’s just I can’t.”

She’s confused now. “What do you mean ‘can’t’? It’s just food for maker's sake.”

“It’s not that. I can’t show my face.”

“Oh… and you kind of need your mouth to be able to eat.”

He was silent.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” She said, standing from her spot and grabbing Grogu from his place next to Mando, his bowl having been licked clean already. She settled back down on the crate she had previously been on, this time with her back to the Mandalorian. “Better?” She asked over her shoulder.

“Yes, but–”

“Shut up and eat bucket-head.”

The interruption took him by surprise. Her boldness was starting to show despite the fact that he had threatened her life last night. He quietly admired this, vowing she would never know that. He lifted his helmet up, keeping it balanced on his head, and ate the stew.

“Y’know Mando,” she spoke up again, keeping her back turned, “You have very little food. I was thinking of going to the market here to pick up more.”

“No.” His voice is unmasked, unfiltered. She wasn’t expecting it to sound so smooth.

“So what? You’re really gonna keep me on this ship forever?” She said, her voice bordering on aggressive.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why?”

“Because,” his voice was masked again, “Too many Bounty Hunters here.”

“Oh.”

“You will need to hide.”

“What?!”

“Unless you want to get caught. Karga will send his men to retrieve the bounties from the storage. You need to make yourself invisible.”

“Got it. Invisible. I can do that.”

He laughed, which sounded foreign coming from him. “Sure.”

“Hey! It’s not like this ship has a lot of options.”

He didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he just stood and collected the bowls, grabbing hers as well and taking them back to the galley.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Masterlist

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