#Lucifer the next day: Wait...

[australet789]

"Wild tales of you falling to holy arms"

Ok, while I think Zestial might have implied here that there were rumors of Alastor dying in a extermination, the whole thing with Lilith is still super suspicious and keeping in mind she was a previous resident of Heaven...

The foreshadowing is there but I cant think of what exactly

[misc-obeyme]

You sometimes wonder if the demons end up in your room at night because somehow they know that you no longer prefer to wake up alone.

Ever since you started living at the House of Lamentation, you have gotten used to finding one or more of them there with you. A friendly face, a gentle touch, the warm body of someone who cared for you, someone you cared for in return.

They all arrive in their own unique ways.

Mammon, who always crashes through your door so easily during the day, sneaks in quietly at night. Most of the time he doesn't wake you. But if he does, he gets flustered and starts to leave until you ask him to stay.

"Of course ya want the Great Mammon to stay with ya," he says. Even in the darkness, you know he's blushing as he says it.

If you whine with nightmares, he'll kiss your head, pull you closer, and whisper that it'll be all right. And instantly the nightmares dissipate.

You never have nightmares when Belphie is around, either. He shows up in your dreams himself, fighting off the terrors with an energy you never see in him when he's awake.

He'll snuggle up to you any time and any place, but most often he finds you at night. He's impossible to disturb, even if you kick him in your sleep. You sometimes wake to find him in strange positions.

Asmo always rearranges him if they both end up with you on the same night.

"You won't get quality sleep like this," he says. "And you need quality sleep if you want to have quality skin!"

When he's alone, Asmo will come in only to stare at you fondly for a while. You know he never intends to stay. It's just a little peek at his favorite sleeping human. But then he finds he can't tear himself away. You'll wake up with his lips pressed against your cheek, as he always wants to kiss you in his sleep.

You sometimes have dreams about eating something, but in the morning you find it's because Beel was there having a midnight snack before falling asleep beside you. He likes to hold you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. You wake up in the middle of the night sometimes because it feels like being held by a furnace.

Although these are the brothers you wake up to most often, you'll find the others come around sometimes, too.

Satan will crawl into bed with you directly, without hesitation, but you know he's embarrassed about the need to be next to you. He'll hold you tightly, like he's afraid to let go. If you ask him what's wrong, he'll tell you, but it's always muffled because he's pressing his face into your neck.

"I'm irritated and I can't calm down enough to sleep," he says. "You always… "

You brush your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know," you say. Because you do. You know that your presence relaxes him in a way nothing else does.

The ever elusive Levi only stops in when you're alone. He won't join any of his brothers and half the time, he's still awake in his room, binging anime or gaming into the wee hours. You pretend to be asleep if you know he's lingering outside your door because then he'll finally come inside.

He'll stand there and look at you, like he's just dropping in for a moment. He tells himself he'll always leave before you wake up, but that never happens. You deliberately shift yourself to be inviting, creating a space for him beside you. If he's here, he likely needs to rest, to shut off his mind for a little while, to indulge in his desire to be close to you when no one else is around. He blushes the whole time, but he does crawl beneath your covers and rest his head on your chest.

And then there's Lucifer.

The other brothers are constantly going in and out of your room. They have gaming competitions there and movie marathons. Sometimes they gather to do homework with you. Sometimes it's only one or two of them. And you always find one sleeping beside you.

Lucifer rarely takes part in these activities. He's always holed up in his office, working. He waits for you to come to him.

But every once in a while, you'll wake to find him kneeling beside your bed, his hand in your hair or resting on your cheek. Like he came in to check on you and couldn't resist a soft caress. His presence inevitably wakes you. And if you reach out, if you grab his hand, if you hold onto him, he'll give in and stay.

His most vulnerable moments are when he lies down in your bed beside you and lets himself run his fingers along your skin. He'll kiss your forehead and your eyelids, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.

And every morning, no matter who is with you when you wake, you find yourself next to someone who loves you. It becomes your favorite way to start the day. And somehow, every demon living in the House of Lamentation is aware of this. They make sure you're never sleeping alone.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI

A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.

The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.

"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.

"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.

In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.

"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.

"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.

"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.

"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."

You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.

Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.

"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."

"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.

"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.

You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.

"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.

"Your ex is fucking annoying."

You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.

Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.

He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.

"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"

He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.

He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.

"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"

"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.

"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.

"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"

"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.

You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.

"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.

[eevenus]

⋆˚࿔ drabble!! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - b.c.

I have thoughts and need to get them out of my head before I go insane.

genre: PURE SMUT TBH!!! MINORS BE GONE!! I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

pairing: bangchan x fem!reader

warnings: chokeholds (sue me okay), a bit of degradation, rough channie 🥴, reader is called a whore once, size kink if you squint

a/n: I wrote this on my phone because I needed it out of my head NYEOW, I'm going insane over him. dividers by @sister-lucifer

(this is what I was writing to if you wanna listen along 😛😛😛)

✩ thinking so much about Chan having such a horrible day, and I mean absolutely retched. Maybe had some arguments back and forth with staff over a track he was really proud of, a dance practice with small fuckups just out of his control (loose shoelaces tripping him, stumbling over his words, etc), maybe even something as simple as all his anxieties and worries on new tracks and performances have manifested into a boiling anger he can't contain.

✩ he wouldn't want to say anything he doesn't mean, or hurt anyone's feelings, so he wouldn't talk much throughout the day if he can help it. Simple nods and "mhm"s to just get through it. A few texts from you ping his phone every now and then, he's short with you but responds nonetheless. It would almost make him angrier that he can't shake the feeling, I feel.

✩ so he'd try to blow off some steam at the gym, he always hit it on the way home so you wouldn't find it out of the ordinary. But he'd stay a little longer than usual. Trying so, so hard to just shake the feeling off so he can come home to you and relax. But he can't. It sits on his chest worse than any of his anxieties ever could. So he cleans up the area he was using, throws his things into his duffle, and heads home.

✩ he'd show up back to your shared apartment and throw his duffle somewhere out of his sight. His shoes discarded by the door and keys dropped somewhere next to them. And then you'd walk out.

✩ "Hi baby!" So sweet and so kind, already in your pajamas, waiting for him to come home. "Long day?" It was an innocent ask of course, but it clicked a gear in place in his mind. All that anger seemed to quicken the blood rushing through his veins, if you listen close enough in the quiet you'd hear his heartbeat.

✩ no response but he's just stomping his way over to you, and his hands grab your face to smash your lips together. It's messy, teeth knocking every now and then, moving from upper to bottom lip, a bit of spit would connect you when he finally pulled away. Leaving you in a bit of a daze. But before you could question the absolutely hungry look in his eyes his lips would be on you again.

✩ his HUMONGOUS arms would work to pick you up while keeping your lips connected, your hands in his curls as his wrap under your thighs. And he's walking you back to your shared room and his skin is just fiery hot, and he's deepening the kiss while expertly navigating his way down the hall. thank god you walked out and left the door open, because as soon as he is even near your bed he's tossing you onto it and climbing on top of you.

✩ discarding his tank top as you're ridding of your own, his lips moving after to connect with your neck. You'd swear you felt him bite and lick his away along like a hungry animal playing with its prey. And his hands are on your hips, squeezing so hard to keep you in place that it would def leave bruises in the morning.

✩ before you can even register it, you're both without clothes and he's got you on all fours. pulling you down onto his mouth that is just devouring you like your his last meal on death row, like you held a cure for whatever is making him act this way, not like you'd want him to stop.

✩ "Bad day?" You'd question with rutting hips and your hands gripping his hair, he'd simply mumble against you and pull you down further. "Take it out- oh god- on me." You didn't have to tell him really, but it was more like giving him a green light for doing whatever he needed too to blow off the steam that was so pent up. It was rare this happened, but you ate it UP every time.

✩ moments later, after he'd rip at least two orgasms out of you, he's sinking himself into you. Pulling at your hips to meet his, forcing an arch out of you with a flat palm pressing down at the top of your spine. with no mercy does he rut into you, so rough it was physically moving you forward. Your cries and moans muffled with your cheek against the sheets, though you'd have probably been muffled regardless as his moans and groans and growls would be just a bit louder. Feral even.

✩ and when your moans alone weren't enough, he'd slow himself just enough to lean down and wrap his arm around your neck. keeping a hand still on your hip to keep your arch in place when he lifts you up from the bed in a chokehold and returns to his previous pace. Your moans now cut-off whines and groans from the pressure, just enough to slightly bring pressure to your airways but not enough to make you lose all your air. A delightful euphoria of floating and the feeling of his cock pumping into you, you swore in this position he was kissing your cervix in the most delicious way. feeling floaty and so full. so full. (pushing the bde Chris agenda ok).

✩ "fuckin' take it." He'd growl in your ear, and though his arm stays around your neck his hand moves to hold your chin. Relieving the pressure as you take in shaky gasps, keeping you perfectly in place. "Yea? You're my fucking whore, mine- letting me use you, huh? letting me fuck my anger into you?"

✩ he'd be so far gone that he's just mumbling out the nastiest shit he's ever said, and just abusing your pretty little cunt all he wants. And when his growls turn to whines and gasps and groans of his own, his hand reaches between your legs and quickly circles your puffy pretty clit. Silently begging you to cum with him.

✩ ugh and he'd cum so much too. letting you out of his hold halfway through, to lay back against the sheets, but still pushing you through your own orgasm. It would take him a bit to register he's real again before he's pulling out and walking to grab things to clean you up, water, a snack, the works.

✩ "Better?" You'd incoherently mumble after, when you're all laid up together. Snuggled close and naked and safe and warm.

✩ "Mm. Sorry if I was too rough." He'd mumble back, pushing some hair behind your ear before promising to tell you what was bothering him first thing in the morning. But of course you never mind him that way, if you can help him.

✩ he'd apologize PROFUSELY in the morning when he notices your bruised hips and a few red marks of teeth on your neck. Doing his best to mend you. Draw you a bath. Snuggle you as soon as he gets home from the studio. Apologize again. And again. And one more time for good measure. cuz he's just too sweet, and even if he was pent up and needed to channel his anger in a (proactive) different way he could never actually hurt you and he'd feel awful if he ever did. Making sure you feel loved in every way he can in the following days. Cuz he's Channie and an absolute angel, who just loves a rough night every now and again. 😜

EEP KQJDJSNF there's my first spicy drabble, I just needed this out of my fucking head OMG. Need him to chokehold me so BAD KADJNDNF. this is probably a mess because I was trying to get a vision across without turning this into a 7k word fic okay 😭😭. Lemme know if y'all want more of this from meeee by commenting, liking, reposting!! Theenk yewwww ❤️✨🤞🏻

taglist: @possum-playground (taglist is open! Feel free to ask to be added to my general one or the one for my Bangchan series!! or if you'd like to only be added for non-spicy/spicy-only posts!)

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter eight: space or time

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: it's the night of the summit's gala. revelations come to light and it's a night that you and caleb will never forget.

word count: 12k words

warnings: slightly proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! thank you for waiting so patiently! i hope you enjoy this part as much as i enjoyed writing it!

content warning: p in v sex, vulgar language, mating press if you squint, messy kisses, creampie, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT AND STAY SAFE), ANGST TRAIN HAS ARRIVED AT THE STATION, lmk if i missed anything

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

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The hotel’s ballroom is lavishly decorated. Silvers and golds decorate the walls; lights hang from the ceiling at different lengths, adding to the splendor and beauty of the ballroom. Long tables are set up along the borders, with plenty of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, with a space in the middle where a few people stand and dance with one another. There is a stage where a band plays, the female singer’s voice fitting the slow jazz-like music. She has white hair and wears a long red dress with a slit up the side, the dress’s jewels glimmering under the spotlight.

Service men and women wear their formal and dress uniforms. They are neatly dressed, not a single hair or button out of place. They are the perfect representations for their respective country. Even a small group with hair that are unique shades of blues and purples blends in with the other military officers. Laughters and music fills the room. It is a lively scene, one that you find yourself hesitant to step into.

After a long day of sitting in a negotiation room with the Farspace Fleet’s General, the last place you really wanted to be was at the summit’s ending gala. You’d rather be on Caleb’s aircraft surrounded by burly and strong masked soldiers while flying back to Skyhaven than be stuck in a room full of people who want to either bring peace or destruction to the place you live.

You couldn’t leave, though. Your date — as you liked to refer to him as inside the delusional fantasies of your head — hasn’t arrived yet.

You stand just outside the open double doors. Inside, the gala moves on. The event’s music spills out and fills the entryway with the sweet sounds of a love song. The melody is nice and the singer’s sultry voice compliments the saxophone’s rich and brassy tone. They move in sync with each other, their notes complimenting the other. It puts you at ease.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You turn on your heel, circling to look at Caleb who stands behind you. His white hat, which has a red line circling its circumference, tucks away his dark hair that is slicked back with a thin layer of gel, his usual bangs now out of his face. He’s clean shaven, the five o’clock shadow and slight stubble from this morning completely gone. His uniform is rid of its usual black color; his body is covered in the white dress uniform jacket, one that you have never seen him wear, matched with a black dress shirt underneath. With the white jacket, you can see the outline of the golden stitching that surrounds his medals and pins more clearly, the golden chain and rope contrasting against the black shoulder patches. 

And god damn does it look fan-fucking-tastic on him.

Fuck.

You are so fucked.

You stare at him with an awestruck expression, mouth slightly dropped open. You gulp. He chuckles and shifts his weight to his back foot, purple eyes examining your body.

You wear a very simple black dress matched with a black pair of heels that are strapped at your ankle. The dress is a halter top that has a long silk tie that cascades down your back. The fabric hugs your body just right and flares out ever so slightly past your hips. The skirt stops halfway down your shins, sitting an inch or two below your knee. You don’t wear a necklace, just simple earrings that compliment the elegant dress’ simplicity.

“You look…so beautiful,” Caleb breathes out. His hat moves from his head to his hands. His gloved fingertips play with the rim, nervousness and anticipation bubbling in his stomach from the sight of your beauty.

“Thank you,” a blush creeps onto your cheek. You clear your throat and look away, scratching the back of your neck. “You look very handsome,” you add. He nods.

Caleb’s steps are measured, deliberate. His black boot connects with the floor, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble floor. You tilt your chin up as he grows near. Your gaze takes a few liberties while he inches closer to you, inspecting the finer details of his white outfit, like how the holster strapped to his thigh is hidden behind the tail of his jacket, the way the navy and red lines mix in with grays on the cuffs of his sleeves, a slight bronze tone to the metal cufflinks. Your eyes snap to a metal strap around his right arm, a slow, pulsating red light oozing from the brace.

Caleb places his gloved finger underneath your chin. Your mind freezes. He tilts your chin to look up at him, eyes meeting. Your heart flutters, matching the crescendo from the music in the ballroom. The leather of his glove is smooth against your skin, the warmth from his touch making you want to melt into his arms right then and there.

“I was expecting your black uniform,” you fumble over your words, unsure of what to do or say. Caleb has, for lack of better words, absolutely fried your brain, rendering you useless. “If I had known, I would have—”

“Matched me?” Caleb interrupts you. You nod, breathless. He chuckles and his thumb creeps up your chin, tracing the outline of your bottom lip.

Have his eyes always been so vibrant? There are no bumps or blemishes on his skin, not even a scar from any skirmish he’s been in. He’s…perfect.

How can you go in there and do your job when he looks like that? It’s so unfair!

“The General thought it would be a good idea to…” Caleb tilts his head to the side, placing the hat back on his head, his hand never leaving your chin, “show off. He wants us to be better in both our army and fashion.” A hint of amusement can be heard in his voice.

“I wonder where he got that idea from,” your eyes flit to his. He raises his eyebrow, the corner of his lips perking up.

Caleb’s gaze darts away from yours, his hand leaving your chin. He clears his throat and straightens his back, ankles locking together. His arm raises then bends at the elbow, his fingers making themselves at home at the corner of his eyebrow. You step to his side, turning just as the General and other Colonels approach.

“Sir,” Caleb grunts. The General waves his hand at him and Caleb falls into his at ease stance, hands clasped behind his back. The General turns his attention to you. You smile at him and nods your head. A grin forms on the General’s face, his serious expression lighting up.

“Ah! We meet again!” he chuckles, the sound raspy and coarse. The sound catches you off guard, causing you to laugh alongside with him while the Colonels look on with stoic faces. Caleb’s eyes attach to the side of your face, lips tugging down in a confused frown. “You look beautiful tonight, my dear, an absolute vision,” the General begins. He turns to Caleb, his smile slightly faltering. “She is a spitfire!”

“Is she?” Caleb hums, turning his attention back to his superior.

“I heard that she was good at her job and wanted to test her out, see if we can get her out of the cubicle,” the General smiles. He sandwiches your palm between his meaty hands. His smile is bright as he looks at you. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you put a spell on the burly man; a man who was seen many horrors in the Deepspace Tunnel and in wars that have been waged decades ago.

“She is very good, yes,” Caleb holds back a smile.

He always knew that your talents were being wasted in the office in Skyhaven. You deserved to live a good and thrilling life, one that leaves you feeling fulfilled from excitement. Caleb would like you to stick by his side, though, instead of the General’s. Only he can keep you safe…no one else.

“You are one lucky man to have her at your side tonight,” the General releases your hand. You smile at him and push your hair behind your ear, cheeks heating from the constant compliments. “We’re all stuck with the other translators who would rather spend their time gossiping about wine and who is…what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Cute?” you lean in with a smile. The General’s smile brightens even more, beaming at you.

“See? Even she can translate my thoughts for me!” His laugh booms down the hotel hallway. The older man leans in and lowers his voice, “If he gives you any trouble tonight, send him my way. I’ll whip him back into shape!”

“I will!” you laugh, covering your mouth. The General’s toothy grin covers the entirety of his lower face. Caleb rolls his eyes, unamused.

“Save me a dance?” The General asks. You nod. “Wonderful! We will see you two in there!”

The General and his men leave your side, entering into the vibrant gala. You smile and watch as he walks away, the older man already commanding the room with his presence. He’s fun, really, outside of the uniform. He even made sure that the assistants in the meetings today got your coffee order right. What a sweet man.

“I better be your first dance,” Caleb’s spiteful voice snaps you back to him. His purple eyes are fixated on the inside of the ballroom, following the General’s white uniform. Another laugh flies from your lips, shaking your head at him. Caleb’s brows furrow, hands resting on his hips. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I think it’s sweet that you find an eighty year old man to be competition,” you glance at him and give his shoulder a quick pat, beginning to walk towards the entry doors.

Caleb watches you, his feet unable to move for a second or two. His eyes are captivated by the way your dress sways with every movement you make, the long silk fabric teasing him as they swing back and forth, grazing against your backside. He sharply inhales, quickly pulling himself together and steadying his heart, and follows you inside the ballroom.

The music is louder than before, the singer’s voice more clear. She sings in a language that Caleb cannot understand but judging by the look on your face, the lyrics must go along with the upbeat melody and notes that come from the small orchestra’s instruments.

“So,” you look up at him, watching as he falls in line at your side. You hold your hands behind your back, painted fingernails toying and scratching the inside of your palm, a nervous tick you picked up from your less than desirable childhood. “How many people do you need to meet and make small talk with?”

“Hopefully none,” Caleb admits. He places his hand on your lower back, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly curling around your side. He draws you out of the way, the two of you bowing your heads as a sign of an apology, before moving to a new area in the ballroom. Goosebumps form where his hand sits. Your hip bumps into his, slowly locking yourself at his side, using the crowded room as an excuse to be so close to him.

“What?” you ask with an amused smile and quiet giggle, “are they supposed to come up to you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Caleb flashes his canines at you, the sharp point of his tooth reminding you how it felt at your friend’s bachelorette party just over a week ago.

The purple hickeys on your neck have disappeared over the course of the week. Caleb noticed, of course, and wondered when the next time will be when he can place fresh marks against your skin for all to see, although, he will miss the turtleneck sweaters you wore this week to cover them up.

“Oh, wow,” you raise your eyebrows, playing into his boosted ego and confidence, “look at you go. Mr. Popular…am I going to need to fill up your dance card just so we can have a conversation?”

“You can have all the spots on my dance card, pretty bird,” the man squeezes your hip. You push back a blush, yelling at your pounding heart to calm down, to leave you alone for the night.

You need a night where your body doesn’t react so viscerally to Caleb’s touches and words. You should be used to it by now, right? Right! He’s just a childhood friend that you just so happened to reconnect with and let him bury his face between your legs in a nightclub’s bathroom.

You step away from him and he watches as you approach a table lined with champagne flutes. The golden alcohol stares at you, your stomach churning remembering the hangover you had a week ago. Caleb comes up from behind. He plucks two glasses from the table, passing one off to you. You sigh and look up at him, raising your glass.

“To a good night?” you ask.

“A good night,” he nods.

Your glasses clink together and you sip from the flutes as the song changes tempo. It’s much slower. A few lone couples make their way to the dance floor, couples that you assume are married couples due to their age and the rings on their fingers. You smile at the sight, watching as even a few younger couples join in the middle of the room.

The man beside you takes the glass from your hand, placing it back onto the table. He steps around you, your eyes trained on his broad shoulders. With his white uniform, you can now see the red, silver, and bronze lines that descend from his shoulders to the bottom of the jacket. Caleb turns around, extending his hand to you.

“Come on,” his eyes burn into yours, “you owe me a dance.”

Your heart skips a beat. You stare at his hand, slowly accepting it, your fingers lacing together with his. He steps backward. The crowd separates around him, watching as he guides you, his beauty and his love onto the dance floor.

Caleb draws you to his body. Your chests rest against reach other, no space separating you. He places his hand on your waist. His thumb massages your hipbone, fingers tingling with submerged delight. His touch is tender, intimate. You draw your arm up and rest it on his shoulder, brushing against the metal chain that hangs from the jacket. Your fingertips rest against his hairline. They delicately play with the tips of his hair. Your hands remain connected, Caleb being quick to lead the dance. Your breathing falls in step with his, the two hearts falling into rhythm.

The piano’s notes flutter, taking its time to build up. The band members and singer watch, waiting for their cue to join in. The singer brings the microphone up to their lips, the other instruments remaining silent.

Caleb lowers his head, your temple coming into gentle contact with his cheek. He relaxes into you, not caring whether his colleagues see how close he holds you, the way your bodies step in sync, anticipating the other’s movement. You watch as Caleb pulls you into the middle of the floor, using the other couples as a way to hide from the rest of the world, their prying eyes being blocked by the other happy couples.

The skirt of your dress sways with the movement, flowing with every step. Caleb’s hand is warm under the leather glove he wears. A part of you wishes he would take it off so you can feel the calloused skin of his palms, the tough skin against your own, a feeling that you have grown to miss.

Caleb turns you, your skirt picking up from the sudden twist. The faces of the crowd blur, but you catch on to Diana’s shocked expression. You suppress a smug smile. Caleb tugs you into his chest again, drawing your eyes back to his.

“What is the song about?” he whispers into your ear. You sigh, feeling your head pull away from his shoulder. You look up at him, his purple eyes soft and full of devotion. Your fingers give his a gentle squeeze.

“It’s a song about regret…the singer is mournful of letting her one true love getting away,” you quietly respond just so he can hear. Caleb nods, eyelashes fluttering, tearing his gaze away as he focuses on the woman’s singing. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time,” the translated words roll off your lips just as the singer sings them.

The two of you freeze. The lights shimmer from above, the golden hues making Caleb’s eyes pop. Your skin looks even more warm under the colors. The lights make your eyes flitter, the individual flickering lights being captured so beautifully in your eyes.

Caleb wishes he could stay here in this moment with you. He wishes that you two were alone with nobody to bother you. He wants you to stay in his embrace, to never leave his side ever again.

Little does he know that you wish for the same thing.

You take a step back from Caleb, your hand leaving the base of his neck. Your hands remain connected, the man keeping you at an arm’s length as the singer sings of sorrowful regrets and misdeeds. He draws you back in. Your hand slips from his embrace, fingertips sliding up the smooth material of his jacket, your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands make themselves at home on your waist. 

No space separates you.

You do not push him away. There is no more hidden angst or remorse. You willingly enter his embrace. You’re allowing him to walk through your mind’s castle gates, surpassing every wall that you have built since childhood. There is no more resentment you hold against him, your mind and body being sucked into the warmth of his love and adoration for you.

No longer do you feel rotten. No longer do you feel discarded. You are no longer a second choice, the lone girl standing in the middle of your high school’s gymnasium.

Your once decomposed core, the place where your soul used to live, blossoms.

A single apple tree breaks through dead and dry soil, a miracle of life in the no man’s land that has been barren for years.

“I love you,” Caleb breathes out. The music swells. Your heart skips a beat. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time.”

Caleb leans in, your hands dropping from his neck. One rests on his chest, feeling the unsteady and heavy beats of his heart, while the other stays on the side of his neck, fingertips caressing his jawline. His grip on your waist tightens yet remains gentle. The tip of his nose presses into yours, sliding down the side as his mouth grows closer to yours. The brim of his hat obscures your face from one side of the room, shielding you from the public eye as your lips graze together.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You and Caleb freeze in your spot. Your breath mingles with his, your lips just about to meet. You stare into his eyes and feel the heat radiate off of his body. He pulls away, gaze remaining on yours, and keeps you in his arms. You break your gaze away, his hands tightening on your waist, to see the General standing beside you.

“Hello, General,” you greet him. Caleb turns his head away, quietly groaning. “Would you like to dance with me? Colonel Caleb was just telling me that he needed to go to the bathroom.” Your excuse is less than ideal but it’s believable enough for the General to easily accept. You slip from Caleb’s grip, the heat from his touch lingering on your skin, and are transferred to the General’s hands.

The music switches from the slow song to something more upbeat and positive. You keep a respectable distance between you and the older man before you. Form the corner of your eye, you watch as Caleb disappears from the floor, leaving your line of sight. You cannot help but sigh, turning back to the General.

“Tell me, my dear,” he begins, “is there something between you and the Colonel?” The smile returns to your face, cheeks heating. The man’s smile grows and he nods, moving you around the dance floor. “I knew it! He was so adamant to have you as his translator. He is never so serious when it comes to events like this!”

“Oh? Really?” Your smiles grows. The man nods.

“He looks at you the same way I looked at my late wife, Amara. That’s how I knew,” he sighs, his hands slightly tensing on your side. You gone his shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze, watching as his eyes gloss from tears.

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” you quietly coo. He smiles at you, a saddened chuckle coming from his mouth.

“She was…the light of my life. She would have loved you.” The General tears his gaze from yours, looking at the other dressed officers and world leaders. They laugh and smile, completely unaware of how turbulent the outside world is, that a man in this building has lost his North Star.

“Let’s keep her memory alive, then,” you smile. He turns back to you. Hope shines in his eyes. “I’m sure we can figure out a way to dedicate something to her. Maybe we can petition to rename a part of the building for her…as for now, though, let’s share a dance in the honor of her memory.”

You always knew the right things to say to someone who who grieving. You do not know how long ago the General’s wife died, nor will he tell you, but you know that comfort and solace in the future, knowing that their name will be remembered for the rest of time for all to see. The dance is a temporary solution for now, yes, but it is a good way to distract the elderly man’s shaky hands and the way he fumbles over his words. You are happy to fill in the hole in his heart, even if it is for a few brief moments.

The song comes to an end and you pull away from the General. The two of you smile and clap alongside the other guests. The General looks to the side and claps his hands together, resting his hand in-between your shoulder blades.

“Ah! There is someone I would like you to meet! I’m sorry to make you work on a night like this, but we have one last person to talk to. Would you be so kind as to help me?” The General asks. You nod with a sweet smile.

“Of course. I would love to,” your response is sweet, radiating the helpfulness that you have come to be known as having. He nods and leads you away from the dance floor. You take one last look over your shoulder, scanning the area Caleb disappeared into, before sighing and following the leader.

“Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Professor Lucius,” the General steps to the side, his arm up. Your eyes follow where his hand gestures to, the smile on your face slightly flattering.

It’s the man from the hotel lobby when you first arrived. He is much taller up close, his white hair blending in with his pale and almost translucent skin. He has a few aged spots across his skin and his bony fingers, with his knuckles vastly prominent, wrap around the knob of his wooden cane. He smiles at you with pale yellow teeth, one of them gray in color. He holds out his hand to you. You hesitantly take it, shaking it.

His touch is ice cold. There is no warmth in his grasp. What makes things worse is that his handshake is limp; it’s almost as if you are meeting a monarch where you are meant to kiss his ring.

You draw your hand back to your side and clear your throat.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Professor Lucius’ voice is a complete opposite of what you expected it to be. Part of you was ready to listen to an old shriveled voice, one that lacked any strength. His voice is actually quite strong for his age. A complete 180 from what his appearance is.

If anything, it makes you feel even more uneasy in his presence.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Lucius,” you push the words through a gritted smile. He nods his head and inches closer to you. You’re frozen in place.

“The General said that you would be willing to help us with one last meeting, yes?” You nod in response. His sickening smile grows wider. “Wonderful. Please,” he holds out his frail arm to you, “follow me.”

You link your arm with his against your better judgment and take one final look of the ballroom. Caleb is nowhere to be seen. You hold your disappointment inside your chest and feel the professor begin to walk you towards the exit of the ballroom. He rests his free hand on top of yours, leaning into you like you are his walking stick. As soon as you step out into the hallway, his voice breaks through the uncomfortable silence.

“I work for Ever,” he starts, “and we have been working with the Farspace Fleet for many years now. A long partnership that I have had the honor of seeing for the entirety of its fruition.” You smile at him, feeling his hardened nails slightly dig into your skin. “At Ever, we aim to help aid people in their lives. We want to take away stresses and allow people to enjoy life!”

“That sounds like a good mission to have!” you muster up as much cheer as you can. Professor Lucius smiles at you, nodding at your apparent excitement, stroking his already boosted ego. It doesn’t hurt that a beautiful woman is on his arm too.

“We’ve helped the Farspace Fleet with their…obedience problem as well.”

Caleb enters the ballroom, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks to the dance floor to try and find your familiar head of hair but you aren’t there. He looks towards the drinks. Again, you aren’t there. He sighs and takes a lap around the room, weaving through the endless military personnel and drunken lower ranking officers.

He spots Liam from across the room. He rushes towards the officer, urgency in every step he takes. Once he is close enough to his right hand man, he barks a question: “Where is she?!”

“Colonel,” Liam turns to him and nods his head, a quick and formal greeting.

“Don’t make me repeat my question,” Caleb growls through gritted teeth. His fists ball at his side. Anxiety bubbles within his chest, his heart moving in deep, slow pumps.

“The General and Professor Lucius have asked her to help translate for a meeting. They left a few minutes ago.”

Caleb immediately turns on his heel. He feels an itch form in the middle of his brain, a dull ache beginning to form. He slowly inhales and exhales, getting control of his heightened emotions as he rushes to the doors of the ballroom. He leaps out and into the hotel hallway, rushing down the impeccably decorated passageway. He bursts into the hotel lobby, out of breath, and notices a flash of your dress disappear behind a turn.

He runs through the empty lobby, ignoring the employees’ yells for him to walk and to not cause trouble. He doesn’t care. Nothing matters.

As long as you are in the Professor’s hands, your safety is the only thing that matters to him.

For the past two months, Caleb was able to keep you away from Ever. He was able to hide your job with the Farspace Fleet. Caleb hid you behind the closed doors of his mind, keeping you away form the black hole that is the Toring Chip. The Professor was none the wiser, believing that his heart still belonged to the girl he grew up with, the girl that Josephine stole away from Ever.

Professor Lucius could not have been more wrong.

The Colonel slides across the floor, the bottom of his boots scuffing the white marble. You stand at the end of the hallway, sandwiched between Professor Lucius and the General. They stare at you with widened smiles. It makes Caleb sick to his stomach.

Chills and goosebumps overtake his body. The hallway feels never-ending with you being pulled farther and farther away with each passing second. He claws at the air, watching as you duck behind a wooden door.

Your body is rigid. The General guides you inside a large meeting room where three other people sit. You recognize one of them, having been in a room just like this, only a few hours ago. You smile at them and sit down in a chair that the General has pulled out for you. The chair is comfortable but it feels like you are sitting on a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

“Hello,” you greet in their language with a small wave. “This is Professor Lucius and the Farspace Fleet General. Thank you for taking the time to have a meeting with us today.”

You watch as the translator does their job. The man, who sits beside them, wears a green and red uniform, his hair neatly pushed out of his face, scars covering the side of his neck and face. He smiles and reveals a golden front tooth.

Tension settles into your bones, chilling your body. You bite your bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between your teeth. If you were to add any more pressure, you lip would surely bleed.

The meeting starts slow. It’s a conversation between you and the other translator, working through formalities and thank you, before anyone important in the room speaks up. You smile and bow your head, watching as the man’s translator exits the room. Once it is done and over with, you tilt your body to the side, looking at Professor Lucius, who rests his hands on his cane hatstands between his legs.

“The Farspace Fleet and I have been working on a chip that we think can help you with your problems with your soldiers,” Professor Lucius matches the other man’s smile. They both nod, the man turning to look at you as you translate what the Professor said to the man.

He slowly nods, digesting the information. After a minute, he opens his mouth to speak.

“The Thing Chip, right? We heard about it through friends of yours. How effective is it?”

You translate his sentence to Professor Lucius. The smile remains on his face, the cane rocking back and forth at a steady and fluid pace. Before he can respond, the doors to the office burst open. You flinch in your seat, unable to bring yourself to see who has entered.

Is this it? Is it your time to go? Has someone discovered a meeting that is, well, unconventional? That is being held in secret?

“Ah! Colonel Caleb. How pleasant of you to join us. My dear, will you please tell the Captain and Ambassador that Colonel Caleb here is a shining example of the Toring Chip’s effects on soldiers?” Professor Lucius’ words makes your body go cold.

The General stands from his chair, offering it to Caleb. He’s regained his composure now. He takes his hat off of his head and nods at the Captain and Ambassador. He glances at the General and sits in the chair beside you, his hat resting next to your folded hands.

Tears sting your eyes. You fight them off but know that you may break when you see Caleb. Truthfully, you have heard whispers of the Toring Chip and its effect on Farspace Fleet soldiers. Men who were once known to be reckless, disobedient, and too emotional have suddenly become cooperative and compliant. However, they have become void of all emotion. They act like emotionless beings who live to serve for their leader.

Caleb turns to face you. He notices the tears that brim your eyes, the way your mouth slightly opens. His heart breaks at the sight of you, his heartbeat slightly palpitating, before it goes steady once again. You slowly turn to look at him. His face is unexpressive, cold. You blink away your tears, finding the strength to go on. Caleb raises his eyebrows at you, a silent plea to continue.

“Sir, this is Colonel Caleb,” you turn back to the Captain with the gold tooth and the Ambassador who wears too much cologne. “He currently has the chip implanted in his mind. Professor Lucius would like you to know that he is a shining example of the Toring Chip and its effects on soldiers.” You gulp.

“Good job, child, now tell them this…” the Professor leans in, his hand resting on your thigh. Your body goes cold from his touch. Caleb notices the man’s touch. He slowly inhales, keeping his breathing steady, watching as the Professor feeds you words to say.

“The Toring Chip can be surgically implanted into a soldier’s mind or, due to recent advancements in technology, it can be implanted through the arm and controlled that way through the solider’s nervous system.”

Your throat goes dry as you speak. You push through the words, flashes of pain striking your heart. It aches for Caleb, for all of the pain he has been forced into. The Caleb you knew wouldn’t have done this willingly…but the Caleb you have come to love has always been under the Chip’s influence.

“Once the Toring Chip is implanted, it will regulate and monitor the soldier’s emotions. If their heart rate gets too high, it will calm them down. Their emotions will be suppressed and—”

You choke out a cough, unable to bring yourself to say the next part with neutrality. Caleb’s body doesn’t move despite him wanting to reach out and hold you, to console you while the truth he’s been so desperately trying to hide from you comes to light.

“—and it will come at the cost of the solider’s memories. A price that they must be forced to pay if they wish to rebel and push against your commands. The less they remember about their life, the less they have to lose, making them more willing combatants when it comes to war. If they sustain injuries, we can always repair them for you and enhance them to be their better selves. Modifications to the body can also serve as a reminder to them to stay in line, that you can take away what you have given back to them.”

You tear your gaze away from the diplomat and military leader, looking at Caleb when you say the last part of the sentence.

“They become the perfect weapon.”

The Ambassador and Captain turn to look at each other. They deliberate in silence.

Caleb looks into your glossy eyes. He can watch your heart shatter into a million different pieces through your dejected gaze, the way your shoulders slouch ever so slightly. Your hands tremble in your lap. He scantily shakes his head, making sure that neither Professor Lucius or the General catch on to his silent messages for you.

You release a shaky sigh and turn away from him. You look at the General, who wears the same warm smile on his face. You match it despite feeling dead on the inside.

“Sir? May I be excused? I think I had too much wine from earlier and need to go lay down. I can have the Colonel escort me to my bedroom.”

To your surprise, the General nods. He stands from his chair, Caleb rising as soon as he does, and helps you from your chair. His puffed up hand feels heavy in yours. You are unable to shake away the feeling of dread that seeps into your skin. Nausea sweeps over your body. You stand and smile at the men in the room, suddenly becoming aware of your involvement of the erasure of men and women’s memories and livelihoods. Quickly, you exit the room and step into the hallway.

Caleb salutes the General and moves to leave, but Professor Lucius grabs his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Professor Lucius looks up at the young man, eyes narrowed in a razor sharp glare.

“Remember what is at stake, boy. Do not make me erase what is left of the identity I have so kindly let you keep.”

You stand in front of the elevator, rapidly pressing the button that calls the metal box. Tears fall down your face but your hair shields anyone from seeing, your head hung low. Loud footsteps come from behind you. The clicking of military boots causes more tears to fall. The elevator’s ding is a relief to you and you step inside. Caleb follows you and presses the button to close the door before anyone else can get in.

“Is it true?” you ask just as the doors close. You lift your chin, strained eyes meeting his. “Is it true that you have a god damn chip in your body?!”

Caleb breathe out your name but says nothing else. You slowly nod and swipe your tongue over your teeth. You tear your gaze away from his. He takes a step closer to you but you hold your hand out to stop him.

“Don’t.”

He obeys your command like the good soldier he is. Isn’t that what he’s been made to be?

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled yell. It is filled with pent up frustration, sadness, confusion, and the sharp ache that slices into your heart. The apple tree that once bloomed to big and high in your heart begins to wither and fade away, the lies and deception of his loyalty to the Farspace Fleet coming to light.

He was never yours to begin with, so what made you think that you could claim him now?

Tension fills the elevator. The air feels heavy, tough to breathe in, weighing both of your chests down. You remove your hands from your face and stare at the man before you.

He has the face of the man you love. He wears his skin like it is his own. Have his words been true this whole time? Or has the imposter inside Caleb’s body been spoon-feeding you with lies and false promises that the man he is pretending to be actually cares for you, that he actually loves you more than her?

Ding.

You stare at the opening doors then back at Caleb. You push past him, your skirt whipping his clothed leg from the speed you pass him with. You storm down the hallway, unsure of where you’re even going, vision blurred and body trembling. Your legs turn to jelly and you slow down. Your hands attach to the wall beside you, your heart slowly giving out on you. Caleb is quick to pull you into his arms, sweeping your legs from the ground, rushing in the opposite direction to his suite. You gaze up at him, taking in the worried expression on his face.

Maybe this is your Caleb. Maybe your Caleb is trapped inside his own body, trying to fight and claw his way out back to you. Or, alternatively, that is just your delusions speaking to your hidden desires.

“Caleb…” his name slips from your mouth. He looks down at you, using his Evol to unlock the door to his room. “I want to know…everything.”

“You know I can’t do that.” A bitter taste fills his mouth. You purse your lips and look away, the door locking behind the two of you. He walks inside the suite and heads for the small living area. He sets you down on the couch, kneeling in front of you.

Moonlight spills in from the windows. The full moon is as bright as ever and on any other night, you would be outside staring at it with awe and wonder in your eyes. Tonight holds different plans for you, though, and the moonlight serves as a reminder of everything that has been forced into the shadows of yours and Caleb’s minds.

He places his leather gloved hands on top of your thighs, holding you in place while also providing as much comfort as he can. He runs his hands up and down, the fabric of your dress shielding you from his touch. You stare at him, silent tears flowing from your eyes.

“What…what did he mean by…modifications,” your voice trembles. Caleb’s hands stop. His eyes slowly move from your legs, trailing up your body, before meeting your eyes. His silence tightens the rope around your neck, squeezing it until no air can enter or leave your esophagus. “C-Caleb.”

“I…pretty bird, please,” he puffs out the words as if he’s ashamed to be asking for leniency from you. “It’s too much—”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?” Your eyes follow his, grabbing his chin whenever he looks away, forcing him to stare at the mess you find yourselves in. “What you said earlier…was it a lie? Do you not love me? Was it something that the chop made you—”

“Of course I love you!” Caleb raises his voice, interrupting you. His hands squeeze around your knees and for the first time, one hand feels cooler than the other. “I love you so much,” his voice wavers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. But this? This is a world that you need to stay out of!”

“Why?” you lean forward. Your faces near each other. Caleb can see the way your muscles move under your skin, the pain in your voice making him want to reach into his chest and rip his heart out, to offer it to you so you can see that his heart is yours and yours alone.

“I have to keep you safe. That’s why.” He spits the words out harder than he expected to. His emotions slip away from him but your touch to his hand brings him back down to earth.

“How can I be safe if I don’t know what we’re up against? Caleb, talk to me, please,” you plead, “don’t ice me out!”

“What if the Professor decides that he wants to ‘work’ with you next, my love? What then? You can’t become like me! Like…like a dog ready to obey every command they have!” Caleb shakes away the pain in his head.

Your vision blurs and the rapid blinking isn’t enough to make the tears go away. You close your eyes, tilting your face away so he can’t see the despair that contorts and twists your face. Not even your vivid and wild imagination can come up with an idea of what Ever and the Fleet have done to Caleb.

Was his death real? Did they fake it so they can experiment on his mind and body? Has he been a willing volunteer the whole time or has he been a victim to their torturous plans and devices?

“What did they do to you?” you whisper.

Caleb shakes his head. He wishes that tears could fill his eyes like they do in yours but nothing comes. He cannot bring himself to fully express the sadness that he feels, the pain and turmoil that he is sure to be causing you right now. All he has to show for himself is a racing heart and sweaty palms.

“Baby…” his breath is shaky. You stand from the couch, looking down at him.

Piece by piece, you begin to tear away the armor he’s built into his Farspace Fleet uniform.

First, you throw his hat to the side. Then, you force him to stand up, ripping the jacket off of his body. It falls to the ground, the metal pins making quiet clanking sounds. You grab his tie, loosening it, but his right hand grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his body.

“Caleb! Please!” You unconsciously raise your voice at him. “What have they done to the man I love?!”

Your pained cry reaches his ears. His grip on your wrist loosens and you fight through the tears. The black tie slips off form his neck, plummeting to the ground. You attack his shirt buttons next, plucking them each one by one. The black shirt pools around his feet.

His bare chest stares at you, mocking you for being unable to to find the modifications that Ever has given to him. You wipe away your unsteady tears with the heel of your hand. Caleb looks down at you, shame written all over his face.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Caleb’s quiet question tickles your ears. You nod.

You plaster your hands onto his chest, moving them around as if there is som magical button that will show you all of the experiments they have done to him. Caleb stands still, too scared to move, and watches you with a close eye.

Your touch isn’t one of intimacy or desire, not a touch of lust or passion, but is one out of anger, pure spite and hatred towards Ever. Your nails drag across his skin, leaving red lines in his wake. You circle him and move Caleb around like a puppet. He closes his eyes, unsure if he should reveal it to you just yet. The skin on skin contact leaves you both breathless. You end up behind Caleb, defeated by your vain attempts to unveil the horrors he has gone through. You place your forehead in the valley between his shoulder blades, your tears trickling down his back. With one movement to the side, your hot forehead feels cool against his right shoulder. Caleb sucks in a breath, feeling you pull away from him.

The palm of your hand flattens across his skin. Times from before when you’ve touched him here, he’s had the protection of clothes to shield you from the truth. Your hand travels down his bicep, the heat from your hand being the energy that warms his body, not the other way around. Shivers run down your spine.

“Show me.”

“Pretty bird,” Caleb coos in one last attempt to keep you in ignorance.

“Caleb, please,” you choke, “I need to see what they have done to you.” You close your eyes, an elongated sigh escaping your mouth. A faint whir fills your ears. Caleb’s muscles tighten under your light touch, your hand settling itself over his heart. You can feel the frantic beats through his bones. It shakes you to your core just how scared he is to show you.

“I’m not a monster.”

Caleb’s words suck all of the oxygen out from your lungs. You open your eyes, looking at his tanned skin, before slowly pulling your face away.

You stare at the distinct line between flesh and metal. The dark surface heavily contrasts between the robotic arm and his skin. Your fingertips graze the fine line where man meets machine, unable to tear your gaze away.

Caleb shudders under your touch. He can’t bring himself to look at you, to see the way you stare at him. He can’t help but allow his mind to drift to anything negative that can come from this. Perhaps you’d believe that he is a broken man, a broken toy that is not shiny and brand new. He has scars and scuff marks from being beaten from over the years. He can’t bring himself to even blame you for wanting to walk away from him and his constant reminder that he will never be whole again.

Your touch is light, gentle. He can barely feel the way your fingers move up and down the metal. The blue lines catch your eye, the light breaking through the dim light. The metal has some scrapes in it. There is even a large screw that you cannot even imagine how painful it must have felt to be drilled into your skin.

Your silence is deafening. It makes Caleb’s ears ring. His fists ball up as a single tear rolls down his cheek, falling onto the floor.

“I’m a monster.”

“No…” your whisper tickles his ear. “You are not a monster.”

Your hand slips down the metallic surface, your fingers catching onto the rough and smooth spots, traveling over semi-loose wires. The arm jerks, a quiet whir emitting from the artificial joint.

You step closer to him. The material of your dress grazes against his bare skin. Caleb sighs and shakes his head, his warm hand covering the one that is over his heart. His fingers lace into yours, squeezing your hand because his sanity depends on it. He opens his mouth to speak when he feels a portion of your lips on the skin of his shoulder.

You kiss the border between the mechanical part and his body. With every kiss, Caleb quivers, the upper half of his body leaning forward, shoulders slumping, head hung low.

“Your arm does not make you a monster,” you whisper. You circle around him, taking your place in front of him. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, pushing his head back up. Your lips brush against each other but don’t fully meet. You slip your hand into his robotic one. The metal is cool to the touch.

Caleb pulls his head away from yours, his purple eyes plastered on the way you hold his hand. Your two hands bring it to your mouth. You kiss each finger tip, your eyes looking into his when he comes back to you.

“All I see…” you breathe out.

Your stomach flutters when his metallic fingers dance with yours.

“All I feel…” you continue.

You watch as his hand slips away from yours, the chilled metal now clinging to cup your face.

“Is you, Caleb.”

You lean into his touch, hoping that someway, somehow, he is able to feel the love and adoration that you feel for him. You hope that whatever god is out there is merciful enough to allow Caleb to feel your skin under his metallic touch, to bask in the light that is your contact.

The two of you stand in silence. Neither one dares to break it, uncertainty of what to say filling the room. 

His hands slowly move to the side of your face while your fingers rest on his muscular chest. Your breaths mix into one, bodies drawing closer to each other. Caleb leans in, closing the distance between you and him. His lips press into yours.

The kiss is slow and tender. Your body comes back to life, arms wrapping around his neck, drawing his head down closer to yours. His hands drop to your waist. With one quick tilt of your head, the kiss deepens, the faint taste of your salty tears mixing in with your saliva

Caleb’s fingers sink into your body. There is an underlying feeling of desperation to his touch. You play with the bottom of his hair, your hand dropping to his shoulder. A light touch caresses the line where his flesh is formed with the metal. Chills run down his spine. He slightly pulls away, leaning his head into yours, both of your breaths heavy and labored.

“I love you, Caleb. I love all of you.”

Your kiss with Caleb turns fierce, filled with hunger and longing.

Caleb and you senses sharpen; the taste of your tongues massaging into each other, the mixture of his woody and musky cologne with the fragrant scents of apple cider and vanilla of your perfume, the way your skin tingles under his touch. It’s overwhelming, making the two of you drunk off of your touch and body warmth.

Caleb’s hand hooks around to your back, caressing the curves of your body before his fingers snatch the metal of your dress zipper. In one slow, agonizing motion, Caleb draws the zipper down. A quiet sigh of content leaves your mouth and into his, the chilled air striking across your skin. You pull away for a brief moment and stare at him, the moonlight gentle across his face.

Your dress falls to the ground. The soft material pools around your feet. A pool of warmth forms between your legs, your lower stomach aching for him. You’re left in your bra and panties, nipples pebbling under the thin material. Caleb cups the back of your jaw, metal fingertips slipping into your hair, drawing your lips back to his.

The kiss isn’t rushed. The two of you take your time to melt into each other, the slow and sloppy kisses bringing your bodies together. Your fingers slip up into his hair. You give it a gentle tug, earning a frustrated groan from Caleb’s lips.

He steps forward, gently pushing you towards the bedroom. You stumble over your feet and Caleb is quick enough to pull you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his torso, your throbbing core hovering over his tented pants. The Colonel kicks the bedroom door open, the bed neatly made with a towel swan on the bed. He lays you down and immediately latches on top of you.

He moves his swollen lips away from yours, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down the skin of your neck. His teeth rake over your neck, leaving a bite here and there, covering it up with a sweet kiss as a silent apology. Your knee drags up his side. His metal hand slides up the side of your leg, hooking around your thigh, squeezing the plushness of your inner thigh. Caleb continues to trail kisses down your body, his lips taking his time when he reaches your collarbone.

Quiet puffs of air leave your mouth, just on the cusp of being a moan, filling in the silence of the room. Just his touch alone sends shocks of electricity throughout your body. Every touch, every kiss, every bite leaves you wanting more.

Caleb bites down on the sensitive spot where your collarbone meets your throat. You gasp, back arching up and chest pushing into his lips. His hand snakes under your back, quickly unhooking your bra. Caleb leans down and grabs the fabric between his teeth, biting into the flesh of your breast, pulling the bra up with him.

The man, breathless and hard, rests his weight on his knees, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs, pushing them open. Your bra hangs from his mouth, the material having slipped off your body with ease. He takes the bra from his mouth and tosses it to the side.

His purple eyes take their time looking at your gorgeous body. Your chest slowly rises and falls, deep and heavy breaths overtaking your body as you try to clam down. Your nipples are hard under the moonlight, a few fresh hickeys adorning your neck and collarbones. Your lips part ever so slightly, legs threatening to close on him. His Evol holds your thighs down, keeping your soaking wet panties open for him to see.

Caleb’s hands reach for his belt. His eyes remain on you, never leaving, never faltering. You hear the soft clicks of metal, the leather slipping free from the fabric loops. Your mouth opens more, a shudder overtaking your body as he flicks the belt to the side, his pants unbuckling before being pulled down alongside his tight boxers.

His cock springs from its confinement. He is much bigger than you anticipated, his tip already swollen and twitching. He strokes himself, slipping off the bed to kick off the leftover clothes. He comes back close to you, pressing passionate and loving kisses from your knee up to the inside of your thigh. His metal hand caresses your skin as if it is a work of art, leaving chills in his wake. You roll your head back and sigh with every kiss.

Caleb’s hand rests on top of your clothed pussy, the pad of his thumb running up and down your covered entrance in long, agonizing strokes. You whine, looking down at him. A smirk forms on his face. You watch as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs in one fluid motion. The friction from the fabric against your legs causes you to shiver, sparks of electricity causing your hips to push up. He’s quick to push you back down, his hand flattening against your stomach.

Caleb positions himself on top of you, one hand resting to the side of your head. You’re quick to reach down and curl your fingers around his hardened cock. His eyes close and his head drops, a gratified moan escaping his lips as you slowly begin to pump him. He slowly raises his eyes to look at you, his purple irises shining through the spaces of his dark hair.

Your thumb swirls around his tip, spreading across the pre-cum that spills from his head. Caleb dips his head down. Your lips connect in a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, melting into yours. He rubs slow circles into your clit while you pump him. You swallow each others moans.

Caleb hooks his arm under one of your legs, pulling it up, your thigh resting against his side. You squeeze his length and he groans, hips jerking into your touch. You guide your other leg to wrap around the side of his torso. You hand is pushed away from his twitching cock, your arms hooking under his, hands attaching themselves to the back of his shoulders.

Your nails dig into skin and metal while Caleb rubs his tip along your entrance. He presses some of his weight into you. Your kiss slows. Caleb slightly pulls away, a string of your mixed saliva connecting you two.

“Say you’re mine,” Caleb breathes out. He leans his head into yours, body heavy from lust and desire. His tip slightly pushes into your entrance before slipping out. A quiet moan leaves your mouth. Your hips roll up into his, pushing his tip into your soaking pussy. He pulls it out, teasing you, leaving you dangling on the edge of a dangerous line that you want to cross. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out. Your hands move to his cheeks, yanking him down into a breathless and fiery kiss.

In the midst of your passionate kiss, Caleb lines his stiff cock with your entrance. He slowly pushes in, a gasp fleeing from your lips as he buries himself deep inside you. He shudders as your nails drag down his back, leaving red lines in their trail.

“Fuck, pretty bird,” Caleb stammers against your lips. He kisses you, neither of you able to catch your breath. “You feel like perfection.”

His cock twitches inside of you. He fights every urge to not thrust up inside you with all of the force in the world. A quiet, shaky moan leaves your lips. You adjust yourself to his size, your pussy already clenching around him.

Caleb draws his hips back, leaving you feeling so empty, clenching around nothing, before he drives his body back into yours. Your head rolls back, a wave of bliss coursing through your body. Caleb’s cock slides in and out of you with ease, his tip kissing your sweet spot.

The Colonel sets a slow and steady pace. He fully draws himself out of you, just his aching tip remaining inside, before he thrusts back into you, your bodies colliding, haggard moans fleeing your lips as Caleb groans.

Your legs tighten around his torso, hips eager to meet his, taking in every inch he has to offer. Your nails drag up and down his back, tearing into his skin as your moans increase in volume. Caleb’s slow yet brutal pace leaves you a rambling mess. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixes in with your pretty and breathless moans.

Caleb’s head dips down to your neck. His lips attack your skin, biting down and sucking, leaving deep purple and red marks in his path. You whimper and cry out his name, his pace slowly picking up every time his name leaves your lips.

It fries his brain. Your raspy moans and cries, the way you give into him so easily, the desire you feel for each other burning with such intensity, pushing the two of you towards orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, his hips crashing into yours in another devastating thrust. A loud cry flies from your lips. His muscles flex with every thrust while you come undone beneath him. Your breasts are trapped against his chest, your back arching, pushing up into him as you feel the knot in your stomach continue to tighten.

You feel his muscles tighten and flex against yours. His thrusts become slightly jerky, desperate. His lips come back to yours and he melts into you, sloppily kissing you, sucking the air from your lungs. One of your hands move from his back and up to his hair, grabbing a fistful at the roots, balling your fist. Caleb whines, slowly losing control of himself under your touch.

Your moans go silent as your eyes roll into the back of your head, just about to tip over the edge when Caleb’s hips stop. A gasp fills the room and you stare at him. His chest puffs up and down, eyes closed.

Caleb pulls away from you, back straightening. He buries himself deep inside you, the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix. You look up at him with bright pink cheeks your hair a mess. Your heart flutters, pussy tightening around his cock from pure pleasure, watching as he hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Your legs push up as he buries his fists into the mattress beside you. You’re pressed into the mattress with inches separating your beating hearts. Caleb’s eyes darken, licking his lips.

His Evol keeps your legs in place. You watch as he grabs your hands, placing them above your head. Weight falls on top of them, a tingling feeling as the pressure builds a lock that you cannot escape from.

“Caleb…” you breathe out, slowly coming down from the ecstasy you were about to reach. Caleb places his hands back on the mattress. Your wet cunt flutters around him and an exasperated breath leaves his lips.

Without warning, he slams his hips into yours. Your head rolls back but he’s quick to grab your jaw, yanking your face back to his.

“Eyes on me, pretty bird,” he growls, his thrusts growing with power, “I want you to see what you to me…I want to see you come undone on my cock.”

Holy fuck.

His actions are ravenous, filled with nothing but lustful desire. Your hips eagerly meet his, adjusting when his cock leaves you feeling empty, the man entering at a new and deeper angle if it were even possible. You cry out his name and fight against his Evol, wanting to desperately touch him.

To touch his fiery skin. To caress his cheeks as he pounds into you. To drag your nails down his back to make him bleed some more.

His amethyst eyes glance down, watching as your breasts bounce up and down with every thrust. Your hardened nipples ache under his gaze and the man has to fight everything in him to not dip down and take one of them into his mouth, to prolong your night together.

But the two of you know that won’t be possible. You’re both chasing a high that will permanently brand you as each others for the rest of your lives.

“C-Caleb! I-I’m—” you stammer, blabbering nonsense as your eyes remain on his, struggling to stay open, desire weighing your eyelids down. Caleb presses deeper into you, bruising your cervix at this point, and presses a thumb to your clit, mercilessly rubbing circles into the swollen bud.

Tears fill your eyes. Overstimulation pushes you further and further. Your legs tremble against his side, tightening around his waist. Caleb’s thrusts become jerky, erratic and choppy. You bring yourself to look at him, the strained expression on his face showing you that he’s just as close as you are.

“F-Fuck, pretty bird,” you whine at his nickname, “be a good girl and cum for me!”

Obeying his command, the knot in your stomach snaps. The blissful heat of your orgasm crashes throughout your body, your cunt tightening and taking in every last inch of his hardened cock. Caleb buries himself inside of you, his own orgasm ripping through his body as he empties his cum inside of your pussy. His body drops onto yours, his full weight being pressed into you. He rolls his hips in slow and short pumps, easing you two down from your high.

His Evol releases its grip on your wrists. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pulling his lips back down onto yours. Your kiss is slow yet intense, the two of you greedily exploring each others mouths, tongues moving back and forth against in a steady dance.

Caleb slowly pushes himself up, the metal parts in his robotic arm clicking and whirring in the silence of your heavy breaths. He looks down at you and gently pushes some of the hair out of your face. A small, tired smile spreads across your face. Your hand attaches to his cheek and he leans into your touch, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin of your hand.

“I love you,” Caleb admits into the palm of your hand. Your heart skips a beat.

“I love you too, Caleb,” you return his affection.

The words feel right coming out of your mouth. After so much pain and anguish, it feels right for you to speak the words into existence.

Caleb’s softened dick slips from your pussy. You whine from the sudden feeling of emptiness. Your eyelashes flutter at him as he admires your body, leaning down to pressing relaxed and unhurried kisses along your chest and collarbones. He admires your breasts, dragging his nose against your skin as he inhales your perfume and sweat, a low growl forming in the back of his throat.

His purple eyes look down at your glistening pussy, his white fluid freely flowing from your entrance. The sight of it is borderline pornographic, his desire for you burning even more intensely than before.

He slips off of the bed and is quick to slide his arms under your back and knees, hoisting you out of bed. You relax into his chest, barely able to hold your head up as he pushes the bathroom door open, flicking the light switch. Keeping his arm under your knees, he reaches inside the shower and turns on the water. He places you on the counter.

You smile at him, tired and muscles already sore. Your hands rest on his shoulders, the once cold metal now warm under your touch. You lean backwards, making Caleb hold your back to keep you from falling. The two of you smile stupid and loving smiles, quiet giggles and laughs threatening to escape from your throats. Caleb presses his temple against yours and you lean into him, hands gliding up and down his chest.

“You are…everything and more,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a languid kiss onto your cheek. You blush and wrap your arms around his. The palms of your hands graze over the fresh scratch marks you’ve etched into his skin.

“I’m sorry about your back…”

“Don’t be,” Caleb peels his head away from yours, cupping your cheek. “If I could get them tattooed, I would.”

“You’re…utterly insane,” you laugh. Caleb picks you up in his arms again and carries you to the shower.

The hot water tingles against your skin, soothing your aching and numb muscles. Your hair dampens after a few moments. Caleb’s hands remain on your waist, keeping you steady, and watching you as you navigate your way through the large shower. You grab the hotel’s shampoo bottle and turn around, smiling up at him.

“You’re gonna have to come down here,” you tease. Caleb chuckles and complies, leaning down, tucking his chin on your shoulder. Your fingers slide into his hair, massaging the shampoo into his hair.

The shower goes on his this for a good hour. The two of you helps the other wash up, pressing sweet and loving kisses to different body parts. You hum while you massage his scalp. Caleb continually compliments you while using the body wash to clean up your body and the juices that turned sticky on your skin.

Every so often, your lips were captured in a sweet kiss underneath the shower head. You had to be the one to push away because if you didn’t, you would have stayed in there for an eternity.

Caleb helped you step out, wrapping you in a towel. You dried yourself off, mentally cursing to yourself that none of your hair care products are with you, needing to shower in your own room tomorrow to combat the knots and frizz that is bound to form throughout the night. You didn’t even notice Caleb slipping away while you lamented over your misstep. He comes back in, shirtless with just a pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips.

He holds out a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts. You take them with a smile, the towel dropping from your body. Caleb watches you from the doorway, obsessing over the image of you wearing his clothes.

“You look so beautiful,” he coos from his place.

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, a blush heating your cheeks. Once you slip the shirt on over your body, the fabric swallowing you whole, Caleb wraps his arms around your waist. He places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror.

“I mean it,” he smiles, leaning into you. Your hands rest on top of his, matching his smile. “You are breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” the words come out just above a whisper yet loud enough for him to hear. He nods and kisses your cheek, turning your bodies to the door.

You walk out like normal but Caleb waddles behind you, his long legs adjusting to your much smaller steps. He guides you to the extra bedroom, opting for clean and neat sheets compared to the mess you two made earlier. He steps around you and flings the sheets open, jumping in like he’s just won the lottery. You throw your head back and laugh, rolling your eyes as you crawl to his side.

The sheets close around you and Caleb is quick to pull you to his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. You drape an arm around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to him. His heart skips a beat, a large smile on his face. You yawn and nuzzle into him, closing your eyes.

“Do you want me to turn on the TV and click through a million different channels again?” Caleb jokes. A hearty laugh booms from your mouth and you pinch his waist. He fakes a surprised squeal and slightly rolls over, pressing half of his weight onto you, keeping you trapped below him.

Your heartbeat slows, falling into rhythm with his. His breathing is calm, the man counting every second that you have been in his arms for.

This…this is nice. This feels right. Caleb’s arms feel like home, as if you were meant to be inside them the entire time. Time slows around you. Your body grows heavy as slumber quietly sweeps you away, the sound of Caleb’s steady heartbeat filling your ears like a lullaby you’ve been craving to hear since childhood.

The apple tree in your heart blossoms again. Will it bear fruit or decay?

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

[harunayuuka2060]

A shopkeeper: Is your husband one of those two men (Lucifer and Diavolo) waiting outside?

MC: No. They're both my husbands.

A shopkeeper: ...

MC: Oh, and they love each other too. *smiles*

A shopkeeper: *sighs in relief* Thank goodness. Here's your purchase. Enjoy your day!

MC: Thank you!

Lucifer: Did you say something to that shopkeeper? She offered us a discount for our next visit.

MC: I just told her we're in a healthy relationship.

Diavolo: Oh? How nice of her! *chuckles*

[obeythebutler]

Humans have always been so fickle, Michael muses sometimes.

Slave to the seven sins that are rooted in their souls, destruction imminent unless they redeem themselves. Be it greed or envy or gluttony, which desires and demands and takes and takes even when there is none left, or wrath and lust and pride and sloth, which brings ruin.

You, however, are an exception.

Seven Avatars at your beck and call—oops—did he mention the Prince and the demon of Time?

Nine now. Working from the shadows.

His eyes caught the markings when you came to Babel, seven sigils on your body, covered under clothing but shining with the brightness of a thousand Suns to him.

Testament stamped into your very bones.

Lilith's divinity still runs in your blood, seeps into your soul. Immunity from the corruption embedded in the Devildom, temptation turned into strength.

He had seen you take down inhumane creatures with your power: a flick of your wrist, a spell on the tip of your tongue, seven demons at your beck and call. Ready to destroy and tear out flesh, maws dripping with blood. Going back to sit at the feet of their Master after, waiting for the next command. A shepherd and seven ravenous wolves in sheep's clothing who discard their disguise when needed.

Tamer of beasts, truly, you are.

Anyone else in your position would have been caught in rapture, mind drunk with the power in their veins. Solomon the Great, Solomon the Wise, Solomon the King has been only able to attempt to form a pact with the other six beings.

Protecting humanity is his goal, but what is yours?

He had asked you once, when you decided to wander off from the Palace to the lake, content in petting a dove. The ornaments on his body clinked as he bent down to admire the creature. What it is that you desire, human? Seven Avatars at your beck and call, yet you make no conquests. What is your motive?

Michael has never been able to gauge your intentions, hidden motives in your latest achievments. Maybe it is riches, or beauty, or power that you would have sought. Maybe even the ability to manipulate Time.

A nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, you let the dove fly away.

So he settled for observing.

The Ring Of Light went missing from his room soon, and Judgement was delivered to Simeon in due time. Back to the Devildom, this time with greying feathers. Sacrilege, he had muttered, but let him take it all the same. Never let him know that he knew what the former seraphim was attempting.

Maybe angels were never meant to be too carefree.

Or maybe He was too rigid.

Your power had grown in due time, surpassing everyone else's. Sent to the past now, when the Devildom was still adapting and unfiltered. A House of Lords watching the brothers every move, deadly trials awaiting the Prince. A nascent realm, ready to pounce and strike upon those deemed weak amongst beasts.

And you stuck in the midst of it all.

Newborn demons, brutal and cruel. Still adapting to the horns sprouting from their heads, the itch in their bones maddening as they accommodated to the wings and tails. Painful metamorphism. And you emerged from it victorious—having gained the trust—and admiration of the rulers of Hell.

What is it that you want, Lilith's descendent?

Lucifer's hand ruffles your hair when he sees you at the dining table, Mammon grabs your hand while leading you through the streets, Leviathan's and your knees touch while you play games on his console. Satan strokes your knuckles as he reads out loud to you, and Asmodeus oils your hair while telling you about his day. Beelzebub and Belpheghor keep you up at night with chatter that deviates from one topic to another.

The Ring of Light sits pretty on your finger, pacts used to neutralise threats and command the siblings to halt.

He never would have envisioned it to be love.

And yet that is all he sees.

And yet so unpredictable.

[inlovewithl3vi]

You stood in front of the large wall of nail polish in Asmos room, trying to find a color that would suit you for the week until you would eventually have to change it again. You go through the different options of all the colors until something catches your eye.

Eight bottles of polish, neatly lined in a seemingly specific order. Of course you know why they're in their own little spot away from the rest. It's the polish each of the brothers use.

Starting at the red Lucifer wears and ending at the blue Belphie wears. Each brother having their own unique color that matches them, of course with the exception of Asmo who likes to have two colors on his nails.

You can't help but giggle to yourself when you pick up the white bottle, smiling as you walk back to your room and begin to paint your nails.

The next day Mammon notices immediately.

Although he'd never admit it, he secretly looks forward to Monday morning when he gets to see what color you picked for the week. He can't help but feel a little pride that vou wanted to match with him.

For the rest of the day he goes on and on about how "of course ya would wanna match with the great mammon!" And telling everyone that his human just was so taken aback by his greatness that you wanted to be like him. And although this wasn't the case, you let him have his fun.

The problems only started that next Sunday night, when your nail polish was chipped and needed to be fixed meaning you had to pick a new color.

And as you walked into Asmos room you noticed he was there this time. Of course you said hello and explained you were just stopping by to try a new color. But this time he insisted he had to pick It.

And of course you knew what he was doing when he reached towards that bottom shelf. He pushes two bottles into your hands, one a shiny green and one a shiny pink. Obviously they were his colors, but you didn't mind.

And that night you went in your room and painted your nails, waiting until the next morning to show Asmo. The next morning he couldn't shut up about how cute it was that you two were matching and that you two absolutely had to hold hands throughout the day just to show everyone that you're matching!

But that week came and went and once again you had to repaint your nails. And this time you decided to go with Lucifer's color, a nice red that looked nice on you.

Lucifer wasn't the one to notice that morning since he had official business, or at least so he said. But Satan definitely noticed.

He started complaining about how you would wanna match with Lucifer and not him. Eventually Belphie joined in, complaining about how you could have chosen him or Beel over Lucifer.

Obviously they had noticed the trend and all wanted to be next. Eventually mammon joined in, originally trying to stop them from arguing or complaining too much but accidentally turned them against one another.

Before you knew it the brothers are all fighting over the color of your nails.

Eventually Lucifer does come back, and thankfully stops the fight. And for the next four weeks you were on a schedule of what Cole you could paint your nails and who you were matching with.

At the end of the four weeks you breathed a sigh of relief, wiping off the bright blue on your nails and picking a black polish a nice neutral color that nobody could possibly have a problem with.

The only thing was, you forgot Diavolo paints his nails black.

[tsukii0002]

Imagine a Lucifer collapsing over an insignificant thing. Let me explain. Imagine that Lucifer has been under enormous stress for a couple of weeks, more intense and exhausting than usual.

In a few days he has had to deal with a group of demons trafficking in human souls in the habitable borders of Devildom; he had had to expel several students for bulling that went to the extreme of endangering the lives of the victims; a group of witches had openly threatened Diavolo for restricting the trade of certain herbs exclusive to Devildom; had stopped a rather dangerous stalker who was after Asmo (Thanks to his father that his brother hadn't found out); Mc had been attacked by a faction of the Sorcerer Society that hated Solomon; Belphie had gotten angry and taken his word away, because he hadn't made it on time to a classical music concert that the younger one had arranged well in advance. … and a lot of other things, which had been piling up on him to such an extent that he couldn't stand it any longer. And the straw that broke the camel's back, the last thread that broke the string, was the most absurd and insignificant situation.

Mc: Lucifer? Are you-

Lucifer: *draining his tears silently*

Mc: *running to his side worried* Lucifer????!!!! What's wrong?

Lucifer: I… I can't find my black embroidered handkerchief….

Mc: ?? *looking around* the one with the peacock eyes?

Lucifer: *nodding as he closes his eyes*

Mc: Well *panicking a little* don't worry *kneeling down next to him and holding his hands* I'll help you look for it.

Lucifer: *staying silent as tears stream down his face*

Mc: *seeking his gaze* …

Mc: It's been a hard few days, hasn't it?

Lucifer: *nodding without opening his eyes*….

Mc: *moving his hand to his face*….

Lucifer: *relaxing to the touch*…

Mc: It's all right now, everything will be all right *sitting down next to him* so let off some steam.

Lucifer: *hugging the human* This is stupid….

Mc noticed how their shoulder was getting progressively wetter, while Lucifer's breathing was accelerating, the few tears had turned into a silent cry. Mc tried to comfort him, he must have been overwhelmed by everything that had happened. How many times would he have been like this on his own? Because, although the brothers could sense that their brother could not cope with everything no matter how much he insisted, surely no one would have seen him like that, no one would have accompanied him in those overwhelming moments.

Mc: It's not…

Lucifer: It's a fucking handkerchief…. And yet...

Mc: It's not just a handkerchief Luci, it's important.

Lucifer: *closing his eyes tightly again* …

Mc: *caressing his back* I have an idea, let's go to sleep and when we wake up we'll look for your handkerchief together.

Lucifer: I still have a lot of things to do.

Mc: *smiling* Don't worry, leave it to me.

And so, while Lucifer slept peacefully in Mc's arms with swollen eyes, the human made a few calls. And soon after, Satan and Levi had taken care of dismantling the demons' base on the border, Beel had located all the expelled thugs and had a talk with them; Mammon had taken care of establishing an agreement with the witches without any consequences; Asmo, who already knew about his stalker, made sure that he would not be a nuisance to his family again; Solomon intervened in the warlock association and made sure that if they had problems with him they would solve them with him; and finally when Lucifer woke up Belphie was waiting for him with his freshly ironed handkerchief, accompanied by a hug.

Mc smiled, maybe if the first born would turn more to his family and friends, he wouldn't go to that extreme.

.

.

I am strongly convinced that Devildom and the RAD have serious, serious problems. And that Mc had no idea at the beginning, they were protected from them because they were human, but that they got involved as they became more and more relevant. Sometimes they wondered how their demons had been able to carry everything, especially Lucifer.

Thanks for reading 🩷 .

.

.

[cultkinkcoven]

The hard truth about occultism and witchcraft is that you genuinely do have to be willing to lose your mind. That’s not me romantisizing mental struggle or psychosis.

The thing no one talks about, at least not honestly, is the threshold one passes in initiation, where the mystical, psychological, symbolic and literal merge. When I say you have to be willing to lose your mind, I mean you have to be willing to accept the possibility that you may in fact be crazy. Your worst possible fear, none of this is real and it’s all happening in your head. What will you do if you realize you’re simply crazy? The wise man will turn away, but the initiate, the alchemist, will be unphased.

All people who dabble with spirituality and occultism will eventually meet this threshold. When things actually start working, when your spells yield results, when the impossible occurs and you truly have no other explanation. When the Gods finally respond. Be willing to lose your mind, be willing to experience things you cannot explain. And be willing to talk to yourself with the honesty that you simply cannot know. That’s what makes your faith and pursuits worthy.

The most talented and most powerful witches and magis are those who do not flinch when the impossible occurs. They no longer question themselves about the absurdity, they no longer wonder if any of this is real because they know it doesn’t matter. And that’s why they’re so powerful, they have complete faith that their work is very real. And when someone challenges that, they don’t crumble, they rise. Because the challenge in that idea is worthy of pursuit itself. Maybe we are crazy, maybe this is just in our mind. The significance however, that is real and that stays, regardless.

Yap yap yap

We talk a lot in this community about the concept of “awakening” to your psychic abilities. Sensing energy, having divine intuition, telling fortunes and affecting the world through intention. But we hardly ever expose that before those gifts explode, there is always a period of what feels like insanity. The mind interrogating itself. Sensitivity to the mystical. It feels like being given access to the background code of your simulated reality, and realizing that the same code is written into your flesh, mind and soul.

Tldr. Witchcraft is very aesthetically pleasing, very pretty. We often don’t show the very ugly side of it, the white knuckles, the tears and chaos. Inviting these forces into your life is not trivial, not at all. They will force you to change and they will force you to lose your mind, even if only to teach you how to find it.

Every few months a friend of mine who is also a witch will come to me and express that she thinks she’s losing her mind again. And I smile because I know that she must be growing so much, getting so much more powerful. And a couple days ago, when I went to her and expressed that I was losing my mind again, she laughed too.

“Welcome to the next phase of your journey with Lord Lucifer!”

and her saying that immediately made everything click. I’m still being tested and cultivated. This bought of insanity is surely far from the last i will experience. Getting this far and surviving means I am not only advancing, I am continuing to grow into the role I was meant to serve for him.

Anyways, if you get to that point in your practice where you feel like you’re at your breaking point, I won’t fault you for stepping back. That’s the logical decision.

But I can also assure you, you are not alone. The mystic floats in the same waters the psychotic drowns. It may feel like you’re drowning and struggling, you may in fact just be learning how to tread water. and if you think you’re beyond this phenomenon, if this has never happened to you.

Oh, just you wait.

[leniisreallycool]

In the human world, walking around in a city

MC: Wait, so none of you have been to a zoo in the last three centuries? Really?

Lucifer: Something like that, yes. That was around when we had to seal the gates from the Devildom to the human world because of a certain cretin.

Belphie: He means Mammon, if you couldn't tell.

Mammon: Hey!

MC, interrupting before it becomes a fight: So, maybe we should go soon? Not today though, it's going to rain later.

Satan: How did you check the forecast? We don't have access to human weather apps in the Devildom.

MC: Oh, I didn't. I can smell the rain.

Everyone else: ???

Beel: I don't smell anything?

Levi: How can you smell the weather? You have secret anime-style powers? And you didn't tell me??

MC: What, no. I'm from the countryside, remember? I grew up with old people who still use traditional weather predictions, like how many stars are inside the ring around the moon tells how many days it'll be before the next storm. And I can smell the rain before it falls.

Levi: So you do have anime style powers. You just learned them from your elders, like a shonen protagonist!

MC: ...

MC: You know what sure let's go with that

[3n-vi-ous]

Falling Asleep With Them

a/n: felt soft. enjoy :) pairings: lucifer/reader, mammon/reader, leviathan/reader reader: sort of implied to be shorter than the brothers, but they're freakishly tall anyway cw: n/a

Lucifer - Avatar of Pride

It had been a remarkably long day at the Hall of Lamentation. While it was the weekend, there was still much to be done and there was no rest for you as the brothers' designated babysitter. At least, that's what it felt like you were.

You'd just finished washing up the dishes; Satan had cooked tonight, and you'd volunteered to clean up to avoid the headache often induced by the others fighting over who had to wash them. A look at the oven clock told you it was pretty late, and most if not all of the brothers have retreated to their rooms by now.

You sighed, wiping your hands on a dish towel and turning the kitchen light off. You left on the stove light for Beel when he would inevitably come down for a midnight snack.

On your walk to your room, you paused in front of Lucifer's office. A cursed record was playing and you could just barely hear the crackling of flames. Without a second thought, you knocked.

"Come in," Lucifer called. When you cracked open the door and stepped in, he finally lifted his head to look at you. A glare you presume he'd prepared for one of his brothers immediately softened upon seeing you. "Hello, love. Do you need something?"

You smiled in reply, clicking the heavy door shut behind you and padding across the hardwood floor of his office. He raised a brow when you tried to push him away from his desk, but he rolled his chair back anyways.

Lucifer couldn't resist a soft laugh as you crawled into his lap and made yourself at home, wrapping your arms around him. He looked down at you, a smile only you'd ever seen on his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, rubbing your back and lifting your chin to look you in the eyes.

"Tired. Long day," you respond, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before snuggling up to his chest. He sighed fondly, affection sparking in his crimson eyes. He hugged you close and rolled his chair back in, dominant hand returning to his fountain pen and the other settling on your waist.

It was easy to doze off like that, listening to his slow, heavy heartbeat. Warmth- a mix of his and the fireplace's- enveloped you easily, lulling you into a gentle sleep.

Just before you slipped off for good, you felt a light pressure against the top of your head followed by Lucifer saying something you didn't quite catch. You knew it meant he loved you, though.

Mammon - Avatar of Greed

You were already in bed by the time Mammon came home, trying to sneak through the front entrance and up one of the grand staircases to his room.

You were startled out of your light sleep by the door slamming open, followed by a whispered curse. You sat up, gathering your blankets around you and leaning over to turn on your lamp.

With a click, the room was illuminated with warm light. Mammon stood in the doorway, staring back at you like he was caught doing something bad. You give him the most unamused expression you can manage.

"Uhhhh," he said smartly, glancing around the room as if looking for something to help him. He then returned his multi-colored gaze to you and gave a guilty smile.

"Mammo-"

"Listen! I know it's kinda late, and I know I promised to be home earlier, but my last shoot ran long and then I went to the casino with the cash and... Uh, I might have lost it all." He admitted, words coming out in a rush. He then stared for a moment longer before his eyes widened in panic. "Wait! Wait, I didn't mean to say that. I meant to say I'm sorry for being home late!"

You couldn't help the laugh that got from you. He stopped then, giving you a nervous look before, much quieter this time, closing the door. He walked toward the bed in such a manner that you'd think you were about to bite him. He only calmed down some when you patted the bed next to you.

"I can't say I'm proud of your gambling addiction," you begin, shifting to help him take off his jacket. "But so long as you come back to me in one piece every night, we can work on that some other time."

He smiled then, a real smile. It was kind of crooked, but it was so distinctly him that it warmed your heart. He leaned over to kiss you before standing to rid himself of the rest of his day clothes while you settled back into the pillows.

After he had shucked off his pants and shirt, he crawled over your side of the bed to his and collapsed next to you. You giggled, lifting up the blankets so he could get underneath.

Once he'd gotten comfortable, you threw your arm over his chest and cuddled up to his side. He sighed and ran a manicured hand over your hair before settling it on your back.

"My first man," you hummed affectionately.

"Always," he murmured as he drifted off.

Leviathan - Avatar of Envy

It was yet another late night spent with Leviathan in his room.

He sat at his PC, playing some MMO he'd just gotten the day prior. You were curled up in his bathtub playing on a handheld he'd given you. He'd set you up with a game akin to Stardew Valley, citing that 'normies like you' needed something a little simpler to begin.

While you did give him a look for that little comment, you did like the game. It was almost nostalgic in nature, giving you a warm and cozy feeling. But maybe that was the mountain of pillows, blankets, and plushies you were lying in. Could be both.

After countless hours of what was essentially parallel play, you began to get tired. I mean- who could blame you? Between the calming game, the comfortable nest, and the whir of his computer- not to mention the soft ambience lighting cast by the fish tank- it was easy to doze off.

Before that could happen, though, you saved the game and sat up. With a yawn, you stretched your arms above your head. You rubbed your eye, leaning over the edge of the massive tub and waving your hand at Levi to catch his attention.

"Sorry MC, I'm almost done with this quest!" He said. You couldn't help but groan- which you know he heard, being as he had his headphones shifted off the ear facing you.

"Levi..." You mumble, putting on your best puppy eyes and letting your arms hang limp over the side of the tub.

"I- uh- hold on! I promise I'll be done soon," he blurted, glancing between you and his monitor.

You give it one last go and make grabby hands at him with a soft whine. That did him in for good.

"Ahhh!! You're just too cute!" He shouted, turning to look at you and hiding his face. You smiled brightly at your victory. He hesitated for just a second longer before saving and shutting off his own game. He was already in comfortable clothes so he got directly into the tub with you.

After some awkward shuffling and him shyly muttering, you end up comfortable with his head resting on your chest. His lanky limbs curled around you, adding to your coziness.

"This is like that one scene in-"

He didn't get any farther in referencing some ridiculously obscure anime before you pressed a kiss right to his lips. He practically froze before tentatively returning it. The second you pulled away, he buried his face in your chest with a flustered huff.

"...Goodnight, MC."

[elieenaliak]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — AND THEIR HOBBIES IN FREE HOURS.

amongst the many hobbies of your beautiful hard working husband, one of them stood out the most: racing. zayne drives with such grace, he probably would have received 16 missed calls from whole cast of fast furious asking him to be part of the next movie. treating patients with such patience by day, racing by night… what a man! He can afford it after all, so why not? he is the type to make you fresh orange juice with pulp in the morning and then go outside drift so effortlessly, it makes professional racers question their entire careers. he doesn't even need a coach—he learns purely through vibes and sheer elegance. he steps into a car, smells the air, analyses, feels it, does a couple of stretches, and suddenly it's like watching poetry in motion. you have no idea how he does it, you're not about to question a racer who hugs the apex like it's his favourite granny-who can explode- and still flips the softest, fluffiest pancakes before the next shift in hospital.

xavier, on the other hand, has the raw power for basketball but none of the coordination. you made him join the basketball club, this man had to do something sportif after all! though he got very passionate about basketball he could not play. his idea of a "drabble" is launching the ball into another building, and if you ask him to do a serve, he’ll literally twerk- he is serving after all?

he gets the hang of it eventually—almost a full year later, when everyone else has already moved on to their next hobby. now he’s just waiting for the basketball season to come back so he can finally convince everyone to play with him again. poor thing. you can find him standing outside the court with his basketball, looking like a stray dog waiting to be let inside.

sylus is… passionate about tennis. let's just leave it at that. he swings the racket like he's trying to destroy all his enemies along with it, and any unfortunate soul who dares to play against him ends up fearing for their life. And no, zendaya would NOT call him to join the cast of next challengers movie- he will still arrange it- every ball he hits sounds like gunfire, and the courts have a dedicated "sylus damage fund" because he’s broken so many rackets, fences, and possibly the willpower of a few umpires. he can not play, but he doesn't believe in "low peasant" talk - the racket he accidently sended to the orbit made scientists go insane. news headlines for the next month were "A RACKET SPOTTED IN SPACE!! ALIENS ARE REAL?!"

there’s also rafayel. or "rafayel-the-fashion" as he calls himself. the man who buys everything-everything- that is trending, both for you and himself. "We gotta slay honey" he tells you while buying latest glamour lois luivitton purses-not that you complaining. The man, the artist, the diva- he feels the aesthetic whenever he walks to any room and he adjusts to it, he buys closes which match with room design, he slayes.

"Design is soo gnarly an-" and now as soon as his art editor who he asked politely-made-to come to his house at 3am to discuss his new art piece he straight away indulges in description of the piece, untill he spots something, he stops, he squints, he watches, he observes- he notices something even lucifer would have diarrhea out of from.

"IS THAT FAKE CHANEL ON YOU?!" he shrieked in utter horror, falling to the nearest sofa, clutching to his chest. He couldn't believe it, he couldn't! the shear audacity! To come into his house in....in....this!- it is 3 am -"oh, I think I am having have heart attack or heart dead whatever you people call it!" he wailed "this is,th- I HOPE SOMEOME FARTS INTO YOUR BREATHING MACHINE WHEN YOU GET OLDER, YOU FASHION TERRORIST!!"

someone actually did fart into editors breathing machine years later- rafayel made sure of it.....

and finally, there's caleb, apart from his many hundred jet models collection, he buys you underwear. now, when he met you in university he knew- knew that he needs to be in charge of your underwear department. Though he restricted himself in takeover of such honourable post until you two got married.

you lost him in the mall? no, you didn't, he is in lingerie section, nodding at some cheetah print lingerie's like it was some soldiers doing admirable job in serving their country. he doesn't even ask for help, he knows. he knows what he is buying, what size he is buying, he feels it and he is not embarrassed, no. this man watched so many documentaries on "art of lingerie" you are surprised he doesn't even open his own business. you kind of found it cute until he crossed- bended- the line like now with his: "Baby maybe we just need to take one cup bigger so i can put my hands through it, yeah?"- people turned around passing by, eyes wide, desperately trying to not make eye contact.

your eye twitched, hell you think even you whole brain twitched. with voice which could be mistakenly taken for sweet you smiled "Caleb?"

"Yes, pipsqueak?"

"I have a gun on me"

"Yes. pipsqueak." though his poker face didn't match the way he clutched the bra of your size from the section, size bigger magically disappearing in air - he threw it across the shop, if he doesn't see it nobody sees it..

@uzmacchiato dividers!

[kannouo]

Ticklish?

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers & dateables x gn!reader warnings: suggestive on asmo's part summary: in which they find out you are ticklish. prompt by anon: The brothers + dateables reaction to the MC being ticklish because ik most of them are menaces about it A/N: lol rest in peace. good fucking luck mc. also i swear to god i know there's more to satan's character than his love of cats it just fits guys pls forgive me

LUCIFER

• Lucifer likes to appear as this super-serious macho man figure who, although he has his moments of going along with his siblings' antics, isn't a very playful guy. He's unlikely to find this out because he was trying to tickle you. Rather, it'd be by complete coincidence.

• When he offered to teach you to dance in the privacy of his room as classical music played in the background, you weren't expecting his hand on your waist to bother you as much as it did. Try as you might, you can't hide from him how you're biting your lip and stifling a giggle.

• "Is something funny to you?" He asks, unamused. You shake your head.

• "No, sorry. It just... tickles a bit."

• The only reaction you get in the moment is a hum and a nod. You're admittedly a little suspicious, but mostly grateful the dance lesson continued normally until you were able to return to your room.

• He's so unbothered by this new information, in fact, that you may even dare to think he'd all but forgotten about it when a few weeks pass by. Little did you know, he remembered. He was just storing it away for later use.

• Even the student council's representative of the human world was not immune to falling into Satan and Belphie's schemes, it seemed. After a failed attempt to capture a pic of a sleeping Lucifer, you find yourself trapped between him and the wall as he looms over you. You desperately hope that, just maybe, Satan or Belphie would come to your rescue — but alas, you had been left abandoned in the lions' den.

• "Bold of you to attempt to sneak up on me in such a vulnerable state," he clicked his tongue, agitated. "I'd assume you would know better by now."

• "I'm sorry, I—"

• "'Sorry'? Yes, you will be." He closed in on you.

• The shrieks that emanated from Lucifer's room that night could only be described as unholy as he unleashed his brand-new punishment on you. Out of everyone in the House of Lamentation, you hadn't expected the mighty first-born to be the one to tickle you half to death, but it was effective. If that was what was waiting for you, you were more than willing to give Satan and Belphie the cold shoulder the next time they suggested a new, ingenious prank to play on Lucifer. Sorry guys. It's not worth it.

"Come on, MC, this'll be our best work yet," Satan trails after you you down the hallway, clearly not keen on letting the matter go. He had taken the liberty of convincing you of the Anti-Lucifer League's newest escapade, as Belphie apparently refuses to be of any help. "We've planned it all out. It won't go wrong this time. I swear." You turn to look at Satan, catching a glimpse of Lucifer a short distance away over the fourth-born's shoulder. All it took was a knowing smirk and a mildly threatening gesture with his hands for you to turn pale. "MC?" "...I'm good, Satan, thanks."

MAMMON

• Unlike his older brother — Mammon would absolutely find this out on purpose.

• He's the spiritual eldest when it comes to playing around with his siblings, so he's experienced in tickle-fighting. You, unfortunately, only realised this while wrestling with him, when he suddenly starts tickling your sides to gain the upper-hand. It works, and now you're flailing around beneath him.

• "Hah! Take that!" You hear him laugh triumphantly above you as you struggle to force his attacking hands away from you. "Ya give in?!"

• "Yeees! You win, you win!"

• After your rather humiliating fake-wrestling defeat, he only gets more annoying with abusing your weakness as the days go by. As he learns all of your worst spots, he gets more and more bold, until not one day can go by where you aren't tackled and tickled to tears by the Avatar of Greed.

• Eventually, you're going to have to set some ground rules with this guy, because he just will not stop. For weeks after that initial incident, you find yourself constantly on edge no matter where you are, because he could be anywhere. Just planning the next tickle.

• Sure, it can be fun at first, but he always manages to take his play-fighting just a little too far. You don't have the same tolerance as his brothers, being a human and all, and he needs to remember that.

• Being tickled by Mammon is nowhere as unfair and torturous as it is with Lucifer though, mostly because unlike his older brother, Mammon is ticklish too. This means you can fight back and potentially even gain the upper-hand. It's unlikely you'll win in a chase, however — no matter if you're the one running or if he is — he's just too damn fast.

• He's the definition of being unable to take what he dishes out. Not only does he cry 'uncle' as soon as you land on a weak spot, but he'll be super pouty and embarrassed afterwards too. As if he wasn't the one who initiated it.

"Mammooon..." You poke his cheek, trying to provoke any sort of response. He huffs and turns his head away, but still doesn't say a word. "Mams... Babe..." "That ain't fair," he finally speaks, his cheeks tinging with red. "Ya can't call me that when I'm tryin' to be mad at ya." You can't help but smile at the demon before you. "I'm sorry for tickling you, Mammon." "Yeah? Well... I think I'm owed some compensation for that. 5,000 Grimm, at least!"

LEVIATHAN

• Levi wouldn't find this out on purpose. Or, rather, at all. At least not on his own.

• He freaks out and backs away every time his hand manages to accidentally brush against yours when he hands you something. He apologises profusely and feels like the absolute perverted scum of the earth when he happens to bump into you in the hallway. He refuses to hold hands with you beyond intertwining your pinkie fingers together, because anything more than that is too lewd for him.

• So yeah. He's not going to tickle you. Not even accidentally.

• He only ends up finding out when he catches you and Mammon having a tickle fight in the living room one day, to which he promptly leaves before either of you can notice him. Both to quell the jealousy bubbling in his chest, and to avoid Mammon roping him into his shenanigans.

• After that, he... does nothing, really.

• See, here's an interesting fact about the Avatar of Envy: He's ticklish too. Very ticklish. And his siblings, especially Mammon, tease him for it all the time. He absolutely hates it and it's just not funny to him. So even if he was able to touch you without taking 6000 points of damage to his psyche, he still wouldn't tickle you, because he understands how it feels.

• Instead, you could say that you two form an alliance of sorts. You defend him when one of his brothers (MAMMON) starts chasing him — using your pact if you have to — and he allows you safe refuge in his room if somebody is after you. His door has a lock on it after all, and knowing the consequences of trying to force their way inside the resident hermit's safe abode, your pursuer is unlikely to look for you in there.

• He might make fun of you a little for it, but that's the most he'll do. He won't lay a finger on you. Good guy Leviathan.

You restlessly chap on Levi's door, moving back and forth on your toes as you desperately hope for him to let you in. The seconds count down before your attacker will find you, when finally... Click. The door unlocks and you grab the handle, swinging it open and nearly hitting Levi in the face in the process. "Sorry, sorry!" You profusely whisper-yell apologies as you shut the door behind you. He locks it, and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you... You saved me..." Levi's cheeks burn red at your words. "Y—yeah, well... don't make a big deal out of it, normie. If you're staying in my room, then you're playing games with me too while you're here, okay? So... make yourself useful or I'll kick you back out!"

SATAN

• Maybe this is just me, but have you ever had a cat on your lap that just won't stop moving around and it sort of tickles? Yeah.

• A simple date to a cat café went from good, to better, then to worse in a very short span of time. Most of the kitties were awake and lively, wandering around and allowing you to pet them. So when one of the cats jumped up on your lap, both you and Satan were ecstatic, cooing endlessly at the little ball of fur that had made itself at home on your legs.

• The only problem was, the cat seemed to be unable to find a comfortable spot. You were trying to stay still, you really were, but the cat's paws constantly moving against your thighs made you really need to move around in your seat. Satan noticed how you had to force yourself to stay put by gripping onto the table in front of you, and he also noticed how you were biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but he didn't say anything at first.

• The first time Satan tickles you, it comes completely out of nowhere. To you, at least. Some exams were coming up and you agreed to let him tutor you, but the material was just so boring, and Satan's delivery of it certainly wasn't helping to keep you engaged...

• You were abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp jab to your side. You jumped and looked around, as if searching for the culprit, only to see Satan, with his eyes narrowed at you. "Pay attention."

• "I was!"

• "No you weren't," he poked you once in the side for each word to enunciate his sentence, and then grabbed you by the waist to prevent you from escaping. "Are you going to listen to me now?"

• "Ye-ees!"

• "Are you sure?"

• Satan's kind of a dick about it, to be honest. He'll tickle you to convince you to do things with him. You don't want to partake in his newest prank against Lucifer? Uh... yes you do, remember?

• He's also a hypocrite. He is ticklish but he hates it just as much — if not more — than Levi. So if you do it back to him, he'll shove you off or yell at you.

"Fi—fine! Fine!" You yell, and Satan's attack on your sides ceases. He looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. "You'll do it?" "Yes!" You nod furiously. If getting him to stop meant agreeing to prank call Lucifer, you suppose you'll just have to do it. "Now get off!" "Good," he smiled and moved off of you from where he had you pinned. "Now, about the plan I had prepared..."

ASMODEUS

• ...You know the deal. There is going to be a struggle keeping these headcanons SFW.

• He can find out one of two ways: the first being that he was doing your makeup and somehow found out by brushing too close to your neck or jawline, the second being that you two were leading up to... other activites.

• We'll be going with the former for my own sake lol. He realises what your reaction was for after the first time you tilt your head away from him, and can't help but tease you for it right away.

• "Oh darling, how did I not know this before? Are you keeping secrets from me? ♡"

• Somehow, Asmo ends up being one of the worst for how he takes advantage of this. He will tickle you anywhere at any time and for any reason.

• If he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him, he'll tickle you so you're forced to focus on him. If he sees you using makeup wipes on your poor, delicate skin, he'll tickle you as a "warning" to never do that again. Eventually he just starts making up reasons.

• You can tickle him back, but he enjoys it and will try to use it to lead into sex. So, unfortunately, that won't work to dissuade him.

• Don't think for a moment he's embarrassed or ashamed of his behaviour in public settings, because he isn't. He has no qualms with tickling you in a restaurant with strangers around, and doesn't care how much attention you end up attracting. It's hell.

• He's another boy you're going to have to set boundaries with at some point just because of how frequent it is. The tipping point came when he squeezed your leg in the middle of a student council meeting and you hit your knee so hard on the table you were convinced you broke something.

• He'll back off if you tell him to. You just need to actually tell him to, otherwise he won't realise how much it bothers you.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry..." Asmo pouts as he gently rubs your aching knee. "I didn't realise you'd react like that." You huff and turn your head away from him. "Don't turn this on me." "I'm not!" He shakes his head and leans forward to look you in the eye. "I swear! I just didn't know that'd happen. Can you forgive me, honey? I promise you I won't do it again. I can't have you bruising that beautiful skin because of me..."

BEELZEBUB

• Beel, similar to Levi, isn't likely to find out on his own. For different reasons, though.

• Beel isn't afraid of physical touch, but he is scared of hurting you. He's so big and you're so small. He's fully aware of his strength, and even if he has good control over it, he tends to treat you like how one would handle a delicate China plate. It's not that he doesn't touch you at all, but he's so careful when he does that he probably won't even unintentionally find out that you're ticklish.

• The only way he'd find out is if he stumbled across you in the midst of a (usually very one-sided) tickle fight with one of his brothers. In which case, he will usually step in to save you.

• As the second-youngest, he's used to being teased in a similar manner by his older siblings. So if he sees you pinned down, he'll intervene so you can catch your breath and get away.

• If you run to him for protection, much like Levi, he'll take you back to his room and won't let anyone else except Belphie inside until it's safe to assume whoever was after you has given up. You don't have to, but if you thank him by bringing him a few snacks from the fridge later, he'll be happy.

• Such a sweetheart and probably won't ever tickle you. He really doesn't want to upset you.

• The only time I can see him tickling you is if you're having a bad day and he decides you need cheering up. He'll be sat next to you, staring intently at your frowning face as the gears turn in his head. He doesn't know what your day was like or why you're so peeved, but he knows he wants to see you smile again.

• He'll scoot closer, trap you in a hug with one arm and use his free hand to (very carefully) tickle you until you give in. He'll apologise, but as long as that smile is back on your face, he's satisfied.

• "Do you feel better?" He asks, a sweet smile on his face as he pats your head. And you have to admit, you do.

You could swear you saw Beel's eyes sparkle as you offered him the box of chocolates in your hands. You were saving them to eat yourself at some point, but... seeing as Beel valiantly defended you from Asmo earlier, you figure he at least deserves this. He manages to pry his eyes away from the chocolates to look at you. "...Why?" "Because you saved me from Asmo earlier," you explain and hold the box of chocolates closer to him, urging him to take them. "This is my 'thank you'." Finally, he takes the box from you. "...You didn't have to." Despite his words, he opens the lid and starts devouring the chocolates inside so quickly that you don't even have time to remind him to take the wrappers off.

BELPHEGOR

• There are a few scenes in-game where he tickles or tries to tickle the MC, so yes, he'd absolutely find out very quickly.

• Belphie is not only a little shit — he's also spoiled and likes getting his way. So, like Satan, he'll tickle you to convince you of things. Usually it's when he doesn't feel like doing dinner duty or cleaning his room, or if he can tell you're hiding something from him.

• The first time he tickles you, it's because he had an assignment due the next morning. One he had procrastinated on for weeks. You had reminded him time and time again to start working on it as the deadline approached, but he ignored you, and the situation he's in now is, quite frankly, his own fault. So even as he whines to you about how sleepy he is and tries to butter you up so you'll do it for him, you don't give in.

• That is, until he has an idea. With an exaggerated pout on his face, he moved up behind you and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, lazily slumping against your back. Just as you were about to scold him, you felt him start to ruthlessly tickle your sides.

• With his body weight on you, there was little you could do. And even as you fell to the ground, he simply followed you, taunting and teasing you the whole time. When he thinks you've had enough, he hovers above you with a smirk on his face.

• "So? Do you feel like doing it now?"

• Little fucker. He cuddles with you later to "thank" you, but you're still salty about it.

• Like most others on this list, you can get him back. He's the baby of the family so of course he's ticklish. Expect him to use dirty tricks to win any tickle fight you initiate, however. Like "giving in" only to immediately attack once you stop, or using the fluffy end of his tail to catch you by surprise.

• Beel tends to come to his rescue a lot as well, so beware of that.

"I—I give! I giiive!" You smirk in triumph as the youngest demon brother surrenders beneath you, and you let up your tickling assault. You roll off of him, fixing your ruffled hair. "See? That's what happens when you challenge me," with your back turned, you're too busy congratulating yourself to notice Belphie slowly sitting up behind you. "Anyway, you need to— AH—!" You shriek as you're tackled down to the bed again, cursing as Belphie grins down at you, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "Belphie! That's cheatING—!!" And so, it starts again.

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo likely finds out in a similar fashion to Lucifer. Only it might be at a ball rather than in a secluded area.

• He's confused at first. He knows what tickling is, but being extremely sheltered, he's never received much affection like that in his life. As a result, it takes him a moment to put the pieces together. Once he does, he smiles fondly down at you and apologises, and that is that.

• ...For now.

• What he didn't show right away was just how giddy this discovery made him. What an adorable trait to have! And one he had to see more of. He'd missed out on tickle fights his whole life — he had to wonder what they were like?

• He made a mental note to experiment with this information the next time you came around to the palace. And that he did.

• Literally yells "tickle fight!" before pulling you close and going to town. You have to yell for him to be gentler, because inexperienced as he is, what should tickle actually kind of hurts at first.

• "Ah, I'm so, so sorry," he relaxes his fingers a little, no longer digging into your skin. "Is this any better? My sincere apologies."

• His apology would seem a lot more genuine if he didn't continue to tickle you while saying it.

• That, and he doesn't quite understand the concept of a tickle fight. What he's doing to you is more like a tickle beat-down. It's so one-sided it's almost comical. Unable to fight back or escape, Barbatos has to come and tell him to stop before you piss yourself.

• This was fun! He decides completely on his own. We should do this more often! He says, as you are gasping for breath on the fucking ground.

• After this first experience, he incorporates more minor tickling into your daily lives. Instead of trapping you like the first time, he'll sneakily poke you while walking by, and then look back at you with a wave and a completely innocent smile on his face.

"MC? Apologies, you seem to be in the middle of something. It won't take long," Diavolo smiles as he enters the empty student council hall. Indeed, you are in the middle of sorting some letters, but it isn't as if you can deny an audience to the Demon King. "I have a question for you. It appears... as if you've been avoiding me lately. Why is that?" You blink, trying to discern if he was serious. The look on his face said yes, he was. "...Diavolo, whenever we sit next to each other, you keep reaching over to tickle me." He meets you with a surprised expression as if this is somehow news to him. "I did not know it was such a problem," He confesses. "Very well, then. I'll stop. If I do, will you start sitting beside me again? I quite miss it."

BARBATOS

• He already knew. Lol.

• He officially "finds out" for the first time when he just happens to walk in on Diavolo tickling you half to death and saves you from his grasp. In reality, he already knew this was going to happen and planned to show up just in time to clean you off of the floor once Diavolo had his fun.

• You're thankful he showed up, though. If not for the fact he rescued you, then for the tea he served you afterwards to ensure you wouldn't have had an entirely terrible experience that day.

• As for what he does with this information? Well, not much. At least, it doesn't seem like it to you.

• Barbatos knows how to be sneaky with how he uses this to hear you laugh throughout the day. He'll brush his hand against your skin while reaching for something, "accidentally" touch your back and make you jump while walking by you, and it will always seem unintentional. At first, that is.

• Red flags start to raise when these accidents seem to happen multiple times, every single time you're around him. He knows when you're starting to get suspicious too, and that's around the point he stops even trying to pretend like it isn't intentional. He'll keep doing it, but flash you an infuriating, coy smile after each time.

• Now it's war.

• If this is the game he's playing, you might as well participate.

• The only problem being... it's Barbatos. He knows when you're planning something and exactly how you're going to execute it. You can't even land a hand on the bastard.

• And even if you did somehow manage to (AKA he lets you), you genuinely have no idea if he's even ticklish. He won't react to anything you do to him, but he also won't give you a straight answer if you bluntly ask him if he's ticklish or not. He just looks at you with that signature poker-faced smile. And with that, he turns and walks away. YOU NEED ANSWERS.

• Eventually you become convinced that he isn't actually ticklish at all, but he lets you think he could be because he enjoys seeing you so determined to catch him off-guard.

"B—Barbatos!" You jerk your body away as his hand "somehow" manages to pinch your side while reaching for the utensils drawer next to you. He smiles. "My apologies, it was an accident." He says, and you call bullshit right away. With a newfound desire for revenge, you latch onto his side and start to tickle, but frown when he doesn't react at all. In fact, he simply opens the drawer and takes out a few of the cutlery inside like he initially intended to do, as if you aren't even there. He meets your eye with another, slightly more amused smile, before turning and leaving the room. You stand there, dumbfounded. Though... you could've sworn you saw him flinch a little when you first touched him.

SIMEON

• Simeon is also ticklish and is another example of someone who knows how it feels. He's not likely to tickle you often.

• That's not to say he doesn't find it amusing or cute — he absolutely does — but his first thought when the back rubs he gave you with the intention of being soothing turned ticklish wasn't that he should take advantage of it, rather that it's just something new he now knows about you.

• Simeon won't ever intentionally tickle you because it's, well, mean. He'll only do it if he gets "permission", meaning if you do it to him first.

• He enjoys seeing you smile and laugh, but he doesn't ever want to go too far. Most of the tickle fights you initiate are won by him — don't let his appearance and sweetness fool you, he's still much stronger than you are — but they also don't last long. He'll stop, apologise, and offer to make up for it with anything you want.

• "Sorry, sorry," Simeon smiles as he helps you back to your feet, brushing your hair out of your face. "Are you alright? Come on, let's sit down together. No more tickling, though."

• He... tries to be a protector of sorts if Solomon or anyone else is after you. I can't say it works out well for him though, and whoever was after you just ends up with two victims instead of one.

• Bless him for trying. At least you're not suffering alone.

• When you come around to Purgatory Hall, depending on your friendship with Luke, you two may have playful tickle wars that go on. He won't interfere, but Luke does tend to use Simeon as a shield or claims that you're "bullying" him. Simeon never takes it too seriously and you can usually continue your playful tickle-attack uninhibited.

You lay, breathless and sweaty on the floor. You stare up at the ceiling as you pant for air and slowly sit up, wiping at your forehead. You turn to the man sprawled out on the floor right next to you, the both of you having just endured the same tickle-attack by Solomon. "...Are you alright?" Simeon slowly turns his head to look at you and meets you with an exhausted smile. "Yeah, I'm fine... you?" "...Yeah." You sigh. Silence fills the air for a moment, interrupted only by your heavy breathing. "...Wanna get him back?" As angelic as Simeon still is... even he can't refuse that offer.

SOLOMON

• This shady sorcerer absolutely finds out on purpose.

• After one too many times where you've outright banned him from the kitchen to prevent some kind of national tragedy, he decides he's owed some kind of penance. So the one time you allow him in the kitchen while you cook — under strict supervision — he sneaks up behind you and...

• "Solomon!" You squeal, nearly dropping the ingredients in your hands as he hugs you from behind and uses the position to start furiously tickling you.

• "What? Why are you laughing?" He asks cheekily. "You better be careful. You don't want to ruin dinner, right?"

• After the first incident, it gets much, much worse.

• He'll tickle you at any time, anywhere, whenever he feels like it. It doesn't matter how busy you are or how important what you're working on is, he will interrupt you out of nowhere to tickle you until he's satisfied. Prick.

• He thinks it's funny to tickle you in inconvenient or inappropriate settings, too. If you're sat in front of or next to him in class, you can expect him to start repeatedly poking you or enchanting a few items to tickle you as you desperately try to hold back any reactions because then you'll be the one embarrassing yourself.

• He's also ticklish, but will go to great lengths to avoid you ever figuring that out. Probably drinks some kind of potion that dulls his sensitivity before seeking you out to tickle you just in case you try to get revenge on him.

• Of course, you can still catch him when he's unprepared. And when you do, it's war.

• At least Purgatory Hall is never boring with you two around.

You stare down Solomon as you face one another at opposite ends of the dining table. He's grinning at you, and every now and again tries to rush over to where you are, at which point you circle the table to keep the distance. "You can't keep going forever." He taunts. "Watch me, motherfucker," you curse, but it's true. You're already out of breath. He tries to charge you again and you react quickly, hurrying back around to the other side of the table. Just as you do, however, he changes direction. You're unable to turn around in time and he catches you, damn near lifting you up into the air with how he grabs you. "Solomon! Stop it!" "You started it," he argues. "Now suffer the consequences."

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ " i'll never smile again "

The hazbin boys are visibly stressed

Warnings : I used female pronouns. There are mentions of Valentino. Highly suggestive in Vox's part because yeah it makes sense. Alastor offers to go on a murderous rampage with the reader 🥰

Genre : Fluff, suggestive

A/n : I hate the people in my life and they stress me tf out so I'm writing to vent my frustrations out. :) I only included my favs in this one but if you would like a part two with other characters then say the word.

Characters : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

▢ vox ᯤ

- Offering sexual favours -

Vox growled to himself gently as he typed away at the screen in front of him, eyes honing in obsessively on the words and news articles.

He was on media control right now because fucking Val blew up on Angel in public today.

Now he's forced to get rid of every media that is sculpting Valentino out to be the bad guy.

Whoopee fucking doo.

"Fuckin' Val... stupid idiot.... stupidly hot idiot." He sighed out, running his hands down his face tiredly then his eyes widened with an idea,"... Where's my assistant."

"Here, sir."

"Fuckin' christ-!" He yelped out at the sudden voice and he spun around quickly in his chair, coming face to face with her amused little shit-eating grin. He glared, scowl on his lips," You been there the whole time?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, hands folded in her lap modestly.

"You're a little creep, y'know that?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the painful cracks that resounded from them," You seen the media?"

She nodded," yes, quite the 'clusterfuck' as you would put it."

His lip twitched in amusement," perfect descriptor, honestly." He then clicked his fingers at the screen," Is Troy on today? Tell him to deal with the rest of the articles pl-"

"It's Troy's day off today, sir." (Name) interrupted, walking so she was standing next to him, she leaned over him a little to click away at the tabs he had opened," But I will call him to come in. You need rest." She replied promptly.

Vox watched her with an almost sleepy look in his eyes, watching her close down the articles with quick and manicured claws.

"What would I do without you, eh?" He hummed out.

A chuckle flitted from her lips and he found himself entranced by the sound of it," I think you'd do well for yourself without me, sir." She reassured with a gentle voice and stepped away from the desk a little, turning to face him," would you like me to accompany you to your room?"

He blinked and then smirked," how forward of you, sweetheart." He cooed out with that sultry tone of his," Take me out to dinner first, yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side with an owlish blink,"... Would you like to go to dinner? Would that be a better form of stress relief for you that the first option?"

His mouth fell open with a shocked look as he stared at her, a little buffering symbol in the top right corner of his screen for a moment before it disappeared, a dark blush appearing on his face," f-fuck wait... w-were you suggesting we..."

"We have sex? Yes. I hear it's a rather fantastic way of stress relief and you are a rather sexually frustrated individual so it would-"

He place a hand over her mouth as he stood from his chair, basically towering over her.

There was a hungry look in his eyes as he let that charming grin twitch onto his lips," You're about the best damn fuckin' assistant I've ever had."

She smiled beneath his hand and grabbed onto his wrist gently, maneuvering it so she could place an oh-so-gentle kiss to his wrist whilst looking into his eyes," I'm honoured, sir." She hummed out in a sultry fashion.

Vox gulped, his self-control snapping, red leaking from his mouth," I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

▢ alastor ⍋

- Expressing your issues over a glass of giggle juice -

A sigh and a huff fell from her lips as she made her way into the hotel lobby, shoulders sagging from a long day of work.

There seemed to be nobody in the lobby as she walked over to the bar and poured herself out a glass of whiskey.

"Late-night drinking? That's not like you." The familiar static of Alastor graced her ears.

(Name) blinked and looked over to him, noticing how tensed his smile seemed. His eyes looked... genuinely exhausted. His ears flopped downwards ever so slightly.

"Looks like you should be joining me," She hummed back and grabbed another glass, wiggling it at him suggestively.

He watched it for a second before relaxing and grabbing it, sitting next to her at the bar and pouring the liquid. He took a sip with her and his smile seemed to curl in a more soft way now.

"Hm, I dare say my dear, that does just hit the spot doesn't it?" He hummed out, a more relaxed expression on his face.

"You can say that again. No wonder Husk is an alcoholic, I understand the appeal after having an awful day." She replied with a nod of agreement," yknow, sometimes I wish Hell was just a personal purgatory instead of me having to deal with other people's shit."

"Agreed. It gets tiring, doesn't it? Makes you want to go a little batshit insane, yes?" He said this with a polite tone of voice, ears perked up.

"I want to go on a murderous rampage every second of every day."

"We could join forces if it ever came to that. We would kill twice the amount of demons."

She grinned at him," how flattering. You'd go on a murder spree with me, Al?"

He pressed a hand to his heart to express his genuine sincerity," Dear, if I ever say no to a question like that then I give you my full and utter permission to kill me in the most brutal way you can think of." He replied honestly, and (name) didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned but she found herself laughing along anyways.

"What a charmer," She grinned at him brightly," You can be so romantic when you want to, hm?"

"Romance has nothing to do with it. It is merely etiquette." He tilted his head at her, resting it in the palm of his hand, expression seemingly brightened from just a conversation with her," what's got you so downtrodden?"

She deflated a little, smile tired," Overworked and under-appreciated for the work I do." She replied simply, taking a sip of her whiskey," I'll never smile again~" She sang sadly.

Alastor perked up at the familiar song," until I smile at youuu~" he serenaded, smile only widening at the sound of her amused laughter.

Then he looked her over, an almost disappointed glint in his eyes," I still wonder why you work for that insolent shitbox after all these years." His smile seemed to sharpen at the thought of Vox," He doesn't deserve you at all. Not a single bit."

(Name) shrugged," I'm helpless, what can I say?"

"You're not. You're a strong woman, (name). Stand up for yourself. And if you can't stand?" His eyes glowed sinisterly," Break his legs off so you can."

She stared on for a second before raising her glass," Most sound advice I've heard for years."

Alastor barked out an amused laugh and raised his hlass to hers, "For that compliment? I will break his legs for you if it is needed, darlin'. "

Clink went their glasses as they enjoyed each other's company for a while longer.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

- Gentle caresses and positive affirmations -

"Okay so... meeting with the angels next week... then I have to call Michael- eugh cowabummer... then I have to-"

(Name) watched her friend flail around his office with a concerned frown on her lips, arms crossed over her chest.

He's been so stressed lately. He had that little break in between where he could just... chill.

And make his cute rubber duckies.

But now with everything in the hotel, he's had a lot more work on his shoulders. Specifically with Heaven, as unfortunate as that was.

She saw his claws scratching through his hair as he paced back and forth, as though he was entranced by all these... issues. He's so entranced he's forgotten she's there with him.

So she sighed and lifted herself from the wall and walked into his walk-cycle path, grabbing onto his shoulders before he could crash into her.

He blinked in surprise and met eyes with her, a dumbfounded expression on his face," Oh... Hey."

She smiled," Hey."

"Sorry, you've probably heard me complain enough lately. Your pretty ears must be burning with all the yapping-"

"Of course not, Lou..." She huffed out, interrupting him with a frown of disapproval. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his arms, rubbing gentle touches of comfort," I think you've got too much on your plate lately - you using me as an outlet to vent to is the least of my problems."

He deflated a little, a tiredly wry grin on his lips," You're... you're too nice, y'know that?"

"What? You'd rather I spit and degrade you~?" She flirted teasingly with a fanged grin.

"No thanks... for now." He then sighed and moved his head to rest on her chest, cheek smooshing against her collar bone," I need a vacation."

(Name) laughed as she threaded her fingers through his mussed-up hair gently and soothingly," You were basically on a vacation already, hon. Now's the time to get back to work. Put all those wonderful thoughts and dreams to good use."

He melted in her arms, closing his eyes slowly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. This felt more domestic than platonic, but the two of them were too focused on eachother to admit that.

"You'll stay, right? I like having you here." He mumbled tiredly," U-unless you don't wanna which I totally understand and a-accept... y'know, you don't have to be here if you don't want t-"

"Stop worrying you dummy." (Name) chuckled out,"... I'd love to stay here with you."

"Phew..." He huffed and grinned sharply," Good to hear... a-amazing to hear!... Y... you're the best."

"Don't I know it~!"

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter seven: working with the colonel

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you and caleb work through the week. two domestic moments between you too! will you finally let caleb into your heart?

word count: 9.3k words

warnings: not proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! thank you for waiting so patiently! part 8 will be up shortly!!!! i hope you enjoy <3

content warning: mentions of previous smut, light vulgar language, let me know if i missed anything!

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

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The hum of the aircraft’s engine can’t seem to leave your ears as you step away from the aircraft and down the tarmac. Your backpack bounces off of your body with every step, the gust of air from the airplanes making your hair fly all over the place, the smell of burning fuel stinging your eyes, consuming all other smells from the country’s base. It’s almost overwhelming with how chaotic your close surroundings have become. It leaves you feeling dazed, your bones vibrating against your muscles.

The tingling sensation that courses throughout your body slowly dissipates the further you walk from Caleb’s aircraft. Your eyes remain foxed on his broad shoulders, watching as he navigates you, as well as the other soldiers from his squadron that were told to come, off the tarmac.

Every so often, though, Caleb glances behind his shoulder at you. You catch a glimpse of his violet irises behind his dark aviators, a hint of a smile flashing across his lips before he goes back into his stoic Colonel demeanor.

Every time he does this, your heart speeds up. It thumps inside your chest, the heartbeats joining the vibrations from the heavy aircrafts, before fading away once you leave his line of sight.

For once, you had the chance to see Colonel Caleb in action, in all of his glory. You’ve heard all of the stories of his impressive military career through the grapevine of all the other translators that have helped him out when he was lower ranked.

His reputation was cutthroat. Caleb never hesitated to make a choice, the correct choice, no matter how much blood was shed, although he did try to save as many lives as possible. He isn’t like Colonel Heath who was willing to sacrifice his own men in order to save his ass. Colonel Caleb was also known for how swift and decisive his missions turn out to be.

A patrol that should have taken a week turn outs to be just three days long. A traitor refused to give out information ? Call Colonel Caleb, he’ll make them squeal.

Through the past year, you never even knew it was your Caleb that is the man behind all of the rumors and stories you’ve heard. Life is weird like that, right?

You look away from his back and notice the other groups where your work friends stand. All of the groups come to gather as one with the general at the helm. The soldiers take their leave, though, and leave all of the translators and officers behind. You watch as they leave, their stoic faces remaining as they march in sync. A hand rests itself on the low of your back, your gaze drifting up and to the side, Caleb now by your side.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Caleb’s voice is cheery despite his emotionless face, “we don’t want to be the last ones there, do we?” You shake your head, the new environment now becoming all too real. Caleb guides you through the security personnel, a hard glare from his eyes letting you pass through with no inspection.

Your eyes wander around the inside of the new country’s military office. The Fleet’s uniforms, ones that you are all too used to, are black with white pants whereas the country you’re in wears deep greens and reds with hints of silver rather than the gold you’re used to. Subconsciously, you’ve stayed close to Caleb’s side, either standing right behind him, placing a subtle tap on his back to let him know that you’re there, or standing right at his side with the excuse of being his personal translator to help you get by.

Caleb is quite amused by this. He has to stop himself from looking at you while dealing with paperwork, that has already been filled out, and getting the proper security clearances for the two of you. He likes that you found him to be safe person. You could have run away to any of the other officers and translators but you stuck by his side…maybe the two of you are becoming closer than you think. Caleb is definitely not going to complain about it or point it out because he knows that as soon as he does, you’re going to go back to avoiding him and pushing him away.

It’s a risk that, quite frankly, he isn’t willing to take.

“I need you to ask them something,” Caleb’s voice draws you out from your thoughts. Your anxiety settles inside your stomach, flicking at the breakfast you had that morning. You raise an eyebrow and feel as he pulls you forward. “Ask them where your security clearance badge is.”

“Excuse me,” you begin your conversation with the intimidating woman who sits at the desk.

While you speak to them, Caleb watches from behind. The top of your head floats at the bottom of his vision while the woman sits at the center. He narrows his eyes when her eyes meet his. Her fingers tap against the desk while you explain, to the best of your ability, that you’re going to need to go where he does.

“You see,” you lean in, getting her attention, “the Colonel gets a little cranky when I’m not there with him. He doesn’t trust anyone else other than me and I doubt that you’ll want to cause your higher ups any more trouble, right?” The woman nods. A small smile spreads across your face despite the feeling that someone is watching you weighs on your shoulders. “Great! So you’ll get that for us?”

The woman nods once again and turns to the side. You take a step back and feel your back collide with Caleb’s hard chest. A few of his medals poke into your back. A silent gasp escapes your lips from the sudden contact. You move to walk away but his gloved hand rests itself on your side, holding you there. You don’t dare break away, feeling his chest push into your back with every breath he takes.

The uniformed woman pops back to her desk, badge in hand. She holds it out and Caleb reaches from behind you, plucking it from her fingers. He turns your body and moves you away from the desk.

Many eyes within the office stare at the two of you, all of which belong to the other country. Their eyes are much more darker than yours with no variety in color such as your hues and Caleb’s familiar purples. Their uniforms are pristine with no wrinkles or faults in them; every medal in the formal dress is perfectly aligned, not daring to be crooked.

You always knew that a military career was something you didn’t want for yourself. Who would want a life of rigid routine and the constant reminder that your life is dedicated to a country that is willing to use you to benefit itself?

Then again, you’ve always been on the pessimistic side of things so maybe your way of thinking isn’t a fair way to look at it. Besides, Caleb chose this life. You have to respect his profession, right?

“What did you say?” Caleb asks, his hand slipping to your lower back once again. You don’t look up at him, shrugging in response. “Let me guess,” the two of you slip into an elevator with some of your peers and their officers. Caleb stands behind you, the front of his body pushed up against your backside. He leans down, his mouth grazing the outer shell of your ear, and whispers under the voices of the elevator, “Did you say that I’m a monster and to just give in? Or did you tell her that I simply cannot be reasoned with and have to have you with me at all times, making me look like some kind of psycho?”

“I don’t have to do anything to make you look crazy, Caleb, you are more than capable of doing that on your own,” you quietly retort. Caleb chuckles and draws his head away from yours.

The elevator doors open and you, who are at the front of the pack, quickly rush out, breaking into the room with Caleb hot on your trail. You turn on your heel and your heart pounds in your chest. The man enters your close proximity once again. He wears a dark smile on his face before it vanishes in less than a second. Other officers approach him and steal him away for a conversation, barely glancing at you. A sigh escapes your lips.

You sneak away where the other translators stand and spark up a conversation of your own with them. You pick up on Caleb’s dominating and effortlessly cool voice, the sound lingering on the outskirts of your attention while you smile and laugh with the other translators.

“Do you know what your schedule looks like?” Diana, who stands to your left, asks you. You breathe out a small, hesitant chuckle and scratch the back of your neck.

“I think the Colonel and I are going to be stuck in endless meetings about the Deepspace Tunnel.” It’s the truth, yes, but you also made sure to omit the meeting he was told to attend with the General, one that will have with another country.

What’s the meeting about? You’re unsure. You have trust in Caleb, though, that it’s one for peace and not war.

“You are so lucky to be paired up with him,” Diana sighs. She looks over your shoulder, eyes soft and in a trance. You follow her gaze; she’s looking directly at Caleb. Your ears immediately heat up, cheeks following suit. “He is so cute! I got stuck with Major Wilson. He’s so…old…and so wrinkly…”

Irritation bubbles from within your chest as the other women begin to giggle and fawn over Caleb. You turn your head and rest your chin on your shoulder. Caleb stands tall over the other officers, who are much older and probably shriveled in their age, and he wears an emotionless expression. You can’t read how he’s feeling, only getting the occasional movement of his brows to let you in on his own irritation.

Whenever he shifts in his spot, the women swoon. Diana grabs onto Shiza’s arm when Caleb looks in their direction; his eyes latch onto yours for a brief moment before he turns back away. Shivers run down your spine but the annoyance you feel only grows when Diana claims that he looked at her.

“Put in a good word for me, yeah?” Diana nudges into your side with an oh so obnoxious giggle, a giggle that is like nails on a chalkboard.

Your eyes scan Diana’s face. She’s pretty, yes, but is she really Caleb’s type? No…you don’t think she is. She’s everything you’re not: fake, phony, and makes her eyebrows way too dark and way too round for her face shape. When she smiles, you spot a little black speck tucked between her teeth. Ugh, gross. Did she not check before she left for work? That’s embarrassing.

You fake a smile and fake a laugh, matching her energy, before your face falls serious.

“We are here for work, not pleasure, Diana, let’s act like it.”

The words come out of your mouth sharper than you intended them to be. Your eyes widen and you stare at Diana, who raises an eyebrow at you with a look of shock that you were so careless with your words. How can you hold back, though, when she has Caleb’s image in her mind, her desire for him so open and free for all to see.

You had to say something about it, right?

You clear your throat and tuck your hair behind your ears, avoiding her gaze as well as the others who look at you like you’re a madwoman. You shift out of the group, standing on the outside, while the others shared surprised looks and side eye of your sudden and uncharacteristic outburst.

An awkward silence fills the group. You rock back and forth on your feet, heartbeat prominent in your ears. Before anyone can say anything, the General walks in, cap tucked underneath his arm. Your group turns to him and everyone nods in sync with your hands behind your back and posture straight just like how the Fleet taught you. He smiles at your group, having known to be very nice to the translators and mediators who help him out. His smile is replaced with a scowl when he look at Caleb and the other officers.

“Change of plans. They, somehow, ran out of room. We’ll be at the hotel down the street with the other countries,” his voice is rough and low, definitely a smoker, at least one pack a day. “Be on your best behavior and don’t rack up the bill too high,” he coughs and covers his mouth, turning around before disappearing once again. The General is like that, though. Always to the point and never hears what anyone else has to say, not that there was anything to say about the hotel change.

Your gaze flickers to Caleb’s. He stares at you, the corner of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. You roll your eyes and look back forward, face scrunching up.

You already know that he has something bizarre planned. It’s inevitable. Caleb likes to surprise you, which is something you learned from the month he left you random gifts on your doorstep, and to be honest, you didn’t know if it you should find enjoyment in his surprises or if you should pack up your life and move back to Linkon.

“I need to figure out which room Caleb is staying in,” you hear Diana’s voice from behind you. You don’t move, not wanting to show that you’re listening in, and slowly inhale. “Maybe the Colonel needs a late night visit.”

Your face contorts. Your nostrils flare, lip curling upward, and your gaze narrows in on the elevator doors. You slowly inhale and exhale, taking deep breaths to try and calm down the sudden onset of anger that floods your body. It is so unusual that you’re reacting so viscerally to another woman wanting to flirt with Caleb.

You could care less about who he does and does not fuck! Okay, maybe fuck isn’t the right word here, but you still shouldn’t care about what he does in his private time. You are the one who made it clear to him that the two of you are acquaintances. You are the one who made for sure he knows that you aren’t interested in him. If anything, Caleb should go after Diana! He should take a peek into whatever it is she has to offer him and indulge himself in the attention he’s receiving.

And you? Well, you can watch whatever show is playing on the hotel’s television with a pint of your favorite ice cream.

I hope I’m not roomed next to either of them. You think to yourself.

A gentle touch lulls you from your inner dialogue. You open your eyes and sigh, looking up at Caleb. His hat is tucked between his arm and side, his hair slightly disheveled but somehow he makes it work, and his eyes are fixed on yours.

It’s just the two of you in the room now, unless you want to count the security cameras that cover every angle of the military’s lobby. It still unsettles you to know that your every move will be watched and every action dissected and broken down, trying to see if there are any underlying motives that you may have.

“Pretty bird…we have to go,” Caleb’s voice is low, soft. The bubbling anger turns into a meek simmer. Your fists unclench, watching as his posture straightens and he places his cap back onto his dark locks.

“Are you doing anything tonight, Colonel?” you ask, knowing damn well that it’s an attempt to get him away from Diana and all of the other translators who want a piece of him.

“What?” Caleb blurts out. He blinks at you, shocked by your sudden question. Your eyes met his and all of the oxygen in his lungs seemed to escape him. He stammered and stuttered, earning an eye roll from you.

“Never mind. Forget I even asked,” you huff out and exit the embassy’s lobby, following behind the other people from Skyhaven who pile into cars.

Caleb, now out of the limbo you’ve thrown him in, takes his place at your side. The last car pulls up and, as fate would have it, it is just the two of you who will be inside. The black car with heavily tinted windows comes to a stop next to the two of you on the curb. Caleb looks down at you, perplexed expression still on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He sighs and watches as one of the soldiers from inside steps out and opens the backseat door.

The drive to the hotel was even more awkward than you imagined. Caleb’s eyes never left the side of you face and he watched you while you watched the outside world pass by.

The capital city looks like it has been stopped in time hundred of years ago. Cobblestone still lines the streets and many of the buildings’ architecture has a gothic look to them with stained glass and sharp pointed arches. Unlike Skyhaven, many of the buildings are built from stone and lime mortar instead of reinforced steel and glass. You love how different the city looks; you wonder if there is history you can learn about the country if you ever find the time to explore between meetings and avoiding Caleb.

“I’m not doing anything tonight,” Caleb speaks. You don’t look back at him, smiling at the images of big and grand courtyards that people sit and eat in so casually.

“Okay,” you hum.

“If you wanted to do something,” he whispers so the driver cannot hear. You shrug.

“It’s fine. I can figure out what to do on my own,” you glance at his reflection in the car window. It’s faint but still there. You watch as his once hopeful face falls. He literally looks like a puppy had been told it’s about to get a bath instead of being promised treats.

“Can we—” Caleb is interrupted by the car stopping. His backdoor opens and he groans. He turns his head back to look at you but you have already left the car, closing the door behind you. His fists clench before he gets out himself, placing his hat back on his head.

Soldiers are lined up along the hotel’s perimeter. They stop passing pedestrians, asking for identification or a hotel key card to prove that they are staying there. Caleb knows that the heightened security is good, especially since you’ll be staying here. He’s going to keep a close eye on you, though, and be waiting outside your door in the morning when you’re ready to take on the long day ahead and he’ll be the last person you see when you go back to your room.

Although, if it were up to him, you’d be joining him in the suite Skyhaven is bound to give him so you’re only a room away instead of a whole different space entirely.

You follow the soldier to the safety of the hotel lobby. You flash your security clearance card to the guards at the door just in case, in which they nod and tell you to move on. The soldier then passes you off to a woman dressed in a neat and form fitting red dress. You smile at her and take the hotel keycard she hands you.

Caleb enters the hotel, blowing off soldiers and other military guards that try to stop him. Once they spot the Colonel insignia on his chest, they back away. His eyes scan the room for you, quickly spotting you just a few feet away. Out of the corner of his eye, though, movement catches his eye.

Professor Lucius crosses his field of vision, heading straight in your direction. Caleb’s blood goes cold. 

He watches the professor closely. The bony man moves across the room, going unnoticed, slipping and weaving through the few people inside with ease. His cane hangs from his fingers. It sways back and forth, slowly coming to a halt the closer he gets to you. Caleb’s feet move in your direction, picking up speed.

He can hear your screams from his nightmare. The way you cry out his name, the whines and pleas for someone to put you out of your misery while he is forced to do nothing. He moves in tandem with Professor Lucius, miming his every move.

If he moves to the left, so does Caleb.

If he take a step to the right, so does Caleb.

He can’t let the Professor get to you.

“Your luggage has already been delivered to your room. If you see that anything is missing, please call us and we will do our best to find it for you,” her voice is so soothing and so sweet. You smile at her, replying with a thank you and begin to walk away when Caleb’s fingers wrap around your waist. His fingers dig into your body, the man wanting to touch your skin once again but having to settle for the faint warmth through your clothes.

Your eyes shoot up to his face and you expect to meet his gaze but instead he stares at the woman. She hands him a separate key card and begins to say the same thing she said to you. Caleb, on the other hand, has another idea. He walk you two away, heading straight for the elevator through the near empty hotel lobby. Your gaze darts around, trying to see if anyone notices the way he’s pulled you to his side.

A tall and slender man watches you two. His tiny features send chills down your spine. He wears a brown suit with patches on the elbows, his hair as white as snow, with deep sunken cheekbones. His mere presence leaves you feeling unnerved, your hand finding itself on Caleb’s wrist, hugging his hand tighter to your side. The man gives you a simple wave of his fingers, leaning against his wooden cane. You turn your face away, body now covered in goosebumps. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss under your breath, being pushed into an empty elevator. The doors are forcefully closed behind him. He reaches to the side with ease and presses a single button. You gulp and look back up at him, wondering what’s going through his mind.

Caleb’s face is blank. His eyes, though, radiate the urgency to keep you safe, to keep you at his side. His heart pounds in his chest. The tips of his ears are pink. His grip on your waist tightens as the Professor’s distinct laugh fills his ears.

But he can’t give into his emotions. His memories of you are on the line if he does.

“Caleb,” you cross your arms over your chest, “what are you doing?”

“Stay with me.”

“What?” an unexpected chuckle leaves your mouth.

“I don’t trust these people. I need to keep you safe. Please just…stay with me,” Caleb’s eyes soften.

“Caleb…I can’t.”

The words hang in the air between you. Your eyes scan Caleb’s face, watching as the muscles underneath his skin twitch. You hold your breath, chest popped out, watching as he closes the distance. His eyes look everywhere but at your own, moving from your eyebrows to your cheeks, memorizing the way your hair falls over your shoulder and the way the jacket hangs from your body. A sigh escapes his lips and he cups one of your cheeks with his left hand. Caleb leans in and presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. You follow suit and reach up to hold his wrist, your thumb grazing over the top of his hand.

“Please…” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours, “I don’t know what I’d do if you get hurt because of me.”

“I’m not going to get hurt, Caleb,” you breathe out. Caleb pushes his face in but you pull back, having him follow you. You shake your head and he sighs, his hands dropping to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. “I’m going to be okay—”

“You don’t—!” Caleb catches himself. He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice once again. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you reach both hands to cup his cheeks, “you want to know how I know that?”

Caleb opens his eyes and looks down at you. You can see the wheels in his brain turning. He nods; it’s small yet desperate, his entire sanity clinging onto it. You sigh and run your thumbs back and forth over his cheekbones. His purple irises burn into yours.

“I know I’m going to be safe because you’re here with me.”

It’s the truth. You do feel safe with him, in the sanctity of his arms. To be honest, you feel as if being closer to him, by staying in his room, will only cause more trouble. Maybe some distance will be good, yeah? If anything happens, you have his phone number memorized at this point so you can call him. You know he’ll come running to save you.

The elevator doors open with a ding. The air is heavy around the two of you. Caleb gently squeezes your waist one last time before stepping backwards and out of the elevator. His Colonel comes off his head, his hair messy and slightly sticking outwards. You sigh at his appearance, your heart swooning.

Caleb looks exactly like he did on the first day of high school. He has the same tired expression on his face with his hair disheveled as always. He had just come back from an early morning run to calm his nerves, he told you. The two of you walked side by side along the sidewalk. He carried your backpack while you held his printed out schedule in his hand, comparing it to yours.

It’s memories like these that remind you that you know the Caleb outside of her. You know who he is when she isn’t around, or when anyone is around for that matter. You know the Caleb that everyone loves and adores, the Caleb that they can lean on.

But you know the Caleb that they didn’t get to see. The one that waves to you from the street before his nightly and morning run. The one that spent over an hour helping you with a math problem you couldn’t solve. The one that protected you during dodgeball in freshmen gym class. The one that gave you the first butterfly of your collection as a gift to say sorry.

Caleb was the only one who said sorry to you.

The elevator doors slowly close. Caleb’s face disappears behind the steel doors. You stand in the heavy silence, basking in all of the regret that forms on your chest, weighing you down. The elevator doesn’t move, hanging in its spot. You stare at the panel of buttons, looking at the open door button at the bottom.

You can go after him, chase him down the hallway, beg for him to let you in his warm embrace one last time. You can beg for his forgiveness for being so cold to him. You can ask him to help you with your two bags, knowing that he would take on the load himself instead of letting you do it.

Press the button. Go on, do it!

Your voice is loud inside your head. The words echo before fading into nothingness. Your hand slowly extends towards the panel of buttons, your index finger hovering over the open door button. You bite your bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between your teeth.

Why are you hesitating? What’s holding you back? Don’t you love—

The elevator begins to move. It sinks to the lower levels. You shudder, a breath escaping your mouth.

Oh.

Life made the choice for you, didn’t it?

You press the button that leads to your floor, just two floors below his, and watch as the hand on the elevator’s floor list moves closer to the ground level. It stops on yours and you slip out, keeping your head hung low as your scurry down the hall and into your bedroom.

See? you think to yourself, it was never meant to be.

The week proceeded to go by so slowly. You grew fond of a routine that you and Caleb fell into, though, one that you subconsciously looked forward to ever since the first morning you were there. 

Every morning, Caleb stands outside your hotel door while you got dressed. He knocks four times and you knocked back twice. He always had three things in hand: two coffees (one for the each of you) and an apple. Once you left your room, you took the coffee in your hand and drank half of it before reaching for the apple he always took a bite out of. You jokingly call him selfish, which he doesn’t refute, and you stand in the elevator side by side ready to deal with that day’s meetings.

You wish you could say that the meetings are interesting. They probably would be if you could keep up with what Caleb and the other leaders were talking about. While you translated for Caleb, you scribble down notes for him, mentioning anything peculiar that the person said or a phrase that you wanted to look into. He knew that keeping your hand busy was a way for you to focus better, so he didn’t mind watching as you worked.

Throughout the way, when you two are on a break, he compliments you on your penmanship in a world that is almost only digital. You laugh at him and roll your eyes, hiding your blush while looking away.

At every meeting, Caleb always pulled out your chair for you (if it was an option) and he always had his hand on your back when entering and exiting the rooms. He took the lead, as he usually does as Colonel, but also made sure that people give you the same respect that they gave him.

Caleb may not know their language, but you do. You’re the one holding all of the cards in your hands. It’s up to you to decide how to translate a word if they speak in a phrase or in slang terms. You are the one with all of the power in the room, not him. You deserve more respect than he does.

It is the morning of the last day of the peace summit. You wake up bright and early, the wind blowing in through your window, the bottom of the curtains swaying back and forth. Sitting up in bed, you yawn and stretch out your body.

The breeze is warm. It brings you immense comfort, wrapping you in a blanket. You fall back onto the bed, arms curled over your head, legs spread apart. You take up the entirety of the mattress. The white sheets are bunched up beside you, messily thrown about the bed. A tired smile creeps onto your face.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your gaze drifts towards the door of your hotel room. Your stomach flutters and you draw your legs together. You hesitate. There’s another knock, a little more forceful, yet still quiet just enough to break through the quiet of the morning.

“Caleb?” you call out.

“Are you not up yet?” Caleb’s voice is muffled on the other side of the door. You groan and shake your head, hoping that your silence would be answer enough for him. “Come on, open up!”

“Too lazy,” you push through words out as your stretch your body again, a small squeak escaping your lips before you relax back into the bed. “You can break in if you want, I don’t care,” you mumble, eyes drooping closed, your body slowly slipping back into sleep.

To you, it feels as if seconds have gone by when the door swings open. Your body jolts awake, eyes big and wide. You watch as Caleb saunters into the main room, well, you suppose it’s the entire room. The Fleet didn’t really go all out on lowly translators like yourself. You watch him through one open eye in bed. You’re laid on top of the sheets, slowly pulling them over your face.

Caleb sighs with content. He watches you curl back up into a bad, hiding your face from him. Your legs are exposed, wearing a simple pair of pajama shorts matched with an oversized t-shirt. They disappear under the blanket and he wishes he had just one more moment to look at them, to memorize how they look so he can imagine you waking up beside him in bed during a gloomy Skyhaven morning. Who needs the sun when you’re right here?

Caleb places the two coffees and pastry bag on the room’s desk. His hat sits next to the cups. The man glances at you from over his shoulder, a slow push of wind causing your arms to stretch up and into the air. A small smile forms on his face and his heart races in his chest. Caleb takes a couple of breaths to calm it down, not wanting to get too excited, and glides across the room. He sits down on the side of the bed. The mattress dips down and rolls you over to face him.

The white sheets slip to the side and unveil your face. A sleepy smile is on your lips, your eyes closed.

Are you still dreaming? Are you happy that I’m here?

Caleb places his hand on your hip, his thumb grazing against your soft, untouched skin. Oh, how he wants to lean down and kiss the exposed area, to show you just how much he loves you.

“Good morning,” he tilts his head to the side. You open your eyes an sigh, mumbling a ‘morning’ in return. “Let’s get ready, yeah? We have one last meeting to attend before we’re done.”

“That’s not true,” you groan, slowly getting up. Caleb wraps an arm around you, his fingers snaking under the fabric of your shirt and onto your skin. His calloused skin is a stark contrast to yours. You love how it feels against you, though. “I have a whole day of translating speeches for you.”

“That you do.”

“And I get to be stuck in a small booth when it happens. Boo.”

“Boo,” Caleb whispers and brushes the hair out of your face. Still under sleep’s trance, you lean into his touch and sigh, your body fully melting into his grip. “Come on, have some coffee, wake up.”

The coffee cup slowly floats over to the bed. He catches it and holds it out to you. You lazily take it, your fingers barely holding onto the cup so Caleb has to hold the bottom, and you bring it to your lips, the caffeine immediately hitting your body. Your eyes slowly grow bigger and bigger, the dull sleeping sensation freeing from your body.

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking another sip. Caleb nods. His fingertips trace the line of your jaw before cupping your face.

The pad of his thumb lays on your bottom lip. Your heart pounds in your chest. You suddenly become aware of the situation you are in. Old and worn out pajamas grace your body, your hair is a mess, and your breath probably smells since you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. Your eyes try to meet his but Caleb is focused on your lips. Your breathing grows shallow. He gently swipes his thumb across your lip. Caleb pulls away, his eyes finally meeting yours. For a moment, you swear you could hear his pounding heart as well.

“You had some coffee…” his words are quiet and are formed like an excuse for being to close to you, for pushing the boundary that has begun to evaporate between the two of you.

“Oh,” you breathe out. Caleb pulls away and stands. He looks down at you, then at his watch, then back to you.

“I’ll give you some time to change,” he clears his throat and slowly exits your hotel room. The door clicks behind him and you melt into the mattress, overing your face with a nearby pillow. A muffled and very frustrated yell is absorbed into the pillow. You pull it away and sigh, getting dressed.

As expected, the meeting is delayed by an hour due to technical difficulties. You sit inside a small room that overlooks the grand auditorium. You instantly spotted Caleb as soon as you stepped inside. You watched him as he moves around the room with ease, speaking with close allies and avoiding any enemies that the Fleet may have.

You also spot the tall, old man from the hotel lobby your first day here. He, like you, keeps a close eye on Caleb as well as other Farspace Fleet officers. He stands next to the General. Their heads lean into each other every so often as they observe the room. You wonder what they talk about.

Caleb sits down in his designated seat. He sighs to himself and rolls his head back, rubbing his eyes. The ear piece in his ear has been unusually quiet ever since you tested it with him earlier. He loosens his tie and looks around the room. He looks over his shoulder and looks at the line of mirrors that reflect the room. His purple eyes scan them.

Which one are you in?

“Are you trying to find me?” your voice comes from the earpiece. He inwardly chuckles, slightly nodding. “You’re close.”

Am I?

Caleb begins at the leftmost window. He slowly makes his way to the other side, listening to your soft coos of him getting warmer and warmer.

“Oof,” you shake your head from the booth. You’re practically leaned up against the two way mirror, looking down at him, your breath fogging up the glass. “You’re cold again. That’s a shame. I thought I remembered that you’d always find me.”

Caleb brings his eyes back to the left. He counts the windows before landing on one. He cocks his head to the side, a small grin appearing on his lips. You smile back, as if he can even see you, and lean back in your chair.

“Well would you look at that,” you purr, “you found me.”

You watch as his lips move. You can just hear the smugness in his silent tone, the arrogant and winning attitude shining through. Maybe show some humility next time, Caleb, girls love it.

“I need to tell you something,” you admit, rocking back and forth on your heels, “I’m going out tonight with the other translators…and a few others from other places.”

Caleb’s eyes widen. He stares at the window. Anxiety forms in his chest. His heart race slightly increases but it stays steady enough to not cause any alarm bells in his head to go off. He sits up in his chair, leaning forward. You copy his actions and sigh, knowing that it must be killing him to not be able to respond back.

“You’re going to behave, yes?” you playfully ask, wanting to lighten the mood. “And you better not be in front of my door when I get back. You won’t get…pretty bird privileges if you are. Nod so I know you understand.”

Caleb’s fists clench. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, anticipation bubbling in your chest. You’re toying with him, yes, having a bit of fun before he goes full bodyguard when you get back. Also, Caleb deserves to have his head spin for the night, to spend hours worrying about you.

He did break into your hotel room, after all.

His fingernails threaten to break through the leather of his gloves. Caleb sighs and relaxes into his seat, knowing that he is not going to win this battle. After a few more seconds, he slowly nods. You breathe out, relieved that he’s loosening the leash he has you on.

“Thank you.”

Much to your surprise, you come back to your hotel room early that night. The dinner with all of the other translators was fun, yes, but you began to feel the win get to your head and, well, everyone knows what happens when you have a little too much to drink.

Caleb wasn’t at your door. A part of you felt relieved while the other part felt remorse for being so curt with him earlier. Poor guy didn’t even have a chance to defend himself or to protest against your wishes.

Did he even survive the few hours you were away? Guess you’ll find out tomorrow morning.

Your bed felt so comforting to get into despite it not being your bed at home. It was what you got, though, and push the complaints out of your head. You wiggle under the tight sheets, liking how it holds you against the bed like when your dad aggressively tucked you in as a child. A small smile spreads across your face, eyes closed, ready for sleep to come and take you.

But it doesn’t.

An hour of tossing and turning in bed does you no good. Your mind is wide awake despite your body ready for sleep. The ceiling is undeniably boring and against your better judgment, you get out of bed and make your way to the balcony.

The night air greets you like an old friend, warm with a slight chill to it, the perfect temperature. You sigh into the night sky. In Skyhaven, the stars shine brighter and the moon is much bigger. You...miss it. You miss the constant clouds and rainstorms. Everyday here has been nothing but hot, leaving you finding shelter near an A.C. in the hotel and building where the Summit is being held.

A slow gust of wind pushes your hair out of your face and over your shoulders, hanging over your back. You sigh and close your eyes, soaking in the warm hug of the breeze.

Caleb is also out on his balcony right now. Instead of the stars and moon, he watches the blinking lights of flying planes overhead. In Skyhaven, one can see the blinking lights of satellites and space ships. A slow breath leaves his lips. A plane disappears behind a fluffy, gray cloud. Oh, how he wishes he was in the sky right now, his second home (the first being in your arms, of course).

He is just about to go back inside when he catches a glimpse of the top of your head. You’re two floors down and two rooms to the right. The Colonel steps to the edge of his balcony, looking down at you. He leans against the metal railing. His purple eyes focus on your tiny frame, the large t-shirt sliding off of your shoulder. He watches as you slowly inhale and exhale, the Colonel quickly joining in.

Is this you in your true self? The you that can be seen when nobody is watching? He loves it.

You open your eyes and stare at the bright, white moon. Its full body makes the night sky bright with the stars being mere specks of white that litters the black sky. It truly is a sight to be seen. You can’t help but wonder if Caleb is awake.

“Psst…pretty bird.”

Holy shit. Are you a psychic? 

You look above you. Caleb’s chuckles fall down to you.

“You’re very cold right now.”

Ah, so he is to the left of you. You follow the direction of his voice, hands gripping the metal railing of the balcony. You look up, craning your neck to look around other balconies. Caleb’s face comes into view and you proudly smile, leaning against the metal bars.

“Is this what it feels like to be found?” Caleb quips. You can’t help but laugh and shake your head at him.

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” you shoot back. Caleb nods. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Same,” you huff and turn away, looking back into the night sky. “The moon is pretty tonight.”

“You’re even more beautiful,” Caleb mumbles under his breath. “Do you need a sleeping pill or something?” He calls out. You shake your head and look back up at him.

“Hey…this reminds me of something,” you lean back over the edge of the railing, looking up at him. He raises his eyebrow, looking down at you. “Freshmen year. Miss Hart’s English class. She made us recite the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene in class. Except, you’re Juliet and I’m Romeo.”

Did we? Caleb inwardly sighs. I…I don’t remember.

You watch Caleb’s face contort once again like it did not even a few days ago. Silence overtakes your body. You nod and look away, catching the hint.

Of course, he didn’t remember. It probably wasn’t important enough to remember, anyways. It was stupid of you to bring up. You wipe a stray tear that falls from your eye, the sting of rejection and defeat all too familiar to you.

“Pretty bird?” Caleb catches your attention. You stare at him, hiding your glossy eyes from him. “Let’s not reminisce in the past. Let’s make new memories.”

“New memories,” you sigh to yourself. Your head rolls back, neck exposed.

Caleb stares at your skin under the moonlight; he wishes he could be down there with you, to hold you in his arms. He’ll never let go. He’ll recite any damn passage from Romeo and Juliet if it meant that you would look at him the same way you did that morning.

“Sure, why not,” you call out to him. His face lights up.

“Do you mean that?” he asks. You nod and his heart grows three sizes. “Let me come down there. Let’s make a new memory. Maybe I can help you fall asleep, too.”

“If you’re trying to get my pants off, Juliet,” you look up at him and narrow your eyes, “it isn’t going to work.” Caleb scoffs and rolls his eyes, not that you can see it very well, and his face scrunches up.

“Well, Romeo,” Caleb’s laugh is breathy with just the right amount of rasp to make your brain do a double take, “I was thinking more of us watching a shitty hotel movie.”

“Oh.” You look away, feeling the heat rise up on your cheeks.

Just a movie. Okay. Yeah, you can do that. It wasn’t really what you were expecting. Maybe a part of you was expecting the pants off part but this works too!

“Your place or mine?” you ask with a small smile, not looking in his direction. When you don’t hear a quippy or lighthearted answer from your childhood friend, you finally look up at Caleb’s balcony to see that he is —

Not there?

You lean forward and over the railing, trying to get a better look. Where could he have possibly gone? Does he not want to hang out with you? Well…damn. You never thought that Caleb would ever reject you—

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your heart stops. You slowly turn to look at the door, the only light coming from the small peephole in the middle of the stocky wooden panel. A few seconds pass. Your heart starts to beat again. You come back inside the room, creeping closer to the door. With every step you take, your heart skips a beat, beating faster and faster as the distance between you and him slowly diminishes. You grab the doorknob and push it downwards. The man on the other side pushes it open.

Caleb stands in the doorway, his hand flat against the door above your head. He looks down at you. The light from the hallway seeps through his messy hair, creating a halo like effect around his head. He takes a step forward, his broad shoulders filling the diameter of the frame. You take a step backwards and let go of the handle.

Caleb and you take each step slowly; every move is deliberate and calculated. The door clicks shut behind him. The two of you stand in darkness. You don’t dare to move but Caleb does, entering your close proximity. His faded blue shirt brushes against your purple one. You struggle to watch him in the darkness.

The light above your head flicks on. A small breath leaves your mouth, eyes wide open when you tilt your chin up to him. His eyes latch onto yours. His gaze alone sends chills to the spot between your legs. He doesn’t look away.

“Nice room.”

“It’s shitty and you know it,” your breathing is shaky, suddenly becoming aware that Caleb is here. He is here in your small hotel room, invading your space.

The funny thing? You don’t seem to mind anymore.

“You should have stayed with me when I offered,” a small smile twitches on his lips before his face falls again. You nod and stifle a laugh behind a closed mouth.

Being the first one to move, you turn away and scramble for the bed, tripping over your own feet but recovering quick enough for him to just barely notice. You pull back the bed’s sheets. The side of the bed closest to the balcony is yours.

Selfishly, you took this side because if an intruder were to come in, Caleb would be closest to them. While he fights them off, you’d make your escape to the balcony and hop to the neighboring one to seek refuge.

The mattress dips beside you. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Caleb’s shoulder brushes against yours, a spark of electricity igniting between you two. Your legs are tiny compared to his. He’s just a hunk of a man, gargantuan in every way possible.

Well, that’s not true. You don’t exactly know what he’s packing downstairs.

“What should we watch?” Caleb’s voice draws your face to look at him. He watches you from the corner of his eye. He turns the television on and the light paints his skin in the faint colors from the vibrant musical that plays. You silently gulp and look at the screen, needing a break from his dominant demeanor.

“Anything is good with me…as long as it isn’t horribly depressing or grotesque or has that one actress with the weird nose to forehead ratio or is basically propaganda from the Farspace Fleet.”

Caleb slowly turns to look at you, his mouth slightly agape from your list of no’s. You glance over and briefly meet his gaze before immediately turning back away. You grab one of the decorative pillows that separate your bodies and pull it to your chest, tucking your chin into the material.

“Alright…I can find something along your very relaxed guidelines,” Caleb muses with an amused chuckle.

After a few minutes of him clicking through channels, and you endlessly vetoing what he has to offer, you have found yourself tucked into his side. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pinned against the headboard. The tips of his fingers slipped beneath your shirt, gently swirling circles and stars into your skin. The side of your face is placed against his shoulder, one hand on his chest. You shake your head as he clicks through the channels. He smells even better than before. His cologne is intoxicating, the underlying musk drawing you in, making you want to stay attached to his side the rest of your life.

You truly don’t care what you watch with him, as long as it’s good and entertaining. All you really want to do is sit here with him and listen to his slow and steady heartbeat.

“Pretty bird,” Caleb breathes out, giving your side a gentle squeeze, “let’s pick somethin’, yeah?” You nod with a quiet yawn, already feeling the effects of sleep working on you.

He clicks through a few more channels before it lands on a romcom from decades ago. You don’t shake your head, which causes Caleb to look at you. Your tired eyes widen from the snappy dialogue. You love just how sarcastic and witty the love interests are with each other; the push and pull between them is absolutely electric. Caleb smiles and places the remote down, finally happy that you found something good to watch.

Every other minute or so, the two of you laugh. The laughs are tired and sometimes mixed in with a shared yawn. Your eyes begin to droop, your head fully leaning into Caleb’s shoulder. Quiet breaths, borderline snores, leave your mouth. You’ve succumbed to the blissfulness of sleep. You tried to fight it off as best you could but your efforts were futile. His embrace tightens. He feels your body relaxing, melting into his. He’ll sit upright all night long with you if it means that you’re able to get a peaceful night of sleep, that you won’t be harmed by nightmares like he is.

Soon, he follows, the quiet sound of the romantic comedy lulling him to sleep and, for once, he isn’t burdened with a nightmare.

Caleb wakes up to the sound of you rummaging through your luggage. He’s typically a light sleeper but with you he didn’t wake up once through the entire night. That’s a success, truly. The Colonel leans his head up, being sure not to move too much to alarm you. You’re dressed in a suit, one that hugs your curves just right while being loose enough to allow your body to breathe. A smile spreads across his face.

“Mornin’, pretty bird.”

You jump in your skin, standing up right with loose earrings in your hands. You turn to face Caleb, whose hair is messy, eyes half-lidded from sleep. The sight of him makes your heart flutter, your stomach quivering from your budding school-girl crush on him. His eyes scan up and down your body, heading tilting to the side. His brows knit together before they come back up to your gaze.

“We…we don’t have any meetings planned today. all we have is the gala tonight. Why are you…” his voice falls off, unable to find the proper words to string together. You sigh and run your fingers through your freshly dried hair, smelling like the hotel’s clean shampoo.

“The General called the room this morning. He asked me to assist him and…” you stammer, circling around to his side of the bed. You struggle to put your earrings in, a frustrated chuckle emitting from your throat. “I mean, you know how it is. Can’t really say no, can you? When they say jump, we say—”

“How high.” Caleb finishes your sentence, disappointment tinged in his voice. He looks in the other direction, looking out of your open balcony door and into the morning light.

Caleb knows what it’s like to be a lapdog to those who hold power over you. He knows exactly how it feels to be summoned in the middle of the night because the power above him, one that he plans on breaking free from, wishes for him to make someone disappear.

“I’ll be back soon…hopefully…but I will definitely be back for the gala, so…save me a dance, okay?” you smile at him, half out of breath, fastening the last piece of jewelry to your body. Caleb finally looks back over to you, a small and weak smile appearing on his face. You’re too busy and frazzled to notice the strain in his face, the anxiety that rips throughout his body while he watches you leave the hotel room.

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