#my mind has been abuzz with all this stuff

[endless-ineffabilities]

the only place (Ewan Mitchell x f!reader)

a/n: a purely self-indulgent little blurb inspired by the latest crumbs of our Iceberg! <3

main masterlist ▪︎ next part

Ewan attends the press night of The Other Place. As the audience is filing in, and the theatre is abuzz with excitement, he sees you.

Ewan could not stop looking at you.

It was almost silly, the way his head kept whipping back in your direction, as you stood a little distance away, talking to Bethany.

Harry and his friend were telling Ewan of their recent trip to Ibiza, and he didn't want to be rude, but their words were becoming muffled due to him straining to hear the sound of your voice. You gestured enthusiastically to Bethany as you regaled her with a story, and that smile – damn, that smile.

"So we ended up staying until 8 that morning, can you believe that?" Harry exclaimed, pausing to allow Ewan to react.

When he received no response, Harry trailed Ewan's gaze right to you.

"You smitten, mate?" Harry grinned. "Go say hi to her!"

"Wh-what?" Ewan stammered. Smooth. It wasn't an easy drop from high up in the clouds where his mind drifted. You drew him there, and he remained suspended in your allure.

"That's Beth's friend. She's really lovely, you know. You should introduce yourself," Harry said. When he sensed Ewan's hesitation, he pressed on, "Come on, you clearly want to."

Bethany was pulled aside by another friend, so Ewan took that as his cue, his legs moving as if on autopilot. A moth drawn to your flame.

He reached you, and your eyes widened slightly at his sudden appearance.

He had always thought himself a poet at heart, spending countless hours poring over complex books, but all he could muster in that instance was, "Hello."

But it apparently was enough, because you smiled brightly at him. You practically glowed in his eyes.

"Hi," you replied warmly. "Oh, I know who you are. I love Aemond Targaryen."

"Oh?" His heart jumped, pitter pattering in his ears. "Well, I'm flattered. Thank you."

"Yeah, I think you're a brilliant actor." You expressed genuinely, before offering your hand out and introducing yourself.

"That's a beautiful name," he remarked.

"Thanks," you mumbled shyly, looking down briefly. Was he getting to you? Was he having the same effect on you as you have on him? Impossible.

"You're friends with Bethany?" he asks.

"I am, for quite some time now. Ever since I moved to this city."

"Hmm." He smiled, his confidence gaining a much needed boost. He asked you a couple more questions, eager to hear every one of your responses. The attraction only deepened the more he found out about you.

At some point, he asked, "How are you finding the city? Has Bethany shown you around?"

"Well, the city's been amazing. You really can never run out of stuff to do, and Beth's been great at taking me to the best spots out there, you know?"

"Yeah, that's good. There's this... uhhh... indie cinema that I go to all the time. It's quite lowkey, very niche. Do you like watching movies?"

You beamed, shrugging as if to say obviously. "Movies are my bread and butter, Ewan."

"Mine too," he noted, before hitting home. It was now or never. "We should visit that cinema together sometime."

A beat passed. His throat tightened slightly in anticipation. He must have done something wrong. He forgot to say please. He forgot to add, if you want.

Was he coming on too strong?

"Are you asking me out?" You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing. He took a mental picture, saving it for your grandkids.

Yours and his. He cringed inwardly. He severely needed to get a grip.

"Yes... I am."

"Well, then... I would love to."

He thanked his lucky stars. He thanked Emma in his mind for starring in that play and inviting him tonight.

That play – truly the best and most excellent that there ever was and ever will be. And it had not even started yet.

To Ewan, no other play will ever compare until the end of time.

Because it led him to you.

[obae-me]

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

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

Anyways, enjoy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satan? It’s me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Bite me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demons…” you sighed. --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should you be getting paid for this?…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O…w…”

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

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

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

“Belphie!”

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

“..illith…Beel…”

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

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

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

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

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

“M…C…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!”

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

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

--

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

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

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, but you owe me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

[zeebreezin]

World Event: For Want of a Bloom!

— London is abuzz in the coming weeks: The Drifting Kingdom of Anther has been sighted yet again! Great clusters of Lanternfruit, each the size of an airship, drift ever closer to the southern edge of the Zee. Anther will remain for a short time before it drifts further south, to bask under the light of Stone one again. Petals of all types paint the Zee as Anther completes its lap of the Elder Continent. Fantastical stories of Anther have spread like pollen through a spring breeze - the flying kingdom’s flora is the stuff of legend, flowers immune to decay in hues that would put any Surface gardener to shame. Even salvaged petals, dried and pressed, will fetch their weight in gold in London… but more daring Londoners have taken up the duty of scaling Anther’s root covered walls to collect fresh blossoms and cuttings. It’s dangerous work, fending off killer flora, extreme altitudes, and the roaming groups of Antheri citizens who consider it a beloved national pastime to bat thieving guests off the edge of their city. Surely, this cannot be worth it, all for a few flowers…?

@violant-apologia ‘s post inspired me to write up some more details on my fan Presbyterate kingdom: Anther, the city of flowers! The floating city frequently drifts out to open waters to hydrate the massive, correspondence infused Lanternfruit that keep it aloft. During this time, Londoners love to steal some of those beautiful flowers off the city, where they’re used for dyes, poisons, academic study, and just having the best look of 99’. Anther… really doesn’t mind this as much as it should. After all, they’re just flowers. This is the equivalent of someone robbing your grandma’s garden… and chasing Londoners around for a bit of blood sport is pretty fun!

[comfortless]

AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT

Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph

Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko

ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)

hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.

It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.

There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.

There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.

König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.

Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.

He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.

There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?

It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.

He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.

König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.

He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.

With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.

He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.

There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.

And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.

He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.

“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.

“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.

König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.

“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.

She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.

The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.

He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.

She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.

And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.

[nickeverdeen]

can I request something for doctor strange pls? It's not romantic, it's just platonic)

So, the imagine would have two scenes, and there's years gap between the scenes. So, in the first, fem!reader is a kid (eleven or twelve) and she's in the same store as stephen. He's still a doctor in this one, so he's in his arrogant era. She's in the cashier trying to buy a box with special crayons but it's more expensive that she thought, so stephen buys it for her (he's rich, it's not a big deal for him.) but he's not all smiles kindness when she thanks him, and says he only did that so she could get out of the line and let him pay for his stuff, a detail she will remember for a long time.

In the second scene, they get to reunite when peter needs to ask him for a favor and brings his friend (now in her late teen years) reader. They recognize each other immediatly, and while reader says (when they have privacy from peter for a bit) she still has those crayons and tells him she will go to art college, stephen feels a little akward because he recognizes he could have been nicer by that time.

From Crayons to Canvases | Doctor Strange x platonic fem!reader

Warnings: None

———————————————————-

The bustling sound of the store filled the air as eleven-year-old Y/N stood at the cashier, clutching a box of special crayons. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, but your face fell when you saw the total on the register. You fumbled through your small purse that you got for your birthday, your fingers counting the coins you had carefully saved up.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t have enough,” you mumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Behind you, a tall man in an expensive suit sighed impatiently. His sharp, authoritative demeanor made him stand out, and his frustration was palpable as he checked his watch repeatedly. This was Dr. Stephen Strange, renowned surgeon, known as much for his arrogance as his skill.

The cashier, a kind elderly woman, smiled sympathetically at you. “Maybe you can come back another time, dear.”

Your heart sank. You had been looking forward to these crayons for weeks. As you turned to leave, Dr. Strange stepped forward, pulling out his sleek, black wallet. “How much is it?” he asked brusquely.

The cashier told him the amount, and with a roll of his eyes, Strange handed over the money. “Here. Just get out of the way,” he said, his tone lacking any warmth.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you, sir!” You said earnestly, your gratitude shining through despite his cold demeanor and the small feeling of hurt and saddness in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Strange muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “Just move, kid, so I can pay for my stuff.”

You quickly moved aside, clutching your prized crayons to your chest. You glanced back at Strange, his face a mask of indifference, and felt a mix of awe and confusion. Despite his harsh words, he had done something kind for you, a detail you would remember for a long time.

As Strange paid for his items, your mind was abuzz with thoughts. You wondered why someone so seemingly cold and arrogant would help you. With one last look at him, you exited the store, the special crayons in hand and hurried home to tell your mom, unaware that this fleeting encounter would stay with you for years to come.

———

The Sanctum Sanctorum was a place of mystique and wonder, filled with artifacts from across the dimensions. Peter Parker, the young and energetic Spider-Man, had come seeking help from Stephen Strange. Beside him was his friend, Y/N, now in her late teens. You looked around the grandiose building with wide eyes, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.

“Whoa, this place is incredible,” Peter whispered to you as you both walked through the echoing halls.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s something,” you replied, your thoughts drifting to the last time you had seen Strange. You wondered if he would remember you after all these years.

As you and Peter approached the main room, Strange appeared, his cape billowing slightly as he moved. His face, though older and marked by the experiences of a sorcerer, still bore that same authoritative expression.

“Peter” Strange greeted, his tone both curious and wary. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Sir, I’m so sorry for wasting your time, but we need your help,” Peter began, launching into an explanation about the recent chaos involving the multiverse. You stood quietly by his side, studying Strange’s face, searching for any sign of recognition.

Strange listened intently, his eyes occasionally flicking to you. There was something familiar about you, a spark of memory that tugged at the edges of his mind. As Peter finished, Strange nodded, turning his attention fully to you.

“And you are, young lady?” he asked, his voice softer than Peter expected.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering a small smile. “We… we’ve actually met before, a long time ago.”

Strange’s brows furrowed in thought. “Met before?” he repeated, scanning your face. Suddenly, a memory from years past surfaced – a little girl at a store, struggling to buy a box of crayons. His eyes widened slightly. “The crayons,” he murmured.

Your smile grew. “Yes, the crayons. You bought them for me when I didn’t have enough money.”

Peter looked between you two, confused. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

You nodded. “Sort of. He hepled me out in a shop”

Strange cleared his throat, feeling a rare moment of awkwardness. “Right, I remember now. That was… quite some time ago.”

Peter was sent off on a task by Strange, and the Sorcerer Supreme led you to a quieter room. “I must admit,” Strange said, “I didn’t expect to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” you replied, your voice warm. “Actually, I still have those crayons. They meant a lot to me, more than you probably realized.”

Strange felt a pang of guilt and awkwardness. “I’m glad to hear that. I could have been… nicer, back then.”

You chuckled softly. “You were in a hurry, I get it. But that small act of kindness made a big difference to me. It inspired me, in a way.”

“Inspired you?” Strange echoed, genuinely curious.

“Yeah. I’m going to art college now,” you said, your eyes shining with excitement. “I’ve always loved drawing, and those crayons… they were the start of it all.”

Strange felt a rare smile tug at his lips. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m sorry if I came off as rude back then. I’ve learned a lot since those days.”

You nodded. “It’s okay. We all have our moments. I’m just glad I got to thank you properly.”

As you continued to talk, Strange felt an unexpected warmth. It was rare for him to reflect on his past, especially the time before he became a sorcerer. Your presence was a reminder of his humanity, a link to a simpler time.

Peter returned, and Strange turned his attention back to the task at hand, but now with a renewed sense of purpose. The encounter with you had shifted something within him, reminding him that even the smallest acts of kindness could leave a lasting impact. As you prepared to face the challenges ahead, Strange couldn’t help but feel a sense of fatherly connection to the young woman who had grown into an inspiring artist, all because of a box of crayons and a brief moment of generosity.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #66

Today's letter is maybe a little early, I know. But my mind is all abuzz with various things. In light of the realizations I've been having, it has occurred to me: though I am skilled at taking care of everyone in my general vicinity, I have no idea what taking care of myself really looks like, outside of a purely theoretical sense. And theory alone is difficult to follow through on.

So, whenever I try to imagine whatever it is that I might want and need at any given moment, my mind typically comes up with a big huge blank. If you asked me what I want right now, or what I need right now, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Most likely, I'd just stare at you, utterly baffled and looking stupid as I keep opening and closing my mouth, trying to come up with an answer and receiving only what effectively amounts to static noises and TV snow:

There are a lot of reasons for this. First of all, I've been trained to basically discount my own needs; saying that I'm hungry or thirsty or sleepy, for example, was a great way to get screamed at or smacked around in days past, so my mind has had to learn how to automatically ignore most sensations of discomfort that my body is trying to tell me, before I even consciously perceive that the discomfort is there. Especially if I'm focused on some task, I typically don't realize I'm hungry, thirsty, tired, or in pain until someone else tells me I'm being a crabbypants. My sense of interoception is very poor, and I'm not sure if that's the autism or the fact that I've had to learn from an early age to dissociate even from extreme stimuli.

Even for the pain from the rib injury, too; in an effort to protect itself from those who would get violent with me if I complained about pain or was slowed down from pain in any way (these people no longer exist in my life, and yet…), my mind automatically pushes the brunt of it out of my conscious perception (even though I no longer want it to do this; I'm working on it…), and what I'm left with is a sensation that's not… exactly pain as much as it is kind of a vague, dull, heavy cloud of general and poorly-defined unpleasantness that has settled itself into the upper right quadrant of my torso. And while this is an amazing skill to have (even if the price to get it was steep) because it allows me to mostly function through it, this also comes at a significant and ongoing energy cost; dissociation doesn't come cheap.

…So that's an obstacle between me and the whole "self-care" and "treating oneself gently" thing. Other obstacles include fun stuff like executive dysfunction (starting tasks is hard even if they're fun; stopping tasks is hard even if I hate them, and being reliably able to plan and prioritize multi-step tasks effectively is nothing but a distant fantasy for me) and impaired object permanence (this is why I forget that there are vegetables in the crisper drawer of the fridge until they start to smell weird). Then there's the rib injury itself, which limits my mobility and ability to do things in a given day, and the fact that my body does not tell me that I've done too much until it's too late (combination of dyspraxia and poor interoception), and then I gotta spend the next day paying for it.

Caffeine helps a little with the executive dysfunction, but it also makes me more prone to getting flashbacks, so I have to be very careful about how I use it. But I'm often not careful about how I use it, because I want to function. So by the end of all this, the general flow of my life looks kinda like this:

…And it's only taken me like 12 years, but I'm FINALLY starting to actually realize that this is very much NOT sustainable. I'm a squishy mammal, not a machine. And I can't exactly be hanging out over here, imploring you to take care of yourself while I'm over here being kind of a dumpster fire, right? Something about rocks and glass houses. So something has to change. But I'm not exactly sure what yet.

On Tuesday, my therapist asked me to chew on the question of "What does taking care of a Lumine actually look like?" And so far, all I've come up with is a list of obstacles that stand in the way. But it's better than the nothing that I had previously, right? I can build from something that is not a nothing; I can work with that.

One of the things I think I need in order to not feel overwhelmed is "not clutter". But we are a neurodivergent house, and all three of us tend to set things down in weird places and then immediately forget that they exist. Today, in an attempt to try to remedy this, one of the things I came up with (don't laugh at me too hard for this) is to try to treat my house as though it's yours and we're just watching over it and waiting for you to come back home (silly, impossible, and ridiculous for a variety of reasons, I know; but hey, whatever keeps me motivated, right?).

I don't know how sustainable this will be in the long term (for a variety of obvious reasons), but I suppose the process of trying to learn how to keep myself motivated to tend to myself and my space properly will involve me making a lot of mistakes along the way to try to figure out what works and what doesn't. Better to start from shaky ground than from no ground at all, and to try to build a solid foundation from there.

Another thing I came up with is to try to be alert and mindful about myself in the same way that I am alert and mindful about the people I care about in my immediate vicinity. To be fair, this "alertness" and "mindfulness" comes about as a result of the hypervigilance that the C-PTSD leaves me with, but I wonder if I can learn to take a more wholesome approach to it, and then learn to turn that lens inward upon myself in a more merciful fashion than I have in the past. I don't really know what this will look like yet, but maybe I can start by setting an alarm to check in with myself at least once an hour.

I'm tired of it being the case that I either break myself from not doing enough for myself, or break myself from trying to do too much in one sitting. In service to the goal that is trying to build a routine that isn't unreasonable in light of my limitations, I'm going to try to set hard limits on how many things I do in a given day. So for example, maybe I'll wash 10 dishes. Maybe I'll fold 10 clothing items. Maybe I'll vacuum one room. And even if I can "technically" do more, maybe I'll just leave it at that, because doing any of these for any amount of time causes a lot of pain in the affected side of my body.

Up until now, I've swung wildly between "doing nothing" and "doing all of it at once", and… this doesn't work. So I think I might have to try to start small by building a very gentle routine (the ADHD despises routine, while the autism desperately craves the structure, so this is a fun dynamic to have to try to play with…) and adding to it as I grow accustomed and comfortable. I think it's time to work with my neurotype and physical composition instead of punishing myself for the fact that neither of these things exist in a way that's considered "normal".

I might ask my friends for ideas, too; when the task at hand is difficult, you're supposed to ask for help. Humans are social creatures (yes, even if developmental trauma can sometimes make people think like they're "born solitary"). Maybe they'll have some ideas about what I can do, and about what proper self-care ought to look like; it'll be educational. To be sure, I have no idea what I'm doing, and there's a lot that I don't know.

But I'm going to try to blaze the path forward anyway and write down what I learn along the way, so that when you decide you're ready, you won't have to start from scratch; I don't know what good any of this will do, but I would almost rather stop breathing permanently than see you get cut down again, so I have to try something. Anything. Even if it means I gotta do something I'm terrified of doing (like acting as though I'm worth my own effort and compassion) in order to model for you how it's done.

In the meantime, while I'm trying to figure all this stuff out, I've done a few things around the house and poured myself a lovely cup of the biscuit tea (I know I said before that it's unremarkable, but it's growing on me nonetheless). I'll share with you a few of today's highlights, just on the off-chance that any of it might give you even a small reason to smile today.

Here is the biscuit tea I made for myself, before and after stirring:

Here is some salmon, before and after steaming. It's important to get your omega-3s while trying to build new neural connections.

Here is some rice, before and after cooking. Remember the jar of rendered chicken juices from my 64th letter to you? That was used to make this rice.

Sliced fresh carrots, steamed as the rice cooked:

Here's the balanced and wholesome meal that I made out of all this. I wish more than anything that I could hand you a bowl filled with these same contents.

And here's a freshly-made bed! Bubbles, my giant lovely orca plush, is having a marvelous time chilling out on a bed that has THREE blankets on it!! I'm gonna be so warm and toasty when I go to sleep!! It's gonna be great!!

You deserve all these things. You deserve a good tea, a wholesome, balanced, delicious meal, and a toasty, comfy bed all to yourself, where you can feel safe. Because all humans deserve these things; you're not an exception. So I'm gonna keep trying to help you. I'm gonna keep trying to call you back to yourself so you can build for yourself a life in which you can have this. I'm gonna keep trying because I love you in the same way that anyone loves a friend, and because there's lots of other people who love you, too.

We don't wanna see any more bad things happen to you, but really, only you have the power to make the kinds of choices that will lead you to peace and safety; all we can do is try to encourage you and cheer you on from here. I'll pray to every deity in my world that you might hear us and turn yourself around. So make good choices. Take care of yourself. Don't go so far away that the light of all the things that are beautiful and good cannot reach you. Sephiroth... please?

I'll write again tomorrow. I will always make the time to write to you, regardless of what I'm doing and no matter how tired I am. I'll always be right here.

Your friend, Lumine

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

By the by, regarding all the recent DreamWorks developments: KUNG FU PANDA 4 almost out, THE WILD ROBOT trailer out, the recent release of ORION AND THE DARK (still have to watch it, it's part of my animation ketchup alongside Pixar short SELF and a few other things), etc.

I have no reason to speak of this new MEGAMIND "movie" that's really just a pilot movie to a streaming series made by DreamWorks Animation TELEVISION. Not worth the energy, nothing for me to really talk about. I see some people on twitter all abuzz about it, with considerable fury. How DreamWorks fucked this up so bad! And how DreamWorks is so "inconsistent", how the WILD ROBOT is going to be an "apology" for this MEGAMIN- roflmao are you **serious**? Are you SERIOUS right now?

Different studio, number one... This would be like someone grilling Disney in spring 1994 for THE RETURN OF JAFAR, and suggesting that THE LION KING made up for that or whatever. Do these people hear themselves when they talk? DreamWorks' TV division has been making all sorts of lower-budget streaming fodder for years now, and they've only ramped it up in the recent years. These are the equivalents of the Disney DTV sequels and spin-off things.

But also, there are a concerning amount of animation fans out there who seem to look at DreamWorks - like any big studio - like it's one person. One author directing every movie. A "Mr. DreamWorks" fellow that directed everything from THE LAST WISH to TROLLS BAND TOGETHER to this MEGAMIND direct-to-streaming thing. If "animation is cinema" to you, then you ought to understand WHO is exactly working on these things... Not the buildings where they're being made. And think twice before you use THE LAST WISH as a meter that TROLLS 3 or *heck* any DreamWorks movie needs to live up to. Never mind that each filmmaker has their own aims. Maybe TROLLS 3 or whatever isn't made for *you* specifically, and that someone else out there really likes it. And that's fine. DreamWorks can make fantasy adventures about swashbuckling cats for general audiences, and movies for 6-year-old horse girls, and a lot in-between. Something for everyone!

I know, it's a bit hard for some people because animated features are literally branded like that. It's never Joel Crawford's PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH, it's DreamWorks' PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH. Ditto Walt Dohrn's TROLLS BAND TOGETHER or Kirk DeMicco's RUBY GILLMAN, TEENAGE KRAKEN, Mike Mitchell's KUNG FU PANDA 4. THE WILD ROBOT is getting an extra level of love because it's from a pretty well-recognized animated movie director, Chris Sanders. Some other directors in animated movie-making don't have that pedigree nor level of love, that household name status... They tend to be overshadowed by the studio name, the BRAND.

But I look past that. And each production has its crews, its circumstances. I can only imagine what the people working on the MEGAMIND thing had at their disposal, ya know?

I also get that a legit DreamWorks Animation theatrical MEGAMIND 2 is something a lot of fans wanted. I get that. It's okay to feel that, even as a direct-to-streaming movie and show, there was a downgrade in quality here. But like a lot of various fandoms, I feel it's expressed with the tact of a freaked out horse, kicking its back hooves all over the place. I generally tend to ignore things like this, I kinda know what I'm getting myself into. I grew up in the '90s, when it was not only Disney direct-to-video sequels everywhere, but tons of other stuff too. There was a FERNGULLY 2 and a SECRET OF NIMH 2 and BALTO 2 and a SWAN PRINCESS 3, 4, 5, 6 just kept going, and seemingly a gazillion LAND BEFORE TIME sequels. In addition to other weird random animated bin fodder. And I remember as a kid, them just mostly being... Whatever, for me. That's this MEGAMIND thing. It's not for me. I didn't bother with that BAD GUYS Christmas special, either.

Especially when there are other things for me to worry about in life. I just genuinely don't enjoy ranting about these things, or getting all upset about them. Even when I kinda want to (like with, say, TRON: ARES, a film I'm largely unhappy about), I have to tell my 31-year-old self "No... No..." I try to be fair in my criticism most of the time, especially when talking about - say - recent Disney Animation films or whatever. So yeah... No reason for me to dive into MEGAMIND TV Movie Thing. I guess this was my James Rolfe GHOSTBUSTERS No Review I Refuse moment, lol.

[feybeasts]

The small little paragraph about Lena’s friends and family’s being aware of their whole thing just has my mind abuzz. How did they initially react? How was the period of time were they got used to her new form like? How often do they use her as a couch/bed? Heck, why focus on just them? What about Lena herself? What was the process of trying to navigate places she used to visit in an entirely new form?

Goddddd Post-TF content is so underrated, wish there was more stuff like it out there…

So, I can’t really give an answer to all of this because I haven’t really thought a ton of it through, but I think the key thing I can say is that when Lena became what she is, it was like… reality being edited retroactively. For her or her friends or family, there was this knowledge she had changed, but if you knew her, all you’d remember is the one that exists now. As such, I think there wasn’t a big adjustment period or anything, as far as she’s concerned, everything is natural, but there’s that very… fae sense that her knowledge of having been changed runs up against the changed reality, if that makes sense.

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

You know how, in so many AU's Danny is comprised of mostly sentient goo?

Unfortunately my brain kinda latched onto the BNHA Queen Been thing.

But instead of a parasitic relationship, Danny finds an exhausted, injured bee queen (probably being chased down by a lone wasp or something), and thinking how most people would kill the poor thing when he KNOWS it can still live, he just opens a honeycomb in his shoulder, plops the bee in there, and off he goes to school.

Because school stops for no sleep-deprived teen hero.

Later on, and after trying to draw it out with honey, lo and behold, his Core has bonded to the little bug. He can tell her state disturbingly accurately, and how relieved his new tenant is that this gentle giant blessed her with shelter and food.

Maybe, Bee can stay? Bee make honey, and Giant Friend keep Bee safe?

In his current state as a newly-dead Baby Ghost, Danny's Core has yet to settle in it's true and final manifestation. It studies and mimics the bee, and the little workers that come curiously poking at Danny to investigate. Bee does as bees do, and now Danny's very happy about his Sentient Goo composition, because he knows for a fact that humans would NOT be ok with being a walking beehive, even if his Core is always happily purring with every little buzz his new friends send out to him when they come and go.

Jazz is...concerned. Her little brother's eyes have little flecks of gold in them now, and his nails have started tinging black at the base. And he's always...buzzing? And always attracting bees. There's always at least one bee on him, usually hiding in his hair, although she thinks she's seen one crawl under his shirt and not come out until way later.

Every single beekeeper in the city takes one look at Phantom, and his slowly changing form, and start leaving bee care stuff as offerings to the dead child guardian of the city, and manuals on proper beekeeping practices, and bee behaviours. Edd, on the farm up North saw the poor boy, with a shiny new beekeeper's suit held up by too-big boots and a hastily tied belt, run a typical beeline path over the orchard, and then stop confused, hovering in the air and chittering at a little swarm of his new bee friends, and took it upon himself to wave down the boy to teach him some of his own years of experience.

The first time the Fentons try to chase down the Ghost Boy in front of the beekeepers, they get sat down amidst frankly terrifying farmers of all genders and backgrounds, and get a good, stern talking-to about what kind of damage they're doing to that poor boy. "He's the literal Guardian of Beekind, and you're out here threatening to shoot him?!?!?"

Sam is very happy about this. Her friend is living his best bee life, and connecting with his hive. Truly, his mind is abuzz with theories. She's never seen him bee so eager to study something, like he is to learn more about bee-ing a living hive. Tucker would rather they DIDN'T pun about the little fuzzy menaces, but he's happy that they're happy.

Just...the Fenton parents going past the park, and seeing their son whistle, and a swarm of bees lift from his hair and under his shirt, to buzz happily over the flowers Sam's conjuring, with whatever piece of Undergrowth's powers that her body processed and assimilated for itself.

They go back home.

The portal is turned off for the first time in too long.

There's a shadow on the back wall of the tunnel. It's in a shape they know too well. The handprint that was charred over the dreaded button (and why was it even in there? They're scouring every blueprint and theory, evey wild stray though that got scribble down. Even the little drawing their kids made on the edges of the blueprint paper), and have a Disturbing Realization. Except there's no actual human matter in there, asides from some black and white hairs that were caught in a slightly loose panel when, they assume, their boy bumped into the frame of the portal when crawling out of it.

It's...well, the result are a statistic impossibility. They're horrifying to look at, and even just this much proves so much...wrong...their little boy is a ghost, in some capacity, and he's made friends with bees. Jazz gets the dubious honor of sadly holding her parents as they break down.

A month later, and Danny quietly walks into the lab, sees a properly warded and secured portal, and sighs in relief as he presents Mom and Dad (and he's been so terrified that they wouldn't want to be Mom and Dad anymore if they knew...) with a little test vial sample of...red honey?

Danny says it's Blood Blossom honey with the brightest grin, while his parents have flashbacks to the first Moment of Clarity in the portal. Their boy is playing with such dangerous things that could kill him, and he doesn't even know it!!!

Meanwhile, Danny's Core had to adapt to sustain bee life. Instead of whatever wonderful rainbow marble Frostbite was expecting it to become, it has started turning into a little honeycomb piece, with every slot coloured for the powers he's developed against and/or copied off his foes (perhaps, even, straight up stole them? Little bee friends that steal bits of ectoplasm from the Ghosts to feed to Danny's Core, like how the workers will feed the Queen honey?).

It has learned Plant and Not Plant, and has decided that it needs to be Immune To Plant to make better honey.

Danny's happy, bright grin is a big contrast to his horrified parents. They're all going to have a big laugh about it later on. But right now?

Right now, Danny's telling his parents that, after sticking a fork in an outlet, baby has decided to drink bleach!!!!!!

They're...in a panic. Danny's getting shaken like a pepper shaker. His bee friends are...not happy, but the Baby Sentient Goo that makes up their Giant Host whispers that Mama is worried and Papa is scared Baby will die fully.

Jazz would just like them to stop screaming and think...

Danny taps his now fully black nails together while he has to explain himself on why in his brain did he THINK it was ok to eat Blood Blossom honey?!?!?!? Blinks adorable golden-blue eyes at his still slightly haggard parents, and whines that he got curious about what it tasted like. Then proceeds to present a whole case study on how his Core adapted to process the honey version of Blood Blossom nectar and make it safe for Ghosts to eat.

He doesn't tell them about the mangled flowers in the backyard. No, that's for Maddie to wake up at 3 in the morning and see the bee version of Mothman hunched over her freesias, munching on the flowers like and staring at her with sleepy golden eyes.

.

.

.

Danny gets sprayed with water like an unruly cat.

Then in the morning is presented with his own special spot of yard to plant all kinds of flowers that he likes.

Which he tests...by going to the park and chewing on one flower of each species available.

There's A Lot of types to try.

His ghostly tastebuds interpret classic poison as "spicy"...Jazz will never again see foxglove in the same way.

(as a matter of fact, there's a pretty worrying amount of fox gloves where I grew up, and they're just...there. No one's going to touch them, but they're out in the open, especially around the exposed parts of a little stream that runs through the city, so I wouldn't be that surprised to see Danny also gets his hands on some of them)

(This is mostly rambles and stream-of-consciousness thoughts, so uhhhh...enjoy my scatterbrained ideas?)

Danny Phantom AU where he’s a beekeeper

[hereissomething]

SO ive seen some fellow hammer blogs postin abt the christ imagery in the drac death scene of Satanic Rites

and i wanted to post my own thots on the subject🤓

more under cut

tldr: Drac is definitely not a jesus boy

After reading approximately two whole chapters of Richard Cavendish's book on The Black Arts (a good beginners read so far), im learning that satanists have a contrarian method of reversing christian and "white magic" symbols in like any way possible (ex: turning the star of Solomon's seal upside down to turn it into the fallen star of satan; turning crosses upside down, tho that is also a catholic symbol for St Peter's crucifixion as he insisted he wasnt worthy to be killed upright)

fra angelico's crucifixion piece as an example

Dracula's deathscene after stumbling out of the hawthorne bush, said to have made jesus' crown of thorns

the majority of this sequence is shot with one important detail: Dracula is on the ground, upside down.

he is bound head and FOOT with nature's wooden nails but still loose enough to swipe blindly at Helsing

Lorrimer Van Helsing grabs a sharp spear-like fencepost. Drac is still shown upside down with a thorny crown. A ghoulish reversal of jesus rolling in the dirt and gnashing beastly fangs in his final moments

He places it under his ribs on his right side and uses the force of gravity to pierce DOWN into drac's heart. This is what KILLS drac. crucifixion relies on gravity to slowly asphyxiate you from a high up place until you die. in the christian lore, jesus was long dead before the executioners pierced his left side to be sure he had died.

jesus' stabbing was done upwards with little effort, and with much less empathy. as horrible as drac was, lorrimer seems to pity him in his wretchedness.

Drac expires brutally but rather quickly. There's not enough time to rub embalming fluids and myrrh on this sucker (besides, salts and spices are ABHORRENT to demons bc of their preservative/disease preventing qualities)

and no one around except helsing to tend his remains (snatch his signet ring). (image source: @canolacrush 's legendary post

Tho like christ, Dracula's death saved mankind from certain doom, DRAC WAS TRYING TO CAUSE THAT DOOM WITH HIS 4 HORSEMAN PLAGUE PLAN IN THE FIRST PLACE🤪

so in a nutshell, i feel that im def reading a lot more into this shit than i should be! but wouldnt it be interesting if the writers were bookending their satanic panic drac movie with dracula dying in a pseudo-ritualistic-reversal of christ just as a double irony twist? i have NO IDEA what that would accomplish but 😆

those are my thots! had to put that catholic college diploma to use somehow, preciate yall readin!

tldr: Drac is definitely not a jesus boy

[rigginsstreet]

hello hello hello

just wanted to ask you about your favorite harringrove fics, and if you could link them? please?

i've been searching through the tag on ao3 lately but it's flooded with hate and even abusive billy stuff, which is ridiculous. 

so if u could link some good ones, that would be amazing!!

im so glad im still back in like 2019 in the ao3 tag lmfao

here’s whats in my bookmarks:

paper rings (E) - Dustin bets Steve he can't get a date for Mike's wedding.AKA the What's Your Number au nobody asked for

i'm saucing on you (E) - Steve wants a ticket to the biggest party on campus; Billy's got one with Steve's name on it.(Or, Steve has a crush, and so does Billy, and everybody's tired of their history of mutual pining.)

wind in the wires (M) - “If I could move, I would kick your ass.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Just fucking tell him.”

Will’s breath rattles. “Are you going to tell him?”

And they’re talking about two different people. Billy knows, knows Will knows, meets those teary, red-rimmed eyes with a scowl.

“You’ve got until your mom finishes selling that fucking house to do something. So fucking do it, alright? Don’t cry here like some bitch. I can’t fix your problems.”

riches & wonders (M) - Steve's teetering on the edge of something, all alone. His eyes meet Billy’s. They’re teetering on the edge of something, together.(or a handful of the bricks that build steve and billy a home.)

We Slip And Slide (NR) - Pure indulgent post-S3 fluff, including but not limited to the discussed concepts of: - Billy moving in with Joyce - The Jonathan/Billy friendship we all need - Grouchy Hopper - Jonathan and Billy smoking weed together and arguing about music. Because punk and metal are two different things. BUT they unite against Steve’s taste - Robin and Jonathan being excellent wing-persons - Hop and Billy teaming up against Mike to protect El - Shovel talks all round - Robin being clever and eating popcorn - The you rule/you suck board

This Too Shall Pass (NR) - Steve cries at night. Every night. And every night, someone comes to help.

the mountain should crumble to the sea (T) - One second he’s staring down a black abyss, begging and screaming to be let out, and the next thing he knows, Billy is in Steve Harrington’s bedroom, shirtless and laying on top of the covers. What in all fuck is going on? OR The one where no one really dies.

That Douchebag Steve Harrington (E) - The Hargroves come to Indiana one year early. The town of Hawkins is all abuzz about its first missing persons case in decades, but all Billy cares about is figuring out how much Steve Harrington really wants to date the stick-in-the-mud Nancy Wheeler and whether he can stop that from happening.

so many ways to talk about longing (M) - Steve wakes up--in a pool lounger--to Billy Hargrove looming over him. Billy pushes his sunglasses down and Steve thinks sleepily that it must be so that Steve gets the full impact of Billy’s narrow-eyed glare. “Harrington,” Billy says. “We’re fucking closed.”(or, three times Billy doesn't let Steve touch the radio and one time he kind of does).

Take Me with U (E) - Billy bobbled a bit as he stood to mind the fire on unsteady legs. He tripped over his own feet then flopped back on his ass, his back pressed to Steve’s legs, laughing, face flaming with embarrassment. Steve threw his other leg over Billy’s shoulder, his calf pulling Billy back for a moment. “You gotta serve your penalty now. Too drunk. Two minutes in the box, Hargrove. Stay put.”

Billy wrapped his fingers around Steve’s ankle, on top of his jeans. “That’s what I get for trying to be light on my feet like you.”

“Callin me light in the loafers?”

“I’m callin you a pussy.” Billy’s hand remained on Steve’s ankle. His back was still pressed against Steve’s shin, and his fingers started to drift under the hem of Steve’s jeans -- touching a small bit of skin underneath. Maybe he should not be doing this. Maybe Steve wouldn’t like it.

But the moment Billy shifted forward, Steve tugged Billy back into place with the leg that was flung over Billy’s shoulder -- pulled Billy’s back tight against Steve’s leg. “Stay.”

i hear the secrets that you keep (when you’re talking in your sleep) (T) - Billy’s there the way that he’s a lot of places nowadays, sort of absent-mindedly, like he’s not sure how it happened or why and is going somewhere else in his mind anyway.

Steve watches him more than ever now, and Billy rarely watches back.(or five times billy really needed some sleep, and one time he needed something else entirely)

i'll carry you home (E) - It’s been five days since they left Hawkins. They ride through meadows and woods, chasing the taste of freedom, stealing kisses, and pushing on as they get closer and closer to their happy ending.

i’m no maid marian and you’re no robin hood (G) - Billy snaps his fingers and says, “Prince Harrington, prettier than any princess in all the kingdoms.”

Take a Good Look You're Bound to See (that you and me were meant to be) (T) - Billy adopts a dog. Steve really, really likes the dog. And maybe - just maybe - he really really likes Billy, too.

Firestarter (NR) - He has completed his mission. Now, Six sits alone in a small room in Hawkins Lab and waits for his handlers to give him his friend back. Experiment!AU

break up with your girlfriend ('cause i'm bored) (E) - @umissedconnections: Bambi eyes. m4m. i was rippin cigs in the sae p-lot. u made urself puke 2 make room 4 more beer. incredible? ur my hero PLS say ur into guys * Steve finds he has a secret admirer who's continuously hitting on him via his university's Missed Connections Twitter account. // Tommy and Billy are the worst roommates ever.

the ongoing trials of two idiots in love (E) - Five times they fucked up Valentine's Day and one time they got it right.

I’ll fall for you soon enough, I resolve to love (M) - Billy is ignoring Steve, Steve is trying to find his footing with Billy, and a demodog needs to be buried.

meet me in the woods tonight (E) - There’s something in the woods of Hawkins, Indiana.

go west, young man (E) - Steve and Billy move to California after graduation. They decide to take their time getting there, driving across the country in Billy's Camaro. Along the way, they learn a thing or two about growing up, friendship, love, and each other.

Under the Covers (M) - Steve is (maybe) a little bit still in love with Nancy Wheeler and (maybe) trying to figure himself out-- between the night terrors and the babysitting and the general weirdness that is Hawkins, Indiana-- before he graduates. Billy Hargrove fits in there somewhere (probably).

wicked little town (E) - The summer after graduation stretches before Steve, seemingly endless and utterly empty. He can't remember ever being this bored in his life. But when he runs into Billy one night, after hearing a rumour about him at a party, it feels like summer might not be so boring after all.

in the darkness i will meet my creators (T) - "What's wrong?" Jane mumbles.

"I need you to take me to him."[or, the fucking fix-it for s3]

what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way) (E) - Billy knew Steve Harrington would ruin him. Steve knew Billy Hargrove was nothing but trouble. They never expected it to end up like this.

the skater and the rich boy (T) - It's the summer of 1977 and the drought in California is in full force. Lawns go unwatered and swimming pools sit forlorn and empty. Around Venice and Santa Monica, skaters take advantage of the empty pools, breaking into backyards to skate like no one has before. When Billy Hargrove—a skater who splits his time between his job at a surf shop and skating with his sister, Max—breaks into Steve Harrington's backyard, it might turn out to be the best thing he’s ever done.

I'm a Rebel Just for Kicks (T) - Steve couldn't believe he was having to spend his Saturday with his ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend, his friend-turned-pain-in-the-ass, and Billy fucking Hargrove. Steve couldn't think of a group of people he'd like to spend less time with than them. Hopefully, the next six hours won't be too bad.

and heres what im currently reading/recent reads... as if this list wasnt long enough lmfao

you're cold (and i burn) (E) - Move on. Let it heal. Maybe that’s why Steve said yes when Max asked him to help move boxes out of Billy’s room after the dust settled. He could hear her voice. Too many. Too heavy. Just like his wounds. His grief. Too many. Too heavy.(Or, Steve steals the glass ashtray from Billy's bedside table and things start to go bump in the night.)

With Your Long Blond Hair and Your Eyes of Blue (M) - Billy leans back and sweeps his hands through his hair, gathering it back from his face and any danger of dipping into the food. Steve watches, frozen to the spot as he produces a tie from his pocket and secures it all up in a messy bun at the top of his head. Steve’s entire world stops moving.

[northofneverland]

Happy Birthday @kagejima. You're a wonderful human being who deserves everything and I hope you are having a wonderful day. You constantly spoil me by entertaining the little scenarios I flood your ask box with and turning them into works of art. Since it's your birthday, and our chats have inspired me, despite not being a writer, I thought it only fitting to return the favour.

This collection of little drabbles is based on the Bodyguard!Sukuna HC that @kagejima and I have spent too much time thinking about. I highly recommend reading this and this to get the most out of this piece. (Also just read those posts because Rae creates the best tales from the few sentences I give her and I want her talent to be appreciated by all). Editing is not my forte, so if you see a mistake, just skip over it. *edit* to see the collection of works in this AU, please refer to this post. There is a little something for Bodyguard!Sukuna, Swordsman!Nanami and Blacksmith!Osamu.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Staring down at the assortment of trinkets and charms, Sukuna’s eyes gravitate to the little sword pendant on display behind the glass case. He’s walked past this stall three times in the past hour as part of his patrol route, and each time, he slows down just a bit to glance at it, telling himself that he’ll buy it if it’s still there at the end of the day. It’s nothing special, and he’s certain you have thousands of other, better, pendants to wear, but he pulls out his coin purse anyways and pays the vendor before tucking the charm into his tunic for safekeeping. 

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Sitting outside your door is not a job that he thought he’d enjoy, and, if asked, he’d deny it, but it’s the time of day he looks forward to most. Sukuna is happy that your seamstress is keeping you company because that means he has a few more minutes to finish up your birthday gift before the two of you are left alone for the evening. The palace is abuzz with final preparations for your birthday ball, with the royal household staff tending to the needs of all the dignitaries that have come to celebrate you, and he’s grateful for the quiet at your end of the castle. It’s been a little over a week since it’s been just the two of you. You’ve been busy entertaining guests, and he found every excuse not to be stationed outside your bedroom door lest his jealousy took over. But tonight, you will not have any visitors; instead, you'll have him, ready to listen to you all night, leaning against your door, never crossing into your room, and wishing, like he has the past few months, that he was more than just a knight. His fingers deftly wrap around the leather cord as he threads the pendant and a small bell onto it before trying it off. It is crudely made, to say the least, but it's the best he can do with what he has. The glinting of jewels catches his eye, as racks of dresses and cases of accessories, made specifically for this event, are filed out of your room for overnight alterations. After seeing this abundance of wealth, his gift for you feels like dead weigh in his scarred hands. A pathetic gift from a pathetic knight, he thinks to himself, as he stuffs the necklace deep into his pocket. Perhaps, giving you nothing is better than the two lumps of metal he wasted his money on. 

⚔️⚔️⚔️

He slides the leather cord over your head, the two charms dangling as they settle at the swell of your breasts. Instead of pulling away, like his mind is telling him to do, his hand slowly lifts the two charms to his lips and kisses them. 

“Happy birthday” he mutters, so softly your ears barely catch it. 

Your hands go to clasp his outstretched one and bring it to your mouth, brushing your lips over each of his calloused fingers before looking up at him with a smile that makes his breath waver. Perhaps his mind is still hazy from kissing you, but he swears that, in this moment, you have never looked more stunning. Standing in front of him, with your hair falling out of its updo, your makeup smudged from sloppy first kisses and your neck littered with faint red marks, you look like all his fantasies come to life.  

“You didn’t have to get me anything” you reply, taking a moment to examine the necklace better. Your fingers gingerly trace the edge of the blade, admiring its fine craftsmanship, before flicking the bell hard enough for it to jingle softly.

“I get the sword is supposed to be you, but what's with the bell?” you wonder aloud, toying with the metal ball again. The soft ringing seems to echo loudly in your bedroom chamber as an unusual silence settles between you two.

“It's embarrassing” Sukuna answers with a sigh; his eyes shift quickly away from your face to look at anything but you.

“And it's my birthday, entertain me. Is it... Is it so you can hear me sneaking out for snacks?” you chortle at your own joke, thinking back on all the times you’ve thought you’ve snuck past his detection, only to find him sitting in the kitchen with a stool pulled out for you. Looking up at your knight, you realize that despite the darkness of your moonlit room, you can still see that his cheeks are flushed.

“It’s so I can always find you if you're separated from me”. The words slip out of his mouth easier than expected. 

“As if you'd let that happen,” you chuckle, your palm cupping his face as your thumb rubs over one of the twin scars on his cheek before pulling him down onto your lips. 

And you both know you're right. He's in too deep. He can't give you the world. In fact, he can't give you much. But, his heart is yours to break.

[song-of-oots]

There’s a particular character archetype that I seem to end up completely obsessed with over and over again, and I’ve been thinking about the reasons why and realising some things. So my favourite character type can be summed up as:

Evil/morally grey character with deep-rooted emotional issues who nevertheless possesses a spark of underlying decency, leading to potential for positive growth (though don’t count on it).

Examples include: Severus Snape, Sandor Clegane and Redcloak

I occasionally come across people asserting that this kind of fascination comes from a “fix-it” mentality, where silly women just like the idea of taking a bad man and making him better.

But I realised it’s not about me wanting to change someone else.

It’s about me wanting to change me.

I don’t want to get too bogged down in personal details so I’ll keep this bit brief:

I've had a lot of problems with depression and anxiety over the years. These things have been very up and down, but I've learned that even when I'm feeling well there are certain circumstances I should probably avoid because they are likely to trigger relapses (unfortunately this has rather buggered up my professional life, where there are certain types of job I simply cannot do without having a nervous breakdown). And while I've managed to drag myself out of the worst bouts of depression, I have never been able to tackle the root cause of the problem and I don't know if I ever will. (It’s not even that I don’t know what the root cause of the problem is. I do, I’ve realised what major influences caused this negative view of myself and I also know, logically, that there’s no reason to keep believing that stuff. And yet, here I am, still only partially free from it all.) 

The point I’m trying to make is that deep-rooted psychological change is hard.

I think this is a part of the reason why characters like Severus Snape, Sandor Clegane and Redcloak have taken up permanent residence in my brain. What really grabs me about them is how impacted they all are by their own unprocessed emotional trauma, and how stuck they are in negative thought patterns. It’s not really the notion of absolution or redemption that speaks to me – the removal of the stain of sin and wrong-doing – it’s more about the process, the mere possibility of positive change and healing (whether it is successful or not).

It’s the fact that for these characters to achieve any kind of peace of mind and become better people, they have to face up to these emotional issues, and think their way through those thought patterns. And they each come across as desperately authentic to me because of the implicit acknowledgment that this kind of change is really, really messy and difficult. I will them to succeed, but still love them as characters to an almost painful degree regardless of whether they do or not. It fascinates me to see how different writers tackle the subject – not only with how change and transformation can happen, but also how and why it can fail.

And one may ask why I get particularly fascinated by these morally questionable characters, rather than literally any other straight-up heroic character with emotional issues who struggles to overcome them to become a better person?

Why Severus Snape and not Neville Longbottom?

Why Redcloak and not Haley Starshine?

Why Sandor Clegane and not… I dunno actually cos it’s been a while since I read ASOIAF and I think sometimes the notion of who is a ‘hero’ and who isn’t is actually quite blurry (and further obscured by the fact that the story is unfinished) but… maybe Dany? Arya? Sansa? John? Bran? This is a really interesting thing to think about actually, hmmm…

Anyway, the heroic characters are still interesting, but not usually to the point that they keep me awake at night, shredding my heart into little itty bits an setting my brain abuzz.

And I’m not sure I know the answer. There is more than one reason for my fascination with villains, but I think what’s most relevant to this particular question boils down to this: fiction is a safe space to deal with extremes. You can safely imagine the worst kinds of people you can possibly think of, and think about what circumstances, what choices made them this way? and also what could help them to change? Can they change at all??

It’s kinda funny, because it’s not like seeing these characters succeed would suddenly unlock the secret of how I, too, can overcome my demons, but nevertheless it’s still pretty damn cathartic and moving to think that they could. Whereas those that fail or only partially succeed are a reminder that struggling with crap like this is actually a very painfully human experience. And when I’ve been depressed, these characters have managed to maintain a fascination and emotional vibrancy that cuts through the numbness and anxiety. They’ve sent a message that if these people who are objectively worse than me can improve themselves – if I can even just believe in the possibility that they could – then maybe I won’t always be as disgusting as I have, at times, believed myself to be. They’ve been a part of me that my self-loathing couldn’t quite reach, and helped me to cling on when I’ve needed something to cling to.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Recently saw a tiktok that was like "if you ship [toph and zuko] than you have issues or you see something galaxy brained that i havent" and stumbled upon the concept of aroace Zuko and i concocted this idea ages ago so im posting it now: the epic Toph x Zuko Marriage of Convenience 

Okay what you are all thinking of is book 3 Toph and Zuko, which totally dont have romantic chemistry and with the added age difference is prob why no one ever considers this ship. Four years when you're a teenager is a big difference. Four years when you're in your twenties and beyond isnt that big a deal. So they're adults and they've been friends for years at this point.

You also gotta sit back and look at what they are. Toph is the only child to a very rich and very well known Earth Kingdom family. Her family name in general is huge and carries a lot of weight but you also got her own accomplishments: Master Earthbender, the Creator of Metalbending, the Avatar's Earthbending teacher, and shes a war hero. Thats big. And then you got Zuko, who at this point is the Fire Lord. Zuko himself comes from a prominent Fire Nation family, seeing as he's royalty. He's also descended from a Avatar, but i dont think thats all that well known. Zuko is a Master Firebender, the Avatar's Firebending Teacher, and a war hero. On top of being famous both these people have credibility to fall back on.

So what im leaning into here is not exactly a marriage alliance seeing as the Earth Kingdom has its own royalty but its definitely a political move

Anyways Zuko has a lot on his plate, dismantling his dad's empire and all that. When he's nearing 30 the council is all like "you need to find a bride". Zuko writes up his ex-girlfriends and finds out they're either married or he just cant bring himself to trap someone into a marriage with him after knowing how it destroyed his mom. So he's stuck with no one of his own choosing so the council and high up nobles are trying to fix him up and not-so-subtly set him up with their daughters. Half of Team Avatar comes and visits (lets say Toph, Aang, and Sokka) and witness the behind the scenes of all this. They're having tea with Zuko and two people come in at different times and try to casually talk about the marriage thing. Toph can hear things that happen in the hallways too. Zuko is all "noooooooo guys why is this happening to me" and Sokka probably finds it funny but also a little sucky, and Aang probably hates it because "Zuko should marry for love!". And Toph is all "I know right" because she can totally relate. Her parents were looking for matches for her since she was born, and now that shes visiting again they've started back up again. Her and Zuko start swapping match-making stories ("so i come home and this boy and his father are there and my mom is all like 'Toph have you met __'" "I'm in the throne room for a meeting on road construction and this guy derails the whole thing so he can introduce his niece to me"). Later on after Toph has been listening in on the palace for a few days now and shes starting to really feel sorry for Zuko. Sokka just keeps making jokes until Toph snaps at him. Aang is pretty oblivious and probably spends all day at the market looking for souvenirs to bring home for Katara. And one night while Zuko is up late doing paperwork by candle light Toph stops by because her body cant sleep at night sometimes and they get to talking and Toph jokingly throws out "what if we just married each other? Then everyone will get off both our backs!" and they're laughing and after they've calmed down Zuko has a light bulb moment and he's like "wait, that might not be a bad idea". They spend all night working out the details to their hypothetical wedding and a day later decide to actually go through with it. Theres uproar from the council of course because Zuko didnt choose their pick Toph isnt Fire Nation nobility. And then Zuko starts listing all her family's importance and stuff and the council is forced to admit to themselves its not actually a bad idea. Plus marrying Earth Kingdom would make the Fire Lord more relatable to the colonies where theyre having a lot of problems with people of mixed heritage right now. Sokka and Aang hear rumblings of this because palace servants gossip and they're debating wether or not to believe these rumors when they run into Toph and just ask her and shes all like "yeah we're talking about it" and they boys flip out. Aang still maintains that everyone should marry for love but Toph and Zuko won't budge.

Over in the Earth Kingdom Toph's parents are ecstatic because the only better option Toph could marry was Earth Kingdom royalty. They completely endorse it and only argue to not seem like pushovers and when topics revolving money come up (ex. dowery). The Earth King gets in on this because its too good a opportunity to not capitalize on it. The Earth Kingdom is abuzz because a foreign King is marrying one of their own. Everyone is hyped and Team Avatar are the only ones who find the whole situation weird because to them its not a fairytale its their actual friends.

All-in-all they get married in the Fire Nation and the guest list was awful to make but people from all over the world are there. Toph's mother freaks out the whole time because "what if Toph falls down all those steps!" The wedding is mostly all Fire Nation tradition but Toph wears a Earth Kingdom wedding dress because everything is political now. Toph and Zuko have a relatively fun night and Sokka has the time of his life. And their marriage actually really works out for them because they're friends. They make fun of fancy people and rant to each other in the evenings. Toph is still running metal bending schools but either now they have to come to her or she gets stuck with a Fire Nation security team for like 3 months of the year she spends in the Earth Kingdom and she gets flashbacks to her childhood. And Zuko is sometimes all "i miss my wife" and the servants are all "awwww they're so in love" but the truth is he wants to talk sh*t with her and because shes blind he always has to write letters with the interpreter's opinion/gossip in mind. Toph still sneaks out all the time because shes not giving up her independence willy-nilly and is not above pulling the blind card to get out of things, which irritates Zuko sometimes because that means he has to deal with boring meetings by himself. They gaang visits all the time and by the time Republic City rolls around Toph manages to get herself sent as a "ambassador" (her and Sokka have some fun their shared meetings) and then to stay on to help set up the police force, which is a little dicy since shes representing the Fire Nation but also shes teaching only metalbending so its a controversial thing. This also gives Zuko a excuse to visit Republic City more often so he can see everyone since they settled down there.

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 8

Hey y’all, so um...let just pretend there were a few years between Black Panther and Infinity War. K? Check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and check out my other stories. FYI, when this one finishes I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x  OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here!

As usual, let me know if you want to be tagged in anything (even though my tags don’t seem to be working right now😒.)

Enjoy!

CW: Smut, Infinity War spoilers...kind of? 

Word Count: 5,719

Monday morning at the Outreach Center, Monae and M’Baku were the main topic of conversation. People had always speculated about the two, but seeing them leave the gala together was kindling for the gossip flames. Before they even arrived word had already gotten around about them, but when the volunteers saw them pull up together it spread like wildfire. 

“You think they know?”

“I do not know, nor do I care,” he leaned down and kissed her cheek as they entered the building, coming face to face with Neicey. “Ah, Neicey...how are you today?”

“I’ve been better,” she eyed Monae with a smirk, “but I see you don’t waste any time.”

“Yes, well-”

“No need. Y’all are cute together, by the way.” she said as she sauntered off towards her classroom.

“Well that was uneventful,” Monae said under her breath and M’Baku playfully nudged her as they walked up the stairs to the third floor and he gave her yet another kiss as they separated to go to their respective offices on opposite sides of the Center. When Monae reached her office and turned the doorknob she was met with the sight of dozens of white roses. She wanted to run down the hall, jump on M’Baku, and kiss all over his handsome face, but had to remain professional while at work. She set her stuff down and picked up the card from the bouquet on her desk.

“When did he even have time to do this?” she mused to herself out loud.

She opened the card and the smile on her face grew twice as big.

“A mountain of snow-white flowers from your favorite Jabari chief.”

She held the card to her chest and sighed before moving a couple of the bouquets around to get to her desk. She settled in for the day, but got almost nothing done because she kept looking at the clock, waiting until lunchtime to see her man.

M’Baku was just as distracted in his office as Deontae tried to hold his attention on the task at hand.

“M’Baku, hello?”

“I am sorry, please continue,” he shook himself from his daze.

“That’s the third time you’ve done that in the last five minutes. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” a smirk creeped up on his face before he could tamp it back down.

“Mmmhm, if you say so,” Deontae side-eyed him and kept shuffling through papers, looking up at M’Baku from time to time to catch him staring off in the distance with a half-smile on his face.

When noon came around he jumped up from his desk and almost ran over Deontae on his way out the door. He made his way down the hall until he got to the art wing of the center. There she was, his love, coming out of her office just as he rounded the corner.

Their eyes met and he pulled her in for a quick kiss before grabbing her hand and walking her towards the stairs and down to the first floor.

“What are we having today?”

“Sushi? I’ve been craving fish and there’s that one place you like with the veggie rolls.”

“Sushi it is, then. How has your day been…” he trailed off at the sight of Deontae with his mouth wide open.

“I knew something was up with you,” he said excitedly, happy to have been right. “So this is a thing now?” He gestured between the two of them and smiled.

“Yeah it’s a thing,” Monae wlooked up at M’Baku and they smiled at each other. He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple, pulling her in close.

“Awww, y’all are cute...and reminding me I’m tragically single,” he sighed, putting his head back down into his tablet and bidding them adieu, shuffling back in the direction he came from.

By the time the two got back from lunch, the whole Outreach Center was abuzz with the news of the new couple. So much so that when M’Baku visited her classroom before the end of the day, even the kids knew, though they always suspected. 

As the days passed by, M’Baku and Monae formed a routine. He basically moved into her apartment and every morning they would wake up and have slow and steamy “good morning” sex before showering and cooking breakfast together. They’d arrive at work and go their separate ways before meeting up for lunch around noon, then he would stop by her class before the end of the day. Every time, the kids greeted him with their bright, snaggletoothed smiles and a chorus of “Hiiii Mr. M’Baku!” before he took his place in the back of the class and watched her do her thing. Every now and then Kehinde would ask M’Baku to sub in for him on the drums and he’d gladly oblige. After class, they’d go home to her apartment and one of them would cook for the other or they’d order in. Their nights were spent either passed out on the couch with the tv watching them, or staying up all hours exploring each other’s bodies. 

She kept the thermostat low for him, but he noticed she looked uncomfortable all bundled up around the apartment in her fuzzy socks and old college hoodie, so he turned it back up for her one day while she was out running errands. When she came home and felt the temperature, she was worried that he was maybe sick or something, but when he explained the change to her she had to take some time to compose herself upon realizing just how much he cared for her. After a few days, he got used to the sparing use of the air conditioner. Especially since the warmer it was, the less clothing she wore around the apartment, and he loved seeing her in little skimpy outfits or nothing at all. Even when it wasn’t sexual, the sight of her body warmed him from the inside out.

They even got to know each other’s families. M’Baku called his mother, Ada, once or twice a week to check in, and one day Monae loudly ran into the room fussing to him about some dance competition show kicking off the best contestant and Ada heard everything. She was tickled by her vivaciousness and the two of them spoke on the phone. Now every time M’Baku calls his mama she wants to speak to Monae. She was quickly becoming her favorite and it only slightly annoyed M’Baku.

A month into their relationship, Monae’s sister Jazz came to visit and he moved back into his place for the weekend so as not to crowd the small apartment. Neither one of them got much sleep, both missing the feeling of their lover’s body pressed up against theirs through the night. Jazz and M’Baku got along great, though, and Monae often caught herself wondering what it would be like if the three of them could be one small happy family. She shook the thought out of her head every time, reminding herself of his duty to his people. 

Their relationship wasn’t all sunshine and roses, though. Monae had a nasty habit of pulling away from him at times when she got sad thinking about his eventual departure, but that always came to an end when M’Baku fucked the attitude right out of her. He tried his best to not think about leaving, even though the date grew closer and closer, but it constantly crossed his mind. He was just better at hiding it. 

Almost every night they laid curled up in bed, talking the night away and stealing every last second they could with each other, but for some reason this night was different. When she climbed off his still throbbing dick and plopped down next to him, he could tell something was bothering her.

“What is it, my love?”

She looked at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

“That right there. ‘My love’,” a single tear rolled down her cheek and he reached out to wipe it away, but she turned her face away from him as more tears appeared.

M’Baku sat up against the headboard, already aware of where her mind was. He was there too. They only had a week left and both of them wished they could stop time to avoid the inevitable, but it was coming fast.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry-”

“Babygirl, it is ok to cry about it,” his voice cracked and she looked up to see tears threatening to fall from his eyes. She curled up on his lap and the two of them sobbed into each other for what felt like hours.

“Do you...do you think you’ll come visit the Center?”

“I do not think I will be able to make it often, but I will visit when I can,” he kissed her temple and rested his cheek against the top of her head as she sniffled. 

“Y-you’ll have to get married to some beautiful warrior princess and she’ll give you a bunch of big ass Jabari babies-”

He chuckled and she smiled at him before her face turned sad again.

“I don’t want you to forget me, but I know you’ll have to.”

“I could never forget you, Monae,” he tilted her chin up towards him and kissed her lips softly. She pulled back and stared into his big brown eyes, reddened from his tears.

“M’Baku, I need you to do something for me…”

“Anything, my love,” he pecked her lips.

“I-I can’t see you off...I can’t wave goodbye while you take off in the Talon, I don’t think I can do it. I need you to be ok with that, I can’t watch you leave me.”

He nodded in understanding and wiped her tears.

“I understand, babygirl.”

He stroked her hair softly and the two of them stayed silently cuddled up all night, until they drifted off to sleep.

--------

“A little higher on the left, Rodney,” Monae instructed and she stood back, looking at the banner the kids had painted for M’Baku’s going away party. He adjusted his side and she took another look at it, giving him a thumbs up. “Perfect!”

Rodney hopped down off the step ladder and dusted his hands off before taking a look at the banner, himself.

“You know, he’s gonna love it,” he said, turning to Monae and flashing his adorable crooked smile. She wanted to smile back, but the most she could muster was a lazy smirk. She was still worried about making sure every little thing was in place for his going away party, but she knew he’d love it. Some of the older kids had drawn “We’ll miss you, M’Baku!” in graffiti on the banner and the younger kids had added their colorful handprints.

“I hope so,” she whispered under her breath and let out a sigh. 

“Rod’s right, you gotta relax Monae,” N’Jadaka came up on her other side.

“I just want it to be perfect for him, is that a crime?”

“No, but you know he’s a simple man. It’s the thought that counts and you’ve really put your heart into this,” he said as he watched the kids rehearse their choreographed Jabari dance. Their faux fur-accented costumes looked so cute and Monae had a few volunteers and other instructors to thank for doing such a good job on them. N’Jadaka’s eyes met hers and he grinned, “You know he’s gonna miss the fuck out of you, right?”

“Yeah I know.”

There was silence for a moment before N’Jadaka cleared his throat.

“Anyways, just give me the signal and I’ll go grab him and bring him down here,” he said before walking away to sneak a snack from the refreshment table.

Monae smiled warmly thinking about the royal family’s willingness to help her plan M’Baku’s going away party and how they helped keep him busy over the past week to keep him from finding out about Monae’s surprise. She shook herself out of her thoughts for a moment to do one final check of the party before she had N'Jadaka go retrieve M’Baku. 

The vegetarian-friendly snack table was fully stocked despite the prince’s best efforts, and the kids’ mountain range and gorilla-themed art hung proudly on the walls. Volunteers, staff, and some kids and their families had gathered at the Center after hours to say goodbye to M’Baku who had quickly become a favorite among the kids and adults alike. 

“Ok,” she took a deep breath, “I think we’re ready...I think I’m ready.”

She went to go find N’Jadaka and let him know it was time, and the prince disappeared to go collect M’Baku. He texted her when they were almost back and she queued up Rodney and Kehinde on the drums. M’Baku walked in the room to see  her leading kids of all ages in a Jabari dance he had taught her. His smile was so big it probably reflected all the way to Jabari Land, and a tear came to his eye as he took in the banner above their heads. He watched as Monae and the kids’ feet stomped in rhythm to the drums and as the performance came to an end he was the first to applaud, clapping harder than everyone in the room. He went over and lifted her in his arms, spinning her around and planting a kiss on her lips, ignoring the chorus of “ewwwwww” coming from most of the kids and “awwwww” from most of the adults. When he put her back down she wiped away the tears that had escaped from his sad eyes.

“I’m glad you like it,” she smiled warmly at him, biting her bottom lip.

“I love it,” he kissed her again.

“I have a gift for you when we get home.”

“This was not enough?” he laughed and she playfully slapped his strong chest.

“No it wasn’t. I think you’ll like that one too.”

“I am sure I will love it,” he kissed her nose before they separated to give other people the chance to say goodbye to him too. She brought him a plate from the refreshment table and he kissed her cheek to say thank you while he spoke to some of the parents he met several weeks ago at the Open House. He had made quite the impression on a lot of people and those people all wanted to tell him goodbye, so the party went pretty late. As the numbers dwindled Monae started to clean up the space before a voice interrupted her.

“Why don’t you let us handle it?” Shuri offered, seemingly coming from out of nowhere with her cousin begrudgingly following behind her.

“Are you sure?” Monae was hesitant since this whole mess was her idea in the first place.

“Monae, go be with your man, we can handle this,” said the princess, taking the trash bag from her hand without waiting for a response.

Monae smiled at Shuri and thanked her before sauntering back over to M’Baku as the last person left the party.

“Ready to go?”

“More than ready, talking to so many people is exhausting.”

She giggled and they made their way back to her apartment, stealing glances and kisses whenever they could on the car ride home. When they got to her apartment he attacked her mouth with his and pushed her back against the door.

“Thank you. You did not have to do all of that, but you did and it was beautiful. Seeing you dancing like that turned me on so much,” he buried his head in the crook of her neck and kissed her softly before licking a stripe up to her ear and biting her earlobe. She let out a whimper before weaseling out of his grasp, making his eyebrows furrow. 

“Uh-unh, not yet Daddy.” She dipped into the second bedroom, that she had turned into her work space, and returned with a large gift-wrapped box that looked to have some weight to it. When she set it down on the kitchen table he looked at her questioningly. “Don’t just stare at it,” she laughed and pulled out her phone to record him. 

He tore at the paper and ripped the tape from the box before opening it. When he saw the contents more tears came to his eyes. She had given him her copies of all the books from their “Captain America Lists” plus a couple of her favorites.

“I thought you’d like my old beat-up books since they have my notes and scribbles in the margins. It’ll be like we’re reading together.”

He reached his hand out for her and she took it, intertwining their fingers as he pulled her into him for a hungry kiss.

“I love it, thank you Babygirl.”

Her hands rested on his chest as his arms circled her waist before their foreheads connected and they began swaying from side to side. He started humming and she recognized the song, but couldn’t quite place it.

“What is that? It sounds familiar,” she said, resting her head where her hands were and moving her hands to around his broad shoulders.

“Remember Nia’s party?”

“Mhm.”

“It is the song we danced to in the hallway outside her apartment, I looked up the lyrics and found it online. It is ‘Collide’  by EarthGang and Tiana Major9.”

She beamed against his chest, “I love it.”

M’Baku tilted her head up towards his and looked her head in her eyes, “And I love you.”

“I love you, too...more than anything.”

Their lips met in yet another hungry kiss and she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. He carefully laid her down and kissed down her body before she brought his face back up to hers.

“I want you inside me.”

He obliged, undressing himself slowly and watching as she did the same. When their lips met again he climbed on top of her and slowly pushed her back into the pillows. His fingers traced her lower lips and found their way inside her, getting her ready for him until she grabbed his wrist and shook her head.

“Now.”

M’Baku lined himself up with her opening and slowly slid in until he was fully sheathed inside her. Neither one of them moved, imprinting the feel of the other into their brains and bodies forever. When their hips both started to roll into each other slowly they both moaned in unison and he pulled his dick most of the way out before entering her again as deep as he could. He did this over and over, rolling his hips and hitting that spot in the back of Monae’s pussy that made her mind go numb.

“M’Baku, baby,” she moaned as she felt him deep in her soul and he growled into her upon hearing the way his name tumbled from her lips, picking up the pace but still digging impossibly deep inside her. “Oooh Daddy, you’re so deep.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, not wanting to ever let him go as he grinded his hips into hers, making tears fall from her eyes from both pleasure and sorrow. He kissed them away and continued to rock her world. 

“I-I’m-”

“Mhm, I can feel it, come for me,” he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Cum for your chief.”

That sent her over the edge and the tingling feeling she felt in her pussy gave way to a flood as her body tensed and released. She pulled him in deeper and her nails clawed at his back as she spasmed beneath him. Feeling her contracting around him almost sent him over the edge with her, but he wasn’t done with her yet. She released her legs and he pulled out, immediately diving between her legs to clean up her mess. The moan she let out was so loud it had to have woken up the neighbors, but his tongue continued to circle her overstimulated clit until he latched his lips around it and she came in his mouth. He tongued her into one more orgasm before flipping her over and raising her hips. She stuck her ass out for him and he wasted no time getting back inside her. 

This time he wasn't so gentle. He grabbed her throat, pulling her back into him, deepening the arch in her back until she lifted completely from the bed and leaned back into his chest as he gave it to her good. One of his strong hands pulled her hips back into his as he whispered sweet, filthy nothings into her ear.

“I love you, Monae.”

“I love how you feel around me.”

“I love how you say my name when I hit this spot right here.”

“M’Baku!” she yelled as his hips dug deep and his dick hit right where he said he would.

“Mhm, just like that.” 

She stroked the back of his head as his left hand came up and around to play with her nipples before trailing down and rubbing circles over her clit.

“Cum again.”

And she did, over and over throughout the night. He somehow held off, and it wasn’t until she took control and lowered her ample hips onto his dick that he began to feel his composure slipping away. She bounced herself up and down, flexing her kegel muscles around him and paying special attention to the tip of his dick before corkscrewing her hips down so that they met pelvis-to-pelvis. M’Baku let himself go and succumbed to her charms, moaning her name as he released deep inside her. Her hips still moved in circles, draining him of every last drop as she leaned down to lock lips with him. Their kiss was slow and deep and her hips continued to wind on him, pulling whimpers out of him that she had never heard before.

“Monae, please,” he begged, which only egged her on more. She hopped off his dick slowly, tightening her pussy walls on the way up just to fuck with him, and dropped to her knees before taking his throbbing dick into her mouth.

“Ah, fuck!” his legs shook and he came again down her throat as she sucked him dry, jaws working overtime to incapacitate him. Once she was satisfied, she reached her hand out to him and he sat up, disoriented from his orgasm. 

“You ok?” she giggled.

“Yeah, yeah, I am...girl you almost killed me,” he said with a laugh, which she joined in on as she sashayed into the bathroom to turn on the shower. They both got in and scrubbed down before M’Baku took it upon himself to eat her pussy again, wanting to taste her one last time. Monae was thankful that the water hid her tears as she held onto the back of his head, wishing she could feel this feeling forever, but knowing their time was at an end. When she came she burst into tears and without a word he finished cleaning her up before carrying her from the shower. He dried her off and lotioned her up before sliding one of his t-shirts over her head.

She sniffled and looked up at him as he cared for her with tears in his eyes, too proud to fall at this moment. She placed her hand on his face and the dam broke, sending tear after tear from his eyes.

She returned his favor by getting him ready for bed as they both cried and sniffled before crawling into bed and curling up with each other. She buried her face into his chest and swung her leg across his body while he ran his fingers over her hair and his other hand traced symbols of love and protection into her thigh. They both silently prayed over each other, wishing the other to find happiness, before dreamland confiscated their consciousnesses. 

Monae could barely sleep, instead choosing to stay awake and listen to his soft snores. Around 6am he started to stir as usual, so she closed her eyes and pretended to still be asleep when he carefully unwrapped her arm and leg from around him. He slid from under her and sat on the side of the bed just staring at her face as she breathed in and out. He got up momentarily and pulled something from the drawer he kept his things in, which had been emptied out a couple days ago with the exception of a couple things Monae wanted to keep. She felt him sit on the end of the bed and heard the sounds of a pen on paper. It took everything in her to not open her eyes and say something, but she had told him she couldn’t watch him leave and she still couldn't even though her lack of sleep forced her to hear him leave her instead.

He finished scribbling on the paper and placed it on his pillow before leaning over and lightly kissing her forehead so as not to wake her. It took all of Monae’s strength to keep her tears from falling as he walked across the room and shut the door behind him. She opened her eyes and stared at the paper beside her as she heard him sniffling in the hallway. She heard Juju meow and he let out a little laugh as he reached down to say goodbye to her.

“Take good care of her for me,” he said to the cat, who purred at him as he scratched her head. 

She heard him pick up his bags and it wasn't until the front door closed behind him that she allowed herself to break down. Tears flowed from her eyes as she sat up in bed and held her knees to her chest, wailing as she finally allowed herself to feel the pain of him leaving her. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again, but even if she did he could never be her M’Baku again. He’d have to be Lord M’Baku, Chief of the Jabari, Husband to _____. He’d have to produce heirs and she would just have to go on about her daily life like she never fell in love with the Great Gorilla. She curled up into a ball and reached for his note to read it as best she could in the sliver of sunlight that shone into the room, when she noticed something roll off the pillow onto the bed. It was a small ring made of Jabari wood that was just the right size for her, so she slid it onto her ring finger as she looked down at the note.

My Chieftess,

I am sorry for leaving you this way, but I cannot say goodbye to you either. I really do not know what to say here other than I love you and I always will. I will miss you with my whole heart, Monae, but you will always have a piece of me with you. This ring is an exact replica of my chief ring, but in your size. Wear it and think of me, as I will think of you every time I look at mine.

Until we meet again…

Yours always,

M’Baku

Her eyes overflowed with tears and her body jerked as she sobbed even more, careful to not cry on the page that she’d keep forever. She stared at the ring on her finger and felt like she was floating among the clouds with him instead of being dragged down by the weight of it like her previous ring from the nonfactor named Derrick. Looking back, she couldn’t believe she thought that was love, but now she knew what real love felt like and she could never go back. Though it was hard to picture herself with someone else, she knew it would probably happen one day, so she silently thanked her big mountain man for teaching her how she deserved to be loved. 

--------

Two months passed by and M’Baku still could not get her out of his head, even as the council paraded eligible bachelorettes in front of him on a daily basis. Ada said nothing because she knew of the situation, but she also knew M’Baku was well aware he would have to pick a wife soon. Most days he sat on his throne with a pout on his face, barely listening to whatever the current discussion was and daydreaming of his love.

Monae wasn’t doing much better, but the kids knew why she was sad and did everything they could to cheer her up. Of course their smiles made her happy in the moment, but when she went home to her apartment it just felt empty and sad. She had been toying around with the idea of visiting her great aunt, Sarah, back home for a change of scenery and finally decided she’d take off for a couple weeks to get her head back on straight. 

The Outreach Center was running just fine, even though M’Baku’s presence was missed, until one day N’Jadaka and Shuri were called back to Wakanda for an emergency. T’Challa had Nakia stay in Oakland because someone had to run the Center in their absence, but Monae secretly wondered if it was more for her safety than anything. She had asked Nakia what was going on, but even the queen of Wakanda had no idea. Monae closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for her friends and her love to stay safe, but when she opened her eyes the sight before her shook her to her core. 

Children and workers were disintegrating before her eyes and screams rang out among the untouched. Monae reached out to grab a volunteer as she slipped away, but all she felt was dust. She and the few adults left tried to calm the children, but it was no use since they themselves were horrified by what they had just witnessed.

They heard honking from multiple cars and screaming before a van crashed into the front lobby, no driver in the seat. The children clung onto the adults as everyone tried not to panic. 

Nobody knew what happened, but half the world's population disappeared in the blink of an eye. Monae’s sister and great aunt were untouched, but her friends were gone. Juju made it, but most of her neighbors had been taken in what the news was now calling “The Blip”. 

T’Challa had lost his sister and his mother in The Blip, which in turn caused the Center to lose the heads of its Social and STEM programs since Nakia decided to stay in Wakanda. When he and N’Jadaka returned to take in what was left of their staff and kids, they decided it was best to close the Outreach Center’s doors until they could find more staff and department heads. Most of the kids had disappeared and the few that remained were too traumatized by what they saw there to want to stick around.  

When they visited Monae’s office they found her frantically running around trying to organize her things to keep her mind off of the chaos going on around her. When T’Challa cleared his throat and she looked up, she made eye contact with him and she knew by the look on his face...he was gone.

Monae decided that with the Center closing she would move back home, so she packed up all her stuff, and she and Juju went on a cross-country roadtrip from Oakland to Nashville. When they arrived at her Aunt Sarah’s house she was so thankful to be in the arms of a loved one that she broke down into tears. They both held each other and cried, and when Jazz showed up a couple days later the three of them hugged each other tight, not wanting to let go of the only family they had left. 

About a week later Monae realized she hadn’t gotten her period yet, but chalked it up to the stress of The Blip and moving across the country. Another week passed and still, no period. She began to worry and then Aunt Sarah made an announcement at breakfast one morning.

“One of you is pregnant.”

Both girls narrowly avoided a spit take.

“Excuse me?”

“What do you mean ‘pregnant’?”

“I had a dream about fish last night...so which one of you is it?” she asked, looking from Monae to Jazz and back again, waiting for one of them to say something. Silence stretched over the table and when Jazz and Monae locked eyes, she broke.

“I think it’s me. I-I don’t know for sure yet, but I’m late.”

“Aww baby, it’s ok,” Sarah said as she reached out and comforted her niece.

“No it’s not, M’Baku he...he’s gone.”

“Yeah, but if you tell him-”

“No, Jazz he’s gone gone. The Blip took him,” she hung her head and played with the wooden ring on her finger.

There was silence around the table again, but this time Aunt Sarah broke it.

“So do you want to keep the baby?”

The two younger Johnson women looked at their great aunt in shock, surprised she would even ask instead of just assuming.

“I don't even know that there is one yet.”

“Chile between my dreams and your period not showing up, you’re pregnant. Go pee on one of them lil sticks, you’ll see. Now, what are you gonna do, baby?”

Monae thought about her options. Even though her mom had two kids by the time she was Monae’s age, she didn’t feel like she was ready to have children yet. Had the father been someone else, she wouldn’t even have to think it over, but this was M’Baku’s baby. She had a chance to have a little bit of him with her always, and especially now that he was gone forever she couldn’t help but want to have him around in whatever way she could.

“I’m keeping it.”

Aunt Sarah nodded in understanding and Jazz squeezed Monae’s hand.

“I’m gonna be the best Auntie I can be to that little Jabari.”

“Second best,” Aunt Sarah said with an attitude as she got up to hug Monae close. “We’re here for you honey.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @devnicolee @maddeningmayhem @theblulife

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 48

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 48: Kate and Tommy’s wedding. During the reception, Alfie asks a serious question. 

            “Tommy and I are getting married tomorrow. I still can’t believe it. Even saying it out loud is like a surprise.” Kate laughed softly to herself. She was in the stables, taking her time grooming Blue. It was spring and his winter coat was shedding off and Kate wanted to see his black coat gleaming in the warm sun again. She spoke softly with the gelding as she combed his made and brushed his coat.

            Although she was happy about finally getting to the altar after such a long time of waiting, nerves were starting to get the better of her. With her past and with Tommy’s, it was hard to tell what the future held. But what Kate wanted was to at least try to guarantee a good life for their children.

            Besides, she decided that maybe she was still clinging to the idea that she didn’t deserve love. Something that she knew Tommy struggled with too.

            “I’m sure everything will go alright. At least Tommy’s already gone through a wedding before.”

            “Oi, heard that.”

            Kate poked her head out of the stall and smiled. Her fiancée was walking down the stable aisle. “I’m just stating facts.” She replied with a smug look. "Out of the two of us, you're the one with wedding experience." 

            Tommy chuckled and pecked her lips. “You might want to duck out while you can, the boys are coming soon.” The day before the wedding, Arthur set up to go hunting in Warwickshire to celebrate with just the lads. “And they’ve already had a go at some champagne.”

            “Well, I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to ruin the fun.” She teased.

            “Oh please, they’d get a kick out of you coming along.” Tommy stroked Blue’s nose as he poked his head out of the stall to greet him. “Want me to take him?”

            “What do you think?” Kate cooed to the gelding. “Do you want to go along for the hunt?” She patted his strong neck. “I think he’d have fun. Lord knows I can’t entertain him much.” She rested a hand on her stomach. It was more than obvious that Kate was pregnant. At five months she had gone through a variety of getting dresses rehemmed or buying new clothes all together.

            “I’ll take good care of him,” Tommy promised and began to head to the tack room. But his fiancée stopped him.

            “Y’know, I was talking to Frances today,” She said. “Um, about the nursery.”

            The two had talked plenty about the pregnancy and subsequently the child or children, depending on if Polly was right. They had even discussed names. But the upstairs of Arrow House had become like a minefield.

            Grace’s room was locked and only Tommy had the key. The unfinished nursery that adjoined the room was still under debate. Kate felt as if it was her duty to make sure she wasn’t forcing him into anything. The estate had more than enough rooms to accommodate them if he wanted to close off that part of the hallway.

            Yet Tommy had pushed his feelings down. Deep down. As if he was trying to force everything to be okay.

            “The nursery is half done.” He replied. “All the furniture is new; we’d just need another cot if it’s twins like Pol says.”

            “If it’s twins then maybe we should use one of the bigger rooms?” She moved cautiously through the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on his day. But she still thought it was important.

            He met her eyes. “Kate, we talked about this.”

            “I know I just worry that you’re not addressing how you feel.” She touched his cheek. “The more honest you are with yourself; the easier life is.”

            “We have time on another day to discuss it further.” He kissed her cheek. “Go on back to the house and rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “I think you’re right about twins, Pol,” Ada said.

            “When have I been wrong?”

            Kate chuckled softly. She turned right and left to look at herself in the mirror. Ada wasn’t joking. She remembered seeing Ada and Esme pregnant and they didn’t show nearly as much as she did. Especially in a wedding dress, it was hard to conceal. Not that she particularly meant to. She didn’t think anyone who was coming to the wedding that day would be openly critical. “Are there twins in your family?” She wondered.

            “Maybe a pair on the Strong side,” Polly recalled and walked over to place a dazzling barrette in Kate’s hair to hold back the curls from her face.

            “I didn’t know my mother’s side of the family very well,” Kate admitted. “It may be from her family.”

            Polly pivoted the conversation. “Are you sure about walking down the aisle alone? Arthur said he would walk with you.”

            “Yeah, he talked to me about it yesterday.” Kate mindlessly adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her baby bump. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright.” There was never a point in her life where she pictured anyone giving her away. She never pictured herself walking down the aisle, to begin with. Her father was never fit enough to be that sort of figure in her life before his death. She felt much more comfortable making the short walk by herself. That's how she found her way to Tommy, all on her own.

            “Here.” Ada helped Kate step into her heels so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

            “Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Arthur won’t mind the short notice.” Polly smiled and made sure every Kate’s hair was in place.

            Ada glanced up as she fixed the straps of Kate’s heels. “Is it true you invited Alfie Solomons?” She wondered.

            “I know his popularity in the family is mixed but he’s a good friend.” Kate asserted so there would be no confusion on the matter.

            “It’s your day. Whoever you want at your wedding, you can invite.” Polly nodded in agreement. Although in the back of her mind she hoped that Tommy had prepared the others to see Alfie. She didn’t want the wedding erupting in chaos over some old bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “I’m leaving.”

            “Brother, easy.” Tommy grabbed Arthur by the suit sleeve before he could storm across the lawns and out of sight.

            The guests were starting to take their seats and it just so happened that Alfie Solomons had a near front-row seat to watch the affair. He had a beautiful woman on his arm, Mabel. She looked less like the painfully shy thing that Kate had met at the boxing match. In fact, she was positively glowing with happiness as she exchanged kisses with her sister and the other ladies of the Forty Elephants.

            “You invite him to your fucking wedding? Your home?” Arthur seethed under his breath trying not to cause too much of a scene until he had an explanation.

            “Kate invited him,” Tommy replied quietly, not to draw attention to them. “And I won’t have you fighting with him on my fucking wedding day. I’ll keep him away from you if you promise you won’t kick-off. If you upset Kate, you're dead.”

            Arthur narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat pocket for his flask. “Could’ve warned me.” He muttered.

            “I did tell you. Not my fault you were too high on snow not to remember.” Tommy let go of Arthur’s sleeve, confident that his threat had done the trick. “He’s retired, anyways.”

            “Men like that don’t retire.” Arthur tucked his flask away.

            "Men like us don't retire." Tommy clarified. 

            The sun had come out, thankfully, for the wedding. Although Polly wanted the union to be under God’s watchful eye, Tommy and Kate had balked. Kate was unsure if she wanted to step on a nerve and get married in the same church Tommy and Grace did. There was no use in being forced to relive painful memories on what was supposed to be a happy day.

            Kate suggested perhaps getting married outside. Arrow House had plenty of room out in the lawns. And it reminded her of John and Esme’s wedding. There was something so romantic to her about the beautiful countryside in the spring.

            Tommy agreed and a suitable wedding venue was arranged. They were just fortunate that the weather had held and it hadn’t rained like the week before.

            So many times, Tommy had thought he’d lost Kate for good. On his journey to bring her home, he was restless as they crossed the Atlantic.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time, smoking on the deck of the ship. In the night, he waited until land came into view. But the inky black expanse of the waters and the night sky gave him nothing.

            He tried to think of what to say to her. The last words she spoke to him still cut so deep. He knew they weren’t true. She still loved him. But she was trying to keep him safe, trying to sacrifice herself.

            He pictured beating Santo Leoni into a bloody pulp. The sound of the gun as he put a bullet through the man’s head.

            Finally, the coast came into view. Exhausted but the drive to bring Kate back to safety kept him awake and alert.

            On the phone, Frank told him that Kate was fine and that she had killed Santo herself. Tommy hung up and could barely stand still as he waited. The wait at the port felt longer than the entire trip across the ocean. Every second dragged on until the car pulled up.

            Kate threw herself out of the car before it had even stopped. Tommy felt so much relief he could’ve cried. He vowed to himself that he would never let her go from that point on.

            “You look like you’ve gone into a dream state,” Kate murmured to him when Tommy took her hand.

            “I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t a dream.” He replied with a soft smile.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “Oh, they’ve been inseparable since he left for Margate. Lillian said Mabel hasn't come back to Camden since she first visited him. She simply had her stuff sent to her. Been there ever since and has no plans of leaving.” Alice loosely held the champagne flute in her hand. She and Kate were speaking on the edges of the dancefloor. "Of course, everyone's talking about it, but nothing to change. They seem to be in love, far as Lillian says." 

            Arrow House was abuzz with energy after Tommy and Kate married. The reception was considerably less proper compared to Tommy’s first one with Grace. With no cavalry members in sight, it was a little more relaxed. Not to mention the number of criminal masterminds in attendance. But truthfully, they were the most fun.

            Kate looked smug watching Alfie and Mabel talking across the dance floor. “Well, I won’t say I told him so.”

            Alice smiled and finished her champagne. “Alfie handed over some paperwork to me this morning.”

            “Oh?”

            “Wants me to take over the bakery.”

            Kate tried to play it cool even though she was excited for her friend and even more excited that Alfie had gone through with what he said. Maybe this was his final act of retirement and his acceptance of his new life with Mabel. “Well, you have the support of the Peaky Blinders.”

            “Just can’t wait to see Sabini’s face when he finds out.”

            “Ha,” Kate snorted. “I’d like to see that too.”

            “Mind if I interrupt?” Tommy stepped into their conversation.

            Kate beamed. What had been such a beautiful ceremony was melting into the ideal she never knew she wanted. A life forever by the side of the man she loved.

            “Of course.” Alice smiled. “I’m going to go find Lillian and Ruby.”

            Tommy took Kate’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Holding her close, they began to sway together to the soft jazz music.

            “You haven’t gone off to meet with some crazy Russian duchess again, have you?” Kate teased.

            He chuckled. “For a Shelby wedding, this has been very uneventful.”

            “The night is still young.” She murmured in his ear with a smile.

            “I like it better this way.” He admitted. “I didn’t want anything to happen, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

            “You’ve always treated me like I’m some sort of royalty.” She lightly ran her fingers up the nape of his neck.

            “That’s how you deserve to be treated. Every day I was apart from you, I promised I would make it up to you.”

            “Tom, you don’t need to beat yourself up because of the past. I’m here, we’re finally married. We’re going to be parents soon. Everything that happened, happened. And despite all of it, all my paths lead back to you.” She stopped dancing a moment so she could look him in the eyes. “And they always will.”

            Tommy saw the world in her eyes. A world very unlike the one he had planned for so many years. In Kate’s eyes, he saw himself walking away from everything. Moving into Arrow House permanently. Raising the children, they would have. Spending his days riding horses, hunting, and being the best father, he could.

            Those blue eyes invited him to do all of that and more. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

            He gently kissed her, hoping that he could hold steady onto his given path.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “Thought I’d find you out here.” Tommy sat down on the front steps next to Alfie. “Mabel was asking around for you. Kate had me come look for you.”

            Alfie seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Oh, congratulations, mate.” He hadn’t really heard what Tommy had said to him. “Kate’s very happy. Y’know, before all this she’d come into me office. I figured it was because she was doing her fucking job but then she’d start lamenting to me about you. Like I were her gossip buddy.” He snorted and shook his head. “She wanted nothing more than to have you but didn’t think she deserved it. Of course, you and I both know it’s the opposite way around, innit?”

            Tommy shrugged.

            “I don’t deserve Mabel. Not in a million years. Not even if God himself came down and told me we were meant to be.”

            “I thought you two were hitting it off. That’s what Kate said.”

            “I ain’t never been so happy.”

            Tommy raised an eye at him. “Then what’s the problem, Alfie?”

            The man beside him took a heavy deep breath. “I’m dying, Tom. I told Kate at the boxing match. I’ve got skin cancer and it’ll kill me in a couple of years if I’m lucky. That’s why I want you to kill me.”

            After two blows, Tommy was a bit speechless. Alfie was dying and he wanted him to kill him. In what world were they living? This certainly wasn’t the man who had threatened to shoot Tommy on many occasions.

            “I’m not going to kill you, Alfie.”

            “Oh, c’mon you know you’ve wanted to fucking put a bullet through me head ever since we met. I ain’t blind. Now I’m giving you the option and you turn it down like a scared little boy?” Alfie wasn’t angry. When he was angry, everyone around him knew. No, this was fear. Fear coming from a man who claimed to be fearless.

            “What would that do to Mabel? Aye? And d’you think Kate would ever speak to me if I did?” Tommy questioned harshly. “You’ve got another part of life to appreciate, try not to skip out on it.”

            “Yeah, how much you think I’m gonna enjoy that while I’m rotting away?” Alfie demanded. “While Mabel watches?”

            Tommy shook his head. The logic wasn’t lost on him. How many nights had he been wide awake wondering how long he had to suffer? How much longer would he tolerate the pain and weight of the world? How many times had someone held a gun to his head? How many times was he completely at peace with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his skin? How many times had he waited patiently for that click and then….nothing.

            “I’m not killing you.” He said again. Because if Tommy had given in, he wouldn’t be sitting there. Married and about to be a father. “We’ll get the best doctors in London to help.”

            “Oh, right. So now you’re my saving grace?” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucking ridiculous. I don’t want some fucking doctor drugging me up. I ain’t gonna roam around life high like you lot.”

            “I know you don’t think you deserve Mabel. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t deserve Kate. But look at us, aye? They’re still here with us. You fucking need God to come down and explain that to you?”

            Alfie grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d be no fucking help.”

            “Take it up with Kate. See how she reacts and then you’ll realize how much easier I was on you.” Tommy replied and lit up a cigarette. “She’d go ballistic.”

            The two men sat out in the breezy spring night. Past the gravel drive was nothing but dark countryside with the sounds of nocturnal life.

            “I saw the ring Mabel was wearing.” Even at his own wedding reception, Tommy was perceptive. He could never turn it off even if he wanted.

            Alfie merely muttered something incoherent under his breath.

            “So, I invite you to my wedding but I’m not given the same courtesy.”

            “It were a gift.” He grumbled crankily. "Can't I buy jewelry for her without people getting their knickers in a twist?"

            Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette to the step beside him. “So, no plans then?”

            “Her mum threw a fit when she found out. Even in retirement, I’m still the devil of Camden. No one wants their women near me. Her mum hated that we were friends when we were kids. Guess she thought she was in clear, that I wouldn't ever go near Mabel again.” He let out a humorless laugh. "Guess she were wrong and now I'm corrupting her thirty-four-year-old daughter. S'fucking ridiculous." 

            “Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?”

            “I don't. But Mabel's getting an earful every night. Ain't fair to her." Alfie shrugged. “Just know there won’t be no blessings coming my way, that’s for sure.”

            “Except for Kate.”

            He laughed. “It’s tough to disappoint her, innit?”

            “I think she’d be disappointed if I killed you especially if she found out you asked me to do it.”

            “There’s just no pleasing some people.” Alfie shook his head.

            “Come on.” Tommy stood up. “Don’t want Kate thinking you’ve skipped off without saying goodbye to her.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina

Masterpost

PB Masterlist