Summary; To everyone's shock and surprise, Alastor introduced you as his husband after the hotel was rebuilt. Chaos follow.
~~~~~~~~~
The hotel was more beautiful and grandiose than you imagined. Well, it was true that it had been rebuilt since the attack from Adam and his Angels, maybe for the better. Your eyes admired the place, wondering if your husband had had a say in some of the ideas. Like the radio tower clearly visible.
Holding a bag of food you just made, you walked inside the hotel. The first thing you saw Charlie hunched over the desk, writing on some papers with concentration painted all over her face. Poor princess didn't even hear you approaching even with your hooves clopping on the floor. You stopped in front of the desk, an amused smile on your lips as you slowly leaned down until you were at the same height as her.
- “Excuse me, princess. May I have your attention for a second?” You asked, resulting in poor Charlie almost jumping out if her skin and screaming.
You held back a laugh as she looked at you up and down, her hand resting on her chest as she calmed herself. You stood back, standing straight as you heard footsteps running toward you. You turned your head, seeing her father and girlfriend arrive first.
- “It's alright dad, Vaggie, he just scared me. Sorry! I didn't hear you coming in.” She excused herself, her breath short and you waved your hand as if it was nothing.
- “Do not worry yourself for so little, princess. I am used to scaring people.” You chuckled. “I was just wondering if my husband was around, I got him his favourite meal.”
Jambalaya made with angel’s meat as you knew he wanted to know what they tasted like. And Jambalaya had always been one of his favorites. Naturally, you didn't tell Charlie what it was made of.
She blinked, looking at you curiously.
- “Your husband?” She asked, slightly tilting her head as you wore no ring. “Who is he? I’ll look if he is registered!”
- “Oh, he definitely is.” You laughed before hearing familiar footsteps.
You turned your head only to see Alastor coming your way. Your smile grew, toothy, as Alastor stopped and smiled as well.
- “Oh Love! You came!” He said, rushing toward you.
Everyone stood frozen, eyes round with surprise as you embraced Alastor, planting a kiss on his hair. The radio demon wrapped his arms around you, his microphone resting against your back. You plunged your gaze in his and chuckled, showing the bag of food.
- “I made your favourite. Jambalaya.” You said and you saw excitation and joy in his eyes as he snatched the bag from your hand, giving your his microphone.
- “Wait, wait, wait! You and that freak? Alastor is married?” Vaggie asked, pointing at Alastor, than you.
- “Been for almost a century, darling. Nothing new there except that Jambalaya! You made a new recipe, didn't you?” He asked, smelling the bag.
- “Made it just for you.” You said, winking at him and Alastor got it instantly.
His smile grew as he kept the bag against his chest even if all eyes were on you. You almost felt uncomfortable, but decided to ignore them. They didn't truly know Alastor and your husband had the habit of keeping you a secret for your safety. After all, as an Overlord, he had many enemies.
You weren't powerless, but if it made Alastor feel better, then you didn't mind not existing. But now that he had invited you here and weren't denying your bond, even showing physical affection, you wondered who they all were to him.
You gently replaced his hair before turning your attention toward Charlie. She almost had stars in her eyes as she looked at you two, unlike her father who seemed to still be in shock.
- “Do you think it would be possible for me to join your Hotel? Of course, I will share the same room as Alastor.” You said, tilting your head while Alastor nodded as if you had asked him.
- “O-of course! It'll be a pleasure to have you around.” Charlie said, waving at you while Alastor took your hand, pulling you away.
You laughed, allowing Alastor to do as he pleased. In the elevator, you kissed your husband on the temple and he hummed, fingers playing on the bag. You could tell he was impatient to taste it.
- “Fresh angels from the battle. I got some in the freezer if you love it, so Incan makes you more meal.” You said, twinkles in your eyes.
- “Why? Thank you! It sweet of you dearest.” Alastor replied, looking at you with a true smile as you squeezed his hand gently.
Alastor took you to his room and you both made sure the door was locked before you got comfortable. Alastor immediately went to the dining table, putting the table and getting ready to eat as you took off your coat.
You joined him as he served the both of you a generous portion of Jambalaya. You ate and made small talk, asking him how his stay was and if his wound still bothered him. Alastor was honest, pointing out how bored he had been without you and that, in fact, yes the wound on his chest still bothered him sometimes.
After dinner, you took a look at his chest, finger brushing through his fur. Alastor stood still on his chair, a bit tense as you examined the healed wound. Still a bit reddish and swollen, it had healed properly.
- “Let’s put on some cream, but I don't see any sign of infection.” You said and Alastor nodded.
He stayed shirtless after you put on some cream and bandaged on his chest. You sat together on the sofa, your arms around him while he nuzzled himself against you. You turned on the radio and just enjoyed the music, cuddling with Alastor.
You felt your husband slowly fall asleep against you and you realized that he had truly missed you. Those small domestic moments were a joy to do again. You leaned down, kissing his forehead. You chuckled when Alastor grabbed your antler and lightly shook it.
No kissing, you got it. He had gotten enough and you knew he wasn't a fan of them, unlike you. You smiled, lifting your head, forcing his arm up, which had Alastor opening his eyes as he didn't let go of your antler.
- “You are falling asleep, let's just go to bed.” You offered and Alastor agreed.
You found yourself quickly in bed, Alastor in your arms and already fast asleep. Your fingers brushed his fur, your nose buried in his hair as you took in his smell. It had been months since the last time you slept next to your spouse and you had almost lost him recently. You felt that if you closed your eyes, he would disappear before you woke up. You fought sleep as long as you could, but finally gave in after a few hours.
You woke up to someone trying to get in the room, but the door was locked. Groaning, you opened your eyes and were greeted by the sight of Alastor nuzzled fully against you. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his head rested under your chin and his breath tickled you while his legs tangled with yours. Alastor was still deeply asleep, unbothered by the stranger trying to break into your room.
Sighing, you caressed Alastor’s face before untangling yourself from his embrace. Alastor whined and groaned before turning around in almost a ball. You smiled and pulled the blankets over him before putting on a dressing gown and going to the door.
When you opened it you got face-to-face with a spider-like sinner. The man looked at you with big surprised eyes, as if he didn't expect you to open the door.
- “May I help you?” You asked, voice a bit cold.
- “Holy shit, it's true? Alastor is actually married?”
You groaned and rolled your eyes before pinching your nose. Were you really forced out of bed for that?
- “Yes, we are married.” You sighed, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe. “And you are a nosy spider, young man, coming here so early and forcing me out of bed. So is there something I can help you with or can I go back to sleep?”
- “How is Alastor in bed?” He asked with a big smile making you grunt in disgust.
- “Sleeping and that is none of your concern.” You pointed out.
- “Oh come on! Everyone is curious about how he is sexually speaking!”
- “Alastor had no interest in it neither do I. After the time he passed around you that most be clear.” You said with a sigh, shaking your head.
- “You gotta be kidding me. No sex?” he exclaimed, almost not believing it.
- “You know sex isn't the base of a healthy relationship, right? Not everyone needs it to be happy.”
It had taken you a few moments, but you recognized the man in front of you as a pornstar, Angel Dust if your memory was good. Of course, asexuality might be an alien concept for him, but you decided to not judge him for it.
You closed the door after making it clear the conversation was over and went back to bed. Naturally, Alastor had woken up by then and sat in the bed, waiting for you. You sat by his side, shaking your head.
- “Your friend Angel Dust came to see if it was true that you were married and decided it was the perfect time to ask about our sex life.”
You laughed seeing the disgust painting itself on Alastor’s face. You took his hand and kissed his knuckles before resting your cheek against them and smiled to him.
- “I told him a healthy relationship doesn't need sex, but I think it's a concept he doesn't understand yet.” You said and Alastor shook his head before resting it on your shoulder.
- “He really woke us for that?” He asked yawning as you nuzzled your nose in his hair. “I might beat his ass later today.”
- “Hush now. He is just a kid lost and who still has a lot to learn. I highly doubt he was raised properly in a loving family.” You whispered before laying back down. Alastor did the same, resting his head on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “Let’s forget about your friend, I’m still tired.”
Alastor hummed in agreement and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, making sure to not hurt him. You closed your eyes and were lured to sleep by your husband’s slow breath. As you fell asleep, you also felt at home. You were back where you belonged, by Alastor’s side and he was by yours once more. Seeing how clingy he was, you knew the feeling was reciprocal and you knew he would never leave you alone again.
NEWS REGARDING AN OFFICIAL THE FREAK CIRCUS COMIC!!!!
Hey all!
Neko has been very busy getting his own store going, The Pierrot plushies out, quality control on store items, legal stuff, dealing with thieves, etc. etc.
Not to mention, you know, working on the ACTUAL game!
As such, I will be making an official The Freak Circus Comic to help lighten the load for the kindest cat <3 Check out the ROUGH thumbnails above^^^ 83 isn't this cool?
The comic is written by the creator, @nekoboydreams, will be CANON to the universe of TFC, and drawn/lettered by me <3
If you can't wait and want to watch me actually work on said comic, I will be streaming my progress on my personal patreon starting on June 30th, 2026 for the first two to three pages!!
YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY PATREON HERE
(psst! remember to connect your discord to patreon to be able to go on the stream if you've signed up as a member!)
---
YES, the comic will be available for EVERYONE to see, but only those on Neko's or my Patreon will get to read the story first before he uploads it here on the official account: @freakcircusofhorrors for every bodyyyyy <3
Yes, everyone Destiny will be drawing and lettering the next official Comic: Harlequin's Pet! I wrote the entire script and sent it to her, you can follow her livestream by becoming a Patreon member to see the progress! That way I can focus more on the update itself.
Good news, everyone! The plush from Gimme Swag has released and is now available for purchase!
Just go to the link above to order your favorite yandere boy! Please be aware the current estimated shipping date is between December 30th and January 30th!
This campaign is in partnership with Gimme Swag, and it's only available for a limited time!
We know many of you were worried about missing the first pre-order, so this is your chance to finally bring Pierrot home and have him in your arms!
The campaign will only be available for 30 days. Once it ends, the plush will no longer be available for purchase, and there won't be any extra stock available.
So be sure to keep an eye on the campaign dates so you don't miss your chance!
Boas notícias, pessoal! O pelúcia da Gimme Swag foi lançado e já pode ser comprado!
Basta acessar o link acima para encomendar o seu garoto yandere favorito! Lembre-se de que a previsão atual de envio é entre 30 de dezembro e 30 de janeiro!
Esta campanha é uma parceria com a Gimme Swag e está disponível apenas por tempo limitado!
Muitos de vocês estavam preocupados por terem ficado fora da pre-venda, então essa é sua chance de te-lo em seus braços!
Esta campanha ficara disponível para compra por apenas 30 dias, após isso não sera possível comprá-lo e não havera estoque! Então fique de olho na data!
Riddle first discovered your terrible habit during a study session in Heartslabyul.
He had stepped into the lounge expecting silence and discipline, only to freeze at the sight of you sitting comfortably with an entire grilled cheese sandwich in one hand and an absurdly large glass bottle of milk in the other. His eyes narrowed immediately as he slowly lowered the stack of papers in his arms.
"You're lactose intolerant" he said flatly.
You took another bite while looking directly at him. "Only technically"
Riddle's eye twitched.
At first, he genuinely thought you were joking. Surely nobody would willingly eat cheese and drink milk knowing the consequences waiting for them later. Yet twenty minutes afterward, he found you dramatically folded over one of the couches, groaning into a pillow. Trey quietly waiting for you with some tea from the sidelines while Cater tried not to laugh loudly enough for Riddle to hear.
Meanwhile, Riddle stood over you with his arms crossed so tightly it looked painful.
"This was entirely preventable."
"I regret...nothing" you mumbled weakly.
"You absolutely should regret it!"
The worst part was that this happened repeatedly. Riddle would catch you sneaking cheese tarts from the kitchen, eating cream pasta during lunch, or pouring condensed milk into your coffee like you were trying to challenge fate itself. Every single time, he lectured you with increasing exasperation.
And every single time, you answered with complete confidence, "The more lactose I eat, the more I'll build tolerance."
"That is not how it works!"
"But what if my body adapts?"
"Your body is currently declaring war against you!"
Eventually, Riddle developed the exhausted patience of a man who had accepted defeat. He still scolded you, of course. He always would. But now he also carried medicine in his pocket "just in case" which only encouraged you further because clearly he was enabling you. He hated that you were right about that.
One evening, he caught you halfway through another cheese sandwich and sighed so deeply it sounded like he had already expected this.
"You're impossible"
You smiled innocently. "But lovable?"
Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose before quietly sliding a glass of water toward you anyway.
"...Unfortunately, yes."
Ი𐑼 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑
Leona discovered your complete lack of self-preservation after finding you beneath a tree one afternoon, enjoying a peaceful picnic by yourself.
A peaceful picnic that consisted entirely of cheese.
You were happily eating a cheese sandwich and cheese crackers. There was also an entire carton of milk besides your knee. The moment he saw it, his eyes narrowed lazily.
"You got a death wish or something?"
You blinked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Ain't you lactose intolerant?"
You shrugged. "Life is about risks"
Leona stared at you for a long moment before snorting under his breath.
"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all week."
You ignored him and continued happily eating and drinking.
About an hour later, he found you lying face-down across his bed, looking utterly defeated while clutching your stomach dramatically. Leona sat nearby, watching with absolutely no sympathy whatsoever. In fact, he looked vaguely entertained.
"You alive over there?"
"Barely."
"Told you not to eat all that."
You weakly lifted a finger.
"My body just needs exposure therapy."
Leona barked out a laugh so sudden it startled even him.
"Exposure therapy? You sound like an idiot."
Despite all his insults, Leona somehow always noticed before you started feeling sick. If he saw you approaching with dairy products, he immediately grabbed them away with one hand while holding your forehead back with the other.
"No."
"You're not my dad."
"No, but unlike you, I got survival instincts."
Sometimes, you manage to sneak dairy snacks anyway. Leona would inevitably catch you later, curled up miserably in his bed while regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. He always acted annoyed whenever your suffering interrupted his peace and quiet, yet he never actually pushed you away. Instead, he would plop down beside you, and lazily rest a hand on your back while grumbling under his breath.
"You never learn."
"I'm building immunity."
"You're building stomach problems."
One afternoon, after catching you eating cheesecake for the third time that week, Leona simply sighed and tossed a blanket over your shoulders before flopping back down beside you.
"At least suffer quietly so I can sleep."
Ი𐑼 𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎
Azul took your lactose intolerance personally.
Not because he cared about dairy specifically, but because he could not comprehend how someone could continuously make such irresponsible decisions regarding their own health. The first time he witnessed it was inside the VIP room of the Mostro Lounge. You were happily eating Alfredo pasta covered in parmesan while sipping a milkshake at the same time.
Azul nearly dropped his pen.
"(name) " he said slowly, "aren't you lactose intolerant?"
You nodded while chewing.
"...And you ordered extra cheese?"
"The spirit is willing."
"The flesh is weak" Jade added smoothly from nearby.
Floyd nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
Azul spent the next several hours listening to your miserable complaints while you lay dramatically across one of the lounge sofas, clutching your stomach. He looked deeply offended on your behalf despite the fact that this was entirely self-inflicted.
"I warned you"
"And I ignored you"
"Yes, I noticed!"
The truly horrifying part for Azul was your confidence. Every time he tried to stop you, you answered with complete certainty.
"The more lactose I eat, the more I'll tolerate it."
Azul stared at you as if you had personally insulted the Mostro Lounge.
"That is not medically sound."
"You don't know that"
"I absolutely do know that!"
Eventually, Azul started researching lactose intolerance out of pure frustration. He bought lactose-free alternatives, had the kitchen prepare special meals, and even tried convincing you with logic charts and nutritional breakdowns. None of it worked because the moment your eyes landed on real cheese, all reason vanished instantly.
One evening, he caught you secretly eating ice cream from the freezer at midnight. You froze like a criminal caught in the act.
Azul sighed heavily before handing you medicine and a glass of water.
"At least sit closer to me this time so I can monitor the damage."
Ი𐑼 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑
Jamil noticed your habit quietly at first.
You would casually steal yogurt drinks from Scarabia's kitchen, eat buttery curries loaded with cream, or snack on cheese-filled bread while pretending nothing was wrong. At first, he assumed your intolerance might be mild.
Then he watched you spend an entire evening curled up miserably on one of couches after drinking a cup of sweet milk tea.
Jamil looked exhausted.
"You do realize this keeps happening because you keep eating dairy."
You pointed weakly at him.
"Counterpoint... it tastes good."
"That's not a counterpoint."
Unlike the others, Jamil actually tried preventing disaster before it happened. If he saw you reaching for dairy, he would smoothly redirect your attention elsewhere. Suddenly, there would be fruit in your hands instead of cheesecake. Somehow, your milk would get replaced with juice before you even noticed.
Unfortunately, you were stubborn.
One afternoon, he walked into the kitchen and caught you making an absurd cheese sandwich stacked so high it looked criminal. There was also a jug of milk sitting beside you.
Jamil slowly blinked.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"No. I'm increasing my tolerance."
Jamil closed his eyes.
He looked like he was praying for patience.
"You've been saying that for months."
"And one day I'll be right."
"You've literally only gotten worse."
Despite all his lectures, Jamil always took care of you afterward anyway. He brewed herbal tea, preparing the heating pad and muttered complaints the entire time while making sure you were comfortable.
"You're unbelievably irresponsible."
"But you still help me"
"...Because if I leave you alone, you'll somehow find a way to make it worse."
The next day, he caught you eyeing a yogurt drink again and immediately narrowed his eyes.
"Don't"
"What if—"
"No"
Ი𐑼 𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓
Vil considered your lactose habit a personal attack on common sense.
The first time he witnessed it, you were sitting in Pomefiore's lounge, eating macaroni drenched in cheese sauce while happily drinking strawberry milk. Vil had walked in mid-conversation and stopped so abruptly that even Rook noticed.
"...Darling"
You looked up innocently.
"Aren't you lactose intolerant?"
"Yes"
Vil stared.
"So why are you consuming enough dairy to destroy a small village?"
"Because suffering is temporary. Cheese is forever."
Rook looked delighted by your answer. Vil looked one second away from a stress-induced migraine.
Later that night, Vil found you dramatically suffering beneath several blankets while complaining about your stomach. He stood at the foot of your bed with the expression of someone who had predicted a disaster long before it happened.
"I warned you."
"I know"
"And yet you still drank the milk."
"It completed the meal emotionally."
Vil closed his eyes briefly, as though he were praying for patience.
The worst part was your ridiculous theory. Every time he scolded you, you stubbornly insisted, "The more lactose I eat, the more my body will adapt."
Vil immediately responded "That is not how the digestive system works."
"But maybe mine is built different."
"It absolutely is not"
Despite his irritation, Vil eventually started carrying lactose pills for emergencies. He claimed it was because your constant suffering was disruptive to his schedule, but everyone knew better. Especially when he sighed dramatically before handing you medicine after catching you eating cheesecake once again.
"You are impossible"
"And yet you still take care of me."
Vil brushed your hair away from your face with surprising gentleness before muttering softly,
"Unfortunately, I've become attached to this disaster."
Ი𐑼 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃
Idia discovered your lactose problem through pure horror.
You had been gaming together in his room for hours when he casually glanced over and saw you absolutely demolishing a four-cheese pizza while drinking chocolate milk straight from the carton. Idia froze mid-button press.
".....Wait"
You looked over.
"Hm?"
"Aren't you lactose intolerant?"
You nodded casually.
Idia looked genuinely frightened.
"Then WHY are you speedrunning digestive failure?!"
You took another bite.
"I'm training my body"
"That's not training! That's literally poison damage for you!"
About an hour later, you were curled up on the floor wrapped in a blanket while groaning dramatically. Idia sat nearby holding a heating pad and staring at you with the exhausted despair of a man witnessing a preventable tragedy.
"I literally watched this happen in real time."
"No pain..... no gain" you said weakly.
"You gained nothing!"
The cycle repeated constantly. Idia would see you buying milkshakes, cheesy ramen, ice cream, or cream-filled pastries, and every single time he reacted as though you were about to trigger a natural disaster.
"Don't do it"
"I can handle it."
"You absolutely cannot! You lose the boss battle every time!"
Still, despite all his panicking, Idia quietly memorized everything that helped afterward. He kept medicine stocked in his room, prepared heating pads before you even asked, and searched forums online at three in the morning for things like "How do I stop a stubborn person from eating dairy?"
One afternoon, after catching you eating cheesecake again, Idia stared at you silently for a long moment before speaking.
"You know what? Fine. I respect the commitment to the bit at this point."
"It's not a bit"
"That somehow makes it worse."
Ი𐑼 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀
Malleus did not initially understand lactose intolerance.
When he first saw you happily eating a toasted cheese sandwich with a large glass of milk beside you, he simply assumed humans enjoyed dairy very passionately. You certainly seemed happy enough while consuming it.
Then, later that evening, he found you curled miserably beneath several blankets, looking as though your soul had temporarily abandoned your body.
Malleus frowned deeply.
"Child of Man, are you cursed?"
You let out a weak groan from beneath the blankets.
"No. I'm lactose intolerant."
Malleus tilted his head.
"Lilia explained this condition to me before."
His gaze shifted from your miserable expression to the empty glass of milk sitting nearby.
"...Yet you consumed the substance willingly."
"Yes."
Malleus looked utterly bewildered.
For a long moment, he simply stared at you as though trying to solve a riddle.
"You knowingly consumed something that would cause you suffering?"
"Yes."
"And you expected a different outcome?"
"...Maybe"
Malleus looked even more confused.
After learning the cause of your suffering, he genuinely attempted to prevent it from happening again. Unfortunately, you were stubborn beyond reason. He would catch you eating cheesecake during tea parties, stealing extra cheese from dinner, or adding cream to your coffee despite being fully aware of the consequences waiting for you later.
Each time, he asked the same question.
"Why?"
And each time, you answered with complete confidence.
"The more lactose I eat, the more tolerant I'll become."
Malleus considered this carefully.
"...That sounds false."
"It's probably fine."
"It does not appear to be."
Every piece of evidence suggested otherwise.
Still, he watched over you patiently whenever your poor decisions caught up with you. He sat beside you while you complained dramatically, gently rubbing your back with surprising tenderness as he listened to your miserable rambling.
"You should avoid these foods."
"But they're delicious."
"You say this moments before suffering."
"That's future me's problem."
Malleus actually laughed softly at that, though his expression remained fondly exasperated.
"Humans possess a remarkable ability to create their own misfortunes."
"That's one way to put it."
"Indeed."
Over time, Malleus began quietly seeking lactose-free alternatives whenever possible. He would ask the kitchen staff questions, consult Lilia for advice, and occasionally present you with substitutes he hoped would satisfy your cravings.
Unfortunately, you still somehow managed to find real dairy.
One rainy evening, he discovered you sneaking cheese from the kitchen once again. You froze immediately under his stare, the evidence still in your hands.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
Then Malleus sighed.
It was the sigh of a dragon who had finally accepted that some battles could never be won.
He stepped closer and gently took your hand.
"If you insist on battling your own stomach nightly" he murmured, amusement and resignation mingling in his voice, "then at least allow me to remain beside you afterward."
You smiled sheepishly.
"Is that your way of saying you care about me?"
Malleus lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles.
"Child of Man" he said softly, "I believe I have made that quite obvious."
For once, you had no argument to offer.
── Sorry, I couldn't help myself with this one lol. I got inspired by a TikTok video and just had to write it.
Anyway, I'll go back to writing requests now <𝟑 .ᐟ
Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘sir’, ‘mister’, ‘feller’, ‘boy’, ‘man’.
Physical Sex: None Mentioned
Rating: T/Violence, References to Sex
Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Micah is an asshole, Kieran is repressed and shy, Kieran is injured, Micah actually likes his horse, Micah is injured, Baylock is injured, they’re all fine it’s okay, crime, death
Summary: Kieran watches you from a distance, but things get bad when Micah notices and even worse when a job goes bad.
Every morning, despite not having slept, Micah wanders out from his tent and finds a place to sharpen his knife. Every morning you join him and he gets distracted with running his hands anywhere you’ll let him. Every morning Arthur tells you both to go somewhere private or to cut it out all together. Every morning, despite having a hundred other things to do, Kieran watches this all play out.
He moreso watches you. He tries to ignore Micah. After this routine you disappear to earn money or bring back food and Kieran won’t see you until it’s dark and Micah is pulling you along to your tent. Sometimes he’ll hear noises if he lingers around, noises he would give anything to be the cause of. Then the day resets and Kieran goes to tend to the horses with the sun rises. He waits and waits, finding a small amount of happiness when Micah starts sharpening his knife because he knows it means you’ll be awake soon.
A few others wake up in the meantime. Bill wanders to Pearson for coffee, Jack runs around after his parents brush him off in favor of a few extra moments of sleep. All the while, Kieran brushes The Count who is only behaving now that Dutch is awake as well. As Kieran moves on to the next horse, he sees you walking to Micah. Your hair has half-heartedly been smoothed out from a night that sounded quite long from what Kieran could hear. Your sleeping clothes show more of your arms, less of a sleeve to help fight the heat, and your muscles flex as you bend your arm to pull Micah in for a kiss. Kieran looks away for a few seconds and stares at the flank of the horse he’s brushing. Then he looks back. Micah has his hand in your hair and you have your fingers hooked into his gun belt, both pulling the other closer. Kieran’s heart picks up just a little when Micah’s other hand slightly lifts your shirt and the young man sees skin of yours that he’s never seen before.
This is when Arthur usually comes along. Sometimes it’s John, but today there’s no one stopping the two of you. Instead it’s him, it’s Kieran that distracts Micah because he’s been caught staring. Micah says something to you and you cup his cheek and kiss him again before walking off to Pearson’s. Micah, however, has his sights fixed on Kieran. In the few seconds it takes for Micah to cross the camp, Kieran can only imagine what the cruelest member of the Van Der Linde gang will do to him. He’s seen what he does to people he’s supposed to trust, he’s seen what the nicer members of the gang do to him. Would he skin him? String him up? Drown him in the river? Hogtie him and drag him along on a horse ride?
Surely Micah isn’t as bad as an O’Driscoll, all of whom Kieran has seen do those things when far less provoked.
When Micah reaches the edge of camp he stops and leans against a tree, his arms above his head to hold him up. Kieran tries to focus on the horse in front of him, brushing off the dirt. It takes a few seconds for him to realize it’s Baylock he’s brushing, Micah’s horse. Micah’s horse that is just like his owner. A rock and a hard place.
“I’ve had just about enough of you, O’Driscoll.” Micah muses, leaning his head back against the tree.
Kieran has frozen in place, the brush resting solidly against Baylock’s flank. He hasn’t been here long, but he’s seen how well this horse listens to his owner. Like they can read each other’s minds.
“I-Is there something I can do for ya, mister?” Kieran asks, resuming his brushing.
Kieran doesn’t have time to react before Micah has come around and essentially pinned him between him and Baylock. Kieran drops the brush and raises his hands, his back resting against a horse that may very well kick him if Micah’s in a bad enough mood.
“You can quit your staring.” Micah clears his throat. “Plenty a’ fellas to stare at around here.” He makes a gesture towards the camp and leans closer to Kieran. “Keep your eyes off a’ mine.”
Kieran nods and quickly has his neck allows. “Yes, yes, sir. I will. I didn’t mean nothing by it, mister. It won’t happen again.”
Micah chuckles as Kieran recoils against Baylock. “Oh, it will. And when it does, I’ll make sure you find your way off that cliff, cowpoke.”
Kieran’s eyes follow Micah’s gesture to the cliff a few yards away. The overlook is a long fall. If he’s lucky, he might live for a few seconds with a mangled body. Micah is stronger than him, he knows that. He might be able to put up a fight, but the man is just plain scary and Kieran would rather appease him than deal with the fallout.
“Got it.” Kieran’s breath is shaky as he speaks and the intense gaze from Micah makes it impossible to look anywhere but at the threatening cliff.
Micah takes some pleasure in the shaky voice Kieran speaks with, a smile spreads over his face. “Just keep to yourself, O’Driscoll.”
Kieran falls back as Micah falsely steps towards him, faking an attack. As if knowing what his owner wants, Baylock shakes his head and steps on Kieran as he walks away to graze by Brown Jack. Kieran clutches his stomach where Baylock stepped on him, a bad bruise clearly forming under his shirt. Micah chuckles in a dark way that makes Kieran half-wish it was Colm staring down at him. Then the gunslinger walks away, humming a light tune, as if nothing had happened. He sits with you by the campfire, taking a bowl of stew and settling in while Kieran is left clutching his bruise and hoping nothing is broken.
Dutch, in all his wisdom, has a plan. He always has a plan, but none as questionable as this. A valuable stagecoach, passing south of Valentine on the way to Saint Denis. A job that can easily be done with two men. However, Dutch is a teacher. You and Micah are supposed to teach the youngest of the gang, Lenny, and the newest of the gang, Kieran, how to rob a stagecoach properly. Teaching the inexperienced turns this job from easy to complicated. Of course, it’s you that must break the news. If Dutch wants to use Micah, he pairs him with you for obvious reasons, but it’s you that always gets the details of his plan and has to relay them. This annoys Micah. The job will annoy him more.
“Dutch is making us do what?”
“You heard me, Micah!” You shout, grabbing your hat from its usual place. “Dutch’s order. That’s the only reasoning you need.”
“But the O’Driscoll and the-”
“They could use the experience, that’s what Dutch said and that’s the end of it.”
Micah stops you, grabbing your arm. “Why not Arthur?” He clears his throat. “John, Bill, anyone!”
“He said we’re going, so we’re going.” You pull your arm from his grip. “Those kids need all the experience they can get.”
Micah follows you out of the tent and to the cluster of horses on the edge of camp. Kieran stands next to Branwen, patting him with a smile on his face. Lenny is looking over his gun and perks up when you get close, only to lose some enthusiasm when he sees Micah behind you.
“Let’s get this over with.” Micah says, pulling himself up onto Baylock.
You follow his lead, getting on your horse as well. Before you broke the news to Micah, you got Kieran and Lenny together and told them everything they needed to know. Dutch wants this to be a learning job, you’re not one to disappoint the boss.
“So how much are we expecting from this?” Lenny asks over the loud gallop of the horses.
“A hundred, maybe two.” You answer. “They’re ‘rich bastards’ is all Dutch said.”
“And why couldn’t we do this ourselves?” Micah asks, annoyed as ever.
“They gotta learn somehow, Micah.” You say, eyes now scanning for the ridge Dutch told you about.
“Hey, I know how to rob a stage!” Lenny says. “I bet Kieran does too.”
“I’m sure you can, boys.” You slow down, the others follow suit. “But this is about doing things right.”
Micah chuckles. “Now I see why Dutch wanted us.”
You point up to the ridge above the road, a perfect spot for sharpshooting. “Lenny, you’re up there. Make sure you only take shots you have to. We don’t need the law on us right now. You signal us when you see it coming”
“Got it.” Lenny nods, riding off to the ridge.
“Micah, you’re leading. You know what that means.” You say and Micah nods with a satisfied grin on his face. “Kieran, we’re covering him. Rifles out and we stick to the sides of the road.”
Kieran nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, at least I know I’ll be covered from one side.” Micah chuckles as he rides off to his position.
Kieran’s dejected look makes you sigh. “Come on, kid.”
You lead Kieran to his position and make sure he has his rifle ready. Lenny’s right, he must have done this before. He did run with the O’Driscolls, they probably brought him along a few times. He seems more confident here, where Micah can’t see him. Most people don’t actually let Micah get to them, but Kieran seems really shaken by him. As long as it doesn’t screw up the job, the gang, then it’s his problem to deal with. You take your place on the other side of the road, rifle in hand and eyes fixed on Micah in his position. Something, everything, about Micah in action is one of the best sights in the world. Seeing him beforehand makes you a bit impatient. In a few minutes he’ll be doing what he does best and a few minutes after that you’ll be back at camp, pulling him to your tent and staring at that arrogant face that always makes you feel things you probably shouldn’t.
A faint light in the distance, up on the ridge, tells you that the target is coming. Also, that Lenny is doing the most basic part of his job. The others look like they’ve seen it, guns at the ready. The stagecoach rattles down the path, passing in between you and Kieran before Micah makes himself known. The driver pulls a gun, but Micah’s much faster. You move closer, making sure you have eyes on Micah to cover him as he leaves Baylock and approaches the door. Just as Micah gets the passengers out, you catch the signal light in the corner of your eye. From around the bend in the road you can see the faint outline of riders in the dark.
“We got company!” You shout.
Lenny’s shots ring through the air and you all follow them with your own. Micah scrambles for the take, shooting a lockbox open and shoving everything into his pockets. There are more riders than you’ve ever seen on a job like this. Lenny’s taken down four, you shot at least five, Kieran’s got a couple, but they’re still coming.
“I got it!” Micah shouts. “Let’s get outta here, boys!”
You pull at the reins of your horse, turning them around. With one last look up at the ridge, seeing Lenny getting back on his horse, you urge your horse forward. Everything comes to a stop when Micah falls off of Baylock a few feet ahead of you. You stop in place. Micah isn’t moving, Baylock is running off. Shit. You jump off your horse and give them a signal to run, they’ll probably follow Baylock and get to camp or find you once the noise is died down. Baylock has never left Micah like that before, he’s spooked more than ever.
“Kieran!” You shout as you start shooting again.
He crosses the road and stops behind you, shooting as well. Lenny’s probably far away by now, circling back to camp.
“Check on Micah.” You order.
“You’re gonna get yourself shot, mister.” Kieran says as he jumps down and takes another shot.
“Just get Micah!”
Kieran crouches and tries to rouse Micah. “He’s knocked out, I-I can’t get him up.”
“Shit!” You fire again, hitting the lead rider in the head.
There are four left. Four riders. You can handle four riders.
As if Hell has decided to come early, more riders come around the bend. The law, stupid little blue coats and all. Four riders turn into twenty. Twenty riders you can’t handle. You look back at Micah, out cold on the ground, and Kieran, still trying to wake him up.
“Take Micah and go.” You order.
“What?” Kieran asks. “Mister, I can’t leave ya here-”
“Kieran, go.” You yell. “I’ll find the horses and get back to camp. Tell Dutch what happened if I’m not back by morning.”
“I-I, I can’t-”
“Kieran!” You groan. “If you wanna make anyone in this gang trust you, do what I tell you. Go!”
He looks scared out of his mind. Anyone would be in a situation like this. But Kieran pulls himself together and helps you get Micah on the back of his horse. They’re gone in the time it takes the law to get to the stagecoach and you’ve disappeared into the trees by the time they reach the spot in the grass that’s covered in blood.
Your heart pounds as you run through the trees. Your rifle is pressed close to your chest and every step starts to burn once you see them. Baylock is on the ground and your horse is circling him, bouncing around nervously. You run to them and calm your horse, pulling them away from Baylock. When you get close to the always moody horse you can see the bullet wound. He’s been hit in the leg, his eyes are wide, he’s more scared than you’ve ever seen him. Carefully, you touch his back and slide your hand down to the injured leg. Baylock doesn’t respond aside from the occasional twitch of his tail. In the dark you have to feel around for the wound, it’s a clean shot. There’s no bullet, just a hole through the poor thing’s leg.
You mutter to yourself, reassuring your confidence as you catch your breath. You can’t leave him here, camp isn’t far, the lawmen aren’t either. You grab Baylock’s reins and urge him up. When he walks with you, he limps badly. You sling your rifle over your shoulder and grab your horses reins with your other hand, leading them both through the next set of trees towards camp. You’re gonna get away. The Van Der Linde gang is going to call this a success if it kills you.
Baylock is a strong horse. Anything that deals with Micah on a regular basis has to be strong. An immense compliment to both the horse and yourself. You need it as you trudge through the trees and duck deeper into the woods as lawmen patrol the roads. The familiar set of trees is a welcome sight and the call from Javier asking who’s there is even better. Your answer prompts some exclamation in Spanish before he yells for Dutch. It’s only been a few hours, the sun is just starting to rise, but everyone rushes out to meet you in various stages of sleepiness.
“You had us worried, boy!” Arthur says with a smile on his face as he takes your horse’s reins from you.
“What the hell happened out there?” Dutch asks, making his way through the crowd.
“First, Baylock’s injured.” You say, patting the horse’s back. “Where’s Strauss?”
“Here, here.” Strauss says, pushing his way past Abigail and John. “The O’Driscoll boy told me to prepare for the worst.”
The Austrian hands you horse medicine and lets you feed it to Baylock before he takes the reins to look over the wound. Once Baylock is safe you feel the exhaustion hit you. It was a long walk back and everyone has endless questions. Away from the crowd, lingering by your tent, is Kieran. He holds his hand together, messing with them nervously.
“Let’s all let the man rest!” Dutch finally declares over the chatter. “I’m sure we’ll get great retellings once everyone’s rested.”
Lenny lingers behind with a guilty look. “Mister, I woulda come back if I knew things got that bad.”
You wave him off. “We told you to get outta there, kid. You did good.”
He smiles. “You okay, sir?”
“Fine, Lenny. You should get some rest.”
As Lenny walks away there is only the clatter of things being knocked aside to warn you. Micah wraps his arms around you before you can even see him. He smells like blood and whiskey, but he’s never hugged you so tight and you can only return the much needed gesture. Then he pulls away from you and fixes his stare deep into your eyes.
“Never do that again, cowboy.” He grips your shoulders so hard it hurts a little. “Don’t you ever split us up like that.”
“I didn’t have a lot of options, Micah.” You say.
His hands fall down to rest on your gun belt, pulling you closer to him. “You coula left the O’Driscoll.”
Over Micah’s shoulder you can see him. Kieran is frozen by your tent, holding Micah’s bloody clothes and some empty medicine and whiskey bottles. Micah will never acknowledge that Kieran helped save his life, but you give a smile and you will never forget. You don’t know what you’d do without Micah. If he had been shot on that job, if he died from whatever injury he suffered from falling off of Baylock, you don’t know what you’d do. You’ll thank Kieran at some point, once Micah isn’t there to mess it up. Kieran didn’t do it for Micah or for Dutch or the gang. He saved Micah for you. Even if the man terrifies him, even if he is what stands in his way, Kieran will save him a hundred more times to see you happy.
I wanna give a biiiig thank you to the folks in the 14DWY Discord server for participating in Ren's birthday art collab!! It was fun watching the Renfection™ slowly spread >:3
And thank you to everyone else who celebrated Ren's birthday this year and made it special!
I may need to mess with the over lay more idek I trying to give it the old TV vibe yk
Yerpppp inspo I have a ych for this for purchase on my kofi ✨️🥀 yeah idek I might just make it available too do ourself if anyone wants idek we'll see I'm tIREDDDD EEEEE
I wanna draw him more but omg im liek crazy with it idek why hes got me so scared ill fuck him up idek AUGH
Could I request some headcannons with Mammon and Levi for a gender neutral reader who has insomnia and only sleeps well of they're there? Just need some good ol', tooth-rotting fluff to brighten my day!
Update: Part 2
as a fellow insomniac, ayyyy 👉😎👉 hope i did this justice!
Insomniac Reader
Mammon
ok so we all know how he likes to brag about being your first and all. and how hes practically attached to your hip. so obviously he’s one of, if not the first brother, to know/find out that you have insomnia.
surprisingly, he’s sympathetic to you and actually knows how to help you in some ways. his older brother is lucifer, after all. he’s bound to have picked up some tricks over the years
so, he’s quick to notice that you never seem to have difficulties sleeping when he’s around? i thought you said you had insomnia-
however, mammon is still mammon. so he doesn’t put two and two together until you straight up tell him
when you tell him that you only sleep well when he’s around?
his brain stops for a moment. hang on, give him a sec
when he finally reboots, he says some shit like “of course you do! i’m the great mammon!” all that junk. yknow, the usual.
boi we all know you’re super happy, you aint slick.
best be prepared for him to drag you to his room when it’s getting late or he wants to sleep. you have given him the information, so you must deal with the consequences.
it’s a win-win either way -- mammon gets to spend time with you, and you finally get to sleep well for once and its fucking awesome
mammon has 100% become your personal pillow now. sorry mams, you gotta deal with it. (he loves it, he isnt fooling anyone)
it’s fairly common to be hanging out with him (in his room or yours), only for you to doze off during whatever you two are doing. insomnia’s petty, and you cant always have your emotional support demon with you to help 24/7
and honestly? he doesn’t really mind. and how could he? not when you’re laying on top of him, arms wrapped snuggly around his midsection and face smushed adorably into his chest. you’re like a weighted blanket on him, warm but not uncomfortably so and you’re clinging to him as if he’s the last man alive.
so yeah, he definitely likes it
though when you finally wake up and raise your head to look at him, he’ll crack a joke or tease you a little. just because he can and hes an ass like that lmao
you then promptly shove your face back into his chest
world hard and cold, titty soft and warm
Leviathan
like mammon, levi also doesn’t put two and two together.
not because he’s slow to realize things, but because he cant bring himself to believe it.
he believes that you have insomnia, 100%. but the sleeping soundly near him? yeah, no. even if he comes to that conclusion by himself, he’s gonna deny it because you? feeling comfortable around him?? a gross yucky otaku???? only being able to sleep well around him???????
it’s so wild to him that he’s in denial lol
you gotta straight up tell him, even though he’s already knows.
and even then he’s like bro???? are you on crack
deadass looks at you like you’ve grown another head. ffs help this man
he eventually comes to terms with it, because its a fact and he cant really change it. and once it sinks in hes like oh god??? they feel comfortable around me???? holy shit-
dude feels honored and cannot look you in the eye without turning into a blushing mess for a bare minimum of a week
after that though, he’s surprisingly chill about it.
he’s up at very strange hours, so if you can’t sleep and it’s late, theres a very high chance that he’s awake too. so you can just go to his room.
if he notices that you’re more tired than usual, he’ll invite you over himself. like oh you cant sleep? just come to my room. we can play videogames or watch anime until you fall asleep. he sees when you’re struggling, and he really wants to help you
his shoulder becomes your favorite pillow very fast. the first time you fell asleep on him was... interesting.
your insomnia was acting up, so you went to levi to relax, and like clockwork you conked out after a few episodes of anime. you ended up leaning against him as you started to doze off, and he didn’t really notice until you were out -- most of your weight leaning on him
he couldnt help but screech in joy. which woke you up
he apologized for a solid 5 minutes straight. during which you probably started to fall asleep again
hiii ur works are so good omg i’m obsessed!! could i plz request barbatos fluff where he’s teaching mc how to bake bc there is absolutely not enough wholesome barb content out here lol—thank u!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
★﹐black cloud cakes ．﹑
synopsis: barbatos gives MC a crash course in baking.
wc: 2,391
genre: fluff
warnings: none!
a/n: I LITERALLY LOVE BARBATOS SO MUCH OH MY GODNUIBHYGVYFC THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS o(≧▽≦)o i’m so happy that my first request is for one of my fav characters ugh barbatos doesn’t get enough love. PLUS i absolutely love baking so this was so much fun writing!!
no matter how many times you visited it, the demon lord’s castle will always be an intimidatingly grandiose sight to see. with its countless towers, its towering walls, all shrouded in darkness, you couldn’t help the ominous feeling that spread through your veins.
that ominous feeling always dissipated as soon as you stepped inside. with how often you’ve been here, it began to feel almost like.. home. much like how the house of lamentation feels. you wandered about, passing the magnificent staircases and the shining pillars, walking down hallway after hallway until reaching the one room you were looking for in particular.
every single surface in the kitchen always shone with pride. strangely, the kitchen had become one of the rooms you were most comfortable in here at the castle. it carried many fond memories that you always smiled at the thought of.
“good afternoon, barbatos!” the butler turned towards the sound of your voice, smiling in greeting.
“good afternoon, MC. i’m glad you could join me today. come, i’ve just finished laying out the ingredients we are to use.” barbatos gestured towards the numerous bags and containers in front of him, then pushed a recipe book towards your direction. “this is what we are to be making. please read over it.”
you skimmed over the page before looking back up at him dubiously. “we? as in you and me? i’m not so sure about that, barbs. i’ve never really baked before, i’ve only watched.”
“precisely, you’ve watched,” he said. “you’ve watched me countless of times baking assortments of desserts. surely you’ve retained some information, yes?”
he had a point. everything that was in the book were things that you already knew just from observing barbatos in his element.
“i mean, yeah, but... what if i burn down the castle?”
barbatos chuckled at your pessimism. “i highly doubt that. have confidence in yourself, MC.” he entrusted the whisk he was currently holding over to you. “would you mix the chocolate and the butter together while i beat the egg whites? thank you.”
hesitantly, you took the whisk from barbatos’s gloved hand. he offered an encouraging smile before turning back towards the pile of goey clearness that you assumed were the egg whites.
“may i ask why we’re making this dessert in particular?” you asked, the whisk gliding through the dark mixture. “if i remember correctly, these cakes are massive. why would you want to bake one if you didn’t really need to?”
“the young lord has invited quite a number of people over today, and he requested that i create something special for them,” barbatos replied.
you turned this information over in your mind, adding the cocoa powder into the mixture. “and another thing, why not ask luke to help you instead? even if luke refused, i’m pretty sure you could do this without anyone’s help.”
barbatos was quiet for a moment, his cheeks tinged a subtle shade of pink. “i desired your company. baking with you is always an enjoyable experience.”
“thanks, barbs,” a smile blossomed across your face. “i really enjoy baking with you, too.”
a comfortable silence overtook the room, the sounds of whisks scraping against bowls filling the empty space. your bowl had been thoroughly whisked within a couple of minutes. barbatos, on the other hand, was still occupied with getting the egg whites to form soft peaks. not wanting to break his concentration, you simply decided to examine your surroundings, your eyes naturally drifting towards the demon in front of you.
it was obvious that barbatos took his title as pastry chef very seriously. every single pastry that he baked was the result of meticulous work, and this pastry would be no different. he would carefully add a small amount of sugar, whisk the eggs, then add more. his brows were furrowed ever so slightly, as if he were counting every single grain of sugar that entered the bowl. you found it endearing.
“may i ask why you’re staring at me?” barbatos’s question popped your little bubble, grounding you back into reality. his cheeks were once again that warm shade of pink.
“ah, sorry,” you awkwardly looked away, the mental image of barbatos’s baking face making you inadvertently smile. “it’s just.. you put a lot of time and effort into everything you bake. i admire you for it.”
the normally calm and composed butler seemed caught off-guard by your response. it’s true, he’s heard this from many other appreciators of his pastries, but hearing it come from you was entirely different. “you have no idea how happy that makes me. thank you, MC.” with one last test, barbatos lifted his bowl and brought it next to yours. “excellent job. i couldn’t have done it better myself. would you please whisk the egg yolks and the hell poison honey while i mix these two?”
you did as told, bringing over your bowl back over to barbatos, who took it with a ‘thank you’ and poured it into the main bowl. he methodically folded it over and over, taking great care not to move too fast.
“barbs? i have another question.” he hummed in response. “why don’t you just mixed the whole thing? it would be a lot faster.”
“are you getting bored of me already, MC?” he mused.
“n-no! it’s just—”
“i’m only teasing,” a playful smile overtook his features. “but to answer your question, i’m taking my time to prevent the mixture from deflating. it wouldn’t be a black cloud cake if it didn’t have a cloudy texture, now would it?” barbatos poured a little bit more of the egg whites into the main bowl, repeating the methodical folding process. you hoisted yourself onto the counter, idly kicking your legs.
“talk to me, barbs. it’s too quiet in here,” you complained, folding your knees into your chest. “c’mon, quiz me!”
“if you insist,” barbatos decided to give you an easy one. “what temperature should we preheat the oven for a black cloud cake?”
your mind blanked. “oh, crap... uh.. 350 degrees?”
“fahrenheit or celsius?” barbatos’s teasing smile showed itself again.
“fahrenheit.” you replied, biting back the urge to add an ‘obviously’ at the end of your sentence.
“excellent. if you wouldn’t mind, could you please preheat the oven now? i’m just about done with this bowl.” barbatos folded it a few more times as you turned the knob on the oven, making sure there were no unmixed pieces hiding in the abyss-like mixture. you lifted yourself back up onto the counter, the two of you waiting patiently for the little ding! that the oven would make.
you hummed a tuneless song while barbatos folded the mixture a couple more times just to be safe, the ding! of the oven echoing through the shiny room. without hesitation, barbatos opened the oven door, slid the cake inside, and closed it back up again. the first time he had done this in front of you, your jaw dropped from the shock. barbatos rarely wore oven mitts, but then again, he didn’t really need them.
“is something the matter?” the butler always seemed to notice every little change in expression that gave away your thoughts.
“no, no, it’s nothing,” you shrugged off the unease. “could you just wear mitts every once in a while? i’m scared you’re gonna burn yourself one of these days.”
barbatos laughed at this, leaning against the oven. “it would take quite the oven to burn me.”
“what if i gave you oven mitts?” you suggested. “would you wear them?”
the hypothetical made barbatos strangely happy. “i would gladly wear anything you gift me.”
barbatos could certainly be a teasing nag at times, but he could be a sweetheart when he really wanted to be. though you haven’t put it together yet, barbatos only shared these moments with you. the more you two spent time together, the more barbatos found himself feeling more drawn towards you. he had no idea when or how a human became so important to him.
the sound of your sigh broke off barbatos’s thoughts. “what should we do with all of the excess ingredients? we still have a whole bunch of that liquid chocolate, we didn’t even use the flour, and there’s still some sugar and eggs. do you think we should bake something els— oh!” the feeling of something slimy slid down your hair and onto your back, causing a shiver to wrack through your body.
“i have a vague idea of what i would like to do with the excess,” barbatos replied, smiling cheekily. a broken eggshell was in his hand.
“barbatos! what the hell was that for?” despite wanting to sound upset, you couldn’t hold back the bubbly laughter that came out with it. you quickly took another egg from its container, aiming for his head. the demon was far too fast for you, instantly catching your wrist before your egg could come into contact with him. “cheater.”
barbatos only gave you that same mischievous smile, his arm easily overpowering yours, using your own hand to crack the egg onto your head instead of his. you used your other hand to reach in back of you, grabbing a fistful of flour and ruffling it into his hair, barbatos releasing your wrist in surprise.
“ha! karma!” you grinned. barbatos’s smile only grew wider, adding a more sinister tone to it. aw, crap.. you had unintentionally started a food fight. barbatos would more than likely finish what you had begun.
you squirmed past the butler, careful to maintain your distance as the two of you began throwing all sorts of things at each other. clumps of butter, streaks of melted chocolate, handfuls of sugar and flour, pretty much whatever you two could get your hands on. you ran all around the kitchen, using the island as a sort of barrier between you and barbatos, who looked nothing like he usually did. his neat hair was disheveled and white from the powder, his apron was stained with chocolate and butter, and he was absolutely enjoying himself. this was, by far, the most fun he’s ever had with baking, and to be sharing this experience with you only added to it.
in one swift motion, barbatos slid across the island and grabbed hold of your wrists in one hand, the other hand menacingly holding a handful of dripping chocolate.
“wait! wait!” you cried out. “truce! please! i give up!”
barbatos smiled triumphantly. “what was that? i’m not quite sure i heard you.” his hand drew closer and closer to your hair.
“truce! i give up!” you yelled, hanging your head in defeat. “i’m no match for you, barbs..”
barbatos withdrew his hand, although he did not let go of your wrists. his eyes scanned your face, your clothes, before glancing around the room. “oh, dear. it appears that we’ve made quite a mess,” he looked down at his own clothes, smiling almost chastisingly. “what am i going to do with you? it’s hard to be upset when you look so adorably funny.”
you two couldn’t help but erupt in a fit of giggles, barbatos’s hand traveling from your wrists to your shoulders. “look at you, you’ve even got chocolate in your hair.”
“and whose fault would that be?” you retorted, barbatos reaching up to gently pull at the strands of hair covered in chocolate, tucking the strands away neatly.
“i’d have no idea whose fault that would be” he replied innocently, his fingers combing through your hair before settling on either side of your cheek. your giggling fell silent, the intensity of barbatos’s gaze sending a painless jolt through your body. barbatos couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face, drinking in every single feature. drips of egg yolk on your forehead, a smudge of chocolate on your cheek...
“you seem to be quite the messy eater, MC,” he teased, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. your eyes narrowed at that, earning another laugh from the demon. “you have a chocolate stain on your cheek. allow me to clean it for you. stay still, please.” you locked your joints into place, afraid that if you moved even a fraction of an inch you might scare away barbatos or something. slowly, carefully, barbatos leaned in, pressing his lips to the smeared chocolate. the feeling of his tongue gliding against your skin made you shudder.
he pulled back to look into your face, blinking once, twice, then smiling apologetically. “please pardon me. i don’t know what has gotten into me as of late. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“no, no,” you replied hastily, your hand moving to lay atop his. “it’s fine... thank you.” another comfortable silence blanketed over the room, except this time, it felt more.. intense. as if the entire room was filled with electricity. your cheeks stung without pain where barbatos held them.
“i’m not the only one with stuff on their face,” you grinned, cupping barbatos’s cheek and turning his head slightly. “you have chocolate right... there.” your thumb brushed against the corner of his lips, the demon’s eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “please, allow me to clean it for you.”
barbatos fully turned his face towards you, a tender smile curving his lips. his thumb brushed against your cheek once more as the two of you slowly began leaning into each other, the warmth of barbatos’s chest seeping into your own.
gradually, barbatos’s face drew closer and closer to yours, your lips only centimeters apart.
his sweet breath fanned across your face..
ding!
the sound of the oven made you both jump, your cheeks becoming overwhelmingly warm underneath barbatos’s touch. barbatos didn’t take his eyes off of you.
“it appears that the cake is done baking,” he said simply.
“...yeah..” was all you could say. “you’d better.. go get it before it burns.”
“that would be the wise thing to do.” he still didn’t move an inch, his eyes piercing into yours.
barbatos's loving touch made your brain feel fuzzy. your grip on his sleeves grew tighter. “i’m sure diavolo’s guests wouldn’t mind a little crispiness to their cake, right?”
“i believe it is called black cloud cake for a reason.” he agreed
barbatos pressed his lips onto yours without a second's delay. he found that you tasted sweeter than any pastry he's ever created.
⠐ lucifer edition here!⠐ leviathan edition here!⠐ satan edition here!
synopsis: how would the brothers fall asleep after an argument with their s/o? (mammon edition)
wc: 2,012
genre: fluff
warnings: none!
a/n: remember that one time mammon got pissed bcs he thought we only made a pact w him for belphie n he got all sulky and ignored us 😭😭 yeah that’s what was in my mind the whole time i wrote this. he’s such a big baby i love him
feedback is greatly appreciated! <3
❥ mammon ; the silent one.
tensions had been running high in the house of lamentation as of late.
you adored mammon; he was your protector, your best friend, your first man. and to say he was crazy for you would be the understatement of the century. mammon’s greed didn’t only apply to money. as soon as you two officially became a couple, he made it his job to monopolize all your affections, leaving his brothers to shrivel and starve. in his eyes, you were more valuable than any shiny grimm he came across, and he was determined to not let you slip through his grasp.
this has its drawbacks, however.
mammon, despite his pompous and boisterous attitude, constantly needed reassurance from his favorite human. he had a bad habit of blowing small disagreements or events way out of proportion. you went out somewhere without him? he would sulk in the corner and ambush you when you came back. you didn’t give him a goodmorning kiss? he would whine and mope until you finally gave in. and, god forbid, you want to hang out with one of his brothers? he would either watch the two of you with a broody scowl on his face or burst through and interrupt whatever you guys were doing.
you loved mammon with your whole heart, and you understood that he hated feeling vulnerable, but honestly, he could be such a child sometimes!
What if the overbolt gang were to find Reader crying? But after asking them what's the reason they're crying, they just explain that... They're missing all of the new content from their favorite media!! 😭😭
I rlly just want something silly, so hopefully it could be that? Like Reader is being very dramatic and stuff ig
╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!
art: twisted wonderland archives
featuring — Overblot boys : Riddle : Leona : Azul : Jamil : Vil : Idia : Malleus.
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☛ Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle nearly drops when he finds you hunched over in the rose bushes, your shoulders shaking. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?!” he demands, only for you to sob out that you’re missing the comeback of your favorite K-pop group.
He blinks. Once. Twice. “I… don’t understand. What’s a comeback? Who came back from where? But more importantly, you’re crying over that?” he says, absolutely confused. But when your eyes well up again, he softens. “W-Well! That’s… understandable! I suppose.”
Despite not really getting it, Riddle returns with a prepared strawberry tart and a blanket. He gently pats your head, muttering, “calm down and get up so you can eat this.” He then gives you a gentle lecture about managing your emotions properly while you sniffle and nibble through your “withdrawal.”
You even dramatically sing a few lines from their track, and Riddle claps awkwardly. “Exquisite vocals, (name).” He’s utterly lost. Still, he lets you show him a few photos of your biases and listens seriously as you explain how unfair it is to miss live fan events. He’s trying his best, okay?
☛ Leona Kingscholar
Leona is napping in the field under a tree when your wailing disrupts his peace. Groaning, he rolls over to see you lying on the grass, dramatically sprawled like a damsel in despair. “You dying or something?” he mutters, and you hiccup out that you’re missing the season finale of your favorite manhwa adaptation.
“…You’re crying because of that?” he snorts, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’re such a drama queen.”
But ten minutes later, he’s tossing a bag of dorm snacks at your head and flopping down beside you with a sigh. “Tch. Cry quieter and eat something.”
He listens with one ear as you rant about plot twists and cliffhangers, occasionally grumbling, “They really killed him? Psh. I wouldn’t have.” He secretly likes how animated you get.
☛ Azul Ashengrotto
You’re sobbing in the VIP lounge of the Mostro Lounge, tissues piling up as you complain about the K-pop update drops you’re missing. Azul, mid-study review, startles and rushes over. “Are you hurt?! Is someone harassing—oh.”
His concern quickly turns to confusion when you explain that you’re grieving over missing updates.
He adjusts his glasses, flustered, then nods and leaves. He returns with a dessert platter and a cup of your favorite juice. “Since I cannot provide your missing media,” he says with a sheepish smile, “perhaps a taste of luxury can ease the ache?”
Floyd walks by and loudly asks if you’re “mourning a boyband again.” Azul nearly chokes.
☛ Jamil Viper
Jamil is walking down the Scarabia hallways when he hears sniffles coming from the lounge. He finds you curled up in a blanket burrito, your phone clutched tightly in your hands. “Let me guess, you can’t access your media from your hometown again?” he sighs knowingly, having witnessed this meltdown like clockwork every month.
Without a word, he heads to the kitchen and returns with warm curry and a mango lassi. “Food heals all wounds, even breakdowns.” he teases lightly, handing them to you.
He listens as you wail about the lack of fans and concert tours, occasionally raising a brow. “You get this worked up over them?”
Still, he stays beside you until you feel better, secretly amused by your dramatics.
☛ Vil Schoenheit
Vil finds you weeping on the floor of the dorm lounge, surrounded by your phone and tablet. “Whatever is the matter?” he asks sharply, one brow raised, fully prepared to scold you for such an undignified display. But he pauses when you wail about missing the comeback and new songs from your favorite group.
There’s a long silence. Then, Vil sighs dramatically. “This is exactly what ruins skin elasticity,” he mutters, before vanishing and returning with fruit parfaits and under-eye patches. “At least cry on the couch, not on the carpet and let me preserve your beauty while you grieve.”
He lets you rant while adjusting your posture and gently dabbing at your face. “You are far too radiant to be destroyed over missing an update.”
☛ Idia Shroud
You’re lying on the floor of Idia’s room, surrounded by tissues and dramatically mumbling about the updates you’ll never see again. Idia peeks out from behind his screen. “You’re… alive. Just emotionally wrecked,” he mutters, worried but unsure how to help.
He awkwardly places a bag of chips next to your head and slides over a tablet. “I downloaded a bunch of stuff that’s probably similar to what you had back in your world. I figured you’d have withdrawal symptoms sooner or later…”
He mumbles that he gets it, his own spirals are way worse, and even lets you cling to the sleeve of his oversized hoodie while you vent.
Bonus: Ortho cheerfully tries to find music similar to the ones from your world, compiling a “coping playlist”.
☛ Malleus Draconia
Malleus hears your sobbing echo through the woods beside Ramshackle and appears beside you, only to find you weeping on the floor. “Dear… why do you mourn so?” he asks gently, concerned, as he lifts you into your bed.
When you dramatically declare that you’re missing concert tours and comeback announcements, he looks completely baffled. “…A performance has caused such despair?”
But he doesn’t question it further. Instead, he brings you a basket of treats. “I cannot return you to your world,” he says solemnly, “but I can offer you the warmth of this one.”
He even sits beside you, gently patting your head as you explain the group and the fandom and the heartbreak of missing live streams and updates. Though he doesn’t understand a word, he listens, intrigued by your passion.
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Honestly, I’d be the same, thrown into an unfamiliar world without my favorite media lol
When the doctor delivered the news, Riddle’s world fell silent, as if every rule, every law he had ever memorized suddenly meant nothing. In the months that followed, he stayed by your side religiously. Every morning and night, he sat beside your bed, your hand always in his. He helped you take your medication, fed you soup when you were too weak to lift the spoon, and read aloud your favorite books to distract you from the pain. He refused to cry, clinging desperately to structure and routine as his last defense, as if order alone could keep you alive. But as the days grew longer, your breaths grew shorter. Your body weakened, and the sterile scent of the hospital became your shared home. Slowly, the cracks began to show.
One cold evening, the monitors beeped softly in the dim room. Riddle sat by your bedside, your frail fingers intertwined with his. When you turned your weak gaze toward him, he instantly leaned closer, “I… can’t hold on anymore…” you whispered, your voice fragile.
Riddle’s face crumpled instantly. “No—no, love, please” he pleaded, his voice breaking as his lips quivered. “You’ve fought so hard already. You’re strong—stronger than me—so please, just a little longer. Just one more day, one more morning.” His tears fell freely, dripping down your knuckles as his grip tightened. “Don’t leave me in this world without you… I can’t bear it.”
“I’m sorry, Riddle… I tried so hard. But if I can’t stay… please don’t cry....okay?” you whispered weakly.
You smiled, blinking slowly as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Tears slid down your cheeks, your lips trembling. “I… love… you so much… and thank you… thank you for loving me. You… you made me feel like I… belonged.” Your voice faded to a breath, the words barely forming before your eyes gently closed. The monitor beside you released a long tone.
Riddle’s breath hitched. “No! Please—don’t go! Wake up, just open your eyes!” he cried, pressing your cold hand against his chest as if he could share his heartbeat with you. “You’re my everything… my heart’s law… my reason to breathe…” His voice broke completely as his body trembled. He pressed his forehead to your hand, holding it close. “And I’ll love you… always. Even if you break every rule by leaving me.”
He didn’t let go for hours. Even as the room grew cold and quiet, Riddle stayed by your side, whispering broken apologies through his tears, begging for a miracle that would never come.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Leona Kingscholar
The once-proud lion now lay quietly beside your bed. The scent of herbs and medicine filled the room, mixing with the faint trace of your scent that lingered on the sheets.
When you told Leona, he scoffed at first, his expression unreadable. “Hah, you’re messing with me, right?” he said, a faint smirk on his lips. But when you didn’t laugh, his smirk faltered, and something sharp flickered in his eyes as his chest tightened painfully. From that moment on, he pretended it didn’t scare him. He took care of you in silence, carrying you when your legs trembled, feeding you when your hands shook, and bringing your favorite meals even when you could barely take a few bites.
As the illness worsened and your strength began to fade, you were moved into the hospital. Leona came every single day without fail. He lay beside you on the narrow bed, his tail curled around your legs protectively, as though keeping you close could defy fate itself. The lazy prince who never cared for anything now stayed awake to make sure you were breathing. He spent every night by your bedside, secretly watching your chest rise and fall. The smell of antiseptic replaced his usual scent of sand and sunlight.
One quiet night, when your breaths came slow and shallow, you reached for him weakly. “Leona… I… can’t hold on anymore…”
His eyes snapped open, his jaw clenching as if trying to stop his voice from shaking. “Don’t talk like that..… you’re just tired.” he muttered, brushing your hair gently away from your face. He tried to force a smirk, but his lips trembled. “You promised to stick around and annoy me, remember? You can’t break that promise now.”
“Leona… I’m sorry I can’t.....stay with you longer…”
You looked at him with glassy eyes and managed a frail smile. “I love you so much… and thank you… for making me feel alive, even at.... the end.”
His breath caught, his heart aching at every word. “Don’t—don’t say that like it’s goodbye” he whispered, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against yours. His voice trembled, raw and vulnerable. “You don’t get to leave me… not when I just learned what it means to need someone. Not when I finally found my reason to wake up.”
When your chest stopped rising and the monitor beside you released a long tone, his hand tightened desperately around yours. “Tch… You always do what you want, huh?” His voice broke, torn between a growl and a sob. “Guess you finally tamed me… and then left me caged.”
He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as your warmth faded from his embrace. “...Stupid herbivore.” he whispered hoarsely, his tears soaking into your hair. “How dare you leave me like this… I love you too, damn it… more than you’ll ever know.”
When the nurses came, he refused to move. He stayed until sunrise, his arms still around you, eyes hollow and distant, as if letting go would make the world take you away for good.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Azul Ashengrotto
The room was spotless, every corner meticulously arranged by Azul himself. He hated hospitals, yet he refused to leave your side.
Azul always believed there was a deal for everything, a solution, a price to pay for miracles. But when you were diagnosed, all his contracts and wealth meant nothing. He spent countless nights researching treatments, calling doctors, offering anything for even a sliver of hope. Still, your health declined, and you were eventually moved into the hospital. The proud businessman had turned into a man haunted by fear, spending every spare moment by your bedside. He dedicated himself to your care, feeding you food, handling the bills, and holding your hand as if his touch alone could anchor you to life.
One quiet evening, the hospital room glowed dimly. Your breathing was shallow, the monitor’s beeps slowing. You reached for him weakly. “Azul… I… can’t hold on anymore…”
He froze, panic flashing across his face before he rushed to your side, hands trembling as he grasped yours. “No—don’t you dare say that!” he whispered sharply, his voice trembling as tears welled in his eyes. His glasses slipped slightly as his composure began to crumble. “I’ll find a cure, I promise, I’ll—” His voice faltered, breaking into a choked sob. “Please, just stay a little longer. I can’t lose you…” he whispered, tears falling freely onto your sheets.
“You’re the only one who saw me — not the businessman, not the monster — just me…” Azul continued as he held your hand to his cheek.
You smiled faintly, your trembling fingers brushing against his skin. “I… love you so much, Azul… Thank you… for loving me… for staying… even when I was weak.” You blinked slowly, struggling to keep your eyes open, your voice barely more than a breath. “Please… don’t let this… break you. Live… for both of us… okay?”
Your hand slipped from his grasp, falling gently against the sheets as your eyes gently closed as the monitor beside you released a long tone.
Azul sat still for a long moment, staring at you as if time itself had stopped. His lips trembled before a broken sob tore through him. He pressed his forehead against your cold hand, his voice shaking as tears streamed down his face. “If I could’ve made a deal with fate… I would give my soul to have you smile again.” he whispered, his voice trembling between grief and love. “You were my greatest treasure… and the only thing I could never buy back...I love you too my pearl.”
From that night on, the Mostro Lounge fell eerily quiet, its owner still sitting alone, staring into the dim aquariums that reflected the ghost of the love he lost.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim’s world was built on joy, laughter, and sunshine, until he heard your diagnosis. His smile faltered for the first time. At first, he smiled, assuring everyone you would get better, but behind that bright grin was fear. Still, he tried to stay bright for you. Every day he brought flowers and little gifts, pretending nothing was wrong, though his eyes always lingered on your pale face for too long. When you moved into the hospital, he came daily. He decorated your hospital room with flowers and colorful lights, hoping to bring joy despite the pain. He held your hand and told you stories about the world outside, even when your eyes could barely stay open, and he sang softly when you couldn’t sleep.
But as the days passed, your laughter grew faint. One night, you looked at him, whispering, “I… can’t hold on anymore…”
The smile on his face wavered before tears spilled over. “Hey, no, don’t say that… we still have so many parties to go to!” he said, trying to laugh, but his voice cracked and broke halfway through. “Please, stay with me… I can’t do this without you… don’t go where I can’t follow…”
You smiled softly, tears glimmering in your eyes. Your hand trembled as you reached for his cheek, your touch barely there. “Kalim… you’ve always been my light… even when everything hurt. You made me laugh… when I forgot how to. You made me feel… like I wasn’t fading away.” Your voice weakened, each word taking effort, but your smile stayed. “I… love you so much… and thank you… for giving me so much warmth. Even now… when it hurts to breathe… it still feels like sunshine because of you.” You blinked slowly, your tears slipping down your cheeks as your voice faded to a whisper. “Don’t stop smiling, okay? Promise me you’ll keep… shining… for both of us…”
Your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing stilling as the monitor beside you released a long tone.
For a moment, Kalim sat there frozen, his words caught in his throat. Then his shoulders began to shake as he broke down, sobbing loudly. “Wake up! Please, I’m not ready yet!” he cried, gripping your hand tightly, pressing it to his face as if he could still feel your warmth. “I love you too, more than the sun, more than life! So why did you have to go…?” His voice cracked with every word, his tears falling onto your skin.
Even days later, Scarabia was quiet. The once lively halls were filled with silence instead of music and laughter. Kalim sat by your favorite spot in the garden, the one where you used to laugh under the desert sun. He smiled through his tears, looking up at the sky. “You’re still with me, right?” he whispered softly, his voice trembling but gentle. “I’ll keep smiling… just like you wanted.”
<𝟑 .ᐟ Vil Schoenheit
Vil had faced many cruel truths in his life, but none compared to this. When the doctor said you were dying, he simply nodded, “We’ll fight it” he said firmly, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. From then on, he cared for you with grace, ensuring you were never in pain, dressing you in comfortable fabrics, combing your hair gently when you were too weak to do it yourself, ensuring you received the best care possible, specialists, rare medicines, anything to ease your pain. Yet, no amount of beauty routines or potions could hide the truth that your body was fading. Even as you grew weaker and needed to be in the hospital, he never let you feel ugly or lonely. “You’re still the fairest thing in my world.” he’d whisper while brushing your hair.
He took charge of your treatments, choosing meals carefully, even bringing flowers daily to keep the room beautiful.
That night, the scent of lavender filled the air. Vil sat beside you, brushing your hair from your forehead, then his thumb tracing your cheek. You whispered, weakly, “I… can’t hold on anymore…”
His hand froze mid-motion. “No, darling.” he whispered, voice trembling. “You still shine brighter than anyone. You can’t leave me in a world this dull.” His tone cracked as his eyes watered. “Please, stay. I haven’t finished showing you all the beautiful things you’ve given me.”
You gave him one last fragile smile, your voice faint and trembling. “Vil…my beautiful Vil....don’t cry… please…” you breathed out weakly, each word strained. “I… love you… thank you… for making me feel special… for loving me… even now…” Your chest rose shakily as you tried to say more, your fingers brushing his hand. “Promise me… you’ll keep shining… for both of us…”
Your eyes fluttered shut gently, your chest rising one last time before stilling as the monitor beside you released a long tone. For a moment, Vil sat there in silence, unmoving, staring at your peaceful face as though telling you to open your eyes again. Then his composure shattered, he pulled you close, holding you against his chest as quiet sobs escaped him. “You’ve made even death envious of your beauty.” he whispered shakily, his tears falling onto your face.
He kissed your forehead, careful as always, even in grief. When he finally stood, he lingered by your bedside, brushing your hair one last time. His voice broke as he whispered, “I’ll keep shining, for the both of us.”
“I love you too, my darling. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known even in goodbye.”
<𝟑 .ᐟ Idia Shroud
Machines hummed softly, their blinking lights the only color in the room. Idia sat beside your bed, hoodie pulled tight.
When he learned of your illness, Idia’s world turned gray. He avoided showing fear, instead spending endless nights coding, researching, and tinkering, desperately trying to create something, anything, that could save you. But even his brilliance couldn’t outwit death. He and Ortho took care of you together, visiting every day so you were never alone. When your body weakened and you were moved into the hospital, visiting you became his first priority after class. He brought gaming consoles to your room, playing quietly by your side, sleeping in the hospital chair with his hand wrapped around yours, coding little holograms to make you smile. He stayed up every night, terrified that if he fell asleep, you would be gone when he woke.
Then one night, your voice broke the quiet “I… can’t hold on anymore…”
He froze, panic flashing across his face before standing and rushing to your side. “W–wait, no, no, don’t say that! It’s just low HP, right? We can heal, right?” His voice trembled, his breath coming in short, broken gasps as tears spilled down his cheeks. “You’re… you’re my player two… I can’t continue the game without you…”
You smiled faintly, your voice barely above a whisper as your trembling fingers brushed his cheek. “Idia… don’t cry… please…” you breathed out weakly, trying to keep your eyes on him. “You gave me warmth… a world I didn’t think I would ever see… I was so happy, you know? Being with you… it felt like I finally found home.” You took a shaky breath, the air catching painfully in your throat. “Thank you… for loving me… for making me feel alive. I… love you…” You paused, your eyes fluttering closed as tears slipped down to your cheeks. “Promise me you’ll keep playing… keep living… even if I’m not there to press start with you…”
The monitor flatlined as your body fell limp. Idia’s body froze, his breath caught in his throat. Then a strangled sob escaped him as he pressed your cold hand against his forehead, shaking. “You can’t just… disappear like that… not when I finally learned how to live…” His voice broke completely, the flames of his hair flickering weakly, dimming with sorrow.
He whispered shakily, “I love you too… I’ll wait on the other side of the screen, okay? Don’t log out for too long…”
For weeks, he kept your digital photos glowing softly on his desk. Your voice clips, your laughter, it was all he had left. Every night, the soft glow of your hologram lit his dark room, a reminder of the love that had taught him what it meant to be more human.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Malleus Draconia
Thunder rolled softly outside the hospital as Malleus sat beside your bed, his aura dim, his hand resting over yours.
Malleus had lived for centuries, but never had he known true fear, until he learned your life was slipping away. He brought every healer, every spell, every ancient magic he knew, yet none could change your fate. The most powerful fae could not heal the one he loved. When you were moved into the hospital, he followed without hesitation, never leaving your side. He stayed beside you always, whispering lullabies in an old tongue, weaving gentle magic to ease your pain. Each night he spoke softly about dreams, about the stars you once watched together. With every passing day, your light dimmed, and his eyes grew more sorrowful.
That night, the moonlight painted your face pale. “I… can’t hold on anymore…” you whispered, your voice like a fading flame. Malleus’s eyes widened, his grip tightening around your hand. “No, my beloved, please, don’t speak such things. I will find a way… I will give you my life if it means yours continues…” he pleaded, his voice trembling, breaking under the weight of helplessness. “Do not fade from me. Please…” The fae prince who had never bowed before anyone now knelt beside your bed, tears falling freely down his cheeks.
You smiled faintly, reaching up with the last of your strength to brush his cheek one final time. “I… love you… so much…” your voice trembled weakly, every word a struggle. “Thank you… for loving me… for making me feel safe… even when the world was ending for me.” Your lips trembled as your eyes began to close. “Don’t be sad, okay? Even if I’m gone… my heart will always find you…”
Your hand went limp and fell gently onto the bed as your breath faded into silence, the monitor beside you released a long tone. Malleus sat frozen, the world around him still. Slowly, he lifted your limp hand and pressed a trembling kiss to your forehead. “Then I shall cherish this love for eternity.” he whispered, his voice breaking as more tears traced down his pale skin.
“I love you too my beloved, may you rest well.”
Outside, the sky wept with him. Storms raged for days, thunder echoing his grief. And though centuries would pass, the immortal fae never smiled the same way again, his heart buried with yours.
Mmm can I request Leona with an s/o who is a beastmen and tries to hide during heat cycles? <///<
NSFW Below the cut!
GN! Reader, they/them pronouns
Let’s set something straight right off the bat. If, for any reason, you were hiding because you didn’t want him to be around during your heat, Leona would respect that. He may be a beastman, but he’s not a complete animal. If you were uncomfortable, or insecure, or not ready for any reason, he isn’t going to seek you out and put pressure on you at a moment where you’re already feeling noticeably more vulnerable than usual.
All that being said, if you were hiding from other people but not specifically from him, he’d be happy to play your little game. It’s not like it’s hard for him to find you either, there aren’t many places you’d feel content hiding out and once he gets a whiff of your scent he can track you down in an instant.
“You really wanted me to work for it this time, didn’t you? Troublemaker...~” He’s delightfully cocky when he finds your nest, quickly making himself comfortable and shedding his own clothes for you to add to the pile. Then when you’re on him in a flurry of grasping hands and hushed whimpers of desperation, who is he to deny you?
Male lions are typically more submissive than their partners, and while Leona isn’t a total pushover, he doesn’t necessarily mind you taking the lead in this case. It leads to you doing most of the work anyway, so he has no qualms with you laying him out and using him like a toy simply for your pleasure. Besides, you paint a pretty picture straddling his lap, curled over him as you bounce on his cock, face twisted in euphoric bliss as you finally get what you’ve been so desperately craving.
Your stamina vastly outweighs his though, so eventually when you’ve wrung him out he’ll flip the two of you over, laying you out on your back as he services you with his tongue and fingers, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re finally satisfied... For now.
“You’d better be ready for when it’s my turn...” He mumbles sleepily into the back of your neck, your two sweat-sticky bodies curled together in your nest as big and small spoon. “Gonna make a mess of ya’, and I’m not gonna let up no matter how much you’re beggin’.” Be ready to repay the favor when his rut finally rolls around.
My Boyfriend Tells Me Everything (Sherlock x Male!Reader)
(Y/N) was in a café with his long-time friend John Watson. They had bumped into each other in town and had decided to catch up. He had met him on a medical course in university. He now sometimes helps both him and Sherlock on their cases. "So how is baby Sherlock doing?" he asks.
"For the thousandth time (Y/N), Sherlock is not a girl's name." John sighed, having heard this so many times.
"Of course, it is!" (Y/N) replied sarcastically.
"Why do you keep calling her baby Sherlock?"
"Because it annoys you John." He replies in tone that says 'It's obvious'
"..." John decided against answering whilst giving a half-hearted glare in (Y/N)'s direction. They were used to this as this was their usual banter. "So, what are you doing in this area?" John asked instead.
"I was visiting someone"
"I'm not keeping you, am I?" He asks worried.
"No, no. You’re fine, I had time. Although he will be wondering where I am," He replied whilst chuckling "I should probably be on my way."
"Of course," John stands up along with you to say goodbye.
"Thank you for the coffee John, I enjoyed catching up with you."
"You too, it was great seeing you again."
"Say hello to Mary and baby Sherlock for me please" (Y/N) asks cheerfully.
John just sighs "I will (Y/N)."
A few minutes after (Y/N) had left and John had returned to his seat and tea, he receives a text message.
Got a case, come to the flat if convenient. SH
John sighed and put the phone away. He sat there for another five minutes finishing his tea when his phone vibrated again.
If convenient, come immediately. SH
John sighed again, paid for his tea then left the cafe to catch a cab to baker street.
It took 5 minutes for a cab to arrive and then an extra 15 minutes to get to the flat but eventually John made it. He used his old key that Sherlock insisted that he keep and entered the flat. When he walked into the living room Sherlock was over near the window, he took one look at John and asked, "Enjoy your lunch date with (Y/N)?"
John was caught off guard by the unexpected question but then composed himself. "How did you know?" he asked. However, before Sherlock could answer John spoke again. "No actually, let me guess. The creases in my jumper? No wait, how my trousers look? No, I've got it. The tea stain on my collar." John decided.
Just then the door behind john opened and in walked (Y/N), towel drying his damp hair. (You are clothed). He then looks up and noticing John says, "Hello again John."
John then turned to look at Sherlock and he finally answers. "No. My boyfriend tells me everything." (Y/N) then walks over to Sherlock and they share a chaste yet loving kiss. Completely oblivious to John's gaping, surprised face.
Hello! I was wondering if i could request some kind of one shot (or head canons) about Sherlock Holmes x male reader. Like them meeting the first time yk-
And it would be really cool if the reader would be too an genius in some form, autistic and an ✨cat person✨
Maybe the reader just working in an library across the street? Mostly chill with people they don't know but they are way different with friends. And somehow ending up helping Sherlock, John and the Police with cases?
I never really did an request so sorry if i should or shouldn't writed something here. Thats it bay<3
❝ SHERLOCK’S ACHILLES’ HEEL ❞
PAIRING ➢ sherlock holmes (BBC version) x male reader
SYNOPSIS ➢ Sherlock Holmes is a genius, there is no doubt about it. When he is faced with a case that he cannot solve, he has to turn to the help of other people, something he initially detests. However, when this help manages to not only solve the case for him but also catches Sherlock’s eye, he cannot let him go from his mind.
CONTENT WARNING ➢no use of y/n, mentions of murders, mentions of torture methods, mentions of gore, mentions of Greek mythology, fluff, a bit of insults, Sherlock being a bit mean, nothing else, really
WORD COUNT ➢ 3.9 k
a/n: I’m constantly apologising for taking so long with every request, but please know I am sincere! I had such a blast with this one, so thank you so much for the request. Also wanted to apologise if this is not exactly what you had in mind, I kinda ran away with my own ideas. Enjoy!
MASTERLIST, TAGLIST
You loved reading. Had loved it all your life. So it’s no surprise you would end up owning a bookshop right in the centre of London. You had been lucky; you had known a guy—if you catch what I mean—, who knew a guy—in a different way than how you knew him—, who was related to a guy, and he needed someone to work in his bookshop. And that is how you ended up taking over when he retired, and you in pure paradise. You had been there for many years and had gotten used to the people who passed by the street and your shop regulars. Particularly, you had noticed the two men who lived in the flat on the opposite side of the street from your shop: at 221B Baker Street.
You often saw them leaving their flat the same time you closed your shop—late, and in the evenings. What they were up to, you had no idea. But there was no denying that you were drawn to them, especially the taller of the two. And there was also no denying that you recognised the two as they walked into your shop one afternoon. You stepped around the counter to greet them.
“Hiya, what can I help you—”
The man didn’t let you finish. “Not interested.”
He pushed past you briskly, not stopping to let you say another word to him. The man, shorter, followed him in, rubbing his neck bashfully.
“Sorry about him,” he said.
You glanced behind you at the rude man. “Is he always, er…”
“Like that? Er, yeah,” said the shorter man. Then he smiled warmly, stepped forward to shake your hand. “I’m John Watson. That over there is Sherlock Holmes.”
You turn to look at the taller man at the same time, as he went deeper among your shelves, eyes searching across the many titles. He kept muttering by himself, lower than anything you could hope to pick up. You turn to John again.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
He scratches the back of his head, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “It’s this really rare edition of a book that is called, um, bollocks. I forgot the name.”
“Tell me about it?” you asked, tilting your head.
John shot a quick glance at the still muttering Sherlock before facing you with a sigh. “Yeah, sure. Well, it’s this book that contains a lot about murder and torture methods.”
“That narrows it down,” you said, an eyebrow quirked.
John’s lips pressed together. “Okay, something about it being very rare and we need that copy because it contains the most detailed and accurate accounts in history, apparently.”
You nodded, moving quickly through your shop to reach the right shelf. Sherlock already stood in the section, eyes scanning the titles. Just as he found the right one, your hand had already shot out and taken down the book. He shot you a scathing glare, which you ignored with a small smirk, as you turned to walk back to John at the register, Sherlock right at your heels. Serves the bastard right, you thought.
You laid down the book in front of the two men. “Here we are, Kane’s Murder Through History, newest edition and in impeccable condition. You’re lucky, there’s not many of these published. Why do you need the book, anyway?”
“It is not professional to question your customers’ reading choices,” said Sherlock.
You furrowed your brows as John swallowed a cough. “I was only curious, mate.”
You thought you saw John elbow Sherlock in his midriff before rolling his eyes. “We’re investigating a few of the recent murders and thought this could help us identify the murderer’s motives. Maybe we could find some similarities from past murders, y’know,” John said.
“Recent murders?” You hadn’t heard anything about any such things happening, which was odd. Usually, that is what drew your attention in the media.
“Um, yeah.” John shot a sideway glance at Sherlock as he answered. “People pushed off of cliffs, have been left half-eaten, and just brutally had their faces bashed in. Thought it was random at first, but this genius here,” he gestured to Sherlock, “saw a pattern. They’re connected. We just don’t know how yet.”
You grimaced. “Sounds lovely.” You leant forward then, intrigued. “So you’re like, what, detectives?”
“Consulting detective,” Sherlock corrected. Then, he nodded towards John. “He’s my doctor.”
“Hm, alright,” you hummed. You started to ring up the book for the two men, before looking up again at the odd couple. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. This book really is detailed, so if there’s any gruesome murder you want to find information about, it’s in there.”
“You’ve read it?” Sherlock cocked his head. His attention had finally gone from inspecting his surroundings to you, and the weight of his gaze felt heavy.
“Yeah, used to be really interested in this sort of stuff,” you said through an exhale. Then, leaning forward again, almost conspiratorially, you said, “There’s even some information in there that the police doesn’t want you to know about. The author got it illegally from their network or something. Supposedly.”
“Really?” questioned John.
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t managed to find any other mention of those specific murders, so either they’re made up or it is really hush-hush.”
Sherlock was studying you warily. “Hm. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said curtly. Then, his lips lifted into the barest of smiles and he sent a wink your way before turning on his heel and leaving the shop.
John, taken aback by his sudden departure, nodded a thanks in your direction before hurrying away. You watched through the big windows how they crossed the road to their flat and slipped inside, but not without a final glance in your direction. You tried to ignore the burning of your cheeks at the memory of Sherlock’s gaze. Despite never actually having met before today, you knew that they intrigued you. Now, you could be justified in your curiosity of the two men, of whom you finally knew the names of.
Immediately upon their leaving, you brought up your mobile phone to try to search up the recent murders they were investigating. You had read that book back to back, after all; maybe you could offer some assistance.
- - -
“Sherlock?”
The word was shouted across the flat, voice full of annoyance and exasperation. Sherlock didn’t react, though. No, he was too focused on the shop across the street. Through its large windows, he could see your figure moving around the space, greeting customers in the same laidback manner that you had greeted them with—at first, at least. When he had gotten your attention, your eyes seemed to gleam with curiosity as you gazed at Sherlock. He couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind.
He watched as you greeted yet another pair of customers, although these seemed different, from the manner of which you received them. You were much more open than with any of those before, and you laughed along with them. Your smile made creases appear around your eyes, showing your genuine happiness. That much he could tell, at least.
It piqued his interest in you more. He couldn’t get a proper read of you earlier, something that rarely happened with people he met. Sure, he could quickly deduce that you owned a cat in your flat; that you had stayed up too late last night doing something—or someone, he supposed, though he didn’t like thinking about that—judging by the dark rings under your eyes; and that you were clearly an intelligent person based on your being well read. Anything more than that, continued to be a mystery to him. And he loved a good mystery.
“Sherlock!?” The shout came again.
He sighed with exasperation. “What?” he asked.
John’s feet echoed through the flat until he stood alongside Sherlock at the window. “What are you even looking at?” he questioned.
He didn’t answer. Sherlock turned and stepped away from the window, instead drawing John’s attention towards the case. “What have you found?”
John sighed, joining him at the desk, where the many scattered papers laid outstretched alongside the copy of Kane’s book of murders. Sherlock inspected it all with a cold, calculating look.
“Nothing yet,” he answered. “No clear connections or marks that could tie this new killer to an old one. It’s not a copycat, either.”
“Hm,” Sherlock grunted noncommittally, turning to grab a cup of tea from the kitchen.
“And it’ll be harder now that Greg have gone public with the information of the murders,” remarked John. He browsed through the files as he spoke. “The killer will be more careful, knowing we’ll be looking for him.”
Sherlock turned to join, cuppa in hand. He cocked his head. “Greg?”
John sighed again. “Lestrade.”
“Ah,” he let out. “Well, it’s no problem, Watson. We’ll still find him.”
John curved an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re that sure?”
“Of course I am.” Sherlock grinned humourlessly as he sat down in the sofa. “Besides, we’ve got that helpful book of murders now. I’ll look through it again, I’m sure you missed something.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “I am perfectly able to read a book, Sherlock.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
John let out a huff of irritation, before letting the subject drop. “I suppose you’re right, the book could be rather helpful. And so was the man who sold it to us. Maybe he knows more about the matter?”
Sherlock made another noncommittal noise, but showed no sign of moving from the couch. John glanced at the window, where he knew you were visible through the windows in your shop. But John chose to let it go.
- - -
You watched as Sherlock and John left their flat, seeing their figures hurry along the street. It was hard to tear your gaze away from the taller of the two. He was odd, but weirdly intriguing. Your research about the murders they were investigating—articles published just a day ago—lead you to research about the two of them, as well. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t come across either of them before, seeing as Sherlock seemed to be something of a London hero—and with John running a blog about him, as well.
You watched them turn a corner and disappear from your sight, no doubt off to investigate further on the murders. You hoped that the book would offer some help to the two. Although, you doubted it.
After reading through the news articles, your mind had picked up on something odd. Even though the articles didn’t give out the full details of the murders, they seemed oddly familiar. Why, you weren’t sure, at first.
It took you all afternoon to finally realise what it was your mind had snagged upon. As the last customer left the shop, you immediately turned to the back rooms, filled to the brim with uncatalogued and seemingly random books. You’d glanced at the title while searching for another and that was when it had hit you. Now, you rushed to grab the volume, grunting under it’s weight, before rushing to flip through it.
You found what you were looking for, pulling up your mobile again to compare to the contents of the book. Exactly as you thought. Your breaths continued to burst out in quick, short exhales as your excitement grew. The similarities were uncanny, too many to be a coincidence.
You looked out the window, towards the other side of the street, but you hadn’t seen the detective duo arrive home yet. Your gaze jumped back to the empty shop and your mind was made up. Hastily, you grabbed the book under one arm and rushed outside to the flat opposite the street, locking the shop behind you.
It was a warm afternoon, so you didn’t mind sitting on the step while waiting for them to get back. It gave you more time to be sure of your hypothesis. But the more time you spent reading over the material in the volume, the more you know you were on the right track, despite the lack of information you had managed to acquire from the internet and what John had said earlier.
As time went on though, you felt yourself getting more and more restless. Your stomach also started to groan painfully. It reminded you that you hadn’t had dinner yet, and the realisation was almost enough to make you move from your spot on the stairs. Luckily, Sherlock and John chose that moment to come back home.
The sound of their footsteps brought you out of your thoughts and pulled you to your feet. Sherlock stopped short upon seeing you, his narrowed eyes looking you over. John seemed just as confused, but hid it better.
“Er, hi! Can we help you?” he asked, friendly smile already on his face.
“No,” you replied. “But I can help you.”
Sherlock scoffed and you fixed him with a glare. He was a difficult man to place. One minute, seemingly charming. The other, an arse.
John had more tact. “With what?”
“The murders,” you supplied.
“Who’s to say we need your help? Maybe we have already figured it out,” questioned Sherlock. You met his steady gaze.
“If you had already figured it out you would have been back at my shop to ask me for this book.” You showed the volume in your hand. Robert Graves’ Greek Myths, it read. Sherlock looked at it and then back at you, something unintelligible now behind his eyes.
“Someone thinks highly of himself,” said Sherlock, but there was a hint of mirth in his voice.
“Someone knows his worth,” you replied.
There was almost a full on smirk playing on Sherlock’s lips then. He seemed to be enjoying this. The thought warmed something inside you. “Fine, explain then,” he nodded.
He lead the way into their flat, not caring to look back to see if you followed. You did, of course, with John right behind you. It was as messy as you would have expected their flat to be: books piled precariously on shelves, dust coating almost every surface, and cups of cold tea left forgotten in the wake of their investigating. The articles from the murders were laid out, details scribbled beside the margins in pen. You stepped closer to examine the markings and they only confirmed your suspicions further.
“So, what is it that you know?” Sherlock finally asked, rounding on you.
“I know what connects them.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes, I assumed so. But will you tell us what it is?”
You smiled. “Since you asked so nicely.”
John came back from the kitchen with two cups of teas in hand. He handed one of them to you and was about to take a sip from the other when Sherlock swiped it right out of his hand. He merely sighed and went to fetch himself another one. It seemed a common occurrence between the two, and you watched them with bemusement.
“I searched up the murders you mentioned and noticed some similarities to some stories I had read in Greek mythology,” you said, opening the Graves book.
“A coincidence,” Sherlock dismissed.
You shot him a glare. “Maybe, if the similarities didn’t extend to every single one of them. Here,” you pulled up the right page to show them. John stood up to lean above your shoulder. “The guy who died from falling off the cliff, I will bet you that he has tear marks on his back, possibly from a pine tree. Am I wrong?”
Sherlock met your gaze with a raised eyebrow. “No,” he admitted.
You continued with a small smile. “Just like the fate of Sinis. Then the next one was found with his feet and head cut off. Just like Procrustes. The man who was found bound and starved in front of a mirror is meant to represent Narcissus.”
There was a gleam in Sherlock’s eye as he took in your words, the excitement of a case getting solved taking over.
“So,” John started, “the woman who had chunks of meat missing?”
“She ate herself. Or it was fed to her,” Sherlock responded. At John’s disgusted look he elaborated. “The pieces were found in her stomach at the autopsy.”
“Wicked,” you said. At John’s glare you cleared your throat, though you didn’t doubt the approving look in Sherlock’s eye. “Well, that would probably be a call to Odysseus’ men being eaten by Polyphemus, or Erysichton eating his own flesh. And the woman who’s head was shaved and then she was locked in with the starving crows, and pecked to death? Yeah, that’s clearly Scylla and Nisus from Ovid’s Metamorphosis. But you see my point, right?”
“I’m surprised Sherlock didn’t see this connection sooner,” remarked John, admiration coating his words. Sherlock shot him a dark glare.
“Ah, well, it’s kind of a special interest of mine, so the connection wasn’t difficult to find,” you said, bashful.
“I have to make room for important things, things that aren’t folktales and stories,” Sherlock countered.
“These aren’t just stories, it’s mythology,” you shot back.
“Same thing, really,” he muttered.
You raised an eyebrow. “If you had made room for those unimportant things, you would have solved this case much sooner.”
“The case still isn’t solved,” he noted. “All you have done is drawn a connection between the murders.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m sure the brilliant Sherlock Holmes can find out who the murderer is from this information.”
He cocked his head. “Hm, I could. But I want you to give it a try.”
“Why?” you questioned.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.” You sighed, looking away from him to formulate your thoughts. “Well, assuming all the murders continue like this, it’s incredibly hard to predict who’s behind them all. They’re all from different stories, of different characters, and have no clear connection between their mythological counterpart.”
Sherlock let out a low hum. You could not tell if it was in agreement or not. You continued either way, “Well, if we assume the murders share other similarities with Greek mythology, we can assume that the murderer is someone close to the victims.”
“How so?” asked John, tilting his head.
You shrugged, gesturing towards the book in your lap. “Almost all of these mythological tales contain a close friend hurting another, a father killing his daughter, or a son murdering his parents. It’s what Greek mythology is known for! All these great tales contain a betrayal from someone close to them. So…”
“So,” John continued, “the murderer has to be close to one of the victims.”
You stood up quickly, moving to look at the victims’ profiles. Sherlock had apparently gotten the files from the police, and from it you could read all of their information: names, date of birth, place of living, but what drew your eyes was the ‘familial relations’ sections. You briefly flicked through them, before chucking them at John.
“Look at all of their relatives,” you said. “Start close, move out to their friends, and so on. Someone will stand out, look at their alibis, and there’s your guy.”
“Impressive,” noted John, raising an eyebrow.
Sherlock scoffed. “Not really.”
“There is really no impressing you, huh?” you asked him, glancing at his direction.
“No. But I admit, that was adequate. But there’s no need. I already know who the murderer is.”
He jumped up from his seat, mobile in hand, typing furiously, as you stared at him pacing back and forth in the flat. “Thought you just said the murder wasn’t solved yet?” you said, a tad incredulous.
“It wasn’t,” he muttered, still typing away. “Now it is. Brilliant, really. Oh, all so brilliant!”
You watched his face light up in glee before tossing his mobile done with one final press of a button and throwing himself down on his armchair. You glanced at John but he merely shrugged, as if this was common occurrence.
“Care to share, Sherlock?” he asked.
“Hm? Oh, well, yes, if you insist,” answered Sherlock, sporting an infuriatingly smug grin. “I figured our man out. It wasn’t that hard, really.”
John rolled his eyes at his charade. “How do you know who the murderer is?”
“Oh, please,” was all Sherlock said before shifting his eyes to you. “Good job, by the way.”
You nodded at him, trying not to let his swell of approval make you smile. It was hard, though. Sherlock, being the genius that he is, had clearly tested you. And you had just passed. The thought made it even harder to fight off your smile, so you turned to look through the book again.
“Are we not going to go find the murderer, then?” you asked them.
“Glenn’s got all the information, the police can handle the rest. Even someone as incompetent as Donovan can handle it from here,” answered Sherlock. “The case is solved, and I’m bored again.”
“Greg,” interjected John.
“Hm, alright,” you said. You felt a bit awkward, on the outside of their comfortable rhythm. “So what now?”
Sherlock glanced at you from his spot in the armchair, but made no move to respond. John stopped typing at his keyboard to look at you.
“Grab a cuppa, sit down, relax. You did good.” At that, Sherlock nodded. You did as they said and sat down in the other armchair, facing Sherlock. John kept typing. “I think I’ll call this case Sherlock’s Achilles’ Heel.”
You glanced at him, grimacing. “Horrible name.”
“I agree with him, horrible,” said Sherlock, much to your surprise. His eyes seemed to smile at you before he turned to John with a slightly indignant expression on his face. “What do you even mean by my Achilles’ heel?”
John glanced up at him. “You know, Achilles? The story of him in Troy, and, like, his weakness?”
“Yes, John,” sighed Sherlock with a roll of his eyes. “That story, I do know. I just don’t understand the title.”
“It’s ‘cause you don’t know Greek mythology. That’s your weakness,” said John. Then, as an afterthought, “That, and the fact that you don’t know the earth goes around the sun.”
You balked at that. “You don’t know that the earth goes around the sun?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Sherlock waved your words away, glancing at the wall. “I needed the room for important stuff.”
“Exactly,” said John, his point made. “That’s your weakness, your Achilles’ heel.”
“The more you explain it, the worse your title gets,” you admitted.
“I liked it better when the two of you didn’t get along,” John muttered sourly.
You smiled and couldn’t help but glance at Sherlock, only to find him sporting a similar smile. He noticed your gaze and held it, his lips lifting further, almost imperceptibly. You would not have noticed it if you were not looking at his lips at that very moment—which caused you to ask yourself why you were looking at his lips. It didn’t seem to matter that you had looked away instantly, cheeks burning, as Sherlock’s smile now seemed much more knowing. Damned bastard, you cursed inwardly, but couldn’t help the fluttering in your stomach at the sight of his smile.
Something told you this would not be the last time you would help the odd pair out.
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