Human Inconveniences: Barbatos x Reader
After your birth control mysteriously vanishes, you find yourself having to face your first period in the Devildom completely unprepared. Not wanting to involve the brothers, you seek out Barbatos, who is all too insistent on being the one to care for you. Under his watch, how will you address the feelings that have been developing between you?
Link to my Ao3!
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“Fuck,” you cursed softly under your breath as you rummaged through the drawers of your dresser, vanity, and closet. Clothes and trinkets tumbled out in chaotic heaps until your room looked like the aftermath of a demolition zone.
“No. No, no, no,” you muttered, panic clawing at your chest. Your birth control was gone. You were certain you still had at least three months’ worth left, yet the familiar packet was nowhere to be found. Last night you had completely forgotten to take your pill before going out with Asmo and Mammon, and you had planned to take the next one this morning before heading to RAD. Yet here you stood in the center of the mess, feeling like the main protagonist of some cruel divine comedy. How could you have been so careless?
A firm knock on your door jolted you from your spiral.
“Y/N, breakfast began nearly ten minutes ago,” Lucifer’s voice carried through the wood. “I expect you in the dining hall in the next five minutes.”
You swallowed hard, forced a steady breath, and called back, “Coming!”
There was no time to clean the chaos. You shoved what you could back into drawers, smoothed your uniform, and hurried downstairs, heart hammering like a war drum.
The dining hall buzzed with the usual morning energy. Plates clinked, voices overlapped in easy banter. Beelzebub was already halfway through a second helping of pancakes, Mammon was complaining loudly about the stock market, and Leviathan muttered something about a new game update between bites. Belphie wasn’t at the table, which wasn’t a rare occurrence for the demon of dreams. Asmodeus flashed you a bright smile as you slipped into your seat, and Satan offered a quiet nod from across the table. Lucifer presided at the head, ever the picture of composed authority.
For several minutes the chatter flowed around you light and familiar. You tried to laugh at the right moments, to nod along, but the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second. Your period hadn’t fully started yet, but the dread of it arriving unprepared made the food taste bitter on your tongue.
Mammon’s sharp eyes flicked toward you after a lull. “Oi, Y/N, you’ve been starin’ at your plate like it owes you some Grimm. You good?”
The table quieted a fraction. Beelzebub slowed his chewing, glancing over with a faint frown. Leviathan looked up from his D.D.D., thumb still hovering over the screen, his expression shifting from distracted to mildly concerned.
Asmodeus leaned forward gracefully, resting his chin on the back of his hand, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Ooooh~ Is it boy drama? Come on, darling, spill. Big brother Asmo is all ears~”
Lucifer said nothing, but his crimson gaze lingered on you a beat longer than the others, sharp and assessing, as if he could already sense the lie forming on your tongue.
You opened your mouth, then closed it. How did you even begin? These were demons. Ancient, powerful, eternal. Do demonesses even experience menstrual cycles? The thought spun in your head. From everything you’d learned since arriving, there’d been no mention of it. No casual complaints, no hidden supplies, nothing. Would they understand, or would it just come across as some fragile human weakness? Could you even hide it from them? They had made passing comments about your “human scent,” so does that mean they’d be able to smell-
You shook your head, clearing the thought with mild embarrassment. No. Just play it cool.
“I’m… fine,” you managed, forcing a small smile. “Just tired. I stayed up late to study after we got back…”
Lucifer’s gaze lingered on you a beat longer, sharp and knowing, but he said nothing. The conversation picked back up, though the worried glances didn’t fully vanish. You excused yourself as soon as it was polite, murmuring something about needing air.
The walk to RAD felt longer than usual, even with the familiar chaos of the brothers surrounding you. Mammon kept pace at your left, shooting you sidelong glances every few steps. Leviathan trailed a little behind, but his eyes kept flicking toward you. Asmodeus linked arms with you for a moment, fussing about how pale you looked and offering to share his newest skincare routine “to fix that tired look of yours, darling~.” Even Beelzebub, usually focused on whatever snack he’d smuggled, slowed his munching to offer you a piece of his breakfast bar with a quiet, concerned frown.
You waved them all off with the same weak smile you’d used at breakfast. “Really, I’m okay. Just didn’t sleep well. Human thing.”
Lucifer walked at the front with perfect posture, but you caught the subtle tilt of his head whenever your footsteps faltered. Satan brought up the rear, book in hand, yet his sharp green eyes narrowed thoughtfully each time you shifted uncomfortably. The worried glances never fully stopped, no matter how many times you insisted you were fine. By the time you reached the grand gates of RAD, the knot in your stomach had tightened into something heavy and insistent.
Classes dragged. You sat through history with a faint headache blooming behind your eyes and a dull ache settling into your lower back like a warning. Mild nausea rolled through you in slow waves, making the scent of Devildom incense and chalk dust turn your stomach. You knew the signs. Your period was coming. Soon. And you had nothing. No sanitary products, no painkillers, no heating pad. The birth control you’d counted on was gone, vanished from this world alongside any preparation you could have had for this situation.
By lunch, the discomfort had grown enough that you slipped away from the group and headed to the girls’ locker room near the gym wing. A few demonesses were changing after PE, laughing and chatting in low, melodic voices. You approached one, an elegant succubus with sleek black horns and a friendly smile, who was retying her uniform ribbon.
“Excuse me,” you said, voice low and hesitant. “I need to ask something. Do you have any supplies for… you know, a period? Pads or… anything? I wasn’t prepared, and this is my first one here in the Devildom.”
The succubus blinked, her golden eyes widening in genuine confusion. “A… period?” She tilted her head as if tasting a foreign word before her eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! You mean… as in bleeding? Like, from your…?” She gestured vaguely at her own midsection, then laughed softly, surprised. “Humans still do that? I thought your kind had potions or spells to stop it entirely these days. We don’t have anything like that down here; our cycles are much different. Sorry, I don’t carry anything for it.”
Heat rushed to your face. The other demonesses nearby had fallen quiet, exchanging curious glances. One murmured something about how strange human anatomy was, not unkindly, but the embarrassment burned anyway. You thanked her quickly and backed out of the locker room, heart pounding. No supplies. No understanding. Just the creeping certainty that you couldn’t hide this much longer.
You needed help. Real help from someone who wouldn’t laugh or pry, and who might actually know what to do. Someone calm. Someone reliable.
Your mind immediately latched onto him, heat rising to your face as your pulse skipped a beat.
You weren’t entirely sure when it had begun; this quiet, unspoken thing between you.
Perhaps it had started the night you had wandered the moonlit gardens together after one of Diavolo’s late meetings. Barbatos had paused beside a rare starflower in bloom. His voice carried a rare, unguarded passion as he spoke of its delicate beauty. You had teased him gently, noting how unexpected it was for a demon of his repute to have such an affection for flowers. He had chuckled. The sound was low and private, meant for your ears alone, and he replied that even butlers were allowed small indulgences.
Over the past few months the moments had layered one atop the other. Secret glances across crowded Student Council rooms. The way his green eyes would find yours with the faintest spark of amusement, as if sharing a silent joke no one else could hear. Neither of you ever named it. Neither ever leaned in too close.
There had been the ball, though.
Diavolo’s latest event had spilled golden light and sweeping music across the castle’s grand ballroom. You had stood near the refreshment tables, trying not to feel out of place among demonic nobility, when Barbatos appeared at your side. He had offered his gloved hand without a word, the invitation quiet and unmistakable. You accepted, and for one slow, elegant song, he had guided you across the floor with flawless grace. His hand at the small of your back had been light, respectful, yet warm enough to linger in memory long after the music faded. When the final note faded, he had bowed slightly, lips brushing against your knuckles.
“Thank you for the dance, Y/N,” he had said, voice low enough that only you could hear. “It is rare to find a partner who follows so naturally… and smiles so genuinely.”
You had felt your cheeks warm then, just as they did now at the recollection. The thought steadied you even as another wave of cramps tightened low in your belly. You slipped out of the main building during the afternoon break and made your way toward the Student Council room, hoping he might be there preparing tea for Diavolo or assisting with the endless stream of paperwork. Your steps were slower now, one hand pressing subtly against your lower back as you walked the quiet corridor.
The Student Council room was quieter than usual, the distant chatter of RAD’s hallways muffled by heavy oak doors. You hesitated just beyond the threshold, one hand still pressed lightly to the small of your back where the dull ache had sharpened into something nagging. The fabric of your uniform felt too warm, too confining. Another faint cramp twisted low in your abdomen, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from wincing.
A soft rustle of fabric drew your gaze. Barbatos stood near the long table, arranging a golden tea set with the precise, graceful movements that always made everything he did look effortless. When he noticed you lingering in the doorway, his gloved hand paused mid-pour. Those calm teal eyes met yours without surprise, only polite recognition.
“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, voice smooth and low, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. “I did not expect to see you here during break. Lord Diavolo is currently in a meeting with faculty. Is there something I can assist you with?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again. The words stuck somewhere between embarrassment and desperation. How did one casually explain to an ancient and powerful demon butler that your human body had decided to betray you in the most inconvenient way possible at the worst time imaginable?
Barbatos set the teapot down with a delicate clink. The quiet stretched between you, polite and patient, as if he had all the time in the three realms to wait for you to find your voice.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The movement sent another small ripple of discomfort through your core, and you couldn’t quite suppress the tiny grimace that flickered across your face.
Barbatos’s gaze sharpened, though his expression remained serenely composed. He took one measured step closer, head tilting ever so slightly as he studied you, your slightly hunched posture, the way your fingers curled against the hem of your blazer, the faint paleness you knew had crept into your cheeks.
“Are you quite alright, Y/N?” he asked gently, the teasing lilt he sometimes allowed himself absent. “You appear… unwell. If you are feeling ill, I would strongly advise you to take the remainder of the day off. It is important to rest when your body requires it.”
You shook your head quickly, forcing a weak smile. “I’m not sick,” you insisted, though the words came out thinner than you’d intended. “Really, it’s nothing like that. I just… I’ll be fine.”
Barbatos’s polite smile remained in place, but something knowing flickered behind his eyes. “Humans are resilient in many ways,” he said, tone mild yet firm, “yet you still require more rest than we demons do. Overexertion will only make matters worse. Please, do not push yourself too far.”
Another cramp chose that moment to bloom, sharper this time, stealing your breath for half a second. You pressed your lips together, eyes flicking away from his steady gaze as heat crawled up your neck.
Barbatos’ gloved hand reached towards you before pausing midair. The calm mask he always wore remained perfectly in place, yet the faint crease between his brows betrayed the worry beneath it.
“You’re in pain, Y/N,” he said, voice low and measured, the way one might speak to a startled fawn, “I will escort you to a physician at once. Lord Diavolo keeps an excellent healer on call for such matters.”
You waved him off quickly, the motion a little too sharp, and immediately regretted it as another faint twinge rippled through your abdomen. “No! No, really, it’s not like that. I’m not sick. I just…” The words tangled on your tongue. Heat flooded your cheeks. You stared at the polished floorboards rather than meet those steady teal eyes. “Since before coming here to the Devildom, up until yesterday, I had been taking a certain medication. It… it kept my cycles from happening. Menstrual cycles, to be clear… I thought I still had months left, but it vanished.” You glanced up at him briefly. He was staring at you with calm patience that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m unprepared. And I felt too embarrassed to tell the brothers. They already worry enough.”
The confession hung in the quiet room. You braced for confusion or polite dismissal.
Instead, Barbatos’s expression softened by the smallest degree, the corner of his mouth tilting in a way that was almost fond. He stepped closer, careful not to crowd you, and folded his hands behind his back with the effortless grace of someone who had served royalty for centuries.
“I am aware of human fertility cycles,” he murmured, tone gentle, almost scholarly. “Though I confess I have little personal experience with them. Most demons do not share the same rhythms, and my duties rarely require such intimate knowledge of mortal biology.” His gaze flicked briefly to the door, ensuring it remained closed, then returned to you. “But what I do know is that you are in a vulnerable state. In pain. And I know you, Y/N. There is no need for embarrassment here, not with me.”
He paused, letting the words settle. Then, with the same quiet authority he used when demanding Diavolo stop putting off work, he continued, “Allow me to care for you during this time. It would ease my mind considerably.”
The silence of the Student Council room wrapped around you like smoke. Barbatos’ offer hung in the air. It was gentle, sincere, and far too kind for the embarrassment still burning in your chest. You shifted again as another small cramp twisted low in your belly, and forced a steadying breath.
“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” you said quickly, voice softer than you meant it to be. “I’ve gone through this many times before back home. I just need help getting some supplies. Pads or tampons, that’s all.”
Barbatos’s calm eyes never left yours. For a moment he said nothing, simply studying you with that unnervingly patient gaze. Then, with a subtle glance toward the door and the empty hallway beyond, he stepped closer. His gloved hand reached out and gently closed around your forearm, light enough not to startle yet firm enough to ground you. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your sleeve, steady and reassuring in a way that made your shoulders loosen despite yourself.
“Y/N,” he murmured, voice low and earnest. “Please. Come with me to the castle. I will retrieve whatever supplies you require from the Human World myself. And I will inform the brothers that you are resting under my care; they need not worry themselves into a frenzy.”
He paused, thumb brushing once, almost absently, over the inside of your wrist. “You say that you have been suppressing your cycle for a long while with that medication of yours. After such a long gap… I imagine it may prove especially intense. I would rather not leave you to endure it alone in the House of Lamentation, surrounded by well-meaning but overwhelming demons who may not fully understand.”
Your heart stuttered at the gentle insistence in his tone. The cramps were already sharpening, the familiar heavy ache settling deeper, and the thought of facing the brothers’ questions, or worse, their hovering, felt exhausting. Barbatos’ expression remained composed, his smile faint but genuine, the kind he reserved only for those he truly cared for.
You swallowed, hesitation flickering one last time before you nodded. “Alright… okay. Thank you, Barbatos.”
The relief that flickered across his features was subtle, but you caught it. The slight softening at the corners of his eyes. “You honor me with your trust,” he said simply. With effortless grace, he released your arm only to offer it properly, like a gentleman escorting a lady. “Come. We will go through the back corridors. No one will see us leave.”
He guided you out of the Student Council room with the same quiet efficiency he used for everything, doors opening before you as if by invisible hands, footsteps silent on the polished floors. The walk to the Demon Lord’s Castle felt shorter than it should have, Barbatos’s presence a calm anchor at your side. Every so often his gloved fingers would brush lightly against your elbow if your steps faltered, steadying you without a word.
By the time the grand spires of the castle came into view, another wave of discomfort had you pressing a hand subtly to your lower abdomen. Barbatos noticed immediately.
“Almost there,” he murmured, voice soft.
He led you through a side entrance reserved for staff, bypassing the main halls entirely. The castle’s opulent corridors blurred past until he stopped before a beautifully carved door. With a small flourish of his hand, it swung open to reveal a spacious and elegant room. Soft lighting from enchanted orbs, a large bed piled with plush pillows, and a window overlooking the moonlit gardens below.
Barbatos lingered near the doorway for a moment, his eyes scanning you with that same calm attentiveness he always carried. “I will excuse myself briefly to retrieve the proper supplies from the Human World,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I shouldn’t be very long; time flows differently when one knows the right doors to open. Please, message me if anything changes or if the discomfort worsens. I will return at once.”
You nodded, managing a small, grateful smile despite the heat still lingering in your cheeks. “Thank you, Barbatos.”
He offered a slight bow, the corner of his mouth curving in that faint, teasing smile he reserved for you. “It is my pleasure, Y/N. Rest while you can.” With that, he slipped out, the door closing softly behind him with a quiet click.
Once alone, you let yourself fall back against the pillows, staring up at the ornate ceiling. A strange flutter stirred in your chest, warm and unexpected amid the growing ache. You were staying in the castle. Barbatos’s domain. The place where he moved with effortless grace and quiet authority. And he wanted to care for you. Not out of obligation or orders from Diavolo, but because he had seen your pain and chose to ease it. The thought made something tender bloom behind your ribs, fragile and new. You pressed a hand lightly to your stomach, trying to ignore how the simple gesture made your heart skip.
Time slipped by in the hushed room. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through your D.D.D., but the cramps gradually sharpened, building from a nagging discomfort into something fiercer. Each wave rolled deeper, tightening like a vice around your lower abdomen and back. Sweat beaded faintly at your temples. You curled onto your side, knees drawn up, breathing through the worst of it. The familiar heaviness settled lower, insistent now. A clear warning that your period was about to start any moment.
Just as the crescendo hit, a fresh cramp stealing your breath and making you whimper softly into the pillow, the door opened without a sound.
Barbatos stepped inside, carrying a discreet paper bag from what looked like a familiar Human World pharmacy chain. His expression remained perfectly composed, though his eyes softened the instant they landed on your curled form.
“I have returned,” he said gently, crossing the room in a few graceful strides. He set the bag on the bedside table and withdrew a neatly packaged assortment of pads and tampons. “These should suit your needs. I selected a variety, as I was uncertain of your preferences.”
Heat flooded your face again, but the relief at seeing the supplies outweighed the embarrassment. “You… you really went all the way there for me,” you murmured, sitting up slowly despite the protest from your body.
“Of course. It was no trouble at all.” He placed the items within easy reach, then straightened with his usual butler’s poise. “I will excuse myself once more to prepare some tea for you. Something soothing. It will only take a moment.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the supplies and the quiet flutter in your chest that refused to fade. You reached for the bag, grateful beyond words, as another wave of pain rolled through you. This time, the knowledge that Barbatos would return soon made it feel just a little more bearable.
You slipped into the opulent bathroom attached to the guest room, the door clicking softly behind you. Marble floors gleamed under enchanted lights that cast a warm, forgiving glow and the air carried a faint, calming scent. Something faintly sweet; perhaps one of Barbatos’ own subtle touches. The space felt almost too elegant for something as mundane as this, yet it eased the embarrassment clinging to your skin.
After dealing with the issue at hand, you stepped back into the main room, soft carpet muffling your footsteps. The fireplace had been lit in your absence. Flames danced with a gentle, enchanted flicker that cast golden light across the space. Barbatos stood beside a small table near the hearth, pouring tea from a delicate porcelain pot into two matching cups. Steam curled upward in lazy spirals, carrying the soothing aroma of chamomile laced with ginger and honey. Two plush armchairs sat adjacent to one another, angled perfectly toward the fire.
He glanced up as you entered, eyes scanning your frame immediately.
“Ah, Y/N,” he greeted, voice low and warm like the firelight itself. “You look a touch more composed. How are you feeling now?”
You crossed the room slowly, one hand still resting lightly against your lower abdomen as another residual cramp pulsed through. The plush chair welcomed you as you sank into it, the velvet soft against your tired body. The heat from the fireplace brushed over your skin like a gentle caress, easing some of the tension in your back.
“Better… a little,” you admitted, managing a small smile in return. “Thank you again, Barbatos. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”
He set the teapot down with graceful precision and handed you one of the cups, the porcelain warm against your palms. Instead of taking the other chair immediately, he remained standing for a moment, studying you with quiet concern.
“I am glad,” he murmured. “The tea should help as well, it is a blend that is well known to ease aches and minor pains. Drink it while it is still warm.”
Only after your eyes lingered on him, then flicked to the second chair, did he then settle beside you, close enough that the space between you felt intimate rather than distant.
The fire crackled softly, filling the comfortable silence. You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you, and felt that flutter in your chest return. Here you were, tucked away in the Demon Lord’s Castle, cared for by Barbatos himself in a quiet corner of his world. He had crossed realms for you without hesitation. The thought made your cheeks warm again, though this time it had little to do with embarrassment.
The firelight danced across Barbatos’s face, softening the usual perfect composure of the butler into something warm and inviting. The two of you sat close, closer than you had ever been outside of that single dance at the ball. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It felt charged, like the air before a storm, heavy with words neither of you had spoken yet.
Barbatos set his own cup down on the small table between the chairs and turned slightly toward you, one gloved hand resting lightly on the arm of his chair. His teal eyes held yours with gentle curiosity, the faintest hint of something deeper flickering behind them.
“Tell me, Y/N,” he said, “so that I may care for you properly… what should I expect over the coming days? What would make this easier for you?”
You hesitated, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. You shifted in the plush chair, drawing your knees up slightly as another cramp pulsed through your lower abdomen.
“The pain is uncomfortable right now,” you admitted quietly, “but it will probably worsen tomorrow… maybe even the day after. Then it should start to ease, slowly.” You glanced down at your tea, tracing the rim of the cup with a fingertip. “I’ll likely be extremely fatigued, sleeping a lot, or just… drained. Hungry, too, even if I don’t feel like eating much at first. And I may become short-tempered. I’m sorry in advance for any trouble I might cause you.”
Barbatos listened without interruption, his expression never shifting into pity or discomfort. Instead, his gaze softened further.
“There is no need to apologize,” he spoke in a hushed voice, leaning forward just enough that the space between your chairs felt even smaller. “I have served Lord Diavolo for centuries and dealt with far more chaotic tempers than a few days of human discomfort. Yours, I suspect, I will not mind in the slightest.” His voice dropped a fraction lower, almost teasing, yet laced with something undeniably fond. “In fact… I find myself rather looking forward to being the one you turn to when you need comfort.”
Your breath caught. The fire crackled softly, but it was nothing compared to the sudden flutter in your chest. Barbatos’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than necessary, the teal depths reflecting the golden flames, and something else. Something far more personal. He reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away, and lightly brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear with gloved fingers. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a shiver down your spine.
“You need not hide your fatigue, your hunger, or even your temper from me,” he continued, hand lingering near your cheek for a heartbeat before he withdrew it with obvious reluctance. “I will bring you whatever you crave. Sweets I have baked myself, warm broths, anything at all. If you wish to sleep the day away, this room is yours for as long as you need it. And if you snap at me…” His lips curved into a rare, playful smirk. “I may even find it endearing.”
The tension wrapped around you both like the warmth from the fireplace, quiet and undeniable. Barbatos was looking at you as though caring for you during this vulnerable time was not a duty… but a privilege he cherished.
“Thank you. Truly. It’s just… I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered, voice softer than you intended.
“You could never be,” he replied without hesitation, his tone low and earnest. The firelight caught in his eyes as he held your gaze. “Allowing me to look after you like this… it pleases me more than you know, Y/N.”
You stared at him, the longing you had buried for months rising unbidden to the surface. In this stolen pocket of the castle, there was no need for pretense. Your gaze traced the elegant slope of his cheekbones, the calm set of his mouth, the way those eyes held yours with a depth that made your pulse stutter. He did not look away. Instead, his expression held something tender and unspoken. An acknowledgment of the quiet thing that had grown between you over the past months.
For several moments, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, heavy with all the words you had never dared speak. His gloved hand rested near yours on the small table, close enough that the faintest shift would have brought your fingers together.
Then a sudden yawn escaped you, involuntarily, your body finally reminding you how drained you truly were. Heat rushed to your cheeks again as you covered your mouth with one hand.
Barbatos chuckled lightly, the sound low and warm, carrying no mockery, only gentle fondness. “It seems the day has caught up with you at last,” he murmured, rising from his chair with that effortless grace. “Please allow me to excuse myself so you may rest properly. The bed is quite comfortable, and the linens have been freshly changed. Should you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call for me. I am never far.”
He offered a small, courteous bow, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “Sleep well, Y/N.”
The door clicked shut behind him with a soft, final sound, leaving the room wrapped in the gentle crackle of the fire and the distant hush of the castle at night.
You sighed out your embarrassment, and slight disgruntlement, of ending the moment, and changed into the soft nightclothes that had mysteriously appeared folded on the bed. The mattress cradled you like a cloud, the pillows scented faintly with something clean and calming. Yet sleep did not come easily at first. You tossed and turned, the dull ache in your lower back flaring with every shift. Your mind replayed the way Barbatos had looked at you by the fire, the brush of his fingers near your cheek, the quiet promise in his voice. The longing lingered, warm and restless, mingling with the cramps that refused to fully subside.
Eventually, fatigue won out. Your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day pulling you under like a gentle tide. You drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, the fire burning low in the hearth.
Hours later, the castle lay silent under the eternal Devildom night. A vicious cramp ripped through your abdomen, sharp and unrelenting, yanking you awake with a gasp. Pain bloomed low and deep, twisting like a knife, radiating into your back and thighs until every muscle clenched in protest. Nausea rolled over you in a sickening wave as sweat prickled across your forehead. You curled into a tight ball, knees drawn to your chest, breathing shallow and ragged through the worst of it. A soft whimper escaped despite your efforts to stay quiet, the kind of sound you hated letting anyone hear.
The room felt too warm now, the sheets tangled around your legs. Another cramp hit, harder than the last, and you pressed your face into the pillow, fighting the urge to be sick right there on the elegant bedding.
You lay there for what felt like an eternity, breathing through the waves of pain that refused to ease. Your hand fumbled blindly for the D.D.D. on the nightstand, fingers trembling as you clutched it. Should you message him? The thought twisted in your chest alongside the cramps. Barbatos had already done so much; crossing realms for supplies, offering you this quiet sanctuary in the castle, watching over you with that steady care. You didn’t want to disturb him, not when he likely had a thousand other duties pulling at him even in the dead of night. He was the butler to the future Demon King, after all. What right did you have to drag him from whatever rest or work he might be tending to?
Yet the pain sharpened again, a vicious spike that stole your breath and left you curled tighter, a soft, involuntary whimper slipping past your lips. He would be upset, you realized with a pang. If you suffered alone and he found out later, that calm facade of his would crack just enough for you to see the quiet disapproval in his eyes.
With a shaky exhale, you unlocked the D.D.D. and typed a brief message, the screen’s glow harsh in the dim firelight.
Y/N: The pain… it’s gotten a lot worse. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but it’s becoming unbearable.
You hit send before you could second guess yourself, then dropped the device back onto the nightstand and buried your face in the pillow once more. The seconds stretched. One minute. Maybe two. You tried to breathe through another cramp, knees drawn up, body trembling with the effort not to cry out.
The door opened without a sound.
Barbatos slipped inside like a shadow given form, the faint click of the latch the only warning. He carried no tray this time, only the quiet grace that always seemed to surround him. His usual butler’s coat was absent, replaced by dark informal attire that spoke of someone roused from private quarters rather than formal duties. His eyes found you immediately in the low light, softening at the sight of your curled, pained figure.
“Y/N.” He crossed the room in silent strides and knelt beside the bed without hesitation, one gloved hand coming to rest lightly on the edge of the mattress near your shoulder. “I came as quickly as I could.”
You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, cheeks flushed with a mix of pain and lingering embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching as another wave tightened low in your abdomen. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Hush. There is no need for apologies” The words were gentle, almost tender, cutting off your apology before it could fully form.
Another cramp seized you, and you instinctively reached for his arm, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as you rode it out. Barbatos did not pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, his presence a reassuring anchor in the darkness. With careful movements, he pressed one hand against your lower abdomen, the gentle heat seeping through immediately like a balm.
“Easy now,” he murmured, voice steady and soothing. “Breathe with me. In… and out. The worst will pass in a moment.” His free hand gently adjusted the covers, tucking them around you more comfortably while avoiding any further pressure on your aching middle. “I suspected the intensity might increase during the night. Forgive me for not remaining closer. I should have anticipated this.”
His thumb brushed once over the back of your hand where it still gripped his sleeve. “I am here. You need not endure this alone.”
The nausea ebbed slightly under his calm attention, though the pain still throbbed in stubborn waves. You managed a shaky breath, eyes fluttering open to meet his. In the quiet intimacy of the moonlit room, with Barbatos watching over you so sweetly, the longing from earlier returned, unguarded.
He held your gaze, that same quiet intensity from beside the fire now laced with something deeper and protective. His gloved fingers remained linked with yours, warm and steady, as the worst of the cramp slowly began to fade.
The pain ebbed at last, loosening its vicious grip like a tide reluctantly pulling back from shore. You exhaled shakily, the tension draining from your limbs as the worst of the cramp faded into a dull, manageable throb. Barbatos’ hand remained warm and steady against your lower abdomen, the gentle pressure never wavering even as your breathing steadied.
“There,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “It passes. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Y/N.”
He lingered a moment longer, thumb tracing one final, light circle over the fabric of your nightclothes before he began to withdraw. “I will prepare a stronger tea for you,” he said quietly, already shifting to rise. “A blend from the Human World, one traditionally used to ease the pains of labor. It should dull the sharper edges far better than chamomile. I will not be long-”
Your hand shot out before you could think, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. You were keenly aware of his lack of gloves; warm skin pressed against yours. “Don’t go,” you whispered, the words slipping out raw and pleading. Your voice cracked just a little from the exhaustion and the vulnerability of the night. “Please, Barbatos… stay. Just for a little while.”
He froze mid-motion, those serene eyes widening by the smallest fraction, the only crack in his perfect composure. For a moment, the ancient being who could bend time itself seemed genuinely caught off guard. His gaze flicked from your hand on his wrist to your face, searching, and whatever he saw there made something tender flicker across his features. The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile, but something soft. Almost helpless.
“…As you wish,” he said at last, the words quiet and resigned in the most willing way possible. Here, with your fingers lightly tugging at him, he had no defense. “I cannot deny you when you plead so softly.”
You didn’t pull hard. Just enough to guide, a silent invitation. Barbatos hesitated only a second more before he yielded. He settled onto the bed beside you carefully, stretching out over the covers while you remained cocooned beneath them. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, bringing him close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating from his body. One arm rested loosely along his side, the other still near you, as if ready to offer comfort again at the slightest sign of pain.
The room fell into a hush broken only by the soft crackle of the low fire and the distant, eternal night sounds of the Devildom beyond the window. Tension hummed between you like a live wire. Quiet, unspoken, yet impossible to ignore. The same charged silence that had wrapped around you by the fireplace earlier now felt heavier, more intimate in the dimness of the guest room. Barbatos lay on his side facing you, propped slightly on one elbow so he could watch your face. His eyes reflected the faint moonlight, steady and deep, holding yours without flinching.
You could smell the faint, clean scent of him, something like fresh linen and rare tea leaves, with an undercurrent of that subtle sweetness he carried from the kitchens. His gloved hand rested on the covers between you, close enough that your fingers could brush it if you dared. Neither of you spoke at first. The weight of months of stolen glances, that single perfect dance, the quiet protectiveness he’d shown tonight all pressed in at once.
Barbatos’ calm mask slipped just enough to reveal the quiet longing beneath. Slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned in. His free hand rose, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your cheek with the same reverent care he’d shown earlier. Then his lips met yours, sweet and unhurried, like the first sip of perfectly steeped tea after a long day. It wasn’t demanding or fierce; it was gentle and tentative, as if he were savoring something rare and fragile he had waited centuries to taste.
You melted into it without hesitation, your hand tightening lightly on his sleeve as if to anchor yourself. His mouth was warm, the kiss slow and deliberate, carrying the same poised elegance he brought to everything. A faint taste of the chamomile tea lingered on his lips, mingled with something uniquely him. It was as sweet as it was grounding. As the kiss deepened just a fraction, your mind emptied of everything else.
Nothing else mattered in this moment. Not the lingering ache low in your belly, not the days of fatigue and cramps still stretching ahead, not even the inevitable barrage of worried questions and overprotective hovering from the brothers once they inevitably found out where you’d vanished to. Right now, there was only the quiet sanctuary of this room, the steady warmth of Barbatos beside you, and the sweet press of his lips against yours as if you were the most precious secret in all three worlds.
He finally drew back, just enough to rest his forehead lightly against yours, breath mingling in the small space between.
“Forgive the forwardness,” he whispered, voice husky and low. “But I find I have been wanting to do that for some time now… and now seemed the moment to stop denying it.”
Your heart fluttered wildly, the pain a distant echo beneath the warmth blooming in your chest. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your fingers trail lightly down his arm, savoring the closeness.
“Stay,” you murmured again, softer this time, a request rather than a plea. “Just… like this.”
Barbatos lifted his hand once more to cup your cheek, thumb moving in slow, soothing passes.
“As you wish, Y/N,” he replied, the words carrying the weight of a vow. “For as long as you need me.”
The fire burned low, the castle slept on, and in that quiet pocket of the night, the unspoken thing between you had finally found its voice. Soft, sweet, and undeniably real.
