Tangled with The Dateables

Request: Hello! I’d like to request a fluff of the brothers and dateables (maybe even Luke if that’s not weird? He’s like a tiny little teddy bear ). So when I sleep, I tend to wake up hugging anything in my vicinity . Like one time, my best friend and I shared a bed and fell asleep on opposite ends. When we woke up, we were TANGLED BRO so I wanted to see how the Obey Me characters would react to MC doing this .

A/N:I did dateables here first, but if you want the brothers just let me know how you like this one!! (also, i love luke so much, there was one scenario that I wrote that I wanted to add luke but i didn’t, i think it was for heavy thoughts) also! These are short, so sorry about that ^^’

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Barbatos:

• When you first see his room, you’re taken aback by all the stairs and doors to notice that there’s a lack of bed- or any type of personal belongings in the family. It’s not until later when you visit him and he’s in his room, that you actually take it in. Barbatos can tell that you’re upset- going on and on about how he needs sleep and when he counters that doesn’t really need sleep, at least not in the way that other demons do, you give him a pointed look and his mouth closes with a faint smile tugging on his lips. Whatever it is that you want him to do, he does so without a complaint, so when you bring up that he should spend the night with you, he taps the tip of your nose and promises that one night he will.
• After constant work around both your and his schedule, finally, you both find a night to share together. Due to him having no real bed in his “bedroom”, it’s unanimously decided that he would spend the night in your room. He knocks at your door with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, a heavy feeling in his stomach that makes him shift his weight between his feet. You open the door, and greet him with a smile, and pull him inside. He’s seen your room before, entered to retrieve you or to leave something on your bed, but it was always a quick in-and-out type of deal. Today, he gets to see you in your room, free to look around and lift a book. Your room is so shamelessly you, your knickknacks littered over your desk, water bottles half filled on your nightstand and movie ticket stubs on your dresser. He likes how you’ve made this room your own.
• He’ll admit, he’s never been to an actual slumber party- the words that you’ve chosen to describe this nightly occurrence. He’s slept in a room with others, but he doubts that would actually be called what you want it to be. He sits on the bed with you, his shoulders raised and eyes dancing along your room. It’s one thing to tease you and give in to your whims, it’s another to actually spend the night with you, curled next to each other in bed. You gesture for him to come closer and with a held breath, he nods, slipping under the covers with you; the scent of your cream lingering on the blankets and pillowcases, filling in his lungs with something sweet that makes every breath pressured and weighted. He stammers on, clearly out of his element, so unable to think, his words quick as he discusses his day with you. You cling to every word, the movie paused and your eyes on him as you rest on the pillow, his hand held in yours as you trace every line on him.
• Midway through a complaint over not getting a shipment delivered to him, he feels your tracing begin to slow, only to quicken when he calls your name. Looking down, your eyes are half lidded, giving him a tired smile when he catches your gaze. You don’t mean to fall asleep, not when he’s here, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. He pulls his hand out of yours, and stills when you clutch it desperately, bringing it close to your chest, his knuckles against you, feeling your heartbeat tap against him. He lies beside you, careful to not move as you fall into a slumber. You breathe softly, still holding onto his hand and he watches you, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your face, his thumb arching over your plush cheek, and hand curling over your neck. He’s stuck in bed with you, and there could be no better thing to happen to him at this moment. He’s given you no reason to lose your trust in him, but a part of him is overwhelmed with the fact that you still felt safe to fall asleep with him beside you, holding onto his hand and under the same covers that you sleep in. Ever so carefully, he reaches for you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before pulling away and closing his eyes. 
• Sleep does not come easily to him, but once it does overtake him, he can feel the weight of it envelop him in an unyielding hug. When he does wake, he finds it to be all the same. Barbatos is held tight, under the weight of the blanket and something interlaced with his own body. Stretching his legs, he rolls his ankles, feeling his muscles weak and soft, unable to do anything more than to yawn. He turns his head, trying to lift his arms above him, and he finds himself unable to move. Peeling back the blankets, he finds your limbs entangled with his, his eyes wide and face in shock for a moment until a slow smile graces his features and he’s laughing softly under his breath. The blanket covers him once more, his arms bringing you closer to him, and he lets sleep consume once more, knowing that it’ll give him more time to be with you. 

Diavolo:

• Diavolo is a jealous demon. He isn’t fond of sharing you with others, but he also realizes that you can’t be with him every second of the day. Not when he has work that needs to be done. Not when he knows that if you were to ask him a question, he’d drop everything to answer your question and then some. You’ve spent so much time with the others, parties and outings, breakfasts and dinners, study dates and celebratory outings. Caring for them in every intimate way that he can’t experience- sleeping beside them, cradling their head in your lap, and kissing their knuckles with your lips. He loses time spent with you, and he hates it. He hates how empty it leaves him. He decides that he needs to make up for lost time, that he needs to form a stronger bond with you. There’s a simple solution that he can offer without it being too forward, and he’s glad when you agree to have a sleepover with him.
• The castle can be quite lonely with just him and Barbatos around. While he’s grateful to have the other demon by his side, he isn’t you. When you come around, he’s forgotten just how lively it is with you around. You make things so much more interesting. The castle has always been stuffy, much too grand for just two, too rigid and cold, and he thrives off of interaction, wants to reclaim all the time that he lost when he was a child, and had to grow up far too quickly. However, when you’re here, it doesn’t seem like that. You wander around, his hand held tightly in yours, or arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you on his back, laughing and giving you a broken version of the tour he is supposed to give, much too giddy with you around to focus on the proper words. Even his study that can be so tiresome is brought to life with you there, and you have him describe his future plans and even if he doesn’t need your approval, he still craves it desperately when you nod along with every word that drips off his tongue, so eager to listen to him ramble about something so mundane.
• You stay up late, tucked in his room, your bag on his chair, and a blanket wrapped around your body. He’s beside you, laying on his back, listening to you talk about your current favorite show, and you’re so animated. Your hands are in the air, and your words are coming out faster than you can think, stuttering and backtracking, and you have this smile, radiant and stretched widely, and he’s admiring you from his bed, listening and nodding along, captivated, and he’s thankful that you’re here with him. That you’re making the castle feel more like a home than it has in a long time. You’re smiling at him, and he can feel the warmth in his chest sear across him, and if it’s you to leave such a scar on him, he’s happy for the reminder, wanting for you to be part of him in any way, shape, or form. 
• Soon, he’s joining your conversation, smiling when you lay beside him and turn on your side to watch him, and he sees just how tired you are- the way your eyes droop, how your smile is slow to tilt upwards. It’s selfish of him to try to continue the conversation, to press forward so you can answer and engage with him, but he doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want this night to end. He wants to talk to you, to hear what you have to say and make you laugh. He wants you to come back and not find this night to be a waste. But you cup your hand over his cheek, and he comes to a stop, staring at you with wide eyes, waiting to hear what you have to say. When you tell him that you’re tired, he apologies. He doesn’t want to waste a second of your time, but you’re tired, and you’ve humored him enough. You smile, and shrug, telling him that you liked hearing him talk, that you adored spending the night with him, and there’s something that stirs in him, that makes him go still, his lungs growing flowers in them, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think, making him only able to focus on how you come close to him and wish him a good night with your arms wrapped around him. 
• In the morning, he gets to wake up late, getting the pleasure to sleep in with you. It’s another thing of you spending the night that he cherishes- waking up with you beside him even if he knows that you leaving his side is just a few hours away. He doesn’t want to move despite his body pleading for him to stretch, he wants to stay where he is, curled beside you, your face nuzzled to his chest, and arms wrapped around him. He can’t risk waking you- both out of care for you and selfishness for him; he wants you to stay as long as you can, to wake up slowly still pressed close to him. Your legs shift against his, and it’s a slow and dragging motion, and his brows furrow. Lifting the blanket over the both of you, Diavolo finds you tangled with him, and he smiles. Even in slumber, you’ve pressed yourself as close to him as possible, and in slumber, he allowed you to, and in his waking moments, he kisses the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping that when he wakes up, you’ll still be there, tangled with him.

Simeon:

• It’s become an unspoken routine for Simeon to spend the night with you- or vice versa- at least once every two weeks. It started off with you accidentally sleeping in his room after a study date, and it slowly turned into something where you come with your bag packed, and make yourself at home in his room. It’s calming. You sit beside him, and he just gets to talk to you without interruptions, without having to worry that you’ll be whisked away from him. Nothing special is done. There’s no big surprise that waits for you in his room- or yours on the off chance, he does sleep in your bed- it’s just you and him. You play on your gaming device and he finishes a manuscript with your hums and the clicking buttons as his background music. He reads a passage from an old book of his and you come to his side trying to peer at the words. There’s no greater joy than just having you by his side.
• Tonight, you’re in Simeon’s room. A bag is left sitting on a chair, empty of its contents and now spread across his room. Your blanket is folded neatly at the foot of his bed, your chargers left by the outlets. Your clothes for the morning are hanging in his closet and he smiles to himself when he sees that you’ve already curled yourself to the far end of the couch, focused intently on a book that he gifted to you the other day. He never thought he would get this much joy from sharing a room with you. For a moment, he can imagine that this is his life, enclosed in a space with you, uninterrupted and together. You’ve already made yourself at home, spread yourself in his room- your toothbrush against his, spare clothes tucked in his drawers, and two stuffed animals sitting close together on the bed. One for you and one for him, because they should never be separated, because you feared that they’d be lonely without the other and now, he’s unable to part the two.
• The night is still, time ticking forward without rush, and you’ve already tucked yourself under the covers, whining at him that you’ve forgotten to place the blanket over you, and he’s there at your side, tucking you in and slipping in beside you. The stuffed pair rests beside him, under the covers and staring unblinking into the ceiling. Your phone lays on the nightstand, uncharged, and he doesn’t say a word- too comfortable to go and charge it himself, and he knows that if you were to ask him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Beside you, he has a book in front of him, and you inch closer to him, but you don’t try to peer at the words, you just lay your head beside his chest, an arm thrown around him. The corners of his lips tilt upwards and he begins to read from the book.
• You lay beside him, still and breathing softly, and he calls your name, memorizing the page number before closing the book and letting it rest on the nightstand. He peers down, craning his neck to see you fast asleep. His hands come under your body, lifting you gently to fix you in a better position. His hands flutter on the sides of your body, tucking you in and he lays beside you, staring at the ceiling. Even after so long with you, he’s still left unknowing what to do at this moment. He lets his own desire take over, twisting in bed, an arm wrapping around you, hand flinching at your spine when you let out a soft hum. He pulls himself closer to you, resting his chin above the crown of our head, lowering down for a moment to kiss where he rests. 
• In the morning, Simeon wakes with a yawn, stretching the arm around you, free from the confines of the blankets. His head buries further into the pillow, now moved to where his lips can kiss at your temple, and he does just that, giving you a feather light kiss before pulling away and laying for a few moments longer. He should prepare breakfast for you, and when stretches the rest of himself, he finds himself to be stuck. He moves slowly, lifting his legs, to feel weight above them, and on his back is warmth twisted in fabric. When he pulls once more, he’s met with resistance, your brows furrowing and you’re making soft noises of complaint still in your sleep. Lifting the blanket, he peers down to find that you’ve knotted yourself with him in your sleep. Giving you one more kiss, he succumbs to where you’ve trapped him, sleeping beside you for a few more moments.  

Solomon:

• You can see the bags under his eyes every time you go to speak to him. They grow darker by the day, his movements slower and wittiness absent as he spends his time burying himself into books. What he has left to learn, you aren’t entirely sure. You learn from the others that he’s been spending countless nights awake, staying up till the morning, drinking some sort of energy drink to give him just that little bit of push to make it through the day. During a weekly visit, you try to convince him to spend the night with you. You’re stubborn, threatening to not speak to him if he doesn’t take a break, and with that on the line, he gives in to your whims, placing a bookmark on the page and closing the book. Solomon turns to you, legs spread and arms crossed loosely over his chest.
• He looks so small in his seat, his hair ruffled and eyes already drooping, and you’re almost sure that he’s just seconds away from actually collapsing onto the floor. While you would prefer to sleep in your room with him- the lack of his books and his supplies, something that you’re sure would keep him from being tempted to wake up in the middle of the night to continue- he prefers his room. You give him a narrowed look and his smile is crooked, the usual teasing nature in it, dim compared to before, and he turns on his chair, ready to continue his studies until you call out to him. The pens on his table roll when you place your hands on top of the book, forbidding him from opening it once more. You make him promise that he won’t wake up in the middle of the night to continue his work and he sighs, leaning back into the chair, his pinky finger out to you.
• Without removing the covers, or waiting for you to pull them away, he lays on his stomach, whining and burying his face into the pillow. Once in the bed, he practically melts onto it, his whole body sinking and spreading out, as if this is the first time he’s ever been granted such rest and he gives you a peek from between the covers, catching your sad smile. You must know that at least for now in these past days, that much is true. His face is sickly pale, the dark circles under his eyes much too prominent for your liking, the only color that he’s given in his features is something that makes you frown. His whole body deflates onto the mattress, sinking into the familiar bed and he hums into the pillow, pressing himself further. You whisper under your breath, the words not holding as much power as the sorcerer before you, but the words still form, the magic in the air crackling as the blankets under him, are now above him, draping him in warmth. Slipping beside him, he’s still for a minute, until suddenly, he moves in a slow crawl over to your chest. 
• With arms curling around you, you call his name and he can only offer a noise in response. He uses his remaining energy to curl onto you, to rest his head on your chest and shift his arms until they hold you close to him. Your hand threads into the back of his hair, the silvery strands slipping between your fingers as you unknot the hair. He lays heavy above you, head pressed against your chest, and hands curling onto your clothes, holding the fabric loosely. Under his breath, he mumbles that he needs to work, that he has to continue onto something, and with a press of your lips above his head, he grows quiet. He wakes softly, coming to consciousness for a moment, and while he is still tired, he’s refreshed- every bit counts- and the spell still needs to be refined, all the kinks worked out and straightened. But, he’s warm against you, held and feeling the slow beat of your heart echo into his ear- his own lullaby granted to him. With a greater resolve than most, he moves away, trying to return to his work, telling himself that he’ll make up the broken pinky promise, but then you make a sound. It’s a low whine, tired and involuntary, and your hand tickles the nape of his neck. He is a weak man, and he succumbs to you and your whines, laying still on your chest.
• In the morning, he wakes up feeling refreshed, much more than he did when he woke up in the middle of the night. Sleep still holds onto him like a gentle lover, warmth and heaviness dragging him back into familiarity. He turns his head after a few moments, his lips pressed against the valley of your chest, close to where your heart drums against you, but not quite. Stretching his leg out, Solomon feels a tightness, a weight holding him down, keeping him still. Pulling on the cover, he finds you to be wrapped around him, legs knotted into each other, the legs of your pajama pants lifting to rest your bare skin against his. With a slow forming smile, he lays back down, and closes his eyes.