How Would Brothers React After Realizing Your Pact Mark Is Gone
MAMMON
Infamous second brother was at his favorite casino gambling away all his money. Hoping to hit the jackpot, getting beaten by his greed as usual. After this one he thought, next one is mine.
Mammon didn't even realize how night was slipping away again. His luck must have been down again. He checked his balance to see if the game could keep going on. Almost nothing.
Great now he would have to find another witch to borrow money from. Or take more modelling jobs. As he felt down he noticed it wasn't special to tonight. He kept losing money for a while. Wondering why his luck was ass these days he started to make his way to home.
He wanted to brainstorm his misfortune and make plans for the future nights with you. You seem to know everything surely your help is needed. Avatar of Greed's face lit up with the thought of you. Even if you couldn't help your presence was enough to make his smile reach his ears. He would never gather up the courage to say it out loud but you were his light. Still he didn't need to say it all he needed was to make you feel it too.
As he was closing in his path the last times he saw you popped up. You seemed down a bit. He couldn't find the time to ask you anything. He was always busy with stupid tasks that didn't even made sense. Whatever he would make it up to you tonight.
Mammon marched in to your room without knocking the door. It was empty. Not a trace of you remained. He thought maybe you switched rooms. A quick call to Lucifer to ask in case you were sleeping.
"What?"
Lucifer harsh voice startled him. What was up with him anyways? Pride himself was sulking for almost a week. Not talking only drinking. He didn't even show up for his precious meetings. Angrier than usual. Something was up his ass again.
"Why gotta be so angry? Where is the little sheep's new room?"
A slience lingered between them for a few moments. Until Mammon spoke up with a hey.
"I see you didn't know aswell."
This man never answers straight up.
"What you on about? Just tell me which room man."
Lucifer took a deep breath. Mammon could almost feel his brother's unknown misery over the phone.
"MC left Devildoom. They won't be back."
Pft.
"Quit joking."
"You are too late like me. Nothing can be done. Diavolo processed the papers almost two weeks ago."
"Stop it ain't even funny."
"Stop pushing my limits Mammon."
Sensing the seriousness on his voice Mammon's legs grew weaker. His hands near his heart seeing your pact mark is absent. Nothing in it's place. All he could come up to say was a small Why?
"I wasn't given any information about their departure as well. Barbatos only told me to not blame anyone but myself and you people."
It was enough for him. Mammon dropped his phone. Sat on your bed trying so hard to not cry. How could leave him? Or even why? You are his luck, love. It couldn't be this easy to leave. Did you not feel his heart racing near you? He thought his feelings were silent but actions spoke volumes.
Actions...He didn't even made time to ask if you were okay. His headlines from magazines were always about witches he was seen with. Spending every night at casinos not caring about if you would like to do anything. Never making it official between you two. He couldn't even protect you from his brothers. Not once he said I love you.
He got greedy with everything but you. But greed was the only thing he knew. It was his identity. He started to tear up. Trying to find someone to pin the blame. Only to fail. There could have been million reasons. He was your first. Fixing it no matter what was his responsibility.
Days you spent with him. Nights he held you. Your soft breath making him get flustered. Oh, how you would run to him in danger. You were the only one who saw something different in him. To outside he was a glorious demon with a pretty face and a body. In his close circle and brothers he was stupid, a thief, money greedy loser. But to you he was just Mammon. Someone worthy of love and affection.
Losing that hurted more than his great fall from above.
Last regret never helps anyone still his heart can't help but ache. Only if he said I love you. Only if he showed you what you meant in his way. Would you still leave him alone?
made for you | yandere! otome love interest x reader
i havent played lads in so long cause of how pricey its gotten but that got me thining about game characters yearning while we're away 😭 this is written with generals so it can apply to the character of your choice
or in which he gets antsy the longer youve been gone
tags: angst, obsessive thoughts, self aware game character x reader, jealousy, digital stalking, manipulation
word count: 1k
The moment you started playing, it was like everything clicked for him. His world revolved around loving you. It was all he ever thought about. Every line of his programming led him back to the image of you in his mind, like he was made for you. Loving you was the easiest thing in the world. The hard part was accepting when you had to leave. Eventually you had to put the phone down; you'd go on to live a life he could only imagine, and he'd sit around waiting for your return.
He didn't want to ever miss the chance to greet you, so he just sat there, waiting. His eyes stayed glued to the door, counting every second. Sure, he had other things to do, but he couldn't stand the idea of you showing up while he wasn't there and thinking he'd left. Why risk it?
You used to check in with him near constantly, though. Every couple of minutes, even. As soon as the theme music played, the tightness in his chest would subside because it meant you'd come back to him. You'd greet him so eagerly, and he couldn't even bother to think of why he'd been so nervous. He'd planned out your daily activities, after all. Even if you couldn't be together in your world, he'd give you everything he could in his own. It was the highlight of his day, so that's why it was agonizing when the gaps between your visits grew longer and longer.
It was just a few hours at first, and he had to remind himself that you had things to do, a life outside of him. Of course he knew that; he prided himself on keeping your calendar. But now all your events seemed to blend together, all names he didn't know that were taking you away from him. He envied them for getting the rest of your time, which he selfishly wanted all to himself. but more than that, He envied them fiercely for getting to know your true form and not just the digital replica.
Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of who you were with when you'd open the app. Even as you rambled on about him, his gaze fixated on whoever dared to steal your time. He didn't understand why you'd waste it with somebody else instead of giving him your full attention. He always gave you his full attention; nothing else interested him. Except, of course, finding out who kept you so busy.
He was already a part of your phone, so he didn't see a problem with going through it. He saw it more as keeping you safe; he always kept you safe in his world. Why stop there? As night fell, he'd vicariously relive the day through your photos, zooming in on every detail. Details like why whoever you were with was holding you so close. At times like this, he had to stop looking before his temper overheated the device.
Even as the thoughts pained him, soon there you were again, and it chased away all the nagging doubts. He'd hold you extra close whenever you returned, as if he could press his very code into your skin. Yet, hours soon turned to almost the whole day. You'd show up just before nightfall, collecting the daily rewards like a chore and barely acknowledging him. Each time you showed up, giving him a light wave if anything, he got more and more frantic. Were you losing interest? Didn't you know how much he cared for you? He couldn't do anything but care for you; it was hardwired into him. If he couldn't do that, what was he good for?
He grew bold as your visits grew short. Placing extra gifts for you to find, creating whole new storylines, he even started fooling with the notifications. They stayed impartial at first, simply reminding, but he couldn't help letting his voice trickle in. He cringed at himself as he typed it out into the ether: "Come back! He misses you!"
It was more true than he wanted to admit. Being away from you left him aimless. Without the solution of your presence, every action was non-executable, and every line of code came out empty. He needed you to function. It settled in his form like a ticking bomb, every second of your absence baring heavy weight.
Eventually, the clock struck midnight. The day had come and gone, and you hadn't so much as opened the app once. After spending the day convinced you were moments away—after spending weeks drowning in the placebo of brief visits—he almost didn't know how to react to being forgotten. The rewards sat unclaimed, notifications untapped, and he was still sitting in the doorway listening for a sign that wasn't coming. Your phone screen went dark and stayed so as you presumably tucked into bed without a second thought. Without thinking of him.
He stared at his reflection in that screen for a long time. Perhaps looking for what had changed to lead you astray. He stayed the same, though; he had no choice. Even if you had changed and outgrown him, he still loved you. He didn't blame you, of course; he blamed the pesky world you were in for keeping you so distracted. That had to be it. His heart ached for how swamped with work you surely were to be leaving him behind. Suddenly he felt as though he had all the answers. If your world kept you too busy for him, he'd eliminate all distractions.
As you slept, none the wiser, your phone vibrated with the notification, "Allow Boyfriend <3 to access all of your files?" He went ahead and selected "Yes"; after all, it's what you would have done. (If you weren't so busy.) He simply needed to make sure your world would revolve around him the same way his revolved around you. So he took the liberty of deleting every other app; you didn't need that other stuff.
With free reign over the device, he almost felt like he was decorating your new home. So much free space surrounded his icon; that wouldn't do. He filled the home screen with widgets of the two of you together so it was all padded out. Soon your entire phone layout was based around him—like it should've been in the first place. You'd wake up and remember who was truly important, and if you didn't, he'd just make you remember.
BABY VOLOOOO it makes me kind of sad to think abt how he was probably treated in his youth .. I wanna hug him so badd MY BABY can they PLEASE TOUCH ON THIS IN HIS SINNERS CHOICE VOL!,!!!,
dads r kinda trash . “But what about barbatos what about that baddie simeon” thats mama 🫶 fathers suck sometimes #UNotAloneDiavolo
Imagine you make hell’s coffee for Lucifer, and Lucifer smiles as he sips on it, the bitterness an evidence of your love. Lucifer swears the coffee gets more bitter each time you make it for him.
One day, you and Lucifer get into an argument. And it’s no small argument, with tears flowing, words said that would later be regretted, and no resolution as you part ways. Mammon, after having comforted you, tells Lucifer what he said was messed up and he should apologise. He doesn’t at first. The Avatar of Pride doesn’t do apologies.
But after a day or two of sitting on it, of seeing your tear stained face, of clipped answers from you, he decides he can’t take it. You two talk, you make up, and Lucifer feels a weight off his shoulders. You smile at him, but it looks so tired; Lucifer tries to brush it off, you’ve only just made up, emotions are probably still high. It will take some time to get back to normal.
You bring him hell’s coffee again, you exchange smiles and after you leave, he has a taste. And he pauses. It used to be more bitter than this, right? He thought back to the last time you made him this coffee: the day before the fight.
No, it has definitely lost its bitterness. Lucifer has lost your….
I love your writing !!💓 I hope this isn’t a too weird request but what about an MC who makes jokes about dying the whole time and the brothers find it uncomfortable and so on?
Brothers with MC who jokes about dying
Warning: Joking about death, mentioned lesson 16, mentioned possible trauma
Note: Don't worry, Anon! It's not weird request (at least for me). I'm person who's joking about death a lot. And I'm making people around me uncomfortable, since I'm using a lot of saying about me dying so....😅
Lucifer:
“You shouldn't go around cursed records. They can curse you, or even worse.”
“Hm, nah. Don't worry. Listening to music the second before dying is not too bad to think about. I'll be dancing with death!”
You said something about dying. About you dying… and it's quite a sensitive topic for him. He was almost the one who killed you, because he wanted to. And also… Lilith… But he regrets being so harsh and that he was being so bad for you is lingering within him still.
He feels like words are stopping when you talk about your death. Sure, go around and talk about dying. But never tell him or around him something about you dying. The thought of someone close to him just casually doing this… it's devastating…
He's a demon, so dark things are normal. But you should never talk about yourself like that. He'll tell you that no matter how many times.
Mammon:
“Are crows in here likely to eat humans?”
“Why are ya asking something like that?”
“I don't know! So I'm sure when I die somewhere on the road they won't eat me all so you guys can bury me somewhere?”
Whatever you're saying, he's calling you an idiot or a dummy. Who talks like that? Well, not like he cares about what you say. These are just words! Right…?
He can act like he doesn't care about it. But it's moving him inside.
He remembers you in his arms… your body… Just thinking about you and death makes him stiff. His body is hardening for that. And you're just joking? When he's almost traumatized… He's worrying about you and making sure you're okay, and then he hears you casually joking about something like this…
He won't let you know that this is what moves him.
But he wants to scream at you to shut up and never mention something like this again.
Leviathan:
“Funny thought.”
“What?”
“We saw that item on Akuzon that gives you one respawn.”
“Uh? Yeah, it's for game–”
“What if we invented a respawn item for real life? I'll try it out! Dying once and waking up like from a nap! Ha!”
“...huh…?”
Talking about dying is normal in your conversation. But it's when you're playing games, and one of you dies in the game. Your HP is 0 and you're cursing because you died.
He's also doing it.
But it's much different when you're meaning real life… yeah, it's a nice idea to have respawn, but in game. In real life, you should never talk about giving your life for fun or tests.
He knows you're the one who'll talk about dark things. But the more he's listening, he's more worried. Should he be scared of you, or for you?
He doesn't want to talk you off because of it. Who is he to scold you? But it's slowly giving him anxiety.
What if something really happens?
He would be so nervous that his brothers would see it. And some of them would intervene.
Satan:
“You like murder mystery. Would you like to have a party like that for your birthday? With the real one to solve.”
“Oh, it would be fun. But what do you mean by a real problem to solve?”
“Hm, there's a lot of plots with the blood stains that helps, but it should be the real one. So I'll just kill someone and drag them to the basement. Or I'll just find a dead body, even if I can.”
“What?!”
“I'm kidding!”
Dying talks… There's nothing wrong with it, especially in Devildom. He's reading many books where there's death too. But the thing that you're talking about something drastic is too much for him.
He knows that he's a demon of wrath, but even he himself isn't thinking like that. Why are you saying this? You should never kill anyone. It'll be bad for you! You can get hurt too!
You're not bad… you're not a demon. You can't do devilish things just for him to enjoy. Don't even joke around like that.
You're not worse than him. You're like an angel, so why are you doing this? It's part of you he's not able to accept easily. You can have dark humor, but it's more complicated now… dark humor is okay, but not about your hurt.
Asmodeus:
“You know that it's possible to dig out your eyeball with the spoon, but it could also be possible to do it with mascara?”
“... Honey… please don't joke like that again…”
“I wonder how many humans died while making their make-up. Once you put on me that one eye shadow that started to burn so much that I thought I'd lose my face and die on you.”
He's really uncomfortable hearing you're talking about hurt that much. People do many things and death can be everywhere. He's okay with it, as long as it's not reaching for his close ones.
When you're saying things like this, he doesn't know how to respond. He can just stop doing what he's doing and look at you, asking delicately if you could stop joking like that. Some things are not funny anymore. Even for demons… If you're saying this, especially about you dying it's really uncomfortable. He knows that nothing is happening and you're just saying it. But he doesn't like that.
He wishes you'll respect your life while talking about it. Not using it as a joke. Even as a joke about ending it…
He knows if he'll think about it carefully, he may get too emotional. And think about what can happen if it'll come true.
Beelzebub:
“MC, I'm holding a knife… you shouldn't sneak on me when I'm cooking. It's dangerous.”
“You could butcher me with your hands and teeth alone. So a knife is nothing!”
You could say that smiling, but it's making him really uncomfortable… he knows that. He's always hungry, and you are delicious… he's worrying about that, what if he'll go rampage one day and hurt someone? Hurt you? Hurt his brothers? And when you're saying something that means you're hurt, with him, all he sees in his mind is that you're laughing because you could die from his hands. That may be a joke, but it's making him worry. He's full of thoughts. He's scared that it'll happen one day. And he'll hurt you for real…
Things that you're saying really are making the bad thoughts appear.
“Please don't say things like that…” he would mutter sadly, looking at you with begging eyes.
Belphegor:
“How many people could you strangle in 10 minutes?”
“... what the hell…?”
“Haha! Look at your face! I saw a prank to ask about murdering someone out of the blue and seeing someone's reaction! But I would be shocked if you actually responded to that question… But if you could kill anyone you wanted, would I be dead or alive?”
Laughing at someone hanging off the ceiling (Mammon) is fun. Dark humor is funny! Just like the videos of someone falling off the bike or slipping on ice! It's funny to watch idiots like that!
Or the dark jokes!
But sometimes he's feeling like you're mocking him by talking about your death. About that he was one to kill you once… at first he wasn't feeling guilty that much. But the closer you two were, he felt guilty.
And the more you're talking about death it's drilling inside him. That he hurt you. When it's about you, it's not funny anymore. He's not able to laugh.
He feels like his heart is squeezing.
When you're talking like that, at some point he's not able to stand it. And he's screaming at you to stop saying that. About anyone, but not about you!
He'll go away. He'll close the doors. He's not that offended to keep you away with all force. If you come to him, help accept that. But he won't be able to sleep anyways… he's full of thoughts that something can happen someday…
The first night you and Satan had sex, he didn’t sleep a wink.
He kissed your neck in the afterglow, burying himself in your scent, listening to you catch your breath. Your chest caught the light as your lungs heaved in air, and the tiny moan you made when he shifted to a more comfortable position was music to his ears.
He helped you to the bathroom when you insisted you could walk. You leaned on his arm, and he happily supported your weight. He refused to let you clean yourself, instead telling you to relax. He washed you gently, making sure to get every bit of exposed skin. You shuddered when he reached the area in between your legs, and he stopped immediately to make sure he hadn’t hurt you.
He smoothed the covers around you once you got back to bed, making sure you were as cozy as you could be. Your head rested on his arm, your fingers on his chest. His hand rested lightly on your side, not putting its full weight on you, only hovering. His eyelids grew heavy, but he forced them open, waiting for your breathing to slow when you slipped into unconsciousness.
When he was sure you were asleep, he started to disentangle himself from you. He moved slowly, making completely sure he wouldn’t disturb your sleep. He pulled your hand away from his torso, replaced his arm with a pillow, and sat upright. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He should be a gentleman, holding you in his arms beneath the blankets, basking in the intimacy of having his skin against yours in the darkness of night. Instead, he pulled his knees closer to his chest and watched you.
He’d read about men who watched their lover’s chest rise and fall while they slept. Yours barely moved, though, with the way you slept, curled up on your side. He was grateful for his demonic sight- he barely needed any light to make out your features. Your eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, your hair a tangled mess. Your mouth hung slightly open, with a tiny trail of drool snaking down your face and soaking into the pillowcase.
You were perfect. You were so perfect, and he was just a demon, watching you sleep. Instead of being chivalrous, protecting you from the world, he was sitting apart from you. He wasn’t touching you at all, letting the folds and creases of the blankets separate you from him. He wasn’t sure if he deserved to feel your skin.
Earlier, he could rationalize it away. You were getting something from the exchange- intimacy, pleasure, even the pride that came from the knowledge you were chosen by such a powerful creature. But now you were asleep, none the wiser to whether he was with you or not. If he laid down next to you now, there would be no pretense of mutual beneficence. No plausible deniability he could hide behind. No, the choice that he has laid out before him is a selfish one.
The question posed by your sleeping form is one he’s evaded since he could form a coherent thought. It’s not dressed up in whatever psychological terms he prefers, hidden from view by a thousand different layers of whisper-thin avoidance. It’s naked, as bare as he is on top of the mattress.
Does he deserve love?
Your love, specifically. But the answer to one question will resolve the other. Does he deserve to rest his muscles in your warmth? To risk waking you with his tossing and turning? To touch you, to hold you in his arms, and to trust himself that he will treat you with as much care as you deserve?
He can’t answer the question. Painfully, he realizes that his inaction is a choice in itself. The longer he sits here, watching you in all your beauty, the easier it is for him to decide that the answer is no. He doesn’t deserve you. Not the gentle touches you gave him as he tucked you into bed, not the gaze full of love that you use to devastating effect.
And yet… he’s a demon. He isn’t human, like you are. He doesn’t have that innate desire to balance giving and taking, to ensure that everyone else is having just as much fun as you are. He is not warm or inviting, he has none of your soft, fatty curves. He’s a filthy, degenerate, utterly selfish creature, who cares only for himself.
So he lays down beside you again. He makes sure you’re still secure beneath the covers, that his intrusion isn’t exposing you to cold air. He wraps one arm around your torso and tugs you just a bit closer, ears perking to the exhale that leaves your lips. He wipes the drool from your face and tucks your head beneath his chin, feeling your hair tickle his neck.
He doesn’t let himself sleep. He fights the pull of every part of his biology telling him that he is warm and safe. His eyes stay open, ears tuned to every breath in your lungs. Some instinctive part of him that he can’t quite name wants to fight against his body’s complacency. It wants to prove something: maybe if he can stay awake this time, protect you, attune to your being, he will begin to prove his worth.
As long as he can fight his nature, he might have a chance at deserving you.
HOW THE DEMON BROTHERS WOULD DEAL WITH THE LOSS OF YOU - PART 1.
LUCIFER
He would lock himself up in his room, burying himself in work and countless bottles of Demonus. He would try to think of it as just work, administration. But it took him two weeks to finally fill in the paper regarding your passing. Not that anyone was rushing him - it was just as hard for everyone else, Diavolo included.
MAMMON
His gambling addiction got significantly worse - after all, no one was there to stop him anymore. Not even Lucifer tried to do that. He lost interest in everything, and despite hoping in vain, not even going to the casino was enjoyable for him. He lost everything on games, except the things that reminded him of you. One of his cars, that you always said was your favourite (it became his favourite, too). Polaroid photos of the two of you together that you had insisted on taking at the fair, with a fake grimace on his face that nobody could be fooled by. A book you gave him saying he definitely should read it; he never did, saying he’s not made for reading books, that’s your thing. Not when you were still alive, at least. Since your passing, he’s read it countless times. That’s the only thing keeping him somewhat sane.
LEVIATHAN
To no one’s surprise, he isolated himself even more than before, locking himself in his room, barely being seen. He tried to drown himself in video games, specifically otome games, but all of the love interests reminded him of you, especially the ones who had similar features as you. He would never admit it, but it made him cry every time. Life genuinely became pointless to him, as he thought that no one could ever love him the way you did. Will you meet again in the afterlife? Is there afterlife for demons, at all?
SATAN
His wrath took over completely. He destroyed his room, (almost the HoL too, if his brothers didn’t stop him) all of his and your favourite books were torn apart. After coming down from the adrenaline high, he tried to glue the pages together of your favourite book – the only thing he had of you that was just yours and his, and nobody else’s.
Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?
Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.
At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.
The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?
😈🍬 anon
a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.
the worst goodbye | the demon brothers
2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst
cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.
read welcome home (part two) here.
Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.
He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.
You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.
It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!
Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.
He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—
When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.
If only the world could see you the way I do.
Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.
Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.
It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."
He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.
Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.
By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)
Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.
It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.
Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.
Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)
SFW // Content: Bittersweet angst with a happy ending. It's implied that MC has been gone for a significant amount of time and that the demon brothers spiraled after MC disappeared. Includes mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms including: drinking; implied self-isolation, depression; destructive or violent behaviour; mention of blood/injuries; mentions of Lesson 16 events. 6.9k words.
Read The Worst Goodbye (part one) here.
LUCIFER
Lucifer glances at the clock on his desk and sighs warily, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyes.
He already knows it’s going to be another long night of forcing himself to focus on filling out paperwork, on preparing student council memos and the countless other tasks he’s taken upon himself since you disappeared.
A cursed record plays quietly and the fire in the hearth crackles each time a log shifts or splinters.
A nearly-empty glass of Demonus leaves a rim of condensation on the dark wood desk. He used to keep track of the days that have passed in your absence, but now he counts the empty bottles of that bittersweet amber drink instead.
It’s not only his own vices that weigh heavily on his mind; his brothers aren’t faring any better without you. Their behaviour swings wildly from bored indifference to reckless abandon. He’s not sure what’s worse: forcing them from their rooms when some of them refuse to go to class or work (or eat and bathe or shower), or dealing with their chaos when they decide to replace grief and misery with the wicked temptations and misdeeds of their sins.
You would be disappointed in them, he thinks. You would be disappointed in them all.
But what else can they possibly do while they wait for some glimmer of hope that you’ll come home again?
He remembers the tense conversation he had with Diavolo about your situation after you disappeared with barely a hint of warning. All he had were Solomon’s vague assurances of your eventual return to comfort him.
Lucifer listened to Diavolo’s insufficient apologies and condolences, but he couldn’t help but glance at Barbatos whose sharp gaze was at odds with the neutral expression on his face. He wondered how much the butler knew about your misfortune, and he’s wondered since then if he should’ve fought harder to force him to bring you back from wherever you were.
Now he passes his time with busywork because he has no one to remind him not to work. He drinks too much to dull the pain in his head and his heart. He sleeps on the couch in his office, or sometimes he slumps on his desk when exhaustion consumes him, because it’s better than lying in his large, empty bed alone.
It shouldn’t have surprised Lucifer that Cerberus eventually realized you were gone too. He went to the family tomb one evening, startled awake by three mournful howls that shook the foundations of the house. He used the bit of magic that gave Cerberus a manageable house-friendly size and without warning, the dog ran past him up the stairs. When Lucifer found him again, the three-headed dog was whining pitifully and pawing at your bedroom door.
Lucifer hadn’t entered your room since you left, but he had to prove that you weren’t there. That didn’t stop his hound from searching the rest of the house before returning to Lucifer’s side, ears drooping and each head whining in confusion as they bumped against his legs.
Cerberus has barely left his side since, trailing after him and sleeping in front of the fire while Lucifer’s pen scratches quietly across the papers on his desk.
Lucifer contemplates giving up on his work for the night and resting on the sofa, but he frowns when Cerberus stands up suddenly and trots across the room. The door must not have been closed tight because he nudges the door open with one of his snouts. All three heads tilt curiously and he sniffs noisily. Lucifer rises from his chair with a curse when the hound bolts out of the room, howling as he runs out of the library and into the dark hallway past.
Lucifer’s steps are slow and clumsy at first as he shakes off his desperate need for sleep, but he needs to catch the noisy creature first. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is his brothers waking up in the middle of the night in foul moods and causing even more of a ruckus.
The dog’s strange howling stops somewhere near the front of the house, and Lucifer freezes when he turns the corner just in time to see Cerberus knock someone to the floor.
You.
He knocked you to the floor so each of his heads could yip excitedly and lick at your face. When you laugh and try to push the animal away, Cerberus plops down on your legs and seems content to keep you trapped there.
Lucifer, staring wide-eyed and speechless, takes a hesitant step, and then another, before breaking into a run.
It’s not long after that when each of his brothers each stumble drowsily into the hallway, grumbling and snarling and glaring because of the loud disturbance that woke them from their sleep.
Their tempers die down and it's utter chaos when they process the sight in front of them: Lucifer chuckling while you hold each other in the middle of the hallway floor near your bedroom, the Avatar of Pride wearing a rare smile and with even rarer tears shining in his eyes, and Cerberus panting happily nearby as if he was the one who brought you home for his grumpy master to find.
MAMMON
Mammon spins in a slow circle where he dangles from the dining room ceiling. The rope binding his hands behind his back doesn't budge no matter how hard he tries to rip it apart and set himself free.
"Yo, someone get me down from here, will ya? All this spinning's makin' me dizzy!"
But he knows it's useless. None of his brothers will test Lucifer's short fuse by setting Mammon free, and there aren't any brave humans around to help him anymore.
"It wasn't even that bad. I swear I was gonna return it..." Mammon grumbles to himself. So what if he's gotten a little reckless lately? He's no worse than his brothers are, but that arrogant prat Lucifer doesn't tie them up like this.
He braces himself for a long, boring day, spinning for hell knows how long, until Lucifer remembers to set him free.
"Oh no. Mammon. What did you do to upset him this time?"
His body jerks when he hears—thinks he hears a familiar voice. He recognizes the silhouette of the shadow that stands in the doorway briefly before stepping towards him, but he shakes his head like it’ll make the illusion fade away.
That's gotta be his imagination, right?
"You son of a—this is a cheap shot, even for you," Mammon snarls, cursing Lucifer for teasing him with an illusion of all things. Why else would you suddenly appear before him like a dream - or a nightmare - except to taunt him?
Isn't suffering without you punishment enough?
“Here, let me help you…” The voice is quieter now, but close. Gentle hands tug uselessly at the cursed rope holding him in place and he clenches his eyes shut tight and reminds himself that you’re not here.
But then he recognizes the sound of a tongue clicking in frustration, the barely-audible murmurs about Lucifer needing to loosen up, and he crumples in a heap on the floor when a spell he doesn’t recognize causes the ropes to vanish without a trace.
He bumps into someone’s legs when he rolls over, but he doesn’t get up. He throws an arm over his eyes instead.
It's not you, it's not you, it's not you—
But he grunts when a heavy weight suddenly plops down on top of him and he can’t help but breathe deep when a familiar scent tickles his nose. It makes him shiver, gives him hope, and he whimpers.
You nudge his arm aside so you can cup his cheeks in your palms and force him to look at you. Your thumbs swipe away the tears that slip from the corner of his eyes; you're not sure if the sound that rips from his throat is a sob or a laugh.
He stares at you for a long time before he speaks again, and for the first time in ages, he feels something other than pain.
"Don't you dare think of leavin' me behind the next time you decide to disappear like that," he threatens. There's no heat in his voice, only slow acceptance and relief that you're finally back where you belong—with him.
He crushes you against his chest in a tight hug while you whisper apologies into the crook of his neck, and you stay that way - curled together in the middle of the living room floor - until the others find you later.
LEVIATHAN
Thump-thump-thump.
Levi's TV across the room drones on quietly, a random anime DVD playing on repeat for the dozenth time, but he doesn't pay attention to it.
Thump-thump-thump.
Levi's computer pings faintly, barely audible over the hum of Henry's aquarium. He hasn't sat at his desk in ages, he hasn't logged in for any of his gaming events or guild raids and he stopped keeping track of what his favourite idols are up to. Notifications on his social media accounts and emails are ignored and left unread.
Thump-thump-thump.
His D.D.D. vibrates somewhere in the tangled mess of blankets and pillows underneath him but he ignores that too. It's probably Lucifer reminding him that he needs to go to class sometime this week.
Unlike his brothers, Levi's not going to pretend he's fine.
He hasn't been fine for a long time.
Thump-thump-
A knock on his door startles him and his tail stops thrumming against the side of his porcelain tub. He pokes his head out from the nest of blankets he buried himself in and glares at the door across the room. The orange of his irises flare in a menacing glow from underneath the hood pulled over his head, the drawstrings chewed and frayed ages ago.
Everyone knows not to bother him. It was a very simple request.
Are they stupid?
He pulls himself out of the tub with his teeth bared. Maybe a little scuffle with one of his nosy siblings will make him feel better—will make him feel something.
He yanks the door open but freezes when he recognizes you, standing in front of him as if you didn't vanish from his life without a trace. Your knuckles are raised like you were about to knock again, and you rock back and forth on your heels as you lower your hand in embarrassment.
Levi's mouth flaps open and shut, but before you can say anything, he lets out a high-pitched squeak and slams the door shut in your face.
That's not the worst reaction you imagined, so you consider it a win.
You press your ear against the door. There's shuffling inside his room, the faint sounds of something hitting the sides of his tub. You knock again softly to warn him before you push the door open and let yourself inside.
Aside from the glow from the aquarium, his room is dark and suffocating. You step gingerly over the piles of books and movies strewn haphazardly across the floor; he never used to be so careless with his collections. An empty food wrapper crinkles under your foot and you hope he hasn't been surviving only on his private stash of imported candy.
There's a familiar lumpy shape laying across the bottom of the tub when you peer over the edge. His sniffles are muffled by the blankets and pillows he's hiding under. The only part of him you can see is his tail that dangles limply over the side.
You sit down next to his tail, careful not to touch it in case he doesn't want you to. It was always a sensitive part of himself and he didn't like others touching it so freely; you're not sure he'll grant you that privilege again anytime soon.
"Levi?"
His tail twitches at the sound of your voice. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes peer out from a gap in his little hideaway. There's a lot of emotion swirling in the gaze that narrows at you suspiciously: pain, confusion, anger—all tempered with the tiniest bit of hope.
You lean forward and press your hand against him where you think the curve of his shoulder is. You're gentle enough that he can ignore it or shake you off if he wants. His body deflates under your hesitant touch like he finally let go of the breath he's been holding for so long. He blinks at you, eyes widening as he dares himself to believe you're actually there. More of his face peeks out at you when he slowly peels the blanket away.
"I'm back." The words croak out of you, and your voice is watery like the tears that sting your eyes. His only response is a wounded noise he makes at the back of his throat. You recognize it instantly—you made sounds just like it when you were first torn away from here. Away from him.
You know you have so much to explain and apologize for, and you don't even know where to start, but before you can say anything else, his tail coils around your wrist. You tumble forward when he pulls you down into the tub with him. His arms and legs and tail curl themselves around you, and if you didn't miss him as much as you did, you might complain about how uncomfortable it is.
He mumbles apologies into your chest because he was convinced that whatever happened to you was his fault somehow.
You spend a long time trying to reassure him it wasn't his fault at all.
SATAN
As soon as you get your bearings, stumbling in your room where the portal suddenly dropped you, you want to see Satan. You need to see him.
You love him. You missed him. You worried about him, and you worried for him. He might not always show his rage or act on his violent impulses with you anymore, but you can only imagine what he must've felt when you disappeared.
You saw what he was like before—young, lost, bewildered and so unspeakably angry—and you need to see for yourself what's happened since your untimely absence.
It's disorienting trying to make your way out of your bedroom. It's dark and a bit dusty, and the furniture isn't quite where you left it. You bump your knee and trip more than once making your way to the door. The knob sticks as if it hasn't been opened in ages.
Part of you pushes down the sting that maybe the brothers abandoned your room completely and tried to pretend you didn't exist since you’ve been gone.
(If you could see better in the near darkness, you'd know that most of your bookshelves and drawers are almost empty, picked clean by each of the siblings who took your belongings to keep in their rooms instead.)
Nothing can prepare you for what you find when you head up the stairs to the second floor and stop in front of Satan’s door, or what's left of it. There's giant gashes in the wood and you're careful not to scratch your arm on the sharp splinters where claws (or perhaps his tail) broke through it.
You used to tease Satan about the stacks of books he kept on the floor, organized chaos to anyone but him because he could tell you exactly where each and every book was kept. There's no wobbly piles of books on the floor to stumble into now. Broken book spines and torn pages litter the ground beneath your feet, and you can feel the crunch of glass that you assume are the remains of his old lanterns. Even his bed is barely recognizable—the mattress is ripped to shreds and the frame is bent and disjointed.
His bedroom is the embodiment of the fury deep inside him when he realized you were gone. Missing. Taken. And for all his power and his intelligence and wit, even he couldn't find a way to bring you back.
It wasn't your fault either, but faced with the evidence of his misery, you can't help but feel guilty.
You leave his room and in your daze, your feet lead you to the library next. There's a small part of you that fears Satan might've laid waste to another precious room in the house, but there's a flickering light underneath the doorway and you're hopeful it might be intact after all.
Like your room, the library's not quite the same as it was before. The shelves aren't as orderly, as if whoever's been reading the books and ancient tomes couldn't be bothered to put them back properly. There's a small stack of dishes piled on the table near the sofa—a strange sight because everyone knows it bothers Satan if they eat or drink in here. He hated the idea of spills or greasy fingerprints ruining the books by accident. Next to the sofa, a pile of books catches your eye because they're yours, taken from the bookshelves in your room. The spines are creased as if they've been read over and over again, acting as a poor replacement for your company.
There's a soft groan and you suddenly notice the figure laid back on the sofa. A familiar tuft of Satan's blonde hair rests on your pillow and your blanket spills over his legs and waist and onto the floor. The library is his temporary room, the sofa a makeshift bed where he keeps reminders of you close by, and he breathes deeply while he sleeps. His brow is creased as if he's unhappy even in his dreams.
You take a step forward and debate whether you should wake him up or not when the air shifts around you.
He moves faster than you can track with your eyes, launching himself off the couch and pinning you to the floor before you can even stutter out his name. His emerald gaze flickers with fiery rage, his hot breath fanning across your face, and his chest rumbles with a deep, predatory warning. His tail rises menacingly behind him and your throat runs dry at the very real threat hovering over you.
"S-Satan..."
It's almost comical, the way his eyes widen with recognition when you stutter out his name. He drinks in your appearance and by the time he scrambles off you and his demon form is gone. When he was confident in his anger moments ago, now he hesitates when he reaches out to you. He's not sure if you're really there or simply a mirage, the remnants of a dream he wishes he didn't have to wake up from.
As soon as you open your arms to him, he's in your embrace and nearly topples you both over in his haste to be close to you. His hands smooth up your arms and he cradles your jaw, tilting your head slowly as he checks for any sign of injury. He bumps his nose against yours when he's satisfied that you're unharmed, whether by his own hand or from someone else's, and he smiles a bit sheepishly when you do.
"I'm sorry I scared you."
"I'm sorry I left you."
He seems content holding you on the library floor, nuzzling against your temple and inhaling the familiar scent of your skin. It's such a simple thing, but he enjoys it.
He hasn't felt this relaxed in ages.
"I saw your room." You're not sure why you blurt that out of all the things you could talk about instead. "I went there first to find you."
He clears his throat and turns away as pink dusts his cheeks. "Ah, well...I might've gone overboard." He's quiet for a moment before he looks at you, feigning a look of innocence that poorly masks the amusement underneath. "If I told you it was Lucifer's fault, would you believe me?"
Laughter bubbles out of you and he chuckles too. "Not a chance! But I'll help you no matter whose fault it was. There's nothing we can't fix together, right?"
"I'd like that," he murmurs against your cheek.
ASMODEUS
Asmo was heading to the kitchen when he crashed into someone coming out of your bedroom. His arms flailed wildly at his sides while he tried to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling over. He ran his fingers through the curtain of hair that fell into his eyes, and the venomous anger pouring from his mouth came to a screeching halt when he realized the person he bumped into was you.
Your eyes were wide with shock, but you couldn't decide what surprised you more: colliding with your beloved demon after so many dreary days forced apart, or the anger that poured from him in waves.
"I'm back," you explained dumbly. Obviously. But he blinked his eyes rapidly like he wouldn't believe it.
"How?! I mean, when did you—?"
Whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat as his eyes flitted over your appearance. His gaze was critical, honing in on the smallest little details, the things that are different from the way you looked when he last saw you. Something about your hands gets his attention, and he holds them both gently in his palms.
"Oh, hon, who's been helping you with your nails? The polish is chipped."
His mood shifts so rapidly that it gives you whiplash, and you glance down at your fingers. Maybe it has been a few days, and sure, they might look a little worse for wear, but you're baffled that he noticed that of all things.
"Well, technically, you've been doing them for me." You smile gently at the joke because his past self was just as attentive to your needs and loved taking care of you in the simplest ways.
It might be the wrong thing to admit out loud, though. The guarded look Asmo gives you is so cold, so detached that the amusement fades from your expression.
"The least I can do is help clean these up for you now that you're back, hmm?" His voice is loud and a bit shrill, cracking on some of the words. He spins on his heel and tugs on your hand as he heads towards the staircase.
He doesn't notice - or maybe he just doesn't care - that the commotion reached the dining room. His brothers stumble into the hallway and you can't make out anything they're saying as they all rush towards you and try to talk over each other.
A terrifying growl rips through the hallway and startles them all into silence. it makes your skin crawl because you know the sound came from Asmo. His brothers don't seem impressed by him attempting to keep you to himself when you've just returned, but his aura crackles with something menacing and even Lucifer thinks twice about trying to stop him.
"We'll talk to you after you've had a moment to catch up in private," he suggests loudly. Asmo huffs in annoyance but his pace doesn't falter. He holds your hand tightly in his grip and you have little choice but to follow him up the steps towards his room. You shoot Lucifer and his brothers an apologetic glance before they disappear from view.
You're nearly at the top of the steps when a flurry of movement on the ground startles you. Familiar black shapes weave between your legs and snap teasingly at your ankles. You curl against Asmo's back with a nervous little yelp.
"They won't hurt you, you know that," he reminds you with a coo, and there's a gentle cadence to his voice that reminds you so much of the demon you missed all this time. He winks at you over his shoulder before he looks down at the scorpion familiars skittering on the floor, each of them radiating the faint pink glow of his power. "They'll make sure my brothers don't bother us."
As soon as Asmo ushers you into his room, he steers you gently towards his bed. The smile curling his lips looks strained. "Wait for a moment, darling, I'm going to—"
You reach for the sleeve of his dressing gown and stop him from leaving to do whatever he had planned. "Asmo, wait." You pat the bed. "I don't care about that right now. My nails can wait until later."
He bites his lip and his eyes are glassy as they fill with tears. He sniffles a little under his breath and wipes his face with his sleeve. "But I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you, not—" he looks away as his cheeks turn splotchy. "It's not fair that he was there for you when you belong here with me." He bites his bottom lip when it starts to quiver and he chokes out a sob. "I missed you so much."
You glance around his bedroom and his strange behaviour starts to make sense when you notice all the small things he's changed while you've been gone.
His vanity and closets are cluttered and not organized flawlessly like usual.
Your eyes pause on a strange, heart-shaped stain on his vanity mirror that you’re too nervous to ask about right now.
(In a moment of frustration, he smashed his fist into the glass the first night you disappeared. He repaired it with magic but smears of blood remained even when the cracks in the mirror vanished. He drew the little heart with his fingertip while he whispered your name like he thought it might summon you back to him, and he cried when it didn’t.)
His bed smells like the fragrance you normally wear, something you brought with you from the human world and he claimed he didn't like very much.
He removed his pillow cases and slipped some of your shirts over his pillows instead.
You wonder how you didn't realize sooner that the dressing gown he's wearing is yours, one of many gifts he gave you after you started dating.
His room is filled with your belongings, things he clung desperately to while he hoped and begged for you to come back to him.
"I think tonight we should take care of each other then, don't you?"
You hold your hand out to him, and it only takes a moment for him to stumble over to the bed. He gathers you in his arms and holds you so tightly that it's hard to breathe, like he's scared to let you go. You tangle your fingers in his clothes because you're just as needy as he is.
He whimpers your name against your neck, interspersed with little kisses that are featherlight but still enough to make your head spin; your tears roll down your cheeks and mix with his, and they're wet and salty on his lips. He murmurs an inaudible mantra as he drags his mouth over your jaw so he can kiss you properly, and it leaves you both breathless.
—I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—
The others aren't surprised at all when you and Asmo lock yourselves away in his room 'til morning.
BEELZEBUB
The joy of returning home turns bitter in your heart when you realize Beel isn't there. His brothers are in the dining room and hear the noise when the portal unceremoniously drops you in the middle of your bedroom floor. They hear a thump and a soft oof! and by the time they scramble out of their seats and into the hall, you're already stumbling through the door and rubbing the soreness from your back.
The weight of six demons attempting to hug you drags you back down to the floor, but this time you're cushioned in someone's lap and suddenly the floor doesn't seem all that bad. Even though you're being squeezed within an inch of your life and they're all talking (and crying and stuttering) over each other, their voices are similar yet so different from the ones you heard in the past, you can't bring yourself to care.
By the time they quiet down to give you a chance to get a word in, you're hugged and warmed and loved like you haven't been in a long time.
The only thing that's bittersweet about your long-awaited reunion is Beel's absence.
"He's at Fangol practice," Belphie says. His voice is slightly muffled since he can't seem to stop nuzzling your shoulder. "He should be home soon."
Asmo's fingers are already tapping quickly across his D.D.D. "I tried calling already but he didn't answer. He'll want to know you're back."
"He might not see the message in the middle of practice," Lucifer warns him from somewhere at your back. "Perhaps one of us should go get him?"
There's a tinkling ping not long after and Asmo waves his phone in your face, but you can't possibly read it.
"Ha! And you thought it would be a waste of time, hmm? Well, I'll have you know that Beel said...'ok'? Huh." Asmo winces when disappointment flickers across your face at Beel's lack-of response. "I'm sure he's excited to see you! You know he's not very fond of texting."
"I think I'll wait for him in his room." The brothers slowly detangle themselves from you and return to the dining room to give you some privacy. They might not like it, but they know that something happened between you and Beel before you disappeared.
You turn around at the sound of footsteps jogging behind you and see Belphie trying to catch up. "I didn't want to say anything with the others around," he says quietly, "but you don't have anything to worry about. I already know he's rushing home to see you even if he didn't say he was."
"How can you be so sure?" You sniffle quietly and stare at your feet. "We had the worst fight before I—before what happened, and he was so angry."
Belphie glances at you over his shoulder as he pushes open the door to the bedroom he shares with his twin. “Trust me when I say that he’s not angry anymore, alright?”
You step into the room behind Belphie and instantly glance at the side of the room where Beel sleeps. You didn’t realize that your bed was stripped before but your pillows and blankets ended up on his bed. There are framed photos of you and Beel on his bedside table, and the sign you made for his last Fangol game - the one you missed when you disappeared - is hanging on the wall.
“I can’t believe he kept that,” you whisper. The bright, sparkly paint spells out Beel’s name and jersey number in large, bubbly writing. The edges of the poster board are frayed and bent, but it’s obvious he tried to preserve it.
Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him after all.
Thundering steps outside catch your attention and you turn around in time to see Beel lean against the doorway like he sprinted home.
There are bags from Hell’s Kitchen hanging from Beel’s arm but Belphie hops off his bed and plucks the bags from his brother with a hum. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.” He pauses and gives his brother a pointed look, nodding not-too-discreetly in your direction, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. His eyes take greedily over your face and body and he frowns like he’s scrutinizing your appearance, trying to see how—if—you’ve changed, searching out any potential injuries you might be hiding and how he can punish those responsible.
Likewise, you take in his field-worn appearance, the grass stains and dirt that clings to his uniform and skin. His hair is matted down and he smells strongly of evening dew and sweat.
He’s filthy and grimy but you’ve never wanted him more in your life.
He grunts when you nearly launch yourself into his arms. Maybe later he’ll feel guilty about ruining your clothes with mud from the Fangol pitch, but when he breathes in deep and soaks in the familiar scent of your skin, all those insignificant problems melt away.
“I brought dinner for us,” he murmurs quietly as his cheek nuzzles against you. “If you don’t mind putting up with seeing me like this a little bit longer, I’d like to eat with you before I shower.” His chapped lips brush over your brow. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” You cup his cheek and offer him a bright and teary-eyed smile. “And you know what? I think I’m starving.”
It’s not long after that containers of your favorite takeout are spread out on the dining room table. The others have vanished, probably at Belphie’s insistence, and you’re grateful to have this quiet time together.
If you end up in his lap while he practically feeds you, sneaking little tastes for himself with lingering kisses he presses gently to your mouth, that’s no one else’s business but yours and his.
BELPHEGOR
Belphie can't remember the last time he's gone this long without a proper night's sleep. When his brothers have trouble sleeping, plagued by haunted memories and their most insidious fears, he can put their minds at ease.
He tells himself it's a selfish gesture, because if his brothers' dreams are too vivid or too disturbing or too terrible for him to ignore, he can't sleep either.
The truth is, he doesn't want them to suffer.
Unfortunately, the Avatar of Sloth has no such saviour to save him from his own bad dreams. He can't call them nightmares because that's not what they are. They're fragments of memory and echoes of his deepest desires that plague him every time he closes his eyes.
More often than not, his brothers’ dreams are haunted by the ghost of you that disappeared without a trace. Every night when someone dreams of you, Belphie dreams of you too.
It reminds him of the cold, slippery sensation the night that your consciousness was dragged away into the unknown. The place in his dreamscape where your little pond of dreams and nightmares used to be is a black void in his subconscious, a gaping wound in his mind that rivals the empty spot in his bed where you used to sleep. Your warmth is gone and it leaves his sheets and heart bitter-cold.
Today, Belphie wakes up from a rowdy disturbance coming from somewhere else in the house.
His brothers can be so loud sometimes.
The voices downstairs that wake him quiet into an excited hush when they notice his arrival.
"Belphie!" Asmo cries happily when he reaches the bottom of the attic stairs and steps out into the hallway. "We were about to come wake you—look who's finally come back to us!"
Whatever his brother yammers on about next is drowned out by the static ringing in his ears; Belphie stares at the awkward group hug on the floor in front of him and has no idea what to say.
You looked a little embarrassed sitting in Lucifer's lap while Mammon clings to one arm and Levi holds the other. Your eyes are bright and watery with tears and a wobbly smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you realize he was there.
A trembling hand reaches out to him, uncertain but inviting. A hopeful gesture.
Countless times, Belphie imagined what he might do or say if–when–you finally came home. He was ready to spill his guts at your feet and beg you not to leave him like that ever again. He would apologize over and over again for all the terrible things he’s said and done before because he couldn't help thinking this was somehow his fault.
For reasons he can’t explain, unexplainable anger rises inside him and smothers the impulse to celebrate your return. The desperate urge to crawl into your lap and cling to you fizzles into nothing the longer he stares at you.
You know how badly he sleeps when you're not cuddled in bed next to him. It’s your fault he feels so awful, isn’t it?
He can only imagine what he looks like now, with his bedhead hair and pouty lips and the flaky crust of dried tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He rubs his face to wipe away the remnants with sleep, but he feels the familiar sting of hot tears building up instead.
Your love has made a terrible mess of him, and he’s not ready for this after all.
Someone shouts after him when he turns on his heel and heads back up the attic stairs without a word. He keeps walking and ignores the soft, wounded noise behind him; his brothers were quick to try and comfort you where he cannot.
"Let's give him a bit of space," someone suggests quietly.
Slamming the attic door doesn’t feel as satisfying as Belphie hoped it would. He collapses back onto the bed and throws the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns and by the time he falls into another restless sleep, he still can't decide whether he's relieved or devastated that you didn't follow him.
It's deep in the twilight hours when Belphie senses a familiar dip of the mattress when someone slips into bed beside him. He tries to stay submerged in the weightless realm of sleep, but the sudden warmth of a hand resting hesitantly on his back ruins that plan.
"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" he grumbles into the pillow. He fell asleep face down and he stubbornly refuses to look at you. “Go away.”
"I’m sorry.” A heavy pause. “I couldn't sleep." Your voice is quiet but it shakes with something vulnerable that catches Belphie's attention.
With an indignant huff, he turns his head and pries an eye open and glances your way. The attic is shrouded in darkness but he can still see the downturned frown of your lips. When he rolls onto his side and leans closer, he looks past the watery film that makes your eyes shimmer and notices the dark shadows underneath them that he didn’t notice before.
Exhaustion radiates off you and he can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you had a proper night’s sleep too.
He doesn’t ask about the things you did while you were gone or the things you saw. He remembers well enough what his own heart was like back then in that murky stretch of time when he clung to rage and hatred to soothe his own despair.
He doesn’t ask if you still have bad dreams about death or monsters that wear his face and sneer as you struggle against the bruising grip around your throat. He feels guilty that maybe he wasn’t there to save you from the version of himself that lurks in your memory.
The stiffness in his bones deflates as the chill from the attic subsides, replaced by the warmth of your body lying close to his. He places his hand tentatively on your waist and when you don’t flinch or move away, he urges you closer.
"I can help if you want," he offers hesitantly, a feeble apology to start to make amends.
But you understand the meaning behind the gesture for what it is: a peace offering for now until you can talk properly later. Considering his reaction earlier, this is more than you could've hoped for.
“I was scared to ask for help at first," you admit quietly when you rest your ear over his heart and sigh as the soft, familiar rhythm thumps deep in his chest. “You were angry earlier and I didn’t want to upset you even more if you weren’t ready to see me yet.”
Belphie ducks his head low and rubs your back as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. The vibration of his noncommittal hum tickles your skin. “I’ll help you sleep tonight so you can make it up to me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that–
Convinced that he isn’t going to push you away and judging the coy grip of his tail that’s suddenly found itself wrapped around one of your legs, you let yourself lean against him fully with a long, weary sigh. It doesn't take long for your eyes to slip closed or for your breathing to sync with his as he lulls you gently into a peaceful state of rest.
Belphie feels his eyes grow heavy once he’s certain that you’re dreaming peacefully. He does sleep better when you’re here, after all. He’s held you in his arms like this before, far too many times for him to count, but it feels different than he remembers.
Has holding you like this always felt this satisfying, or did he take for granted all those times he dragged you to bed and assumed you'd still be there when he woke up?
He won’t make that mistake again.
"I missed this, you know," he whispers against the soft spot on your throat where your heart beat is strongest, pressing lazy kisses against your skin. He closes his eyes with a satisfied smile even though you don’t respond; the way your body melts against his is proof enough that you missed him too.
prompt. as your absence from the present day persists, the demons find themselves struggling. though your room remains in pristine condition, other indicators of your presence are slowly fading. gn reader.
ft. asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor
warnings. angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of depression & associated behaviors, slight suggestive mentions in asmo’s section
a/n — gods, obey me is a series with so much angst potential. as much as I adore fluff, angst is definitely something. I hope you enjoy this little set! the other four brothers will also have a set coming soon! <3
🌧️ asmodeus ;;
~ Asmo is one of the most affected by your disappearance. He tries his best to play it off casually— tries to act like he usually does. Because you never stay gone for long, right? You always find a solution and come back home to him, so surely, this time would be no different.
~ However, as the days pass, you don’t return. Solomon’s assessment and assistance doesn’t seem to be helping, either. While the sorcerer is certain that you will return… it’s anyone’s guess as to when it’ll happen.
~ When that realization sets in, Asmodeus becomes far more gloomy and upset. He sees you in everything he does— he can hardly enjoy himself when the person he loves just as much as himself isn’t there. Each time he tries to have a spa night, go shopping, or take cute photos, he’s reminded of you.
~ It always ends with him scrolling through countless photos with you— wondering how long it’d be until he saw your smile again— until he saw your presence once more.
~ Asmo is desperate to feel close to you again. He’s afraid of touching anything in your room for fear of losing the last proof that your existence has a mark in this timeline, but he can’t help himself.
~ He ends up stealing your clothing from your closet. If you had a perfume or cologne you liked wearing, he’d take that too. He reasons that he’ll just replace it when you return… if you ever come home.
~ For the most part, he holes up in his room, taking less and less care of himself as the days pass. He’ll spray your perfume/cologne on his things just to be reminded of you— just to feel like you hadn’t disappeared. He’ll wear your clothing to feel close to you— to get the ghost of a comforting presence he can’t help but miss.
~ As time continues to pass, Asmo becomes unable to look in the mirror. He knows he hasn’t been taking care of his appearance. On top of that, he doesn’t want to see his unblemished skin— not when his last memory was of you biting bruises into his skin and leaving marks on his hips.
~ That physical reminder that you loved him— up until you disappeared— he’d be unable to keep himself together if he had to see it fade. Because that’d solidify that this wasn’t just some nightmare. You were really somewhere else— and this time, there was no way to reach you.
~ At this point, insecurity starts to rear its ugly head. If you’re to return, will you even love him anymore? If he’s been too sad to take care of himself— hardly able to find happiness in anything without you— would you still love him?
~ Would you abandon him again the moment you realize that he’d desperately need to cling to you— that he had to cling to remnants of your presence just to stay sane?
~ He hates himself for thinking that. He knows you didn’t abandon him— that you wouldn’t have left if it had been your choice. But he can’t help the way his emotions muddy his mind. You were always there to help him when things got this complicated.
~ Asmo spends many nights crying— listening to your voicemails and drowning himself in your memory.
~ Eventually, he does get to a point where his brothers intervene to try their best to help him. They try to keep him distracted, help him take care of himself, and keep him company so he doesn’t feel the pain of your absence.
~ But… they know just as well as Asmodeus does that it’ll never be the same. Asmodeus loves himself, yes, but…
~ He specifically loves who he is with you. Now that you’re gone… he doesn’t feel nearly as cute, pretty, handsome— nearly as himself as he does when you’re around.
🌧️ beelzebub ;;
~ Despite how pained Beel is at your disappearance, he’d worry himself over the way it’d affect Belphie as opposed to himself. He’d spend a lot of time worrying about everyone else aside from himself— wanting to ensure that his brothers eat, sleep, and take care of themselves.
~ However, when he has a moment alone— a moment that isn’t made busy by caring for others— the crushing weight of your absence weighs heavily on him.
~ In moments of doubt, he could always go to you. You were always there to reassure and comfort him— to take care of him and his needs when he was so focused on everyone else. You always made sure that he wasn’t kind to the point of self-sabotage.
~ Without you around, he notices himself smiling less and less— finding it hard to be optimistic without your light shining on him. He wouldn’t lash out, instead internalizing everything he feels.
~ Is he allowed to be upset with you when it was out of your control? Is he allowed to be angry? He isn’t sure. Who would he even direct anger at? He wasn’t mad at you, just at the situation you happened to end up in for whatever reason— whoever was behind your disappearance is to blame, not you. He knows that.
~ Beelzebub struggles greatly with your fading presence. Leftovers you cooked slowly dwindled, and the snack stock you shared with him grew more and more scarce as the days passed. It becomes more and more apparent to him that you are gone.
~ You never left the fridge empty for long. The snack pile always seemed to replenish the moment it started growing the slightest bit smaller. On top of that, Beel felt like he never went hungry with you around. You always carried something for him, whether you were out and about or at RAD.
~ Now… he isn’t even sure if anyone in the House or Lamentation has even cooked, let alone went shopping for groceries in the wake of your disappearance. Hell, Beel wasn’t even sure the last time he had the strong appetite he associated with his sin.
~ Nowadays, he was eating what’d be considered a “normal” volume for other demons, but was starkly out of character for Beelzebub. No matter what his brothers brought him— what people tried to offer him in an attempt to get him to eat more— to smile again— it never worked.
~ He’d eat a little, enjoy a fleeting moment of happiness before remembering that you were no longer there to enjoy food with him, and he’d quickly excuse himself. Food tasted bland without you— like it was all the same taste and texture.
~ He used to enjoy mealtime because it meant lighthearted conversation and warm company during each and every meal. Now, each meal he shared with brothers was framed by the lack of your presence. And meals alone did nothing to satiate what hunger he did feel.
~ It became nothing more than a function to him. He’d try recreating your recipes just to become frustrated or disappointed when it didn’t taste the same. It didn’t have your touch— your added flair. Everything he made had that same bland, tasteless flavor to it.
~ He tries his best to continue his day to day while coping with your absence. He knows he has to still go out and do things— that’s how people feel better, right?
~ But his daily routine simply reminds you that it isn’t the same routine if you aren’t there. Waking up early to share a meal, walking to RAD together, dragging Belphie out of bed together— none of it felt the same when you weren’t there.
~ Beel’s daily life starts to lose color. And though he feels he shouldn’t burden his brothers with his struggles, it’s hard for them not to notice. When he forces a smile or forces himself to eat so they don’t worry, it only increases their ever-growing concern.
~ They try their best to keep him company and urge him to open up more to them, but they know they can’t force him.
~ Beel has a preconceived notion, likely from their past as a family, that makes him believe he has to be a mediator— he has to keep the peace between everyone with no regard to himself.
~ And you… were the only one who managed to break those walls down and cared deeply for him. Now, they hope you’ll return before Beel becomes entirely unreachable.
🌧️ belphegor ;;
~ Belphegor tries his best to act apathetic toward your disappearance. It isn’t a big deal— he can wait for you to return. Though, he isn’t exactly fooling anyone at all.
~ How could he fool anyone when he slept in your room almost every night? How could he fool anyone when he was adamant on not waking up and attending class if it wasn’t you rousing him from slumber?
~ At the end of the day, Belphie doesn’t want to admit how much of a wreck he is without you. He already views himself in a less than favorable light. He’s a burden upon his siblings— hardly able to last an entire day without sleeping, practically collapsing, the moment his body demanded rest.
~ However, you never made him feel that way. Never once did you make him believe that the condition that came with his sin made him a burden. You were happy to take care of him. You carried him when he fell asleep— let him rest on your shoulder between classes and woke him up when it was time to go.
~ How could he manage even a day’s worth of tiring work if you weren’t there to support him? He’d be reminded all over again that he’s weighed down by his sin. He’d be reminded that it’s hard to manage without you.
~ Sure, he could likely manage it without you, but he doesn’t want to. Wouldn’t that just erase your presence from his life? Getting his act together means accepting that maybe he didn’t need you as much as he thought— and that’s something he refuses to accept. In his eyes, that’s essentially accepting that you wouldn’t return.
~ Then again, the dreamscape wasn’t much better than reality. Sure, he could meet you in his dreams, but he was always aware that that’s all it was— a fantasy. It wasn’t actually you. It never would be.
~ So Belphie starts suffering from periods of insomnia followed by long periods of slumber exacerbated by the exhaustion of his insomnia. He’ll spend hours upon hours awake at the dead of night, waiting for you to walk back through those doors.
~ Then, he spends nearly days asleep in your bed, unable to be roused from his deep sleep— clinging on to the remnants of you left in your room. Nowadays, he can hardly sleep unless he’s surrounded by your scent— and even that’s slowly disappearing from your blankets and bedsheets. He’s afraid to think about what’ll happen when it does entirely disappear.
~ Some days, he holes away in his old room— a quiet sanctuary where you’d spend a night in with him. He never touched anything you left there. Your clothing and accessories that you left still remained in the same place— your blankets still a mess on your side of the pile of pillows you’d sleep in with him.
~ Every time he looks at the things you left— every time he thinks of you— he feels regret. He knows that it wasn’t your choice to leave, but did you stay away because of him? Did you truly never forgive him after all? Was experiencing a new timeline amplifying preexisting resentment you held toward him?
~ Was it his fault that you hadn’t come home?
~ The mere thought is enough for him to send him down an ugly spiral. Just like with Lilith— this is her situation all over again. Disappearing, not dead, but always somewhere out of reach. Somewhere away from him.
~ At a certain point, he’d close himself off from his brothers entirely. Beelzebub would be able to get through to him since they’re twins, but the rest of them would be effectively shut out. Nothing they did would soothe the pain caused by your absence.
~ It gets to the point where Belphie sheds tears in his sleep— haunted by nightmares of his past mixed with your present. He’s more lethargic than ever— his sleep constantly interrupted by visions of your death, rejection, and hatred— all of that mixed with reemerging visions of the things that happened to Lilith. Every time he startles awake, tears silently stream down his face.
~ His brothers can only watch, unable to do much more than offer support that Belphegor doesn’t even want.
~ They wonder how much longer Belphie will last. When you return… they hope it’ll be to a Belphegor that isn’t just a shell of his former self. They hope you’ll come home on time.
Hihihiiiii!!!!! Omg I'm so excited to ask this one-> ok so can you write/headcanon the Brothers and Undatables in a situation where MC can't swim and the brothers + undatables don't know it until one of the squad (Solomon's voodoo) picks MC up and throws them into a pool/fountain on the deep end as a joke? And MC drowns?
Bonus if anyone aside from Satan, Leviathan, and Lucifer know CPR and double bonus if Beel manages to rebibe w/o cracking a rib on MC!!
Aww heyheyhey!!! We love excitement in this house yes we do. Thank you so much for the angsty ask!
It got a bit long so I'll do it in two parts! I hope that's okay? Also I hope I can do it justice :3
It was a summer afternoon in Devildom. Diavolo had invited the whole gang upto his castle. Solomon had recently told him about pool parties and he was excited to try it out.
Everyone came in, already having the time of their lives splish splashing in the water, or going ham on Barbatos and Luke's snacks.
You were there, dipping your feet in water, enjoying the cool feeling between your toes. Everyone kept inviting you in the water, you tried to put them off by saying "Maybe later!"
You could have just said you couldn't swim. But that was too embarassing to admit, so you just shook your head and splashed water at them instead.
Mammon and Asmo were splashing water on you, so you didn't see the Little D's sneak up and hoist you up from behind. Before you knew it, you were sent flying headfirst into the water. Maybe you should have told them, you thought.
Maybe that would be better than the endless blue, the distinct lack of air and burn in your lungs as you tried hard to swim to the surface and lost all energy.
(Part 1: The Brothers)
Lucifer
"MC enough playing around. Come Bach up now." Got tensed when you didn't Immediately float up to the surface.
"MC?" He dived in to check on you. His eyes grew wide when you saw struggling, flapping your hands and feet aimlessly.
"MC HOLD ON!" The panic in his voice was muffled by the water. You felt your body being held and pulled up to the surface.
"MC? MC can you hear me?! MC!" You felt someone shaking you, their hands warm on your arms. And then your lips turned warm.
You'd recognise that kiss anywhere. It was more urgent this time, as Lucifer tried his best to get air into you.
"Luci... fer.." You choke out before coughing violently and spitting the pool water everywhere.
"You're okay..." He lets out the biggest sigh of relief. He holds you tight in his arms and takes you inside to dry you off. "I thought I lost you again..."
"Whoever is responsible for this," The suppressed rage in his voice sounded deadly, "will pay for it."
Mammon
"Oi human! Are ya sulking down there?!" Mammon joked as he dived downwards to bring you up.
"They got ya pretty good huh-" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the state you were in. Your eyes closed and your limbs horribly limp.
"MC! MC WHAT HAPPENED?!" Mammon grabbed you and pulled you up instantly. Even in your dazed state, you could feel the pounding of his heart and the cracking of his voice.
"MC not again please not again I'm sorry I'm sorry please wake up..." He was crying now. His tears and hands were warm on your skin as pushed at your chest cluelessly.
"THEY'RE NOT WAKING UP! LUCIFER SATAN DIAVOLO SIMEON SOMEONE HELP PLEASE!" He was frantic and clamping his mouth on yours now, gasping more than blowing air.
You coughed and sputtered eventually. "Mammon... you...are exceptionally bad at CPR." Mammon hid his face in your shoulder and hugged you like there's no tomorrow.
You laugh and try to tell him you're okay but all he does is hold you and cry. "I'm the worst protector...I'm so sorry MC.."
Leviathan
"Welcome to my turf, MC!" Levi laughed as he waited for you to float back up. But you weren't. Are you stuck on something? He sees air bubbles on the surface.
He dives down and swims towards you swiftly. "MC OH NO! WAIT MC IM COMING!" He darts to towards you and gets you out the fastest.
He starts to tear up and panic cause this is just like that sad anime "Lost my Best Friend in the Deep". Embarassment be damned, he can't let you go.
He urgently called for his brothers for help and fumbled with you held tightly in his arms. He pushed on your chest and watched the water sputter out.
"MC?? You're okay now, right??! MC!!?" The urgency in Levi's voice caught you off guard. You open your eyes to see him teary eyed and sniffling.
"I'm okay Levi..." You say, your hand reaching to hold his face. He breaks down at your touch.
Pressing his face harder into your hand and crying. He's so glad you're okay. "I thought I lost my best friend...don't worry MC, I'll teach you how to swim!"
Satan
"MC, you do know how to swim right?" Satan called out to you, right after the splash. There was something about the way you fell that made him feel uneasy.
When you didn't float back up, he immediately dunked himself downwards, only to see his suspicions were right.
"MC! It's okay it's okay I've got you!" Satan's arm wrapped around you as he pressed a warm kiss on you under water. The flames in your lungs died down a little.
He rushes you upto the surface and lays down gently, tilting your head at the optimal angle.
His mouth is on you again. Urgently breathing life back into you. He also had spells ready in case this usual way didn't work.
"Satan...? You...thank you.." You said tired as you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around him weakly after vehemently coughing.
He lets out a sigh of relief and bumps his lips against your head softly, cradling you in his arms. "Why wouldn't you say that you couldn't swim? Don't do this to me ever again, MC, you're all I have..."
Asmodeus
"MC darling, no need to be embarrassed, you looked so cute when you fell like that! Come up now!" Asmo giggled as he watched the water, waiting for you to come back up.
He gets panicky when you're still not up yet. Swims down as he quickly as he can calling out your name. "OH NO! MC WHAT'S GOING ON?! MC!"
He reaches for your hands and starts tugging you towards him. Why are your eyes closed like this? Why have you gone limp?!
He pulls you up to the surface, frantically calling out to Satan and Solomon for help, all the while bouncing you in his arms like a baby as a attempt to gain conciousness.
He's full on sobbing as he Solomon gives you CPR. The moment you cough and sputter, he pounces on you, his head pressed against your cold chest, now rising and falling normally.
"Asmo... don't cry...I'm okay.." You say weakly smiling and trying to hug him back, running your hands in his hair.
He holds you close and presses kisses on your whole face."MC! You gave me such a fright! Don't do that again please, MC! I can't bear the though of you gone again!"
Beelzebub
"Ah I'm so sorry I couldn't catch you MC" Beel even had his arms outstretched so he could catch you before you fell, but he missed.
He's fastest to get to you after Levi. "MC? Are you okay down there- MC?! Why are you being like that?!" He gets frantic and scoops your limp body in his arms.
This is his worst nightmare. He urgently gets to the surface panicking inside. "MC..please wake up.." He calls out sadly, as he gently lays you down.
You're barely breathing. He knows what he has to do. But you're so fragile compared to him he doesn't want to hurt you.
He tries as gently as possible to push against your chest to regulate your breathing again.
"Beel..Beel..." You cough out his name as you reach up to hold his face in your hands. He stops immediately and engulfs you in a hug.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. His teary eyes and tight grip as he lifts you up and takes you inside the house to feed you, says everything you need to know.
Belphegor
"MC you're so easy to sneak upon hehe. Come here and lie with me." He was just snoozing at the edge, smiling down at where you just fell.
What's taking you so long to come back up?He impatiently dived downwards to find you. And he was horrified by what he saw. "MC?!Damnit MC, why didn't you call for me!?"
He hoists you into his arms and tries giving you a kiss of air like he'd seen in Levi's shows. Still unsure of what to do, he just hurries you up to the surface.
"They were struggling to swim. Something's wrong. Fix them please. Fix them fast." He said, calling out to his brothers. He held your hand shakily and lay next to you, as Beel gave you CPR. His grip tightened once you started coughing.
"Belphie... I'm okay..." You squeezed his hand as tight as you could. He hid head in your shoulder before picking you up in his arms.
He wrapped you up in a towel and tried to make you fall asleep in his arms. "That was a horrible feeling. I don't want to feel that again." He mutters to himself while holding you closer.
I couldn't stop thinking about this after reading your "Readjusting" hc
Imagine that the reason MC started acting like a "proper" attendant was because Barbatos couldn't stand how improper and casual Mc was with the brothers. He decides to take her under his wing but he isn't gentle about it, not even when it becomes clear that MC is human, on the contraire, he becomes harsher with his methods until even the brothers notice. Meanwhile MC could be in the state of mind to believe that they deserve to be treated in such ways because they feel guilty over letting everyone assume they were a demon
Also think about how this treatment would affect MC relationship with Barbatos. Imagine MC slipping up in front of him and immediately tensing and starting to apologize. How scared MC would be of even the thought of doing something NB!Barbatos though them was wrong and undignified of her to do/say as the brothers attendant.
And how heartbroken OM!Barbatos would be at seeing MC be so terrified of him.
so I’m currently deep diving thru my drafts and inbox and this was from forever ago so I’m so sorry I’m only getting it done now (,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )
anyway oh. my. god.
i absolutely love this idea! the angst potential this ask has is literally to die for. i’ll be incorporating a few of my readjusting ideas as well and yeah i know nightbringer didn’t go in this direction but im going in it anyway, so i hope yall enjoy! (๑>•̀๑)
you’re nothing more and nothing less
You admired yourself in the mirror then stared at the reflection looking back at you.
Sighing you gave yourself a small smile, then remembered his words before giving yourself one last look in the mirror.
“You really do look decent when you know how to clean up.”
An attendant is supposed to look sharp, and presentable no matter the circumstance. They are a direct representation of who they’re serving. How was a noble demon supposed to take the seven rulers of hell seriously if their attendant didn’t even know how to properly dress or present themselves?
Your tie had to be perfectly crisp and presentable, same with the cuffs of your uniform; not a wrinkle should be present. Next, your preferred uniform bottom was ironed with no wrinkle in sight, and your shoes shined to the point you could see your reflection. Each plead and fold was sharp, crisp, and perfect.
Your hair looked presentable and you carried out your normal face routine making sure you looked awake and ready for the day. Finally, you organized your belongings and sat them by your table in a neat fashion ready to be grabbed once you headed off to RAD.
You then made your way to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for everyone as well as coffee and tea for those who usually required it.
As you were finishing up most of the food Beel walked into the kitchen heading straight for the fridge. “Morning MC,” he said catching his breath.
“Good Morning Beel, how was your run? Also, your snack is on the counter so please refrain from eating anything in the fridge,” you replied, as you continued cooking.
“Oh thank you.” he smiled while closing the fridge. As he sat at the counter watching you cook he couldn’t help but become confused at the sight. “Wasn’t it Levi’s turn to make breakfast this morning?”
“It was but he stayed up late last night, and I had a feeling he would oversleep so I took the liberty of making it myself. Not to worry though because I have nothing against cooking for all of you”
Beel frowned in response “Yeah but this is the third day in a row you’ve prepared breakfast and dinner”
“Is it now? Well I have no problems with it unless the rest of you do, I am your attendant after all.”
Beel stopped eating and frowned again, “MC you’re an exchange student from the human realm. You’re back home; there’s no reason for you to still act as our attendant.”
You didn’t respond, instead you finished up the food and began to plate each brothers breakfast. Beel tried to speak again but you cut him off.
“Apologies but could you do me a favor and wake up your brothers for breakfast? I wouldn’t want them to be late for classes.”
Beel gave you a sympathetic look and nodded just before leaving the kitchen.
You did stop to think about his words though. After all everything that happened in the past didn’t need to be continued in the present, you could go back to living how you normally did before.
The only problem was that you didn’t know how to go back to that carefree lifestyle. After being on edge constantly while being stuck in the past you found yourself adapting to that lifestyle. So breaking it all of a sudden was much harder than everyone understood.
Humans are adaptable creatures, they adapt and survive to whatever environment they are thrown into, no matter the circumstances; at least that’s how he explained it.
He drilled it into your head that if you wanted to survive against the best of the best you needed to be superior in every way. It didn’t matter to him if you were a demon or human, neither was an acceptable excuse for not being absolutely perfect.
This mindset had been engraved into your soul during the small time period you were there, so for everyone to just tell you to forget about it was something you couldn’t do even if you tried. They all needed to accept that this was how you were now; and maybe with due time you’ll revert back to your old self.
Numerous voices could be heard in the dining room causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You sighed and then took a deep breath before walking into the room with everyone’s plates.
“Good morning everyone, how’s are all of you?” You asked placing plates in front of each brother at the table.
“Mornin’ MC, I’m fine how are ya?” Mammon said yawning.
“I’m good thank you for asking, but I would be even better if you fixed your tie and shirt” you smiled, placing his food in front of him.
“Dah you sound like Lucifer…” he groaned. It did work however because he buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie before eating, to which you smiled at him in response.
“That goes for all of you as well, fix your uniforms please.” you said, placing the last plate in Lucifer’s spot. Each groaned and fixed themselves as well before they began to eat.
A laugh was then heard from the doorway which made you look up in response. The oldest then greeted you with a kiss to the cheek before sitting down.
“I see your keeping them on a tighter leash than I am.” Lucifer said looked up at you.
“Well of course. How is anyone supposed to take the seven of you seriously when you don’t even wear the uniform properly.” The room fell silent and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Thank you MC, but you realize that you don’t have to worry about our images anymore. You know your home correct..? You don’t have to continue being our attendant.”
You sighed then spoke after a few minutes. “Thank you for your concern I appreciate it, but if you’ll excuse me I have to get the dishes clean”
“Wait you’re not having breakfast with us dear?” Asmo asked worried.
“You haven’t eaten with us at all since you came back. Come on MC, please?” Satan then said.
“I appreciate the concern but I already ate. Thank you for the offer though, I do appreciate it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“As their attendant you should not be eating with them unless permitted on a special occasion. It’s basic etiquette as a servant to eat in the kitchen. So you will eat when I eat. Understand?”
That phrase popped in you head again and you sighed heading towards the kitchen.
. . .
The walk to RAD was normal, for you at least, the brothers were a different story entirely.
They tried engaging with you or even walking next to you but you stayed silent and walked behind them.
Normally you’d walk at the same pace and would engage in any kind of small talk but ever since you returned walks to a from RAD had been awkward for the brothers.
Barbatos never walked next to Diavolo, and he taught you to do the same with the brothers.
“You aren’t from the same status, so you should take your place behind them as a result.”
That phrase played in your head as Mammon talked to you about his latest new scheme. You realized that he was walking at the same pace you were so you slowed down ever so slight and engaged in a bit of small talk with him.
The second born frowned as he saw you retreating again, so with a sigh he finished talking and walked a bit faster to catch up with the eldest.
You could see them shorting you glances and whispering to each other but neither said a word to you.
You understood they probably weren’t a fan of this behavior either, but it’s not as if you could break it anytime soon, after all what would he think if you were acting casual with everyone again?
. . .
“Good morning MC” Barbatos spoke, smiling as he slightly waved at you.
Upon seeing him your posture straightened up and you immediately greeted him back with a wave and a nod, in the same fashion he greeted you with. You held eye contact for a brief moment then looked over towards Lucifer.
“I believe we should head out now. There’s paperwork to be done. It was lovely running into you but we’ll be on our way now” you said to the butler.
Before he even had a chance to respond you grabbed Lucifer and dragged him through the hall leaving a confused Barbatos alone in the hallway.
Lucifer tried to question you about your behavior towards the butler but you always avoided talking about it.
Diavolo tried his hand as well and you had given him the same excuse you gave Lucifer. Sighing, the two decided to talk to you over tea instead, hoping that it might calm the mood.
So you followed Lucifer into the council room where Diavolo sat, waiting with a smile. The minute you saw him you smiled back, but soon tensed when Barbatos appeared behind him.
“Sit down MC” Diavolo gestured as soon as you reached the table.
You bowed slightly and did as you were told, making sure to keep yourself in line while Barbatos was present.
Barbatos from the past despised when you were casual with Lord Diavolo and shut down your relationship with him the second he took you as an apprentice.
As Diavolo began to speak you listened attentively and sat up straight making sure to hold eye contact just as Barbatos had instructed you to do before
“MC…” he started. “I understand that it's taken you awhile to try and readjust to everything again, and while we don’t want to pester your progress we do want to talk to you about a few things.”
Were you in trouble? Your heart sank to your stomach as you gripped your uniform bottoms under the table.
“What can I help you with then?” You asked.
“Well for starters you needn’t be so tense, we’re close after all! It’s okay to let loose around us” Diavolo smiled as he gestured towards Lucifer who nodded in response.
“I thank you for your concern, and I will try to relax as you asked” you then nodded.
Your formal response tugged at a frown on Diavolo’s face. “Thank you, now then let’s enjoy some tea.” he said, trying to quickly change the subject.
You froze on the spot as Barbatos brought out the cart of tea and a few snacks. Immediately you jumped up and helped him set the table, much to everyone’s surprise.
“MC, you can leave it to me.” Barbatos said after a moment.
“I understand” you nodded yet still continued picking up the tray of snacks and placing plates in front of Lucifer and Diavolo.
After you finished you stepped behind Barbatos, almost as if you were his shadow. With a sigh he turned to you and tried to ask you to sit back down but you refused.
So instead he tried to guide you to your seat and you stepped away from him in response, the further you took a step back the closer he took a step forward. It wasn’t until you hit the snack cart had you realized how close the two of you were.
However that was short lived as the dish holding the sugar fell off the cart and shattered on the floor the moment you hit it.
Your eyes went wide in horror and you fell to the floor to clean it up in an instant, muttering to yourself silently.
“MC, are you-“
“I’m so sorry, Lord Diavolo, I'll clean this up right away. Please forgive me” you said swiftly picking up the shattered glass and trying your best to clean everything.
“It’s okay, don’t worry it was an accident” Diavolo said as he got up to make sure you were okay.
You shook your head as you went back to cleaning. You were positive Barbatos was going to kill you, he made sure to let you know if you ever messed up in Lord Diavolo’s presence.
So when his figure loomed over you your body tensed with fear as you looked up at him. However his expression didn’t match what you assumed it would’ve been.
He looked concerned and bent down to inspect your hands, hoping there wasn’t any blood due to the shards of glass from the dish.
You immediately retracted your hand when you noticed a cut and Barbatos stiffened.
“I’ll clean this up right away, excuse me” you said as you jumped to your feet and ran out of the council room, leaving three very confused and concerned demons behind.
As the door flew open when you left Solomon walked in with a bewildered look as you rushed out. “What happened? Is everything okay?” He asked as his eyes followed your figure rushing down the hall.
“It’s MC,” Lucifer sighed.
“What about them?” Solomon questioned.
“Long story short they were helping Barbatos and dropped the sugar then bolted out of the room in a panic when Barbatos grabbed their hand to see if they were okay.” Diavolo said with a sigh.
“Ah, that explains things then.” Solomon nodded. “And Barbatos I would refrain from touching or even being near MC for the time being”
“And why is that?” Barbatos questioned with a frown.
“Because MC is probably still on edge after serving alongside you in the past. Let’s just say your methods weren’t exactly…ideal, for a human.” He sighed.
His heart broke upon hearing those words. Barbatos frowned upon learning he was the reason for their rigid behavior and unwillingness to open up to him or Lord Diavolo again.
“I understand,” he sighed.
“If we just talk to MC I’m sure they’ll understand-“ Diavolo started.
“You can, but they haven’t changed their behavior with the brothers so I doubt they change it now. I’ll talk to them when I see them again” Solomon sighed.
Lucifer made a sour expression upon hearing Solomon’s words, mainly because he knew they were true. After all he had spoken to MC countless times yet nothing has changed.
Solomon handed a few papers to Diavolo who read over them in surprise. “Cocytus Hall? That place hasn’t been used in ages, and you wish to move in there?”
“Yes, well Mc and I.” He nodded. “All the paperwork should be there if you’ll allow it”
Lucifer shot the sorcerer a glare and shook his head. “Is that really necessary? That’s quite the opposite of having MC adapt back to the present”
“On the contrary I didn’t suggest this. They did, and if it's what they want I don’t mind indulging my sweet apprentice” He smiled.
The three frowned at Solomon’s words. No matter how annoyed he made them, they all agreed that he was the only one you talked to like normal.
It wasn’t fair that he was the only one that got that attention from you. After a few more minutes of going back and forth Diavolo finally approved the idea, much to Lucifer’s protests.
It was just a thought but Diavolo hoped that if he did this you would eventually come back to them, and not the you that was terrified and uptight, he missed the carefree human who could brighten up the room.
With a sigh the room fell silent as Solomon left, all three demons were running out of ideas and the longer you avoided them the more painful it had become.
How long were they supposed to stay like this? They all wondered with tense sighs.
Summary: Before going to bed, MC is obligated to give each of the demon brothers a goodnight kiss.
Characters/Ship: The demon brothers x MC
Word Count: ~2.9k
Warnings: None, just loads of pure fluff, hehe
“HA! I win again!” Mammon declared triumphantly, laying his cards on the table for everyone to see.
A collective groan resounded in the common room of the House of Lamentation as the Avatar of Greed happily raked in the poker chips stacked in the middle of the table to add to his growing collection.
“There’s no way you can get a good hand that many times in a row,” Satan remarked angrily.
“Yeah, what kind of cheating method did you use this time, Mammon?” Asmodeus inquired.
“I didn’t cheat!” Mammon refuted. “It was just the result of my amazing skills!”
Belphegor buried his chin in the cow print pillow in his arms before pointing out bitterly, “Your ‘amazing skills’ usually include cheating, though, don’t they?”
“Yeah, that’s not fair,” Beelzebub noted. “It takes the fun out of the game.”
“I’m tellin’ ya that I didn’t cheat!” Mammon asserted. “I don’t even have a reason to cheat when we aren’t usin’ actual money! Although, with Lady Luck on my side like this, I sure wish we were. Hey, whaddya say we make some real bets in the next round?”
“When you just confirmed that you would cheat if we do?” Leviathan responded. “No thanks.”
MC glanced among the group before pausing at the eldest brother’s spot. “Hold on,” they said, their voice catching everyone’s attention. “Lucifer, you haven’t shown your cards yet.”
“That’s probably because he doesn’t want to admit that he lost to Mammon again like the rest of us,” Satan assumed. “Did it wound your pride too much, dear brother?”
Lucifer looked between the cards in his hands and the set that Mammon put on the table. “On the contrary--” A smirk played on his lips as he calmly turned his cards to the whole group. “--Lady Luck was on my side this time.”
The room went into an uproar at the unexpected reveal. MC patted Mammon’s back reassuringly as he stared at Lucifer’s cards with his jaw slack. Most of the brothers snickered and teased the speechless second-born while Beelzebub congratulated Lucifer on his victory.
Once things quieted down a bit, MC rose from their seat on the common room sofa and announced, “All right, I’m gonna call it a night, guys.”
“What?!” Mammon complained as he gathered up everyone’s cards to shuffle them into one deck. “Ya can’t be serious! We need to have a rematch! There’s no way I’m endin’ on a loss like that!”
“Oh, hush, Mammon,” Asmodeus ordered his older brother. “You can play without MC. Don’t discourage them from getting their beauty sleep.” He directed his attention to the human with an anticipating grin. “But, of course, you aren’t going to leave us without our goodnight kisses, right?”
MC was aware of this tradition that started some time ago. It was Belphegor’s fault that it even existed, but truthfully, they were also to blame. The youngest brother had jokingly requested one evening in front of everyone else that MC should give him a goodnight kiss before he went off to bed. MC initially planned to brush him off with a laugh, but they thought it might be funnier to see his reaction if they actually complied, so that’s what they did. Well, this set off Mammon and the rest of his younger brothers, causing them to start demanding kisses of their own from the human. MC agreed to it in order to calm the demons, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the next evening, Beelzebub asked MC if they’d give him a goodnight kiss, and the cycle repeated itself. Now the human was obligated to give most of the boys a kiss before being allowed to go to sleep each night.
“They’re never going to forget about this, are they?” MC muttered, a light shade of red dusting their cheeks as they scratched their neck.
“You don’t have to humor them, you know,” Lucifer told the human with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Yeah, but they look so sad when they think they aren’t going to get a kiss,” MC noted.
The eldest brother sighed. “You spoil them far too much.”
“No one is stopping you from getting a goodnight kiss, too, Lucifer,” Asmodeus reminded him with a smile. “Just join in already! You know you want to~!”
“I don’t recall ever expressing interest in the matter,” the Avatar of Pride asserted, his gaze cast to the side.
“Don’t bother with him, Asmo,” Satan said. “He’ll keep denying it until he’s blue in the face, like he always does.”
“Yeah, it’s his loss,” Belphegor agreed, ignoring the glare that Lucifer shot at both him and Satan. “Now come on, MC. I want my goodnight kiss before I doze off.”
“Okay, okay,” MC conceded with a chuckle. “I’ll start with you like usual, Belphie.”
The youngest demon brother waited with feigned innocence as the human approached him. He knew that, as the baby of the family, no one would argue much if he always got his goodnight kiss first--even more so considering that he was the reason this tradition even existed. He just needed to limit his bragging of it, which wasn’t too hard since he tended to fall asleep shortly after receiving his kiss. His eagerness was masked by the way he lazily lifted his head once MC stood before him, and when he felt their lips touch the open space on his forehead just above his eyebrow, the smile he displayed was soft and serene like the Devildom moonlight.
“Goodnight, Belphie,” MC uttered afterwards.
“Mm, goodnight, MC,” he hummed, loosening his grip on his pillow so that it slid down onto his thighs. “Don’t forget to do Beel’s kiss next.”
And with that, the Avatar of Sloth slumped forward onto MC’s torso for a short nap filled with sweet dreams of his favorite human.
MC adjusted their stance in order to keep their balance from the sudden weight on them. “H-Hey! Belphie!” they shouted in a futile effort to wake him. “Not again... He did this yesterday, too.”
Beelzebub, who was right beside the pair, wordlessly removed his twin from MC’s body. He carefully placed Belphegor back against the sofa and allowed his sleeping brother’s head to rest on his bicep.
“Thanks, Beel,” MC sighed in relief. “I owe you one.”
“It’s no problem,” Beelzebub assured them. He then narrowed his gaze, giving what MC just said some serious thought. “But if you’re offering... Since you’re in charge of breakfast tomorrow, could you make me a few extra omelets with everything in them and topped with a bunch of cheese sauce?”
The human had to bite back a giggle from the request that only the Avatar of Gluttony would have. It was difficult to refuse when his twinkling eyes filled with hope stared back at them patiently. “All right,” they agreed, “I think I can manage that.”
Beelzebub was beyond pleased with their answer. His grin widened further--becoming as bright and warm as the summer sun in the human world--once MC lightly grasped his shoulders to place a kiss atop his head.
“Goodnight, Beel,” MC stated.
Beelzebub’s overwhelming happiness reached his voice as he wished in return, “Goodnight, MC. I’ll save you a seat between Belphie and me at the table tomorrow morning.”
MC nodded in appreciation before resuming their task.
Asmodeus’s eyes lit up when the human looked his way, and he practically bounced in his seat when they started walking toward him. It took all of his willpower to calm himself when they stopped in front of him, but his giddiness remained shamelessly evident on his face. For the sake of MC’s comfort, he kept his hands glued to his lap as they leaned down slightly to cup his cheeks in their hands and press a kiss to his forehead.
MC titled their head as their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. They were certain that they made contact with his skin, along with a few stray strands of hair from his bangs.
Asmodeus pointed to his mouth with his index finger. “My lips are down here.”
The human relaxed at his comment. “Just like I tell you every night,” they reminded him, “I only agreed to goodnight kisses on the head.”
“Oh, right! How silly of me to forget again.”
MC was about to pull away when they felt the Avatar of Lust’s arms snake around their back. “...Asmo.”
“Hm~?”
“You’re not allowed to get another kiss either.”
Asmodeus’s endearing expression turned into a childish pout. “Aw, can’t you bend the rules for lil’ ol’ me?” he questioned. He batted his eyelashes in a final attempt to persuade them.
“It wouldn’t be fair to the others,” MC explained simply, imagining the chaos that would ensue if they didn’t stick to their pre-established routine. “Now let go of me, please.”
The demon huffed in defeat and released them from his grip. “Oh, all right. I’ll just have to try harder to convince you tomorrow night.”
“How many times have you said that now?” Satan wondered aloud in amusement. “I’m willing to bet that you’ll grow tired of saying it before MC actually caves--”
The Avatar of Wrath stopped short when he noticed the human walk right past him. “Hey, whoa, hold on,” he demanded. “Where do you think you’re going, MC? It’s my turn, isn’t it?”
MC clasped their hands behind their back as they turned their body toward him. “Well, you see,” they dragged out their words, “I’m thinking that maybe you don’t deserve a goodnight kiss after what you did earlier.”
Satan arched an eyebrow curiously. “What did I--” He paused as the pieces came together in his brain, bringing back his amused features along with them. “Oh, you mean when we kept betting against each other during that one round in poker?”
“You tricked me!” MC declared. “I thought for sure that you were bluffing about having a better hand than I did with the number of chips you put in!”
“It’s not my fault that I have a great poker face. And how could I not mess with you when you had that funny grin on your face whenever you looked at your cards?”
“Okay then, it’s settled: No goodnight kiss for Satan.”
The decision wiped the smug look off Satan’s face entirely. He took their hands in his own and pleaded, “Come on, please don’t be mad at me. I even gave you back some of the chips you lost so that you could keep playing, remember? Doesn’t that count for something?”
At this point, MC couldn’t keep up the act anymore. They gave his hands a reassuring squeeze as their lower eyelids crinkled from their smile. “I’m not actually that upset, Satan. You messed with me, so I messed with you. We’re even now.”
Satan’s eyes widened in shock, completely dumbfounded from how easily MC had deceived him. Fortunately, their kiss to his forehead snapped him back to his senses.
“Goodnight, Satan,” MC told him.
The demon’s shoulders shook from the laugh that rumbled briefly in his throat. “Goodnight, MC. I won’t let you get away with tricking me next time.”
“Ugh, normies...” the Avatar of Envy muttered, having overheard his younger brothers with MC while he was trying to focus on the game on his phone.
“Oh? Are ‘normies’ too gross to give you a goodnight kiss then, Levi?” MC inquired as they sat down next to him.
The aforementioned demon nearly jumped up from the human’s sudden words and proximity to him, almost dropping his D.D.D. in the process. “N-N-No!” he exclaimed, swiftly becoming a flustered mess. “I still want one! I-I mean, only if you’re okay with giving one to a yucky shut-in otaku like me. So, like, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. In fact, I’m sure you don’t--”
“Levi,” MC interjected, not wanting to prolong his self-deprecating rant any further, “of course I’m okay with it. I’ve given you one every night, haven’t I? I care about you just like everyone else here, so I hope you’ll stop doubting that.”
Without leaving any room for argument, MC wrapped their arms around Leviathan’s shoulders to bring him in for a short hug and a kiss to his temple. “Goodnight, Levi.”
Leviathan hid his flushed face behind his hands. Even after experiencing it several times, he still couldn’t get over how much the gesture made his heart race in delight. “Leviachan’s HP has been fully restored...!” he mumbled to himself. He shook head to try to pull himself together. “Sorry, I meant, goodnight, MC!”
With a humored nod, the human then stood up to approach the final demon brother.
Mammon pretended to ignore them when they stopped next to him. He continued shuffling the card deck in silence, his eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.
“What’s wrong, Mammon?” MC asked. They were surprised to see that he wasn’t being his blushing tsundere self like he typically was when it was his turn. “Are you still upset that I’m going to bed instead of playing another round of poker?”
“Sorta,” he admitted, sounding like a grumpy little kid, “but it’s not just that.” He set the cards down on the table. “I don’t get why I always gotta go last for the goodnight kiss. Ain’t I your first?”
“That’s true,” MC answered calmly, “but I’m just going in order from youngest to oldest.”
The Avatar of Greed didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, redirecting his attention to the deck to pick at the edge of the top card.
MC bent down to whisper in his ear, “And...haven’t you heard of saving the best for last?”
Mammon glanced over at them in surprise. He rapidly recovered from his sulking and puffed out his chest in pride, declaring, “Heh, of course I have! I just wanted to hear ya admit it!”
Relieved to see the revival of his boisterous attitude, MC wasted no time in pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. His confident demeanor instantly wavered from the action, and his face was painted a stark red by the time they moved away from him.
“Goodnight, Mammon,” they said.
“Uh, y-yeah, g’night,” Mammon managed to reply. He tried to pick up the deck of cards again to resume shuffling them, but in his current state, he ended up sending a few of the cards flying to the floor. He cursed under his breath as he leaned over to pick them up, taking this opportunity to regain his composure since no one could see his face as well.
With their task completed, MC gave a final wave to the demon brothers before leaving the common room. They strolled down the hall at a leisurely pace, wondering who would win the next round of poker, until they finally made it to their room.
MC had only been there for a few minutes--enough time to change into their pajamas--when they heard a knock at the door followed by Lucifer’s voice calling their name.
“A moment, if you would,” he requested.
The human opened the door and looked upon the demon that loomed in front of them. He had his naturally stoic and intimidating appearance, but upon closer inspection, there was a hint of nervousness in his features.
“Yes? Is something wrong?” MC inquired.
The Avatar of Pride’s lips parted before quickly closing together again. His hands, which he kept at his sides, were unconsciously curling one finger at a time into fists and then straight out again, and he struggled to reciprocate MC’s calm, steady gaze. He knew exactly why he was there, but his sin prevented him from admitting it.
Familiar with this behavior, MC couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re here for your turn, right?” They stretched their arms toward his face without touching him. “Well, come here, then.”
Lucifer leaned closer, giving them permission to cradle his pink-tinted cheeks in their hands and bring him in for a kiss on his forehead. He melted in their touch and allowed his eyes to shut for a short well-needed rest. The gentle fondness that radiated from him would’ve made the average demon think that they were hallucinating, but its authenticity was unmistakable to the human.
“Goodnight, Lucifer,” MC said above a whisper.
Lucifer pulled away to admire them while caressing their rosy cheek with his thumb. “Goodnight, MC,” he murmured. “Rest well.”
Unbeknownst to the pair, the rest of the demon brothers were hiding around the hallway corner to watch their interaction. Beelzebub had to restrain an infuriated and envious Mammon while Leviathan kept a hand clasped over Mammon’s mouth so that he wouldn’t blow their cover.
“Lucifer thinks he’s so slick,” Satan noted with a shake of his head. “I knew he was lying when he suddenly told us that he was going to the kitchen.”
“But I guess you could say he wasn’t lying about ‘getting a snack,’” Asmodeus giggled.
“Honestly... Would it really kill him to get his goodnight kiss at the same time as the rest of us?” Belphegor sighed. “We’re definitely calling him out on it next time.”
Your Past doesn't scare me (Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Brothers)
Summary: The biggest sign for a Demon to trust anyone is to let them hold and even read their grimoire, however since you're human and The brothers are high ranking demons. He scared of you seeing what his past is.
Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan)
Warning: Mention of past Misdeed and Cannibalism(?), Killing, Lesson 16, and Implied Sexual Content.
Satan
Is ironic, knowledge gives strength… But now all that Satan can do is wait and watch the clock in his room tick, as you read through his entire existence.
Never in his life did he fear written words in a book. Sure you stood and refused his request for a pact and he threatened you for it. But this was different, you are going to know every vile and sinister acts he did throughout his time being the avatar of wrath.
Would… Would you see him differently? Would that knowledge make you distrust him? Would you fear him? He dug his nails on the armrest and clenched his jaw just thinking about it. Then he remembers all the times he almost got you hurt or killed… that halloween…
Then the door of his room slowly opened and closed. He was scared if it was you who just walked in. He never took his eyes off the grandfather clock. As the step got louder so as his heart beat. Then he felt a weight on his lap and the foot step walked towards his bed. He glanced down to see his grimoire, and he turned his head where he saw you sitting. You hug your knees to your chest as you look out through his window.
Silence filled the room, none of you spoke which made Satan anxious. Silence is far worse than hearing you scream in fear or anger at him. He took the initiative and got up from his chair, slowly walked over to the bed and sat at the end by the edge.
“Am I… just another test subject? Another strange thing that you want to experiment with?”
Satan physically wince at you quiet words, of course you would think that, after all he did more torture and mad test on humans just to help his connection.
“No… Sure I was about to be used to spite Lucifer back then…” Satan hated himself for tricking and threatening that day. “I know that my past is written in blood… if I’m being honest… most of my proud moments were back then… But now just thinking about all of the things I did makes me sick. Because it benefits me and only me due it was a distraction of my own insecurities but now… I have you and your non-demonic way of coping. And you made me see things in a different light” He turns and looks at you, and you turn your head at him.
“Did… I make such an impact on you, that makes you see things in a different light?”
“Yes…” he moved closer slowly, reaching down to take your hand into his and place it on his chest. “You might tease me… But I know that you never see me as wrath, but as Satan…” He reached up with his free hand and caressed your cheek as he said that. You chuckle and lean in to his touch.
“Of course, you might be wrathful. But you are the cat loving, bookworm, and slightly sadistic Satan I fell in love with.” He can’t believe what he is hearing right now. But this put his anxiety and fear to rest.
He grinned before instantly leaning forward, capturing your lips with his. You return the kiss.
Both of you wrap your arms around each other, and you feel a surge of aura, you pull back to see Satan with a grin on his face, shifted to his demon form. He lays you on your back on the bed hovering over you and whispers into your ears.
“You’re wrong in one thing, my pet…” he pulls back enough for you to see the glow in his eyes. “Slightly doesn’t even describe how Sadistic I can be”
Asmodeus
In any other moment he loves seeing himself in the mirror admiring himself… But now all he can see is a demon who did terrible things to satisfy his sin.
Asmo sat in the middle of his bed, where he changed his room so every wall is covered in mirrors. It is like making himself judge his appearance as he waits for you to finish reading his grimoire.
The last thing he wants is to lose you and your trust because of his actions in the past.
His head hangs low, doesn’t have the courage to look at his reflection. He immediately flinched when the sound of his door opened, and a few moments later he felt another weight add on his bed and felt a presence right behind him. There was a few minutes of silence when Asmo heard you speak.
“Will you discard me as soon as you have your fill?” Asmo quickly took a sharp inhale through his teeth, wincing at your assumption. He can’t blame you, after all you did read through his history. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less or stops the tears falling from his eyes.
He quickly turns around and wraps his arms around your torso and arms then places his forehead on your back in between your shoulder blades.
“I know it seems that way. But NO! I will never be filled at all-” he wraps his fingers on your upper arms. “They see me as Asmodeus! The king of lust and one of Solomon’s demons! But you see me as Asmo! A selfish narcissist who only thinks of himself! And you gave me the chance to show you more of myself that I didn’t realize! Whether you believe me or not. Know That I see you as the one thing I place over myself. Please!! Don’t see me as others do!” He starts to cry, his tears soak your shirt.
Then he choked on his tears as he felt your hands running up and down on his arms soothing him. Which made him hold you tighter. The two of you slowly fall on your sides, Asmo not letting go.
“Now, Now. enough of your ugly crying… Your eyes will get puffy” You heard him chuckle and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.
After what seems like an hour, Asmo finally moves and turns you on your back while he straddles on your hips. You look at him and he smiles at you then reaches down to run his fingers through your hair. You watch as he shifts into his demon, his wings spread wide and his eyes glows pink.
“Now Darling. Don’t think that this night is over, because we’re just getting to the good part.”
Beelzebub
Even all the food he cooked is just sitting there on the giant table he set up in his room that he shares with Belphie is ready to be eaten. Beel is way too nervous to eat. He's waiting for you to come back. This part needs you and him sharing the food he prepares, but that wasn’t the reason he's too nervous about, but rather what you're going to read from his grimoire.
From the first day you two met, you already know that he is not opposed to eating humans. Even threatening to eat you, but after some time to get to know him, Beel can’t bring himself to do that again, he still has fears of accidentally eating while his under his rage filled hunger state. Consciously he never wants to eat humans again, but he can’t be sure about his subconscious self. He is still under the mercy of his sin.
Once Beel hears the door open and footsteps coming in, he takes a deep breath and turns around. You close the door and turn to face him with his grimoire in your arms. He stares at you holding his wrist out of nervousness as you look around the room before landing your sights on him. “Hey…”
“Hey…” He responds as a whisper, then silences the two of you looking at each other. Neither of you talk or say something for a few moments. Then Beel broke the silence. “I… Know I looked and did bad things back then… But know that I… was never proud of them…” he looks away hiding his glossy eyes as tears start to form. “At times I hate when I get like that, a demon who is never full. As much as I love food, not everything I ate was… pleasant or tasty but I had to swallow just to satisfy my endless hunger… I cry…” Beel trails off, he doesn't want you to pity him, but that’s how he felt and thinks at the moment. “Knowing that there is a chance that hunger can make me hurt you by accident… I don’t want that. Please when I get like that, use the pact or cast a spell. Anything to stop me from hurting you!” Beel drop down on his knees and start crying, he grab his face and bents over.
He heard you rushing over to his side, placing the book to the side before wrapping your arms around him. “I know Beel… You came so far from what you were compared to you are now… seeing you change and learning what you were back then, I’m so proud of you… you are not the same demon, and that you grow for the better”
Beel quickly turns to face you and immediately wraps his arm around you and buries his face into your hair. After a moment in each other's embrace, Beel scoops you up and walks towards the table. “Now, time to eat. And I made room for dessert”
Belphegor
It's been an hour since Belphie gave you his grimoire. It was tradition for Demons to let their partners read their grimoire as a sign of trust. Even after an hour has past Belphie can’t get this sinking feeling in his chest off his chest. The Grimoire records every misdeed and acts that a demon makes, and his no exception, especially he did something recently-
“Belphie?” He flinched and turned around towards the door of the attic. There you stand closing the door with his grimoire under your arm. “I skimmed through your Grimoire and… I’m in it” Belphie turns around, and you notice his shoulder trembling. “Belphie…?” He quietly reaches down to grab his pillow and clench it close to his chest.
“I hate this… Back then I didn’t care what I did. But now, everything hits me like a truck! I want us to move on past that. But I know that thing I did to you is unforgivable-”
“Really? Sure, it was fucked up… I can't ever forget it… But I’m willing to forgive as long as you really regret it.”
“I do regret it!” Belphie turns around, eyes are red as tears flow down his cheek. “I was fucking blind by hatred. And needed to blame someone for Lilith’s death! But instead… I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” You can hear the panic in his voice.
You slowly moved towards him, sat on the edge of the bed beside him. Then place his grimoire on his lap. “You're more human than you think Belphie… Other humans wouldn’t act like this right now.” His eyes widen and look into your eyes as you continue “Human would've done worse out of spite and hatred, and won’t regret it. And try to trick themselves that they're in the right to do that and their actions are justified but never think their action affects others” You lean forward, lay your forehead on his, close your eyes. “Feeling regretful is a sign that you’ve grown Belphie… That’s all that matters”
In reality he doesn’t deserve a second chance at all but you, the human he did wronged, give him a chance. And that chance he's not going to lose it. He moved closer for a passionate kiss.
He gently lays you down on the bed, as he shifts to his demon form, he pulls away and slowly caresses your cheek. He moved his tail to tickle your neck, which made you laugh and a chuckle from Belphie.
“There’s still one more thing we have to do… if you're okay going through this courtship thing?” Belphie asks
“Will it hurt?”
“Not in the way that isn’t pleasant” You think for a moment, but ultimately agree, Belphie smile as his eyes glow purple. “Then be prepared, my lamb. But because the night just started.”
Note:
Finally I have the motivation to finish this! After six month XD
Anyway thanks to @juhlydrawsblog for the push I needed to write this.
If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3
