The House is a human house. It was built in the human world to shelter humans. It loves its occupants - those who hide in its nooks and crannies, those who so carefully wash its floorboards, those who dance and cry and sleep inside its walls, trusting the House to keep them safe.
And then something unimaginable happens - a threat comes from inside. The House has strong, sturdy walls. Its doors securely lock and are made of the finest oak. Its windows are fitted sensibly and close tight. The House can keep out any manner of threat, but this time it was not given that chance.
And then it is dragged to hell.
Dismantled brick by brick, stone by stone, reassembled in a place where the sun never shines on its old paint. Has it absorbed anything of human religion while it had them living beneath its roof? Does it think it has done something wrong, to have let a threat inside and failed in its duty as a House?
Demons take up residence and it’s… fine. Satan reads on the same windowsill Theo did centuries before. The scent of roses seep into its walls in Asmo’s room. Other things seep between the kitchen tiles - Beel can be a messy eater, and enjoys his meat much bloodier than the House can recall any previous occupant doing, but little Jeremy used to push whole plates onto the floor.
Changes are made to it. Lucifer strengthens the House’s exterior so it can stand up to the strange, violent weather of the Devildom. The basement is expanded beyond what the House had thought possible and made a tomb. A room is made in an impossible space, hidden from view.
Lucifer completes his paperwork in the same study a dozen other family patriarchs had. Levi takes shelter from the cruelty of the outside world in his room. Mammon runs through his halls with the energy it has witnessed from generations of children.
They are not bad occupants, overall. Damage - and there is often damage - is swiftly repaired. It is kept sensibly clean by a rotating chart of the brothers, one enforced by Lucifer with an iron fist. The brothers live and feed and sleep within the House. But they are not human, and the House misses humans.
Then you come along. The House does not understand days, weeks, months. Only that you have slept in your bed for longer than a usual guest, that your closet is full, that you study and eat and laugh in its walls.
The changes are subtle so as not to be noticed.
Beel complains he keeps stubbing his toes on the main stairs now. Mammon nearly falls more than once. But to you, they are perfect - the most comfortable height for your legs.
There are no corners where shadows collect in your room - no places for nightmares to hide, waiting for you to sleep. There may be no sunlight, but your room is a bright space in the rest of the dreary House.
You never got lost, despite the House being so large and unfamiliar. There is always some shadowed space to avoid Lucifer in. It even opens up the secret room to you and Beel when you have need of it.
When you are killed, the House mourns - when you return, it rejoices. The fires on the stove burn enthusiastically, heating your favourite food (Satan has to take it off quickly, lest it burn). A small collection of library books push themselves out from the shelves, books from the human world you may like. When you shiver in your bed, the House moves warm water through the pipes to better keep you cozy.
Once more, a threat had come from inside the House, but this time it had been given a second chance.
When you leave at the end of the year, the House despairs even more than the brothers. It, after all, has no concept of why. It does not understand exchange programs or calendar years or your life beyond its walls. All it can do is wait, and keep your room neat until you return.
The House is a human house. It was built in the human world to shelter humans. It loves its occupants - those who hide in its nooks and crannies, those who so carefully wash its floorboards, those who dance and cry and sleep inside its walls, trusting the House to keep them safe.
And then something unimaginable happens - a threat comes from inside. The House has strong, sturdy walls. Its doors securely lock and are made of the finest oak. Its windows are fitted sensibly and close tight. The House can keep out any manner of threat, but this time it was not given that chance.
And then it is dragged to hell.
Dismantled brick by brick, stone by stone, reassembled in a place where the sun never shines on its old paint. Has it absorbed anything of human religion while it had them living beneath its roof? Does it think it has done something wrong, to have let a threat inside and failed in its duty as a House?
Demons take up residence and it’s… fine. Satan reads on the same windowsill Theo did centuries before. The scent of roses seep into its walls in Asmo’s room. Other things seep between the kitchen tiles - Beel can be a messy eater, and enjoys his meat much bloodier than the House can recall any previous occupant doing, but little Jeremy used to push whole plates onto the floor.
Changes are made to it. Lucifer strengthens the House’s exterior so it can stand up to the strange, violent weather of the Devildom. The basement is expanded beyond what the House had thought possible and made a tomb. A room is made in an impossible space, hidden from view.
Lucifer completes his paperwork in the same study a dozen other family patriarchs had. Levi takes shelter from the cruelty of the outside world in his room. Mammon runs through his halls with the energy it has witnessed from generations of children.
They are not bad occupants, overall. Damage - and there is often damage - is swiftly repaired. It is kept sensibly clean by a rotating chart of the brothers, one enforced by Lucifer with an iron fist. The brothers live and feed and sleep within the House. But they are not human, and the House misses humans.
Then you come along. The House does not understand days, weeks, months. Only that you have slept in your bed for longer than a usual guest, that your closet is full, that you study and eat and laugh in its walls.
The changes are subtle so as not to be noticed.
Beel complains he keeps stubbing his toes on the main stairs now. Mammon nearly falls more than once. But to you, they are perfect - the most comfortable height for your legs.
There are no corners where shadows collect in your room - no places for nightmares to hide, waiting for you to sleep. There may be no sunlight, but your room is a bright space in the rest of the dreary House.
You never got lost, despite the House being so large and unfamiliar. There is always some shadowed space to avoid Lucifer in. It even opens up the secret room to you and Beel when you have need of it.
When you are killed, the House mourns - when you return, it rejoices. The fires on the stove burn enthusiastically, heating your favourite food (Satan has to take it off quickly, lest it burn). A small collection of library books push themselves out from the shelves, books from the human world you may like. When you shiver in your bed, the House moves warm water through the pipes to better keep you cozy.
Once more, a threat had come from inside the House, but this time it had been given a second chance.
When you leave at the end of the year, the House despairs even more than the brothers. It, after all, has no concept of why. It does not understand exchange programs or calendar years or your life beyond its walls. All it can do is wait, and keep your room neat until you return.
Can I request some sweet and angsty hc for mammon and lucifer as bros🙏
sure thing, I can affectionately put them in the blender for you.
Lucifer used to struggle to get Mammon to bed back in the Celestial Realm. Now Mammon struggles to make sure Lucifer actually goes to bed instead of trying to go several months without sleeping.
Lucifer read all of the Batman comics wanting to understand what Mammon liked about comics and got invested. Jason was his favourite robin because he reminded Lucifer of Mammon. He was not prepared for Death in the family and would not let Mammon out of his sight for a week.
Mammon likes randomly going into Lucifer's office, doing nothing except stand there for ten seconds, and then leaving. It makes Lucifer so stressed because he doesn't know what Mammon's doing.
The HoL caught on fire and when Lucifer was about to run back inside Mammon decked him yelling that it Lucifer did not have to save them all. Asmo was technically believed to be inside but he had jumped out the window very prettily. Lucifer refused to listen when Mammon tried to make him understand that he's a person worth saving too and he didn't want Lucifer going in looking to save someone that wasn't there.
Lucifer doesn't have nightmares only about Lilith dying in his arms, sometimes it's Mammon and he's the one that killed him. Mammon doesn't know this and is very confused when Lucifer suddenly ends lectures short because when he looks at Mammon all he can remember is the bruised face with forgiving eyes he saw in that dream. Mammon always would have forgiven him.
Before Mc, Mammon would bring food to Lucifer's office. Occasionally when Lucifer was particularly pissy, Mammon would throw an apple at his desk or face and run for his life while screaming "EAT".
Mammon likes sitting in Lucifer's office and talking in brainrot. Lucifer only allows this because at least Mammon's bot at the casino and in hopes that if he hears Mammon talk enough, he may become delusional enough to understand what Mammon is saying.
Mammon will challenge Lucifer to a game of checkers and eat Lucifer's pieces when Lucifer isn't looking. He cannot do this with chess since it's easier to see what's missing.
Lucifer got Mammon two gold 50-caliber desert pistoleros for his birthday. Something about a "nicepool"? Lucifer doesn't get it, but Mammon's happy.
Mammon has called Lucifer dad (canon in chats) and it isn't a one off. After the third time, Mammon started thinking about why he is like this before figuring out that Lucifer was parentified, he knew something was wrong he couldn't put it words until he thought hard about it. Mammon didn't know how to fix it so he tried solving the others problems so Lucifer wouldn't have to. It went as well as expected, which wasn't well at all not because Mammon failed, but because the others didn't want Mammon's help.
Lucifer will welcome any of his brothers to his room if they are feeling unwell, Mammon goes in the most often after Mc leaves because of Lesson 16 so he doesn't have to be alone. He always steals something by morning so he can pretend he didn't actually need Lucifer's comfort but Lucifer knows.
[warning: ooc Cerberus, i just wanted to write something cute]
Cerberus has been acting...wrong.
Not sick, exactly. Lucifer can tell the difference. The hellhound guards the mausoleum as diligently as ever and responds to him obediently. But the fire in his eyes is gone.
It's not like Cerberus has stopped loving his master either. He perks up ever so slightly whenever Lucifer visits him, nudging him eagerly for affection. But he seems to deflate the instant Lucifer turns towards the exit. Lucifer never in his life thought that he would hear the fierce guardian of the Devildom whine so pathetically.
Loneliness feels too menial of an emotion for a beast older than nations.
Lucifer brings up Cerberus' strange behaviour one evening while conversing with Diavolo. Diavolo listens with seriousness. After all, he never liked seeing his dear friend so troubled.
Barbatos suggests visiting Cerberus to figure something out. The two, of course, agree.
The next day, they approach the mausoleum expecting the same heavy silence to great them. Except they hear a deep rumbling. An excited, joyous sound that Lucifer has previously heard Cerberus make when he is especially proud to show off his "catch" to him.
And then, their blood runs cold. Because near the entrance lay a school bag, decorated with pins and charms and a very familiar lizard keychain— unmistakably yours.
For one horrible second, Lucifer imagines the worst.
And then he moves faster than Diavolo has ever seen him move.
Why did you have to be so reckless? Why did you always have to constantly go against his warnings? Why can't you just listen for once? Why, why, why—
And then he sees you siting on the floor, absolutely unharmed, looking like the happiest human alive. Three giant, furry heads crowd around you as you bury your hands in the fur, scratching and petting wherever you could reach. One head pressed shameless into your belly, another trying to nudge it away to demand for the same attention. The third sniffs at your face like you're an old friend it missed dearly.
Cerberus has never looked happier.
Diavolo laughs his signature laugh. "Oh, isn't that a wonderful sight?"
"I must agree," Barbatos smiles faintly, "looks like we found a solution to the problem."
You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden booming laugh before guiltily turning around to greet the familiar faces. "Hi."
"MC," Lucifer begins sternly (but neither Diavolo, nor Barbatos miss the tone of relief in his voice) "what are you doing here?"
“I was out foraging for ingredients for sorcery practice,” you say as one head tries to get its snout under your hand for more pets, “and i heard Cerbie whining. So I came in to check." You continue scratching between his ears, earning another happy rumble.
"By the way, did you know he likes butt-scratches?" You add proudly, making Diavolo snort in a very un-future-king manner, earning a slight "ahem" from Barbatos (though his lips also curled up in an amused smile).
So much for a dignified guardian of hell, Lucifer thinks to himself. He was going to have a chat with Cerberus regarding pride later. But for now, he let Cerberus enjoy the attention.
That night, Lucifer makes a decision to visit Cerberus everyday. Loneliness is not an emotion unfamiliar to him, and he was not going to let his (beloved) hell hound suffer through it. And he keeps that promise. Sometimes his visits last only five minutes. Sometimes ten. Sometimes just long enough to place a hand on his warm fur and murmur a few soft words he'll deny ever saying before responsibility drags him away again.
You have your own things to take care of as well— sorcery lessons from Solomon, studying for RAD exams, and keeping up with the ever-chaotic brothers. But you make sure to visit when you can. Diavolo and Lucifer decided that the hell hound didn't seem to pose any threat to you. Rather, he was probably the safest creature you could be with in the Devildom(other than themselves and the other brothers, of course). After all, Cerberus, now nick-named "Cerbie", has grown even more fond of you.
And who were you to deny the Devildom's goodest boy some cuddles?
Finally, Ceberus doesn't look so lonely anymore.
One evening, you approach Lucifer in his study, sheepishly asking for an old shirt of his. When asked why, you simply reply that 'it's for a project' and provide no further explanantion. It was a strange request, but a simple one (and if it makes you happy, then he would give you as many shirts as you wanted). So, he hands you a shirt of his that he ment to discard anyway without prying further.
Lucifer forgets about it. Until a few days later, when he pays his daily visit to Cerberus.
Cerberus is fast asleep, curled up on the mausoleum's floor.
Between his massive paws is a small, crudely made fabric doll— one that resembled Lucifer. Four tiny black wings, black horns that looked more like lumps and a smirk that was probably intended to look "devious". The doll's little coat made of a very familiar piece of fabric— one that still faintly smelt like him.
Lucifer breaks into an uncharacteristically soft smile. At least Cerberus won’t be lonely anymore.
You look down at your tiny paws, horrified.
The bookshelves loom over you menacingly and you remain frozen, with no idea how to get yourself out of this mess. You need to find one of the brothers (preferably Lucifer) to help you out. But how were you going to make them realize it was you? You'll think about that when you find them.
You skitter across the halls of the House of Lamentation, acutely aware of just how many things could kill you now that you were about the size of an orange. Each little noise makes your heart skip and every shadow seems like a threat.
You find one of the brothers in the living room. Unfortunately, it was Asmo.
Amber eyes meet yours and the Avatar of Lust lets out a shriek that belongs in a horror movie.
"Why the hell are you screaming?!" Belphie, who was napping under the coffee table, grumbles in annoyance as he shoves his face into the pillow and pulls the sides up to cover his ears.
Asmo stands up on the couch, screaming like a damsel in distress. "A MOUSE—! WHY IS IT MOVING LIKE THAT—LUCIFER—!!!"
Footsteps thunder down the hall as Beel comes to Asmo's aid.
"Why are you screaming like that?" He looks down at you, and you both have a staring contest for a few seconds. "Oh."
You know that look on Beel all too well. So, you make the wise decision to run before he can turn you into a mouse kebab.
'Nope, not today', you think to yourself as you narrowly escape Beel lunging at you. You zip across the floor, running over a very startled Belphie. You masterfully slip between Satan’s legs (who had just reached the site of chaos). “What is all this noi… what—”
The stair case is so close. If only you could find Lucifer—
You feel yourself bump into something, before being lifted into the air. You come face to face with Mammon. You frantically wave your little paws at him. Maybe he'll understand you. "This is what scared ya?", he says in a bored manner. "I’m tossin’ this thing out—OUCH WHAT THE HELL?!"
Mammon clutches his hand, rubbing the area where you bit him, as you fall out of his grasp and make a mad-dash up the stairs, towards Lucifer's room.
You vault over Levi's feet as he cracks his door open. “Can you all shut up I’m trying to—AHH!!"
And then a thought enters your mind. If none of the brothers, even Mammon, can recognize you, what are the chances that Lucifer will? And if Lucifer caught you, there would be no escape. You pause for a second and change your trajectory, running toward sthe other end of the hall instead. Maybe you should hide out in your room. Try and use your D.D.D to contact Solomon.
Thankfully, you left the door open. You slip into your room and climb up your desk in an attempt to find your D.D.D. And you nearly cry with relief when you do find it lying next to your homework.
You manage to put in your password and unlock it. Now, to open the messaging app—
Mammon bursts in. "Hey, get outta' MC's room!!"
"Wait, it's using their D.D.D??", Levi follows in after.
"Look, it's typing something!!", says Asmo, peeking out from behind Satan.
You have managed to open one of the brother's chat and type out your name. It took quite some effort to reach the keys with your short hands but you finally sit down with relief when you see realization flash in the brothers' eyes.
"Wait...MC??" begins Beel. You squeak at him angrily. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you." He looks like a sad puppy now. Mammon looks equally as guilty. You can't help but forgive them.
"Jump twice if you're MC", says Belphie, now wide awake. You jump in spot twice. "Spin." He says with that shit-eating grin. You spin around, glaring up at him. "Hmm, still not convincing enough. Squeak three times."
"Oi, stop messing with them." Mammon lightly smacks the back of Belphie's head.
"Now that I think about it, they’re kind of cute!", Asmo leans in, eyes sparkling . You glare at him like 'Really, bitch? You were the one screaming your lungs out a few seconds ago.' The fifth-born pays no heed as he scoops you up in his palms, cooing at you. "Ooooh, you'd look so cute with a little bow!"
“Put them down,” Satan said sharply, eyes narrowed. You feel anger radiate off of him. Asmo doesn't take chances.
“Who dared to put a curse on you? I’ll make them—” continues Satan.
You hang your head low in shame.
Satan pauses, his anger dissipating and turning into...amusement? Maybe a bit of disappointment? "You did this to yourself, didn't you?"
You squeak pitifully.
Lucifer enters the room, annoyed beyond measure. “What is the meaning of all this chaos? Why is there a rat on MC's desk?"
He takes a look at the scene. The message written on the D.D.D. The oddly calm mouse on the desk.
He looks at his brothers.
Their faces clearly answer: Yes, Lucifer. It is exactly what you think it is.
You squeak again.
Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose. "...wonderful."
Mammon has never walked so carefully in his life. You are asleep in the front pocket of his jacket, curled up into the softest little ball. Mammon is trying very hard not to jostle you. Asmo peaks into Mammon’s pocket every once in a while to coo at you, only to be swatted away by the second-born. “They’re sleepin’, be quiet!”
The seven reach purgatory hall. Lucifer presses the door bell. You wake up from your slumber and poke your head out of the pocket and are met with the sight of Solomon looking directly at you while Lucifer explains what's going on.
Solomon takes you in his hand as you climb out of Mammon's pocket.
“Oh my, look at you!” Solomon brings you up to his face, eyes lighting up. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to squeal?”
"Please don't", says Belphie.
"Just fix 'em up quickly. No shady business", warns Mammon.
Lucifer looks at you, comfortable in Solomon's palm. "I trust that you will help turn them back without further... complications."
"When have I ever caused any trouble, huh?", Solomon smiles at the group. They give him very unimpressed looks before Solomon pushes them all out of Purgatory Hall, their complaints falling of deaf ears. Mammon lingered the longest, only relenting when you looked up at him reassuringly.
The door shuts. Solomon looks down at you, eyes sparkling with amusement. He slowly lifts his palms up, lifting you up along with them. "Behold my mighty apprentice, feared across realms."
You stare at him.
Oh, you were adorable. Maybe he'll keep you like this for a short while, just to have fun.
You accept your fate.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
You have escaped Solomon's study, like a professional mouse, because you have ✨priorities✨. You were definitely not going to lose this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
You navigate around Purgatory hall with your tiny little feet skittering on the ground till you find what you were looking for. Or rather, who you were looking for.
Simeon feels something soft bump into his leg. He looks down and sees a little mouse looking up at him with...familiarity?
"Oh. Hello there, little one."
You squeal internally.
You climb onto the couch and press your head against his arm.
Simeon laughs quietly, putting down his book. “Well, aren’t you affectionate?"
Simeon gently rubs your head with a finger. You stand up on two legs and place your paws on his hand. "You must like attention." He gently scoops you up and strokes your fur. You immediately melt into his palm. Oh. Yes. This was the good stuff.
And that's how Solomon finds you fifteen minutes later. Absolutely basking in the angel's affections.
"Oh, I see. So this is what betrayal feels like."
You jump up at Solomon's voice, making Simeon gently pat you in an attempt to calm you down.
"Hello, Solomon. I found this little mouse wandering around. They’re very polite. A little angel, really."
"Is that so?", replies Solomon as he pries you away from Simeon. You try to wriggle out of his hands and back to Simeon's, but to no avail.
"Does it happen to be yours?", asks Simeon.
"Well, it does happen to be my apprentice."
"Apprentice...?"
Simeon takes a closer look at you. You try to hide your face.
"MC?"
Simeon blinks once; then laughs, warm and surprised. “Oh my. That explains the affectionate behaviour."
"Imagine my heartbreak. One moment they’re safely with me, and the next I discover they’ve abandoned their dear teacher to go snuggle with an angel. Do humans not suit you anymore, my dear apprentice?"
As much as you love and appreciated Solomon, you do feel like punching him right now. But you can't really do that in this form, can you? So, you resort to glaring instead.
"How did this happen? Them turning into a mouse, I mean.” asks Simeon.
"Hmm, that's what I'd love to know too." Solomon looks down at your angry little face as he says that. "Hey, stop looking at me like that. Not my fault you got caught being a simp."
"What does that mean? 'Simp'?"
You glare harder, daring Solomon to say anything else embarrassing.
"Someone who is very...affectionate, let's say." Solomon replies.
"Ah, I see. MC does, indeed, appear to be a 'simp', then."
Solomon does a very good job holding back his laugh as you let out a mortified sound.
"Anyways, we will take our leave. I still need to find a cure to this." He says finally.
"Yes, that's important. Take care, both of you." Simeon resumes to reading his book as Solomon carries you out of Purgatory Hall and into the Devildom street.
You squeak at Solomon with confusion. What is he up to now?
"You know, I'm kind of hurt", says Solomon, with exaggerated dramatics. "Leaving me all alone to go snuggle up to Simeon. Especially after I spend hours working hard and trying to find a cure for you. Truly heartless."
You give him your best puppy—er—mouse eyes (?).
"Ah, how can I stay mad at that face? But, I can't really let go of what happened. You still need to make it up to me, you know?"
Solomon puts you on his shoulder, earning a few curious looks from demons going about their day.
"Oh, don't worry, my dearest apprentice. I'll only have a bit of harmless fun."
Barbatos' eye twitches as he looks at Solomon, and you, comfortably perched on his shoulder. "Why", he begins, voice laced with absolute disgust, "have you brought that thing here?"
If looks could kill, you'd be a dead mouse by now.
"Please remove it immediately."
“Oh, come now. They’re harmless. Would you like to hold them?” Says Solomons, as be brings you closer to the butler.
You feel the urge to hide in Solomon's sleeves.
Barbatos goes rigid. “I despise r— 'you-know-what's,” he says evenly.
"Now, now, that is no way to talk about my dear apprentice. Also, they’re a mouse, not a rat."
"...Apprentice?" Barbatos finally takes a closer look at you. "I see."
He takes a step back, eyes glowing with ancient power. “Then there is no need for this nonsense.”
Time seems to warp around you, and a second later, you find yourself sitting on the floor back in your human form. You were unharmed, albeit a bit dizzy. Barbatos helps you up.
"I was having so much fun. And you just had to go and do that..." Solomon says in a disappointed manner. "Still, I guess it is quite a rare opportunity to see the Barbatos perform his time magic."
Barbatos chooses to ignore Solomon, instead checking on you to ensure you were feeling alright.
As fun as it was seeing the rather stoic butler try so hard to maintain his composure, you do feel kind of guilty. “Barbatos, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” you say sheepishly.
“It is forgiven,” he says immediately. "I was just preparing tea for the Young Master. Would you like to join him? I'm sure he would be delighted"
"How come I never get invi—" begins Solomon.
“Solomon, you may take your leave now.”
Solomon sighs dramatically. “You ruin all my fun.”
A/N: Locked in so hard that I didn't even realize how long this became. Just sat here for three hours straight. This might be the most random fic I've written yet. But hey, I thinks it's pretty cute and i got to write all my favourite characters in one fic so yay.
[As per the results of the poll, i decided to keep this as one single post]
Solomon watching Barbietoes and Mouse!MC interact be like:
The brothers experience fear of missing out for the first time
Masterlist
Every time you have to spend time in the human world, the demon brothers suffer. Not only do they have a very limited amount of time to talk to you through the day, but they have to come to terms with the fact that they won't know everything that happens in your life.
And Solomon loves to take advantage of that. He doesn't get to spend much time with you when you're in the devildom, after all!
So, when you return back to Hell, he rubs it in their face.
One instance, for example, was when you were telling Asmo and Mammon about a concert you went to.
"Oh! I saw your Instagram post about that!" He would say, knowing that would make them jealous. Why does he get to see your posts but they don't? It's unfair!
Or that other time when you were telling Satan about a trend going around the human world regarding cats.
"You sent me plenty of those Tiktoks! I must say, they were so cute!" And you could feel Satan's glare, even if it wasn't directed at you.
He even managed to piss off Beel, mentioning new restaurants you guys went to together!
But the most surprising of all, was Lucifer. He was the turning point.
How dare you not tell Lucifer that the Orchestra he loves went to your country? How dare you not send him a video? How dare you invite that shady sorcerer along and not Lucifer?
It wasn't your fault technically, Solomon had bought the tickets!
And so, they all joined forces to make a formal request to Diavolo. They wanted access to human world apps through the D.D.D.
And surely enough, a few weeks later, all of them began following your social media.
A/n: headers credit to @uzmacchiato.
Yet another post about Solomon pissing the brothers off, I hope you guys like it!
Absolutely love the idea of Lucifer being extremely prideful and that extends to Mammon, like he loves showing off Mammon whos a model and (when he wants to be) pretty smart. So Luci buys him things that look good to show off Mammon during important events. And mammon being greedy likes to hog up Lucifer's attention and money so he goes along with it and just gets extra clingy.
Love the idea of Lucifer showering Mammon with accessories and clothes but its entirely based on Lucifer's taste. Mammon going along with it bc expensive stuff he can sell on the side so he milks it for all its worth.
But its better when its ramped up to 11. Absolutely feral animalistic tendency and unhealthy codepency.
Love demons being demons and even better if they know how to control themselves and snap at a moments notice. And look good doing it.
"Lucifer dotes on you so much," Diavolo noted with a laugh. "It's actually making me a little jealous!"
"I do not," Lucifer rebutted. He sliced into a tender cut of steak with slightly more force than he had previously, just to drive home his point. The meat was overflowing with juices and the scent of herbs. It looked so soft, a knife wasn't even necessary. The thought of a single bite melting on your tongue made your mouth water.
"Lucifer, perhaps I could be of assistance? You should taste your meal before it gets cold," Barbatos offered. He had just replenished the wine in Diavolo's glass and ensured your cup was similarly topped up. Everything for dinner had been served. The butler was left with nothing to do.
"That won't be necessary. Here, I'm finished. You can enjoy now."
Lucifer turned the plate and passed it over to you. The fine porcelain made a soft thud as it landed on the tablecloth. Your whole steak was cut into perfect little bite-sized pieces.
Diavolo watched with amusement as Lucifer began cutting up his own steak into much larger bites. The corners of his lips were turned up as he chewed.
"Yeah, this doesn't count as doting at all," you commented. It got a chuckle from the palace duo.
Lucifer shot you a glare, warning you to stay quiet, that was in odd contrast to his actions. He had pulled your chair out before you sat down, and pushed you in after you took a seat. Short of actually feeding you himself, Lucifer was most definitely doting on you.
pairing: morinozuka takashi x shrine maiden reader
summary: when the ouran host club is invited to a summer festival at (names) ancestral shrine, they expected lanterns and food stalls, not sacred dances, centuries-old traditions, and a glimpse into a side of her they've never seen before.
as the night unfolds under the glow of paper lights, mori finds himself drawn deeper into the quiet world she carries and begins to realize that their engagement, once only duty, might be something far more personal.
stillness becomes understanding. and between one shared glance and a gifted charm, something soft and real begins to bloom.
note: guys... I MISS OHSHC SO MUCH IM GONNA BUY ALL THE MANGA SOON 😭💔
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the air smelled like cedar and sweet smoke.
as the black cars pulled up to the base of the ancient shrine path, the host club members spilled out in a mix of silk, chatter, and dramatic flailing.
"I feel like I've stepped into a ghibli film," tamaki declared, holding the edges of his indigo yukata like it was a royal robe. "do you hear those cicadas? it's like they're whispering secrets."
"you're just hearing your own voice echoing back at you," kyoya murmured, adjusting his glasses as he stepped carefully onto the mossy stones of the path.
the forest stretched tall and quiet around them. pine needles, soft wind, and lanterns already beginning to flicker to life along the trail that lead up the steps.
they looked up.
the shrine sat above them like something pulled from a memory, ancient, red-lacquered beams beneath a canopy of green, the air thick with incense and reverence.
and standing just at the top of the stairs, dressed in the deep vermillion of a ceremonial hakama, was (name).
still. poised.
like a painted scroll come to life.
she smiled gently and offered a bow. "welcome to kogane shrine. I'm honored to have you all here."
tamaki lit up like a sunrise. "(name)-senpai! you look so.... so ethereal! how lucky we are to be welcomed by such beauty!"
haruhi gave a polite wave. "thanks for inviting us. it's... way more traditional than I expected."
"I think I read about this place in a cultural heritage registry," kyoya added, already scribbling in a sleek notebook. "your family maintains the grounds personally?"
she nodded. "we have for generations. my grandmother still oversees the sacred ceremonies. she's looking forward to meeting all of you."
a rustle of footsteps behind her made her turn. mori and honey had just arrived at the top of the stairs, honey waving enthusiastically, a cotton candy already in hand from some vendor they passed on the way up.
"hi, (name)-Chan! this place is sooo cool!" honey beamed. "did you grow up here?"
"most summers," (name) said, smiling more softly now.
mori didn't say anything, but when his eyes met hers, he gave the faintest nod. not quite a greeting. more like a memory.
something passed between them, quiet and unnoticed by the others.
she turned back to the group. "the festival will begin soon. if you'd like, I can show you the grounds before the guests arrive."
"lead the way, lady shrine maiden~!" tamaki said, dramatically throwing out an arm.
she gave a short laugh and started walking. her steps were light but measured, used to these stone paths, the ancient forest pressing in on both sides. the host club followed, their bright chatter bouncing against centuries-old wood and quiet statues of foxes and lions.
and just behind her, a full step closer than before, walked Takashi morinozuka.
her voice echoed gently across the mossy path, clear and calm as a temple bell.
"this gate," (name) explained, hand hovering gracefully near the weathered red arch, "marks the threshold between the phsyical world and the spiritual one. we pass through it in silence."
the host club followed behind her, mostly in silence, though it was the kind born more of awe than obedience.
tamaki, starry-eyed, whispered to himself, "how poetic... her voice carries the weight of a thousand generations..."
kyoya was taking notes.
haruhi walked quietly near the back of the group, her gaze drifting forward to mori, who stood unusually close to (name), matching her pace without even trying, his expression unreadable but... softer than usual.
she leaned slightly towards kyoya and mumbled, "huh... mori-senpai and (name)-senpai seem close... I've never seen him like that with anyone but honey-senpai."
kyoya didn't even look up from his notebook. "they're engaged."
haruhi blinked. "wait, what?"
"engaged," he repeated evenly, flipping a page. "their families arranged it years ago."
before haruhi could fully process that, the twins, walking just ahead of her, whipped around in perfect unison.
"oho? did someone say arranged marriage?" Hikaru smirked.
"oh, haruhi, you didn't know?" kaoru added, leaning in. "the morinozuka family and (last name) family have ties that go way back. like... samurai and shrine maiden era back."
"they say the morinozuka clan once protected (name)-senpai's family shrine as warriors."
"bodyguards. swordsmasters. silent shadows in the trees," Hikaru grinned.
kaoru nodded solemnly. "there's even a legend that a morinozuka ancestor once took a vow of silence after falling in love with the shrine's priestess."
"she died young, though," Hikaru said, mock-dramatically. "very tragic. very fated."
"that vow became tradition. a family of protectors who only speak when necessary."
kyoya cut in with a sigh. "let's not fictionalize too much. the betrothal is tradition, yes, but it's a mutual agreement, not a fairy tale."
"but it is kind of romantic, don't you think?" kaoru said with a sly smile, glancing toward mori, who now stood beside (name) beneath the shade of a sacred cedar, quietly watching as she lit incense for the offering alter.
he held out a matchbox before she could even reach for it.
she didn't speak.
neither did he.
but their fingers brushed as she accepted it, and something invisible passed between them.
the twins turned back around, grinning.
haruhi stared. "... so they're really getting married someday?"
kyoya glanced at her again. "unless either family withdrawals, yes. though I doubt they will."
"why?"
this time, kyoya smirked faintly. "because, haruhi... have you seen the way he looks at her?"
the soft murmur of voices faded behind her as she and mori slipped down a side path, away from the main shrine courtyard.
the cicadas were louder here. the wind quieter.
no one followed.
(name) led him past a roped-off archway most of the host club hadn't noticed, its wooden beams older than the rest, carved with worn glyphs and smoothed by time. a small talisman swayed gently from its centre.
mori didn't ask where she was going.
he simply followed.
she walked in silence, her footsteps almost soundless on the stone. finally, she stopped before a small wooden structure nestled between two ancient trees, its walls aged silver with time, its thatched roof bowed slightly under the weight of years.
"this is the naishinden," (name) said quietly, folding your hands in front of her. "the inner hall. only the head priestess and her direct bloodline are allowed inside."
mori's expression didn't shift, but he looked at her fully now, not just watching, but waiting.
"I've never shown anyone this," she added, a little breathless, as she reached for the rusted bronze handle. "not even other family members. but... I want you to see it."
she slid the door open.
the interior was dim and cool. tatami mats stretched beneath your feet, and the smell of cedar and time hung in the air. a simple alter sat at the far end, flanked by tall white paper streamers and two faded fox statues, their features smoothed by centuries.
everything was still.
the space felt like a memory they had walked into.
she stepped aside to let him in.
mori entered without hesitation. he didn't speak. he didn't need to. his eyes scanned the room slowly, not with the awe of someone seeing something rare, but with the reverence of someone recognizing it.
(name) walked to the alter and knelt, motioning for him to join her. when he did, her shoulders relaxed.
"sometimes," she whispered. "I come here when it's too much. the expectations. the silence. the weight of being me."
his gaze stayed on her.
she looked at her hands, resting in her lap.
"they always say I'm poised. polite. perfect," she laughed softly. "but here, I don't have to be anything."
a pause.
then, she felt it. the brush if his pinky against hers, resting lightly between the spaces of silence.
"I don't think you're perfect," mori said softly.
she blinked, startled. he rarely spoke first.
she turned to look at him.
"I think you're real," he added, eyes steady. "you're yourself. that's better than perfect."
(names) heart thudded quietly in her chest.
the wind outside rustled the trees.
inside, everything stayed still.
she smiled. not for anyone watching. just for him.
"I'm glad it's you."
he didn't ask what she meant.
he didn't need to.
by the time (name) and mori made their way back down the winding path, the sun had dipped lower behind the trees, casting long golden shadows across the shrine grounds. the forest seemed to hum with life. cicadas in chorus, lanterns flickering to life one by one, and the low, distant toll of a ceremonial bell.
the host club was gathered again in the central courtyard, caught in their usual choas.
"tamaki-senpai," haruhi sighed, gently tugging a yakitori skewer from his hand, "you just ate mochi."
"I'm carbo-loading for the dance, haruhi!" tamaki declared, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. "one must keep up their strength to twirl royalty!"
kyoya was efficiently organizing everyone's places with a fan with one band and a clipboard in the other. honey was bouncing with excitement, cotton candy now replaced by grilled corn.
the moment (name) and mori stepped back into view, heads turned.
Hikaru nudged kaoru.
"hmmm," kaoru hummed, tilting his head. "was it just me, or did they disappear for a while?"
haruhi blinked. "they did. where'd you two go?"
(name) opened her mouth, than hesitated.
mori simply adjusted the fold of his sleeve.
she gave a soft smile. "just... somewhere quiet."
kyoya's gaze flicked between the two of them, taking in the slight change in posture, the shift in space, how mori now stood closer than before, how her expression seemed a shade more open.
he smirked subtly. "I see."
"oooh?" tamaki blinked, oblivious. "what do you see? is there something we're missing? I don't want to miss any emotionally significant development-"
the sharp crack of a taiko drum echoed through the courtyard, signaling the start of the obon festival.
from the shrine steps, (names) grandmother appeared in full ceremonial robes, her presence commanding but serene.
"the sacred dances will begin shortly," (name) said, regaining her composure. "we should take our places."
colour bloomed across the grounds as more guests arrived. nobles, shrine attendants, performers. lanterns swayed gently overhead like floating fireflies. music swelled in the distance, strings and drums woven together in an old rhythm.
as the host club was ushered to the best viewing spot (courtesy of kyoya's influence, no doubt), she turned to mori beside her.
(name) tilted her head, her voice just barely above the sound of drums.
"will you stay close during the dance?"
he didn't speak. he just nodded once.
and as she moved to take her place on the main platform, the centre of it all, she felt his presence behind her like steady wind.
not loud.
not boastful.
but certain.
unshakable.
hers.
the moment the flute began, the world seemed to still.
even the cicadas fell silent.
mori stood at the edge of the crowd beside the host club, arms folded loosely in his sleeves, face unreadable as always. guests murmured in awe as (name) stepped onto the sacred platform, a raised wooden stage surrounded by tall lanterns and drifting incense smoke.
the night air turned to gold.
she wore layered robes now, flowing silk in shades of white and red, bound with a golden sash and embroidered with sacred motifs: foxes, Sakura petals, cranes in flight. a crown of white blossoms circled her head, delicate bells woven through her hair that chimed gently with every movement.
and then she moved.
not quickly. not showy.
but with purpose.
each step, each tilt of her wrist, each turn of her gaze was deliberate like drawing prayers into the air with her body.
mori didn't move.
didn't blink.
didn't breathe.
he had seen (name) dance before. as children. as students. in passing.
but never like this.
never with the weight of centuries in her fingertips.
never with the moonlight in her eyes.
he watched the soft sweep of her sleeves, the way her feet barely kissed the ground, the stillness between her movements that said more than motion ever could.
something stirred in his chest.
not fast. not loud.
but deep.
like the groan of earth beneath old roots.
he remembered the shrine's inner hall, the way she opened it for him, like it wad the easiest thing in the world, when it was anything but. the way her voice cracked when (name) said she felt free only there. the way she smiled when she looked at him.
and now... he saw it reflected in her dance.
she wasn't just performing.
she was sharing something.
she was opening yourself again, this time not just with him, but to her ancestors, to the gods, to the silence between stars.
and he was the only one in the crowd who truly understood what she was saying without words.
from beside him, he vaguely registered honey whispering, "she's really amazing, huh?"
mori didn't answer.
his eyes didn't leave her.
but his fingers curled slightly around his sleeve.
not in tension.
in realization.
this is the person I'll spend my life with.
and for the first time, that thought didn't feel like an obligation handed down by family tradition.
it felt like the truth.
the music began to slow. (name) turned towards the alter, placing her final offering, a folded fan, the symbol of breath and life, on its surface.
the bells in her crown chimed once more.
and then the dance ended.
applause rose around him.
mori didn't clap.
he only lowered his gaze, breathing out softly through his nose.
like a vow being sealed.
the clapping had faded.
the music, the ceremony, the lights, all of it continued behind (name) in a distant glow as she stepped quietly behind the shrine's main hall. the air was cooler here, the night sky stretching wide and quiet overhead, dotted with stars.
she exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the performance still lingering in her limbs. not exhaustion, but something close. like part of her had been offered up in the dance and only now returning to her body.
"(name)-chan!!"
she turned just in time to see a blur of pink and gold fly into her arms.
honey giggled, hugging her tight. "you looked so pretty up there! like a celestial maiden!"
(name) laughed softly and hugged him back, warmth flooding into her chest. "thank you, mitsukuni."
he pulled back, eyes bright. "you made everyone in the crowd quiet! even tamaki!"
"miracle of the year," she teased, glancing past him.
mori stood just behind.
silent.
watching.
but something in his expression had changed.
he stepped forward slowly, and honey slipped off toward the food stalls again, humming something off-key about "festival dango."
(name) and mori were alone again.
she tilted her head slightly. "you didn't say anything when it ended."
"I didn't need to."
she smiled faintly. "was it alright?"
he looked at her, really looked, and his voice was quiet, but steady.
"you looked like you belonged to the stars."
her breath caught.
the cicadas, the drums, the crackled of oil lanterns all fell away for a moment.
she looked down, cheeks warm, hands folding slightly in front of her. "you always know exactly what to say... when it counts."
he took a step closer.
his fingers brushed against hers, just like they had in the inner hall. except this time, they lingered.
"you always know exactly how to be seen," he said. "even when you think you're not."
and for a moment longer, fingers touching, nothing else needed between them.
and though neither of them said it, not yet, they both knew:
this wasn't just a duty.
this wasn't just history.
this was becoming something real.
the sound of the festival carried softly in the distance. laughter, music, the faint pop of fireworks being tested. but here, beneath the lantern light filtering through shrine eaves, everything felt still again.
mori's fingers remained gently linked with (names).
she has grown used to silence with him, not because there was nothing to say, but because nothing needed to be said.
until now.
he reached into the inner fold of his yukata, drawing out a small object wrapped in a square of deep blue cloth. it fit neatly in his palm, nothing grand or glittering, just something simple, lovingly preserved.
he held it out to her without a word.
(name) hesitated before unfolding the cloth.
inside was a small wooden omamori charm, a protective talisman, weathered slightly at the edges but still carefully tied with white thread. the writing on it was old. faded from time.
"...this is a morinozuka family charm," she murmured, fingertips brushing the wood. "it's handmade."
he nodded once.
"my grandfather gave it to me," he said quietly. "when I turned ten. said it was for... what I was suppose to protect."
(name) looked up at him, lips parted, the weight of what he was saying slowly sinking in.
"he told me," mori continued, voice low, "to give it away only once. when I knew."
she swallowed hard.
"knew what?"
he met her eyes.
"that it wasn't duty anymore."
something tugged in her chest, a tightness, warm and acting all at once.
he placed the charm gently in her hands hand curled her fingers around it.
"now," he said, almost a whisper, "it's yours."
(name) stared at her closed hands, then back at him.
"...Takashi," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "are you sure?"
he nodded.
"I've always been sure."
and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out. not to kiss her, not to take anything, but just to brush her hair back, tucking a blossom from her crown behind her ear with the kind of care that didn't need ceremony.
just truth.
she didn't need to say thank you.
he didn't need to hear it.
the charm in her hand said everything.
the omamori charm felt warm in her palm, even tucked safely back into its cloth. (name) hadn't let go of it once.
beside her, mori walked quietly, his stride matched with hers. their fingers brushed again, and this time, she didn't pull away. instead, she laced her hand with his.
it was natural.
no fanfare.
no tension.
just stillness, a kind of peace that hummed between the two of them like the lanterns swaying above.
the path opened again into the heart of the festival. lights glittered across the courtyard. drums pulsed in time with dancing feet. the smells of sweet dango, grilled squid, and fresh mochi filled the air.
"there you are!!" honey's voice practically launched itself through the crowd.
(name) barely had time to react before he zipped in and clung to her other side. "you missed the watermelon smashing game! tama-chan got dizzy and fell in the koi pond."
"I was pushed!" tamaki wailed from behind a tree, clothes half-soaked and hair frizzing in all directions.
"self-inflicted," kyoya said, sipping from a porcelain tea cup like this was completely normal.
the twins appeared next, flanking (name) and mori like foxes sensing drama.
"ohoho~" Hikaru smirked. "what's this? a mysterious return... hand in hand?"
"and what's this?" kaoru added, spotting the cloth-wrapped charm she'd tucked carefully into her sash. "is that a morinozuka heirloom?"
she froze for half a second, but mori didn't.
he squeezed her hand gently. just once.
the twins shrieked.
"mori-senpai GAVE IT TO YOU?"
haruhi tilted her head. "is that a big deal?"
"YES," half the club shouted in unison.
"HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE PROPOSED."
tamaki collapsed into a bush. "our baby is GROWING UP-"
"technically, she's betrothed," kyoya muttered, now scribbling something into what looked suspiciously like a host club marriage registry.
(name) covered her face with her sleeve, half-laughing, half-hiding. mori didn't react, just stood beside her like an immovable wall of calm. but there was a small lift at the corner of his mouth that hadn't been there earlier.
it made her heart stutter.
honey tugged her forward. "let's play the ring toss game together next! taka-chan never misses!"
"you'll win every prize," (name) said, smiling.
"we'll share them!" honey chirped, and she laughed.
as the group walked together into the noise and light, she stayed by mori's side, hand intertwined in his.
the festival pulsed around her. warm, full, alive.
laughter echoed between the lanterns.
and even though their families planned this future long ago, she finally understood:
this wasn't something decided for her.
this was something she was choosing. step by step, word by word, hand in hand.
and under the starlight, between one moment and the next she knew:
Barbatos couldn't help but smile when you pulled him by the arm. He diligently followed as you led him through the halls.
He didn't expect you to suddenly halt outside of the dining room. He became still before his body crashed into you.
"Wait! Before we go any further, close your eyes," you requested. He did so. You dragged him into the spacious room, empty of all other presence. The butler had little problem finding his seat thanks to your kind hands-on guidance.
Barbatos almost regretted allowing your touch to leave his shoulders. It was rare the two of you spent much time alone together, but you released the man once he was fully seated and said, "Okay! Now you can open your eyes."
He had smelled the light fragrance long before you fetched him. The tea you picked out was one he always recommended for its decadent flavor, and it was even in one of the cups he favored. Simple, yet refined.
"For me? What could be the occasion?" he asked, studying the placement in front of him. Steam rose in swirling clouds from the fresh brew.
You nodded with pride, explaining, "I just wanted to thank you for everything you always do. I appreciate it."
Barbatos felt a tug in his chest. You made it hard to stay perfectly composed sometimes. "Then I will gratefully accept."
He reached for his drink. Your eyes were wide, full of anticipation. "This was my first time brewing tea, so tell me how it tastes. Okay?"
"I'm sure it will be delightful."
Barbatos brought the tea to his lips. The first thing he noticed was that it was darker than normal. The second thing he noticed was its bitter taste.
You brewed it for roughly 8 seconds too long. The water used was perhaps 5 degrees too hot. You used a pinch too many leaves and thus crowded the steeper.
"It's delicious," he said, unable to admit his true thoughts.
"Really? You're not just saying that?" You sat down in the next chair over and placed your hands on the table to get face to face with Barbatos. His pleasant smile created small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He was as inscrutable as ever.
"It's wonderfully delightful," he said, taking a second sip.
Excess tannins threw off the flavor. There was even half of a stray leaf in the very bottom. Rookie mistakes. This naivety, steeped in your appreciation of his work, was his alone to savor. Even though this was a fine gift and not a drop of it went to waste, it would be inexcusable to think of serving it to anybody else.
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