@sirpreciousfans - Tumblr Blog

Aug 14

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Warnings ⚠️: it's hell ? ... Canon typical violence, some canon typical religious overtones, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, Egg shaped fluff, feelings of dread, Sir Pentious is a adorably awkward person, x reader.

Part 4 | Part 6 - Coming Soon

Eggs & Other Disasters 🐍 P.5

The workshop was quiet except for the soft ticking of various mechanisms and the occasional clink of metal against metal. Sir Pentious was hunched over his workbench, his entire focus narrowed to the tiny device in front of him. It was nearly complete—just a few more adjustments, some fine-tuning of the weight distribution.

His tongue flicked out unconsciously, tasting the air as he worked. It was a habit he'd developed since manifesting in Hell—the forked tongue providing chemical information about his environment even when he wasn't actively thinking about it. Right now, it was telling him the solder was at the right temperature, that the oil he'd used on the gears was fresh, that everything was as it should be.

He made a minute adjustment to one of the legs—there were eight of them, each articulated with multiple joints—and tested the movement. Smooth. Perfect. The motors ticked quietly as the legs moved in coordinated rhythm.

"Excellent," he hissed softly to himself, his tongue flicking out again as he examined his work. "Sshe'll love this. Sssurely."

The device was elegant in its simplicity—a tea coaster with legs, able to transport a cup from point A to point B without spilling a drop. He'd spent hours on the decorative elements alone, engraving delicate filigree patterns into the metal surface, creating something that was both functional and beautiful.

Just like the teapot. Something to show her he could make things that weren't weapons, that his genius could be turned toward convenience and beauty rather than destruction.

He'd watched her last night in the kitchen, the way her face had lit up when talking about the teapot's mechanism, and he'd known—he had to make her something else. Something personal. Something that showed he'd been paying attention to what she liked.

Tea. She liked tea.

His tongue flicked out once more as he attached the final piece—a small remote control, cunningly disguised to look like a decorative pocket watch. He tested it, watching with satisfaction as the coaster skittered across his workbench with surprising speed and agility.

Now he just had to find the perfect moment to give it to her.

Or rather... demonstrate it.

The library was peaceful, as always. You'd curled up in your favorite chair with a book—a murder mystery this time, blessedly free of romance novel covers—and a fresh cup of tea on the small table beside you. The red afternoon light, such as it was in Hell filtered through the curtains in shades of deep red and amber.

You were three chapters in, completely absorbed in the detective's investigation, when something moved in your peripheral vision.

Something large.

Something with too many legs.

Your brain registered "SPIDER" half a second before rational thought could catch up, and you did what any reasonable person would do when confronted with a giant spider scuttling across the library floor.

You shrieked.

Your feet came up off the floor so fast you nearly kicked your tea table over, your book flying from your hands as you pressed yourself back into the chair. The thing was moving fast, its legs making soft clicking sounds against the hardwood, heading directly toward you with what seemed like terrible purpose.

"No, no, no, no—" you gasped, your heart hammering, watching the spider-thing advance.

The library door burst open with a crash.

Sir Pentious practically flew into the room, his tail propelling him forward at alarming speed, something clutched in his claws. His eyes were wide, his hood partially flared, looking around for the source of danger.

"What'sss wrong?! Are you hurt?! What—" His eyes landed on the spider-thing, which had stopped moving and was now sitting innocently in the middle of the floor. "Oh. Oh no."

"Spider!" you managed, pointing at it with a shaking hand. "There's a—it's a—"

"It'sss not a ssspider!" Sir Pentious said quickly, slithering forward and scooping up the device. "It'sss—I can explain—it'sss one of my inventionsss!"

You stared at him, then at the thing in his hands, your heart still racing. "What?"

Sir Pentious looked mortified, his face flushing pink as he held up what you could now see was definitely mechanical, not biological. "It'sss a coassster. With legsss. For transssporting tea. I was... I wasss going to... it wasss meant to be a ssurprissse."

Your breathing was starting to slow, the initial panic fading as you processed his words. "A... coaster?"

"Yesss!" He moved closer, and you could see he was holding a small pocket watch-like device in his other hand. "It'sss remote controlled. You can sssend it to fetch your tea cup, or have it follow you around sso you never have to carry your drink. I thought—ssince you like tea sso much—it might be... usseful?"

He was looking at you with such hopeful anxiety, his tongue flicking out nervously, that your fear started to give way to something else.

"It's... it moves very fast," you said weakly, your hands still gripping the arms of your chair.

"Too fast! Yesss, I sssee that now. I'll adjussst the ssspeed settings. Make it lessss... ssstartling." He was already examining the device, his claws making minute adjustments to something on its underside. "I'm sssorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I wasss trying to... the opposite of that, actually."

You slowly lowered your feet back to the floor, your heart rate returning to normal. "Can I... can I see it? When it's not running at me?"

Sir Pentious's expression brightened immediately. He set the coaster-thing on the floor gently and made another adjustment with the remote. This time, when it moved, it was at a sedate walking pace, its eight legs moving in a mesmerizing coordinated pattern.

Despite yourself, you leaned forward to watch it. It was kind of... cute, actually. In a mechanical sort of way.

"May I?" Sir Pentious gestured to your tea cup.

You nodded, and he carefully placed it on top of the coaster. The device adjusted immediately, balancing the cup perfectly as it walked in a small circle. Not a drop spilled.

"Oh," you breathed, your earlier fear forgotten. "That's actually... really clever."

Sir Pentious looked like you'd just given him the greatest compliment of his life and death. "You think ssso? I designed the weight distribution sssystem mysself—each leg has independent susspenssion to account for uneven sssurfacesss, and the gyrosscopic stabilizer enssures the cup remainsss level at all timesss."

He directed it closer to you, and you reached out tentatively to pick up your tea cup. As you lifted it, you noticed something you'd missed before—the top surface of the coaster was engraved with intricate filigree patterns, delicate swirls and flourishes that caught the light.

"This is beautiful," you said softly, tracing one of the engravings with your finger. "You made this?"

"Every piece," he confirmed, his voice warm with pride. "Hand-engraved. I wanted it to be... sspecial. Not just functional but... aesthetically pleasssing."

You looked up at him, this seven-foot snake demon who made death rays and also apparently made beautiful tea coasters with legs, and felt something warm settle in your chest.

"I love it," you said quietly. "Thank you."

Sir Pentious's face went from pink to nearly crimson. "I—you—that isss—you're very welcome!" His hood flared slightly before he controlled it, his hands fidgeting with the remote. "I'm glad you... I'm pleassed it... I ssshould let you return to your book!"

He was already backing toward the door, clearly overwhelmed by your positive response.

"Sir Pentious?" you called after him.

He stopped, looking back hopefully. "Yesss?"

"Could you... show me how to use the remote? So I can make it move myself?"

The smile that crossed his face was radiant.

For the rest of the day, Sir Pentious seemed to be everywhere.

You'd gone down to the common room after the library incident, the tea coaster safely stored in your room. You'd been planning to just relax, maybe chat with whoever was around.

Sir Pentious had appeared within minutes, carrying what appeared to be a small bouquet of... flowers? They were strange flowers—you weren't entirely sure what they where—but they were arranged beautifully.

"I thought you might enjoy thessse," he'd said, presenting them with a formal bow. "I cultivated them mysself. In my... garden. Which I have. For... cultivating."

You'd accepted them, confused but touched, and he'd practically fled before you could thank him properly.

Twenty minutes later, he'd returned with a book.

"I noticed you enjoy mysteriesss," he'd said, his tongue flicking nervously. "I have thisss rare edition—firsst pressss, from 1885—I thought you might... appreciate it. If you'd like. No pressssure."

You'd barely started to say thank you before he'd disappeared again.

Then there was the incident with the handkerchief.

You'd sneezed—just once, a perfectly normal sneeze—and suddenly Sir Pentious was there, offering you a neatly folded handkerchief embroidered with... were those his initials? In elaborate script?

"A lady ssshould never be without a handkerchief, " he'd said seriously, pressing it into your hand before vanishing once more.

You were starting to feel very confused. And slightly overwhelmed.

By the time dinner rolled around, you'd accumulated flowers, the book, a handkerchief, a small box of what he'd called "imported chocolates" you weren't sure how that worked but they smelled good, and what appeared to be a hand-written card with a poem on it.

The poem didn't rhyme and seemed to be about... gears? But it was clearly handwritten.

You sat at the dinner table with your collection of gifts, completely baffled. Sir Pentious kept glancing at you from his end of the table, looking hopeful and nervous by turns.

"Uh, you okay there, toots?" Angel Dust leaned over, eyeing the pile of items. "Looks like someone's popular."

"I don't understand it entirely," you whispered, staring at the flowers. "But its a little bit extreme for a welcome."

Angel's eyes widened. "Are you serious right now?"

You nodded, completely sincere.

"Oh, honey." Angel looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "He's... you really don't know?"

"Know what?"

Before Angel could answer, Sir Pentious appeared at your elbow—you hadn't even seen him move—with a small cushion. "I noticed your chair seemsss uncomfortable. Perhaps thisss would help?"

He placed it behind your back with careful precision, adjusted it once, then slithered away before you could respond.

Angel watched this entire exchange with growing disbelief. "Okay, seriously, how do you not—"

"Angel," Vaggie called from across the table. "Leave her alone."

"I'm just sayin'! The snake's about as subtle as a brick to the face!"

You looked down at your pile of gifts, at the cushion now supporting your back, at Sir Pentious who was back at his seat and very intently not looking at you.

"He's just being nice," you said quietly. "He's a gentleman. From the Victorian era. Maybe this is just... how they were?"

Angel stared at you. "Sweet Jesus, are you really that innocent?"

The day had been exhausting in the best and most confusing way possible. You'd retreated to your room after dinner, your arms full of gifts, your mind spinning. Sir Pentious had been so... attentive. So focused on making you happy.

It was nice. Overwhelming, but nice.

You arranged the flowers in a water glass you'd have to ask Charlie if there was a proper vase somewhere and set the book on your nightstand. The tea coaster sat on your desk, and you activated it with the remote, watching it walk in a small circle with a smile on your face.

Downstairs, Sir Pentious was in a similar state of emotional confusion, though for different reasons.

He'd given her gifts. Multiple gifts. Flowers, literature, practical items, even poetry! He'd been attentive, thoughtful, present without being overwhelming, he hoped. He'd followed every rule of proper courtship he could remember from his living years.

And she'd seemed... pleased? Maybe? It was hard to tell.

He was pacing in the lobby—well, slithering in agitated circles—when Angel Dust found him.

"Okay, Pen, we need to talk."

Sir Pentious looked up, his hood flaring slightly. "I'm rather bussy at the moment—"

"Yeah, being busy looking like a lovesick puppy. Or snake. Whatever." Angel grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward a corner of the lobby. "Listen, I've been watchin' you all day, and I gotta say... your technique needs work."

"My technique isss perfectly proper!" Sir Pentious protested. "I've been following the rulesss of courtship exactly asss they were taught to me!"

"Yeah, and those rules are from like, a million years ago." Angel crossed his upper arms while gesturing with his lower ones. "Look, if you wanna get a girl's attention—really get it, if you know what I mean—you gotta be more... direct."

Sir Pentious's face flushed. "Direct?"

"Yeah! Tell her she looks hot. Compliment her... assets. Maybe get a little touchy—nothing creepy, just like, little shit. Show her you're interested in more than just bringin' her flowers and shit."

Sir Pentious's eyes widened in horror. "I cannot possssibly—that would be completely inappropriate! A gentleman doesssn't—I would never—"

"Okay, okay, maybe nothing crazy." Angel waved a hand. "But seriously, the whole 'handkerchief and run' thing? That's not excatly working is it? You gotta actually talk to her. Ask her out. Make your intentions clear."

"My intentionss ARE clear!" Sir Pentious's hood was fully flared now. "I've been nothing but obvious!"

"To anyone from the 1800s, maybe. But modern girls—even dead ones—they need you to actually say stuff. Like, with words. 'Hey, I like you. Wanna go on a date?' That kinda thing."

Sir Pentious looked physically pained. "That'sss so... forward. So... presumptuous."

"It's honest." Angel's expression softened slightly. "Look, I'm not sayin' you gotta change everything. The gifts are sweet—weird, but sweet. Just... maybe add in some actual conversation? Spend time with her doin' stuff she likes instead of just throwin' presents at her and runnin' away?"

"I don't run away," Sir Pentious muttered. "I... make sstrategic retreatsss."

"Uh-huh. And how's that workin' out for ya?"

Sir Pentious deflated slightly. "She... ssseemed to like the giftsss?"

"Sure, but does she know why you're givin' 'em to her?" Angel raised an eyebrow. "Or does she think you're just bein' nice?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Sir Pentious. Did she think he gave flowers and first-edition books to everyone? Was his courtship so subtle she didn't even realize it was happening?

"Oh no," he said faintly.

"Yeah, 'oh no' is right." Angel patted him on the shoulder. "Look, here's what you do. Tomorrow, you go up to her, and you ask her to do somethin' with you. Not givin' her somethin', not doin' somethin' for her—do somethin' WITH her. Like... I dunno, what does she like?"

"Tea. Reading. Quiet placesss. Ssshe seemsss to enjoy learning about... thingsss."

"Great! Take her somewhere quiet, have tea, talk about books or whatever nerdy shit you're both into. Just... be there. Be present. Have an actual conversation that lasts more than thirty seconds before you bolt."

Angel leaned in conspiratorially. "And maybe—just maybe—tell her you like her. Use those exact words. 'I like you.' Three words. You can manage three words, right?"

Sir Pentious's face had progressed from pink to bright red. "I... I sssuppose... that isss... technically possssible..."

"Good! Now we're gettin' somewhere!" Angel grinned. "And if you wanna really seal the deal—"

"I'm not doing anything that involvesss 'sssealing dealsss,'" Sir Pentious interrupted quickly. "Whatever you're about to sssuggest, the ansswer isss no."

"I was gonna say hold her hand, you pervert."

"Oh." Sir Pentious's blush somehow deepened. "That'sss... that would be... acceptably appropriate."

"There ya go! Hand holdin'. Very wholesome. You got this." Angel straightened up. "Now go practice your three words. 'I like you.' Say it with me."

"I'm not—"

"Say it."

"...I like you," Sir Pentious mumbled, looking at the floor.

"Louder!"

"I like you."

"With feeling!"

"I LIKE YOU!" Sir Pentious's voice echoed through the lobby, and he immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, looking around in panic to make sure you hadn't heard.

Angel was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Perfect. Now do that tomorrow, but to her face, and you're golden."

"I hate you," Sir Pentious hissed.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll thank me later." Angel sauntered off, leaving Sir Pentious alone with his mortification and the terrifying prospect of actually expressing his feelings in clear, direct language.

Upstairs, you were getting ready for bed, completely unaware of the conversation happening below. You glanced at the flowers, at the book, at all the thoughtful gifts, and smiled to yourself.

Sir Pentious really was kind. It was nice to have a friend.

The tea coaster walked in a small circle on your desk, its legs clicking softly, and you drifted off to sleep with a peaceful smile on your face.

Tomorrow would be another day in Hell. But somehow, it was starting to feel a little less hellish.