bonesareburied - Tumblr blog

bonesareburied · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I'm looking for some angst.

I would like to order an extra harsh reality of

"The brothers will pick their sister over Mc if given a chance"

And some side dish of "The undertables having to fight for Mc"

Thanksiiee!!

hi!! Sorry I took so long to get to this but I was so looking forward to writing this when I got it! slight mentions at nsfw but nothing is described or really directly talked about. also spoilers for lesson 16 and also also long!! much longer than I anticipated

everything I write turns into Satan pieces somehow lol

Took inspo from Harry Potter, specifically Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets (don't @ me used to be a huge hp fan)

the dance of the haunted (part one)

It all started with a simple trip to the second hand bookstore. Satan always invited Mc, so they were together. He needed a hand carrying back his purchases sometimes and they always went someone to eat afterwards, Satan’s treat as he could never imagine asking Mc to pay.

They bookstore they visited today was a usual for them. It was close enough to walk, but far enough to avoid running into his brothers. Satan knew Mc really enjoyed old cookbooks and worn fantasy books. They also often searched for children’s books to read to local demon children as part of a school club. While he was initially concerned with them coming into contact with a cursed book, he grew more comfortable after seeing their magical ability and that they always carried an enchanted talisman that Solomon gifted them for that purpose.

Mc was over in the nature section, flipping through a book about creatures in the 3rd ring of hell. Satan found himself in the tomes section again. He, as usual, found himself rooting through the very back trying to uncover hidden gems. He was about to pick up a book he thought Mc might like to flip through it, when he froze. Just a sliver of this book was in his vision, but he already felt the magic oozing from it. It's a wonder he didn't sense it sooner. He put the other book in a hurry and pulled out the book from the back.

It was unlabeled, with a faded green cover and a golden ribbon attached to the spine. It marked a page close to the beginning. The magic radiating from it didn't seem bad in any way. It actually seemed quite positive. He was able to place it quickly after he felt the ribbon sticking out the bottom of the book.

This was most certainly a book infused with an angelic blessing at the very least, but how in the world had this ended up in a second hand book store in the Devildom, of all places. He flipped it over, looking for anything to go off of, but found nothing but a cursive golden letter L etched on the bottom right corner. He was a little afraid to open it, giving that it was in the hands of an angel at some point. After thinking it over, if anything happened to him, Mc would help him as soon as they noticed something amiss. Thanks to the pact, it would be almost instantly.

With the thought of Mc, he slowly opened the book. On the first page and on the inside of the front cover was handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. He struggled to read the words on the page at first due to the sense of familiarity. He suddenly got deja vu, as if he had held this book before. He closed his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. When he reopened them, he felt like crying, and yet, he still wasn't sure why. Once he finally read what was written, he understood why.

On the inside cover, it read "Property of Lilith Morningstar" and near the bottom in large writing was a messy scrawl he recognized as Mammon's handwriting. It said "mammon waz here" with a little drawing of himself sticking his tongue out. A heart in a different color of ink enclosed the message and drawing. On the first page was a note seemingly from Lucifer. Satan would recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was a heartfelt message from Lucifer to Lilith, saying that he hoped the gift reached her well, and that he missed and loved her.

He closed the book for a second and suddenly felt faint. He sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. He thought about what he had just read for a moment. The book that he had somehow found, maybe by chance or fate, belonged to his brother's late sister. It was a gift from Lucifer to Lilith while he was away. He realized that's probably why he felt his emotions raging. The Lucifer in him recognized the book, since he had seemingly picked it out himself to give to his sister. How had this ended up in a second hand bookstore? He theorized maybe it had been made in the Devildom and Lucifer had purchased it during one of his trips. But, angel Lucifer would have never done that. He was disgusted by the mere thought of even having to go down at the time, so the thought of him browsing shops was out of the question. Deciding to come back to that thought later, he decided to quickly flip through it, just to see what it was.

As he reopened the book, new waves of magic hit him. He didn't recognize them, but they felt as familiar as his brothers. He guessed their magic was also somehow within this book. But since it was all angelic magic, everything having to do with this book happened before the fall, before he even existed. Much to his dismay, everything beyond the first page was blank. He closed and opened it a few times, but nothing happened. He guessed it might be locked by magic in some way. The thought of trying to magically pry it open scared him again. He was a demon through and through, and since this was blessed by angels, he had no clue what might happen to him if he tried. He was certain whoever blessed this book did not accommodate for whatever he was, but he thought it to be unwise to test the limits.

"Satan. What are you doing on the floor?" Mc walked up to him, holding a few books in their arms.

"Oh, just looking at book on the bottom shelf. I got tired of crouching." He quickly placed the green book down on top of a stack of his other books.

"I get that. Just wanted to let you know I'm ready to be done when you are. Don't rush for me." They turned to walk away, but Satan stopped them.

"I'm done too. I was finishing up." He moved to get up. Mc turned back around to look at him.

"I made great timing then! Here, I'll carry some of these for you." They grabbed the first few books off his stack. He felt his stomach lurch when they touched the green book. He couldn't help but feel nervous with them handling the book, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't want to say anything about it to them, and again, he didn't know why. For now, maybe it was best he kept this to himself anyways. Mc’s expression didn't change and they continued to pile on the books until the green one was in the middle. There was nothing special about that book to them.

"Thank you." Satan made himself say. He picked up the remaining books and they proceeded to the check out together. Today, an older demon worked the register. She was familiar with the pair and had a soft spot for Mc.

"Is that everything for today?" She asked them as she counted the books. Between the two of them, they had thirteen books. Satan handed the demon the needed amount of grim, and waved them on their way. Satan insisted on carrying the bag of books home, since this time there wasn’t too many.

"Let's stop at a café on our way home. I'm dying for something warm to drink right now." Mc grabbed Satan's hand and pulled him in the direction they wanted to go in. He smiled and allowed himself to be dragged off. While they were enjoying coffee together, he was able to temporally forget about the book he had discovered. All of his thoughts were about Mc for the time being.

When they arrived home together, Mc loudly announced that they were there. Mammon came running to greet them. "Mc! I got somethin' for ya! Ya gotta come with me right now!" He grabbed both of the hands and began to pull them away.

"Thank you for the coffee and books, Satan. Tell me about what you bought at dinner tonight." They looked back at him before looking at Mammon again.

"I will. I'll drop off your books in your room. I had a great time." He lifted a hand at them, as a goodbye.

"Mc!" Mammon began to whine.

"Yes, yes. Let's go now." Mammon took off with Mc in tow, leaving Satan stewing in his thoughts again. He went back to his room with all of the books. The other books he had picked out were no longer interesting compared to the Lilith book. However, he didn't want to mess with it while his brothers were awake. The last thing he wanted was them finding out. While he felt bad keeping it from them, something in him was telling him not to show it to them yet. He had promised Mc he would tell them about the books he picked out. The only one he wanted to read was the one about cats. He could easily talk about it to Mc anyways, without having to worry about the Lilith book crossing his mind.

He read until it was time for dinner. Today, it was Asmo’s turn to cook. He was actually a pretty good cook, probably the best in the house. It always turned out well and was plated gorgeous on top of that. He came to the dinner table with the book he hand been reading, still reading. He took his seat across from Mc, not looking up just yet.

“Hey, is that one of the new books?” Satan looked over his book and saw Mc peering at him.

“Yes, actually. It’s a cat book! Cats are the best.” He happily pointed to the picture of a cat on the front. As they ate, the conversation began to drift away from books, and onto something that Satan thought was irrelevant. He tried to go back to reading, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again. His thoughts had reverted to the little green book sitting in a pile of books on his bed. He has buried it, just in case someone happened to walk in.

As Mc mediated yet another argument between Levi and Mammon, he couldn’t find it in himself to silently seethe and glare at his brothers as he usually did. He blankly stared at his book, picking at his food. He was stuck wondering why the book didn’t say anything. He planned what he would do once he got back to his room. He knew he had a book of protective spells somewhere in the house that he might use to protect himself before attempting to interact with the book more.

“Satan. Is everything alright?” Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard. The table was basically empty now, much to his surprise. It was only Beel, Belphie and himself still seated. Beel was still eating and Belphie was passed out next to him.

“Nothing is wrong.” Satan snapped back after a moment.

“Alright. Please don’t forget do the dishes.” Lucifer retraced his hand, and with one final, unreadable look at Satan, left the room. He was unsure about how to feel about Lucifer noticing something was amiss. He snapped his book shut. He wasn’t really reading it in the first place. He put the book down on the kitchen counter and began absentmindedly doing the dishes. He was lost in though about the book currently buried underneath about twenty other books on his bed.

He finished in record time. He grabbed his cat book, figuring Beel could wash his own dish once he was done. He retreated to his room. He was released to find everything just as he left it. He dug up the green book from his pile, placing all the other books on the floor for the time being. He sat at his desk, running his hands over the cover. Under his little desk lamp, it seemed to sparkle in a way that he hasn’t previously noticed. Once he opened it, he was greeted with what he has seen earlier that day. But, to his surprise, there was more beyond that.

Most of the pages in the front of the book curled from usage. At the top of each page, was a note of the date. Below this, was a diary entry of sorts. Sometimes, it was just a to-do list, or a recipe. Others, he found Lilith’s accounts of her day to day life. He decided to start at the beginning, reading the first ever entry. He hoped to gain a little context of what exactly this journal was and how it worked.

Lilith had written on the first page after the note from Lucifer about how he has sent her this journal while on a trip to the Devildom, stating it was made by a human according to the tag on the outside of the journal. He enchanted it himself to only allow her to see the contents of this journal.

Satan paused his reading for a moment. If it has been enchanted to only allow Lilith to read the journal, how was he able to read it just now? He wasn’t close to her. They never knew each other. As he flipped to the next page to hopefully skim it for context of any kind, the words in front of him began to fade. The ink retracted into the page, from the last letter she had written, to the first. He wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent this, so he just quickly read what he could. The next page was something about how Belphie had wanted to take a look at it and something about Beel. Once he got there, the words has begun to erase themselves. He watched helplessly as everything disappeared. Soon, he was just stuck with the plain book he had discovered that afternoon, and the cover no longer shimmered.

He sighed, flipping through it again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was about to check out the back cover again when he heard his door being pushed open.

“Satan! Thought I would find you here.” Mc greeted him.

“It’s my room. What did you expect?” He shut the book in a hurry.

“Well, I can just as often find you in the library.” They approached him, touching his face. They outlined his jaw and smoothed his cheeks with their thumbs. He reached for their wrists, touching them with an imploring look.

“What’s the matter?” He petted their hair. They sat down in his lap and placed their head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry that the journal was right in their view now, but he hugged them close nonetheless.

“I just feel lonely.” They sighed and buried their face in his neck.

“Really? After all that time you spent with Mammon?” He laughed a little at their predicament.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not the same as when I’m with you.” They pouted and puffed their cheeks out. He chuckled a little more at the cute face they made at him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What can I do for you, my beloved?” He could get lost in their eyes.

“Give me affection! Just kisses will do.” They pointed to their forehead. Satan smiled at them, amused.

“As you wish.” He began to pepper their face in kisses. As Mc grew more needy, the more he satisfied them. One thing led to another, as they ended up in Satan’s bed. They stayed together for the rest of the night, the journal long forgotten.

Early the next morning, after their night of passion, Satan awoke abruptly. He looked around. He was in his own room, but his clothes were scattered around the room. A shirt was hanging by a thread off a tall pile of books. Mc was asleep next to him, their arms wrapped around him. His lamp light was still on. He reached over as far as he could to reach the off switch. Before he could hit it, he saw the journal. He glanced back at Mc. He didn’t want to wake them, but he felt the urge to open it. He reached out to touch it, and as soon as he did, he noticed it began to shimmer like it had before. He was amazed. He quickly flipped as best as he could to a random page with one hand. He could see lots of writing. He shut it again, taking his hands off of it. It remained shimmery.

He decided not to flip through it now, since he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind to at the moment. Instead, he noted the time; 4:03 am. Once he woke up, he would check it again to get a rough idea of how long it would stay open for since earlier, he wasn’t sure how long it had been open for. He finally shut the lamp off and let the book flutter closed. He took his mind off the book, and laid back down. He tucked an arm around Mc as best he could without waking them, and drifted back to sleep.

He awoke for the second time that day. Everything was essentially the same as it was earlier except for the time and the noise outside his door. Mc was still asleep next to him, griping him tightly. It was 8:24 am now, and he could hear Lucifer pacing around past his door in the hall. He didn't make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to see his ugly mug first thing in the morning. Because of this, he decided not to leave him room just yet, but he also didn't want to open the journal either. He would, however, check if it was still "open" or readable. He flickered on his little desk lamp again, and was greeted with the shimmery cover. He didn't want to touch it, because he was almost certain he was able to set it off that morning. Once he was able to think clearer, he would revisit that.

Instead, he grabbed the first book he could get his hands on and began to read. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just reading, but eventually he felt Mc begin to stir. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Satan greeted the bleary eyed person snuggled into his side.

“Good morning love. How long was I asleep?” They yawned, making no move to sit up. Neither of them were dressed at the moment anyways.

“A decent amount. Longer than I did anyways.” He shrugged, placing the book facedown on his desk, over the journal.

“Thanks for not waking me. You wouldn’t guess how many times Mammon or Asmo have woken me up way too early. Granted, it’s usually on accident. Asmo with his skincare and Mammon with… I don’t actually know.” Mc rolled on to their side to look at Satan better, throwing one of their arms over his torso. He felt himself growing shy under their sleepy gaze. He knew he wasn't the only one graced with that privilege, but the way they looked at him made him feel so special. He would give them every star in the sky if they asked.

“That makes me all the more grateful that they don’t dare enter my room. Makes it quite the sanctuary, don’t you think?” Satan chuckled.

“Mmm, yes.” They yawned again.

“What do you want to eat for breakfast, sweetheart? Or is it too soon to think about that?” He asked.

“Give me a few more minutes and then I’ll find an answer for you.” Mc closed their eyes again, potentially going back to sleep. He used that time to reflect. His thoughts grew a little grim as he let them wander. That journal kept finding it's way into his mind. How had he been able to find that? What were the chances of that happening? Maybe it would have made a little more sense if one of his brothers had found the book instead, since part of them seemed to linger between the lines. He was a different story, though. The magic within must had been much more powerful than he anticipated.

Even as he turned his head to the side to look at the book again, he saw the pages glimmer in the light that didn't exist. Something seemed... wrong. He hadn't noticed it before, maybe due to the excitement of simply finding it. The circumstances of which he found it in too was bizarre. As a powerful demon, he should have noticed the angelic energy as soon as he entered the book store. He dwelled on this idea. Perhaps last night's activities had had an affect on it. He coughed a little, covering up his embarrassment from the invisible audience. As he thought more, it really made no sense that he just happened to find it. Had it been planted there for him specifically, or was it the journal itself? Just what did this book know? He did consider himself exceptional, but not nearly as much as his brothers. Their story was far more interesting than his own. He was just the consequence of their actions. Whatever the case with this book, he felt the urge to get to the bottom of it, despite the creeping dread in his gut.

He spent the next few days of his reading time picking though every page of the journal. He was able to learn so much about his brothers' days in the Celestial Realm, far more than they had ever bothered to tell him. Perhaps they thought speaking about it might bother him. Whatever the case, he found it strange to refer to them as angels. Lilith wrote lots about the twins and Asmo. She wrote less about the older brothers but it was clear they were just as important to her. He had know Asmo was the Jewel of the Heavens, but the way Lilith described him made him sound like the most amazing thing the world had ever seen. The more and more he read, the more he saw the similarities between himself and her. He too considered Asmo a trusted confidant, and a close friend of his. He too found himself sneaking off with Belphie for mischievous reasons, or spending time with Beel for his quiet, comforting presence. He began to realize how difficult losing her might have been for them. In the past, he knew it was a sore subject, especially among the youngest, but now he could really feel their pain as Lilith wrote about their daily misadventures. What they missed. Would they exchange him for her if given the chance? He shook this thought off, not liking the implications it might have.

Her innocence was painted clearly for him on each page, yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked the book again and again for traces of demonic magic but found nothing. The strangest part was that he couldn't even find his own. There was traces of various angels, most of which he didn't recognize, likely from the far gone past. The journal continued to puzzle him.

As time passed, the entries grew more and more chaotic. From her new lover, to the growing tensions between Lucifer and their father. They grew shorter and less carefree. Even her handwriting differed. She seemed to understand the gravity of what she had done. He knew this is when the Celestial War was about to begin. Her last entry was about her lover, again about how enchanting she found them, and how one day she hoped to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. He paused for a moment, realizing this entry was written likely days, or even hours before he was born. After that entry, the pages were blank. There were some pages with stray pen marks, but that's all he was able to uncover. He knew the ending to this story. The silence told it all. He sat for a while, reflecting again about everything he had seen. As he was thinking, words began to appear on the page in front of him, in the same handwriting and ink color as he had seen in the entire journal. It was Lilith's. Satan paused. He could tell the journal held magical properties, but this was not something he expected to happen.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The words appeared suddenly. He continued staring at the page until more words appeared. "You can say something you know. Ink will do." Satan began to look around for a writing utensil at these words. Once he found one, he began to pen a response.

"Hello. Are you Lilith?" He wrote down underneath the previous words. He got his own response quickly.

"Yes, I am! How'd you know that?" Satan paused again, about to write more, but was cut off as Lilith began to write more. "Haha! Just kidding. This is my journal. My name is in it. It would be weird if this wasn't me. Who are you, by the way? I don't think I've ever had a visitor." Right away, Satan thought Lilith reminded him of Asmo. He was probably like this when he was an angel.

He stopped before bringing his pen down to the page again. He was unsure on how to introduce himself. During his visit to the past, he went by Sully, which was the stupidest name in his opinion. But, he also didn't want to lie to her. Would it be wrong to tell her his story, and what happened after the war? "My name is Satan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! That's a pretty cool name. Interesting for sure." She wrote.

"I don't want to scare you away, but I want to make this clear as to not deceive you." He wanted to tell her the truth. He felt like she deserved to know. After all, he had always felt like she was supposed to be in his place. She even wrote in green.

"Oh, tell away then. I'm all ears. I won't judge, unless you're about to confess some sort of sin to me!" She wrote, most likely jokingly. That made him a little nervous at first, but he continued with the original plan anyways. Maybe this was his way of healing, somehow. He felt better after getting everything out. He told her almost everything. He omitted the part where Belphie murdered Mc. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, anyways. It felt wrong to tell her that her death had driven him to such an extreme. She stayed mostly silent, chiming in with a few questions and stray blots of ink on the pages near his writing, as if she was resting her pen on the page.

"I hope that wasn't too much to take in at once. Much has happened." Satan was still a nervous. He really hoped she wouldn't hate him. He was just the messenger. After all, without her, he wouldn't even exist.

"I won't lie, it was overwhelming at first. But, I'm happy to hear my brothers are doing well without me. It's comforting to know that they have you and Mc now." Lilith drew a little heart next to her message.

"Glad to hear. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I agreed to meet Mc for an outing shortly, so I will see myself out." He wasn't lying. He had agreed to meet Mc, but it wasn't for another two hour.

"Alright. Have fun! Talk to you later." With that, everything she had said sunk into the page and left no trace behind.

"Goodbye." His words also disappeared. Just like that, their entire conversation was gone. He shut the book. He was glad she didn't object. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave early. He felt a little bad leaving her to stew in the information dump, if she actually existed beyond the book being open. Everything about the book confused him. Looking back at it, maybe he made a rash decision. Maybe he shouldn't have info dumped to her like that.

He decided to forget that for now to enjoy his time with Mc. They had an event to attend, and he had to get ready anyways. Later that night, he came back to the journal in order to study it. He opted not to talk to Lilith just yet. The sick feeling in his stomach had returned. Something was wrong with this journal, very wrong. It made no sense, even after chatting to her. She seemed sweet enough, but that wasn't enough to dispel that gross, nauseating feeling. He just couldn't place his finger on what. He felt as if he was losing his mind checking over and over again, for something, anything. But, he found absolutely nothing.

Eventually he got to the point where he was determining if he should burn it or not. He regretted even talking to her in the first place. He wasn't sure why, but he grew uneasy even having Mc in the same house as the journal. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to someone else, as in not the Lilith who made the original entries. He placed the journal back on his desk, underneath his latest book finds, leaving to find Mc. He eventually found them by the door, putting their shoes on.

"Hey Satan. Good to see you!" They looked up at him.

"Hi, Mc. Where are you going?" He was relieved they were leaving the house.

"Purgatory Hall. I was invited over to play some games. Sol's idea." They began searching for their jacket. Satan noticed it hidden behind Lucifer's big overcoat. He grabbed it, and helped them put it on, thinking hard. "Aww thank you. You didn't have to do that." They beamed at him.

"I wanted to, it's no trouble." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Hey, do you think it's possible that I could come with you. I don't even have to play these games if that's an issue, I just want to be with you." He would feel even better if he was able to be with them, and get away from that journal for a while.

"Oh, of course! I'm sure they would love to have you. Besides, I've basically always got one of you brothers attached to me, they might find it weird if I showed up without one." Mc laughed. "I thought you were planning to read tonight, since I've been taking up almost all of your nights for the past week. Did something happen?" They seemed concerned, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I can put off reading again. All time spent with you is precious. It's hard to be away from you, you should know. You're simply enchanting." He took their hand and spun them into his arms.

"Alright, if you say so! We should get going if we want to be on time. I can let them know if you need a little time to get ready?" Mc giggled, buying his excuse. They might have seen though him, but was glad they chose not to say anything.

"I just need my shoes and coat as well. I wouldn't want to hold you up, anyways." He only let Mc go in favor of getting ready. "You know, I'm honestly surprised you aren't already bringing Mammon or Asmo." He told them.

"Me too, actually. Asmo was busy, and Mammon was too distracted with his car repairs to pay attention to what I was saying earlier. I was almost held back by Belphie too. But, I'm here now and I get to spend this time with you." They stood beside him as he tied his shoes and shrugged on his jacket. As the two of them made their way to Purgatory Hall, Mc held his hand so tightly and gazed at him so tenderly, he was almost convinced they were the only thing in the world.

When they arrived, they had plenty of fun. Solomon had arranged a collection of games to play as a group that were randomly decided by drawing slips of paper. To nobody's surprise, Solomon and Mc ended up winning most of them because they were human games. Satan forgot all about the journal. That is, until, he received a phone call in the middle of one of their games. Mc was draped over him with their arms around his neck, also curious about who might be calling them at a time like this. It was Lucifer.

"I told them we were heading out. What could he need?" Mc reached for the phone but Satan stopped them.

"If the call is for me, it's probably to yell at me or something. I don't want you to be on the receiving end of that." Satan rolled his eyes, and brought the phone to his ear, planning to brush off anything he said. He was really only answering because Simeon was in the room, who would answer it for him.

"Come home. Now. You have explaining to do." Lucifer growled through the phone. At first, Satan wasn't worried. He got ominous calls from his older brother like this all the time.

"What is it?" He sighed. Mc laughed a little, causing him to smile. The others began to chat among themselves while he was on the phone. This was normal.

"You know exactly what this is about. On your desk in your room. Underneath three books. Your keys on the left. The pen you used on the right." Satan froze. The smile left his face. Lucifer always sounded serious, but this was one of the few times he sounded like he was about to rip his throat out. He had found the journal. Mc didn't hear what he said, somehow, but noticed his change in demeanor.

"What's the matter, 'Tan?" Mc brushed some hair off his forehead.

"Nothing, my love. Don't worry about it. It's the usual nonsense." He moved the phone away from his ear for the moment, and then back once he was done speaking.

"Let me speak to Mc. I want them home too. Now." The tone Lucifer used to dangerous. Satan knew that was unwise. He didn't know what his plan was, but he didn't trust him at all.

"No. I will come home, but I'm not bringing Mc. I will not needlessly involve them. This will stay between us." Satan began to grow angry. He couldn't help it. Typical Lucifer, complicating matters.

"If you don't come right now, I'll drag you both back personally." Satan knew he wasn't kidding. None of his threats were empty.

"Fine. Have it your way. We'll be home shortly." Satan hung up before Lucifer could respond. By now, the entire room was staring at him. He looked totally different than he had before. He was tense, his rage obvious.

"Are we leaving? What's the matter? Did something happen?" Mc looked at him, concerned.

"I'm heading home to take care of something, but you're staying here. I promise it's nothing serious." He lied through his teeth. He didn't know why Lucifer wanted Mc there, but he knew it couldn't be good. The journal was bad news, and they were involved in no way.

"Are you sure? Lucifer said he wanted me there, right? You know how good I am at sorting out issues in your family. I really don't mind, if that's the issues." They squeezed him a little. They were so caring. Too caring.

"I'm sure. I won't act out or anything. He's probably mad about chores or something. I wonder if Mammon sold his underwear while it was my turn to do laundry again." Satan smiled. They cracked a small smile back.

"Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be waiting for you." Mc pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off of him.

"Simeon, before I go, can I have a quick word?" Simeon, who was comforting Luke, turned at the sound of his name.

"Of course." Simeon stood up, gesturing for Mc to take his seat next to Solomon. Luke was seated on the floor between them. Mc looked worried, but moved regardless. Solomon looked around the room, studying everyone's expressions. Simeon walked with Satan to the entry way. "What's the matter?" He asked, holding out Satan's coat for him.

"I want you to place a blessing on this building. Do not let any demon in under any circumstance. Including me. I don't care what they say. I don't have time to explain, but something is very wrong at the House of Lamentation and I don't want a single one of my brothers near Mc." He shoved his shoes on as he spoke. He hastily put on his jacket and turned to look at Simeon one last time.

"I don't know what could be wrong, but I trust you. Mc is safe in mine and Solomon's hands." Simeon let his hands fall to his sides, opening the door for Satan. He watched as he took off running in the opposite direction of the House of Lamentation. He could only stare and wait for him to be a good distance away, before shutting the door. He went back to the living room to find Mc hugging Luke, Solomon with a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Solomon." Simeon said the sorcerer's name. He stood up and walked over to him. "Satan didn't tell me what the matter was, but I need you to do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody but us is in here. Satan requested I bless the house to keep his brothers out." The expression on both of their faces was grim.

"Of course." Solomon shut his eyes and waved his hand. Once he reopened them, Simeon knew he had completed the check. "Nobody but the four of us are here."

"Thank you. Normally I would ask Luke to help me perform the blessing, but I would prefer to leave him alone for now. Will you accompany me?" Solomon nodded. Simeon led him away, leaving the room together, leaving Mc and Luke along together on the sofa in the once full room.

"What's wrong, Mc?" Luke asked them. For once, they had no clue how to respond to the boy.

"I'm not sure. Simeon might know more, but for now, we just have to wait. In the meantime, do you wanna play some more of the games?" Mc hoped to take his mind of the ordeal.

"I don't really feel like it, sorry." He sighed, worried. He had always had concerns about Mc living with demons and them seemed to be coming to fruition.

"That's alright. Do you want to watching something maybe? Simeon made cookies that are cooling in the kitchen, right? We can get those." Mc tried again to get him in better spirits.

"Let's wait for Simeon and Solomon to get back. They might be worried if they return and we're gone." Luke admitted.

"Good point. I'll turn on a movie for now. What do you want to watch?" Mc got up, leaving Luke in their spot.

"Anything." He usually had more to say. Mc could tell Luke was very worried.

"Alright." Mc went through the various dvds Solomon had stored away near the tv. After finding one they liked, they put it on. The two of them watched this movie together since there was nothing better to do. Eventually, Simeon and Solomon returned with said cookies. Rather than sit on the free couch, they all sat together. They could all tell Luke was worried. The desserts remained untouched.

"I have a surprise that I think you'll like, Luke." Solomon spoke up. Luke picked up his head. "I was told that Mc could stay the night, so we can have a big sleepover together. Does that sound good?" Luke perked up.

"Oh, good. That sounds great! I don't want to send Mc back to those icky demons. Where are we sleeping?" Luke sounded excited, making the rest of the room smile.

“We can stay in my room.” Solomon watched as the little angel jumped out of the cuddle pile and ran to gather pillows and blankets.

“It’s nice to see him happy again. I honestly think he might be more concerned than me.” Mc sighed, reaching for a cookie.

“If we knew what was wrong, we would tell you. I just know Satan asked me to place a blessing on the house.” Simeon explains.

"I figured. It's fine. We just need to hope for the best..." Mc stares at the cookie, thinking about Satan and what he might be doing right now. They just hoped he was safe.

ty for putting up with me and not putting out anything for so long... and sorry for the cliffhanger lol. really wanted this out but a. not sure how much longer it will take and b. not sure what I want the ending to be yet! lol

part two soon hopefully sorry to anon for taking so long!!!!

708 notes · View notes

bonesareburied · 1 year ago

Text

Smudged (6)

Summary: Rodrick lives up to his side of the deal, or should I say, community service.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Okay, so, this wasn't all that was planned for this chapter. Buttt I felt really rushed and hadn't updated this fic in a little over a month. I'll edit this with the rest of the chapter when I get to it, but for now, it's being put to rest indefinitely. Thank you for the support!

The next day, your best friend arrived in English early, much to your surprise. Daniel tossed a notebook onto your desk, slouching in his seat as if he were a drunk, divorced father. You took it into your hand, reading the messily written label, before looking up at the sorrowful boy in front of you. The pages were filled to the brim with outlines, sketches, and ideas; some pictures were lightly colored in.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you quipped.

Daniel hissed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, “This prompt is crap! I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to do this.”

“You’re thinking too hard about it, Dan.” You pass it back to him, fingers tapping the wooden desk.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he ranted, “you just have drums!”

“I’d rather have the guitar.”

He rubbed his temples, “Not my point. Can’t you come with me tonight to take pictures?”

“In the forest? Dude, that’s every horror movie plot,” you scoffed, watching other students file in.

They sat in their seats or hopped on desks, with one girl rudely scooting on Daniel’s, “I know, that’s why I want you to come with me. I need photos for the presentation board!”

“I dunno if I can, I’m supposed to be going to Rodrick’s house tonight.”

“Since when did you start hanging out with him?”

“Since the need for a decent grade.”

Ms. Kawiti was the last to stroll inside, setting her bag on the table in the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat, and caused all chatter to cease, including your conversation with Daniel. Your best friend grumbled, turning back around, attempting to dodge the long hair intruding in his personal space. The girl herself reluctantly returned to her own place, sharing a few final giggles with her group. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed and feet perched underneath your desk on a metal bar. There were other boys around the class doing the same, and you adjusted yourself to make the position more comfortable. Why did time have to go so slow when fun is on the other side?

On just another thing you were better than Rodrick at, you did not break any personal property when parking outside his house. Your shoes clacked against the concrete driveway, purple laces swinging, only stopping to knock on the door. The person who answered was not Rodrick, no, but a much older woman with a professional-looking outfit and brown hair to match. She looked so strikingly different from the drummer you knew that you almost backed away, apologizing for coming to the wrong house. Almost.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is this the Heffley family’s house?”

She seemed taken aback, almost wary as she took in your appearance, “Yes, are you one of Rodrick’s… bandmates?”

“Uh, no, I’m Heather’s brother. He invited me over for research,” you shrugged.

“Rodrick and research?” Mrs. Heffley cocked an eyebrow up, slightly stepping back to allow you inside.

You waved your hands, and said, “I know, absolutely unbelievable! However, I can assure you that I’m telling the truth– he brought home some books.”

“And I read it, duh,” a voice called from above.

Rodrick, the devil, hung his head over the overhead railing. He cocked his head at you, sneering. Mrs. Heffley shook her head, sighed, and walked into a separate room beside you; there wasn’t any attention on her anymore. Rodrick motioned for you to come up the stairs, before disappearing again.

His voice echoed, “C’mon, my room’s the coolest here!”

For a split second, you hesitated. You glanced back to where Mrs. Heffley had disappeared, unsure of whether it was appropriate to leave your shoes on and make a mess of the house. Just to be safe, you set them neatly beside the door, before following the other boy up the stairs.

When you finally arrived, Rodrick had already vanished once again. There were multiple doors running down the hallway, but the only hint as to the correct one was the faint sound of guitar riffs. It almost sounded like it was coming from above you, though you decided to peek into the closest unlocked door. This room wasn’t even a bedroom; it was simply a small bathroom meant for one or two people. There was a bit of a smell inside, like someone hadn't flushed the toilet. Hell, as curious as you were, you weren’t going to confirm that.

You barely could close the door before a finger tapped your shoulder, and you flinched, turning around– it was just Greg. The little boy was Rodrick’s unlucky younger brother, who was at least a head shorter than you. He seemed nicer than your acquaintance, and it really made you wonder how the two of them were raised in the same household. Perhaps Rodrick was adopted? Nah. Greg was studying you with a standoffish look in his eyes, the kind kids get when they meet strange family friends. You weren’t surprised; your looks were far from the typical suburban rich boy.

“His room’s in the attic,” Greg said, plainly, “Last door.”

He scurried off to do his own things, possibly to bug his mother about the newest Nintendo game. There was no last door on the left, only a wall that held an uncharacteristically peaceful family photo. Rodrick was still Rodrick, just younger, with devilish messy hair and dirt under his nails. On the right, however, there was a slightly ominous wooden door. In direct contrast to the opposite wall, the door had a sign that read Rodrick Only. It was so childishly Rodrick that you couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath.

One knock, two knock, three knock. The music coming from above grew ever so slightly quieter, and you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the attic stairs. It opened, only to an unimpressed drummer.

“Dude, aren’t you coming?” He frowned.

You shrugged, pointing to the sign, “I’m not allowed in. It’s Rodrick only, remember?”

Said boy rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re the exception.”

“The exception?”

“An exception,” he corrected himself.

You pushed past him, clambering up the stairs, “Whatever you say, dick.”

To be edited.

116 notes · View notes

bonesareburied · 1 year ago

Text

Smudged (3) Rodrick Heffley X M! Reader

Anddd it's here!

Warnings: Mentioned eating disorder otherwise not specified.

Summary: You were busy enough in life, too busy for what school planned to throw at you; at everyone. A boy you know well seemed to come up with an idea to manage that.

Word Count: 2.7K

A white pillowcase smashed against a mess of blonde hair, “Get up.”

Heather’s eyes scrunched up, her first action of the day being to glare at you with an unreasonable amount of venom. The sky outside was just starting to shine through the blinds in her bedroom, clashing against the pink theme of it all. She was never quite the morning person, but frankly, waking her and Holly up was simply your duty; it has been since it was just the two of you.

“School’s been in for two weeks, you should be used to this by now,” you snickered, backing away from the bed.

“Get out of my room!”

That was the only warning you got before she initiated her revenge, sending the poor, soft pillow flying once again. You balanced onto your toes as you shut the door as quickly as you could; the only proof that the object hit the target was the loud thump on the thin wood, “Be careful not to mess up your precious cotton pillowcases!”

“They’re satin, you freak,” Heather yelled, echoing in the hallway you retreated down.

Holly’s room was the second farthest away from yours, only being beat by your parents’. The only thing that separated it from the rest of the house was a tie-dyed sheet; her choice, of course. With careful fingers, you peeked inside, seeing your little sister shifting and groaning in her blankets.

Softly, “It’s time to wake up, I got your favorite cereal downstairs.”

She shot up, staring at you with wide eyes, “Really?”

“Of course I did! Not a day goes by where I don’t spoil my favorite little sister, now does it?”

You disappeared back behind the sheets when she scrambled out of bed, eager to get dressed. The stairs groaned underneath your covered feet, almost as if they were as unenthusiastic about the day as you were. Both of your parents leave for work earlier than most now that Holly was old enough to be left alone with her older siblings, but because Heather rendered herself helpless in the morning, the role of caretaker was left to you.

All three of you have to leave for school at seven, so you wake your siblings up to greet the morning at six o’clock sharp, no more, no less. You as yourself get up an hour earlier in order to gather your own things, pack lunches, pack Holly’s bag, and have time for yourself. It was exhausting, always, but it was worth it to see the two of them shine.

The kitchen was adjacent to the dining room, with warm lighting to start the morning off in the right mood. You dug your fingers into the cardboard seal on the cereal before popping open the plastic bag inside, not bothering to use scissors. It never spilled everywhere, after all. As you heard Holly’s light footsteps swirling down the stairs, you shook a serving into a ceramic bowl, setting it beside a cup of milk on the usual table. Heather never ate breakfast, and no matter how hard you tried, she insisted that she needed to skip in order to keep up with her dream body. If you pushed it, she snapped.

When Holly finally appeared and slid into her seat, you sat in a chair beside her, “How’re classes going? I heard this is the year you finally start switching classrooms for periods.”

“They’re going good, I guess.” She sighed, pouring the milk into her breakfast, “My teacher for English already handed out the project prompts for this year, but I don’t wanna do it.”

“Wait, wait, what the hell? Already?”

“You haven’t gotten yours yet?”

“No, not in my school. Isn’t it against the rules to get a head start?”

“It was only a day before you, so I don’t think so,” she grumbled, mouth full.

“Well, it should be.”

“Nobody’s started working on it yet.”

You threw your hands up in the air, laughing, “Still!”

Over the oven, the clock blinked at you. You ruffled Holly’s hair, while she turned her head towards you, adorned with a milky mustache, “We have to get going soon, your stuff’s leaning on the door.”

She jumped out of her chair, running to the bottom of the stairs to call upwards, “Heather! We gotta go!”

“I just need five more minutes to finish getting ready,” Heather replied, half silenced by the sound of the bowls settling into the sink.

“Nuh-uh, we have to go now!”

Holly shuffled her shoes on, sitting down to tie them neatly. Your twin hurried down the stairs, squishing past the other girl on the way down, flipping her hair behind her back. She opened the door, and shivered as the early chill seeped into her bones. Heather grabbed her bag alongside Holly’s, practically throwing it in the car before placing her own down in the backseat. You double checked the oven, lights, and sinks, before shoving Holly out the door and locking it behind you. Heather called shotgun, therefore Holly had to squish herself in between everyone’s backpacks. The car started with a weak, stumbling roar, and you were on your way.

The world was only just starting to wake up in a blur outside the windows as the voice of a young woman sang throughout your vehicle, interrupted with the occasional tapping of Heather texting her friends. She never stopped keeping up with her social life, it seemed. However, while everyone else was lost in thought, one thing stuck in your mind.

“Hey, did you get your prompt?” you said, glancing at the girl beside you.

Heather did not even look up from her screen, “Duh. You haven’t?”

“Ugh.”

“So… that’s a no.”

As you pulled into the parking lot of the school, lined behind an endless row of cars, she smacked you in the arm, “Why are you in the drop-off line? I’m driving the girls to the mall after school today, I told you last night.”

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, turning the wheel, “you didn’t have to hit me!”

“Don’t get a spot too far from the school, either!”

Your car slowed to a stop and powered off, as you slipped the key out and handed it to Heather, “I’ll kill you if you lose that– now both of you, shoo! Get out!”

Its doors were slammed shut, and it locked with a beep. You leaned against the hood of the vehicle, watching carefully as your two sisters entered the school. It was a plain-looking building, which the school pathetically attempted to fix with a few colorful flower bushes. The air around you was silent, as quiet as a parking lot could be, and you turned to walk the rest of the way to your school building. Yet, before you could step any farther, a white van screeched past. Deafening music screamed out; it was distorted from how roughly the driver was maneuvering potholes. Oh, how bad you felt for the passengers, did the driver even have a license? You shook your head, glad that you had the sense to keep an eye on your sisters.

The school you went to was not far away, simply a few buildings down the opposite side of the street. Due to their close proximity, they were always competing in everything; from student count, finances, even to awards. So much so that they had devised a competition to be held between the schools each year to contribute to the state curriculum. It was annual, of course, and every single one of the projects made would be showcased and judged based on a variety of categories. Whichever school gets on the podium the most, well, you get the point. That doesn’t mean it’s not a pain in the ass, however.

The day went quicker than usual, with you patiently awaiting the class of which you would get your prompt and category; English. You were set on it enough that even Daniel noticed, poking and picking at you the entire day, finding time to do it in the hallways when you did not have classes together. He reached his hand back towards you, fingers making a crude attempt at stealing your eraser.

You slapped it away as the bell rang, the seats in the classroom filled, “What’re you doing?”

“Lightening the mood, ever heard of it?” he whispered back, craning his neck to look at you.

Students around the two of you were passing papers back, the teacher’s eyes glaring holes into Daniel’s head. He squeaked, taking his prompt, and proceeded to throw the slip of paper behind him. It fluttered in the air, and came to a rest on the top of your nose. He earned two more holes being burned into him as it slid gracefully off of the tip. For revenge, you leaned forward, your hand hovering over a stray lock of Daniel’s hair. He had opened his own paper, shoulders scrunched, and you yanked the strand in favor of reading it.

He yelped while you raised an eyebrow, “Tree vandalism, huh?”

“What the fuck, dude,” More groans arose from the class around you, “what did I do?”

“You know what you did.”

“Ms. Kawiti already avenged you with whatever this is, please do tell me what tree vandalism is!” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, what’s the category?”

“Environmental Science– I hate that class, you don’t understand.”

You slouched against your desktop, “Loser. I bet they chose that on purpose.”

“If you’re so confident, why don’t you open yours?”

“I was getting to it!”

Daniel scooched his chair around, almost unheard in the chatter-filled room, when you thumbed the slip open. Percussion; musical. Ah, yes, now you could understand the reaction of everyone else. It felt like the administration grouped together all of the staff to give all of the students the worst prompts imaginable, even the janitor. Even God himself knows that the janitor hates them all, rightfully. Perhaps this was his plan to avenge himself and any of the past janitors as well, after a decade of working there. Perhaps you could plead for mercy, even as the class around you fell silent.

He squinted his eyes, attempting to read it upside down, “That isn’t too bad, unlike something someone got.”

“Since when can you read like that?”

“Since now,” Daniel said.

You scoffed, crumpling the paper and tossing it in your bag, “I don’t even know anything about percussion.”

“Well, the whole point is to research a topic, so,” he waved his own, “Google it, go to the library, pay the music teacher a visit for the first time this year. At least you get to have fun with yours!”

“Yeah, true, I won’t be stuck studying trees.” At that, Daniel stuck up his middle finger, scowling.

A singular finger tapped his shoulder, a ring adorning it. You hid a smile behind your hand as Daniel slowly turned, getting tenser with each second that passed. His eyes followed the figure upward, until they finally met her own. Ms. Kawiti, in all her glory, stood firm in front of his desk with pursed lips; an action that gave you a better look of the tattoo of which ran down the bottom of her lips to her chin.

“Class was dismissed five minutes ago, boys. And Mr. Ivanov, if I see that behavior in my classroom again, I won’t hesitate to give you detention.”

Daniel shrunk in his seat, “Yes, ma’am, understood.”

She strolled to the front of the classroom, and busied herself with a stack of papers. He wasted no time shoving his materials into his backpack, heaving it onto his shoulder, and most likely busting the door hinges with how fast he ran out. You allowed yourself to remove your hand from your mouth, snickering. As you got up to follow your friend, the teacher looked up from her papers with a certain twinkle in her eye.

“Remember that working with another student is prohibited; have a nice day.” As you slipped out of the classroom at last.

Daniel was waiting for you outside, and trailed behind you as you appeared. He grabbed a string on your bag, per usual, in order to not lose you in the waves of students crashing into the both of you. You pulled him along, leading him to the quickly emptying rows of lockers in the hallway. This is where the pressure on your backpack stopped, and Daniel slammed open his door. The lock holding yours open clicked under your fingers, allowing you to dump the contents of your bag inside while its pins shook.

He loudly asked, “Is it just me, or is she horribly strict?”

“Every teacher is strict to you, dude, you just hate school.” You hissed, “If anything, Ms. Kawiti is the least strict teacher that we’ve ever had.”

“She did let me off with a warning for flipping you off instead of detention.”

You smacked his back, “You’re one lucky man, Daniel. She won’t let you off that easily next time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

He zipped up his bag, hitting you with it as he tugged it on. You made a face at him, only to see him smirking at you, before darting down the hall and towards the two large exit doors. Your jaw tightened, teeth grinding against one another. Even as you chased him from a distance, you could hear his cackles only getting louder as you started to close it, reaching out a hand to grab him by the collar. Daniel knew he couldn’t outrun you; he never once had beaten you in mandatory track practices in middle school, much less now. He lasted a grand total of thirty-two seconds before you seized him by the back of his neck, a mere foot from the doors.

“You lost.”

Daniel cursed, “I have a heavier bag than you, of course I did!”

“Excuses, excuses.” You flicked his nose before setting him on the ground outside of the building, joining him shortly. The last thing you wanted was to pay a visit to the principal’s office simply because a teacher saw you playing.

As you slid down the railing, accompanying the boy jumping down the stairs, he said, “Where’s your car? Aren’t you driving home today?”

“Nah, man. Heather wanted to take the girls and Holly out to the mall.”

“I could drive you home, if you want.”

You huffed, “No thanks, wouldn’t wanna be a bother.”

Daniel held his hands high in the air, backing away towards his car, “If you say so.”

“See you tomorrow, tell me how the research goes.”

“You better text me when you get home, don’t make me wait until math in the morning to see if you got kidnapped!” he yelled, slamming his door shut and peeking out the window.

Instead of answering, you stuck out your tongue at him as the engine roared. Really, you could have sworn he flipped you off again before pulling out of the lot, speeding off until you would be able to see him the next day. You chuckled, shifting the weight of your bag onto your other shoulder, starting onto your journey home. Heather and Holly should both be out of school by now, despite the fact that your school releases earlier than theirs, and should be on their way to the mall. You can’t steal the car back now, can you?

That is all you could think about as you crossed the street, running across the sections where cars were lined, peering at the entrance in hopes of seeing your siblings. Instead, you could only see a puff of brown hair hurtling towards you before a body hit you, an arm curling around your neck and spinning you around. You hurled over, trying to throw the person off of you, not wanting to take Daniel’s words seriously. A grunt and a smack rang out as he hit the floor; you stumbled a few steps back.

A cough, “What was that for?” Rodrick spluttered.

You exhaled in a hurry, “Oh my god, it’s you.”

“Of course it’s me, who else would it be?”

“A kidnapper,” you responded dumbly.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, shaking as he staggered onto his feet once again, “Damn, I just wanted to say hi.”

“What part of hi requires you to jump on me?”

“The friendly part, duh.”

You stayed silent, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. He seemed to pick up on your mood, scratching the back of his neck, his voice still hoarse from the fall.

“I need you to do a favor for me.”

200 notes · View notes

bonesareburied · 1 year ago

Text

Smudged (3) Rodrick Heffley X M! Reader

Anddd it's here!

Warnings: Mentioned eating disorder otherwise not specified.

Summary: You were busy enough in life, too busy for what school planned to throw at you; at everyone. A boy you know well seemed to come up with an idea to manage that.

Word Count: 2.7K

A white pillowcase smashed against a mess of blonde hair, “Get up.”

“School’s been in for two weeks, you should be used to this by now,” you snickered, backing away from the bed.

“Get out of my room!”

“They’re satin, you freak,” Heather yelled, echoing in the hallway you retreated down.

Softly, “It’s time to wake up, I got your favorite cereal downstairs.”

She shot up, staring at you with wide eyes, “Really?”

“Of course I did! Not a day goes by where I don’t spoil my favorite little sister, now does it?”

When Holly finally appeared and slid into her seat, you sat in a chair beside her, “How’re classes going? I heard this is the year you finally start switching classrooms for periods.”

“They’re going good, I guess.” She sighed, pouring the milk into her breakfast, “My teacher for English already handed out the project prompts for this year, but I don’t wanna do it.”

“Wait, wait, what the hell? Already?”

“You haven’t gotten yours yet?”

“No, not in my school. Isn’t it against the rules to get a head start?”

“It was only a day before you, so I don’t think so,” she grumbled, mouth full.

“Well, it should be.”

“Nobody’s started working on it yet.”

You threw your hands up in the air, laughing, “Still!”

She jumped out of her chair, running to the bottom of the stairs to call upwards, “Heather! We gotta go!”

“I just need five more minutes to finish getting ready,” Heather replied, half silenced by the sound of the bowls settling into the sink.

“Nuh-uh, we have to go now!”

“Hey, did you get your prompt?” you said, glancing at the girl beside you.

Heather did not even look up from her screen, “Duh. You haven’t?”

“Ugh.”

“So… that’s a no.”

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, turning the wheel, “you didn’t have to hit me!”

“Don’t get a spot too far from the school, either!”

Your car slowed to a stop and powered off, as you slipped the key out and handed it to Heather, “I’ll kill you if you lose that– now both of you, shoo! Get out!”

You slapped it away as the bell rang, the seats in the classroom filled, “What’re you doing?”

“Lightening the mood, ever heard of it?” he whispered back, craning his neck to look at you.

He yelped while you raised an eyebrow, “Tree vandalism, huh?”

“What the fuck, dude,” More groans arose from the class around you, “what did I do?”

“You know what you did.”

“Ms. Kawiti already avenged you with whatever this is, please do tell me what tree vandalism is!” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, what’s the category?”

“Environmental Science– I hate that class, you don’t understand.”

You slouched against your desktop, “Loser. I bet they chose that on purpose.”

“If you’re so confident, why don’t you open yours?”

“I was getting to it!”

He squinted his eyes, attempting to read it upside down, “That isn’t too bad, unlike something someone got.”

“Since when can you read like that?”

“Since now,” Daniel said.

You scoffed, crumpling the paper and tossing it in your bag, “I don’t even know anything about percussion.”

“Yeah, true, I won’t be stuck studying trees.” At that, Daniel stuck up his middle finger, scowling.

“Class was dismissed five minutes ago, boys. And Mr. Ivanov, if I see that behavior in my classroom again, I won’t hesitate to give you detention.”

Daniel shrunk in his seat, “Yes, ma’am, understood.”

“Remember that working with another student is prohibited; have a nice day.” As you slipped out of the classroom at last.

He loudly asked, “Is it just me, or is she horribly strict?”

“Every teacher is strict to you, dude, you just hate school.” You hissed, “If anything, Ms. Kawiti is the least strict teacher that we’ve ever had.”

“She did let me off with a warning for flipping you off instead of detention.”

You smacked his back, “You’re one lucky man, Daniel. She won’t let you off that easily next time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“You lost.”

Daniel cursed, “I have a heavier bag than you, of course I did!”

As you slid down the railing, accompanying the boy jumping down the stairs, he said, “Where’s your car? Aren’t you driving home today?”

“Nah, man. Heather wanted to take the girls and Holly out to the mall.”

“I could drive you home, if you want.”

You huffed, “No thanks, wouldn’t wanna be a bother.”

Daniel held his hands high in the air, backing away towards his car, “If you say so.”

“See you tomorrow, tell me how the research goes.”

“You better text me when you get home, don’t make me wait until math in the morning to see if you got kidnapped!” he yelled, slamming his door shut and peeking out the window.

A cough, “What was that for?” Rodrick spluttered.

You exhaled in a hurry, “Oh my god, it’s you.”

“Of course it’s me, who else would it be?”

“A kidnapper,” you responded dumbly.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, shaking as he staggered onto his feet once again, “Damn, I just wanted to say hi.”

“What part of hi requires you to jump on me?”

“The friendly part, duh.”

You stayed silent, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. He seemed to pick up on your mood, scratching the back of his neck, his voice still hoarse from the fall.

“I need you to do a favor for me.”

200 notes · View notes

bonesareburied · 1 year ago

Text

Smudged - Rodrick Heffley x FTM! Reader

Summary: Rodrick had been chasing after Heather for a year, now, even after ruining her birthday party. Chicks dig bad boys, right? However, one day, he stumbles upon a family member that even he didn't know she had, one that awakens a part of him that he didn't know existed.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: I had to fight Google Docs to finish this. AHHHHHHHHHH

The sun beat down on your arms, with rough concrete scratching your palms. Your ankles were dipped into the pool, a cool feeling enveloping them, and you used this to your advantage. A pink pool doughnut floated past, manipulated by the soft waves coming from other visitors, and you reached a foot out of the water with a splash!

“What the hell!” Heather shrieked, attempting to paddle away from you. “Don’t get your toe-water on me, freak!”

“Like I care,” you snickered, raising your foot to do it again.

“You’re going to start caring when I dump your eyeliner in the toilet!”

A pout tugged on your lips, “Hey, now, that’s going a little far, don’t you think?”

“Like I care,” she sneered, rolling her eyes.

The threat worked well enough, and you lowered your weapon, letting a hiss of air move a wisp out of your eyes. At least she wasn’t going to hide your pins inside the cookie jar… again.

You spread a sheen of water across your biceps, attempting to quell the heat that built up from the minutes spent sitting on the edge. It only provided a sense of relief for a moment before a shadow loomed over your little spot, the temperature dropping with the rays missing. A groan built up in your throat; he was here.

Rodrick Heffley. The infamous man himself; the lead singer and drummer of the one band that ruined a girl’s birthday party for the sake of courting her, a serenade full of copyright instead of romance. That girl happened to be the most popular in the school, the one that every guy was tripping over himself over. The one who, rather unfortunately, happened to be your sister.

Your neck twisted upwards, just to look at him, “What?”

“Didn’t know Heather had a brother,” he said, with a smug smile on his face.

“Huh.” You grinned, “I assumed you saw me at her party.”

The smile dropped, and was replaced with a sheepish look, “Uh, yeah, I was busy.”

“That’s a gentle way to put it.”

He cleared his throat, struggling to not take the bait, “But, hey, what grade are you in? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Same grade, different schools. We’re twins.”

“Oh, damn, really? I couldn’t tell, you two don’t look the same, at all!”

You were used to getting that comment from older generations, who hadn’t been to school in the last half-a-century, but from a late teen? Health and biology should be fresh in everyone’s minds, they all took it two years ago. Though, who were you kidding, this was Rodrick you were talking about. He probably tricked his parents into doing all the homework for him, or worse, bullied his little brother into it.

“Yeah, really. We’re fraternal twins, not identical.” You rolled your eyes.

There was no light bulb shining in his eyes, no signs that he even registered what you said, “Wait, what?”

“Two sperm, two eggs. Boom.”

“Still, it’s kinda sick that you two are complete,” he paused, “opposites.”

“Are you and Greg–”

“Me and that little nerd are not the same.”

“Then it’s the same concept.”

Rodrick kicked his sandals off before flopping on the edge beside you, cursing silently to himself when the rough ground scraped his hand. You gratefully took the chance to slide your own around your neck, cracking it out of its uncomfortable position. When you looked up again, he was watching you, his lips parted ever so slightly. He visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple betraying him.

“Where do’ya get your eyeliner from?”

“The pharmacy, duh. I won’t spend a lot on expensive eyeliner if I’m just going to smudge it in the end. By then, it all looks the same, why?”

“Just looking for some good brands to keep up my amazing makeup skills, that’s all.”

“So you don’t have to keep borrowing your mom’s?”

He squinted his eyes, peering at you, “How the hell do you know that?”

“Being Heather’s brother pays off sometimes; I hear all her calls.”

“She… talks about me?” You could hear the excitement, the hope growing in his voice.

It took only a needle to pop it, “Yeah, shit-talks. She doesn't want you, man.”

“Nah, all chicks dig bad boys! They can’t act cool about it forever.”

“You’re more of a wannabe than a bad boy. Listen, if you’re hoping to get with Heather through me, you’re out of luck.”

He backed up, eyes wide, “Woah, woah, I never said that. It’d be a cool plus, sure, but I just wanted to talk to a cool dude.”

“Sure. Well, if you ever need some more eyeliner brands, I’m your man. Can’t promise that they won’t all be dumped in the toilet by tonight, though.”

“Why would they be–”

“Hey, newsflash,” A high voice called out from across the pool, doughnut in tow, “we promised to be back at home by five!”

“Oh, Heather, I have a show coming up; I could get you and the chicks some free tickets to it.” Rodrick hopped on one foot while struggling to get his sandals back on, that smirk creeping back onto his face.

You shook your head and decided to take your feet out of the pool, padding to your lounge chair. Drying them off on your towel, you roughhoused your socks and shoes on, worn to shreds after inspiration from Joey Ramone. Your father had been lucky enough to score tickets to one of his shows back in the late 80’s, and he recalls it as one of the best nights of his life. Not simply because he got to go to a concert, no, his buddy even had to convince him to go in the first place. It was one of his favorite recollections to tell to his two, and then three, children as they grew up.

Rodrick was promptly ignored by Heather as she walked over to you, and his eyes followed her as she dumped her float and bag into your arms. Only the tips of her hair were wet, and like you, had a dry pair of clothes on already. You had to wrestle with the weight until you had a clear view of the ground in front of your shoes.

After you passed the boy on your way to the exit, you called back, “Good luck with the show, Heffley!”

The walk back to the car was a short, but humid one; even from the distance you could see a slip of folded paper stuck in between your left windshield wiper, pale against the dark interior of the car. You managed to set your sister’s bag on the hood, and with light fingers, you plucked the note out of its hiding place, unfolding it.

“Looks like we had a visitor;” You couldn’t help but chuckle while reading it, “Löded Diper.”

Heather fumed, “Are you kidding me?”

“You don’t need to go, yeah?” You shrugged, ducking into the driver’s seat.

“It’s annoying!”

“I can’t exactly say it’s harmless after the party fiasco, but just know I’ll chase him off if he tries anything like that again.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You smiled, tucking the invitation deep into your pocket.

Dawdling with Heather’s time in the pool had earned you two missing sticks of makeup, and it was not hard to guess where they had gone the next time you took a piss. You forced yourself not to lash out at your sister, as surely that would make it worse, and just gritted your teeth as you flung the ruined containers into the trash. It truly made you wonder just how Rodrick had come to fall head over heels– literally, in some sense– for the girl. Hell, she treated him worse than you, from the things Holly had whispered to you at the dinner table.

The sun was just starting to set in the sky, light blue bleeding into orange as the pharmacy blocked the sun. You kicked a rock into the entrance, and the small clack caused the doors to slide open in front of you. It was a little late for the nightly rush; the very last of the families were finishing up their shopping, their kids squealing at the gum displayed by the cashier. He was a lean, stiff-looking guy, with sunken eyebags and a dim grin on his face.

You whistled a tune under your breath, convincing him to turn to look at you, “You’re not paid enough for this, dude.”

“You think?” His smile dropped, and he rolled his eyes, “Why the hell are you here, anyway?”

“Holly isn’t sick, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“And?”

“But someone was sick enough to sabotage my makeup,” you said, flicking his silver name tag. Daniel.

Daniel slapped your hand away, gesturing to your bare eyes, “That part was obvious. Another guy with raccoon eyes slid in here only a few minutes earlier, looking for the same brand you always get, so I kind of assumed he was here to replenish your stash.”

“What? I’m here alone.”

“Really?” He came in close. “You’re sure you aren’t on a–”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You pushed his face back, your pointer finger squishing his nose.

A couple wandered up to the counter, baby in arms, snot running down its red chin. Their basket was full to the brim, and although Daniel’s winner grin instantly grew, you knew he just wanted to clock out. Snickering, you stuck your hands into your pockets, your wrists scratching against your studded belt as you disappeared into an aisle. The makeup section was located near the back of the pharmacy, filled with flickering lights and shelves full of a few select, cheap brands or clumps of dust. Typically, the only customers that wandered that far back were pre-teens or cigarette mothers; the kind of people who don’t give a shit about what they’re buying as long as it’s cheap.

However, as you sauntered over to the first row of shelves, a head full of brown, lazily styled hair greeted you instead. Not the odor of burnt tobacco, though it still stuck to the white walls in yellowish-gray globs, but the scent of the cheap cologne that followed you around the pool. Rodrick was hanging over quite a specific section, chewing his bottom lip. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as you looked on behind him in amusement.

Leaning against the wall, you chuckled, “Took my advice, huh, Heffley?”

Rodrick jumped, and hissed under his breath. His posture shot up, his head turning to look at you; a pathetic attempt at saving face, really. No words were said for a long minute, only interrupted by the gargling screeches of a baby. What had Daniel done?

“I thought drug stores selling makeup was a lie, so I had to fact check!” He said,

holding up his hands.

“You think I’d lie to you?”

“Hey, my mom taught me stranger danger.”

“Since when do you listen to your mom?” You reached past him, snatching up a container, “You obviously have no idea what to look for.”

Rodrick shuffled out of your way, and huffed at your comment. “I totally do!”

“Okay, then, pencil, felt, or liquid? Which do you prefer?”

“I think felt’s the best.”

At that confident response, you stepped closer, getting in his face. He didn’t have too much makeup on, actually; just messily applied eyeliner and a too-light eyebrow pencil. A light pink dusted his cheeks, now that you were able to get a good look at them– his eyes widened, preventing you from doing the same for his eyes. You bit your cheek, your own eyebrows furrowing.

“Relax, dude, I’m trying to look,” you snapped, and used his chin to force him to face upwards.

Even as his shoulders relaxed and his eyelids drooped, he mumbled, “You’re taller than I remember.”

You released his face. Without someone to lean on, Rodrick stumbled, his breathing heavy, despite him never doing anything but laze around. Stepping back, you gave him a knowing grin, pleased at your find. He didn’t seem to process it, lifting a hand to feel up his own jaw. It clicked shut with a snap.

“Liar, you’re wearing pencil eyeliner,” you snickered.

“How the hell could you tell?”

You reached for another container, “Unless you have shit coordination, it’s less precise than liquid is. Creamier, too.”

“That’s sick, man.”

Tapping the pencil into his hand, you kicked his foot, urging him to take it, “I recommend this brand if you’re a fan of that. It’s cheap, so you can stop using up all of your mom’s.”

“Ow!”

He pulled his foot up with one, gripping the eyeliner with the other. Hopping back, he seemed like a really pissed, wounded puppy as he glared at your boots, “Why’d you kick me with those monsters?”

“Monsters? These are Doc Martens, ‘1460’. How do you expect to impress Heather if you can’t even handle a tap to the heel?”

“Excuse me, I let it get run over by a car for her! Barely reacted.”

“So I heard.” You shook your head.

A voice shouted from the intercom, “Are you two done back there? The store’s closing in five, you’re the only ones left, and I’ll lock you in here if you make me work a minute overtime!”

The two of you rushed to the front, pushing and shoving each other into the aisles in order to get to the counter first. Rodrick, out of shape, lost after he landed back-first into packages of gauze. Daniel, the man himself, was even more unimpressed at the scene than he sounded over the intercom, and looked in back and forth between you. He cracked his knuckles, getting to work on scanning the two tiny pencils; he did not even bother to put them in a plastic bag. He scratched his chin, squinting at the screen.

“That’ll be $2.48.”

You pulled out a five dollar bill out of your wallet, “I’ll pay.”

“Shit, I’m okay with that.” Rodrick shrugged.

Daniel stared him down as he snatched the bill out of your hand, “Aren’t you Rodrick Heffley? Greg’s older brother?”

“Duh, the one and only!” Rodrick said, and Daniel turned to you.

“Since when were you buddy-buddy with him? Heather hates his guts.”

“We aren’t buddy-buddy,” you scoffed, and an affronted noise came from beside you. “I only officially met him yesterday, when he was harassing her again. Pretty sure he only talked to me to find out more about Heather.”

The register finished its business with a ding. The cashier handed you your change, taking the opportunity to slide his uniform vest off of his body. You pocketed it along with your stick of eyeliner, almost throwing Rodrick’s at him. Meanwhile, Daniel had disappeared behind a door locked to customers, a clear message to get out of the store while he still allowed it. Your shoes hit the tiled floor with heavy thumps; Rodrick’s steps were silent compared to yours. Your own footsteps quieted as soon as you exited the store, muted by the asphalt ground of the parking lot.

Rodrick had pulled in with his van, clearly not the smartest move if he had wanted to be inconspicuous. It had a cheap, white paint job that was stained with words spray painted in black, uncentered and tilted. Your car, on the other hand, was a tiny thing that belonged to your mother, who would absolutely murder you if you even got a dent in it from a passing stick. The sun had long dipped under the horizon, causing the deep red color to read as crimson. However, before you could get in, one hand on the door, Rodrick called out to you.

“Thanks for… stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “That’s the first time I think anybody has ever witnessed you say thanks.”

You slammed your car door shut with you inside, watching Rodrick scramble for safety inside his van. The car’s windshield was dark with the fresh evening sky, and you could finally relax in privacy. Turning the key to start the engine, you then flicked on the radio, one arm occupied by resting near the window. An unfamiliar tune, a new release, started playing, as you backed out of your spot; speeding off. If someone asked you about it later, you would have sworn that you saw the boy staring at your fleeting vehicle.

Truth be told, your family lived in a rich neighborhood that was too well put together for something so close to a highway. Your house wasn’t the biggest in the residency, but it was decent enough to see the golden lights shining through the treetops. Living near a long line of stores was an advantage, you supposed, if a zombie apocalypse happened; but that wouldn’t. At least while you were still alive or young enough to fight some off. Otherwise, it was noisy, and you had to drown out the sounds of motorcycles, cars, and fights breaking out to focus on anything after school.

Your driveway was smooth; any rocks had been smoothed out by the machines rolling over them daily. A few flower bushes lined it– your mother had been insistent about it– and their thorns occasionally caught on your pants when you walked past. Everyone seemed to still be awake as you slipped through the door, keys jingling, since Holly jumped down the stairs to greet you.

She whispered, “Where’d you go?”

“The pharmacy, why are we whispering?” You grinned, matching her energy.

“I didn’t know if mom and dad knew,” she responded, louder, “You got grounded for a month last time you snuck out.”

“Okay, okay, shh, back to whispering.”

You climbed up the stairs, not bothering to let Heather know you had returned. Her voice carried throughout the walls, as she was complaining on call about projects, about boys, about Rodrick. Every time she talked with her friends, she complained about the ‘tough guy’ who deluded himself into thinking she was secretly into him, every time he acted up. All the girls seemed to have formed a hate club for the drummer, and if Holly had anything to say about it, it was that some of the teachers joined it as well.

As soon as you shut your bedroom door, you bent down to untie your Doc’s purple ties, tugging the boots off and throwing them in your closet. You slipped your pants off, then your boxers, leaving only your secondary underwear to hold your pad inside. Before you could throw both garments in your hamper, you paused, feeling a crinkle underneath your hand. You reached down into the pocket, pulling out a wrinkled, ripped piece of paper. Thoughtfully, you smoothed it out, pinning it on your cork board as you tossed your clothes into the pile.

Two free tickets to their upcoming show, meant for Heather. It would take a lot in order to drag Daniel to the event with you, as a plus one, but you were sure you were capable. As you settled into bed, you thought back to all the things your twin had said about the band, and the party. That celebration had been the only time you had heard their music, and it wasn’t even their song, more so a cover.

You gently placed the pencil on your bedside, only able to see the outline of it in the moonlight. If he was only being nice to you for Heather’s approval, why had he taken your advice? That mystery should bother you, should keep you up, like it did last night. But truly?

You could not find it in yourself to care.

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