#so red so rad so radiant

[montereybayaquarium]

🎵 Boos and ghouls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something great? Comb with us and you will sea, The amazingness of the bloody-belly!

This is bloody-belly, this is bloody-belly, Bloody-belly, Bloody-belly, Bloody-belly, Bloody-belly! 🎵

Some 20 years ago, as the signature fog covered the sand dunes of Monterey Bay, bloody-belly comb jellies were first described by scientists at our research partner Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI)! These jellies live in oxygen minimum zones, areas of the ocean where oxygen saturation is at its lowest—and something we painstakingly recreate for them in Into the Deep.

Their various sanguine shades may stand out to us, but act as the perfect camouflage in the deep where the color red looks black, helping them, and any glowing food tucked away in their tummies, hide in plain sight. There’s much that we have learned about our blood-red belly friends, and yet there’s much that remains a mystery!

[bettertwin9000]

I love the idea of calling you precious purple but now we need nicknames for all of you so here's what I got: Baby blue, precious purple, optimistic orange, rad red and Awesome April

Thoughts?

Maybe Radiant Red for Raph instead? She's beautiful. Mikey is an optimist, but it leaves out his talents, which are most important to him. Outstanding Orange for him seems better. Amazing is good for April. astonishing, maybe... but if we wanna keep her in code for colors, then maybe Gorgeous or Gallant Green.. Baby Blue for Leo is.. cute. But beautiful blue would be nice. Or maybe even Bold or Brave. Something to make him stand out.

[cannibalcaprine]

hello! this is Hera writing this, just since this one's a fair bit more. . . intense than the other one. the red text is me, the rest of it is all @thistoowillpasss

warning for drugging, erotic cannibalism, body horror, weird spider-women, and general gore.

Carla choosing a spider for her emblem isn't merely thematic. A genius of data processing, engineering, a pilot, who has lived for so long, done so many things? She travels with a flock of junk wizards, the limits of convention, of sensibility, are not in her vocabulary. Her augments are whatever she pleases. She is not even close to the husk that 621 or other hounds resemble. She is radiant, full, so very many limbs. Watching her exit the AC is like watching a flower bloom at sunrise. Ninety-six fingers clutch the sides of the door, six on each hand. She has 4 extra optics, two on the sides of her occipital lobe, two above her eyebrows. Her frame is robust—the exo suit reinforced with carbon straining to contain the ambiguously flowing flesh she twists and contorts on weekly whims. In spite of whatever distorted caricature of humanity brims underneath the protective suit, Carla has a distinctly graceful gait, like a deer or heron, her step light and quick, rarely is the clumsy thud of flat soles heard. What a marvel of the RaD faction, this hulking goddess appears as. Few ever see her without the suit though. Those that do… well. There’s a reason the AC she pilots is called, “Full Course.”

~ @thistoowillpasss

          It would be considered a flaw in design, if it were not deliberate. Carla’s body could run on a number of different fuels—coral, obviously, but also various industrial fuels. Fermented, poorly burning, pungent toxicity, if she could devise a method of input, she could go on a handful of sorties before needing something else. But her favorite method of caloric input was always, thematically appropriate.

          “What’s on the menu today, Rummy?” Carla purred into her headset, watching a rusty cargo container slowly line up with her quarters, an elevated tower above Grid 086’s main hangar.

          Rummy made some sort of noise between a snort and a guffaw. “Arquebus thug crawling around under the bridges. They couldn’t handle me, and Mad Stomp, though!”

     Carla vividly pictured Rummy puffing himself up when he said Mad Stomp, and smirked. “You, and Mad Stomp… and the other seven MTs that happened to be there?”

     “I did… most of it!” Rummy fussed. The cargo container thumped roughly into place, the seal locking against the door. Carla thanked Rummy and peeled off her headset, before the buffoon could continue to explain his brilliant combat skills. She was excited for this one; it had been a few weeks since her crew had managed to catch something for her without incinerating it first. Certainly she could hunt on her own, but she had been occupied with the tedious tasks of leadership. Besides, wasn’t the point of having a loyal crew of underlings to have them do some work now and then?

The Arquebus pilot listened in the dark of the container. There was someone on the other side of the thick door, she could hear faint chatter after the container locked into place. It was here, then, that she would be interrogated. Tortured, perhaps. Maybe they would simply upload something into her cortex and fry her mind from the inside out. RaD was not known for taking prisoners, little intel existed for their practices. Beyond the brutal attacks they performed on other factions in Grids 083-089, Arquebus was in the dark of various internal procedures. That was why the job had paid so well. Not that the pay mattered now. The pilot clenched reflexively as the cargo container doors opened and the being approached, snatching the bodybag holding the pilot captive with an inhuman grip, dragging them into a warm space out of the container.

          “Sorry for rough ride, tourist. But the journey’s over now, at least,” a gentle voice on the other side said.

     The pilot felt something sharp press against the side of the bag, piercing into her thigh. A tingling sensation followed; she was compromised, some sort of intravenous agent traveling diligently to her heart to spread through her body and kill her. This was possibly the best case scenario, which was the singular drifting thought she clung to in a storm of clarity: she was about to die. The heavy zipper on the front of the bodybag clicked, slowly pulled down, the pilot’s vision flooded with light, and her jaw dropped.

          “Wow, they really make you hounds better with every generation, huh? You almost look like a real girl, parts and all.” Carla smiled at the Arquebus hound, four of her hands continuing to pull the bodybag off and inspect the pilot’s tattered uniform. She marveled at the lack of scar tissue, the seamless points of entry for intramuscular implants and cerebral ports, the skin that obviously had met a shower before the mission. It was tempting to keep her alive, if only to do a few scans before dissection. Maybe even take a picture or two. People did that with exquisite food sometimes, after all. Wasn’t this asset, so blatantly expensive, exquisite?

          “W-What are you?” The pilot squeaked. She was positive whatever had been injected into her thigh was something psychotropic, hallucinogenic, neurotoxic, something that was causing her perception to catastrophically fail her. There was no, possible way, that the thing in front of her was real… right?

          “I was about—” Carla gently turned over the pilot, who she had undressed completely at this point, her hands feeling for any sort of braille or sub-dermal identifier, “—to ask you the same thing.” The pilot squirmed from the touch, but the RaD concoction was interfering with her motor skills. Carla rested one hand under the pilot’s chin, six fingers locking firmly into place. “You don’t have a number on you. What’s your call-sign, Honey?”

          The pilot was having trouble focusing. Carla’s human eyes were a deep brown, warm and friendly. Her hair was cropped short on the left side, a tattoo of a cobweb spreading out from behind her ear. But the artificial optics above her eyebrows were constantly moving, scanning, observing with purpose. And the smile she wore was too wide, the corners of her mouth cut deep into the cheeks. Her teeth looked sharpened.

          “My name is Alice. Alice Glancy.”

Carla giggled, her hand loosening on Alice’s chin. “I asked for your call-sign, not your family history.” She stood up, still holding Alice’s body, and walked over the rickety lounge chair she had salvaged for her quarters. “But now that we’re formally acquainted, and that mess of a cocktail is in your head, I can tell you what comes next, Alice.”

          Alice was drifting in and out of coherency, but various consistencies were becoming patterns, and that allowed her to roughly string a reality of sorts together. She was alone in a room, with Carla, leader of RaD, even though she felt that at least two, maybe three people were holding and touching her at any given point… far too many hands for a single person. She was definitely in danger, but also felt a strange euphoria , especially when she looked at Carla’s face, even though something in her head was scratching at the back of her eyes, telling her to try to run. She was also… yes, there was definitely something that had happened, she was—

          “What was in that… thing.” Alice was having trouble finding the words.

          Carla blew air out of her nose as she wiped drool from Alice’s mouth. She was irritated that she was so hungry, but restraining herself was a bit of a game at this point. She licked her fingers, tasting the spit, and felt herself twitch. “My junk wizards discovered it. The stuff used to clean out the booster intakes? A little bit of adjustment, mix in a hint of coral, some smokeless powder, and it makes for a good night of fun. It’s hard to think, isn’t it?” Carla felt around on the chair and found the box of injectors, keeping her eyes on the pilot, and quickly pressed another dose into Alice’s brachial artery. She leaned in as the needle pulled away, and held her mouth against the puncture point, her right ear inches away from the worried panting coming from Alice. She didn’t pull or suck against the flesh, but instead closed her human eyes, feeling the pulse of the young girl squirt droplets against her teeth and gums. It was so… pure in quality. She could detect the aftertaste of synthetics, the chemical tones of stabilizers and artificial cell structures, but the intensity, the rich tone of human blood, overpowering all. Two of her lower hands gripped the floor, scraping deep cuts into the material. Carla’s cock was starting to stiffen underneath Alice.

          “Are y-you… going to kill me?” Alice whispered. She was staring directly at the overhead light, her dilated eyes tearing up. She could feel Carla pulling her close, tremendous strength in the grip on her arms and legs.

          Carla trailed her mouth up Alice’s neck and pressed it against the pilot’s mouth, running her long tongue against the clean teeth of the pilot. She felt Alice’s tongue press against hers, more out of curiosity than anything else. The girl’s brain was steadily overheating. Carla savored the kiss, steadying herself, trying not to bite as Alice’s tongue pushed into her mouth. She was rapidly going over the RaD inventory in her head, trying to think of what she could sustain herself with in place of this, but with two shots already in, it was like trying replace a steak that was already medium-rare, waiting on a plate. She pulled away and cursed quietly, her many fingers pressing into Alice’s flesh, making the pilot moan from the sensation.

     “If it wasn’t me, it would have been the grid team that ambushed you. And if it wasn’t them, it would have been the next time. Or the one after that,” Carla said in a soothing tone, watching Alice attempt to keep her eyes open. Maybe she said it more for herself than Alice, who was starting to laugh while looking at Carla, a bit of foam at the edges of her mouth. The junk wizard’s draught was strong even with one dose, let alone two. Carla had roughly two hours before the pilot would overheat, or have something important like her liver fail. After that, the flavor would also spoil a bit. Restraint was no longer necessary.

     Alice felt something wet on her left foot. This change in texture was noticeable, even in the fog she was in. The wealth of touch and sensation that Carla had been flooding her with while she chattered, the warm feeling in her head, none of it was quite as… wet, as whatever was happening to her foot. The feeling stopped briefly, before she felt it again, now further, just above her ankle. She struggled against Carla’s many hands, but even with the light grip the digits had on Alice, her strength was nonexistent, and Carla’s reaction to the shifting was to squeeze and press in very sensitive places, making it all the more difficult to resist. Alice felt herself buck against Carla’s fingers, so investigative in their burrowing and prodding in her, it felt impossibly good. Maybe she was dead already, if she felt this good. The mech never felt like this. Neither did Arquebus barracks. Or home. Maybe she was dreaming. It felt so very easy to believe, that it was all a dream.

     Carla sat up, carefully pushing the bleeding stump where Alice’s left foot used to be. She balanced the stump on her chest, trying to keep from spilling too much of the girl. It didn’t really matter, but Alice kept giggling and making strange noises, which Carla found frustratingly endearing. She was torn between gorging and taking her time. Either movement felt like waste and embellishment. How does one feast on something they don’t want to end?

     “You’re… tickling me…” Alice was slurring her words, her breath quick and light. Carla watched the pilot’s head turn in her hands, the skin hot to the touch. She unhinged her jaw, her mouth opening wide, and slid the remainder of Alice’s calf into her gullet. She could taste the sweat, the blood that had trickled down from the gaping wound, and slowly bit down, letting her teeth break the skin, push into tissue and fat, and settle into muscle. With surgical grace, she peeled strips of the leg away, allowing them to crumple and wad in her mouth until it was full, pulling as much of the flavor out as she could. It was pushing her into frenzy.

Alice knew something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t figure out what. She was trying to jog back to the barracks after training, but she kept stepping into puddles, deep ones. The water was slick and warm, and it felt like when she tried to move her feet out of them, they only sank deeper. She kept tugging against the warmth, the sticky muck that compelled her to stay in place, and realized that after a bit of trying, she couldn’t feel her left leg at all, and only some of her right leg. She tried to reach into the depths, pushing her hands against the same warm wetness to feel for her legs, and felt a sudden pull—her hands were starting to vanish too, now.

     Carla opened her mouth wide as she tightened the tourniquet on Alice’s right leg. Both legs had been consumed to the upper length of the thigh, which seemed to have made the delirious Alice curious, her hands shakily stretching downward towards the bloody stumps. Carla smiled as the pilot’s hand pressed against the middle of her tongue, letting it clumsily grasp and fondle the inside of her mouth. She coiled her tongue around Alice’s forearm, guiding her further in, the hand sliding down into the tight throat as it still blindly searched for missing legs. Carla watched the bemusement saturate Alice’s dazed expression, the searching arm shoulder-deep inside Carla’s throat, tongue flicking against the stubble in the armpit, teeth descending into the skin.

“Got a job for you, Trainee. You do this, and you’ll be considered a contender for Vesper position.”

“Location and objective?”

“Grid 086. We’re scouting a possible infiltration into RaD territory. Valuable intel can be obtained, even with a light craft, so long as the pilot is good enough.”

“I’ve read the briefing on RaD. Coral junkies.”

“… Don’t be overconfident. There’s a reason they hold the grid down.”

“I can… handle… a f-few… tricks…”

     Carla pressed hard against her stomach, watching the shape of Alice’s arm fold as she snapped the bones. It would break down easily, but she was getting a cramp from it. She looked back up at Alice, who was drifting back and forth between consciousness, balanced on her lap. Carla kissed the dying girl again, cursing herself for being so hungry on the day that a treat like this showed up. No doubt Arquebus would be hesitant to send anything so unique to the grid again, not without substantial firepower. She pushed lengths of her tongue into Alice’s throat, felt it seal the trachea, and held the pilot in place, until the gentle struggling on her remaining hand slowed, then stopped. It took hours for Carla to finish eating Alice. She savored every bite, watching the sun rise on Rubicon as the final bit disappeared between her lips.

            Rummy was confused. boss was usually in a better mood after he brought a catch to her, but Carla seemed crabbier after that Arquebus they got. He didn’t even get a good job, Rummy, you’re awesome and so is Mad Stomp, Rummy, like he would have normally. He would have to find something to cheer her up.

[pigerludio]

Emotions. Memories. Life. Fanfic. Undertale AU.

-Part 2-

Category: Gen, 16+ maybe?

Character: Frink, Mirror, AI Dream, Radiant, AI Nightmare, AI Blue

Warnings: Obscene language, Inhuman morality, OC, Mental disorders, Psychological traumas, Rating for profanity, Gray morality, OOC,

Other tags: AU, In one body, Drabble, Parallel Worlds, Under the same roof, A collection of drabbles, Elements of psychology, Elements of humor / Elements of banter.

- Created by the desire to ✨ create✨

- Tags will be added as they are written.

- Predominantly bone-shake, though it's not a fact that this will always be the case.

- EML is: Acute Incident stories, (sick)everyday life of HWS, spending time with the AI inhabitants, living the dead and not quite alternatives, and just the creeping of bone-gnaw in the knowledge of their mortal existence.

An alternate timeline where Frink and Mirror had a ... during a particularly intense fight from the remnant of a collapsing world and a high concentration of Frink and Mirror's magic in one place... This little guy.

Frink hand twitches, and Radiant eyes flutter shut, watching with bated breath as his Base gently brings his hand down on his head, and instead of the expected kick or shove, he feels the cloth surface of the glove and the bones whose touch feels like thin cuts in dusty paper.

It had been a long time since Rad had twitched at such displays of sudden tactile generosity as he used to. He would have been proud of what he had accomplished when Mirror had taught him how to deal with such sensations, but learning to accept physical contact calmly like this all at once was proving to be a difficult endeavor. For both teacher and student.

Frink smile faltered, and the perennial red symbols in his eye sockets changed to a hypnotically calm blue, and the arrogant expression on the other's face softened. The guardian still reeks of menace, and subconsciously Radiant tries to force himself to calm down, to muster the courage to look into the stranger's eyes. It takes him a few seconds to do so and smile back, immediately casting a quick glance with a mute question over Frink's shoulder at the figure dressed in blue-colored clothing and a tattered cloak behind him. He gets a nod and Radiant feels a little calmer, but not as much as he would if he saw Mirror there, smiling at him.

- It won't be long before you've developed your abilities to an acceptable level. - Frink continues to smile, staring off into the distance. With a hum, the guardian removes his hand from the stranger's head and the kid lets out a barely audible sigh of relief, briefly looking down at the floor and fighting the urge to scratch himself where he can still feel the rough surface of the touch, sighing deeply a few times. - I hope you haven't abandoned your training.

The brief glance, carelessly thrown straight into Radiant's soul, made his bones and teeth clatter, but he forced his jaw tightly shut and swallowed, shaking his head in denial and clenching his fists tighter. He would have to calm down and pull himself together like Nightmere had taught him. He needed to be able to deal with what he was feeling and understand what he was feeling.

Still, he's weaned from Frink, and he realized that now more than ever.

- It's a good thing you didn't lose you mind while being with that idiot in the madhouse.

Frink waved him aside dismissively, squinting, but then breaking into the same arrogant smile that Radiant rarely saw on his face when he was pleased. There was a stabbing pain in his chest that he couldn't explain, as if someone had stuck a shoemaker's needle into his chest and threaded all the parts of his soul with a thick steel thread, pressing them tightly together.

A little anger came from the unpleasant sensation, the name of which he didn't know. Rad wasn't a fan of when one of his Base insulted the other, and by fateful coincidence, Frink was a master at it. But he also didn't like the conflicts and fights that the bases almost regularly had with each other.

And after that, Mirror still called him his friend?

- What's with the sour look? - Frink snorted, and his pupils flickered with purple and green squiggles, the meanings of which Rad often forgot, and found no point in memorizing. - We'll spend the whole week together. I can finally teach you something! Or aren't you excited?

Frink frowned, and the very thought of it seemed to hurt his ego. Rad didn't like what he was saying, but he nodded modestly, knowing full well that he had no choice in the matter and only a little annoyed at how quickly he'd agreed to this venture, when Mirror had told him that Frink's abilities were better developed by him and that this way he'd really understand what he needed in this life.

Not that any of that wasn't true, on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy throwing ink and watching his Base master the magic of its transformation, but he definitely thought Mirror was wrong about a lot of things, and strangely enough, he was wrong about Frink, even if sometimes his mouth was really prophetic.

And Rad liked fire, too - he was unconsciously drawn to it, having once seen his own ink burning with magic, after so many unsuccessful attempts to set it on fire. It seemed that he had burned two rooms that time, but Nightmare had surprisingly not scolded him, and had reassured him that those rooms had long ago spoiled his entire layout. Of course Radiant didn't believe him. But he didn't believe him NOW, and back then, scared and cornered, he was ready to believe anything, if only he could stop huddling guiltily against the wall and throwing weak magical attacks around uncontrollably.

Smiling as plausibly as possible, and as it seemed to himself - too dramatically changed in his face, Radiant covered his eyes, nodding to his thoughts, and after a moment's hesitation to answer the monster:

- I'm very glad you took the time.

Rad raised his voice, turning his head away to where his Basis had been looking earlier. Hard. Talking to Frink was hard after a while. - Just missed you.

Burying his nose deeper into his clothes, Rad breathed in the familiar smell of coffee and chocolate, smiling a little more confidently. The kid could tell that he was glad when Frink could talk to him quietly, like this.

The guardian was like an older brother to him, the same one who in silence experiences everything that is most terrible and unpleasant, and then exposes his prickles when you try to help him. Like a hedgehog snorting and curling up in a kind of prickly cocoon, sensing some kind of danger, albeit imaginary, he continues to snort and grumble stubbornly without saying anything useful. At least that's how Mirror compared him, and Rad saw no reason not to trust his experience in comparisons.

Except that Nightmare had once compared Frink to a Harpy, and smiled, saying that Dream couldn't stand the likes of them, and yet the two continued to play cat and mouse. Radiant didn't understand what cats had to do with mice, but he hoped the cat could win. He liked cats better than mice, if only because the stripes on his cheeks resembled a cat's whiskers.

Still, Radiant was curious about what lay beneath Frink's prickles, which he sometimes wanted to rip out with his own hands, despite the pain and a hundred percent step into the arms of death. Just to make sure that he really felt nothing for his named "Brother" and really, just as Frink had said, would be able to kill the indecision in him. At times like this, as he realized himself, he becomes uncontrollable and starts to break a lot, and then he forgets everything that has happened to him lately.

Time. What a useless phenomenon, Rad thought, tentatively tugging at the hem of the poncho on which his own hands had embroidered the stars. Three so far. He'd never kept time and considered it a complete pointless nonsense that made those around him feel inferior and forced himself into various ridiculous confines, like a sleep regimen or a daily routine.

Sighing heavily, the kid cast one last sad glance at the place where his nervous uncle was still waiting, stomping his foot in frustration and glancing around. Waving goodbye before taking Frink's hand, his last thought was one of regret.

He had forgotten his doll, after all, and she would surely be lonely without her friend, while he himself worried that Flatch might do anything to his dear Rose.

It had been an eventful day, though, and he couldn't think about his friend while he was with Frink.

The boy was once again plunged into the role of protector of worlds, swimming in its sources but refusing to dissolve into it, watching as his conscience, deaf to his questions, faded and life came to the fore. Not a man or a monster, no. Something more. Something that Frink so desperately protects from everyone at once, proudly sticking out his chest and striking the ground with the sharp end of his hand.

And Radiant had decided for himself at the time that he would never be the next guardian of this infinite space they call the Multiverse.

______

End :)

[en8y]

radiantslimilector + hoaradiantslimic

[IMAGE ID: two horizontal flags with nine stripes; each flag has a radiant rad slime in the center. the radiant rad slime is a bright green blob with small, neon yellow eyes, and a open, happy smile. it has neon green circles radiating in its body, as well as a bright green and neon green radiation halo around its body. the middle stripe is twice as large as the rest of them, which are equally sized. the first flag has these top three colors: deep dark blue, bright purple, and light purple-blue. the second flag has these top three colors: warm purple, dull orange-red, and light orange. each flag has these bottom six stripes: neon yellow, off-white, neon yellow, neon green, bright green, and dark green. END ID.]

radiantslimilector: a gender connected to being a radiant slime collector; this gender is connected to radiant slimes, radiant slime aesthetics, collector/collecting aesthetics, and CINhood!

hoaradiantslimic: a gender connected to being a radiant slime hoarder; this gender is connected to radiant slimes, radiant slime aesthetics, hoarder/hoarding aesthetics, hoarding identities/things, and CINhood! intended to be used by mentally ill people with hoarding tendencies, but okay to be used by others as long as you do so respectfully!

[joonie-beanie]

The Demon Brothers + comforting a self-conscious MC/Reader

So a while ago an anon sent me the below ask

And I kind of adored the idea, considering I am also insecure, and chubby, and in need of some demon bro comfort. Hence, here we are.

Rather than bullet point, I ended up writing short stories for each brother. Hopefully you still enjoy 💕

Lucifer:

The eldest brother is not unaware of the way your eyes stray when the two of you are in public together—your gaze raking over the other inhabitants of the Devildom as you traverse the busy streets.

At first, he assumes the array of creatures—some far less human-like than he and his brothers—are interesting to you. Then, he notices the way you begin hugging yourself with your arms. As if trying to hide yourself away from any prying eyes.

It is indeed out of place for a human to be seen in the Devildom, and you do get some stares, but...he has a suspicion that the sudden shyness you exhibit stems from feelings that reach beyond what strangers may think of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you in such a state.

“Y/N,” he addresses you after tugging you into a small, scarcely populated side alley. One of his gloved fingers curls beneath your chin, and he guides your hung head to look at him. “I can tell you’re upset. Explain to me why.”

You glance away from him, cheeks heating up, and your arms hugging your sides a bit tighter.

“I just...you, and your brothers are all so beautiful,” you start by saying, causing him to blink in surprise. “And...whenever we’re out like this, and I see all of the other demons living here, I can’t help but feel like I pale in comparison...”

Lucifer’s features soften as he stares at you. You’re worried about such a silly thing?

“Y/N.” He steps forward, his thumb moving to hold your chin. He tilts your head up, guiding you into a kiss. It’s soft, and loving, and immediately your fingers are twitching against your sides—itching to reach out and hold him.

“You are perfect as you are, and I have never thought otherwise.”

He kisses you again, his free arm moving to curl around your waist and tug you closer. You feel your heart aching in your chest.

“Lucifer—”

“You need not compare yourself to others, because there is no one else like you—and you are radiant in every sense of the word. I give you my word as the Avatar of Pride that what I speak is the absolute truth.”

His voice is quiet, and tender, and full of adoration. You feel like crying.

“I love you,” you whisper the words against him, voice a little broken, and Lucifer smiles before kissing you again. He will try his best from now on to help you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin.

Mammon:

The second brother invites you to Majolish to watch one of his fashion shoots, and you agree despite knowing how self conscious it will make you, because you know it will make him happy.

So, you find yourself standing in the back of the studio, watching Mammon on the temporary set—which is composed of an oversized mattress, and colorful pillows. He’s wearing slacks, and a button up that’s not buttoned at all—revealing his toned body. Since it’s a group shoot, he’s surrounded by equally enticing male and female demons. And while the sight should get you going, considering they’re all so attractive, it just makes you feel...bad.

Biting your lip, a sick feeling rising in your chest, you end up stepping out into the hall. Mammon finds you there soon after, a look of relief on his face when he spots you with your back against the wall—arms hugged together.

“There ya are! I thought you had left!” He runs up to greet you, but his smile wavers. He can tell you’re upset—gaze straying away from him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches out, hands hovering nervously. Had he done something? “I...if I did something wrong you can tell me...I didn’t mean to upset ya—”

“No, it’s not you,” you mumble, cutting him off. Now he’s even more confused. “I guess...I got upset seeing you and all the models. I know I don’t look anywhere near as attractive, and that thought started to gnaw at me, so—”

“What are ya talking about?” he interrupts you, head cocked to the side curiously. “I think you’re hot as hell.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, surprised at his words. “What?”

“I-I mean!” suddenly he’s turning red, hand lifting to sheepishly rub at his neck. “I’ve never thought that ya weren’t attractive, ya know? Ever since you came here my heart can’t help but flutter whenever I see ya…”

Your heart aches. “Mammon…”

“Listen! I just…,” his shy gaze turns back to you, and he reaches a hand out, cupping your cheek. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

He leans in, but hesitates for a moment, so you’re the one who ends up sealing the kiss.

“Don’t worry about that kinda crap, okay?” he whispers against you, his arms lowering to wrap around your waist—holding you tightly. “Or else The Great Mammon will have to start knocking some sense into that silly human brain of yours.”

Tears blot your eyelashes, but you can’t help but giggle.

Levi:

You love Levi dearly, but he has an Akuzon addiction that needs to be addressed.

Recently, Akuzon had apparently expanded their clothing options—stocking more cosplay-like pieces—and Levi had thrown them all into his cart without second thought. Now that they’ve arrived, he’s begging you to come over.

Except, he doesn’t tell you why he wants you to come to his room until you’re already there—watching as he unpacks the multiple bags worth of questionable clothing.

“Ooooo~! This one is especially cute!!” He holds up something pastel, and undeniably adorable. You don’t disagree—it is cute, but...as you stare at it, an uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach.

Can you even pull off something like that? You’re sure Levi is hoping that you’ll look like one of the cute anime characters in his favorite shows, and you don’t want to disappoint him. 

As much as you would love to try on the clothing and model for him, you don’t believe you’ll be able to do the outfits any justice.

“Y/N?” the demon calls your name curiously, noting how you’ve gone silent. You’re no longer paying attention to him, your head hung as you stare off to the side—a perplexed look on your face.

“W-What’s wrong?” Leviathan drops the clothing held in his grap, stepping towards you. He knows that he can get a little overly excited about this stuff, but you’re typically tolerant of it…

“I don’t know if I’m the right person to model for you,” you end up saying, voice quiet. An array of negative feelings are swirling in your head, making it hard for you to say what you want to without vomiting all your worries at him.

“I’m not...built the same as an anime character, or the cute 2-D people in your video games. The clothing won’t look the same on me, and I don’t want to ruin the images you probably have in your head.”

“Y/N—,” he cuts you off, his hand grabbing your own. He lifts your hand until your fingers are splayed against his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When you glance up, his face is flushed.

“I...this is how I get every time I’m around you,” he tells you honestly. “Whether you’re in your RAD outfit, or pajamas, or just a t-shirt and jeans...I...m-my heart always beats l-like this.”

He looks like he’s about to phase out of existence—embarrassed beyond belief with everything he’s currently confessing to you—so you instinctively reach your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, cheeks aflame. 

“I think you’re so cute,” he mumbles, amber eyes staring right at you. “You don’t have to look like Ruri-chan, or anyone else. I...I like you. So, please don’t think those things about yourself...”

“Levi…” There’s adoration in his gaze, and you can’t help but kiss him. 

Beneath your palm, you feel his heart skip a beat. 

Satan: 

The Avatar of Wrath has recently become accustomed to inviting you out on little coffee dates. It’s a chance for both you and him to escape his brothers, and have a space to yourselves where you’ll be able to talk freely.

The cafe the two of you frequent is dark, and cozy, and right up Satan’s alley. So far, all of your experiences there have been pleasant. 

Today, however, the stunningly attractive barista is throwing herself at Satan as he orders your drinks, and a familiar uncomfortable feeling begins rising in your throat.

Just great. 

Chin resting in your palm, you watch the two interact—Satan maintaining his pleasant composure, even when she presses her arms beneath her chest and asks if he wants any company. You see him shake his head, and you assume he mentions that he’s already here with someone, considering the barista’s gaze strays to you. She looks you up and down, an unkind amusement swimming in her eyes, before she turns back to Satan.

...wow. 

You face yourself away, feeling bitter, and anxious as you wait for the fourth brother to return to your side. That assuming he does. You wouldn’t blame him for running off with the Barista—

“Y/N,” two hands reach out and cup your cheeks, guiding your head to the side. You manage to note that Satan is now crouched beside your chair—barista abandoned—before his lips connect with yours.

“I love you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Wha—,” you flush red as he pulls back, shocked at his actions. Satan usually isn’t so open about his affections in public. “You...how did you—?”

“I was watching the barista when she glanced past me. The rude, yet satisfied look on her face was telling enough,” he says, a bit of anger slipping into his tone. However, it’s quick to melt away when his gaze refocuses on your blushing cheeks. 

“Just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so.” He presses back to his feet, the tips of his ears turning red. “So...don’t mind what others say, and be kind to yourself, okay?”

At a loss for words, you reach your arms out and hug him around the middle. He blinks in surprise, but a chuckle leaves his lips—his hand petting against your hair.

“Do I need to start telling you how much I adore you every day?”

“I might die,” you mumble into his shirt, and he feels his heart ache. He’ll be sure to start expressing his affections for you more often. He doesn’t want you feeling down about the way you look, because he has never given it a second thought. 

In his eyes, you’ve always been perfect.

Asmo:

Asmo is unfortunately stellar at reading your body language. So on the days where your self-confidence and self-image aren’t best, he’s right there, trying to subtly raise your spirits.

Today, when he notices you picking at your food during breakfast, a frown on your face, he knows it’s going to be one of those days. And he doesn’t like seeing you upset. 

So, he invites you to come to his room for a nice, relaxing spa day.

You agree, although it takes a little bit of convincing on his end. 

Soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of Asmo’s outrageously large tub. He’d prepared a milk bath for you—the white, swirling liquid thick, and heavenly smelling. You’re a little nervous to disrobe and sink inside—especially considering your current mental state—but...you end up doing it anyway.

Once you’re shoulder deep into the tub, Asmo knocks on the door, making you jump.

“Are you up for getting a scalp massage?” he questions, peeking his head in. There’s a kind smile on his face. “I’d love to give you one.”

It takes you a moment to answer—your gaze lowering to look at yourself. It’d be impossible for him to see you beneath the milk, so that helps you feel a bit better…

“Okay,” you say, and Asmo is quick to skip inside. He rolls up his pants to his knees, his calves dipping into the bath on either side of your shoulders. A moment later, you feel his fingers rub through your hair, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Feel good?” he questions, and you hum in acknowledgement. Silence falls for a short while—Asmo simply focusing on easing the tension from your body—but he can’t let his thoughts go unheard.

“You know,” he starts by saying. “I don’t understand why you’re so hard on yourself. I think you’re positively stunning.”

“Asmo…”

“No, I really mean it!” he pouts, getting the feeling that you think he’s just saying that to try and make you feel better. “You’re cute, and scrumptious just the way you are! And I’ve always thought so—since the moment I laid my eyes on you when you were summoned by Lord Diavolo for the exchange program. 

“So just...take my word for it, please, and let me be the positive voice in your life when your silly brain is making you think otherwise.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and his hands move to gently hold your cheeks. After a moment, you reach up and place your hands on his own. Your chest aches at his words, conflicted, but more than anything, you feel grateful.

“Thank you, Asmo.”

“Anytime, darling. I’ll always be more than happy to shower you with the love, praise, and affection that you rightfully deserve.”

Beel: 

Beel loves inviting you to the gym with him, because when he’s done working out, he’s starving, which means it’s a good excuse to go out and have a meal with you.

Most days, sitting on the sidelines at the gym, or hopping on the treadmill and getting a good walk in doesn’t really bother you. Especially because you get to watch Beel as he exercises.

Today, however, you’re feeling entirely too self conscious as you sit on the empty bench press beside the Avatar of Gluttony—watching the way his arms flex as he lifts the heavy weights.

You know that the gym is typically an accepting place—an area where people (or in this case, demons) of any shape and size can come to work out—but you just feel like you don’t belong. Not accompanying Beel, at the very least.

He basically looks like he was handcrafted by god himself (and very well may have been)—his face handsome, and body toned in all of the right places. And here you are, unable to compare to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice reaches your ears, and you look up to find him staring at you in concern. You can only guess that you’d had a pretty sour look on your face while you’d been lost in your thoughts.

“It’s...it’s nothing, Beel.” You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with your current emotions. He frowns, regarding you for a moment, before he lets it go.

“Okay, I’m gonna change, and then we’ll go eat.”

“Alright,” you respond, immediately pressing to your feet. You head for the door without saying anything, intending to wait for him outside per usual. 

A few minutes later, Beel exits the gym to find you sitting on a bench nearby. Your leg is bouncing anxiously, gaze zoned on the concrete at your feet.

“What’s wrong?” he questions again, taking a seat beside you. His tone indicates that he won’t be accepting “nothing” for an answer this time. 

You knot your hands together in your lap. “I just...do you ever get embarrassed? Bringing me to the gym with you?”

He blinks. “Embarrassed? Why would I?”

“I don’t know, because I’m...not...up to par with a lot of the demons in there? Or, because you look like that, and I look like this, and—”

“I’m lost,” he cuts you off, looking confused. “Are you saying I should be embarrassed because I’m bringing a cute human with me to the gym? Maybe it is a little weird, considering this is the Devildom, but—”

“No, not just because I’m human. I meant—”

This time, he silences you with a kiss. His large hands cup your cheeks, holding you tenderly.

“I know what you meant, Y/N, but I disagree,” he tells you, uncharacteristically serious as he sits back. Then, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I actually think you’re really adorable. Anytime I look at you I think of my favorite food. I love you just how you are, and will never feel embarrassed having you at my side. So, you should remember that from now on, okay?”

He reaches over and slots your hands together, tugging you to your feet.

“Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Belphie:

Both you and Belphie are aware that one of Belphie’s favorite activities is napping with you. Particularly, with his hands wrapped around you, and his face pressed between your shoulder blades.

Recently, you’ve been passing on all of his invitations to share a nap.

And he’s seriously starting to go crazy.

Had he done something to upset you? You always seem normal whenever you’re talking with him and his brothers, but when he sends a text asking you to come over and nap, you’re either busy, or just don’t feel like it.

Today, he decides to try and bring the nap to you.

He waltzes into your room mid-afternoon—pillows and blankets tucked beneath his arms. Without waiting for a response, he makes his way to your bed and sets everything up, making a perfect little fort for the two of you to nap in.

Once it’s set up, he crawls his way inside and then rolls over, turning to face you. 

You’re stood at the edge of the bed, arm awkwardly held in your grasp. You don’t move to join him. Belphie sighs.

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asks, wanting to resolve the issue if he has. He can’t take this anymore.

“What? No, it’s not you,” you tell him, surprised to hear his question. The demon blinks at you, now even more confused. If he’s not the reason you’ve been avoiding napping with him, then what is?

He fixes you with a curious stare—letting you know that he won’t be leaving until you tell him the truth—and you sigh. 

“I just...haven’t been feeling too good about myself lately,” you admit to him, eyes glancing off to the side. “And because of that, I started thinking about you holding me when we nap, and ended up getting self conscious, wondering if I felt weird in your arms, or if—”

Before you get the chance to continue, Belphegor is grabbing your wrist—tugging you down against the mattress. With your back facing him, he’s quick to scoot up behind you, his arms wrapping around your midsection like normal.

“I never have cared about looks, or any of that stuff,” he mumbles, giving you a squeeze. “You fit perfectly in my arms, and always will, so don’t overthink it.”

“Belphie…”

“I love you for you, okay? I think you’re cute, and all that jazz. Now don’t make me say it again…”

Sounding embarrassed, Belphegor presses a kiss to the back of your head. You place your arms atop his own, smiling softly.

“Thank you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms.

[immacaria]

Eternity

  Here comes the Day 3 with the prompt ‘Eternity’ from Beetober 2021 from @bloody-bee-tea! I took inspiration from this prompt of @mingcheng-prompts too and I kind od made myself cry a little but okay! Tears are mostly good, according to my sib and my mom. Anyways this is one is actually Mingcheng and it’s a reincarnation AU. The word count is 2504 words. This being said, I hope you guys enjoy this and stay safe and healthy! 

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  When it happened the first time, it was confusing and he was called crazy by some and a dreamer by others. Whispers that the gods had cursed him with the memories of the past went behind his back, ones that were sure that he had been too bad in his previous life and that death was a too easy escape for him. Not that Jiang Cheng didn’t agree with it all, he did, but he was angry at the gods nonetheless. 

  Because he had suffered in his previous life too, he had lost so many things already and now he had to live with the same memories as before. His siblings’ laugh and his nephew’s radiant smile, his best friend’s dramatic acts and his husband’s sleepy faces everyday in the morning right after he woke up. Now he had to live not only with the memories of his crimes, but with the memories of what could never be again. Maybe he had been too bad before and he did deserve all of it now. 

  But, as the lives passed, the memories built up, not fading or mixing as he expected them to. Jiang Cheng still remembered Wei Wuxian’s corny jokes that didn’t make sense anymore and Nie Mingjue’s little screams every time one of the younger disciples appeared out of nowhere and scared him. But, now, he remembered his mother in his second life, Liu Xiaotong, and her loud laugh and big hugs and the way his younger brother in his fourth life, Shen Yuan, had the bad habit of climbing trees to the highest branches and scaring the passersby with his screams too and he was happy did. 

  Every one of them had its happy moments and laughs, but they had hardships too, some more than others. He starved and suffered from the cold in some of them, always trying to give a more comfortable life to his younger siblings and cousins, and in others he was killed even before he could reach the adult age, sometimes for being rich and others as a punishment for his parents. All of them left memories behind, good or bad, and Jiang Cheng still prayed in every one of them that he would forget at least some of them. 

  He never did, though. So he tried to ignore them and more on with his life - or lives - until whatever sadistic and bastard god above tired out of playing with him and let him actually die. Or, at least, forget some of the memories. But, at some point,trying to ignore didn’t have any more effects and he was forced to face all that stayed behind, all the pain, all the despair and traumas. 

  But sometimes that countless memories came in hand, let it be as an instinct from a previous life or a memory from a historical moment he lived - because, yes, he ended up in some really fucked up moments - through and needed the knowledge. Even if he lost count of how many lives he had lived and the memories sometimes got mixed up, Still, every now and then, it was good to have the memories and Jiang Cheng almost thanked whatever sadistic god above for them. 

  Only, almost but if it was for him to thank anything it was the few times where he saw familiar faces around. Most of the time it was only one or two faces and he generally wasn’t connected at all to them. But, sometimes, he would reincarnate as a family member of one of them and his heart would always ache with the past memories and the hope of them remembering anything from the past. There was a time where he was born as Jiang Yanli’s older brother, Jin Zixuan was their neighbour and the whole time he was waiting for Wei Wuxian to appear too with his corny jokes and loud laugh but he never did. 

  It happened other times too, sometimes with both his siblings or just one of them, sometimes their dynamics changed way too much and others not so much. Everybody had appeared in his life one more time, from Yu Ziyuan to Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen to Nie Huaisang, everybody minus Nie Mingjue. No matter how many times he searched, looked around and hoped, his husband would never be where he thought or even pass by him in the street just for him to see him one more time. But it never happened and, with his luck, it never would. 

  For example, this new life of his had everybody from his first life, but he was still to find Nie Mingjue. He was born as Jiang Yanli’s twin brother, Wei Wuxian’s older cousin - though the boy was raised as their brother -  and the “second'' son of Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian because Yanli was born two minutes before him. Funny enough, at least for him, it was actually Jin Zixuan who had a crush on his sister first and acted like a fool. 

  Meng Yao was still Jin Zixuan’s brother, though he was raised as his cousin, and was the one to take his siblings out of their father’s reach. He and Lan Xichen were dating since high school and it was their fault that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji met and Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng were suffering now. Still, there were only two things that managed to surprise him in this new life: 1. After his parents divorced and his mother married Wen Zhuliu, of all people she could choose, she actually changed from that bitter and angered woman to someone happier and easier to deal with, someone that actually tried to understand others, and 2. There was something strange in the air, something off that he really couldn’t see, but if he had to guess, it would be the fact that literally everyone from his first life was there. 

  He discovered it soon enough, though. It was Saturday and they were making barbecue in his mother’s backyard - an activity he never thought he would see Yu Ziyuan participating in - when he discovered what it was. Unfortunately, it was hope. Hope that Nie Mingjue was among them and well, even if he didn’t remember anything, hope that this time he would at least see his husband dimples again. After all, this was too the first time that everyone from his first life was alive at the same time. 

  “Cheng-ge! Cheng-ge!” Wei Wuxian screamed from the other side of the backyard, waving his arms excitedly. He was near the pool Wen Zhuliu had built for Yu Ziyuan and was wearing a black swimming shorts with white little ghosts all over it with tattoo sleeves running down his arms. “Look at this!” He smiled and fear ran down Jiang Cheng’s spine as he realized that he was going to jump. 

  “Wei Wuxian, don’t you da-...” He said, getting up from the wood bench he was laying down on and going to the pool as his idiot brother did a black flip and almost hit his head on the pool edge. “Shit.” He took a deep breath, squeezing the tip of his nose. 

  “Did you see it, Cheng-ge?” He appeared near him, smiling widely and looking like a wet rat, a very cute one, but a wet rat nonetheless. 

  “You are looking like a wet rat and of course I saw it. It was rad.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and squatting near him. “Who taught you that though?” 

  “Lan Zhan!” He chirped, before disappearing under the water again and swimming again. Jiang Cheng looked over his shoulder to where Lan Wangji was helping his brother and Jin Zixuan on the grill with his ears reddening as Lan Xichen giggled beside him. Maybe another murder will make me finally die for real and the gods will be tired of me., he thought as he got up and started walking up to where the psychopath that Wei Wuxian called boyfriend was. 

  Fortunately for Wangji, his death was delayed as Nie Huaisang appeared from inside the house with a big and red thermal box in hands and screaming his name like he was being murdered. “Jiang-xiong! I’m so sorry I’m late, really, really sorry! But, look! I made moon cakes and baozi!” 

  “If you think you can make me forget and forgive your delay with food, you are…” He started before his sister interrupted him, coming from absolutely nowhere and taking the thermal box from Huaisang’s hands. 

  “Absolutely right! Thank you for them, A-Sang!” Jiang Yanli smiled, before elbowing him in the ribs and angrily muttering. “Shut up, don’t be rude. Or I’ll kill you if you make him go away with these buns.” He only scrunched his nose back at her, putting his tongue out as she walked to where her boyfriend was, with her face all scrunched up and tongue out too. 

  “Why are you late, anyways?” He said, rolling his eyes as Yanli’s giggles reached his ears and Huaisang smiled at him knowingly. The little bastard knew way too well that his twin would kill him if he was rude to him. 

  “I went to get my brother at the airport. Hope that you don’t mind that he came too. His apartment isn’t ready yet and I think it will be good for him to meet some new people.” He shrugged, pointing over his shoulder and completely ignorant to the way that Jiang Cheng’s heart missed a beat and hope threatened to grab his neck and suffocate him as he waited - No, prayed - for Mingjue to appear at the same at the same path his brother did with all his glory and hellish dimples that rendered him stupid whenever he smiled. 

  “You have a brother?” He whispered, hand fisting at his shorts as he tried to swallow down the knot on his throat. 

  “Yeah, his name is Nie Mingjue, he is my older brother. He was out to the United States these last years but he’s back now and doesn’t plan to leave any time soon again.” He said happily, lightening up at the thought of his brother staying and Jiang Cheng felt his head light as his vision went white. 

  When he could see again, the first thing he saw was Wei Wuxian's wet face staring down at him with wide and fearful eyes and dripping water on his face. If he was still able to, he would have scared himself, but instantly he just groaned and tried to move just to notice that he was leaning in the ground. He felt his face heat up as he noticed that everybody on the barbecue was around him and looking at him with worried eyes. 

  "What the hell, Jiang-xiong?" He heard Nie Huaisang say as he covered his face with a hand and got up. That's when he felt strong and oh, so familiar hands wrap up against waist. 

  "I don't remember you fading so easily, my heart." Nie Mingjue joked when he turned around quickly, both their eyes shiny with unshed tears and Jiang Cheng let out a laugh as he launched himself at him. 

  "You asshole! This is your fault!" His arms hugged his neck and he hid his face on his neck, taking deep breaths and relaxing against him. "Do you know how much I missed you? How much I waited for you?" 

 "I don't, but if it's half as I did, I can tell you that you didn't deserve to suffer all of this hurt alone." Nie Mingjue said against his hair, kissing his head. "But I think that first we have to explain to your family why you are crying and clinging to me." 

  "Oh! Right." Jiang Cheng sniffed, turning around to meet his sister's amused look, his brother's angry glare, his stepfather's inquisitive gaze and his mother's unimpressed face. "Well, shit." 

  "Well, shit, indeed, Jiang-xiong!" Nie Huaisang said, throwing his hands in the air before pointing at Mingjue's face. "Did you fuck my best friend, Da-ge? When did you fuck my best friend, Da-ge?!" Behind him, Wei Wuxian's glare turned downright murderous and Yanli's got a lot less amused and a lot more angry. 

  "What the hell, Nie-xiong? Shouldn't you be saying that to Jiang Cheng?" Mo Xuanyu said, looking over Jin Zixuan's shoulder with a raised eyebrow. 

  "No! Because I'm stuck with Da-ge, but I can still lose Jiang-xiong and I will not risk it because my brother fucked him." He waved his finger at him again. "Now, answer me, did you fuck my best friend?" 

  "Did you?" Wei Wuxian growled, making Jiang Cheng facepalm as Nie Mingjue leaned in his ear and whispered. 

  "I fear my life now." 

  "As you should." Jiang Yanli said and Jiang Cheng started to laugh loudly, hiding his face on his husband's neck. 

♡

♡

♡

  "So your mother is now married to Wen Zhuliu? The one that used to melt golden cores back in the day?" Nie Mingjue said, hugging his waist and leaning back on the headboard of his bed. After the barbecue, many explanations and threats to Nie Mingjue's life, they decided to go back to Nie Mingjue's apartment and just relax the rest of the day. And catch up with each other too. "And your father is still an asshole?" 

  "Yes, yes and yes. And I'm Yanli's twin brother. Fraternal. And Wei Wuxian's older cousin, though we were raised like siblings." Jiang Cheng said, putting his head back on his shoulder. "Meng Yao and Zixuan have only seven months of difference between them and Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are identical twins, I think." 

  "And A-Sang is only three years younger than me. And my parents are alive, the three of them." He added, putting his own head on his. "How many lives have you lived, my heart?" 

 "Too many to count and too little to actually forget." He answered, closing his eyes and intertwining his fingers. "But I estimate something along twenty or twenty-two. What about you?" 

  "Same answer, but I could say that I had only fourteen or eighteen." He shrugged and Jiang Cheng squeezed his hands. "I guess that dying from qi deviation holds the reincarnation for some time." 

  "Oh, my soul." He turned around, sitting on Mingjue's thighs and holding his face. Slowly, he kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the tip of his nose, his eyes and finally his mouth. "We are together again. That's what matters." He whispered against his mouth, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. 

  "Yes, we're going to be fine now." Nie Mingjue whispered back, hugging him tight and pulling him down to the bed. He was right, they were together now and they were going to be fine because even if he kept reincarnating and keeping all his memories, they would still have each other's memories to keep them going until they were together again. Because they would be together for as many lives as they could and, if possible, for all eternity. 

[lysmune]

Promises of

      A thousand things that she believes the Demon Prince to be, and a thousand times he proves her wrong.

(Diavolo/F!Reader)

     Promises of a painful, slow death is what she believes he’ll give her, but a radiant smile dispels her fears. With liquid ambrosia for eyes and vermillion-struck hair, she’s never seen someone so intimidating, so contrary.

     “I hope your year in the Devildom is a great one!” the stranger chirps, loud and booming, and friendly.

     “Thank you,” is all she manages.

     Promises of a scornful, prideful visage  is what she believes is his flair, but he bears no ill-will towards the hubris of humanity. A thousand lights splayed below the balcony, a gaze set onto the distant future, graced by the soft glow of hope, he tells her that he wishes for peace, more than anything.

     “Don’t all you demons despise us?” she piques and he laughs deeply, sonorous in the never ending darkness.

     “Maybe, but I,” and he turns to look at her with a gentleness that she’s never thought to find in a hell-spawned man, “I find human souls, flawed as they are, beautiful.”

     Promises of friendship is what she believes would be the farthest thing possible, but when he calls her in invitation to see the black roses blooming in his greenhouse, she finds that maybe, it isn’t the most far-fetched situation.

     “Look!” he exclaims excitedly, pointing towards a small bird, tufted in crimson, its winding onyx tail fluttering as it perches itself on the flower’s stem. “It’s a black-tailed canary. It’s a bird native to the Devildom.”

     “How pretty,” she comments, watching the bird fixate its beady eyes on her before it takes off into flight.

     Lord Diavolo chuckles beside her. “Seeing such lovely things up close really does lift my spirits,” he murmurs in awe, in wonder, underscored by a melancholia she can’t quite fathom.

     In response, she presses her hand on his shoulder, humming in agreement; he simply smiles.

     Promises of gold is what she believes would catch his fancy, but his curiosity lies in the fleeting moments caught in polaroids. From swirling pink blossoms to the grin of an aquarium’s beluga, to the cascading reds of a maple autumn and a white winter’s falling snow; he finds joy in all these.

     “This is my favourite,” he notes fondly and she leans over to look at the object of his attraction. It is the simple snapshot of a summer daybreak, the first light of dawn. “The sun never rises here in the Devildom, so I’ve always been curious about it. Your world’s truly blessed.”

     How the Underworld’s Prince is so much of an optimist, she’d probably never know, but it warms her to see him so full of life.

     When he passes the picture back to her, she shakes her head and, with more than a little uncertainty, presses her fingers against his hand.

     “Keep it,” she insists. “Consider it a gift for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

     Promises of an uneventful night is a relatively easy feat, she believes, but the seven brothers prove her wrong when she’s crowned the guest of honour. They shower her with neatly wrapped gifts, words of gratitude and a group hug so earnest it moves her to tears.

     They take turns dancing with her tonight, seven brothers gliding through seven different musical pieces. Mammon steps up into a bold, thrilling hustle; Leviathan sways with unusual confidence in a jazzy foxtrot; Satan twirls her into a fittingly passionate tango; Asmodeus sweeps her around in an excelsior schottische; Beelzebub rounds a blustering, grinning quickstep; Belphegor drifts into a draping, dreamy carousel and Lucifer, unsurprisingly, leads her gracefully into a viennese waltz.

     What does surprise her, however, is when the Prince comes up to her, requesting her for a dance. “If you’re not too tired, of course.”

     She smiles and places her hand atop his, letting his fingers curl around hers. “No, it would be my honour,” is all it takes for him to capture her breath in a slow, seamless waltz that lasts a beat longer than it should.

     Promises of a shrinking distance isn’t what she foresaw, but he is insistent in having her company, which she, admittedly, isn’t too bothered about. He greets her jovially when he meets her in front of AkuDonald’s, dressed down in a maroon Oxford shirt and beige khakis, a pair of shades completing his look; she wonders if that’s his way of avoiding attention.

     As they both stand in line, he strikes up polite conversation, questioning her how she’s been, how her classes are going, how she’s finding RAD and the seven brothers, and she is, quite frankly, genuinely surprised by how much she’s come to enjoy the entire affair. He’s about to answer when they hit the front of the line, a tired looking demon snippily asking for their order.

     Like always, she goes for the fried shadow goose AkuBurger, the six-pack AkuGizzards and a blushberry slushie. He takes a little more time deciding, but eventually settles for the Hellfire DoubleAkuBurger and a Blackburn coffee before he insistently pays for their meal. Tipping her head down in thanks, she takes the tray and leads him towards a relatively private corner in the joint where he tucks into his lunch undisturbed.

     “Do you come here often?” he prompts and she shrugs, swallowing her food down.

     “Enough,” she responds. “The food here is generally safe for me to not die from.”

     He chuckles. “Not a fan of Devildom cuisine?”

     “Just not nearly as bold to eat something with ‘Double Poison’ tacked onto it,” she explains. Catching him eyeing her gizzards, she picks one up in between her fingers and offers it to him. “They’re good.”

     Leaning forward, without so much of a warning, he takes it from her hand with his teeth and she stiffens, embarrassed, unsure if he’s being serious or just messing with her, or if he’s just dense.

     “You’re right,” he answers, happily smiling as he licks his lips, “they are.”

     She tries not to think about it too hard, simply nodding in agreement before they pass the rest of the time with small-talk, light banter and the never-ending cringe of dad jokes so terrible she has to laugh at each one. Once they’ve finished and exited the premises, he thanks her for her time today, smiling as he always does.

     “I had a lot of fun,” she gladly admits, to which he hums, pleased.

     “I did, too,” he reciprocates and then, a little less playfully, a little more seriously, “If it’s alright with you, let me walk you home.”

     “You don’t -“

     “I want to,” he assures, insists. “I enjoy your company and I’d like us to spend more time together.”

     She warms at his boldness, more evident today than any other, at the way he tentatively reaches for her hand in consent, in invitation, and she accepts it with a nod. With a smile that crinkles his eyes and a careful hold, he leads her back to the House of Lamentation.

     Promises of constant contact is something she’s sure he isn’t one to keep, especially given his consistently packed schedule, but when she’s back in the Human World, her D.D.D rings most often with his name.

     He fills her days with updates on work, on Lucifer’s increasingly baggy eyes, lamenting at how much less bright the Devildom is without her.

     “You’re being dramatic,” she chuckles as she picks up a carton of eggs. “It’s not that bad.”

     “No, it is,” he implores with a huff. “The brothers miss you, including Lucifer, even if he denies it. Teasing him is no fun anymore,” he protests and she clicks her tongue at him. There’s a pause before a sigh, then, “I’m not being honest here.”

     “No?”

     “No,” he repeats; “I miss spending my time with you, I miss being able to see you, I miss talking to you in person. I miss you; I miss you a lot.”

     She runs her fingers through her hair and oh, fuck, he really shouldn’t spring these things onto her. She’s sure he can hear her heart over the phone when it’s this loud.

     Tightening her grip on the trolley’s handle, she responds with an, “I miss you, too.”

     Promises of staying away are best upheld because they’re the smarter option, the safer option, but when she’s back in the Devildom, she‘s compelled to see him again. Barbatos directs her to his study, knocking on the door before he leaves her by the room just as Lord Diavolo lets her in.

     The wind is knocked right out of her chest when he scoops her into a tight hug and she eases into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He smells faintly of warm spice and agarwood, of a familiarity she’s sorely longed for.

     “I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, the hint of a tremble in his voice.

     “I am, too.”

     Promises of subtlety is a given, she believes, but he hasn’t much thought for it when he clasps a golden bracelet onto her wrist. It is a simple chain, studded with tiny opals, and much too lavish for someone who’s come here as an exchange student.

     “This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” she asks, raising a brow as she fiddles with the accessory, to which he frowns.

     “Do you not like it?” he inquires and she shakes her head.

     “No, I do,” she assures, and she really does. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery, it’s just that, “I’m not quite sure if I’m so deserving of such things.”

     At that, he takes her hand, pulling her a little closer. “You are,” he affirms softly, gently lacing his fingers with hers. “Let me be a little selfish.”

     She chuckles. “You’re being selfish by giving me a gift?”

     “No,” he replies as he levels her with a crackling, sparking gaze and her heart skips a beat. “I’m being selfish because I want you to myself.”

     Promises of indulgence are what she believes to be a demon’s domain, but he simply holds her in his arms most nights, content with the simple pleasure of having her there with him, of talking to her, of hearing her say his name without the formalities.

     “You’re not anything like I thought a demon would be,” she muses as he hugs her tighter from behind, letting her head rest on the line of his shoulder.

     He chuckles, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, briefly. “No?”

     “I expected them to be a little more ...” she trails off in search for a word, then, “churlish.”

     “I can be,” he mumbles while he lazily nibbles at her ear, patterns kisses into her jaw and the exposed column of her neck. “I’m just being polite.”

     She hums. “Maybe.”

     “You don’t think so?”

     “No,” she responds with a peck to his cheek, hand coming up to the side of his head, pulling him closer against her. “I think you’re just a touch holy.”

     His skims her skin with tongue and teeth, breaths warm, chuckling as he does. “You’re bold to say that to the Prince of Hell.”

     Promises of a Lord unshaken is what she believes the demons see, but behind all the closed doors, he bares his vulnerability to her against the starless, perpetual nights.

     “Do you want to talk, Diavolo?” she asks. He’s silent for a moment before he offers his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her to his side, letting his arm drape down to hold her at her waist.

     Overlooking the city sprawled under him, he sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confesses under his breath, the uncertainty wavering his voice. “I want peace between all the realms, but do they? Do my people?”

     "You don’t think they want that?”

     “We’re demons. War is within our very nature,” he states simply, pressing her a little closer to him. “A few of us are fallen angels, others human, but most demons were born here, and all of us are vengeful, resentful creatures,” he murmurs; she says nothing. “The fallen angels want nothing to do with the Celestial Realm, the human-turned-demons carry over their hate and the rest of us have just always had a taste for destruction.

     “For most of us, we’ve always felt like the two worlds looked at us with nothing but contempt. When Heaven smites an angel unruly, they’re punished into being a devil; when humans talk about eternal torture, we’re the very picture of it. Demons are a proud folk, we give back the respect we’ve been shown, but when everyone has only ever hated us, what is there to be but bitter? And the cycle keeps going, it has for the last thousands of centuries.”

     “I’m sorry,” is all she can offer and he chuckles.

     “Please, it’s alright,” he assures with a smile, though it’s wearied with the burdens of a leader. “I’m just ... wondering.”

     She isn’t sure what to say to him, if she can even comfort him. She’s no angel, or demon, and even as a human, she’s never been a particular occult; she’s just an exchange student who lacks understanding of the tension’s nuance.

     “Look, hey,” she starts, “I know I’m not the best person to say it, but your people respect you. They might squabble with Heaven or us humans, but they’ve put their trust in you; otherwise, in all honesty, I think they’d have just eaten me and Solomon alive.”

     He cracks a small, tiny smile at that.

     “You needed mutual agreement between all the realms for this exchange program, and you did it. If that tells me anything, it’s that they’re probably tired of all the fighting, too,” she surmises. He laughs, just barely, before he bends down to kiss her forehead, letting it linger.

     When he pulls away, he says, “Thank you, that helped.”

     “Did it?”

     He hums. “A little,” he responds, loosening his grip on her. “I need to be alone for a while, is that okay?”

     “Take all the time,” she answers. Placing a quick kiss onto his cheek, she turns on her heel and walks away. Comforting demon royalty isn’t something she’s good at, and maybe she never will be, but space? Space is something she can give him.

     Promises of ‘unto death do us part’ is tradition, the idea of a romance that spans the fire of life until it’s snuffed out by a swing of the scythe, but she believes that mortality is fickle to him. A being of a thousand years that will live on for a thousand more, and she fills in the mere potential century; a year for him is a decade for her.

     Yet here he is, knotting the string of his life to her in promise. “Make a pact with me,” he declares, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as though she were royalty.

     Her breath hitches. “Diavolo.”

     “Let me be yours,” the demon pleads, yearns, longs and she’s a little taken aback by the openness of it all.

     “You don’t have to,” she says but he surges, drawing her in.

     “I want to,” he asserts, unyielding, though she’s still unconvinced.

     An act of binding. That’s what it means to be tied down to a contract, and she knows full well what the consequences are, for the both of them, should any of them trespass their terms. With the seven brothers, she did as the situation demanded, but with Diavolo, there’s absolutely nothing that warrants it.

     He seems to sense her unease, because he squeezes her hand, brings her closer. “It’ll be fine,” he assures; “Let me show you what you mean to me.”

     “I know where I stand with you,” she tells him as she raises a hand to cup his cheek.

     “Do you?” he asks in rhetoric, pressing his lips against her pulse, eyes locking onto hers. “You needn’t ask and I’d gladly give a century of my life for you, freely offer you my soul, and even if you love me less, leave me for a human, I’d regret none of it.”

     She swallows his words when he presses his lips to hers, wholly engulfed by the sincerity of it all. Gentle as always, tender as always, and none of the demon she’d thought he’d be, his hand coming up to caress her face. He leaves her lightheaded, breathless, forehead touching hers, the warmth between them near unbearable.

     “I trust you, utterly and entirely; let me show you that I do,” he murmurs and she clasps her hands behind his neck, her lips hovering above his.

     “Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

     He chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”

     Promises of sacrifice and loyalty, they aren’t taken lightly by the laws of a contract, but he pledges himself anyway, so readily and so staunchly she almost falters.

     In reverence, he traces the mark - his mark - that runs from her shoulder and coils around her arm, marvelling at the sight of it. “Was it painful?” he asks as he glances to her, worry underscoring his words.

     She shrugs and offers him a smile in hopes it’ll reassure him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

     Leaning in to thumb a kiss to her clavicle, he chuckles low. “Sometimes I forget you’ve made pacts with the seven strongest demons here,” he says and the pride in his voice makes her chest swell.

     “Eight,” she corrects while she cards her fingers through his hair, trailing the curl of his horns, eliciting a quiet, pleased hum from him.

     “Eight,” he repeats in satisfaction before he lifts his head up to meet her and she, emboldened, enraptured, captures his lips in fervour.

     Agarwood and warm spice, she drinks the taste of him, smoky lapsang and carbon ashen. He spills her name into her mouth, once more into the spellbound night when she punctures a soft bite into the juncture of his neck, a hymnic praise that makes her feel nothing less of otherworldly. He almost - almost - whines when she pulls away, chuckling as she does.

     Under her, he’s nothing short of breathtaking, with topazes for eyes and vermillion hair, and dark skin marked by black, steeped in gold. Triangular patterns of red hiss around his throat, the newly formed pact pulsing with magic and she trails her fingers across them, enamoured.

     “You’re beautiful,” she finds herself professing and he lets out a quiet laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing under her touch, the sound reverberating.

     “I’m all yours,” he surrenders and she’s touched, honoured by the sincerity of his proclamation. “I will be until you say I no longer am.”

     “And I, yours,” she promises before she laces her fingers with his and kisses him once more.

[demonicheadcanons]

I was thinking about the arabian sidequest and how a lot of looks in otome makes at least one reference to middle eastern culture, and then I thought about East Asian, so then I was like, the brothers reactions to MC in a Lengha or saree, bonus if it's their colours as headcanons?

The Obey Me Brothers See MC in a Lehenga / Saree in their Colours

AN: This is a beautiful request!! Please let me know if anything I said is rude or disrespectful - I’ve grown up entirely in Ireland which isn’t a very diverse place. I also haven’t played the sidequest myself yet.

I tried my best to do some research on this though, to put in enough effort and to learn a bit more myself.

I mention alcohol briefly in Mammon’s, as a warning.

Scenario: Its a very special occasion in the Devildom - a party thrown by Diavolo - and MC has decided to wear a lehenga and saree for it, matching the colours of the specific brother. They’re already close but not necessarily a couple.

Lucifer

He comes to your room to collect you ahead of time as this is an occasion you absolutely can’t be late for. When you open the door, the usual, I’m-pissed-off-don’t-talk-to-me look on his face drops for half a second before he regains some rough approximation of it, raising an eyebrow. The colours are perfection, a deep red paired with a lovely velvety black. There are vague patterns he can’t quite make out, but its enchanting to look at.

He keeps you by his side as you two walk out to where he’s already gathered his brothers, and you catch him smirk when one of them makes a comment about how the two of you match - probably Belphie, punctuated with a yawn. He covers it up immediately, tells Belphie to be quiet, that you were all in too much of a hurry for such commentary.

He keeps glancing at you before the event officially starts, something dancing behind his eyes that isn’t usually there. Delight, you realise. He’s beaming and failing to hide it efficiently, and you hear Barbatos make some kind of joke or comment about it as he passes Lucifer his food, and Lucifer can only half frown at him as he shrugs it off.

He invites you to dance with him later, the first out of anyone to make an offer, confident as ever, and he doesn’t hide his smile when the two of you are twirling round the ballroom together. He talks, then, lets you know why he’s so uncharacteristically cheerful - you seem so confident and radiant, the outfit only adding to it. It suits you well, he says, proud gaze fixed on you. Not just the outfit but the confidence, how comfortable and happy you seem. And the colours, too, he notes cheekily.

Lucifer only vaguely asks about the cultural meaning behind it all. He listens intently when you talk about whatever you know of it, even if all you say is ‘Its an outfit we wear in India for more formal occasions’. He’ll go off and look into it more later, not one to directly show much curiosity about human customs, but he does love if you divulge small amounts of information with him that he wasn’t previously aware of, and he’ll remember everything you tell him in future.

His colder demeanor comes back later, but there’s still some new softness to him. When the two of you are alone, he subtly makes a comment about how you should wear whatever makes you most comfortable at any time - except at RAD, where you should continue to wear your uniform, obviously - because... you look much better with a smile. “Next time,” he mumbles, smirking at you and taking one of your hands in his, “you should try not to out-dress every demon in the room.”

Mammon

He’s... having issues, the second he half beats your door down trying to get you to hurry and come out or Lucifer will have his head, you’re supposed to be leaving in two minutes! You throw open the door and he freezes, before clearing his throat and taking a step back. You look kind of okay, he mumbles. Mammon turns sharply and leads the way towards his brothers, face red.

Mammon is quieter than usual, but defensive. He scowls at his brothers if they make comments he doesn’t like, but if you seem comfortable enough he won’t bark at them about it. He keeps glancing at you and he’s not so subtle about it because he simply doesn’t think to be.

He’s furious when you get to the party and people keep looking at you but also like. They should be? You look amazing? People absolutely should be admiring you but he doesn’t like it, but he does. He’s so torn, and he ends up by your side most of the time.

He settles down eventually after a few drinks, stops bristling and relaxes, and then he has this easy going smile on his face every time he looks at you. You look really good, have you ever considered modelling? This style of clothing isn’t common in the Devildom, and he’s really curious about it underneath his tsundere demeanor. The more he relaxes, the more questions he asks, and he listens with stars in his eyes, head tilted as he watches you intently.

“And did you match the Great Mammon on purpose?” he asks, puppy dog eyes boring into your soul. He still has an air about him, false confidence, happiness and awkwardness swirling together palpably, but he’s more honest than usual. He’s content, and so long as you’ll have him there, he’d like to stay by your side. Please.

[Others under the read more]

Leviathan

He doesn’t come to your room to collect you - its actually the other way about. He’d gotten too absorbed in ‘one last game’, dressed and ready and sitting loosely on the side of his bathtub bed, fully invested in completing this next level. He jolts when you tap on his door and gently click it open, blushes bright red as he stumbles over an apology and sits his controller down, and freezes completely when he finally takes in what you’re wearing.

The orange and blue go marvelously together, like the beach meeting the ocean, and his blush only deepens, his stutter so bad he decides to just clamp his jaw shut and follow you as you both head towards the front hallway.

Scowls at his brothers if they comment about his face or your outfit. Mammon grabs him and ruffles up his hair around his horns and his tail wags angrily as he tries to pull Mammon’s arm off him, to no avail. His tail continues to swish back and forth, the tip of it flicking angrily side to side throughout the whole event.

You’ll have to choose yourself to spend time with him at the party because otherwise he’s off on his own trying to find the quietest corner to hide in. He also doesn’t have the courage to approach you, not when so many eyes are on you. If you do seek him out, he’s flustered about it; shouldn’t you be spending your time, y’know, with literally anyone else right now? You tell him you’d rather be with him right now, and he gives this sad little half smile through his blush, like he doesn’t believe you but its comforting to hear nonetheless.

You two get into a conversation and somewhere in there he lets slip what he thinks about your outfit; it really suits you, and the colours feel like home to him. He pauses, covers his mouth with one hand, stares at you to try and gauge your reaction. You smile back at him, and he relaxes. He’s quieter about it all than a lot of the other brothers, too uncomfortable at the party and around people anyway, but he seems happy enough around you off in the corner, with your calming presence and comforting memories of the ocean to tide him over until you can both go home.

Satan

He doesn’t visibly react when you approach the brothers, ready to leave. Maybe slightly raises his eyebrows but just trails along beside you, striking up a conversation about something or other, the latest book he’s read or asking about a book he’s loaned to you, or a comment about the party and some people who will be there.

He’s more openly flirtatious than the other brothers, not one to keep his thoughts to himself. “You look delightful, by the way,” he says with his angelic smile, right before you enter Diavolo’s castle. “Did you intentionally match colours with me, I wonder?”

Its not a question to be answered, not right now at least - Lucifer opens the doors and Diavolo and Barbatos greet you all immediately, Satan walking towards the front of the crowd with a smirk to say his own greetings. He doesn’t bring it up again, not until after dinner and well into the party, when he asks if you’re free for the next dance, one hand held out towards you, inviting you towards the dance floor.

Satan talks then, properly. Says he’s glad that you’re here, that you make this whole thing more bearable than if he was stuck with his brothers. He’s calm, but his eyes betray his amusement. “Everyone has been watching you,” he notes, pretending to be thoughtful. “You really do look lovely in that outfit. Does it have any particular meaning or history behind it?”

He asks the most questions, and is (one of, because Asmo exists) the most forward, open with his comments and not shy with his affections where he can play it off in a flirtatious, almost joking manner. He means everything he says, but does worry you’ll reject him too much to actually expect anything back, and so satisfies himself by satiating his curiosities about the cultural background of the outfit. Like Lucifer, he’s delighted with any information you give him, but definitely presses for more if you’re vague. He’s not trying to be pushy, he just wants to know, and he’ll also go and look it up by himself after the party.

Asmodeus

“Oh!! You look amazing, honey!” he squeals, the second you walk out of your room. “And we match too! That means you have to stay with me the whole time, we’ll look like a cute couple! Just try not to steal my thunder, you look almost as good as me in that!”

Compliments, compliments, compliments. He does not stop gushing from the moment he sees you up until one of the brothers says something to distract him - Satan tells him his hair is a little off on one side and he needs to fix it before they get to the castle. They all think you look amazing but they are somewhat tired of hearing Asmo’s voice right now.

He sits directly beside you for the dinner and flirts openly and steadily, unless you seem to be uncomfortable, in which case he does back off a little. Simeon sits across from you two, per Lucifer’s request, so that if Asmo gets to be too much he can strike up a conversation and take the heat off you for a moment.

When the two of you are dancing he’s flirtatious but honest. His affections are somewhat more heartfelt, although still very charged. He asks if you feel more content dressing like this, and encourages you to do it more often. He also asks if you want to spend some time with him later - not like that, he laughs, when you roll your eyes or blush in response. He’d like to play dress up for a bit, try on some outfits, and maybe redesign your school uniform to add some interesting touches if you haven’t already incorporated your own style into it.

Beelzebub

He’s the least likely to react out of all the brothers. “You look very sweet, MC,” he says quietly, gentle smile and puppy dog eyes directed straight at you. He loves how the outfit sits on you, loves how you smile back at him. But unlike the other brothers, instead of striking up a conversation he’s content to simply keep an eye on you.

If you try to talk to him, he’ll respond, but he’s not one for words. Belphie joins in and it makes it a lot easier for him, and you can feel just how happy he is, but he’s too focused on the prospect of the big dinner at Diavolo’s party to be possessive or flirty at that moment.

Beel actually doesn’t even notice that the colours are his colours until after the meal when Belphie or Asmo points it out, and then he beams at you and gathers up the courage to invite you to dance with him. He’s enchanted by the way the fabric moves whilst you’re in his arms, and half bumps into Mammon because he’s too distracted to focus properly.

“I... hope you dress like this, more often,” he mumbles at one point, standing off to one side with you as you sip on a drink of something or other, his own cup empty. “You look nice.” He says something else under his breath, and you don’t quite catch it. Something about how he’d like if you dressed like that for him, not his brothers but for him, and for you too, of course.

Belphegor

He smirks when you wake him up in the attic (he’d been having one final nap before you had to go, and was almost hoping he’d be forgotten so that he wouldn’t have to go see Diavolo. With you being the one to come get him, and especially in that beautiful purple lehenga and saree, he’s not so upset anymore.)

He groans still, playfully pulling on your arm. “Just stay here and sleep with me,” he says, smirk twisting into a lopsided grin when you roll your eyes at his phrasing. “Fine, fine, I’ll get up.” He stands with a dramatic sigh and pauses to look at you properly. “It’d be a waste of such a pretty outfit if you stayed here only for me, right?”

Belphie doesn’t acknowledge what he said at all as he grabs your hand and heads off towards the door, dragging you along with him. He doesn’t let go until you’re nearing the front hall, doesn’t particularly mind if his brothers see his fingers intertwined with yours, and won’t pull away if you reach for his hand again. He’s content and relatively quiet if you do, walking hand in hand to Diavolo’s castle behind all of his brothers.

He doesn’t bring up the outfit again until you’re dancing, like some of his other brothers. He jumps between casually flirting and having a normal conversation, mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches your every reaction. He leans his head on your shoulder at one point, mumbles something about being too tired for all this nonsense, and then about how soft the saree is as he smoothes a hand over it gently, fingers coming to rest on your waist. The smirk doesn’t leave his face and he seems content, overall. “I’m glad it was you,” he half-whispers, then, hugging you. He doesn’t clarify what he means, simply smiles and dozes off there at the edge of the ballroom, still gently swaying to the music with his arms around you.

[yandere-wishes]

Happy Birthday // Yandere! Beelzebub x reader x Yandere! Belphegor

I’m about four days late but here it is Belphi and Beel’s birthday fic! Happy birthday you two chaotic idiots!

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Mornings were exceptionally hectic in the house of lamination, seven brothers, five "unexpected" visitors who popped in on random, a three-headed dog and finally the exchange student from another world. All rushing and hassling trying to prepare for the RAD school day. Angry shouts and frustrated accusations ricocheted off the walls, echoing in every direction.

But today...the house was noiseless, no one screamed or shouted or yelled. The pitter-patter of footsteps was nonexistence. Today was the day the house of lamination stood still.

Strangely enough, it was the dead silence that had awaken you. Your eyes fluttered open trying to adjust to the bright light that illuminated the room. You let out a yawn and went to grab your D.D.D to check the time. 'It must still be early' you though, that was the only reasonable explanation for the momentary serenity...

why wouldn't your arms move? At first, you simply let out a huff of annoyance had Mammon or Levi spent the night again and laid on top of your arms until they went numb? A quick surveillance around the room confirmed that the crow and snake demons weren't there, in fact, it also proved that this wasn't your room at all.

You struggled again trying to move around, at this point, it was bluntly obvious that your hands and ankles had been tied. Why and buy who you didn't know...but an educated guess would suggest that this was Asmoudeus handy work, the demon of lust was always pulling rather sexual "pranks" what made this time any different.

"Asmo? Quit it I'm not in the mood for some of your stupid jokes!"

You were met with stillness..did he really think this was funny? "Asmo!" You shouted again.

"I think she's up" a monotone voice shattered the stillness. You tried to crane your head and to see who was talking. The voice was familiar definitely one of the brothers...but which one.

"Does that mean we can start eating the cake?!" The second voice was easy to identify. Ever the eager eater Beel's voice was spiked with excitement and impatience.

"B-Beel is that you? Can you untie me? Asmo's being a--" "Can you stop talking about Asmodeus!" The first voice snapped, from the edge in his tone and the "huffy" noise that came from his nose, no doubt about it, the voice belonged to Belphegor.

"W-what's..going o-on here" Fear sunk its needle-like claws into your frame. Infecting your mind, poisoning your thoughts. What was going on, what were the twins planing?

You tried struggling again, squirming and tossing around attempting to free yourself, by now your position was made clear. Your wrists were tied behind your back, your ankles were so tightly bound together that you could feel your bones sinking into one another. As for the rest of your body, it was wrapped in a long purple piece of ribbon.

"What the heck is this! Untie me NOW!" fury laced your once terrified tone, boiling inside you and replacing the fear that had built up. You watched as Belphegor slowly made his to the bed, one knee placed on the edge of the bed and hosting himself up, looming over you and incaging you in his arms. His lips were cracked into a devious smirk, his eyes bubbled with the same sort of sadistic glee they had when he'd first tried to kill you in the attic.  

"(Y/N) did you really forget what today is?" His mouth twisted itself into a pout, "I'm so disappointed in you! How could you forget the birthday of your two favorite demons?" Slowly his tail crept up your leg, tracing over your torso and making a quick bath to your neck. With snake-like agility it wrapped it's self around your throat, tighter and tighter. Air choked out of your lugs escaping and refusing to reenter. Tiny black spots were dancing around in your blurry vision.

"Belphi stop!" Beelzebub ran over to the two of you, sitting on the other side of the bed and gently pushed Belphegor away. Reluctantly the youngest uncurled his tail and released your neck. You gaged on the sudden invasion of air, chest heaving trying to greedily suck in as much as possible.

"Breath, just breathe it's okay. Belphi just got a little excited that's all, he's just so happy that we finally have you all to ourselves!" Beel ran a hand gently over your stomach attempting to ease you into calamity. It didn't work. When your breathing had been regulated, tears started to roll out of your eyes. "W-why are you...you doing this to m-me?" Was this all some cruel joke? Why would Beel the most sensitive and kind-hearted demon in all of Hell tie you up like this? Belphie you could understand the boy was unhinged but his twin? No that didn't make any sense.

Beel got up, walking over to the further corner of the room, as you followed his figure you began to note the decore of the large room. Wrapped presents of all shapes and sizes mostly in shades of orange and purple were scattered around, an enormous banner hung close to the windows. In a dripping red color too dark to be actual paint "Happy Birthday Beel and Belphi" was written in Satan's neet cursive handwriting. Finally, a large table with a plastic table cloth embossed with mini happy birthdays and party hats had been placed at the end of the room, right in front of the closets. A colossal cake with frosting the twin's signature colors and multiple tiny fruits had was placed at the center of the table. Around it streamers and plastic plates where placed in a semi-random order.

Beel carefully cut off a slice and placed it on one of the plates, walking back to you, he smilled it almost filled your heart with a type of warmth seeing that radiant grin. He sat down and carefully sliced a tiny piece of bringing it to your mouth.

"Lucifer made it! He said he used all our favorite ingredients! Wasn't that nice of him!?" You remind immobile for a moment glaring up at the orange-haired demon, did he just say "us"? As in not the twins but yourself included. "Beel, does Lucifer know that you and Belphie have me tied up in your room?" You tried to sound bold and brave but the shock was still weighting on your chest making reality seem fuzzy and surreal.

"It was his idea actually" Belphie was the one to respond, that dreadful smirk reappearing at full force. "He wanted to give us something special to make up for everything he's done to me- I mean us, to us." "So he said we could keep you as our own! Isn't that great (Y/N)" Beel beamed, he looked so cute like this, one would never think he was stating that you would have to remain with him and his brother as their captive. "Mammon and Levi we're kinda sad at first...but we promised they could see you, and Lucifer promised to get them their own darlings on their birthdays!"  

You choked out a sob the flow of tears continued as hiccups left your mouth, no wonder the house was so quiet today, all of them had planned this, they had plotted to leave you at their little brothers mercy while you had remained naive to the whole ordeal, getting on with your life as if nothing would occur to you.

"Quite crying (Y/N), just accept it you belong to us now. It really isn't so bad when you consider your other options. Satan and Lucifer would exhibit you to endless torment, Levi and Mammon are idiots and wouldn't even know what to do to you. And well...Asmo's..you get the picture. Beel and I are really the only good choice, you should be thankful to be our birthday gift!" Belphegor's statement did very little to ease your crying, then again was that even what he was trying to do. This wasn't fair you didn't want to be their little doll, you wanted to be free.

Beel leaned, placing a tiny kiss on your lips. You could smell the strawberries of cake on his breath. The older twin continued to kiss down your neck and shoulder, stopping on certain spots to bite and suck.

Belphie simply watched enjoying the small show his brother was performing. The younger twin brought his mouth to your ear and whispered.

"This is going to be the best birthday ever, and we would know, we've had a couple thousand of them.

[its-sixxers]

Pietà

Whumptober Day 7 Prompt: I’ve Got You. (Carrying)

Lone Wanderer x Charon, Fallout 3

It felt as if they’d been fighting for days - the worst he’d seen in decades. Shotgun shells fell at his feet, his gun warm in his hands - the air stank of blood and gunpowder and piss and the hints of ozone that were the trademark of energy fire. All around him Jefferson Memorial was crumbling, the air clouded with plaster dust and smoke. It stung his nostrils.

Charon had never felt more alive - but in the way a rabbit felt alive, mid-chase.

Zaychik. The little rabbit that was his employer - Elizabeth - a slip of a girl with frightened eyes and fast reflexes. She was across the room from him, well guarded by the Lyons girl. Occasionally she’d peek out from her hiding spot and peel off a few shots from her laser pistol, always tucking her head back in before the volleys of return fire. Always the little rabbit was visible in his periphery, always he watched her - even after he’d trained her, even after she’d escaped the Enclave on her own. It was written in his conditioning, no matter how well he knew she could take care of herself.

Still, her shots went wide - Charon couldn’t improve her aim any further in his attempts - and the Enclave kept coming. The barrel of his shotgun steamed, pellets ripping through rubber joints of figures in power armor. Centuries had taught him well, firing solutions and hostile counts running in his head alongside the position of his zaychik.

“They keep coming!” Lyons shouted over the din, her voice distorted by her helmet. Lizzy looked panicked, darting her eyes between him and the Paladin. Charon could hear the crackle of her radio even as she spoke, communications from other knights filtering into the Paladin’s ear. “Shit. They’ve blown the outer wall, they’re making their own entrance.”

“How long until your people intercept them?” His employer yelled back, her voice powerful in spite of her stature.

“I don’t have any more people.” Lyons’ words were punctuated by sprays of fire from her laser rifle. “I’ve got a squad moving to reinforce our position, sending them back around to the breach will take too much time. We have to pull back.”

“I won’t-”

“I will hold them.” Charon interrupted, knowing precisely what Lizzy was about to say. They couldn’t leave the main door undefended, and she would refuse to leave him behind - but to his displeasure, Lyons had power armor and advanced medical supplies at her disposal. He had leather armor and bandages. The better protector in the situation was clear - and Lyons could take out a small squad with ease. 

“Charon-” Lizzy started to say, but he shook his head firmly. 

“I won’t be alone long.” he interrupted again. Lyons nodded her agreement before nailing an Enclave soldier in the visor, his body turning to ash within his power armor. It clattered to the ground, another stumbling block for the incoming onslaught. The bodies were piling up, and he could see each one chip at his employer’s frayed nerves. 

She swallowed, caught between a rock and a hard place. Plasma flew past her by only a few inches - Charon lobbed a grenade into the fray, noting it was his last. He’d have to scavenge more from the dead. There wasn’t enough time - she knew as well as he did, and with a reluctance he’d come to recognize she turned and said something to Lyons, drowned out to his ears in the gunfire.

Lyons shifted her position to provide cover to his employer, who scurried to the door to the purifier room. The Paladin stood stalwart as he never could - the knight in shining armor he could never be - the reflective plating of her armor deflecting fire. Lizzy looked over her shoulder at him as she opened the door, plasma fire peppering the wall around her. Her eyes shone, lip quivering with words left unsaid.

Charon tore his eyes from her and took advantage of Lyons’ distraction to wreck hell on the invading Enclave soldiers. He killed enough to grant himself a moment to snatch the grenade belt off of a downed grunt. When he turned to slip back into cover, Lizzy and Lyons were gone - the door shut.

A year before, when she’d first hired him, the idea of her out of his sightline was unthinkable. Together they’d bent and stretched the boundaries of his conditioning to make it possible, but still he heard the high pitched whine in his ears and felt goosebumps sprawling across his ruined skin - ingrained reminders of his duty.

Time was a slippery thing in the heat of combat - bloodshed made it hard to grasp. Charon didn’t know how long he fought, but in what felt like only a few minutes he could see laser fire spraying into the hallway beyond the chamber that led to the purifier. Lyons’ reinforcements had come.

Cleanup was swift, the Enclave pincered between two forces. The leader of the squad, designated such by the paint on his armor, hastily directed his men to take cover once the last hostile fell. “We’ll have more incoming.” The leader - a man - called over to Charon. “They’ve flooded the place. I don’t know how much longer we can hold them.”

Charon’s priorities were single minded. “Have you heard from Lyons?”

“They’re holding the purifier.” The squad leader replied, sending tingles of relief down Charon’s spine.

They hunkered down in preparation for the next wave. He was running low on ammo, he noted - but his concerns were overridden when a great rumbling noise sounded from the purifier room. Charon and the other combatants stumbled as the ground beneath their feet shuddered. Metal pipes beneath the floor groaned, followed by the sound of rushing water. 

It all happened in the span of a breath. In the next breath Charon turned to face the door to the purifier chamber - it was thrown open, Lyons marching through and placing her helmet back on her shoulders. “EVACUATE!” she cried - and Charon realized that Lizzy wasn’t behind her.

The goosebumps on his skin raised further as air from the purifier chamber rushed out into the lobby he’d fought in, shivers of sensation rippling through his body. Charon’s fingertips tingled, the air he breathed felt clearer, and he didn’t need to hear the screeching of Lyons’ geiger counter to know what lay beyond.

In the next heartbeat he was sprinting into the purifier chamber, the radiation pouring out of it as invigorating as the most concentrated Psycho. It was dark, the intense radiation frying the circuits in the lighting - the only illumination came from the purifier itself. Charon’s eyes scanned the floor. A body in a trenchcoat lay on the ground - the same man that was responsible for the death of Lizzy’s father - and as he lifted his eyes to the purifier itself he saw something that made his blood run cold.

A small figure silhouetted by intense green light, staring up at the statue within the main tank. 

His employer. 

His little rabbit.

Lizzy.

At once the screeching in his head began, as wicked and intense as Lyons’ Geiger counter. Charon bolted to the outer airlock door and punched in the entry code - as it slid open he was buffeted by another wave of radiation. He could hear his heart rate increase, the blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins in a great rush. The pain inflicted by his conditioning was made all the more severe by the awareness and sensitivity the radiation granted him.

Lizzy’s back was to him as he slammed his fist against the inner airlock panel, the digital display continually flashing LOCKDOWN with every press. He watched her stumble forward and slump to the ground.

It felt like he was being set on fire, every nerve of his alighting in agony, screaming at him to aid the holder of his contract. Worse was the horror that arose from his own mind - she had fallen, and he watched her the way she’d watched her own father slump to the ground.

No.

Charon drew his fist back and bashed it into the glass of the inner airlock door. It cracked, and he continued to rain blows upon it even as his knuckles bled with embedded shards. On the fifth blow in half as many seconds the glass shattered, his arm punching through. The glass shredded his ruined skin, but the pain of it paled to the pain ripping through his mind. With the glass paneling gone he was able to wrap his hands around the middle rail of the airlock door. With strength granted to him by the radiation and his own sheer panic he began to lift it.

The metal groaned and buckled, as did his legs - muscles straining to grant him enough purchase to grab her. Radiation rushed around him, made him light headed - even the blood pouring from his hands and arm couldn’t weaken him. Sweat flowed down his skin, the salt stinging his wounds - it was hot and humid, the purifier generating steam. At last, he hoisted the door high enough to cause a failure in the hydraulics. It crumpled upward, and he rushed in.

It had been less than a minute since he’d first entered the room, but each second was precious. Charon lifted his employer’s body into his arms - she was limp, light as a feather. The noise in his head was still screaming, the ache severe - it echoed the screaming of her pip-boy, the needle of the rad gauge vibrating at the edge of the scale, beyond the red zone. 

He cradled her against him as he did when he carried her to her bed in Megaton after she inevitably fell asleep at her desk, but this time it was all wrong - Charon was running through corridors of the Memorial, passing by Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel soldiers alike trying in vain to crawl to the exit or collapsing on their feet, broken and faulty seals of centuries-old suits letting the poison air overcome them.

Lizzy had no metal to cage her, she’d stood in the radiant glow and looked as if it could wipe her off the face of the earth. The sight was still burned into the back of his eyelids. Everything stank of blood - the air tasted of it, the metal tang of radiation so similar to the coppery flavor of blood. Charon’s own blood poured forth from his arms and hands, stained his employer’s armored blue jumpsuit, and he found the edges of his vision beginning to fog.

Charon stumbled, but kept running - at last he saw the fire door that led to the outdoors, the red exit sign above it glowing bright as a beacon. He used his shoulder like a battering ram and nearly knocked it from its hinges.

In stark contrast to the muggy heat of the purifier the air of the Capital Wasteland was ice cold - it was early January, and a thin layer of snow coated the ground. Around the purifier it had begun to melt. Vertibirds soared away in the distance, he could see the shining armor of Brotherhood soldiers evacuating across the nearby bridge. Charon’s blood splattered against the ground, and yet he stumbled forth looking all the zombie bigots had thought him to be. He made it to the line of snow and collapsed to his knees, crimson staining the white powder. Charon fell back, letting his employer fall against his lap.

Lizzy looked dirty and beaten in contrast to the pure snow - like the discarded and moldering teddy bears she was so fond of collecting. He cupped the back of her head and tilted her to face him - a steady stream of blood was trickling out of her nostrils, a sliver of her eyes visible beneath hooded lids, every vessel within them burst. Her sockets were bruised and purple, the skin of her face bright red as if she’d fallen asleep in the sun. Charon wished with all his being that it was all it was, that she’d scratch at it and whine and come through with her freckles all the clearer like she had so many summer days.

She was like a ragdoll, arms falling limply to her sides. He didn’t know what else he could do but hold her, his lifeblood spilling down her back. Lizzy had always held the medical supplies and they’d run out in the lead up to breaching the Memorial. There was nothing that could be done.

Even though his palm spanned half her ribcage, he felt more fragile than she - the young human in his arms had been his anchor even beyond the contract, a fixed point he could rely on. Charon allowed himself the scarcest dreams in her company, he’d felt like a living being rather than a tool. Lizzy had shown him strength beyond the physical, had carried him through countless storms.

Now what was once so full of life lay motionless in his arms. Charon crouched over her and pressed his forehead against hers, as if by will alone he could transfer the life left in him to her. What had given him life had drained hers in an instant - and why should it have ended any other way? They were always worlds apart, he had been taught this lesson before - and yet he had allowed himself to hope, he had believed that they could find a way to set him free. 

Charon placed a hand at the side of her face, leaving smudges of bloody fingerprints in his wake. He babbled breathlessly in his mother tongue, prayers and hymns and curses from a culture long dead. Snowflakes began to fall, landing in her hair. 

The screaming in his brain quieted as his conditioning caught up with reality. His employer was deceased. It didn’t cut the pain in his chest or stop the tears that were freezing on his face - that was his own, the one thing the men that created him could not possess.

He held her and broke apart inside like glass, hunched over her body in silent vigil. His blood steamed in the cold air, and soon the edges of his vision began to blacken.

Perhaps this would be the last mercy she’d offer him, the glass in his arms saving him from another employer, another long night after so brief a moment of sunshine. He’d always told himself she’d be his last employer - one way or the other.

Charon closed his eyes, and hoped he’d never open them.

[thefinalyeehaw]

(Obey Me Fic) Deathly Hearts {Ch. 1 - Arrival}

Killian didn’t know what to expect of the Devildom. Her knowledge of the realm was solely based on books and tales of her father’s younger days as he had been good allies with the Demon Lord. Diavolo had spoken about his home realm during his stay, now Killian regretted not asking further questions. Especially after she agreed to become a lab rat to the demon prince’s social experiment. His decree caused an uproar in her father’s court, shouting of royal advisers and loud gossiping among members of the reapscape’s nobility flooded the otherwise organized hall.

Among the chaos, her father sat on his throne, quietly observing the unleashed mayhem as she stared, shocked at Diavolo. The demon prince stood unflappable, the midst of the yelling and arguing, his eyes trained on her. The golden hues pierced her icy eyes, and his radiant smile remained unbreakable as a few irate advisors began to hurl thinly-veiled insults, stabbing at the demon prince’s character and integrity. Killian knew Diavolo didn’t care; the advisors could throw stones at him like a humorless jester telling bad jokes, he would still stand tall and proud as he awaited her answer.

Killian felt her father’s steely gaze latch onto her; he also awaited her answer. Usually, Killian felt graceful that her father always let her make her own decisions, but at that moment, she wished he had said something. Anything.

As she expected, her father remained silent as he stood up, his towering frame immediately silencing the hall. Her father turned to her, his dark eyes joining a hundred pairs piercing her; All awaiting an answer.

She didn’t know why she said yes. Diavolo’s dream was one that Killian shared; she also envisioned unity among the realms. But a dream is just a dream, a wild fantasy that will never come true. Diavolo’s idea was too outlandish; she couldn’t fathom reapers that won’t be a Ravished or an outcast in the Devildom, let alone a human.

Demons would tear a human to pieces the moment they stepped foot in the realm of the demons. Killian has witnessed many aftermaths of demons’ ravenous hunger for humans, to confirm that fact. But Diavolo wouldn’t listen even if she begged him on her knees as it wasn’t her place, much to her dismay. She was only a guest at the Devildom. Her only goal is to participate as a student for a year and report back to her father about her own opinion on the program.

Nothing more and nothing less.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Killian!”

A smile graced her face, her eyes landing on Diavolo as the mist of his transport spell vanished. Standing in the center of a raised judge panel, his already large frame looked gigantic as the demon prince peered down at the reaper. She recognized his signature red ankle-length coat, the crimson of his clothes heavily contradicting the large assembly hall’s violet and black scheme. Diavolo’s face brightens as he takes in her form, his gold eyes practically glow with excitement in the dimness.

“I’m honored to be here. I was starting to think that you forgot about me.” Her mask’s lips curled into a grin as the magic-infused in the porcelain mirrors her facial expressions. Killian didn’t usually wear a mask; her arrival to the Devildom coincided with the Melachonia festival in her home realm. Not wanting to break tradition, she decided to partake in the porcelain mask tradition during those significant months, though its appearance made her stick out like a sore thumb.

Diavolo chuckled at her tease, “Killian, you are someone who isn’t easily forgotten,” His gold eyes twinkled gleefully. “I do apologize for the delay. We had some difficulties with bringing Mattie to RAD.” Diavolo’s gaze shifted past the reaper, who turned to follow his stare.

A small distance behind her stood a human; their aura confirmed it. The person flinched when they noticed her glance, their eyes widening at the sight of her mask. They stood shorter than her, about chin-height to her. Killian noted they were cute, admiring the human’s olive skin and dyed teal hair, styled into a chin-length choppy bob, framing their round face and button nose.

Killian smiled, forcing back a giggle as the human gasped at her mask’s movement. “Hello there, I’m Killian. Who are you?” Keeping her voice smooth and calm, not to frighten the human further. “I-I’m Mattie. Mattie Carson.” Their doe-like eyes were glued to the mask’s mouth, watching in awe as the thin line moved and took shape, mirroring every word the reaper spoke. Their cheeks flushed as a giggle escaped Killian, immediately averting their glance in embarrassment.

“I’m glad the two of you are getting along well,” Diavolo smiled, observing the duo’s interaction happily. The demon prince seemed elated by the newest students’ friendly exchange; joy practically oozed from every pore. “Killian here is a good friend of mine. Treat her kindly, and she will do the same.”

Friends? Diavolo’s comment surprised her. She never thought he would consider her a friend. During his stay, Killian always made an effort to be friendly with the demon prince as their first meeting didn’t leave the best first impression whenever she bumped into the demon in the hallways and at banquets. Their chats were amiable but not enough to warrant status as the demon prince’s good friend.

Nevertheless, Killian took the opportunity to joke, “Aw, you’re going to make me blush~” Amused at the faint flush on Diavolo’s face as he laughed, also amused by their banter. A loud cough drew Killian’s eyes to the demon standing next to Diavolo, wearing a black version of the prince’s uniform. The demon was almost as tall as Diavolo, incredibly handsome with flawless porcelain skin and silky black hair. Even from the far distance, Killian noticed the crimson gradient in the demon’s otherwise piercing grey eyes. Those scrutinizing eyes glared disapprovingly, unamused of her playful attitude.

Killian grinned, winking at the scowling demon. She watched gleefully as his glare deepened. Obviously, the demon didn’t like her, not like she gave a shit about his feelings. If the demon was judging her already without getting to know her, Killian didn’t want to waste her energy on trying to be liked by some demon with an apparent stick up his ass.

“I apologize. We got off-topic.” Diavolo’s laughter subsided; he gesticulated around the hall as if performing a magic trick. “I should explain where we are. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo, though we just call it RAD. You’re standing inside of the assembly hall, the very heart of RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business.” Killian glanced around the impressive room, and she noticed a few empty seats among the ones occupied by a few disinterested demons.

“I’m the president of said council.” Diavolo stated proudly as if demons were fearless enough to run against him for the seat. She counted the number of seats, growing more curious. There were eight seats, including Diavolo; three seats were vacated. Why isn’t the whole council here? Won’t it have been more proper to have the full council present for the new students’ arrivals?

“Why are we here?” Mattie asked firmly, some of the shock and fear melting from their body. Killian felt slightly happy at the human’s growing confidence; the human will need that moxie if they want to survive the Devildom for the next year. Although it won’t prevent them from being eaten, it was at least progress.

“I will explain everything to you.” The black-haired demon spoke, ascending down the center stairs of the panel towards the two. Killian willed herself not to step forward in front of Mattie protectively; her posture grew rigid and alert. Her thumb fiddled with the ring on her right index finger, containing her scythe. The smile on Diavolo’s face eased her a bit; she still won’t hesitate to attack if the demon tried anything funny.

“Mattie. Killian. This is Lucifer. He is a demon and the Avatar of Pride.” Killian studied the black-haired demon with mild interest, so this is Lucifer? Diavolo spoke a lot of his dear friend during his stay in the Reapscape. From his descriptions of the demon, Killian honestly thought Lucifer was an old grumpy cat whom Diavolo grew fond of. Finally, now that she put a name with the face, she thought of him more like an arrogant peacock, domineering over ostentation of peafowls.

“So, you’re Lucifer? Lord Diavolo spoke many praises of you to my Excellency.” Her father’s title felt odd on her tongue. She doesn’t remember the last time when she had to call him by that status as “father,” and the occasional papa was his usual title to her. But her father had requested her royal status to remain anonymous during her participation in the program; Killian needed to remember that she wasn’t the Grim Reaper’s daughter in the eyes of these demons. She was just a representative of the Reapscape handpicked by the demon prince.

“He’s also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...and not just in title, I assure you.” Diavolo added. Killian disguised a sudden laugh as a mild cough fit, nearly giggling as Mattie shot her an odd look. Diavolo slightly pouted, resembling a worried puppy more than a demon prince. Lucifer’s glare intensified; oh, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Killian didn’t care if his stare melted the flesh off of her bone. The accidental double meaning was too funny not to laugh at.

Killian let out a quick apology in between fake coughs, claiming she was okay. Reassured that the reaper wasn’t about to keel over and die, Diavolo continued to praise Lucifer. “Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend,” Lucifer grunted at his words, annoyance twitched at his features as his stare shifted to the prince.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.” He cleared his throat; his red-grey eyes pierced the two exchange students. Mattie winced at the intensity while Killian merely stared back, unbothered by the demon’s biting gaze. Being a royal heir, she grew custom to the glares and gawking of nobles as she wasn’t introduced into palace life with open arms as a young reaper.

With practiced grace, Lucifer placed a gloved hand to his chest, slightly bowed his head towards the duo as he spoke, “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome.” Killian blinked; that was one of the driest greetings she has experienced. She endured stabbings more heartfelt.

“On behalf of the students?” A faint frown appeared on the human’s face. Killian didn’t need telepathy to know Mattie found Lucifer’s welcome less than warm. Lucifer’s eyes briefly narrowed before he diverged into a monologue, “Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step towards this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program.” Killian turned him out. She already heard the program’s nature when Diavolo did his sales pitch to her father, resulting in brief mayhem occurring in the royal court.

“You both need someone to look after you, and I think that someone should be my brother Mammon?” The name seemed familiar to Killian; where has she heard that name before?

“Your brother?” Mattie asked curiously.

“Yes. He’s the Avatar of Greed, and… how should I put it…?” He sighed defeatedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if a headache was forming. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Reaching into a coat pocket, Lucifer retrieved two cell phones. “Here, take this device. It’s called D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your worlds,” He plopped the phones into each of their hands; his aim missed Killian’s hand, the phone nearly slipped. Her quick reflexes easily caught the falling phone; she gave him a sharp look. If Lucifer purposefully missed, his face didn’t show its guilt as he further discusses the new cell phones.

With an annoyed huff, Killian decided to examine the new device. Her phone case was a dark red; she lifted the phone slightly. She let out a breathy laugh as she saw the case matched the color of Diavolo’s uniform. Killian playfully winked at Diavolo, noticing the man also looking at the case in her hand. Diavolo’s smile widened; she suppressed a crackle when he winked back.

Forcing herself to turn away as not to draw any attention, she turned it on to see the phone was already charged and unlocked. Killian quickly browsed the standard installed apps. Although it will take some time for Killian to get used to a new cell phone, everything seemed in place. She wondered if her other phone would work if she needed to call home. She knew there would be metaphorical hell to pay if she didn’t text Jules often. The reaper shuddered at the thought of being on the end of her dear friend’s notoriously short temper. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with any time soon.

“Now, go ahead and try calling Mammon with it.” Lucifer instructed.

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Reblog if you want me to post more. 

Also, I wanted to explain a few things about Mattie (The human; the usual MC of the game), Killian (my reaper mc of sorts) and the story.

1. Mattie identifies as genderqueer; The pronouns of Mattie are They/Them, just like in the game. (Killian's pronouns are She/Her as she identities as cisgender).

2. This story will follow the overall plot line relatively close, it will kinda diverges from the original story in a few major events. there is also some side plot and funny (sometimes spicy~) filler chapters.

3. Mattie will not be the one romancing the boys, Killian is the romantic interest. Mattie will develop deep platonic relationships with the boys, I'm still deciding upon Mattie's sexual preference (possibly gray-ace?)

4. Since this is somewhat an AU; there will be chapters outside of the realm of the devildom, focusing on Killian's backstory and the Reapscape.

5. Last but not least, there will be some dark topics explored (mostly involving Killian's past) that I hadn't tagged yet. I will put trigger warning in the beginning notes of those chapters. If wanted, I can put line break around the sensitive materials.

[believerindaydreams]

Update on the Fallout 4 front: downloaded so many mods on the principle that if thirty mods are good, double that will be more fun. Most of them are fairly discreet things like prebuilt player homes and fishing but I also got a "unlock anything" cheat screwdriver. Carla likes lockpicking and we want that sweet sweet companion affinity. Brahmin milking mod is a blessing for rad damage.

Downloading a vanilla damage for survival mod helped a lot. So did crafting NCR armor; there is something to be said for finally having a chubby Boone in it. With a beret. A rename mod so Carla can be Carla and all's right with her, even the Vault suit; this game utterly wouldn't be worth playing without friendly backup and I literally haven't got far enough to meet anyone but Preston. Finishing the Abernathy farm quest was a Big Deal.

A doctor would be nice. Boone keeps getting sick and he can't do anything except suck down expensive drugs. I downloaded a First Infirmary mod but he can't use it for another ten levels.

Perk system is stupid.

Sanctuary gives me the creeps once Mama Murphy was all "your life energy is tied to this place". Boone was being polite to them at that point because he's aware that Psykers can have. problems. but now he's Does Not Want to go back and get the radiant quests. Womp womp.

He's spending too much on .308 ammo for either his hunting rifle or the suppressed pipe rifle, so it's finally starting to feel like playing a sniper. Picked up a legendary 10mm pistol that's good for just running around.

Oh, and there's a rudimentary settlement at Red Rocket. Two farmers showed up. They're not good at what they do but neither is Boone, so...whatevers.

[hanabisimps]

•Welcome to Devildom•

-A Prince and His Right-Hand Man-

Chapter 2

The first thing you hear is a voice that sounds deep joyful. You open your eyes and see you’re in a place that looks like a courtroom and several men are looking you’re way. You’re looking around the area assessing your environment. To be honest, you were pretty scared after almost falling downs flight of stairs and then you were immediately greeted by a strange and new figure. You were never considered short or tall before but when you see these new people you feel incredibly tiny and insignificant compared to them.

A man sitting atop the main seat that looks like where the chief judge would sit starts speaking.

???: ... Oh pardon me, feeling a bit shocked, are we? Well that’s understandable. You’ve only just arrived after all.

He spoke in such a proper tone. You’ve never heard anybody talk in such a manner before besides your family. He sounds almost as if he was actually worried. The tone of his voice makes you feel comforted despite not knowing where you are and you’re situation. You have never met anybody that looked like this man before. His hair was a bright red that was fit to be called a royal red and his skin reminded me of chestnuts, his features look inviting and was pleasing to the eye, something that she’s seen before but accompanied with such deep red hair? Shes never seen it, even from a distance anybody can tell that he was a very handsome man.

???: As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.

Hanabi: what..?

When you heard that last statement you snapped out of the comfortable and warm feeling you had. Realizing what he just said. It almost sounds like they plan on keeping me here for a while. Does that mean they will eventually send me back or... did I die and this is the place I will be staying from now on..?

???: I suppose I should start by introducing myself. My name is Diavolo, I am the ruler of all demons and all that live here know of me. Someday I will be crowned king of the Devildom.

Diavolo: This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo... but just feel free to just call it RAD. You’re standing inside the assembly hall, they very heart of this school. This is where we officers of the student council hold meetings and conduct our business. I also happen to be the president of the student council.

Hanabi: Did I die?

You look up at the man concerned but almost half hopeful. You had a dream that you wanted to continue to pursue and are worried that your life ended to early for you to do anything. But on the other hand, you would have to go back home and that was something you didn’t want to even consider as an option.

???: I will explain everything to you.

Another man walked up to you. His hair was a jet black and his face had defined features. He had reminded you of some dramas you used to see, to you he looked as though he could play the CEO of a company in one of those dramas. He looked radiant and refined almost too beautiful to be real. Where are all these good looking people coming from?

Diavolo: Hanabi, this is Lucifer. He is a demon and the avatar of pride, he is also the Vice President of the student council. He’s also my right hand man... and not just in title, I assure you. Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend. *he glances at Lucifer, almost as if in anticipation*

Lucifer: *lets out a sigh* flattery will take you nowhere, Diavolo. *he turns to you with an elegant smile plastered across his face* Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours... I offer you a most heartfelt welcome Hanabi.

You were caught in a daze of confusion. You eventually snapped out of it and remembered that you are in a strange place that speaks of devils and celestial realms. You clasp your hands together up to your chest to calm yourself and remember what you were going to say.

Hanabi: Answer my question * you say this bluntly and with no hostility but with a hint of annoyance*

You were sure that saying this to someone that is supposedly an avatar of pride and a demon would surely set him off. Or at least you thought it would.

Lucifer: ...Interesting. This one is quite different from Solomon. *he gives you an amused smirk* don’t fret, you’re most certainly alive.

Hanabi: I see... * you let out a breath and relax yourself knowing that you’re alive* thank you...* you bow *

Diavolo: *surprised* Well now this is unexpected! Why are you thanking us and demons all of all things?

Hanabi: Before being brought here I thought I was going to die but now that I know that I’m alive... all I could think of was to thank you. Even if it was unintentionally, I still thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving me. * you bow to them again *

Lucifer: ... not once in my long life have I seen a human thank a demon like this before. I’m beginning to believe that I made the right choice of picking you to be an exchange student here.

Hanabi: What do you mean?

Lucifer: Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with the human world and celestial realm.

Hanabi: Hmm...* you begin to wrack your brain* I see, so does that the students here were also transported to the human world too?

Lucifer: you’re quite quick to put two and two together. *makes a satisfied smile* I can see that you will do well here. * he goes back on subject* Yes you are correct, we’ve sent 2 of our students to the human world and 2 of our students to the celestial realm. This is the first step toward our goal and you’ve been chosen from among the people of the human world to participate in this program of ours.

Hanabi: so that means 2 humans have been sent here correct? I had heard of you mention someone called Solomon, is he the other human that will be here?

Lucifer: yes, you seem to have impressive perceptive skills. That might be a blessing and curse for you during your stay here but anyhow. Your period of stay is one year. You will have to work on the tasks that you will receive from RAD. After a year, you will write a paper about your exchange here in Devildom.

Hanabi: Are the people in the human world aware that this is going on? Do people know that I’m here in Devildom?

Lucifer: Now why must I tell you something like that?

Hanabi: ... *glares*

Lucifer: don’t glare at me like that. It’s not like I will abandon you all by yourself her in Devildom.

Hanabi: *you feel strange when hearing that* you’re not going to abandon me..?

Lucifer: *confused* of course not, our goal is for humans, demons and angels to get a better understanding of each other so of course we are going to make sure that you make it back to the human world in one piece. Speaking of which, I have assigned my brother, Mammon, to look after you. He’s the avatar of greed and ... how should I put it..? Oh well, you’ll understand soon enough. Here, take this device, it’s called a D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your human world.

Hanabi: Ah right my phone! *you rummage through your pockets and find it* there it is ! *you turn on your phone* lets see if I can contact people in the human world with this...

You finally turn your phone on to see that you have no signal. You try and send a text anyway and it doesn’t go through. The only things you can do is use other apps that don’t require data and service.

Lucifer: ah right, I didn’t think I needed to mention this but the only phones that work on devildom are the D.D.D but you can still use the D.D.D in the human world and everywhere else. Your phones and a D.D.D are similar but are different in that kind of sense. Anyway, this will be yours to use for as long as your here. Now, go ahead and try calling Mammon with it.

[nad-zeta]

Match-up Request

teWeeee hello!! I'm so excited that you do matchups!! Can I please get one, for ikemen sengoku right? Thank you 💘 I'll do it in sections so I dont ramble too much: Wow that's too much info. I'm so sorry 😭💕 Thank you for your work 🥰

Thanx so much for your request @zazax42​! I really enjoyed reading your matchup request you sound like a rad person! haha this one turned out a bit longer than expected whoops. I hope you enjoy it love! <3

 So I match you with….. Yukimura 

When you first meet Yukimura, you know instantly that the merchant cover-up story of his is as fake as they come. I mean, before you were flung into the past, one of the things you wanted to study was crime phycology. It's written all over his face; he is lying. Not just that, but who would ever believe that boy wonder over here, could actually sell woman’s jewelry, what a joke. You do, however, try to be friendly because he doesn’t seem like too bad a guy, and you actually find that boyish charm of his kinda cute. But in saying that you know dealing with him is going to take all the patience, you can muster, cause so help you if he calls you a boar one more time.

You guys definitely start your relationship off with bickering, mainly cause you are both pretty aloof, but it’s all in good fun though. You actually find yourself enjoying the bickering matches with him, especially teasing him for not being able to come up with a more creative line other than “vile enchantress” or “wild boar.” The two of you actually start becoming really good friends, and you live for those moments when you make a dirty joke or two, and he starts going red. You love watching his blush creep all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He soon starts catching on, and starts trying to make Rick and Morty style jokes (courtesy of Sasuke) but fails miserably, landing the two of you in laughing fits. Needless to say, you are two peas in a pod, roughhousing a lil here and there, and joking about everything and anything. You giving him a noogie every time he calls you a wild boar, him calling you a dummy even though he thinks you are the smartest person he has ever met *cough* even smatter than his BFF.

When the two of you are together, it's always a good time with lots of laughs and smiles to follow. Whether it's, you are challenging him to a swim-off for the last dumpling, or him challenging you to an arm-wrestling match for who pays the bill- which to his disbelief you always seem to win. 

He starts falling for you real fast, especially after the two of you decided to start training together, he has never met anyone who could keep up with him, much less who could almost outlift him. You, on the other hand, are all too happy that there is actually someone in the Sengoku period that sees you for you. Yuki is one of the few that actually encourages all your hobbies, heck, even joins in instead of forbidding it cause it’s “not appropriate for a woman.”

The two of you, somewhere along the line, have also taken it upon yourself to teach the street kids in Azuchi’s market different skills to help them survive. Yuki can’t help but steal glances at you and think about how beautiful you look in those moments of you, teaching one of the kids how to read and write. There is just something about you when you are teaching that makes you too radiant to look at. He knows you have found your passion in life. He can’t help but what to be part of that and get to witness more moments with you, where you just shine from doing what you love. 

Your transition from friendship to relationship is slow, romantic feelings for one another start to bloom to a point where none of you can deny it anymore. You love how your tiny hands fit perfectly in his bigger ones. You love the way his eye light up and a smile starts creeping onto his lips whenever you bring him one of your new culinary inventions. You love how he dotes on you, but also gives you space and alone time to recharge. You just… love… him. It's kind of a new feeling for both of you, really. You have also now come to discover you can’t help but be a bit flustered at his attempts at flitting with you nowadays, wow you must really like him.   

Yuki loves spending the sunny afternoons with your head on his lap under a shady tree, while he plays with your hair. He will do this when he knows you have had a long day, it’s his way of creating a safe space for you to sleep for a bit, while he still gets to spend time with you. He loves these quiet moments where he can just stare at your face and run his fingers through your hair. He can’t help but grin like a fool at the fact that he has actually found someone to spend the rest of his life with. He closes his eyes while enjoying the warm summer breeze thinking about how he must have done something right in his life to be blessed with such a wonderful person.   

Another potential match is Masamune- because yall know he would definitely appreciate a dirty joke or 2 ^_~

Hope ya enjoy and just remember it may not be perfect cause I haven't really been writing all that long lol

[literally-just-mirio-headcanons]

GHSHSBXBS I SAW UR TAGS ROSE TY HAHA 💕💕💕💕 aight ima be the one to send it then. May we have some merman-Mirio hcs pls mather. (also his s/o could be human who loves the ocean and marine life but has no idea mermen and mermaids exist 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀)

MUAHAHAHAHA YES FINALLY THANK YOU ADDY💕💕

HERE WE HECKIN GO Y'ALL

I feel like Mirio would have like a cool shark tail? Tinted blue as well.

He has like 20 pet hermit crabs

He paints their cute shells so it looks they have actual houses on their backs.

Loves exploring sunken ships and trying to figure out what all the knickknacks are supposed to do

Usually gets it way wrong as you might expect.

Mirio, looking at a pair of pants: ah yes! Those human arm traps! Hahaah they sure are weird with entertainment but eh!

He's curious about human stuff, but actually pretty chill about wanting to meet or talk to humans.

Mirio likes snoozing in the sun and watching humans from a distance

Its surprising he's only run into a couple since he lives near a small local beach

And even then he usually manages to get away so all they see is a tail!

Mirio's not sure why he decided he was okay with you seeing him, probably because you were out alone on the beach one summer night, looking into the tide pools with great interest, and well, curiosity got the better of him!

That and you looked adorable and well.....ahsjdjjddj moving on

You were completely focused on some starfish when a voice piped up, breaking the calm scilence of the night.

"Whatcha looking at angel fish?"

You look up startled to see a young man beaming at you from the ocean.

"Uhm, uh- yeah I was looking at- sorry who are you?"

"Oh sorry!! I'm Mirio!!! Its nice you meet youuuuuuu.....?"

"Pfft, Y/n, nice to meet ya Mirio, you wanna come join me or, are you gonna.....chill out there"

"Uhm...well...I could it's just-"

You see a blue tail flip out of the water and realize Oh heck he's a merman

And then things get fuzzy....and dark....because apparently that was so shocking you hecking passed out.

You wake up from your spontaneous nap to find Mirio hovering over you, out of breath and clearly worried

"ANGEL FISH ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"Hm? Oh yeah I'm alright Mirio, I guess the tail thing was just a bit of a suprise.....wow"

"What?"

"Sorry sorry I uh..you're just closer now and I uhm.....gosh you're....."

My goodness is he oblivious

Doesnt notice how red your face is.

Doesn't notice how he is like wicked close to you.

He's just *sigh*

You continue on nervously

"I just was gonna say- I think you look radiant or like...really cool or maybe- both? Yeah ok right ok uhm UHMMM COULD YOU MAYBE SCOOCH BACK A BIT YOURE SUPER CLOSE MIRIO"

"Oops! Sorry!!!"

And so begins your nightly beach hangout sessions.

And later dates.

OHMYGOSH HE TOTALLY BRINGS HIS HERMIT CRABS ONE TIME AND TELLS YOU ALL OF THEIR NAMES.

Mirio sometimes brings you pretty shells and samples of rad plantlife in the ocean, he just really loves giving you gifts and seeing how you light up.