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aballadforbarbatos · 3 days ago

Text

lighthouse

a hanahaki piece from mephistopheles’ point of view. i’m using my thought template (? is that what you’d call it?) which can be found here.

if you’d like a more classic piece using the version everyone knows, i can publish something like that too! just let me know!

this was based on a poll; if you’d like spoilers for the type of ending, you can see the results here.

word count: 2.7k+

when he walks into the house of lamentation, he finds it absolutely trashed. dirt looks like it’s piling up in the corners and the few plants you look after are either overgrown or on the brink of death.

there are holes in the walls. he can only assume these are the result of fits of rage, probably from satan, but mephistopheles has no idea what could’ve pushed him over the edge. sobbing echoes from up the stairs. the exact brother that those tears belong to remains a mystery to him.

he’s been on a trip away with nobles. honestly, it was rather boring- and he’d still be on it, were it not for the summoning from diavolo.

goodness. they call you the devilsitter, but you’re not doing a very good job at it. how could you have let the place get into such a state? what, have you gone up to the human world or something? but then he would have been notified. wouldn’t you have… wouldn’t you have told him?

you would’ve told him, right? you wouldn’t have left him in the dark. no, not him. you couldn’t bear not letting him know. as he picks his way through the dirt and trash and debris, he obsesses over this idea for a while, only getting it together when he lies his eyes on diavolo.

“diavolo, you wanted me for something?”

beyond diavolo, he spots lucifer next. the man looks exhausted, and his eyes are red. his movements are sluggish and he has a pile of paperwork in one hand and what looks like coffee in the other, like he’s trying to distract himself from something.

“why is mephisto here?” mammon asks from the couch. “does he even like MC?”

stupid question. he doesn’t grace it with an answer.

thirteen appears next, and mephistopheles suddenly gets a bad feeling. in a wrecked house with similar inhabitants, having a reaper here can only be bad. who is she here to reap?

who…

“i’m sorry, mephistopheles. thirteen thought you might be helpful. i’m sure she’ll fill you in on the way there.”

if not for the fact that death and its subsequent mourning feels like it’s about to engulf the entirety of the house of lamentation, he might’ve turned around and walked out of the house. here at the whim of someone else? really?

he numbly follows thirteen down the hall instead.

she delivers the awful news he expects. it’s you. of course it’s you. human lives are so fleeting, and their bodies aren’t quite as robust as their celestial counterparts. a good chunk of them can’t even use magic. you couldn’t use magic when you arrived!

knowing all this doesn’t stop his heart from cracking when she says your name. doesn’t stop his stomach from twisting. in a most un-noble way, it doesn’t stop him from throwing up in the hall. she looks at him with pity.

no, don’t pity him. he doesn’t need or want that.

with a quick chant, the vomit is gone, and mephistopheles continues on to your room, his stride just a little faster.

she explains to him that it’s hanahaki, a human world disease that stems from unrequited love. this information came from satan rather than solomon, surprisingly. when he asks what that has to do with him, she says that if the person you love confesses to you, the disease will disappear on its own.

she says that everyone has already confessed. everyone except for him.

i don’t have feelings for them. it’s what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. he’s always aimed to share the truth; have all those years of denying what he really feels now caught up to him? or maybe it’s because he risks bringing your death faster. you know, if the target of your affections is him.

but also, why would it be him? you don’t see him enough. shouldn’t you have fallen for one of the brothers instead? is there a secret one that hasn’t confessed yet? mammon’s always denying his obvious feelings for you. maybe he’s lied about confessing to you. maybe he hasn’t confessed at all. or, or, there could be a secret eighth brother!

thirteen opens the door to your room and ushers him in.

she explained it all on the way here, but it doesn’t prepare him for the sight. even if he had all the time in the world, mephistopheles doubts that he could ever be prepared for something like this.

your chest heaves, and what follows is a violent cough that grates against his ears. after a few moments of silence, the sound of your breathing returns, shallow and raspy. aside from your breathing and coughing, your body is completely still. it’s like you’re already dead.

“how long do they have left?” he asks. she has access to the candles. she should know.

“that would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?” a dark joke that’s obviously an attempt to comfort herself, judging by the tears in her eyes. not long. maybe it’s worse for her, knowing when your time is supposed to come. she could always pour more wax on your candle, extending your life- but also prolonging your suffering. stuck between a rock and a hard place, he doesn’t envy her.

the most noticeable feature you have is the bunch of flowers sprouting from your face. deep purple petals with a green pistil in the middle. he knows that shade of green too well. he sees it whenever he looks in the mirror. his breath hitches.

“everyone has confessed,” thirteen whispers. “except for you.”

and with that, she leaves, closing the door behind her.

you start coughing again, and mephistopheles feels tears beginning to prick his own eyes. suddenly feeling quite lost, he drops to his knees and takes your hand. it’s cold. stiff. he’s amazed that you’re still here, even as you roleplay a corpse. is this the indomitable human will…?

“MC,” he begins, but doesn’t quite know where to go from there. another flower blooms. they cover your face completely, a little like a veil. he wonders if your eyes are glassy beneath it, lacking the sparkle that they normally hold. he wonders, if the flowers weren’t there, you’d be able to see anything at all.

he decides to stop wondering.

“MC,” he tries again. “i know we didn’t see each other a lot, but-”

his words fail again and he watches his hands shake. he’s probably just imagining it, but it seems like your fingers tighten just a little around his hand. the indomitable human will. a cliche where love conquers all. he presses your hand against his forehead and quietly breaks into sobs.

it’s not fair.

it’s not fair that his noble status means that he’s expected to marry someone of equal “value”, and it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to see you that often, his time taken up by schoolwork and newspaper club duties and noble duties and then someone is always hoarding your time anyway, and it’s not fair that he’s already being pushed away and it’s not fair that diavolo is obviously crushing on you and your love being requited, if it really is him, would just end up with him being pushed away more.

it’s probably more acceptable for you to be with an angel than with him.

he wonders what it was like for the others when it came to falling for you. maybe the realisation was soft. fluffy. like falling onto a bed of feathers, a warm fuzzy feeling flooding their brain. what is it like, being allowed to fall in love with you? is it as beautiful as he imagines it to be?

the realisation hit him when he was taking a photo of you for the school newspaper. though the lighting was terrible and the backdrop was even worse, you still looked gorgeous. ethereal. perfect. if it were anyone else, he never would've entertained the idea- but because it was you, he'd snapped a picture, and showed it to you, saying that he'd like to make it the front page photo. you’d laughed, saying you looked awful and to take a better one. put those centuries of photography expertise to good use!

it was like hitting concrete after a long fall. it felt like being torn apart and set alight and ripped to shreds all at once. he resigned himself to being unhappy forever, because you’d surely take to someone that you see far more often than him, and he’d be stuck on the sidelines watching it all happen. he tried to distance himself, but it didn’t work and how could it when you kept making excuses to see him?

he admires the flowers. limited time has cursed them. your short lifespan, his lack of free hours from duties and responsibilities and extra work, kindly piled on by lucifer, and now the clock is ticking away on him yet again because he can’t spit the fucking words out.

at least if you die, the flowers will stay. an eternal reminder of you, and what he couldn’t have. how ironic.

ah. he should be used to it by now. aside from the money and the title, which are only more chains, he has nothing. his little brother is a small comfort. he can’t keep his childhood friend, he can’t keep his position, he can’t even keep you, and you want to be kept.

mephistopheles sucks in a breath, desperate to gain some semblance of stability, but it doesn’t work. his parents will be disappointed, and everyone else will hate him, with the exception of perhaps luke and his lovely little brother. diavolo won’t ever look at him again, probably completely disgusted, and then he’d be completely lost. tears are streaming down his face.

he’s so pathetic.

that’s not an exaggeration. you’re on death’s door, and he has the power to save you, and he can’t because he’s afraid. he doesn’t deserve someone like you. you, who goes above and beyond when it’s needed. you, who wasn’t immediately turned off by his attitude. you, whom he loves.

he recalls something that you said to him when you were telling him about your plan to massively prank lucifer. he remembers asking you if you’re not afraid of the consequences- you’d laughed at him, but not cruelly.

the only thing to fear is fear itself!

all that time he spent talking down on you and humans. through his heartbreak, he lets out a gentle sigh, resigning himself to the future.

maybe it won’t be as bad as it seems. maybe you’ll make the consequences lighter. maybe with your presence, he can hallucinate his life getting better. maybe, maybe, maybe. maybe he could learn to hope again, instead of uselessly grasping at straws. he chokes out the words, pressing your cold, stiff hand to his forehead. your breathing has slowed. your coughing has stopped.

like it could ever be that easy.

maybe…

maybe he’s too late.

mephistopheles feels like he's watching what’s probably the last of your candle burn out, his heart threatening to shatter. your chest heaves again, and he prepares himself, ready for the horrible hacking noise that’ll follow.

but it never comes.

instead, he feels your grip on his fingers tighten. it’s only a little, but it’s there. he didn’t imagine it. that was real. he’s too young and it’s too early to be hallucinating you doing things, so that was definitely absolutely real.

right?

there’s a soft exhale that he barely hears, and he watches the flowers begin to wither and decay. his heartbroken and absolutely pitiful tears turn into happier ones as warmth returns to your hand and life begins to flood back into your body.

he doesn’t move from your side, amazed at how quickly you’re recovering. it’s your breathing that he finds he’s most excited about, the hoarseness quickly disappearing.

you turn your head to him. even with the flowers gone, you look absolutely exhausted. perhaps that’s to be expected.

“say that again.”

it comes a lot easier the second time.

“i love you, MC. to the moon and back.”

a smile tugs at your lips. “i love you too.”

it takes him a while to come out of the room. you want to come with him, and are too stubborn to stay on your bed, complaining that it’s boring and you’ve already been there for days. unfortunately, you’re too weak to stand on your own (not that he’s particularly surprised), so you end up leaning quite heavily on him instead.

very slowly, you make it out of the room. thirteen’s outside, probably waiting for the bad news.

“finished?”

“sorry, thirteen.” you grin weakly. “i’m still alive.”

still alive and walking, which he’ll probably get told off for letting you do. he thinks about it briefly and instead lifts you up so that he can walk faster he’s supporting your legs with one arm and your back with the other. the reaper purses her lips as her tears finally spill over.

“this makes it quite difficult to hug them, you realise.”

“they’re too weak for hugging.”

“i could probably manage a little hug-”

“you’re too weak for hugging.”

you huff out a laugh. “whatever you say...”

you don’t comment on the state of the house as he carries you to the common room, thirteen animatedly talking beside him. mephistopheles tries hard not to look down; he knows you’ll be staring at him adoringly, finally free to.

the only people still in the common room are mammon, diavolo, and barbatos. lucifer must’ve gone to his office to drown himself in paperwork. thankfully, mammon’s scream (thirteen held her hands over your ears, but he’s not sure it did much) alerts everyone in the house. one after the other, people appear in the doorway, their eyes wide and red.

levi looks like he’s cried so much that he can’t cry anymore, and yet he still manages to summon some tears as he sees you flowerless.

“you can all go back to school now. isn’t that exciting?” you laugh, and belphie looks at you dryly, obviously unimpressed by the idea.

“ha. you’re so funny, MC.”

mephisto looks down to see a weak smile gracing your face. then something shifts in you and you start complaining.

“i feel like a newborn baby, being stared at like this.”

“i can set you down, if you like,” he offers, and you shake your head, snuggling further into his chest. he wonders if you can hear his heart pounding.

“no thank you. i like being in your arms. by the way, this hold is called the bridal style carry in the human world.”

mephistopheles very nearly drops you at that.

and much later on, after many games of rock paper scissors and many ties between thirteen and satan when it came to feeding you (you probably could’ve done it yourself), diavolo pulls him aside for a walk.

here it comes. the rejection.

mephisto braces himself.

“you know, i think they’ll be good for you.”

…?

“diavolo?”

he laughs. “what, did you think i was going to punish you, or something? it’s not like it’s something you can control, falling in love.” there’s a pause. “i hope you didn’t beat yourself up too badly before you confessed.”

ah. so he went through something similar. perhaps there’s a shared understanding between demons of higher rank that he’d previously overlooked.

“also-” the prince musters up a grin. “they’d be pretty damn annoyed to know if you did.”

bonus:

as he returns from his walk, he sees you leaning on satan, waiting for his return. except you only look at him once, mouth “watch this”, and focus your gaze entirely on diavolo.

mephistopheles wonders if he should be worried.

given that it’s you, the answer is probably a resounding yes.

“diavolo,” you begin, fidgeting. “i was wondering if i could maybe get a present? you know, since i nearly died.”

diavolo’s eyes light up. “absolutely! anything you want, it’s yours!”

“anything?”

“anything.”

your eyes gleam with cunning. he wonders if maybe he should stop you from taking advantage of the literal ruler of devildom, but you did just come back from playing a dead body, so…

“then, could you make mephisto the president of the newspaper club again?”

the temperature of the room gets several degrees colder as lucifer glowers from the corner. diavolo only laughs before granting your request and whispering to him:

“see? good for you.”

mephistopheles watches you smile triumphantly.

maybe everything really will be okay after all.

#uwu #i had to fit in the happily ever after part in too #anyway it’s longer than expected #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mc #obey me mephisto #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephistopheles x reader #obey me mephisto x reader #mephistopheles x reader #mephisto x reader #hanahaki #i need him to be dateable NOW #birthday event for mephistopheles and it’s just him being dateable

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