#. bee writes

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Emergency Contact

Summary: Having siblings sucks. Having siblings who are constantly getting into life threatening situations is worse. 5.9k words.

Disclaimer: as usual, if they're ooc no. uhm. Diavolo and Barbatos are here and they are referred to as Lucifer's boyfriends but it's in like a fun jokey teasing way that siblings do. except Lucifer actually is dating Diavolo in my head so. asmo and solomon ARE dating because I want them to be. maybe next time I'll make solomon date satan. you can only call a man a cute kitty so many times before people get ideas. if you couldn't tell by the title and the summary, people get #sick and break their #bones. oh. there is one (1) cannibalism joke. not demoncest just bros being bros.

Notes: this took so long because I've never written a decent ending in my life and i spent two days on it. also that anon really pissed me off for some reason idk. if you don't like how anyone is characterized write your own fanfiction man idk. solmare doesn't even have consistency with this nonsense. Lucifer is nice to his brothers in this because I want him to be. amen.

It’s a little known fact that Lucifer is everyone’s emergency contact. When it comes to those he cares about, he is protective, almost annoyingly so. So, it makes sense that the person who knows everything about everyone should be in charge if something goes awry. His phone hardly ever rings for emergencies, half because his brothers’ manage to get themselves out of trouble through a series of convoluted and confusing hijinks and half because most of them would rather eat nails than call him to tell him something is wrong. He’s even Barbatos’ emergency contact, despite the fact that Barbatos has never been sick or injured.

When his phone does ring, though, it’s almost always because someone has managed to damage themselves beyond repair, which is why he’s staring at the caller id on his D.D.D. like he can make it stop ringing if he glares hard enough.

“Lucifer Morningstar speaking,” it hadn’t stopped ringing and Diavolo had almost reached across the table to answer it for him.

“Hello this is Devildom General Hospital. We received a patient today and your name was on his–”

“Who.” It comes out dull and flat. He’s gripping his fork so hard he can hear the metal squeak.

“Excuse me?” The demon on the other end of the phone sounds perfectly polite but Lucifer is already so strung out all it does is grate his nerves.

“Who are you calling for?”

“Mam–”

“I’ll be right there,” he’s standing up in a hurry, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and ignoring Diavolo’s many questions as he leaves their dinner.

“Sir, if you’ll just–” he hangs up before the nurse can say anything else.

-

Mammon managed to break a bone or two in a scuffle he won’t tell Lucifer the details of.

“Do you know how hard it is to break a femur, Mammon?” Lucifer is gripping the steering wheel of the car so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t snapped in half.

“Pretty damn hard, all things considerin’.” Lucifer exhales sharply out of his nose and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. He’s staring out of the window, and the white of his hair is dirty with mud and something red that Lucifer knows didn’t come out of his skull but worries him regardless.

“Mammon, this isn’t something to joke about.”

“I know,” he taps the hard cast of his leg with a bruised knuckle, “‘m the one with the broken bones.”

“If you know why are you doing it?” Lucifer can’t stop his voice from raising a few decibels towards the end of his sentence and has to mentally count to ten to not start screaming.

“‘Cause I just got the shit beat outta me ‘n’ I don’t wanna listen to yer lecturin’.” Mammon finally turns his head to stare at Lucifer and the elder looks away from the road for a second to meet his eyes. It’s not often that Mammon genuinely argues with him, not often that Mammon gets mad enough to let the blue of his eyes light with fury. Whatever happened tonight was not something that he wanted to happen, and it’s not something he needs a scolding for.

There’s a tense silence where Lucifer sighs and then flicks the turn signal, sliding across the lanes of traffic to take Mammon somewhere else before they go home.

“Did you win?” He’s pulling into Madame Screams’ drive through when he asks.

“‘Course I did.”

“Good.”

They both silently agree not to tell the rest of them about their little pit stop, and it’s as Lucifer’s pulling into the garage that he turns to his brother.

“Mammon.” A hum sounds from the passenger seat. “Next time, call me yourself. I don’t want it to be the hospital unless you’re physically incapable of talking.”

“Roger that.”

—

Lucifer is not known as the most comforting of his brothers. The six of them tend to rely on each other for that, going to Mammon or Beel if they have emotional troubles. Lucifer, as the oldest, is good for cleaning up messes. Putting things back together and making it look like nothing was ever amiss in the first place. It’s his job to protect them, from the world and from themselves, and he takes it seriously. Still, despite his brick wall in place of a heart and his general ineptitude when it comes to being affirming in any sense, he is not incapable of helping his brothers out of a tight spot. He’s just not preferred.

“Lucifer,” Levi’s voice is shaky and stuttering on the other end of the phone. He knew something was wrong when his phone started ringing in the middle of class. His brothers all know how much he hates distractions during class time, just like they know when he has a class so they don’t bother him. He knew something was worse when it was Levi’s name flashing across the screen. Levi refuses to call any of them unless the world is ending. He knew something was horrible when he remembered that today was one of the few days that Levi is mandated to come to campus.

“Yes?” He’s already left class walking down the hallway towards the abandoned wing where he knows Levi is. He keeps his steps measured and even, keeps his breathing calm. It won’t do to have two of them panicked at the same time.

“Are you busy?” They both know the answer to that question, just like they both know he’s going to lie.

“You caught me in the middle of a break. Why?” He tests the door handle for the swimming pool. Closed for renovations, the sign says. The same thing it’s said for the past several millennia. The door swings open without any effort on his part, the magic seal already broken before he got here.

“Would you like to go for a swim?” There’s a splash on the other end of the line. Lucifer snorts.

“I’m not one for water.” There’s silence and another splash and Lucifer lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yay,” Levi says, soft and timid, and Lucifer can see him now, all of him, filling up the entire pool. He doesn’t get in yet, just removes a glove and sticks a finger in the water to let Levi know he’s here. He watches as the miles and miles of indigo scales shift and slide along each other until he’s face to face with thousands of sharp teeth.

“You’re going to break the pool again,” is what he says, voice dry. He sputters indignantly when that earns him salt water to the face. He’s soaked now, head to toe and he’s going to miss these shoes.

“Oops.” Levi’s voice is sprinkled with something mirthful, no longer halfway to tears as it was just a moment ago. “Get in. The water’s nice.”

“Yes,” Lucifer swipes a hand across his face to push his bangs back. Salt water drips into his eyes anyway. “I can see that.” 

Levi giggles and his face moves away, body coiling in, on, and over itself, too big to fully fit in the pool.

“You said you’d swim with me.”

“Yes. I suppose I did.”

Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t like swimming. He is not a bird that is built for water, and getting wet usually means being cold and grounded for a while. Truthfully, he’d rather finally open one of the many letters Michael has sent him over the years. Truthfully, he would do anything for his brothers. Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t think he’ll fit, but a promise is a promise, so he slides out of his uniform and climbs in.

Levi doesn’t ever tell him what made him so upset he rebroke R.A.D. 's pool, but he does leave a box of Princess’ Poison Apples on his desk the next morning, so Lucifer sets his sights on re-fixing the swimming pool. Maybe this time he’ll convince Diavolo to make it bigger.

—

Satan would rather rip his own teeth out with nothing but a Q-tip and a single milligram of ibuprofen to numb the pain than ever ask Lucifer for help. Their relationship is getting better, he will admit, but he’s filled with a rage towards the oldest that could melt even the strongest of metals, and it will take a while to temper the flame. So, no, he will not ask Lucifer for help, but, if he’s annoying enough about it, Lucifer will fix it anyways.

He starts by mentioning it to Asmo, squinting at him and saying that no, he can’t tell if Asmo’s eyeliner is uneven, because he can’t see.

“Can’t see?” Manicured fingernails are digging into his cheeks as Asmo grips his face and moves his head from side to side. He has to shelve books in his mind’s inner library to not rip his brother’s face clean off his head. 

“Doesn’t look like cataracts or anything,” Asmo hums, dropping his face. Satan massages his jaw slightly. “What do you mean you ‘can’t see’?”

“I meant what I said. Your face is slightly blurry and I can’t tell if your eyeliner is even because it just looks like a blob. Ergo. I can’t see.” Satan crosses his arms over his chest and dodges Asmo’s subsequent grabs for his face.

“Oh,” a snort, “you probably need glasses.” He turns back around to his vanity and Satan has to stop himself from saying no shit out loud.

“Glasses are for losers.”

“Lucifer wears glasses.”

“My point exactly.” Asmo twists his lipstick back down before popping the cap on and pulling open a drawer. He gestures for Satan to look inside and he does and–

“I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

“Not very many people do. Mammon has glasses too, you know. He’s sensitive to bright lights. The sunglasses indoors are not just a poor fashion statement,” Asmo sighs and shakes his head, like the image of Mammon wearing his sunglasses inside brings him physical pain. “And, I think Levi has some because all of those screens destroyed his rods and cones.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for calling you a loser.” Asmo waves him off.

“The point, Bitty, is that you wouldn’t be the first.” It wouldn’t be just you and Lucifer is what he’s saying. Satan nods and then frowns.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Why?” Asmo reaches over to poke his cheek. He narrowly avoids getting a finger bitten off. His voice rises several octaves, turning into a coo. “You’re just an itty bitty baby– Ow, dammit fine.”

-

He then proceeds to complain about it as loudly as possible, as frequently as possible. No, he can’t help Mammon with his homework, the words are bleeding together. Yes, he does have to sit front and center now because otherwise the board is unreadable. No, he did not catch that last slanderous missive about Lucifer in the R.A.D. Newspaper because he couldn’t read the draft that was sent to him for editing. (He made Belphie read the drafts to him out loud and thought that the article was funny.)

“Satan,” everytime Lucifer has to talk to him he looks constipated and it makes Satan laugh inside.

“Big Bother.” Lucifer’s eye twitches.

“You have an appointment with the optometrist. Get in the car.” Satan sets his book down.

“Can’t Mammon take me?” He doesn’t want Mammon to take him. Still, it’s funny to see the vein pop on Lucifer’s forehead.

“... Get in the fucking car.”

Satan plays heavy metal in the car because he knows Lucifer hates it and makes him sit in the lobby during the actual check up because he thinks it’s funny to watch his leg bounce up and down. (And because Lucifer gets a copy of all of their medical records anyway. The freak probably checked Satan’s eyes himself while he was sleeping and already knows his prescription.)

“Those glasses look nice on you,” is all Lucifer says when he picks out the frames.

“I changed my mind. I hate these ones.” (He doesn’t.)

—

He’d been in his room, up to his eyes in paperwork when his phone rang. It’s not unusual for Asmo to call him, the younger always wanting to chat and gossip for as long as Lucifer will pretend to listen, but it is unusual for him to call in the middle of an Asmo Night.

“Hi Asmo, what–”

“Lucy!!” He has to pull the phone away from his ear to avoid rupturing the drum.

“I believe I have asked you not to–”

“Hey! Give me my–” There’s a scuffle on the other end before a voice that Lucifer recognizes as Solomon’s starts speaking.

“Lucifer! I believe Asmodeus has had enough for tonight and needs to be deposited home. I would do it myself, but as per our agreement, I am not allowed–”

“Within twenty feet of my front door. Yes, I know. I’ll come get him. Please keep him out of trouble until I get there.” He rubs the bridge of his nose before standing up and making his way to the door.

“Wonderful! Now, about that pact–” Lucifer hangs up before Solomon can finish the question and hits Levi’s door on the way down the stairs.

“Bed, Leviathan.” There’s a small squeak in response. “Or at least pretend to be sleeping. I can hear your game from out here.” The RPG music leaking from Levi’s room into the hallway quiets drastically.

He stops by the kitchen to find Asmo his crackers and a bottle of water before leaving, instructing Beel to carry himself and Belphie to bed on his way out.

Lucifer does not like parties. He thinks they are loud and annoying and too many people try to get handsy with him when really all he wants is to drink his Demonus in peace. He’s dealing with that now, batting off people’s hands and ignoring requests for a night alone as he makes his way to Asmo’s booth.

“Asmo,” Solomon’s voice is soft and fond as he rouses Asmo from a short nap, “Lucifer’s here. It’s time to go.”

“Mmkay.” Asmo rubs his eyes and gives Solomon a peck on the lips that Lucifer has to fight the urge to gag at. He crawls out of the booth and grabs Lucifer’s hand, and somehow the crowd parts to let him past with no fuss. They barely make it outside before Asmo is hurling all over the sidewalk and Lucifer is remembering that Asmo smells like warm, sugared peaches.

Asmo smells like peaches. Allegedly, he smells like whatever is the most alluring to you, but Lucifer thinks he has always smelled like peaches. He smells like the holy peach cobbler that Michael used to make in the Celestial Realm. Asmo smells like the peach flavored macarons that Barbatos makes when he and Lucifer have tea. He smells like the Georgia peaches the human made him try once. Asmo smells like peaches, he smells like home and love and care, and you would have to hold Lucifer at gunpoint to get him to admit this to his brother.

And now, Lucifer is getting a face full of that smell mixed with vomit as Asmo leans over a bush and loses whatever meager dinner Beel had shoved in him as well as half his body weight in alcohol. There’s a flash from the corner of his eye and he makes a mental note to follow up on that.

“It will sound hypocritical coming from me,” he starts and is promptly interrupted by another retch.

“Then don’t–good Diavolo, that tastes awful–say it.” Asmo takes the water bottle that Lucifer dutifully hands him and rinses his mouth out.

“Are you done?” Lucifer starts fishing around his jacket pocket for a pack of Asmo’s favorite crackers. They taste like flowers, allegedly, and they're one of the few things that Beel genuinely doesn’t like to eat.

“For now.” Asmo takes the crackers and starts munching on them gratefully, leaning heavily into Lucifer’s side as they both walk home.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. Lucifer scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I would never leave one of you alone.”

“Aww, that’s so–”

“The paperwork alone would take at least a decade.”

“Nevermind.”

-

If Lucifer hunts down the demon who took the picture and threatens them within an inch of their life, that’s between him and his Father. And if Asmo finds out and gives Lucifer a hug at breakfast the following morning, that’s between him and Mammon’s camera roll.

—

Lucifer hates Fangol. Well, that’s not true. He admires the dedication someone has to have to play it and to play it well. He admits that sometimes it’s fun to go to games and get caught up in the hype of the crowd. He also likes that it makes Beel happy. What he doesn’t like is sitting in the stands as his second youngest brother makes a game winning play and then gets tackled onto the turf so hard you can hear the sound his head makes when it hits the ground.

The crowd goes silent and the players and the band take a knee and Lucifer is half dragging half carrying Belphie down the stands to the ambulance as the EMT’s check over their brother.

“Sir, I understand–” The paramedic cuts themself off when they see whose shadows are looming over them. They heave a sigh and gesture to a patch of grass near where they have Beel laying on a gurney. “Try to avoid being in our way.”

It’s a fight to keep Belphie from being underfoot, but there isn’t one when Lucifer says he’s riding in the ambulance with Beel to the hospital. Only a curt nod and then a muttered threat in his ear that he rolls his eyes at and then their off.

“Sorry.” It’s the first thing out of Beel’s mouth after he’s done being asked routine questions.

“It’s not like you asked to receive a concussion.”

“We don’t know that it’s a concussion,” Beel says, wagging his finger slowly. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

“You told the paramedic you wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time.”

“Average Beelzebub activities.” It makes Lucifer snort, lips twitching up into a smile.

“That is the exact opposite of a Beelzebub activity. You’ll be okay, though.” The you have to be goes unsaid.

It turns out to be a concussion and Beel is barred from playing for a while and then everything is fine.

-

Lucifer has changed his mind, he definitely hates Fangol. He has half a mind to ban Beel from ever playing it again, but if he didn’t have something to focus his energy on, they wouldn’t have a House to live in.

He stayed home from the game, wanting to relax, for once, with a new cursed record and a bottle of his prized Demonus. He might have also paused the record to watch the stream of the game on his phone, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s busy cussing out one of the commentators for their clear bias against Beel–they haven’t been angels in literally thousands of years, people need to find a new excuse–when it cuts suddenly from a replay of the last down to a live feed from the field. And then his phone rings.

“Mammon,” he already knows what happened before he picks up.

“I know ya said not ta call ya tonight, but,” he sounds haggard, and his accent gets thicker when he’s panicking, “ya also said not ta let the hospital call ya so–”

“Mammon,” it comes out snappier than he wants it to and he has to soften his voice when he opens his mouth again, “breathe. What’s happened?”

“Dear Father who art in Heaven–” Lucifer curses again because Mammon only reverts to praying when something is seriously wrong. “Beel got tackled ‘nd– Lucifer, ya could hear the crunch from Diavolo’s good seats.” Lucifer sucks in a breath and considers sending up a couple prayers himself.

“I’m on my way. Beel will– Beel will be okay, Mammon. He’s strong.” He hears Mammon’s assent from the other end of the line just as he hears Levi mumble something to Mammon.

“Oh, yer kiddin’.”

“What? Mammon, what’s going on?”

“We can’t fin’ Belphie.”

“Shit.”

-

If Lucifer breaks traffic laws on his way to the stadium, no one who pulls him over will be able to make anything stick for very long. He watches as the ambulance pulls away and his D.D.D. buzzes with a message.

Mams

I went with Beel. Everyone’s still tryna find Belphie.

“Lucifer–” he’s met with an armful of brothers before he can put his phone back in his pocket and he’s not strong enough to pretend he doesn’t want to hug them back.

“Did you find–”

“No, obviously not Levi, he just fucking got here.”

“Satan, now is not the time–”

“I’ll decide when the fucking time is, Asmo. Did you see what they did to our–”

“Yeah, I was sitting right next to you. You’re not the only one who’s upset–”

“Guys,” Lucifer raises his voice above their arguing. “Now is not the time.” He hands Diavolo his keys, grateful, for once, at his many attempts to bond with his brothers. “Will you please take them to the hospital? I have a brother to find.”

It doesn’t take him long to find Belphie, but it does take a toll on his knees.

“Belphegor.” He wonders how the youngest climbed on top of the press box without anyone noticing.

“The stadium lights are too bright,” Belphie says, “you can’t see the stars. They drown them out. It’s a bad omen, Lucifer.”

“Belphegor, please come back down.”

“I can’t see them, Lucifer.” His voice is thick with tears.

“They’re still there, Belphie. I promise.”

“We made them together, and I can’t see them.”

“If you come back down we can visit Beel and the two of you can find them together.” Diavolo’s Father help him, he is not climbing on top of that box to bring Belphie down himself.

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

The bad thing about the press box for the R.A.D. stadium, is that the ladder has rusted away. People never go on top of it to watch or film the game anymore because they started to use magic to get the good camera angles. The bad thing about the press box is that when Belphie makes to climb down he slips and has nothing to grab and lands on the concrete stadium seating with a snap that makes Lucifer’s stomach churn.

-

“I can’t believe you fell while getting down. That’s like, one hundred times easier than goin’ up.” Mammon is beside himself with laughter while he doodles on Belphie’s cast.

“Haha. Laugh it up Mammon. When I’m out of this thing, I’m going to break every bone in your body.” Mammon rolls his eyes at Belphie’s threat.

“The witches have used that one before. Try again.”

“What are you, a magic eight ball?”

“Reply hazy. Try again later.”

“You know,” Asmo says from his spot opposite Mammon, doodling on Beel’s cast, “it is kind of cool that you guys managed to break the same bone.”

“It’s because we’re twins.” Beel says, smiling brightly.

“Yeah,” Satan snorts, “or cause you’re both stupid.”

“I’m just glad you’re both okay,” Levi cuts in before Belphie and Satan can start in on each other.

“Indeed. Although, I believe it’s best that Fangol is heading into its off season.” Lucifer says, and there’s noises of agreement throughout the room.

—

It’s a simple fact of life that Lucifer doesn’t get sick. The Demon King is asleep, the Earth’s year is 365 (365.25) days long, the Crown Prince of the Devildom hates pickles, Michael is a massive loser, and Lucifer doesn’t get sick. He does not get sick or injured or cursed or hexed or anything of the sort because he does not have the time. Except. Except he is most definitely sick right now.

Belphie realized something was wrong when Lucifer didn’t come down for breakfast. He’s a stickler for meal times, always wanting them to share a meal together. Something about family and tradition and will you just do what I say for once that Belphie doesn’t care about or want to listen to. He comes to breakfast and dinner and lunch on the weekends anyway, because Beel does, not because Lucifer wants him to. So, when he looks up from his spot at the table, the cloth permanently drool stained despite the oldest’s best efforts, and watches all of his brothers leave except Lucifer, he gets confused.

“Beel,” he asks, tilting his head just so, “did Lucifer have a meeting today?” Usually he would tell them. Several times throughout the week if it was planned and then again in the morning before he leaves. He’s weird like that, he doesn’t like not knowing where everyone is. Belphie thinks he’s a control freak, even if he finds knowing his brother’s whereabouts comforting.

“No,” Beel says this around a mouthful of muffin, “I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Well. I guess we’ll see him at school.”

-

They do not, in fact, see him at school. Mammon shares first period with him, which means he can never skip the first hour and a half of R.A.D. Except today, there’s no harsh pokes in his back whenever he starts to zone out, and there’s no pointed coughs when he pulls out his phone and starts playing games. He looks around and there’s no Lucifer.

Demon Brothers

Mams: ayo. where is. lucifer.

Catan: he’s not in class?

Mams: if he was I wouldn’t be askin.

Catan: the phone screen makes you bold, brother. watch yourself.

Mams: o7 aye aye cap’n.

Beel: Belphie says he wasn’t at breakfast either

Mams: is belphie’s phone broke???

Beel: he says typing is too much effort

Mams: understandable have a nice day

Asmo: o.o Lucifer not at breakfast? But he’s always weird when we miss it!

Catan: typical Lucifer hypocrisy

Levs: you know he can still read this chat right?

Catan: when has that ever stopped me -_-

Levs: you guys have hit like all of the Summoning Lucifer Bullet Points

Levs: 1. Mention his name fifty times

Levs: 2. Blow up his phone

Levs: 3. Text during class time

Levs: 4. Slander him at least once

Levs: 5. Ask about his private business/goings on

Beel: and yet

Mams: no Lucifer

-

The real header comes during the afternoon, when Lucifer doesn’t show up to the scheduled Student Council Meeting.

“Alrighty!” Diavolo says, chipper as ever, “when Lucifer gets here, we’ll start the meeting. He has all of the paperwork, anyway.” 

So they wait. And they wait.

“Yo, dude,” Mammon calls to Diavolo and he turns his head, Barbatos coughs into his fist at the lack of formality. “I don’t think Lucifer is gonna show.”

“Yeah,” Belphie yawns, “he wasn’t in school today, either.”

“Or at breakfast, apparently.” Levi says, though it’s hard to hear him over the music of his game.

“That is. Odd. Is he still at home, then?” Diavolo pulls out his phone and starts texting.

“No use,” Asmo says, “we’ve been bothering him all day.”

“Privately and in the group chat,” Satan adds. “Though, he may not have opened my messages because they were all cursed.”

“He didn’t open mine either,” Beel says. “I think he’s just been off his phone.”

“Unusual,” Barbatos says, stepping out of his shadowy corner. “Perhaps something is amiss?”

“With Lucifer?” Asmo sounds incredulous, lowering his compact just long enough to arch an eyebrow at the butler before tapping more powder on his face. “Nothing is ever wrong with Lucifer.” Belphie yawns before nodding in agreement and adding his own two cents.

“Even when we curse him things aren’t wrong. He always manages to make it seem so … normal.”

“I remember that time his pants kept falling down,” Levi says. “I thought it would make him less intimidating. I was wrong.” He shudders. “Very wrong.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Barbatos says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why does he do anythin’?” Mammon stands up as he says this, grabbing his bag and his phone and making his way towards the door. “Lucifer does what he wants and shows no remorse for it.” There’s a pause where he remembers the Fall. “Mosta the time.”

“Well, if we aren’t going to do anything,” Asmo’s compact shuts with a click, “I have people to do and things to see.”

“It’s ‘things to do and people to see’, Asmo,” Satan says, following his brothers out.

“I know what I said.”

Barbatos and Diavolo watch as the brothers leave, one by one, all citing different excuses before sharing a look.

“Is it rude to stop by people’s homes uninvited, Barbatos?” Diavolo asks, pushing his chair back.

“Yes. But in cases where Lucifer is concerned, manners and politeness have never stopped you, my Lord.” Barbatos follows behind the Prince, steps silent in contrast to the clacking of Diavolo’s shoes on the Academy’s stone floors. Diavolo’s laugh echoes throughout the hallway.

“I suppose you’re right. Come, I believe I must pay a visit to my right hand.”

“Always.”

-

The House is cold when Diavolo gets there. He can hear Beel rummaging in the kitchen, and Belphie’s soft snores accompanying him. He can hear Levi and Mammon fighting over something and he can hear the thud of books falling over in Satan’s room. He can hear Asmo because Asmo greets him when he enters.

“Oh, hey!” He waves excitedly, before pointing at his feet. “Which shoes do you think look better with this outfit?”

“I think they both look nice,” Diavolo replies and Asmo pouts.

“Not helpful.”

“The ones on your left, Asmodeus.” Barbatos’ eyes peer from behind Diavolo’s shoulder and Asmo smiles in response.

“Thanks! Hey,” he tugs the shoe on his right foot off and tosses it into a pile next to the door before grabbing his left foot’s twin from seemingly nowhere, “you guys didn’t see Solomon out there, did you?”

“I thought I told you that he isn’t allowed within twenty feet of the front door.” Lucifer’s normal baritone is raspy with sickness, vocal cords raw from coughing.

“He’s not going to be within twenty feet. He’s going to stand an inch outside of the barrier.” Asmo turns and places his hands on his brother’s shoulders, spinning him around and pushing him back towards the living room. “I also thought I told you to lie down and sleep. I suppose we both aren’t good at listening, hmm?” Lucifer grumbles at him despite following Asmo’s guidance to the couch.

“I heard the door open.” Diavolo follows the duo towards the living room, Barbatos his ever present shadow.

“There are six other people who can answer it.” He watches as Asmo pushes Lucifer into a sitting position and shoves blankets around him.

“That’s what I worry about.” Asmo rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a baby and just lay down. How can you catch Mammon and string him up by his toenails if you can’t go a second without coughing?”

“I can,” Lucifer pauses to cough, “I can take any one of you down, even in this weakened state.”

There’s a snort from the entrance to the kitchen as the twins walk in, Beel carrying soup and Belphie carrying nothing.

“You couldn’t block even the lowest level curse from Satan at this rate.” Belphie says, curling up on the couch next to Lucifer and resting his head on his lap.

“I could–”

“You’re very strong, Lucifer,” Asmo placates, patting his older brother’s head condescendingly. “Now, eat your soup and shut up. I have a date to get to and I’m running late.”

“Maybe I should cough on you so you can’t go anymore.” The threat is empty, but Asmo’s smile still sharpens in response.

“Maybe I should take a seam ripper to all of your clothes,” he turns on his heel. “Oh, also. Diavolo is here.” The responding squawk Lucifer lets out sends him into another coughing fit, one that disrupts the sleeping Belphie on his lap.

“My Lord,” Lucifer makes to get up and is physically yanked back down by Belphie, “I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”

“No worries! You didn’t show up to the meeting today, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I stopped by to see how you were.” Diavolo gestures to the bottles of cold medicine on the coffee table and the bowl of soup being shoved at Lucifer by Beel. “It seems you are all taken care of.”

“Indeed. I appreciate your concern–”

“Beel, Lucifer’s boyfriend was worried about him. Isn’t that sweet?” Beel nods at Belphie’s joke, resting his head against the side of Lucifer’s knee from his newly acquired spot on the floor.

“The sweetest. Someone tell Asmo he’s being beaten in the best boyfriend competition.” There’s twin thunks as Lucifer smacks the both of them on the head, face now flushed with something other than fever.

“That’s enough out of you two.” He sighs and looks back up at Diavolo and Barbatos. “Would the two of you like to stay for dinner? Satan’s in charge tonight and he likely won’t poison it since I’m too ill to eat much of anything.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Diavolo sits in an empty armchair that he thinks is Lucifer’s regular seat when his phone buzzes.

Emergency Chat ONLY

Belphie: hey satan, lucifer’s boyfriend is staying for dinner

Catan: man. now I can’t put this human world poison I found in it.

Belphie: probably wouldn’t work anyway

Beel: Barbatos is also staying

Belphie: my apologies Beel. you’re right

Belphie: lucifer’s boyfriendS are staying for dinner

Levs: this is great

Levs: I wanted to talk to Diavolo about the new chapter of the manga we’re reading

Mams: the rule is no loser talk at the dinner table

Levs: why do you open your mouth so much then

Mams: i’m gonna fucken get you

Asmo: if Lucifer gets to bring his boyfriends why can’t i bring Solomon

Catan: because Solomon sucks.

Catan: actually

Catan: would Solomon be able to con a fever high Lucifer into a pact

Mams: the downside here is that Solomon would be at dinner

Beel: I’d lose my appetite

Asmo: he’s not that bad

Asmo: and don’t lie Beel

Asmo: we aren’t going to let him cook

Asmo: we aren’t stupid

Lucifer: This chat is for emergencies only.

Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner

Lucifer: If I see Solomon anywhere near the House I will find a way to reverse his immortality.

Catan: wear a blindfold

Asmo: kinky

Catan: freak

Lucifer: I believe I also told you to stop referring to Diavolo and Barbatos as my boyfriends.

Mams: sucks 2 suck

Levs: L moment

Lucifer: I also believe they are in this chat.

Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner.

Belphie: keep up old man

Lucifer: I will remind you that you’re laying in my lap.

Belphie: what’re you gonna do

Belphie: cough on me??

Levs: chat, clip this

Mams: what was that scream???

Diavolo: Belphegor.

Barbs: Lucifer did more than just “cough on him.”

Mams: oh damn.

Mams: so what’s for dinner 

Beel: Lucifer says Belphegor stew

Mams: I thought it was Satan’s turn to cook????????

Catan: lucifer just tried to shove belphie in the oven.

Barbatos: With no seasoning? How revolting.

Diavolo: Demons taste better fried, anyway.

Mams: PARDON???

[giggle-bee]

Bee’s Tickle Asks 🍯

I see a lot of tickle ask lists going around and I thought I would make my own! There are some tickle related questions and non tickle related ones, get to know your community!

Lees: What’s your favorite tease, Lers: What’s your favorite way to tease a lee?

Easiest way to fluster you?

How do you take your coffee? If you’re a tea person, how do you like your tea?

What’s your favorite thing about tickling?

Tag 3 people you’d like to know better!

Do you blush? (You’re adorable either way :3)

What does your laugh sound like?

What show/series are you watching right now?

What’s your favorite way to wind down?

Cuddly tickles or tickles sitting up/pinned?

Tickles to wind down or tickles to wake up?

Name 3 fictional lees you’d love to wreck

Name 3 fictional lers you’d like to be wrecked by!

Do you like nicknames? If so, which one is your favorite to be called?

What’s a spot that you wish got more attention?

Are there any spots you don’t like?

Favorite book?

Do soft or rough tickles affect you more?

What’s the silliest thing you’ve said/done because someone tickled you?

A tickle memory!

A place you’d love to travel to someday

A song that’s been stuck in your head recently

Someone you like to fluster!

Someone that flusters you!

If you could describe tickles as a color, what would it be?

feel free to send some of these in!

[candor-creator]

happy saturday!!

[danibee33]

Halfway through a 14 hour road trip, and so, obviously, I’m plagued with thoughts of Biker!Ghost🩶

(inspired by a video I saw recently. **very gently edited)

____

• thinking of riding on the back of his motorcycle, which it took a bit of convincing on his part at first, but as soon as you got that first rush- you were hooked.

•just like he was hooked to the feel of your arms around him. he loved being able to reach a hand back to rest on your knee or thigh, and the way you cling to him a little tighter when he takes a corner faster than usual (which he totally doesn’t do on purpose)

•but on this particular ride, after a night out together, the lingering buzz of your drink made you bold- so when he relaxes, placing his hand in it’s usual spot, his warmth radiating even through your jeans and the black leather of his glove, you let your own hand wander with a devious grin you’re glad he can’t see.

•your fingers spread out over his thigh, making a soft, back and forth motion- the sensation causes his to clench around your knee.

•slowly, you readjust to lean in a bit closer, quickly finding the spot that makes his whole body tense suddenly.

•you palm at his cock through his jeans slowly, cautiously, that same grin still plastered on your face when you feel him try to adjust his position on the seat- a low hum rumbling through his chest.

•as you continue your teasing, his grip on your knee turns nearly painful as he gets harder and harder with each agonizing stroke you give him.

•he was already planning every single way he could ruin you the moment he got back to his flat.

•you could map out the perfect outline of his length now, straining against the dark denim and twitching at your touch- and you couldn’t feel it, but there’s just the smallest wet spot in his boxers stained with his precum.

•but suddenly, you pull away- wrong move.

•Ghost moves fast, reaching back blindly to wrap a big hand around your wrist, “No, no-“ he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through him, his voice growling through the helmet, “put it back, love. Don’t get shy now.”

•he does it for you, pulling you forward to place your palm right against the bulge of his cock again just as he turns his head.

•having lifted his visor, you could now see the dark gleam of his eyes glinting under the city lights, “You’ll pay for this later, baby.” He coos, giving you a sly wink before sliding the tinted visor in place again.

•Ghost gets you back to the flat in, very legal, record time, and let’s just say you do pay for your cheeky little stunt. All night long.

_____

[phoebelovingcare]

The Friend listened close as the little one that they would call the same name babbled on, pointing to their journal and giving rapid-fire tips on new words that they could not process. Regardless of their ability to understand, they cared about the little one, and so they would learn.

Carefully, as though nervous, a now-freed serf of the gardens approached. They looked right at home here in the abbey, but it was likely that they were lost.

"Doing, what are you?"

The little one looked to the Friend expectantly, likely waiting on a translation. It took them only a second to remember the words needed for this - me, see, book...

"We are reading," the Friend answered.

The poor serf looked immediately confused and bewildered. "...Ah..?"

What? It had been said in the correct language, it-

The Journalist's face went beet red.

"Disregard," they mumbled in Exile tongue, then tried again, "Reading, we are."

Having fixed the sentence structure - simple mistake, easy mistake, one they'd made a hundred times trying to figure out why "you" meant "seeking" - the serf nodded in understanding.

Then, hesitantly, as though unsure of the pronunciation, the serf repeated, "Dis...regard...?"

Their brow furrowed. How to translate...

...oh.

Yes, there was a very easy way to translate what they'd just said. A quick way to explain their mistake.

"...An idiot, I am."

"No!" the serf immediately reached forward and took the Journalist's hands, looking them in the eyes, "No, an idiot, you are not!"

They were at a loss for words.

"Hey," the little one spoke up, "What is it? I don't understand!"

This place needed their help. Speaking to the people... not something just anyone could do. Translation was hard.

And they were one of the only people who could do it.

The Journalist-Friend gave a little smile and then began to translate.

[honeybee-bard]

WIP Wednesday

A preview of the Kinktober prompt "sacrilege" for my fellow degenerates <3

“This hardly seems like the place,” he hisses under his breath, though he makes no move to break away. “Hmm, I have to disagree,” she murmurs against his lips. “I picked this spot for a reason.” “And why might that be?” He asks, keeping his voice low. Once again she doesn’t reply, instead cutting off whatever he might be about to say with a kiss. Despite the less-than-ideal location, he allows himself to get lost in her as she drags him away from the door. He ends up with his back pressed to the smooth, cool stone of a pillar. It’s not until Tav is on her knees in front of him unbuttoning his trousers that he takes in his surroundings and realizes they’re directly beside the very shrine to Mystra he had been summoned to not even a full tenday ago. “What’s the matter?” Tav asks, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You seem tense. Should I stop?” This is ridiculous. This is foolish. This is dangerous. “...no.”

Gale so deserves to get sucked off in front of Mystra's shrine and I have long thought this.

[p---l---c]

saturday again??? no problem;;;

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

The Apple (Never Falls Far)

The quiet drone of the tv buzzed around in Earth’s audial receptors, hearing but not at all comprehending what was happening on the screen. The dim light of the tv and the warm yellow glow of the lamp that sat on the stand by the couch illuminated the room, not too bright but just enough so that she could see what she was doing as she carefully weaved the needles through the thread.

Today had been tiring, maybe even a tad stressful. Between dealing with the conundrum that was Dazzle and the worries surrounding her family and now after what had happened with Eclipse…

Earth shook her head with a soft sigh and felt her hair, tied up into a ponytail to avoid it getting in her way, as it bobbed around with the movement. Thinking too deeply about everything would only bring forth more stress, and Earth didn’t need that right now.

Right now she needed calm and quiet, which is why she was here sitting on the couch alone at 6PM knitting. Knitting was always calming. She tried not to think too deeply about the one she shared said hobby with before as she weaved another line of red thread into her developing creation.

It was calm. It was quiet. She could relax and forget about everything troubling her for a time. She leaned back into the couch, basking in the peace that she nor any one else in her family rarely had available. Her soft humming filled the air, mingling with the faint buzz of the tv. All just mindless background noise to fill the silence.

Click click click

Earth almost didn’t hear it at first, too caught up in her own little world but the little clicks drew nearer and the small red and orange shape moving in the corner of her eye drew her attention. The humming ceased at the same time as the clicks.

A pair of squinted mismatched eyes stared back into hers. Catlike pupils narrowed to thin slits and a split-colored face scrunched up in…she couldn’t tell if it was displeasure or uncertainty.

They looked small, smaller than usual as they sat still at the base of the stairs, half of them in shadow as they hid by the wall though the bright reds and oranges of their palette and their softly glowing eyes gave them away. It wasn’t the first time she or Monty had caught one of the three sneaking around in the night, and she guessed that it wouldn’t be the last.

“Partial?” She called softly, observing as the smaller animatronic’s rays twitched at the mention of their name, “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

Partial’s black and orange split face scrunched up with indignation and they practically spit like an angry kitten, “You’re up too.”

Earth supposed that was true. She was staying up after her usual bedtime so it was hypocritical of her to reprimand the other for the same behavior. Though she was still curious as to why exactly they were awake and sneaking around.

“Yes, that’s true.” She affirmed aloud as she realized Partial was still staring her down with that scrunched up, squinty eyed glare of theirs. They really were like an angry kitten.

She set her knitting materials down on her lap and smiled disarmingly at the smaller animatronic, “Is there something you needed? Or can you not sleep?”

Partial was quiet was for a heartbeat, their face no longer as scrunched though still somewhat guarded, “Don’t need anything.” They finally supplied, turning away as if to leave back up the stairs.

Earth held back a sigh and kept their smile up as the little eclipse lookalike hopped up onto the first step, clawed hands and feet scrapping against the wooden boards.

Out of the three, Partial was the most difficult and sometimes to Earth it seemed like they did it just to make things harder. It reminded her, rather vividly, of the animatronic they had all come from. In fact, a lot of things about Partial eerily echoed Eclipse, things that neither of the other two seemed to have carried over. To their appearance down to their personality and behavior, it almost like Eclipse had once again been reborn instead of being split into three brand new ai’s.

Earth was caught off guard by the sudden pang of grief that hit her right through the chest. Eclipse had always been the “big bad” to everyone else, but when he had come back he had been different; Earth had seen the flickers of good in him shielded beneath his bad attitude and had been the one he chose to open up to, if only a little bit. Earth didn’t know what Eclipse had seen her as, but she had started to think and hope that they were, or at least could be, friends.

If it hadn’t been for what had happened all those weeks ago…

Earth blinked away the oily tears from her vision and tore her gaze away from the echo of her brothers’s former enemy, turning her attention back to knitting.

Knitting was calming, grounding. Exactly what she needed right now, yes.

She weaved the thread together skillfully as her mind tuned back into the fuzzy drone of the tv, trying to clear any other thoughts out. Tonight was supposed to be her night to relax and decompress and she wasn’t going to let that be taken away from her.

She was so engrossed in trying to focus on knitting and only that that she didn’t hear the tiny claws that tapped against the floor.

Click click click

A new weight on her feet startled Earth from her messy thoughts and she halted in her movements. She tentatively peered downwards.

She blinked once, then twice.

A smile, soft and warm like the glow in her blue-green eyes, slipped across her face. A warm, almost giddy feeling bubbled inside her though she kept it to herself and instead leaned back into her comfy seat and slowly continued to knit, afraid to disturb the little animatronic that now lay curled up like a cat on her foot.

Partial was a lot like Eclipse in many ways.

The difficult and downright irritating way in which they behaved and the snarky, sharp remarks that were always poised on the tip of their tongue like a weapon, and the anger that sparked and flared within them and glittered savagely in their eyes like a fire set to kindle to an inferno. The anger that they draped over themself like a blanket and curled into, as if it was all they knew.

….but there always another side of the coin, one that Earth had had the pleasure of seeing through the cracks when she had known him. One that nobody had bothered to try and find for so long.

The quiet support he had offered, sitting and listening silently and bringing comfort in his own odd, unsure way. Words spoken softer than usual and a stark lack of nasty mean remarks and threats. The light of good that leaked through the cracks and burned dimly like a candle not yet fully kindled.

Eclipse had been many things, some not so great. Though Earth could never find it in herself to hate him for it after everything and she had grown to care deeply for the forlorn animatronic. It hurt, knowing that he was gone now, just when the candle had started to properly kindle.

She guessed that’s why it meant so much to her, this moment.

Partial was not Eclipse, and Earth prayed to whatever would listen that they would never have to go through what their predecessor did, but the similarities were so startlingly clear, like looking into a mirror.

Others would be, were, wary of Eclipse’s little echo.

Earth however?

The muted buzz of the tv and a soft humming filled the air. The peace of the quiet night was shared and Earth felt fuzzy and warm on the inside. Her worries from the day had been shoved away into the back of her mind, her focus only on her knitting and the warm weight on her foot that never left, even as the hours ticked by and her eyes grew heavier and heavier. She smiled to herself, full of a fondness she had given up on pushing away.

The apple never falls far from the tree and for that she was glad.

[salroka]

Headcanon that most Vashoth communities speak a creole language that's a blend of common and qunlat.

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

chat I just had the idea of the century

imagine the brothers with an MC who has pets. most pet owners I know will chalk most weird noises/strange smells/out of place items to their animals, and they're usually right. now imagine that logic in a place where supernatural nonsense occurs regularly.

half asleep MC hears Beel in the kitchen late at night and goes "pspsps kitty. c'mere kitty!" until they remember where they are and go back to sleep, Beel standing there like :0

MC hears people fighting from another room and, used to dogs, whistles and yells "KNOCK IT OFF" and it WORKS and the brothers stand there confused.

MC coming home with pet food and Lucifer flips his fucking lid about a secret pet in the House before they're like "haha sorry force of habit" and having to return/donate it.

what's worse is the brothers HAVE a whole dog. imagine MC gets sad about Cerberus being locked in the Secret Tomb all the time so they sneak him out into their room so he's not alone at ""night"". this works fine until they're away for a while and Cerberus whines and howls until someone else lets him in their bed.

[beezonia]

“You see detective, others steal for fun, for fortune.” The figure in front of Goro pauses, a smirk plastered on their face. “I steal to take their most prized treasures away. To watch them loose what I had to loose.”

Eyes widen, the notorious “Phantom Thief” had finally revealed a motive. A deep motive that is, seems the people they’ve been targeting cause a lot of pain.

Before he can even pry anymore information out of them, the figure has blown him a kiss and scurried off back towards the window.

Another bust, but maybe the one piece of information could kick start Goro’s investigation off now.

He was the “Ace Detective” for a reason. Not even a petty burglar could stop him.

Not even that stupid smile could get him to loose.

——-

Idk what this is but I was definitely think more about my Catwoman/cat burglar Akira when writing this and thought I should share

[candor-creator]

and so it was saturday again, and the readers rejoiced

[danibee33]

More Simon “Ghost” Riley brain rot because I’ve been in a car for 8 hours 🙃

But this time, make it undercover!Ghost🩶

(inspired by “Billie Bossa Nova” by Billie Eilish - reader goes by callsign: “Hela”)

+++++

•thinking about Ghost being absolutely livid that he’s the one chosen to attend the event- some ritzy, wildly overpriced and stupidly exclusive, art exhibition.

•”You’re the only one that they wouldn’t know- they can’t recognize a face they’ve never seen. We’ve already talked about it-“ Price pinches at the bridge of his nose, sitting behind his desk, sitting in the same exact position he was in an hour ago, trying to convince his lieutenant that it truly was a last resort.

•Ghost huffs out a rumbling sigh, only just barely fighting back the urge to roll his eyes- the military bearing far too engrained in him to disrespect a superior officer. But really, he knows it’s because he respects John too much as a friend.

•and he’s just about close the door behind him when he hears the older man’s voice again, “Hela will be your second.”

•sure, he could try to argue like he so badly wants to, but judging by how far he made it with this, he wouldn’t be getting the answer he wanted either way.

•it’s not that the 141’s newest lieutenant was incompetent or incapable, no, you were far from either of those things.

•you were smart, a great leader, and even better in a team than he could ever dream of being. you had only made them better-

•but you were a fucking pain in his ass, with your annoying and, at times overbearing, sunshine fucking personality. Your habit of wanting to learn things about him and the others just to see them perk up a bit, though you’ve yet to figure out what makes Ghost not look like a walking rain cloud-

•and it had taken them months to figure out how the hell you got such a dark and foreboding callsign such as Hela, Norse fucking goddess of death- it didn’t make any sense, there was no way, right? No way someone so sweet and chipper could be that brutal.

•boy, how wrong they were.

•you were downright certifiable on mission, merciless on the battlefield, with your laughter trickling through the radios after a particularly challenging kill- there was something wrong with you, but he guesses that’s why you fit in so well with the rest of them.

•they were all a little fucked up in the head. You had to be, to do what needs to be done, to do all the terrible things no one in their right mind could do.

+++

•when the night arrives, Ghost is left staring at his own reflection, and it physically pains him to leave the comfort of his balaclava laying on the bathroom counter- even though he knew Price had made sure to limit his exposure to only the bare minimum, it didn’t make it easier.

•”You’ll meet Hela inside the venue, she’s in a black, floor length dress, red purse, hair up.” He nods at his captain’s words, committing the details to memory as he slides into the back seat of the blacked out SUV.

•the ride blurs by, he doesn’t pay attention to anything going on outside, preferring to focus on the parameters of the mission; it would be mostly recon, some light pick-pocketing, a little slight of hand, a cellphone full of intel procured-

•he certainly doesn’t dwell on how excited you were to had been to go undercover, or how you had talked fucking relentlessly about the dress you picked for your “007 moment”, as you so lovingly to referred to the mission- and to his surprise, Johnny had apparently helped you pick it out.

•and there’s no reason whatsoever for that fact to have made him want to wring the Scot’s neck.

•Ghost steps out the car at the curb, straightening and buttoning the fitted, black tuxedo jacket- the grimace on his scarred lips doing a well enough job of carving a path through the sparse crowd.

• “C’mon, LT- ye could try ta’look like ye spent an obscene amount o’money ta be here.” Johnny playfully drawls through the ear piece, “and lemme tell you-“ he pauses to give a quiet whistle for effect, and this time Ghost doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, “Hela is lookin’ real bonnie, aren’t ye, lil’ LT?”

•”Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Ghost grunts back, eyeing the upper windows of the surrounding buildings before waltzing through the grandiose entrance-

• “Hm, I thought it was nice.. thank you, Soap.” You say, and he swears he can hear the smile in your sultry tone. The one that you just love to use on comms.

•Johnny gives a low chuckle, “Ye’re very welcome, ma’am.”

•Christ fucking alive. Ghost is in hell, he’s sure of it.

•but then, he sees you. And at first, he’s not entirely sure he’s even looking at the right person- because, of course he’s seen you in civilian clothes, even some more form fitted PT gear; and he’s always had a hard time dragging his eyes away from you even then. Right now, though?

•right now, he’s ardently staring at your profile, studying the lines of your face under the soft glow of the museum lighting- the way your glossy pink lips are parted just slightly as you look up at the painting in front of you, your fingers daintily clasped around a flute of champagne, a deep red leather clutch in your other hand.

•something compels him to blend back into the crowd, silently moving to take you in from all angles, his eyes roaming and lingering all the same-

•and it’s at that moment he realizes Price severely understated your “black, floor length dress”. Yes, it was all those things, but fuck.. a warning would’ve been nice-

•he also decides then that he will wring Johnny’s neck- because if he helped you pick this? well that means he’s already seen too much. And Ghost couldn’t have that-

•the dress you chose is fitted like a second skin, high neck and long sleeves, entirely modest and yet.. it manages to leave so, so little to the imagination with the way it hugs every single curve- but it’s the back that causes an awful flicker of arousal to make his cock twitch.

•the back is completely, and gloriously, exposed- from the petite span of your shoulders, all the way down to the godforsken pair of dimples that decorate the lowest curve of your spine before the fabric meets together again right above the delicious swell of your ass-

•it takes everything in him to stay on track, to keep aware of his surroundings as he makes his way to your other side. It’s only then that you finally turn towards him, certainly having felt the weight of his gaze. But by the time you crane your neck to search the crowd, he’s already out of sight.

+++

•you scan over the strange and unfamiliar faces, unable to shake that feeling of being watched- it was probably just nerves, you knew Ghost would be with you on this, which means you’re well aware that he would be maskless tonight.

•and you really should not be so excited- this was still a mission, you shouldn’t be thinking about him.. shouldn’t be imagining what hides beneath the balaclavas-

•you’re so lost in the thought you can’t help to but gasp when you hear the familiar, brassy voice in your ear, “Spotted the target.”

•you barely stifle another gasp when you feel the sweltering heat of his palm suddenly pressed against your lower back- and you don’t know why the touch sends a rush of chills down your spine. Maybe it’s just knowing you’re finally about to see the ever enigmatic man’s face, or it could just be how comfortable he seems putting his hand on you like that.

•but when you try to turn, he holds you in place, the hand that was at the small of your back, moving to the gently hold the nape of your neck,

• “Wait..” He whispers, an odd mixture of authority and desperation in his tone.

• “Why?” You ask just as quietly, your eyes fixed ahead, but the beautiful art is lost on you now, too consumed by his proximity- by the standoffish brute of a man who had only looked at you like a nuisance for months. It’s ridiculous, what you should really be asking is why you care so much-

•but you don’t think you would know the answer to that, not for sure anyway; maybe it was that you craved his approval- you had earned it from literally everyone else by this point, but his had alluded you. And you couldn’t fucking stand it.

• “Ghost?” You try to pry a little further, his callsign coming out a bit breathier than you meant for it to, but the way his thumb is rubbing back and forth, back and forth, so softly, so slowly.. it’s enough to drive you crazy.

• “Target’s directly to your left- cellphone in his right jacket pocket.” Without warning he removes his hand and brushes past you, taking with him the chance to see any of his features apart from the head of wavy, honey blonde hair that’s been messily swept back.

•and it’s the purposely careless movement that causes you to stumble, your crystal flute knocking right against the sturdy chest of the man that had just approached the painting,

• “Oh! Oh, my god- I am so-“, you slip the device from his pocket almost too easily, “so, sorry, sir.”

•it’s easy to distract him, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile- bat your pretty lashes up at him, maybe let your hand linger a bit too long on his bicep..

• “‘M sorry, sweetheart-“ Ghost is back, and you have to force yourself not to immediately focus on his presence, instead noticing how he efficiently leans around you to slip the bugged phone into the target’s pocket.

•and again, it’s unsettling how natural it feels for him to snake a muscular arm around your waist, and god, the way he settles his big hand possessively over your lower stomach has your knees weak and an uncomfortable pressure building between your legs.

• “Just saw an old friend, and he wants to meet you, love.” He says it like it was the most normal night in the world, holding you like you could’ve been a couple- but, he’s just playing his part, right?

•after another round of apologies, Ghost promptly leads you away, your hand held firmly in his as he weaves through and around the small groups of people who couldn’t care less about you.

“Riley- hang on.” You hiss just as he turns a corner, finally far enough way to give the all clear to Price and Soap without concern of being overheard, but he’s still just ahead of you, his face still just out of view.

•you struggle to keep up with his monstrous strides in your outrageous heels, “That excited to get away from me, huh?”

•no, you don’t mean for it to sound so bitter, it was suppose to be a joke, but maybe it’s a little more honest than you care to dive into right now. But, it does finally get his attention, his feet coming to such an abrupt halt that you stumble right into the thick, solid mass of his back.

•he opens a door, quickly turning to walk you backwards into the dark room- slamming the heavy wood shut as soon as you’re both inside.

•with effortless speed, he pulls your earpieces out, shoving them him in his pocket, “what. the. fuck, Ghost? What are you doing?!”

• “Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?”

•you scoff into the darkness, his giant silhouette still looming over you- and with your curiosity too quickly turned to rage, you shove him backwards,

• “What’s your problem with me?” You have to stop yourself from shouting, you know you’re away from the party, but there could still be staff close by, “Well?! What did I do tonight except everything I was suppose to? Please, tell me what I did wrong, because I am so fuckin-“

•the last thing you expect is to feel his hands grasp either side of your face, and it’s completely unfathomable what happens after-

•Ghost’s lips collide with yours in a rough, hungry kiss, one that leaves you to stunned to do anything but let your body do what you’ve fantasized about one too many times.

•but too soon, he pulls away, out of breath and still gripping your face, “No, sweet girl, no. You’ve been perfect tonight, and you look..”

•you reel at his praise, your lungs seizing at the sound of the pet name on his tongue- internally cursing the lack of light for depriving you of getting to see his expression.

•Because you so desperately wanted to know what the actual fuck was going on and why it was happening right now.

• “-so bloody beautiful.. you’re fucking stunning, y’know that?”

•he kisses you again before you can even attempt to think of an answer, but this time you’re ready, turning your head to deepen the gesture into something dangerously close to sinful. Heated and passionate, you cling to him, letting your purse drop to the floor so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

•his hands wander, needy, yet so languid, you feel him trace the lines of your back, every touch delicately ravenous. And the fire you feel spread through your entire body at the simple skin to skin contact threatens your already very thinly tethered control-

•you take a step, then another, your hands now splayed out over his broad chest- pushing him until you both feel his back make contact with the door, his lips moving lower now, hands pulling you closer.

•the old light fixture crackles to life when you flip the switch, effectively freezing you both in this moment- crossing boundaries that could never be uncrossed, seeing each other in a way that couldn’t be forgotten.

•and you don’t know exactly why you keep your eyes clamped shut, even when you feel him lean back just slightly, though his nose still grazes across your cheekbone, and his fingertips are still dug into the flesh of your hips.

•your breath stutters when he presses a single kiss to your lips, the taste of champagne mixing with a hint of tobacco and peppermint, it was an odd combination, but you find yourself craving it already- what a terrible drug he is.

•without pulling away, he speaks against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his, hear the timbre in his voice, “It’s all right, love.. you can look. I know you want to..”

++++

>>>> {Part II}

PLS DONT HATE ME. I never meant for it to be this long, so I’m splitting it into two parts 😬 (unless I shouldn’t??)

[honeybee-bard]

WIP Wednesday

A little snippet of what I decided pillow talk is like when your boyfriend situationship is a vampire. I've started posting the fic on AO3 and it can be found here!

“Interesting,” you say, running through the list of questions in your head for one that feels lighthearted enough. “Do you bleed when you get hurt? I suppose I’ve seen you injured, but I’ve never thought to pay attention.” “I do, but only if I’ve fed recently enough. I’ve never been able to put together exactly how it works, but I suspect the blood I bleed from injuries isn’t technically mine,” he explains. “So if I were to stab you right now-” “I would much prefer it if you didn’t.” You can feel his shit-eating grin against the skin of your chest. You roll your eyes, but the truth is you love it. He’s sillier when he’s relaxed and fed, and you think you might just be addicted to it. “But if I did-” “Please don’t,” he interrupts again. “Are you going to let me finish?” “I already did, if memory serves. Several times, in fact.” You swat his arm playfully. He giggles a little, nuzzling his nose up into your neck. You don’t usually cuddle this much afterwards, and you’re finding you enjoy it immensely. “If somebody, despite your best wishes, were to stab you for being very annoying,” you warn jokingly, “then would that be wasting my blood? Is that how it works?”

It's my fic and vampires work how I want to

[giggle-bee]

Triple Threat (Squealing Santa 2023!)

Hi, @hakurei-k, I'm your Santa for this year! Sorry this is a little late, but I hope you still enjoy it! It was a challenging prompt since I don't typically write intense stuff with multiple lers, but it was a fun fic to do, and I'm so happy I got you!! I also want to thank @squealing-santa, Hypah, for being such an amazing host!! Couldn't have done it without you, thank you for keeping the tradition alive!

(Ler!Barbatos, Ler!Solomon, Ler!Simeon, Lee!MC)

Warnings: pranks, suprise tickles

Summary: Barbatos has a day off but doesn't know how to spend it. How better to than with you? Mediating a prank war wasn't in the plans, though.

Word Count: 1.8k

When Diavolo had first approached Barbatos about taking the day off, he was against the idea. “My Lord, the New Year’s celebration is not far away. The castle must be prepared for guests, there is much work to be done-” “Exactly my thoughts! You’ve been working tirelessly, my friend, you deserve some time to yourself. It’s my castle, I want to have part in the decorating! Besides, I know you’ve been keeping an eye on that new tea house. Take the day and relax, Barbatos.”

Diavolo patted him on the back and left Barbatos standing in his office, lost for words and with a blank mind for the first time in a while. For anyone else, the opportunity would be a blessing, to leave your duties behind and pay attention to the parts of your life neglected. All Barbatos could think about was the castle in a state of disarray, clashing colors, decorations strewn haphazardly about the place, anything less than perfect was not acceptable.

However, Diavolo’s pout if he figured out Barbatos was still working during his break was too heartbreaking to think about. Barbatos sighed, pulling out his DDD and pulling up his messages with you.

Barbatos MC, would you like to join me at Witch’s Brew this afternoon? My schedule has been cleared. 

MC Oh? Is that the new tea place across from Majolish? I would love to!

Barbatos Alright. See you at noon. 

Witch’s Brew was a quaint shop that sold both loose leaf teas, tea sets, and delicious desserts. To a demon like Barbatos, it was heaven. The aroma of dried flowers and warmth tickled his nose as he opened the door, sitting down at a small table with a candle in the middle. It was peaceful here, soft music playing over the speakers and setting a light ambience to the space. Ordering some tea for the both of you would be his first order of business. The fragrant notes of hibiscus and lemon called to him from behind the counter, he would bring it back to the table piping hot and waiting. 

A smile came across his lips as he imagined you taking the first sip, your eyes lighting up at the sweet flavor- rich and floral with a hint of tart to balance it. The thought was almost as sweet as you were. The tinkling of the doorbell made Barbatos glance up hopefully from his cup, eyes alight when he saw you. But you weren’t carefree and jubilant as usual. He picked up on the nervous glances you were sending around the room, your hesitant steps towards the table, and most of all, you hadn’t greeted him with so much as a smile yet. Quite unusual. 

“Ah, hello Barbatos! Sorry I’m late,” you whispered, smoothing your clothes and sitting in the chair he pulled out for you. The demon cocked an eyebrow at your behavior, instantly analyzing your expression. He knew something was up.

“Would you like to tell me what is obviously bothering you? You look like someone is out to get you.”

“Ahaha… well…” You scratched your arm, averting your gaze and peering down into the teacup. “You could say that.” You chose to elaborate on the prank war currently going on in Purgatory Hall, the one you had started a week ago. Luke had voted on staying out of things, which meant you, Solomon, and Simeon would have to prank amongst yourselves.

Pulling out all the stops this morning, you had set up several pillows to fall onto Simeon’s head, covering him in feathers. You had swiped one of Solomon’s singing potions earlier in the week and mixed it into a batch of cookies, which had him singing curses for the next hour. You had found these harmless pranks extremely funny, but both Solomon and Simeon were sure to get you back. 

“So that’s why I have to stay vigilant! They could be anywhere, Barbatos, I have to keep a lookout,” you explained, taking a sip of your tea. The flavor was complex and delicate, a nice reprieve from the chaos going on with your friends. You melted into the warm drink, nodding at the teapot, “This was a good pick, thank you for letting me try it!”

Barbatos shook his head with a fond smile. He knew you were “I believe tea is better when shared in good company, so it’s my pleasure.” Pouring you two another cup, he thought on your predicament. If Solomon and Simeon were working together, it could spell disaster for everyone in Purgatory Hall.

Humming in thought, Barbatos finished his tea and set the cup down gently onto a saucer. “Can I escort you back? Like I said, my schedule is clear for the day, so it would be no trouble. That way, you won’t have to worry about anything on your way,” he offered. Barbatos knew they would never do anything to harm you, but if it would make you feel better, it was worth it.

You perked up, relief washing over your face. “I would appreciate it, those two like to scare me as much as it is.”

Taking a dessert to go, you and Barbatos left the teahouse and started the journey back to the House of Lamentation. On the way, you talked about everything from next year’s classes to Satan’s newest cat adoption antics. Barbatos felt at ease talking to you, as he always did. His worries for the celebration faded with every step as he let you take the wheel of the conversation. Before you knew it, you two were on the doorstep. 

“Thank you for walking me here, Barbs. We need to do this again sometime!” You opened the door and were about to wave goodbye when two arms pulled you into the foyer. Barbatos quickly moved inside, surprised by the sight that greeted him. 

Solomon and Simeon had trapped you in their arms, encircling you like twin felines playing a game of cat and mouse. Solomon’s deadly smirk was something you knew all too well, paired with Simeon’s laughing eyes, they had been out to get you from the start. “You fell right into our trap, MC~” Simeon purred in your ear, watching your eyes flit between the trio of people in the room. Well, one human, one angel, and one demon. The mischievous fire in Solomon’s eyes appeared anything *but* human to you in this moment. 

Solomon looked to the demon at the door, “What do you think is a fitting punishment for our friend here, Barbatos?” 

Barbatos slowly stepped forward until he was in front of you three, assessing the situation. “Seeing as they’ve confessed their transgressions to me already, I believe something… like this will suffice,” Barbatos reasoned, grinning at your shocked face.

“Barbatos! You’re supposed to be on my side- HEY!” Barbatos wormed his hand between you and Simeon to give your side a squeeze, making you curl into Solomon. Simeon started to snicker at the idea, using his free hand to scribble around your neck while Solomon’s smile grew wolfish. “I think that’s a great idea, don’t you think so, MC?” 

You were trying not to react to Simeon’s gentle scribbles, your cheeks puffing out and your lips pouting to hide your smile. “N-no! Not a great idea! Barbatos- help me!”

Raising an eyebrow, the demon tilted his head to the side, “You want me to help? Alright, I can manage that. After all, I have no obligations today, I can spend as much time as I want here.”

Barbatos latched onto your sides, kneading into them with sudden speed and vigor that you weren’t prepared for. Your straight faced facade went flying out the window as you tried to wiggle away from the tickles to no avail. Solomon and Simeon seemed to have the same idea, the angel’s fingers finding a home in your armpits and Solomon’s squeezing at your hipbones. “WHAHAHAIT! NOhOHoO!” 

You had endured tickle attacks from all three of them separately, but together, the trio was insufferably good at reducing you to a laughing fit. They continued to scribble and poke all over your worst spots, Simeon finding a good spot on your lower tummy that almost sent you backwards. Every time you got used to something, one of them would move, sending you into giggles all over again. 

“I almost forgot how ticklish they are! Solomon, keep that up,” Simeon laughed with delight at how you squirmed away from Solomon’s evil hands that were currently chasing your ribs. “If I were you, I would stay still- it would be done a looooot faster!” Solomon chirped from your left, tazing your ribs and making you fall into Barbatos’s waiting arms.

“Your laugh is almost as sweet as the tea, you know,” Barbatos whispered quietly, kneading into your lower back and sides, chuckling when you tried to pull away with a blush. Simeon gasped and excitedly pulled you away, hugging you tight against his chest. 

“Theres this thing I used to do to Luci when he would misbehave, let me show you!” He closed his eyes and you felt invisible feathers gliding across your ears and neck, making you scrunch up. The feathers seemed to reach all of your worst spots, soft but they tickled like hell. When you felt one graze the bottom of your foot, you squeaked in surprise, how was this even possible? Simeon’s laugh sounded like bells, contrasting with your loud and squealy one. “I cAhAHaAHaN’t! PlEHehAHeaSe!” 

He slowed down the feathers of his wings to softly stroke up and down your arms, letting you collapse into him. Solomon ruffled your hair, “You all tired out? I think it’s payback for making me sing through all of breakfast. Simeon looked like a fancy chicken this morning,” he laughed. Simeon rolled his eyes, “Did you learn your lesson, MC? Never mess with Purgatory Hall, or you’ll awaken the tickle monsters that live there!” He tapped your nose, taking note of your lingering smile and flushed cheeks. He grinned and gave you a hug, releasing you. 

Barbatos had his hands behind his back, almost like he hadn’t contributed to your ticklish demise. “The cake is still outside, would you like me to bring it in?” His sly smirk didn’t go unnoticed, you nodded, rolling your eyes. “You were supposed to help me!”

“I never said I would help you. Besides, I think you deserved a little prank back for the ones you performed,” he noted, bringing the slice of matcha cake inside. 

With a sigh, you took the bag, holding out the delectable sweet. “How about a truce? Do you guys wanna split this?” All three of them nodded, causing you to smile. As you made your way towards the den, Barbatos concluded that his day off was a day well spent.

[p---l---c]