#oeby me x you

[leviathans-watching]

ive never done requests before 😭 would it be possible for u to maybe write a sick!mc w the dateables? i need more simeon in my life dawg

sick!mc with the dateables

includes: the dateables x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .4k | rated g | m.list

warnings: mentions of fevers, colds, coughing

a/n: ugh this was so cute! thanks for requesting and i hope you enjoy <33 my inbox is open to chat, request, or leave feedback, so come say hi!!

Please reblog<33333

➳ diavolo had noticed you looking pale and sluggish, so when you start to complain that you don’t feel well, he’s really not surprised. “oh, dear,” he says with a sigh, touching your forehead. “you’ve definitely got a fever. weak human immune systems. how about i run you a bath and make you some tea.” already, he’s thinking about how to best take care of you, making a mental list of things he needs barbatos to run out and get. and just to be safe, you’ll have to stay in his room tonight where he can look over you and make sure you don’t get any worse.

➳ barbatos wrinkles his nose as you cough, long and painful-sounding noises escaping your mouth. without prompting, he hands you his handkerchief and then sets up the kettle, grateful you’re already in the kitchen. “i’ll make you some tea,” he offers. “you can just sit there and not strain yourself. and also please don’t cough all over the counter. i just cleaned it.” you smile at that, sensing the dry humor in his words, and he pulls down the honey, intent on making some of the best tea he’s ever made to help with throat and chest health.

➳ simeon knocks on your door, chicken soup in hand. “i’m coming in,” he calls gently, pushing your door open. lord, it’s a good thing he’s around because the brothers would have no clue how to treat you. when he enters, he sees why you never replied–you’re asleep. unable to stop a smile from forming upon seeing your cute face and messy bedhead, simeon sets the tray down on your nightstand, pulling the blankets you kicked down back up to your chin. “get well soon,” he murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. partly to check for fever and partly because he wants to.

➳ solomon dismisses your concern for him catching your cold so he can nurse you back to health, staying by your side attentively while the illness runs its course. he’s always there with another blanket, to tell you stories, and to refill your water, even using his magic to keep you entertained. it’s nice, and you really appreciate him, but can’t help but roll your eyes when you recover and he begins to get sick. “hey, now it’s your turn to nurse me back to health,” he jokes weakly, and you sigh, but know in your heart that you don’t mind taking care of him, just as he hadn’t minded taking care of you.

leviathan-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[leviathans-watching]

mfil - 27

-` ♡ ´- m.list | no taglist | next | wc: .6k

-` ♡ ´- a/n: dropped my phone in the toilet today >:(

*NOT CLICKBAIT!!!* when asmo learns that you, the newest exchange student has a youtube account and following somewhat comparable to his own, he decided right then and there not to like you. however, after an unfortunate (and misleading) exchange goes viral, he has no choice but to fake date you in order to save face. will asmo crush you and put you into place like you deserve? or are those funny feelings in his stomach not hate, like he had thought? like, subscribe, and maybe fall in love (with this smau) to find out!!

when you finally finish with diavolo and barbatos, lunch is practically ready. you follow the brothers into the dining room, hesitating to choose a seat.

thankfully, satan, noticing your struggle, nods to the one next to him. “this is usually asmo’s but, you know, since he’s not eating with us and all you’re more than welcome to it.”

“they’re welcome to it even when he is eating with us,” leviathan snorts and mammon chuckles. you awkwardly smile. they all know you’re only fake dating him, right? then why are they treating you like this?

“this all looks amazing,” you say as beel begins to bring out plates from the kitchen. “thank you so much.”

“you’re welcome,” lucifer replies, then makes a  noise in the back of his throat. “beel! stop eating off of my plate and give it to me already.”

beelzebub shrugs unapologetically, setting the plate down. you look down at your own plate, wondering if he’d had any of it. well, maybe it was better not to know.

“so, how’s the, ah, dating goin’?” mammon asks, feigning casualty poorly, and belphegor snickers. “he treating you alright?”

“um, well, asmodeus is asmodeus,” you try. “he’s better than he was before, i guess?”

“i still don’t see why you agreed to the stupid deal,” belphegor chimes in. “i can’t imagine anyone’d put up with him for free.”

“yeah,” leviathan agrees. “so, mc, what are you getting out of the deal?”

“i mean, it’s asmo, so it’s probably something special,” mammon cracks, wiggling his eyebrows, and you cant help but make a face.

“ew, no, nothing like that,” you say quickly. “and as for the exact terms, i’m sorry, but if asmo hasn’t told you he must have a good reason for keeping them to himself.”

“but–” belphegor begins, but lucifer holds up a hand.

“let’s respect mc’s privacy and not pressure them, alright? i’m sure they already deal with enough from asmo.”

you can’t tell if that’s a joke or not.

“honestly, you guys should be taking advantage of the situation more.” satan looks around the table, and you remember asmo telling you that his brothers were not only mischievous but also looking forward to seeing the whole situation blowing up in his face. you should probably take what they tell you with a grain of salt. “it doesn't really seem like you’re dating in my opinion. where’s the pda, the sappy posts, the getting caught kissing in the stairwell. you need to step up your game.”

“for real! i can't believe anyone’s buying it,” levi agrees. “i feel like everyone’s expecting asmo to be really touchy and clingy to his partner so they might be skeptical if he’s not that way with you.”

“really?” you ask, widening your eyes. you don’t buy it for a second. they’re just trying to a) make you look like a weirdo by asking asmodeus to “step up the game” or b) trying to get blackmail material on asmo. “you don’t think people believe it?”

lucifer catches your eye and you know he doesn’t buy you for a second. but he only smiles, the slightest twitch of his lip, then takes a sip of his drink. what an interesting guy.

“i think you could get into a sticky situation of you don’t make sure there’s absolutely no room for doubt,” satan hedges.

“i see. thank you for the advice, i’ll definitely take it up with asmo,” you say, and jeez, all of them have the worst poker faces ever.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[leviathans-watching]

Secondly, the silly one: It's canon in Obey Me that Solomon can talk to animals and honestly I can't believe there isn't a Devilgram or something of Satan (or MC) pulling him aside every five minutes to talk to cats or have an argument with their neighbor's dog who keeps getting into their garden. (Or something).

➳ includes: mammon & gn!reader, solomon & ceberus | wc: .2k | rated g

solomon puts his hands on his hips, trying to look stern. serberus cocks one of his heads at him.

“bad dog,” solomon tries. how does he keep getting out of the house of lamentation? isn’t he supposed to be locked up tightly?

as if to really hammer in just how little he cares for solomon’s orders, cerberus  sits. right on top of some rare herbs that were a pain to grow. then flops onto his side. mocking him.

solomon crosses his arms, glaring down at the beast. one of the heads lets out a little yip, and solomon throws his hands in the air. why does he even try?

*

mammon snickers as he watches cerberus expose his belly to solomon, rolling over more stupid plants. it had been a pain in the ass to free the dog and get him here, but totally worth it.

beside him, you cover your mouth to miffle your giggles, and again, mammon thinks that even though he’s going to get it trouble, this was totally, totally worth it.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[leviathans-watching]

CHHW - 01

intro post/m.list | wc: 2.5k | next

a/n: lots of votes yes to post this series on here as well! since there are so many chapters up on ao3 already i'll need some time to figure out how i'll do this. hmu with any questions about the au/series!! (also I'm well aware of the historical inaccuracies involved in this lol, see my m.list for more info abt that)

get added to the taglist

Adjusting your skirts, you try not to fidget. You’ve been told to wait outside, as one of the prince’s men would be getting you, yet your hands itch to explore, to familiarize yourself with the rooms around you.

Prince Diavolo’s new endeavor is ambitious, almost naively so, but when the letter arrived informing you that your application had been accepted for the diplomacy program, you had been pleased, because, well, how could you not? It was a matter of dimensional importance, and for you to be the one at its helm… well, you never were one to shy away from arduous tasks, even if they meant you’d be embarking on a journey to stay in the Devildom, a neighboring realm that had begun to take new direction under the prince as the Demon King’s health began to weaken.

You hadn’t yet had the chance to meet Prince Diavolo, who had not only come up with the idea for the diplomacy program but also had put it all together, doing most of the work himself, something other royalty could never do, as their fear of getting their hands dirty limited them in many ways. While your first missive had come from the prince himself, the rest had been written by a duke rumored to be the prince’s second in command: Duke Lucifer of Lamentation. The letters that you’ve exchanged with him have been something you’ve looked forward to every morning, as he was very good at addressing all of your concerns, helping make what seemed to be a dream into your reality. 

Much of the information about this program is still a mystery, which, to your grudging admittance, makes sense. The last thing any of you involved want is a breach of information. Trust is thin enough already between the realms, hence the need for the program, and such a scandal would only make it worse, or even cripple the program badly enough to cause a delay. 

To your understanding, with what information you had received, the prince’s goal is the unification of the three realms, which for so long have been at odds. Your kingdom was never quite as involved as the other two, but still, the middle dimension is no small deal. Many think the prince insane, but you – and those you’d spoken to before making your decision – had all agreed it was possible Prince Diavolo is truly onto something. He is known as something of a visionary, after all.

The large stone door opens with barely a whisper, drawing you out of your thoughts, and you stand, curtsying.

“Lady F/N L/N, I presume?” A finely-dressed gentleman asks, bowing. You straighten with a nod. “I am Barbatos, Prince Diavolo’s attendant. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. The prince has asked for you to be brought in, as long as you’re ready.”

“Of course,” you say with ease. If you were ready. How odd, for the prince to defer to you and your readiness. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

Barbatos leads you through big doors and down the shrouded hall. The room you step into is magnificent, with flickering chandeliers, gothic arches, and stained glass depicting a beautiful maiden with an outpouring of white light surrounding her. You curtsy once more, keeping your eyes down.

“Come now,” Prince Diavolo says warmly, his honeyed voice sliding over you. “We do not stand on ceremony here.”

Obediently, you rise, though you’re hesitant. The prince stares down at you, but where any other royalty may have been cold or trying to inspire fear, or perhaps even awe, he looked almost excited, bearing an odd resemblance to the pup that played in the servant gardens of your old manor.

“It’s an honor to meet you, my lord,” you say, voice carrying through the open room. “As it is to have been graced with the chance to take part in this program.” You knew some about demons, as your education had been very thorough, especially once you'd agreed to the exchange, but books on them were sparse in your realm, and, you guessed, noting the lack of bloodstains and eaten souls, out of date.

Prince Diavolo waves his hand, golden jewelry glittering. “The honor is mine. I’m sure you must be very tired from your journey over, so I will try to keep this brief. Welcome to the Devildom. Currently, we’re in the Royal Academy of Diavolo, our most prestigious institution, also known as RAD, where you will soon be attending. The other three chosen for the program, who you will meet soon, will be joining you here as well. This room is the council room, where many meetings are held. I lead this council, meaning I am often dreadfully busy.” He gives a little laugh, but you remain silent, not wanting to offend. “Due to this, I shall now introduce you to His Grace, Duke Lucifer of Lamentation, also known as the Avatar of Pride. He handles much of the work around here and I’m sure this kingdom would be falling down around my ears without him.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my lord,” the duke says, and you turn your eyes to him. He is dressed finely as well, the very definition of propriety, with fine dark hair and eyes. “Lady F/N, I offer a most heartfelt welcome.”

You curtsy again. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace,” you say honestly. “Thank you for your prompt and thorough replies to my letters. They did much to put me at ease.”

The duke smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. “I’m glad. I too am quite busy, but shall always be available for you and any questions you may have. In the meantime, my younger brother, Lord Mammon, will be looking after you. He has been tasked with keeping you informed and safe, so please don’t hesitate to ask him for help.” The duke pauses. “He is the Avatar of Greed, and well… you will see for yourself in just a moment. I do hope you’re not a lady with delicate sensibilities.”

His remark, while strange, seems rhetorical, so you parse over the new information given to you while Lord Mammon is retrieved.

“In the meantime,” Duke Lucifer continues, “let me introduce to you some of my other brothers. Here is Lord Satan and Asmodeus, fourth and fifth eldest respectively.”

You all do introductions, and once more you are stuck by the unique looks of them both. So far, none of them have exactly looked alike, but they are all similar in their stunning beauty and piercing gazes.

“It’s delightful to finally put a face to your name, my lady,” Asmodeus purrs, tawny eyes sharp. “I am the Avatar of Lust.”

“The Avatar of Lust?” It is almost refreshing to meet such strange individuals. Your world has such strict, stuffy morals but this at least promised something new and interesting.

Asmodeus laughs, a tinkling sound. “That’s right! The title is a pretty accurate description, if I do say so myself. I suppose a little demonstration of my power can’t hurt, now can it? Would you please gaze into my eyes for a moment?” What he was asking was incredibly improper, but when in Rome… “That’s good,” he says. “I won’t hurt you. Come a little closer, don’t be shy.”

You raise your eyebrows, not enough to be impolite, but enough so that you can convey your skepticism. Asmodeus pauses, a delightful furrow appearing between his brows.

“Now this is odd,” he says. “Lucifer, are you sure there’s a soul in this human?”

The duke sighs. “Yes, assuming Beel hasn’t devoured it already.”

A new demon steps forward, tall and broad. His shock of orange hair only reinforces your earlier thoughts about them not looking similar. “I haven’t eaten anything,” he grumbles, his voice deep and low. With a jolt you remember they're talking about your soul. “But I am hungry.”

“This is Lord Beelzebub, the sixth eldest,” Duke Lucifer introduces. “He’s the Avatar of Gluttony and has a penchant for eating human souls, so I suggest watching yourself around him.”

“How do you do,” you murmur politely, choosing to ignore the duke’s words. Apparently, the books had been correct on some topics.

“I have more brothers,” the duke continues, “but you’ll have time to meet them later on. In the meantime, Lord Mammon will take care of you, as I said before.”

You turn, following his gaze, and see a new face, just as handsome and striking as the rest. Unfair demon genetics, you suppose.

“Do I really have to take care of this human?” Lord Mammon asks, not even sparing you a glance. You’re a bit taken aback by his rough attitude; so far the rest of them, even Lord Beelzebub had been perfectly polite. “Is there not anyone else in this damn dimension that could?”

The duke’s tone was as sharp as a whip. “You will do as I’ve instructed and you will be polite about it. I will not have you raking our name through the mud more than you already have. Prince Diavolo is counting on me to make this program a success and I will not have you spoil it. Do you understand?”

You shoot a quick look to the prince and Barbatos, who merely look used to this sort of quarrel. Prince Diavolo meets your eyes, and hurriedly, you turn your gaze down and away.

Lord Mammon eventually agrees to look after you, though not without a fair bit of grumbling and complaining. You wonder about a chaperone, then stop yourself. If there is an Avatar of Lust, then surely they did not bother with such useless things. And really, this only allows you more freedom to do as you please.

Not that you’d be getting up to anything, you just longed for freedom. Too often you’d been forced to stay in your room, or in the manor while the men were free to do as they wished. Despite knowing it was the way things were done, you chafed under such restrictions, undoubtedly one of the reasons you’d agreed to the diplomacy program.

“Lady F/N,” Prince Diavolo says seriously, taking over once more. “This program to unite our three dimensions may seem fanciful, but truly I hope we’re able to one day make peace with one another. Humans, angels, demons… I believe we can all coexist peacefully. I pray that you understand the gravity of this as well as the magnitude of the sacrifice that you have made, I am, and forever will be, in your debt, and I ask that you do everything in your power to ensure this program is a success. If things proceed as I hope they will, you will be among the first to lead us into a new, better future.”

“I really am honored to be here,” you say again. “This diplomacy program is bold, but I will try my hardest to adhere to my role and complete my duties. I thank you for this opportunity and plan to serve you as I would the queen back home, my lord.”

“That is a relief,” he says, eyeing you shrewdly. You had not expected him to make such a declaration, meaning you did not have a response prepared ahead of time, but you hope your words would ring true in the coming year.

It feels like no time as all passes before you’re alone with Lord Mammon, walking quickly to keep up with him. He navigates the maze-like halls of the Academy with ease, and you wonder how long it’s going to take you to learn your way at all.

“Lord Mammon,” you begin, and he shoots you a near-murderous look.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he barks. “I don’t like you, nor do I respect you. This whole program is utterly ridiculous and I fear Prince Diavolo is a fool for suggesting such a thing. You’re just a lowly human, got that? You’ll always be nothing, especially to me, The Great Mammon.”

If he was looking for tears or offense, you were afraid that is not what he’d receive. You’d been playing the court since you were young, so these insults were nothing new to you. Actually, it was almost a relief for him to underestimate you because of your status as a human, and not a woman. Men were so dreadfully pigheaded sometimes, and you were sick and tired of having to play the good girl card, only smiling demurely instead of sharing your mind as you wished.

“Not going to say anything?” Lord Mammon snorts, and you cock your head at him.

“My apologies, Lord Mammon,” you say, “for I had not realized you were done speaking. I’m afraid I wasn’t listening all that closely.” Lord Mammon gapes at you, but you’re not finished. “Furthermore, I don’t know what the women down here are like, but I assure you, a few brash curse words and scowls thrown my way is not enough to scare me.”

This time, Lord Mammon is calculating, his blue eyes examining yours. Whatever he finds in there makes him curse once more, starting to walk again. It’s only then, when he does, that you realize that sometime during your debate you’d slowed to a stop.

“Regardless,” Lord Mammon spits, “don’t go on assuming you and I will be friends or anything of the like. I’m only taking care of you because Lucifer decreed.”

“Does the duke often order you around?” you ask, and Lord Mammon eyes you suspiciously, most likely trying to discern what your goal of asking is.

“Quite often,” Lord Mammon eventually admits. “He thinks himself better than the rest of us simply because he’s the oldest. It’s infuriating.”

“I see,” you say. “He is only acting in interest of the family name, is he not? Surely it would be wise to listen to him?”

Lord Mammon scoffs. “Who cares about the family name? When it comes down to it, reputation means nothing. It's about your true character, what you’ve done and what you’re willing to do.”

“So you’re a radicalist, then,” you surmise.

“What, is that too improper for you?” Lord Mammon is rather like a rooster, you think, all faux-bravado and loud cries.

“Not at all,” you say lightly, surprising him. “As I stated earlier, I am no delicate flower. I find politics to be exhausting, especially when they’re masquerading as a casual conversation.”

“Hmm,” Lord Mammon says. “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought. I still don’t like you,” he warns, “but perhaps we can stay out of one another’s way.”

“That is something I can do,” you agree, holding out your hand for him to shake. His skin is a shade hotter than a human’s, but his grip is steady and firm. Yours is nothing to laugh at either, and he seems appreciative of your strong clasp as you seal the deal. “Now that your peacocking is over,” you say, letting go of his hand with a small amount of reluctance, “do you think we can head to the Manor? I fear I’m frightfully worn from my travels and would like a fresh gown.”

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