Chapter Text
The crackling fireplace was hot at your back, though you knew the sight before you was the source of the warmth in your chest. There were few things more comforting than lounging in the living room, in the presence of all seven of your housemates. The addition of a high stakes party game, that even Lucifer and Satan agreed to join, made your heart swell to the point of bursting.
“Okay!” Asmodeus clapped, his smile brighter than the fire in the hearth as he made himself comfortable on the carpet. “Does everyone know the rules?”
“What rules are there to know?” Not bothering to lift his head from his pillow, Belphie’s frame a lump breaking the uniformity of the circle in which everyone else sat, he drawled, “It’s truth or dare. You either answer truthfully or do something embarrassing.”
“I’m going to need you to dial up the enthusiasm, hon,” Asmo chirped, Belphie’s attitude failing to dampen his excitement. Beel’s brow creased in concern, and he leaned forward to peer at Belphie’s expression. When Belphie rolled his eyes, Beel offered him a spicy newt chip.
Belphie accepted with a sigh. You didn’t miss the affection that softened Lucifer’s quiet observation from the armchair they had worked into their circle.
“Besides, there is one rule,” Asmo held up a perfectly manicured index finger. You nearly flinched as his sunset eyes slammed into yours, a mischievous smirk all faux reassurance. “All seven of us have to go first before we get to ask our darling dove.”
“Huh? Why?” Mammon blinked, his expression mirrored on every other face in the room. You were confused, yourself. The group text message had implied that you would all be playing together. Oh no, was this about to get concerningly competitive? Or were they hosting an intervention about your recent obsession with otome mobile games? You’d been promised party games!
But Asmo eased your worries with a dazzling smile and a simple, “Because I want to ask them everything, which means all of you want to do the same, right?”
Devil crickets could be heard outside the windows.
“I knew it!” With a wink your way that sent your heart spinning out in surprise, he declared, “It’s only fair that we all go first before we gang up on the cutest exchange student ever~”
Considering his words, you actually felt cool relief trickle down your spine, a delightful contrast to the warmth of the fireplace. “Thank you, Asmo. I think that’s a good plan,” You rolled your shoulders and shot your most innocent smile to the circle, “Now I get to watch all of you suffer for my entertainment.”
Levi squawked, his hands flying up to cover his face. Beel hummed something that sounded like cautious optimism, though perhaps you were confusing it with satisfaction from the freshly opened bag of spicy newt chips in his lap. Lucifer said nothing, appeared as indifferent as ever, which only made Satan straighten his posture and attempt to look just as unperturbed.
His anxiety near palpable, Levi’s eyes narrowed towards the nondescript empty demonus bottle in the center of the ring. “But the curse is active, right?”
Satan nodded, “Yes, as long as you are touching the bottle.”
“Ain’t the bottle for 7 minutes in heaven?” Mammon scrunched up his nose. “I ain’t kissin’ any of ya.”
The resounding shouts functioned as both violent agreement and protest towards the audacity of the suggestion. You snickered under your hand, trying to hide your amusement.
Asmo, however, shrugged. “It’s multi-purpose.”
Levi gasped, “A 2-in-one game pack.”
There was a beat, a moment of hesitation hanging thick in a smog just above your shoulders, and then…
“So, no one can lie?” The reality seemed to hit Mammon all of sudden, fear lancing like lightning through his sapphire eyes.
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, “That is what a truth curse implies, yes.”
“No more fussing!” Asmo’s teeth glinted, a dangerous grin cloaked in pink gloss, “It’s time to spill our secrets! Satan, truth or dare!”
The defeat in Satan’s shoulders made you chuckle. He reached forward to grab the bottle, which pulsed a soft blue in his hand. “Truth.”
“How cute do you think I am? ♡”
Satan frowned. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Shifted in his spot, a wildly confused yet simultaneously concentrated expression pinching his face.
“Asmo, did you break him?” Beel mumbled, pausing his chewing.
“Oh c’mon! He’s not supposed to be able to lie!” With a pout, Asmo threw his hands up in exasperation.
You waited, glancing around at the concern sparking throughout the room. Levi was already searching how to break a truth curse on his D.D.D. Lucifer seemed entirely unbothered. Belphie had already fallen asleep.
Satan finally spoke, “I genuinely do not have an opinion on the matter.”
The bottle shone a brighter shade. He shook it, “See? Not a lie.”
You patted Asmo’s shoulder sympathetically. He crossed his arms and muttered something about the game being rigged. He then gestured for Satan to continue.
“Hm,” Satan beamed as he made eye contact with Lucifer, “Truth or dare?”
Lucifer accepted the proffered bottle. “Dare.”
And if Satan had grinned any more, you would have been concerned that his face would split in half. “I dare you to drink the most disgusting thing in the kitchen.”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Levi muttered to Beel, who responded, “There’s something disgusting in the kitchen?”
You snorted, prepared to list on all your fingers and toes the items in the pantry and fridge that you wouldn’t touch with a foot long pole. There were the pickled salamander tongues, and some sort of fermented mustard seed that howled the moment the cap popped. That wasn’t even to mention the expired leftovers that Mammon had brought back from Hell’s Kitchen so long ago that Beel wouldn’t even glance towards the carton.
Lucifer was awfully lucky that Satan had specified for him to drink.
When Lucifer returned, he carried a very familiar jug and an empty glass. He looked Satan dead in the eye as he poured himself a glass of Satan’s very own, personally brewed iced hell coffee, then replaced the jug with the cursed demonus bottle. He frowned in distaste, took a deep breath to steel himself, then drank the contents of the glass in one fell swoop. With a shudder, he hissed through clenched teeth, “This is an insult to the quality of our hell coffee beans.”
All Satan could say was, “Fuck you, Lucifer.”
You exchanged a glance with Asmo, his raised brow pointedly exclaiming, now he understands.
“Belphie,” Lucifer’s call woke the pile of blankets on the floor. Gently rolling the bottle towards the newest target, he added, “Truth or dare?”
Belphie’s palm slapped the bottle, “Dare would require movement, right? Truth, then.”
Lucifer watched as the blue light enveloped Belphie’s hand. “Do you actually sleep that often in class?”
“Ugh, really? No. Only sometimes. I’m usually just pretending.” Grumbling, Belphie pushed the bottle away, no target in sight. “The profs don’t call on me if my eyes are closed.”
You had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to it than an avoidance of answering questions in class, but the curse didn’t seem to care about omission as long as he responded honestly. Really, you knew Belphie secretly took pride in his intellect and consistently high test scores. It didn’t surprise you that he was trying harder than he let on.
The bottle didn’t make it very far, little force put into Belphie’s push. Surprising nobody, it knocked against Beel’s knee.
“Hm?” Beel dumped the rest of his newt chips into his gaping maw, dusting any crumbs from the front of his t-shirt. As he casually bounced the bottle in his large palm, he decided, “Truth.”
Belphie yawned, “If you could eat only one thing for the rest of your existence, what would it be?”
You tensed, Asmo gasped to your right. On your other side, you felt Mammon stiffen, his eyes wide with disbelief. He nearly knocked his shades from his nose as he protested, “Oi, you can’t ask Beel to choose between food!”
Even Lucifer seemed worried, a wrinkle appearing in his forehead. You understood the fear that rippled through the room. The very concept of being restricted in terms of meals may just be enough to enrage the Avatar of Gluttony. They absolutely did not need a repeat of the last time Beel had gone on a food-motivated rampage. The House of Lamentation was lucky to have lost only three walls.
“I’m going to go grab some, uh, collateral? From the kitchen,” Levi stuttered, but before he could even stand, Beel answered with ease.
“Stew,” He stated, the air of finality stunning the circle.
“Not bloody terrine? Or a 4,000-year-aged cheeseburger from Hell’s Kitchen?” Satan blinked. “Or you often request hellfire curry rice for dinner…”
Mammon shifted, stiff from sitting in one position for a long period of time. He propped himself up in a squat, jabbing an accusatory finger Beel’s way. “There’s no way you’re tellin’ the truth!”
“I am.” Beel shrugged. Met with the astounded stares from his brothers, he explained, “There are lots of different stews with different ingredients. That way, I can make sure I eat something that all of you will enjoy, too.”
Your heart may as well have melted. You were pretty sure your housemates’ weren’t unaffected, either. They seemed to relax a little, sinking back into the carpet. Lucifer smiled ever so slightly, letting his eyes flutter closed. He nodded slightly, approving, “Good choice, Beel.”
Beel cocked his head to the side, lobbing the bottle a little too forcefully at Mammon’s head.
“Even better choice.” You shot a warning glare at Levi. He pouted, feigning innocence.
“HEY!” Mammon yelped, throwing up his hand to intercept the projectile. He puffed his chest out, preening like an overgrown crow as he bragged, “HA! That was no match for the Great Mammon. I ain’t the fastest demon in the Devildom for nothin’!”
“Well,” Satan hummed, “Technically no one is giving you anything to be fast.”
“Well, technically no one is - shut up, Satan,” Mammon mocked. Satan simply let out a long, low exhale. You reached across the circle to pat his knee in silent support.
Snatching a new bag of snacks from somewhere behind him and out of sight –Did he have a cache hidden under the couch?– Beel asked, “Truth or dare, Mammon?”
“Oh… Uh…” Mammon pursed his lips, furrowed his brow. He looked at the glowing bottle in his palm, taunting him.
“It’s not that hard,” Belphie piped up from his mound of blankets.
“Easy for you to say!” Mammon argued, “I don’t trust none of ya!”
Asmo groaned, “Aw, no. Beel, why’d you have to go and throw to Mammon?”
“Hey now,” You started, just to be cut off by Mammon’s greedy smirk.
“Hey… How badly do you want to keep this game going?”
Hands were thrown into the air, protests ringing out for the second time that evening. This time you took it upon yourself to intervene.
“Mammon,” Your voice was low and heavy with intent. It took a single glance in your direction for the Avatar of Greed to whine and crumble into obedience.
“Alright, alright,” He scoffed, “Dare. Ya happy now?”
“Dare him to go to his room for the rest of the night,” Asmo suggested, picking at his nails.
Levi chirped, “And have him pay me back while you’re at it.”
“Dare him to go the rest of his existence without causing any trouble,” Lucifer ordered. He slowly crossed one leg over the other, never once breaking very intense eye-contact with the demon in question. His whole aura radiated dangerous.
But Beel– sweet, soft, too-angelic-to-be-respected-by-his-little-D Beel– took pity on the punching bag of the family. With a straight face, he challenged, “I dare you to tell us exactly how you feel right now.”
“Wha?!” Mammon flinched, “Hey, that’s cheap! I didn’t say truth!”
“And Beel didn’t ask you a question,” Satan argued.
“He dared you,” Belphie raised a thumbs up from his cozy little puddle of plush.
“ARGH!” Bright as a howling tomato, Mammon stood abruptly. He spun around three times, all stuttered movements while spluttered expletives tumbled from his mouth. For a moment, you thought he was about to smash the cursed bottle, or toss it into the open fireplace.
Perhaps this required further intervention.
Before you could pull Mammon into another room and try to soothe his frenzied mind, he plopped himself back onto the carpet, tucked the bottle in his lap and dragged his hands dramatically over his face.
“Fine,” He admitted, “I’m really happy, alright? Really really happy. More happy than I would be if I scored a hundred Grimm on the sidewalk!”
“AW MAMMON! ♡,” Cooing, Asmo leaned across you as you awkwardly shuffled backwards. He threw his arms around his older brother’s shoulders, nuzzling their cheeks together. “You do love us!”
“Yeah, well, duh,” He grumbled, desperately trying to pull away from Asmo’s cloying affection.
The energy in the room had shifted ever since Beel had successfully sidestepped a tantrum, the initial nervous anticipation dissolving into a honey-thick serenity that spoke of the deep love the brothers held for each other. Mammon’s words only added further warmth to the gooey emotion spilling around them.
“Gross lol.” Levi broke the comfortable silence.
“Hey, let’s see how you like it!” Mammon practically shoved the bottle into his hands, an irritated scowl pulling at his lips. “Levi, truth or dare?”
If you were being entirely honest, you had expected Levi to bail from the game entirely. You had a feeling he was too worried about humiliation to choose dare, though the thought of Levi openly sharing his opinions on anything deeper than his otaku safety net didn’t quite compute. The more you tossed around memories in your head, the more you realized that Levi tended to provide commentary in most group settings, reserving personal conversations for quiet moments with you and you alone.
Apparently, your analysis was incorrect, for Levi confidently exclaimed, “Pft! An otaku wears their heart on their sleeve! I share my love for Ruri-chan every day without shame! Only normies have things to hide. Truth.”
Mammon was prepared. “Who’s D-V-L-O?”
It caught you by surprise when Levi blanched, the blood rushing from his face, rendering him a ghostly shell. His voice wavered, “How do you know about that?”
“Ya know when we were all playin’ Devil Kart the other night?” Mammon waited for a response, the ring nodding their heads. “I noticed that DVLO holds the record time. Who’s that?”
Murmurs bounced from one ear to another, disbelief that Levi had been out-raced by anyone reverberating through the patterned wallpaper, through the leather upholstery of the furniture. Levi curled in on himself, his oversized cardigan sweeping forward to swallow his shame whole as he hesitated, worrying his bottom lip.
“Gah! How embarrassing!” Levi exploded, agony warping his features. “I’m supposed to be the best gamer in the Devildom, and yet…Lord Diavolo beat me!”
Alas, the answer was deemed anticlimactic by the jury. It was common knowledge that the Demon Prince himself enjoyed gaming with Levi into the early hours of the morning, so really, Mammon should have been able to figure that one out himself. Regardless, Levi wept, mourning his previously undefeated run in Devil Kart.
Though your heart panged in sympathy, the only comment from the house was Lucifer’s lament, “That would explain his tardiness the other day.”
Despite Levi’s lingering sniffles, the air grew stiff and tense as his turn came to an end. You could feel the static thrumming between you, crackling at the slightest brush of fabric against fabric. Realization clouded Levi’s eyes a moment later than the rest of the group. Everyone had answered a truth or a dare. Everyone but you and...
Levi chucked the bottle at Asmodeus with a garbled sound of distress. “ASMOTRUTHORDARE!”
It was thanks to inhuman reflexes alone that Asmo managed to catch the bottle before it shattered against the hearth. Levi didn’t have much of an aptitude for any sort of hand-eye coordination outside of a controller and a screen.
Eyes narrowed in a glare that promised revenge if the bottle had broken a nail, a glare that warned of Levi’s near encounter with death, Asmo answered, “...Dare.”
Though Levi didn’t seem to notice just how close he had been to the receiving end of Asmo’s rare wrath, too busy lighting up at the answer. “Oh! I dare you to play a round of Dress to Impress. You know, the mobile version.”
Something like a laugh sounded from the Lump of Belphie™, Beel humming in agreement. Lucifer –bless his old soul– appeared to be feigning comprehension to the point of looking vaguely constipated. This was not lost on Satan, who watched him with a smug smirk dancing across his face.
“UGH!” Asmo scowled, “You know I hate that game.”
Mammon jabbed, “That’s because you’re a sore loser.”
“No, because I’m the only one who knows how to stick to a theme!” Asmo refuted, shrill and clearly taking personal offense to something outside of your understanding. “Like, do these demons have eyes? ! I obviously impress the most!”
Levi jeered, “Just play the game, Asmo.”
In moments, Asmo had pulled up the game on his D.D.D., everyone crowding around him to watch the round unfold. He was presented with a theme and a basic avatar, which he decorated with lavish, very on brand garments and accessories. If you were being honest, you thought he nailed the poses on the runway.
Unfortunately, the rest of those in the round did not, for he only placed third out of nine. He lost to two scantily clad avatars, and when you read the theme, you understood why Asmo’s eyes shone pure hellfire.
Theme: Asmo Night.
An ad flashed on the screen. Majolish was releasing a new line of clothing inspired by Dressed to Impress. Asmo nearly threw his D.D.D. across the room.
And really, even as you gently tugged Asmo’s arm back to his side, coaxed his beloved D.D.D. from his knuckle-white grip, you could barely contain your laughter. Mammon was howling, rolling on the floor like a dog begging for a belly rub. Beel clutched his stomach, and you weren’t sure if it was aching from laughter or lack of sustenance. It was hard to tell with him.
Lucifer was the only one completely unamused, glaring at Levi with a very clear telepathic message: Don’t let him play that game ever again. Levi shrunk under his gaze.
“Truth or dare, hon,” Asmo sang, brightening the instant he remembered that hey, he could prey on you, now.
The room went quiet. This time, not even the devil crickets made a peep.
You had seen it coming. With a gulp, you rolled your shoulders, cracked your knuckles. You could do this. What could they possibly throw at you that you couldn’t handle?
“Uh…” It was unnerving, having seven pairs of eyes boring holes in your very soul. You gulped, “Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss the cutest demon in the room~ ♡”
“HA?! I thought we weren’t kissin’!” You could always count on your first to have your back, Mammon bristling instantly.
“Between us, moron.” Having none of it, Asmo insisted, “They’re fair game!”
Part of you wanted to argue that you too had a say in the matter, but the other part of you that was wrapped up in an internal crisis overwhelmed any sort of reason. Your blood ran cold. Your heart stopped. All you could hear was a high pitched ringing. You lamented its poor timing. You would have preferred it to have shown up when the brothers were all yelling at each other.
Because they weren’t lashing out, now. No. They were just staring at you.
Waiting.
Well. This was awkward.
A deep breath in, you let your eyes flutter shut, let your surroundings fade away until you were alone in your thoughts, suspended in time. Here, you could face your truth. You didn’t need the cursed bottle pulsing in your hand. No, you knew the answer already laid within you.
As you slowly exhaled, pulling yourself to your feet, you felt every eye on you, every breath held and every fear prickling the back of your neck.
You could do this.
It was just a game, right?