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(B - Belial, M - Mephisto, C - Crush)

B - "Ah it would appear your tea has gotten cold. Would you like some fresh?"

C - "Oh no thanks! I've only had it for about 10 minutes I'm okay"

B - "Nonsense it should be enjoyed as fresh as possible for the most enjoyable experience" (leaves to make more tea before C can protest)

C - "Wow Sir Pheles Belial sure is dedicated, isn't he? 😅"

M - "So it would seem 🤨"

(Apologies if dialogue is cringe I'm not great at writing that yet lmao)

Idk I just know in my soul those two would be best friends

Okay so I finally decided to try to write a fanfic and I'm still working on it but I decided to post what I have so far here because I'm an anxious creature who has never written fanfiction before and would love some constructive but kind feedback please ty

Oh and also @mmiillk because I anon asked them on Twitter to pick which ship I did a fic for lol so if you read this I hope you enjoy it.

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All My Little Words

Summary: It doesn't matter what he'll do, not for all his little words. Or, Belial muses about the relationship and desires he has for his eccentric master while tending to his wounds. Belial x Mephisto

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Lifting the fresh compress out of the golden wash basin and applying, Belial can’t help but acknowledge how small, how vulnerable his master appears in this moment, even if he knows the reality is the exact opposite despite his master’s gruesome injury. As he wrings the compress out to apply it to Lord Pheles’s - no, King Samael’s - gunshot wound, he finds his hands still somewhat shaking as his mind and body alike work to try to process the events of the past few hours. Despite all of his centuries travelling with the King of Time and working as his servant, Belial had never seen the proud and powerful demon reduced to such a state.

“No, now is not the time to entertain such thoughts,” Belial thought to himself, gently shaking his head as if the train of thought would dislodge itself from his brain and fall out of his ears, plaguing him no longer. He knows if Samael had been in a better condition that his behavior would have certainly warranted a tease and a smirk from His Majesty, and the scene Belial’s imagination supplies him with of such a beautiful sight brings a gentle smile to his face and a warm, pink flush to his cheeks.

As Belial finishes patching up the wound and clearing any residual gore from the King’s face, the butler can’t help but notice just how peaceful Samael looks now that he has finally succumbed to sleep in order to allow his vessel to heal. Belial can’t remember the last time he saw His King look so relaxed, even during the one hour period of rest he allowed himself per night. But here, in his plush, king-sized canopy bed, Samael looked just as poised, as regal and magnificent to him as the butler had always perceived him to be in his mind’s eye. As far as Belial was concerned, he might as well have been looking at the stars themselves. So, for the first time, Belial allows himself the indulgence of leaning down to brush his master’s hair away from his cheek and behind his ear, then quickly departs as his face deepens from a soft pink to a burning red. After all, he didn’t want to imagine what sort of consequences he would face if his King were to wake up during such a tender moment, let alone experience them.