#blance lyncaster

Solomon: Couldn’t sleep?

MC: *nods.*

Solomon: You know, people say that if you can’t sleep, it means someone’s thinking about you.

MC: Who the hell is thinking about me at three in the morning?

MC: daddy, can you please pass the salt?

Lucifer: Of course. *reaching*

Mammon: What’s in it for me? *reaching anyway*

Asmodeus: Of course baby. *reaching*

Bephigor: *laying on his arms on the table* Do it yourself. *subtly reaching anyway*

Beelzebub: Sure. *reaching*

Satan: Don’t call me that. *reaching*

Leviathan: *blushing* Alright. *reaching*

Satan, not even seven feet away:

Blance, sleeping: fuck you, Lucifer.

Blance:

“Hey, blondie! we need to talk!”

Blance turned, nearly toppling over Via when he saw them just suddenly lingering behind him.

“Yes?”

Blance asked, fixing Satan’s sweater on his shoulders, drawing Via’s attention to the garment that obviously belonged to the avatar of wrath, Blance trying to gently remind Via that Satan was possessive and violent, and things he deemed as his were not to be trifled with.

But Via seemed to completely ignore that as they stepped closer, trying to stare down the taller exchange student. “you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Beel, haven’t you? you know, my boyfriend?”

Blance rolled his eyes, already knowing where this was going. “and?” he asked, crossing his arms and tilting one of his hips.

Blance: *kill