A/N: You guys have only been giving me fluff (which is great) but I’m at my limit so now you all can have some pain, love you ★

You are my sunshine,

He was laughing. The way Luke angrily shied away from Simeon’s teasing once again was endearing, Solomon couldn’t help but give a soft laugh now and again. He enjoyed spending time with them, but something else nagged at the back of his mind every time. Glancing to his side, he couldn’t help but physically feel how empty the space had been; noticing movement in the doorway, he looked up only to be blinded by the smile that was gracious enough to shine its light onto him.

“Ah, good morning, MC.”

“Good morning!”

They slid in the seat beside him, instantly warming up against him. He listened intently as they spoke of their morning shenanigans, excitedly gesturing and painting pictures of the scene with their voice, but once they spoke of the demon brothers, his attention started to waver as all his focus moved to the curve of their lips instead.  

The bell rang, signaling for class to start, so they gave him a large, apologetic grin and turned their focus to the front when he nodded in understanding. He faced forward as well, but couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing sideways every so often to simply bask in the fact he gets to live and breathe in the same space as them. They were… warm.

My only sunshine.

Solomon had troubles focusing on much of anything lately, if it didn’t involve MC. His mind liked to constantly travel to thoughts of them, replaying interactions in his memory that especially made him happy—ones that made him feel butterflies, or as though he were… human.

Of course, he was human. He knew that; it was even more obvious when surrounded by demons down in Devildom. As a powerful warlock, however, it was easy to lose oneself in the mess of power, and even more so when the power’s great. Solomon kept his composure fairly well, but underneath the soft smile he shot the world and the ‘shady’ appearance he gave everyone, he felt like he was drowning.  

Deeper and deeper into the darkness, Solomon wasn’t sure how he even managed to remain breathing. Nothing ever seemed to help, and no one ever seemed to try and save him. Swallowed whole, falling deeper into the abyss, Solomon figured he’d never be able to swim his way out, and started to accept his fate, until the day he ran into them for the first time. Like the sun, their light hit the water and splintered around him, shining bright as the water around him light up like fractals; the light hurt his eyes. Without realizing, his arm moved on its own to reach towards the light; stretching, straining his shoulder just for a chance at reaching it. Slowly, as time went on, he could feel how bad he wanted it—how bad he needed it—and silently begged for it to come save him.

Rumbling through the distorted waters vibration, he could barely make out words–’Nice to meet you,’ he heard. He struggled harder, kicking at the dark tangles that wrapped around his legs and begged him to stay and play. Right in front of him, the water started to grow thin, clear, and easily parted as the light grew stronger; his hand reached once again, feeling as a warm one gently grabbed a hold of him and pulled, guiding him through the waters as the world around him grew more and more bright until he started to go blind. He held his eyes shut tight for a while, feeling as the water on his skin started to dry because of the warmth they gave off. For once, he could hear clearly; slowly, he opened his eyes to bear witness to the sun god themselves as the smile on their lips moved to speak– ‘My name’s MC’.

You make me happy, when skies are grey.

With the darkness always nipping at his ankles, it was easy to wallow in the rain as the sky cried for him. Or was it because of him? He wouldn’t be surprised whichever way it may be, but he didn’t mind watching the clouds. Most of the time, they were comforting—like looking into a mirror as the darkness and grey reminded him of his own appearance—or maybe he simply tricked himself into thinking they were there for comfort? After a break in the clouds allowed him a single glance at clear blue sky and the warm of a ray of sun on his skin, he quickly realized that being pelted by rain was no way to live.

On his darkest days, he can always count on a genuine smile from MC. A text, a call, a distraction, even the slightest bit of a hug or form of affection is enough to melt away anything that dared to hang over the warlock. On days he feels the threads tangle around his throat, he seeks out MC before realizing that his feet are even moving.  

Just basking in their very presence is harmony. It’d been far too long for him to remember the last time he felt true peace or ignorant bliss, but something about them made him feel like a child; free, playful, his youth bounding and laughter that causes a cold burn in his lungs. When he was with them, it felt like they were both children, innocent and sweet.

They’d run through the tall grass, arms out with hands brushing through the flowers, causing petals to sweep along with the wind. Their game of tag was full of smiles and laughs, the air was warm and sweet. They’d speak of such beautiful imaginations, what-if’s and rambles about anything that made them smile. It came so easy.  

He’d visit them at the House of Lamentation, under the ruse of a study session or to watch and discuss a show with them—he knew he was only there to exist near them and found it hard to focus. If they sensed any sort of ill-feeling from him, they’d jump into what he called their ‘protective mode’; they’d make it known that they were open to listening to him, and coddle him as though they were trying to shield him from the world. It made him feel loved.  

Their hands through his hair as he lay his head on their lap, the room perfectly warm, the silence comfortable. Solomon was always happy.

You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.

All his thoughts consisted of them. He felt like a small school boy with such a crush that weighed heavy on his heart. Everything they did was beautiful; every word spoken was golden, every movement soft and fluid like clouds—they sparkled like stars and comforted like the moon. His eyes, his heart, his skin and his soul could never get enough.  

His eyes followed them wherever they went—he tried to keep them to himself, but he couldn’t. Subconsciously, he’d smile when they did, he’d bite their lips as they spoke—even if it wasn’t to him—he’d reach out and try to touch them however he could even if it was just a brush to the hand. He loved them. He loved them so much that he no longer knew what to do with himself.

The sun, logically and scientifically, causes hormones in the brain to release serotonin. Solomon knew this. Of course, his sun would make him feel so happy that he just might melt. Warm, happy, fuzzy both in his gut and in his mind—they made him feel good. They made him feel happy. They made him feel safe, as they’ve parted the clouds just for him and reached into the depths of the dark just to offer him their hand. They made him feel loved.

He could never express that. All the magic in the world couldn’t help him find the right words to convey any of it to them. Did he even deserve the chance to do so? He wanted to even if he didn’t, but it was clear from the get-go that it was never going to happen.

MC stood across the room, leaving him mid-conversation for one of the demon brothers who said it was urgent they speak to them. Solomon couldn’t hear their conversation, but body language said enough. The way they stood, leaned in close, eyes sparkling and smile even brighter, he’d seen enough to know. He didn’t need to see anymore.

He slipped by them without saying a word, heading to his room—to solitude. The dark hands shot out the moment he opened the room to the darkness that greeted him, not bothering to turn on a light. On his bed he sat, staring at what he assumed was the floor, but was too dark to see. He could feel it—the heavy weight of the hands that ran along his body now; they were dark, cold, full of anger and hatred as they wrapped around every inch of his body, wrapping tightly around his throat until he could no longer breathe.

Solomon slumped over, noticing there wasn’t so much as a light from under his door, or MC’s name on his phone. What else could he do? He held his face in his hands as his breathing became uneven.

His body involuntarily started to break into an ugly sob. He didn’t realize it was going to rain today; when did the clouds return? There was a pain in his chest that twisted like a knife had ripped through him. He coughed, sputtered, and thought there may as well have been his own blood on his hands. Solomon laid on his back and immediately the abyss sat on his chest, crushing his lungs and causing his sobs to falter; it hurt. That’s all he could think of—it hurt. He wanted to cry out for MC.  

In the darkness, his eyes played tricks on him as though he could see the ghosts of the sun still in front of him. Reaching out, he was met with nothing.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.  

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for…” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“…..What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait–”  

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege’s attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day–”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now–”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one–”

“You could do it!”

“–and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord–”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes–”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting–”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See… what, exactly?”

“The–”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“….. I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You… had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but… I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But–”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it–”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”  

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he’d have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so… emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean… here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here–”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al…right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems…” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know–”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”  

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something… but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs–”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in… to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m–”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess…” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought… if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.  

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

Sweaty Palms. {Beelzebub x Reader/MC}

A/N: i just think holding hands with beel would be so NICE and to slowly realize you fell in love with him through the presence of said hands? HHHNNNGGG

{Beelzebub x Reader/MC}

The way their hands fit in his was like a dream.

His was much larger than theirs, but it fit perfectly so that he could wrap his around in a protective manner. Theirs was always so soft while his was rough. His warmed their cold ones each and every time. He’d rub his thumb over their knuckles, they’d draw circles on the back of his. His hands felt empty if theirs weren’t there too. They held his hand each time they slept near one another, walked next to each other, or any time he didn’t need both hands to snack or otherwise, really. It was as though they were meant to be together. Their hands were pairs, please do not separate. He learned that meme from MC, too.

Beelzebub never thought much about it—it was simply something they did. It was a comfort, to him at least, and he hoped they felt the same way about it. It became natural, to constantly find his hand occupied; he was so used to it, he would fumble if he were to use two hands for something.  

One thing MC did not anticipate, however, was how dependent they would become on the presence of their hand. Would they always get this cold before? How about this lonely? The idea of “empty” was something Beel could not wrap his head around, but MC felt what they could only describe as such a hurtful feeling whenever the spaces between their fingers were bare. It was a slow realization; feelings crept up from corners of shadows inch by inch and met their eyes before they could even think about it. If he didn’t see the same level of intimacy within their hand-holding anymore, how were they supposed to face him?

Their hands started to get clammy a lot more often, having the need to excessively apologize and break away to wipe it off on their shirt. They grew nervous with each questioning glance, and brushed it off as they were just stressed about something else, or it was simply just too hot in there. They’d hesitate to offer their hand, take far too long to grab onto his in public, and “pretend” to already be asleep if they were napping together to avoid holding his hand. They felt horrible as they started to notice the flicker of sadness pass through his eyes before they gave in each time, but couldn’t bring themselves to bring up the topic. What if they caught feelings for him, but he didn’t feel the same way back? What if they ruin the relationship the two of them have because of it? What if it ruins the idea of holding hands for Beel forever? What if—their hands were sweaty again.

Beel wouldn’t stay quiet forever. He’d take notice of their behaviour and start to wonder—did he do something wrong? Maybe they didn’t like holding his hand anymore? No, that didn’t seem to be it, because they still would if he offered it. Did he make them feel uncomfortable? That seemed more plausible, but why? What did he do? He’d intertwine his fingers with theirs, only to notice they not-so-subtly refused to let their palm rest against his.  

“MC, you know, we always hold hands.” He let go and turned to look them in the eyes, determined to fix whatever he had done, “Why are you acting weird?”

Their eyes grew wide and they blubbered like a fish, opening and closing their mouth as they struggled to come up with an answer only to stutter what half-baked excuses they could think of.  

“Was it… something I did?” he looked like a kicked puppy, eyes almost brimming with tears though it were obvious he was holding them back. “What can I do to fix it?”

“No!” their shout startled him, so they sheepishly recoiled and rubbed the back of their neck. “I mean, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s… it’s stupid; it’s a problem with me. I mean, it’s a problem I’m dealing with. It has nothing to do with you. I mean, it does—not in a bad way, I mean–”

They continued rambling, noticeably getting more and more bothered by whatever was on their mind as well as how terribly they kept eating their words trying to explain themselves. Beel thought long and hard about their actions and facial expressions rather than focusing on the words coming out of their mouth. The flushed look to their skin, the way their eyes seemed to focus on anything but him all while seemingly longing for something they wouldn’t speak about. He paused a moment as the shock set in, and simply gave a gentle smile before grabbing their hand once again, tighter than he normally did, and made sure they held his back and simply turned and continued walking, tugging them along despite their cries.

“It’s okay MC, I like you too.”

Tug-o-War {Leviathan x Reader/MC}

A/N: Just something I thought would be fun. I can definitely see Levi being the kind of asshole to pull on the string just to get more room for himself asdklfh plus, I’m a big sucker for soulmate aus :sob:

{Leviathan x Reader/MC}

Leviathan didn’t enjoy socializing.  

He actively avoided leaving his room, and didn’t waste his time with trying to get close to the “normies” who surrounded him in the universe. He was alone and didn’t mind it so long as he had his passions to keep him company—and Henry. He liked Henry’s presence.  

The tug on his finger was annoying, and at times he would find himself enraged by the fact it caused him such an inconvenience. Rhythm games were almost impossible to do and if he dared to knock over any of his figurines again, he just might call upon Lotan to punish him for his own crimes. Levi would trip over nothing, run into door frames, and worst of all, there were times this stupid string of his would pull so suddenly he’d fly out of his chair. It had him enraged, and he was ready for it to be gone. The taut string was infuriating and limited his movements far more than he liked, but no matter what he attempted to do to cut it some slack, it never seemed to work. Scissors would break under the sheer pressure he put them other, and magic simply backfired if he used it on the red line between him and whoever else.  

He was told it was supposedly attached to his “soulmate”, or whatever. He was well aware of the trope—he’s seen enough anime to get the gist—but he didn’t care to find out who was on the other end. Sure, the idea of a soulmate was enticing; someone who was perfectly crafted to be your match while you were crafted the same way? The two of you meant to be together in some way, shape, or form, enriching each other’s lives and making each day worth living—he wasn’t interested. All he cared about was what surrounded him and made him happy in his present state.

Levi had gotten used to the limitation on his movements; he could reach the corner of his room if he stretched as far as possible and duck underneath his desk to plug something in so long as he stuck his other hand out from underneath it. Lately, however, he found it severely odd that he was able to move a bit more freely. He was able to do whatever he wanted; spin in his chair, go wherever he pleased (his idol meet-ups were the only places he died to go, however), and found that he could even pull on this annoying little string of his. He’d yank on the cord sincerely hard at all hours of the day, hoping to inflict some sweet revenge on whoever had caused him to struggle for so long. Every time he watched the string drop a bit more, indicating the person on the other end may have fallen on their face, he couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. Levi would admit it did make him feel a bit frightened to know it insinuated that the person on the other end could potentially be much closer to him than they were before.

No, he didn’t care about soulmates. His soulmate was the very love he had for his anime, his games, his idols—for Ruri-chan! Levi couldn’t care less about the person on the other end. They were probably some normie anyway, and he had no time for that. Late at night, however, while he looked at his reflection in the loading screen, he wondered just what they might have been like. It didn’t mean he would seek them out, just… curious. Months had passed; he no longer paid attention to how the string seemed to neither pull at him nor wiggle about.  

Dammit, he needed his money back from Mammon. Luckily, he could hear his older brother’s annoying voice ring out from downstairs so he reluctantly made a move to meet him there, moaning and groaning about how disgusting he thought Mammon’s greedy actions were. Orange eyes were trained on his feet as he walked, his thoughts wandering between the idea of forcing the money he needed right then out of his brother, or demanding everything that was owed to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the stupid string around his finger once again and sighed, playing around with it a bit; what he realized made him stop in his tracks, however.

He could see the string. Well, he could always see the piece around his finger, and every so often a glimpse of a piece just a bit away from him—but never so much of it at one time. It didn’t give any sort of strain nor slack either. An overwhelming sense of panic took over his body, and he decided to give it a bit of a test; as he had done several times before, he grabbed a hold of the red cord and pulled it back, hard. Below him, he heard a loud thud as someone had fallen to the floor and Mammon call out to whoever it had been. Quickly, his heartbeat was the only thing he could hear pounding in his ears as each step he took towards the two bodies downstairs were so shaky he wondered if he could even do it without falling down.

The person on the other end was there? In the hallway? In his house? In Devildom? It was a fact he just couldn’t fathom. He didn’t care—he had been saying it for what felt like forever– but why did the pit of his stomach feel so jittery that it hurt? He felt like he was waiting in line at a handshake event with his favourite idol; his hands were shaking and sweaty and he couldn’t quit fidgeting. It was as though he could feel every cell in his body at once and they were all shouting to the point his body felt like old TV static. He didn’t care. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care. With each step closer to the mystery person, the louder the ringing in his ear seemed to get.

Levi couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes for a moment when he heard Mammon call out to him; instead of looking towards the person with him, he trained his gaze onto the white-haired male and put all of his focus into blocking out his peripheral vision. As his brother spoke, his mind easily snapped back to the task at hand—chewing him out for his money back. He hounded him, threatening him as he normally did, only to be blown off as he attempted to inch his way down the hall; calling after him was useless, Mammon had taken off running, leaving Levi with the so-called “soulmate”. Their presence behind him was heavy, and he faced away from them as long as possible. Maybe they wouldn’t notice it was him? Maybe they wouldn’t realize and rather fear him, knowing he was a demon? Maybe they didn’t care—he sure didn’t. Not at all.  

“Um, excuse me…” their voice was heavenly. Levi could feel his ears turn red and a shiver crawl painfully slow up his spine. “Leviathan… right? Your brothers mentioned you–”

Their voice wavered, the words dying in their throat. Were they nervous? He wasn’t. He wiped his hands on his pants before turning to look at their feet. Orange eyes dragged up their frame to meet theirs that looked like they gleamed like the stars were supposed to. He didn’t care.  

“I’m MC,” they played with the perfect little bow wrapped around their finger. He watched them bite their lip ever so slightly and subconsciously mirrored their movements. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. They could be the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, as though they fell from heaven alongside him, so terrifyingly perfect he couldn’t even wrap his head around it and he wouldn’t bat an eye. His throat was dry—he was gaming all night beforehand, that was why. It was hot in the house, that’s why his hands were sweaty; no, it was cold in there, that’s why he was shaking.  

Deflecting their question, he put a bit of disgust behind his voice as he spoke to them, telling them to make a pact with Mammon. He didn’t care if they did, he just wanted his money. He didn’t care if they got close to his brother. Levi ignored the pain in his chest as he thought about it. He ignored the confused, and somewhat sad, look to their face as he kept talking.

He doesn’t care about meeting some stupid normie that would be his “soulmate”. He didn’t care at all. He just wanted to go back to his room and watch the new episode he’d been waiting for, maybe get some food since his stomach had been churning the entire time he stood there. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t–

Why did his heart beat so loudly in his ears, then?

Pride.

A/N: Not me sharing a creative writing class assignment from last semester that i wrote about lucifer because i am a simp and im fairly certain my entire class and professors thought i was some devil worshipper. Nuh uh. Not me. Wrong bitch

anyway HELLO i’ve been gone a while due to life but i have a handful of stuff for you! ★

Ghosts roam these halls, though they all look like her.

His eyes still haven’t adjusted; shadows creep away to hide

but for some reason, they all seem to look

like either of them. Perhaps they were? Were they the scorched

remains of their passion that illuminated against the walls?

His feet were heavy, dragging along the floor

the panels of wood creaking like the post to that

old bed of his. He was pride embodied,

chest puffed and chin up, a lazy smile across his lips;

he was graced by the goddess herself,

allowing him a sinful dance with the devil

for the night as the moonlight made her look

so beautiful. As warm as their bodies had been

together, his body felt so cold now that the sunlight has

touched his skin, and her hands were no longer there

to provide the burns. Her ghost was the only thing left

to haunt him in the morning.