#ooc: i want to gnaw on this thread

[ghostsandmirrors]

The already faltering grip that he'd had on his reactions slipped just a little more at the careful agreement. A small, silent, jerky sob escaped him before he forced it all back down, because weapons don't weep, and just stayed still, stayed with his face pressed against Steve as if he were trying to find safety and comfort in the crook of his neck and the collar of his shirt, as if nothing but this feeling could repair the hairline fractures in the dam.

In truth, the consideration and the fact that Steve's agreement was so careful made it worse, made it harder to plug the holes. He'd thought about it and come to the same conclusion, and it wasn't enough to find another bottom to tear out of that pit but it was enough to hurt. It was enough to start at the beginning of the spiral again, or maybe it was the middle, or maybe it was a new spiral altogether that could go lower and lower and lower until the way out was a distant memory, until escape was a fantastical dream, a held out hope with no evidence of reality.

That spiral suddenly seemed very cold and very quiet, with the buzzing of decades old electricity and the thuds of heavy, booted footsteps being so clear.

Later, it would probably be freeing, the idea that he wasn't truly tied to those memories, to that legacy. It'd be no big deal when he didn't feel like a walking deception, an act put on to lower Steve's defenses like he was still trying to complete his mission and had just found a more effective way to manage it. It'd be a memory he'd like to forget, because showing Steve any of this almost felt like he was hinting at horrors that Steve didn't need to have plaguing him, inviting him to lose sleep over things that Steve had never been able to stop, that he would never be able to blame Steve for.

Later, he would pretend it hadn't happened, because he'd had practice; because pretending everything was fine was far easier than acknowledging that it wasn't; because he'd never wanted Steve to worry about him.

Because weapons didn't weep and assets didn't need kindness or comfort. Weapons didn't weep, and assets didn't want, and he was fighting so hard not to do either that he couldn't also fight the hissed thoughts that he could never be brave enough, could never be good enough, could never be enough, and here was the proof; even Steve agreed.

Later, he'd be able to argue against those thoughts, and everything else that Steve had said would feel neutral. It may even all make sense, when he next remembered it while laying awake, staring up at the ceiling with stinging eyes and cotton wool replacing his brain, too tired to even consider trying to silence the whispers in his head for long enough to sleep. It wouldn't feel like it did now; like Steve had given up on getting his Bucky back and was settling for the monster who'd killed him and taken his place, the imposter in his arms.

"Y'deserve him."

His voice was quiet, broken, shattered into a million cracked pieces, and muffled against him, as if saying these words into Steve's shirt or skin or his own tears would make them easier to hear. "How-…" He cut himself off, suddenly uncertain. He hadn't been able to say what he'd wanted to before, that he wanted to be his Bucky--because assets didn't want things--and this question could sound too much like a desperate, last-ditch attempt at being good enough for redemption, because his Bucky had been good enough, at least for Steve. Maybe it was. Maybe he thought it was, in that moment, in that spiral, unable to find the way out.

"How do I be him? "

Some part of him realized, far too late, that it wasn't fair to ask. It wasn't fair to ask how he could pretend to be the bait Steve had been lured in with, how he could drag his Bucky back from where he'd been dumped and left to die slowly, painfully, by agents who were 'just doing their jobs' so that he could copy him. That part of him snapped, and he was sure he heard it break in the moment before whatever part of him were still in tact crumbled so completely that all he could do was cling, holding on like he was afraid of what could happen if he didn't.

"M'sorry." It was all he could say between the silent sobs that tore at his throat like they were trying to escape, trying to open him up, trying to rip a big enough hole in him to reveal that emptiness, the hollowness of that cavernous ribcage, shine light on the ravenous depths, make Steve aware of what he was holding.

"M'sorry." His right hand hurt from the grip on Steve's shirt, clenched too tightly while he tried to stop his entire being from collapsing in on itself, trying to stop his physical being from buckling and becoming a pile of… whoever he was, because at this point he wasn't sure he could recognize any of the piece, wasn't sure he could fit them back in the right places.

"M'sorry." The pain in his throat from trying to stay silent had turned his apologies into a whimpered whisper, a too-quiet plead to not be abandoned in these ruins. "M'sorry." A beg from a ghost to not be left at the bottom of those depths, to at least have his body returned for Steve to properly mourn. "M'sorry."

I'm not him.

That whole sentence shattered Steve to his core. It left him feeling vulnerable and weak in his heart. He wasn't him. He wasn't the boy he grew up with. He wasn't the man that saved him numerous times. He didn't see the same person when he looked in the mirror as Steve did. He didn't see Bucky Barnes, Bucky didn't see the amazing person that he was. He saw the weapon, didn't he? He saw all the chaos and everything that he was forced to reckon.

Steve paused considering the situation. It wouldn't be right to agree and tell him it was Steve's fault that he was changed. That everything would have been the same if Steve would have looked. He could have had the best care given to Bucky and he could have been a disabled veteran home safe. He could have been resting and recovering while Steve fought the frontlines. But Bucky wouldn't have wanted that. Would he? He would have wanted to be by Steve's side just like Steve wanted to fight in the 107th the minute Bucky was drafted.

"You're not him." He agreed, understanding to some degree and bringing his hand to rest on Bucky's cheek that he could see exposed. That wasn't hiding in his shirt threatening to burrow deep inside.

"You're you. You've been changed by the events but they don't define you. You have the chance to remake yourself and be what you think you are now. Not what they made you. Not what I knew before. You can be a whole new person but the first step? Is coming out of the shade and telling me you're not afraid."

He wasn't even sure what he was doing now. He felt like he was grabbing at straws. "I deserve you. Because I deserve to be with someone that thinks I deserve more and would fight for me to have the best that I could possibly have even if they think it isn't them. Especially if they think it isn't them."

[altarfates]

ok there you go bam.

Those memories remain amorphous, lingering at his peripherals their potency fluctuates between gentle, gossamer threads reminiscent of the full moon’s luminous silver and harsh dissonance of demolition as it eradicated the last vestiges of that once resplendent dream. His bare feet walk a solitary path between the tenebrous sky punctuated by thousands of scintillating stars and the village below where voices chorus mellifluously heralding his arrival. Effervescent joy compels his gait forth, eager feet gracefully ascending over jutting rocks and verdant foliage until he stands before the precipice overlooking the lambent light emanating from a fire below. It was always initially clumsy, the transformation from four paws disturbing fallen leaves as he careened through the undergrowth and onto two feet, fingers splayed against old, furrowed bark and tracing it reverentially as he reoriented himself. Yet the night was in its infancy and the festivities would persist until dawn’s golden radiance chased the last vestiges of darkness from the sky and how fervently they would dance until their souls ached with the prosperity they evoked in him. When he stares amongst the cubes of ice eroded by a listless tide of amber liquor he can almost recall what it felt like to feel the dirt beneath his paws and the enticing breeze ruffling his fur. It was a preferable deceit, the longer Ki surrounded himself with their degeneracy the more he realized that these were not the same humans who had supplicated him for abundance. their avarice was insatiable, grotesquely stuffing their mouths with their chosen vice until they grew corpulent. as he observes them, pouring another drink, the coalescence of complimentary colours twisting into something morbid, he has to remind himself that hunger is but another emotion he was capable of repressing. This bar was the sort of sordid establishment that showed no courtesy to its transient patrons, one hideous visage wouldn’t be missed within a sea of similarly vile, nondescript humans. That was why he allowed it to accommodate him, filth incongruous to one who had once been so dignified, debased until he was nothing more than an egregious stain on that once pristine life. As long as he could survive in the bowels of that city ━ he would do whatever it took.

Character name: Aki / Ki Age: unknown. hundreds of years. he looks to be in his mid to late twenties. Species ( ? ) : he was a harvest deity who took on the original appearance of a fox but now, after being stripped of his divinity he only has his fluffy ears and tail, these are often hidden behind a glamour. He is no longer able to take his divine form, it’s been all but lost to him. Job: he works at a bar run by questionable people, it’s often the location for discreet dealings both with other supernatural entities and humans. he acts as an intermediary between his benefactor, their underlings and the rest of the world. the bar serves as a place for meetings, reunions and often deals in death. he owes those people a great deal for offering him an inconspicuous way to continuing living after a run in with some exorcists and thus is seemingly loyal to them and acts in their best interest. Personality: sharp witted and incisive he’s quick to adapt to any situation, however, his mordant sense of humour and lack of patience when it comes to foolishness have often led him to bicker with the bar’s patrons. despite this his actual personality seems rather ambiguous, most of the time he’s relying on an effortless facade to steer him through interactions with others. It’s hard to recognize the once innocent and gracious god he had been centuries ago. most often he complies with his benefactor’s ambitions and has found that his personality has become more malleable the longer he’s been stationed behind that bar serving a vast variety of clients. 

[pookalicious-hq]

Tolerate It.

Paige Bueckers x reader || next: n/a || masterlist

(there will be a pt 2!!)

notes: ANGST , ooc paige cuz obviously she isn't this mean, also not really a lot of paige sorry- sorta setting it up for the caitlin picking up the pieces in the second part.

now playing: tolerate it by taylor swift

(Y/n) would not do this to herself again. The warmth that once kissed her features had long since burned out. Her head hung low, eyes tracing the trail of melted wax pooling under the once-lit candle. Each droplet seemed to echo the tears she dared not shed.

How long had it been? The streetlights pouring in through the windows had been the only thing capable of illuminating the empty chair. Unfortunately, that allowed (Y/n) to continue to remind herself that someone was supposed to be sitting across from her.

Her absence was equally overwhelming as her presence. She sat atop a pedestal of achivements. Before, they had been equals, minds intertwined through a delicate thread of gold. Eventually, she rose too far for (Y/n) to reach.

As (Y/n) stared into the flickering flame, the room felt suffocatingly silent. The oppressive stillness was broken only by the faint hum of the streetlights outside, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The empty chair stood as a silent reminder of her absence, its weight pressing down on (Y/n) 's heart like a leaden anchor.

It seemed as though now, Paige only tolerated her love.

The click of an unlocked door echoed throughout their shared apartment, bouncing off the walls.

Steps sounded, their treads light, careful not to disturb the sleeping night.

(Y/n) kept her gaze locked on the wall ahead, lest her tears fell as she found Paige’s blameless eyes.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting.”

Paige’s face carried no regret. Her eyes shut, breath from the depths of her lungs was let out in a sigh. 

From her seat, (Y/n) craned her neck upwards to meet Paige’s unbothered gaze. She searched within Paige’s eyes, there laid not even a hint of remorse.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, (Y/n) .” 

She felt the weight of Paige's words like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. The ache in her chest deepened, a gnawing emptiness that threatened to consume her whole. She struggled to find her voice, to articulate the storm of emotions raging within her.

"You don't know?" (Y/n) 's voice rang with a mixture of hurt and indignation. "Of course you wouldn’t know how it feels to wait for someone."

Paige's expression remained impassive, unmoved by (Y/n) 's pain. It was a familiar sight, one that she had grown accustomed to over time. The realization only fuelled the bitterness welling up inside her. Wood gathered under her nails, scratched off as she gripped the table. Whether it be for stability or out of anger.

"I'm tired of waiting for scraps of affection, Paige," (Y/n) 's voice wavered, betraying the depth of her despair. "Why can’t you see me."

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of their breathing. In the dim light of the room, (Y/n) could see the weariness etched into Paige's features, a reflection of her own exhaustion. She always wondered how Paige could be so oblivious to her pleas for affection. 

Long ago, Paige had thrown her weight onto (Y/n) , overwhelming her senses all at once. Perhaps dulling out what their relationship really meant. When Paige suddenly stopped reciprocating anything, (Y/n) had been thrown off balance. Where had the longing gazes departed to? The warmth coursing through both their veins turned cold. Though it had been evident who was was capable of living that way.

"I know," Paige finally spoke, her voice soft but devoid of warmth. "And I'm sorry."

Eyes shut, (Y/n) scoffed. “So?” She questioned, surely that wasn’t all Paige had to say.

It was all she ever did. Early on, (Y/n) worshiped those little apologies. Welcoming them as they had been all she had wanted to hear from her lover. Soon enough, it had been clear that Paige was accustom to using empty words.

And so, (Y/n) found herself trapped in a cycle of longing and despair, unable to escape the crushing weight of her unrequited affection. 

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want?” At this point Paige stood, exasperated and defensive. Her eyes turned sower, expression twisted as she took in the state of (Y/n) before her. 

“Where did you go?” (Y/n) questioned, her voice down to a whisper.  As the candle burned low, casting eerie shadows that danced like ghosts in the darkness, (Y/n) knew she would not do this to herself again. But the ache in her heart, the echo of her lover's absence, remained as a haunting reminder of what she had lost.

“Why are you so sensitive? I just came back from Em’s, calm down.” The answer shot out, burrying it’s resentment into (Y/n) ’s gut and spreading throughout her blood.

“No, Paige,” At last, the table became stained with tears. Ever so slowly, (Y/n) ’s heart broke. “Did you ever love me?”

(Y/n) s heart sank as she waited for an answer that would never come. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and shattered dreams. With a heavy heart, she rose from her seat, her gaze lingering on Paige's impassive form for a moment longer before turning away.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, (Y/n) felt a weight lift from her shoulders, a sense of liberation washing over her like a cleansing tide. The streets were deserted, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights overhead. 

The night air was cool against her skin. (Y/n) breathed it in deeply, letting go of the pain and disappointment that had held her captive for so long. 

She left behind the empty promises and broken dreams of her past. She walked with her head held high, her heart filled with hope for the possibilities that lay ahead. And as she disappeared into the night, leaving behind the echoes of a love that was never meant to be, she knew that she was finally free.

a/n: OKAY HOPE YALL LIKED IT (may or may not be based off of my own experiences-) sorry for not that much Paige, but send in more requestssss LOVE YALL MWAH

[saetoshi]

corazón de melón.

tldr; the one time you have a proper conversation with itoshi sae ends up unleashing a series of events you never imagined could’ve happened.

wc. 10.2k

¿?: roommates to lovers, college!au, idiots in love, this is pure domesticity tbh, fluff, lowk word vomit, ooc-ish sae (he’s a silly lil guy sometimes this is the hill i’ll die on), slow burn ig ??, swearing, someone’s mean to you (not sae), not proofread (no surprise)

a/n: i have so many emotions in my heart for sae, SOMEONE SEDATE ME PLEASE FREE ME FROM HIM I CANT LIVE NORMALLY ANYMORE, turned rue into a sae liker for this so real of me, @rintosei, enjoy ur meal my children this is probably the longest thing i’ll write in a hot minute

when others think of itoshi sae, many words come to mind: genius, talented, jerk, asshole, rude, mean, scary, lashes, pretty—the list goes on. 

you have no particular thoughts about sae. all he is to you is your roommate. you’d like to have an opinion of him, but that seems impossible with the way you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him with one hand.

though, if you had to be honest, the only common thread in the few interactions you’ve had is that he very clearly does not care for your company—or anyone’s company, for that matter. 

not that you blame him. if you had to deal with having to go to practice after a day of classes, you wouldn’t want to interact with anyone else, either. (you’d also not have the energy to do anything.)

it’s why you’re used to hearing him get back to the apartment while you’re eating dinner; why you started leaving some leftovers for him to eat whenever he wants to.

it’s also why you’re surprised when he comes back from practice earlier than usual. you jump when you hear the front door open, placing your hand over your heart.

your turn to the door, eyes widening slightly when you see sae walk in. you don’t greet him—you never do—you don’t think he’d appreciate it. (he never greets you either, so you assumed it was fine.)

so, you turn your attention back to the tv, reaching out to grab the broom. you quickly start sweeping, humming a tune while the noise of whatever drama is playing in the background fills the apartment. 

you barely register that sae’s door doesn’t open, but the thought quickly leaves your mind when something dramatic happens to one of the leads. 

you take a step back, an unceremonious yelp leaving your lips when your back bumps into something. a second passes by before you slowly tilt your head back.  

your eyes are met with a pair of teal ones. a sheepish smile tugs at your lips, “hi?” 

he raises a brow, “what are you doing?”

“cleaning.” you move the broom from side to side in hopes to draw his attention to it. (he barely glances at it before his eyes snap back to yours.)

you take a step forward, moving to face him. he just stares at you. an awkward silence settles between the two of you.

“you’re back early.” you hope he didn’t hear your voice crack.

he blinks, clearly uninterested. “practice ended early.” 

you hum, nervously bouncing on the balls of your feet. you huff, tapping your fingers against the broom. “i see.”

it’s clear both of you feel uncomfortable. still, neither of you makes a move to leave. you’re more surprised sae’s still standing in front of you. (sae’s mildly intrigued you’re attempting to talk to him.)

you open your mouth to speak, but promptly shut it close. you repeat the action two more times before sae interrupts you, “what?”

your eyes drift away from his. you gnaw on your bottom lip. “it’s nothing.”

he glares at you. “just spit it out.”

your eyes widen, snapping back to look at him as you dismissively wave your hand. “it’s really nothing, you can just leave!”

“you clearly have something you want to say to me,” he deadpans, “so i suggest you get it over with so we can put an end to this lukewarm conversation.”

you take a deep breath, wiping one hand against your shirt, gently swaying the broom with the other. “i was just wondering, y’know since you’re back early–”

“hurry up.”

“do you wanna eat together?” you look at the ground, feet shuffling uncomfortably. the silence feels unbearable. 

“that’s it?” the confusion in his voice confuses you. you lift your eyes to stare at him, confusion etched in your face.

your head tilts to the side in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that’s it’?” 

“you wanna eat with me?” he points at himself. his brows knit when you nod. sae owlishly blinks, 

“okay.”

his eyes widen in confusion when he sees an elated smile bloom on your lips. 

“i won’t start cooking yet, since i at least have to finish sweeping,” you hum, “but if you’re hungry you could get started on something and i’ll join you when i’m done.”

“i can’t cook.” sae awkwardly coughs. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking away from you, a soft flush spreading through his cheeks.

“oh,” you blink, smiling at him. “that’s fine! i can cook something while you clean instead.”

the blush on his cheeks deepens as his brows furrow.  “i don’t know how to clean.”

your smile tightens, eyes squinting as you inch closer to him.

there’s a beat of silence. “what can you do then?”

“play football.” you wait a few seconds for him to say something else. 

“that’s it?”

“yeah.” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. (as if it was the only thing that mattered.)

you rub your forehead, a dry laugh escaping your lips. 

if you were to tell others of this discovery you’re sure they wouldn’t believe you. you’re not even sure you believe him, yourself.

at least you didn’t, until he took the broom from your grasp. you have to bite back your laughter when he can’t even hold it properly. you wonder how he’d manage to survive alone.

itoshi sae is basically useless outside of football, you conclude. (and you’re not sure if this is the opinion you want to have about your roommate.)

it’s been a week since you learned about sae’s lack of ability to do seemingly anything other than kick a ball around.

it’s also been a week since he started coming back from practice earlier. you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand, you find it strangely comforting knowing you’re not alone in the apartment. on the other, sae just stares at you while you clean.

you’re sick of feeling his eyes follow you around. it feels like a predator watching its prey. having his eyes trail you makes you feel judged, and you’ve had enough.

so, you tighten your grip around the mop in your hands, turning around to look at sae. you take a deep breath, “why are you staring at me?”

he blinks, propping an arm on a couch cushion and leaning his head into his palm. “i’m trying to learn.”

confusion paints itself all over your face, “learn what?” 

“learn to clean.” you hate when he says things like they’re the most obvious thing ever. it makes you feel as if he expects you to know what goes on in his head.

“by staring at me?” you raise a brow. 

he simply shrugs, “i’m a visual learner.”

you don’t know if you believe him. 

so, you place one of your hands on your hips, tilting the mop back and forth with the other one. “in that case, you should try cleaning today.”

his eyes widen, mouth curling into a fine line. “i don’t think i’m ready for that.”

you take a step closer to him, holding the mop out to him. “well, i think that after a week of watching me you should start practicing what you’ve learned.”

“don’t ever think again.” he frowns.

“oh, please,” you roll your eyes, “don’t tell me the itoshi sae is afraid of a little mopping.”

that makes him get up. you bite back the satisfied smile threatening to creep up your face when he snatches the mop from your hands.

“i’m just supposed to move this side to side, right?” he stiffly holds the mop, looking at you with a raised brow.

“‘m not gonna help you out,” you make your way to the couch, mimicking his earlier position. “if you’ve been learning from staring at me for a week then you should know what to do.”

“i know what to do.” he rolls his eyes, “i just don’t know how to do it.”

“figure it out, then.” you lean forward against the palm of your hand, trying to hide your smile behind your fingers.

he glares at you and scoffs, redirecting his attention to the object in his hands. you fail to stifle your laughter when he moves the mop in a sweeping motion.

“don’t laugh!” his grip tightens around the mop, heat rushing to his ears. 

you bite your tongue, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips, “i’m not.”

he tsks, slightly pouting. he walks towards you, dragging the mop behind him. you look up at him, you eyes flutter closed when he flicks your forehead. 

“teach me.” your eyes snap open, flickering to meet his. a confused noise leaves your lips as your brows furrow. 

“teach you what?” your eyes flutter when he flicks your forehead again.

sae’s eye twitches in annoyance, “are you stupid or something?”

you glare at him, “not everyone thinks the same things you do!”

he clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. he points at the mop and then at himself. “teach me to clean.”

“i thought you said you were a visual learner.” you deadpan. 

“consider this your punishment for laughing at me.” he huffs, a condescending smile blooming on his lips when he sees your pained expression.

his face leans closer to yours, “i look forward to learning from you, teach.”

you dumbly stare at him as he places the mop in your hands. he flashes you a shit-eating grin before retreating to his room. you blink twice before coming to your senses, punching the couch cushions in anger. 

you wish you hadn’t found out itoshi sae was a little shit. you much preferred when you only thought of him as your useless roommate. 

itoshi sae is the most infuriating student you’ve ever met. 

you thought someone described as a genius would be a much better student than he actually is. he doesn’t pay attention to anything you say at all. you wonder if his teachers just let him pass the class because they don’t want him around anymore. 

you have a newfound respect for his actual teachers. you don’t know how they manage to stand him for a whole semester when you don’t think you can even last two weeks. (it’s still longer than you expected.)

“sae,” you loudly sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “you’re doing it wrong. again.” 

his grip around the broom tightens, his knuckles turning white, “i’m doing what you told me to do!”

“you’re not!” you groan, running a hand down your face, “gosh, how do you manage to do everything i tell you the wrong way?”

“what, so i’m the problem?” his eyes narrow, he takes a step closer to you, “have you ever thought that maybe you’re a bad teacher?”

an angry gasp leaves your lips, “excuse me?!”

“you heard me.” he grits his teeth, “you’re clearly the most lukewarm teacher ever. how do you expect me to learn when you don’t care about teaching me properly?”

“have you ever considered that maybe i don’t want to teach you because you forced me to?” you rub your temples in a poor attempt to prevent the coming headache.

he scoffs, brows knitting in annoyance, “you could at least put more effort into making sure i’m learning.”

“you think i’m not?” you point him square in the chest, glaring at him. “i’m doing my best here, okay? it’s not my fault you’re a shit student.”

“you–”

“you listen while your teacher is speaking.” you seethe, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “i’m trying to do the best i can. i’m not qualified to teach you anything, especially not with how you don’t even pay attention to what i say!”

he frowns, “well, i–”

you shake him as hard as you can, angry tears pooling in your eyes, “you’re the most ungrateful, useless piece of fucking shit i’ve ever met in my life!”

sae grabs your wrists, letting the broom fall with a clang to the floor. he stares at you with wide eyes. you blink, heat creeping up your face in embarrassment.

there’s a beat of silence. sae’s eyes scan your face. “you good?” 

he lets out a soft sigh of relief when you nod. “are you going to punch me if i let go?”

he relaxes a little when you shake your head. he looks at you as he slowly lets go of your hands. you stare at him, wide eyed as he gently walks you over to the couch and sits you down.

sae plops down on the other end of the couch, glancing at you. he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly closes it. you stop yourself from laughing at his awkwardness. (it reminds you of how you must’ve acted when you talked to him a couple of weeks ago.)

you twist the hem of your shirt in your hands, looking away from sae, gnawing on your bottom lip. “’m sorry about that.”

“don’t apologize.” he coughs awkwardly, crossing his arms, “i probably stressed you out too much.”

“yeah, but, still,” you turn to face him, “i shouldn’t have said something so rude.”

“it’s fine. i really did deserve that, after all.” an amused laugh escapes his lips, “i’ve never heard you so mad before, though.”

you tilt your head to the side, “what do you mean?” 

“i mean,” a hint of amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “you tend to get really loud when you complain about your classes. i can hear you all the way to my room.”

your face heats up in embarrassment. you slump against the couch, hiding your face behind your hands. “sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you slightly relax when you hear a sliver of empathy in his voice. “it’s better to let your emotions out instead of holding them in.”

you lower your hands from your face, staring at him. “do you do that?”

“it depends,” he hums, “feelings are lukewarm most of the time, so when i get angry or whatever i’ll let it out so i can get it over with.”

you narrow your eyes at him, scanning his face. “how does that even work?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, “if i get mad at someone i’ll say it to their face while i’m still mad so i can stop being angry.”

you mull over his words, “so instead of having pent up feelings and reaching your limit, you just act on your emotions as soon as possible so you go back to feeling nothing?”

“pretty much.”

a small hum leaves your lips. silence settles between the two of you before a loud growl echoes through the apartment. laughter bubbles in your chest, spilling out of your mouth when sae’s face flushes.

“shut up!” he hides behind his hands, “i haven’t eaten all day!”

you stand up, walking over and extending a hand out to sae, “wanna help out with dinner?”

he lowers his hands from his face, glancing between your eyes and your hand. he blinks, “i can’t cook.”

“i know,” a smile blooms on your lips, “you can consider it your first lesson.”

sae’s eyes light up, the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly. “you’re still gonna teach me?”

“i can’t let you stay useless forever.” you stick your tongue out at him, smiling when he grabs your hand.

a huff of laughter escapes his lips when you fail to tug him up. you flip him off before leaving him behind on the couch. a smile lingers on his face when he follows you to the kitchen. 

he’s not a good assistant. (and he’s an even worse cook). in fact, if you’d known that letting him into the kitchen would’ve resulted in having to evacuate the building due to the fire alarm, you wouldn’t have asked for his help at all.

however, you do appreciate that he invited you out for dinner later as an apology for stressing you out. 

(it makes you think he’s more considerate than he pretends to be.)

you’ve lost track of the times you’ve had to apologize to your neighbors over sae activating the fire alarm. 

it’s embarrassing enough that seemingly everyone in the complex goes to your college, but sae seems to make it worse by glaring at anyone who so much as looks in your direction with a judgemental stare.

“i can’t keep going on like this,” you cover your face with your hands. you shrink into yourself when you feel multiple eyes staring at the back of your head.

“stop overreacting.” sae clicks his tongue. still, he discreetly grabs the hem of your shirt and gently pulls you closer to his side. 

you lower your hands from your face, frowning at him as tears of shame pool in your eyes. “everyone’s judging us!”

“just ignore them.” he awkwardly pats your head, “they’ll forget about it soon enough.”

“sae, this happens almost every week!” you cry, gnawing your lower lip, “some guy yelled at me last time because we interrupted his studying! do you have any idea how long i had to apologize for?”

his jaw clenches as anger flashes through his face for a split second before his uninterested expression returns. “what’d he look like?”

“i don’t know,” you blink, “he was tall. he also had brown-ish hair, i think?”

he shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of the building, “do you know his apartment number?” 

“no,” you sigh. “why?”

the corners of his lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. “i was thinking of baking him some apology cookies.”

you cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle your laughter. (if everyone was staring at you in judgment for triggering the fire alarm, now they’re judging you for laughing in this situation.)

sae tugs you into the building when you’re all cleared to enter, glaring at a few neighbors who shoot dirty looks at both of you.

you smack his arm, “stop doing that, you’re embarrassing us!”

he scoffs, flipping off anyone who’s still staring, “does it look like i care? they’re all too scared to say anything to my face, anyway.”

“yeah, but they always say shit to me when you’re gone,” you click your tongue, frowning. sae drags you up the stairs to your apartment.

both of you stand in front of your door when sae puts his hands on your shoulders, staring at you in the eyes. his eyes are a pretty shade of teal, you note.

“if anyone gives you shit when you’re alone, just remember what they look like, ‘kay?” he flicks your forehead, a malicious gleam in his eyes, “i’ll make sure to personally apologize for the trouble.”

a smile blooms on your lips, “you’re so mean.”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pinching your cheek, “as your roommate, i’m the only one allowed to give you a hard time.”

“whatever you say, freak,” you rub your cheek, smile widening, swatting his hand away when he reaches out to pinch your other cheek. 

sae bites back a smile as he nods his head toward the door. “did you bring your key?”

you reach into your pockets, feeling around for the key. your head tilts down, eyes widening in panic when you don’t find anything. 

an embarrassed chuckle slips past your lips when you lift your head back up to look at sae. he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“gosh, you’re so useless.” 

you kick his shin, sticking your tongue out at him, “you don’t get to say that to me.”

he sticks his tongue out at you in return, crossing his arms. “whatever. just go and ask the landlord for a key.”

“me?” you raise your brows at him, haughtily tilting your head to the side, “you’re the reason we had to evacuate the building in the first place! i think it’s only fair that you get the key.”

sae opens his mouth to tell you off, but seemingly decides to sigh loudly in annoyed defeat instead, “fine.”

you smile triumphantly, turning to face him, your eyes closing as your chest puffs out in pride. sae rests his index finger on your forehead. your eyes flutter open in confusion at the contact, smile dropping into a curious pout. 

“tell me if anyone bothers you while i’m gone.” he flicks your forehead one last time before turning around and walking away. a content smile blooms on your lips as you stare at his back, sliding down to sit next to the door.

you don’t tell him the tall guy from last time dropped by to yell at you again. sae didn’t even have to ask to tell something was wrong with the way your smile seemed dimmer when you told him you’d take over making lunch.

he doesn’t tell you he’s going to give that asshole the ‘apology’ cookies he’d mentioned before. (and he definitely doesn’t mention that he got his apartment number from the landlord when he got the key to your apartment.) but you had an inkling of what he was going to do when you saw him take out some bowls and a whisk from the cabinets. (you didn’t stop him.)

you bake him some actual ‘thank you’ cookies and place them by his door before heading to your room for the night. the next morning you find a post-it with an ‘anytime’ messily scribbled on it and a ‘thanks for the cookies :)’ on the other side.

you smile fondly at the teal-colored square. you think it resembles the color of his eyes. (it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)

sae’s gotten slightly better at cooking. he’s able to make at least one meal without triggering the fire alarms.

you feel proud. you suppose that’s what teachers feel when their most lazy, unmotivated student finally manages to put effort into something. 

it makes you feel proud enough that you take a detour to the convenience store on your way home. a fond smile lights up your face when you walk out of the store, plastic bag in hand with a chocolate bar and a pack of star stickers.

there’s a skip to your step as you head home, swinging the bag back and forth. 

you’ve barely even opened the door to your apartment when it swings open. your eyes widen in surprise when they meet sae’s. 

his eyes narrow, “what took you so long?”

a slightly burnt scent wafts the apartment. your nose scrunches, “is something burning?”

“answer my question first,” he points the spatula in his hand at you. 

“i got you a reward,” you smile, lifting the bag in your hands. 

his eyes light up, “what’d you get me?”

you quickly hide the bag behind your back when he reaches out for it. “answer my question first.”

a small smile tugs at his lips. he rolls his eyes, “nothing is burning. i turned off the stove before opening the door just to be sure.”

you reach out to pat his head, a teasing smile on your lips, “good job, sae!”

he scoffs, a soft blush dusts his ears. “you make it sound like you’re praising a dog.”

you huff, “stop complaining when you’re getting praised.”

“whatever.” sae pouts, brows knitting, “when are you giving me my gift?”

“so impatient ,” you tsk, shaking your head, “let me in first, i don’t wanna stand in the hallway any longer.”

he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him, kicking the door closed. you bump into his chest, eyes widening as heat rushes to your ears.

the first thing that pops into your mind is that he smells nice. there’s a hint of a burnt scent that clings to him, but he still smells nice. (you note that he feels warm too. it makes you feel warm.)

you feel a slight pressure against your brows. it makes you blink as you slowly snap out of your stupor. 

“you good?” your eyes meet sae’s worried ones. he leans in closer to you, scanning your face. you awkwardly nod. 

his brows furrow. “are you sure? you zoned out for a bit. are your classes stressing you out too much?”

you shake your head, slightly leaning away from him. your lips press into a fine line. sae’s eyes narrow as he scans your face. he steps back, his hands resting on your shoulders. the spatula lightly digs into your skin.

“is it that guy again?” he tightens his grip, making you wince when the spatula presses harder against your skin, “is he still bothering you?”

“i think you scared him away,” you quickly swat his arms away. “i’m fine, though.”

“are you sure?” he sighs when you nod, “why’d you zone out then?”

“i got distracted,” you gnaw on your bottom lip. 

his expression morphs to confusion, “with what?”

your eyes widen slightly. you don’t want to tell him he’s the reason you zoned out. so, you settle for the only thing that comes to mind, “the smell of something burning. are you sure you turned off the stove?”

“yes.” he groans in annoyance. there’s a small pause. sae turns around, tugging you into the kitchen with him. 

“look!” he points at the stove, “it’s off. stop making me second-guess myself.”

an amused smile blooms on your face, “i can’t believe you had to come check if you actually turned it off.”

“i can’t believe you actually haven’t given me my gift yet,” he scoffs, pouting. 

you laugh, reaching out to flick his forehead. “patience is a virtue, sae. it’d do you well to have it.”

“whatever.” he tries to grab the bag from your hands. “just give it to me already.”

you smile, pulling out the chocolate bar from the bag. laughter bubbles in your chest when you see his stunned expression.

“chocolate?” he glares at the bar in your hand, “do you know how unhealthy that is for me?”

“if you don’t want it i’ll just keep it, then.” you nonchalantly shrug.

he snatches it out of your grasp. “i never said i didn’t want it.”

his eyes twinkle when he unwraps it. he glances up at you, “do you want a bite?”

“just a small one,” you reach out to grab the bar. 

sae moves the chocolate out of your reach, “open your mouth.”

you blink, tilting your head in confusion. he sighs, “i’ll feed it to you. i need to make sure you don’t bite off half of the bar.”

“do you trust me so little?” you scoff, crossing your arms. still, you open your mouth, heat rushing to your ears when sae tells you to take a bite. 

“is it good?” he stares at you, taking a bite of the chocolate when you nod. 

you both swallow at the same time, a smile lighting up your face. “i think you deserve another reward for sharing.”

his brows raise in intrigue, “another? gosh, you’re really spoiling me today, aren’t you?”

you take the pack of stickers out of the back, waving it in front of him. he gives you an unamused look. 

“i bought these for whenever you do something nice,” you place a sticker on his cheek.

“that’s stupid,” he frowns. 

“shut up, you look cute.” you pinch his other cheek.

he clicks his tongue, “whatever. now get out of my kitchen i need to continue making dinner.”

laughter spills out of your mouth when he pushes you into the living room. “do you want me to help?”

“no.” he huffs, “i can do it myself. now go relax or something, i’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

“are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” you snicker, “i’d hate to have to evacuate the building.”

he lightly smacks your shoulder, “i can cook by myself!”

“sae–”

“just let me cook something for you this once,” he mutters. 

a soft, defeated sigh leaves your lips, “okay.”

“i’ll let you cook alone,” you smile, “just this once, though. i can’t leave you unsupervised for too long.”

he hums, patting your head before heading back to the kitchen. a small smile lingers on your lips as you make your way to the couch, turning on the tv.

it doesn’t take long for sae to walk over, two plates in his hands, and a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

you’d be lying if you said the meal was good. it was slightly charred, and a little too salty. you’re sure you would’ve managed to turn it into something decent if he’d let you help. 

still, as bad as the food was, you can’t help but eat it with a smile on your face, a warm, fuzzy feeling tugging at your heart. 

sae groans in annoyance when you place another sticker on his forehead. (your heart leaps when you notice the soft flush to his cheeks.)

he lets you help him wash the dishes, complaining when you flick soapy water in his direction. laughter fills the apartment when he flicks water back at you. time seemingly slowing down to let you savor the moment just a little longer before you head back to your room.

you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. your heart drums against your chest when you recall the smile on sae’s face. 

(you wish he’d smile at you more often.)

you’ve discovered sae is much better at cleaning than he is at cooking. you’ve also discovered that he’s more thoughtful than he lets on. 

he tends to clean the apartment while you’re in class. he claims it’s because he absolutely must practice cleaning in order to get better. (you don’t believe him.) he swears he ensures the apartment’s clean by the time you get home because he can’t stand your nagging. (you still don’t believe him.)

it’s why you’ve had to go out and buy more stickers to reward him with. it’s also why you’re a little surprised to see him still mopping the apartment when you get back.

you take your shoes off, quickly putting on your slippers. “you’re still cleaning?”

“i’m almost done,” he hums, “practice ended a little later today.”

you make your way to the couch, careful not to slip on the floor, “why? is there a match soon?”

“there’s one tomorrow,” he turns to look at you, frowning when he sees you pull out a pack of stickers with a teasing smile on your face. (he still makes his way over to you when you tell him to come closer despite knowing your intention.) he watches you place the sticker on his shirt, a concentrated look in your eyes.

he sticks his tongue out at you when you look up at him with a satisfied grin. sae rests his hand on top of your head. “wanna come watch?”

you tilt your head to the side, “i’m not a big football fan.”

he playfully shakes your head, brows knitting, “have you ever even been to a football match?”

“no,” you pry his hand off your head, “but i don’t really see the point of going when i know i’ll get bored.”

he rolls his eyes, “you won’t.”

“how do you know?” you lean closer to him, raising a brow, a playful grin on your lips.

he leans closer to you, nose playfully scrunching, “because i’m going to be playing.”

your face scrunches up in mock disgust, “you’re making me not want to go even more.”

he teasingly clutches his heart in faux pain, a smile on his lips as he tries to hold back his laughter, “you’re so mean. you’re hurting me right now.”

“are you trying to make me feel bad?” you bite back a smile, fondly rolling your eyes. “because it’s totally working.”

“your sarcasm wounds me,” he frowns, shaking his head. “i can’t believe my roommate won’t support me at my match.”

you punch his arm, “keep this up and you won’t be eating any dinner.”

“fuck,” a hearty laugh escapes his lips, “when’d you get so mean?”

“i learned from the best,” you stick your tongue out at him. a soft laugh leaves your lips when sae scoffs, looking away. 

“are you really not going to go see the match?” he turns to you, pouting. you hate when he uses that little pout to guilt you. (you hate that you fall for it even more.)

you sigh, slumping against the couch, “i’ll think about it.”

“just give me an actual answer, damn.” he taps your forehead, “are you going, yes or no?”

a teasing smile creeps up your lips, “maybe.”

you laugh when he calls out your name in annoyance. he groans, glaring at you, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” you smile at him, “if you did you wouldn’t have asked me to go see you play tomorrow.”

his face flushes in embarrassment. “you’re not even going anyway!”

you rest your head on your hand, “i am, though.”

he stares at you, unimpressed. there’s a beat of silence before he huffs, the corners of his lips quirking up, “i really can’t stand you sometimes.”

“it’s not my fault you’re fun to tease!” you laugh. he flips you off before turning around to continue mopping. you sigh, stretching your arms up. a couple of seconds go by before you get up to make your way to the kitchen.

“where are you going?” 

“the kitchen,” you hum, turning around to look at sae. your ears burn when your eyes meet his. you wish you knew what goes on in his head when he stares at you so intensely. you wish you knew if he even knows he’s staring at you so intently. a small, awkward cough leaves your lips, “i wanted to get started on dinner.”

“you’re not even going to wait for me?” you fiddle with the hem of your shirt at his teasing tone. 

sometimes you wonder if he knows how domestic your dynamic has become. if he’s aware that people have started associating him with you, and vice versa. if he’s aware of the effect his words have on you. (you really wish you could take a peek inside his mind.)

“you’d just get in my way,” you tsk, “besides i wanna finish quickly, my head hurts a little.”

he quickly walks over to you, dragging the mop behind him, “have you taken any medicine?”

“i’m fine,” you wave off the hand he placed on your forehead, “it’s probably because i’m hungry.”

“are you sure?” your heart pounds against your chest at his concern. 

you give him a reassuring smile, “i’m sure. if it still hurts before i go to bed i’ll take some medicine.”

“fine.” he huffs, lips pursing, “but if you still feel bad tomorrow, promise you’ll let me know.”

you feel your heart squeeze. you gnaw on your bottom lip, twisting the hem of your shirt with your hands. 

“i promise.” your voice is barely above a whisper, it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

he smiles, patting your head, “don’t push yourself too hard, ok?”

sae turns around. you stare at his back, his name tumbling out of your lips before you can stop yourself. he turns around with a curious hum.

you feel like your heart rests on your throat. he patiently waits for you to continue. heat rushes to your ears and you wipe your hands against your shirt. “i also promise i’ll go see your match.”

the smile that lights up his face makes you wish it was tomorrow already. you want to go. (because you like seeing him smile.) you want to go see his match. (because it’ll make him happy.)

you want to see him do his favorite thing in the world. you want to share that happiness with him, despite not caring much for the sport. (because you think it’ll make him happy to see you there, even if he doesn’t say it. you want to be the reason he feels genuine happiness.)

you’re not there.

it’s the first thing sae notices when he looks at the stands. it’s what he keeps noticing whenever he turns to look at the stands throughout the match. when they reach halftime and you’re still not there, so he texts you. the second half starts and you’re still not there. 

the game ends and you never showed up. his brows knit when he checks his phone only to find out you never even read his messages. concern carves itself into him. 

he makes his way back to the apartment as quickly as he can, secretly hoping that nothing bad happened to you.

his heart beats faster, anxiety seeping into him when he opens the door and he doesn’t see your figure on the couch. 

sae hastily kicks his shoes off, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. he lets out a deep breath when he stands in front of your door, quickly knocking.

a couple of seconds go by before he knocks again, frowning when there’s no reply. he quietly opens the door, mentally apologizing. his eyes quickly scan the room for you. there’s a lump in his throat when he sees something stir under your bed sheets. 

he quietly walks over to your bed, slowly lowering your comforter. his chest tightens, brows knitting with worry when he sees your face twisted in pain, a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead. he grabs a tissue from your nightstand, gingerly wiping the sweat away. 

he sharply inhales when you stir under his touch. sae stares at you as you slowly open your eyes. his eyes fill with concern when he notices how heavy, and unfocused yours look.

he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, brows furrowing even more, “gosh, you’re burning up.”

“sae?” he can barely hear your voice. “why’re you here?” 

he clicks his tongue, wiping more sweat off your forehead.

“what about the match?” you blearily look at him, voice laced with soft concern. you try to keep your eyes open when he heads out, grogginess catching up to you when he returns with a bowl in his hands, a hand towel over his shoulder. 

he dampens the towel, wringing out the excess onto the bowl. sae gently presses it against your forehead, “have you had a fever all day long?”

“did i miss it?” his heart aches at how choked up your voice sounds. 

“i thought i told you to tell me if you weren’t feeling alright, dumbass,” he nags, carefully lifting your head up to prop another pillow under it. 

“‘m sorry.” your eyes fill with tears, a pout tugging at your lips. he gently adjusts the towel against your skin. 

“don’t apologize,” he softly tsks, “worry about getting better, not about missing the game, idiot.”

he panics when a tear rolls down your cheek, hastily brushing it away. his heart squeezes in pain when more tears freely roll down your cheeks. 

“i didn’t,” you sniffle, “didn’t wanna miss the game.”

he shushes you, grabbing another tissue to wipe your tears away. “it’s fine.”

“‘s not,” your breath quickens, brows knitting in sadness, “i promised.”

he firmly calls out your name, “it’s not your fault.”

“i promised,” you hiccup. sae frowns, reaching out to remove the towel from your forehead, pouting when he notices you’re still burning up. he quickly dampens it again before resting it against your skin once more.

“i’ll go get you some medicine,” he whispers, turning around to exit your room.

sae stops in his tracks when he feels something weakly tug at his fingers. he turns to look at you, sucking in a shaky breath when he sees you holding on to him.

“don’t leave.” you weakly try to pull him closer. 

there’s a slight flicker of hope in him that tells him you’re aware of what you’re doing despite your raging fever. but he quickly extinguishes it by reminding himself that you probably think you’re dreaming. (because there’s no way you’d tell him to stay with you otherwise, he’s sure of it.)

“i have to get you some medicine,” he mutters. still, he makes no attempt to free his hand from yours.

“stay.” he wants to. he wants to stay with you more than anything. but he needs to get you something to relieve your fever.

he sits on your bed, readjusting your grip on his hand, “i need to go get your medicine.” 

he gingerly readjusts the towel on your forehead, slightly smiling at you. his heart pangs with worry when he notices how clammy your hands are. 

sae’s eyes widen when you lift yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck. the towel on your forehead drops into his lap. he feels you rest your head on his shoulders, frowning at the heat emanating from you. (still, he wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall.)

his worried eyes meet your hazy ones when you slowly lift your head to look at him, a sleepy smile on your lips. 

“so stubborn,” your hands cup his cheeks. 

sae freezes when he feels your lips press against his. his heart beats faster, blush spreading through his face like wildfire. 

a sharp inhale leaves his lips when he feels your hands drop from his cheeks, your body tilting back. he cups the back of your head before it hits the pillow.

his eyes scan your face. he lowers his head when he feels your feeble grip on his jacket. his eyes flicker to yours when you weakly tug him closer in an attempt to press his lips against yours again. 

he slowly lifts your head up, a soft huff of laughter slipping past his lips when a glimmer of anticipation flashes through your eyes. he presses his lips against yours in a short peck, a startled noise leaving his mouth when you pull him back in. 

his face heats up more and more every time you chase after his lips when he pulls away for air. he pants when you pull away, trying to catch your breath. he rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your lips. 

you softly call out his name. butterflies erupt in his stomach. he really hopes you know you’re not dreaming. 

his arm tightens against you, the hand resting on the back of your head gently tilting it to the side. he doesn’t think twice before pressing his lips against yours again, a content sigh escaping him when you melt under his touch. 

he presses his lips against yours over and over again, gently lowering you back onto the bed. your kisses feel like they’re the very air he breathes. like he’ll suffocate if he’s apart from you for more than a second.

sae kisses you silly until he feels your grip against his jacket soften. he pulls away, panting, face ablaze, eyes looking at your sleeping face with a softness that is so unlike him.

he carefully removes your hands from him, lifting your comforter to tuck you into bed. a smile lingers on his lips as he places the towel on your forehead again. 

he quietly makes his way out of your room, pressing the pads of his fingers against his lips. his heart feels like it wants to jump out of his chest. a deep sigh leaves his lips. he makes his way to the front door, quickly putting on his shoes to go buy your medicine.

sae really hopes you get better soon. (he wants to kiss you again, and he wants to be sure you’ll remember it properly.)

if you thought sae was a bad student, he’s an even worse patient. he is the most uncooperative sick person you’ve ever met in your life. 

you suppose it’s only fair to put up with him since he took care of you while you were sick. (even if it makes you want to knock him unconscious.)

still, it never fails to make your blood boil when you find him wobbling around the living room with a broom in his hands.

“would it kill you to stay in bed?” you stomp over to him, prying the broom off his hands before propping it against the wall.

he blearily looks at you, pouting. he sniffles, “yes.”

you frown, grabbing his hand and dragging him to his room. he glares at you when you force him to lay down on his bed. 

“stay here while i get your medicine,” you point at him, glaring back. “or i’ll suffocate you with a pillow until you fall asleep.”

“you can’t be rude to me while i’m sick!” he angrily crosses his arms, scoffing.

it’s still surprising that he’s still in bed when you get back. it’s even more surprising that he’s staring at the door, his face lighting up when you enter. 

his nose scrunches up in disgust when he sees the cough syrup in your hands. he burrows himself in his comforter, turning his head away from you. 

“sae.” you gently call out, sitting next to him. a small smile blooms on your lips when he slowly turns to look at you. “you know you have to take your medicine to get better, right?”

“if i take my medicine,” he sneezes, “will you give me a reward?”

“yeah, sure, i’ll give you a sticker.” you absentmindedly hum, uncapping the syrup. 

“no,” he shakes his head,  “i want another reward.” 

your brows raise in confusion, your turn your attention to him. “what kind of reward?”

he smiles, lifting a hand to tap his lips and then tapping yours. your face heats up, jaw dropping. you gently swat his hand away, pouting. “you shouldn’t tease like that.”

“‘m not,” he sticks his tongue out at you, “i want another kiss.”

“another?” you blink in surprise. your eyes widen slightly when a cheeky smile creeps up his lips. 

“you kissed me when you were sick,” he snickers, nose scrunching up when you force the syrup into his mouth. 

“no i didn’t,” you frown. he forces himself to swallow the cough syrup, a choked gasp leaving his lips.

“you don’t remember?” he whines, sniffling when you shake your head. 

you feel a pang in your heart when sae looks at you, eyes swimming with sadness. “‘m sorry, sae.”

“‘s fine,” he playfully smiles, “i’ll just have to make up for it later.”

heat spreads through your face. a pout tugs at your lips, “don’t say stuff like that. i might take you seriously.”

“i’m being serious,” he sniffles, “wanna kiss you again.”

you shyly stare at him, shrinking into yourself. you suppose being sick must’ve made him bolder. or maybe he just wants to get back at you. but you have to admit it gives you the perfect excuse to make him stop being so difficult.

“i’ll kiss you if you stop complaining about taking your medicine,” you quietly huff, fingers playing with your shirt. 

your ears feel like they’re on fire when his face lights up. “but only when you get better! i don’t wanna get sick again.”

he nods, a satisfied grin blooming on his lips. “sounds good to me.”

there’s a beat of silence before you stand up. sae’s eyes widen, “where are you going?”

“i’m gonna go make you some soup,” you hum, “you should sleep while i’m gone.”

sae pouts, “‘m not tired.”

“that’s too bad, then,” you stick your tongue out at him. he clicks his tongue. 

“i’ll be back soon,” you pat his head. he huffs, pouting.

you barely take a step forward, yelping when you feel something yank you back. your brows knit in annoyance when you feel sae wrapping his arms around you. 

“sae.”

“‘m only going to sleep if you stay with me.” he mutters.

an amused smile tugs at your lips. you’re starting to think he’s cute when he’s sick. a little clingy, but cute. (you also think you might indulge him just this once.)

“fine,” you sigh. “but i’m leaving as soon as you fall asleep.”

you don’t. 

you’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep, but you’re sure it wasn’t dark outside when sae pulled you towards him. part of you wants to stay with him, just to let him sleep longer. but you also know you need to make him some soup. 

so, you gently try to pry yourself off of him. a soft groan leaves your lips when his arms tighten around you. 

his name tumbles out of your mouth. “i have to go make your soup.”

“‘m coming with you.” his voice sounds hoarse. (his nose sounds stuffy, too.)

“sae,” you try to pry his arms off, “you need to rest.”

“‘m going with you.” he huffs, “there’s nothing you can say to make me not join you.”

you begrudgingly decide to indulge him again. which is why he’s slumped over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. it’s why he’s holding onto your waist, burrowing his face in your neck as you move around the kitchen. 

(it’s why your face feels like it’s on fire when he nuzzles closer to you, smiling.)

and you think that maybe him being a little too clingy isn’t that bad.

when a girl in your class asks you what sae is to you, you’re not sure what to say. 

you could say he’s your roommate, like you used to. but you don’t think he’d make himself extremely comfortable in your personal space if he was just your roommate. you could also say he’s your friend (much to everyone’s surprise.) but you’re not sure if he’d be so obsessed with kissing you whenever you’re both home if he was just your friend. 

(still, he’s not exactly your boyfriend, either. you’re not sure what he is. neither of you have brought it up before.)

either way, she wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer you give her. at least, that’s what you think with the way she glowers at you.

so, you just say he’s nothing. (which is a lie. but she doesn’t need to know that.) 

the result is what you expected, some angry huffing and empty warnings to stay away from sae. (not that it’d work seeing how you live with him.) except, things take a turn for the worse when your phone screen lights up, displaying sae’s name on it while it rings on the table. 

a pained expression flashes through your face when she clears her throat. you tilt your head up to look at her, an awkward, tense smile on your lips.

“i thought you said he was nothing to you?” she scoffs. 

“he is.” you internally curse how fast you replied. you hope she didn’t notice. 

she rolls her eyes, “then why do you have his contact saved with a star on your phone?”

you blink, your lips pressing into a fine line. “because he’s a star?” 

she doesn’t look convinced. (neither are you.) a loud, annoyed groan leaves her lips as she looks you up and down, crossing her arms.

“listen here, idiot,” she glares at you. anger flashes in her eyes when your phone rings again. “i don’t know who you think you are–” 

(you don’t know who she thinks she is, but with the way she seems to be unaware that you literally live with sae, you assume she must be some clueless freshman who happened to go to one of the football matches, saw sae, and became one of his many fans.)

“–but if you even consider the idea that sae might be into you–”

(you don’t even have to consider the idea, it pretty much solidified itself as a fact given with the way he kisses you until both of you are struggling to catch your breath whenever you two are alone.)

“–then you’ve got another thing coming,” she grabs your wrist, digging her nails into your skin. “i don’t know how someone like you got his number, but he doesn’t need freaks like you bothering him.”

she looks at you with contempt, “so stay away from him, or else–”

“or else what?” 

you both turn your heads to the door. her grip on your wrist loosens. you bite back a laugh when she removes her hand, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“sae,” she takes a step closer to him. you hide your smile behind your hand when you see his clearly annoyed and disgusted expression. (you note he looks disheveled. you also notice his duffel bag slung over his shoulders.)

“or else what?” you snort at the clear anger in his voice. he glares at her, crossing his arms. she shrinks into herself, clearly nervous. 

“i was just trying to keep this freak away from you,” she plays with her hair. you feel embarrassed for her when she continues, “you shouldn’t have to deal with–”

“who the fuck even are you anyway?” he cuts her off, scowling. 

her eyes light up, “i’m–”

“leaving? i sure fucking hope so.” he scoffs, walking over to you. his face softens when he looks at you. 

sae extends his hand out to you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips when you slip your hand into his. he reaches out for your backpack, quickly shrugging it on his shoulder before you can protest. 

“i thought you were one of the first people out of class,” he hums, lacing his fingers with yours.

your eyes flicker to the girl, who is still standing next to the table, face flushed in embarrassment. “i got held up.”

sae glances in her direction, scoffing in annoyance. “you’re still here?”

you can’t help but feel a little bad for her when her eyes well up with tears of embarrassment, her hands bunching up her skirt. “i thought–”

“you thought wrong,” he clicks his tongue, “now get lost.”

her eyes snap to yours, anger replacing the embarrassment, “i thought you said he was nothing to you!”

sae gasps, looking at you, hurt written all over his face. you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. he calls out your name, “why’d you say that?”

“i didn’t know what else to say,” you mumble. 

“say i’m your boyfriend!,” he huffs. “or do you not want to say that?”

heat floods your face. you hide your face in sae’s back when you hear choked sobs. you tug at his jacket, “can we just go home already?”

you take a peek at the girl from behind sae’s shoulder. “i don’t want to talk about this here.”

“fine,” he mutters, “but this conversation is not over.”

he drags you out of the classroom. you don’t look back, but you gnaw your bottom lip when you hear muffled sobs coming from behind you. 

you both walk in silence for a bit. a small smile blooms on your lips when sae slows down his pace to match yours. 

“i’m surprised you didn’t tell her off.” he hums. 

“you got there before i could,” you fondly shake your head, “i would’ve loved giving her a piece of my mind.”

a soft laugh leaves his lips, “i’m sure you’ll find another occasion to do so.”

the walk home feels quicker than usual. you suppose it’s because sae’s actually with you instead of over the phone.

you’re barely past the door to your apartment when sae wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. he relaxes when you wrap your arms around him. 

“if someone asks you what i am to you,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “just tell them i’m your boyfriend.”

“are you sure?” your hands clench around his jacket. 

he pulls back slightly to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “yeah? am i not your boyfriend already?”

“i don’t know?” your brows knit in confusion. 

“i thought it was clear?” he blinks. “it wasn’t clear to you?”

“i don’t think i would’ve been threatened by one of your fangirls if it was clear,” you deadpan. 

“oh.” he presses his lips into a fine line. “well, now you know.”

your jaw drops, “you’re not even going to ask if i want you to be my boyfriend?”

“i think it’s safe to say we’re well past asking,” he stares at you. 

“still,” you pout, “it’d be nice if you did.”

“what, are you going to give me a sticker if i do?” he scoffs. 

“i was gonna give you a kiss, but if you don’t wanna ask, then–”

“would you let me be your boyfriend?”

laughter spills out of your lips, “you didn’t even let me finish!” 

“just answer my question.” he smiles. “and hurry it up too, i have to clean.”

you playfully shake your head, “so demanding. but, i suppose you can be my boyfriend.”

sae’s lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. you gasp in surprise when he nips at your lower lip. 

you’re not sure how long he kisses you for, but you feel dizzy when you pull away. you angle your head away from his when he chases after your lips again. 

“i thought,” you pant, “thought you said you had to clean.” 

“it can wait.” he breathes out. 

“i have to cook.” 

he angles your head back to face him, “it can wait.”

“but–”

he calls out your name with a smile, “it can all wait. just let me kiss you again.”

“okay.” you smile when he tilts your head towards his. 

you think you’re starting to understand sae’s obsession with kissing you.

when you think of itoshi sae, the first thing that comes to mind is: boyfriend. you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to calling him that. you’ve told him it still sounds weird, he simply says it sounds perfect. 

you’re also not sure you’ll ever get used to the many pairs of eyes staring holes into the back of your head. (you blame sae for insisting you wear his spare jersey to his games.)

still, you suppose you could put up with all the staring if it means you get to see sae play.

(even if it means you have to endure his showing off for the next hour.)

“did you see how great i was out there?” he puffs out his chest. 

“you were the best!” you smile when he laces his fingers with yours. “i think you deserve a reward.”

you bite back a laugh when his head turns to look at you, eyes twinkling with anticipation. “close your eyes.”

you can practically feel the excitement rolling off of him as he closes his eyes. you let go of his hand, snickering when his brows furrow. you quickly reach into your bag, pulling out the sticker sheet you stashed in there. 

a laugh leaves your lips when you gingerly place a star sticker on sae’s cheek. “you can open your eyes now.”

you heartily laugh when sae touches his cheek, glaring at you when he feels the outline of a star. he huffs, “you’re the worst.”

“shut up, you love them.” you flick his forehead. 

he tsks, poking your nose. “when you said i deserved a reward, i thought you meant a kiss.”

“i can kiss you if you want.” you cheekily smile at him. he huffs, crossing his arms.

he turns his head away from you, “you ruined the moment with those stupid, lukewarm stickers.”

“you say that as if you don’t stick them against your mirror.” you stick your tongue out at him, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile when his cheeks flush. 

“i hate you,” he frowns, looking at you.

“no you don’t,” you peck his cheek.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “let’s just go home already.”

you laugh when he grabs your hand, tugging you in the direction of your apartment. (you don’t mention the smile on his lips.)

“i’m going to cook today,” he laughs when you groan in disgust. “i’ve gotten better!”

“yeah, right.” you quip. “i think it’d be better if you clean while i cook.”

“what if we cook together?” he hums.

“you’ll just get in my way.” you smile, laughing when he shakes your arm. 

“what if we go out to eat?” he shrugs nonchalantly. (you still notice the flush on his ears.)

“itoshi sae!” you gasp dramatically, “are you asking me out on a date?”

he scoffs, cheeks turning bright red. “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“i’d be honored to go out with the itoshi sae,” your voice drips with mischief. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“i think it’s me who’s honored to go out with you,” he mumbles. you hug him back, nuzzling into him. 

“we still need to head home, though,” he pulls away, “i want to take a shower.”

“want me to join you?” you laugh when you see his scandalized expression.

“you’re so shameless!” he bites back a laugh, hiding his face behind his hands.

“oh, please, like we haven’t showered together before.” you playfully scrunch your nose. 

he clicks his tongue, “as tempting as it sounds, i really would like to go eat early today.”

you fondly roll your eyes, tugging him towards your apartment. “fine.”

“but i’m not opposed to taking a shower with you when we get back.” he bites back a smile when you smack his shoulder.

the walk home is filled with laughter, teasing smiles on both of your faces. and, for once, you’re glad to have an opinion of sae.

(especially because it’s based on the version of your sae, and not the one everyone else thinks he is.)

[ghostsandmirrors]

His own smile still refused to waver, growing larger as if to spite the universe and everything that could try to dampen his joy. His joy at being able to compliment those he cared for, those he chose to share this life with, because he did. He chose to share his life with his friends, he chose to welcome them with open arms and make their happiness--or lack of--his problem. It was another thing he was sentimental about; that ability to share with those he chose and gathered and would fight or die for.

Atieno was in that list, among the people he'd known for so long. Maybe one day they would all meet. A small part of him hoped not; he didn't think he would survive their joint teasing or jokes at his expense.

As they reached for his face, his confusion came until their voice sounded again. That blush got a little more obvious and he shrugged carefully and casually, trying not to jostle them too much.

"If you want to, sey." He couldn't imagine why they would, but he wasn't going to stop them. It was that trust, again. That trust that he was now certain, entirely and absolutely, would one day kill him. Not today, though. Not here. Today, here, was only warmth and sentimentality and a desire to remember this. A desire to add it to the stories already in his memories, to hold onto this like he was holding onto them.

Atieno finds themself feeling incredibly warm at Liaxee's admission. "..Thanks, it means a lot to hear you say that." There's something so warm about this moment that still feels a little peculiar to them, as if they are struggling to find the right terms that even apply to this situation.

Maybe they'll figure it out, maybe they won't.

In the meantime, they are just deeply grateful that Liaxee is so 'easy' to convince. That he even seems to actively dread the possibility of anything otherwise.

They loved seeing that bit of pink on his face, between that and his uncharacteristic quiet is enough for Atieno to deeply want to caress the sides of his face just so. They seem to reach for it briefly carefully....

"May I? " They would much rather not cross lines, although it was all starting to feel quite pleasantly blurry in their head at this moment.

[mystictimemachinedream]

Bound by fate(2)

a/n: Last chapter, thank you for those that have liked or reblogged my story. I really needed more Dom!Levi stories and this is how the story ended up turning out.

Leviathan x MC. Hints of Mammon x MC, Belphegor x MC and maybe Simeon x MC.

Cw: Smut, Dom!Levi, kinda Yandere!Levi(he talks about locking you up), Jealous!Levi, a bit of degradation(the words slut and whore are used), Claiming Marks, Scenting, Mates, some Non-con(Belphie scents and pins you down without consent), Levi having one dick(sorry) Fem!MC, Angel!MC, kinda ooc.

First Part

————————---

Two months had already passed, and Leviathan barely left his room, going out of his way to avoid you the few times he did. In response, you would leave food at his door when he missed a meal. It had become a frustrating routine, one that seemed to have no end in sight.

No matter how many times you knocked, he either ignored you or told you to go away, but not once did he open the door.

You sighed as you thought things over. You weren’t sure what else to do. Truthfully, you wished you could try to get him to open the door more often, but his brothers constantly wanted your attention, or you had to visit Purgatory Hall. You felt a warm sense of belonging when they sought your company, but it only added to your frustration that you hadn’t made any progress with Leviathan.

“Sweetie, what has you sighing like that?” Asmodeus asked, finally sitting on his bed where you were lying. He had whisked you away to spend time with him in his room after everyone had finished dinner, his charm hard to resist.

“Leviathan,” you replied with a pout. “He still hasn’t opened his door for me. I’m not sure what else to do.”

“He’s certainly stubborn,” Asmodeus said thoughtfully. “But dear, you only have to push his buttons. He’s the Avatar of Envy; you just need to make him jealous enough to pull you into his room.”

You grimaced. “I don’t see that going well.”

Asmodeus waved his hand dismissively, a playful smile on his lips. “Of course it won’t, but it’ll at least get him to talk to you.” He giggled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Well, there won’t be much talking involved, though.”

You flushed and averted your eyes, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“You can ask any of the brothers, but if you want to make it authentic, just snuggle up to Mammon or Belphie.” He smirked, his gaze intense. “They’ve always had a crush on you.”

Your eyes widened in shock. You hadn’t expected that in the slightest, and now you didn’t know how you’d be able to hang out with them without feeling shy. The revelation left you reeling, a mix of surprise and uncertainty swirling within you.

“I don’t want to use them like that,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“Well, darling, we can always find some other way,” Asmodeus said, his tone soothing as he gently stroked your head, fingers threading through your hair.

You nodded, relieved, but you didn’t notice the smile of mischief that Asmodeus had.

As you finally reached your room and laid on your bed, a sense of unease washed over you. Despite Asmodeus’s promise not to meddle, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling gnawing at you. The Avatar of Lust always enjoyed a good dose of drama and stirring people up. The last thing you wanted was to worsen things between you and Leviathan or to incite a fight among the brothers.

With a heavy sigh, you willed the troubling thoughts away and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep.

—————-------

Your worries proved correct. Over the next few days, Asmodeus began accompanying you to Leviathan’s room to drop off his food. His behavior shifted—he became flirtier, more touchy-feely whenever you both stood in front of Leviathan’s door. The pajamas he gave you, just before going to Leviathan’s door, were even shorter and skimpier than usual, leaving little to the imagination.

You began to notice that the sound of video games would stop abruptly as you approached, replaced by an eerie silence. The other brothers, too, began acting differently. They were nicer to you, borderline flirtatious, whenever they passed by you and Asmodeus in front of Leviathan’s door. Even Lucifer, though more subtly, was in on it.

You shot Asmodeus a glare and whispered as low as possible, “I told you not to meddle.”

“I’m just helping you, darling,” he whispered back with a charming smile, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You huffed, pouting. While it touched you that he wanted to help, you wished it wasn’t through making Leviathan jealous. You’d heard stories about how, if pushed too far, Leviathan would summon Lotan and cause destruction. Additionally, you were concerned about his low self-esteem. The last thing you wanted was to damage it further and make him shut you out even more.

You were glad you had asked his brothers about him and gathered all the information you could. Knowing what to expect was better than being clueless.

Lost in your thoughts, you snapped back to reality when you saw Mammon approaching. Out of all the brothers, he was the most flustered when trying to flirt with you. It was pretty cute, if you were being honest.

Mammon abruptly stopped near you and Asmodeus, his face turning bright red as he took in the nightgown clinging to your curves. “A-ain’t that too short?!” he exclaimed, quickly looking away.

Asmodeus smirked and almost purred, “Is it too stimulating for you?”

Mammon spluttered, seeming at a loss for words. Then he cleared his throat and finally looked at you with startling confidence. “Ya shouldn’t be lookin’ that good in front of anyone else other than the Great Mammon!”

You almost gasped at his words; they were extremely out of character. He was usually flustered when trying to flirt with you, and you could hardly call it flirting in the first place.

Even Asmodeus blinked in surprise before giggling in amusement.

The door swung open, revealing Leviathan in his demon form, glaring at Mammon. “Mammon,” he gritted out, “if you don’t get away from my door, I will summon Lotan.”

Mammon paled and scurried away. Even he knew better than to antagonize his brother when he was in one of his moods.

“Asmo,” Leviathan growled, his glare not softening. Asmodeus only smiled, threw his hands up in defeat, and skipped away.

You stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

Leviathan stared at you, his eyes slowly raking up and down your form. The grip on his door tightened. “I know I told you not to wear that type of stuff outside your room,” he rumbled.

You frowned. “Levi, is that really important right now?”

“It’s not fair that everyone gets to see you like that,” he huffed, still upset but reverting to his human form.

“Maybe you would be able to see me like this more if you actually left your room and stopped avoiding me or let me inside,” you said, irritation clear on your face.

Leviathan blushed deeply and looked away, avoiding your gaze. “As if I would let a normie into my room.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging his statement. “Well, this normie can actually learn if you would just let me.”

He finally looked at you again, his face turning an even deeper shade of red, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his eyes. “I-is this a trick? Y-you actually want to s-spend time with m-me, a worthless otaku?”

You winced at his words. You didn’t think you would ever get used to him putting himself down. It hurt you that he thought so lowly of himself, that he couldn’t see the value you saw in him.

“Levi, I’ve been coming to your door for the past two months just trying to talk to you,” you replied soothingly, your voice gentle and sincere. “I don’t think you’re worthless at all.”

Leviathan put his arm against his face, trying to hide his tears from you. “I-I just didn’t want you to be even more d-disappointed than you must be already.”

“I was never disappointed in the first place,” you reassured him, your tone firm but kind.

You took a step toward him, the sound of his sniffling pulling at your heartstrings. All you wanted to do was comfort him, to make him see how much he meant to you.

“D-don’t lie to me! I-I know how d-different I am than I u-used to be!” His voice cracked, filled with pain and self-doubt, as he tried to wipe the tears away with his sleeve.

Your eyes softened with empathy, and you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly even as he stiffened in surprise at your touch.

“I truly don’t care about that,” you whispered, gently wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I just want to get to know the person you are now.”

You waited patiently, feeling his body slowly relax in your embrace. After a moment of hesitation, he tentatively wrapped his arms around you in return, nodding slightly against your shoulder.

“O-okay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with a tentative hope.

You sighed in relief, a wave of happiness washing over you. You had finally broken through the barrier he had put up, and now you had the chance to reconnect with him.

“Let’s go.” You smiled warmly at him, taking his hand and leading him back into his room.

As you stepped inside, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that had led to this moment. It seemed Asmodeus’s plan had actually worked, albeit in an unexpected way. You were grateful for the support of his brothers, even if their methods were sometimes unconventional.

——————-----

For the next few months, it became a routine to visit Leviathan’s room to spend time with him. He began coming out more often, even joining everyone for meals. These visits often extended into the night, as he enthusiastically introduced you to his world of anime and games.

The first thing he showed you was his favorite anime, “The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl.” You binge-watched the entire series with him, and from there, he introduced TSL, then other anime and games.

Despite these shared experiences, he still considered you a “normie,” which you found amusing.

However, you noticed that Leviathan was careful not to touch you. Whenever physical contact occurred—either by accident or when you initiated it—he would stiffen up, blush, and quickly pull away. As someone naturally affectionate, this was disheartening, but you chose not to push him, respecting his boundaries.

Even though you didn’t press the issue, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Leviathan had been your lover, and you had shared one passionate night just before the Great Celestial War. Contrary to what humans and demons believed, angels were allowed to be in relationships and to claim and mate with other angels.

You regretted not pushing to claim each other. You understood his reasoning; he hadn’t wanted you to suffer the pain of losing a mate in the uncertain times of war.

One day, as you sat in the common room reading a book, Leviathan entered, calling your name.

“MC!” he called out, sounding nervous but determined.

You looked up, startled. “Yes, Levi?”

“I-I know you might have better things to do than spend time with a yucky otaku like me, but m-maybe, w-would you like to come watch anime with me?” he asked, a bashful smile on his face, his cheeks turning pink.

You smiled warmly at him, touched by his initiative. “I would love to. Just give me ten minutes to finish this chapter, and I’ll join you.”

His blush deepened, and he gave a jerky nod before scurrying out of the common room.

You giggled as you continued reading, but soon felt someone sitting next to you and leaning their head against your shoulder. Startled, you turned to see Belphegor with a sleepy look on his face.

“Hey, Belphie,” you greeted, closing your book and setting it aside.

“MC, want to take a nap with me?” he asked, blinking slowly and yawning.

He looked so adorable that you almost wanted to coo at him, but you shook your head. “Not this time. I’m about to go hang out with Levi.”

He frowned. “Eh, alright. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

You flushed and looked away. “Of course. That’s why I was so persistent in getting him to open up.”

Belphegor stared at you blankly before suddenly pinning you down, his face buried in your neck as he took a deep breath, seeming to search for something.

“Belphie? What are you doing?” you asked, frozen in shock.

“I can barely smell Levi on you. He hasn’t scented or claimed you yet,” he said, lifting his head with a smirk, his eyes smoldering.

“That doesn’t concern you,” you retorted with a frown.

He hummed, nuzzling your neck. “That means you’re free to claim. Just because you used to be lovers doesn’t mean you need to get back with him. He doesn’t even have the guts to make a move, much less claim you.”

You struggled against his grip on your wrist, frustration bubbling up as his unwelcome interference continued. “I’ve already told you that it doesn’t concern you,” you said sharply. “I’m not rushing Levi into anything.”

Belphegor scoffed and finally lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of disdain and amusement. “Do you honestly believe he remained devoted to you?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’m sure Lucifer shared with you how unruly Leviathan became after his fall.”

He tilted his head, a sly, almost predatory smile curling his lips. “He took your purity, never claimed you, and then leaped from bed to bed after falling.”

Your grace stirred within you, an undercurrent of agitation flaring up, making your eyes glow faintly with the intensity of your emotions. “How do you even know about that?” you demanded, your voice tight with indignation.

Belphegor rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation. “About your purity? It was so obvious. The way you two looked at each other afterward, how suddenly shy and distant you both became—it was clear to everyone.”

Your face flushed with a deep, burning humiliation, and you hissed at him, “What he did after he fell doesn’t concern me. I refuse to judge him for his actions.”

“Such a paragon of forgiveness,” Belphegor said, baring his teeth in a mocking grin. “Staying true to your angelic principles.”

Defeated, you slumped, knowing there was no breaking free from his grip. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, your voice tinged with hurt. “You’re being unreasonably cruel.”

“Because I want you,” he said bluntly, his eyes flashing with an intense, frustrated desire. “I’m tired of watching you pine after Levi while he continues to act like an oblivious fool.”

You stiffened, your body tense with frustration and disbelief. “You know how I feel, and yet you’re saying this?”

Belphegor, undeterred, nuzzled your cheek with his nose, his touch both intimate and intrusive. “I’ll help you get over him,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve wanted you since the Celestial Realm, but my brother got to you first.”

You remained silent.

“If Levi truly cared about you, he would have claimed you by now or at least marked you with his scent,” Belphegor continued, his hand sliding down from your wrist to caress your thigh. His touch was gentle but possessive. “I’m not afraid to be with you. I just want you to give me a chance.”

He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against yours, the proximity making your breath catch. His lips hovered near yours, brushing lightly with each word. “Please, give me a chance.”

You looked into his earnest eyes, a side of him you hadn’t seen before since moving in with them. The vulnerability in his gaze was striking, and you found yourself conflicted. Belphegor’s forwardness was a sharp contrast to Leviathan’s aloofness, and it stirred a part of you that had longed for such assertiveness since Leviathan’s fall.

“Belphie, I—” Before you could finish your thought, Belphegor was abruptly wrenched away from you, leaving a cold shiver running down your spine.

Leviathan appeared in the doorway, transformed into his demon form, his eyes blazing with a fierce, wild intensity you had never witnessed. His presence was imposing, almost primal.

“Belphegor, how dare you try to take what’s mine,” Leviathan growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble as he advanced slowly toward Belphegor.

“Yours?” Belphegor retorted, his voice dripping with mockery. “She’s not yours. You haven’t claimed her; your scent isn’t even on her. She’s fair game.”

Leviathan’s expression darkened, his rage simmering beneath the surface. “You know our history and what she means to me,” he said, his tone dangerously calm.

“None of that matters now,” Belphegor shot back, his eyes narrowing defiantly. “You should have claimed her back in the Celestial Realm or at least when she arrived here. If you won’t do it, then I will.”

The tension reached a boiling point as Leviathan’s fist flew toward Belphegor, striking him with a forceful punch that sent him crashing to the floor. The sound of the impact echoed through the room.

You gasped in shock, your heart racing, and rushed forward, grasping Leviathan’s arm in a desperate attempt to restrain him. “Please stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with urgency. “Nothing happened. Let’s just go back to your room and talk.”

Leviathan’s body tensed, and with a sudden, jerky movement, he yanked you closer. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, his growl growing louder and more intense as he took in your scent.

“He’s scented you!” Leviathan roared, his voice laced with a murderous fury as he glared at his youngest brother. His anger was palpable, a dangerous edge to his words.

The situation was rapidly escalating, and you clung to Leviathan, hoping your presence would calm him. He looked down at you with a fierce, determined expression, his teeth gritted. In a swift, almost brutal motion, he picked you up. You squealed in surprise, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and your legs around his waist.

You heard the commotion in the background, brothers rushing to the common room to check on Belphegor. Others peeked out from their rooms, only to see you clinging to Leviathan as he carried you to his room. The last thing you heard was a giggle before he slammed the door shut, effortlessly getting you off him and dropping you onto a pile of sheets and pillows on the floor, which softened the fall.

You looked up at him with wide eyes as he knelt over you, his presence both imposing and magnetic. Before you could say a word, he tore your nightgown off with a swift motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

“Levi!” you gasped indignantly.

He ignored you, his face burying into your neck with almost aggressive fervor, nuzzling and inhaling deeply as if trying to erase his brother’s scent from you.

You squirmed and whimpered as he began sucking and licking your neck, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. Your hands rested on his shoulders, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Be good and stay still,” he rumbled, his tail wrapping tightly around your waist, securing you in place. With one hand, he pinned your wrists above your head, his grip unyielding.

You whimpered but stilled. Though you weren’t opposed to what was happening, you knew you needed to talk before things went too far. Your mind fogged as his mouth trailed lower, marking the top of your breasts with the same intensity.

You barely noticed when he pulled down your bra enough for your breasts to spill over the cups. The coolness of the room made your nipples harden, and he wasted no time taking one into his mouth, sucking on the bud. He released your wrists and used his other hand to tweak your other nipple, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You whined, rubbing your thighs together as you felt your arousal grow. You could no longer ignore how wet your panties felt from his ministrations.

Leviathan finally lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he admired the marks he made from your neck to your breasts. He groaned at the sight of you—marked up, with rosy cheeks, teary eyes, bra tugged down, and tiny panties on, all while rubbing your thighs together.

He hadn’t even truly started, and you already looked absolutely wrecked.

“W-wait,” you stammered, placing your hands against his chest as he leaned down to kiss you, shaking your head.

He stilled, frowning. “Are you rejecting me?” His grip on your chin tightened as he leaned closer, his voice a low growl. “Because I don’t mind locking you up in here until you change your mind. You’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, and his words shouldn’t have turned you on as much as they did. “No, of course not. I just wanted to know what’s going to happen. You’ve been avoiding touching me this whole time, and now you’re not.”

He tilted his head, observing you like a predator ready to pounce. “I’m going to fuck and claim you. I was trying to ease you into things because of how long it’s been.” He gripped your thighs and spread your legs, his eyes darkening at the sight of the wet spot on your panties. “But I see I was mistaken in taking things slow. Too many pests want you, and I’d drown everyone before letting anyone else have you.”

“Belphegor should be glad he’s my brother because that’s the only reason I spared his life. There won’t be a second chance,” he continued, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra and tossing it aside once it came off.

“Once you claim me, Father and the Seraphim will know, and I’ll be banished,” you whispered, looking into his eyes.

“Yes, that’s the plan. From the beginning, you were supposed to be by my side,” he growled, still furious about how you were stopped from going with him. “But Simeon got in the way and stopped you.”

You winced, remembering the chaos after the Great Celestial War and your anger at Simeon until he explained his actions. “Simeon had my best intentions at heart. I was so much younger, and he was afraid I wouldn’t survive the fall.”

Leviathan scoffed. “He just wanted you for himself. He was always discreet, but his longing looks gave him away.”

You wanted to protest that it wasn’t like that with Simeon, but the words died in your mouth as Leviathan used his tail to rip your panties off. You gasped as the cool air hit your dripping core.

Now completely naked under Leviathan, you flushed and suddenly felt shy, especially after he licked his lips and his eyes dilated while spreading your legs wider.

“You know angels and demons claim each other differently,” you muttered, tugging on his shirt, wanting him to take it off. You didn’t want to be the only naked one.

He chuckled, tugging his shirt off and dropping it to the side. “Of course I’m aware, but you also know I can still make you my mate. Angels just aren’t allowed to do so; it’s instant banishment after judgment in the Celestial Realm.”

He cupped your cheek and pulled you into a smoldering kiss, deepening it by biting your bottom lip. You gasped, and his tongue invaded your mouth, coaxing yours to intertwine with his, making you whine.

You were lightheaded when he finally pulled away, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you.

His fingers trailed from your inner thigh to your soaking core, tracing a tantalizing path before he eased a finger into you. He pumped it slowly, his thumb simultaneously rubbing your clit in languid, torturous circles, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

You mewled, your hips bucking involuntarily when he added another finger. He stretched you, his pace quickening slightly as he worked you open, his touch both gentle and demanding.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Leviathan groaned, his voice thick with desire as he kissed your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His thumb circled your clit faster, his other hand finding its way to your breast. He pinched and pulled your nipple, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. The stimulation was overwhelming; you had only just started, yet you were already ready to cum.

“L-Levi!” you cried out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he added a third, stretching you even further and making you gasp in surprise.

“That’s it, let go,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with precision. You arched your back, crying out as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your release gushing onto his fingers.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, eliciting a whimper from you, and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied moan. He was definitely going to devour you with his mouth and make you choke on his cock later, but for now, he needed to be inside you.

With a swift movement, he stripped off his pants, freeing his hard, leaking cock. He pumped it a few times, his eyes locked onto yours as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. He was still so big and thick, the sight of him only making your desire burn hotter. The first time, he had been assertive but hesitant, yet now his confidence was evident, and it turned you on even more.

He flipped you onto your hands and knees, pulling your hips up and making you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He rubbed his cock along your slit, coating himself in your slick before easing his way in. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, feeling so full as he filled you to the brim with a loud groan.

You had to remind yourself to breathe, gripping the sheets tightly as he started to move, his pace slow and measured to let you adjust to his size. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to drive you wild.

“Your cunt feels so good,” he panted, his voice strained as he fought to hold back from just pounding into you. He spread your cheeks, watching his cock slide in and out, mesmerized by the sight of your slick clinging to him, your cunt greedily trying to suck him in deeper. He cursed under his breath at the lewd sight.

He picked up the pace, setting a brutal rhythm as he relentlessly hit your g-spot. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the room, blending with your cries of pleasure and his guttural moans.

“S-so good,” you whined, bouncing your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate for even more of him. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire, the pleasure coursing through you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Leviathan chuckled darkly. “What a dirty little angel. You like how I’m fucking you?” His voice was a low growl. He slammed into you with a hard, precise thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. “Just remember that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. This cunt is mine.”

“Y-yes! Only yours!” Your voice was a high-pitched, desperate wail as your eyes rolled back in your head. He took a fistful of your hair and tugged hard, the pain mixing deliciously with the pleasure and making you clench tighter around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut. I was supposed to gently make love to you, but you really just wanted me to take you like the whore you are.” His words were laced with both amusement and possession as he moved your hair to the side, exposing the nape of your neck. He stared at the soft, vulnerable skin, knowing he was going to leave his mark there. His fangs extended as he increased the pace of his thrusts. His tail slithered around your body, the smooth, cool scales contrasting with your heated skin, and the tip of his tail circled around your clit, adding another layer of stimulation.

You let out a loud, lewd mewl, your body writhing under his touch as you slammed your eyes shut. You were teetering on the edge of orgasm, every muscle tense with anticipation. In a flash, your wings emerged, extending out as your halo shone brightly above your head, casting a soft, golden light.

Leviathan’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of your wings and halo, but he didn’t stop his relentless thrusting. The image in front of him was the epitome of sinful: pretty snowy white wings and a radiant halo out, all while you were being fucked dumb on his cock. He could already imagine how much more pretty it would be when those snowy white wings turned black and that shining gold halo transformed into horns.

“I-I’m cummin’!” You cried out as you gushed on his cock, trembling with tears in your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum in that messy little cunt while I claim you,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. “No one will ever question who you belong to.” He leaned over you, his hot breath fanning over the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With a powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, releasing his cum inside your velvety cunt accompanied by a loud moan. His mouth found the tender skin of your nape, and he bit down hard, drawing blood. You screamed, the mixture of pleasure and pain blurring together.

You felt an intense wave of emotion washing over you—his deep love and passion he was currently feeling. It flowed through you as you shakily exhaled. Finally, you were his, and he was yours.

He slowly withdrew from you, eliciting a soft whine from your lips at the sudden emptiness and sensitivity. Gently, he moved you onto your back and gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

He nuzzled into your hair, a deep rumble of contentment vibrating through his chest. A blush spread across his face as the reality of what had just happened hit him.

“I love you, Levi,” you whispered, your voice soft and sincere while intertwined your fingers with his.

“I-I love you too,” he stammered, burying his face in your hair to hide his face, making you giggle sweetly.

“Simeon should be on his way to take me to the Celestial Realm for my judgment,” you mentioned absentmindedly, your thoughts drifting to the inevitable. You knew your fate was sealed—you would become a demon, either through your Father’s banishment or slowly by Levi’s side. The Celestial Realm, with its rigidity when it came to rules, insisted on formal banishment for angels who mated outside their kind. It was simpler to comply than to risk them taking you by force.

Leviathan tightened his arms around you, his embrace desperate and firm. “I don’t want you to leave. You can just go through your change here,” he murmured.

“I know, I’d rather do that, but we both know how the Celestial Realm is. Either I go willingly or they’ll take me by force,” you replied, your voice soft and resigned. You tried to send soothing emotions through your bond, sensing his growing agitation. His growl at the thought of you being taken by force was low and menacing.

The two of you stayed cuddled together for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. Eventually, you gently urged him to get up so you could both clean yourselves. Despite the ache in your heart, you knew it was futile to linger.

As you were lost in thought, a knock on the door startled you. Lucifer’s commanding voice broke through the silence. “MC, Simeon is here for you.”

Turning to Leviathan, you gazed deeply into his eyes, your hands clasping his tightly. “Will you be there to catch me when I fall?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

“Always,” he vowed, before crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. The intensity of it left you both breathless.

Panting, you reluctantly pulled away, resting your forehead against his. Even as you separated, your hands remained intertwined. Together, you walked to the front door, where Simeon waited. He smiled at you, but his eyes betrayed the sadness he felt.

“Are you ready, MC?” Simeon asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, turning to Leviathan for one last fleeting kiss. “I’ll see you soon,” you whispered, squeezing his hand before letting go and stepping to Simeon’s side. The two of you walked out of the house, moving towards Barbatos, who stood waiting with a solemn expression.

“Are you happy?” Simeon whispered, his hand twitching as if to cup your cheek. He stopped himself, knowing that right didn’t belong to him—perhaps it never had.

“Extremely,” you replied, smiling brightly. Simeon could only smile back, though the sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable.

You didn’t regret anything.

————--------

Only a few days had passed, and now, judgment day had arrived. You could feel Leviathan’s agitation and panic even from afar. The only reason he hadn’t found a way to storm into the Celestial Realm was that he knew you were still alive.

You stood in front of your Father and the Seraphim with your head held high, your heart pounding as they read your so-called “sins.” The celestial court was silent, the weight of their gazes almost unbearable.

“Is there anything you wish to say?” Michael asked, his voice echoing through the grand hall. A look of soft fondness crossed his face so quickly that you almost missed it. He should have known this would happen when he sent you to the Devildom where Leviathan was. You would never understand why he did it, though.

“No,” you replied, your voice steady.

At your response, the floor beneath you started to shake. Cracks spidered out from where you stood, and the ground slowly crumbled away. You tried to keep your composure as the marble gave way under your feet, plunging you down.

And you fell.

You closed your eyes, feeling the wind whip past you, the burning pain starting as your halo melted into your scalp and your wings ignited, turning into fiery remnants of their former glory. Every fiber of your being was consumed by pain, yet you weren’t scared. You knew someone would be there to catch you.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a protective embrace. The fall slowed as Leviathan’s familiar presence enveloped you. He cushioned your descent, his body shielding you from the worst of the impact as you reached the ground.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered in your ear, his voice soothing amidst the chaos. You could feel his desperation and relief, his resolve to keep you safe no matter what.

As he rushed you to the House of Lamentation, his pace urgent but careful, you clung to him, feeling the beat of his heart against yours. Despite the agony and the fear, you knew you had made the right choice.

You didn’t regret falling in love, and you didn’t regret falling from grace. Every moment, every sacrifice, had led you to this point. You would do it all over again, just to be with him.

[brewstersbru]

More radioapple with ace Alastor (cont. of last 📻🍎 fic) sorry if its a little ooc im sappy

“No.”

Alastor’s voice comes out quick and staticky as he expertly dodges Lucifer’s hands trying to pet down his waistcoat. Lucifer immediately steps back, eyes wide.

“Sorry! Sorry, Al, was that not okay?” He asks, still keeping his distance. Alastor’s expression is inscrutable, nose wrinkled as he smiles at the ground.

It’s quiet for a moment before Alastor shakes his head.

“I need to be alone for a bit.” He grits, then, just as Lucifer goes to respond, his shadows envelop him and he melts from the room.

“That’s-“ Lucifer sighs, “fine.” Leave it to him to somehow fuck this up. “This” being the unspoken, ever so slightly romantic thing he and Alastor have had going on ever since that night in the bathroom.

It started with meals; after figuring out that Lucifer was bearing his wound, Alastor- for lack of a better term- threw himself into feeding him.

Lucifer thought it was sweet that he used his, surprisingly human, ways to care for him through recovery. The food probably didn’t do anything tangible in helping Lucifer’s body patch itself together, but it made him feel warm, loved. Better than he has in an age.

The food, of course, was delicious, but what Lucifer liked most about taking meals with Alastor was the quiet sense of simply being with another person, without expectation. Without an unspoken asking for something in return. Lucifer had already done his part, and the pulsing pain in his chest each night was infinitely worth each peaceful hour.

At first, Alastor didn’t touch him if he didn’t have to, but just him being there, acknowledging Lucifer’s presence and doing his best to care for him through the pain was enough. Lucifer thought it would be over when he was finally healed, that Alastor would consider his debt repaid and leave him to his own devices once the bleeding stopped.

It was almost too much to imagine.

Lucifer has a nasty habit of getting attached, which is really quite unfortunate given his circumstances. Still, he hasn’t been able to shake it quite yet, and in a shameful moment of spiraling weakness, he had torn through his stitches, hoping to elongate the healing window, even just slightly.

He left the three green X’s alone, tried to keep it secret, but somehow Alastor figured it out, like he always seems to.

Furious, he’d marched Lucifer right back to the bathroom and redid his stiches, this time entirely with the neon green thread he is able to manifest at will.  The thread was warm, a little biting against his skin, but Lucifer liked it. Liked that it meant Alastor would pay attention to him.

God, what a pathetic thing to do. He still cringes when he thinks back on it, but loneliness will make a wasteland out of you. And Lucifer was desperate enough to bleed for the company, his blood is a mere pittance, after all. He’ll never run dry.

The longer they spent together, the more comfortable Alastor was touching Lucifer; little brushes against his shoulder as he passed behind his usual seat at the kitchen island, a steadying hand on his side when he checked his stitches.

It was bliss.

There was a starving, gnawing part of him that basked in it; that took the offered touches like scraps from a table and still wanted more. Another part of him, cold and still burnt from the last time, told him not to get stupid, not to ask for more than he was worth.

Never to beg, because begging is unbecoming of a king.

They fell into a rhythm, small touches, loaded glances, oh so subtle forms of care. Lucifer was healed before he wanted to be, but Alastor didn’t stop. Didn’t leave, even when he checked his stitches one day and, grinning, snipped them away to reveal a shining pink scar.

Even healed, Alastor cooked for him. Even on days when he couldn’t force himself to leave his room, a covered plate would be left just outside his door, food incomprehensibly warm even hours after being made. The touches- maddening, lovely as they were- continued, chaste and addicting as ever.

Lucifer began to feel wild with it. Something inside of him- frayed at the edges, and torn in the middle- couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. Why? He thought. Why, still? Why me? He never got the courage to ask, too afraid of Alastor realizing his mistake.

So, they continued like that. Alastor got more comfortable touching Lucifer who was more than happy to let him. It seemed like he didn’t get much practice with it. Touching.

The more Lucifer fell into the lull of security, the more he noticed the tentativeness of each touch, the careful laying of each finger against pale skin, as if Alastor were exploring touch for the first time. As if it fascinated him.

Lucifer never asked- always afraid of doing something stupid to make the final shoe drop faster- but he did notice. And he began coming up with a plan. Alastor is not the only person in hell who sees their relationships as transactional. Good deeds must be paid back. They must, or you’re indebted. Or, more frighteningly, at least to Lucifer, they will grow bored of you.

They will see that you are ungrateful, and they will leave.

Unwilling to let that happen, Lucifer devised a plot. Alastor has very obviously never been very intimate with anyone before, which is totally ok, if not confusing given his objectively handsome features. But he evidently, somehow, feels safe exploring intimacy with Lucifer, which is so incredibly heartening (it makes something hot burst in his chest every time he thinks about it). Lucifer can use this to pay Alastor back, slowly introduce him to different touches until he feels more comfortable with them.

It’s perfect. Or- he thought it was perfect. Until today. Until Alastor got that wide, panicked look in his eyes as he shouted “No!” before running off to recover. Father Above. How did Lucifer manage to fuck up this bad? There’s no way they recover from this.

He takes a second to mourn the relationship before squaring his shoulders and heading to his room to write about a hundred drafts of his apology letter. He can’t believe he so brazenly stepped over a boundary, not even realizing it was there!

He’s the king of hell for godssakes, he should know when one of his subjects is on edge, or uncomfortable. More than that, he’s spent enough time with Alastor that he should know his tells, as well.

Some king he’s turned out to be, huh? Fuck.

***

It takes Alastor two days to appear before Lucifer again, and not for lack of trying on his part. Lucifer had forced himself from his room each day, wandering the hotel’s grounds looking for him. Several times he would sit at the bar for hours on end, watching, waiting.

Not for nothing, though, he’s learned something quite interesting about the bartender, Husk, and Angel Dust, the porn star.

Over a series of poorly hushed conversations, and not-so-surreptitious glances, he’s learned that they’re dating. Have been for a good few weeks, and somehow no one’s noticed. They seem glad of that fact, though, so Lucifer resolves not to tell anyone.

More interesting, though, is that Husk has been urging his boyfriend to ‘go for what he wants, for once’ which Lucifer hadn’t really understood until he looked over and caught both of them hurriedly looking away. Super unsuspiciously. It was almost enough to make a grown man blush, the sudden knowledge that he was wanted. That despite what he tells himself in his worst moments, he is desirable.

Angel is an attractive man, Lucifer’s not too insecure in himself to admit that, but something curdles in his gut at the thought of pursuing anything with him while he and Alastor are still on the rocks. Which… Is new, and a little terrifying.

Plus, he doesn’t exactly seem like the type to take charge, if you catch his drift, and while Lucifer is happy to play any role his partner wants, he doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it. Not anymore. He just can’t see himself as a figure of authority, not when he knows what it’s really like to be himself. Pathetic, and lonely. The thought of embarrassing himself like that while vulnerable is excruciating, so he pretends not to have noticed their intentions. Thankfully, Angel hasn’t approached him yet. He’s not sure what he would say, anyway.

Back to the most pressing matter, Alastor knocks on Lucifer’s door late at night, two days after the awkwardness of Lucifer’s unwanted touches. When Lucifer opens the door, he’s smiling calmly, and holding two covered plates, one in each hand.

“May I come in?” He asks. Lucifer nods, doggedly, then flushes when he remembers the state that his room is in, after several nights of wallowing. Being the king of hell does have its perks, though, so he snaps his fingers and the place rights itself.

Not before Alastor gets a good enough look to purse his lips disapprovingly, though.

Lucifer manifests a small table and two chairs, which Alastor makes immediate use of, placing a plate in front of each chair, and pulling one out for Lucifer to sit in.

“Please, take a seat. I think we need to talk.” Great. That’s always a good start to a conversation. Not like that’s ever gone wrong for Lucifer before. Nope.

With a sigh- internally steeling himself against the impending rejection- Lucifer sits. Alastor hums, and follows suit, snapping his fingers to disappear the lids to their food as soon as he’s seated.

It looks delicious, as it always does. Some sort of colored rice dish with meat and veggies mixed throughout. Lucifer smiles and thanks him, snapping to manifest some drinks- a champagne for himself, and a rich red wine for Alastor.

It’s quiet for a bit as they take their first few bites. Lucifer hums his appreciation, which Alastor’s smile ticks up at.

Finally, stomach knotting itself enough to disrupt his enjoyment of the food, Lucifer speaks.

“I’m so sorry, Al. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I did, and if there’s anything I can do- anything at all- to make up for it-“ before he can finish, Alastor cuts in, voice staticky.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dear. You didn’t know. I’m afraid I…” He trails off for a bit, mulling over his next words. Lucifer waits patiently, eyes wide.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that specific kind of touching. I don’t like it.” He’s not looking at Lucifer anymore, head turned to the side as he taps his claws against his wine glass. Lucifer tilts his head.  

“By ‘that kind of touching’, do you mean on your torso? I don’t want to mess it up again.” He asks. It’s a little presumptuous to imply that he’ll be able to touch Alastor, after this, but he’s too on edge to censor himself correctly. Alastor scoffs.

“You did not ‘mess anything up’. There was just a simple miscommunication. By that I mean sexual touches. Or anything meant to lead in that direction.” Ah, Lucifer’s hand had been quite close to his navel, and his intention was most definitely to take the touches further if Alastor was comfortable with it. He nods, apologizing once more.

“Got it. Sorry again, Al, I know you don’t think I need to say it, but I still feel bad. Thank you for telling me.” Lucifer- infinitely relieved and brimming with ill-advised hope- smiles up at him and rests his hand, palm up, in the middle of the table. Maybe he can salvage this. Maybe he doesn’t have to lose everything again.

Alastor’s grin softens at the edges as his eyes rove over Lucifer’s expression. He ‘tsk’s but places his own hand on top of Lucifer’s, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them up to press a small kiss to Lucifer’s knuckles.

A giddy laugh bursts from Lucifer’s chest and he buries his face- or what he can manage to obscure of it- into the palm of his remaining hand. It’s okay. Alastor’s not angry with him, it’s okay.

A few tears gather on his lashline, but he blinks them away before they can fall. Alastor’s other hand leaves his wine glass to brush just underneath Lucifer’s eye.

“Oh, don’t cry, dearest. It’s alright.” He says, voice softer than Lucifer thinks he’s ever heard it. It occurs to him that this must have been hard for Alastor, too, so unused to being vulnerable, but still showing this part of himself to Lucifer, and for what? So that Lucifer feels better? To put his mind at ease?

It’s so stupid.

It’s so kind.

Lucifer shakes his head, “Happy tears, Al. Thanks for trusting me.”

Alastor’s thumb swipes against the apple of his cheek as he hums.

“As if I could do anything else.”

[ghostsandmirrors]

Bucky gave a soft laugh and shrugged gently but jokingly, as if he were saying, 'well, you never know.' The joking vibe died with a loud snort before he dryly, but with heaping helpings of sarcasm, said, "oh yeah, you're terrifyin'. Scarier than those guys out there." He paused while eyeing the small bottle warily, this time being genuine until he spoke again. "M'more scared of your gran's bottles." They seemed fine, but he was dissociating too hard to be fully aware and risking anything seemed like a bad idea.

At the question, there was a moment before he glanced round. "What? Gettin' my shit kicked in?" There was a frown of confusion, then the realisation hit that Milo was talking about the arm. In his defence, he couldn't really feel Milo touching it. "Oh. S'heavy, mostly." Was it obvious that he was still only kind of grounded? "Sometimes forget I have it 'cause there's no… nerves? It can feel pressure, nothin' else."

"It was made in the '40s. S'impressive, but it's limited by the technology and the intent; there's no reason an asset should feel pain." He froze almost as soon as he stopped talking, as soon as his brain registered what he'd said. The mental fog and floatiness cleared instantly and he was very suddenly hyper-aware of everything down to the very slight smell of his own sweat and damp on his coat from the alleyway, the buzzing of electricity that was always a background noise but intensely noticable in that moment and the static of the silence beyond that.

The buzzing and static that reminded him a little too much of a cold base and a cold chair, of overhead lights that always seemed to be two days away from dying entirely.

He blinked finally and took a breath like he'd forgotten how to, back in the bathroom. "It kinda cold in here?" Maybe there was a tightness in his voice as he shook out his right arm. It was an attempt at warming it up; a chill had settled into his bones and the movement was a good distraction, even if that chill was decades old and from another country.

"Dude..." Milo sighed. "I'm not gonna somehow jump your bones against your will, just cuz you take your shirt off. I mean, shit... You can literally break me in half with your big ole supermuscles," he said, playfully slapping Bucky's thick, corded bicep. "But if youre really scarred of lil ole me, then fine, you can deal with your bruises yourself. But youre makin' a mistake," he said, waving thr small bottle in the air. "My Gran knows how to make some.of the best healing poltices. And she taught me good."

Setting down the bottle, he looked at Bucky in the mirror and put his other hand to the man's metal arm, caressing it in a tender way, no alterior motive. Just fascination. He could feel his psychic power sparking at the touch, but he pushed it down. He didn't want to step into Bucky's memories without his permission.

"Can I ask... What's it like? I mean, for real. What does it feel like?"

[gravesung-moving]

✨🌼🌹

positivity meme! / accepting.

send ✨ and i'll recommend a multimuse blog

@harerazor — i won't be a broken record and talk about how close of pals me n reuben are, but i WILL say that their muse roster is literally just. straight BANGERS. (except none of them are str— *i am forcibly removed from the stage) like... god. idek where to start with reuben. the kindest and most patient rp partner (and person ooc, honestly) and such a ridiculously funny person too? amazing friend and INCREDIBLE WRITER. their oc altair is a league of his own. endlessly fascinating and complex and wild and such a fun catalyst for many many different types of dynamics??? right now i'm particularly gnawing on geto and altair just because they're so fucking Weird and i love chewing on them, but shoutout to our others as well. <3 AND THEIR CANONS!!!! MY GOD THEIR CANONS!!! i want to take their toji and shake him upside down for all of his coins. i want to rip him open and stitch him back up. iw ant to x-ray him. i want— <- this is all from both me and chiaki btw. i am super super super super excited to get into writing with their uraume on seph too, it's gonna be soooooooooo. [soung of crunching]

send 🌼 and i'll recommend a blog with beautiful writing

@koseigu — beautiful like a punch to the face. beautiful like the crack of a whip. i don't know how to describe tsari's writing in a way that fully conveys what i love so much about it, but it's so snappy in a way that pleases my brain SO MUCH to read? it feels like every word has a right to be there, it's meaty and chewy, it's so deeply steeped in the character that even the action and description feels like it's coming from the muse's eyes. not to mention our shared taste in literary references. KJDFHJKDS i've been enthralled by their writing from day one and it has not stopped. i love the way our writing styles play off of each other, i love the plot ideas we come up with, i love reading their threads on the dash even when they're not mine, it's just all around so delicious.

send 🌹 and i'll recommend a blog that makes me happy

@tewwor — writing with goose feels like coming home. that's the only way i can describe it. like there's such a comforting aura about her and her muses (maybe it's because we've been writing together for so long that we're basically like old roommates at this point.) literally just seeing her on the dash — not to mention connecting with and interacting with my other friends like the two above — genuinely fills me with warmth. soft. i cherish them so much and being active on tumblr rp without them would feel like being in an empty house >:'O

[midsommersonnets]

1x1 rp req (18+ writers) : dark romance / possible dead dove : daughter of rich man's mistress (f) x rich man's legitimate son (m).

gnawing at the bars of my cage because i crave this one very specific dark romance plot with desperation. please, come at me if you wanna give me tension, twistedness, and crossed lines... i need the thin line between hate and love, red flag actions, and toxic emotions in spades for this one,, pls gang,, lets serve chaos 🙏 the plot basis: f oc is the daughter of m oc's father's mistress. she is a blight on their elite families and they never let her forget it. she's an unwelcome sight. this girl's irrationally beautiful existence makes the cruel, prodigial son sick with so many intense emotions. the daughter of his enemy should suffer. an outsider deserves no mercy. she doesn't belong here in his world of endless money, power-fuelled hierarchy, and cutthroat machinations. this elite society is not meant for someone like her to taint with her sinful origins; no, it is his field to rule so how dare she infiltrate it and cast a shadow on his iron-fisted rule. he needs to put her in her place for his family/revenge's sake. she may have a shared connection to him -- but she is not pure, she does not belong, she will never matter like he does. the girl is an impostor, an infiltrator, so he deals with her by enacting a cat n mouse game. he exacts revenge by using his power to toy with her, by finally settling her familial debt through using her body and mind as his makeshift canvas and scoreboard. details pending on how the cat n mouse game / revenge seeking would pan out because i can go as dark or as light as my fellow writer desires. could see lots of dead dove themes in the plot if the other writer is comfortable with it (mindgames, d*bcon/n*ncon (?), power imbalance, fauxcest/inc*st (?), toxicity, darker kinks, psychological horror, etc). ultimately, i need the m being completely obsessed with the f, culminating in him wanting to break her. while she will fight back as best as she can because she is her mothers daughter just as much as he is his fathers son <3. possible reverse harem / poly antics if m's best friends want to get in on the action but not a necessity. maybe secret society and fucked up frat rituals are in play. possibly, an elite academy or university setting, or alternately, a set-up for a fucked up arranged marriage. would love an exploration into both ocs very fucked-up mindsers. we can workshop things together. <3.

housekeeping :: i'm 21f+, so 18+ writers only, please.

flexible literacy is my preference. i can span from writing para to multi-para or multi-message (literate-novella). generally, i tend to mirror or write based on what the rp scene requires. i really want to get past the planning stage for this rp but am also VERY pro-prose (pretty writing and striking imagery are a beloved weakness <3), so initially, multi-para / para would be preferred.

strong preference for myself to write as the f in a mxf pairing for this idea, or mxfxm if desired. not into doubling of any kind due to time constraints and preferring to give my full energy to just one pairing/plot, but i will write many side characters for the sake of developing the world and plot.

an undying NEED for headcanons, pinboards, plotting n rambling, side threads/text threads and playlists to be utilised because ooc developing is my lifeblood. my beloved chatty and rambly writers– pls hmu because we are the same !! i love to yap about ocs and pairings far too much.

i'm fine with smut, darker themes, dead dove, etc, and am also equally okay with fade to black and less overt darkness. keep in mind, i will respect limits, and i hope others will do the same for me. expanding on this point, limits and specific rp desires will be discussed in dms before moving to discord.

on that note, i write on discord platform only.

like/comment/dm if interested.

[unholytrinityrpf]

dark academia // psychological thriller - rp request !! 🕊👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🩸

i am on my hands and knees, screaming, crying, begging for a fellow dark academia and dark romance enthusiast to come at me for a high stakes psychological thriller rp !! i'm craving dark oc x dark oc so badly. i want blood, guts, dead dove (including incest 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 bc secret siblings, twincest, messy half-sibz or codependant brother/sister could work well), and all the most twisted kinks (violencs 🩸 suits this plot well). i want cold genius x creative genius. i want ocs who are obsessive academic rivals, or ocs enmeshed in the messy childhood friends trope. i want them to dismantle their enemies, fight to meet their goals, and also play psychotic mindgames games with each other because it's their love language. need blasphemy as a metaphor for the lines they'd cross, the darkest kinks enacted on the other, and violent imagery to represent the depths of their possessiveness and obsession !!

i have basic plotline ideas in mind, and i'm dying to develop an rp where we both equally contribute to create a detailed plot, so dry writers dni. enthusiasm, equal contribution, and rambling are a necessity. currently, i am bursting with ideas for a dark academia-psych thriller-dark romance fusion, featuring twisted ocs in their early teens to mid twenties. i do have a couple fc suggestions, so if you're willing to hear them out too then you're a 10/10 in my eyes, and i will write my hardest for you (suggestions include a mix of western and asian fcs, models and actors, also open to using manga/manhwa fcs too) 🙏.

please, fellow enthusiastic writers, crawl my way !! i will adore our pair and fangirl so fucking hard over our ocs that it'll feel like i'm gnawing on your ankle with endless ideas and ship inspo.

final notes—

- i am a discord writer. 21+f, and i'd like my partners to also be 21+.

- headcanons, constant character development, pinboards, playlists, and jointly developing the plot are a must— i thrive on ooc fangirling just as much as the actual rp.

- lit–novella rp, meaning multi-para as a minimum (lengths will vary depending on what's going on in the rp. open to text threads, shorter threads, and aus on the side).

- i'm dying to write a mxf rp where i write the female character. it is just a need right now. also selectively open to poly plots such as mxfxm.

- completely fine with most darker kinks and a variety of dead dove themes including incest, violence, and other such things. limits will be discussed in dms

- minors dni. cismen dni.

- like, and i'll reach out.

If interested, please like this post. 🙏

[novella-writers]

dark academia // psychological thriller - rp request !! 🕊

i am on my hands and knees, screaming, crying, begging for a fellow dark academia and dark romance enthusiast to come at me for a high stakes psychological thriller rp !! i'm craving dark oc x dark oc so badly. i want blood, guts, dead dove, and all the most twisted kinks. i want cold genius x creative genius. i want ocs who are obsessive academic rivals, or ocs enmeshed in the messy childhood friends trope. i want them to dismantle their enemies, fight to meet their goals, and also play psychotic mindgames games with each other because it's their love language. need blasphemy as a metaphor for the lines they'd cross, the darkest kinks enacted on the other, and violent imagery to represent the depths of their possessiveness and obsession !!

i have basic plotline ideas in mind, and i'm dying to develop an rp where we both equally contribute to create a detailed plot, so dry writers dni. enthusiasm, equal contribution, and rambling are a necessity. currently, i am bursting with ideas for a dark academia-psych thriller-dark romance fusion, featuring twisted ocs in their early teens to mid twenties. i do have a couple fc suggestions, so if you're willing to hear them out too then you're a 10/10 in my eyes, and i will write my hardest for you (suggestions include a mix of western and asian fcs, models and actors, also open to using manga/manhwa fcs too) 🙏.

please, fellow enthusiastic writers, crawl my way !! i will adore our pair and fangirl so fucking hard over our ocs that it'll feel like i'm gnawing on your ankle with endless ideas and ship inspo.

final notes—

- i am a discord writer. 21+f, and i'd like my partners to also be 18+ (20+ is preferred).

- headcanons, constant character development, pinboards, playlists, and jointly developing the plot are a must— i thrive on ooc fangirling just as much as the actual rp.

- lit–novella rp, meaning multi-para as a minimum (lengths will vary depending on what's going on in the rp. open to text threads, shorter threads, and aus on the side).

- i'm dying to write a mxf rp where i write the female character. it is just a need right now. also selectively open to poly plots such as mxfxm.

- completely fine with most darker kinks and a variety of dead dove themes. limits will be discussed in dms

- minors dni. cismen dni.

- like, and i'll reach out.

Like if interested!

[darkrpfinders]

dark academia // psychological thriller - rp request !! 🕊

i am on my hands and knees, screaming, crying, begging for a fellow dark academia and dark romance enthusiast to come at me for a high stakes psychological thriller rp !! i'm craving dark oc x dark oc so badly. i want blood, guts, dead dove, and all the most twisted kinks. i want cold genius x creative genius. i want ocs who are obsessive academic rivals, or ocs enmeshed in the messy childhood friends trope. i want them to dismantle their enemies, fight to meet their goals, and also play psychotic mindgames games with each other because it's their love language. need blasphemy as a metaphor for the lines they'd cross, the darkest kinks enacted on the other, and violent imagery to represent the depths of their possessiveness and obsession !!

i have basic plotline ideas in mind, and i'm dying to develop an rp where we both equally contribute to create a detailed plot, so dry writers dni. enthusiasm, equal contribution, and rambling are a necessity. currently, i am bursting with ideas for a dark academia-psych thriller-dark romance fusion, featuring twisted ocs in their early teens to mid twenties. i do have a couple fc suggestions, so if you're willing to hear them out too then you're a 10/10 in my eyes, and i will write my hardest for you (suggestions include a mix of western and asian fcs, models and actors, also open to using manga/manhwa fcs too) 🙏.

please, fellow enthusiastic writers, crawl my way !! i will adore our pair and fangirl so fucking hard over our ocs that it'll feel like i'm gnawing on your ankle with endless ideas and ship inspo.

final notes—

- i am a discord writer. 21+f, and i'd like my partners to also be 18+ (20+ is preferred).

- headcanons, constant character development, pinboards, playlists, and jointly developing the plot are a must— i thrive on ooc fangirling just as much as the actual rp.

- lit–novella rp, meaning multi-para as a minimum (lengths will vary depending on what's going on in the rp. open to text threads, shorter threads, and aus on the side).

- i'm dying to write a mxf rp where i write the female character. it is just a need right now. also selectively open to poly plots such as mxfxm.

- completely fine with most darker kinks and a variety of dead dove themes. limits will be discussed in dms

- minors dni. cismen dni.

- like, and i'll reach out.

.

[prpfz]

dark academia // psychological thriller - rp request !! 🕊

i am on my hands and knees, screaming, crying, begging for a fellow dark academia and dark romance enthusiast to come at me for a high stakes psychological thriller rp !! i'm craving dark oc x dark oc so badly. i want blood, guts, dead dove, and all the most twisted kinks. i want cold genius x creative genius. i want ocs who are obsessive academic rivals, or ocs enmeshed in the messy childhood friends trope. i want them to dismantle their enemies, fight to meet their goals, and also play psychotic mindgames games with each other because it's their love language. need blasphemy as a metaphor for the lines they'd cross, the darkest kinks enacted on the other, and violent imagery to represent the depths of their possessiveness and obsession !!

i have basic plotline ideas in mind, and i'm dying to develop an rp where we both equally contribute to create a detailed plot, so dry writers dni. enthusiasm, equal contribution, and rambling are a necessity. currently, i am bursting with ideas for a dark academia-psych thriller-dark romance fusion, featuring twisted ocs in their early teens to mid twenties. i do have a couple fc suggestions, so if you're willing to hear them out too then you're a 10/10 in my eyes, and i will write my hardest for you (suggestions include a mix of western and asian fcs, models and actors, also open to using manga/manhwa fcs too) 🙏.

please, fellow enthusiastic writers, crawl my way !! i will adore our pair and fangirl so fucking hard over our ocs that it'll feel like i'm gnawing on your ankle with endless ideas and ship inspo.

final notes—

- i am a discord writer. 21+f, and i'd like my partners to also be 18+ (20+ is preferred).

- headcanons, constant character development, pinboards, playlists, and jointly developing the plot are a must— i thrive on ooc fangirling just as much as the actual rp.

- lit–novella rp, meaning multi-para as a minimum (lengths will vary depending on what's going on in the rp. open to text threads, shorter threads, and aus on the side).

- i'm dying to write a mxf rp where i write the female character. it is just a need right now. also selectively open to poly plots such as mxfxm.

- completely fine with most darker kinks and a variety of dead dove themes. limits will be discussed in dms

- minors dni. cismen dni.

- like, and i'll reach out.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[ocrpsearch]

dark academia // psychological thriller - rp request !! 🕊

i am on my hands and knees, screaming, crying, begging for a fellow dark academia and dark romance enthusiast to come at me for a high stakes psychological thriller rp !! i'm craving dark oc x dark oc so badly. i want blood, guts, dead dove, and all the most twisted kinks. i want cold genius x creative genius. i want ocs who are obsessive academic rivals, or ocs enmeshed in the messy childhood friends trope. i want them to dismantle their enemies, fight to meet their goals, and also play psychotic mindgames games with each other because it's their love language. need blasphemy as a metaphor for the lines they'd cross, the darkest kinks enacted on the other, and violent imagery to represent the depths of their possessiveness and obsession !!

i have basic plotline ideas in mind, and i'm dying to develop an rp where we both equally contribute to create a detailed plot, so dry writers dni. enthusiasm, equal contribution, and rambling are a necessity. currently, i am bursting with ideas for a dark academia-psych thriller-dark romance fusion, featuring twisted ocs in their early teens to mid twenties. i do have a couple fc suggestions, so if you're willing to hear them out too then you're a 10/10 in my eyes, and i will write my hardest for you (suggestions include a mix of western and asian fcs, models and actors, also open to using manga/manhwa fcs too) 🙏.

please, fellow enthusiastic writers, crawl my way !! i will adore our pair and fangirl so fucking hard over our ocs that it'll feel like i'm gnawing on your ankle with endless ideas and ship inspo.

final notes—

- i am a discord writer. 21+f, and i'd like my partners to also be 21+.

- headcanons, constant character development, pinboards, playlists, and jointly developing the plot are a must— i thrive on ooc fangirling just as much as the actual rp.

- lit–novella rp, meaning multi-para as a minimum (lengths will vary depending on what's going on in the rp. open to text threads, shorter threads, and aus on the side).

- i'm dying to write a mxf rp where i write the female character. it is just a need right now. also selectively open to poly plots such as mxfxm.

- completely fine with most darker kinks and a variety of dead dove themes. limits will be discussed in dms

- minors dni. cismen dni.

- like, and i'll reach out.

*resent because i missed a detail.

interact and anon will reach out!

[hells-musing-along]

PUBLIC / OPEN STARTER // OOC - Woke up and chose drunken angst. I hope you enjoy and interact with this drunken queen. ♡ ♡ ♡ I'll move any replies to their own thread so things won't get mucked up if this receives multiple replies.

A haunting melody drifted through the skyline, emanating from one of the rooftops. Those within the vicinity felt a deep ache clutching at their hearts: sorrow, anxiousness, and heartache hung heavy within. The siren’s song only lasted a few minutes, but those feelings still lingered with those around and within her. 

“...What a fucking happy day in Hell,” Sarcastically muttering to herself, Lilith poured another glass of whiskey. Her lilac eyes slowly take in Hell’s skyline before they fall upon a particular hotel. A faint twist of anguish crossed her features as she realized it was still her first day back in hell.

It was supposed to be a happy day, a joyous reunion with her family. The moment she was released from Heaven's golden cage, she eagerly searched for her loved ones. Yet, upon finding them, she hesitated, realizing she couldn't simply re-enter their lives as if nothing had changed.

Lucifer and Charlie looked so happy when she saw them heading into the hotel. She didn’t want to intrude on their happiness. It’s been seven years… did she even have that right? You’re just going to ruin them. She did not, at least right now, and retreated back into the city.

It’s for the best, right? Lilith wondered, taking another gulp of her drink. Drinking her sorrows away wasn’t the best idea; The voices of self-doubt and guilt gnawed at her insides, eroding her self-confidence and resolution to improve things. Tears brimmed in her eyes… - SLAM -

Her attention snapped, hearing the door slam shut and footsteps heard, and she whipped her head around to see who had entered her domain.

"Who…? -hiccup-“...Wh’ goes there?” Well, shit, she drank too much into her sorrows.