#aspiringtrashpanda

“Jinx!” Your enthusiasm was lost on your company. Your neck cracked as you glanced from brother to brother, your grin dampening when they looked at you as though you’d grown a second head.  

Satan frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

“Is that some normie saying?” Though he sneered, there was curiosity in Levi’s eyes.  

“You don’t have jinx here?” You barreled onward, explaining, “It’s a game we play in the human world when two people say the same thing at the same time.” 

“How does it work?” Asmo pursed his lip, which only drew his attention to his shade of lip gloss, his mirror capturing his eyes once more.  

You shrugged, “There are various versions of the game. Sometimes, the loser can’t speak until they buy the victor a drink. Other times, they’re silenced until their name is uttered aloud 3 times.”

Mammon lunged forward, toppling off the couch as he rushed on all fours to where you sat on the carpet. Before he could protest, eyes wild with a mix of fear and anger, you placed a finger to his lips. 

“Nope! Not ‘til you buy me a Devil Cola!”  

“LOL!” Levi rejoiced, “Mammon, you’re such a n00b!” 

You weren’t the only one who noticed the way Mammon’s eyes brightened, Satan chiding, “Watch it. You can’t say his name or he’s freed, remember?” 

“Oh~ I wonder how long he can hold his tongue?” Asmo giggled, finally distracted from his mirror. You couldn’t blame him. Mammon’s expression was a cross between anguished and constipated.  

His jaw clenching, slivers of his teeth glinting through curled lips, you could feel the irritation radiating from the Avatar of Greed. Absently, you considered if you should tell him it wasn’t an actual curse. Did he know there was no power other than himself silencing him?  

“Can he eat?” Beel inquired, genuine concern mingling with sympathy as he watched his older brother straighten up and march towards the entrance hall.  

“You don't need to speak to eat,” Belphie's muffled voice reasoned beneath the blankets.

“HEY MAMS!” You called to his back, shoulders curled up to his ears in anger, “Buy me a Devil Cola, won’t you?"

And really, you hadn’t expected him to follow through at all. He left the room and you returned to your homework. Beel continued eating, Belphie continued sleeping, and Satan continued reading for the sole purpose of poisoning Lucifer, you were sure. 

About thirty minutes passed before you heard the door to the Hall of Lamentation creak open.  

“No way!” Asmo squealed, a shutter sounding before Mammon could sprint to the couch and swat the D.D.D. from his freshly manicured hands.

Your jaw hit the floor as you looked up at the second born, at the condensation dripping down the can of soda that he thrust in your face. A petulant pout only brightened his blush, the way his eyes looked anywhere but you. The red tint to his skin darkened as his brothers laughed, jeered, teased him.  

The least you could do was offer him some praise. You smiled with all your teeth, “Thanks Mammon! The jinx is lifted.” 

He scowled, waving off your gratitude with an unnecessarily noisy exhale. With his newfound freedom, he instantly started pestering Asmo, critiquing his most recent Devilgram selfies. As your heart swelled with affection, the words in your textbook falling on blind eyes too occupied by the tiniest movements of your family, you felt completely at ease.  

You didn’t think you needed to elaborate, to clarify that you had used your pact and that there was no real magic behind the jinx. 

However, when you entered the House of Lamentation two weeks later, you realized you had been very wrong. 

The living room was a disaster, pillows tossed this way and that, candle wax oozing across something that looked suspiciously like a summoning circle. Splintered wood littered the carpet, broken chairs in a mangled pile next to the hearth. You were pretty sure you could smell something burning.  

You nearly dropped the bag of groceries in your arms, Beel stock still at your side. One look at your shopping buddy told you he had no idea what was going on, concern blazing to life in his purple eyes. 

“Lucifer?!” He called out, immediately seeking reassurance. 

Instead of the eldest’s smooth drawl, you were met with an incomprehensible shriek from somewhere in the kitchen. A clatter of pots and pans. A crash.  

Belphie came sauntering into the room, nodding in greeting. “The jinx didn’t work.” 

“What?!” You gawked, surveying the damage to the room, “What is going on?!” 

“He could still talk!” Satan fumed, stomping out of the kitchen with his bony tail lashing back and forth, “So I cursed him, but then that asshole reflected it, and it hit Asmo instead.” 

Sure enough, a completely drenched Avatar of Lust was next to appear, his mouth moving a mile a minute and yet, not a single sound to be heard. He tossed his hands in the air, hissing something fierce before flicking a wet strand of hair from his face.  

“And Asmo tried to charm Mammon to speak for him,” Satan was still ranting, “but Mammon tried to charge him for his services, which then set Levi off about repayment with interest.” 

You hugged the groceries tighter to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you realized you knew exactly what was happening in the kitchen. You heard the roar, the rumble of the house’s foundation, the continuous rush of water drowning out twin shouts you had heard far too many times before. 

But not as many times as the one voice that rose above them all.  

“MAMMOOOON?!” 

You winced. You’d have to buy your first a Devil Cola later.  

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

technically mammon was the one to provoke levi to summon lotan, so rip buddy. but let's be real, they're all getting punished.

“Yeah,” He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you think we were only coming here tonight?”

The taste flooding your tongue - savory and salty with a crunch from the fixings cradled between two soft buns - was so overwhelming, you didn’t register his words. You were too busy relishing in the richness of the burger as it traveled down your throat and to your stomach, warming you from the inside out. It didn’t even bother you that the patty was probably made from some weird Devildom animal that you would usually find unappetizing. The burger was too good to care.

Realization struck you like lightning from above. “Wait, what?”

It was not lost on you how Beel’s indigo gaze traced the tip of your tongue as you licked at the residual taste on your lips. Something unreadable lanced through his irises. Suddenly, it was awfully hard to meet his eyes, your heart firmly lodging itself in your throat. 

Lazily nibbling on his last acidic hell fry, he suggested, “Want to have a campfire?”

“A campfire?” You echoed, ducking your head when you became self-conscious of your dumb expression.

His mind made up, he toweled off his greasy fingers and stood, the stool screeching against the wooden floors of Hell’s Kitchen. “Yeah,” Determination as sharp as his jaw set his brow into a deep furrow. “Come with me.”

Keeping up with Beelzebub on the hunt for food was easier than you had expected. Looming over most demons, his long legs gave him the ability to cover impressive distance with each step. However, you found it wasn’t difficult to wander the streets of the Devildom at his side. Maybe it was the way he moved slowly, with intention, as if he was trying to commit every second of this night to his memory. Maybe it was his big heart, always so considerate of those he cared about. 

Maybe he was looking out for you, just as you always looked out for him. There was a reason you kept snacks on your person at all times, after all. 

It had come as a surprise when Beel had requested your attendance for an impromptu dinner at Hell’s Kitchen. You had been drowning in homework, the sharp knock on your bedroom door startling you from your third attempt to actually absorb the words on the page in front of you. 

“Hey, dinner tonight?” He had asked, so casually as if it was any other day.

“Sure,” You had smiled.

“Cool,” He had beamed that dazzling Beelzebub grin that stretched wide across his face. The one where you could count all of his sharp teeth. The one that creased his eyes into crescent moons and made your stomach twist into a pretzel. “It’s a date.”

You were pretty sure it had taken you at least five minutes to process the bomb he had dropped on you upon his exit. Another fifteen to find a suitable outfit - casual and comfortable, but also nice, you know? And you couldn’t possibly discount the solid forty minutes spent worrying over whether he was joking or being serious. 

When he had met you in the entrance hall clad in his best jeans and a flattering, nice sweater, you felt the relief inflate your chest like a helium balloon. 

And really, you still felt like you were walking on air. Even as you stood in the snacks aisle of a Devildom bodega, shying away from the unflattering glare of overhead fluorescent lights as Beel rifled through foil packaging with an intensity that you long learned accompanied his hunger. 

He fought you tooth and nail at the register, amusement dancing upon his lips. “Why should you pay?”

“Because you bought dinner,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as if it would possibly make you more intimidating in the eyes of the 6’4” demon. 

“Hmmm,” he mulled over your argument for a millisecond, just to lean down and blow a raspberry in your face. He smirked, “Nope.”

It caught you off guard, your face burning as bright as a screaming tomato. Brattiness was usually Belphie’s expertise. 

Mischief melting into soft affection in his indigo gaze, fixed to you as the bodega clerk processed his payment, he ventured, “What if… you cover our next date?”

You liked the way the tips of his ears flushed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck and shot you a sheepish, albeit genuine, smile. 

“I think that would be fair.” A tickle spread across your cheeks, scrunching your nose and burning your skin. 

Though, the heat from your flush had nothing on the warmth of the flames lapping at the inky Devildom sky. The embers shot like fireflies reaching for the stars, the campfire crackling within the confines of the pit, lined by rocks that would dwarf even Beelzebub’s palm. It had come as a surprise when Beel had led you off the beaten path, guiding you to a clearing in a forest not too far from the House of Lamentation. However, the secret fire pit made a lot more sense when he explained that it was typically reserved for stargazing with Belphie. 

“Are those… rice krispie squares?” You asked, the pop of an adhesive seam wafting vanilla your way.

“They’re crackling mallow bars,” Beel corrected, though there was no judgment in his tone. He had this way of introducing you to Devildom cuisine in a manner that felt familiar, like he understood that there were a lot of similarities between the dishes you knew. “They’re made up of marshmallows and these crispy marrow bits that are caramelized and -”

“Do they taste sweet?” You suppressed a grimace at the unappetizing description.

He chucked, the sound oozing reassurance, “Yes.”

“Okay, cool.” As he retrieved two long sticks, splitting into sharp prongs at the tip, nostalgia hit you like a truck. You hummed, “I used to eat something like this all the time when I was little.”

He raised a brow. “You’re still little.”

“Very funny.”

He laughed. Peeling the wrapper from two treats, he secured both on the ends of the sticks. “Have you ever roasted them over a campfire?” 

“I never considered that. They would melt pretty fast, wouldn’t they?”

“You would think so,” He passed you a stick, eyes warm with encouragement and something akin to childlike awe, “But they actually hold up for a while.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Just you and Beel and the chirps of the hell crickets in the undergrowth. It was hard to pay attention to the way the sweet bars darkened, a char climbing up the chunks of… marrow, or whatever… when you could feel Beel’s eyes on you. 

When you met his gaze, he was ready, already pulling the snack from his stick. “Here, try this.”

The marshmallow near compromised, the dessert fell apart in his large hands. Beel’s fingers tangled in sticky sweetness, you gasped in delight as strings of sugar stretched towards you with his gesture. “Oh, it’s so gooey!” 

His smile was so big, so warm, and you had the sudden thought that if you were in Icarus’s shoes, you too would fly too close to the sun. He went to feed you the treat, laughing, “Open wide!”

The explosion of flavor on your tongue - hot and sweet with that smoky campfire accent - had you squirming in delight, a thrilled hum vibrating in your throat. You were grateful that Beel thought to remove your stick from the fire. You were far too occupied with your new favorite snack to notice it about to ignite. 

Beel’s laughter died, his brow furrowing as conflict eclipsed the joy in his gaze. You looked to him, confused. “What?”

Had he always been that close? Had he been watching you with such longing this entire time?

“You’ve got a bit of marshmallow…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes zeroing in on your lips. “Can I?”

You nodded. Your mouth was so dry, your pulse in your ears. With his nose nudging yours, you could taste the sweetness of the marshmallow treat on his breath, feel the way you were drawn closer like sticky sugar insistent on holding you together. 

His lips brushed yours - soft and chaste. It was funny how a kiss so gentle could hold so much weight. Featherlight, a tender brush, and yet you felt as though the prints of his lips were engraved on yours forevermore. 

“Mmm, tastes extra good,” he breathed, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs smoothed over your skin, his eyes reading your soul as you leaned in to kiss him again. A peck to his lips, to his nose, to the apples of his cheeks.  

“What are you thinking about?” You murmured, reveling in his proximity, his radiant warmth. 

“Trying all my favorite foods off your lips,” He smiled, the twitch of his lips slotting against yours with such ease. “Think we could try that?”

“Sure,” You laughed, “It’s a date.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

“Hi,” You broke through the silence, putting on your cheeriest smile, “How is my favorite Purgatory Hall resident today?”

As you saw the confusion give way to suspicion in their twin looks of surprise, you considered that perhaps you, like Solomon, also liked to stir the pot. It was funny, how they both straightened their spines, puffed out their chests, sized the other up while simultaneously pretending to be unbothered. Subtle peacocking, in a way. 

You would do the same to the brothers, but… Well, then you would just end up at Purgatory Hall once more, wouldn’t you? Such a taunt was sure to start another fire of some sort between the Rulers of the Underworld. 

“Well, if it isn’t my adorable apprentice,” Solomon beamed, reaching behind the laundry basket to procure a bowl of pastries. “Can I interest you in a macaroon?”

“Did you make them?” You eyed the fluffy cookies. They did look good…

“Of course!”

Never mind.

“Ah, sorry Sol, I ate before coming here and I’m stuffed.” You lied. Thankfully, Raphael’s malfunctioning tastebuds saved you from further scrutiny. He lit up like the heavens above, blue gaze sparkling like sapphires as he snagged one of the sweets.

“Truly delicious, Solomon.” Despite his praise, Raphael remained as stoic as ever. Only the slightest glimmer of joy dancing in his eyes gave away his genuine gratitude. “I must get your recipe. Michael is so fond of sweets.” 

“I’ll make sure to bake him a special batch at the end of the semester,” Solomon preened beneath the compliment, “You could send him my regards.”

And just like that, the angel’s guard flew back up, an expression edging confusion finding solace in your hum of surprise. What on earth - er, the three realms? - did Solomon want to send regards to archangel Michael for? 

As Solomon turned back to the laundry, excusing himself by claiming he had to retrieve another load from the dryer, Raphael eyed you with unveiled curiosity. You shrunk under the intensity of his stare. It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with the latest exchange student from the Celestial Realm, and you weren’t sure you would ever get used to the way he watched you so carefully. Though he rarely voiced his thoughts, his stare had a certain weight to it. One that told you that he was questioning every flex of your fingers, every slope of your lips, every shift of your limbs. Why he found you so interesting, you weren’t sure. 

As for you… Of course you found him interesting! Luke had said it himself - Raphael was the youngest angel to ever be given the rank of seraph! He was quiet and mysterious and so very guarded. You never knew just what he was thinking at any time. You could examine him for hours and you were certain boredom would elude you.

In fact, you were about to find out who would win a casual staring contest between the two of you. Almost taken aback by your confidence, there was a split second where you thought he was going to cave, his jaw clenching and his lips pursing in a pout you almost considered petulant. But then, he steeled his resolve, doubled back with a burning question in his gaze.

You had no answer for his silent inquisition, but you felt scorched regardless. 

“Hey,” He blinked slowly, forfeiting. “Do you want to see my spears?”

“Actually…” You were answering before you even knew what you were going to say. “Yeah, I do.”

“Come with me,” He nodded curtly, exiting the living room with little warning. 

Nearly tripping over your feet in your haste, you raced after him, the flutter of his Celestial Realm clothes a flash of ivory turning a corner. Your heart thudding in your chest, you felt your anticipation growing with each step. You had heard so much about his rain of spears! The terrifying display of violence that struck fear into even Belphegor’s heart!

And so, you were completely flabbergasted when Raphael spun around from the corner of his temporary bedroom, brandishing… not a weapon. 

You almost considered it anticlimactic, but the disappointment lingered for less than a second. Your brain’s buffering complete, it reached a very reasonably enthusiastic conclusion: Raphael was cradling a hedgehog. Not just any hedgehog, but a shadow hedgehog native to the Devildom. Its charcoal quills quivering under your awestruck gaze, you hit the brakes on your excitement, your index finger hovering an inch away from its curious nose.

“Can I pet it?” You whispered, even though no one had told you to keep quiet.

“He likes when you rub his forehead,” Raphael matched your volume, lifting the little mammal closer to your face.

Sure enough, the shadow hedgehog squeaked in delight as you carefully ran the pad of your finger up his nose to the patch of fur between his ears. “Is… Is his name Spears?”

Raphael looked at you incredulously, as if the answer was obvious. “His back is made of a thousand spears.”

To accentuate his point, he gently stroked the needles laid flat over Spears’s back. You smiled, “Shadow hedgehogs are known to inflate like pufferfish when they feel threatened.”

Raphael regarded you with a stern frown, “I would never harm Spears.” 

“No!” You squawked, startling the hedgehog. He hissed softly, nuzzling into Raphael’s thumb for reassurance. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

A pensive hesitance fogged those sapphire eyes. Cradling his pet close to his chest, he seemed to calculate the potential risks in his head before offering, “Would you like to hold him?”

Did you ever! Your hands shaking, you extended them towards Spears, your palms pressed together in a makeshift platform. “Okay…”

It tickled, the way his little paws scurried across your skin. His nose - wet and cold - nudged against the base of your thumb, his miniature spears raising in apprehension until he deemed your hands safe. Then, he sat still and allowed you to marvel at his pristine quills and beady onyx eyes. He was an awfully cute hedgehog. 

“You know, in the human world, there’s a musician named Britney Spears.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were bringing up the pop star. You were positive she was not to Raphael’s liking. 

“Are they any good?”

You sidestepped. “They’re iconic.”

His silence seemed louder this time, his lips twisted into the smallest frown as he watched his pet tentatively lick at your palms. With a resolute jerk of his head, he decided, “I will allow Britney to be his middle name.”

“Middle name? Like, Spears Britney… Last name?” 

“His first name is Hella.” 

“What?” You blinked. Listen, you led quite a bizarre life. From being yoinked into the Devildom, to nearly dying at the hands of Levi because you lowkey cheated at a quiz show, to actually dying in a different timeline for wanting to hug Belphie, and then to somehow becoming the apprentice of the world’s strongest sorcerer. And yet, this hedgehog’s name managed to be the oddest thing you had heard yet.

Raphael shrugged, “Solomon assures me it is a name for only the most honorable warriors in the human world.”

Your lips curled inwards, sucked by the force of your inhale. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

Still, your voice wavered with amusement. “Hella…Britney Spears, the shadow hedgehog.”

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed, pride overwhelming his gaze as he gently took the little mammal from your hands. “The best around.”

The glint in his eye told you that arguing would only end in a rain of actual spears. All you could do was nod, thank him for sharing a piece of his life with you, and echo, “The best around.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

My requests are open! Find out more HERE. Banner by the incredible @4laurus, Beel fan extraordinaire.

The flit of your eyes confirmed the voice’s dulcet tones. Levi was, indeed, playing the classic fantasy game by Bethesda. There was no arguing the claim, not with the way the dragon attacked the site of his execution. 

Another glance at the aquarium revealed swaying kelp among the decorating stone structures within the tank. A flash of golden filaments forced the question from your mouth, “Can Henry speak?”

“Henry?” Levi paused the game, pulling up the main menu. He squished up his nose in amusement. “LOL. Not to you.”

Though, regardless of his claims, the melody bounced about the room.

“And the arrows fly, your knee’s been nullified. Go on and kiss the boy. ” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” And whether you were asking the fish - you noticed multiple fins fluttering from the hydra anemone to the sweeping greenery within the freshwater - or Levi, you weren’t entirely sure. Regardless, Leviathan spun in his chair, rocking back and forth on the creaking hinge of his high-tech seat. It was probably sponsored. He was a prominent gamer in the Devildom, after all. 

The pause between your question and his answer would have felt deafening if it wasn’t for the consistent thump of the bass, the jingle of mallets on a seashell marimba. Perhaps you appeared confused, though the uncertainty fell in syncopated beats, along with a tune you weren’t sure Levi could hear. 

“Well, you know, you normies have inferior hearing to us dem- HEY!” His squawk managed to overwhelm the crooning from the water fixture. The shellfish had joined in with some lovely harmonies, at this point. However, you found yourself happy to be distracted by Levi’s large, clammy hands as his long fingers pried yours away from a figure on his shelf.  “Don’t touch that!”

“Ah, sorry. I was just wondering…” You couldn’t stop the rush of blood to your face, the heat searing your cheeks a pretty pink. “Is that the Lord of Shadow’s crimson banquet outfit?”

Leviathan froze, his frame somewhere between sitting and standing. With his hands on his thighs, just above his knees, it looked as though he had been about to stand, about to rush to your side and physically remove your touch from the figure you had been admiring. 

“Yes, you want him. Look at him, you know you do. It’s possible he wants you too, and there’s one way to ask him.”

There was a flash of something in the indigo veins of his burning gaze. Did he hear it, too? Before you could ask, Levi narrowed his eyes, redirected your attention to his shelf of figurines. “Are you referring to the movies you marathoned with Mammon, or the books?”

You frowned, indignance igniting a roaring fire up your spine. With a sniff, you turned away from his incredulous glare. “I actually have started reading the books, you know. But… Well, I’m only on book two.”

The soothing accompaniment looped some sort of interlude. Minnows scurried from one rock to another. A toad lingering on a stone fixture breaching the surface croaked low and heavy, “It’s a list of words, by his fave character, go on and kiss the boy.”

And it was only then that you noticed the tension building in Levi’s blue seascape of a room. You felt the way his chapped lips parted, his tongue darting out to nervously wet the skin. He swallowed loudly, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His headphones rattled when he pushed them into the soft indigo strands brushing his nape, displaced and apparently forgotten. You smiled as a pretty pink flush spread across Levi’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. 

In an attempt to comfort him, you brought his attention back to the figure on his shelf. “Tell me about him, then.”

The prejudice dissolved from his gaze, replaced with a genuine excitement that nearly turned his orange eyes as bright as the sun that never touched the Devildom. He took a deep breath in, choosing his words carefully. “The… Um, the costume design department actually stuck really close to the canon source for the crimson banquet.”

A series of bubbles floated to the surface of the aquarium. As they burst, a note rang out through the room. There were so many instruments involved in the song now. How did a crayfish play a flute? It was past logic at this point. All you could do was pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. You offered Levi a shy smile, “Is this a special edition?”

“It is!” You loved the beam that stretched across his face, all crooked teeth and enthusiasm. “Oh! You’ll get it, then! See, Mammon tried to steal him and sell him for only 15,000 Grimm! Can you believe it? I mean, not only would it be unthinkable to sell Crimson Banquet Lord of Shadow, but to sell it for such a small amount?! It’s like he didn’t even know that the designer had actually researched the small nordic community off of Greenland to accurately represent the sort of clothing that…”

The sound of his voice was a sweeter melody than any fish could sing. You thought you caught the shimmer of a red scale, a rainbow shark swimming low to the colorful pebbles hidden in the soft silt at the base of the aquarium. You caught its eye. It winked. 

You weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

“Er, you’re probably not interested in all that…” Levi was still rambling. At the sight of his nervous expression, the way he twiddled his thumbs and averted his eyes like he thought you weren’t interested, you kicked it into high gear.

“I am.” Your heart thudded against your ribs. Really, you were. You were interested in anything Levi wanted to tell you. You found his passions fascinating. 

The moment his sunrise gaze slammed into yours, a swelling chorus rose from the aquarium. You felt your pulse thrum in time with the beat. Their voices appealed to the endorphins rushing through your veins.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la my, oh my! The human is too shy! Ain’t gonna kiss the boy.”

A pair of koi flicked their tails, arcing past the aquarium glass with a loud, “Whoa, whoa!”

It was cute, you thought. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t entered Levi’s room with that very intention. You liked him. You had liked him for a while. Yet, you weren’t sure if he was ever going to get the hint. Hell, if even his fish knew of your soft spot for Leviathan, what did you have to lose? He had to know too, right?

So, there you were, the choir of aquarium life pushing you forward. However, as you took two steps closer to the Avatar of Envy, Levi deflated in his chair, covering his face with his hands. You could just make out his lips moving, a soft repetition, over and over again. 

Shuffling over to him, to his desk and his gaming setup, felt like walking a tight rope. “Hey,” You whispered, “Are you okay?”

He scowled, huffing a soft, “No!” 

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la ain’t that sad? The poor otaku lad. You’re gonna miss the boy.” This time, Henry the goldfish fluttered through the water, suspended in the light of the room. 

You thought he looked smug.

“Levi.” Your fingers gently grazed his knees, the soft fabric of his sweatpants encouraging you to curl your palm around the bone, to squeeze ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” It squeaked out between the gaps in his fingers, splayed across his face. 

“I think your aquarium is serenading us.”

As if to confirm your claim, Henry - flanked by the two koi - swam in a shape too close to a heart to be anything else. You could hear the th-th-thump of your pulse in your ears. 

“Yeah…” It was cute, the way Levi’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. A crease formed in his brow, his ears burning bright as he winced, “They’ve threatened that a few times, but I didn’t think they actually would!”

“It’s kind of charming.”

“Is it?!”

Where the toad managed to find a saxophone, you weren’t sure. Nevertheless, the breezy tune paved the way for the second verse. And for what? Well… Perhaps your eyes were deceiving you, but was Levi leaning closer? 

There you were, slowly absorbed into Leviathan’s personal space, your frame falling between his knees as they trembled, parting carefully. His hand brushed his mouth, his teeth knocking his knuckles as he protested, “Y-you can just ignore it, really!”

Henry had other plans.

“Now’s your moment. Your room looks like a blue lagoon. Toggle off display #2, and offer your sweater.”

And despite his own advice, concern flashed in Levi’s eyes. “Are you cold?”

You shivered. “A little, yeah.”

“He won’t say a word. He’s just an awkward nerd, go on and kiss the boy.”

Levi’s hands - slick with nervous, cold sweat, rested on your biceps. He took a deep, shuddering breath in, and then, he steeled his resolve. “Y-you… could come closer?”

You shuffled further into his space. How you ended up edging your body between his knees as he sat in his gaming chair, you couldn’t quite recall. You supposed he had covered his face, and then you had crouched down to make eye contact, and well… Now you were wedged awfully close to his heaving chest, his eyes screwed tightly shut. 

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la don’t be scared, you’ve got the facts prepared. Go on and kiss the boy (Whoa, whoa). Sha-la-la-la-la-la don’t stop now, you’ve leveled up and wow, you’re gonna kiss the boy.” 

“Levi,” You sang, soft and sweet, drawing his name out in the same key of the song. His right eye fluttered open, peering at you with cautious optimism. 

Noses nudged together, breath mingling as the song faded into the routine bubble of the aquarium. Levi’s thumbs rubbed circles into your arms, and you found yourself near hypnotized by the steady pattern paired with the blazing heat in his fiery eyes. 

A shaky breath. A soft, “You, er, don’t have to! I mean, I’m just a yucky otaku! You… Um, if this is just a joke, it’s fine, and -”

Your lips met his. 

It was a quick kiss. Chaste and gentle. Simply the press of two mouths, both unwilling to cross any invisible line drawn in the aquarium sand. 

There was pure silence as you pulled away. The music had disappeared completely. Even the tank’s filter and the hum of Levi’s computer tower fizzled out. 

A beat, where it was only you and Leviathan.

You and Levi in the watery haze of his bedroom, your lips so very close, and yet…

It was Levi who surged forward, slotting his lips between yours once more. This time, he kissed you like he meant it, as if you were a crimson banquet-themed delicacy that he had been saving for a very special dessert. His fingers curling into your sleeves, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your heart pitter-pattering in time with the rattle from his own chest. Cupping the nape of his neck, you reveled in the soft indigo strands that brushed your palm, in the breezy scent of the sea that followed him wherever he went. 

It was a strange sensation - to feel as though you were burning alive while cocooned in the blue haze of the ocean. And yet, you never wished to experience anything else. The taste of his lips, the twist of his needy hands on your body all you could register as you scrambled into his lap, his chair creaking under your combined weight.

A quiet huff spilled from his wet lips, his bangs butting against your forehead. His jaw tensed, and you knew he was about to say something when…

A voice sounded. A voice from outside the walls of the House of Lamentation. A voice so low, it shook the very foundation beneath you.

“Oh, you wanna kiss the boy!”

Levi grimaced. You blinked. 

“Was… Was that Lotan?” You weren’t sure your ears had registered the melody correctly. 

“Can we…” Levi nuzzled his face into your neck. You could feel the humiliation radiating off him in waves. “Can we go to your room?”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

“You’re not having dessert?” The question slipped out as you looped your arms around his sturdy middle, as you rested your head against his body’s warmth. It was strange for him to leave the dining room so quickly. Usually, he joined you in your room after obliterating whatever sweets Luke had made for him to try. 

“I will be.” His answer vibrated through his frame, buzzing through your skull. 

Your mind went to the gutter, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he leaned down, as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. His exhale rustled your hair, his hands so strong, so large as they covered your hips. 

A violent blush burning your skin, you managed a flustered squeak, “Oh! I didn’t realize it was that kind of night.”

He paused. Straightened up. Blinked twice. The confusion in his gaze was but a brief flash before it was overtaken by sheer enthusiasm. If he was a dog, you were certain his tail would be wagging. As he pulled you flush against him once more, he laughed, “I meant that I’d have dessert when you’re hungry again in an hour, but I could go for that kind of sweet, if you’re offering.”

As you led him to your bed, the last thing on your mind was whether you’d be peckish within the hour. 

However, at breakfast the next morning, you found yourself realizing that you had ended up munching on one of Luke’s cookies after a healthy dose of debauchery. Beel had raced from your bed to return with a plate of goodies in exactly 96 seconds (you timed him on your stopwatch app - a new record!), and you had curled up in front of your television to watch the latest episode of Barbeque Life before Lucifer came by to ensure that Beel slept in his own bed. 

You smiled. Beelzebub was always so attentive and receptive to your needs. It didn’t surprise you that he understood your stomach’s schedule. 

“Tell me, hon,” Asmo sang the moment Beel left the table to retrieve more hell coffee from the kitchen, “Is everything alright with you and Beel?”

Multiple utensils clattered to their plates, wide eyes swiveling from brother to brother. Mammon looked particularly spooked, while Lucifer simply pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Uh, yeah?” You swallowed your devilbee honey pudding, the sweet treat turning bitter on your tongue. “Why? Did he say something?”

Shoulders relaxed instantly, sighs of relief bouncing back and forth like ping pong balls. The table was an appropriate length for table tennis, you supposed. However, while the brothers laughed off the strange question, your uncertainty only grew. 

Levi pretended to wipe sweat from his brow, an exaggerated gesture you were sure he learned from an anime. “Oh? Okay, phew. We were worried he was in trouble lol.”

Your chest felt warm, your heart pounding. “Why would he be in trouble?”

“Well because he-” Levi started, just to squawk as Mammon swatted his face, “Er, n-no reason!”

A beat of silence. Beel’s heavy footsteps as he returned to the dining room, coffee pot in hand. You were keenly aware of the tightness of your throat, your swallow lodging halfway down your esophagus. As Beel refilled Lucifer’s coffee, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the tension hanging in the air.

It was never fun walking into a silent room, acutely aware that everyone had been talking about you. 

“What’s going on?” Beel asked, settling back into his seat. He accented his words by snagging a muffin from your plate, picking at the hell berries crusting the top. 

Before you could ask him the same question, Asmo shrieked, “He just did it again!”

Satan shook his head slowly, Mammon gawking at the giant demon next to you. Lucifer continued to read the morning paper, refusing to participate in such shenanigans. 

“RIP Beel,” Levi muttered, “It was nice knowing you.”

The confusion escalated tenfold, frustration pricking at the soles of your feet. You threw up your hands, huffing, “Okay, is someone going to tell us what you’re all going on about?”

Beel peered curiously at his brothers as they averted their eyes, as they pretended that their meal hadn’t been interrupted. His fingers brought a piece of your toast to his mouth, his brow creasing as he chewed thoughtfully. 

Belphie raised his head with a yawn. “Beel keeps eating your food.”

“From your plate,” Mammon added.

Satan nodded curtly, “Without permission.”

Your stomach dropped. You weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved.

“Oh,” You glanced around the table, noticing at that moment that Beel had moved your plate in front of him. “That’s it?”

Asmo pointed in accusation, protesting, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“No?” This was so absurd. You were used to bonkers conversations at every meal, but their sheer concern was truly comical. “Actually…”

It was Belphie who cut in, propping his chin in his palm. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he drawled, “They’re always done eating. Beel knows when they’re full.”

The looks of disbelief on Mammon and Levi’s faces were so similar, you wondered if they were twins. They spluttered in surprise, the latter exclaiming, “But they hardly ate their breakfast! How could they be full?!”

And Beel - sweet, calm, confident Beel - shrugged. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world, he explained. “They’re sleepy in the morning, and not very hungry. They only eat a little bit. They’ll be hungry in about 2 hours. That’s why I pack the leftovers before we leave for RAD.” 

This time, the brothers weren’t the only ones shocked. Lifting your jaw from the carpeted floor, you gasped, “The leftovers aren’t for yourself?”

A bright vein of pride shone in his eyes, fuschia within the indigo depths. “I mean, I partake, but only after you’ve had your fill.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to respond, your brain too busy flipping through the memories of all the snacks and meals Beel had brought you regardless of request. His fingers curled around your shoulder, amusement brightening his face. 

The gentle squeeze brought you back to reality, just in time to hear Mammon say, “Hey Beel, do ya think you have telepathic abilities outside of you and Belphie?”

“What a stupid question,” Satan scoffed, though you knew he was waiting for Beel’s answer himself. 

Your fingers curled around his, anchored on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. And what a moment it was, for Beel simply snorted, “Nah, I just pay attention to my partner.”

Why Mammon considered that a declaration of war, you weren’t entirely sure. But two hours later, when Beel passed you a container of carefully wrapped leftovers, you knew that you were the luckiest person in the world. 

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜