#panda writes

A rush of water and she was dunked under the waves, her hazel eyes wide, the chlorine stinging her irises as she hovered like a photograph in the low light of the pool. The pain was not enough for her to pull her gaze away, not when the perpetrator of her assault looked so beautiful.

Leviathan’s amber eyes glowed in the depths, his indigo hair dark, floating like an intricate halo above his head. He wore his horns like a wreath distinguishing wealth and status, his tail bending to the currents with whip-like speed. Clusters of purple scales shone upon his pale skin, dusting his collarbone, his cheek, his hip and… Oh, he wasn’t wearing any clothing. 

Áine’s lungs wheezed in relief as she broke the surface, gasping for air. She kicked her legs with languid grace, propelling herself to the closest tiled wall. Once her arms rested on the lip of the pool, she felt Levi’s tail curl around her ankle once more, his eyes alight and reflecting in the surface below as he anchored himself to his partner. 

“I can’t believe you wanted me to show up…” He winced, “Like this.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Áine knew he was not thrilled about the concept of skinny dipping. 

“You’re stunning,” she insisted, a whisper rippling the surface of the water.

Levi whined in response, ducked his head to hide the blush that bloomed across his cheeks. He couldn’t, however, hide the physical reaction between his legs. When he caught her grinning, he lifted his hand and smacked the water, sending droplets into her face. “H-hey! Don’t look there! That’s embarrassing!”

“I like it,” Áine soothed, lifting one arm from the shore to trace her fingers down his jaw. 

Levi simply whimpered in response, using his tail to pull himself closer to Áine. She hooked her leg around his hip as soon as he was in range, the pressure at his lower back pushing the water from the space between them. 

“Oh!” he gasped, low and needy as Áine rocked her hips against his. He wasted no time in burying one hand in her wet hair, in pressing burning kisses to the side of her neck. Áine’s breath hitched with arousal, her fingers slipping beneath the water to trace the curve of his stomach, to gently ghost her nails over the dip of his hip. 

“Mn,” Áine moaned, Levi stealing her breath with a searing kiss. She felt as though the pool was boiling, as though someone had set fire to all of RAD. And yet, no matter how swiftly her heart pattered against her ribs, she knew she was safe. She was keenly aware of the irony as she deepened the kiss, as she took the lead, as she guided the Avatar of Envy’s hands down her body to cup her ass, to thrust his hips, to pinch her skin. 

In some ways, Leviathan was still very much an angel. He showed it everyday in his adoration and loyalty, in his snacks and gifts and save files before very important cutscenes that he wanted Áine to see. And thus, it brought Áine great joy to bring out the demon in him.

The surface of the water did not stay still for long that night.

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

She hesitated. “And you really need her?”

This time, he didn’t even bother responding. Instead, Áine watched his thumbs taper, dark claws overtaking his soft hands as a low growl rumbled in his throat. 

“Levi…” she worried, watching coral horns weave their way through indigo hair, his thick serpentine tail slithering out of the base of his spine, thumping onto the tiled floor with a heavy smack. 

Her concern grew as he pulled again and again, retreating to the in-app purchase screen when he failed to bring home the new character. A hundred grimm. Three hundred grim. A whopping thousand grimm down the drain as he tried and tried and failed to add the busty witch to his character collection. 

It was when Áine could hear his molars grinding together with a sickening pop of his jaw that she suggested, “I think you gotta let her go, Levi.”

Her words were unable to pierce the fog of negativity, of envy that circled his horns like a demonic halo. The grumbling rose in volume, each tap of a claw threatening to break the D.D.D. screen, each flick of his tail nearly knocking a precious figurine off the nearest shelf. The energy that radiated from Leviathan cast a heavy pressure on Áine’s chest, forcing the air from her lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

“Levi!” She coughed, reluctant to leave his side despite the smog scratching at her throat. When Leviathan simply threw away another thousand grimm to sacrifice his purchase to the gacha gods, she risked reaching into the toxic haze spilling from purple scale clusters bursting across his skin to jostle his shoulder. No reaction, the demonic cloud of energy only got denser, his eyes burning amber as he grumbling about how unfair the odds were. She tried shouting, “LEVIATHAN!” but she may as well have been talking to a wall.

She sighed, stepping away from Levi to shake off the immense weight of his aura. A deep exhale, and she pulled the ace from her sleeve. “STAY!”

“EEEP!” Levi crumpled to the floor in an instant, the magic that flickered around him disappearing in a flash of white light. A beat, and his tail was retracting, his horns sinking into his skull, his claws returning to carefully maintained painted nails. He hissed in pain, but at least his attention had finally been pulled from that Celestial-Realm-forsaken gacha banner. His stomach to the floor, his ass in the air, he shot her a baleful side-eye and grunted, “Did you have to do that?”

Áine pushed the guilt away, stepping to his side to help him to his feet as she countered, “If you go bankrupt, you won’t be able to afford the VIP experience at the upcoming Hana Ruri café collab.” 

He merely sighed, shifting from leaning against her for support to wrapping his arms around her middle. He deflated into Áine’s embrace, resting his forehead on her shoulder, his knees bent to accommodate for his height. “You’re right,” he murmured into her sweater. “It’s just so not fair.”

“What if…” Áine thought as she ran her fingers up and down the notches in Levi’s spine. “What if you can get Mirabelle some other way?”

“Like…hacking?” Levi straightened up, pulling away from her warmth to squish his nose in disgust. “That’s cheating.”

“No, like…” And Áine winked, blowing him a kiss, “You know how to sew. Get me an outfit and I’ll be your Mirabelle any day.”

She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him move so fast, booking it out his bedroom door on a mission to the textiles district of the Devildom.

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

She summoned the last bit of strength in her reserves to crawl away from the panel at her back, to choke out a strangled “Y-yes,” as she slumped against the frame of her bed, the soft pink duvet cushioning the hard edges of reality. 

He wasted no time, the hinges announcing his arrival with a creak. Áine barely registered golden blond and sea green as anything more than blurs of color as he crouched next to her. A slow exhale marked the beginning of a sentence that never left his lips, and Áine made no move to fill the heavy silence with anything other than muffled sobs. 

Eventually, Satan offered a soft, “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Áine’s snort of affirmation came out weak and weepy. She wiped the top of her wobbly lip with the back of her hand. “What are we going to do?”

She heard Satan stop breathing, as though holding his breath would bring an impossible answer. Then, he whispered, “I don’t know.”

Áine whimpered, her violet hair sweeping forward like a privacy curtain as she buried her face in her knees, drawing her legs to her chest. What were they going to do, indeed?

What had begun as a plea for dual citizenship to the House of Lords–an effort to surprise Áine’s beloved Leviathan with permanent residence in the Devildom–had gravely backfired. The House of Lords saw no loyalty in Áine, saw an opportunity to create a political alliance. Wouldn’t the apprentice of the greatest sorcerer in the world be a handy chess piece if tied to the one demon of the seven rulers with no ties to the Celestial Realm? They had agreed to allow her stay, should she be wed to the Avatar of Wrath, and really, what good was being friends with Lord Diavolo if he wasn’t able to pull strings for his favorite human? Not that she blamed him; the House of Lords was already irritated with his blatant favoritism, and the last thing the Devildom needed was mutiny towards the stand in king. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” Satan spoke with a finality that hollowed the marrow of Áine’s bones. It held the subtle satisfaction that had pierced her heart the moment the speaker of the House of Lords had decreed their conditions of the trade. It rang like a death knoll as he added, “I promise.”

“That’s not the point, Satan!” Áine hissed, raising her teary eyes.

She looked at him for the first time since he had entered her room. He stared at her with a storm in his eyes that raised the hair along the nape of her neck. Guilt crashed against waves of loyalty to his lord, to his standing, to her, made worse by the blue lightning of desire reflected in emerald pools. 

“Is it so wrong to think that maybe we’d be good together?” There was a hint of a whine to his protest, just barely audible, the reserved, knowledgeable, well-read demon not one to lower himself to begging. “That maybe we’re compatible?”

“Satan.” Áine’s heart pattered like the flight of a scared jackrabbit. She clenched her hands into fists, choking out, “We’re not having this conversation again.”

He had the audacity to suggest, “Feelings can change.”

The challenge that flashed in his emerald eyes sent resentment roiling in her gut. She steeled her resolve, and maybe the words came out harsher than intended when she spat, “I will never love you. Not like that. Not the way you want me to.”

That did it, flipping the switch inside the tumultuous landscape of Satan’s brain. In an instant, his teeth bared, his gaze narrowed to a simmering slit, and slowly, every movement with intent, he pried her fingers away from her knees. Lifting her knuckles to his lips, his frown oozed into a sinister smirk as he kissed her hand, gently and ever so threatening.

“Just think. It could be worse.” He murmured as he paused in the doorway, his silhouette blocking out any light of hope. “You could be betrothed to Lucifer.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

"…Riki, we need to talk" your voice is clipped, a brittle edge at the end, jaw set and eyes blank. But he simply waves you off distractedly, too busy fiddling with his phone to dignify you with a proper response

And that does it for you— quiet exasperation transforming into irritation that burns sharply in your chest.

"Riki can you at least look at me?" you snap, patience finally running thin and a sharp bite to your words.

The anger is so sudden, so surprising that Riki actually lets go of his phone and looks up at you - disbelief written all over his face. His expression, for once, a mirror of his thoughts. It made you feel this sort of vindictive pleasure that, finally, he cared; and, in the same breath, managed to make you feel almost remorseful that this is what it had taken to finally, finally get a reaction out of him.

But you couldn't help it, you were tired, exhausted from the constant pushing and pulling, of feeling completely shut out from him.

"Whoa baby…. calm down, I'm right here, I'm listening" he has his hands raised in an attempt to pacify you, still bewildered by your outburst

He takes one small, tentative step towards you but stops immediately after seeing you flinch. You're on edge - because of him; and nothing could have prepared him for that.

You sigh frustratedly, because at this rate, this conversation isn't going to go anywhere and you know that the longer you stand here, the more your resolve is going to crumble.

You've got a hand on your temple, clearly frustrated, and Riki sees that, he can tell that you're seconds away from a breakdown

You decide to just outright say it, get it over with quickly and then you could figure out where to go from there, if only the words would just come to you. By now, you've thought this conversation over multiple times in your head, coming up with every possible scenario and every response he could ever give, and yet, now that the moment is finally here— words fail you.

"…I- this isn't working out Riki." you blurt it out, cringing a little inwardly at the wording. But finally, you've said it. The cat's out of the bag— there's no going back from this;

And Riki, who has been silent up until now, finally speaks up, "…So you want to break up with me." and although his face remains neutral, the muscle in his jaw jumps, as though it physically pains him to even sound the words.

"Wh-no- yes. Yes, I do want to break up with you," you say finally, "because this clearly isn't going anywhere…"

"I mean look at us Riki, " you say desperately, your composed expression falling apart, "when was the last time we properly talked to each other?"

Silence.

You scoff. It's a short, derisive laugh, "…exactly."

He has nothing to say, because it's true, you weren't lying; he himself couldn't remember the last time he actually had a conversation with you, kissed you— hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he looked you properly in the eyes.

Riki tells himself it's just work, that the stress from the long hours just built up, he reasons that it's not really his fault that he had such a demanding job and that, if you were actually a good partner, you would understand that—

"—And you know what the worst part is 'ki?" it's that stupid nickname again, Riki's never liked it before, but you've got tears in your eyes and he can't bring himself to look away.

"…It's that I waited Riki, i waited so long for you to notice, and now," you shrug, this helpless expression of your face, "now I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting around empty candlelit dinners and forgotten anniversaries and cancelled plans because 'something came up last minute'." and you blink rapidly, it takes everything in you to stop the tears from falling, "I tried so hard to make this work Riki, i really, really did."

"And look at us now— we can't even stand being around each other anymore— do you realise how fucking pathetic that is? I can't even bring myself to stay in the same room as you for longer than fifteen minutes Riki!" you cry out, cadence full of hurt and resentment

and you rake your hands through your hair as an excuse to turn away, because what you're about to say next is so shameful that you can't even bring yourself to look him in the eyes—

"—You know when i step out of the house, i don't feel like coming back? When it's time to leave work and drive back home - those 40 minutes are, by far, the worst part of my day? Because then i have to deal with the possibility of coming back to an empty apartment or worse—" your expression is grim when you towards him again, and your voice carries a tone of finality and resignation to it as you speak, "—you sitting there."

And Riki's still standing there, near that damn couch, except his head is swimming and his knees feel weak. He thinks that he should sit down, but can't; not after what you just said. His thoughts are racing at a mile a minute, mind searching through every single memory, scrutinizing every moment, desperately trying to find where it all went wrong. Yet try as hard as he might, it was impossible to pin-point one singular moment that led to this. No petty argument or unresolved tension that could have snowballed into something like this.

There was nothing.

And that was truly the most ironic part in all of this— you hadn't even argued. There was no big fight, no screaming matches and no broken plates. Only an avalanche that came without warning and left Riki buried deep under its icy embrace.

All there was, was silence. That's all there had been— for a very, very long time. And if Riki didn't do something now, that's all there ever would be. And he could never bear to live with that.

So he became defensive instead— because he was trying too, dealing with all your tantrums and mental breakdowns and what else not wasn't easy either, but he stayed didn't he? Never once did he complain that you were asking for too much, that you were doing too much; he took it all in stride, all because he loved you. So why couldn't you do the same?

"… You're insane Yn," he scoffs, "What? you're upset because a missed a date? That I forgot to buy you flowers? O-or that i forgot to call you back?" He shrugs incredulously because truly, you could not have been serious, " Well I'm sorry, I was too busy working to ensure a fucking future for the both of us!" His tone is mocking, patronizing you, as though talking down to a child. Because he's done too; if you really think that you're the only one contributing — then so be it. But he wasn't going to just stand there and watch you tear down the relationship he'd worked so hard to build - all the effort he'd put in, the endless hours he'd slaved away for the sake of your relationship - he wouldn't let you let you.

You look at Riki incredulously, "…Do you hear yourself right now? " you scoff, "I work long hours too Riki- but you don't see me complaining about it every chance i get do you?" you start pacing frantically, eyes blinking rapidly, fighting back tears of frustration, and your hands are curled up in your hair- you feel like ripping it all out. "I-God Riki, why does everything always have to be about you? It's always your efforts and your hard work and how much work you're putting into this relationship—" and you stop right in front of him- looking him dead in the eyes you whisper,

"What about me?" it's a small, morose little whisper, the voice of someone who's been disappointed many, many times over; so much so, that they've now lost all hope.

"What about me Riki? What about the time I gave, the sacrifices I made, the pains that I took? What about them Riki? Do those mean nothing?"

You don't expect a response back, because you know the kind of work you've put into this relationship and even if Riki may not acknowledge it— hell, no one in world might acknowledge it— at least you knew. And maybe that was enough.

"…Then leave." he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth; and yet, he's acutely aware that he can't take them back, not after everything that's already happened. But then, a small voice in the back of Riki's mind questions - did he really even want to take them back? Wasn't he tired too?

maybe it was time to admit that this relationship had stretched far beyond its expiration date.

And across him, whatever vulnerability was on your face transforms into this icy, guarded expression and when you speak once more, your voice carries this hard edge to it, "I wasn't planning on staying anyway." and you turn away from, storming back into your room and slam the door loudly.

The night that follows passes fitfully for Riki, he ends up pacing up and down the living room for the better part of the night, trying his very best to cool off from your argument earlier, muttering to himself frustratedly and wringing his hands; besides, there was something else weighing on him too, specifically in the left pocket of his pants. Eventually though, he does fall asleep on the couch, albeit a little uncomfortably, seeing as he was still in his office attire and the couch wasn't nearly long enough to accommodate his lanky frame. Still, he makes it work, curling in on himself as he presses his back flat against the couch.

…It feels like he had only just fallen asleep before he jolts awake to the sound of you wheeling a suitcase across the room. He sits up immediately, now fully awake, all traces of drowsiness vanishing instantly

You notice that Riki's awake and stop walking. You turn fully towards him now, except he avoids your eyes like the plague. You sigh, it's fine, if he wants to be petty, he can be as petty as he wants. That won't stop you though. A brief silence passes over the two of you, neither willing to look at each other.

Eventually, you speak up, "I-uh I've talked to the landlord about the lease and next month onwards you'll probably have to find a roommate," and Riki nods silently, indicating that he's listening to you. He still wouldn't look at you though. You pay no mind to that and keep speaking, "and I'll most likely come around over the weekend to grab the rest of my stuff.."

He finally looks at you and asks, in possibly the gentlest tone you've heard from him in a very, very long time, "..You got a place to stay?" and you nod, "Yep, i signed a new lease a few days ago," Riki hums in response before speaking up again, finally asking the one question whose answer he had been most curious about, "You…you've been planning this for a while now?"

You shrugged noncommittally, looking far more relaxed now than last night, "I mean, yeah. I knew that this was coming and i prepared for it."

Ouch. That hurt.

No matter how much he had convinced himself last night in his fit of rage that it was best if you both parted ways; now with the clarity of morning he realized that he was not quite ready to move on just yet. But you're already standing there, fully dressed and ready to head out and never come back. It's far too late. And there's really nothing he could do now, so instead, he does nothing.

For a long moment you two simply stare at each other in awkward silence, not quite sure what to say - especially after last night. There were so many things you could possibly say to each other, but you don't; instead, you choose silence.

Eventually though, the spell breaks, you're the first one to move. You quickly pull up the handle of your suitcase and give Riki a short wave before you quickly turn around and start walking again. There were so many words you could have said, but you choose none of them; not that it mattered anyway— over the years, you had collected so many unsaid things you might've, at one point, wanted to say to Riki, that one more couldn't possibly hurt

And Riki watches you leave. You're leaving and suddenly time slows down; he watches you walk away and it seems as though everything is moving at half the speed it usually does and his mind is screaming at his body to do something, anything, run after you and catch your wrist, call out to you really, really loudly, anything that could make you stay. But his vision is getting blurry and his chest feels tight and his tongue feels numb. He feels like he's drowning, and you're leaving, he sees your back growing smaller as the door closes gradually, and he wants to reach out but you're leaving. You're leaving and—

the front door shuts with a soft click. You're gone.

The ring still sits heavy in the now crumpled left pocket of his pants.

Aaand that's a wrap! i hope you enjoyed reading this 🤭🤭 Taglist: @kookiesnkim @obamaownssummer AlsoAlso 👀👀👀 my taglist is open AND my requests are open too 🤗🤗 Check out my other works here! :33