#pine's writing

You hissed as you burned your hand yet again, and watched in dismay as the delicate pastry was ruined.  You dumped the- what was it? The 23rd? The 24th?  You had lost count some time ago.  You knew you were basically just wasting pastry at this point, and all for nothing.  Barely a single edible crepe to show for your efforts.  

It wasn’t that you were a bad cook, not at all- but something about the crepes just refused to cooperate with you.  You huffed as you turned off the stove, doing your best to keep frustrated tears from falling.  This was nothing to cry over, and you knew it, even if the wobble of your lip and the tears stinging your eyes said other wise.  You sat down, and put your head in one hand as the other wrung the cloth in your hand.  You knew you would need to get up and clean the mess that the kitchen was in and then make something actually edible, it would be unfair to push this onto Barbatos once you’d already told him you’d take care of it, but for now you just needed to sit and take deep breaths.

“Well, it seems our starling has gotten themself into quite a mess here.” A familiar, amused voice said, and your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.  A lone sob escapes your lips before you’re on your feet, snatching up the discarded pans and wrappers and doing your best to clean up.

“A-ah!  Diavolo, Lucifer, I wasn’t aware you would be home early today, haha...” you say, only the slightest wobble in your voice.  A gloved hand comes to rest on yours, and you still at the contact.  Lucifer wraps an arm around your shoulders, and slowly guides you into his lap as he sits in his chair.  You try to meet his eyes, but a firm hand rests on your head and gently pats you.

Your heart that had been rabbiting in your ribcage just moments before quieted down, and you felt your tears begin to dry.  You heard a faint rustling, and moments later the kitchen was decently tidied up.  Diavolo came near you, blocking off the rest of the kitchen with his body. 

Iruka cursed as he slid under the market stalls, throwing any propriety out the window as he beelined to the school.  A harsh snarl sounded off behind him, far too close for comfort and Iruka couldn’t help a whine escaping his throat.  He loved being a teacher, he really did, but Alpha’s had all started going crazy over him!  Was it the pup scent on him?  The way his body had needed to change to accommodate the pups needs?  He truly didn’t know, all he knew was that he could not be caught here.

At least he now knew that hiding behind the pups immediately warded off insane Alphas, though he’d needed to learn that the hard way.  Especially when he hid behind Naruto.  He’d asked around for that, some of the older Omegas and nurses, and they’d all said it was because it was considered ‘rude’ in Alpha terms to pursue an Omega who’s attending to a pup.  In Naruto’s case, it was because Alpha’s recognized a bigger Alpha on the pup, the nine tails, and backed off in respect.

Iruka didn’t quite know how to feel about being under the protection of the nine tailed beast.

But he had no time to ponder that subject, as just a mere two leaps away from the academy grounds, he was caught.  Strong arms pinned him down, and before Iruka could throw him off a sharp snarl so close to his neck shocked him still.  He whined, a small plea for mercy- just about the only thing he could do now.  A tongue laved over the back of his neck, and Iruka shuddered.  He hated how he couldn’t throw the Alpha off, hated how slick was already dripping out of his hole in preparation for the Alpha.  He closed his eyes, hoping to just zone out of it, when all of a sudden the weight at his back lifted- or rather, was thrown off.

A dark snarl, more primal and inhuman than the previous that had stalled Iruka was sounded, and the Alpha whimpered before starting off, leaving the scent of urine behind.

Iruka let out a distressed whine, but then a familiar head of white hair came into view, steel gray eyes piercing into Iruka’s own.  Iruka let out a stuttering breath, chuffing lightly both in surprise and affection.  Although he was out of danger for now, his heart was still rabbiting along- and Kakashi’s dark expression did nothing to abate.  Kakashi reached a hand around and firmly held Iruka’s neck, slowly squeezing and releasing as though trying to soothe Iruka- and it was working.

“Shh...” He rumbled, voice more gravelly and deeper than Iruka had ever heard it. “Just focus on me.”

MC’s breathing was deep and even, the only sound in Lucifer’s deathly silent bedroom.  For MC, they’d already be deep into their Circadian rhythm, dead to the world, their only protection being the fallen angel they’d chosen to sleep next to.  Lucifer’s heart pounded in his ears, and it had been doing so ever since MC had fallen asleep.  Lucifer felt embarrassed that he couldn’t seem to calm himself, he who had lived millennia and had certainly faced more difficult, perplexing, and life-altering decisions that what to do while a measly human slept in his bed.  But.

It was MC’s first time sleeping in his room. 

It was a point of jealousy, though Lucifer would never say so out loud, that MC had felt comfortable enough to sleep in the rooms of all the other brother’s except for himself- but it was not something wholly impossible to understand at the same time.  Lucifer had purposefully distanced himself from the human, made himself cold at every opportunity, but... there were times when Lucifer simply could not resist.  When MC came over for tea- a rare occurrence, put nicely- Lucifer couldn’t help but flirt and tease, couldn’t help but compliment and dare to take more than he truly deserved.

Yet here the precious MC was, sleeping peacefully and... adorably, in Lucifer’s room.  For no reason at all, Lucifer’s breath hitched, and he was overwhelmed with the need to hold them in his arms- so he did.  It was his bed after all, and MC should have known better than to think that a demon wouldn’t sleep in their own bed, even if a human was also there- so why was his face turning red at the very thought?

Regardless, Lucifer pushed on.  He slowly crawled into the bed, careful to not disturb the sleeping human, and ended up with his back to the headboard, sitting upright.  He only needed to gather enough confidence to slide down and get under the blanket, and then this tumultuous night could be forgotten.  MC had other plans.  Demanding arms began tugging at him, trying to pull him down onto the bed- just his luck, MC was a cuddlebug.  Lucifer couldn’t be bested by a human like this, so instead he carefully dragged the human onto his chest, and unfurled his night-black wings to surround them as though they were a blanket.  

MC sighed contently, snuggling further into the demon’s arms, and Lucifer felt overwhelmed with an emotion he could not name.  He needed to say something, needed to tell MC when they couldn’t hear exactly what he was thinking, but the words that came out felt lackluster to the depth of what Lucifer felt then and there.

Beel set the bowls down in front of MC, ignoring the pangs of hunger in his stomach. When it came to MC, his hunger was easy enough to ignore. When they lightly teased him, pat his head, gave him any of their precious attention, his hunger seemed to just fade away. Even now, while they were busy mixing the ingredients with great concentration, Beel could feel his hunger fading away. Without thinking, he bent down to place a chaste kiss to their cheek- just a taste of them

They giggled, turning over to place a firm kiss on the lips this time, and Beel smiled. He took the spoon from their hand and mixed for them, trying to ease their task so MC would give him more attention- and give they did. They giggled into his chest, swiping a little of the batter on their finger and holding it up to his lips.

Beel's chest warmed, incredibly flattered at such a sign of trust. Even his own brothers, the most powerful demons in the Devildom, refused to put their hands near him when eating. He made sure to carefully lick it off, keeping a tight hold on himself so not to bite their finger off. MC patted his chest and turned back to the mixing, gesturing to the oven and pans on the counter.

Michael’s voice had a haunting tone when singing, a stark contrast to the holy choir.  When he sang, babies stopped crying for fear of a predator, children hid under tables and in bushes, and adult men cried.  This was simply the way Michael was, and the angel was just fine with that.  After all, for the longest time, his mournful songs only had one audience, the only person that mattered, and that little fallen angel had listened to his tune like it was a lullaby.