So I keep thinking of new things to write and I decided to just make an entirely new blog for it so.... here ya go. 99% of this stuff is going to be from Satan and Me
Hi I'm sorry but your fic Just Say Yes seems way too similar to astarisms's fic Offing to be a coincidence.
And yet it is! Trust me, weâre aware at how similar our fics are. We ended up having the same idea a couple different times, but yes, that one is insanely similar. I know I canât offer any proof, but I didnât read any of the prompts until I had already posted mine because I didnât want anything to influence what I was writing. idk, I can offer you my browser history if youâd trust it? Maybe a timestamped outline of the fic from Wednesday (the 7th) night? But I didnât actually start writing it until yesterday so itâs really all Iâve got for you. @astarisms is a fantastic writer and I love her version so much more.
I know this is probably the exact response you were expecting out of me, but flat out ignoring it felt like I was trying to hide something.
Summary: Lucifer is in Hell, but then heâs Home.
Words: 1310
Notes: Yâall I just wrote 3 fics in a row. I wrote Hell and it was short, and I knew in advance that Home was gonna be short, and I also knew from the very start what Hell and Home were gonna be about, so I decided they went together just fine to make one, slightly longer fic. And with this, @natanweek is done. Thank you everyone, this is the most writing Iâve done in a long time, and it felt really good.
Lucifer considered himself to be the top authority on Hell. Sure, Ipos had studied it, had made that book that was supposed to save Natalieâs soul, he knew the most about it in an academic way. But Lucifer was the one that held Hell inside his body every day. Lucifer had been the one that had had Hell thrust upon him when he had rebelled. Lucifer was the one that had received Hell as his punishment.
He knew all there was to know about how Hell felt. He felt the rage of thousands of souls within him every day, constantly fought against the anguish and the anger that tore at his seams. He heard the voices whisper in his head, telling him all kinds of terrible things, hissing in his ear how good Natalie looked, how fun she would be to play with.
Heâs the one that had to constantly keep himself in check, or else Hell would spill out over the brim of his being. He couldnât let himself feel anything too strongly, couldnât let Hell get that kind of grip on him, or else he would lose control and (literally) all Hell would break loose.
He had failed to fight against Hell in Oregon. He had failed to fight against Hell in that warehouse. He would have kept failing if Natalie hadnât used her contract to save him. In a twisted way, he also failed because of the contract. He couldnât help but think that if not for her saving him, he would have never taken her to the coast. She wouldnât have gotten sick. She wouldnât have died.
They wouldnât be here.
He couldnât help but wonder if maybe this was his punishment. Maybe when his father had given him Hell all those years ago, literal Hell hadnât been what he meant. Maybe it was this twisted long game, designing it so that Lucifer got close to a human, allowed himself to open up to the human, allowed himself to lo--. A long game where Lucifer gets close, and then sheâs taken away, and itâs his fault.
Where he manages to get her back, but not all of her. Not the part of her that cares about him, because the part of her that cares about him decided to care more about his soul than about the physical him, even though his soul was him. He could kill her all over again for that, except that he didnât have her back to kill her.
Lucifer considered himself to be the top authority on Hell. Which was how he knew that the fear in Natalieâs eyes was so much worse. He would gladly take back all of the rage and the voices whispering if it meant he never had to see that look on her face again. Not directed at him. Not because of him.
This was his own personal Hell, designed for him by his father.
And now that book was gone, and he couldnât save Natalieâs soul. He would go into Hell himself to retrieve it, and he couldnât, because Hell was inside of him, and that was the worst part of the entire situation. He was the one closest to Natalieâs soul, he was the one closest to what made her be her, and he couldnât do anything about it.Â
She had used her contract so that Hell couldnât bother him. He wondered if heâd be able to hear her voice if she hadnât done that. If he could hear her cheering him on, telling him how much faith she had in him. He wondered if she had anymore faith in him.
Maybe if he could get her to start a new contract, heâd be able to get access to Hell again. He might be able to free her soul. But then her soul would be damned all over again, not to mention how upset she would be to learn that Hell was trying to escape again.
There was no doubt about it. This was definitely worse than Hell.
~
If this didnât work, he was out of ideas. He had gone down every avenue, he had talked to every contact he had. Heâd gone to Michael to work together to get her back. If this didnât bring her back, he was finally going to have to accept that she was never coming back.
He sat beside her, tense, waiting for her to wake up. He had his horns away, not wanting a repeat of the last time heâd waited so long for her to wake. At least this time his back wasnât bleeding.
Over the past few months, she had slowly stopped being so afraid of him, but she never really came to care for him again. She said that she felt like he might have been important to her, but she always said it in the past tense. He hadnât realized how often she told him she cared, how often she called him good and important, until she wasnât doing it anymore.
It was easier than he thought it would be to admit that he missed her. Every time she asked why he was in her house, he missed the way she would do her work while he read on her bean bag chair. Every time she told him it was weird that he was always with her, he missed the way she would drag him to different events across the city, often with her friends. Her friends thought theyâd had a fight, that they werenât talking anymore, and in a weird way, he thought he might miss them too.
At some point, Natalieâs house and her school and her friends, or maybe it was just her... something had become home to him. He hadnât noticed until on one of their escapades, she had complained about being homesick. Sheâd gone on about how she was done travelling trying get a part of herself that she didnât notice was missing, and if she didnât notice, was it even really missing? Sheâd gone on, but the word that really caught his attention was âhomesickâ. It resonated with him, perhaps deeper than it should have.
In front of him on the bed, Natalie groaned softly. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a heart wrenching moment, she only looked confused. Like she didnât understand what she was doing there, like she didnât understand what he was doing there, and he thought he had failed for the final time.
And then her eyes widened and she sat up, nearly losing her balance. âLucifer! Oh my god, Lucifer!â and she had only been calling him Satan or the Devil after sheâd died so this had to mean- âIâve been so mean to you!â
He studied her eyes, and they were bright, and when she looked at him she was tearing up. Over him. Over how she had treated him.
Heâd done it. Heâd saved her.
âYeah youâve been a real jackass.â If his voice caught, she didnât seem to notice.
âI have! You were trying so hard to help me and I--â her voice caught too. âI am so sorry, Lucifer.â Before she had died, she hadnât called him âLuciferâ very often, usually just calling him Satan. But the more she said his name, the more he was able to accept that she remembered him again. That he had managed to get her soul out of Hell.
She surged forward, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight. He allowed himself to hug her back, holding her just as tightly. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in, his body slowly relaxing. He allowed himself to softly, gently kiss the top of her head, trying to communicate just how happy he was that she was back. âYou can make it up to me.â
Summary: A fire sends Natalie and Lucifer to stay at a motel, and it definitely wasnât Luciferâs fault.
Words: 879
Notes: Donât know what this is! I had a very vague idea for this one, and I just kind of sped through it so I could get to âhellâ. Almost caught up. For @natanweek day 6, Motel.
Natalie practically threw her bag on the bed before turning to him, anger burning in her eyes. He could feel the irritation coming off of her in waves, and he couldnât help the smile that stretched over face.
âWould you care to explain why we have to be in a motel right now?â
âAre you insinuating that you blame me?â He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt.
âLucifer, look me in the eyes and tell me, with a straight face, that you didnât start a fire.â
He schooled his face into passivity, looking into her eyes. âNatalie, I--â his lips twitched. âI did not--â He had to bite his cheek to stop the corner of his mouth pulling up. âI didnât start a fi-â The look on her face had him laughing. âNope, I tried.â
âWhat the fuck, Luce.â And oh, her cursing just made it funnier.
Long story short, what had happened was this: he was bored.
He honestly hadnât meant to set the complex on fire. But once the fire had started, he wasnât bored anymore, so he couldnât really find it in himself to regret it. No one had been hurt, no major damage had been done (when had he started caring about that?), and so it was just endlessly hilarious.
Natalie had been at work, and heâd gotten out of a meeting with some demons hours before heâd thought he would. When heâd gotten home, Natalie had still been out, so he had to find something to entertain himself.
Heâd decided to go out on a walk, and thatâs when heâd spotted an electrical box, a key hanging out of the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Whoever was working here must have gotten distracted and walked away, or had already finished and just simply forgotten. Either way, Lucifer had found an opportunity to appease his boredom.
His goal had been to cause a power outage. Instead, heâd found a box of wires that were severely neglected, and heâd managed to do something to one of them that had started a fire. It wasnât his fault that fires catch more easily in the summer. He didnât think he could even be entirely to blame for the fire, either. Heâd barely touched anything and the fire had started. The fire likely would have started if he hadnât come along, possibly even on its own, without anyone touching the wires at all.
Still, watching people hear the alarms go off and flee their apartments, watching them huddle outside as they looked for the source of the fire, the ensuing chaos... it was easily the highlight of his day.
Considering how much he snickered anytime someone was wailing about âwhat would they doâ, it didnât take long for Natalie to figure out the basics of what had happened.
The fire itself had been stopped in short order, but the complex had been declared unsafe until the wiring could get looked at, so here they were in a nearby motel.
âWell? Are you going to explain?â
âI demonstrated to the tennants the danger that the complex posed to them.â
âOh, that is such bullshit.â
That set off another fit of laughter, and she glared at him, looking like she was trying to stab him with her eyes. It wasnât a look she wore often, and he knew he should stop laughing but really, who could blame him?
âI thought you were done doing evil things.â The anger had bled from her voice, and she sounded almost... disappointed? No, that wouldnât do at all. That was significantly less funny.
âI am.â
âThen why are we in a motel, Lucifer? Why did you start a fire?â
âIt was an accident.â
âAn accident? Really? Thatâs the best you could come up with?â
âWhen was the last time I lied to you, kid?â She narrowed her eyes, studying him. He wasnât laughing anymore, wasnât so much as grinning. âI wanted to turn off some lights. The fire was an accident. It was supposed to be a stupid fucking prank.â
She sighed and nodded, the anger draining out of her like air being let out of a balloon. âFine. Letâs just... go to bed.â
âYeah.â
âIâm sorry for saying you were doing evil things.â
âIâm the devil, kid. Iâm supposed to do evil things.â
She frowned, shaking her head. âThat doesnât mean you do. Youâre more than just Satan. You care, and people who care donât do evil things, and I shouldnât have said that.â
He shrugged. How she had so much faith in him never ceased to amaze him. She had always treated him like he was something more than his past, like he was someone worthy of the adoration she showed him. She was already on her way down a spiral of guilt for even suggesting he was anything less, and he had to put a stop to it. âThe devil made you do it.â
She froze, trying to glare at him for the joke, even as her lips twitched. âReally?â
âWhat? Iâm the devil, and you were responding to my actions. The devil literally made you do it.â
She threw her head back and was laughing, the rest of the tension leaving her body like it had never been there.
Summary: Natalie decides she wants to go on vacation to the beach, and Lucifer decides he wants to see her smile every day for the rest of her life.
Words: 1754
Notes: THIS IS LATE. I had this idea Wednesday night, and then Thursday was a shit show in my personal life, and I havenât had the emotional energy to do any writing until today. For @natanweek day 5, Coast. This is straight up a proposal fic, yâall, and I am very bad at describing rings, so if you care here it is.
Lucifer hated the coast. He truly did. He didnât understand why the girl would ever want to come back here, but she had insisted.
âI just got my degree, this is like... a last hurrah. Before becoming a full adult. And I want to go to the beach.â
Heâd tried arguing with her, tried convincing her to go anywhere else, but she had insisted. She wanted a week long vacation at the beach, and nothing was changing her mind. And so he had spent his day going from tourist shop to tourist trap, trailing after her while she slowly accumulated more bags.
Sheâd barely made a stop to dump the bags in an airbnb sheâd rented (at least she had some sense, a hotel at the coast would be worse than the coast) and change before heading to the ocean just before sunset.
He almost reminded himself of those pictures she liked so much online, the series of a wife pulling her husband around different places, dragging him by the hand. He wanted to get frustrated, but he had accepted years ago that he was soft when it came to this human. To his human. Perhaps six months after she had started to call him her boyfriend, heâd resigned himself to his fate. He was always going to do what she wanted, practically at her beck and call, just because he knew it would put a smile on her face, and thatâs what she deserved after everything sheâd been through because of him. He would argue and drag his feet, of course; antagonizing her was still fun. But he knew that heâd eventually give in to whatever it was she wanted.
At the beach, Natalie moved to stand so the water was lapping at her ankles. âIsnât it beautiful, Luce?â
âI suppose.â
âYou suppose? Youâre such a grump. Itâs breathtaking.â
He couldnât help but to agree with her, for purely selfish reasons. He stood a bit away from the water, watching the sun start to sink towards the horizon. The sky was painted with hues of oranges, splashes of purples and just a hint of pink. The water moved in gentle waves, reflecting the colors onto Natalie. He watched as her face softened, a smile tugging at her lips, her eyes wide in wonder. The wind gently blew her hair to the side, the bright orange matching the sunset. He could watch her for an eternity and never tire of it.
Feeling entirely too soft, he opened his mouth, fully intending to complain about the sand, or say something about how if they couldnât leave soon he was going to drown her, but instead what came out was, âMarry me,â and oh. That was unexpected. The rest of his thoughts froze as he scrambled for a way to explain away the words, and he tried his best to cover up the surprise he was sure was showing on his face.
Natalie swung around, shock open on her face. She said nothing, just staring at him, and he raised an eyebrow. Then she grinned, and started laughing, shaking her head. âYou almost got me! I almost believed you! It was such a straightforward delivery. That was good. Can you imagine? Satan getting married?â
He felt a twitch of irritation. Heâd proposed, and she was laughing at him. A part of him couldnât blame her, a part of him tried to remember all the pranks he so enjoyed pulling on her. A much larger part took it as a challenge. Heâd make her believe him. Which came as almost more of a surprise than the actual proposal, the fact that he was willing to follow through on the impulsive words. He shrugged, doing his best to keep a calm demeanor, absently wondering what color his earrings were. âIâm pretty sure thereâs books or something about it. People have a thing for marrying the devil.â
âYeah, well, they donât know him, and I do. Heâs not the marrying type.â
Oh, it was on.
~
That night, while she slept, he sent out a text and got up to get ready. He dressed, and made his way out of the house, shutting and locking the door quietly behind him. A part of his mind screamed at him to not leave her, to not let her die alone, and he had to keep reminding himself that this time sheâs not sick, that she wonât die in her sleep.
He really hates the coast.
Downtown was much quieter than it had been hours ago, all the shops dark. The lights were dim, spaced far enough apart that it was easy enough to find a dark alleyway. He knew he was early, and he didnât want to admit to himself that it was because of the nerves tangled somewhere in his stomach. He was Satan, he shouldnât be so anxious about this. He was in charge of the demon that was coming, he was in control of the situation, so why was he feeling like this?
He resigned himself to waiting, and another fifteen minutes later, the demon in question rounded the corner and approached him. She stopped to bow to him. âMaster.â
âAlya. Where are they?â
She pulled a box out of her bag and held it out to him. He lifted the lid, and inside there nestled about 20 different rings. He closely inspected them, his eyes quickly zeroing in on one. It had a fairly simple band, with a small, round ruby nestled in its center. On either side of the ruby were smaller diamonds. âThis one.â Alya nodded, plucking it from the box and setting it into a ring box, quickly handing it over.
âHey, um, boss? Congratulations.â
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she quickly scurried away.
~
Natalie waking up was always a toss of a coin. Some days sheâd wake up like it was her favorite part of the day. She would come bounding out of bed, already halfway through a plan to go to the park or the movies or whatever struck her fancy that day. Other days, she needed five different alarms to even think about getting out of bed, and at least two cups of coffee before she was able to string words together into a sentence.
This morning was definitely the second one.
He was already finished making breakfast by the time she dragged herself out into the kitchen for her coffee. He plated the food as she poured the coffee, and she nearly collapsed into one of the kitchen island chairs to sip at it, wrinkling her nose at the taste. He went to the fridge and grabbed her creamer, pouring some into her coffee and mixing it. With her next sip, she hummed happily and finally looked up at him. âMorninâ.â
âPerky this morning, arenât you?â
She grunted at him, taking another sip of her coffee. He hated how adorable it was, even as he felt the ring box burning a hole in his pocket.
Heâd spent the rest of the night trying to figure out the best way to propose for the second time. He was tempted to do it at the beach at sunset again, but he also didnât want to wait that long. Heâd thought about going to a restaurant, but hated the idea of strangers watching them. Heâd thought about taking them on a hike, making her climb up another cliffside for his own amusement, but he hadnât done his research to find a good place to do it.
She was barely halfway through her plate of breakfast when he got impatient and took the box out, slamming it maybe a bit too hard on the countertop beside her. She jumped and frowned around the bite she was chewing, looking at him and then down at the box, then back up at him, confused. She slowly reached out and picked up the box, opening it.
He saw the realization dawn in her eyes and she nearly dropped the box, her head jerking up to stare at him, swallowing down her food. âLucifer?â
âWhat?â
âIs... Is this... Are you-â
âDid you think I was kidding last night?â
She frowned slightly before remembering, and her eyes widened, horror filling her. âYou were serious! Oh, my god, I laughed at you! Luce, I am so sorry, I never thought--â
âKid.â
âIâm sorry, I just-â
âNatalie.â
âThat was so insensitive of me and-â
âLove.â That one finally brought her up short. âYou havenât answered.â
She opened and closed her mouth a couple times before grinning. âYou never technically asked.â
âYouâre really gonna make me say it?â
âIâm really gonna make you say it.â She closed the box and handed it to him, smiling widely, and the nerves vanished. She wouldnât already be this happy if she was going to say no. âThe whole thing, out with it.â
He huffed, rolling his eyes, despite the grin pulling at the sides of his mouth. He moved around the island and stood so he was directly in front of her, standing slightly between her knees. âNatalie McAllister. You are the biggest pain in my ass Iâve ever come across. You have a particular talent for pissing me off, and you always have, and I suspect you always will.â
âThatâs not-â
âShut up, Iâm not done. I am Satan. I command demons. Iâm supposed to stand against every good thing in this world, which is why, I suspect, you piss me off so damn much. Because you are good. You are everything good that this world has to offer. And for some reason, you decided to spend your time with me. The last, what, five or six years? You decided that you wanted me there. And I want you to keep deciding that you want me there, because I want all the time that you have. I have a feeling that even when I donât have your time anymore, youâll always have mine. So. Do you have a thing for marrying the devil?â
Tears shone in her eyes, even as she smiled. âThatâs not the right question.â
He huffed again, amused despite himself. He opened the ring box once more, offering the ring. âWill you marry me?â
âYouâre not gonna get on a knee?â
âYouâre killing me, kid. Itâs a yes or no question.â
She laughed, nodding her head. âFine. Yes.â
He smiled, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.
Summary: Natalie is walking home from home, her phone is dead, and sheâs definitely not lost. Ok, well... maybe sheâs a little lost.
Words: 1233
Notes: Iâve never written a full fic from Natâs pov but I couldnât think of how to make this be in Luciferâs pov, and I guess only doing one thing isnât great for my writing, growing experience, blah blah blah. I wrote this in my workâs break room between my shift ending and waiting for a staff meeting to start, so if this feels a little disjointed, itâs because it is very loud in here and Iâm very distracted. For @natanweek day 4, Warehouse.
Natalie was... misplaced.
She was so sure that she had learned her new neighborhood, that sheâd be able to find her way back from her study group without a problem. She didnât live that far away from the library, did she? There was the library, and then not too far away there was a park, and go past the park and turn right on Olive, and sheâd find her apartment complex.
The problem was sheâd never found the park, and sheâd already made too many turns to retrace her steps. The following problem was that her phone had died at some point during studying so she wasnât able to look up directions or (more likely) call her boyfriend.
Lucifer wasnât going to be the happiest that she was going to be late. She knew how he worried, despite trying to cover it up with annoyance most of the time. Heâd be doubly upset considering heâd begun to come with her, but sheâd waved him off.
âIâll be fine going by myself. Youâll just be sitting there bored, which means youâll distract us from actually studying.â
âKid, do you realize how much trouble you get yourself into without me there to stop it?â
Sheâd rolled her eyes at him. She didnât get into that much trouble. âItâs just a study group. Itâs at the library. Iâll be fine.â
She realized she had made it to a warehouse district and finally admitted that she wasnât just misplaced. She was lost. She was sure sheâd find her way soon, though. Something was bound to look familiar. She just had to... get away from the warehouses.
When did it start getting dark? What was it about warehouses that always got so much creepier in the dark? She quickly shook her head. No. They were not creepy. They were just buildings, and she was fine. She just had to keep going, and sheâd find something familiar.
She heard a scuffling sound off to her left and she quickly turned, her heart racing, seeing nothing. Despite not being able to see anything, she sped slightly as she walked.
Another sound, this time off to her right. She didnât look, her hand moving to her pocket so she could hold a key between her fingers. She didnât know if it was a trick that actually worked, but it was what she had.
The next sound she heard was much closer, and then her shirt was being grabbed, and she was shoved against the side of a warehouse. A man with his hat pulled low to obscure his face was holding her, and she thought she could make out the outline of people behind him in the dark.
âGive me your money,â the man growled out.
She froze, feeling the panic and fear crawl up her throat. Her hand shook in her pocket where she had her keys, but she still pulled it out and took a wild swing at the man. The key barely scratched his face and he jerked them out of her hand, tossing them aside.
He tutted softly at her. âThat was a mistake, doll. You shouldâve just done as I said. Now I gotta--â
âGotta what?â Another voice said, and Natalie nearly sobbed in relief. Lucifer stepped closer, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking as if he didnât care. âGo ahead. Just keep in mind that the next thing you say, Iâm going to do to you.â
âYou donât know what youâre talking about, man. Youâre outnumbered. Just walk away. This doesnât concern you.â
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. âOh, on the contrary. This actually concerns me very much. See, you have something of mine, and I donât take well to people taking things that are mine. Especially when itâs a person I care very much about. Especially when you, apparently, have decided that youâre going to hurt that person.â
The man made a motion with one of his hands, still holding Natalie with the other. Two of the figures that had been behind him moved to stalk towards Lucifer. If not for the sheer terror running through her body, she would probably think it was hilarious.
By the grin on his face, Lucifer already thought it was hilarious. âOh, yes, by all means. Iâll even let you make the first move.â
One of the figures took a swing at Lucifer, which he leaned away from, catching the hand. He quickly had their arm twisted around their back and he struck his elbow against their head, and the figure crumpled to the ground. The next one went charging, and he grabbed them by the shirt, tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing more than a crumpled up tissue.
Finally, the man holding Natalie seemed to take Lucifer seriously, and he let her go, turning his full attention on The Devil. Natalie took her chance and ran, Lucifer catching her in his arms and easily moving her behind him.
âGive me a second, love,â he murmured softly. It wasnât long until the rest were also on the ground, and he returned to her. âYou werenât answering your phone.â
âIt died,â she said, and oh, her voice was shaking.
âHm. Letâs go, girl.â As they walked, Natalie burrowed herself as far into his side as she could without halting their movement. She was slightly surprised to see how close they were to the apartment, as it took no more than another ten minutes of walking to get them back home.
She stepped inside and went straight for the couch, sitting and pulling her knees to her chest. And oh, she was trembling. Lucifer sat beside her and pulled her onto his lap.
âI-Iâm sorry, I just... I thought I knew the way, and I got so lost, and I couldnât call because my phone died, and then that guy showed up, and I tried to hit him--â
âI saw.â
â--and I donât even know what he was saying he was going to do to me but I think I might have ended up dead and--â
âNatalie,â he said simply, softly, and she abruptly stopped. âBreathe. Youâre not dead. Youâre not hurt. Youâre fine. I found you. Just breathe.â
She nodded and buried her face into his neck, breathing deeply as her eyes teared up. She barely managed to not cry, and after several minutes, or hours, or days (alright maybe she was being dramatic about it), finally managed to calm her body.
âHey, Luce?â she asked softly.
âHm?â His chest rumbled under her with the sound, and it calmed her further.
âHow did you know where I was?â
âYou were late.â His voice was tight, and wasnât that interesting? He usually only talked like that when--
She pulled away, looking at him. âDid you call Michael?â
She saw his jaw clench, and her eyes widened slightly. She was late, and he hadnât been able to contact her, and he had said it earlier. She always gets in trouble when heâs not there to stop it. He made sure he would be there to stop it by whatever means necessary.
âWhy the fuck would I call my brother?â he grumbled, and she smiled, burying her face back in his neck.
âHey, Luce?â
âHm?â
âThank you. Also, Luce?â
âWhat, girl?â
âDonât talk about me like Iâm something you own.â
He snorted and shook his head. âGlad youâre ok, love.â
Summary: Natalie drags Lucifer to karaoke night, and he has a crisis over the song she sings.
Words: 1117
Notes: So I, uh, didnât realize how similar this was to yesterdayâs until I was almost done. I thought about switching to a different idea for the prompt, and ultimately decided I didnât have the energy (because I wasnât smart and Iâm writing these the day of/before posting). For @natanweek day 3, Bridge. This is dangerously close to a songfic. This might straight up be a songfic. I was never clear what made a songfic a songfic. Iâm not as happy with this one because I couldnât think of a good way to end it without it being too rushed. Anyway.
It was getting pathetic how easily it was for Natalie to talk Lucifer into doing anything. She always knew exactly what to say, exactly how big to make her eyes, before he would curl his lip and follow after her like a good little devil.
This particular time, she had dragged him to a karaoke bar. Those other girls were there too, Laila and the blonde. Kayla or Kirsten or⊠Kristen? The annoying one that liked Michael so much. Whatever her name was, it begged the question why Natalie had been so adamant that he come with her. She clearly already had friends to sing with, and he knew he wasnât going to sing. So why was he here?
All three girls were rapid approaching being drunk, if their incessant giggling was anything to go by. They had already gone up to do two songs as a group, which he hadnât listened to. Heâs sure the other girls have sang more than that, but his concern wasnât with them. He kept his eyes on Nat, knowing exactly the kind of trouble she tended to invite whenever she drank.
He sipped at his whiskey, tuned out even as he watched Natalie take the stage on her own. She was swaying on her feet before the music even started, a sure sign of how much alcohol sheâd had to drink. Even when the music did start, he didnât pay attention to it, not until the words snagged his attention.
âIf youâre not the one for me,â she sang, not completely terribly for being drunk. It was at least an improvement against the other humans here. âThen how can I bring you to your knees?â His eyes narrowed slightly. She looked over to their table (to him?) while the other girls cheered her on. âIf youâre not the one for me, why do I hate the idea of being free?â She was not singing about the contract. She wasnât. âAnd if Iâm not the one for you, youâve gotta stop holding me the way you do. Oh honey, if Iâm not the one for you, why have we been through what we have been through?â
She continued to sing, and he felt every word like it was a physical attack. She told him to let her down gently, to stop pretending that he didnât want her, on and on until the song ended. âSay that our love ainât water under the bridge.â
The music stopped, and he felt like a trance had been broken. People clapped for her, her friends cheering wildly as she made her way back to the table. He, however, narrowed his eyes at her. So that was why he had to be here, that was why heâd had to sit through all of these songs. She wanted to⊠what? Make a gesture, like those awful movies she liked to watch?Â
Whatever her goal with that stunt was, he refused to give in. He stood, leaving his glass on the table. âIâm leaving.â
Natalie frowned up at him, confused. âWhy do you look mad?â
âIâm not,â he said shortly. He turned, walking away from the table.
âO-oh. Um, bye!â
He didnât acknowledge her, didnât so much as look over his shoulder. She was a grown woman with her friends. She could make a plan for the night without him sitting there listening to her⊠what? Confess? In a song while drunk? Trying to get him to confess?
He shoved his way out of the door, and shortly after, felt a small hand slide itself into his. Startling slightly, he turned to see Natalie walking with him, moving to lean against his arm, and he froze. âWhat are you doing?â
âYou said you were leavinâ, so Iâm cominâ with you.â Her words were only slightly slurred, and he thought back to when her last drink was. Maybe a little under an hour ago?
âI said I was leaving. You stay with your friends.â
âNooo,â she whined. âWanna be with you.â
He scoffed, curling his lip. âEvidently.â
She frowned, looking up at him in confusion. âWhat? Whyâre you mad?â
âShut up, kid.â He started walking again, getting her into the car before going around to the driverâs seat and driving them home.
~
The next day, he sat on the couch, reading a book and resolutely waiting for Natalie to wake up and explain herself.
Heâd had all night to think about the song, to look up the lyrics and obsess over them without worrying about her finding him. The song was⊠not subtle. What are you waiting for? You never seem to make it through the door. How many times had he told her that he was leaving, only to still be here, years later. Have I ever asked for much? The only thing that I want is your love.
He knew Natalie was awake when he heard the groan come from the bedroom. Several minutes later, she stumbled out, going straight for the kitchen. He already had the coffee waiting for her. He waited even longer as she poured her coffee and got settled in the armchair by the couch. She pulled her feet up, curling as small as she could in the chair.
âKid?â
âMm,â she grunted in response.
âWhat the fuck was that song last night.â His tone didnât make it a question, his voice flat.
âI dunno, dude, which one?â
âThe Adele one. At the end.â
She lifted her head from her coffee mug, a slow grin overtaking her face. âYou know Adele? I didnât think you had it in you.â
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. âThe name came up before the song.â
âOh, please. We both know you werenât paying attention. You know Adele.â She was practically giddy, and he couldnât decide which was worse; the kid assuming he knew Adele songs, or actually telling her that heâd looked up the lyrics and learned about it in the middle of the night.
âThe song. Why?â He ground out.
She shrugged. âI like the âsay it ainât soâ part at the end. Itâs fun to sing.â
And didnât that cut off any other train of thought he had? âYou⊠what?â
âI like Adele songs, thatâs one of my favorites, so I sang it. Why?â
âI⊠Nothing.â Oh, no. Oh, no. This wasnât good at all. This means that she didnât direct the song at him. This means that he heard all of those similarities, those parallels to their lives, all on his own.
(Say it ainât so.)
This means he wants her to love him. And that may be worse than anything else that could have happened.
~
Natalie watched as Lucifer froze up, panic flashing through his eyes. She hid a little self satisfied smirk in her next sip of coffee, extremely pleased with herself.
Maybe now that sheâd gotten him to see a little truth, she could get him to stop focusing on the whole âIâm Satan and youâre a humanâ thing.
Summary: Natalie turns 21, and as is tradition, gets drunk. Itâs Luciferâs job to take care of her.
Warning: None
Words: 1571
Notes: For day 2 of @natanweek, Bar.
He had been dreading this day for the past three years, but he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. It was coming barreling towards him whether he liked it or not. He wasnât allowed to ignore it, he had to participate. He had to be around her the whole time, watching her in the crowds, keeping her safe, already knowing that she wouldnât be able to do it herself.
It was Natalieâs 21st birthday.
She insisted that she wasnât going to get that drunk, just a couple drinks and then sheâd go home. He believed that she believed that. He highly doubted that it would actually stop there; had a feeling that her friends were going to take her from bar to bar, club to club, and even when sober she agrees to those types of things so easily.Â
âLuce, I canât decide what to wear, you have to help me,â she calls from somewhere inside her closet.
âI donât have to do anything, kid.â
âShould I do the red dress, or the yellow dress? Or maybe that one tank top with those shorts?â He knows for a fact that she has multiple tank tops and multiple shorts, yet somehow he knew what she meant. The low cut green tank top that matched her eyes, and the shorts that made her ass--No. He wasnât going there, wasnât thinking of her like that.
âNot the shorts,â and he winces slightly internally at the snap he can hear in his own voice. He quickly thinks of something to cover up his tone. âYou always complain theyâre too tight after a couple hours. I donât want to hear it.â
âUgh, yeah, fine. What about--ooh, this one. That black dress? You know, with the--â Yes, he knew. The dress with the lace top that dipped just a little too low between her breasts, the ruffled skirt ending halfway down her thigh. He hated loved hated that dress. He especially hated how others looked at her in that dress. âWith the lace? Forget I even asked, Iâm wearing it. Youâre still coming tonight, right?â
Of course he was going tonight. He had to make sure no one touched her. For her own safety, he told himself, no other reason. âWhy would I go to watch you get drunk?â
âCâmon, itâll be fun! We get to hang out with friends, and drink, and dance, and weâll be home before you know it.â
âWhatever you say, kid.â
âSo youâll go?â
âFine.â He could hear her little squeal coming from the bathroom as she put on her makeup, and he swore his heart didnât flip at the noise.
~
The first bar was loud, and crowded, and he had to stand directly behind Natalie after he caught the third guy staring at her ass.
Natalie was, as he suspected, a lightweight. After her first drink, her cheeks were already flushed, and she kept shooting him bright smiles over her shoulder. His stupid heart didnât flip. He wasnât affected. He wasnât.
After her second drink, she was much more... tactile than usual. She was leaning back against him, holding onto one of his arms with both of her hands, absentmindedly tracing the bands around his arm as she talked to her friends. It wasnât long after that they decided to go to a club.
At the club, there were even more people. As it was later in the night, people were more drunk, and therefore more bold. A man ignored Luciferâs presence and slid in beside Natalie about halfway through her third drink.
âHey, sexy. Whatâre you drinking?â Somehow, the man managed to even smell like slime.
Drunk, and never one to be rude, Natalie beamed at him. âAn, um, itâs a amaretto sour. Itâs... Itâs really really good. Like, so good.â
âWell, with a review like that, I have to get one. And another for you.â The man tried getting the attention of the bartender.
âOhmygod thatâs so nice. Isnât that so nice, Luce?â She turned over her shoulder and smiled, and his stupid heart did another stupid flip. He made a soft noise, not agreeing, but not disagreeing yet either. Let the man spend his money. It wasnât going further than that.
After the man got the drinks, he kept inching closer to Natalie, something she didnât seem to notice at all. The man reached out, trying to rest a hand on her leg, but Lucifer decided that was enough. His hand darted out, catching the manâs wrist. âI think itâs time for you to leave.â
The man finally looked up, locking eyes with Lucifer for the first time, and he froze. Maybe the man really hadnât noticed him standing behind Nat, because his eyes were wide, and he quickly jerked back. âY-yeah, ok, man.â He scurried off, which Lucifer almost hated, except it meant he wasnât talking to his the girl anymore.
After her fourth drink, Natalie was very verbally affectionate.
âHeyheyhey, letâs... letâs dance. We should... we should dance.â Her words were slurred and her legs wobbled slightly on her heels, but she hung onto his arm, dragging him to the dance floor. She was... less than coordinated, but clearly having fun dancing. His heart warmed at the brightness on her face, at the way her arms jerked as she bounced slightly, trying to stay on the beat of the music.
Heâd realized almost a year ago that he was in love with this human, and fought every day against it. He couldnât let his heart warm, or flip, or do any of the other stupid things it liked to do when she smiled at him. Loving her would only lead to disaster; for her, for him, for possibly everyone involved. He wouldnât be able to give her what she deserved in life. She would live less than 100 years, and he would go on existing without her. He couldnât love her. And yet...
Natalie lasted all of one song before she noticeably flagged, and he pulled her to a table at the edge of the dance floor. She collapsed in a chair, and he sat beside her. After a moment, she moved to crawl into his lap. He knew he should throw her off, but his arms wrapped around her as she curled into his chest.
âYâknow... yâknow how good yâare? Youâre... youâre so good Luce. You make me happy.â He found himself grateful that his horns werenât out, for they would surely give him away.
âIâm the devil, kid.â
âSo? Thaâs jus... thaâs jus a job. You didnât wanna. Is not fair. Whaâ happened. You deserve... so much. Anâ you donâ get it. Anâ you should.â
He grinned slightly. She sounded so angry (as angry as she could while drunk off her ass), all on his behalf. âI have everything I need.â
âBuâ.... buâ whaddabouâ whaâ you want? Like... love? I love you. A whole bunch.â He swore he felt his heart stop, but she kept going. âYer the besâ. The best. Got pretty fer you, yâknow.â
His throat felt dry, and his arms tightened around her. âYouâre drunk.â
âWasnâ drunk when I founâ the dress you like. Wanted... wanted tâ wear the shorts, buâ you donâ like âem ousside.â She was mumbling now, half asleep. His mind raced, but landed on a final thought. Was he really that transparent? âLove you so much...â
âYou donât know what youâre saying, girl.â
âDo too,â she whined petulantly.
âCâmon. I need to get you home.â
~
The next morning she groaned at the table over her coffee. âLife sucks.â
âYouâre a lightweight. This is what happens.â
âLuce, life sucks.â
He snorted, turning back to his book. Heâd already gotten her tylenol and coffee. Heâd offered to get breakfast, but she looked sick just thinking about it. Sheâd have to power through the rest on her own.
âHey... Luce?â He grunted slightly in response. âDid I tell you I love you last night?â
He carefully didnât react, turning the page in his book. âAmong other things. You were drunk.â
âOk, but... Being drunk doesnât make me a liar. It just made me... tell the truth. Directly.â
His head snapped up, but she was still staring down at her coffee, her cheeks a light pink. âWhat are you saying,â he asked slowly.
âIâm saying I love you, Lucifer. More than...â She huffed, frustrated. âI like doing nice things for you. Your earrings get all yellow and itâs basically the best thing ever. That includes, like... wearing nice things sometimes. I like getting dressed up in stuff I know you like. I like making you happy. I love you. A lot.â
He didnât say anything, didnât move, staring at her. His mind raced with a million things, his brain yelling at him that this wasnât good, that she was going to end up hurt, that this might mess with her chances of getting into heaven when she died. He tried to remind himself that she was definitely going to die, one way or another, because she was human. At the same time, he already knew he was doomed, already knew he couldnât just let her go. When he finally did speak, all he said was, âIâm not kissing you until I know youâre done throwing up.â
And if his heart flipped at her smile, well. That was no oneâs business but his.
Summary: Natalie is very sick, and very old, and very mortal. Lucifer is very not.
Warning: Major character death (nothing violent but it still happens)
Words: 1096
Notes: My sister told me I didnât know how to write something not happy so this exists for the sole reason of proving her wrong. Fun fact, the title is âdeath doesnât discriminate between the sinners and the saints (it takes and it takes and it takes)â but that looked way too long in the title spot. For the prompt âHospitalâ. @natanweek
As naive as it had been, Lucifer had hoped that he was done being in hospitals. His girl was less active, so she wasn't prone to as many accidents. No more falling off of roofs, no more being kidnapped by rogue angels or demons. The price with being less active though, was age, and his girl was old by human standards. Her body was frailer and weaker than it had ever been, and she'd had this cough for so long. For too long, the doctor had said. The antibiotics weren't working, the doctor had said. She probably only has a few days left, the doctor had said. Lucifer had decided he didn't like this doctor.
Despite the situation, where they were, how sick she was, Natalie was trying so hard to lighten the mood. He often told her how annoying her optimism was, or how her jokes werenât funny, and she would smile at him because she knew. She knew exactly how much of a liar he was, exactly how much he loved her jokes.
âDonât worry, I canât die. Itâs like that saying. Not good enough to go to heaven, too annoying to go to hell. Satan would just kick me right back out.â She had that shine in her eyes, the one that told him she was waiting for him to roll his eyes, or scoff, or anything. He knew his earrings had that soft purple glow to them, giving him away no matter how well he managed to mask his face.
âYou know thatâs not how this works, Nat.â
She was quiet, for long enough he thought she might be falling asleep, and then, "What do you think, Luce? Do you think I'm going to Heaven or Hell?" Her voice was soft, her weariness showing so easily despite how hard she tried to hide it.
"Probably Hell." The thought tore at him, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. She didnât belong there, not with all those angry souls, the ones who would want to hurt her. She didnât deserve to be tortured for the rest of eternity just because of him.
She made a face at him. "Michael said he fixed the soul thing and I'd go to Heaven."
"Then why'd you ask, kid?" He knew why.
"I was making conversation.â No, she was trying to prepare him for when she died, making him think about it so he wouldnât be blindsided later. âWhy'd you say Hell? Do you think Michael went back on his word?"
He snorted. "No, I think he went through with it. Then you married Satan. I think you damned your own soul."
She narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating something. "Worth it. I-" She was interrupted by a coughing fit, and he was horribly reminded of the pneumonia, of how a 90 year old woman isn't likely to survive pneumonia after having it for so long, how Natalie had had it for too long.
She stopped and looked at him. "Your ear rings are brighter."Â
He always hated how easily she could read him because of his earrings, and she had always loved it. She liked to tell him that he had emotion coming out of his ears. "No they're not."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sick, not blind."
He clenched his jaw, looking out the window. Not at her. He couldnât stand seeing that look in her eyes, not while they were talking about where her soul was going in the next couple days. "So what?"
"You're Satan. You'll figure out how to see me." And there it was again, that annoyingly persistent optimism.
"You know I can't do that. I can't go into Hell, it's inside me. I can't go into Heaven, I don't have wings. This is..."
"I know," she said softly. "I was just... I was hoping to make you feel better."
Some days, he really hated how optimistic she was. Today was one of those days.
On her last day she didn't wake much. When she did, she didn't speak. The coughing had gotten worse, so much worse, and he could hardly stand to be in the same room and listen to it. At the same time, he knew he couldn't leave her alone. She had died alone last time. He wouldn't let her die alone this time.
The last time she woke up, he somehow knew it would be the last time he saw her eyes, and he thinks she knew it too. She stared at him, looking almost calm, and he just studied the green, trying so hard to commit it to memory, and being so afraid that he would forget it in 50 years. He leaned forward, kissing her softly on the forehead. She wasn't awake long, her eyes closing with a deep, shuddering breath. The coughing got even worse, and he tried so hard not to cry. He wanted to wait, he wanted to be strong for her until the end, even if she wasn't awake to know it.
It seemed ironic, how he wasn't sure he'd remember what shade of green her eyes were, but he knew he'd never forget the sound of that machine telling him she was gone. Ironic in the worst way, the cruelest twist of fate. The beeps getting slower until they stopped, until it flat lined, until her heart wasn't beating anymore. He knew without a doubt that that sound would haunt him for the rest of his days.
He planned her funeral. He invited her friends, whatever was left of her family. He didn't go, not until after everyone else had left. He wouldnât be able to handle the humansâ particular brand of pity and sympathy. He wasnât sure heâd be able to talk to another human for a very long time.Â
As he went to her grave, his old man's face slowly melted away. His back straightened to his full height, the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, the angles of his face sharpened. Finally, his horns came out, glowing the same purple as his earrings. He looked like himself for the first time in maybe 50 years. Ever since he had noticed that his wife was aging, and he was not, and wouldnât that look suspicious soon. He had matched her day by day, doing his best to make sure no one had any reason to question them.Â
He stared at the nameplate, and he finally allowed himself to cry.
Summary: Luciferâs thought process after Natalie canât remember him.
Words:Â 676
Notes:Â It was just April 4th which made me reread SaM which made me have feelings so hereâs a drabble.
Please, just let me go, Mr. Monster.
He couldnât get it out of his head. He couldnât forget the look on her face, the tone of her voice, the words she had said, and somehow... somehow all of that had hurt even more than the wounds still bleeding on his back.
...just let me go, Mr. Monster.
Even when their contract had just begun, when he had appeared in her bathroom, she hadnât looked so terrified. She may have been scared at first, of course, but she took the news that he was Satan and bound to her surprisingly well for a human. She just accepted that the actual devil lived on a bean bag chair in her room.
Please, just let me go...
He remembers telling her once that he expects death. That no single individual would affect him when they died. Sheâs human, of course she was going to die. And he would move on with his existence, and might forget her after so long. He wouldnât feel anything, a lie he had told even himself for so long. Now, anytime he caught his own reflection, he knew the gentle purple glow of his ear rings gave away the despair he felt.
She wasnât supposed to die for awhile. And it certainly wasnât going to be his fault. It had practically become his job to make sure this human--his human--stayed alive. So it wasnât a hard decision to give up his wings for her. Before, when she was just sick, he had options. He could find another path to keep her alive. But the moment he shook her and she hadnât moved... she had been so cold... Nothing else had mattered in that moment.
He remembers taking her to the coast, laughing to himself as he waited for her to climb up the side of the cliff. He remembers how amazed she looked when she finally looked out at the horizon, and how he told her to never ask something of him again. He hadnât quite realized at the time that she didnât need to ask for anything else, that he would give it freely.
... Mr. Monster.
She had called him a monster. A word she had never once used to describe him, especially not after he told her not to say it. Even when he had tried to disobey the contract, when Hell had taken over, she hadnât said he was a monster. When it was all over, and she had brought him back, she still hadnât called him a monster. She had said that Hell was a part of him, but that didnât make him a monster. That was somehow something she was so adamant about, that he was good.
Youâre like my guardian angel.
Thatâs what she had said that day on the beach. It had caught him so off guard, he hadnât known what to say. He supposed in a way, she was his guardian as well. She always stood up for him, even against Hell itself. She could have asked for anything in the world, and she used her contract to help him, to quiet the constant chattering in his head, to give him some semblance of peace.
âIâm going to get you back, kid,â he muttered, watching over her sleeping form.
Iâm glad I got to meet someone like you.
She was too important for him to lose. Especially not like this, not with her thinking he was a monster, that he would do anything to hurt her.
She shifted in her sleep, muttering something under her breath, too soft for him to catch. She looked like nothing had ever happened. Like she hadnât died, hadnât forgotten who he was.
No. He wasnât losing her like this.
I love you, Lucifer.
He should have told her then how much he cared for her.
âI swear to you, Natalie, Iâm going to get you back.â
And when he did, he swore he would tell her as many times as she would let him how much he loved her.
Summary:Â Satan gets feelings and only accepts them come New Yearâs.
Words: 1821
I started writing this forever ago but I didnât know where I wanted it to go until tonight. Happy new yearâs!
    She just liked to hold his hand. It was a habit she had developed. He couldnât even entirely remember when it had started. He didnât really notice it at all until it happened every day.
    The girl would stick out her hand, and if he did not comply immediately, she made impatient grabbing motions. The first time he actively noticed this, he had shoved his hands into his pockets, and she had glared at him.
    âCâmon, Luce! Donât be mean!â
    âIâm not being mean. I just donât want to hold you fucking hand.â
    Still, she had refused to drop her hand. âItâs cold!â
    âThen put your hand in your pocket, genius.â
    âYouâre warmer.â
    And so he had held her hand.
    He had decided to ignore it after that. Until the day he had found his hand reaching out first. She didnât say anything about it. She just took his hand and walked along happily.
    What.
    The.
    Fuck.
    He was literally Satan. He was the king of Hell. What the fuck was he doing actually wanting to hold this human girlâs hand.
    So he dealt with it the only way that seemed logical.
    With anger.
    The next time they went out, he resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets. She reached out her hand, but he ignored her. She made the motions, and he ignored her. She started whining, and he tried ignoring her.
    âIâm cold!â
    âItâs not my fucking job to keep you warm. Youâre an adult. Take care of your damn self, girl. You have pockets.â
    And so she pouted.
    âLucifer...â
    âNo.â
    âPleeeease?â
    âFuck no.â
    âOh, câmon!â
    âI know youâre useless but you should understand a two letter word.â
    âThat was mean.â
    âNews flash, kid. Iâm Satan.â
    âThat doesnât mean you have to be mean.â
    âThat is literally exactly what that means.â
    She shoved her hand in her pocket, but she pouted the entire time and stopped talking. Which was... odd. The girl never shut up before.
    After she had sent him a few side glares, he finally sighed and held out his hand. She grinned and took it, humming happily.
    Some lord of darkness he turned out to be.
    It was some time after the hand holding that he realized how often she sat on his lap. He could have sworn that he used to fight against that. That he used to shove her off.
    Yet he looked up one day and realized that she was laying across his lap with a book while he was reading his own. He didnât say anything, wondering how often this happened without him realizing it.
    Evidently, a lot. Throughout the next week, she was nearly always on his lap or touching him in some way.
    Seriously, what the fuck had happened to him?
    Why hadnât he noticed and stopped this before?
    And more importantly, now that he had noticed, why didnât he want to stop it now?
    After much consideration, he decided to ignore it. He didnât know how long she had been sitting on his lap. It would look weird if he suddenly stopped letting her now. It might look like he cared. And he certainly didnât care about this... potato. This human he just happens to be contracted to. He was Satan. He didnât care about her.
    So the next time she sat on his lap, he didnât move. He kept reading his book, and said nothing.
    It was a couple months before the last straw. She had been on his lap, but when she stood to go out with a couple friends, she kissed his cheek.
    He froze and slowly looked up at her. âWhat the fuck was that?â
    She looked just stunned as he felt. She was still partly bent over, her eyes wide. âUm... Nothing?â
    âDid you just kiss my fucking cheek, girl?â
    âN-no?â Her cheeks flushed and she quickly stood. âWell anyway gotta go, bye!â
    Heâs not sure if he had ever seen her leave him so quickly. His hand slowly went up to his cheek, trying to see if the skin felt as warm to the touch as it did in his mind. He felt like fire was licking through his veins, starting at the point in his cheek. When he felt nothing unusual, he dropped his hand and tried to force himself back into his book.
    He did not care for that girl. He didnât.
    She didnât sit on his lap again. Though he hadnât noticed it when it started, he certainly noticed it now that she had stopped. He felt... cold. Which was ridiculous. He didnât get cold.
    When they went out, she didnât try to hold his hand.
    Nothing else changed. She still smiled and laughed and talked to him, and was just as annoying as always. Except for she did her best not to touch him.
    He didnât like it.
    And so when they went out, heâs the one that held out his hand. And after a slight hesitation, she took it. When he sat on the couch, he pulled her onto his lap. He refused to meet her eyes, and refused to acknowledge the warmth he felt when she curled into him.
    He was fucking Satan. This was ridiculous. But at the same time, he wouldnât have it any other way.
    âLuce, are you gonna come to the party or are you going to mope here?â
    âIâm not going to a ridiculous New Yearâs party. Do you even know how old I am? The concept is absurd.â
    âFine, suit yourself. You stay here, and Iâll go to the party, and probably get tipsy, with my drunk friends, and who knows, maybe even Jeri--â
    He tensed at the name and cut her off. âWhere is it?â
    Natalie grinned, triumphant. âMikeâs house.â
    âJust tell me when weâre going, girl.â
    He was surrounded by drunken, human teenagers. It was horrible. Natalie wasnât too bad, having only nursed the same wine cooler throughout the night. Her cheeks were barely even flushed. He had a feeling she was doing it for his benefit.
    He glanced at the time again. 11:57. He could taste freedom, it was so close.
    When Lucifer looked up, he realized Natalie had drifted away, talking to one of her friends, the one with the pink hair.
    âThink youâre gonna get a kiss at midnight?â The pink haired girl asked, and he slowed his approach. A kiss? At midnight? That tradition was still going?
    Natalie sputtered. âWh-what? No! Why would I--no! Of course not. Who would kiss me?â
    âStan, probably. Have you seen the way he watches you?â
    âOh, please. Stan just wants to make sure I donât hurt myself.â
    âWhich kind of sounds like heâs interested.â
    Natalie took a sip of her drink to avoid answering, her eyes flickering towards him.
    âFine, if not Stan, then maybe Mike. Maybe Jericho, I think he might be around here somewhere. You have your pick, Nat.â
    âI really donât think I do. Stan and I are just friends. And Mike and I. And Jericho. Mostly, I think. Iâm not--I mean--They donât--No. No kissing for me.â
    The image of either boy kissing Natalie upset him more than he cared to admit. He tried to convince himself that it was because he hated both of them, and not because he didnât want anyone to kiss her.
    He made his way to her side. 11:59. âThe countdown is about to start.â
    She smiled and they made their way to the living room, finding a spot to see the television to watch the ball drop. They had 20 seconds until the new year. Both Jericho and Mike were searching the room, though Natalie didnât seem to notice.
    15 seconds. She had been spotted, both boys moving towards here.
    10 seconds. He didnât care if either boy kissed her. He didnât care.
    9 seconds. He was fucking Satan.
    8 seconds. He didnât care for his contract.
    7 seconds. He didnât think about her hand in his.
    6 seconds. He didnât miss her presence when she left for school.
    5 seconds. He hated it when she sat on him.
    4 seconds. Jericho was almost upon them. Natalie had seen him, and smiled. She saw Mike next.
    3 seconds. Lucifer pictured either of them kissing her again, and anger flared up within him. Anger, and possibly something else. His arm slowly wrapped around her waist.
    2 seconds. He, Lucifer, literal Satan, did not love this human girl.
    1 second. Ah, fuck it. He absolutely did.
    âHappy new year!â Heâs sure others said it, heâs sure the entire room said it, but he only heard her voice. He saw, for a brief second, Jericho try to reach for her. But it was his arm that was already around her waist, so it was him that pulled her closer, it was him that got to feel her pressed against him. Shock filled her eyes, but before she could ask him what he was doing, he kissed her.
    Lucifer had, of course, kissed before. He was older than any human could comprehend. Sinning was his job. He had kissed and more, several thousand times. This, to be cliche, was different from anything he had ever felt before. This kiss was soft, and filled with more. More than anything he had felt, until he had met her.
    It took her a brief moment, but she was quickly kissing him back. Their lips moved together, and he felt her fingers slowly move up his chest and around his neck, until they were twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck.
    It was Natalie that pulled away first. âWhere did that come from?â
    âWhat the fuck kind of question is that?â
    She pulled her hands away from him to lightly hit his shoulder, mindful of what she would feel. âYou know what I mean. You donât exactly like me.â
    He tightened his hold on her slightly. âOh, if only you knew, kid...â he muttered, leaning down again. He felt drunk on her, and quickly got irritated at all the levels of cliche she made him feel.
    She stepped back, out of his arms, and he took a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets in an effort not to follow her.
    âDo you want to get out of here, Stan? Just go back home?â
    âI only came here for you, kid.â He did his best to make his voice flat and bored, but by the grin on her face, had a feeling he had failed.
    âI knew you cared.â She went to the closet by the door and grabbed her coat before taking a step outside. Without a word, she held out her hand.
    And without a word, he took it.
    Lucifer couldnât entirely remember when she had started holding his hand. But he had a feeling it was about the same time he had started to fall in love with her.
I canât believe Iâm writing this. I mean, Iâm never going to let you see this, obviously. Because Iâm pretty sure that if you did read this, you would find a way out of our contract so fast it would give us both whiplash. So I think Iâll settle for ripping this into shreds and burning it once Iâm done writing it.
Okay. Here goes. Iâm gonna say something Iâve been thinking about for a while.
I kind of like you. And not in the friend way that you deny, which makes me think you would deny this even more. But in more of a âmore-than-friendsâ way. I donât know why I would feel this way. Maybe itâs some sort of trust thing. I donât know, but whatever it is, itâs dangerous. I know it is. I know you know itâs dangerous, too.
That doesnât stop me. It should. But it doesnât.
Iâve never been one for adrenaline rides or rushes. My kind of night used to be sitting in with a bowl of popcorn and watching a movie; but now look at me. Running off to Oregon, getting tattoos, jumping off a bridge, going into strip clubsâŠ
The list goes on. And I know itâs absolutely nothing compared to things youâve done, but I truly want to know part of your world.
After all, Iâm already going to Hell, right? In for a penny, in for a pound.
Off track. Right. Anyway. It doesnât matter. Iâm going to go burn this now.
Yours Unfortunately,
Natalie McAllister
â
Natalie,
Humans are weird. You especially, since you forgot to burn that stupid strawberry-scented letter. So now Iâm writing my own back, and Iâll burn them together.
Now, humans. Fucking weird. You communicate with this weird language sometimes that I donât fully understand. Iâm not talking about English. Iâm talking about this whole relationship bullshit. Because letâs face it. Your species is biologically designed to just carry on traits. But instead, you had to go off and create this thing for yourselves.
Love. What a fucking rip-off. All it is is a cheap ploy for advertisers to capitalize on holidays. And donât get me started on the marriage ring. In general, itâs a terrible idea.
Kid, Iâm several centuries older than you. And you really canât avoid aging and eventually dying. I dread this, but we can save that conversation for a later time. More to the point, it would be really, really stupid for me to fall in love with you. Iâm literally the devil, the epitome of all evil.
So why the hell did it happen? I swear, this contract is making me feel shit I have never felt and would have been perfectly fine never feeling. Ever. And yet, I donât mind it. I find myself getting softer, and while I hate it, I canât bring myself to hate you.
Natalie McAllister, I love you.
Father help me, I love you.
And I will protect you until this contract runs out.
Pairing: No one, really. Natan if you squint, I guess??
Warnings:Â Some cursing, blood, death
Summary: I was on the bus and the song The Promise by Within Temptation came on and there was something about a woman swearing revenge for something and so this happened. So Natalie gets revenge on the angels or something? Iâm bad at summaries. âHell hath no fury like a woman scornedâ
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pixelskylines
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stormborns
