➶drippy s/o➴ @drippyfrog - Tumblr Blog

okay so. idea tiem. i am simply yelling my brainwyrms at u here pls enjoy or ingore at ur leisure, rlly is fine either way~

cowardly mc. mc who feels genuinely relatable to like. regular real world people. they are not brave and not dumb and not doing any kind of "standing up" to demons that could kill them. imagine being this mc

you're kinda a loser. you flunk every class at RAD bc of course you do, this is a goddamn Devildom curriculum. satan has to tutor you a LOT (he's testy bc lucifer forced him to do it, and you can tell, which has you scared shitless)

nobody likes you except probably mammon who will simp for any MC no matter what (plus,,, fellow loser energy). but the demons are hot and after being in the HoL for a while, having okay interactions with them, you start. crushing on lucifer.

and hey. lucifer doesn't respect you because you're a coward. okay. you're not stupid, you can understand that. so what if... you COULD be brave? what if you could do something impressive, what if you actually TRIED to demonstrate to him that you're capable of more?

you confess to him that you have feelings for him, and you'd like to go out for coffee or something sometime and - SHUT DOWN. lucifer is distantly polite about it and you are crushed, but accept his rejection as gracefully as you can and run away to cry and nurse your wounds.

because lucifer isn't... being his best self in season 1. he used to be better at connecting to people, listening to them, seeing their potential past their flaws, and trusting them. that's the person his brothers love him for being. bitch used to communicate.

and then the rest of season 1 happens. and things don't go down exactly the same but you have your moments.

lucifer doesn't want you, sure, but there's other hotties, an actual cause of peace between the realms to support, you've made friends, and you're still so so scared but you have a reason to fight past your fears.

and then lucifer realizes he's got a couple weeks to tell you that he loves you, actually.

that watching you grow, watching your cowardly, tearful self trembling with fright and still trying, it feels like Falling in reverse, as if he could rise up to the heavens and higher still

then he sees that look that satan gives you. then mammon catches his eyes, drags him out back where no one can hear.

and tells him in no uncertain terms just how wretched and miserable you felt, just how hard mammon heard you cry when lucifer turned you down.

just how hard it was for you to even approach lucifer in the first place. and mammon's pretty sure you have feelings for satan, but you're too scared to say them now because of someone-

lucifer doesn't want to hear this anymore, but it's too late - and now he has to decide if it really is too late.

Your Courage, My Love

I got carried away with the idea, and here is the result....I really hope I didn't get anything wrong or flew off tangent, but I have acquired the brainworms and they told me to write.

The voice from the attic hasn't stopped bothering you.

It's been three whole months since your stay in the Devildom, and apart from random demons trying to eat you, the mysterious voice from the top of the stairs has not been letting you fall asleep.

You suppose it's tempting.

And yet, you don't want to investigate.

You're wary of many things here—from the food—to the environment. Being thrust into another realm has not been easy, and you find yourself on the verge of crying. The cuisine is strange, to say the least, and Hell Beetle sauce isn't exactly your favourite condiment. Demons in the streets have attempted to "taste your soul," and that is why one of the brothers has to accompany you wherever you go, so that the human exchange studen is kep out of harm. You wanted to scoff, for this is ridiculous that you have to follow one of the brothers like a child, but it is necessary, and you would rather be roped into Mammon's schemes than run for your life. Studies are another chore to be fulfilled, albeit grudgingly.

You can't make sense of the curriculum, for starters.

What you learnt in the human realm is not at all applicable here in this realm. Languages are a pain, even more so when demons around you sneer in their native language, leaving you scared; for you know they are talking about you. And so you stick to the brothers, and try staying out of trouble.

Mammon throws you off tangent sometimes. With his tsundere ways and half-hearted digs at you, you're left confused as to whether he even finds your company enjoyable. But he's not cold at least, unlike Lucifer.

After the introduction to the Devildom by the Prince, you locked eyes with the Avatar of Pride, as you came to know later. A man with a gaze so intense that it made you want to hide from his intimidating form.

And the demon for whom you developed a crush on.

Morningstar, once the most loved by his Father. A being so beautiful and yet so intimidating, who chooses the best for himself. Someone who will be on par with him, with courage and determination that the strongest possess.

You're not brave.

Just a human in the Devildom. Powerless, for most matters, and fearful.

You don't have the courage to stand your ground. You never did, instead choosing to run away from danger at first sight.

When the giant snake was chasing you, or whether when in the underground tomb Lucifer threatened you. Your throat tightens when you think of Luke, utterly terrified, and yet standing with Beel—tall and powerful—who was equally wary of his brother's anger.

And what did you do at the first sign of danger?

Ran away.

Like a fucking coward.

You were so scared, you reminisce, hand underneath your chin. Your knees were trembling, eyes widened and adrenaline rushing through your veins, dreading the prospect of being killed. The humiliation to you was not spared, either, for you could have intervened, and pleaded, the very least, for the demon to think rationally.

You are just a human.

You don't possess magical powers like Solomon, or have the knowledge of any spells or incantations yet.

Your hand still hurts from the time when Lucifer grabbed and squeezed it as a warning, that he would do harm if his brothers were threatened.

You can't even bring harm, let alone try.

You don't even have the courage or the admirable streak of defiance.

All the qualities which the Morningstar possesses.

You wish you had those very qualities in you—confidence and courage—to name a few. All of which the demon has. His virtues had you enraptured, and you found yourself crushing hard.

And again, you can't even talk to the man while looking him in the eye.

The door is the final hurdle to catching Lucifer alone—not the last of many challenges but a beginning.

You'll confess today.

After having gathered up courage from weeks of coaching yourself and nitpicking your appearance, finally having deemed yourself presentable in front of the Avatar of Pride you stand here, in the hallway.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

And the familiar tendrils of fear find their way, again.

The urge to run away back to your room and slam the door shut is strong, nearly overpowering your desire to confess. But you persevere, grounding yourself with the knowledge that it is better to take confess here and now than wallow in your feelings, that there is a chance that Lucifer might want you, small if it may be.

You take a deep breath, albeit shaky, and knock sharply on the wood thrice.

The silence that follows is of no help, either.

You stand, waiting, fiddling with your fingers. The worst of assumptions creep into your mind: that he did not hear you or chose not to, that Lucifer might have been asleep and may storm out of the room in a fury as to why you disturbed his rest. Maybe one of the brothers might witness the sight and admonish you for staying up late. Maybe you should retreat back to your room—

"Come in."

"I'm sorry," He says, voice loud and clear. "I'm not interested."

Words die down in your throat. Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime? Whenever you're free?

Cold dismissal fills the room.

It feels like the strength has left your body, your heart sinking into your chest, dampening the courage you had gathered to even step into his room. It shatters the moment he speaks those dreaded words.

The demon looks at you with an unreadable expression, and even in such a situation you admire his ability to appear composed, which you can't muster. Perfection is the normal for Lucifer, who maintains himself to the highest standards, and would desire the same in a partner.

Which you don't have.

You're sure if you open your mouth, what will spill past your lips will be sobs.

"That's alright," You mumble, voice flat and tiny.

It's not alright.

Forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat, you clench your fist behind your back. "That's alright. I understand, and I-I," Your gaze falls on Lucifer, who is still eyeing you with cold apathy. "I'll be taking my leave now. See you at breakfast tomorrow."

As soon as the door closes, the first of many sobs spill past your lips.

Small, muffled, insignificant, you slap a hand over your mouth and rush to your room near the kitchen, praying Beel isn't there. Your vision is blurred by tears, and your trembling fingers grab the handle of the door and push, stepping in until the door quietly locks behind you.

This time, the whimpers that spill past your lips are not muffled.

This time, your heart is crushed in the Devildom.

This time, a demon outside the hallway hears your cries.

But the world around you is blurry. You cry and weep, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle any noise, lest anyone hear. You're sure you'll be taunted, looked down upon.

You were foolish to think you could be loved by Lucifer. It was stupid to even try and gather strength. He deserves and requires the best, which you are not.

You never are. Not here, not on earth.

Your cries continue well into the darkest hour of the night.

You wake up in your bed the next day, tucked under the blankets with your head resting comfortably on the pillow. Groggily, you open your swollen eyes, and realise that your throat is parched.

You don't remember falling asleep in your bed.

And when you finally stand up, thankful for the carpet on the floor that prevents the cold from shocking you first thing in the morning—you squint and stare at the jug of water on the table.

That wasn't there before.

The days are passing by smoothly.

Smoother than before, for time has dulled the pain of the wounds that you acquired on that night. A lot happened, and currently you're in your room with Satan, perched on the bed with a notebook as the blonde demon questions you on Curses and Hexes, sitting besides you.

"There is a relief sculpture at the entrance to the Devildom royal tomb, where demon royalty are laid to rest. What is the sculpture called?"

"Three-legged crow."

"Correct," Satan says, a smile on his face as he nods and turns the page. You wait in anticipation, confident that you will answer correctly whatever he throws at you.

"What was on the Devildom at the time of its existence?"

"Water?"

"Incorrect."

You frown, trying to recollect the information you're pretty sure you had reviewed the night before. There was a ocean, countless miles of water before—

"I've mixed Devildom history and human-world geography," You groan, settling your hand under your chin. "Ugh, this is confusing." Besides you, the demon nods in understanding.

"It can be confusing, but you're learning. See, you even pointed out that your answer was incorrect." Satan soothes, showing you the textbook page, pointed by his index finger to the line where it is clearly mentioned that forests were spread all over the Devildom during the time of its existence. "You've improved. I'm proud."

You smile. "Thanks," You mutter, suddenly wanting to shy away from his gentle gaze. "It couldn't be without you tutoring me."

"I don't mind," Satan says, a twinkle in his eyes.

Some time ago, the blonde demon would have crinkled the page in irritation, fueled by your failure at answering even the most simplest of questions in RAD subjects.

Underneath his calm veneer, you noticed how he would grip the book, sharp nails threatening to reveal themselves. You would tremble; afraid of getting another one wrong in fear of provoking the demon even further, leading to nothing but panic, which has never borne good results. You would attempt to sit as far away as you could from Satan, heart pounding in your ears, studying with the invisible sword of his wrath in front of your neck.

Some days, you would avoid those sessions, leading to extra classes to make up for syllabus lagging behind, and sleepless nights tainted with fear.

But things improved, slowly but steadily.

"Would you mind going to this new cat cafe that opened up recently tomorrow?" Satan asks, voice nearly a whisper. "You've been working really hard, and I'm sure that you will do well on your mid-terms."

"You put too much faith in me," You respond, but agree all the same, excitement thrumming in your veins for the day to come.

"You will perform excellently," The demon affirms, getting up from his spot to place the book on the table. "Sleep well," He says, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Goodnight, MC."

"Goodnight!" You respond, letting yourself fall on the bed.

You close your eyes, the exhaustion of the day sinking into your bones. A three-hour study session has thoroughly drained you, but brought along with it satisfaction. Apart from that, you did not miss any due dates for assignments this week, which would have resulted in staying back, a common occurence for you earlier.

But you have progressed. Slowly but steadily.

It was hard to face Lucifer the morning after. The memory brings a sour taste in your mouth. You could barely look him in the eye, and did not speak much, keeping your eyes trained on your plate. Mammon kept staring at you, though, but you had ignored in favor of not breaking down in front of everyone.

A humiliation you did not want to endure. A weakness you did not want to display.

And some time after, you met the demon in the attic. Who told you stories weaved with pity, and urged you to make pacts. Killed you.

And dealing with the fallout after wasn't easy. Though you suppose that you're an exception, merely because of the fact your survived your own death.

You trembled, hands calmly and adrenaline running through your veins at the mere sight of the seventh-born. You eyed his hands, which he would flex lazily in front of his face, still in the haze of sleep. Those same hands that he wrapped around your neck and choked you.

But you worked through it all.

And these were just some of the many events that you witnessed and partook in, and there are many more to come in the Devildom.

But the only event you're interested is the one tomorrow with Satan.

After weeks of pondering, you've come to the realisation: that you have fallen again for the blonde demon. Satan reminds you of Lucifer, with his body language and mannerism, but he is not him. No, he is Satan, Avatar of Wrath, your tutor and your dear friend.

A lover?

You hesitate, turning over so that you face the wall. The memory brings stinging tears to your eyes, but you blink them away.

You dream of cats and green nail polish.

Lucifer remembers his first flight.

When he was a young angel, still learning the ways of the Celestial realm. With the three pairs of wings gifted to him by Father, it was imperative that his most beloved creation was to learn to fly.

And he did, jumping off from the top of the Celestial Palace, when angels were supposed to sleep. It took time and courage—the former to muster the strength to simply get to the apex of the structure and stand with trembling knees, and the latter to take the plunge.

The wind rushed past his ears, the Sun's rays radiating off his wings.

A mighty flap—moving upwards—against gravity, and Lucifer's laugh could be heard by all.

And this time, it feels as if he could fly higher and higher, closer to the warmth of the Sun that the Devildom can't offer, closer and closer to the salvation he lost.

Lucifer reminisces, hands crossed behind his back as he idly gazes at the scene before him. Belphegor and Beelzebub on either side of you, with Satan behind your shoulder, nearly breathing into your neck, the position which has irritation brewing in the demon. Asmodeus perched on your knee and Mammon nearly hanging off the couch.

A DDD in your hand, a unknown video playing.

It's perhaps the first in a long time that his brothers are able to sit together without squabbling. It's also the first instance where you truly look at peace.

You didn't use to come out of your room. He could hear your footsteps late at night as you creeped into the kitchen to get a glass of water or to grab a book from the library. When he had fetched a book for you from a tall shelf, you had cowered under his gaze, meekly stammering out words of gratitude before rushing back to your room. Like a little lamb.

That time when you had run away from him in the underground tomb, leaving Luke and Beel behind. "Pathetic," He had sneered, wings bristling in anger. Someone who had no courage deserved no respect, and so your value deteriorated in Lucifer's eyes.

And he had rejected you, cold dismissal on his tongue as he watched your expression falter.

He had no feelings for you, back then.

The demon sighs, his shoulders sinking. He walks away from the cacophony of laughter in the room, instead opting to open a bottle of Demonus.

As he pours the beverage, he remembers how he had threatened you. The stairway to the attic was not to be climbed, and the demon was confident enough that magic would have sufficed in hiding his shame.

You had, of course, gone back to your room with the offer of a tea that could make you sleep forever.

He takes a sip of the drink, and finding it to his liking, ever the same as before, settles down on the plush couch, faint chatter a background noise.

But then you revealed that you had seen Belphegor.

Turning into his demon form, brows scrunched together, he had growled, angry and furious.

Lucifer remembers you cowering.

But you did not run away.

You stood there, fists clenched and heart beating wildly, still standing despite his expectation of you running away.

And then you were sent to another timeline.

You were scared, that much Lucifer knew. He takes another swing, each one more longer than the last. Hesitant, but ready to do what was necessary to free his brother.

It was dangerous.

(He had expected you to run, like you always did)

But you said yes, and the last of you he saw back then was the uncertain smile you gave everyone. Lucifer assured himself with the fact that you would return, not questioning why the idea of your absence sent a sinking feeling in his chest.

And, in another timeline, Belphegor threw you down the stairs.

Lucifer's chest tightens at the memory, and he gets up to pour himself another drink. The bruises on your neck, and the harrowing laughter of Belphegor, and the way Mammon cried and begged you to stay awake.

You must have been so scared, he thinks, settling down again. But so would have been Lucifer, if he was in your place. He imagines your panicked expression and grimaces as the demon realises that he was the reason for your fear, most of the time.

How did you even find the courage to forgive? He questions, downing the drink in an action that does not suit the demon's impeccable manners. And, did you even forgive him?

The demon takes another swing, and curses. The glass is empty.

He strides over and picks up an unopened bottle. This time, Lucifer doesn't bother with the glass, merely opening and downing the beverage.

The only time that you and him sat down and talked without any condescending tone or cold contempt from the demon was when he had lost his memories.

You looked so happy, with the smile that only his brothers caused, this time the reason being Lucifer. He remembers joking and laughing together, as if you both were old friends.

His throat tightens as he remembers falling asleep with you and Belphegor in the attic.

You've had enough to drink, He admonishes himself, and sets down the bottle, finding the stinging of tears to sober him up better than any pill. The shine of the dagger flashes in his mind, and brings back the memory of your expression, as you had angled the dagger at your chest with shaky hands

"Stop," He had uttered, dumbfounded and yet in awe.

After regaining his memories, he found you to close off from him again.

His angelic self saw the courage that you had grown to harbor, the way you trembled and shook and still stood your ground—and tried, even if you failed.

The demon saw himself in you.

Fearful, afraid, and yet gathering the courage to rebel. The way his hands shook as he handled the sword, clutching it tightly, and yet trembling, for it was to be used to cause harm to those he knew.

Courage is not the absence of fear.

His past self saw the good in you—that despite your cowardice, you were still trying, still learning, still growing.

That watching your teary eyes gaze at him in fear, when he roared and shouted at you for meeting Belphegor, Lucifer saw that you stood up to him. That you were not what he thought.

But why did he notice it only now?

What was it that he had left behind with his white wings and halo?

Was it empathy?

The demon snarls, and yet he is unable to ignore what is in front of him. Pride blindens.

"No fair! This would have made for the perfect Devilgram post for my blog!"

Asmodeus pouts, in his hands his DDD with a picture of you and Satan, surrounded by cats and tea. There's a cat attempting to squish your cheeks with its paws, and with one arm around the feline and the other around the blonde demon, you both posed for the photo.

"I heard the cakes there were good too," Beel laments, a hand on his stomach despite the fact that he is eating one of Luke's pastries right now.

"We'll go along next time," Satan says, still smiling at the picture on Asmo's phone. "Besides, the kitties there are adorable."

You smile, eyes fixated on the photo as you sit besides Asmodeus. There's a serenity in your expression that Lucifer wishes he could see more, but the scribble of the pen brings him back.

"You've left the previous page blank, haven't you?" Lucifer questions, a stern brow raised at the white-haired demon besides him, who has indeed, skipped the page in favor of getting off earlier.

"I just—I just wanted to see what more was to be left! That's it!" Mammon gulps, turning the page swiftly and putting all attention on the face, which Lucifer knows he is only making a show of.

Leviathan is immersed in his game, with Belphegor asleep in his lap, the soft bleep-bloop noises not as much of a hinderance as the demon had assumed.

It's comforting, even.

But then his catch the expression that Satan has while gazing at you, ignorant to Asmo's comments on the photos in his DDD.

Lucifer's eyes widen.

That same look—the one he had seen in many books and stories. The one which—

"Oi, Lucifer?"

"What?"

"Need you to come outside."

"Why?"

"Just come!"

The urgency in Mammon's voice does not allow Lucifer room to question his intentions, and it's also unnerving to hear the serious tone of his brother's voice, usually so carefree.

He walks along with Mammon, to the balcony. The latter leads on, but Lucifer steals one look at the scene that he's leaving: of Satan's gaze at you, and his bantering brothers.

"Why did you bring me—"

"Cut the crap, Lucifer."

The demon's expression is one of surprise, and then his brows furrow in acceptance.

"What did you want to tell me?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest, a familiar pose for the demon. Besides him, Mammon leans on the railing, the structure strong enough to withstand. Usually, he would have reprimanded him to not slouch, but he knows that Mammon can fly. And besides, demonic strength is impeccable.

"Did ya even realize how wretched MC felt that night?" Mammon's tone is flat, not even the barest of emotions revealing themselves in his tone. Usually, he would be stammering. But this time, his brother is completely serious. Lucifer gives no reply, instead choosing to stare at the Castle in the distance, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "They had been mustering up the courage to confess to you for weeks," He continues, staring at his brother. "They barely slept, and I thought you knew, Lucifer."

"Do not taunt me."

"Seriously?" Mammon's expression weaves into one of disbelief. "You're going to just sit there and ignore your mistakes?"

"I am aware," Lucifer snaps, teeth bared in a display of frustration. "I know what I did, and I had a reason."

"Were ya even aware of what it caused?" He questions, disappointed at the sheer ignorance on his brother's behalf. "I thought you knew better, big brother. I thought you knew how hard they cried after you dismissed them that night. I thought you knew how crushed they were."

"How scared they were."

Lucifer's lips form into a thin line. "They fell asleep crying, and it was hard for MC to piece themselves together after you destroyed whatever confidence they had gathered."

"You're blaming me?"

"I am blaming ya, Lucifer, but not for rejecting," Mammon responds, gazing coldly at his brother. "I'm blamin' you for how cold you were."

"I know I was harsh," The Avatar of Pride admits, his shoulders sinking with an invisible weight.

"I'm pretty sure MC has feelings for Satan," He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at Lucifer. "But they won't confess now because of what ya did...."

Any words Lucifer had to speak die down in his throat.

He should be happy that his brother found love. He should be happy that you found love in his brother. He should be happy at his family's happiness, he should—

But Lucifer loves you too.

"What even happened to you, Lucifer?," Mammon says, but his brother isn't listening. "You didn't—Lucifer?"

"Fuck."

It is all that the demon says.

And all that comes to mind.

"I've fucked everything," Lucifer says, running a hand through his hair. "I've ruined everything."

"I know," Mammon says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But ya can make up for it. Apologise, let—"

"I love MC."

In that moment, Lucifer feels that his heart might burst from his throat.

"You—what—when—"

"I do, and that's all I know."

The look Mammon offers him is one of despair.

"You know that MC might love Satan," He begins, and Lucifer closes his eyes in frustration. "And he might love them too."

The demon's eyes shoot wide open, and he grabs Mammon's shoulder with such tenacity that the white-haired demon nearly shrieks.

"Is it too late?" He nearly screams in despair, the words spilling past his lips in a rush. "Or is there time?"

Mammon sighs.

"I don't know, Lucifer, I really don't know." He admits, gently unfurling his brother's fingers from around his shoulder, and giving them a squeeze. "Maybe it is too late."

"But—" Lucifer's voice cracks, the weight of the situation finally dawning on him. That Satan might love you. That you might love him. That Lucifer knows he loves you.

And that your courage gave him the courage to love, without which Lucifer doesn't know what he will do.

Behind them both, laughter still rings out, and the demon can make out your and Satan's laugh.

And in front of him, Mammon is wiping away a stray tear that fell from the Morningstar's eyes.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

➶drippy s/o➴