earlier in the episode/chapter we hear toji explain satoru’s technique. to put it plainly: blue=pulls in, red=repels. taking that into account, it seems to me like this scene perfectly captures the way suguru and satoru cope with their loss of innocence
suguru begins to internalize arising problems to the point that they eat away at him from the inside, while satoru strongly fixates on creating a distance between himself and the world. it’s all very smart storytelling from the animators
do you really believe in that «satoru! long time no see!» bullshit?
do you really think that suguru and satoru, who always want to be close to each other
suguru and satoru, who try to touch each other every time they have a chance
suguru and satoru, who call each other right after they get separated
suguru and satoru, who send each other cute pictures
suguru and satoru, who give each other bedroom eyes
suguru and satoru, who feel each other
suguru and satoru, who are basically
HAVEN’T SEEN EACH OTHER FOR 10 YEARS???
look how satoru is there before anyone else
look how soft suguru’s eyes are
look how satoru is again a bit too close then it’s necessary
look how suguru apologies to him because he needs to leave and take his daughters to the restaurant
and finally THIS
I’m 100000% sure that these two saw each other every day and twice on sunday, swallowed each other’s curses and did all that fun that best friends usually do
not to be so disgusting and gross about gojo on the dash but i think he's such a flirty, teasing idiot that, when you show him genuine and true affection, he goes all somber and quiet.
like you come up to him after dinner and stand on your tip-toes and hug him for no reason, give him a fat kiss on the cheek for no reason, and he just — lets you. doesn't say anything, just kind of hums and lightly places his hands on your hips, so gently you might not even know they're there. you tell him, "i love you, thank you for eating with me," and he presses his mouth to the top of your head, lips squished, and says it back, but there's no jokes, no teasing remarks. he just allows himself to be weak and to bask in it, for as long as he can.
Just remembered that Satan in the "A World of Our Very Own" devilgram says that he believes he was "born in order to meet MC" and it always sounded incredibly cheesy to me but then I thought about it a little more and--
Originally, Satan was just a small glimmer inside Lucifer's consciousness until Lucifer's wrath reached its peak with Lilith's death which, in turn, resulted in Satan's birth
MC is a direct descendant of Lilith after she was reborn as human
If it weren't for Lilith's death, neither of them would be here
Both of their existences are directly intertwined with one another, so in a way Satan's right
They have always been destined to be a part of each other's lives
This isn't proof of anything, but my favorite running gag from OM is MC always literally falling on top of Satan when they teleport back to the Devildom.
Are their souls intertwined or does MC's heavy ass just know to chase down the blonde like a heat-seeking missile? Your call.
LUCIFER x gn!Reader
2.7k words | SFW | Angst | No Happy Ending
Content warnings: Major character death (Reader), unrequited love, memory flashbacks and a dream sequence. Brief mentions of blood/fatal injuries (cause unspecified).
A/N: This was an anonymous request for angst involving Lucifer and a cheerful, nagging Reader/MC that he takes for granted.
Lucifer will never forget your last night in the Devildom. He knew long before that moment that you wanted a pact with him. You reminded him often with your not-so-subtle comments about how it felt like something was missing, that you wished the two of you could be even closer.
Unlike Solomon, Lucifer considered your request seriously, debating giving part of himself to you the way his brothers had. But he was proud, and he wanted to make absolutely sure you were worthy of having a pact with him. He resisted you to the very end, even though your persistence was charming, at times.
Lucifer was sitting at the dining room table reading the morning’s paper when you shuffled in, still wearing your sleep clothes like you just crawled out of bed.
When you realized he was there, you yawned and stretched your arms up high above your head. The cropped shirt you wore rode up your belly and he could see some of his brothers’ pact marks etched into your skin. He averted his gaze before he was tempted to stare.
“Good morning, Lucifer!” you said cheerfully, trailing off into another quiet yawn.
You pat your stomach and rested your hand over Beel’s pact mark. “I was just thinking that I have room for another pact mark somewhere, maaaaybe right-” you paused, patting the space above your heart, “here. What do you think? Know any demons interested in making a pact with a ‘lil human like me?”
He scoffed and flicked his wrist, turning the page and barely sparing you another glance. “I’m sure you can find several willing demons if you parade yourself down the street like that,” he suggested dryly.
“Aww, Luci, you’re no fun.” You pouted your lips and he refused to smile, no matter how cute you looked.
Realizing your attempt to seduce him - badly - into a pact had failed, you gave up the ruse and headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee!”
You faced each other that last night in his private study, the cursed TSL album played softly in the background while the fireplace crackled next to you. Both of you were bathed in shadow and flame. He finally gave into temptation to bind you to him and he made you his, his mark etched into your skin forever, but you still looked dissatisfied.
Lucifer realized there were emotions swirling in your gaze that you always tried to hide from him - hope, longing, desire. He knew what else you wanted from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the rift between you. It was his last line of defense, the only thing keeping him from becoming yours completely. You were going home, and whatever relationship you wanted with him was about to come to an end. He thought it would be easier this way.
“Lucifer, I–” you started to say, but he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him. Whatever you tried to say next was muffled against his chest. He looked down at you and pretended the tears pooling in your eyes didn’t hurt him.
“Don’t,” he warned you quietly. “You have your own life to live, and I promise you that your friendship is more than enough.” He held you like that while you cried quietly against his chest. When he finally convinced you to go to your room to sleep, he stayed up drinking in front of the fireplace and wondered if he made the right choice.
The next morning, it was like nothing happened. You still greeted him in that sickeningly sweet and cheerful voice of yours, and his brothers hovered around you for your attention while they said their goodbyes.
When you promised Lucifer you’d see him again soon, eyes fiery with determination, he believed you would find a way to make it happen. He wondered if things might turn out differently the next time you meet; he wasn’t sure he had the power to resist you a second time.
During the first two weeks after your return to the human world, Lucifer tells himself it’s not bitter regret that swirls uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach and makes his heart ache. His brothers aren’t handling your departure very well, and he refuses to let himself be made a fool by his emotions. He has to be strong and set an example for the rest of them. He can’t let one mere human ruin him. He’s determined to carry on as normal, as though you were never there to begin with.
He will not visit your old room until your scent fades away.
He will not trace the outline of his pact mark with you and wonder if you can feel his fingertips on your skin when he does it.
He will not miss you.
Lucifer doesn’t dream often. Sometimes he does, and he dreams of white feathers burning around him while he falls into a dark abyss. Other times, he dreams of random memories of his brothers, or his long lost sister. In the three months since he last saw you, he’s dreamt of you, too.
But the dream he has tonight is different from the others. You’re both trapped in a grey void. He wants to go to you, but Lucifer can’t move no matter how hard he tries. You’re so close, just out of his reach. There’s something unsettling about your expression - your small, bittersweet smile lacks the mischievous humor he’s so fond of. Your eyes are serious and sad; he thinks you look defeated.
“I’m sorry,” you say weakly, like you’re talking to him from the opposite end of a tunnel even though he’s only a few feet away from you. The words echo in the empty space around him even though you’ve grown silent.
He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and he wants to ask you what you mean, but he’s unable to speak. You flicker before his eyes, fading in and out of focus like a projection. It’s eerie at first, and he realizes he’s looking at different versions of you because you keep changing.
In one moment, you look like you did the last time he saw you. Then suddenly, your image becomes distorted. All he sees is that one of your eyes is swollen shut and blood drips down the side of your face, a gnarly gash split across your temple. Your teeth are bloody when you open your mouth to speak again, but there’s a roar building in his ears, and suddenly you’re gone and he can’t see you anymore–
Lucifer wakes up with a gasp. There’s searing pain behind his eyes and he groans while he holds his face in his hands. He’s trembling, and he feels cold and empty, and he wants to forget the haunting image of your broken face. Eventually the sleepy fog lifts from his mind, and he realizes someone is pounding on his bedroom door. His brothers shout his name outside his room, and he thinks he can hear someone crying.
It’s only then that he glances down at his bare chest and realizes that his pact mark with you is gone.
Lucifer was working on his third stack of documents to review and sign when there’s a quiet knock on his door. He glanced at the clock - 9:48pm. He thought he told his brothers he was busy this evening and he didn’t want to be disturbed.
He was prepared to string up whoever had the nerve to interrupt him, but he froze when he pulled the door open and found you instead. Your hand was raised like you were just about to knock again, and you dropped it hastily and grinned at him.
“Hi Luci,” you said in that cutesy sing-song voice of yours, “I brought you something.”
He realized that you were holding a large bowl out to him. He sniffed the air and couldn’t contain his surprise. “Shadow hog stew?”
You nodded enthusiastically. “Beel said it was your favourite. I made it earlier, but you never showed up for dinner. Your phone must be broken, by the way. I only tried calling and texting you like, a million times to tell you to come eat with us.”
Lucifer put his phone on do-not-disturb for a reason: you and your incessant nagging.
“I’m busy,” he said irritably, and he glared when you just smiled and shoved the bowl at him anyway.
“Well, you’re pretty clever. I’m sure you can figure out a way to eat a bit of food while you finish your work.” You headed back towards the stairs leading to the main floor. “There’s more in the kitchen if you want some!” You called to him over your shoulder, waving him goodnight before you disappeared from view.
Lucifer sat at his desk and stared at the bowl before he picked up the spoon. He decided that wasting something as decadent as shadow hog stew might not be proper form, and he tried a hesitant mouthful. And then another. And another after that.
He waited until he was sure you were in your room and fast asleep before taking the empty bowl to the kitchen for seconds.
The familiar scent of shadow hog stew catches Lucifer’s attention and he leaves his office to visit the kitchen. It’s a rich, hearty dish that was normally reserved for special occasions. He is very picky with how it’s prepared, and most of his brother’s don’t have the patience to make it properly. He hasn’t had it since you–well, he hasn’t had it in a long time.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks Satan, who is stirring the large pot of stew on the stove.
“I - I mean, we - thought you might like to try having something different tonight,” Satan says carefully, glancing at his older brother from the corner of his eye. “There’s some concern that you’re not eating enough.”
Lucifer opens his mouth to argue, because he is not some child that needs to be coddled, but he looks closer at the open recipe book on the counter. There are notes scribbled in the page margins where ingredients and measurements are crossed out and re-written. There’s also a pink sticky note on the side of the page, and he can still make out the familiar writing:
☆ one of Luci’s favs! ☆
It feels like there’s a heavy stone in his stomach, and Lucifer turns around and storms away from the kitchen before the feeling makes him nauseous.
“Where are you going? This is almost ready!” Satan calls to him.
“I’m not hungry,” Lucifer snarls, heading to his study and slamming the door behind him.
Lucifer startled when you dangled a paper bag in front of his face. “Can’t you see that I’m working?”
You sat in the chair across from him at his desk. “Yes, yes. All that important paperwork, I know. But I think it’s time to take a break, don’t you?”
He took the bag you offered him and pulled out the black…whatever the item is supposed to be. He held it up with his fingers. “Am I supposed to know what this is?”
You clapped your hands excitedly. “It’s a bath bomb!”
Lucifer gave you a deadpan stare. “It’s a what?”
“A baaaath boooomb,” you exaggerated the pronunciation slowly for his benefit. “It’s like fancy bubbles. You drop it into the water and it makes baths 500% more fun. You should try it.”
Lucifer sniffed at the black, strangely shaped item in his hand. “It smells like roses.”
You nodded. “Yep, and citrus, too. You’ll smell amazing afterwards, don’t you think?”
He glanced at it warily. “It has glitter in it. And this dark colour can’t be good for the porcelain tub. Don’t you think this will stain it? Who do you expect to clean up after this?”
You waved away his concerns with a grin. “Okay, so maybe glitter’s not your jam, and the cleanup might be a pain, but I promise it’s worth trying. I’ll even help you scrub the mess after.”
He put the bath product back into its paper bag and tossed it to you. You weren’t expecting it, and you just managed to catch it before it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. “I’m not interested in childish nonsense. Give it to Asmo instead.”
You stood up from your chair with a resigned sigh. “Fine, you win this round. But for what it’s worth, I do think you’re working too much these days. You should take a break. A bit of relaxation won’t kill you.”
Lucifer knocks on Asmo’s door. When his brother answers, Lucifer pushes a basket into his hands. “These were in the bathroom. I assume you can find some use for them, since no one else will.”
Asmo opens the basket and smiles at the small collection of colourful bath bombs you purchased during your stay in the Devildom. “I forgot they bought these. Did you know that they gave Solomon money to buy them in the human world? You can’t even buy these on Akuzon.”
Lucifer can’t imagine why you’d go to that much trouble for something so trivial. “I didn’t know they liked baths enough to spend their hard-earned money on such ridiculous frivolities.”
Asmo glanced at his brother and hesitated before speaking. “Well, they didn’t like baths. They bought these for…someone else to use.” Asmo reached into the basket and picked up a black rose-shaped bath bomb and held it out to his brother. “I think you should keep this one.”
There was something knowing in Asmo’s gaze, and something inside him cracked. He shook his head and walked away before he said - or did - something stupid.
Lucifer’s still not sure how he ended up outside your old bedroom door. He felt numb and he wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were taking him. When you left the Devildom, he resisted the temptation to visit your old room. Since your death, he pretended the room didn’t exist.
The door hinges are creaky from lack of use, and he opens the door just enough so he can slip inside before closing it behind him. Judging by the dust in the air, he doesn’t think his brothers have visited your room since your passing either. The room has grown cold and desolate in your absence. He has the urge to board it up and lock it away so that no one else can ever use it.
Lucifer’s not sure what he expects to find when he examines your empty shelves and starts opening random drawers in your vanity. Maybe you left something behind, something he can keep to remember you by; it’ll remind him years from now that you’re the reason why the hole in his heart exists.
There’s a blue sticky note inside one of the drawers. He nearly glances over it, except he notices that the writing is still legible, not yet faded by time. He assumes it’s an old reminder to yourself about homework you had to do, or maybe a shopping list on a night when it was your turn to cook.
He wonders what kind of note you would write today if you could see him now. You were always leaving notes all over the house for him and his brothers to find. He used to hate the ones you left in his office that reminded him to take breaks and to drink something other than coffee.
He misses those notes now. He misses you.
He swallows around the lump in his throat, and the note shakes in his hands when he summons the courage to read it:
Are you rummaging through my old room because you miss me? I’ll be thinking about you from the human world. Love you! ♡
Something inside him finally breaks. He can’t stop himself when he finally confesses his feelings for you in a hushed whisper, heard by no one else except the memory of you that haunts him.
they've seen the world shift and change throughout their long, long lives, but if they could they would have given it all up just to be with you.
~~~~~
I knew that look, dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way I already know.
~~~~~
Satan knows all the books in the House of Lamentation like the back of his hand. He has read everything about every topic he can find, from constellations to human world history to records of the Celestial Realm (to fill in the gaps of what he only ever saw through Lucifer.) He consumes so much that one would think that he’s the Avatar of Gluttony, his thirst for knowledge proving to be the only thing that sets him apart from his brothers. He’s hardly unique otherwise, always the middle sibling, always the average brother, always mediocre. Although, nobody can say he’s any of those things when he receives a good test score, or when he slaughters his opponents in a debate (no, not literally), or when he answers any question his brothers throw at him about any nonsensical topic.
There is one person that seems to understand him better than most, even though he thinks he’s easy to understand. They get him, and they make him feel special, like he’s worth more than the demon he spawned from. Like he’s worth more than anger.
It’s funny, the fact that he gave his heart so willingly to a human. It isn’t like Satan to be interested in people at all. He isn’t like Mammon or Asmoedus who tend to jump from person to person (though, Mammon has gotten better at that since meeting them, Satan thinks with a stab of jealousy.) The human exchange student may as well be a sorcerer just like Solomon, because they have certainly casted a spell on him.
Damn, that was cheesy. He needs to be careful, he has a reputation to uphold. It doesn’t matter that his cheeks may be turning red or that his heart has accelerated or that his hands have started to shake and that he can tell he’s flustered because the words are blurred now but it's not like he can focus anyway because they are in his mind’s eye and lately that’s the only thing he’s been able to think about. It’s not very productive.
And so Satan slips a bookmark between the pages in which he stopped reading. It's a wooden bookmark carved in the shape of a kitty cat, wearing glasses with a book in its little paws. Satan turned a bright fiery red when they said it reminded them of him. Damn it, damn it. They were too sweet, he needed to get them out of his head so he could calm down-
The door to the library swings open, and his head jerks up at the intrusion. Anger flares in his chest as his brow is furrowed unpleasantly, but the expression fades immediately once he sees that it's them. They look tired, he muses with a soft smile, and they’re stumbling over to him like they hadn’t slept at all last night. RAD probably tired them out again, with Mammon skipping class and Beel eating the whole cafeteria and Belphie taking up their time to nap with them and who even knows what Solomon was up to around them. Satan feels pity when he realizes that they stayed after today, but the pity turns to anger when he realizes they stayed back with Lucifer.
Why was it always Lucifer?
Satan takes a deep breath as they let out an equally deep sigh. It doesn’t matter if they were with Lucifer before, because they came to him when the day was done. They told him that once, and he had not forgotten it. It was more than a win against Lucifer, it was a chance at winning their heart.
Average, boring, uninteresting him. He doesn’t feel special, but they tell him he is. They’re a smart human. He has no reason to not believe them.
The second they reach him, they plop down unceremoniously on the ground next to him. Satan jerks a bit, surprised that they didn’t pull up a chair to sit next to him, but before he can ask what they’re doing they slump against his leg and wrap their arms around his calf. He blushes, staring down at them with wide eyes and parted lips. They say nothing, and Satan is thankful for the silence (because he doesn’t think he can speak right now even if he tried.)
He leans to the side a bit, and takes a peek at their face. Their eyes are closed, and if Satan didn’t know them better he’d think they were sleeping. They look so vulnerable and adorable next to him, and he clenches his fists to keep from smiling too hard. He loves them, he loves them so much that he can’t even take it. They’re so sweet to him, so good to him. He loves being theirs. He loves them being his. He loves what the two of them have built over their time at the Devildom, and the fact that they came to him at the end of the day. They’re living in a house with him and his six other brothers, and yet they willingly came to him.
Satan feels special.
“Hey Satan.” they mumble, finally opening those beautiful eyes and staring up at him with a tired smile, “Mm...sorry for barging in on you like that. Just wanted to see you.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that.” Satan grumbles, placing a gentle hand on their head, “You seem tired, are you alright?”
“Fine, I’m fine. Lord Diavolo wanted my help with someone so I stayed back with him and Lucifer.” they sigh, leaning into his touch like the contact alone has taken the world off their shoulders, “I wish I could have gotten back sooner...”
“You’re here now. That’s what matters.” he replies, smoothing their hair back with a touch that no one would expect the Avatar of Wrath to possess.
No one except for them.
They hum, still leaning into his touch like he doesn’t have the power to break them, the strength to shatter them and all those precious little porcelain kitty cat figurines they give him whenever they see some at an overpriced human gift shop. The fact that they would offer him something so breakable is a sign of their trust, and when they brought him a larger one that they had hand painted themselves (with a green collar and his pact mark painted on its belly) he almost cried. Of course it had a bit of imperfections, but that only made it all the more precious because it was just so them.
“Mhm, you’re right. You always are.” they smile, looking up at him with a gaze so affectionate it captures his breath immediately, “You’re so amazing, Satan. So smart.”
He’s been digging through this library for as long as he could remember. If he didn’t have this knowledge, who would he be?
Satan would just be the one born from Lucifer. He wouldn’t be his own demon if it wasn’t for his knowledge, the only way he thought he could get people to respect him.
Thought.
Because you proved him wrong.
Satan supposes he still has more to learn.
“If that’s how you feel...” he whispers, running his hand down the back of their head, “Then stay here a while. Please.”
“As if I would go anywhere else.” they say, pushing themselves up off the ground and standing in front of him, the candlelight of the library forming a mock halo around their head.
While Satan thinks they always look beautiful, he thinks they look especially stunning when they’re looking down at him like this.
“Good.” he smiles, hooking his fingers under their tie and yanking them closer, so close that they almost fall right into his lap, “Now kiss me.”
They laugh, a beautiful sound that reminds him of ringing bells, and they indulge him.
Satan’s not accustomed to others being gentle with him. He’s the Avatar of Wrath, a force to be reckoned with. His demon form is covered with onyx armored plates, and his tail is barbed and harmful. They know this. They know all of that, and yet they still cup his face like he’s precious. Like they should be gentle with him.
They kiss him like a feather brushing against his lips, their soft sigh of comfort making waves of heat crash over him. His mind is jumbled with the feeling of them and their steady hands, their free hand pressing down on his thigh. His arms wrap around them and this time he actually pulls them into him, lurching forward to kiss them better. They giggle, lips turning upwards in a cute smile that Satan feels with every bit of him.
He’s completely theirs. He’s entirely theirs for as long as they will have him, and he’s certain that will never change. Right now, at this moment, forever has no date. They might as well just kiss him for the rest of eternity so he can fall into their eyes and taste their lips and be filled with thoughts of them for all the time this universe has left.
Them, the cause of his yearning, has halted his craving just for now.
They press into him one final time before they break away, giggling quietly. They may be done kissing him, but Satan can’t deny the bit of disappointment he feels when they move to get off his lap. He doesn’t stop them.
They slide off of him as easily as they came, humming a little tune as they saunter over to the other side of the library. Satan’s eyes follow them, his hands sitting bunched up in his lap. If it were anyone else, he would have written them off a long time ago and returned back to his book. Knowledge is power. He lives by that small phrase.
How have they turned his life upside down? They have replaced his desire for knowledge with a different desire just by giving him a bit of their touch. He could chalk it up to his own weakness, being a demon that falls for any temptations that comes his way, but he knows that’s wrong. It’s them. It’s them and their voice and smiles and kisses, things he can have any time he wants them but are still unbelievably rare and precious.
They come back to him a few moments later, and it’s only then that he notices the creases in his pants from where he gripped them too hard. He wants them to touch him again. It isn’t fair.
“Read to me?” they ask, sliding into his lap again with the grace of a dancer as they hand him an old book. He almost snorts when he notices it’s a book of old Devildom bedtime stories, tales of evil demons that snatch up young ones when they don’t go to bed on time, masterpieces about fairy rings and all the delicacies they can create, and short stories about Hellfire Newts going on adventures with its friends. (Satan remembers that one being his favorites when he was still a baby, though he always insisted that Lucifer replace the newts with cats.)
“Of course.” he looks at them, eyes subconsciously flicking to their lips again, “...Can I kiss you again?”
Instead of answering verbally, they swoop in and kiss him a second time. He feels his shoulders sag with something that feels like relief. This kiss feels different, it doesn’t feel warm and searing like the last one but that isn’t a bad thing. They take their time with him, their lips dragging slower, and he feels a deep longing bubble up in his chest even though he’s getting what he wants.
It’s never enough.
They’re just like the books in this library, the room he spends most of his time in every day. They know why, too. He confessed why to them ages ago, when they were still just a random human and him, a demon that could destroy them. And yet they loved him, they fell for him wholly and completely, and Satan couldn’t be more thankful.
And so he pulls away with the book they selected in his hand, resting a hand on their waist.
“Relax, MC. I’ll read for you.” he murmurs, squeezing the soft flesh he finds there, vowing to cherish them for as long as he has them.
they've seen the world shift and change throughout their long, long lives, but if they could they would have given it all up just to be with you.
~~~~~
I had a thought, dear
However scary
About that night
The bugs and the dirt
Why were you digging?
What did you bury
Before those hands pulled me
From the earth?
~~~~~
He remembers.
Lucifer remembers how the dirt smelled as he stared down at his dying sister, blood on his hands that had stained his pristine white clothes. They were black now, he noted, vision blurry as he scrambled to find any sign that she would be okay. His breath came out in frantic puffs, hands shaking as the blood seeped further. No, no, no. She couldn’t die. She needed to be happy. His mouth is dry as she groans, face twisting in discomfort and Lucifer swears he hears the doors of the Celestial Realm slamming shut on his damned soul. Souls, he realized, because his brothers are out there somewhere, too. They followed him. But it’s just him and the sister he fought so hard to save, and he doesn’t know if his brothers are okay or where they even are. He’s only vaguely aware of the searing pain in his back and the missing wings he tore off in his rage, but this may as well be the most haunting moment of his life.
Now, seated at his desk in the darkened sky of the Devildom, he supposes the Celestial Realm hadn’t shut all of its doors. Lord Diavolo had come and saved her, the ruler of demons looking more angelic, more like a savior than any of the angels had during the Great Celestial War. She lived her life, and she was happy.
Lucifer feels a headache coming on.
“I don’t remember. It was too long ago.” he mutters to himself, pushing himself away from his desk. The old wood creaks from the unnecessary strength he put behind the shove, and the floorboards do the same as he walks across them. He pays no mind.
It’s an old house.
He looks out the window at the wide expanse of night, the glimmering stars above flickering in and out. He wonders how many are dying. The silence in the room is filled with his chattering thoughts as he begins to pace, growing restless and irritated. His brow furrows with annoyance—this is not like him. He has work to do, work that is important to Lord Diavolo and work that should be completed as soon as possible. Lord Diavolo fulfilled his end of the bargain, and now it’s time for Lucifer to fulfill his.
The House of Lamentation is unusually quiet. He assumes most of his brothers must be asleep by now and checks the clock. The second hand is jerking towards the eleven when his blurry gaze focuses, and he reads the time. Twelve twenty eight. He’s stayed up past midnight again.
This doesn’t deter him. He heads back to his work like he always does, pulling out the chair without a care for the loud scrap for the wood against the floor. He sits back down, ignoring the aching pain at the base of his neck as he leans over his work once again and scribbles away.
He isn’t sure when he fell asleep or even when the sun came up, but he does know that there’s something in the room that shouldn’t be there. He shifts in his chair, deciding not to unpack the fact that a large, pink fluffy blanket was draped over his shoulder (much like his coat was on a day-to-day basis.) He chooses not to unpack the cup of tea on his desk, or the fact that it smells like his favorite, or the fact that it’s still warm. He does, however, decide to eat the small breakfast left for him without acknowledging who set it there, but he doesn’t acknowledge the sticky note he found stuck to the top of his stack of paperwork. A reminder to take care of himself, he scoffs. (And yet he can’t bring himself to throw it away.)
The door swings open without warning and in comes the human exchange student, their eyes full of thoughtless whimsy as per usual. Lucifer adverts his eyes, and for the seventh time in the short time he’s been awake, he ignores something they did. (That thing being a flurry of butterflies erupting in his stomach. Lucifer does not get butterflies, damn it.) Their shoes against the floor fill the silence of the room with a light tap tap tap, and Lucifer doesn’t break it further. They stop just in front of his desk and stare, as if expecting something, and he can’t help but sigh.
“What is it, MC?” he asks, staring them straight in the eye, which doesn’t seem to bother them one bit. If there’s a name for the emotions their uncaring expression creates, he doesn’t put one to it. He doesn’t have to, nor should he.
“I wanted to check if you were awake.” they hum, glancing over the miscellaneous items he assumes they must have brought, “I’m glad. Wouldn’t want you to be late.”
Their hair is slightly messy, he notices. He fights the urge to fix it himself, but his hands still twitch towards them.
“You don’t have to worry about me. You know I’ll be okay.” he scoffs and shakes his head. He’s irritated when the gesture doesn’t change their facial expression even a little bit.
“I know. You are my Lucifer, after all.” they hum, wrapping their arms around him before he can object to being theirs.
The words are caught in his throat as they rest there, lighter than a feather against him. They’re warm, he notices...soft and gentle and tender. He folds, letting out a heavy sigh that sounds like it would have torn down the House of Lamentation if he let it be heard by anyone but them. All they do is giggle, tugging him closer as if they mean to merge their bodies into one. He supposes he wouldn’t mind if they did, though hearing what Lord Diavolo had to say about it would surely be a pain. His hand presses against the small of their back and the other holds the back of their head, the strength behind the hold subtle enough that only they would notice.
Though he supposes they notice everything about him, whether he tries to hide it or not.
His heart lurches in his chest when they rest their head over his heart, an affectionate gesture that spawns a feeling he hasn’t felt in centuries. Lucifer ignores the burst of emotion in his chest as they hold him too, hands dragging over his body like he’s precious, like he’s something to treasure. He hates admitting it, and he would never do that for anyone but them, but he loves this.
He loves them.
It's a solemn observation that makes the very heart they’re listening to twinge. He knows he can’t act on these feelings when Lord Diavolo harbors the same love, when they catch the eye of Barbatos whenever they enter the student council room, when Mammon trails after them like a puppy with hearts in his eyes. He wishes he could have them all to himself, but doing so would make his brothers throw a fit and Lucifer doesn’t want to deal with that. Oh, the headache.
“Mm...this is nice.” they murmur, and Lucifer feels like they just broke a century long trance, “I should do this more often.”
Don’t make a habit of it, he wants to say, because Lord Diavolo and his brothers and even Barbatos are enamored with them, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a gentle hum.
“You should leave.” Lucifer says, pulling away from them with a frown, “I don’t want you to end up late.”
He sees the flash of concern on their face but doesn’t comment on it, turning his gaze away from them. He knows they love him too. He knows it.
Even after the Celestial War has passed, he’s still cursed, isn’t he? At least he doesn’t regret what he’s done, even if the memories creep up on him at night.
“Okay.” they say, and Lucifer expects them to leave and for his heart to calm down.
They don’t. They pull away, but they replace their arms around him with a single hand intertwining with his. Lucifer sucks in a quiet breath, and they smile kindly like they heard the underlying words to that breath. Their hand is so fragile, and he’s struck with the realization that they’re a human with a human lifespan. It’s...just like Lilith. He can’t save them, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love them.
Right?
“Lucifer, you’re too deep into your head right now.” they say, their voice echoing through his head like the siren song record he keeps locked away in the music room, “Is everything alright?”
“MC...it’s fine. Don’t concern yourself with this.” he chuckles, shaking his head as their eyes bore into his soul.
“If you say so.” they mumble, brow furrowing in concern that Lucifer tries to ignore (but how much of you can he ignore, he wonders.)
He ushers them out without another word (and it’s not his fault he forgot to let go of their hand, it’s not), pretending to be oblivious to the way they look at him. He buries his emotions and shuts the door the second they’re out of his room, sealing himself in his chamber of memories once again.
Lucifer has lived a long life. He’s still living, as curious as that fact may be. He shouldn’t be allowing a human to stir emotions such as these within him, but he doesn’t know if he can stop them. It’s a strange thing—they’re a strange thing.
With them gone, he successfully stamps out the feelings they brewed. A scowl makes its way onto his face, and Lucifer can’t help but sigh again. How is it that they take the weight of the world off of his shoulders, but replace it with the weight of the universe every time they enter his space? He doesn’t understand them, and he doesn’t think he ever will, even if he did have eternity with them.
Selfish. Lucifer is being selfish, and while he found it easy to indulge himself when these feelings for them were blooming anew, he knows he cannot continue this. Not when his brothers crave them just as bad, not when Lord Diavolo confessed to adoring them while Lucifer could only watch. Not when Barbatos has stepped back as well, his allegiance to Lord Diavolo serving as the gold standard for what Lucifer should do.
Greed. The Avatar of pride was becoming greedy for them. Just how far did they intend to drag him into corruption?
Lucifer stops his train of thought before it can go any further, lest he accidentally commit treason this morning. He simply turns back to his desk, eyes darting around the paperwork he still has to finish and the damn sticky note they wrote that he still hasn’t thrown away, and the tea that has certainly gone cold by now. He presses his fingers to his temple and massages, sucking in a deep breath. His eyes flutter shut and he takes this quiet moment to clear his mind of all things soft and warm and them.
His work is awaiting him.
He’ll finish up another fifty documents before heading to the dining room, he decides. The chair scrapes across the wooden floor just like it always does (a saddening reminder that everything will stay the same after they’re gone, except for the demon he will grow to be for them.) He sits down and picks up his pen, beginning the next document on his stack of paperwork. It never goes down, no matter how much he works on it. There will always be something more, something else that keeps him busy, an excuse he can use to lock himself away from them and Lord Diavolo and whoever else wants his company.
Lucifer remembers. He remembers Lilith, and he knows he will remember them. Centuries may pass, and he may claim to have forgotten when his brothers ask, but he knows that they’ve left their mark. Even if the chair sounds the same and the sky is still as bleak as ever, just because he left the room doesn’t mean they were never there.
synopsis: You wonder about lovers though seasons and question where you belong. Is it with Satan?
word count: 677
warnings: none, fluff (?)
MASTERLIST
You come to the Devildom in spring. It could even be said that you awaken within it. The air feels lighter, the sun barely shines but a reminder of it is there. Spring looks a lot like reinvention in your book and that means a magical journey. Perhaps the fact that you are here is the key component to unlocking a greater self. The you; so above you currently. The you; that will be the greater version. You’ve often wondered what having a lover in the shape of spring would feel like.
You hold pure feelings for an unpure being. Then again, so does Lucifer.
Warnings: none
Masterlist
Walking through the garden you tried to remember a truth universally acknowledged. In nature, and in solitude, lies the place where humans have to be honest with themselves. Where humans have to admit to their emotions. What nature was more beautiful than the unique hybrid flowers decorating the paths of the House of Lamentation? What nature so odd to a human vessel? Among these paths is where the fragility of humanity turns into undeniable honesty. Why? You realize how small you are whilst your feelings overwhelm your body and soul. You realize that truth sets free in all cases.
Ok yes mammon x mc is amazing and has that ride or die best friends who are in love soulmate energy
But lucifer x mc is so...compelling???
Specially S1 om! & S1 nightbringer lucifer x mc
It's enemies to reluctant allies to friends to more
It's the straight laced grumpy one x the sunny chaotic one determined to annoy him to hell and back
It's "I don't trust you, hell sometimes I don't even like you, but I need you"
It's caring deeply about each other but being annoying about it because they're both in this stubborn competition to see who can go the longest without admitting they like the other
It's "we don't trust each other, we don't get along but we understand each other and we're working towards the same goal (keeping our family safe) so we have to work together" only to find out they work well together
It's "I'm going to push all your buttons but I'm also going to be so protective of you"
It's "no one has ever spoken to me like this and that's frustrating but interesting"
It's "the day has been long and taxing and we're tired but we're going to find each other, sit with each other in companionable silence, exist next to each other for a moment and rest our bones"
It's the formation of unconditional loyalty and devotion without either even realising it
It's bullying him into healthy self care
It's teaching them a skill, running them through drills over & over and being proud when they use it, when he sees how much they've grown
It's "I'll kill for you" & "I'll die for you" and it goes both ways
It's a little bit unhealthy but by god is it interesting and intriguing and by god do you want to see where it goes
It's literally all my favourite ship dynamics all squished together
Love mammon x mc to death, and they just make sense but lucifer x mc feels like something that was catered to fit all my shipping tastes
“Satan!” MC’s voice traveled past the door to his book-cluttered room. Their knuckles gently rasped against the wood.
He glanced up from his bed, his eyes leaving the words scrawled across a long-forgotten journal that he stumbled upon in the Royal Archives. His fingers plucked a bookmark laying next to him when he saved his place. Slowly, he shifted up from his half-sitting, half-laying position and stepped over the many books to his door. He opened the door seeing MC grinning up at him.
“Yes?” he questioned, trying to deduce exactly why the human had decided to come and drag him away from his reading – not that he mined too terribly.
“I have a present for you,” they announced. It was only then that he noticed the human’s hands were behind their back. They looked off to the side and chewed on their lip. “It’s kind of stupid though, nothing major.”
He raised an eyebrow from their sudden mood change. Their excitement soon fell into self-doubt – he almost wondered if Levi had switched bodies with them. “What is it?” he pressed.
MC took a deep breath and looked back up at him. He felt his heart squeeze in the most pleasantly painful ways when his emerald eyes made eye contact with the human. They took out a small box from behind them and held it out to him.
“Do you want a kitty sticker?”
Satan forgot how to breathe. He felt a foreign warmth invade his face, his ears, and his neck. His lips parted as he tried to inhale, but nothing was working properly. He couldn’t rip his attention from the adorable, curious look MC was giving him, the box of cartoonish cat stickers, and the fact that MC had thought of him.
“You’re going to actually kill me,” he finally managed to gasp out.
“What?” MC tilted their head ever so slightly, trying to process what he had just said – like a kitten trying to learn.
Satan covered his burning face with a hand. “It’s nothing. And yes, I would like one.”
MC shook off their confusion and grinned. They held the box up to him for him to pick. He glanced at the box. His eyes laid on a sticker of two cats loving on each other – they looked suspiciously like himself and MC as cats. The hand that wasn’t covering his face shook as he pointed to the pair of cats. MC nodded and grabbed it before holding it out to him. Satan couldn’t trust himself to move and he shook his head.
“Put it on me,” he started. “Please.”
“Oh, okay,” MC hummed and peeled the backing of the sticker off. Their hands hovered over his chest. “Right here good?”
Satan nodded and swallowed down his nerves, trying to will his heart to slow down so MC wouldn’t feel just how much they were affecting him. Their hand lightly pressed onto his sweater and rubbed the sticker to stay on him. If anything, his heart sped up.
“There we go!” MC stepped back to admire their work. “Very cute! I’ll get out of your hair now.”
As soon as they appeared, they disappeared back to their room. Satan was frozen in place, staring at where MC once stood. “Did their hand linger a bit longer on me? Or was it just to make sure the sticker wouldn’t fall off? What did they mean by cute? Was it me they were talking about or the sticker? Why did they have cat stickers? What does it mean?” He mumbled to himself, overthinking every little thing.
