cw: stabbing, suicide mention, nightmare, OG lesson 38
summary: Some things leave scars, even without ever physically touching you.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 //thanks to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic
As you held the dagger, Lucifer reached out and slowly closed his hands around yours. Then he guided your hand upward, preparing to strike. Taking a deep breath, you held it ready, pointing the tip of the blade straight at yourself. There was no hesitation when you thrust it into your chest.
“NO!” His eyes widened in horror as it drove between your ribs, the handle he was still holding onto quickly becoming stained with blood, soaking his gloves as well. Carefully, he lowered you to the ground, his hands trembling as they hovered over you uncertainly. “No, no, please…” he whispered.
Weakly, you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, smearing even more blood over his skin. “I- I’m sorry, Lucifer,” you gasped out tremulously as unbearable pain crashed over you.
“No, no…” he repeats, blinking rapidly. Was he holding back tears? You couldn’t tell, your vision was too blurry. Only when his thumbs stroked bloody streaks across your cheeks did you realise you were crying yourself.
Each breath you took was labored and unsteady, but the pain faded away, ever so slowly, giving way to a paralyzing cold, threatening to pull you down. Uncontrollable shivers coursed through your frame.
“You can’t die. Not now. Not like this. Please,” he all but begged.
I’m sorry, you wanted to say, but your mouth refused to obey you.
“You’re not going to die like this, I won’t allow it.”
You smiled at him and his face crumpled.
An agonised sob was the last thing you heard when you exhaled your last breath.
With a strangled gasp, you woke up, a hand pressed against your chest, right where you had driven the dagger into your flesh. There was no wound, no blood - just the sensation of your heart pounding within your ribcage, stuttering with each frantic beat. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to realise you were in your room where everything had taken place, but you were unharmed, alive. In the dim light, you looked down at your hand. The ring was right where it belonged, wrapped around your finger, proving that everything was fine, nothing bad had happened. No one got hurt. No one died.
And yet you couldn't stop the wild beat of your heart, primal fear still gripping you. You could almost feel the warm blood sticking on your skin, soaking through your shirt. Taking a deep breath that just ended up getting stuck right in your throat, you tried to calm yourself. To be rational about it.
It hadn't even gotten further than the attempt to take your own life back then. The blade never pierced your skin like it had in the dream, where it slid between your ribs, piercing your heart. Simeon arrived just in the nick of time, thwarting what was about to happen.
Still, there was an ache in your chest, hot and searing, as if the dagger was stuck deep inside you, ripping you open. It wasn't. Of course it wasn't. You knew that, you weren't stupid. It was a nightmare. Just a stupid nightmare. You knew. But what if…?
No. No. You needed to-
The thought hadn't even fully formed in your rattled mind, and you were already on your feet, shivering slightly as your bare soles met the floor. You didn't think about where you were going, acting more on instinct than anything as you padded through the dark corridors. When the familiar door was in front of you, light seeping out from the gap despite the late hour, you only hesitated for a short moment before pushing it open.
He raised his gaze from the documents in front of him, hair slightly mussed, the tie around his neck loosened. “Lucifer…” You hated how small your voice sounded, how shakily his name left your lips. Wringing your hands anxiously, you watched his eyes soften when he saw you standing there, looking so obviously rattled. He immediately stood up, walking over to you, reaching out to gingerly untangle your fingers. Without a word, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. A quiet, wobbly sigh of relief escaped you as you found yourself pressed into his chest. Your arms snaked around him in turn, fingers clutching tightly into his shirt, no doubt wrinkling the fabric. One of his hands found its way upwards, cupping the back of your head and holding you firmly against him. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into him until all you could feel was the strength of his hold.
The first sob that came forth unbidden startled you, and you found yourself helpless to stop the tears that followed. Instinctively, you began to pull away, not wanting to soil the expensive fabric of his clothes. However, Lucifer refused to let you go, instead shushing you quietly and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.
“It's alright,” he simply said.
It's not alright, you wanted to cry, nothing about this is alright. But you were unable to find the strength to speak, to force the words out. Instead, you vigorously shook your head against him, trying to choke down the sobs escaping you. He hummed in response, gently swaying from side to side with you.
“I know, I know.” His hand smoothed over your back in slow circles while he cradled you as closely as he could, making sure to fully envelop you in his warmth. Your knees were like jelly beneath you, threatening to give out if it weren’t for Lucifer keeping you upright. “Breathe with me,” he encouraged you. “Slowly now.”
Trying your best, you mirrored the exaggerated way his chest was rising and falling against yours, contrasting the shuddering, uneven breaths you had been gasping in. Despite the occasional quivers in your breathing, you could hear him humming in satisfaction at your efforts. And, gradually, the sobs stopped, replaced by quiet hiccups, and the strength returned to your legs.
Only when he felt the tremors in your body ceasing did he pull away a little, cupping your face in his palms, thumbs wiping away the moisture on your cheeks. “There you go. You did really well. Are you feeling better now?”
Meeting his gentle gaze with your teary eyes, you gave him a small nod, sniffling quietly. “I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to bother you,” you responded quietly, leaning into his touch.
“You need not apologise for such a thing,” Lucifer gave back without hesitation, tightening his grip on your face slightly. “I'm always here for you, no matter what. You know that.” He wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your temple as he held you close. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” he asked softly.
You tensed at that, the thought of returning to your bed now, all alone, was enough to make your heart race all over again, your fingers digging into his back. “In my room, with me,” he added when he felt you going rigid, soothingly stroking your hair. “I ought to get some sleep as well. What do you think, hm?”
“Okay…” you mumbled, reluctantly pulling away from the comfort of Lucifer's embrace and wiping away the remnants of tears with your sleeves. “Don’t you have to work?”
He glanced back at his cluttered desk before looking at you with an indulgent smile. “The papers will still be here when morning comes,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead with a light touch. “I’d much rather be with you right now.”
summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic
A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.
Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.
When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?
Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.
“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”
“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.
“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.
“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”
Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.
Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”
Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”
You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.
Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.
“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”
Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.
“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.
“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”
As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.
With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.
Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.
Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.
“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.
Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”
With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.
“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.
“You're okay,” he simply echoed.
Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.
“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.
“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.
“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-
“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.
“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.
“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”
“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.
“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.
“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.
After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.
“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.
“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”
Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.
summary: If someone had told you a year ago that the Avatar or Pride himself would be the biggest point of comfort during your migraine attacks, you probably would have laughed. Oh, how easily things can change.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 //thanks to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic
The pressure which had slowly been building behind your eyes over the past hours was something you were more than familiar with. What you were not quite familiar with yet, however, was the fact that you now had someone who tended to you when these attacks happened.
Swallowing a wave of nausea, you raised your hand, mumbling out some words about how you needed to leave. You could hardly make out the teacher’s response; not that it mattered much. All your teachers had been informed about your condition long ago to accommodate you.
Moving sluggishly, you gathered all your things, standing up to stagger more than walk out of the classroom. In the quiet hallway, you leaned against a wall, sinking down onto the floor before fishing out your D. D. D. The bright screen made you wince, but you navigated to the messaging app nonetheless, opening your chat with Lucifer. The letters were fuzzy as you typed before pressing send.
”Migraine. Forgot meds.”
Leaning your head against the wall, you closed your eyes, doing your best to ignore the pain behind them, the incessant spinning sensation, and, well, everything else. The device in your hand vibrated a few moments later and you squinted at it again, your shoulders slumping in relief at the concise reply.
”I'm on my way.”
With that, you put the phone away for good, opting to just sit and wait for him to arrive. The approaching steps were nearly drowned out by the persistent high-pitched noise in your ears. Eventually, they stopped before you, clothes rustling as you cracked your eyes open to see Lucifer crouching in front you.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. You peered up at his blurry face, his expression almost impassive save for the furrow between his eyebrows that only deepened when you didn't immediately respond. “Are you able to stand?” he asked gently, holding out a hand towards you. Taking it without a word, you allowed him to pull you back onto your feet, though you quickly braced yourself back against the wall for support, your vision narrowing. The ringing intensified, making it impossible for you to make out what Lucifer was saying as his lips moved.
“One moment…” you mumbled, trying to breathe through the dizziness. A hand steadied you by your elbow, and you could feel him standing closer to you, the warmth of his body palpable.
“-alright?”
“Ah… sorry,” you responded when you could hear him again. “Dizzy.” Once you had blinked a few times, you could see a bit more clearly. The look on his face was one of concern - but he took a controlled breath, smoothing the lines creasing his brow. Usually, you’d give him a small smile to try and ease his worry, though you didn’t have the strength for it this time.
“We need to get you home,” he said decisively, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. Each slow step only made your head throb even more, and all you wanted to do was lie in bed and stop existing, even if only for a little while. The corridor seemed endless, and the overhead lights felt brighter with each passing moment. It was unbearable, and the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor drilled themselves through your ears, right into your brain.
After what felt like eternity, you were finally outside. The fresh air helped somewhat, as did the lack of harsh lights. It was at times like these that you found yourself eternally grateful for the absence of a sun in the Devildom. Still, you were feeling more than miserable and had no idea how you were supposed to make it to the House of Lamentation within a sensible period of time without collapsing.
Lucifer, apparently having read your mind, bent down, hooking his other arm underneath your knees. “I will carry you,” he decided, not hesitating for a second.
With you now securely in his arms, he started walking. Despite the gentle, gradual motions, you still groaned. “Shh, I know. I’m sorry. Just bear with it for a while. I will get you back home soon,” he tried to soothe you when you vocalised your discomfort. There now was a noticeable pick-up in speed, though the harsh rocking of a brisk pace was almost absent. Which, unfortunately, was still too much for you.
Everything had already been spinning around you while you were standing, but at least you'd been able to tell up from down. Now, suspended in the air and no longer upright, it was much more difficult. You had to look up at the sky above to orient yourself, unsure whether the spots and streaks you were seeing were part of the firmament or coming from your eyes. It was hard to even form a coherent thought, so you let your mind drift, allowing the jumbled thoughts and images to pass by.
His eyes drifted down to your face occasionally, checking in on you, and you didn’t have the energy to meet his gaze, much less say anything. So, the walk continued in silence.
It was nearly pitch black inside the house, and you could hardly make out anything. Lucifer, with his better vision, was unperturbed. As sure as ever, he proceeded carrying you, now up the stairs, without turning the lights on.
You didn't need to see to know where he was taking you, the route was more than familiar to you by now. His bedroom. After a moment, he entered the room, walking towards the bed where he gently placed you on the mattress. He very carefully lowered your head to avoid jarring you further, making sure you were comfortable.
“Is this alright?” he asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Mhm…” you hummed in response.
Lucifer then quietly searched through his bedside table, where he always kept some of your medication, just in case. Together with a glass of water, he eventually handed you a pill. Propping yourself up slightly, you took it, then slumped back down with a shaky exhale, closing your eyes.
You could hear him moving, then your shoes were taken off and a blanket pulled over your form, before he laid down next to you. An ungloved hand draped over your forehead, the palm covering your eyes as well, radiating a gentle, soothing chill. A relieved sigh escaped you, and you instinctively pressed your head further into his touch. His other hand found one of yours, holding it gingerly with his thumb stroking over your knuckles.
When you had first arrived in the Devildom, you were terrified about being found out, about being seen as weak by anyone, especially by Lucifer. But Lucifer was nothing if not scarily perceptive. Within just a few weeks, he had figured out that you were struggling and confronted you. He had been… surprisingly understanding, maybe because he himself got the occasional migraine. At the beginning, he simply arranged for you to get some accommodations - like being allowed to wear tinted glasses during lessons, or leave early if necessary. Sometimes, he’d even escorted you back to the House of Lamentation himself. And as the bond between the two of you changed, so did the way he’d care for you.
He made sure to keep several cooling packs in the freezer at any time, and kept whatever else helped you make it through an attack in stock, from groceries to peppermint oil - and your medication too, of course. Lucifer also ensured you were sticking closely to your sleep schedule, even if you found yourself feeling annoyed at his insistence at times. You knew he was only looking out for you, after all. And once you had officially started dating him, he would more often than not bring you to his room whenever you had a migraine to personally tend to you.
“I hate this,” you muttered.
“I know,” he replied patiently. “Try to get some sleep. If you need anything at all, let me know.”
You weren't sure how long it took you to fall asleep, or for how long you were asleep in the end, but, eventually, you woke up again, not feeling much better. And it was still pitch black. The mattress dipped slightly beside you, and you heard quiet shuffling.
“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, groggy. It grew silent for a moment.
“Shh, just go back to sleep,” he whispered back, settling in next to you. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“… time?”
“It’s not even midnight yet.”
You hummed, vaguely reaching out towards the silhouette near you. With a soft chuckle, he grasped your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want me to hold you, my dear?”
“Mh-hmm…”
“Alright then,” he spoke in a low voice as he gently slid an arm under your neck. He wrapped it over your shoulder, moving you until your head was resting on his chest, right where his heart was. Instinctively, you draped your arm over his waist, nestling yourself closer to the warm, steady presence. “There you go,” Lucifer murmured. Placing a hand atop your head, he stroked his thumb slowly over your hair, coaxing you back to sleep.
The next time you woke up, your mind felt clearer, and the discomfort had mostly dissipated. Opening your eyes, you looked around the dark room, before your gaze landed on the figure lying next to you. As your vision adjusted to the dim light, you could make out his face, his own gaze focused on you. Once you met his eyes, he smiled faintly, brushing gentle fingers through your hair.
“It’s a little after midnight. You slept for just around four hours,” Lucifer informed you quietly. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better…” You stretched your stiff limbs, the fact that you had hardly moved in your sleep painfully evident by the way your joints were aching. The RAD uniform was sticking uncomfortably to your skin as you shifted on the bed.
“Good.” His hand drifted down to your cheek, cupping it as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Your pyjamas are on the dresser,” he said. “Feel free to change into them and get yourself more comfortable, hmm?”
Nodding in agreement, you gradually sat up, stifling a yawn as you did so. Lucifer remained in the bed, tracking your every moment as you stood up. You huffed, sensing his gaze on you. “I’m not going to collapse,” you insisted, though your legs beneath you felt anything but stable. Still, you persevered, steadying yourself against the nearby wall.
“Perhaps not,” he drawled. “But maybe it would be for the best if you stayed in bed. I can bring you the clothes.”
You couldn’t get any further, and he was already up, hands on your shoulders as he nudged you back onto the mattress. Within another moment, he had brought your pyjamas over. “Here.” You accepted the clothes and he sat down.
As you took the oppressive uniform off and changed into the comfortably loose-fitting pyjamas, Lucifer settled in beside you again, gathering you into his embrace once you were done. You wrapped your arms around his waist in return, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He hummed softly as he felt your breaths tickling his skin and he gently cupped the back of your head, stroking your hair.
“Did this one come on suddenly?” he asked after a while
This was the only part of this routine you disliked.
When you didn’t respond he sighed, pulling away just enough to look at you.
“You know I’d rather have you simply miss one day than having you trudge through the lessons like this,” he said sternly, though there was still a certain softness to his tone, only reserved for you.
With a huff, you nestled your face against his neck, unwilling to meet his gaze. Mercifully, he allowed it. “I know…” you mumbled.
Lucifer hummed, resuming the slow strokes on your hair. “What good does it do for you if you’re unable to focus anyway, hm?”
He was right. Of course he was. And you hated it.
“It’s just-!” you cut yourself off before continuing. “It’s frustrating. It’s so, so frustrating.”
“I know it is. But you cannot push yourself like that, it will only make it worse in the long run.” Pausing for a moment, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, finger tangling in the strands of your hair. “And I don’t like seeing you like that. I don’t like being unable to do anything about it except comfort you whenever it happens. So, indulge me and take better care of yourself, will you?”
“I will try my best.”
You could feel him squeeze you just a little tighter.
summary: There weren't a lot of things one could be certain of when thrust into a new place, a new world, surrounded by complete strangers. But there was one thing you did know - Lucifer wasn't one who would look kindly upon your weaknesses. Or was he?
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic
Where you were going or how fast hardly mattered to you. All you wanted to do - needed to do - was to get away. Somewhere, anywhere, that was not the classroom with all those eyes staring at you, judging you, waiting for you to fuck up, so they could laugh at you, pick you apart with their gazes alone.
The ragged breaths you were gasping in made your lungs burn, and your heart felt as if it was about to burst through the ribs caging it inside of your chest. You could barely feel your legs as you kept propelling yourself forward to god knows where, ignoring your body begging you to stop, to just let yourself sink to the floor and fill your lungs with precious air. But you couldn’t stop, not with your brain screaming at you to keep running.
Suddenly, your world was thrown even more off balance than it had already been, your mind struggling to catch up with the unexpected collision. Something was gripping your upper arm and your waist, and it was the only thing holding you upright at the moment, because your knees had given out.
Being shaken and a voice shouting your name jolted you out of the stupor you had been caught in, and you finally glanced up to see a somewhat hazy, though familiar face, wearing a frown, red eyes piercing through you. He must have been attempting to get your attention for a while now. Blinking a few times, you tried to bring your surroundings back into focus, to orient yourself.
“Sorry, Lucifer,” you wheezed, trying to withdraw from his grip; all that did was make you even more aware of just how much your head was spinning, how you were unable to stand on your own legs. He carefully lowered you down on the stone tiles and knelt in front of you, the hand on your arm sliding to your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. Your pulse was thumping frantically beneath the cool leather of his gloves, and you distantly wondered at what point your body would reach its limit and shatter in his hold, bursting into thousands of pieces.
“Look at me,” Lucifer said sternly when you wouldn’t stop staring at his hand, wide-eyed. “You need to breathe properly. Slowly.”
Grateful to have something to focus on that wasn’t the panic-addled urge of your brain to run away, you willingly obeyed his command and looked up at him. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but his eyes seemed to be softening, although his voice didn’t lose its authoritative quality. “In… and out. Follow my rhythm,” he instructed you, taking ever so slightly exaggerated breaths for you to mirror.
It took a few moments of the unusually gentle coaxing, but eventually, you were breathing more steadily and your pulse returned to a healthy pace, the suffocating sensation retreating. The fog clouding your senses gradually dissipated, and he let go of you, sitting back. After giving you a moment of silence to gather yourself, he asked, “Are you feeling any better?”
You nodded, starting to feel a bit awkward about the situation. Lucifer was one of the last people you’d wanted to see you like that. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Now, care to tell me what that all was about?” he questioned firmly, albeit not half as harshly as you expected him to be.
Chewing on your bottom lip, you considered your words for a few seconds, fidgeting with your hands. He was always so well put-together and perfect; surely he would judge you if you explained to him what had happened, maybe even get angry. “I’m not good at holding presentations,” you finally started to explain sheepishly. “It makes me really nervous. No matter how much I practice before or how much I prepare myself, it just never goes well. I forget what I should be saying.” You shrugged helplessly. “I start to panic. And then I run away.”
“You struggle with holding presentations?” he repeated incredulously.
Feeling shame wash over you, you scrambled to explain yourself, a knot forming in your stomach, “I know, I know, it’s stupid, I should just pull myself together, practice more, and-”
Lucifer frowned, raising his hand to cut you off. “That is not what I was trying to say. I’m simply confused as to why you have not made me or anyone aware of this issue. We could have found a different way for you to complete the assignment.”
Surprised, your eyes snapped up to look at him, and you searched his face for any signs that he was making a joke, but there were none. “Are you serious?”
He huffed, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Of course. I am not one to joke about such matters.” He rose to his feet, holding out his hand towards you to help you up. You accepted, and you quickly found yourself upright again - maybe a bit too quickly, because you would have fallen right back to the ground if it hadn’t been for him steadying you. Once you were standing securely, he released you and stepped back, reestablishing a respectful distance. “Do you wish to resume your classes or would you prefer to return to the House of Lamentation for today to recuperate?”
“Am… am I allowed to just… skip the classes?” you asked in disbelief. The blatant astonishment in your voice gained you an odd look from Lucifer that you couldn’t quite decipher.
“Yes. I imagine that this must have been rather exhausting, no? Surely, resting after such an experience would be wiser than forcing yourself to attend the rest of today’s classes,” he argued as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.
You stared blankly at him for a few seconds before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”
An awkward beat of silence passed between the two of you, and he cleared his throat. “I will escort you back, then.”
“What? But Satan was supposed to bring me back today… and aren’t you too busy anyway?”
He stiffened slightly at your reaction, straightening up more. “Unlike you, Satan is not free to ‘skip’ the rest of his classes today. As for my workload, you need not concern yourself with that. I assure you, I am fully capable of managing that myself.”
“Right. Yes. Sorry,” you mumbled, your face heating up.
He dismissed your apology with a wave of his hand. “No matter. Shall we go, then?”
With a nod, you started following him as he turned around, walking back towards the House of Lamentation. The walk was uneventful, aside from some stiff small talk you engaged in. Back inside, Lucifer addressed you again, “I assume you will be fine on your own?” When you nodded, he continued, “I shall go to my study now. I still have paperwork to tend to, but I shall also see to it that your needs will be accommodated in the future. If there are any other issues you have not mentioned yet, anything else I should know, now would be the time to tell me.”
His eyes bore into yours, making you shift uneasily. “There is nothing else,” you eventually said, lowering your gaze to escape the intensity of his. “Just- just the presentations.”
He hummed thoughtfully, regarding you with a furrowed brow. “Alright then. If that changes, inform me immediately. And I hope, for your sake, that you are telling the truth. I do not take kindly to having things hidden from me.”
“That’s all there is,” you promised earnestly, working up the courage to look up at him again. “I will tell you if something is the matter. And thank you for your help. Really.”
At that, Lucifer relaxed a little, seemingly pleased with your response. “Off you go then. Get some rest.”
You nodded and made your way up to your room, eager to finally be alone and curl up in bed. Closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, you crawled under your heavy blanket, sighing in relief at the familiar comforting weight. For some time, you were simply lying there, thinking about what had happened. If anyone had told you that Lucifer would end up helping you like that, you would have laughed at them. While you didn’t know him well after just a few weeks in the Devildom, you knew enough to assume he would react negatively to an emotional display like that. Or at least you thought you did.
Two light knocks on your door startled you, and you scrambled to get up, opening it to reveal Lucifer standing in front of you. He regarded you for a moment before clearing his throat and pressing a steaming mug into your hands. Accepting it, you wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth seeping through the material. “I’ve read that humans like to drink tea to relax,” he said, looking at you intently.
For a while, you didn’t know what to say, blinking wordlessly at him. Then, you smiled at him, a tingly sensation spreading through your chest. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”
An odd expression flickered across his face briefly before he schooled his features back into their naturally neutral state. “Of course. Make sure to get proper rest tonight. Should you need anything else, let me know.”
Giving you one last nod, he walked away, leaving you to close your door and sit down with the mug in your hands. You took a careful sip from the hot liquid, savoring the slightly sweet flavor on your tongue.
Perhaps Lucifer wasn’t as bad as you had thought him to be.
summary: Out of all the things that have happened in the past months, getting stuck in an elevator really should have been the least stressful occurrence.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 //thanks to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic
“It's always the same,” you complained as you entered the elevator with Lucifer. “Pharmacies never have everything I need. Instead, I have to visit five different locations just to get two medications. It's such a pain in the ass. And why is this one so high up anyway?” You pressed the button back down to the first floor, perhaps with more force than necessary.
Stifling an amused chuckle, he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “At least you now have everything you set out to get and we can return to the Devildom.”
“I guess,” you sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through your hair as you watched the digits slowly decrease with your descent. “But we could have been done sooner.”
He hummed in agreement. “I suppose that is true. Although, I don't particularly mind spending time with you.”
Feeling his eyes on you, you stiffened at those words. How were you supposed to respond to that? “Ah, well, I can say the same about you,” was your awkward response. Heat crawled up your cheeks, and you scratched your neck sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.
Ever since you had come to terms with the fact you harbored feelings for him, it had become difficult to act normally around him. And lately, he seemed to spend more time with you, which didn't make it any easier.
You shook your head to dispel the thoughts. “Anyway, I-”
A sudden ominous rumble cut you off, and the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the entire construction shaking slightly around you. His hand immediately reached for your arm, steadying you when you threatened to stumble to the floor. Your heart jumped into your throat and you couldn't quite decide what you should be more preoccupied with - Lucifer touching you or the fact that the elevator was stuck.
“No way,” you mumbled in disbelief. “No fucking way.” Before he could act or even say anything, you had already bolted towards the control panel, pressing the alarm button frantically. To no avail. “Fuck…”
The next thing you tried was taking out your phone. Upon turning the screen on, the dreaded two words greeted you; no reception. “Seriously?” you muttered to yourself, pocketing the device again. “Do you have any reception?”
He shook his head, already having checked his own alongside you. “Unfortunately not, no,” he responded and you sighed heavily.
You glanced up at him, only to be met with his intense, piercing gaze. Had his eyes always been this brilliantly red? Clearing your throat awkwardly, you turned your attention back to your hands, lowering your head. The heat in your cheeks was undeniable, but…
“It's- it's getting really stuffy in here,” you commented with a nervous laugh.
“I suppose it is,” he gave back evenly. “Will you be alright?”
“Y-yes, I just… I hate- I hate being confined like this, it's- it's just- ugh! You don't get it!” You continued wringing your hands, forming them into tight fists before releasing them, never keeping still for a second. Lucifer watched you silently, his eyes tracking your movement. “We're stuck here for- for who knows how long. And you're just- you're just fine with it?”
“There is little to be done about it,” he said smoothly. “And we are not in any physical danger. Regardless, I do understand that this must be very stressful to you.”
“Sure. Yeah. Stressful. Not any physical danger. I guess,” you scoffed. “It feels like there's hardly any air left to breathe, Lucifer. And out of everyone I could have gotten stuck with, it just had to be you. Just my rotten luck, not to mention that this thing could-”
“Pray tell, what is so bad about being stuck with me?” he interrupted you, curiosity lacing his tone.
Still too caught up in your anxiety and frustration, you simply blurted out, “Because I really like you and this is embarrassing.”
Silence. Only your uneven breathing was painfully audible.
Fuck.
That wasn't what you had meant to say. And yet you did. The edges of your vision were dark and frayed, and your body felt numb, almost foreign. There was no sound anymore. No words, not even your ragged breaths. Just the loud ringing in your ears drowning everything else out.
You blinked and glanced to your side. Something filled your vision, not the oppressive cold grey below and around you, it was a mix of blue and black instead. At least you thought those were the colours you were seeing.
Another blink. It felt like something was compressing your chest. When you looked down, nothing was there. But you could see it falling and rising erratically, quickly. Too quickly.
A tug on your hand, a slight pressure around it, and you blinked again. The ringing in your ears faded away. You raised your head, the shapes and colours slowly clicking back into place, forming a presence sitting beside you.
“Lucifer…?” you mumbled and you barely recognised the sound of your own voice.
He squeezed your hand in his. “Yes. Are you with me again?”
Looking away, you nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak yet. Distantly, you understood what had just happened; not only did you confess your feelings to Lucifer, but you had then proceeded to freak out in front of him. You hadn't exactly made a great impression on him with that, you knew that.
A part of you was still on edge, wanting to run off, but the rest of you was too exhausted and, of course, with the elevator stuck, there was nowhere to go. Had the ground beneath you opened up and swallowed you whole, you certainly wouldn't have complained.
“I'm sorry, that was…” you trailed off, your voice unsteady. “Well, I… don't know…”
Silence, once more. Then, “I must confess, I have grown rather… fond of you myself.”
At that, your head snapped up, disbelief painted across your face. Maybe you had misunderstood him?
He held your gaze, his eyes unusually soft. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he held your hand a little tighter, his thumb stroking your skin. “This is not how I had intended to tell you, although… I suppose life doesn't always go according to plan, does it?”
You stared at him, at a loss for words, but the uncomfortable tightness in your chest was easing. Lucifer seemed amused at your befuddled expression, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips curved upwards. “I wish to court you. Will you allow me to?”
“Of- of course, yes,” was your still audibly stunned answer.
Slowly, he lifted your hand to his mouth, watching you carefully to make sure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries, before pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I'm glad to hear that.”
“I… uh… you're welcome?”
Lucifer chuckled, opening his arms. “Come here, will you?”
Shifting closer until you were touching him, you embraced him as he wrapped his arms around you in turn. Feeling the warmth and sturdiness of his frame, the frantic pounding of your heart gradually ebbed and you couldn't help the relieved sigh escaping your lips.
“Do you think we'll be stuck in here forever?” you mumbled, your words a little muffled against his shirt.
His chest vibrated with laughter. “I doubt that. I'm sure we'll be out of here sooner rather than later. But until then, let us stay like this, hm?”
Simply nodding, you allowed your body to relax. The circles Lucifer was rubbing on your back and the steady rise and fall of his breath against you finally made you feel at ease despite the situation.
It was silent for several moments as you dozed lightly leaning against him, drained from the earlier stress. Only when the elevator shook slightly around you did you jolt, returning to your senses.
“It's alright,” he reassured you quickly, his fingers combing through the strands of your hair that had become disheveled from the way he had been holding you. “Seems like we will be getting out any minute now.”
Easily, he stood up and helped you to your feet, taking your hand back in his own. As you looked up at him, a smile curved his lips when you met his soft gaze. Heat colored your cheeks and you averted your eyes, prompting a small, fond chuckle from him.
After another rattle, the elevator resumed its journey to the first floor and soon enough, it stopped again. With a ding, the doors slid open and Lucifer squeezed your hand in his, walking out with you by his side.
summary: Maybe Lucifer could allow himself to indulge every now and then.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!
Lucifer wondered what had happened to him; why did his chest feel so warm and fuzzy when he looked at you, peacefully asleep on the couch in his study? He was the Avatar of Pride, the third most powerful demon in all of the Devildom, and yet you had wormed your way into his heart, made yourself home with frightening ease as if this was what you had been made for.
Crouching in front of the couch, he took in your sleeping form, the serene look on your face. How you were able to let your guard down in his presence, to be so trusting despite everything that had happened, everything he had done, was a mystery to him. Was he even deserving of the trust, the kindness you bestowed upon him?
With a gentle touch that contrasted his strength, he brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead. You stirred a little and he froze, holding his breath.
“Mh… Lucifer…?” you muttered sleepily, and your eyelids fluttered open.
Seeing your bleary gaze, he couldn't help but smile fondly, stroking your cheek with his index finger.
“Apologies, my dear, I didn't mean to wake you,” he responded in a hushed tone. “Go back to sleep.”
Humming in agreement, you closed your eyes again and Lucifer chuckled softly before standing up to return to work. However, he didn't get very far. Your hand had reached for his pants, tugging on them, and he crouched down, regarding you with an attentive, yet curious expression.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
“Are you done?” you whispered, seemingly a little more awake now.
“Soon, I promise,” he soothed.
“You said the same thing earlier,” you grumbled, pouting.
He sighed. “I know I did and I apologize for taking longer. I assure you, I will be done soon. Be patient for me, will you?”
When that didn’t make your pout disappear, he cupped your face with one hand, and pressed his lips against yours briefly, before placing multiple small kisses on your cheekbone. You giggled at that and Lucifer observed the blush on your face, the way the corners of your mouth were curving upwards.
“There it is. As much as I adore seeing that pretty little pout on your lips, I would much rather see you smile.”
The flush coloring your features grew more pronounced and you grasped his hand that was resting on your cheek to hide yourself from him. A pleasant tingling sensation spread through him as you nuzzled his palm and placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb.
Lucifer's gaze softened and he allowed his touch to linger for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of your breaths on his skin, before he withdrew, straightening up. “Sleep now. I will be done by the time you wake up again.”
“I'll hold you to that,” you mumbled as he watched you shift on the couch to get comfortable. Once your eyes were shut, he quietly returned to his desk and resumed working, occasionally glancing at your slumbering form.
He didn't quite know whether you were a distraction that kept him from finishing his work or more of a motivation to get it done as soon as possible. Perhaps you were both at the same time. With a silent sigh, he focused his attention back on the documents spread out in front of him, and the sound of a pen scratching on paper filled the room, sometimes interrupted by a soft rustling when he had finished a page.
Even as Lucifer worked diligently, he listened closely to your steady breaths, his heightened senses easily picking up on the faint noise. Whenever he heard the pattern of your breathing change just a little, he paused what he was doing to check on you, making sure you were alright and not waking up.
Eventually, he finally wrote the last words on a document, and to his relief, you were still fast asleep. He started putting everything aside, cleaning the desk as he always did once he completed his work. Despite his efforts to do so quietly, you stirred awake again, sitting up and rubbing your face tiredly.
“Are you done now?” you asked, voice heavy with sleep.
“I am,” he responded softly, smiling to himself at the sight of your weary form. “Shall we go to bed?” he suggested as he stood up, walking towards you, and offering you his hand to help you up. Lucifer observed your gaze briefly dart down to it, then back to his eyes, your lips pursed.
“What's the matter?” he inquired.
“Carry me,” you simply replied, looking at him expectantly.
Huffing in amusement, he shook his head with an indulgent smile. “Well, aren't you a demanding one?” Bending down, he moved one arm underneath your legs and the other around your waist, allowing you to loop your arms over his shoulders. With ease, he lifted you up, cradling you securely against his chest, and started carrying you.
“Maybe I am. But I know you wouldn't want it any other way,” you retorted lightly, pecking his cheek before nestling your face into the crook of his neck.
Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips quirked upwards. “I suppose you are right. And perhaps this is how I can make amends for letting you sleep on that uncomfortable couch. I do apologize for taking so long. Mammon’s… shenanigans have caused more paperwork than I had anticipated.”
Sighing heavily, he wondered what punishment would be appropriate this time, in spite of him knowing full well that even the harshest consequences could never discourage Mammon - or any of his younger brothers for that matter - from causing trouble. He could already feel a headache coming on.
His train of thought was disrupted by the sensation of you yawning against his skin, and he immediately felt the tension that had been building up inside of him melt away again.
“Tired, are we, my dear?” Lucifer asked, his voice low and amused as he gently squeezed you closer to him.
“It’s pretty late, so, yeah,” was your mumbled reply.
He hummed in agreement as he reached his bedroom and placed you on the mattress of his large bed, where you promptly crawled under the blanket and curled up.
“It is rather late, yes. Fortunately, there is no RAD tomorrow, so feel free to sleep in,” he said while unbuttoning his waistcoat to get more comfortable.
As he worked on the buttons, he could sense your eyes on him, your brow furrowed as if contemplating something. Before he could ask what was on your mind, you spoke up. “And you? Will you sleep in as well?” You glanced at him, the expression you wore telling him that you knew he would most likely give you a negative answer.
Not immediately replying and averting his gaze, he slowly opened the last button, taking the waistcoat off and folding it, before setting it aside. It was silent as he thought about the paperwork still waiting for him in his study and the additional work that would inevitably come during the day.
When he settled on the edge of the bed, he looked back at you, seeing the disappointment forming in your eyes.
“I will,” Lucifer finally answered, lying down next to you and joining you beneath the blanket.
At first, it was almost as if the words didn’t register in your mind, but then happiness bloomed on your face, and just the sight of you smiling like this already made up for the extra stress that he would have to deal with. You squeaked cheerfully and shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him. Chuckling in amusement, he returned the embrace and held you tightly against him. He nuzzled your hair, kissing the top of your head and tracing his hands along your spine.
Just this once, he thought to himself as he turned the light off with a flick of his hand, plunging the room into darkness, just this once will I allow myself this indulgence.
“I love you,” you whispered, your breaths tickling his neck as you made yourself comfortable next to him.
“And I love you,” he responded quietly, his voice laced with affection. He buried his face in your hair, and tightened his hold on you, drifting off to sleep with a smile on his lips.
genre: hurt/comfort (more hurt than comfort), angst, whump
cw: near death experience (please do tell me if there's something else that needs a cw!)
summary: Not everyone approves of Lord Diavolo's exchange program.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!
There was a certain tension in the air during the banquet Lord Diavolo hosted to celebrate the beginning of the exchange program; while everyone smiled politely or at least held carefully neutral expressions on their faces, nothing could hide the blatant disdain in some of their eyes. You tried not to be affected by the stares burning into your back, but it was difficult. It had been a mere week since you’d been transported into the Devildom and you were still adjusting to the new environment. To say that you were struggling would have been an understatement - you were surrounded by immortal and potentially dangerous beings, constantly reminded of your fragility and insignificance in comparison to them. Living in the House of Lamentation with the Avatars of Sin wasn’t without stress either, you were always subjected to their eccentric behaviors and arguments.
An unexpected touch on your shoulder nearly made you yelp, and you bit your tongue to stifle the sound. Heart throbbing in your chest, you turned towards whoever had touched you and tentative relief washed over you when you recognized Asmodeus.
“You look ravishing, darling,” he cooed, linking his arm with yours, “well, not quite as ravishing as me, of course, but that’s to be expected.”
He gracefully led you to the tables, talking about how stunning your outfit was - he had picked it out himself - as he walked, while you stayed silent, too focused on not accidentally tripping over your own feet and embarrassing yourself in front of what was probably the majority of Devildom’s aristocracy. The guests were taking their assigned seats one by one and to your horror, you noticed Asmodeus was deliberately walking you to the seating places of Lucifer, Lord Diavolo, and the Purgatory Hall group - a single free spot was between the two demons.
“No, no no no, you can’t be serious,” you whispered to Asmo, hoping the people around you didn’t have such superior hearing that they would be able to make out your words. “They're all going to stare at me! They already are! Why don’t you sit there in my stead, you want to be in the spotlight, don’t you?”
The Avatar of Lust giggled and pulled the chair out, helping you get seated, then he leaned down to murmur into your ear, “As much as I would like that, you’re supposed to be the star of today’s evening, my dear.”
Giving you a wink, he withdrew and sauntered over to the opposite side of the long table, leaving you stuck amidst the prince and the eldest of the brothers. You could feel Lucifer’s critical gaze on you, however, you refused to look at him, opting to watch the attendees instead, being careful not to establish eye contact with anyone. After just a short moment, Lord Diavolo said your name cheerfully, redirecting your attention to him.
“Ah, I can’t wait to officially introduce you to everybody,” he beamed, and it took all of your willpower not to jump out of your seat and run out.
“Yeah… me neither…” you mumbled, shoulders sagging in defeat.
Lucifer cleared his throat, and you shifted your face towards him before he smoothly remarked, “I’m sure you will do perfectly fine and behave appropriately, won’t you?”
Swallowing hard, you promptly corrected your posture, sitting up straight again. His eyes were piercing through yours until you swiftly averted your gaze, this time letting it settle on the plate and cutlery in front of you. Someone from behind you poured an odd-looking liquid into your glass and you eyed it suspiciously. It didn’t look like any beverage you’ve ever had in your realm, so you assumed it was demonus. Nervously watching the others take their glasses, you decided to follow suit, grasping the fragile object with your shaking hands.
As you watched the cloudy white fluid sloshing around, a jarring, ominous feeling swept over you. Everything inside you screamed to put the drink aside, not to consume it, but you ignored your instinct, attributing it to you simply being hyper-vigilant and nervous. You bit the bullet and brought it to your lips, tilting it back and gulping it down in one go before placing it on the wooden surface. Embarrassment burned on your cheeks once you saw everybody was drinking theirs slowly. Even so, you were unable to dwell on that further once the flavor hit you and you barely managed to avoid grimacing; it was pleasantly sweet at first, though eventually there came a nauseating aftertaste burning in your throat. It made your eyes water and you rapidly blinked, trying to rid yourself of the tears. Out of nowhere, a terrifying thought popped into your head: what if your drink had been poisoned? As abruptly as this notion had crossed your mind, you quickly shook it off when, after a bit, the taste dissipated. Who would be so bold to try to poison you, the prized human exchange student, at an event hosted by Lord Diavolo himself while you were quite literally sitting next to him?
Exhaling a shaky breath, you focused on the prince beside you who started addressing the guests with a speech. You were unable to understand his words; a loud rushing in your ears drowned all the noises out and your pulse was thumping in your throat. Confused by the abrupt onset of physical symptoms of anxiety, you took slow, deep breaths, knowing it would be over sooner or later. You nodded slightly whenever it seemed appropriate based on Lord Diavolo's body language and whatever snippets of sentences you picked up on to look like you were listening. It took a while, but when he was finally done, he smiled at you and you reciprocated, even if you weren’t sure exactly how forced it looked. He stood up along with everyone else, the attendees gradually mingling with each other again. It was obvious what was going to happen now; he would begin introducing you to the various important people of this realm. Anxiously, you rose as well, a wave of heat coursing through your body as you did so, feeling your legs wobble under your weight and your heart rate spiking. Looking around yourself, you noticed that your vision was hazy, yet you could still feel demons staring at you and hear their snickering. Turning back towards Lord Diavolo who was standing in front of you, you attempted to make out what he was saying; your efforts, however, were fruitless.
“Fresh air”, you managed to choke out, “I’ll get some fresh air.”
With that you spun on your heel, leaving the hall and ignoring all the voices surrounding you that were increasing in volume, but remained abstruse and unintelligible to you. All of a sudden, a person blocked your path and you were able to hazily make out red eyes, narrowing dangerously at you. Disregarding their presence completely, you pushed past them, continuing your way out. By the time you were alone, in a quiet hallway, you were wondering how you had been able to walk at all, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. Still, you moved on, steadying yourself against the walls with one arm. The contrasting silence made you more aware of how noisy the whirring in your ears was, and how ragged your breathing had become as the heat in your body intensified. Head spinning, you stumbled through the hallways, having no idea where you were; you could have been in the castle’s dungeons for all you knew.
Despite the fog in your mind, you began to realize this was not anxiety; it had to be something entirely different. You faintly remembered the drink you had been served earlier - had it been just a few minutes since then or hours? Did someone actually poison you?
Before you could ponder on that question any further, pain exploded in your torso, making you clutch your chest and sending you falling to the ground. Unable to get up or even call for help, you could only clench your teeth while your breaths came in bursts, tears pooling in your eyes. The floor underneath you was blissfully cold as you ended up lying motionless on your side, almost paralyzed by the pain.
After some time, black dress shoes appeared in your view; their wearer quickly knelt next to you, and a gloved hand reached out towards you. When you let out a startled yelp, it temporarily paused in the air, then resumed its movements. The muddled shushing sounds did nothing to ease your fear, and the two fingers pressing against your neck didn’t either. Your pulse was pounding beneath the warm leather of the gloves and you could hear indistinct words, loosely resembling curses. The hand disappeared for a moment before it gently nudged your shoulder, coaxing you into rolling on your back. Someone was hovering over you, but all you could make out was the blurry silhouette of what you assumed must have been a demon. Whether they were here to finish their job or not, you did not know, and you were too weak to defend yourself.
Suddenly, the fingers - now bare - brushed over your face, the touch cool on your heated cheeks. Not able to stop yourself you whined, pushing up into the hand, not caring about the potential intentions they had. Soon, a second hand joined, mirroring the actions of the other, providing you with relief. However, it was short-lived; murmured, unfamiliar words that resonated with power filled your ears, and a strange pulling sensation emanated from the fingers on you. It was as if, somehow, it was reaching into your body, your soul, searching for something. You felt like your insides were being set on fire and it was trying to eat its way out of you, breaching through each and every cell. All you could do was cry out and sob, hot tears scorching your skin. The person wiped away the incessant tears, but they didn’t cease what they were doing, and you were certain that they truly were there to kill you.
Slowly, your vision became less blurred and you were able to make out a vaguely familiar face gazing down at you, red eyes that had glared at you with discontent previously were now a mix of concern and anger.
“… L-Lu… cifer…?” you managed to slur, tongue heavy in your mouth and pain clawing relentlessly at you. The demon you presumed to be Lucifer responded, but you were unable to comprehend even a single word.
“S-stop, please, please m-make it stop,” you pleaded with him while you were gasping for air. He held your gaze as you begged for mercy and the intensity in his demeanor seemed to subside. The grip on your cheeks softened and the overwhelming sensations eased. Your sight and hearing cleared further and eventually, you identified Lucifer to be the one kneeling by your side. Before you could say anything, however, a hand moved from your cheek to your brow, covering your eyes as well.
“Sleep,” was the first thing you were able to hear - and also the last, then you were plunged into darkness.
As you came to, you found yourself lying on a soft surface, slightly propped up, and a light fabric was draped over your body. Gradually, you regained awareness of your surroundings; you could feel the way your clothes were clinging to you, and just how drained you were. Some distance away, there were hushed voices, seemingly arguing with one another, and you could make out a couple of fragmented sentences from one person.
“… all due respect, my lord… warned you… you were naive to… the human… everything at risk… lucky that nothing…”
You blinked your eyes open, taking in the room blearily before your gaze landed on two people - a guilty-looking Lord Diavolo and an angry Lucifer. And as if the latter had a sixth sense, his head immediately snapped towards you and the argument ceased. The men promptly strode over to you, Lucifer sitting on the chair right next to the bed you were resting on, while Lord Diavolo stood in the background, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Lucifer's hand grazed over your forehead, brushing strands of hair that were sticking to the skin aside, feeling the lingering heat radiating off you. His fingers then went to your neck, checking your pulse once more. It was eerily silent as he attentively assessed your condition, and you felt awfully tired. Your body was aching; all you wanted was to return to blissful unconsciousness. But as soon as you closed your eyes, fingertips tapped insistently on your cheek until you opened them again with a groan.
“You must stay awake for now,” Lucifer asserted firmly. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“I'm alive,” you muttered hoarsely. He let out a long-suffering sigh at that while Lord Diavolo tensed up even more.
“Evidently, you are well enough to joke around. I suppose that is a good sign. Nevertheless - and I can not overemphasize this - you did nearly die. Consider yourself lucky that I found you when I did. A few minutes later and you would have succumbed to the poison.”
Reclining in the chair, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and fixed you with an appraising gaze. You attempted to sit up, but the pain shooting through you and Lucifer’s scowl made you lie back down. Finally, Lord Diavolo stepped closer to you and you observed his strained expression; you had never seen him like that before, and you almost felt bad about getting poisoned at his banquet.
“I’m terribly sorry that this has happened. Please accept my sincerest apologies and the assurance that nothing of this sort will ever occur again,” his voice sounded subdued and quiet.
“It’s not your fault, Lord Diavolo, you couldn’t have known.”
“He did know. I warned him that this could happen and yet, he refused to listen to me”, Lucifer huffed.
“Maybe because you always assume that the worst will happen, and then it never does. Well, this time it did, but-”
“I beg your pardon?” he halted your thoughtless retort with an indignant glare, making you shut up instantly. “As you should have noticed by now, not assuming that the worst could happen at all times is what will get you killed in the Devildom. I am merely trying to keep you alive, although you seem all but keen on seeking your death here with the amount of trouble you have managed to find yourself in since your arrival.”
Lucifer shook his head and sighed heavily before standing up.
“I have matters to attend to. Namely, finding the culprit”, he stated calmly as he walked towards the door. “Lord Diavolo, we will continue our conversation at a later time.”
With the Avatar of Pride out of the room, Lord Diavolo took the seat. His eyes were everywhere but on you while he was wringing his hands.
“Lord Dia-” you began, only to be interrupted by him.
“No. Please, just call me Diavolo,” he uttered, now looking at you. “I’ve put you in grievous danger because I believed no one would dare harm you on the castle’s premises. It was foolish of me to think that, and I must apologize for the distress I inadvertently caused you.”
“But you didn’t mean to, Diavolo. I’m not mad at you,” you explained and you tried sitting up again to be more at eye level with him. He quickly steadied you and helped you lean against the headboard. Pained whimpers bubbled in your throat and you clenched your jaw to suppress them as you shifted your position - you didn't want to make him feel even worse. However, it didn’t escape his notice and he sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a hold of your upper arms. His touch was cautious, as if he was scared of hurting you further. The prince looked at you for a moment before he moved his hands to your shoulders, his thumbs lightly stroking over them in a comforting manner.
“Seeing you like that… unconscious, barely holding onto life while Lucifer brought you back from the brink…” Diavolo finally said, his voice cracking.“It made me realize how frail you truly are. And… that I wish to get to know you properly. I don’t want to waste any more precious time, not when a human’s life is so short and delicate. And I promise you, from now on I will do better in ensuring your safety.”
The serious look on Diavolo's face was dizzying, so you simply nodded slowly. Just as he was about to speak again, Barbatos entered, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of tea.
“Ah. I see you have regained consciousness. How are you feeling?” asked the butler.
“I'm doing alright,” you replied easily. Diavolo tightened his grip on you a little, almost imperceptibly so, no doubt having recognized your lie. Giving you a lenient smile, Barbatos set the tray on the nightstand next to you.
“You will be alright. Eventually,” he spoke, his words heavy with meaning, before bowing and exiting the room, leaving you alone with Diavolo. With his hands still resting comfortingly on your shoulders, he frowned as he watched his butler leave.
Not wanting to further aggravate the ache that was plaguing your body, you suppressed the urge to shake your head. 51 weeks left. You just had to make it through 51 more weeks.
other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // based on this drawing I commissioned from @stulili // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!
“Come on now. Don't be shy,” Lucifer said, his hand stretched out towards you expectantly, a soft melody filling his bedroom. It was rather late in the evening and you had spent most of the day with him, taking advantage of the fact that he had taken a day off - for the first time in who knows how long; he was wearing those sweatpants you had gotten him once half as a joke, even if only in the privacy of his room.
“You know I can't dance and I don't want to step on you,” you rebuffed him, but he refused to be deterred by that.
“I am perfectly capable of leading you. Besides, I assure you that I can handle a few missteps here and there,” he pointed out while he watched you, his expression and posture relaxed. A satisfied smile tugged on the corners of his lips when you eventually relented, and he guided your palm up to press a kiss on your skin, causing your cheeks to heat up. He settled his free hand possessively on your waist, and you rested yours on his upper arm, keeping a small, yet comfortable distance. Both of your socked feet were moving silently, and your eyes were fixed on the wooden floor as you struggled to keep up and at the same time not step on him.
“My eyes are up here, dear,” he teased you after a few minutes of silence and slow movements - his were practiced and cadenced, yours were clumsy.
“Well, I don’t want to step on you”, you reiterated, feeling embarrassed by the obvious difference in skill between you and him.
“You won’t,” he reassured you softly, “at least try not to look down so much and relax, just exist in this moment and let go. You will do fine, I promise.”
You huffed quietly and kept staring at the ground, your brow furrowed with the effort of not misstepping. Without a warning, he snaked his arm around your waist until his palm came to rest on your lower back and he carefully, but assertively, pulled you closer to him. For a second, your already unpracticed steps faltered, though miraculously, you didn’t tread on his feet. Out of instinct, you wrapped an arm around his torso to steady yourself and he continued to guide you, unperturbed by your blunder.
“H-Hey!” you stammered. At that, he chuckled affectionately, thoroughly enjoying having caught you off guard. He nuzzled your hair with his nose, his breaths gently tickling the top of your head and you shuddered a little, goosebumps forming on your skin. Being pressed flush against Lucifer allowed you to feel the rise and fall of his chest, the familiar heat of his body seeping into you. With your ear resting right above his steadily beating heart, you finally let yourself relax a bit more and trust in him.
He led you a bit longer until gradually, he became slower, coming to a stop, and the two of you simply stood in the room, holding each other. Lucifer let go of your hand and cupped your cheek instead, tipping your face upward to meet his gaze.
“I love you,” he whispered into the small space between you, his garnet-red eyes brimming with warmth as he regarded you tenderly and you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. No matter how many times you had heard these words from him, it still made your pulse race and your knees weak.
“And I love you,” you muttered in response, closing the remaining distance. When his warm lips met yours, he tightened his grip on you marginally, pressing you even closer as if he never wanted to let you go and you let him, melting into Lucifer’s all-encompassing embrace.
After a few moments you pulled away, needing to catch your breath, and he used the opportunity to press light kisses on the corner of your mouth, cheek and temple, making you giggle. He laughed faintly, placing his lips on your forehead, then he withdrew, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles as well. The flush on your face grew more pronounced and you sheepishly averted your gaze.
“Now, now, none of that,” he murmured, tilting your head back towards him with a delicate grasp on your jaw. “There you go, that’s better.”
Lucifer looked at you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled fondly, pecking your heated cheek once again before pulling you with him to his bed. Lying on the mattress, he tugged on your hand until you laid down next to him, and almost like it was second nature to him, he wrapped his arms around you to draw your body closer to his. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck, the skin cool against your blush.
He hummed contentedly, tucking your head underneath his chin while he held you securely, tangling his legs with yours; there was no way you could move away, even if you wanted to.
