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mammomlette · 1 month ago

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headcannons: what flusters the brothers

No one can deny the effect you can have on the brothers. Yes, you've been with them for some time now, but that doesn't mean your charm still doesn't catch them off guard. Here are a few scenarios that guarantee red faces from all of them. (1.5k words)

Lucifer

~When you find him passed out at his desk.

You quietly open the study door and there he is, head cradled in one arm, papers scattered, pen still clutched in one hand. It's rare to see him so undone, without his disciplined composure. You nudge his shoulder gently, whispering his name “Lucifer…” and his eyes flutter open, blinking sluggishly as he sits up. You place a warm cup of tea by his hand. He doesn’t meet your eyes right away. “Thank you,” he murmurs, leaving back in his chair, brushing his hair back and straightening his clothes like a reflex, but the slight red in his cheeks betrays how caught off guard he is by your tenderness, and the fact that you saw him like this.

~When you one-up him in front of Diavolo.

Maybe you’ve made a clever remark, remembered a key piece of Devildom lore before he could, or offered Diavolo advice that the prince takes to heart. Lucifer’s expression doesn't change much, but there’s a twitch in his jaw and a slow blink that gives him away. “Impressive,” he says in a carefully controlled voice, but the subtle readjustment of his posture and the brief glance he gives you (when he thinks you won’t notice) says he’s flustered, more than he’ll ever admit. He’s proud, of course, but also deeply unused to being matched, let alone bested.

~When you finally lose your temper.

He’s used to being the one who keeps things together. But one evening, after a string of disasters—a broken door, a food fight, a Mammon prank gone wrong—you’ve reached your limit. He makes an offhand comment about staying calm, and it’s the last straw. You turn on all of them, including him, voice sharp and tone firm, scolding them all like a disappointed parent. The room goes quiet. Lucifer’s brows shoot up slightly as he stares at you, stunned. There’s a weird glint of admiration in his eyes too.

Mammon

~When you praise him without teasing.

He’s so used to backhanded compliments or sarcastic jabs that when you genuinely call him reliable or handsome, without a punchline. His brain short circuits. He’ll blink, look away, scratch at his neck like he’s itchy all of a sudden, and laugh too loudly. “Y-Yeah, well, ‘course I am!” he stammers, but his ears are pink and he won’t stop cheesing about it.

~When you catch him staring and don’t say anything, just smile.

Mammon stares a lot. You just usually don’t catch him. So when you look up from your book or drink and catch his gaze already fixed on you, he panics. But then you smile, sweet, knowing, and just a little smug, it knocks the wind out of him. “Wha—! I wasn’t lookin’! Mind yer business!” he yells, turning bright red. But his eyes keep flicking back to you like he can’t help it.

Leviathan

~When you walk in while he’s singing to himself.

He’s in the middle of some anime theme song, headphones on, and half-dancing around his room. He doesn’t hear the door open until it’s too late. You’re standing there, smiling. Levi yelps, drops the remote, and nearly trips over his tail. “W-W-WHY are you here?! You’re supposed to use the password!!” He’s bright red and curls into a ball like a flustered shrimp.

~When you cosplay as his favorite character.

You step into his room wearing a Ruri-chan costume, specially tailored to you. He gapes. His brain completely freezes. “Is this... is this real life?!” he whispers, tears threatening to gather in his eyes. “You... you really did this for me?”

~When you snuggle up to watch him game.

“W-Wait, you can’t just—!” He’s trapped, controller in hand, body stiff as a board while you rest comfortably against him. “I can’t focus like this! You’re too close!” But he doesn’t move away. He tries to obscure the redness of his cheeks, he fails miserably.

Satan

~When you catch him reading a romance novel.

He’s usually buried in classics or rare texts, but today he didn’t expect you to find him in the library with a dog-eared romance, totally invested. “You’re reading that?” you ask. His eyes widen. “It’s... for research,” he says too quickly. You sit next to him with a smirk. He sighs in defeat, but the way he won’t quite meet your gaze gives him away.

~When you're cooking together.

You come up behind him quietly as he stirs a pot, one hand on shoulder, other hand raising a spoonful of what you’re both making to his lips. He’s startled by how intimate it feels. When you tease that you’re the better chef, he raises an eyebrow, but he’s smiling (and a little flushed). He’s not used to gentleness like this in the kitchen. He likes it more than he admits.

~When you give him cat-themed gifts.

He insists he doesn’t need trinkets, but you’ve caught on to his weakness. A handmade bookmark with paw prints? He clears his throat and thanks you quietly. A mug with a curled-up kitten? He drinks from it in private. But when you give him a cat-ear headband “just for fun,” and then slip it on your own head with a smirk, he chokes on his tea. “I’m not wearing that,” he says, but you drape it onto his head anyway, and the way he turns crimson and looks away tells you all you need to know.

Asmodeus

~When you turn the charm back on him.

Asmo’s always the flirty one, and it's difficult to fluster the Avatar of Lust. But when you take the lead, leaning in close and whispering something suggestive, his eyes widen. Especially because you don't act like that in front of the others, it makes him feel especially special.

~When you help him remove his makeup

Late at night. He’s tired. You sit him down and start removing his makeup with slow, gentle motions. He goes silent, blinking at you. “You’re so sweet… that’s not fair,” he whispers. He looks away with a shy smile, hands nervously playing with his robe.

~When you wear one of his robes around the house.

You strolling the hallway after a shower, wearing his silky, floral-printed robe like it’s yours. He gasps dramatically from down the hall, “Is that mine?” he clutches his chest, eyes wide, and scurries over.“It looks better on you,” he purrs. He pads over, fingers brushing the collar at your neck. “I need to take some pictures! And then take it off. Slowly.” Of course, it's only natural for him to fluster you in return.

Beelzebub

~When you offer him your last bite.

He blinks slowly, looking from the fork to your face. “Are you sure?” he asks softly. When you nod, he takes it so carefully, almost reverently. “That’s… really nice of you.” His cheeks glow pink, and he looks at you like you just gave him your heart. The little smile he gives you when his mouth is full makes you melt.

~When you wipe food from his mouth, then eat it.

You're both sharing a creamy, chocolate dessert and something sticks to the corner of his mouth. Without hesitation, you reach out and swipe it off with your thumb. He freezes for a moment, watching you inspect your thumb briefly before licking it. His eyebrows twitch upwards and his face turns red. He doesn’t say anything, he just quietly beams.

Belphegor

~When you gently brush his bangs from his face.

He’s laying in bed, half-awake, and you reach out to fix his hair. His eyes open slowly, a little wide. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “It’s weird.” But the way he avoids your gaze, the way his cheeks bloom pink, says he didn’t mind.

~When you say you dreamed about him.

He plays it off at first. “Yeah? I bet I was amazing.” But he can't hide his curiosity, he brings it up again and asks what it was about. You dreamed about him holding your hand, or watching stars with him, or something gentle like that. His smile turns sheepish. “You’re weird,” he says, voice quiet, affectionate. He won’t say it, but he’ll try to recreate that dream later. Just for you

~When you play with his hair while his head is in your lap.

Occasionally he dozes off that way, wakes up, tries to run his hand through his hair and finds some strands braided. When he blinks the blurriness away he sees your face above him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, just a slight huff as he turns closer towards you. You catch the red of his cheeks and ears and you know he secretly likes it.

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mammomlette · 1 month ago

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the human condition

pairings: the brothers/Reader, Diavolo/Reader, Solomon/Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

summary: You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain. “Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task. “Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” “A paper cut,” Lucifer repeats with bemusement and skepticism. “You got hurt by a piece of paper," he says incredulously.

The demon brothers learn a valuable lesson as they grow to include you in their lives: humans are very strange.

word count: 3.3k | ao3 version

warnings: mentions of sickness, medical care, injury.

I know demons are virtually the same as humans canonically, but I’ve always wanted to explore the brothers’ reactions to human things MC does, whether it’s a sneeze or a bruise or getting sick… And, well, here we are.

This won’t be canon compliant. This is set to take place sometime after Episode 15 and all seven brothers are included. The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used**. There’s one bit where they’re stated to wear glasses & another where they had braces and currently wear retainers. But I feel like that’s a pretty easy thing to imagine, so… yeah!

**The reader is referred to with it/its pronouns once in Belphegor's snippet—skip reading it if it bothers you. i use these pronouns so i wrote that mostly for me 🤘

“Darling, what is that ghastly thing?” Asmodeus asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“What thing?” you frown. The two of you are sitting in his bedroom, sprawled across his bed as you talk about stupid things. Asmodeus had been ranting about something when his eyes locked on something near you with startling focus.

“This!” he says, pointing at your forearm.

You follow his gaze, finding a spot of slightly discolored skin halfway down your arm. “Oh,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.”

“A bruise?” Asmodeus repeats, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“You know, a bruise,” you repeat. There’s nothing close to comprehension on his face. “...A contusion or whatever?” …Still nothing.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the demon frowns. “And wow, is it unsightly.” Asmodeus remarks, disgust passing over his face before intrigue takes over it. He leans over you, before proceeding to poke at your skin curiously.

“Ow, Asmo—” you hiss, batting his hand away. You don’t put much strength behind the gesture, but Asmodeus goes along with it anyway and removes his hand.

“It hurts?” he then blinks owlishly.

“Yes,” you say, letting your arm fall back to your side.

Asmodeus shakes his head in disbelief. “Humans are so weird.”

It’s late at night and you need to refill your glass of water. You’re tiredly walking out to the kitchen when a sudden noise breaks through the silence.

“Hey.”

You inhale sharply, fear coursing through you until you recognize the familiar voice. “Holy shit, Beel,” you murmur, placing your hand on your chest momentarily and squinting through the darkness. You can only see the general outline of his form. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Beelzebub says. You think he must be frowning now. Again, it’s difficult to tell. “I thought you saw me.”

“Um…” you squint again. “No.”

“Oops,” he says. You hear a light shuffling sound. “Can you see me now?” he asks.

You blink again. “Sort of.”

Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t suppress a flinch this time, instinctually leaning backwards.

“Beel, stop that—!” you exclaim, nearly stumbling over yourself.

He sets you straight with a hand on your shoulder, a frown rising on his face. “You can’t see in the dark, then?” Beelzebub hums.

“No,” you sigh. It’s as if he didn’t believe you—like he had to test it for himself to make sure.

“Hmph,” Beelzebub frowns again. Or, at least, it sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s inconvenient.”

“I guess,” you concede.

“What’s wrong with your skin?” Belphegor asks you one morning, when the two of you are relaxing in his room.

“Hm?” you blink, momentarily distracted from looking down at your D.D.D.

“Your skin,” he restates. “Look,” he demands, pointing down at your forearm. You follow the demon’s gaze, only to find goosebumps scattered across your skin.

“Oh, those are just goosebumps,” you answer casually.

“Goose… bumps,” Belphegor repeats, his nose scrunched in evident revulsion.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m not sure why they’re called that, but they show up on your skin if you get too cold.”

“Well, stop being cold,” Belphegor orders, as if you’re inconveniencing him. He probably thinks you are, although it’s entirely out of your control. You hardly have a chance to react before you’re promptly pelted in the face with a sweatshirt. “Here.”

“Oof,” you say, peeling it off the crown of your head and putting it on. “Thanks, Belphie.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pink rising on the back of his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. “Stupid human. Can’t even keep itself warm.” He huffs. You valiantly ignore the remark.

“Why are there teeth in the bathroom?” Levi asks as he enters the room. And wow, what a way to make an entrance. Satan and you look over at Levi from where you’d been reading.

“What?” Satan blinks questioningly, clearly just as confused as you are.

“Teeth,” Levi repeats himself, “in the bathroom.”

How he expects the same exact remark to make more sense, you have no idea. It takes you a few moments to connect the dots, but you do eventually. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Those are just my retainers.”

“Your retainers,” Satan repeats. There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And what do they retain, exactly?” he asks sardonically. You scoff.

“My teeth,” you respond. “Obviously,” you add, if only to combat his sarcasm.

“So… what do you do with them?” Levi asks curiously, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“I wear them every night when I sleep,” you explain. “They’re supposed to prevent my teeth from shifting.”

“Your teeth shift?” Satan exclaims incredulously. “You mean they can move?”

“Um— yes,” you respond. “Human teeth always move, even after a person has braces.”

“What are braces?” Levi demands.

“They’re metal brackets that an orthodontist puts on your teeth when they’re crooked. They guide the teeth into a more neat shape.”

“I’m convinced you just made that up,” Satan says helpfully.

You roll your eyes. “I had braces. But since my teeth can still move, I have to wear the retainers.”

“For how long?” Levi blinks.

“The rest of my life.”

Satan whistles. “That sucks.”

You shrug amicably.

“And I thought normies were weird,” Levi huffs. “But humans are even weirder.”

“Hey, wait: how’d you even see my retainers in the first place?” you realize aloud. “I always keep them in a case… in a drawer.” You wouldn’t just leave them on the counter—that would be pretty unsanitary.

As if caught in a lie, Levi freezes and quickly bolts away. “Gotta go shower, bye—!” he says, slamming the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary.

You stare after him in disbelief, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from your throat.

“He was just curious,” Satan explains with a shrug. “Not that I blame him. Do your teeth truly keep growing?”

“Not growing, necessarily,” you contemplate. “Babies are born with baby teeth. Then, as you get older, you lose your baby teeth as your adult teeth grow in.”

“That’s similar to demons,” Satan confirms.

“Our teeth eventually stop growing, but they can shift and move still,” you clarify.

Satan shakes his head in annoyed disbelief. “Humans are truly an anomaly.”

You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.

“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” You squint down at your finger and grit your teeth in annoyance. You’re so concentrated that you don’t know Lucifer’s pensive silence or furrowed brows.

“A….. paper cut,” he restates, a mix of bemusement and concern in his voice.

“You don’t get those?” you ask.

“You got hurt by a piece of paper,” Lucifer says incredulously. Suddenly he’s getting to his feet and striding over to you, taking your hand in his and investigating your fingertip. “Hm. You weren’t joking. How strange.”

He continues to study your skin with a frightening intensity. Your hand is almost shaking in his grip, as you attempt to fight off your restlessness at his proximity. Eventually Lucifer sighs and lets his grip fall away. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Paper cuts are just a minor inconvenience… But for whatever reason, they can really hurt sometimes. Feels like your skin is splitting apart.” They really shouldn’t hurt, but they do. One time, you had one that spanned your entire fingertip. This one doesn’t look nearly as bad, fortunately. But it still burns.

“You’re rather breakable,” the Avatar of Pride notes.

“It’s just a paper cut,” you feel the need to say defensively.

“Of course,” Lucifer responds, an indulgent and amused smile on his face. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, abandoning the argument.

Solomon and you often get stuck accompanying one another to the human realm whenever you need anything. The demon realm is great, but it doesn’t have everything humans need. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to breathe in some fresh air or be among other humans.

Today’s visit has a purpose, though. After a rather unfortunate incident involving Mammon, you, and a chandelier, you find yourself with broken glasses. (Thanks, Mammon.) It’s been roughly a year since you’ve had an eye exam, so it’s about time for another appointment anyways. Unfortunately, the Devildom doesn’t have eye doctors (and you still remember the perplexed look on Levi’s face when you casually asked him one day). That’s how you find yourself in your ophthalmologist’s office in the human realm. Solomon dropped you off with the promise that he’d return the moment you texted, leaving you to slowly waste away in the waiting room.

Fortunately, your name is finally called and you’re able to undergo all of the various examinations. You emerge an hour later with dilated pupils, an updated prescription, and reassurance from the doctor that nothing is amiss. You manage to text Solomon—through slightly blurred vision—and he arrives within five minutes.

You can only hope to slip into the manor unnoticed. But from the very moment you slip through the front doors, Mammon is bounding up to you like an overexcited puppy. He seems moments away from looping an arm around you and dragging you off into some misguided adventure when he locks eyes with you and freezes.

“Whoa, what the hell—?” Mammon exclaims, staring at you intently. “Oi, human, don’t tell me ya got possessed—!” His hands clamp on your shoulders and he starts shaking you roughly.

“Mammon, stop it,” you object, grabbing onto his shoulders and attempting to prevent him from shaking you any harder. He calms down a little, but he still looks confused. “I’m not possessed. I just had an appointment with an eye doctor.”

“Well, how’d they screw up so bad then, huh?” he spits. In another situation, his concern would be touching; but now, it’s mostly just amusing. “Ya look like a shark!”

“It’s just one of the tests,” you explain. “They had to dilate my pupils.”

“Humans are crazy,” Mammon asserts. He’s studying you from far too close—occasionally changing his angle as if it will somehow give him new insight. “You look so freaky.”

“Thanks, Mammon,” you sigh.

“Does it hurt?” he asks. “I bet it does; yer such a baby.” The insult seems to be a cover-up for his concern.

“It doesn’t really hurt,” you reassure him. “It just feels a little strange. The drops really just affect your vision. I can’t focus on things in front of me, and it sort of looks like I’m seeing double.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it but resting your eyes,” Mammon sighs theatrically, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s watch the next episode of Destroyman. ”

“How is that supposed to help my eyes?” you ask skeptically.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for ya all day!” Mammon exclaims. “We’re watching the next episode, even if it looks all blurry to you.” The demon is soon yanking you along before you can object.

“There’s the culprit,” Belphegor remarks, looking up at you as you enter the dining room for breakfast. The brothers are staring at you intently.

“Good morning to you too,” you huff, shoving your hands in the pockets of your uniform and taking the empty seat at the table. It’s a bit unusual to see all seven brothers at the table like this, especially so early in the morning. “What’d I do?” you blink cluelessly.

“You don’t remember?” Beel pipes up, blinking at you curiously. He seems to be mid-bite, with some food hanging out of his mouth. Lucifer chides him for table manners and Beel huffs, promptly demolishing the rest of his food.

“You were roaming the halls in the middle of the night like a ghost!” Mammon explains before anyone else can. He sounds particularly energetic this morning. “It was freaky.”

Roaming the halls at night? You don’t remember doing that, which can only mean one thing. “Oh, I was probably just sleepwalking,” you realize aloud.

“Wonders truly never cease,” Lucifer says dryly. “Just how many eccentricities do humans possess?” he muses.

You sigh, remembering all of the strange interactions you’ve had over the past few weeks. “I’m not choosing to do any of this, you know,” you frown. “I can’t control it.” It’s not like you wanted to get a paper cut, or a bruise, or goosebumps. These are just facts of life.

“We know, dear,” Asmo reassures you.

“It’s okay,” Levi says, barely sparing you a glance as he stares down at his plate. “None of these human behaviors are super annoying.” That’s very meaningful coming from Levi of all demons.

“They’re just weird,” Satan supplies helpfully. You roll your eyes at him.

“It seems my brothers were just… worried,” Lucifer explains.

“Hey, you were worried too!” Mammon objects. “You were the one to—” Whatever the Avatar of Greed means to say next promptly fades into obscurity, as Lucifer sends his younger brother a murderous glare to silence him.

“Okay,” you eventually remark, uncomfortable with the sudden tension settling in the room. “Well, sorry to disturb you guys, I guess. Sleepwalking is normal for humans, though.”

“I’m starting to think nothing about humans is normal,” Satan mutters under his breath. Lucifer nods in agreement. You just roll your eyes and pretend not to hear the remark, serving yourself some food and beginning to eat breakfast. Despite the fanfare, it’s nice to know the brothers care about you—even if they don’t show it in very orthodox ways.

“Oh,” a familiar voice says one afternoon. You blink blearily, your dizzy vision momentarily clarifying to reveal Diavolo standing over you. You’re crumpled on the floor, your cheek pressed to the cold hardwood as sweat rolls down the nape of your neck. “I must say, when I heard of your absence, I assumed you ditched classes for the day.”

It’s difficult for you to process what he’s saying; his voice sounds warped. The headmaster just hums. “Are you… alright?” he asks. You can barely manage a weak nod. Diavolo sighs. “Forgive me for the foolish question. You’re clearly not alright. Here, let’s get you up…”

You hardly have the chance to object before the demon is lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all. He sets you on your bed with deceptive gentleness, before staring at you and frowning.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s happening to you,” Diavolo says.

“I think I’m sick,” you manage to respond. Your voice sounds a little raspy and your airways feel a bit tight. You clear your throat, wincing at the dryness the gesture provokes. You must have a fever, because your body temperature keeps oscillating between frigid cold and searing warmth. Before you can think better of it, you blink dazedly and reach out to grab Diavolo’s hand. “Tell me if I feel warm.”

He’s clearly a bit confused, but he allows you to guide his hand to your temple.

“You’re hot,” he observes after a moment.

“Thanks,” you huff deliriously.

“Your temperature,” he clarifies with a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What does this mean?” Diavolo frowns.

“I have a fever,” you answer. “When a human’s body temperature is too high, it causes sickness.”

“What can be done about it?” he continues.

“Depends,” you reply. “Sometimes it breaks on its own; sometimes you need antibiotics.”

“Antibiotics,” Diavolo repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. “I can’t say I’m familiar. But it’s clear that you should rest. I’ll watch over you.” Whatever else he says is lost on you, as you close your eyes and surrender to the persistent fatigue burning your eyelids.

You wake several hours later to a room devoid of Diavolo. You’re not exactly surprised that he had to leave—he’s the ruler of the Devildom, after all. He surely has far more important things to do than look after you. You blink away traces of sleep as you look around the room, your vision clarifying to reveal Solomon sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. You blink at him silently.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Solomon says. “How are you feeling?”

“…Fine,” you admit, touching your temple experimentally. Your headache has subsided a little, but your skin still feels a bit warm. At your movement, Solomon pushes himself to his feet and feels your forehead.

“Your temperature’s coming down, finally,” he hums.

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to ask.

“Diavolo summoned me,” Solomon explains. “Supposedly, he attempted to enlist the help of the brothers, but they proved to be rather useless. They are… woefully uninformed when it comes to humans, after all.”

That’s true. “Thanks,” you remember to say. He didn’t have to come, after all. Just because he’s the only other human, doesn’t mean he’s relegated to nursing you back to health.

“No problem,” Solomon nods sincerely. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the whole arrangement. “It’s nice not to be the only human. Although, I expect around the clock service and care the next time I fall ill.”

You smile tiredly. “Of course,” you agree. It’s a frighteningly easy promise to make.

After your sickness, you notice that the brothers begin to ease up on you a bit. Mammon’s no longer texting you in the middle of the night, demanding that you entertain him; Lucifer doesn’t mind if you occasionally take a day to complete your work remotely at the mansion; Asmo’s physical affection is gentler than normal; Levi doesn’t tease you about being a normie as much; Beelzebub doesn’t ever touch your plate or food; hell, even Belphegor is behaving himself—no longer interfering with your naps or sleep.

One afternoon, Lucifer approaches you in the living room. He greets you before settling on the couch next to you, his posture rigid and proper. “You may have noticed that my brothers…” Lucifer starts, before pausing and shaking his head, “...that we have been acting a bit different than normal.” You nod.

“In the past few weeks—especially in light of your bout of sickness—we realized that we’ve been neglecting you and your health. A demon’s stamina is much stronger than a human’s—we need less sleep; food is more of a luxury than a necessity; our bodies are more resistant to injury… You understand.”

“What I mean to say is…” Lucifer trails off again, an uncharacteristic sign of hesitation from him. He takes a slow breath. “I apologize for the oversight.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him.

“It is not,” Lucifer states firmly. “We have neglected to consider just how difficult this transition must be for you. We—I—didn’t think to ensure your health and safety were priorities.”

“But no more. I’ve spoken to Diavolo and Solomon at length, in addition to doing some elective research, to ensure we are not so unprepared in the future. And, should your accommodations be unsuitable—should anything here be unsuitable—I want you to inform me at once.”

That… sounds a lot more serious than what you were expecting. You blink. “That’s— That’s really not necessary,” you try to say.

“It wasn’t a request,” Lucifer interjects smoothly. It’s a firm but well-meaning statement. “Do you understand?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “Truthfully, my brothers were very worried for you.” Lucifer pauses for a moment. “I was very worried for you,” he admits.

You’re sure you look surprised now. Lucifer only laughs, before getting to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You can almost convince yourself that the look in his eyes is unbearably fond. But he’s soon withdrawing, leaving you to wonder if you imagined the entire interaction.

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#so sweet #also I love when people explore or create differences between humans and demons in obey me lol

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