Ordered Pizza From A Small Local Place And They Didnt Actually Cut It So I've Chosen To Revert To A Wild

Honestly you could tell me this was in one of the drama CDs and I would believe you.

Top-quality romance

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happy fnaf movie (uk) release day!

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[OC X CANON APPRECIATION POST! 🩷✨]

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE AND SUPPORT OC X CANON!!

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Buddy, you do remember that Dazai’s cooking in bsd canon can sometimes be the equivalent of Solomon’s cooking right.

Like it seems that he does it on purpose (most of the time) but he still has the guts to eat it.

Personally it would be even more funny if he ate some of Solomon's cooking when it wasn’t revealed that it was absolute shit yet and just went like "This is exquisite" to fuck with everybody.

BSD x Obey Me

WHERE ARE THE OBEY ME X BSD AUs D: Plz I need an AU where one of those years that Dazai was laying low would be the year that the MC gets sent to the Devildom. Nine demons, an angel and an immortal sorcerer simping for Dazai would literally complete my life. 

OR ATSUSHI BEING SENT AS THE MC MID SEASON THREE CONTENT KINDA TIMES. It would mess up the BSD timeline by a lot but Atsushi needs some emotional support immortals for what he’s about to go through. Like honestly, everyone in bsd needs a break. 

LMAO can you imagine the boys falling for Akutagawa and him being completely oblivious/borderline hostile when he can’t figure out why they’re acting the way they are. Or Chuuya being the MC and the boys figure out he was experimented on/the vessel for a god? THE POTENTIAL

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I'm extremely biased towards the og big three

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Something to protect

[This is a set in the same universe as Your Courage, My Love, a fantastic fic by @obeythebutler which I would recommend reading first.]

warning: extremely long fic, reader experiences a panic attack later on. lots and lots of angst, and pining. oh my god, the pining.

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You’re not sure why you do it, really.

It’s just that… they’re all here with you. Beel is about to die, or supposedly he is.

No one jumps out to save the day, to give you the answer. You’re all just stuck here, watching a candle burn down all too fast.

The thought is bitter in your mouth.

You’d spent your entire first year in the Devildom terrified of what would become of you for your mistakes. That you’d be killed.

And you were. And here these idiots are just throwing their lives away – dripping it away like so much candle wax.

Then again, it’s easier for them, isn’t it?

What’s a year, or ten or a hundred, when you’ve already lived millennia?

What’s a threat, when you’ve already fought in wars and tortured lesser demons or helpless humans for fun?

As far as you knew, there wasn’t anything that could properly kill any of them anyways.

Beel needs them.

So Lucifer pours part of his candle out for him, without hesitation. And then another brother, and another, and another.

This is stupid. They’re giving up their lives for nothing, because Beel’s candle is just blazing through, and – and you’re horrible, terrible, how could you think something like that?

Beel is standing right there, looking like a kicked puppy when he’s about to die.

Like you died. Have any of them been taking this seriously? They’re all so – this is so –

There are more emotions than you can name, swirling in your chest, rippling back and forth between anger and guilt and fear faster than you can track.

But it’s important to remember that they’re all fair, that your natural reactions to this situation aren’t bad or wrong, and you’re not a bad person for feeling this way.

Your therapist was always reminding you that these are extraordinary circumstances, and there was no normal reaction.

You weren’t sure where Diavolo or Satan or (god forbid) Lucifer had found that therapist, but they’d taken each and every ridiculous story of your time in the Devildom with grace, retaining their understanding, respectful demeanor all the while.

The therapist isn't here right now.

Beel’s here, and he’s dying.

And your tiny little mortal candle with what insignificant lifespan you could offer would be burned through in less than a blink. You’re powerless, as you’ve always been.

Lucifer and the others are all fretting over Beel. Falling over themselves to offer him their lives.

You still remember. Luke and Beel caught underground. Lucifer about to find you, rampaging, the threat of his outrage terrifying you into retreat.

I can’t die here. That’s what you’d thought to yourself. I don’t want to die. Every heartbeat thundering in your chest as you bolted out of there.

Maybe you weren’t fast enough to outrun a demon, but staying would have meant certain death, and you didn’t want to die.

And neither did either of them. And you left them behind.

It’s like your hand moves on its own.

And it plays out like the story of a self-important author insulated from any real pain or worldly challenges.

Who thrusts the characters into their places and scenes, forces them through pain and turmoil, and chuckles, “See? You could do it after all,” as those characters finally snag some scrap of happiness.

A joke. Some stupid moral lesson. That’s what it feels like, when the droplets of your mortal lifespan save Beel’s near-infinite life.

Lucifer looks at you with something unnamable in his eyes. He didn’t expect this from you. You look away, don’t even meet his gaze.

Does he think you’re trying to impress him? Is that why you did it? Or did you just follow the lead, the mood of the moment?

Yeah, that’d make sense. Losing years of your life just by doing some stupid crap the brothers did in front of you.

It’d be real funny. How are they going to feel when you’re dead at thirty because of all the shit you’d been through?

(Your therapist has noted your new habit of coping with humor.)

Maybe you’re only pretending to be a good person. Maybe you really didn’t care, and –

And then Lucifer isn’t looking at you anymore, because he’s fallen to the ground.

And maybe you’re not as over him as you’d like to tell yourself, because when you watch him stumble, it feels like your heart falls with him.

-

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Now all of the brothers are fussing over Lucifer.

There’s no time to worry about spent lifespans or reaper’s curses, not when the family leader and protector is out of commission.

Even Satan doesn’t seem to realize how he sounds when he insists, This is Lucifer we’re talking about, as if the name itself made him invulnerable to all harm.

But he’d stumbled, fallen over. You’d watched it happen through Lilith’s memories. He had fallen before.

There’s always further down to go.

It makes them antsy. He groans while he’s in bed, tossing and turning lightly. The brothers wonder what could be happening, if he’s hurt or not, if he’ll wake up soon.

Despite everything, he’s still Lucifer, isn’t he? He’s not dead, so it’s not like he won’t wake up ever…

But you watch his forehead crease harder than it had even in his most stressed moments, even hearing how Mammon had built up some massive bill, or made an attempt to steal from Diavolo or someone else.

It’s silly… it’s stupid, and it probably won’t do anything, but you want to do something.

You can do something. You can. Right?

“May the vestiges of pain that linger within the demon before me be eliminated!”

Satan recognizes the spell. He smiles at you, even at a time like this. “Aha. I taught you it back when you were cramming for exams.”

His eyes meet yours, warm, sincere. For a heartbeat, all the worry fades away in that green gaze, in his pretty face staring back at you.

“I’m impressed you remembered. Good job.”

It’s so warm in here, settling in your chest with an easy lightness.

The comfort that blanketed at the edge of your worries grows; maybe it did work. You’d done it successfully before, hadn’t you? So why not –

Of course, this is when Lucifer begins to stir.

Solomon arrives with Simeon and Diavolo. Maybe they’re sick of keeping secrets from you.

More likely, you think to yourself sourly, they simply can’t anymore. Now that the consequences have become tangible to one of their own, and not just some one-off murder of a human they’d kidnapped.

Diavolo wouldn’t even tell Lucifer about it. And now look at him.

“Lucifer…!” Diavolo’s nearly distraught. “Lucifer… Lucifer! Oh no… What’s happened to you….?! This is all my fault! If only I’d acted sooner!”

His fault? Somehow, you weren’t sold on the idea. “Wait… you’re saying this is your fault, Diavolo?”

“…That’s right.” His frown is utterly miserable. He won’t meet your eyes. “It is.”

And then he can meet your eyes. All of a sudden. “Please… you have to help us!”

It comes out.

Solomon brough you to the Devildom because of this.

It’s an ongoing phenomenon. Natural disasters, hazardous weather patterns, random catastrophic events. Not just in the Devildom. In the human world. In the Celestial realm.

And then it happens.

“Let me just come out and say it.” Diavolo locks eyes with the remaining brothers. “We believe that the human exchange student is the one causing all of this to happen.”

Your blood turns cold in an instant. You don’t hear any of the brother’s protests, their comments.

And you don’t need to – as it happens, Lucifer has woken up.

As soon as you get into the room, the brothers swarm the eldest. Asmo throws himself in for a hug, and even Mammon is obvious in his concern.

But there’s something on his face. You can see it right away. Something is strange.

It’s not just in his expression. It’s how he’s holding himself, how he looks at all of you, how he…

“…Who are you, and why are you all staring at me?”

His arms are crossed defensively in front of himself, and it’s obvious; Lucifer thinks he’s in a room full of strangers.

Diavolo thinks you did this.

Diavolo thinks you did this. ‘It’s all my fault’, he’d said, and then gone on to say it was all because of you in the next breath.

You leave to speak to him again, clenching your hand so it doesn’t tremble.

-

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Unfortunately, Diavolo's explanation doesn't improve things. He blames you for it, essentially.

(Lucifer forgot him, too, a bitter part of your heart gleefully observes)

He’s nice enough about it, of course. “You have a great power…” All very flattering to say.

Mammon jumps to your defense instantly. You need it, because you’re still reeling from the realization.

From the fact that you’d apparently erased all of Lucifer’s memories of everyone he cared about, without even trying to.

It’s another perk of your ancestry, it turns out. Being the descendant of an angel (how did that even work, with Lilith having been reborn as a human?) and having pacts with seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom.

The connection to all three worlds has created a power, “the ring”.

Satan looks briefly impressed at the comparison to Solomon – that you might be even more powerful than he was.

And then you watch him filter through surprise… worry… shock. As the true extent of your apparent powers are suggested.

At least you know why you were put through the ringer on the exams – Satan’s face darkens as Diavolo mentions you can’t fully control the power yet (angry, on your behalf?), but even Solomon needed the Ring of Wisdom to help him control his powers.

Diavolo tells you to “gain the ability to control your powers”, as if you’d even known about them for longer than five minutes, or “sever the ring”.

He looks serious while he does it. But his arms are crossed.

Maybe you imagine his smugness as he explains to you what it would entail.

That it would mean sacrificing all the precious pacts you’d built up between yourself and the brothers, the proof of all the time you’d spent fighting and studying and bonding with them in the Devildom, no matter how hard it got.

How Lucifer wouldn’t have a pact with you anymore. His only loyalty would be to Diavolo. Once again.

You’re sure you imagine it. Diavolo is calm but sober as he explains the possibilities.

“Even so, that doesn’t mean your relationship with them has to change…”

It might be imagined.

Your therapist had warned you about assigning malice or ill-intent to people when you were just going off “gut feelings”.

Diavolo had definitely paid for the therapist, though.

“I guess it’s not that simple, is it?” He hesitates, face twisting. “…I apologize.”

He’d never apologized for forcing you to participate in his program without your consent.

What’s changed since then? Does he want to look good to Lucifer? Lucifer, who’s lost his memories? What would be the point?

And then strong arms envelop you in a large, warm hug, and you stiffen immediately.

But… it’s not that uncomfortable.

It’s almost surprising, how that massive chest against you burns like a furnace without being painful.

Like fires that chase away the chill on a winter day. His uniform is softer than you would have expected it to be.

“…It’s no big deal.” It’s kind of a big deal. “I’m just severing my pacts, right?”

Diavolo looks like he’s about to cry, which doesn’t make sense, since it’s your pacts being severed. He’s not going to lose anything.

Lucifer will be all his again, and the most powerful demons in the Devildom will no longer be bound to some human.

When he does meet your eyes, and there’s nothing in them but sorrow.

“Yes, you’re right. Still, the fact is that I failed to come up with a better option.” His brows furrow, head lowering in shame. “And now I’m asking you to break the powerful, special bonds that you share with each other.”

Yes… there is envy in his voice. But there’s more longing. Loneliness, and sympathy.

His powerful, muscled form seems to just wilt in your arms. Hands weakly embracing you as eyes tear up.

“I’m so sorry.”

You blink hard, quietly, and you think for a moment that you hide your own tears, until Diavolo hugs you even tighter, tugging you flush against him.

His hands spread large over your back, clutching you close, pressing you tightly so you’re completely enveloped in his warmth.

His cheek presses into your hair in a weight that’s almost comforting.

You’re not sure if you hear him, or even feel him mouth it, but you swear the words Forgive me gasp into the air.

It’s strange. Diavolo’s form is strong, so much larger than yours, and he’s hugging you so fiercely it could be your imagination, but it almost feels like the demon prince is trembling in your arms.

Slowly, so slowly, your arms wrap around him in turn. They don’t encircle him completely, but Diavolo doesn’t seem to care; his massive body shivers tightly, once, and then his face nuzzles against your hair.

One strong hand comes up to cradle your head, tucking it gently in the crook of his neck.

He stays like that for a while, and you let him.

It’s not a good idea to upset him, when you were the cause of such a massive crisis, and he and Solomon had to go through such lengths to fix it.

Not because you’re comforted or anything.

Solomon lets you know that it’ll be a month or so before he can perform the ritual.

Diavolo wishes you well. “Look after Lucifer for me.”

Somehow, you aren’t mad at him about it.

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Lucifer doesn’t speak quite as formally as he used to. It’s nice to see Asmo chattering away with him just like he normally would.

(It’s nice, too, that Asmo goes out of his way to promise you that even if your pact were broken, he’d still care.)

And then you’re left alone with him.

“…”

Well, isn’t he just a chatterbox now?

Lucifer says your name out loud, like he’s testing it out. “Was that it?”

You nod.

So he goes on. He’s got a good feel for Asmo. He asks about his other brothers. You try to represent them to him fairly.

Even if you don’t like one or two, they’re Lucifer’s family, and he – the Lucifer without his memories loved them all, dearly. More than anything.

“So, you’ve told me about my brothers. Now what about me?” Lucifer asks you with – is that a coy smile?

“What… about you?” You ask, hesitant.

“Tell me about our relationship.” Now it’s definitely a smirk. He holds his hand up to his chest, “What am I to you?”

Your mouth goes dry.

Somehow, you blurt out, “…someone I care for very dearly.” Your lips are moving, but you don’t know why; you don’t know where it’s coming from, “The moment I met you, you – everything about you put me in awe. I’d never felt like that about anyone else.”

To your complete and utter shock, a dusting of red covers his cheeks. Lucifer actually looks away, crossing his arms.

“Aha… So you’re in love with me, then?” You nearly choke. “Well, I can’t say I mind that.”

Your heart is beating out of your chest.

It doesn’t help that he fixes his eyes on you, half-lidded and alluring, so painfully beautiful it makes you want to jump towards him and take his face in your hands.

“So, how did I feel about you?” Lucifer says it with a smirk. “Were you dear to me as well?”

There’s only one answer to that question.

“…No, not really.”

Just saying the words makes your stomach drop again. You’ve already teared up once today.

(You don’t dare look Lucifer in the eyes, but if you did, you’d see them wide, surprised.)

“Come on now, cheer up.” Is Lucifer actually saying this to you? Really? You’re about to think some choice thoughts about what you’d like to do in your current situation that your therapist wouldn’t approve of. “You look absolutely miserable right now.”

“Thank you for the observation,” You manage to mutter out, pulling your gaze back towards him. “Was that all?”

“Yes.” Lucifer sighs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable… What did the old me do?”

You’d very much rather not talk about it, or think about it, ever again, much less with Luciferin the same room.

Thankfully, Beel comes to the rescue.

…and he hasn’t forgotten what you did in the cave.

What you did for him. He promises he’d do anything to repay you, grateful to you both for the help, and heat wells up in your chest that had been left so painfully empty.

At least one thing you did here would be remembered.

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Lucifer is… different, now.

As Asmo noted, he talks a lot more casually. But he talks more easily, too.

His words aren’t pointed or barbed, his questions are just as innocuous as they seem, conversations with him aren’t some race to cover up a misdeed or figure out what’s bothering him.

It’s surprising. Strange, even. But it’s how days pass in the house of Lamentation, and it gets stranger.

You catch him outside of Levi’s room, loitering like a nervous teen almost, uncertain of how to get inside.

Levi blurts out the normal request for the password when you knock, but he sounds almost rattled, and then grateful when you give him the password and get in.

Lucifer follows you in. And it doesn’t end there.

He asks to play the video game outright. You’re about as shocked as Levi – Lucifer doesn’t demand, and the open curiosity and (it can’t be apprehension) excitement on his face at the prospect takes you both back.

Mammon has found his way in as well, of course, and you have a group of four to play with.

Levi does well, Mammon does good, Lucifer does much better than he has any right to do and you’re just kinda there, listening to them banter and chat like studying a conversation in a foreign language.

Lucifer peppers Levi with questions about the controls – Mammon starts to give some answers, too, and they argue a bit about the correct explanation, wherein Lucifer gains a lead on them both and laughs to himself.

Insightful as ever, he uses every new piece of information to his advantage, and soon enough Mammon complains and tells Levi to stop answering him (or making up answers himself).

Somehow, even without his memories, Lucifer can read right through Mammon’s lies.

You weave between them every now and then in the game, but you can’t quite pass Levi’s first place.

That’s all right, though. He’s happy. He’s proud of his win, and Lucifer’s determination to beat him has him beaming – a hardcore gamer like him won’t be defeated so easily!

Again, Mammon whines, Hey! What about me?! and they start bickering once more, and they feel like –

Like… brothers. Like family.

Not a family Lucifer is in charge of, or protects, but a family he’s a part of, laughing and smiling and joking around with.

Mammon, of course, never learns. Or maybe he was cleverer than he made himself out to be? Maybe the credit card is just an excuse.

For all his fussing and posturing, even that cute little grin he gave while explaining the rules, crooning over his self-proposed reward.

He’s about as confident as Lucifer himself, who accepts the challenge readily, and assigns you as the reward.

That only makes Mammon more excited. He shows off to Lucifer, who gains a fragment of a memory back, and they reminisce.

Even years ago, Lucifer had been soft. Arranging for Mammon to get the exact car he wanted by asking Diavolo for a favor.

And when he talks about how hard Mammon worked, how impressed he was with Mammon’s effort – it’s obvious.

You’d have to be blind not to see it. How they all bask in his attention, curled up in the warmth of his smile, in the pride shining in his eyes, like sunlight.

There’s no sun in the devildom. There’s only Lucifer, and that had been all they needed.

And his brothers, drawn to him, caught up in his gravity. Even without his memories, his charisma is magnetic. Maybe he’s even more charming like this.

Mammon is happy just to have his older brother’s attention. Levi was delighted his big brothers wanted to play with him, took his game seriously.

Belphie delighted in napping on Lucifer’s lap. Asmo would sit chatting with Lucifer all day if he could; he’d already held his brother’s hands hostage to give him a fresh manicure.

Beel wasn’t silent about his gratitude, thanking you both with sincerity for your help.

Even Satan tried to warn Lucifer about Mammon. Even though Lucifer hadn’t wanted to disappoint his little brother (his favorite brother), Satan had tried.

His face flushing when you pointed out his concern, insisting he just didn’t want Mammon to take advantage of a vulnerable person, like he was some sort of saint, and not the demon who’d threatened to cut off your nose and ears when you’d first offended him.

His handsome face smiling at you, telling you to go along, when Satan normally helped you avoid Lucifer at every opportunity.

It was hard to meet that kind expression, how honestly sweet he looked, “Take care of Lucifer for me, okay?” when he asked you to go with Lucifer into the game.

So when Mammon’s features widen in surprise at his loss, how Lucifer totally clinches the victory with a smooth smile and a confident assertion, it’s not surprising to you.

As if Lucifer would ever need you to look out for him. He could do anything all on his own.

“Wait though, you cheated! Like, you kept smilin’ at me, and you NEVER smile! You totally threw off my concentration!” Mammon is more flustered than he should be.

You’re not sure what uncertain flash of emotion you catch on Lucifer’s face as he laughs off Mammon’s concern, but he’s obviously pleased by his victory.

Taunting Mammon, “A deal’s a deal.” – a patently Lucifer move.

Tomorrow you’ll have to spend the day with him, his reward, your punishment…

But today, Mammon asks you to stay back.

He pulls you into a hug even tighter than Diavolo had managed, clings to your shoulders as if for dear life, and grumbles with tears in his throat that he’ll always be your first demon. That you shouldn’t forget it.

In a voice that sounds very much like he’s pleading, he insists. You’d better not. You’d BETTER not.

His hands are grasping heavily at you, but you don’t mind.

Mammon had been scary to you, a long time ago, when you first got into the Devildom.

Then you learned almost everything he says is hot air; he’s all bark and no bite, and he’d stand by you, help you out, in any situation, even if his help was about as useful as Lucifer’s sleep aid tea.

He wouldn’t leave you alone. Not in your worst moments. Even if he was a scumbag and a screw-up, he was always there for you.

Mammon says a lot of dumb things, but what’s important, he doesn’t have to say at all.

Your first demon is always by your side. Pact or no pact. Don’t you forget it!

You won’t. Not ever.

-

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“We have to sabotage their date…”

The conspiracy is going well enough. Honestly, he can’t believe he was so stupid.

It was the height of idiocy to send you in with Lucifer just because he was – he was trying to keep Mammon from scamming him. He should never have done anything to protect Lucifer, of all people.

What had he been thinking? He'd lost his memories, not his brain. Lucifer didn’t need saving from anyone, or anything, ever.

And in passing, as the day goes on, he can’t help but notice how he acts towards you. “all mushy and gross and stuff” as Mammon puts it.

“Before this happened, he always kept his emotions hidden behind a calm and composed veneer.” When he wasn’t threatening the life of the human he’d been ordered to protect. “But I guess that also disappeared along with his memory.”

Now, without any masks in place or guilt over past deeds, Lucifer is doing everything in his power to get closer to you.

Mammon, of all people, sees it the best. “He’s s’posed to be the Avatar of Pride. But it’s so obvious now how he’s lustin’ after them. Hmph, pathetic.”

…when had Mammon started to sound so much like Lucifer?

His hands hurt from nails digging in his palms.

“…Hey, you three.”

Oh, fantastic. Just the voice he wanted to hear…

Except Lucifer isn’t here because he knows about their formulating plans.

He’s not here to eavesdrop or threaten.

He asks them if they have a moment to speak, and when Mammon hastily blabs away, Lucifer accepts them brushing off his words without a second thought.

“S-So, wh-what’s up, Lucifer?” Levi is hardly any better than Mammon. “Um, did you need to talk to us?”

“Yeah.” Despite his casual tone, Lucifer looks entirely serious. “I realized that I still haven’t really thanked you.”

…What?

“I know I’ve caused a lot of trouble for all of you these past few days. Because of how I lost my memory and all…” He looks down, arms crossed, genuinely remorseful.

They stare – all of them, not just Satan – in surprise.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Lucifer flashes them a warm smile, “And thanks for everything you’ve done to help me out.”

“…!” There really aren’t any words, just a noise of shock that escapes him, and the others, too.

Lucifer blushes, looking down. “That’s all I wanted to say. Well, see you later.”

He strides away, sparing them all the embarrassment of accepting his thanks, or his apology. His apology.

It leaves his mind spinning in place, grappling for the latest thought. Lucifer looking at them, without malice or self-importance, showing gratitude of all things…

His older brothers agree to go easy on him. To not sabotage that date at all. Just this once, right? Lucifer’s lost his memories, too…

Satan goes back to his room with blood in his hands where his nails had dug into his palms.

-

-

-

“Satan? Hello? I’d like to have a word with you.”

Lucifer’s voice is strange, even-toned, and not at all demanding, which of course means he’s still lost his memory. And Satan should play nice with him.

He should. He doesn’t really have to.

“And I should care, why?”

“…I’m coming in.” Didn’t take the bastard long to revert to old habits, huh.

Lucifer does come in, though, and even as Satan sits back and stubbornly insists on reading his book, there’s no way he could possibly enjoy it with him here. As if anyone could ignore him.

Somehow, somehow, he swears he should have known it, as soon as your name rolls off Lucifer’s lips.

“They’re awkward around me. It’s obvious something happened between us before I lost my memories.” Crimson eyes fix on him, “Can you tell me about it?”

Satan can tell him about it. He’s known for a while.

Telling Lucifer might be the smart choice.

Maybe this new, idiotic Avatar of Pride would finally have some shame.

Maybe he would understand he had no right to be pursuing you so obliviously, after casting your feelings aside like so much worthless trash –

“…You’re hurt.”

Lucifer is staring at his bandaged hand. Blood is peeking through the wrappings; he must have been clenching it again.

He looks away, cheeks suddenly warm.

“If you care so much about them,” he hates the sound of his voice, how awkwardly loud it is, how obvious it is that he’s trying to distract him from the situation, “Ask the human yourself. If they wanted you to know, they’d probably tell you.”

Something touches his fingers and Satan nearly yanks his arm away, but gentle, gloved fingertips clasp at his wrist, coaxing his palm open.

“I thought it was something they had trouble talking about.”

Satan looks up at him, but Lucifer’s face is fixed on his palm delicately unwrapping the bandage while Satan squirms in his seat.

“I didn't consider that they didn’t want me to know.”

Before he can speak, Lucifer brings Satan’s palm up, up, right up to his lips, where he lays a careful kiss on the open wound.

Satan's efforts to pull his hand back are in vain up until that moment, as he yelps, launching himself away.

But Lucifer doesn’t let him fall.

“But since you seem to know, and you don’t want to tell me either…”

He watches that terrible, wicked smile crawl up Lucifer’s face, and –

“I’m glad they have such a good friend. And I’m glad you have them as a friend, too.”

- and even worse, it goes all the way to his eyes.

His fist clenches, but this time, Lucifer’s hand in his own stops the movement. Satan sits there awkwardly, trying to look away, as Lucifer finally lets him go.

…his hand his better now. There’s nothing but unbroken skin on his palm.

Satan is staring blankly at it when he feels Lucifer’s hands on his again, and nearly snarls at the contact.

It doesn’t phase him at all. Before Satan can tell him to get lost, Lucifer’s worked one of his gloves right over his previously injured hand.

“I hope you don’t hurt yourself accidentally again.” Lucifer says, and somehow, the words aren’t the least bit angry or combative.

Satan lets him put on the other glove without a fight.

“Thank you, Satan.”

Except he hasn’t done anything worthy of his thanks.

Lucifer leaves the room.

Somehow, the sight of Lucifer’s gloves on his own hands don’t disgust him.

The memory of careful fingertips, of a fond kiss brushing his tiny, insignificant cuts, lingers in his mind.

Warmth lingers and swells in his chest when he remembers the smile Lucifer had given him.

Even with his hands clenching hard, it doesn’t hurt.

"I’m glad they have such a good friend."

He’s not a rival. He’s not even on his radar, not even in the competition. And if Lucifer doesn’t even notice his feelings, how could you?

And when Lucifer’s acting like this… are you going to fall in love with him again?

…will he ever get a chance to tell you what you mean to him?

How he feels about you?

That he –

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. And thanks for everything you’ve done to help me out.”

"Thank you, Satan."

How can he possibly compete with Lucifer, when he can’t even hate him?

Satan wipes at his tears with gloved fingertips.

-

-

-

Lucifer’s weirdly happy as you leave the House of Lamentation. “Did you see the looks on their faces when we left?”

He chuckles to himself, but this laugh sounds boyish, harmless. “They were so jealous of me for getting to go out with you.”

“You think so?” You look away.

 For an Avatar of Pride, Lucifer’s pretty oblivious. It’s probably easier to see when you know how they all were together before the amnesia.

They’re not jealous of Lucifer, even if that’s what they’re pretending, even if they pretend it to themselves.

They’re jealous of you.

It’s unmistakable, the way all of them look at him, the way they spend time with him so easily and laugh so freely, all together.

Lucifer is their brother. He’s nothing to you. You’d be jealous, too, in their place.

Jealous of how he looks at you, with his lips turning up as if even he doesn’t notice it, eyes twinkling.

“…You know, it’s strange.” His voice is smoother than it should be, but the way it sends a trill through you is all too familiar. “I can’t really explain it, but…”

He turns to you in front of the gate, and holds out a hand, affection blatant on his face.

“I have this feeling… like I really wanted to be alone with you even back before I lost my memory.” The words are soft, like a stake driven gently in your chest. “I wanted you all to myself.”

For some reason, he’s not wearing gloves.

You’ve never seen his hands bare – his fingertips are painted a bloody red to match his eyes, brilliant crimson against pale skin.

Long, elegant fingertips stretch out to you. It’s obvious what he wants.

“Why did you take off your gloves?” You say, turning aside, as you continue to step, “You played piano before. Have you tried since?”

To his credit, Lucifer takes his hand back without a fuss, but the disappointment hangs in the air all the same.

You try not to notice how he looks away, brows knit as his lips fall.

“…I haven’t, no. Would you like me to play for you?” At least he has enough pride not to ask outright to hold your hand.

“If you can remember. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

You’d rather not hear about it, actually, but Belphie also liked piano, so maybe he or a couple others would come to listen.

 When Solomon interrupts you’re grateful for the distraction – honestly, you’re not sure what you’ll do when you have to be alone with Lucifer for a whole day.

It’s short-lived but fruitful. Going to the Devil’s Coast is a pretty good idea; you’d had such a nice time there with Mammon, and there’s so many things to do to distract from the awkwardness of the situation.

-

-

-

The Devil’s Coast is just how you remember it.

“….As, I see. So we came here together before, did we? I’d totally forgotten… I’m sorry.”

You can’t remember if Lucifer’s ever said those words to you before. I’m sorry.

If he’d ever wanted to.

Sure, he apologized when he gave you his pact, but it’s not like the pact was going to last anyways… now, it’s as if he’s says it every day.

“Well,” You say, “Hopefully you’ll get your memory back soon.”

And you won’t have to see him making those expressions when he looks at you.

You won’t have to hear him say I’m sorry anymore for things that aren’t under his control.

He won’t play and laugh with his brothers anymore.

“For what it’s worth, I’m doing my best to remember.”

Discomfort settles like an unwanted arm around your shoulders.

Because if he did remember, he’d remember receiving your utterly pathetic confession, and the revulsion he’d felt, how he hadn’t wanted anything to do with you.

Had wanted you dead, for a bit.

Right now, he only knows the you standing in front of him. He doesn’t remember how you ran away from anything difficult, how you constantly cowered in fear from the slightest threat.

How you couldn’t even stand to be there after his brother killed you.

He didn’t know it, but the only reason Belphie walked free after what he did was that you weren’t able to tell Diavolo you’d changed your mind… but then again, since he got what he wanted anyways, would Diavolo even enforce the law on Lucifer’s precious little brother?

“They have three flavors.” Lucifer’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

He’s smiling brightly, almost purely. “Devildom, Celestial Realm, and human world. Which would you like?”

You glance over them. “Human world flavor, please.”

Lucifer seems to like it. Salty, he says, but not too salty.

He goes through it quickly enough – but when his hand bumps into yours as you try to get a handful, he lets out a soft ah, withdrawing so you can get some.

You notice him not eating much more, after that.

After that you just walk around the stalls some. Carnival games are always cheats, of course, but some of them look so cool.

Others look so easy. Knocking over bowling pins, landing a ring on a bottle… how hard could it be?

You glance at Lucifer beside you. Probably not that hard for him. He’d somehow beaten Levi, and Mammon at their own games.

Something in one of the stalls catches your eye. It’s a plush, which you wouldn’t normally care for, but it’s this sort of ugly snake.

It’s so patchwork, and the colors are so mismatched, along with the weirdly endearing but dead-looking eyes that inexplicably reminded you of Barbatos, that it’s actually… pretty cute.

As you approach, you slow down, looking through the assortment of prizes.

Lucifer fixes you with that terrible charming smile he had, even when he was being awful. “Do you want that prize?”

You wring your hands, threading your fingers together – anything to distract yourself from your racing heart.

“I already have one, sort of… it was a zombie iguana, I guess this one is a zombie snake?”

Lucifer’s brows raise up. “So they couldn’t think of a new idea, and they just recycled an old one?”

“Yeah, looks like it.” You take in a few more of the details. “It’s got that same aesthetic. The zombie iguanas were super popular.”

The way he examines it, closely, and walks up to it with you, is oddly charming. “It’s disgusting.”

His sudden, blunt declaration draws a laugh out of you. “Yeah, it is! But it’s kinda cute too, isn’t it?”

You notice as soon as you say it how stupid you sound, but Lucifer doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re right.” He nods to himself, “It really is.”

There’s a row of water guns arranged in front of a series of targets, with the prizes all hanging at the top part of the booth’s tent.

He’s already finicking with one of them, having handed a few tokens over to the stall manager.

“Would you like to try, as well?” Lucifer asks, complete with the sound of your name.

You shake your head. There’s not really much for you to do; these games were made for demons, and they were made to be lost.

You didn’t have a chance. But Lucifer would probably clinch it easily.

“Hm…” Or not?

Fiddling with it, Lucifer points it upwards, playing with the trigger. I

t must not be spraying right, because he looks straight down the barrel of it, squinting as he pulls on the trigger.

Wait, what –

The sight is so utterly unbelievable.

Lucifer, blinking furiously, hair and face dripping with water he absolutely should have known was coming.

A laugh escapes you, uninhibited, and you have to cover your mouth as you try to hold it in. A few giggles still get out, though.

He pulls out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabs at his face with dignity.

The dignity would be a whole lot more convincing if his hair wasn’t sticking to his face, but to his credit, he brushes over it a few times and it does dry up a bit.

Lucifer gives you a side look, but somehow, he’s not angry or embarrassed – he gives you a crooked half-smile as if you’ve shared some kind of inside joke.

And then he shakes his head, almost like a dog, running his hand through it afterwards while he sports a boyish grin.

“What was that?” Your face feels warm all the sudden.

His eyes narrow in a very familiar way, smug and self-assured, “A simple mistake,” You snort, which he completely ignores, “I’m glad to see your mood has picked up.”

That, you have nothing to say to. Your face feels even hotter now, and you almost envy him the water he has on his face.

“I’m fine.” You need something to say to shut him up. “If you don’t think you can win, you don’t have to fool around. We can go on one of the rides.”

Lucifer hmphs and you know you’ve won.

And yes, he does win.

The zombie snake fits very comfortably in your bag, curled up nicely with its cute ugly head peeking out.

“There’s a photo booth.” Lucifer remarks, pausing as you pass. “Shall we go take some pictures together?”

…you’d really rather not, but the look on his face is nothing short of pleading.

You hadn’t held his hand, either… you really are always disappointing him, aren’t you?

(And the amnesia might not last forever, but you’d at least get a memento.)

“Sure.”

He sits next to you in a booth so small you can’t both fit in it without touching each other. It is a traveling carnival, after all.

You strike a few poses as the camera runs. The small room warms up pretty quickly, and you don’t notice until a few shots in that Lucifer’s arm has snaked around your waist –

The room feels even hotter, after. But… he’ll probably remember everything after the situation is resolved.

It’s just a few moments in a photo booth. Lucifer doesn’t like being photographed, and he’s making faces for the camera.

Nice ones, too, not Mammon if you try to sell this I will string you up, cover you in honey, and toss a beehive at your crotch death glares.

So you bear with it all, just for a little bit. Do your best to relax and make just this one handful of memories you can.

Lucifer tears the final printouts in half – he keeps the first half for himself, and the second, you see him slip in his own jacket pocket.

You’ve ended up here again. On this stupid Ferris wheel.

“So, you’re saying the two of us rode this the last time we were here as well? …Just you and me?” He looks surprised at the suggestion.

“Yes.” You say. “We did.”

Maybe he’d caught on already. How things were between the two of you… how he’d felt about you.

Lucifer must be wondering why he’d ever done such a thing in the first place, with how pathetic you look to him now.

(Would he even respect you when your pacts were gone? Did he ever in the first place?)

“…I see. It feels like the first time to me, but for you it’s not…” You look out the window as he speaks so you don’t have to see his face.

He must have turned down so many people before you.

You’d been so scared at the thought of approaching someone so beautiful and skilled and admirable… every day you’d found something wrong with yourself, some reason not to confess.

And all those reasons had been right. It would have been so much better if you’d never said anything to him in the first place.

If you hadn’t confessed at all and buried your feelings.

If you hadn’t become just another person to reject.

“I hope you’re not bored…”

At least from up here you can see the rest of the park. “We could ride the roller coaster next.”

That might be fun. Just sitting on the ride, letting yourself be drawn along the tracks, fast and smooth. Rocketing up into the air as if you were flying.

Maybe it wouldn’t be fun to him. He could actually fly.

“…Ah. I take it that means this isn’t quite exciting enough for you.” His eyes are wide again when you look back at him, worried by the way his voice drops.

Could you do nothing at all right?

There’s a silence, where he just looks at you. Eyes trained on your face.

“…”

And then, inexplicably, his expression softens. Lucifer smiles at you.

“Everything about this feels new to me. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect day.”

'Perfect day'? Mammon told more convincing lies than that.

But your stomach flutters anyways, and you have to swear to yourself he doesn’t mean to look at you like that. He’d never look at you like that, if he had his memories.

“So, what did we talk about the last time we rode this?”

It’s not a great memory to think back on. How he’d gotten you onto the Ferris wheel, and your foolish heart had skipped beat after beat, only for him to tell you…

“We talked about Diavolo.” That would always be the most important thing to Lucifer.

And he was right to be worried about Diavolo, too. You remember his face, looking utterly wretched as he confessed to you the truth that he’d hidden, the truth that had come to harm his dear friend Lucifer.

Once again, Lucifer is taken aback. It must be the missing memories. “So we were here on the Ferris wheel together, but we talked about another man?”

But then, you see his eyes drawn back to the ground, arms crossing tight in front of his waist as his brows draw up and together in what can only be disappointment.

“Honestly, what was I thinking? I’d really like to give the old me a piece of my mind…”

He closes his eyes and you think you catch his cheeks coloring up. It’s a strange look on him – no. It’s like the time he drank some of that Golden Newt Syrup.

“Fine then, I suppose I’m just going to have to say what the old me should have told you, but didn’t.”

Lucifer’s crimson eyes open to that very look you remember, the pretty, flushed cheeks, the entreating look on his face.

Your stomach is turning over and over. Heart skipping beats.

The Ferris wheel still hasn’t completed a revolution; you’re trapped with him here in this room.

“I may have lost my memory, but there’s one thing I couldn’t be surer of….”

He puts his hand over his chest, looking you in the eyes, pulling on your heartstring as he says your name out loud, in that voice so low and sweet.

“You’re special to me,” He says. “You’re like no one else… including my brothers, and everyone else at RAD.”

Of course you aren’t. They’re all demons, they’re powerful, experienced. And you’re just… you.

Lucifer waits for you to meet his eyes, carefully gazing back at you from beneath lowered lashes.

He doesn’t look like he normally does. He looks just like he did when he drank that syrup. Features wide open, cheeks dusted pink.

Back then, he was under the influence. Now, he has amnesia.

“I love you,” He says your name again, and another heartstring snaps in your chest, “Truly.”

He closes his eyes and lowers his head, shaking it as if to dispel some imaginary doubt.

“As much as I’d like my memory back, and to remember everything that’s happened, there’s something I want even more… I want to know how you feel about me.”

Your heart is racing. A mile a minute.

He thinks he loves you.

He’s lost his memories and somehow he’s gotten it into his head that he’s in love, that he likes you so much, that you’re special.

But when everything is fixed, he’ll remember.

Being repulsed by you, rejecting you, how much he’d looked down on you when you first came to the devildom...

And without your pacts, you’ll be an ordinary person again.

Lucifer will have his memories back, and you’ll have lost your pacts, your heart, and his newfound ‘love’.

A hand covers your own trembling one, and you nearly jerk at the touch.

Looking up only gives you Lucifer’s gaze, causes a surge in your chest that seems to wash over you, sends your heart quaking.

If you could, you’d throw yourself out of the window here and now, but there’s no way Lucifer wouldn’t just catch you and pull you back in… you’d have to face him no matter what.

Maybe you’re not good enough for Lucifer. But you’re not low enough to take advantage of him.

“You’re… a dear friend.” Your voice cracks on the words, “I care about you a lot, Lucifer.” But you don’t love me, you just barely stop yourself from saying.

“A friend… I see.” His smile feels like a knife in your chest. Not because it’s cruel, but because he almost looks like he could be in pain. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

You’re not honest. You’re not even brave.

You’re only human, like you’ve always been.

A coward trying to protect what’s left of your heart after he crushed it, scared, even after so long.

Maybe it’s easy for Lucifer to tell you this, having never been rejected before.

He doesn’t remember turning you down already – he doesn’t remember why, and that’s the only reason he’s doing this at all.

“Perhaps I just haven’t tried hard enough to win you over yet…” He looks outside the window, too.

You don’t tell him he’d won you over the moment you saw him.

You don’t tell him you made this very same confession to him, and he didn’t hesitate to threaten your life the next day.

You don’t tell him this, because they’re the words of a bitter person, and you’ve worked hard to grow past that bitterness.

(All that time in therapy wasn’t for nothing.)

Lucifer never owed you anything, and holding onto a grudge will only hurt you.

But mostly you don’t tell him because this is a Lucifer who doesn’t know about any of that, who never turned you down.

Who… wants you. Likes you.

And you’d like to keep him… just a little while longer.

You really want to tell him, though.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence.

-

-

-

Lucifer speaks up again when you get back. He's even smiling again.

“I had a lot of fun today.”

You can’t look him in the eyes. You only stare at the ground.

("At least you’re honest.")

The words don’t even seem to register right with you. Fun? Lucifer?

Before, you weren’t sure he knew what the word even meant, let alone how to have it.

But now? He plays games with Levi and Mammon. Cuddles with Belphie, lets Asmo dress him up. He plays nice with Satan, who plays nice back, and he takes you – he takes you on dates –

It just hurts so much more to know it won’t last.

“I have to say, it was certainly lucky that I ended up beating Mammon at cards.”

Lucifer looks at you, lips quirked up at the side, as if he really counts it a stroke of luck that he got to spend time with you, and then confess to whatever infatuation he’d gotten into, only to be turned down.

(He took it a whole lot better than you did. But maybe he knows he’s not missing out on much.

And you were a lot nicer about it.)

Nothing lasts forever, though.

Solomon is here. He has bad news… and bad news.

Lucifer’s already left. How bad could the news be?

…bad. The Night Dagger has lost its power. They won’t be able to perform the ritual without it.

“What that means is that we currently have no way to sever the ring… and your powers will continue to manifest in more and more destructive and unpredictable ways.”

There is no other way. Even breaking your pacts intentionally won’t sever the ring that’s already been established.

The Night Dagger can be restored.

But Solomon had told you he’d had two pieces of bad news.

“It must be thrust into the body of a powerful demon, whose power it will then absorb.”

No. Oh, no. No…

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?” The words seem to come out on their own. Terror seizes your chest. “Who is it?”

No, no, no. You know who it is. A powerful demon.

No. Please, not him.

“…It would have to be Lucifer himself.”

Your mouth goes dry immediately. There’s only one question left.

“Does Diavolo know about this?”

“Of course. Him and Barbatos will come by later…” Solomon continues on, but everything else he says is white noise.

You should have known.

That you’d have to sacrifice your pacts with the brothers – the only thing that kept you alive in the Devildom, the only thing that kept you safe from Belphie killing you again – that was bad.

Really bad. Unthinkable, even.

All you had to show for the longest, most miserable year of your life, where you’d been forced to remain here, threatened, tormented, and murdered – all you had were those pacts.

A power that could never be taken away from you – and you’d have to give it up.

And now you even have to sacrifice Lucifer, too? Just to empower the dagger? Kill Lucifer, give up your pacts, perform the ceremony –

There’s a much simpler way to fix this.

You knew, and you should have known from the beginning.

There’s an easy way to break this “ring”. It’s obvious.

There’s no way Diavolo hadn’t seen it. No way Solomon hadn’t seen it, or Simeon.

Maybe they had an obligation to protect humans, but there was no way that Diavolo would give up his right hand man to save you.

He’s going to kill you.

You shudder, and the memory of his handsome, apologetic face creased in worry flashes through your mind, following that single thought.

He’s going to kill you. Diavolo is going to kill you, just like Belphie did. Your life never meant anything to him anyways.

You’re a threat to his realm, to Lucifer. It’s not even a choice at all. He probably hasn’t even had to think.

Diavolo’s going to kill you. You’re going to die.

You’re going to die.

There’s a muffled noise you recognize now – your name.

Your name again. A hand on your shoulder.

You’re numb to all sensation, but then the tight dig of nails clawing at your arm pricks through, and you manage to look Solomon in the face.

“Listen.” The grip of the dagger, pressing into your hands, “I know it’s hard… I’m so sorry.”

You’ve heard that so much the past few days. You’re sick and tired of hearing it.

“I swear, I did my best to find another way. But if we don’t do something, both of us are going to end up dead.”

No. Only one. Diavolo will kill you before it gets that bad.

You don’t speak up still. Your throat feels like it’s closing up, suffocating, a sickening churning that works your insides into a mess.

“…!” Solomon’s gasp pulls you out for just a moment, but when you see what he’s looking at, your stomach drops.

The intruder stands there, silent.

“Lucifer…”

He smiles, eyes narrowing in that suave way they always do, as if Solomon hadn’t been directly discussing his death.

“…I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on here that I wouldn’t like, so I decided ot come see what was up.”

Solomon and Lucifer lock eyes.

“Is what you just said true?”

No. oh no.

“…Yes.” no no no “…I’m sorry.”

your heart thuds furiously in the silence, exploding in your chest.

“I want to talk with them alone. Solomon, go home.”

no no no no

Solomon tries to refuse, but –

“Leave.”

you want to run away. everything in you screams to run out of the room.

you’ve never wanted to get the fuck away from lucifer than you have in this moment.

please, please. god, please. you know lucifer isn’t on good terms with his father, but what could it matter now, with all the realms at stake?

please.

anyone but lucifer.

you don’t want to die like this.

you’ve already been murdered once. please.

your heart couldn’t take his rejection or his confession.

you don’t want to hear him tell you how much his family means to him, that he’d do anything for them. you don’t want to hear about his duty to diavolo.

you don’t want lucifer to choose between you and the people important to him.

it’s not even a contest. you’ll lose every time.

the sound of your name leaves his lips.

it’s pathetic. even after rejecting it, you don’t want another reminder that his confession wasn’t real, and never would be.

you should never have believed him for even a moment.

it didn’t matter if he had his memories or not. lucifer would never love you.

you tighten your hand around the hilt. pull it up towards your chest.

if you’re going to die anyways, can’t you at least avoid this?

your name again.

it fills you with a greater fear than you’ve ever known. you don’t want this.

he’s tried to kill you before. he’s going to kill you now.

hands heavy on your shoulders, terrifying, powerful, strong enough to rip you apart oh god you don’t want to die like this, please, please, not like this –

“…Look at me!”

you’re going to die.

you’re going to die, and lucifer is going to kill you.

-

-

-

Lucifer is glad he interrupted when he did. Until he isn’t.

He’s glad, selfishly, that he sent that sorcerer away after confirming the situation. That he can take this time with you.

That he can call your name one last time, and speak to you before it has to end.

But it soon becomes apparent that he’s the only one who’s glad.

You won’t even look him in the eyes. He swears he can hear your heart beating, your knuckles whitening around the dagger as you clutch it dangerously short to your chest.

He says your name once more.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, wincing, shivering; he lays his hands on your shoulders and only when he hears a wretched, broken sob crack through your throat does he understand –

You’re afraid. You’re afraid of him. Why would you be –

“So, how did I feel about you? Were you dear to me as well?”

“…No, not really.”

“If they wanted you to know, they’d probably tell you.”

Pretending you hadn’t noticed when he offered his hand. Keeping him at arm’s length as politely as you could. Avoiding his gaze at every opportunity.

…He really was a fool, wasn’t he?

He looks down at your poor, trembling form. The human who has a pact with him, his master, who fears him so. His heart aches.

What had he done to you?

What could a terrified, meek little mortal have possibly done to deserve his ire?

What threat could you have possibly posed to him, or to anyone?

The questions don’t matter now. And neither do the answers.

How awful it must have been for you, being burdened by his affections. By his foolishness.

A bitter laugh wells up inside him. “I have this feeling… like I really wanted to be alone with you even back before I lost my memory. I wanted you all to myself.”

No wonder you hadn’t accepted his confession.

Where was the sincerity in a delusional love he’d only conjured up after losing his memories? And yet, he still…

It must be made right.

Lucifer lightens his hand on your shoulders, and brings one to gently stroke your head, waiting a moment for the shaking to slow.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I may have lost my memories… but right now, I want to protect you. More than anyone else in the world.”

A certainty and peace with the decision settling in his chest; the weight of it is familiar, almost. Comfortable.

He closes in, cupping your cheeks in his hands and tilting your face forward to press a kiss onto your crown.

When he pulls back, he finds your eyes, red and blurred with tears, piercing through his chest just like the sight of your fear had.

“No, you don't – ”

You try to tell him, voice wet and ugly, but he shushes you with the softest smile he can muster.

“It’s okay,” Lucifer says your name one more time, and it’s worth it, to see you not flinch at the sound this time. “If it means saving your life, then it’s worth it.”

“I can’t.”

He brings his hand over your poor, clenched ones, massaging gently.

“You don’t have to do it.” He tells you, “I’ll do it for you. I’ll protect you.”

At last, the tears spill over your cheeks.

“I don’t – I don’t want your protection. I don’t want you to die.”

The words leave your broken throat, and it feels like a terrible confession, like a knot twisting in your chest and strangling your breath.

Lucifer isn’t moved at all. He just smiles at you.

Always, Lucifer is the one who protects others. And now, you’re just another burden.

“I know you don’t want to die,” He says with infinite tenderness, but it feels like being struck, “I know you’re scared. You don’t have to be. You’re going to be okay.”

His hands close tightly around yours, pulling the dagger into position.

Even now he thinks you’re a coward. Even now, he doesn’t expect everything from you.

“I’ll save you,” Lucifer says, as if it hasn’t occurred to him that you feel the same way.

You don’t give him a chance, and point the dagger straight at your chest, where it belongs.

At least you get to hear him call your name one final time.

“ – NO…!”

Everything goes white.

-

-

-

A voice says your name, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Can you hear me?”

It’s not cold here – or warm, or anything, really, but you shiver all the same. “Who are you?”

“Ah, that’s right. You haven’t actually met me, have you? Don’t worry. I’m a friend.”

You don’t really have any friends – not outside the brothers.

When it comes down to it, you really were a loser, weren’t you? And it’s all over, now.

Up until the very end, Lucifer had thought of you as nothing but another person for him to protect.

He hadn’t considered for a moment that you might want to protect him. That you could even be capable of it.

He knew you were scared, so he made the choice for you.

It’s a painful thing. You wanted to save him, and somehow, you’re still grateful.

And he… he didn’t seem scared at all. He didn’t hesitate for a moment.

You can feel your eyes welling up.

“Do you remember what happened before you got here?”

A nod.

“Can you tell me why you made the choice that you did?”

You try to look down, but it’s still just white, like everywhere else. Empty, like your head.

“…I don’t know.”

There’s a pause. “You were going to take your own life, and you don’t know why?”

“I don’t know… maybe there were too many reasons.” Your chest feels so hollow. “Is – is Lucifer okay? Is everyone okay?”

“Yes. Can you try to answer me?”

“I don’t – maybe I wanted to save Lucifer.” Wetness aches in your throat, “Maybe I still love him. Maybe I just wanted to prove that I – that I could be a good person, that I could save someone else. Maybe I wanted to prove it to him. Maybe to myself… I don’t know.”

Had it been an ego trip? Just some self-righteous urge to tell yourself you were doing a good deed, and avoiding all the guilt that would come of Lucifer’s sacrifice?

A fat tear pools at the edge of your eye, rolling down one of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry… I’m just. I’m kind of a mess. Better me than him, right?”

“I don’t think so.” The voice grows tender. “You remind me of a saying. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

You're not sure if the voice can sigh, but it sounds almost like it does.

"With a gentle soul like yours, I would have expected Lucifer and his brothers to ruin you in one way or another… but after all you’ve gone through, your heart is still so soft.”

You sniffle. “It uh. Didn’t work out great for me.”

There’s something chiming, a noise that makes you jump, which you realize is laughter.

“I disagree with you there, too. I can think of no master more honorable, nor a human more worthy.”

A lightness builds in your body, as if you’re floating on air, and a hum stirs in your bones.

“May it serve you well, and may you find happiness and good fortune wherever you go. Until we meet again…”

-

-

-

And then you hear the impossible.

Blink your eyes as they adjust to impossible scenery, and the voice etched like a knife in your heart calls out again.

Lucifer stares down at you, eyes wide and concerned –

And as soon as you lock gazes, you see him smile, shoulders collapsing, letting out a noise that can only be interpreted as pure relief.

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if i was a popular minecraft youtuber id just tweet "hey guys stop drawing shipping fanart of me and my friends/coworkers, i only fucked one of them and seeing me paired with anyone else is kinda weird and crosses my boundaries" and then i'd turn my phone off

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definitely.

I am deeply suspicious of Dazai’s character because like, he isn’t the protagonist. At all. Atsushi is the protagonist of the main manga and Dead Apple, Akutagawa is the protagonist of BEAST, Kunikida of Dazai’s entrance exam, Oda of the Dark Era, Chuuya of Fifteen and Storm Bringer. And yet, Dazai still sits at the center of all those stories. By all logic, he should not be as important to the story as he is. But here he is, absolutely fundamental to every part of BSD. He moves the plot forward. He is the puppet master, the hidden hand, the author of the narrative. I need to examine this in detail but like, isn’t that a bit weird?

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serennedy to too sweet by hozier 🫡

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