Lucifer: I had to leave my meeting with Diavolo for this. It better be important.
Asmo: We can't get MC to stop crying!
Mammon: Nothin' we say will help. You gotta do something!
Lucifer: Fine... MC, whatever is the matter?
MC: ...Cerberus will never-- will never get to experience the joy of sticking his little heads out of a car window on a drive...
Lucifer: ... ... ...
Mammon: Lucifer?
Lucifer: ... ... ...
Asmo: Oh dear... I think they're both sad now...
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"... they're softer than i imagined."
"hmm? pardon me?"
"and do you really wear these all the time? they look brand new."
barbatos looks over his shoulder to see what you might be referring to-- the spoon he's stirring with stills in his hand as his attention is drawn to you.
your hands open and close, outstretched before you, as a pleased smile graces your lips, your cheeks brighter from the heightened temperature of the kitchen around mealtime. his gloves-- previously set aside while he was kneading pastry dough and left off after for convenience-- are now slipped onto your hands. they don't fit you properly, of course. they're molded to barbatos' hands like weathered railings on a busy staircase, accustomed to every line, every vein, every plane and bump gathered through his existence. your hands stretch and shimmy, but they do not fill the space inside the gloves like he would.
a smile settles on barbatos' face as a chuckle escapes him. what a curious little thing you are.
"waited until i turned my back to steal my gloves, did you?"
you grin. "maybe."
he carefully sets the stirring spoon on its designated resting spot before crossing the kitchen and coming to join you. he settles in quietly behind you, chest against your back, coming to get a good view of your hands as you stretch them out in front of you.
there's an innocent affection in watching you toy with his gloves. like offering your lover your coat in the cold, a strange sense of satisfaction settles over him as you adjust them around your joints. a part of his uniform, so insignificant and menial to him, has become an object of your fascination. he doesn't deny himself the pleasure of pressing a chaste kiss against your temple.
a giggle bubbles up your throat. what a lovely sound, he thinks. the two of you are alone in the kitchen-- maybe that's why he lets his bare hands skim affectionately up your sides, soft and gentle as the find their way to your wrists. warm fingertips skim under the edge of the white fabric, unrolling a part folded under itself before giving a calculated tug on the garment, easing them on to your fingers more comfortably than you had managed alone.
"i must admit," he murmurs next to your ear. you can hear the amusement in his voice as he does. his fingers wrap around the exposed part of your wrists, drawing your hands closer to where you both stand. "they do look quite nice on you, my love."
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two a.m.
it's two a.m. and lucifer is giving you a playful bite on your cheek while you sit and laugh on his lap, trying to not spill your tea.
it's two a.m. and mammon is kissing your knuckles, spilling his heart out to you while laying on the parks soft grass.
it's two a.m. and levi is holding your face, confidently covering you in kisses and praising you for passing that difficult level in his game.
it's two a.m. and satan is kissing you after a messy food fight; after trying to bake something from an ancient cookbook.
it's two a.m. and asmo is helping you knit a blanket that you both can share, to cuddle and kiss under later.
it's two a.m. and beel is making you laugh out loud as he pumps out witty jokes of the terrible movie you're both watching, surprising you with a kiss mid-laugh.
it's two a.m. and belphie plants a kiss on your forehead after clumsily dancing and singing in the attic.
it's two a.m. and it's just the two of you. ♡
⬦ you might also like: so this is love︱ mc's voicemail︱pick-me-up
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MC is having a rough week…
MC: *crying* What am I even doing with my life?!
Mammon: *panicking* Cheer up, MC! Uhhh you’re doin’ great!
Levi: *also panicking* Y-yeah! You could be a total loser like me!
MC: *cries harder*
Beel: Hey, MC. I had this carton of ice cream in the freezer, but I think you need it more.
MC: *looks up at Beel with big tear filled eyes, but has stopped crying* An angel…
Mammon & Levi: ?!
Beel gives MC the ice cream & a spoon. One empty carton later, Mammon & Levi have a better understanding of food therapy.
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
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lucifer is a very particular man.
he wakes up early to enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning, the way the house of lamentation creaks wearily in the silence while his brothers sleep sounds in the their respective rooms. it's sobering. for a moment, he gets to be alone with his thoughts before the day begins.
he'll walk to the bathroom and clean himself up for the day in silence, before dressing and making his way to the kitchen. he appreciates the little things. the silence, the warm light illuminating his room as he unhurriedly prepares for the day, the way the permanent darkness of the devildom retreats ever so slightly as morning breaks. it's nice.
but when he enters the kitchen, lucifer realizes something is wrong. it takes him a minute to realize it, but when he does, his lips curl downwards into a disappointed frown. the kitchen is completely dormant. it doesn't seem like an issue, but it's a stark difference from his usual routine. because this morning, the smell of coffee is absent from the air.
that's right. you spent the night at purgatory hall last night, didn't you?
your relationship is a cycle of small, considerate gestures back and forth. notes on mirrors, doodles on post-it notes, and his favorite-- coffee prepped and scheduled to brew for him in the mornings before he wakes. it's a gesture that has always made him feel loved. he didn't realize how much a missed day would sour his mood.
lucifer starts to brew his own coffee, but his fingers hang suspended over the grounds a few moments before he abandons the idea altogether. he pulls his D.D.D. out of his packet and drafts a short text to you, only satisfied when he hears the whoosh of the message sent.
i missed your coffee this morning. it's never as good when i have to make it myself. message me once you wake up-- we're going to that cafe we like down the street to make up for it.
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