sometimes, when he’s fallen too deep into his own mind, he wonders if his emotions were always like this. heaven only allowed emotions that fell under the positivity umbrella— and it felt so much more subdued than down here. now the highs scrape heaven’s underside and the lows plunge him further than hell could ever go.

he feels incredibly guilty for burdening you with them.

“i'm pretty sure there was mention of better or worse in my vows?” you teased lightly.

fuck, did he say that out loud?

combing his hair out of his face, your nails scratched his scalp in that delightful way that made him involuntarily purr.

"you remember that, don't you?"

you were always so damn good at this reassurance thing.

lucifer closed his eyes so he doesn’t have to face your agonizingly gentle gaze, “i might.. recall that minuet detail.”

you hum in laughter and he swears he feels the warmth of your smile. it always reminds him of sunshine.

the hand weaving through his hair slowed to a stop. he lost himself for a moment, completely forgetting where he was. all he knew is that you— his light, his warmth, his sliver of goodness, his angel— was slipping away. lucifer snatched your wrist before the pads of your fingers abandoned his skin. his hold wasn’t anywhere near painful or bruising, in fact it trembled.