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colour: deep emerald green
season: autumn
chosen word: protective
ʚଓ٠࣪⭑ your magic manifests as layered protection wards. it's all invisible until it's needed, then flaring dark emerald like stained glass catching light. sigils woven into walls, jewellery, even the air itself. your power isn’t about the attack, it’s about refusal. nothing gets through unless you allow it. nothing that threatens what’s yours.
ʚଓ٠࣪⭑ gabriel notices it the first time something can’t touch him. he’s used to slipping through danger, laughing in its face. but you? you stop it before it begins. you quietly stand your ground and your stern magic hums low and steady. he jokes about it, calls you overprepared, dramatic, “a walking safety hazard,” but he never steps outside your wards if he can help it.
The ward hums low, dark emerald flickering faintly along the bunker doorway.
Airplanes plays softly from your phone, almost lost under the quiet. Gabriel eyes the barrier, then you. “You always this overprotective?”
You don’t look up. “Only when it matters.”
He smirks. “So… always.”
You huff a quiet laugh, but your fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the table. He notices. Still, he steps forward anyway, hand outstretched. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Gabriel—”
Too late.
The ward flares. He’s thrown back, landing hard. “Okay—wow—rude—”
You’re already moving, crouching beside him. “I told you not to touch it. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he insists, wincing.
Your magic flickers again. Softer this time, checking and adjusting, responding to him like it feels what you feel.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” you say gently.
The song drifts—can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…
Gabriel goes quiet. For once.
“…you felt that, didn’t you?” he says, softer. You hesitate. Then nod.
His pain. The impact. The brief flicker of something deeper under his jokes.
Gabriel exhales, something uncharacteristically careful settling into his expression. “Alright,” he mutters, leaning back against the wall—inside the ward this time. “Maybe I’ll… stay on this side.”
You smile faintly, returning to your seat.
The ward dims, steady and warm.
And Gabriel, who never stays anywhere for long—
doesn’t leave.
ʚଓ٠࣪⭑ your chosen weapon is a celestial-blessed dagger etched with faint constellation markings. loyalty carved into steel. it's purposeful. you wield it not out of hunger for power, but out of instinct to protect.
ʚଓ٠࣪⭑ you trust easily, yes, but not carelessly. there’s a difference. luci knows that. you lead with empathy, offer warmth freely, and once someone is inside your circle, you are fiercely, immovably loyal. you take hits meant for others without hesitation. you patch wounds before tending to your own. but betrayal? betrayal is a door that locks permanently. you don’t mend broken fences twice.
The leaves are copper and gold around the abandoned churchyard. The hunt is over.
Technically.
Lucifer stands perfectly still, coat unruffled, expression almost bored—except for the blood on his hands that isn’t his.
It’s yours.
You’d stepped in front of the blade without hesitation. Human reflex. Fierce, stupid loyalty.
Now you’re sitting against a crumbling stone wall, emerald sweater darkened where the wound seeps through.
“Why,” Lucifer says softly, “would you do that?”
You offer him a tired smile. “You needed help.”
“I do not need—”
“You did.”
The words aren’t sharp. Certain, instead.
Somewhere in the quiet, your phone crackles faintly from where it fell in the leaves. Your favourite song Airplanes playing faintly through the speakers where your headphones have unplugged. The irony isn’t lost on either of you.
Lucifer kneels in front of you.
For once, he doesn’t look amused.
“You trust too easily,” he murmurs.
“I don’t,” you correct gently. “I choose carefully.”
A beat.
“And if I ever break that?”
Your eyes meet his steadily, unwavering despite the pain.
“Then we’re done.”
Not dramatic and definitely not cruel. Just truth.
The wind lifts fallen leaves around you. In the distance, another lyric drifts through the quiet from a passing car on the road beyond the trees—If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman…
Lucifer’s jaw tightens.
He presses a hand over your wound. Grace flickers, golden and furious.
“You should not have taken that hit.”
“I’d do it again.”
He studies you like you are something impossibly rare—emerald against autumn decay.
And for the first time in a very long eternity, Lucifer looks… careful.
“Don’t,” he says quietly.
But he doesn’t sound like he’s giving an order.
He sounds like he’s asking.
The meadow was miles from any road, the kind of place where the nearest streetlight was a rumor, and the sky felt like it had been waiting just for you.
You’d expected Gabriel to snap his fingers and drop you into some over-the-top fantasy—maybe a rooftop in Paris, or a private screening of every rom-com ever made projected onto the clouds.
Instead, he’d simply taken your hand, given that trademark lopsided smirk, and flown you here: a quiet hilltop in the middle of nowhere, grass already soft under a thick wool blanket he’d somehow produced from thin air.
No tricks. No illusions. Just stars—real ones—and the faint scent of pine on the breeze.
You were both lying on your backs now, shoulders brushing, the blanket pulled up to your waists against the night chill. Gabriel had one arm folded behind his head, the other lazily tracing invisible patterns in the air, as if he were conducting the constellations.
“See that?” he said, pointing upward. “Right there. That bright one? That’s not actually a star. It’s me showing off in 1973. Gave a little twinkle to a Led Zeppelin concert just to mess with Plant’s ego.”
You laughed softly. “You’re so full of it.”
“Am I?” He turned his head, honey-brown eyes catching the starlight. “Darling, I’ve been full of it since the beginning of time. It’s my best feature.”
You rolled onto your side to face him properly. He mirrored you without hesitation, propping himself on one elbow so he could look down at you. The casual arrogance was still there, but something quieter lived underneath tonight, something almost careful.
“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you murmured. “The whole… normal date thing. I half-expected cotton candy clouds and a fireworks show spelling out my name.”
He snorted. “Please. That’s amateur hour. Besides—” His voice dipped, losing a little of its usual theatrical edge. “—maybe I wanted to see what it felt like. The human version. No snap, no shortcuts. Just… this.”
The word hung between you, simple and heavy.
You reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. He didn’t flinch or deflect with a joke. He just watched you, expression softening in a way that made your chest ache.
Slowly, he shifted closer, sliding one arm under your shoulders and drawing you against his side. His other hand found yours, fingers threading together over your stomach. It was warm, steady, and far more deliberate than any of his usual playful touches.
You let out a small, surprised breath.
He paused. “Too much?”
“No,” you whispered. “Just… I’m not used to being held like that.”
Gabriel went still for a heartbeat. Then he huffed a quiet laugh against your hair—not mocking, more like he was surprised by his own reaction.
“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges, “archangels aren’t exactly known for cuddling under the stars. Most of the time, we’re too busy dodging Daddy issues or smiting things.” He tightened his arm just slightly, like he was convincing himself this was allowed. “But you… you make me want to try the quiet stuff. The boring, sappy, human stuff.”
You tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “It’s not boring.”
His smirk returned, softer this time. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.”
You smiled, nestling closer until your cheek rested against his chest. Above you, the Milky Way stretched like spilled sugar across black velvet. No light pollution, no apocalypse looming (for once). Just the two of you and a sky full of ancient fire.
Gabriel pressed a kiss to the top of your head—light, almost hesitant, like he was still learning the shape of tenderness.
“Tell me something,” he murmured after a while. “If I keep behaving myself… how many of these do I get?”
You laughed quietly, squeezing his hand. “As many as you want, trickster.”
He exhaled, long and slow, like he’d been holding the breath for centuries.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m starting to think I could get used to this view.”
You weren’t sure if he meant the stars… or you.
Either way, you stayed like that until the first hint of dawn brushed the horizon, tangled together under the real sky, no illusions needed.
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Ive been reached out to by quiet a few of you, wanting to know if part 5 is ever gonna come out, so Ive decided to make another update for you all to answer some of the questions Ive been messenged about 😁
1. Is part 5 ever gonna come out?
Yes! I am working hard on it, and will release it as soon as I am done ^^
2. Why isn't the next part out yet?
It isn't out yet because of a few things that has me struggling finishing it. Included the fact that there will be 2 fight scenes in it, and I am not good at those. Another thing is that I have been dealing with a small writer's block regarding some lore/headcanon for Reader, Gabriel and Lucifer I'd like to FEEL natural and not forced, if that makes sense, so there is a few parts I keep going back to re-write 😅
3. Are you okay?
Yes, I am okay. My mental health has taking a dive due to some anxiety related things, BUT that has not put a stop to my writing. I write as a part of my anxiety cooping, and it ia what works for me. But your concern is appreciated ❤️
4. Have you abandoned 'Blood Feathers'?
Hell no! Im having so much fun with writing the story that I am determined to see it through to the end 😁
That's the update ^^ I thank all of you for your concern, and love for my little Lucifer x Hunter!Female Reader Soulmate AU project, and for the patience of waiting for my struggling ass to get part 5 done 😁❤️
I saw your post "valentine's sweetheart season event" and wanted pitch in with a suggestion/request 😍
Character: Lucifer - Supernatural with the 💕“Valentine’s Date Planner”💕 — Build-It Fic and a female hunter reader, not necessarily a winchester sister but close enough to be considered family 😁
As for a optional prompt, Im thinking in the New Intimacy Trope, as I'm a sucker for Luci learning to navigate feelings other than anger and bitterness :3
Something along the lines of, "Do you remember the first time we met?" / "First kiss" / "Was that a moan?" (But teasingly playful) / "Im not sure if I am doing this right.."
Perhaps a bonding moment between brothers as he could ask Gabriel for advice, if he can swallow his pride ofc 😜
The date would be Fem!Reader's favorit meal, slow dancing at dusk, and at last Stargazing, as I've noticed in the later seasons of the show that he speaks to Jack about wanting to show him some of his favorite creations.
Sure, it could be a means of manipulations, but I do think Lucifer loves the stars and galaxies 🥰
If you need anything else from me, please let me know! And if you do make this, please tag me 🤞 love your writing and can't wait to see this event take off 🫶
title; surrounded by stars
pairing; lucifer x fem!reader
prompt/s; "i'm not sure if i'm doing this right" — new intimacy prompt list
The bunker smelled like buttered popcorn and old lore books.
You were cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on your knee, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of the fallen archangel sitting far too casually beside you.
Lucifer. The Morningstar. The Devil.
Currently arguing about which movie to watch.
“That one,” he insisted, pointing dramatically at the screen. “It has stars. Space. Galaxies. Very on-brand for me.”
“It’s three hours long,” you shot back. “And you’ll complain about the science the whole time.”
He looked offended. “I do not complain.”
“You rewound a documentary last week to fact-check it.”
“Because they were wrong.”
You tried not to smile. Failed.
It still felt strange — this. Having him in the bunker without the air thick with danger. Dean had grumbled something about “temporary alliances,” Sam had given you a look that said be careful, but neither had stopped you from spending time with him.
You weren’t a Winchester by blood. But you’d hunted beside them long enough to be considered family. Which meant if Lucifer hurt you, they’d holy fire his vessel without hesitation.
Lucifer, oddly, seemed aware of that.
The movie started. You leaned back, careful not to touch him.
Halfway through, though, you felt warmth along your arm.
His sleeve brushes yours.
Neither of you moved.
Onscreen, a galaxy bloomed in brilliant color. You felt his gaze shift from the screen to you.
“You know,” he said softly, “that’s not even close to what it really looks like.”
“Oh?”
“They’re louder than people think. Not sound, obviously. But presence.” His voice dropped, almost reverent. “Stars are… alive in their own way.”
You glanced at him.
For once, there was no smirk. No arrogance. Just quiet awe.
“You really love them,” you murmured.
“I made some of them,” he said lightly, but there was no pride in it. Just memory.
Your fingers brushed.
This time, neither of you pretended it was accidental.
Slow Dancing; Dusk into Night
There was no music.
Just the wind through the grass and distant crickets.
Lucifer stood, offering you his hand with exaggerated formality.
“May I?”
You laughed nervously. “There’s no song.”
“There doesn’t have to be.”
You hesitated, then placed your hand in his. His other hand settled at your waist.
Gentle.
So careful it almost hurt.
You swayed awkwardly at first, boots brushing in the grass. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right,” you admitted.
His gaze softened. “There isn’t a right way.”
The world narrowed to the warmth of his palm at your waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The way his thumb traced small, absent circles against your side.
You looked up at him.
For someone who had once commanded legions, he looked uncertain now.
Like this mattered.
Like you mattered.
“You could destroy galaxies,” you whispered. “But you’re nervous about dancing.”
“I’ve destroyed enough things,” he replied quietly. “I don’t want to ruin this.”
Your heart stumbled.
You rose slightly on your toes.
Not a kiss.
Just closer.
His forehead rested against yours.
And for the first time, Lucifer closed his eyes, not in anger. Not in calculation.
But in trust.
Stargazing; Midnight
You lie side by side on the blanket, shoulders touching.
The sky stretched endlessly above you.
Lucifer pointed upward.
“That one, see how it flickers? It’s older than your planet’s oceans.”
“You talk about them like old friends.”
“They are,” he said simply.
You turned your head to look at him instead of the sky.
Starlight caught in his eyes.
“You’re looking at me instead of the cosmos,” he noted softly.
“I think I like this view better.”
Silence.
Then he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. With no hesitation this time. Just warmth.
“I spent eons alone,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Surrounded by stars. And somehow… this feels bigger.”
Your chest tightened.
“You don’t scare me,” you said. “Not like people think you should.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“You should be careful,” he murmured.
“Probably.”
You shifted closer anyway.
His arm wrapped around you, protective, not possessive.
The universe glittered overhead.
And for once, the Devil wasn’t looking at the stars like something he’d lost.
One of the few requests I've put in here and there, and honestly, I wasn't expecting anything bc I'd assume many others put requests in too, BUT @brunettemarionette did indeed fulfill my request for the Valentine’s Event they had going on 🤩
And yeah, my reaction under here says it all 😁
Holy crap!!!
I am SPEECHLESS 😍😍😍
This is everything I hoped for!! Thank you so, so, SO much for fulfilling my rambling request ❤️
Subjects: Intimacy, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Trustbuilding, Soulmates, Wing kink if you squint, Fluff, Injuries
Warnings: Explicit Description of Injuries, Blood, Gore, Canon Expected Violence, Abuse in Reader's Past
Setting: Bunker-era, Canon Divergent and Adjacent, Soulmates AU
Writer's Note:
Please note the warning of Abuse!!!
This chapter reveals a big part of Reader's past, and it is not nice. We might even hate Luci a lil bit after this..
I have flagged this Part Mature to be on the safe side!
I have been down for the count with a nasty ass cold, since two days after I wrote the update about Tumblr not working with me regarding saving the progress on my tablet, so yeah... that is why instead of 2 parts coming out, none were released at all ^^"
A fair warning, English isn't my first language, so there are bound to be mistakes regarding grammar, punctuation, past and present tense ect 💀
Story Synopsis:
As Lucifer's Soulmate, you are the only human alive who can see the Devil's wings. And to be honest, he could need a hand grooming them, but how do you get the Devil's consent to touch an extremely sensitive part of himself?
Part 4 Synopsis:
We take a peek into how Soulmates works in this AU, including some of the lore I've made up for this story.
It is revealed how Lucifer truly feels about the whole Soulmate thing and how he chooses to handle it.
Sam and Dean finds out the truth of what happened between you and Lucifer, though not in the way you'd prefered them too.
If you wish to be tagged when I release a new part let me know in the comments!
Written by: ✨️~ PrettyAutistic ~✨️
A special thanks to: @belladionna for helping me with Lucifer's last dialogue in this part!
During the night, when all three humans living in the Bunker were asleep, Lucifer was wandering the halls. Hands buried in his pocket with a scowl on his face, deep in thought.
He ignored Gabriel's attempt to get a rise out of him, much to the other Archangel's dismay, and he rolled his eyes at Castiel, who sat down in one of the lounge chairs in the library, holding an ancient tome. Always doing what he could to make the hunters' lives easier.
He was going through the events of the past month and a half, from shaking your hand to the conversation the two of you had had mere hours ago.
He had hoped that locking himself in the room with the Devil's Trap on the floor directly after you'd crumbled to the floor after shaking his hand, hoping it would make you stay away from him.
It was why he had trashed the room, with purpose and as violently as he could, to make the others keep you away from him when you woke.
And they had all, even Gabriel, stayed away from him while you were unconscious. So that part had worked perfectly.
However, the plan began to fall apart when your heart stopped.
Not one. Not twice, but three times.
He had felt it, felt how his grace merged with your soul, dug its claws into it, keeping it in your body.
And while Sam and Dean had performed CPR to bring you back, he was standing rigid in front of the door to the room he had barricaded himself in. Trying to convince himself that it would be for the best if you died, trying to get his grace to loosen its iron-tight grip on your soul to let you go.
But the moment he had heard your heart beat weakly in your chest, along with the brothers' sighs of relief, he too had breathed a sigh of relief as he sank down on the floor, back against the door, one leg stretched out and the other bent, and his forehead resting on its knee.
His reaction terrified him. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Hell, he wouldn't even admit it to himself.
The fact that he had a Soulmate meant there was someone special who could accept him. Care for him, and in time, perhaps even love him despite everything he had done, was a thought that scared him shitless.
"Father... why me?" Lucifer asked quietly in the empty room. If it became known that he had a Mate, a human Mate at that, it would paint a target on your back. Because you getting hurt solely because you were bound to him would be the most devastating thing that could happen to him.
He had only witnessed a few other Mated couples before he fell, and had seen what happened if one or the other of the pair died. He had seen how the survivor wasted away or went insane from grief. The stronger the connection, the worse the survivor's situation became before they gave up on everything.
And now, that could be him if you ended up dying. So, in his logic, it would be better if you died before the connection between you and him grew stronger.
But when your heart stopped the second time?
He almost panicked. He had turned invisible to get close to you, watching as Gabriel had snapped a defibrillator into existence, pads already on your bared torso, and Sam working the machine, while Dean paced restlessly behind Sam.
He forced himself to look at you as your body violently spasmed each time the defibrillator shot its high-voltage shock through you.
When your personal Reaper had appeared, he had stared the entity down. Stopping it in its path towards collecting you, with a single crimson-glowing glare and a slow, firm headshake. It had bought Sam enough time to get your heart started again.
He had only retreated to his barricaded room when the Reaper faded away, and he snapped his fingers to fix the room. Only to tear it apart again, with even more force than the first time.
His anger was directed at himself for being too weak to let you go. It was only gonna get worse the longer you were alive, he knew that.
The others had stayed even farther away from the room.
He knew Gabriel and Cas watched over you; he could sense their grace near you, and it irked him more than he would admit that they could be close to you so freely, and he could not.
He had snapped the necessary medical equipment needed to keep you alive and breathing to the infirmary where you had been placed, already hooked up to you, the moment both Angels had been away for a short amount of time.
His celestial-enhanced hearing had heard Sam thank Gabriel for it, and he had huffed in amusement when he listened to Gabriel fumbling to take the credit for it. Lucifer didn't mind, as it kept the Winchesters from asking questions he would blatantly ignore or couldn't answer.
The third time, he heard your heart beat stutter and die, followed by the EKG's droning beep as you flatlined; he had been there as the first one.
He hadn't bothered to cloak himself with his grace, his instinct to keep you alive so overshadowing that everything else felt like it didn't matter, as he snapped his fingers to get rid of the oversized t-shirt that Castiel had procured and dressed you in, before he placed the palm of a hand directly on your skin, above your still heart.
Your personal Reaper had materialized at the same time as the others had burst through the opening to the infirmary, all but the Reaper freezing in place as violent red eyes peered over his shoulder in their direction, but not directed at them, "Come one step closer, and I'll end your miserable existence!" while holding the other hand with fingers ready to snap.
The Reaper glowered at him, but kept to the edge of the room, as Lucifer focused back on you.
He didn't even flinch when Gabriel stood on the other side of your bed, "What are you doing!?" his younger brother hissed in Enochian, briefly forgetting about the Winchesters as they let out groans of pain and covered their ears.
"What I have to." he had replied, and shot a controlled burst of grace through your body, with a force more powerful and meaningful than any defibrillator, "Keep an eye on her Reaper." he added as he took a deep breath and did it again, not noticing how Gabriel's Archangel blade appeared in his hand as he turned towards where the Reaper was standing or how the Winchesters shifted warily at the shorter Archangel until Castiel had informed them that Gabriel was keeping your personal Reaper in check. By then, they were forced to watch Lucifer trying to resurrect you with a mix of apprehension and disbelief, as they did what they could to hold their emotions in check.
Your body arched off the bed from the force of his grace. He could feel what was intertwined with your soul lose its grip, and he gritted his teeth.
"C'mon!" he sneered and shot his grace through you again, and again, and again.
He kept at it, even when Castiel pleaded with him to stop, to give you the peace you deserved.
Even when Sam and Dean tried to use a banishing sigil on the angels in the room, he kept going. Gabriel stopped them with a flick of his wrist, while keeping his eyes on the Reaper that was slowly closing in, like a shark scenting blood in water.
But Lucifer didn't give up; he was too stubborn for that. Too prideful to just let you go despite what his flawed logic tried to convince him was right.
There had to be a reason why his Father had chosen to give him the cursed blessing of a Soulmate. Perhaps it was one last celestial joke, or one of those 'Mysterious Ways' that always had him roll his eyes to Hell and back.
Whatever the reason, Lucifer didn't want to give you back; you were his, despite his 'Oh, so logical reasoning'.
That was how enslaved to the bond he already was.
If you died now, he would go insane. More than he already was, according to others.
Just as Gabriel was about to place a hand on his shoulder. About to make him stop, as his grace had almost depleted, you gasped. A harsh and violent sound, heart beating strong and steadily instead of those weak thumps that had echoed in his ears the past couple of weeks, and he knew you would live.
"Eat shit!" he sneered triumphantly at the Reaper as it faded from view, and he backed away from you to allow Sam and Dean to your bedside.
Both of them had red-rimmed eyes as they fussed over your unconscious body, relieved that they didn't have to give you a Hunter's burial as feared.
And he was back in the room before anyone could question him about his actions.
Because he didn't have answers, and if he had, there was no way he was sharing them with the others before you. He wasn't even sure he was willing to share the few answers he had with you.
Lucifer had been surprised when you thanked him for not prying, and even more so when he had replied to the prayer you had sent his way.
And while he could sense that you truly were thankful for his help in answering some of the questions, he was making sure that it was a one-way connection. That you couldn't feel what he was feeling.
He knew he had to keep you at bay, especially now that you had lived through the process of his grace ingrafting itself in your soul. With his help.
It was quiet in the hallways, and he wandered aimlessly with an occupied mind until his feet stopped, and his frown deepened as he looked up, only to find himself standing before the door to your room. The bones in his hands creaked in protest as he balled his hands into fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. If he had been human, the bones would have shattered from the force he was putting on them.
He had to keep you at bay... love, care, and tenderness were as potent a weapon as an angel blade if wielded correctly, just as much as a weakness. A weakness he couldn't afford and a weapon he didn't know how to wield. The feelings, not the angelblade. For him, those feelings would be a liability.
The Fallen Archangel forced himself to turn around and walk away, and with each step, he put the walls you had slipped past so easily back up.
If you approached him, he would snarl and bite. He'd do what he could to push you away from him, force you to hate him if he could.
A part of him whispered it was impossible. That the bond was already too strong, as you understood Enochian.
So strong that he had been compelled to save your life.
But the stubborn, prideful part of him was louder. Convinced that if he lashed out whenever you tried to get close, the bond would weaken and fade on its own.
Not that he had ever seen that happen, but hey, there is a first time for everything, so why not this?
Lucifer nodded to himself as his steps grew stronger, more determined, the further away from you and your room he got.
This would work, he was sure of it.
The Devil hadn't taken his upcoming molting into consideration; he hadn't preened his wings since he lost the fight with Michal that ended with the Oldest Archangel tossing him from Heaven and into the Cage, because, of course, he hadn't gone along willingly.
He won't know just how much his control will be tested when the molting starts, how much worse the whole thing will get now that he is mated. And neither will you.
It had been two days since you had a surprisingly open and honest conversation with Lucifer about what had happened when you shook hands, and a little about what it meant to be Soulmates.
Without saying it directly to you, you knew you should be dead.
He had openly admitted that humans weren't supposed to bond with an Archangel, and that your body had almost given out when the bond formed during the handshake.
And you had kept the information to yourself, giving yourself time to come to terms with it all. Though you doubted you'd ever come to terms with the fact that when God created your soul, he'd decided that you would be the perfect match for Lucifer.
Part of you wondered if your soul had been created before or after Lucifer rebelled and Michael tossed him in the cage, and that thought alone made your head throb from the sheer implication.
So here you were, walking through the Bunker in the small hours of the night, trying to find the only one who could answer your questions, but for some reason, the Devil was nowhere to be found.
You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your forehead with a hand as your feet carried you softly through the empty halls.
Not even Gabriel made an appearance, which was rare, but you figured he was somewhere around, as he rarely left the safety of the Bunker.
You were about to groan in annoyance when you bumped into a solid chest, letting out an "Umpfh!" on impact as you stumbled backwards, and would have landed on your ass if two hands with a touch like freshly fallen snow hadn't grabbed both of your wrists, causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin.
A quarter of the way to the floor, you stood leaning back on your heels and blinked in surprise when you looked into a pair of glacier-blue eyes that mirrored your surprise.
"Careful." Lucifer replied coolly as he stepped back from you, pulling you forward until you were stable before letting go and shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Y-yeah." You managed to reply intelligently, "Sorry. I was just thinking." you added and rubbed your right biceps with your left hand, pursing your lips when Lucifer huffed at what you'd said.
"I'd be careful with that, too. Wouldn't have you straining something important in that skull of yours." he huffed arrogantly with an eyeroll and moved to walk past you, only to glare down at you when you stepped in front of him.
"Wait!" You managed and shook your head to get rid of the sudden surprise of walking straight into him.
Lucifer moved his hands from his pockets to cross his arms across his chest, cocking an eyebrow as he did so. Somehow, making it feel like he was doing you a great service by doing as you asked.
You didn't like it one bit... this was opposite of how Lucifer had behaved when you spoke to him a few days ago; you hesitated to ask what you wanted, but you knew you had to.
"I-- I just wanted to ask you if you know why I survived? From what I understand from our last conversation, my survival is something that wasn't supposed to happen." You asked, and you could have sworn up and down, that his eyes softened for a fraction of a second before turning cold again.
"And why, in my old man's name, should I know that?!" He scoffed, the messed-up amalgamation of feathers on his back bristling slightly as he poked the top of your sternum, hard, causing you to take a quick step back when he entered your personal space.
"You humans are like cockroaches! A filthy, undesired pest that is annoyingly hard to kill. Not even the apocalypse or the end of the world could get rid of your pathetic species! A bunch of mud monkeys that should have been eradicated as soon as the first fish crawled up on land." He hissed, eyes glowing a low red in the dim hallway.
You were stunned, and as he tried to poke you again, your hunter instincts kicked in and you slapped his hand away.
"What's the matter with you?" You asked, frowning, and wrapped your arms protectively around yourself.
He was well aware that you didn't like physical touch, you hadn't agreed to. Hell, you had practically begged him to confirm that he couldn't touch you in any intimate way against your will, which he had confirmed. And while a hard poke wasn't intimate, it was enough to trigger something in you as your guards immediately popped back up.
Lucifer's eyes flared an angry red when you slapped his hand away, and he forced the slight sting of guilt he felt down; this was a necessary evil to force you away from him.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked in a raised voice, "Perhaps I am just sick and tired of being Dad's cosmic guinea pig and scapegoat! I am an Archangel. I was created with the idea of gem-adorned musical instruments in my being, to be both beautiful and wise. A quote-unquote "Seal of Perfection"!
And I, in all my Dad's infinite wisdom, have been bonded to you!" he said mercilessly as he cornered you against the wall, ignoring the approaching footsteps and the sounds of ruffled wings. As he had hoped, now there was an audience for his Coup de Grâce.
The Devil steeled himself as he looked down at you, staring up at him with wide eyes.
Castiel was the first one to speak, his gravelly timbre heavy with concern and warning, as Sam and Dean rounded the corner with weapons in hand, as per usual when they sensed a possible threat, "Lucifer...".
Gabriel spoke next, with a taken aback expression on his otherwise mischievous face.
"Luce. Don't say something you can't take back..." he urged his older brother not to finish whatever he was going to say. Knowing Lucifer enough to know when he was lashing out.
Despite wanting to, Gabriel didn't flinch when Lucifer glared at him, nor did Gabriel flash his own antique golden grace in return. Just looking almost pleadingly into a pair of crimson eyes with his own whiskey-colored orbs.
Now, if this had been anyone else giving you grief for something like this, you'd been at their throat in retaliation. You were a Hunter. A freaking badass with a truckload of baggage, like every other hunter, unfortunately, that also means you have that one thing that makes your throat tighten with fear, and that triggers a freeze response from you.
For Sam, it was clowns. For Dean, it was flying.
For you? It was being cornered by any intimidating male figure. Didn't matter if you trusted them or not.
And right now, Lucifer was the most intimidating being you'd ever had the displeasure of being cornered by, and it was triggering the dreaded freeze response.
All you could do was stare up at his glowing red eyes with a heart that felt like it had leapt up in your throat, and you placed a hand over the hollow of your throat. An attempt to ground yourself that failed.
The Winchesters shared a look and nodded once before Castiel held out an arm to keep them at bay.
"What the hell, Cas?!" Dean barked and tried to push past his best friend's arm. He might as well have been trying to push against a brick wall.
"You mustn't interfere. It is... what do humans call it? A private business." he replied, and with a flick of his wrist held both of them locked in place.
Sam tried to call your name, but the word died in his throat as Gabriel snapped his head in their direction with an urgent headshake.
All they could do, with not one but two Angels urging them to stay back and be quiet, was watch what was unfolding between you and Lucifer.
Tension was high, and the atmosphere dense enough to be cut with a dull knife.
You swallowed hard as Lucifer moved his eyes from Gabriel to you, whatever had held him there broken when the younger Archangel looked away to give Sam a warning look.
As Lucifer looked down at you, he leaned forward with a narrowing gaze. Forcing you to press your back harder against the cold concrete wall, you were already pressed against.
"Do you know what it means for me to be bonded to a human like you?" He asked with an ice voice, making your breath hitch uncomfortably as you shook your head, "Of course you wouldn't! You are weak! Patheticlly trying to rid the world of monsters," his wings spread slightly behind him, the shadow from them crawling over you like an ill omen, "when you couldn't even protect yourself from the monster in your own home."
You felt your legs give out, and if not for the wall you were pressed flat up against, you would have crumbled to the floor as tears of fear and shame fell from your wide eyes. Unable to look away from the criomson eyes that had you locked in place.
"Defiled and violated by the very blood that sired you, you aren't worthy of being my soulmate." He said in a low voice, that everyone was able to hear in the deadly silent hallway.
When he leaned away from you, you slided down the wall and buried your head in your knees. Letting the sobs that had built up free.
As the first sob echoed in the hallway, all hell broke loose.
Gabriel grabbed Lucifer by the scruff of his neck, the older Archangel didn't resist it, and flew away from the scene.
Leaving a pair of horrified Winchesters, you in a slouched, sobbing heap against the wall, and a Seraph who's jaw could cut diamonds with how clenched it was.
Hey peeps, I just wanted to let you know that I've been having issues with saving drafts here on Tumblr from my tablet where I primarily do my writing from, which means that all my work has been repeatedly unsaved 🫠
I am trying to get a new chapter out each week, but hope to get chapter 4 and 5 out before the 1st of February to compensate you lovely people for your patience and support ❤️
Sorry to keep you waiting, but I will do what I can to make it up to you all! 🫶
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✦ SYNOPSIS: What begins as proximity disguised as practicality becomes something far more dangerous. In the quiet corners of the bunker, Lucifer finds himself confronted with a kind of closeness he understands too well to trust. No grand gestures. No apocalyptic stakes. Just the slow accumulation of habit, choice, and warmth offered without fear. As the Winchesters grow wary for their friend and fellow hunter getting so close to the devil himself and lines blur between friendly curiosity and inability to stay away , you are forced to decide whether comfort is a risk worth taking—and whether Lucifer is capable of choosing restraint when something finally feels real.
This is the moment before doubt calcifies.
The pause before consequences learn your name.
✦ TONE & THEMES: Quiet tension • dry humor • deflection as armor • touch-starved divinity • choice and destiny • intimacy without spectacle • angsty fluff • Reluctant romance • Soft intimacy
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✦ BASED ON: Supernatural (TV Series)
Canon-divergent slow burn • bunker-era intimacy • restrained tension • morally complicated choices
✦ WRITTEN BY: ✧ Little Devil ✧
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Lucifer didn’t do comfort.
Not because he didn’t understand it. Because he understood it too well.
Comfort was leverage. Comfort was how you got people to lower their guard, how you convinced them the knife wasn’t coming. It was a tool, like fear or faith or love. Useful. Dangerous. Best handled with care.
And yet, lately, it kept happening to him anyway.
Not in any dramatic, end-of-the-world sort of way. No declarations. No lines crossed loudly enough to set off Dean Winchester’s hair-trigger instincts. It crept in quietly, disguised as normalcy. As routine. As the kind of human behavior that slipped under the radar until it was already embedded.
You sitting beside him instead of across the table during research, chair angled just a little toward his.
You handing him a mug of coffee without commentary, already knowing he wouldn’t drink it but doing it anyway because humans were weird like that.
You lingering after conversations ended, not rushing off, not filling the silence either, just… staying.
Lucifer noticed all of it.
He noticed the way your knee brushed his when you leaned in to read over a passage. The way you didn’t flinch when he reached across you for a book. The way you treated him less like a volatile supernatural threat and more like a deeply unpleasant coworker you’d decided to tolerate.
It was irritating.
Worse, his grace reacted.
Not with fire or fury or anything suitably apocalyptic. Just a low, constant awareness, like static under the skin. When you leaned closer, something in him settled. When you pulled away, it left behind a faint irritation, like someone had moved his chair an inch to the left without telling him.
He told himself it was nothing.
Humans were tactile creatures. Social. Invasive. You bumped into people. You shared space. You got comfortable too easily.
That didn’t mean anything.
Except habits formed patterns.
And patterns had consequences.
Angels weren’t supposed to crave touch. They were supposed to inspire it. Awe. Fear. Worship. Lucifer had been very good at all three once. But warmth? Ease? Casual familiarity offered without expectation?
That was new.
He handled it the only way he knew how. With humor. With deflection. With the same relaxed superiority he used when dismantling someone’s worldview without raising his voice.
Lucifer stayed conversational, dryly amused, just this side of indulgent. He teased. He provoked. He poked at your logic and smirked when you pushed back. He spoke like someone who already knew the ending and was enjoying watching everyone else struggle through the middle.
It worked. Mostly.
Until Dean Winchester started paying attention.
Lucifer caught Dean in the hallway one night, slowing mid-step as his eyes flicked between the two of you seated at the table. Too close. Too comfortable. Dean’s jaw tightened, shoulders squaring like he was mentally lining up contingencies.
Dean didn’t say anything.
Which, honestly, was rude.
Sam noticed too, eventually. Sam always took longer, but when he spoke, it was never without intent.
“You and Y/N seem… close,” Sam said one evening, voice carefully neutral.
Lucifer didn’t bother looking up from the book in his hands. “Yes. It’s called social interaction. Very popular among humans.”
Sam didn’t smile. “That’s not what I meant.”
Lucifer sighed, dramatic and put-upon. “It never is.”
The tension settled into the bunker slowly, like a bad smell no one wanted to acknowledge. Dean’s looks got sharper. Sam’s questions got subtler, wrapped in concern and laced with warning. You felt it too. Lucifer saw it in the way you hesitated before sitting beside him when the boys were watching, the way you put space between you like distance might make things easier.
It annoyed him more than it should have.
If they wanted to hate him, fine. He could work with that. Hatred was honest. Predictable.
This cautious, protective hovering?
That was messier.
The night you came to him, the bunker was quiet in that low, humming way that made even him slightly restless. Lucifer was in one of the unused rooms, perched on the edge of a table, flipping a coin over his knuckles. A habit he’d picked up somewhere along the line. Humans liked fidgeting. It helped them think.
“You’re stalling,” he said without looking up when you paused in the doorway. “Whatever it is, just say it. I promise not to smite you. Probably.”
You stepped inside and closed the door behind you.
“They don’t trust you,” you said.
Lucifer snorted softly. “That’s their best instinct.”
“They’re worried about me.”
That got his attention.
The coin stilled. He looked up, expression sharpening just a fraction. “Ah. And that bothers you.”
You hesitated.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“I don’t know,” you said finally. “Being close to you… it complicates things. With them. With everything.”
Lucifer slid off the table and crossed the room at an easy pace, stopping just shy of you. Close enough to feel your warmth. Not close enough to touch.
“Yeah,” he said lightly. “That tends to be my brand.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it is accurate.”
You exhaled. “They think you’ll hurt me.”
Lucifer tilted his head. “And do you?”
Another pause.
“Not intentionally.”
He smiled at that. Not cruel. Not mocking. Almost… appreciative.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m usually very intentional.”
You frowned. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest,” he countered. “Big difference.”
You took a breath, steadying yourself. “And if I still choose this? Choose you?”
Lucifer’s jaw tightened. His hand lifted on instinct, hovering near your wrist before he stopped himself. He covered it with a shrug.
“Then,” he said, casual as if discussing weather, “I’ll try something wildly out of character.”
“What’s that?”
“Not ruining it.”
The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable. Just charged.
You stepped closer.
Lucifer felt it immediately. The decision in your movement. Your fingers brushing his sleeve, then his wrist. Warm. Sure. Not afraid.
That surprised him.
Then you leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t hesitant. It was careful, deliberate, and unmistakably your choice.
For a split second, Lucifer froze.
Then instinct kicked in. His hand snapped up, closing around your wrist, grip firm enough to stop you if you wanted to pull away. You startled—
—and then you relaxed. Leaned into it instead. Your other arm slid around his shoulders like this was where you meant to be.
Something cold and sharp ran through him.
“Well,” he thought dryly, this is new.
He kissed you back.
Slow. Controlled. Just a little smug, because of course he was. His thumb rested against your pulse, grounding himself more than you. He hated how easy it felt. Hated how human it was to enjoy the warmth, the closeness, the fact that you weren’t pulling away.
When he pulled back, it was with visible effort.
He rested his forehead against yours, breath steady.
“You know,” he murmured, “this is the part where I’m supposed to pretend I planned this.”
You smiled. “Did you?”
Lucifer scoffed softly. “Please. If I’d planned it, it would’ve been much more dramatic.”
He brushed a second, softer kiss against your lips. Brief. Almost gentle.
Then he stepped back, composure sliding neatly into place like a well-worn suit.
As you left the room, Lucifer stared at the empty space you’d occupied, tongue pressing briefly to his teeth.
Touch-starved. Distracted. And profoundly annoyed that he liked it.
God was absolutely laughing somewhere.
And that, more than anything, made him want to do it again.
Lucifer slow-burn soulmate AU
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Pairing: Lucifer × Hunter!Y/N
Tone: Canon-grounded, restrained intimacy, hurt/comfort, angsty fluff
Setting: Bunker-era, canon-adjacent
Based on: 'Supernatural' (TV Series)
Synopsis: A soulmate was the last joke Lucifer expected God to play on him.
Lucifer does not fall in love. He observes. He calculates. He survives.
So when a Winchester-allied hunter proves immune to his fear evoking tactics and stubborn enough to insert herself into his line of sight, the Devil finds himself facing a far crueler fate than damnation: connection.
AU Note: Based in an AU on which if a human has an angel soulmate, they can see that angel's wings.
Written by: Little Devil <3
─────────────── 𓆩✧𓆪 ───────────────
Lucifer had always thought humans mistook familiarity for bravery.
You didn’t.
You treated proximity like a negotiation. You read the room. You clocked his mood before opening your mouth. When he went quiet, you didn’t fill the space with chatter. When he spoke, you didn’t interrupt to make yourself feel safer.
That was how you earned time around him. Not trust. Not affection.
Time.
It irritated him how much that mattered.
You had become part of the bunker’s background noise over the months. A constant. Coffee mugs left where he liked them. A presence at his side during arguments with Sam that always ended with Sam leaving the room and you staying. Lucifer never asked why. He already knew.
You didn’t fear him, but you respected him. There was a difference. One he rarely saw in mortals.
The soulmate resonance had been… unfortunate.
Not dramatic. Not cosmic fireworks. Just a quiet, grinding certainty that made his grace itch whenever you were near. He hated certainty that wasn’t his own conclusion.
You noticed it before he acknowledged it. You always noticed first.
The wings came out the first time without intention, without warning. One moment you were debating theology like it was a bar argument neither of you intended to win, the next the air behind him thickened with weight and heat.
Lucifer didn’t turn around right away.
“You can stop staring,” he said mildly.
“I’m not staring,” you replied. “I’m recalibrating.”
That earned a glance over his shoulder. A slow one. Measuring.
“Careful,” he said. “That tone usually precedes disappointment.”
“They’re just…” You paused. Thought better of finishing the sentence.
Lucifer faced you then, expression unreadable. “Just what?”
You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Correct answer.
The wings withdrew with precision. The conversation ended. Not angrily. Deliberately. He didn’t punish you for noticing. He filed the moment away like a loose thread he intended to deal with later.
The problem was that later kept happening.
You didn’t ask about them. You didn’t circle back. You just adjusted, the way humans do when they realize they’ve brushed against something tender. Lucifer found that restraint deeply inconvenient.
The argument came days later, over nothing and everything. He’d caught you watching his reflection again, eyes flicking to the shadows where wings sometimes lingered.
“You’re curious,” he said lightly. “That’s usually the first symptom.”
“I’m concerned,” you said. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” he asked. “In my experience, concern is curiosity with better manners.”
“You don’t like being seen,” you said.
Lucifer smiled thinly. “I dislike being misunderstood.”
“That’s not what scares you.”
His gaze sharpened. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
You didn’t retreat. “You’re afraid I’ll see something you can’t control.”
Silence stretched.
“That,” he said calmly, “is exactly the sort of sentence that gets people killed.”
You swallowed. Then, quietly, “You won’t kill me.”
He studied you for a long moment. “Don’t mistake patience for mercy.”
The argument ended there. No raised voices. No slammed doors.
He withdrew after that. Not physically. Emotionally. Conversations stayed surface-level. He was polite. Cordial. Distant in that infuriating way that meant he was watching.
You didn’t chase him.
That annoyed him more than if you had.
The night everything shifted was… mundane. Dean had forced a movie night in the bunker like it was a hostage situation, or more so you were being forced to keep an eye on him while the boys were out on some case, One because he didn't trust Lucifer being left alone in the bunker, and two because he didn't feel like being the one to babysit again. Some loud, ridiculous action flick. Lucifer pretended disdain while correcting the physics under his breath.
You sat beside him on the couch, closer than necessary, legs tucked under you. Comfortable. Unassuming.
He hated how much he liked that.
The wings manifested without warning, unfurling behind him as he leaned back. He didn’t notice at first. Not until the room warmed and your breathing changed.
Your hand brushed them by accident.
Lucifer went rigid.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
Your hand froze. “Okay.”
No argument. No defensiveness.
He waited for you to pull away.
You didn’t.
“Lucifer,” you said softly, “do you want me to stop… or are you just scared I won’t?”
That question cut deeper than it had any right to.
His fingers closed around your wrist suddenly, fast and unyielding. You startled, breath hitching, eyes wide. His hand burned around your wrist like a fire that you didn't even want to be put out.
He leaned in, voice low, controlled. “You should be afraid of the answer to that.”
For a heartbeat, you were.
Then your shoulders relaxed. Your free hand came up, resting at the base of his neck, fingers tangled in his roots. Anchoring yourself to him instead of away.
Lucifer’s breath stuttered.
Idiot, he thought distantly. This is the part where you lose.
He kissed you like a conclusion he’d reached unwillingly. Not gentle. Not rough. Intentional. His grip tightened just enough to remind you who he was, then loosened when you melted into it, arms sliding up around his shoulders like you’d been waiting for permission you never needed.
Heat flared through his grace, sharp and unwelcome.
He cursed God silently. Loudly. Creatively.
Of course you did this, he thought bitterly. Of course you made her the variable I can’t eliminate.
The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, his mouth fitting to yours with an ease that made his stomach twist. He hated how right it felt. Hated how much he liked the warmth of your lips, the way you leaned into him like you trusted he wouldn’t let you fall.
When he pulled back, it was with effort.
He rested his forehead against yours, breath steadying.
“This,” he said quietly, “is a terrible idea.”
You smiled faintly. “You say that about everything you care about.”
He scoffed. “I don’t care.”
Your hand brushed his wing again, careful this time. Intentional.
Lucifer closed his eyes.
Cruel joke, he thought. You really outdid yourself, Father.
Out loud, he said, “You realize I don’t do things... halfway.”
Or; the one where you take God down a peg but not in the way tumblr is probably thinking
Or; in which, Chuck is a mediocre lay, you’re having a existential crisis, Lucifer, Gabriel, Dean, and Crowley are having the best day of their lives, “shut the fuck up Michael”, Rowena had never been prouder, Sam is trying to mediate, Castiel is confused, and everyone needs therapy.
Or; this is the dumbest thing the author has ever wrote I'm so sorry
You want to squeeze your eyes shut and pray. But to whom? God? He’s standing right there- the entire reason you’re frozen in your chair with your jaw hanging open and dread pooling in your stomach. Maybe Lucifer? Michael? Any angel willing to listen? Though honestly, they’d probably just smite you on the spot. At least then you wouldn’t have to process the fact that Chuck is God.
Chuck. The so called “prophet of the Lord” you’ve been babysitting since the Winchesters dragged him into your lives. You want to demand answers.
Why didn’t he tell you? Why did he write those damn books? Why is Earth such a mess? Why did he design the female orgasm like some kind of puzzle- theoretically possible but requiring instructions and probably an Allen wrench? And most importantly: why do dogs only live ten to fifteen years, they should live forever you absolute bastard?
But what actually comes out is a strangled: “You’re God?? Since when??”
“Since the beginning of time.” Chuck- fucking Chuck- says solemnly.
And then your mouth moves without your permission: “But we fucked!”
Every head in the room snaps toward you- archangels, demons, angels, Rowena, the Winchesters- all staring.
Oops.
You didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Sam’s eyebrows climb so high they nearly vanish into his hairline. Dean’s face cycles through approximately seven different expressions before settling on what can only be described as ‘Christmas morning but also horrified.’ Castiel just looks confused, which, honestly, tracks.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says slowly, pointing between you and Chuck like he’s trying to do math. “What?”
Your face burns hot enough to summon hellfire. “It was years ago. Before- before I knew he was- ” You gesture wildly at Chuck, who has the audacity to look sheepish. “I thought he was just some guy! Some sad, dorky guy who needed a win!”
“‘Just some guy,’” Rowena repeats, absolutely glowing with delight. “Oh, darling. You bedded the Almighty.”
“I didn’t know!” Your voice is climbing toward hysteria. “It wasn’t even- we were both drunk and it was one time! One incredibly mediocre, forgettable time that I’m now going to remember forever because apparently I banged the CEO of the universe!”
“Mediocre?” Chuck looks genuinely offended.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is your ego bruised? You’re God! You created the entire universe, you created nebulas and black holes and the platypus, but you couldn’t find the- ” You stop yourself, looking around the room. “You know what? Not the point. The point is- ”
But you can’t finish because your brain is actively short circuiting. Your hands are shaking. Everything is shaking. You might be having a stroke. Can you have a stroke from existential dread?
“Oh my God,” you breathe, then immediately make a sound like a dying cat. “I can’t- I can’t even use that phrase anymore! It’s ruined! Do you know how often people say ‘oh my God’? It’s like, a linguistic staple! And now every single time I’m going to think about- ” You make a series of increasingly frantic hand gestures that don’t clarify anything.
“Perhaps we could refocus on the more pressing matter of the apocalypse- ” Michael attempts in his most authoritative voice.
“Shut up, Michael!” you snap, and the archangel actually recoils like you’ve slapped him. “I’m having an existential crisis here! A crisis! Do you know what that means? It means my entire understanding of reality is currently doing the Macarena in my brain!”
“The what?” Castiel asks.
“It’s a dance, Cas, stay with me!” You whirl on Chuck, and you can feel yourself spiraling like a helicopter with a broken blade. “I’ve been- I’ve been praying! I prayed before hunting trips! I prayed when Dean died- sorry Dean- ”
“It’s cool, happens a lot,” Dean mutters.
“- I prayed when Sam was soulless, I prayed last Tuesday about finding my car keys- ”
“Did you find the keys?” Castiel asks earnestly.
“That's not the point, Cas!” You’re pacing now, hands pulling at your hair like you’re trying to manually reboot your brain. “This whole time- were you just up there, what, laughing? Taking notes? Did you hear me drunkenly pray rant about my credit card debt? My period cramps? That extremely detailed fantasy I had about- ” You stop abruptly, face flaming. “Oh no.”
Dean perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag. “About what?”
“Nothing. Nobody. Definitely not the guy who played Thor. Or Captain America. Or both of them. Together. With me. Moving on!” You’re gesturing so wildly you nearly hit Castiel in the face. “This is- I can’t-Chuck is God. Chuck. Dorky, pathetic, cheese-puff-eating, robe-wearing at 3pm Chuck who cried when his laptop died!”
“I didn’t cry- ” Chuck protests weakly.
“You absolutely cried! Like a baby! Like a small Victorian child! I was there! I bought you Ben and Jerry’s and let you ugly cry into my shoulder for twenty minutes about your manuscript!” You point at him accusingly. “I felt sorry for you! I gave you a pep talk! I slept with you because you looked like a sad puppy and it seemed like a nice thing to do, like donating to charity or letting someone merge in traffic!”
Multiple beings in the room snort loudly.
“Wait, what?” Sam looks like he’s been slapped with a fish.
“It was a charity lay,” you announce to the room at large, too far gone to care about anything anymore, including your dignity, which has left the building and is currently heading to Canada. “I took pity on him! It was an act of compassion! Like Habitat for Humanity but with orgasms! Except there weren’t any orgasms, so really it was just Habitat for Humanity!”
“Oh my God,” Sam whispers, looking like he needs to sit down.
“See?!” you shriek, pointing at Sam. “You just said it too! It’s unavoidable! It’s a linguistic trap!”
“This is the best day of my life,” Crowley announces, looking like he might actually cry from joy. “I want to frame this moment. I want to paint it on a ceiling like the Sistine Chapel.”
“I’m so glad my psychological breakdown is entertainment for you, Crowley!”
“Deeply entertaining,” he confirms, wiping an imaginary tear. “Please continue. Don’t let us stop you.”
Rowena is practically vibrating with glee. “Darling, I haven’t been this entertained since I watched the Titanic sink.”
“You watched the Titanic sink?!”
“I may have been on it. Briefly. Before the iceberg. But we’re getting off topic- ”
“Off topic?! Off topic?!” Your voice cracks. “The topic is that I had pity sex with the creator of the universe! I slept with God because I felt bad for him! That’s like- that’s like- ” You struggle for a comparison. “That’s like giving Gandhi a hand job because he seemed stressed!”
“That’s a terrible analogy,” Sam says weakly.
"I'm in a crisis, Sam! My analogies are suffering!"
Dean is actively crying with laughter now, bent over, making sounds like a broken accordion.
You spin toward the archangels, who are all watching with varying degrees of discomfort and fascination. “Did you know?!” you demand, pointing at each of them in turn. “When you were all having your daddy issues and fighting about the apocalypse, did you know your father was down here writing supernatural fanfiction and having sad, mediocre one night stands with hunters?!”
Lucifer’s face splits into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. “Oh, this is magnificent. This is better than the Fall. This is better than everything.”
“Of course you’d think so,” Michael says icily, but even he’s watching with something that looks suspiciously like vindication in his eyes. Like he’s been waiting for someone to take God down a peg for millennia.
Gabriel looks more alive than he’s been since they dragged him back from death. He’s practically glowing. “Dad. Dad. You absolute disaster. You walking catastrophe. You- ” He’s laughing too hard to continue.
“Gabriel- ” Chuck starts, face red.
“No, no, please!” Gabriel waves his hand, wiping tears from his eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt! This is the best thing that’s happened in eons! Do you know how boring eternity is? And now this! It’s like Christmas!”
“See?!” You gesture at Gabriel frantically. “Even your son thinks you’re a hot mess! Your own creation is laughing at you!”
“To be fair,” Lucifer interjects, “we’re always laughing at him. This is just particularly good material.”
“Lucifer,” Michael hisses.
“What? I’m the devil, Mikey. Being honest about Dad’s failures is kind of my whole thing.” Lucifer turns to you with genuine appreciation. “By the way, I’m really enjoying your work here. Very thorough. Really hitting all the important points.”
“Thanks, Satan,” you say reflexively, then stop. “Oh God- fuck! See? I did it again! I can’t escape it!”
You swing back to Chuck, and your voice is getting higher and higher like a tea kettle approaching critical mass. “What was your plan here?! Just never mention it? Hope I’d forget? ‘Oh hey, remember that time we had awkward, unmemorable sex where you finished in approximately thirty seconds? Surprise, I’m the Almighty Creator! Plot twist!’”
“It wasn’t thirty seconds- ” Chuck protests.
“It really was though,” you cut him off mercilessly. “I’ve had coughs that lasted longer. I’ve had hiccups with more staying power!”
Dean makes a sound like a dying whale. He’s on the floor now. Actually on the floor.
“I’ve had more satisfying experiences at the DMV,” you continue, on a roll now. “At least there I got a new license out of it. What did I get from you? Disappointment and now, apparently eternal spiritual trauma!”
“Okay, that’s just hurtful- ” Chuck tries.
“Hurtful?! Hurtful?!” You’re pretty sure you’re having an out-of-body experience. “You want to talk about hurtful? Let’s talk about how you created everything! Every monster, every demon, every horror we’ve faced! You made a world where children die, where good people suffer, where I’ve burned so many bodies I can’t even smell barbecue anymore without having flashbacks!”
“Oh, that’s a mood,” Dean manages from the floor.
“You could have made things good!” you continue, voice cracking. “You could have made a world where puppies live forever and cancer doesn’t exist and my student loans weren’t the GDP of a small nation! But you didn’t! You made this!” You gesture around wildly. “You made a world that’s approximately seventy percent suffering, twenty percent confusion, and ten percent convenience store coffee!”
“And then,” you continue, voice shaking, “you came down here, pretended to be human, let me make you soup when you had writer’s block- I made you soup, Chuck! Homemade soup! Do you know how long that takes?!”
“I appreciated the soup- ” Chuck tries.
“And you had mediocre sex with me because- why?! Boredom?! A joke?! An experiment?! ‘Let’s see what happens when God rawdogs a mortal’?!”
“Jesus Christ,” Sam says, looking faint.
“Oh, don’t bring Chuck's brother into this!” you snap.
“He’s not my- ” Chuck starts, then stops. “Actually, you know what, this isn’t the time.”
Gabriel is wheezing. Actually wheezing. “Oh my Dad- oh my me?- this is incredible. She said rawdog. She said God rawdogs mortals. I’m deceased. I’m dying. I’m already dead but I’m dying again.”
“Were there others?!” you demand suddenly, a new horrifying thought occurring. “Is this your thing?! Do you just go around having disappointing one night stands with mortals?! Am I part of a pattern?! Oh God- ” You make a strangled sound. “- is there like a support group? ‘Hi, I’m Karen, I slept with God in 1987 and he never called’?!”
“There are no others!” Chuck looks genuinely panicked now.
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?! That just means I was specifically chosen for a bad time!”
“It wasn’t supposed to be bad- ”
“Well it was, Chuck! It was bad! It was so bad that I literally forgot about it until just now! That’s how bad it was! You were so forgettable that you got filed away in my brain under ‘mediocre experiences, don’t repeat’!” You’re pacing in aggressive circles now, like a very angry shark. “I’ve had better experiences at the dentist! At least there I got a free toothbrush!”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing Father’s sexual performance,” Michael says, looking like he’s been stabbed.
“Oh, we’re discussing it,” you confirm. “We’re discussing it thoroughly. Because you know what? I deserve to discuss it! I deserve to process this! I slept with God and it was mid!”
“Mid,” Lucifer repeats, delighted. “Oh, that’s going in the quote book.”
“What quote book?” Castiel asks.
“The one I’m starting right now specifically for this conversation.”
You turn back to Chuck, and you’re crying now, but they’re angry tears, the kind that make you want to flip a table. “You want to know what the worst part is? It’s not even the sex! The sex was whatever! Forgettable! Fine! I’ve had worse! There was this guy in Tulsa who- actually, no, not relevant!” You shake your head violently. “The worst part is that I liked you! Dorky, awkward, kind of pathetic you! I thought you were sweet! I thought you were genuine! I made you soup and gave you pep talks and slept with you because you seemed like a nice guy having a hard time!”
“I was having a hard time- ” Chuck protests.
"You're God! You make the times! You make the hard! You're the reason times are hard!" You’re pretty sure you’re not making sense anymore but you’re too far gone to care. “You don’t get to have a sad boy moment when you created sadness!”
“That’s actually a really good point,” Sam says.
“Thank you, Sam!”
“But none of it was fake,” Chuck says desperately, stepping closer. You step back so fast you nearly trip over Castiel. “That’s what you don’t understand- ”
“What I don’t understand?! What I don't understand?!” Your voice reaches a pitch that probably only dogs can hear. “I understand plenty! I understand that I’ve been praying to someone who’s seen me naked! I understand that every time I said ‘God help me’ I was technically talking to a guy who couldn’t find the clitoris with a map and a GPS!”
The room explodes.
Dean is making sounds that aren’t human anymore. He might be having a medical emergency.
Gabriel has fallen off his chair. Just fully collapsed.
Crowley is crying. Actual tears. “I can die happy now. This is it. This is the peak.”
“Father,” Lucifer says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, “she said you can’t find the clitoris. The human said you, the Creator, the All-Knowing, can’t find the clitoris.”
“I know what she said!” Chuck looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.
“With a map and a GPS!” Gabriel shrieks from the floor. “She specified! She said with a MAP AND A GPS!”
“Can someone explain what a clitoris is?” Castiel asks innocently.
“Not now, Cas!” at least five people shout in unison.
“Do you know what this means?!” You’re still going, too far into the spiral to stop now. “Every time I’ve gotten myself off- which is frequently- I’ve been doing it better than the Creator of the universe!”
“Oh my God, make it stop,” Sam begs, head in his hands.
“It’s not stopping!” Dean wheezes. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed! This is better than- than- I can’t even think of something better!”
“You designed childbirth to be agonizing but you couldn’t figure out basic foreplay?!” you continue, on an absolute tear now. “You created the G-spot and then apparently forgot where you put it! That’s like building a house and forgetting where the bathroom is!”
“I think she’s broken,” Rowena observes, but she looks delighted.
“Thoroughly,” Crowley agrees.
Michael looks like he’s aged a thousand years in the last five minutes. “Can we please- ”
“NO!” you interrupt. “No, Michael, we cannot ‘please’! Nothing is ‘please’ right now! Everything is the opposite of ‘please’! Everything is ‘oh God no’ and I CAN’T EVEN SAY THAT ANYMORE WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT THIS!”
You whirl on Chuck one more time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a full breakdown now. “You know what the really messed up part is? I’m not even heartbroken! I didn’t love you! I barely even liked you! You were just there and seemed sad and I was between hunts and thought ‘why not, might as well’! It was like deciding to watch a mediocre movie because nothing else was on!”
“A mediocre movie,” Chuck repeats weakly.
“A mediocre movie that I forgot I watched!” you clarify. “That’s how forgettable you were! You were background noise! You were elevator music! You were- you were- ” You struggle for the right comparison. “You were the human equivalent of plain oatmeal!”
“Plain oatmeal,” Lucifer repeats reverently. “God is plain oatmeal.”
“Sexually,” Gabriel adds helpfully, still on the floor. “Sexually plain oatmeal.”
“But now?” you continue, voice breaking. “Now I have to live with the knowledge that I had mediocre sex with GOD! That’s going to be in my head forever! Every time I pray- if I ever even pray again- I’m going to remember! Every time someone mentions God, I’m going to have flashbacks! I’m going to be in the middle of a hunt and someone’s going to say ‘God willing’ and I’m going to have a PTSD episode!”
“That does sound difficult,” Castiel says sympathetically.
“Thank you, Cas. You’re the only valid one here.”
“I don’t know what that means but you’re welcome.”
You point at Chuck with a shaking finger. “You’ve ruined everything! You’ve ruined God! You’ve ruined prayer! You’ve ruined the concept of divinity! You’ve ruined the phrase ‘Oh God’ during sex forever because now I’ll just think about YOU and your thirty seconds of shame!”
“It was longer than thirty seconds!” Chuck finally snaps.
"Was it though, Chuck Shurley? Was it!?
“Oh, she’s using the full name,” Gabriel observes. “That’s never good.”
“How long do you think it was?!” you demand. “Give me a number! A specific number!”
Chuck opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“That’s what I thought!” you announce triumphantly. “You don’t even know! The creator of time itself doesn’t know how long he lasted! That’s how forgettable it was for both of us!”
“I’m going to need so much therapy,” Sam says to no one in particular.
“You and me both, buddy,” you agree. “Except how do I even explain this to a therapist?! ‘Yeah, doc, so I had a one night stand with the Almighty Creator and it turns out he’s responsible for all human suffering and also bad at sex. I’m having some feelings about it.’”
“That’s very succinct,” Rowena says. “I think you’re handling this well.”
"I'm handling this terribly! I'm having a breakdown! This is what a breakdown looks like!"
“Yes, but you’re doing it with panache,” she counters.
“Are you seriously complimenting my breakdown form right now?!”
“Someone should!”
You turn back to Chuck, and you’re so tired suddenly. Exhausted beyond measure. “I need to leave,” you announce. “I need to process this literally anywhere that isn’t here. Anywhere. A dumpster. A volcano. The bottom of the ocean. All of those sound better than here right now.”
“We still need to discuss the apocalypse- ” Michael starts.
“Michael,” you say, very calmly, very slowly. “If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to fuck Chuck again and make you my step-son. Do you want that because I'll do it. I'll fucking do it because I’m in the mood to make everyone uncomfortable now.”
Michael closes his mouth so fast his teeth click.
“That’s what I thought.” You grab your jacket. “You all, angels, demons, God, whatever; you all figure it out. I’m going to go get extremely drunk and try not to think about the fact that I’ve seen the Creator of the Universe naked. Which is hard, by the way, because now it’s all I can think about! Thanks for that! Thanks for the eternal mental image!”
“It wasn’t that bad- ” Chuck tries one more time.
You stop at the door. Turn around slowly. Look him dead in the eye.
“Chuck,” you say, very seriously. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. Monsters. Demons. The actual Devil. And I can honestly say that you, naked, awkwardly fumbling with a condom for three minutes, is somehow in the top ten most disturbing things I’ve witnessed.”
The room goes silent.
Then Dean absolutely loses it. He’s crying. He might be having a seizure.
"Is she saying the condom took longer than the-" Gabriel shrieks.
“Okay, I’m leaving now!” you announce. “Good luck with your apocalypse! Hope you all die! Except you, Cas, you’re fine!”
“Thank you!” Cas calls after you.
You walk out, slamming the door behind you, leaving God and his supremely dysfunctional family behind.
Behind you, you hear:
“Well,” Dean manages between gasping laughs. “That was…”
“Incredible,” Lucifer finishes. “That was incredible. I’m going to remember this for the rest of eternity.”
“Father,” Gabriel says, still on the floor. “You have got to work on your stamina. And your map reading skills.”
“GABRIEL!”
“Also your condom application technique- ”
“I'm going to smite you!”
“Get in line! Everyone wants to smite me! At least I didn’t disappoint anyone sexually!”
You keep walking, head spinning, reality crumbling around the edges.
You slept with God.
God was bad in bed.
God took three minutes to put on a condom.
God created everything, including the hunting life that’s slowly killing you.
God can’t find the clitoris even though he literally designed it.
You need a drink. Several drinks. Maybe an entire distillery.
And therapy. So much therapy.
“This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, flagging down a cab. “This is totally fine. Just another Tuesday. Just found out God is bad at sex. Normal day. Regular, normal day.”
The cab driver gives you a concerned look in the rearview mirror.
Paring: Lucifer x Hunter!FemaleReader
Subjects: Intimacy, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Trustbuilding, Soulmates, Wing kink if you squint, Soulmates, Fluff, Injuries
Warnings: Explicit Description of Injuries, Blood, Gore, Canon Expected Violence, Talk of indicated abuse in Reader's past
Setting: Bunker-era, Canon Divergent and Adjacent, Soulmates AU
Writer's Note:
I am so honoured that you, those who read my fanfic, are so vocal about how much you love it! It is so inspiring to have people tell that, so thank you so much ❤️
A fair warning, English isn't my first language, so there are bound to be mistakes regarding grammar, punctuation, past and present tense ect 💀
I hope to have fixed the Issues I've had with keeping parts as a draft, so it doesn't get released prematurely like part 2 did 🤞
Story Synopsis:
As Lucifer's Soulmate, you are the only human alive who can see the Devil's wings. And to be honest, you know he could need a hand grooming them, but how do you get the Devil's consent to touch an extremely sensitive part of himself?
Part 3 Synopsis:
You have a chat with Lucifer about what it means to be Soulmates, and why it almost killed you, but nothing is free when dealing with the Devil, and you are no exception.
Written by: ✨️~ PrettyAutistic ~✨️
Lucifer smirked with his hands clasped in front of him as you stared at him like he had just told you that the grass was blue and the sky green, while holding out a hand to stop him from spewing nonsense.
"You're kidding?!" you said as your eyes searched the casual pose Lucifer held, "Does it look like I'm laughing?" he scoffed with a small shrug, and moved his hands to his hips.
Oh, if he had a camera, he would have snapped a picture of how utterly lost you looked in that moment when you realised that the Devil was deadly serious.
He did, however, tilt his head and step back when you began to laugh. As if worried you were contagious.
At first, it was nothing more than a few huffs and puffs of disbelief that quickly escalated into a full-on hysterical laughter that had you breathing hard and covering your mouth, as you turned your back to the Devil to get the tears that had put a wet sheen in your eyes under control, not the mention pushing back the panic attack that threatened to pull you under like the raising tide.
Lucifer leaned sideways a little, "You good? Need a glass of water, or perhaps a brown paper bag?" he asked nonchalantly after you began to hyperventilate, and the way he spoke to you snapped you out of the whirlpool of dread that had gotten a hold on you.
"Oh, I'm sorry if my existential crisis is an inconvenience! Not only have you just told me Soulmates are real, but that we are supposedly Soulmates! And I have no idea what that means or entails! So yeah, excuse me for having a minor meltdown!" you sneered and clenched your fist at your side at the smug grin that Lucifer sported.
"Oooooh! You're a fun one. Catty, perceptive, and well-mannered. Mostly. Lucky me! " he snarked back with a feral smirk as he leaned towards you.
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, moving your hands in front of you as you breathed. Up... and down... slowly and deliberately. All the while, you did your best to ignore the heavy weight of Lucifer's eyes watching your every move, as you kept your eyes on a spot on the floor.
An unsettling quietness fell over the room, only broken by your breathing as it evened out, and finally met the Devil's glacier eyes, "What does it mean to be Soulmates?" you asked with a voice that, much to your dismay, trembled a little.
"Eh. It means a great many things. Gotta be a bit more specific." he replied with indifference and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Pursuing your lips in annoyance, you blinked slowly and deliberately at Lucifer before you began to re-word your question, "Okay... Wh--" was all you managed to get out before Lucifer interrupted you, rather rudely if you had to say so.
"Here's the thing. Despite you and me being Soulmates, a heavenly joke made by Pops, some might say.. what do I get from answering all these questions that I know are rattling around that skull of yours?" he asked as he looked at you with a tilted head and expectant gaze, with his fingers steepled and relaxing in front of his stomach.
His question caught you off guard, but it wasn't unexpected. He was the Devil after all, so it made sense he wanted something in return.
"I don't know. I doubt I have anything you want...?" You drew out the question in your reply, as you truly didn't know what you could offer the Devil in exchange for the answers you were looking for.
Lucifer stepped out over the black circle on the ground, taking one long step toward you. Hence, you had to crane your neck slightly to maintain eye contact, "How about this: for each question you ask me, I get one in return?" he suggested, making you squint up at him as he met your gaze with a cocked eyebrow.
It sounded innocent enough, but from the stories you had heard from the Winchesters and Castiel, Lucifer wasn't one to be underestimated. And given his title as the Devil, it was obvious.
"What sort of question would you be asking me then? I'm not a sharing type of person." you snipped and crossed your arms over your chest with a defiant gleam in your eyes.
Lucifer didn't want to admit it, because you were still a simple-minded mud monkey. That being said, he found it refreshing how you didn't cower away from him in terror. Even before establishing the bond, with a handshake of all things, you had shown a bigger set of balls than Sam and Dean ever had. You had walked straight up to him and greeted him like he wasn't the most hated being in all of Creation, but as an equal. And while you obviously weren't his equal with him being The Light bringer, The Morningstar, and so much more, it was still impressive.
"C'mon. I've been keeping tabs on Starsky and Hutch for years, even in the Cage, the second, and yet I don't have much knowledge of you. Color me intrigued." he replied and tapped his thumbs together.
"You can color yourself anything you want, but if you get personal too quickly, we're done." you quipped and turned to leave the scattered room after he had released a sighing "Fine".
"And where are you going?" Lucifer asked with annoyance laced in his voice, making you stop briefly to look at him over your shoulder, "To the kitchen. There is no way I am having this heavy-duty conversion standing and without a drink and a snack. 'Sides, you clearly aren't bound to the trap, so I don't see why you should keep lingering in here."
Lucifer let out a small "Hm. Fair... but I've been told I have a flair for being dramatic." This made a smile tug at the corner of your mouth, "So I can see. Now, can we please move this to the kitchen?"
He tapped his chin for a moment, "Well... since you said 'please' I guess." he sighed over dramatically as he followed you through the scattered room.
"Thank you." he heard you say, the small smile in your voice evident to him, and a slow smirk formed on his lips before he could stop it. He counted himself lucky that none of the others, or you, had seen it. He didn't think he would have been able to live that humiliation down.
So he didn't say anything and followed you to the Bunker's kitchen.
He leaned on the doorway as he watched you walk around the still, for you, unfamiliar space. Watching how you opened and closed several cupboards, cabinets, and the double door fridge, to gather what you wanted to 'drink and snack' on while playing 20 Questions with him.
"So... who goes first?" You asked when you sat down at the table with your food and drink. A simple sandwich and a soda.
Lucifer pushed off the open doorway and walked over to where you were sitting. Pulled out a chair and turned it around before he sat down on it, resting his elbows and arms on the top of the backrest, "Ladies first." he replied and looked at you with an unreadable expression.
"Such a gentleman." you huffed and opened the soda can, the sound echoing like a wet gunshot in the otherwise silent kitchen.
At your comment, Lucifer cracked a small grin, "I have my moments." to which you gave a small hum and took a sip before bracing yourself to ask your first question.
"Okay. Why did shaking your hand send me into a comatose state that almost killed me?" you asked and took a bite out of your sandwich.
"Because it established our Soulmate bond. It requires willing physical contact from both parts. And because you are human, you are, in theory, not made to establish a connection with an Archangel. So when my grace rolled through you, the power from it was almost too much for your body and soul to handle." he replied as he watched, almost amused, how your eyebrows shot upwards and almost disappeared into your hairline.
"That was... surprisingly straight forward of you," you mused as you tilted your head a little, "and somehow I know you are being truthful..." you added with a small frown, making Lucifer scoff amused, "I often am, and yet you people always seem surprised." he told you, not mentioning that it was a Soulmate thing.
"Guess it comes with ingrained prejudices we humans have againstt The Devil. But, your turn." You nodded and turned your attention to him.
"So many things... but let's start with a big one: how did you know that about my wings? That they hurt, specifically, I mean." he asked, and you held a few fingers over your lips as you chewed on a bite of sandwich and swallowed it, licking crumbs off your lips before replying.
"Since you allowed me a look, it wasn't hard to see. I have been forced to hide constant pain and forced to be strong and not show weakness. It is, as they say, game recognizes game. I saw the small, constant adjustments to the aggressive and snappy front because I have been there. Properly not in the same amount as you have, but enough to see what lies beneath." you replied truthfully, though you could see that your answer didn't satisfy the Devil with how his jaw tensed as he pursed his lips. Not to mention the wood of the chair creaked in protest as he gripped it hard.
"I see. A perceptive little human indeed." he noted with narrowed eyes.
"You don't have to like it, but it is the truth." you told him with a small shrug, because to you it wasn't that big of a deal.
But to Lucifer? It was beyond bothersome that a human had seen through him like his facade had been made of glass. Nevermind you being his Soulmate and all that, that was an observation you had made before finding out what had happened between him and you.
"You're right. I don't have to like it. Ask your question." he replied curtly, while his eyes searched your expression for anything that might give him a hint of what you were thinking.
You tapped a finger against the soda can before drinking from it, putting it down gently against the wooden surface of the table.
"What does being the Devil's Soulmate entail?" You asked, a smirk pulling your lips upwards as you saw Lucifer blink at you once, clearly not having expected that one already.
"And here I thought we agreed on going slow!" he scoffed in mock protest as he tapped the fingers on one hand against the top of the chair's backrest.
You looked hesitant for a moment, "I mean... I can ask something else if you prefer?" you suggested, but he waved you off, "Nah. It's fine. Means I get to ask a bigger one next time." and the way he said it made you swallow hard, nervousness rising. It was not super reassuring that he winked at you before replying.
"It doesn't entail anything per se, but one thing those corny romance novels get right is the attraction between the mated pair. Meaning, at some point, you and I could end up entangled in sheets together. And I'll always be able to locate you, to an extent, vice versa, I assume." he mused for a second before continuing, "And we will be able to feel everything the other is feeling. The stronger the bond, the more powerful the connection will become."
He felt it immediately. The recoiling sensation that curled up tight in your soul when he told you that it could be inevitable that you and he would end up sharing a bed.
You felt his eyes squint as he looked at you inquisitively, but before he could ask what was going on, you blurted out, "But you can't touch me or do anything to me like that without my explicit consent, right?!" almost pleadingly with wide eyes as your eyes searched his for any sign that your plea was wrong.
Now, normally, he would have replied with a snarky remark about how his vessel wasn't that bad looking. Perhaps he would have even made fun of the reaction you had to what he had said, but the way your soul had recoiled when the words had slipped past his lips made his grace that was wrapped around it pulse protectively. Even if he had wanted to mock you, he couldn't do it. It would mean hurting you.
Instead, his eyes softened just a bit, but it was enough to make you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"No. I might be the Devil, but I am still an Archangel. Consent is an ingrained part of my being. I won't touch you in any way you won't allow." he explained in a voice he barely recognised as what you had told him about yourself, being used to hiding pain to survive began to make sense. And it made anger boil in his chest.
The way you leaned back in the chair, steadying your breathing before you sniffed and hastily stood to clean the empty plate and put it back in place, told him that it was the answer you had hoped for. Or something along those lines.
After cleaning the plate, you sat back in the chair, looking a tad more collected than before, hearing what being his Soulmate meant.
"Your turn." You exhaled and folded your hands on the table, though you couldn't really meet his eyes. Not like before hearing what he had just told you.
He leaned forward and rested his chin on top of his arms, blinking slowly as he let the grace that was wrapped around your soul soothe you enough for you to meet his eyes.
"Did you kill whoever hurt you like that?" he asked, voice calm and free of any judgment.
Your skin turned pale as the blood left your face, but you were unable to look away. He watched intently as your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you whispered a small, "Yes..."
With that, the Devil smiled approvingly, running a finger over his lips as he replied, "Good." before he stood to leave the kitchen. But not before he snapped his fingers, and your favorite chocolate bar appeared on the table in front of you.
You looked at the chocolate and up at the entanglement of broken feathers and what looked like tar splotches or old, dried blood that covered the Devil's back with a small thank you on your lips before you were startled out of your doe-like state as something crashed down on the floor in the Dean cave.
"Get the hell off me!" Dean roared, the anger in his voice having your body react before your mind could catch up. Snatching the chocolate from the table, you ran toward the room where the roar had come from.
Slamming the door open and turning on the light, you blinked as you saw Dean sprawling atop of Castiel, with Sam pushing off his older brother with a wide-eyed headshake. Castiel was lying under Dean, slightly dazed from how his blue eyes seemed to search the room aimlessly. A groan came from the Seraph as the two Winchesters got off the floor.
"What happened to you guys?" you asked as you opened the candy wrapper and took a bite, the richness of the chocolate soothing you instantly.
"Gabriel happened..." Sam groaned and ran a hand through his hair as Dean helped Cas to his feet.
"Yeah! Bastard zapped us to TV land because he was 'bored'!" Dean huffed like an angry bull.
"At least he didn't put us in a herpes commercial this time." Sam exhaled as he slumped into the couch in front of the TV while rubbing his face, and Dean nodded while helping Cas to the couch. Plopping the Angel down in the other end, before settling himself between Cas and Sam.
They looked rough, and while you sent a silent thank you to the youngest Archangel, you asked if anyone was hungry, and Dean immediately perked up, "Famished!"
You chuckled, "C'mon then. I'll cook." you told, and suddenly Dean's mood had improved dramatically as he followed you to the kitchen while complaining about the trip to TV land as you cooked up a simple meal for them.
Soon after, Sam came to the kitchen as well, followed by Castie,l who seemed to have gotten his bearings back as he took his place by the table. Silently observing you with that intense squint as you prepared dinner for the Winchesters.
With all three of them gathered in the kitchen, their voices mingling with the sound of you chopping, frying, and stirring became white noise.
In that moment, you found yourself sending a prayer to Lucifer.
"Thank you for talking to me today. And for not prying."
You almost cut your finger when you heard his pleasant voice echoing in your head, "I'll deny it if you bring it up. I have a reputation to uphold after all." though there was no bite behind it.
You didn't reply, but instead smiled at the cutting board. Being the Devil's Soulmate might not be so bad after all.
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Pairing: Lucifer x Hunter!FemaleReader
Subjects: Intimacy, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Trustbuilding, Soulmates, Wing kink if you squint, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Injuries
Warnings: Explicit Description of Injuries, Blood, Gore, Canon-Expected Violence, Mentions of abuse in Reader's Past
Setting: Bunker-era, Canon Divergent and Adjacent
Writer's Note:
I've been having some issues with Tumblr about keeping this part as a draft until it's finished. I do apologize for that, and hope to figure out how to stop it from doing so with the other upcoming parts of this story 😁
A fair warning, English isn't my first language, so there are bound to be mistakes regarding grammar, punctuation, past/present tense ect 💀
So sorry for the inconvenience, and I hope you'll still enjoy the story all the same.
Story Synopsis:
As Lucifer's Soulmate, you are the only human alive who can see the Devil's wings. And to be honest, you know he could need a hand grooming them.
But how do you get the Devil's consent to touch an extremely sensitive part of himself?
Part 2 Synopsis:
In this part of the story, a bit more groundwork is laid as we start from where we left off in part 1.
And then you need to have a chat with Lucifer about what the hell happened, as neither Castiel nor Gabriel is keen on telling you.
Written by: ✨️~ PrettyAutistic ~✨️
It had been two weeks since you woke up from what you'd learned was a month-long comatose state, and no one would tell you what had happened since that fateful day when you shook hands with the Devil.
Sam and Dean had straight-up told you that they didn't know what had happened. And that neither Cas nor Gabe would tell them, claiming the Angels had said something about you having to find out first, and preferably alone.
And so, two weeks after waking up, you were still no closer to figuring out what the hell had happened to you.
All you knew was when you woke up, the buzzing and thrumming had ceased, and that profound part of yourself seemed sated and satisfied. No more buzzing. No more thrumming. And no more feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.
If it had been up to you, you would have talked to Lucifer about it directly, but whenever you tried to go to the room with the large devil's trap on the floor, where the Winchesters had told you Lucifer had confided himself to, someone had always popped up out of nowhere to intercept and redirect you.
So now, you were here. Punching a punching bag to take out the frustrations that had built up over the last two weeks.
In the middle of dancing around the heavy bag, you miss stepped and with a low "Umphf!" the bag hit you in the jaw, causing your lower teeth to connect with your upper lip. The sharp sting and taste of blood filled your senses for a moment as you stumbled backwards and your ass impacted with the concrete floor.
With a sigh you spat a bloody glob on the floor beside you, running a hand through your sweat soaked hair as you remembered how it had been waking up two weeks ago.
The first thing you remembered was the steady beeping of some sort of machinery, though it sounded far away.
It was annoying as hell, and you let out a low groan as you tried to open your eyes, though it felt like someone had glued anvils on the top of your eyelids.
"Take it easy, Sweetheart." you heard Dean's voice from somewhere in the darkness that surrounded you, slurred at first but became clearer as you finally managed to pry your eyes open.
"Sam!" you heard him yell, followed by the sound of heavy footfall running through the halls.
"Good God... no need screaming like that." you grumbled with a hoarse voice and a throat that felt like the Sahara desert, making Dean chuckle as he helped you sit up in the bed you were lying in, in time to see a slightly blurred vision of Sam skid to a stop as he almost ran past the opening to what you realized were the infirmary. It made you crack a smile that turned into a grimace and a hiss as your body ached. Like you had been put through 12 rounds with a roided up werewolf.
"You're alive!" the youngest Winchesters half-chuckled in disbelief.
"Takes more to kill me. What happened anyway?" you asked them and gave Dean a thankful nod as he handed you a glass of water while Sam pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the bed.
You cocked an eyebrow as the brothers shared a silent look full of meaning you couldn't decipher, before Sam took the lead in the conversation.
"Honestly, we don't know. All we saw when you shook hands with Lucifer was a bright red light travelling through you and, well, it seemed to gather around your heart. It kept shining brighter and brighter until we could barely see you and Lucifer." Sam explained while Dean bounced a restless leg, "Yeah, and that was when Cas and Gabe practically tackled us to the ground!" Dean interjected with a scoff, making Sam roll his eyes.
"Dean... they did that to protect us." and before you could ask what they were talking about, he continued, "When the red light became blinding, something else happened. you were screaming, and the Bunker shook and almost left the insides of it in ruins. Broken light bulbs, books and things fell from their shelves. It was a mess." he sighed and tousled his hair.
"And have any of you bothered to ask the angels what happened?" you asked and looked from one man to the other. Dean's jaw ticked while Sam looked at a spot on the floor between his feet.
"Yeah, uh, neither of them is willing to explain what happened. Keep saying it's something you have to figure out on your own." Dean sighed while he rubbed his chin, and Sam nodded in silent agreement.
That made you shake your head confused, "Sorry, what?" you scoffed and rubbed your temples.
"Yep. We'll help you any way we can, but so far the books haven't been helpful. Truth be told, we feared you might die..." Sam admitted quietly.
This confession made you look at him, meeting those hazel puppy dog eyes, "Was it that bad?" you asked, just as quietly. Noting how Dean nodded from his chair across from Sam, "Yeah. When the light recessed, Lucifer just stood staring down at your body at his feet, before locking himself in the archives with the large Devil's Trap on the floor." Sam told you, as the oldest Winchester cleared his throat, "You've crashed three times during the time you've been out. Last one was a week ago.. was also the toughest one to bring you back from."
You looked at the duvet, not able to look at either of the Winchesters.
"And is Lucifer part of the No-telling-what-happened squat?" you asked after a few moments of silence as the seriousness of what had happened to you settled in your mind.
"Uhm... No. We haven't been able to speak to him since the incident. As said, he has barricaded himself in the archives. He won't speak to anyone. Not even his brothers." Sam explained as you sighed and fell back into the bed.
"Alright... well, if that was all I needed to get caught up on, I'd very much like to sleep now." you yawned as the men stood up.
"Yeah, of course Sweetheart. If you need anything, just holler or pray to either Cas or Gabriel. Even if they won't tell anything, they have been worried." Dean said from the opening to the infirmary, watching you nod before he and Sam left you alone.
You were pulled from your train of thought when you heard the flutter of wings, followed by Gabriel's mischievous voice, "Thought I heard cake land on the floor." he grinned with an eyebrow wiggle as he held out a hand to help you up from the floor.
"Hardi-ha ha..." you mumbled with an eye roll as Gabriel pulled you to your feet and walked over to where you had placed a water bottle. With Gabriel following close behind you.
With a wink, he placed his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged, "Hey, it's not my fault you got an ass like a Cadillac." he quipped, making you almost choke on the sip you were taken.
"You're horrible!" You chided with a small chuckle, letting out a soft "Ew..." as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand and saw how beads of sweat had gathered on your skin, before you wiped them off in your training top.
"Yeah, I know. But you like it." Gabriel teased as he procured a bright red sucker from the chest pocket of his jacket, and he took a mental note of how you followed the candy with a longing-ish expression and posture, as you rubbed the hollow of your throat.
"I need to speak with him, Gabe..." you sighed as the sucker disappeared between his lips, so low that he wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't an Archangel.
"Good luck with that. He won't speak to anyone, not even me. And I am the one who has the best rep with Luci. Despite him trying to stab me to death and all that." He replied, dismissively waving a hand with the last part.
For some reason, his complete lack of care made the anger and frustration boil to the surface, and you turned to him with anger shining in your eyes, lips twitching as if to hold back a sneer. Forcing yourself to speak in a controlled, obviously angry voice.
"'Good luck with that?' That's all you have to say?! What the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? You and your scrutinizing tight lipped feathery asshole of a little brother won't tell me anything! No research in the world will be able to help me, because I have no clue what to look for! And I don't know why you or Cas won't say anything. Perhaps what happened is something so incomprehensible that my tiny human mind can't fathom it, or, or perhaps it is just an angelic etiquette thing that I'll be too dumb to understand!
I almost fucking died, Gabriel! Three times my heart stopped, and from what I understand, if it hadn't been for Sam or Dean, I'd be dead by now. And if I'd died, they would have blamed Lucifer, which isn't fair!" You hissed through clenched teeth, hands balled in fists at your side, and struggling to suppress that small tremble that ran through you every time you got pissed off.
Gabriel was unable to hide a smirk as he pulled the red lollipop from his lips, and that made you even more angry at the situation and the Archangel in front of you but before you could snap at him to piss off, he lifted an index finger to shush the outburst rolling up through your throat, "And why would it be so bad if Sam and Dean blamed Lucifer for your death? He has killed before, after all. Numerous times, actually." Gabriel taunted you, and this time you snapped at him.
"Because I am the one who tried to keep things civil with manners! I am the one who approached him! Me! Not the other way around!" You spat before turning away, running both hands through your hair, "I shouldn't have ignored how weird everything felt as I neared the Bunker, or how every single fiber of my being felt off as I neared you two fuckers!" You hissed and walked over to punch the punching bag a few more times.
This got Gabriel's attention, and he cocked an eyebrow as he asked, "What are you talking about? Feeling weird even before getting here?"
You could tell he was genuinely confused, and you sighed deeply as you turned to look at the ground between you, "I don't even understand it myself... but," you closed your eyes for a moment, dreading talking about it, fearing that he'd think you crazy, "when I parked, and as I drove here, I kept having this buzzing sensation inside me. Not like butterflies or nausea or anything like that." you began, struggling to put words on what you had felt before meeting the Devil.
"And the closer I got, the buzzing turned to a thrumming. Like something deep inside me had awokened, and just before shaking hands with Lucifer, it felt like my entire being was singing? It was the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced, and I've been shot, stabbed, and slightly mauled." you explained and finally looked up at Gabriel with his lips slightly parted.
"That is one strong connection alright." He mumbled, tapping the lollipop against his lower lip while looking deep in thought.
You sighed and poured a little water from your bottle into a hand before splashing it in your face, the stinging chill refreshing after the burst of anger. "What are you talking about? What connection?" You asked as you wiped the water from your face with the hem of the top you were wearing.
Gabriel looked stunned for a moment, "You understood that?" he asked with surprise written in his features, and you replied with a tired nod.
"Yo-- Sugar, I am speaking Enochian right now. A low frequency of it so as not to burst everyone's eardrums." He explained without taking his eyes off you.
You scoffed, "Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of England. Don't tell me if you don't want to, like with everything else. Just another odd thing to add to the list."
"I promise on my reputation as the Trickster, I spoke in Enochian." He swore as he pointed at you with the lollipop, taking a deep breath and adding, "You're right. You need to speak with Luci. This is going faster than anticipated." and as you opened your mouth to question what he meant, he shook his head, "Can't tell you what I mean. Only he can, though he might not be willing to do so. But don't worry," he began and chuckled sheepishly at your stern expression, "don't worry more than you already do," he corrected himself, "I'll distract the three musketeers. You are the only one who can slip through Luci's barrier anyway. Go get changed and give me a prayer when ready." He finished before disappearing in the blink of an eye.
So you did just that.
Jogged back to your room, grabbing your toiletries and a fresh set of clothes that didn't contain flannel, which was for hunting only, before heading to the showers.
Enjoying the warm sensation of the water washing over you, you sighed and closed your eyes for a moment to try to steady your racing heart.
You didn't understand what was going on, and perhaps you never would. Gabriel had been up front about the possibility of Lucifer not wanting to talk about what happened, but you knew you had to try. That same profound part of yourself that had buzzed and thrummed and singed before shaking hands with the Devil himself, knew you had to try. You couldn't explain it. You just knew.
The heated conversation with Gabriel had also yielded another result. He knew what was going on, but had shot your attempts down to figure it out through him. And if he knew, then surely Lucifer would know to.
With a sigh, you washed your hair and shaved too. Armpits, legs, ect.
Why? Because you were stalling for time. Sure, you wanted to know what was going on, but that didn't mean you weren't nervous about confronting the god damned Devil about it. And while he had seemed well-mannered enough for the brief second you met him, before everything went to shit and you ended up in a comatose state, it didn't mean he would behave like that when you approached him on this subject, which Gabriel and Castiel insisted you figure out by yourself.
After you felt clean and had pampered yourself with moisturizer, you huffed and made sure your hair and body were dry before putting on the selected clothes. Nothing fancy, just a pair of loose-fitted jeans, a spaghetti-strapped crop top, and the most cozy cardigan you owned.
When you stood there, looking in the mirror, you took a moment to study yourself more closely. You looked like you used to, perhaps a bit thinner and with darker bags under your eyes, though you expected that came from having been comatose for a month and almost dying three times. All in all, you felt like it could have been a lot worse.
Nodding to your reflection, you steadied yourself and sent a prayer to Gabriel: 'I'm ready.'
Then, you walked towards the room where Lucifer had locked himself in, one and a half months ago.
When neither Castiel, Sam, nor Dean popped around the corner to stop you, you smiled and silently thanked Gabriel for his help and quietly slipped inside.
The room was dimly lit, with papers and books strewn haphazardly about among what looked like broken metal, archive-style shelves. It looked like someone had wrung them into twisted sculptures and left before finishing assembling them.
The steady pace of pacing footsteps reached you, and as you looked up from the destruction of what used to be an archive, you saw Lucifer pacing the circumference of the large Devil's Trap on the ground. He had one hand on a hip, the other near his mouth, and looked deep in thought as you observed him, and he hadn't noticed you.
And that was when you noticed them, as he rounded away from you in his circular pacing. Wings. Folded tightly against his back. The way he moved with them folded like that reminded you of that one time you broke your arm and held it close to your body so as not to hurt it while you moved.
But... Something about them seemed off. Not that you were an expert on Archangel wings, far from it, but they looked far too big, and more messy or ruffled than they should be. Almost like a bird of prey had fallen victim to being covered in tar and then rolled in feathers a gazillion times.
The state of his wings filled you with a sadness you couldn't explain, and you let out a soft "Lucifer..." as you slowly approached the Devil's Trap. Not with pity, never pity. Just... sadness, like when a loved one had been hurt, and you hadn't been able to stop it.
His attention landed on you with the intensity of a unbroken predator used to cruel captors, non-blinking and daring.
But as your gaze never really met his, he shook his head and turned his body towards you, removing his wings as best he could from your sight.
"You can see them." He spoke with a low sneer and crossed his arms over his chest.
You nodded and stepped a bit closer, about an arm's reach away from the black lines on the floor, "Yes." you replied.
Lucifer pursed his lips and tilted his head, eyes weighing you with that unsettling intensity only Angels had, "And? What do you think?" he asked, and with an almost unnoticeable twitch of his lips as he spread his wings out in all their broken glory.
Mirroring his way of standing, your eyes looked at him. Really looked for a few moments, taking note of the few slight movements he made as you looked him over.
With a small exhale through your nose, you braced yourself before replying to his question.
"I think they hurt. And that you are so used to that pain they've caused you, that you have learned to live with it. Make it work and survive with the unpleasantness because you had to. Because showing weakness in any shape or form has never been an option for you. Not before you fell, and most certainly not after."
You could feel the way he flinched away from your words, shocked by the accuracy of your judgment, despite standing his ground and snapping his wings tight against his back as he gauged you with a slight squint.
"What trauma have you been through, I wonder..." he mumbled, properly most likely to himself as he rubbed his chin, and you sighed and cocked an eyebrow, "Tell me what happened when we shook hands, and I might tell you one day." you replied and cracked a small smile at the way he looked at you like you'd just grown a second head.
"Oh. Yeah, Gabriel mentioned that I somehow can understand Enochian because of some connection there is between us." you added and stepped closer. Standing close enough for him to be able to reach out and strangle you, should he want to.
"Gabriel needs to learn how to keep his candy-eating trap shut." Lucifer scoffed and eyed you up and down as you took a step closer to him.
"So we do have a connection?" you asked, and the way his jaw tensed confirmed that Gabriel had been right.
For a moment, you were sure Lucifer wouldn't reply to your question. His eyes bored into yours, and you let him. You felt yourself lower your usual guard and allowed him to look deep into your soul.
You didn't know why, and it seemed to surprise him as much as it did you, but you felt... safe, under the scrutinizing gaze of the glacier-eyed blonde standing before you.
"Yes. We do." he finally replied curtly, looked down at you over his nose, where you stood unwavering with your arms crossed.
"What kind of connection is it?" you asked, and a surge of amusement that didn't belong to you flowed through you.
"We're Soulmates." Lucifer replied as if he were talking about the weather.
