AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, thanks for reading this trans Lucifer fic, but before that, some quick info: Hi, I'm Lord Rhiadyn- a gay trans guy, so I'm drawing on my own feelings of gender and what it means to be a guy, but if anyone has anything they think should be done differently, or any suggestions, please let me know.
Title is from the Village by Wrabel, highly recommend.
I'm kind of pretending Chloe never saw Lucifer without his shirt because I don't really want the whole fic to be about what surgeries he's had or should have or whatever, y'know?
Enjoy,
Rhiadyn
Brrrring, Brrrring, Brrrring!
Lucifer groaned and rolled over, slapping his hand down on the electric alarm clock the Detective had bought him as an attempt to 'improve his punctuality', as if you could rush the Devil.
The Detective, however, could. Something about her got under his skin, but not in an altogether unpleasant way. He may act ignorant of it around the Doctor but you don't rule hell for thousands of years without learning to spot someone's weakness, even your own.
He sat up and left the comfort of his bed, moved sluggishly towards the bathroom; stood in front of the giant, floor-to-ceiling mirror and sighed, 'I look like hell.' His wavy hair was knotted and tangled, his eyes drooping, and his back aching. Lucifer grimaced. He wouldn't usually sleep in his binder, hadn't done so in years, but lately more and more people were bursting into his penthouse in the middle of the night; he was terrified of someone finding out, of what they might think. Logically, he knew most of his friends wouldn't have a problem with him being trans, but he was scared they'd surprise him.
He peeled of his binder, wincing. He let it fall to the floor and retrieved a new, clean one from a hidden drawer under the sink. 'Once more unto the breach'.