please note: I do much more than alastor and lucifer, they’re just the male characters i like to play around with the most. i don’t write self-inserts, i write good stories.
₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧ [AO3] [WATTPAD]
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Lucifer
ೃ⁀➷ You build him a garden
ೃ⁀➷ Artist!reader [series unfinished]
: ̗̀➛ Part 1 [art!]
: ̗̀➛ Part 2
: ̗̀➛ Part 3
: ̗̀➛ Part 4
: ̗̀➛ Part 5 
: ̗̀➛ Part 6
ೃ⁀➷ Lucifer dotes on a… [series]
: ̗̀➛ pregnant!reader
: ̗̀➛ mama!reader
ೃ⁀➷ Alastor owns your soul
ೃ⁀➷ Lucifer’s three lessons of touch
ೃ⁀➷ Rescued from a satanic ritual
ೃ⁀➷ Even the devil mourns
ೃ⁀➷ Lucifer (and Alastor) rescue you
ೃ⁀➷ Consoling Lucifer on Charlie’s first day of school
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Alastor
ೃ⁀➷ You try to kill Alastor
ೃ⁀➷ Alastor (and Lucifer) rescue you
ೃ⁀➷ My Charming Red Savior [series unfinished]
: ̗̀➛ Part 1
: ̗̀➛ Part 2
: ̗̀➛ Part 3
: ̗̀➛ Part 4
: ̗̀➛ Part 5
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
˙⊹ ੈ✰ updated often to keep current! ✰ ੈ ˙⊹
ೃ⁀➷ Now what?
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
˙⊹ ੈ✰ how me tags work ✰ ੈ⊹
ೃ⁀➷ my tag lists are separate for each character, if you’d like to be tagged for any/all feel free to let me know on this post. thanksies! 🤍
· »-♡→ Yes, you read that right. This fic is only about you trying to kill Alastor. Nothing more, nothing less.
x: reader is g/n. no use of ‘y/n’. can be taken as romantic/platonic/simple hatred. i just wanted to write an MC that likes murder.
Hell was full of drunken, greedy, lustful demons who ruled through fear and violence, took what they wanted, and left nothing but carnage in their wake.
The strong devoured the weak, the clever manipulated the desperate, and everyone clawed for power they’d never deserved in life. They preyed on the weak and stupid just to gain a little more leverage in Hell’s constant power struggle.
So you learned to prey on them.
Leaning against the bar of a nightclub on the edge of the Pride Ring, you swirled a glass of gin in your hand, watching your meal through lowered lashes.
He sat three stools down. Some overlord’s lieutenant, judging by the gold watch chain and the way smaller demons gave him space. Perfect.
The ones with money always had the biggest egos, and egos made men stupid.
You waited until his eyes found you. They always did. The dress helped: black silk with crystal beading that caught the light when you moved and a fringe that swayed with each breath.
You tilted your head and let your finger trace the rim of your glass, batting your lashes toward the man across the room. Then you broke the stare with a smirk and looked toward the other flappers on stage, dressed as sultry as you.
Hook set.
Two minutes later, he slid onto the stool beside you. “That’s a dangerous dress, dollface.”
“Ya think?” You turned with wide eyes and painted lips. “And here I thought I was being terribly subtle.”
He laughed, bought you another drink, then another. His watch was 14-karat gold, and the ring on his pinkie had a ruby the size of your thumbnail.
You noted each piece while he talked and talked and talked about himself. About his territory, his boss, and how important he was to all the worst of the worst demons in Hell.
“Say,” he leaned closer, his whiskey-sour breath hot against your ear, “what’s a dame gorgeous as you doing drinking alone?”
You let your hand rest on his arm and felt the muscle beneath expensive fabric. “Waiting for the right kind of company.”
“Lucky me.” His hand found your knee.
You smiled. “Very lucky.”
Twenty minutes later, you had him in the alley behind the club. His hands fumbled with your dress straps while you reached into your clutch, grasping the slim stiletto you kept nestled between your compact and lipstick.
“You’re something special, sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck.
“I know.” You pulled the blade free.
The demon’s eyes widened, first confusion, then fear as you drove the stiletto up beneath his ribs, angling for the heart.
He gasped, crumpled, and you stepped back to avoid the blood splatter on your dress.
The demonic magic came quickly, with a rush of heat through your veins and power transferring from the dying to the living.
His strength, his speed, whatever made him worth killing ( and that fancy gold watch on his wrist). It was yours to claim now.
But the night was still young… there was still more time to feast.
You scanned the crowd inside an hour later, skimming over elites that offered a nice snack. The demon in the corner booth caught your attention not because he stood out, but because everyone else made sure not to stand too close.
Tall. With a crimson suit, pristine despite the ash and blood of Hell. His clawed fingers drummed against the table, matching the rythym of the piano.
He wasn’t drinking. He was watching the room, etched with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, just like you had practiced, too.
“Who’s that?” you asked the bartender.
His lips thinned. “The Radio Demon. Alastor.”
He polished a glass that was already clean, keeping his eyes on the opposite side of where the red demon sat. “Been sitting there three hours. Hasn’t bought a drink, hasn’t talked to nobody.”
“No company?” You tilted your head. “A rich demon, all alone on a Saturday night?”
“Dames have tried to get his attention.” The bartender set the glass down. “He ain’t interested.”
You watched a cocktail waitress approach his table, swaying her hips so that her cleavage showed a little more skin.
Alastor glanced up, smiled wider and said something that made her laugh nervously, and waved her away without ever really seeing her. She retreated, and his attention drifted back to the crowd.
You should walk away. The Radio Demon wasn’t someone you targeted, he was someone you avoided. His name made even hardened sinners go quiet, and there were enough stories from bystanders of his bloody massacres that could fill a book.
You’d killed forty-three men since falling. Small-time overlords, enforcers, demons who thought themselves untouchable. Their strength had become yours, their speed woven into your muscles, their magic absorbed with every kill.
But Alastor radiated powerful, demonic magic that could sustain you for years.
You could feel it from across the room, taste it in the air, that crackling static that made the feathers itch beneath your skin. Pure, concentrated power wrapped in a pretty red suit and a smile that promised violence.
The forty-three kills had kept you fed, kept you strong enough to survive Hell’s streets and backroom deals. But they were scraps, appetizers that could only sate you for a few nights.
But Alastor was a feast.
And you were starving.
You slid off the barstool and crossed the floor, letting your hips sway, letting the beaded fringe of your dress catch the light. His eyes tracked the movement with idle interest.
You stopped at his table, resting a hand on the booth’s edge, shifting to show the curve of your leg through the slit in black silk. “This seat taken?”
“The entire booth is available.” His voice crackled, like an old radio broadcast bleeding through static. “Though I’m afraid I’m rather poor company this evening.”
“I’ll risk it.” You slid into the seat across from him and leaned forward. The neckline of your dress dipped. “You’ve been alone all night. That’s a crime in a place this crowded.”
“Really?” His smile widened a fraction, sharp as broken glass. “I wasn’t aware solitude was illegal.”
You laughed. “I’m just saying, handsome devil in a suit that sharp? You should have company.”
“How kind of you to notice.” He tilted his head, red eyes fixed on you. “Though I suspect your concern is less about my loneliness and more about… other interests.”
Very direct. You shifted tactics and traced a finger along the table’s edge. “Can you blame a girl? I gravitate toward the most interesting person in the room.”
“Am I interesting?” Static crackled with amusement. “Or simply the most powerful man in the room?”
“Both.” Your finger inched closer to where his hand rested. “…Though I’m betting there’s more to you than a nice suit.”
You let your fingertip brush his knuckle.
Alastor moved his hand
Your smile didn’t slip, but your mind raced. Men didn’t pull away. Not from you.
“You prefer fellas?”
“No.”
“Got a dame waiting at home?”
“No.”
You shifted closer. “Then what’s the problem, sugar?”
“There's no problem at all, my dear.” His smile remained fixed. “I’m just simply not interested in what you’re offering.”
Heat crawled up your neck. This should be working. “Are you broken?”
His laugh crackled through the booth. “How delightfully rude.”
You needed to shift tactics and get him alone. The routine wasn’t working, but you could adapt. You always did.
You dropped the sultry slur of your words. “Look, I’m not trying to push. I just thought—”
You glanced around the crowded club, at the eyes that were trained on the two of you. “It’s loud in here, hard to really talk. There’s a quieter spot out back away from all this noise. You could come just for a drink and a real conversation.”
Alastor’s eyes glinted with something you couldn’t read. “A quieter spot?”
“A private lounge for special patrons. Much nicer than this crowd.” You gestured at the drunken demons stumbling past. “What do you say?”
For a long moment, he just squinted at you. Then his grin widened and curled into glee.
“How could I refuse such a charming invitation?”
Sighing with relief, you stood, and Alastor followed, smoothly rising from the booth until he rose above your hair.
You led him through the crowd, past the bar, and finally through a door marked STAFF ONLY.
The back lounge was exactly what you’d promised. Lined with velvet couches beneath dim lights and soft music, with crimson curtains allowing for shaded meetings.
It was completely empty. You’d scouted it earlier, noting the single exit and the privacy.
Perfect.
“Much better,” you said, turning to face him. He stood between you and the door now, staff materializing in his hand.
When had that—?
“Indeed.” He tilted his head, flicking a tall dear ear. “Tell me, do you always lure your targets somewhere private? Or am I truly special?”
Your blood went cold. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do.” The static of his voice was like nails on a chalkboard now. “You’ve been watching that gentleman dining by the stage all evening—the one with the gold watch. And you arrived from the lounge coated in more magic than earlier, excluding a certain someone.”
Slowly, your hand slipped toward your clutch.
“Which means you’ve already killed once this evening.” His smile widened impossibly, and shadows peeled off the walls. “So tell me, little bird… was I supposed to be your second course?”
He knew. He’d known the whole time.
“Then why did you come back here knowing my plan?” You growled.
Alastor’s laugh crackled through the room, distorted and delighted. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do! Would you actually try it? Would you be bold enough, stupid enough, to attempt hurting me? And it seems like I was—”
You didn’t wait for him to finish.
Your hand closed around the silver-tipped stiletto in your clutch and you lunged, aiming for the throat. The same move that had dropped forty-three men.
His staff came up, swung like a bat as it deflected the blade. The impact sent vibrations up your arm, but you pressed forward, slashing at his face, his chest, anywhere you could reach.
He stepped back, and shadows erupted from every corner. “Oh, wonderful! You’re actually going for it!”
A tendril wrapped around your wrist. You twisted, stabbing down into the darkness. It recoiled with a sound between a hiss and static feedback, releasing you.
But three more replaced it.
They came from everywhere: the walls, the floor, the ceiling, even your own shadow. Anyplace where light met darkness, creatures of darkness worse than Hell rose, grasping for you.
Dodging two, then ducking under another, you had almost made it before a third caught your ankle and yanked.
You hit the ground hard, panicking as the stiletto skittered across the floor.
“Ah ah ah.” Alastor’s voice was gleeful as more shadows pinned your other leg, then your arms. They lifted you off the ground, spreading your limbs wide. “Not quite fast enough, I’m afraid.”
You thrashed, but the shadows only tightened. More wrapped around your waist and your throat. Dozens of them were wrapping tighter and tighter until you couldn’t move at all.
Alastor stepped closer and tilted his head. His antlers had grown, branching wider, sharpened like claws, and his eyes glowed with that eerie radio-dial light.
“Do you know what I find most fascinating? You actually thought you could do it. The confidence it takes to hunt the Radio Demon—”
His smile widened, stitched unnaturally into his face even as his eyes glowed a violent red.
“—is absolutely delicious.”
The shadows began to constrict.
Pain arched through your ribs. Your vision started to blur at the edges, and you felt his power wrapping tighter, pulling, draining you of everything—
No.
You’d absorbed forty-three kills. Forty-three demons’ strength. Enough magic to rival even an overlord, maybe.
He wasn’t taking any of it.
Something shifted within. Your body contorted. Your bones hollowed in an instant. Feathers pierced through skin. The shadows that had been crushing a human-sized demon suddenly held nothing but air and feathers.
You exploded outward in a burst of black and white plumage, wings beating hard against the tentacles that tried to close around you.
“What—!?” Alastor’s voice crackled with genuine surprise.
Magpie-you twisted through a gap in the shadows, small and fast now, a barely-open window just in sight.
Alastor’s tendrils snatched at tail feathers but you folded your wings, dropped into a dive, then shot back up at a sharp angle.
A shadow grazed your wing. You shrieked, barrel-rolled, extended your talons, and slashed at any black shape that came close.
“A SHAPESHIFTER!” His laughter boomed through the room, delighted and manic. “Oh, you clever little thing!”
The room became suffocated in shadow, rising along every surface as the lights above dimmed from Alastor’s strange magic. There were no gaps now, just darkness closing in like a fist.
Your tiny heart hammered. Your wings burned. There was no way out except the window high above.
You folded your wings completely and dropped like a stone. Shadows rushed overhead, and you pulled up at the last second, scraping your talons along the floor until sparks flew toward the monsters, pushing them back with their bright flares of light.
You shot forward with everything you had. Wood exploded around you as you burst through the window. A shadow caught your tail feathers, ripping several free.
The pain was like yanking out a fistful of hair, but you were free, wings spread wide, catching the hot Hell wind.
Behind you, Alastor’s laughter echoed into the night, crackling with static and… pure joy?
“OUTSTANDING! SIMPLY OUTSTANDING!”
You didn’t look back. Flying fast through the neon-soaked streets, you weaved between buildings and ducked through alleyways.
Six blocks. Eight. Twelve. You were putting distance between you and the strange, charming demon.
When you finally landed on a fire escape, you were shaking so hard you nearly fell. The shift back left you gasping, and you collapsed against the brick.
Ripped clothes. Racing heart. Wheezing lungs. A bloody patch where one of the shadows had ripped out your shiny feathers.
You pressed your hand to your mouth, caught between hysterical laughter and the urge to vomit.
He’d almost killed you. Almost. Those shadows had been draining you of every scrap of power you’d clawed from those sniveling assholes all these years. If you’d been a second slower—
You looked down at your clenched fist. Once they had been talons, aiming straight for Alastor’s throat.
You had sliced at the air only a mere hair away from fragile skin, but instead of another soul to call your own, you had taken something else instead.
Slowly, you opened your hand. A red button sat in your palm. You didn’t remember grabbing it, but it must have snagged it with your talons in that final desperate slash before the window.
The stitching was immaculate, engraved like custom work. Expensive, for sure.
You’d tried to kill the Radio Demon with a silver-tipped knife. He’d caught you, nearly crushed you, and you’d escaped by the skin of your teeth with nothing but a button to show for it.
But that was more than any other demon could brag about—most that faced Alastor didn’t have a mouth left to brag, anyway.
You clutched the button tight until it left an indent in your palm before grinning through the pain in your backside.
It had been totally worth it.
sorry this was was short!! it was more of an idea that a fully planned fic, but i might make a part two? we’ll see how I feel by the time the week is over 😵💫
· »-♡→ Every garden in Hell is fake, plastic, an insult to the beauty back on Earth. Nothing can grow here, and Lucifer is always there to remind you of that.
So you do the first thing that comes to mind: prove him wrong.
x: g/n reader with no “y/n”
~ 7k words
You scrubbed at the lobby floor until your arms burned, wearing down the scrubbing rag thin with each aggressive stroke.
The stain refused to budge. An ugly crimson soaked into every tile, every grout line, permanent as a scar.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what the floor is supposed to look like,” Charlie chuckled from behind the front desk, bemused.
You sat back on your heels, pushing hair from your forehead with the back of your wrist. “Everything here is red, or black, or some variation of fire and brimstone aesthetic.”
“Well, it is Hell.”
“I know, but—” You gestured around the lobby with the rag, dripping water onto the already-wet floor. “Where’s the contrast? Where’s the relief? You can’t rehabilitate people in a place that constantly reminds them of their worst moments.”
Charlie’s expression shifted, and interest sparked in her eyes. She rounded the desk and crouched beside you, her usual enthusiasm building. “What do you mean?”
You’d been thinking about this since you’d arrived at the hotel three weeks ago. The position was simple enough: general maintenance, cleaning, minor repairs. Grunt work that kept you busy and gave you purpose in the afterlife.
But every day you’d noticed the same thing: the oppressive atmosphere that darkened even Charlie’s relentless optimism.
“Colors,” you said, standing and dumping the dirty water back into your bucket. “Real colors. Not just variations of red. Blues, greens, yellows… things that remind people of life, of possibility. And scents. Actual pleasant scents instead of sulfur and smoke.”
“Like air freshener?”
“More than that. Something living. Something that grows and changes and proves that not everything down here is stagnant or dying or…” You trailed off, the idea crystallizing as you spoke.
Your mind raced through possibilities: flowers in windows, herbs on shelves, vines trailing down walls.
Life in the land of the dead. Growth in a place of punishment. “A garden.”
Charlie blinked. “A what?”
“We could try a garden. Plants, flowers, maybe even vegetables or fruit. One that requires care and attention and gives back beauty or nourishment.”
“That’s actually a wonderful idea!” Charlie clasped her hands together, spinning into planning mode. “We could put it in the courtyard, or maybe on the roof, and the guests could help maintain it as part of their rehabilitation activities—”
“That’s impossible.”
The voice drifted down from the second-floor landing. You looked up to find Lucifer leaning against the railing, one hand draped casually over the brass while the other adjusted his hat
He descended the stairs with theatrical flair, his coat sweeping behind him.
“Dad!” Charlie huffed. “You don’t know that. Maybe with the right approach—”
“Charlie, sweetheart, nothing from Earth grows in Hell. The soil is corrupted, the water is tainted, and the very atmosphere is antithetical to life.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and approached.
His eyes settled on you. “It’s a lovely thought, really. Very optimistic. But impossibility is rather baked into the concept of eternal damnation.”
You straightened your spine, meeting his gaze. “Well, if you feel so certain, Your Majesty, then we should test that claim. Bring me a seed.”
He quirked a brow. “Pardon?”
“From Earth. Next time someone makes a sacrifice and summons you for a deal, grab a seed. Any seed. I’ll prove it can work.”
Lucifer studied you for a long moment, probably measuring you against some internal criteria for stupidity. Then he laughed, but the sound carried no mockery.
Instead, it held… wistful empathy, like the laugh of someone who’d once believed in impossible things, but learned better.
“The determination is admirable.” He reached into his coat and produced an apple, perfectly red and gleaming as though freshly picked.
Lucifer held it out to you. “Here. Consider this a gentler lesson than what you’d learn wasting your efforts. As the humans might say: ‘An apple a day keeps the delusions away’.”
You stared at the fruit, then at him. Heat crept up your neck, not embarrassment, but anger. He wasn’t being cruel, but his dismissal stung worse than cruelty would have. He genuinely believed he was being kind, saving you from futile effort.
But what could you say to the most powerful being in Hell? Nothing that was worth getting poofed into red dust, you realized.
The apple was snatched from his hand. “Thanks. For nothing.”
“Now, that’s hardly fair—” he started, but you were already walking away, the apple clutched tight enough that your nails dug into the skin.
Charlie called after you, but you ignored her, climbing the stairs to your small room on the third floor. The door slammed harder than you wanted, rattling the frame.
Your room was modest: a bed, a dresser, a small bathroom, and a balcony that overlooked one of Pride Ring’s dimmer streets. You stormed onto the balcony, the apple still in your hand, fury and frustration warring in your head.
He’d been so certain. So absolutely convinced of impossibility.
You reared back and hurled the apple as hard as you could, pretending it was a face of paper white and red cheeks.
It arced through the sulfurous air and smashed against the far railing of the balcony, exploding into chunks of white flesh and red skin. Pieces tumbled over the edge, falling to the street below.
The anger drained as quickly as it had risen, leaving you hollow. You slumped against the doorframe and closed your eyes.
Earth’s beauty couldn’t be gone forever. There had been so much of it left to explore, so many mountains to climb, beaches to bask on, and lakes to swim in.
A world of wonder… stolen by a drunk driver who hadn’t seen you crossing the street.
Then, a glint of white caught your attention.
You pushed off the frame and crossed to where the apple had exploded. Among the smushed fruit, a single dark seed lay scattered across the balcony floor.
Small, tear-drop shaped… and perfectly intact.
Life.
You crouched and cupped the seed in your palm. Carrying it inside like a precious gem, the top drawer of your dresser became its temporary home until you could find something suitable.
It seemed simple in your head. The seed needed soil, water, and a container to hold it all together.
But just like Lucifer had said, there was nothing in Hell that resembled anything like that. Not ashen dirt that held no nutrients for the seed to feed on, not water that looked more like blood, and definitely not placed anywhere where Hell’s air could burn it to a crisp.
There had to be something out there. Which meant you needed to ask someone who had been in Hell long enough to give an answer.
So off you went, bubbling with possibility once more.
Thankfully the lobby was quieter in the evenings. Most of the hotel’s handful of guests retreated to their rooms or ventured out into the city. You found Husk exactly where you expected, behind the bar with a bottle in paw and his usual scowl fixed in place.
Husk glanced up as you approached. Sluggishly, with a wobble in his stance as he faced you completely. The cat-bird demon thing was drunk, as always.
“You look like you’re planning something goddamn stupid,” he slurred.
That was true, but you only shrugged in answer before sliding into the stool across from him. You didn’t need anyone else laughing at your ideas.
“Have you ever drunk water?”
“What?”
“Water. Good ol’ spring-well water—without the smell of decaying corpses. Have you had any since arriving in Hell?”
Husk’s scowl deepened. He took a long sip from his bottle before answering. “Only from Eden.”
You jerked forward. “What? You’ve been to Eden?”
“No… but years ago when I was running with the overlords, attending those stupid meetings with Valentino and the others.” He growled at the memory. “Someone brought a bottle back from a deal. Actual water from the Garden. Said it was too valuable to sell or trade… so I paid his damned price with the asshole’s own blood.”
He reached under the bar and produced a small glass bottle, no bigger than your hand, filled with crystal-clear liquid. “Last bit of purity in all of Hell, right here.”
Your heart skipped. “That’s… that from Eden?”
“So they claimed. Might be bullshit. But it tastes different from anything down here, so who knows.”
You stared at it. Holy water, literal holy water uncorrupted by Hell’s taint. Exactly what you needed.
Except… how were you supposed to get past its owner?
Quite easy, you quickly realized.
Husk was slumped against the bar, red wings splayed awkwardly beneath to keep him from toppling over. The bottle beside the old demon was mostly empty now.
Slowly, you watched (crouched behind a couch for the past hour) as his eyelids drooped farther and farther, and his grumblings turned into snores.
Guilt gnawed at your conscience as you crawled over the counter, searching for the Eden water beneath the bar.
Your fingers closed around the small bottle before slowly pulling back, trying to avoid any sound. Husk snored, undisturbed.
A quarter from your pocket went onto the bar where the bottle had been. Pathetic payment, but it was all you had.
You pocketed the Eden water and retreated before the angel on your shoulder could stop you entirely.
Finding a pot proved easier than expected. The hotel’s storage room contained decades of abandoned items, including a clay pot with a chip in the rim but otherwise strong. You carried it up to your room along with a small bag.
Getting soil was the next challenge.
You’d ventured outside the hotel’s protective wards only a handful of times since arriving. Pride Ring’s streets were dangerous for the unaffiliated, those without power or protection.
But you only needed to go a few blocks to where the buildings crumbled into ruins, where Hell’s native earth lay exposed.
The soil was wrong the moment you touched it. Coarse and gritty, it crumbled too easily and left a residue on your fingers that tingled unpleasantly.
You filled your bag anyway and hurried back to the hotel, hyper-aware of the eyes tracking your movement.
Back in your room, you poured the Hell-soil into the pot. It looked dead even before you tested it. It was gray-black, lifeless, probably toxic to anything that tried to grow in it.
You poked at it with your finger and confirmed what you already knew. This wouldn’t work.
Maybe Lucifer was…
You were a stubborn demon, too prideful to lose so quickly.
Dumping the Hell-soil back into the bag, you’d set everything aside. Tomorrow was a new day.
Opportunity arrived the next afternoon.
You were returning from another expedition for clean soil, hoping to find some at the outskirts of the ring where the demonic magic was weakest.
The dirt in your bag looked like the same ashy, dead pile that sat upstairs in the pot. But still, you heaved it along, trudging up the hill where your new home sat.
A small crowd had gathered outside the hotel’s entrance, maybe a dozen demons of various sizes and descriptions, all focused on the marble steps leading to the doors.
Lucifer stood at the top of the steps, arms spread wide, his showman’s grin gleaming. Golden sparks danced between his fingers.
“—absolutely nothing in all of creation that is beyond my abilities!” he declared. “Seven circles of Hell, all under my domain! The very concept of sin made manifest!”
You pushed through the crowd, the dirt clutched under one arm. Charlie stood off to the side, looking equal parts proud and embarrassed by her father’s display.
A demon near the front, one with too many teeth and scales, called out: “Show us your angel magic!”
The crowd echoed the request with various levels of enthusiasm. Lucifer’s grin sharpened.
“Angel magic? Well, why not!” He flourished his hands, and his eyes began to glow. “What would you like to see? I could transmute this marble into gold. I could summon a storm of fire. I could—”
“Give a blessing,” you said, pushing to the front.
The crowd quieted. Lucifer’s glowing eyes fixed on you, surprise flickering across his face before his theatrical mask settled back into place.
“A blessing? How… quaint.”
You held up the bag filled with Hell-soil. “Bless this.”
Lucifer’s smile twitched. “You’re still on about the garden? I thought we settled that yesterday.”
You crossed your arms. “You said it was impossible. I’m asking you to prove you can do even the basic angelic magic. Or can’t you?”
You pitched the skepticism in your voice just loud enough for the crowd to hear.
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. You’d struck his ego dead center.
“Can’t?” He descended the steps with deliberate grace, stopping directly in front of you. “Darling, I am the Lightbringer. The Morning Star. There is no ‘can’t’ in my vocabulary.”
“Then prove it.”
The crowd had gone silent. Charlie made a small noise of concern from the sidelines. Alastor giggled.
Lucifer stares at you intensely, his golden eyes inscrutable, masking whatever thoughts swirl behind them.
The breath you were holding burned your lungs, but you still waited silently for the final-final blow.
But Lucifer’s smile widened. Not like Alastor’s, whose smile spelled the opposite, but like the sunrise breaking through storms clouds. Even with the shark-like teeth, his expression was ethereal.
“You’re trouble,” he said quietly, meant only for you.
Then louder, for the crowd: “Very well! One blessing, coming right up!”
Lucifer placed both hands on either side of the bag you held. His eyes flared bright gold, and warmth radiated from his palms.
The air shimmered. Words in a language you didn’t recognize spilled from his lips and the soil began to glow faintly, a soft golden light that pulsed once, twice, then faded.
The Hell-soil’s gray-black color had shifted to something closer to brown, still dark but no longer quite so lifeless.
“There,” Lucifer announced, removing his hands. “One blessed bag of dirt, imbued with angelic grace and absolutely no practical purpose whatsoever.”
He leaned closer, dropping his voice for only you. “You’re welcome for feeding your delusion.”
Was there, maybe, quite possibly, even a fraction, that his expression held the faintest hint of hope that you might actually surprise him?
You clutched the bag tighter. “Thank you.”
His brows rose at your sincerity. Then you turned and hurried into the hotel before he could respond, before the crowd could disperse and ask questions.
Behind you, Lucifer addressed the crowd again, launching into some other demonstration, but you were already climbing the stairs to your room, the blessed soil warm against your arms.
The ritual of planting was simple but felt significant.
You knelt on your balcony floor, the pot before you, the tin of seeds beside it. The bottle of Eden water caught Heaven’s dim light filtering through Hell’s smokey haze.
One seed… just one to start. You pressed it into the blessed soil with your thumb, covering it carefully, then poured a small amount of the holy water over it.
The water absorbed quickly, darkening the soil.
Then you waited.
And waited…
…And waited some more.
(A little more waiting.)
Days passed. You checked the pot obsessively, morning and evening, looking for any sign of change.
Nothing. The soil remained dark and damp, but still.
You told yourself to be patient. Seeds took time. Different plants had different germination periods. You didn’t even know what kind of apple the seed came from, or if it would grow true to type.
But doubt crept in.
Maybe you’d wasted the only pure water in the Pride Ring on an impossible dream.
A week went by. Then two.
You found yourself avoiding Lucifer in the halls, unable to face his knowing looks. Charlie asked about your garden project once, but you’d deflected, not ready to admit failure.
Lucifer had been right. Nothing from Earth could grow in Hell.
You stared at the pot on the seventeenth morning, exhausted from another sleepless night. The soil remained dark and lifeless, mocking every hope you’d stupidly allowed yourself to feel.
Your fingers traced the pot’s chipped rim as frustration radiated like an angel’s aura. All those days of checking, waiting, believing like an idiot that you could make something impossible happen through sheer stubbornness.
“Stupid,” you muttered, grabbing the pot. “Stupid, stupid—”
You stormed onto the balcony and reared back, ready to hurl the whole thing into the street below. Let Hell have it. Let the ashen wasteland swallow your failure whole.
The pot left your hands.
It arced through the hot air, spinning end over end. Soil sprayed out in a dark trail. You watched it fall, feeling hollow.
Then you heard the impact.
Not the crash of clay on pavement, but a softer thump followed by a very surprised “Oof!”
You leaned over the railing and looked down to see Lucifer directly below your balcony, brushing dirt from his white coat.
The pot had shattered at his feet with soil scattered across the sidewalk. His hat had been knocked clean off his head and lay upside-down a few feet away.
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no—” You scrambled for the door.
You flew down the stairs, taking them three at a time, your pulse roaring in your ears. You’d just assaulted the King of Hell. With a flowerpot. You were going to be obliterated, turned into dust, erased from existence—
You burst through the hotel’s entrance and skidded to a stop in front of him.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were down there, I wasn’t trying to hit you, I was just angry and frustrated and I didn’t mean—are you hurt? Of course you’re not hurt, you’re an angel, but still I’m so sorry—”
The words tumbled out in a breathless rush as you reached for him, checking for injuries you knew wouldn’t be there with shaking hands.
But Lucifer wasn’t looking at you.
His attention was fixed on something else entirely, his expression frozen in a way you’d never seen before. You followed his gaze to where his hat lay on the ground.
There, nestled in the upturned brim surrounded by scattered soil, was a tiny green sprout.
Two small leaves unfurled toward the dim red sky, impossibly, defiantly green against the black silk of his hat.
The world seemed to stop.
“Did you…” Lucifer’s voice was barely a whisper. He crouched slowly, his hands hovering over the hat. “Did you do this?”
You stared at the sprout, your mind struggling to catch up. “I… I guess? I mean, I planted the seed, but it wasn’t growing, it wasn’t doing anything, and I thought—”
“It grew.” His voice cracked on the words. “You made something grow.”
He lifted the hat with trembling hands, cradling it like the most precious thing in existence. The sprout swayed with the movement, but still it held strong against the acrid sky.
Then Lucifer looked up at you, and his face transformed.
Joy (pure, radiant, unrestrained joy) broke across his features. His eyes were wide and bright, shimmering with tears that he didn’t bother to hide.
“You actually did it,” he breathed, his voice thick with wonder. “You beautiful, stubborn demon—you actually made something from Earth grow in Hell.”
He stood abruptly, still holding the hat, and laughed. The sound was startled and delighted, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest. He spun in a circle, coat flaring around him, staring at the tiny plant as though it had rewritten every rule of existence.
Which, you supposed, it had.
“Do you understand what this means?” He turned back to you, his expression incandescent. “This shouldn’t be possible. It defies every law, every curse, every fundamental principle of how Hell functions. But you—”
He shook his head, still smiling so hard it had to hurt. “You made it happen anyway.”
Your throat tightened. “I didn’t think it would work. I was about to give up.”
“But you didn’t give up. Not really. You kept trying for seventeen days.” He moved closer, close enough you felt that gentle warmth of his aura wash away every worry. “You kept believing in something I told you was impossible, and you proved me wrong in the most spectacular way imaginable.”
A tear rolled down Lucifer’s face, catching the light.
“I haven’t seen anything this green since Eden,” he whispered. “I thought I never would again. But here it is, growing in my hat in the middle of Hell because you were too prideful to accept impossibility.”
He pulled you into a fierce embrace, the hat with its precious cargo carefully balanced in one hand while his other arm wrapped around you.
You felt his chest shake with laughter, or maybe sobs, you couldn’t tell which.
“Thank you,” he said against your hair. “Thank you for this. For showing me the beauty in a place like this.”
You held him back and looked at the tiny sprout reaching toward the sky.
Life in Hell. Growth in damnation. Hope in a place built to destroy it.
Impossible, they’ve told you again and again.
And yet...
The sprout became your world.
You’d replanted it carefully in fresh soil, using the last blessed earth from Lucifer’s original gift. It sat on your balcony now in a proper pot, growing with a vigor that seemed almost aggressive.
Each morning brought visible change: new leaves, a thicker stem, and roots you could see pressing against the clay when you checked.
You were watering it on the fifth day when a knock sounded at your door.
Not Lucifer’s usual dramatic materialization in your front room, but a polite, hesitant rap of knuckles against wood.
You opened the door and froze.
Lucifer stood in the hallway wearing clothes you’d never seen on him before. No coat. No hat. No polished boots or golden accessories.
Instead, he wore simple canvas pants tucked into leather work boots, a white shirt with the sleeves already rolled to his elbows, and—
“Are those gardening gloves?” you chuckled, staring at the worn leather gloves tucked into his belt.
Pink crept up his neck. “I thought… that is, I assumed you might need help… the non-magical way. With the planting. Of the rest. But you might not want help. I shouldn’t have presumed—”
“The rest?”
Lucifer reached into a canvas bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a glass jar filled with seeds. Dozens of them, all different sizes and colors.
“There was a summoning last week. Some cult in Ohio, very tedious contractual negotiations.” He held the jar out like an offering. “But they were worshipping in a basement beneath a plant nursery. And I remembered what you said, about bringing seeds, so I…”
He trailed off, his confidence wavering. “I collected what I could.”
You took the jar carefully, holding it up to examine the contents. Tomato seeds, definitely. Something that looked like cucumber. Others you couldn’t identify but felt promising.
“You robbed a plant nursery during a demonic summoning?”
“I wouldn’t say robbed. More like… tactically acquired.” His hands fidgeted with the gloves at his belt. “We’ll need more blessed soil, of course. What I gave you before won’t be enough for this many plants. I can prepare more, but it’ll take time and considerable power, and we’ll need proper containers, a better watering system, maybe some fertilizer—”
You kissed his cheek.
Lucifer stopped mid-sentence, and his eyes went wide.
“Thank you,” you said simply. “For the seeds and for—” You gestured at his outfit. “For dressing like an actual gardener.
His smile started small but grew until it rivaled the joy from five days ago. “So you want my help?”
“I want your help.”
“Excellent.” He clapped his hands together, and suddenly he was moving, no longer nervous. “We should start with the soil. I’ll need space to work—your balcony should suffice. And we’ll need containers. Lots of containers. Charlie must have something in storage we can repurpose…”
Blessing soil, you learned, was exhausting work for a fallen angel.
Lucifer sat cross-legged on your balcony floor, surrounded by bags of Hell’s native earth he’d somehow acquired. His hands hovered over each bag in turn, and golden light poured from his palms as he spoke words in that ancient language.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His hands shook by the fourth bag.
“You don’t have to do it all at once,” you said, crouching beside him. “We can spread it out over days.”
“No.” His jaw set stubbornly. “You’ve been waiting long enough. I want to see what else we can grow.”
By the time he’d blessed the seventh bag, he was swaying. You caught his shoulder, steadying him.
“That’s enough for today.”
“Just one more—”
“Lucifer.” You turned his face toward you gently. “It’s enough. We have plenty to start with.”
He studied your expression, then nodded reluctantly. The glow around his claws faded, and he slumped forward. You guided him to sit against the balcony railing.
The King tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
“This would’ve been easier in the Before,” he murmured. “When I was still… fully that.”
“Still what?”
“Angelic.” He opened his eyes, staring at Hell’s red sky. “The Fall changed things, making accessing that part of myself harder. Sure, I can still conjure anything with a snap of my fingers, but… it’s been a long time since i’ve done anything truly good.”
You settled beside him, pressing your shoulder against his. “The fact that it’s hard makes it more impressive that you’re doing it anyway.”
He turned his head, studying you. Something soft moved through his expression. “You have a remarkable talent for making me want to be better than I am.”
“You’re already pretty remarkable.”
“Now you’re just flattering me.”
“Is it working?”
His laugh was quiet but genuine. “Devastatingly well.”
News of the growing project spread through the hotel faster than you’d expected. By the next morning, when you and Lucifer began setting up pots on your balcony, you had an audience.
Charlie appeared first, bouncing with excitement and immediately volunteering to help. Then Vaggie, drawn by Charlie’s enthusiasm.
Angel Dust wandered over out of curiosity, dragging a disinterested-looking Husk who was definitely interested but would never admit it.
Even Alastor manifested, watching from the doorway with that unsettling smile.
“How delightfully ambitious,” the Radio Demon crooned. “Agriculture in Hell. What’s next, ice skating in the Wrath Ring?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Lucifer muttered, carefully pouring blessed soil into a pot.
The balcony became cramped quickly, everyone trying to help or at least observe. You divided the seeds, explaining what little you knew about each type.
Lucifer provided blessed soil. Charlie organized the pots by size. Vaggie constructed makeshift labels from torn paper.
Angel kept making dirt-related innuendos until Husk threw a handful of soil at his face.
“Oh, that’s how we’re playing?” Angel scooped up his own handful (six handfuls, technically).
“Don’t you dare—” Vaggie started.
Angel threw it. The dirt hit Vaggie’s shoulder, Husk’s face, and bowled Nifty right over. Charlie gasped in mock outrage before gathering her own ammunition.
Within seconds, blessed soil was flying. Laughter echoed off the balcony walls as everyone joined in, even Husk, whose aim was unfortunately accurate.
You ducked behind a pot as Charlie launched a particularly large clump in your direction.
Then Lucifer appeared beside you, cheeks smudged with dirt and golden eyes bright with mischief you’d never seen before.
“Having fun?” he asked.
“Immensely.” You scooped up soil. “You?”
“I haven’t had a dirt fight since Eden.” He grinned. “I’d forgotten how satisfying it is.”
You threw your handful at him. It hit his chest, exploding across his white shirt.
Lucifer’s expression shifted to playful betrayal. “Oh, that was a mistake.”
He lunged. You shrieked and tried to dodge, but the balcony was too crowded. You stumbled backward over a bag of soil, and suddenly you were falling, and Lucifer was reaching out to catch you, and then you were both tumbling down in a tangle of limbs.
You landed on your back in the pile of blessed earth. Lucifer caught himself with his hands on either side of your head, holding his weight off you.
Silence fell abruptly.
You stared up at him, acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched. His face was inches from yours, close enough that you could count the flecks of red in his golden eyes. Close enough to feel his breath against your lips.
His gaze dropped to your mouth, and you forced back a shiver.
The balcony was utterly quiet when the King of Hell finally scrambled off you.
“Sorry!” The word burst from him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—that was an accident, I wasn’t trying to—”
“It’s fine!” You sat up quickly, your face burning hot enough to rival Hell’s flames. “Completely fine, accidents happen, no problem at all—”
You couldn’t look at him. He wasn’t looking at you either, suddenly fascinated by the dirt on his hands.
Angel’s cackle broke the tension. “Oh, that was beautiful. The pining. The yearning. Please continue not kissing, it’s adorable.”
“Shut up, Angel,” you and Lucifer said in unison
Charlie cleared her throat diplomatically. “Maybe we should, um, finish planting? Before the soil dries out?”
Everyone returned to work, pointedly not mentioning what had just happened. You focused intently on your pot, pressing seeds into blessed earth with shaking hands.
This was fine. Everything was fine. You definitely weren’t thinking about how close his mouth had been to yours. How his eyes had darkened. How your entire body had responded to his proximity.
Yep, we’re all staying calm. Right?
You pressed a tomato seed into soil and tried to ignore Angel’s knowing smirk from across the balcony.
Despite the awkwardness (or maybe because of it) the group planting was successful. Two dozen pots lined your balcony by the end of the day, each one holding blessed soil and precious seeds.
Lucifer left shortly after, mumbling something about kingly duties and avoiding eye contact. You watched him go and tried not to feel disappointed.
But he was back the next morning with coffee and more supplies, acting as though nothing had happened. You fell into the routine gratefully, tending the pots together, checking for sprouts, discussing optimal watering schedules
The almost-kiss stuck to your thoughts like humidity, unacknowledged but defiantly there.
Sure, you had kissed his cheek earlier, but that had just been a thank you—like the french people do! That’s what you told yourself over and over again, at least.
The seeds sprouted within days, faster even than the original apple seed. Tiny green shoots pushed through dark soil in pot after pot, each one a small miracle.
Charlie suggested moving the operation somewhere more public once the plants were established.
“Everyone should see this,” she insisted. “It’s too important to keep hidden.”
Which was how you found yourself, three weeks later, standing in the center of the hotel lobby with Lucifer, surrounded by boxes and pots and bags of blessed soil.
The residents had cleared the furniture, creating an open space where the checkered floor pattern formed a natural focal point.
Your original apple sapling (now two feet tall) would go in the center. The others would surround it, creating a garden in the heart of Hell’s most ambitious rehabilitation project.
“Ready?” Lucifer asked, holding one side of the apple tree’s pot.
You gripped the other side. “Ready.”
Together, you carried it from your balcony down to the lobby, moving in careful synchronization.
Lucifer had insisted on lifting it with his magic or just poofing it right into the lobby, but you refused. You wanted a hand in every part of it, to feel the dirt beneath your nails and the sweat on your back, just like back on Earth.
The residents gathered to watch as you set it in the exact center of the floor.
It looked small in the vast space, vulnerable to any demon that sneezed fire or coughed acid. But the green of its leaves seemed to glow against the red walls, lit by Heaven’s white glow from the window above, as if to say, ‘Try me.’
Over the following hours, you and Lucifer arranged the other plants around it. Tomatoes, vines, and flowering bushes you were still learning to identify began to encircle the apple tree. Each one placed with intention, creating patterns that were both beautiful and functional.
The residents helped where they could, but mostly they watched in awed silence as life took root in their home.
By evening, the lobby had transformed. Green things grew where only red and black had existed before. The air smelled different—smelled cleaner, touched with earth missing the ashy haze that infested the rest of the Pentagram City.
Angel whistled low. “Shit. Dis is actually… beautiful.”
“Language,” Charlie chided automatically, but her eyes were bright with tears.
Husk grunted from the bar. “Not bad. For a bunch of dead sinners and a fallen angel.”
“High praise,” Lucifer muttered beside you.
You smiled, surveying your work. Your garden. Your miracle of growth in a place designed for stagnation.
Lucifer’s hand found yours, and slowly his fingers threaded with yours. There was no hesitation from either of you. You squeezed back, and together you stood in the center of something beautiful you’d created together.
Time moved differently in Hell, endless and dark, with days blending into each other without real meaning. But the garden created its own time, its own measure of progress.
The apple tree grew.
It stretched upward toward Heaven’s light, adding inches each week. Its trunk thickened, its bark darkened from green to brown. Branches spread wide, reaching toward the high lobby ceiling. Leaves multiplied, creating a canopy that provided actual shade.
Months passed, marked by growth spurts and new developments. The other plants flourished too: one of the bushes you planted had bloomed with roses, and now there were vegetables—producing actual food that the hotel’s kitchen began incorporating into meals.
But the apple tree was special. Everyone felt it. It was a beacon for… hope.
Hope that one day, every single soul that passed through the Hazbin Hotel would find redemption that would lift them to a place where apple trees grew everywhere, where life was everywhere.
You watched many demons pause beneath its branches as though seeking benediction. They’d contemplate their sins both before and after death beneath its cover, hoping no other demon would see their vulnerability beneath leaves as fragile as their new dreams.
And Lucifer… Lucifer had become a constant presence.
He showed up every morning without fail, usually bearing coffee and whatever new seed or supply he’d acquired.
The theatrical King of Hell gradually disappeared during these visits, replaced by someone quieter and genuine. Someone who got dirt smudged onto his white coat and didn’t mind, who laughed when things went wrong and celebrated when they went right.
Someone who looked at you with warmth that had nothing to do with Hell’s fires.
You tried not to read too much into it. He was interested in the project, that was all. The novelty of creation, the satisfaction of growing things. It didn’t mean anything beyond that.
Except…
Except the way he smiled when you appeared, and the careful attention he paid to your explanations, even though he’d read more about gardening than you’d ever known.
The casual touches, like his shoulder bumping yours when you dug side by side, or when his fingers brushed your back when he reached past you for tools.
Small things. Probably meaningless. So you kept your focus on the garden.
You were watering the herbs one morning, nearly a year after planting that first seed, when you noticed them.
Small white blossoms dotted the apple tree’s branches. Flowers. The tree was flowering.
Your breath caught. You set down the watering can and moved closer, staring up at the clusters of white and pink petals that had appeared overnight.
“Blossoms,” a voice said behind you.
You turned to find Lucifer standing at the edge of the garden, pale face unreadable.
“It’s going to fruit,” you remarked..
“Yes.” He moved closer, tilting his head back to study the flowers. “In a few months, probably. Maybe sooner… everything grows faster here than it should.”
He reached up and gently touched a blossom, reverent.
“Real apples. From a tree grown in Hell...” Lucifer’s laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving. “The implications are staggering.”
You stood beside him, both of you staring up at the proof that impossible things could happen if you were stubborn enough.
His hand found yours again in a gesture that had become natural over the months, but never any further.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For proving me wrong.”
You squeezed his fingers. “We proved you wrong together.”
“No.” He turned to look at you, meeting your wide eyes with intensity. “You did this. I just… learned to believe in it because you did first.”
The empty lobby was charged with something neither of you had been brave enough to name. His thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Your heart raced.
“Lucifer—” you started.
“Dad!” Charlie’s voice echoed from the stairs. “Dad, have you seen—oh!” She spotted you both and grinned. “The tree is flowering! This is amazing!”
The moment broke. Lucifer stepped back, releasing your hand to hug his daughter. You swallowed your disappointment and returned to watering the plants.
Throughout the day, as more residents discovered the blossoms and celebrated this new development, you kept catching Lucifer watching you with an expression that made your breath hitch.
Soon, you told yourself. Soon one of you would be brave enough.
And, for once, you prayed to God for it to come true.
The apples appeared three months later.
Small green orbs at first, barely visible among the leaves. But they grew quickly, swelling and ripening until they glowed red against the dark foliage.
Earth apples. Perfect and unblemished, growing on a tree that shouldn’t exist.
Then the first one ripened on a Tuesday.
You noticed it during your morning inspection: a single apple, perfectly red, hanging from a low branch. Your hand trembled as you reached for it, half-expecting it to vanish at your touch.
But it was solid. Warm from the light filtering through the windows.
You plucked it carefully, cradling it in both palms. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
“Is that…?” Charlie’s voice, soft with wonder.
You turned to find her and Vaggie standing at the edge of the garden, staring at the fruit in your hands.
“The first one,” you confirmed.
“We have to show Dad!” Charlie bounced on her toes. “But… I haven’t seen him all day.”
“I’ll find him!”
You left the lobby, carrying the apple like a holy relic.
The hallway was empty this early, most of the hotel’s residents were either still asleep or had ventured out into Pride Ring for whatever demons did with their mornings.
You thundered up the stairs with the apple clutched carefully. Lucifer’s workshop was on the highest floor, a place where demons would bother him the least.
The golden door was closed but not locked. You didn’t knock.
The door slammed open, bouncing off the interior wall with a bang that echoed through the room.
Lucifer jerked upright from his workbench, a half-assembled rubber duck tumbling from his hands. His hat sat askew on his head, and his coat hung on a nearby rack, leaving him in shirtsleeves and a vest.
He blinked at you, startled, then his expression shifted to amused concern.
“Good morning to you too. I wasn’t aware we were doing wake-up calls via property damage now.”
Wordlessly, you held out the apple.
Lucifer’s lips parted. His tools clattered to the workbench, forgotten. He crossed the room in three strides and took the fruit from your hand.
“It’s perfect,” he breathed. He traced a claw across its gleaming surface. “Like the ones from Eden.”
Lucifer smiled, but it was bittersweet. His vulnerability toward you left you speechless still.
He tried to hand it back to you. “You should have it. You earned it.”
Instead of taking it, you wrapped your hand around his, holding the apple between both your palms. “No.”
You applied pressure, and the apple broke cleanly in two from his claws. The flesh was white and perfect, the seeds inside smooth and dark.
You took one half and held it up, meeting his gaze. “An apple a day reminds us that impossible is just another word for ‘hasn’t happened yet.’”
Lucifer stared at his half of the apple, then at you, then back at the fruit.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
Together, in a workshop at the top of a hotel in Hell, you bit into the first fruits of a totally possible garden. The taste exploded across your tongue, sweet and tarty, exactly as apples should taste, exactly as you remembered from life.
Lucifer’s eyes closed as he chewed, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
When you’d both finished, he pulled you into an embrace, holding you tight enough that you could feel his heart thumping against your chest.
“I know I've said this a lot already,” he murmured into your hair. “But thank you, not just for the tree or the garden but… but for being here with me.”
You held him back, realizing that whatever was growing between you was just as possible as the garden you’d built together.
Had God really answered your prayer?
yoooooo we’re back, right in time for halloween!! i totally should have done a themed fic, but i had no idea when this would get done lmao
i wrote 2 books while on hiatus (and a fic for Jason Todd 😏) bc i’m working to get traditionally published 😭 but i hope the aches of my fingers means that my writing has improved! 🙏
feel free to send ideas to my ask box! love y’all 🤍
・❥ You don’t like to be touched—even handshakes get you sweaty, but can the charming ruler of Hell change that?
x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n.
xx: wowowoow my first inbox request!! i honestly never thought i would do one but i finally had the motivation to write a situation like this so… enjoy!
The first time you met Lucifer, you flinched.
It wasn’t subtle, either. You physically recoiled, reeling back as if. You could still recall the shock in his crimson eyes, then the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you in front of all your friends at the hotel.
“Oh?” he had murmured, withdrawing his hand just before it could make contact with your shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “Ah, I see. The rumors have gotten to you, haven’t they? Terrified I’ll smite you where you stand?”
Lucifer’s tone was teasing, but there was a curiosity beneath it, as if he was waiting to see if you’d confirm his suspicion.
Your stomach had twisted at the attention. You’d only been working at the Hazbin Hotel’s front desk for a few weeks, trying to keep your head down and do your job.
When Charlie had offered you a position, promising you a place that felt safe, you hadn’t expected him—Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself—to be so… present.
And touchy.
Lucifer was all casual affection, all warmth and charm wrapped up in a devilishly well-dressed package. A hand at Charlie’s back, a ruffle of Vaggie’s hair, a deliberate jab to Alastor’s side when he stood in the King’s path. He was the kind of person who made contact as naturally as breathing.
Which, unfortunately, didn’t mix well with you.
You weren’t sure why you told him. Maybe it was the way he had pulled back so easily, so quickly, without a hint of offense. Maybe it was because of the curious way he watched you afterward, instead of the disgust or cruel judgment like you would have expected for the ruler of Hell.
“I don’t like being touched,” you had admitted, your fingers curling against the desk. “It’s not—it’s not you, I just—”
Lucifer had held up a hand, stopping you with a disarming smile. “Say no more, darling.”
And he hadn’t pushed. Not once.
At first, you thought he’d forget, like he did everything. But Lucifer never forgot.
When he spoke to you, he kept an extra bit of space between you. When he passed you one of his famous, hand made rubber duckies, he set it on the desk rather than handing it directly to you.
Even when he cracked a joke or leaned in conspiratorially, it was always within a distance you could handle.
And then, slowly, softly, after a few months of casual flirtation and shared laughter over pancakes, Lucifer started testing the waters.
The first time, it had been your hand. A particularly stressful morning had left you rubbing at your temples, exhaustion laying heavy in your bones.
Lucifer had approached the desk, a steaming cup of invigorating tea in hand, and instead of setting it down, he very deliberately extended it toward you.
You hesitated.
“It’s not cursed,” he teased, wiggling the cup.
You huffed, but took it from him—fingers brushing, just barely, against his own. The contact lasted less than a second, but Lucifer’s grin was bright.
After that, it was gradual. The lightest press of his shoulder beside you when he leaned in to peek at your paperwork. A casual touch to your sleeve when he needed your attention.
Never too much. Never too soon.
You weren’t sure when it happened, but one day, you realized you didn’t flinch anymore.
And then, one quiet evening in the lobby, it happened.
You had been reading, curled up in one of the oversized lounge chairs near the front desk, when Lucifer sauntered in.
“Hard at work I see,” he mused, sliding his gaze across the empty lobby. “I’m sure everyone is aware the weight of the hotel rests on your shoulders.”
You glanced up from your book with a raised brow, already catching the glint of amusement in his unnatural eyes. “It’s my break.”
“That’s perfect!” He slid onto the cushion beside you. “Then you won’t mind me indulging for a moment.”
Then, slowly, he extended a hand. Open, palm-up, resting on the cushion between you.
An invitation. Nothing more.
Your heart hammered, but… you didn’t move away.
Instead, cautiously, you let your fingers drift toward his. The moment your fingertips brushed his palm, Lucifer’s expression softened, his own fingers closing just enough to lightly hold yours.
“See?” he murmured, warmth seeping from his touch. “Not so bad, is it?”
You exhaled, and slowly your shoulders sank, and the tension coiled beneath your skin slowly dissipated. His hand was warm—steady, safe. Something you hadn’t felt since before arriving to this dark place.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to pull away.
Lucifer didn’t move either, didn’t tighten his grip or trace circles against your skin—he simply let you be, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“Not so bad,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucifer’s lips curled into something softer than his usual knowing smirk. A smile, real and warm, one that made the space between you feel smaller in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but comforting.
“I’m rather delightful to touch, you know.” Lucifer winked, tilting his black wrists closer to view. “Silky smooth, soft as sin, practically a luxury experience.”
You let out a small, breathy laugh. Of course he’d find a way to make it about himself.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured, his thumb shifting just slightly against your fingers—a feather-light stroke, so brief and careful you barely noticed until it was already gone, “you’re still holding my hand.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t retreat. You could have. Lucifer would have let you. Instead, you turned your hand just a little, aligning your fingers with his.
His thumb ghosted against your knuckles, so light it was more suggestion than touch. Testing. Waiting.
Your heart skipped.
Lucifer didn’t push. He didn’t coax. He simply let you choose.
So you did.
You shifted closer, just slightly, your fingers curling tentatively around his. His expression didn’t change—still soft, still patient—but you swore his grip grew just the slightest bit firmer, just enough to make sure you knew he was there.
A long, quiet moment passed.
“I’ve been thinking…” he finally said, that playful grin twitching back onto his angelic features, “Charlie is going to be very jealous when she finds out I was your first.”
You blinked. “First…?”
“Holding hands, of course.” His smirk widened. “I’m not the only one in the family who’s fond of close contact. Unless dear Charlotte has already had the honor?”
You groaned, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“What can I say?” He sighed, dramatically wistful. “I am the Sin of Pride, can’t I indulge in some while I celebrate this tender victory?”
Your lips twitched. He was incorrigible.
But… he had been patient. Gentle. Kind.
You squeezed his hand—just barely, just enough for him to know.
Lucifer stilled for half a second before his thumb traced another light, careful line along your knuckles. A silent thank you.
And, for once, the space between you didn’t feel so wide.
That night hadn’t been the end of Lucifer’s brazen acts, either.
If anything, it only emboldened him.
The brushes of his fingers became more frequent, the space between you ever-shrinking. A light touch at your elbow when he guided you through a crowded hall, the playful flick of a stray strand of hair when he teased you. Never too much, never unwelcome—but always there. Always him.
And then, one night, he caught you. Quite literally.
The explosion had been unexpected. A misplaced spell—Alastor’s, or maybe even Charlie’s—had sent a shockwave through the lobby, shaking the walls and rattling the grand chandelier overhead.
You had been moving toward the front desk when it happened, but the force of the blast sent you stumbling back.
Your arms flailed, your body crashed toward the floor. Everything was moving too fast, there was no time to break the fall.
And then—Lucifer appeared at the corner of your vision.
One second, you were falling, and the next, his arms were around you. Not just bracing you—catching you.
The world tilted, a blur of motion and heat, and suddenly, you were against his chest, the scent of him—apple cider and something dark, like aged wine—filling your senses.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
His grip was like steel, an arm locked around your waist, the other bracing your back. Your hands had instinctively grasped at his coat, clutching the fine fabric between your fingers.
And still, he didn’t let go.
“You know,” Lucifer hummed, a teasing lilt as his lips quirked upward, “for someone who claims to avoid my touch, you do seem rather comfortable in my arms.”
You scoffed, tilting your head up to glare at him—a mistake.
His pretty, i’m-so-charming-it-hurts face was close. Too close.
The smirk of Lucifer’s widened when your cheeks flushed with warmth—like he could practically feel the heat radiating between you—but there was something else beneath it, something softer in the way his crimson eyes lingered on your face.
Your breath caught.
Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly at your waist, his thumb brushing—just barely—against your ribs in a way that sent heat prickling up your spine.
It wasn’t teasing, not entirely.
There was something else there, something unspoken in the way his grip never softened.
His usual arrogance had quieted, his smirk tempered by something deeper, something almost hesitant.
Like the King of Hell was savoring the quiet, intimate moment. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
“I could let go,” he offered, though his grip didn’t loosen.
You swallowed, pulse thundering. “Then why haven’t you?”
A slow grin. “You haven’t asked me to.”
The worst part?
You didn’t want to, especially when you looked up at Lucifer’s carefully guarded expression.
As if he was waiting for you to pull away—half-expecting it, maybe. Half-dreading it.
But you didn’t. Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his coat.
“You’re staring,” you murmured, the words barely more than breath.
Lucifer’s lips twitched, but the usual smirk didn’t come. Instead, his thumb brushed absently against your side—a touch so light, so fleeting, that you might have imagined it.
“Can you blame me?” he murmured, so quiet you had to crane to hear. “This is a rather…captivating angle.”
And your heart skipped three beats.
Lucifer always knew how to make things seem like a game.
It was easier that way, wasn’t it? If he made it into a joke, if he grinned just so, if he teased enough to make you roll your eyes and huff at him, then it was nothing more than harmless fun. It was just another of his indulgent amusements, just another way to pass the time.
But then there were moments like these.
Moments where he didn’t hide behind a smirk.
Moments where he was patient. Where he was watching. Where you realized, belatedly, that it had never been a game to begin with.
“…I don’t want to be bad at it,” you admitted, hating how small your voice sounded as you sat across from him.
You were painfully aware of how small the space was between the two of you, sitting on one of the lounges in the dead of night—when everyone was to be asleep, you desperately hoped.
Lucifer’s expression softened—not in pity, never in pity, but something else. Something like understanding, which was an emotion others did not grant you so easily when it came to your adversity to physical interaction.
“There’s no such thing,” he shook his head confidently, tilting it just slightly. “It’s not a skill that needs to be perfected, I assure you. It’s just something to be shared.”
You swallowed. “Easy for you to say.”
His lips quirked. “Oh? Do you think I was born knowing how to kiss?”
The thought made you huff. “You might as well have been. Weren’t you created to be the most beautiful angel in Heaven? Surely that was one of the reasons.”
Lucifer chuckled, his thumb brushing idly against the back of your hand.
“No,” he murmured, “I had to learn too.”
You frowned, crossing your arms. “From who?”
His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You groaned, smacking his arm lightly, and he laughed. But then, after a moment, he let the mirth fade, his voice softening once more.
“I learned the same way I’m offering to teach you now.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours. “With patience. With trust.”
You hesitated, heart beating a little too fast. “And if I do it wrong?”
“There is no wrong.” He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw gently. “There’s only what you like and what you don’t. And we can stop the moment you want to, understand?”
You nodded.
He smiled. “Then come here.”
You sucked in a quiet breath, then shifted closer, tilting your face up toward his.
Lucifer didn’t rush. He let you take your time, let you hover just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
Then, when you finally worked up the nerve to bridge that last inch without shivering at what was to come, he met you there.
The kiss was light at first, just a simple press, the barest brush of lips against lips. He let you test the feeling, let you adjust, let you decide.
And when you, ever so tentatively, kissed him again, he smiled against your mouth.
“See?” he murmured, sweet breath fanning your lips. “You’re already quite good at it.”
You weren’t sure if that was true.
But when he kissed you again—slower, deeper, his fingers cradling your face like something precious—you found that, for once, you didn’t really care.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the quiet, careful press of lips and the soft sighs exchanged between you. But then—
A noise. A clatter, followed by a small gasp.
You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned toward the kitchen doors across the lobby.
And there, standing in the dim light of the hall, barefoot in her pajamas with a bowl of something precariously balanced in her hands, was Charlie.
She blinked, her eyes going comically wide. Your lips parted, and you sputtered on air, desperately searching for something—anything—to use as an excuse.
‘Sorry, Charlie! Your dad was just checking for something in my teeth!…Rather closely…’ you thought of blurting.
Lucifer didn’t look surprised, but he definitely looked as if he had been caught red-handed with the sheepish smile growing across his face.
Sweat beaded on your brow, your eyes flicked from Lucifer to Charlie’s shocked expression, and when you finally got the courage, you—
“Yes!”
Charlie fist-pumped the air, and you gawked. What?
The princess practically vibrated in place, clutching her bowl of whatever midnight snack she’d been after. “I knew it! I knew something was going on! Oh my gosh, does this mean you’re together now? Or—wait—was that your first kiss?!”
Your soul nearly left your body (again). “Charlie—”
She gasped dramatically, bouncing on her heels. “It was! Oh, this is so much better than popcorn!”
Lucifer chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much with his chest swelling at the attention, while you were debating if it was possible to melt into the furniture and disappear entirely.
Charlie grinned at your flustered expression before finally stilling with a grin. “Okay, okay, I’ll go—but this is officially my new favorite thing.”
She spun on her heel, heading for the hallway, but not before shooting you both finger guns. “Carry on, lovebirds!”
And with that, she was gone, leaving behind only the sound of your mortification.
You slumped back into the couch, groaning into your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”
Lucifer, far too pleased, slowly lifted your hand to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on your knuckle. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You sighed, the fight leaving you as you let your hand rest in his. “No… never with you.”
Lucifer smirked before he leaned in closer, and your breath hitched. “Good, because this time won't be the last.”
Hell… you hoped he was right.
hi!!! how have you all been doing? i’ve missed you guys!! this was a sweet idea to play around with, and i hope i’ve still got a feel for luci’s characterization while i’ve been away 🫶
・❥ You’ve been kidnapped. Good thing you know two handsome fellas who’d come to your rescue in a heartbeat—or lack thereof.
~ 5k words
x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. enjoy 🥰
“You better just let me go. It won’t be pretty for any of you if you keep me locked up for much longer!” You called from the suspended prison cell, hanging from the ceiling with a single, thick chain.
The demon thugs below barely blinked, ignoring your words as they continued their game of hellish poker. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the floor, their heads spinning with a drunken buzz while they snickered between each other.
“Whoever wins this round gets first tool pick for torturing the prisoner.” The dealer laid out the deck of cards, flicking his gaze to the cage just above their heads.
“Maybe that will finally shut them up. It’s been–what, three hours since we grabbed them, and they’re still yapping.” One of the shark demons sighed as he shuffled his hand.
The iron bars pressed against your fingers, their chill biting your skin as you gripped them. The dank air, thick with the stench of mold and something fouler, clung to your lungs with every breath. They had plucked you from the street just as you stepped out of the bar, saying you owed money to some freak down in the Greed Ring and your stash of cash needed to be coughed up before the night's end.
Except you have no memory of stealing money from anybody! They must have confused you for someone else, and surely whoever is waiting for their mula will find out your kidnappers snagged the wrong passerby. Sure, you were in Hell for a reason, but your behavior since working at the Hazbin Hotel had improved considerably.
You’d have alerted any of your friends at the hotel of your whereabouts if you could, but the thugs had shaken you of any loose change and electronics the moment you arrived at this dusty, empty warehouse. Angel Dust was the fastest texter, but you were sure he was at the studio by now—in every position except the one that would answer your cries for help.
Was three hours enough of an absence for anyone to be worried? Maybe Charlie would find you tardy for this evening’s lesson and panic, or Vaggie would notice your desk was empty much longer than usual.
You knew someone who would notice the moment your presence became suspiciously absent. Actually, you could name two that would–and who’d come to your rescue in the blink of an eye.
One of them was the very King of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar. You met him when Charlie gave him a tour of the hotel all those months ago, and you were immediately taken by his humor and perfect looks, awed by his power and history as an angel. You would like to feel that Lucifer felt those same butterflies upon being introduced to you when you dipped your head and batted your lashes at those pretty eyes of his.
“I heard you built this hotel up from dust with a single thought!” you said, your voice trembling with excitement as he drew closer. “I've never met someone with such a skill in architecture.”
“You flatter me,” the angel chuckled, extending an open palm, “but also undermining my powers. I’m so much cooler than that. Let me show you!”
In a burst of red magic, a yellow rubber ducky appeared with a comical pop, and you blinked in surprise at the familiar face staring back. The ducky looked… just like you, and a smile spread across your features at the silly little you, reaching out a finger to brush across its beak.
“That is pretty cool,” you affirmed with a laugh, meeting his prideful gaze, “I never thought I’d look so cute as a duckling!”
“You do that all on your own. Here, you can have it.” Lucifer held out the duck with a wink, and your eyes widened in delight, and you quickly lifted a hand. “Just a generous gift from your gracious, very impressed King of Hell!”
When your fingers brushed against his, it was like feeling earth’s sunlight on your cheeks again, a warmth that spread up your arm and had your shoulders loosening in relief from unnoticed tension. Taking the toy in your hands with sudden, fresh energy, you turned it for a close inspection. It felt real, rubbery, and smooth against your palm. It definitely sounded real when you squeezed its little body, and it quacked, like a real duck!
When you lifted your head, he had been dragged off by his daughter to finish touring the halls, and you were left with a pounding heart.
You brushed a thumb across the little duck, warmth rising in your cheeks from the encounter with the angelic man until your smile faltered as his words echoed in your mind.
Very impressed. Did he… like you? The conversation had been brief but charged, and you hoped to see him again and learn the real Lucifer Morningstar, not just the King of Hell. If Charlie could win him over with that visit to Heaven, that is.
That was your first interaction with him–and not your last, either. He began visiting the hotel quite often, reconnecting with his daughter and lending a hand behind the scenes whenever she desired. Lucifer always made time for you, too.
Giving you colorfully themed rubber duckies became his little tradition, gifting them with theatrics and compliments that had your cheeks hot every time. Lucifer’s features always glowed when you laughed at his stupid dad jokes and stared in awe at the creations he took the most joy in.
The morning you had been kidnapped, you reached for your phone, clicked on the contact with a rubber ducky icon, and typed a quick message while heading for the lobby.
[You: Going to the bar with some friends next to the sweet shop. Want one for the next time you stop by?]
[King of Ducks: You know I can just snap my fingers and make a dozen, right?]
You were shocked to see Lucifer had answered immediately; that was rare for the reclusive king. He had gotten better at including himself into the hotel and as a normal member of hellish society, and you liked to think that was in part due to your efforts.
[You: Yes, but their desserts are good. Plus, when was the last time you went out and ate non-magically cooked food?]
[King of Ducks: Yeah… no thanks. I don’t trust anything made by sinners. How about I dig around for my last bag of Eden Apples and whip up an appetizer for dinner tonight? Will you be at the hotel?]
[You: Yes, I will only be out for a few hours. See you then!]
[King of Ducks: Can’t wait. ʚ(•ө•)ɞ]
You weren’t sure how to categorize your relationship with the King of Hell. You were one of the very few people he spoke to and who he enjoyed talking to, yet there had never been a confession or a kiss, just outings and shared time at the hotel that bordered on date nights.
Could Lucifer be at the hotel now, waiting for you to eat caramel apples with him? He’d get worried, but would he be able to navigate the hurdles of modern technology to track her phone to the warehouse? That might be a problem. You sighed, hope diminishing as you watched one demon clean the barrel of his gun.
There was one more, however. A powerful demon that knew almost every corner of the rugged outskirts of Pentagram City, where he practiced his expanding powers on criminals just like the scum that gossiped about their latest murders below you.
“Alastor, I'm going out to the bar.” You had stood in the doorway to the lobby earlier today, lips curving into a soft smile as you tipped your chin up to meet the crimson gaze of the fluffy-eared and charismatic facility manager. “Just visiting some friends, I won’t be long. Save a spot for me at dinner, okay?”
Alastor’s gaze lingered on you, the sharp edges of his grin softening. “But of course, my dear,” he purred, his voice full of warmth. “Take your time, enjoy your evening. I’ll make sure there’s a spot just for you—waiting, as always.”
Alastor always knew where you were heading, partly because he was technically your boss—since you sat as the concierge and receptionist for the hotel—but also because you felt completely safe wherever your journey would lead if you knew the infamous overlord was watching your back.
The terror he inflicted on any bystander who heard his name didn’t rub you so terribly, not when they had even deadlier crimes. They were in Hell, yet the demon’s only victims had been those clutching pearls of insatiable greed and power, ones that wished to climb the ladder by slaughtering anyone who opposed their seat of violence.
Alastor was the one who welcomed you into the hotel in the beginning when he found you scrounging for scraps in the alleyways like some feral cat. He had approached you with interest, and when your eyes set upon the infamous Radio Demon who offered you a warm place to sleep and delicious food to fill your growling stomach, you had almost taken it in a heartbeat.
Then, you remembered who exactly this demon was.
“If you think I will make a deal with you, think again! I’m not that desperate to sell my soul!” You backed into a brick wall with a glare.
“Nonsense, I would never ask such a thing.” He brushed off your words with a dismissive wave of his hand. “All I ask in return for room and board is for you to work. Tell me, are you efficient with modern communication devices?
“Yes, I can operate a phone.” You had held back an odd smile.
“Excellent! That is all I require.” Alastor had taken you by the elbow to lead you toward the large, seemingly abandoned building at the top of a grassy hill. “I disdain all these newfangled gadgets that have taken over our wonderful city. I have no use for it, but alas, it is a staple of our world now, so we must become accustomed to stepping out of our comfort zone.”
You had listened to him chatter about the modern world's problems in comfortable silence. Although strange, his voice was smooth and lively, diverting all of your attention to the eloquent words that easily rolled off his tongue.
No stranger had ever offered you such kindness, especially in a place like Hell, and you were determined to make the most of it. Alastor did not seem to mind your company, even when he showed subtle resistance to the companionship of the others in the hotel, like Angel Dust, who always tried to wind up the demon with constant references to his provocative career choice.
He even let you catch the fireflies in his strange but breathtaking pocket lagoon hidden in the shadows of his room. They danced across the soaked grass, lighting up in soft, yellow hues that blinked a trail across the darkness, one that you followed eagerly with a glass jar in your grip.
With gentle hands, you entrapped three… four… five lightning bugs into their new glass home, where they lit the darkness between your palms, like clutching gold sparkling in the sunlight.
Alastor watched you with an amused smile as you took joy in such a meaningless endeavor. Catching bugs to light up a jar, what a silly little idea.
But… what a cute little endeavor. Innocent fun that brought light to the most beautiful aspects of the natural world familiar to his childhood home in the South. One of the few things he missed about the painful, mortal world above.
When a flickering cloud hovered over the murky pond’s edge, you stood right at the water as it lapped at your feet and leaned as far as you could over the shimmering depths. Outreaching your arms, you reached for the fireflies dancing just out of reach with a quiet grunt.
Right as you clamped the lid shut on a flurry of lights, the dewy, slick grass beneath your feet sent you stumbling into the pond. You dropped the jar and flailed, squeezing your eyes shut to await the cold plunge into the muddy water.
Nothing came, however. Only the feeling of a sturdy force wrapped tightly around your midsection. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you tipped your chin down to find a green, smokey tentacle holding you steadily, with another clutching the fallen jar above the pond’s motionless surface.
“In the mood for a midnight swim, hm?” Alastor teased, and you twisted your head to face him, surprise written across your features.
He snapped his fingers, and the tentacles slithered back into the middle of the clearing. Carefully lowering you onto the soil, they dropped the container into your open palms before dissipating into the air.
“You caught me!” You breathed in relief.
“Of course I did.” Alastor chuckled, tone softening as he looked you over. “I can’t have you slipping away from me too easily; who will try my Cajun sauce when you are not around?”
“I do like your sauce,” you replied with a laugh. “Thank you; I’d rather not be soaking wet trying to care for these little guys.”
He watched you closely, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as you carefully cradled the jar. The way the soft lights danced against your face seemed to draw his gaze, and for a moment, the usual mischief in his expression faded into something more contemplative.
“What will you do with them, if I may ask?” He tilted his head.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged, following the flickering lights between your palms in a trance. “I just think they’re beautiful. Maybe as a bedside night light? Or, we could use it as lanterns for the hallways. Angel Dust would be grateful for a path back to his room during late nights returning from the studio.”
“An interesting idea. I’m always touched by your capacity to care for the wellbeing of others,” he had replied, a genuine warmth underneath the faint static of his honeyed voice.
Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you hid a bashful smile by pulling the jar closer to your face. A thought struck you suddenly, and the container lowered in your hands as your brows furrowed. You glimpsed at Alastor’s door behind you, lips tipping downward.
“Wait, isn't this all apart from your room? Which means when I leave, they’ll just… vanish?”
The Radio Demon watched your falling features in surprise, struck by the fact this was emotionally tolling on you. A pang of… something strange had his chest tightening, a feeling Alastor hadn’t felt since he watched his mother cry over an antique vase that shattered after he had romped with the dog a little too wildly as a boy.
Why would he deny you something so innocent and harmless? He’d find no joy in restricting you from taking the silly little creatures with you.
He may be a demon, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Usually… yes,” Alastor began, lifting a claw to tap gently on the jar’s lid, “but I see no disadvantage in giving you a little sample of my home.”
The glass fizzled with green energy, the fireflies growing anxious by the strange magic that consumed the jar for only a moment. The jar sizzled out like a dying bulb, and the remaining demonic aura sent tingles through your fingertips.
That smile of yours wrapped him tighter around your finger, and your eyes widened in wondered delight. You met his crimson gaze with a hurried thanks and dashed out of his room to find the perfect spot for your twinkling lantern. Your quick farewell didn’t bother Alastor; he knew you’d be back to collect more, and he’d greet you once more with the usual dapper grin.
You weren’t sure what your relationship with Alastor was, either: but, you knew he would come to your rescue at a moment’s notice. Except, he would never set foot near any gadget that could ping your location. So… how would he find you? Were you doomed to be swinging from the ceiling forever?
Then, your hands settled upon a tiny object still deep in your pocket. Lifting it to view, your eyes lit with an idea.
A paper clip, one that you could transform into a makeshift lockpick. It was a good thing you knew how to pick locks. Very well, if you were to brag. Bending the metal with practiced ease, you scooted to the lock that kept you sealed away and quietly slipped the clip’s end into the tiny hole. You strained your ears, listening for the familiar clicks that would lead to your grand escape.
“You son of a bitch!” One of the demons snarled below, slamming his fist onto the table as he glared at the player across from him, startling you. “I know you cheated!”
“It’s called being a sore loser,” the other drawled, swirling the liquor in his glass. “It's not my fault you’re this bad at—”
“Excuse me, gentleman.”
Their heads snapped to the open doorway across the floor, your eyes trailing up the finely-tailored red suit until they landed on a pair of fluffy ears and tiny antlers that stuck out from the top of his head.
“Alastor!” You cried happily from above, wiping your brow with relief.
His gaze flicked to your figure dangling above the criminals, who rose slowly with deadly glares at the new arrival. They lowered back onto the men around the table, his grin sharpening as it widened from ear to ear, and his nails tapped against the microphone on his staff.
“I believe you’ve taken someone who does not belong to you,” Alastor continued, boredom lacing his tone, “return them, and I will grant you a less painful death.”
The room was unfathomably silent. The only sound reaching your ears was your own heartbeat thumping against your ribcage as you watched the scene below in breathless anticipation.
“Is that him?” One of the thugs whispered, and another nodded with a set jaw.
“Yes, but he’s outnumbered twenty to one. We can take him.” He pulled an angelic blade from his sheath. “Alert the rest of our men. The Radio Demon won’t last for much longer.”
His accomplice obliged, and Alastor let them go, thrilled by the added challenge as he took another step forward.
“Well?” He hummed, looking at the men expectantly.
One parted their lips, beginning to speak, until the overhead lights flickered and fizzled out, except for one on the opposite end of the warehouse. Everyone, even Alastor, furrowed their brows in confusion.
“Behold!” A disembodied voice echoed across the long space, dripping with theatrical flair. You perked at the familiar tone, a smile tugging at your lips. The remaining light in the warehouse intensified, casting an exaggerated, almost divine glow on the figure emerging from the shadows.
“The Morning Star has arrived!” Lucifer announced with a flourish, eyes shut and arms outstretched as if addressing an adoring crowd.
Unfortunately, he was faced in the opposite direction of the crowd. Alastor’s smile faltered at the sight of the short king before it sharpened even further, and his claws clenched around his staff.
“And I am here to—! Oh.” Lucifer’s yellow gaze met the wall, and he pivoted on the heels of his boots to face the group across the warehouse, snapping his fingers and vanishing in red smoke.
In an explosion of confetti, the angel popped into existence beside Alastor, and Lucifer’s grin grew in devilish triumph.
“As I was saying.” He cleared his throat to the jaw-dropped onlookers, twirling his apple-tipped cane in his fingers. “I am here to relieve you all of life, forever, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself like decent people.”
The thugs blinked, glancing between each other. Some looked like they were about to beeline for the exit, while others only bared their teeth in anger.
“Did you follow me here?” Alastor ground out, eye twitching as he twisted his head with a crack to side-eye the king.
“No!” Lucifer replied with a huff. “This is my city, remember. I know my way around these parts just fine.”
“I was here first,” Alastor hissed, adjusting his suit with a hmph. “This is my rescue. Don’t you have some toys to play with back home?”
“Still up here!” You called from the bars of your cell, peering down at the two bickering men with an eye roll.
They looked up at your crouched figure, then at each other with calculating glares, and finally rested on the mass of criminals before them, more pouring in from the open doors.
“Watch and learn, bellhop.” Lucifer rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward the group of thugs who clutched their angelic weapons with trembling fingers.
He lifted a hand, pointing a finger gun toward the closest demon, whose eyes widened as the King of Hell aligned his sights as he looked down the imaginary barrel of a gun.
With an audible “pew!” A firework shot from Lucifer’s fingertip, slamming into one of the demon's stomachs and skyrocketing him out a window with a shriek.
The darkening sky lit up in a burst of sparkling colors, and a thunderous boom shook the building. The thugs around the table blinked, glancing at each other warily as the apple-cheeked man clasped his hands and looked at them expectantly.
“Anyone else?” Lucifer smiled with shark-like teeth, brushing the dust from his coat.
They gulped, lowering their weapons, but the largest demon, a centipede-like man who stood three or four Alastor’s tall, hissed in rage and lifted six silver, gleaming pistols toward the angel, all clutched in its multiple pairs of arms.
If the angels could be felled by their own steel as they did during their attack on the city only two weeks ago, surely their once-heavenly king could fall from it, too. There was too much money on the line to flee just yet. The demon pulled each trigger simultaneously, and Lucifer quirked a brow.
“Huh, that’s efficient,” he said as bullets flew past his hat, and he ducked quickly to avoid them.
Alastor threw up a shield of green, the bullets from the rest of the thugs ricocheting off the powerful barrier and zipping across the floor, hitting one of the demons right in the chest with a pained gasp.
“Do not worry your fragile little crown.” The Radio Demon stepped forward, waving off the king without a glance. “I will handle these delinquents.”
“There’s not a chance in Hell I’m letting you have all the fun,” Lucifer replied, and he pulled a long, fiery whip from within his coat.
The whip crackled with an infernal glow, flames licking the air as it uncoiled. He cracked it against the floor, splitting the concrete and leaving scorch marks across its surface. With a snarl to charge, the thugs surged forward, brandishing their weapons and aiming their guns at the two men’s foreheads without faltering.
In an unspoken competition, your dual saviors readied themselves, green tentacles curling around Alastor protectively as a few snaked forward and throttled a group of demons while another threw one out the already-broken window. His antlers extended, eyes turning to radio dials as his form grew and shifted into a demonic monstrosity, claws extended for the succulent fleshbags before him.
Lucifer lashed out with his whip, the flames searing the air as it wrapped around the largest demon’s pistols, yanking them from its grasp with a force that sent the weapons clattering to the floor. With a flick of his wrist, the whip coiled around the centipede-man’s legs, dragging it down to its knees.
“Kneel before your king,” Lucifer sneered. He gave the whip a final, violent crack, sending the demon sprawling across the ground, flames licking at its many dismembered appendages.
Lucifer danced across the room, ducking and diving as he karate-chopped a demon, and they exploded into colorful paper mache. Alastor grew twice the size, his antlers lengthening and his eyes shifting into radio dials as he plucked a snarling criminal from the floor and swallowed him whole.
You did not want to sit around and take a stray bullet to the heart, so you continued picking the lock with hasty fingers. Bullets flew past your cage, but you did not halt the task as you heard the familiar clicks of unlocking mechanisms.
Realizing their chances were much slimmer than initially thought, some of the men hurried away, teeth chattering in fear, as they left the rest of their friends to be eaten by the hulking red demon and set on fire by balls of flame that engulfed Lucifer’s hands.
The final click had the lock to your cell plummeting to the ground, bonking one thug on the head, and he face-planted onto the concrete with a groan.
“I did it!” You beamed, chest swelling with a rare ego.
The door swung open, and you poked your head out, watching with a fluttering heart as the two contrasting figures worked in tandem to rescue you.
A tendril curled around the last demon’s leg, dragging him toward the gaping maw of the Radio Demon as he cried out in fear. The sudden force had his finger curling around the trigger, discharging a silver bullet that flew right above your head and shattered the chain that kept you suspended with a piercing shriek of metal.
The cage fell, and you along with it. With a gasp, you helplessly grasped at the bars, squeezing your eyes shut for the impending pain and misery as the floor rushed to meet you.
Six wings spread quickly, and Lucifer sprang forward, arms outstretched to catch your screaming figure midair. The cage around you burst in a plume of red smoke, and you coughed, brushing away the lingering smoke as your heart pounded. Your eyes lifted to meet Lucifer’s soft gaze, the overwhelming relief washing over you like a wave, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his warmth and safety.
“Are you alright?” He asked, scanning your body for any injuries. Heaven only knows what he would have done if you had any.
“Now that you two are here, I've never been better,” you replied with happy tears brimming.
“Right, that guy is also here.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, glancing at Alastor’s shrinking figure as the demon licked his lips in satisfaction. “I hope you know I could have done everything without him.”
Of course, you did. He was the King of Hell. You shook your head with a smile as he descended smoothly, carefully lowering you onto two feet. Your chest was still heaving from the adrenaline as your gaze fleeted across the broken bodies littered across the ground, stomach churning at the sight.
Alastor strolled forward, taking his turn to examine you. His smile had receded, softening at the edges as he sidled up to you.
“You know, you handle yourself quite well under pressure without assistance. I knew your skills would come in handy someday. Although, in a few more minutes, I would have been there to free you without fuss.”
“Except I'm the one who caught them. That is a sole save in my books,” Lucifer cut in before you could speak. “All you did was have a late-night snack and ruin my good mood.”
“Preposterous. It was I who took care of most of these nuisances and saved our dear one,” Alastor chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Without me, you’d have only been floundering against the opposition like a frail duckling in alligator waters.”
“I’m so thankful that you both saved me,” you proclaimed, eyes shining with gratitude as you locked elbows with both men at your sides, “I couldn’t be more grateful for the rescue. Why don’t we get some celebratory drinks from Sinbucks on the way back? A hot cup of black joe and an Earl Grey tea for my handsome saviors.”
“Fine.” Alastor shrugged, not sparing a glance at the man on the other side of you. “But only if this blathering fool pays for it.”
“Anything for you,” Lucifer agreed, winking your way, “but your friend here better wait outside on the curb. I’m sure they wouldn’t like a rabid animal stinking up the place.”
With a giggle, you pulled them along and left the warehouse, strolling down the trashed streets with a skip in your step.
You glanced at both of them, pleased and content with just being near you. There was never a dull moment with either of them at your side, or with them together, for that matter, and you wished times like these lasted longer.
Although, you hoped that could happen without being kidnapped next time.
heyyy guys 😇 im back!! sort of. more like i took a break in writing my novel (roughly 70k words in) to work on an idea i’ve had for awhile but didn’t have the motivation for until now. also, summer overtime at my job and physical therapy have shortened my spare time to do anything… ick.
but now i’m freeeee!! so have this “little” guy for now, and i’ll have more to feed you all soon! now time to crawl back in my hole and write 🥲 goodbye 🤍
・❥ You’ve been kidnapped. Good thing you know two handsome fellas who’d come to your rescue in a heartbeat—or lack thereof.
~ 5k words
x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. enjoy 🥰
“You better just let me go. It won’t be pretty for any of you if you keep me locked up for much longer!” You called from the suspended prison cell, hanging from the ceiling with a single, thick chain.
The demon thugs below barely blinked, ignoring your words as they continued their game of hellish poker. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the floor, their heads spinning with a drunken buzz while they snickered between each other.
“Whoever wins this round gets first tool pick for torturing the prisoner.” The dealer laid out the deck of cards, flicking his gaze to the cage just above their heads.
“Maybe that will finally shut them up. It’s been–what, three hours since we grabbed them, and they’re still yapping.” One of the shark demons sighed as he shuffled his hand.
The iron bars pressed against your fingers, their chill biting your skin as you gripped them. The dank air, thick with the stench of mold and something fouler, clung to your lungs with every breath. They had plucked you from the street just as you stepped out of the bar, saying you owed money to some freak down in the Greed Ring and your stash of cash needed to be coughed up before the night's end.
Except you have no memory of stealing money from anybody! They must have confused you for someone else, and surely whoever is waiting for their mula will find out your kidnappers snagged the wrong passerby. Sure, you were in Hell for a reason, but your behavior since working at the Hazbin Hotel had improved considerably.
You’d have alerted any of your friends at the hotel of your whereabouts if you could, but the thugs had shaken you of any loose change and electronics the moment you arrived at this dusty, empty warehouse. Angel Dust was the fastest texter, but you were sure he was at the studio by now—in every position except the one that would answer your cries for help.
Was three hours enough of an absence for anyone to be worried? Maybe Charlie would find you tardy for this evening’s lesson and panic, or Vaggie would notice your desk was empty much longer than usual.
You knew someone who would notice the moment your presence became suspiciously absent. Actually, you could name two that would–and who’d come to your rescue in the blink of an eye.
One of them was the very King of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar. You met him when Charlie gave him a tour of the hotel all those months ago, and you were immediately taken by his humor and perfect looks, awed by his power and history as an angel. You would like to feel that Lucifer felt those same butterflies upon being introduced to you when you dipped your head and batted your lashes at those pretty eyes of his.
“I heard you built this hotel up from dust with a single thought!” you said, your voice trembling with excitement as he drew closer. “I've never met someone with such a skill in architecture.”
“You flatter me,” the angel chuckled, extending an open palm, “but also undermining my powers. I’m so much cooler than that. Let me show you!”
In a burst of red magic, a yellow rubber ducky appeared with a comical pop, and you blinked in surprise at the familiar face staring back. The ducky looked… just like you, and a smile spread across your features at the silly little you, reaching out a finger to brush across its beak.
“That is pretty cool,” you affirmed with a laugh, meeting his prideful gaze, “I never thought I’d look so cute as a duckling!”
“You do that all on your own. Here, you can have it.” Lucifer held out the duck with a wink, and your eyes widened in delight, and you quickly lifted a hand. “Just a generous gift from your gracious, very impressed King of Hell!”
When your fingers brushed against his, it was like feeling earth’s sunlight on your cheeks again, a warmth that spread up your arm and had your shoulders loosening in relief from unnoticed tension. Taking the toy in your hands with sudden, fresh energy, you turned it for a close inspection. It felt real, rubbery, and smooth against your palm. It definitely sounded real when you squeezed its little body, and it quacked, like a real duck!
When you lifted your head, he had been dragged off by his daughter to finish touring the halls, and you were left with a pounding heart.
You brushed a thumb across the little duck, warmth rising in your cheeks from the encounter with the angelic man until your smile faltered as his words echoed in your mind.
Very impressed. Did he… like you? The conversation had been brief but charged, and you hoped to see him again and learn the real Lucifer Morningstar, not just the King of Hell. If Charlie could win him over with that visit to Heaven, that is.
That was your first interaction with him–and not your last, either. He began visiting the hotel quite often, reconnecting with his daughter and lending a hand behind the scenes whenever she desired. Lucifer always made time for you, too.
Giving you colorfully themed rubber duckies became his little tradition, gifting them with theatrics and compliments that had your cheeks hot every time. Lucifer’s features always glowed when you laughed at his stupid dad jokes and stared in awe at the creations he took the most joy in.
The morning you had been kidnapped, you reached for your phone, clicked on the contact with a rubber ducky icon, and typed a quick message while heading for the lobby.
[You: Going to the bar with some friends next to the sweet shop. Want one for the next time you stop by?]
[King of Ducks: You know I can just snap my fingers and make a dozen, right?]
You were shocked to see Lucifer had answered immediately; that was rare for the reclusive king. He had gotten better at including himself into the hotel and as a normal member of hellish society, and you liked to think that was in part due to your efforts.
[You: Yes, but their desserts are good. Plus, when was the last time you went out and ate non-magically cooked food?]
[King of Ducks: Yeah… no thanks. I don’t trust anything made by sinners. How about I dig around for my last bag of Eden Apples and whip up an appetizer for dinner tonight? Will you be at the hotel?]
[You: Yes, I will only be out for a few hours. See you then!]
[King of Ducks: Can’t wait. ʚ(•ө•)ɞ]
You weren’t sure how to categorize your relationship with the King of Hell. You were one of the very few people he spoke to and who he enjoyed talking to, yet there had never been a confession or a kiss, just outings and shared time at the hotel that bordered on date nights.
Could Lucifer be at the hotel now, waiting for you to eat caramel apples with him? He’d get worried, but would he be able to navigate the hurdles of modern technology to track her phone to the warehouse? That might be a problem. You sighed, hope diminishing as you watched one demon clean the barrel of his gun.
There was one more, however. A powerful demon that knew almost every corner of the rugged outskirts of Pentagram City, where he practiced his expanding powers on criminals just like the scum that gossiped about their latest murders below you.
“Alastor, I'm going out to the bar.” You had stood in the doorway to the lobby earlier today, lips curving into a soft smile as you tipped your chin up to meet the crimson gaze of the fluffy-eared and charismatic facility manager. “Just visiting some friends, I won’t be long. Save a spot for me at dinner, okay?”
Alastor’s gaze lingered on you, the sharp edges of his grin softening. “But of course, my dear,” he purred, his voice full of warmth. “Take your time, enjoy your evening. I’ll make sure there’s a spot just for you—waiting, as always.”
Alastor always knew where you were heading, partly because he was technically your boss—since you sat as the concierge and receptionist for the hotel—but also because you felt completely safe wherever your journey would lead if you knew the infamous overlord was watching your back.
The terror he inflicted on any bystander who heard his name didn’t rub you so terribly, not when they had even deadlier crimes. They were in Hell, yet the demon’s only victims had been those clutching pearls of insatiable greed and power, ones that wished to climb the ladder by slaughtering anyone who opposed their seat of violence.
Alastor was the one who welcomed you into the hotel in the beginning when he found you scrounging for scraps in the alleyways like some feral cat. He had approached you with interest, and when your eyes set upon the infamous Radio Demon who offered you a warm place to sleep and delicious food to fill your growling stomach, you had almost taken it in a heartbeat.
Then, you remembered who exactly this demon was.
“If you think I will make a deal with you, think again! I’m not that desperate to sell my soul!” You backed into a brick wall with a glare.
“Nonsense, I would never ask such a thing.” He brushed off your words with a dismissive wave of his hand. “All I ask in return for room and board is for you to work. Tell me, are you efficient with modern communication devices?
“Yes, I can operate a phone.” You had held back an odd smile.
“Excellent! That is all I require.” Alastor had taken you by the elbow to lead you toward the large, seemingly abandoned building at the top of a grassy hill. “I disdain all these newfangled gadgets that have taken over our wonderful city. I have no use for it, but alas, it is a staple of our world now, so we must become accustomed to stepping out of our comfort zone.”
You had listened to him chatter about the modern world's problems in comfortable silence. Although strange, his voice was smooth and lively, diverting all of your attention to the eloquent words that easily rolled off his tongue.
No stranger had ever offered you such kindness, especially in a place like Hell, and you were determined to make the most of it. Alastor did not seem to mind your company, even when he showed subtle resistance to the companionship of the others in the hotel, like Angel Dust, who always tried to wind up the demon with constant references to his provocative career choice.
He even let you catch the fireflies in his strange but breathtaking pocket lagoon hidden in the shadows of his room. They danced across the soaked grass, lighting up in soft, yellow hues that blinked a trail across the darkness, one that you followed eagerly with a glass jar in your grip.
With gentle hands, you entrapped three… four… five lightning bugs into their new glass home, where they lit the darkness between your palms, like clutching gold sparkling in the sunlight.
Alastor watched you with an amused smile as you took joy in such a meaningless endeavor. Catching bugs to light up a jar, what a silly little idea.
But… what a cute little endeavor. Innocent fun that brought light to the most beautiful aspects of the natural world familiar to his childhood home in the South. One of the few things he missed about the painful, mortal world above.
When a flickering cloud hovered over the murky pond’s edge, you stood right at the water as it lapped at your feet and leaned as far as you could over the shimmering depths. Outreaching your arms, you reached for the fireflies dancing just out of reach with a quiet grunt.
Right as you clamped the lid shut on a flurry of lights, the dewy, slick grass beneath your feet sent you stumbling into the pond. You dropped the jar and flailed, squeezing your eyes shut to await the cold plunge into the muddy water.
Nothing came, however. Only the feeling of a sturdy force wrapped tightly around your midsection. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you tipped your chin down to find a green, smokey tentacle holding you steadily, with another clutching the fallen jar above the pond’s motionless surface.
“In the mood for a midnight swim, hm?” Alastor teased, and you twisted your head to face him, surprise written across your features.
He snapped his fingers, and the tentacles slithered back into the middle of the clearing. Carefully lowering you onto the soil, they dropped the container into your open palms before dissipating into the air.
“You caught me!” You breathed in relief.
“Of course I did.” Alastor chuckled, tone softening as he looked you over. “I can’t have you slipping away from me too easily; who will try my Cajun sauce when you are not around?”
“I do like your sauce,” you replied with a laugh. “Thank you; I’d rather not be soaking wet trying to care for these little guys.”
He watched you closely, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as you carefully cradled the jar. The way the soft lights danced against your face seemed to draw his gaze, and for a moment, the usual mischief in his expression faded into something more contemplative.
“What will you do with them, if I may ask?” He tilted his head.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged, following the flickering lights between your palms in a trance. “I just think they’re beautiful. Maybe as a bedside night light? Or, we could use it as lanterns for the hallways. Angel Dust would be grateful for a path back to his room during late nights returning from the studio.”
“An interesting idea. I’m always touched by your capacity to care for the wellbeing of others,” he had replied, a genuine warmth underneath the faint static of his honeyed voice.
Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you hid a bashful smile by pulling the jar closer to your face. A thought struck you suddenly, and the container lowered in your hands as your brows furrowed. You glimpsed at Alastor’s door behind you, lips tipping downward.
“Wait, isn't this all apart from your room? Which means when I leave, they’ll just… vanish?”
The Radio Demon watched your falling features in surprise, struck by the fact this was emotionally tolling on you. A pang of… something strange had his chest tightening, a feeling Alastor hadn’t felt since he watched his mother cry over an antique vase that shattered after he had romped with the dog a little too wildly as a boy.
Why would he deny you something so innocent and harmless? He’d find no joy in restricting you from taking the silly little creatures with you.
He may be a demon, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Usually… yes,” Alastor began, lifting a claw to tap gently on the jar’s lid, “but I see no disadvantage in giving you a little sample of my home.”
The glass fizzled with green energy, the fireflies growing anxious by the strange magic that consumed the jar for only a moment. The jar sizzled out like a dying bulb, and the remaining demonic aura sent tingles through your fingertips.
That smile of yours wrapped him tighter around your finger, and your eyes widened in wondered delight. You met his crimson gaze with a hurried thanks and dashed out of his room to find the perfect spot for your twinkling lantern. Your quick farewell didn’t bother Alastor; he knew you’d be back to collect more, and he’d greet you once more with the usual dapper grin.
You weren’t sure what your relationship with Alastor was, either: but, you knew he would come to your rescue at a moment’s notice. Except, he would never set foot near any gadget that could ping your location. So… how would he find you? Were you doomed to be swinging from the ceiling forever?
Then, your hands settled upon a tiny object still deep in your pocket. Lifting it to view, your eyes lit with an idea.
A paper clip, one that you could transform into a makeshift lockpick. It was a good thing you knew how to pick locks. Very well, if you were to brag. Bending the metal with practiced ease, you scooted to the lock that kept you sealed away and quietly slipped the clip’s end into the tiny hole. You strained your ears, listening for the familiar clicks that would lead to your grand escape.
“You son of a bitch!” One of the demons snarled below, slamming his fist onto the table as he glared at the player across from him, startling you. “I know you cheated!”
“It’s called being a sore loser,” the other drawled, swirling the liquor in his glass. “It's not my fault you’re this bad at—”
“Excuse me, gentleman.”
Their heads snapped to the open doorway across the floor, your eyes trailing up the finely-tailored red suit until they landed on a pair of fluffy ears and tiny antlers that stuck out from the top of his head.
“Alastor!” You cried happily from above, wiping your brow with relief.
His gaze flicked to your figure dangling above the criminals, who rose slowly with deadly glares at the new arrival. They lowered back onto the men around the table, his grin sharpening as it widened from ear to ear, and his nails tapped against the microphone on his staff.
“I believe you’ve taken someone who does not belong to you,” Alastor continued, boredom lacing his tone, “return them, and I will grant you a less painful death.”
The room was unfathomably silent. The only sound reaching your ears was your own heartbeat thumping against your ribcage as you watched the scene below in breathless anticipation.
“Is that him?” One of the thugs whispered, and another nodded with a set jaw.
“Yes, but he’s outnumbered twenty to one. We can take him.” He pulled an angelic blade from his sheath. “Alert the rest of our men. The Radio Demon won’t last for much longer.”
His accomplice obliged, and Alastor let them go, thrilled by the added challenge as he took another step forward.
“Well?” He hummed, looking at the men expectantly.
One parted their lips, beginning to speak, until the overhead lights flickered and fizzled out, except for one on the opposite end of the warehouse. Everyone, even Alastor, furrowed their brows in confusion.
“Behold!” A disembodied voice echoed across the long space, dripping with theatrical flair. You perked at the familiar tone, a smile tugging at your lips. The remaining light in the warehouse intensified, casting an exaggerated, almost divine glow on the figure emerging from the shadows.
“The Morning Star has arrived!” Lucifer announced with a flourish, eyes shut and arms outstretched as if addressing an adoring crowd.
Unfortunately, he was faced in the opposite direction of the crowd. Alastor’s smile faltered at the sight of the short king before it sharpened even further, and his claws clenched around his staff.
“And I am here to—! Oh.” Lucifer’s yellow gaze met the wall, and he pivoted on the heels of his boots to face the group across the warehouse, snapping his fingers and vanishing in red smoke.
In an explosion of confetti, the angel popped into existence beside Alastor, and Lucifer’s grin grew in devilish triumph.
“As I was saying.” He cleared his throat to the jaw-dropped onlookers, twirling his apple-tipped cane in his fingers. “I am here to relieve you all of life, forever, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself like decent people.”
The thugs blinked, glancing between each other. Some looked like they were about to beeline for the exit, while others only bared their teeth in anger.
“Did you follow me here?” Alastor ground out, eye twitching as he twisted his head with a crack to side-eye the king.
“No!” Lucifer replied with a huff. “This is my city, remember. I know my way around these parts just fine.”
“I was here first,” Alastor hissed, adjusting his suit with a hmph. “This is my rescue. Don’t you have some toys to play with back home?”
“Still up here!” You called from the bars of your cell, peering down at the two bickering men with an eye roll.
They looked up at your crouched figure, then at each other with calculating glares, and finally rested on the mass of criminals before them, more pouring in from the open doors.
“Watch and learn, bellhop.” Lucifer rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward the group of thugs who clutched their angelic weapons with trembling fingers.
He lifted a hand, pointing a finger gun toward the closest demon, whose eyes widened as the King of Hell aligned his sights as he looked down the imaginary barrel of a gun.
With an audible “pew!” A firework shot from Lucifer’s fingertip, slamming into one of the demon's stomachs and skyrocketing him out a window with a shriek.
The darkening sky lit up in a burst of sparkling colors, and a thunderous boom shook the building. The thugs around the table blinked, glancing at each other warily as the apple-cheeked man clasped his hands and looked at them expectantly.
“Anyone else?” Lucifer smiled with shark-like teeth, brushing the dust from his coat.
They gulped, lowering their weapons, but the largest demon, a centipede-like man who stood three or four Alastor’s tall, hissed in rage and lifted six silver, gleaming pistols toward the angel, all clutched in its multiple pairs of arms.
If the angels could be felled by their own steel as they did during their attack on the city only two weeks ago, surely their once-heavenly king could fall from it, too. There was too much money on the line to flee just yet. The demon pulled each trigger simultaneously, and Lucifer quirked a brow.
“Huh, that’s efficient,” he said as bullets flew past his hat, and he ducked quickly to avoid them.
Alastor threw up a shield of green, the bullets from the rest of the thugs ricocheting off the powerful barrier and zipping across the floor, hitting one of the demons right in the chest with a pained gasp.
“Do not worry your fragile little crown.” The Radio Demon stepped forward, waving off the king without a glance. “I will handle these delinquents.”
“There’s not a chance in Hell I’m letting you have all the fun,” Lucifer replied, and he pulled a long, fiery whip from within his coat.
The whip crackled with an infernal glow, flames licking the air as it uncoiled. He cracked it against the floor, splitting the concrete and leaving scorch marks across its surface. With a snarl to charge, the thugs surged forward, brandishing their weapons and aiming their guns at the two men’s foreheads without faltering.
In an unspoken competition, your dual saviors readied themselves, green tentacles curling around Alastor protectively as a few snaked forward and throttled a group of demons while another threw one out the already-broken window. His antlers extended, eyes turning to radio dials as his form grew and shifted into a demonic monstrosity, claws extended for the succulent fleshbags before him.
Lucifer lashed out with his whip, the flames searing the air as it wrapped around the largest demon’s pistols, yanking them from its grasp with a force that sent the weapons clattering to the floor. With a flick of his wrist, the whip coiled around the centipede-man’s legs, dragging it down to its knees.
“Kneel before your king,” Lucifer sneered. He gave the whip a final, violent crack, sending the demon sprawling across the ground, flames licking at its many dismembered appendages.
Lucifer danced across the room, ducking and diving as he karate-chopped a demon, and they exploded into colorful paper mache. Alastor grew twice the size, his antlers lengthening and his eyes shifting into radio dials as he plucked a snarling criminal from the floor and swallowed him whole.
You did not want to sit around and take a stray bullet to the heart, so you continued picking the lock with hasty fingers. Bullets flew past your cage, but you did not halt the task as you heard the familiar clicks of unlocking mechanisms.
Realizing their chances were much slimmer than initially thought, some of the men hurried away, teeth chattering in fear, as they left the rest of their friends to be eaten by the hulking red demon and set on fire by balls of flame that engulfed Lucifer’s hands.
The final click had the lock to your cell plummeting to the ground, bonking one thug on the head, and he face-planted onto the concrete with a groan.
“I did it!” You beamed, chest swelling with a rare ego.
The door swung open, and you poked your head out, watching with a fluttering heart as the two contrasting figures worked in tandem to rescue you.
A tendril curled around the last demon’s leg, dragging him toward the gaping maw of the Radio Demon as he cried out in fear. The sudden force had his finger curling around the trigger, discharging a silver bullet that flew right above your head and shattered the chain that kept you suspended with a piercing shriek of metal.
The cage fell, and you along with it. With a gasp, you helplessly grasped at the bars, squeezing your eyes shut for the impending pain and misery as the floor rushed to meet you.
Six wings spread quickly, and Lucifer sprang forward, arms outstretched to catch your screaming figure midair. The cage around you burst in a plume of red smoke, and you coughed, brushing away the lingering smoke as your heart pounded. Your eyes lifted to meet Lucifer’s soft gaze, the overwhelming relief washing over you like a wave, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his warmth and safety.
“Are you alright?” He asked, scanning your body for any injuries. Heaven only knows what he would have done if you had any.
“Now that you two are here, I've never been better,” you replied with happy tears brimming.
“Right, that guy is also here.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, glancing at Alastor’s shrinking figure as the demon licked his lips in satisfaction. “I hope you know I could have done everything without him.”
Of course, you did. He was the King of Hell. You shook your head with a smile as he descended smoothly, carefully lowering you onto two feet. Your chest was still heaving from the adrenaline as your gaze fleeted across the broken bodies littered across the ground, stomach churning at the sight.
Alastor strolled forward, taking his turn to examine you. His smile had receded, softening at the edges as he sidled up to you.
“You know, you handle yourself quite well under pressure without assistance. I knew your skills would come in handy someday. Although, in a few more minutes, I would have been there to free you without fuss.”
“Except I'm the one who caught them. That is a sole save in my books,” Lucifer cut in before you could speak. “All you did was have a late-night snack and ruin my good mood.”
“Preposterous. It was I who took care of most of these nuisances and saved our dear one,” Alastor chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Without me, you’d have only been floundering against the opposition like a frail duckling in alligator waters.”
“I’m so thankful that you both saved me,” you proclaimed, eyes shining with gratitude as you locked elbows with both men at your sides, “I couldn’t be more grateful for the rescue. Why don’t we get some celebratory drinks from Sinbucks on the way back? A hot cup of black joe and an Earl Grey tea for my handsome saviors.”
“Fine.” Alastor shrugged, not sparing a glance at the man on the other side of you. “But only if this blathering fool pays for it.”
“Anything for you,” Lucifer agreed, winking your way, “but your friend here better wait outside on the curb. I’m sure they wouldn’t like a rabid animal stinking up the place.”
With a giggle, you pulled them along and left the warehouse, strolling down the trashed streets with a skip in your step.
You glanced at both of them, pleased and content with just being near you. There was never a dull moment with either of them at your side, or with them together, for that matter, and you wished times like these lasted longer.
Although, you hoped that could happen without being kidnapped next time.
heyyy guys 😇 im back!! sort of. more like i took a break in writing my novel (roughly 70k words in) to work on an idea i’ve had for awhile but didn’t have the motivation for until now. also, summer overtime at my job and physical therapy have shortened my spare time to do anything… ick.
but now i’m freeeee!! so have this “little” guy for now, and i’ll have more to feed you all soon! now time to crawl back in my hole and write 🥲 goodbye 🤍
GIRL WYA I NEED PART 6 OF THE ALASTOR FIC😅🙏🙏 (hope your doing well tho)
yes hello im not dead!! i’ve just been busy with life offline and i’ve also been working on my own novel? idk just slowly writing an original concept and not anything hazbin related so i don’t post about it here.
my plan is to whip something up this week, and yeah, most likely the next part of MCRS. thanks for the patience, stay tuned!
・❥ Caring for an infant isn’t easy, but luckily, you’ve got a charming king willing to do anything for you.
| Part 1 | Part 2 |
x: reader is fem, no use of y/n.
xx: it’s here! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, but lots of think you’ll enjoy it! keep your eyes out for some pretty art i commissioned inside!
~ 15k words
When you welcomed your daughter into the realm, and finally reached that next long stretch of motherhood, you had prepared yourself for the many changes that accompanied the new addition.
For example, your sleep schedule flipped entirely on its head once you realized that newborn babies slept only a few hours intermittently, which meant a good, long night's rest did not exist anymore.
You found yourself putting your daughter down for a nap at six in the morning, having spent the previous night breastfeeding and soothing her cries. Sometimes, her wailing lasted several hours, and you began to worry if she had a hellish form of colic. You prayed it wasn’t that, because that would mean it would worsen for the next month or so.
The first few weeks were spent holed up in your room, away from the loud noises and constant active state of the rest of the hotel. It was pretty easy, seeing as it was basically a studio apartment, save for the kitchen, which was an exhausting walk down the hall, even more so than when you were pregnant.
“Ya look terrible, mama,” Angel Dust had grimaced with a laugh when you appeared like a ghost late one night inside the much posher lobby, your complexion sunken and drained as your feet dragged across the red carpet.
He had just arrived home from a long day at the studio, his expression equally as drained but his demeanor much livelier than your zombie appearance.
You probably did look terrible, in your oversized pajamas that no doubt had stains of baby spit-up and breast milk. You looked unsightly, a mess, that pregnancy glow extinguished like a flame as you tiredly frog blinked in Angel’s direction.
“Need… to clean the milk bottles… before she wakes up,” you mumbled, lifting three small, dirty baby bottles to view.
“Ya need any help?”
“No, thanks. M’fine,” you waved him off with a yawn, slowly crossing the room towards the kitchen doors.
There was no reason to bother him with such a task, it was your baby, and he already had enough to deal with at the studio.
“Well, have a good time then. I'm jus’ gonna call it an early night an’ head ta bed,” Angel replied, bidding farewell as he turned and left the lobby.
Your head twisted to catch a glimpse of his figure turning the corner, surprise crossing your features at his sudden departure. Usually, Angel Dust had a couple of drinks after work or went out to party until the early hours of the morning.
Tonight, the only thing on the spider demon’s mind was to curl up with Fat Nuggets and sleep those troubling emotions away.
He had been drinking far less lately, or, at least, had been keeping his habits away from the hotel ever since the new hotel was built and your daughter was born. No more did the pornstar burst in after a night at the studio, eyes red and speech slurred as he spoke gibberish and laughed at nothing in particular.
Even though it was Hell, you were determined to keep the gateways into a chaotic life away from your daughter. She was going to have the best quality of life possible in such a place, and you were vocal about your disapproval of those habits, especially in a place that’s supposed to be free of such sin.
When Cherri began staying longer and longer at the hotel, you were apprehensive at first with how much deeper she seemed to be in ‘the life’. Would she sink further into the depths after Sir. Pentious’ death? It wasn’t easy for someone to deal with both grief and guilt at the same time.
Fortunately, she had the support of the residents inside the hotel, and she was finding healthier outlets than a thin line of white powder to quell her pain.
You were grieving too, even if you hadn’t known Sir. Pentious that long in comparison to the others, the little time you spent with him was all but enough.
Sir. Pentious was kind, and courteous, and made the best cookies you’d ever tasted. You had a connection with the snake demon with your shared enjoyment in cooking, and you welcomed the assistance of his Egg Boiz taste-testing your delicacies.
Now, he was gone, and the emptiness of his departure was palpable inside the hotel. His loyal egg companions now dwindled to just one singular yolk, the rest having sacrificed their shells along with their selfless general.
Frank, who had survived solely because he had guarded you at the hospital, returned home to an empty nest and no boss.
You weren’t sure whether the little guy could understand how double death worked, but the way he stared longingly at Sir. Pentious’ portrait in the lobby that he knew his old family was gone for good.
Charlie had done her best to integrate him into the staff, him a room service attendant. He stayed your faithful helper in that way, summoned to your door by the newly installed service button whenever you needed.
“Sorry for bothering you, Frank,” you had smiled down at him, poking your head out from the inside of your room, your daughter latched onto your nipple, “But I’m out of toilet paper and I'm kind of busy right now. Could you go grab me some, please?”
“Sure thing!” He replied chipperly, lifting his hat courteously from the top of his shell before he scampered down the hall and out of view.
He’d return with your items of request, as he did for all the rest of the residents. It kept him busy, allowing his one-track mind to stay away from thinking hard thoughts about what was lost for too long.
Those hard thoughts plagued you as well, as you dealt with the grief of losing a friend and the mood swings that began to take over you. The hormonal changes that came post-birth was also something you prepared for, the ‘baby blues’ as most would call it.
It had started as mood swings, the typical sudden bursts of emotions that accompanied your pregnancy, and the ones that liked to show their face around your period. Suddenly, you’d find yourself shooting a glare at a particularly noisy conversation outside of your door, or find your eyes welling up with tears at the slightest inconvenience.
A mix of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones was not a good one, and you were determined to keep this weakness away from your friends.
What if they thought you weren’t doing a good job as a mother? All that time, energy, and resources that were used to help you and your baby. They’d think it was all a waste, caring so much only for you to end up a disappointment.
Was that… how your ex had felt when he chose a whore over his lover and child?
Those thoughts began to plague you, and your anxiety heightened with every passing day. The idea that their judgments on your parenting would be harsh had you withdrawing for longer periods inside your room, and farther away from your friends.
Unfortunately, you weren’t able to keep your feelings completely hidden from them, and you realized quickly how erratic your emotions actually were.
One day, Vaggie had swung by to inform you that they had ordered some pizza, and you were welcome to have some too. You were busy breastfeeding your baby at the time, and had to wait until she was sound asleep to sneak out of your room and into the kitchen.
When you finally arrived, your stomach growled with giddy anticipation as you passed by the others who had mostly finished their plates, your lateness obvious. The lobby was filled with chatter, all the residents gathered for a nice meal and to catch up on anything new that had transpired during the week.
When you reached the partially open pizza box inside the empty kitchen, that delicious scent wafted to your nose and you licked your lips hungrily. Gripping the lid, you lifted it quickly, your mind already picturing whatever goodness lay inside.
Was it the classic pepperoni that couldn’t go wrong? Maybe it was from that new pizzeria down the block with their best-selling macaroni and cheese…
Your train of thought derailed, your gaze narrowing at the contents inside the box.
A singular slice of pizza was all that remained inside, your most hated topping sprinkled atop the now-cooled cheese.
Your lip curled at the sight, irritation flickering across your face at the lonely slice. You heard laughter from the conversation behind you, and that only had your eye twitching.
You had lived with these guys during the most intense months of your cravings, and they were aware of what kind of pizza you devoured in an instant and which ones had you gagging. And, only one slice? Had they forgotten about you, even though you had told Vaggie you’d come down after feeding the baby?
You were itching to commit some sort of violence, which had you steeling your arms from lifting the box and chucking it against the wall.
Those intrusive thoughts had you rubbing your temple with a frustrated sigh, before lifting a hand to begin plucking the disgusting toppings from the slice.
As you placed the last of it onto the cardboard, you grabbed the pizza and threw it into the microwave nearby. Your foot tapped impatiently against the marble tile as the slice spun slowly inside the appliance, your thoughts spinning along with it.
By the time you had made it out of the kitchen with steaming food, your tolerance for social interaction was drained, and it seemed a better idea to just eat in your room.
Passing by a few familiar faces, you only greeted them with a tight smile, walking fast enough so that they’d assume you were busy and it would be less likely for them to invite you to chat.
Right as you were about to turn the corner into the hall, plate in hand, a figure rounded the corner and smacked into you head-on. Your chests collided, and you felt the plate slip from your grip, you snapped your head up to see the familiar apple-cheeked woman meet your gaze.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Charlie gasped, right as the pizza slid off your plate and began to free-fall down to the carpet.
Your eyes widened, and Charlie tensed as the pizza splat face-down, the tomato sauce beginning to ooze from the sides like a bloody scene and your hand began to tremble.
At first, those intrusive thoughts were prodding you to snap at her, but you held your tongue. That anger quickly morphed into gloom, and your eyes cast down longingly to the overturned slice.
Your lip quivered, and your chest heaved as you took a shaky breath to keep those tears from falling. Charlie’s brows furrowed and she slowly matched your expression as guilt squeezed her stomach. The banter around you quieted, but your gaze was firmly on the woman in front of you.
Fuck, that was the one thing you were looking forward to today. You couldn’t lose your composure in front of the princess, however, that would heighten her concern, and she already had enough on her plate with the new clients.
“Here, let me get Niffty to clean this up and I can get you some more piz—”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” You interrupted her, a quiet growl laced in your wavering words as you chuckled humorously, “There isn’t anything left, this was all you guys cared enough to save for me.”
Charlie’s eyes widened at your tone, before she opened her mouth to speak again just as Niffty walked forward to clean the mess. Looking down, you took notice of the large glob of sauce that had landed on your top, and you clenched your fists in frustration.
“If you excuse me, I have to get changed now,” you huffed, spinning on your heels to face the hallway, not giving the princess any time to press further as you briskly walked away.
That hot, salty liquid began to spill down your cheeks right as you entered into the long corridor, and you desperately tried to wipe them away. Your face was rubbed dry in a desperate bid to silence the tears.
What was wrong with you? It was one slice of pizza, yet your heart ached like your lottery ticket was one number away from winning. Charlie’s expression had proved your mask was beginning to crack, with the mix of concern and surprise toward your change in demeanor.
Motherhood isn't easy, that had been clear since day one, but you had hoped your emotions would have stabilized by now. It seems that sleep exhaustion and maternal hormones just don’t mix very well, huh?
That incident had been so embarrassing, that you kept to yourself the rest of the week, only venturing out when necessary, which had you spending most of your time with your daughter.
Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite a while, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her.
The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. Peaches was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.
You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.
You squished your daughter's cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”
“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”
“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”
“What are you doing?” An amused, honeyed voice came from across your room.
You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the baby's lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.
There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.
He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter.
Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world.
Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.
“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to a stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it.
“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.
“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.
You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.
“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke.
Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat.
Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again.
“How is everything going?”
“Good,” you lied.
“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you.
Lucifer’s cane twisted between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.
You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him.
Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.
You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet.
His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, and that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.
He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.
Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure.
You just needed to prove him wrong.
“Come on,” you finally nudged him with a laugh, setting the apple on a table nearby, before beckoning him to follow you towards the bed.
It seemed as if Lucifer had been waiting for your approval, as his demeanor lightened at your words and he slowly followed you. His steps were light and quiet as you neared the side of the bed, stopping just as he settled beside you.
“Peaches! You’re looking quite radiant this evening,” Lucifer greeted with a flourish, as he leaned over the side of your bed, and your daughter’s eyes widened at the familiar face.
Your eyes flicked up to the fallen angel at his words. Peaches, the nickname he had come up with. Shockingly, a name that didn’t derive from apples, ducks, or the circus.
“Well, aren't you just a peach, so quiet and easy for your mama!'' Lucifer had cooed to the little one her first days in Hell, she lay in your arms as he softly brushed a thumb across her chin, “So adwowable wit those chubby wittle cheeks.”
Your baby had only frowned at the strange man’s touch with a half-lidded gaze, but soon she’d learn to get used to Lucifer’s presence, as he never disappeared for too long without visiting his three favorite girls.
You had a real name for your daughter that was chosen after her birth, but that could be reserved for when you’d have to pull out the full name card during arguments in her teenage years. Peaches had been a simple phrase that seemed to stick, and even if you weren’t fond of the cute addressal, you wouldn’t dare ruin his first attachment to your daughter.
Peaches had only stared up at the porcelain figure invading her space with a curious gaze, no doubt wondering who this silly was, and why he always left her gifts to fawn over.
Like the first day you came home from the hospital, he presented you with a beautiful red, silken bassinet, with intricate gold lines woven into the detailed design, enhancing the elegance of the crib. Its plushness looked very comfortable for your daughter, and you adored that Lucifer got you something in the first place.
Another time, he brought you a golden mobile that depicted ducks flying rhythmically in circles, ones that threw vibrant, warm lights across the walls late at night, soothing the girl’s late wakings before they woke you at times.
That seemed to be Lucifer’s love language towards your daughter, always presenting her with toys and other little gizmos he cooked up inside of his workshop. Finally, the fallen angel had found purpose for the dusty space, instead of constantly tweaking the same old, yellow rubber ducky day after day.
“For you, a fan-favorite from the vault,” Lucifer hummed as he snapped his fingers, and a stuffed goat with devilish horns and bat wings materialized in his hands.
Right as he pulled the plush from behind his back, Peaches became enamored with it, kicking her legs in excitement as the stuffed animal was held high for her to get a full view. Her motor control was still poor, and she couldn’t grasp the amusing creature, but its colorful fur and dragon-like features were something to gawk at in the little one’s eyes.
“Look, she’s smiling!” You beamed beside the fallen angel, heart melting as you watched the little girl’s mouth open with a squeal at the offering, “I think that’s her biggest one yet!”
“It seems I’m just a natural at this kind of thing, huh?” Lucifer winked playfully your way, before he levitated the toy just above your daughter’s head, whose attention was solely on the little goat plush, “I think she’s even starting to like me, too.”
‘You’re such a good daddy, please let me make you one again.’
“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you replied instead with a simple nod, before turning on your heels to hide your goofy smile and retrieve the caramel apple once more.
You plucked the apple from the table, before biting another large chunk from its side. The flavors swirled in your mouth, and that fog in your mind lessened a little more with each bite.
You watched from a short distance, as Lucifer’s index finger pointed towards the air above your daughter’s head. With a flick of his wrist, a trail of golden sparks shot from his fingertip and upward above their heads, before exploding into a flurry of sparkles that sent golden shadows across the room.
Peaches was digging the light show, her eyes fixated on the floating spectacle before they flickered out of existence.
“Anything else going on?” The king finally spoke, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of you.
“Not really, just taking it one day at a time,” you responded absentmindedly, lifting the coated apple to your lips to take another bite.
“Are you free tomorrow?” He blurted, smile cracking wider as straightened himself against his cane.
You froze, brain short-circuiting as those words processed in your head. You, free? As in, available to partake in some sort of activity with Lucifer?
“Yes, technically…” you trailed off, gaze flicking to your daughter, giddy on her bed as she watched the stuffed goat, “But I can’t just leave the baby alone all evening, she needs me.”
“She doesn’t need you, she’s fine with someone else for a few hours,” he waved off your excuse, before throwing another trail of sparklings into the air, and they exploded in a flurry of golden glimmers above the baby’s head, “I’m sure Charlie would love to spoil the kid for a few hours anyway, don’t you trust her?”
“Yes…”
“I was thinking,” Lucifer continued, beginning to take a few slow, deliberate steps towards you, “Nothing too crazy, just a nice, quiet evening with good food. Maybe throw some of my good wine into the mix, what do you say?”
He sent you a sultry, half-lidded gaze as he sidled closer to you, the caramel apple in your grip lowering from your lips as Lucifer enraptured your full attention, heat blooming across your cheeks at his expression.
“If that is what His Majesty wishes, then I cannot refuse such an offer,” you struggled to keep your voice from wavering, the heat in your cheeks creeping farther down your body.
“But do you want it?” He pressed, only a foot away from you now, his lips upturned in a smirk at your flustered expression.
Apparently, those horny hormones had also stuck around after your pregnancy. Having such a gorgeous, ethereal figure so close to you made your heart skip a beat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.
“I… think that is a very lovely offer, and I would enjoy being able to spend time in just your company,” you finally replied carefully, a smile blooming across your lips.
“Perfect!” Lucifer clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with glee as he took a step away from you, back toward the bed.
“Goodbye, sweetheart,” The king cooed softly to your daughter, as he plucked the stuffed goat from the air, “Take good care of this little guy, he’s a special one.”
Lowering the plush, Lucifer placed it gently against your baby’s chest, and her chubby little hands came up to wrap firmly around the toy. Ungracefully, the goat was lifted to Peaches’ lips before she opened her mouth to begin suckling on its ear.
“I bet that tastes delicious,” Lucifer laughed, and you smiled fondly at the duo with a tilt of your head.
The fallen angel took a step back from the bed after a moment, before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That familiar white, brim hat materialized from thin air into his grasp, and he turned to you with a smile.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm a very busy man and have other matters to attend to,” Lucifer sighed dramatically, brushing past you towards the doorway.
“I have no doubt,” you shook your head with a laugh, following him towards the end of your room.
Lucifer reached the open doorway, before turning to face you again. He met your gaze for a few moments, before he leaned forward in a bow.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, m’lady,” he hummed with delight, adjusting his hat against those beautiful golden curls as you smiled warmly.
“Is there a dress code for our little outing?” you responded with a mischievous grin.
The king only sent you a playful wink, before he stepped out of view and the soft thuds of heeled boots against carpet faded as he disappeared down the hall.
That interaction with Lucifer stewed in your mind for the entire night, as well as into the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to the previous conversation as you snuck down the hall and into the lobby to grab breakfast from the kitchen.
The others were fairly busy, so you were easily able to travel unseen. Angel Dust was working overtime at the studio for a new porn flick, and Charlie was using the extermination to push her hotel further into the spotlight and attract new clients. Vaggie always went along with her, and Alastor was probably up in his fancy new radio tower, doing whatever it was he did up there.
It was only Husk who remained, always behind the bar, shining the bottles and whistling a strange blues tune. He had begun to rope in his drinking as well, choosing to pick up a bottle much later in the day than usual. It was the early morning hour, when you passed by the bar with breakfast in your hands, and the sober bartender turned to you.
“How’s the kid doing?”
“She’s fine, growing very fast too, gaining more control over her movement every day.”
“That's nice,” Husk’s lips curved a smidge, as he placed the glassware neatly underneath the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while, glad to know ya ain’t dead or nothin’.”
“Yes…” You said slowly, mind racing for a good excuse, “She has just been fussy lately, so I’ve been tending to her.”
“You should bring her out one of these days,” He lifted his eyes from the glass in his paws, meeting yours with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the others would be happy to see her.”
You couldn’t tell whether Husk was using the term ‘others’ as an inclusion of him as well, you knew the furry demon had a heart somewhere beneath those layers of fur and grumpiness.
You nodded your head at his words, taking a bite of your breakfast, thoughts drifting as you chewed. You’d have to ask Charlie about babysitting anyway, and you couldn’t avoid her forever.
Maybe, knowing that you were going out with her dad, she’d be thrilled to shoulder the responsibilities of a newborn for a single night, or, she could hate it… which was something you desperately tried not to think too hard about, for your sanity.
Needless to say, Husk was right, your daughter really brought the best out of your friends, as they melted in her vicinity. None of the residents at the hotel had any problem looking after the adorable little demon.
Charlie had stood quietly in the lobby, humming a tune as she rocked the baby softly in her arms. Vaggie stood beside her, tilting her head as Peaches’ eyelids began to droop at the gentle motions.
“They’re as cute as the ones in Heaven, maybe cuter,” The fallen angel spoke with a smile, her hand lifting towards the little girl’s head, before tiny fingers wrapped around a single digit and clamped tight.
“And strong too, wow,” She laughed, trying to gently dislodge her finger from the steel grip.
In the hallway behind them, you turned the corner into the lobby, anxiously fiddling with your appearance as you neared the trio. Dressed in a wine-red outfit, you stumbled slightly in your heels as you navigated over the plush carpet.
Finally, you were actually able to fit into fashionable attire. Your stomach was no longer inflated with an eight-pound baby, and the aching of your once swollen feet no longer bothered you to continue venturing the world in socks and flip-flops.
“You look really nice in that outfit!” Charlie beamed as she turned at the sounds of footsteps, and Vaggie nodded beside her. Your daughter’s eyes widened at the exclamation, before moving to your figure, tracking your figure as you joined them near the bar.
Angel Dust was lounging on a bar stool, swishing alcohol absentmindedly inside a martini glass as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, before catching a glimpse of your outfit with a knowing smirk.
“Someone is dressin’ to impress,” he playfully nudged Husk’s shoulder over the bar counter, who turned his head from the bottles he was organizing to sneak a peek.
Everyone knew who you were trying to impress, and when you came back, they would no doubt prod you for any juicy details.
You stopped in front of Charlie, smiling as you adjusted your outfit again. You had spent the past few hours getting ready, which also included multiple outfit changes because you were never satisfied with your appearance. You needed to look good, really good if you were going on a date with the king.
Why would Lucifer want anything to do with you? You had nothing to offer, just tired eyes and a baby on your hip. There had to be better options, surely. Just because the man never went anywhere other than his manor and the hotel, didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of demons wanting to fill the place of Charlie’s mother.
Lilith. You tried desperately not to think of her, for your own self-esteem. You had seen pictures of her, in old magazines and glimpses of family portraits in Charlie’s room. Lucifer spoke of her when talking about his daughter’s childhood or humorous memories, but he seemed to keep the reminiscing of her specifically curt around you.
You struggled to understand why, did he think you’d react poorly to the mention of his ex-wife? Except, It wasn’t your place to act that way, though. She had been married to the king for thousands of years and was the mother of his child. She was the Queen of Hell for crying out loud! Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous, had a fantastic voice, and cared deeply for her people’s wellbeing.
In comparison, you were a sad sack of potatoes. At least, in your opinion.
Self-conscious thoughts like these had slowly begun to fester during your early pregnancy, and peaked when your stomach resembled a watermelon, and, for some reason, it had decided to make a nest in your brain postpartum. Laying more seeds of anxiety and dejection deeper within your mind.
But, when Lucifer was around, it was like you could finally breathe again. His energy was warm and inviting, like taking a sip of the finest liquor and that buzz in your brain thirsting for more. It felt like snuggling your face into soft sheep's wool, nothing but comfort and relief from the harshness of the realm.
Even if the fallen angel was no longer welcomed inside Heaven’s gates, he still retained that ethereal grace that made you feel like you were committing the largest sin just by staring too hard at those soft lips of his.
The king cared about you, in a way nobody did. He was the only demon in your group who had any experience with raising a child, and he was your support when it came to understanding the same stages of parenthood you were currently going through. In a much lesser light, of course, he had never actually birthed a child and suffered the effects of such a–literal–mind altering experience.
Tonight, you’d be able to have Lucifer all to yourself, and you were determined to make the most of it.
You had held back from making any advances towards him for so long due to that golden band on his finger that glinted painfully in your eyes. A reminder of his attachment to his ex-wife, and the fragility of your close bond.
What if Lilith were to come back? Would he choose her, and distance himself from you? What of you then, being dragged by the heartstrings for so long just to have them snapped in your face at his rejection?
That thought had terrified you, so you kept your feelings hidden, and let Lucifer set the pace on how far things would go. You were determined to start changing that, starting tonight.
As you came to a halt in front of Charlie and Vaggie, your daughter cooed softly, and you reached out a hand to run gentle fingers across her cheek lovingly.
“Okay, I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Bottles in the fridge you just need to warm up, first aid kit in my room, and I’ll have my phone on ring in case there’s an emergency,” you nervously triple-recounted everything in your mind.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Charlie sent you a confident nod of her head, her fingers tightening around your baby as her smile grew.
It is then you come to realize how good of a big sister the princess could make if she were to have a younger sibling. Your heart swelled at that, as you imagined your daughter at least finding companionship in the young woman. Charlie looked like she could really pull off a stellar children’s tea party.
“I know you do, you’re always so responsible,” you replied warmly, and the princess's eyes widened for a moment, before her lips upturned into a grateful smile as you lowered your hand from your daughter’s face.
“So, where are you going?” Vaggie inquired.
“I don’t know, he just told me to wait outside my balcony door. Which means I should probably head there now, if everything is fine out here.”
“We’re good, toots!” Angel Dust called from behind Charlie, throwing his head back before downing the rest of the liquor in his glass, “Go have some fun!”
You nodded, before wishing farewell to your daughter and the rest of the demons in the lobby before turning on your heel and heading back towards your room.
“I hope those two have fun,” Vaggie said as you disappeared around the corner.
“I have to use the bathroom, will you take Peaches for me?” Charlie turned towards her girlfriend, only for Angel Dust to shoot up from his seat with a large grin.
“I would like to hold the baby!” He strolled up to the duo, and Charlie glanced over to Vaggie, before shrugging and carefully holding the little girl towards the demon.
“C’mere, cutie!” Angel Dust beamed, arms outstretched to take the child as she kicked her feet in little baby glee.
“You love your uncle, Angel, dontcha’?” He cooed, lifting the baby with secure hands underneath her armpits, before he leaned in and rubbed noses.
Peaches sneezed, and Angel Dust positioned her to sit in his lap at the bar counter. Husk leaned across to get a better look, before taking a claw and reaching it towards the baby.
Gently, he squished her chubby arm, trailing down towards her hand. Husk didn’t have time to retract his claw, before a tiny hand wrapped around the cat’s finger and refused to let go.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” He grumbled as he allowed your daughter to stay latched onto his digit.
You had just made it inside your room, adjusting your appearance one final time as you reached the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, you pull it open to slip outside, the lights from the city illuminating the balcony’s white tiled floor.
You turned your head to search for the fallen angel, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were left to twiddle your thumbs, eyes casting towards the demons strolling the streets down the hill in the neighborhood below.
Lucifer didn’t forget about the date… did he? He was getting much better at being on time, but you still could not help to worry.
“Hey.”
You jumped with a gasp, spinning to face the familiar voice. You had to grip the chair beside you to keep from stumbling in heels, your gaze lifting to meet those familiar, yellow eyes.
Lucifer was perched across from you on the balcony’s thin railing, one pair of his large wings stretched wide, throwing shadows across the tiles beneath your feet. The other two he kept folded at his sides, white against the crimson underbelly of his open wings.
They practically shimmered in the waning light, their shape and color unique to only one kind of being, an angel. Husk’s wings could not compare to the exotic beauty before you, and you struggled to keep eye contact with its owner as you examined the rare sight.
“Lucifer!” You scolded playfully, your eyes tracing across every feather that rustled slightly against the gentle breeze, “You scared me! What are you doing up there?”
“I apologize for the fright,” Lucifer chuckled, rising to his full height as he balanced across like a tightrope, closing the distance between the two of you, “I just thought I’d give you a peek of what tonight has to offer.”
His wings beat softly for balance, before they folded in slightly and the fallen angel lowered himself back to sit on his feet, smiling mischievously as he lowered a hand in a gesture for you to take.
“First, you should take off those heels. They look really nice, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to climb up here with them on.”
You furrowed your brows, suspicion in your gaze as he extended a hand for you to take. What was your darling king planning?
“Why exactly am I climbing onto the railing?” You kicked off your heels, and you shivered at the cold flooring against your skin.
Your bare feet planted on the cool tiles for a few moments, before your fingers laced with Lucifer’s, and he effortlessly lifted you to stand beside him.
“Well,” He started, his fingers brushing up your wrist to grip your forearm, before steadying you with a flap of his wings, “I just thought you wanted a better mode of transportation to our little dinner than walking in those stilettos.”
“And what ‘mode’ are we talking about here?” You turned to him with widening eyes, realization slowly dawning on you.
Lucifer’s grin only widened, and you gulped. He really was serious about taking an evening flight, and you mentally prepared yourself as your gaze lowered to the long drop beneath you. You steeled your gaze towards the fallen angel, who scooted even closer.
“Are you ready?” His honeyed voice whispered in your ear, and you felt like exploding at the feeling of his touch across your waist.
Were you? Never did you guess this was what he had planned, and never did you imagine finding yourself being able to travel with your feet off the ground. Adrenaline began to pump through your veins the longer you stood there in thought.
With one final deep breath, you moved your hands to grip tightly against Lucifer’s dress shirt, and nodded your approval. Lucifer’s hold on your waist tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut just as you felt him pull you forward and off the side of the railing.
The wind whipped past your ears, your eyelids still locked shut as you clamped your mouth shut to keep from screaming. The two of you were falling fast, and for a moment you imagined Lucifer unable to lift in time, and you’d become a splatter against the grass.
Instead, you heard his other two pairs of wings unfurl and spread above you, the thrumming of heavy flaps and the feeling of being lifted once more had you cracking an eye open. The wind whistled its natural tune, and your eyelids fluttered open to see your legs dangling beneath you.
You were very high up, as Lucifer glided across the outskirts of the city, those vibrant, flashing strobe lights that lit up the sky above V Tower passed in a multicolored blur.
You were flying! Free and uncaged from the stress back on the ground, that weightless feeling was something you’ve never experienced all your years in Hell. The adrenaline rush that hit your body had you laughing in the thrill as the fallen angel dipped and rolled. Cars passed below you, and you waved to the pedestrians walking on the streets underneath your feet, if they even noticed your presence.
“Having fun?” Lucifer called from above, and you cocked your head up to meet his playful gaze.
“More than I ever imagined!” You replied, the wind carrying your voice to the king’s ears.
“Good, now hang on!” He laughed, and his wings tightened against his body, causing the two of you to dive with greater speed towards the buildings below.
Your grip on Lucifer’s shirt tightened and he pulled you closer as he sped towards an illuminated rooftop below.
Rather carefully, your feet hit the cold bricks beneath, and Lucifer released his hold around your waist to land beside you. His wings folded against his back, and with a split-second flash of golden light, they completely vanished from his frame.
Lucifer began to walk toward the center of the rooftop, beckoning for you to join. Taking a few steps forward, your eyes follow his path, before widening at the scene.
Powerful magic had transformed the space into a romantic, candle-lit dinner right out of the movies. The string of bulbs that cast warm light across the small, cute table before you held an intimate glow, paired with the soft, classical tune that filled the air.
A single, elegantly shaped candle stands at the center, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across your face. The table was adorned with a lace-trimmed cloth fluttering gently in the breeze. On top, there's an assortment of delectable treats—cheeses, fruits, and a selection of fine chocolates.
The backdrop is breathtaking, with the city spread out below, its lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The distant hum of traffic and city life is a soothing contrast to the quiet rooftop ambiance.
Lucifer only smiles at you, before he pulls a chair slightly from the table and gestures for you to sit. You oblige, settling into the comfortable padded seat as he pushes the chair back in place.
He settled into the seat across from you, and you leaned over the table slightly to take a look at the charcuterie board lined with various cheese, meats, and chips. Your stomach growled, and you plucked a few items from the board and placed them on the white plate sitting before you.
“Is everything to your liking?” Lucifer hummed, as he popped a slice of prosciutto into his mouth, before meeting your gaze.
“This is really nice,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to trace the string of lights that zig-zagged across your head, “I had expected you to just take me to a fancy restaurant, not something like this.”
“I like the atmosphere of places like these much better. Less noisy and more.. personal,” he replied, lifting another meat slice to his lips “I just thought you needed time away from that suffocating little room, the both of us, really.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this was very kind of you.”
Lucifer smiled softly, and heat spread across your face at his staring. You took another bite of cheese, and the king’s eyes flicked across the table and his brows furrowed.
“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” he started, rubbing his chin deep in thought, before his eyes widened as he perked, “That’s right, the wine! Waiter!”
The king snapped his fingers, and you turned your head in confusion. The rooftop was empty, save for the two of you, who could possibl–
Your thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed across the gravel, and a figure dressed in a black and white tuxedo strolled forward toward you. It was… another Lucifer, and your mouth dropped slightly at the familiar face, whose curly mustache bounced as he grinned.
A red bottle of wine materialized in the double’s hands, and with a loud pop the cork lid flew across the rooftop. Fizz spilled from the bottle for a few moments as the waiter stopped beside you. Lowering the bottom, he poured the empty glass in front of you to the brim, before standing straight once more.
“For you, ma chérie,” Lucifer #2 spoke with a perfect French accent, before bowing respectfully to you.
He sent you a playful wink as he slid over to your Lucifer’s side, and lowered the wine bottle. Lucifer watched his glass fill, before shooing away his double, who backed away from the table and vanished into the shadows.
You lift the wine glass to your lips, taking a long sip of the dark red liquor. Its rich, apple flavor danced on your tongue as warmth bloomed from your stomach.
“This is amazing! When you were talking about good wine, I didn’t think you meant this good,” you beamed, that buzz already tingling in your brain as you took another sip.
“An old recipe that’s been sitting in my cellar for, well… a few thousand years by now,” Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, before lifting it to his lips.
As you nibble on the delicate offerings, conversation flows effortlessly between you both. The topics range from silly memories and active interests, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. Lucifer's eyes hold a warmth and depth that matches the glow of the candle, his demeanor a mix of confidence and vulnerability, as he shares with you details of his past.
Time seems to stand still as you savor each other's company, the burdens upon your shoulders vanishing for the moment, as you keep your gaze fixed on the gorgeous face across from you. The night feels infinite, filled with promise and the simple joy of being together.
Unfortunately, time passed much quicker than you hoped, as the sky above was blanketed in darkness at the late hour. Even with the giddy buzz from the wine, exhaustion was still creeping up your spine, and your eyelids were growing heavy.
Lucifer and you both stood at the same time, and when the king joined you at one end of the table, he lifted a hand toward you. It was a gesture for you to take, and when your eyes lowered, you found that the golden band usually around his finger was nowhere in sight.
Your eyes widened, and something stirred inside you. You didn’t waste any time in reaching forward and lacing your fingers with his, his touch soft and warmth bloomed from his fingertips.
What now? Should you just lean over and kiss him? No, not on the first date, that’s silly! It must have been the buzz of the wine making all those intrusive thoughts seem very logical as you locked eyes with the king for a few moments.
But… was it really the first date? Sure, you had never spent time together so.. intimately before, but he was there for you a lot during your pregnancy. Helped you cook, filled your day with entertainment, and cared for your health, all he did by choice.
Which is why you felt so weird asking for his help now, he had already done so much, any more and you’d feel utterly… useless.
It seemed like Lucifer wanted to say something, his brows furrowed slightly, lips moving as if he was just moments from speaking. He held his tongue though, sighing softly in the breeze as he turned his head towards the vibrant cityscape.
You followed his gaze, glimpsing the large, digital billboards a few streets away depicting lude models and VoxTek advertisements.
“Are you sure you’re doing okay, with the baby and everything? You know you can always ask me for help, right?” Lucifer's words caught you off guard, and your head turned to meet his gaze.
Was he catching onto how much you were really struggling? You bit your lip, mind racing. You had tried so hard to seem normal, but the truth was, you felt like a different person after your baby. These emotions that refuse to leave you in peace were only creating a deeper divide between you and everyone else.
Your daughter was beautiful, and you loved her so much. But, she was still a mentally draining, constantly hungry being that begged for your attention 24/7 in the form of harsh, deafening wails. It seemed to be improving, hopefully.
“I think so,” you answered honestly, using your free hand to rub your shoulder soothingly, “It was tough for a while, but I think whatever has been bothering her is going away. Everything should be much smoother from here on out.”
Lucifer looked at you for another moment, as if he was finding it hard to believe you. He didn’t press further, instead giving your hand a supportive squeeze before tugging
“Ready for round two?” He smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back as stepped onto the edge of the roof beside him.
You only laughed as he pulled you close to him and the two of you fell off the side of the building. Lucifer’s wings stretched wide as they lifted the two of you towards the sky, your worries in the wind once more.
You should have knocked on wood when you told Lucifer your daughter’s crying fits were improving, because only a few days later, it was quite the opposite. Peaches has been overcome with another intense round of colic, and her screams bounced across the bedroom as you rocked her gently in your arms.
You had spent the past hour trying to soothe her cries, to no avail. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted a binkie towards her mouth, it took a few moments for the little girl to even notice her outburst, before she clamped her mouth around it and began to suckle.
Her crying turned to whimpers, which soon faded into sniffles as she suckled on the pacifier. You exhaled a sigh of relief, as you slowly lowered her into the red bassinet beside you. Carefully, you positioned her comfortably on the plush bedding, placing a small blanket snugly around her toes to keep her from waking from the cold, before you straightened again.
What could she possibly be feeling that you were unable to help her through? You weren’t telepathic, and the mystery was only driving you mad.
You needed fresh air, and your daughter’s wails were finally silenced long enough to be able to disappear for a few minutes and recollect yourself. With caution, you took quiet steps across the room towards the balcony doorways that were concealed behind dark red curtains. Slowly, you reached through the thick fabric to grasp at the handle, before pulling it open just a crack to slip through.
The door closed softly behind you with a barely audible click, and that large breath held in your lungs finally expelled with a heavy sigh, heavy with emotions you so desperately wanted to release from your mind in any way possible. If it meant collapsing to the ground and flooding the balcony with the outpour of unsung frustrations.
You felt so useless. Your daughter was in some kind of misery, and the effects of the constant jump to tears were starting to take a noticeable effect on the infant. She just seemed so tired, practically pleading for you to end whatever misery she could possibly be facing.
You were at your wit's end, and you stared out into the distance, your breath quickening as tears threatened to fall. You just needed some time alone, time to think, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to ask for hel–
“Boo!” A sudden voice near your ear pulled you back into reality, and your heart slammed into your chest.
This time you screamed, your back hitting the railing as you quickly pivoted to find Lucifer, perched atop the railing once more. His wings were gone now, and his smile was wide as he landed on the tile next to you.
“Ha! I got you good, didn’t I?” Lucifer laughed, and you tensed at the volume.
“Shhh!” You hissed, placing a finger to your lips and Lucifer froze.
“Sorry…” He grimaced, glancing at the glass doorway before taking a step closer toward you, "is she asleep?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to settle down all day… she’s been really fussy and it’s been hard,” you sighed, turning your head slightly to hide the emotion building on your face.
“Oh, I had no idea. I just swung by to ask you something, but I see you're a little preoccupied at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled nervously, concern written across his features at your glistening eyes and quivering frown.
You were having trouble containing all the horrible things you were feeling, and your body began to react to the pressure that was threatening to burst inside of you. Inhaling a shaking breath, you crossed your arms and held them close to your chest, your heart beating rapidly.
“Hey... are you okay?” You felt a hand softly grasp your forearm, and that warm touch was what had you coming undone before the king.
Tears poured down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs as you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back the anguished, raw sounds that were begging to be set free.
You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a really long time. The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its depth.
You felt a hand soothingly rub circles into your back, another one on your forearm as the king tried his best to show his support through silent gestures. You choked back another sob, straightening in embarrassment and you regained control of your composure.
“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, face twisting as you tried to compose yourself, “I’m trying to be a good mother, but it must be obvious how terrible of one I am.”
“What? Don’t say that!” Lucifer shook his head quickly, lips curving into a nervous smile as he spoke, “You’re doing a great job, nobody thinks otherwise.”
“I’m sure,” you replied bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.
“Times like these can be really hard, I understand how you fee–”
“You don’t, though!” You snapped, lifting a hand to harshly rub your face free of the river running down your cheeks.
“Okay, maybe that's true, but I'm just worried about you, you’ve been—!”
Crying erupted from behind the door, and Lucifer’s mouth clamped shut at the sudden interruption. You jumped at the noise, one hand quickly reaching backward to grasp at the doorknob.
“I’m sorry, she’s crying again and I need to go. If you want to help so badly, come back another time!” the words spilled from your lips in a single breath, and your body moved past the threshold of the doorway as you turned away from the fallen angel.
“Wait! Please let me-!”
The door locked into place, ceasing the desperate words from the other side. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer, embarrassed by your childish outburst of emotions.
Resting your forehead against the wooden surface, you squeezed your eyes shut, collecting yourself. Your daughter screamed for you across the room, only intensifying the ringing in your ears and pushing the tears to spill faster down your cheeks.
You saw Lucifer’s shadow behind the curtains for a few moments longer, before his silhouette backed away and disappeared over the railing. You rubbed a hand across your face as your daughter screamed, growling at yourself before you stalked towards the crib.
It had only been a few days later, when you heard your daughter's whimpers begin from across the room in her red bassinet sometime in the very early morning hours. You groaned, so comfortable in your nest of pillows and weighted blankets to heed her noisy demands.
You were exhausted, and for once there had been hope that you’d catch a few more hours before having to awake. Peaches wasn’t crying, though, not like her usual wails. You were still in the clutches of sleep, and your consciousness was drifting in and out, and the sounds around you were dampened by the dreamy state.
Then, something else joined the soft whimpers, a faint voice that had you stirring awake with heavy eyelids and sliding the plush covers from your figure. A rich, melodious tone hit your ears, delicate and soothing in the night.
It sounded… like a violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, a lone siren in the stillness as it lulled your daughter into a deep sleep.
You lifted yourself from the warmth of the sheets, the cold air kissing your bare skin as you slid to the edge of your bed, eyes squinted to see through the darkness towards the corner. In the maroon lighting that escaped through a slit between the curtains of the balcony doors, you could make out some shadowed figure hunched slightly above the crib, your view limited by the small dining table in between you and the stranger.
Quietly, you slid over to the edge of the bed, before planting your feet softly against the plush rug underneath. You took careful steps as you snuck around the table in the center of your room, the music growing louder as you neared the bassinet.
Slowly, you peeked from behind the dining chair, your gaze followed the dappled, red light from the curtains, as they lit the features of a familiar, pearlescent skin with a ruby-like glow.
Lucifer.
His movements were graceful, like a swan, as he slid the bow across the strings, which glowed a subtle golden light as the heavenly melody left the instrument and filled your body with awe. His gaze fixed on the tiny figure nestled inside the crib, his features concentrated as he continued to play.
You only watched, silent as the lullaby began to damper, and the bow’s movements slowed. Soon, the music ceased, and Lucifer lowered the bow to his lap as he took a seat on a sofa behind him wearing a satisfied expression. Your heart swelled with emotion at the realization of the love behind his actions, and you took another step forward.
“Lucifer?”
The king jumped at your voice, his fingers tightening around the instrument in his hold as he slowly turned his head with a large, innocent grin.
“Heyyyyy,” Lucifer replied awkwardly, lowering the violin from his shoulder, and setting it down onto the cushion beside him.
The fallen angel met your gaze once more with an apologetic smile, rubbing his neck uneasily. He was trying to quiet without waking you, which he did the opposite, and it was rather awkward with his intrusion to soothe your daughter. You quietly moved forward, closing the distance between the two of you he chuckled nervously.
“I’m sorry for not announcing my presence, you told me to come back another time, then I just heard her crying and–”
Lucifer’s words caught in his throat, pupils dilating as your fingers came up to slowly brush across his chin, before settling to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb softly grazed across those red cheeks of his, and the tension in the fallen angel’s limbs subsided at your caring touch.
You didn’t know what had come upon you, but the craving to be close to this pure-intentioned being, in a literal and figurative sense, outweighed any thoughts of keeping your feelings at bay anymore.
“Why are you so good to me?” You whispered, lips beginning to quiver.
Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he melted in your palm. Warmth spread across your fingers, easing the ache in your muscles and deep in your bones, as euphoria overcame you.
“Because you’re one of the only good things left in my life,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion, as if he was choking back tears, “You, Charlie, and…”
Lucifer trailed off as his eyes lowered to your sleeping daughter, adoration in his gaze. It was pure love, the kind that lasted for an eternity. Your heart swelled at that, and lifting a hand to his other cheek, you cupped his face and smiled warmly.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Kiss me? Well–ha–I don’t find anything wrong with tha–” Lucifer’s stammered reply was cut off once more as you pulled him forward into your embrace.
You pressed your lips to his, they were warm and soft, and you drank in the sweetness of Lucifer’s aroma, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. You felt his hands slide to your waist, before grasping gently and pulling you flush against his chest.
Lucifer leaned backward slowly, his back hitting the support of the sofa and you shifted to fully rest against him, your lips moving to delicately graze across his chin, and you felt his heart quicken at the touch.
Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as your lips traced along his jawline, you lingered for a moment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. His hands, still at your waist, tightened ever so slightly. The softness of his lips beckoned, and you closed the remaining distance, meeting in a tender, lingering kiss.
Your eyelids were heavy, and you slowly broke the kiss and let your head fall into the warmth of the fallen angel's chest, tightening your hold around him and snuggling closer.
“Thank you, for putting her to sleep,” you murmured into Lucifer’s shirt, before feeling claws slide up to your back, caressing the area softly as he hummed a reply.
The two of you embraced silently, lost in the intimacy as you listened to the gentle thrum of his heart, and he continued drawing circles in your back with pleasurable movements. You felt yourself drifting into slumber once more, and your breath slowed as you heeded your body’s exhausted demands.
“You should come stay at my manor,” Lucifer whispered above you, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.
Your eyelids fluttered open at that, sleep in the back of your mind at his words as you lifted your head to meet his gaze with a raised, disbelieving brow.
“What?”
Lucifer’s lips tightened, and his eyes bounced across the room as he struggled to formulate a response.
“Well, I–I mean, it would be a lot better than staying here, right? I could hire you as my… private chef! That way, you would make your own money to support yourself. You could even have a whole wing of the manor if you wanted, also a big nursery, a private kitchen, and a master bedroom as big as this entire living space!”
Your mouth opened slightly, head spinning. Live in the same house as Lucifer? The royal manor to call home? Probably the most luxurious and non-hellish place to exist in all the seven rings? He sounded completely serious, and you never expected him to make such a bold offer. You’d also be able to support yourself independently by working as Lucifer’s ‘private chef’, save for the free room and board.
“And, of course, you get to permit who comes and goes in that area, so if you wanted to keep everyone, including me, out…you could do that, too.”
Lucifer’s tone sank slightly as those words left his lips, and your brows furrowed in thought.
“We’ll you give me time to think about it?” You asked slowly.
“Of course!” Lucifer nodded with a satisfied smile, content you were even considering his sudden proposition, “Take all the time you need.”
The two of you fell back into comfortable silence, and stayed locked in an embrace for the rest of the morning, and the crimson light peeking through the curtains began to lighten with the coming dawn. Even as you drifted into sleep, Lucifer’s words lingered in your mind as you slipped from consciousness.
They continued to linger the following evening, as you spilled your heart out to Angel Dust at the bar, your face in your hands as you recalled verbatim. He sipped from his glass of alcohol, lips set in thought as he listened intently.
Out of everyone in the hotel, you didn’t know why you went to Angel for advice, especially in dealing with romance, but you told him everything nonetheless. About going to live with Lucifer, all the help he’s been to you thus far, and the encounter with him earlier. You even gave him a brief glimpse into the… physical intimacy the two of you also had shared earlier.
“I think ya should do it,” Angel Dust said after a few moments of silence, downing the remaining liquor in his glass, before turning to you. You lifted your head from your hands, you met his gaze with surprise written across your features.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, placing one hand supportively on your shoulder as he continued, “Now I ain’t tryna be mean to ya, but… the hotel was a great place for you before the baby, but with our track record with keeping this place from being attacked by thugs and angels, it mayyy not be so good for the actual baby. Ya get me?”
You took a sip of the water in front of you, nodding slowly as the answer you had been searching for finally settled on your shoulders. You turned to face the spider demon, your lips curving into a small frown and he tilted his head at you.
“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you murmured, rubbing your hands together self-soothing.
“Oh, you’re gonna make me cry, toots! C’mere!,” Angel Dust wrapped all four arms around you, and you returned the embrace with a tight grip.
And wow, his fuzz was soft. You finally understood the appeal as you held your friend close. Even though in retrospect you had only known the porn star for a short amount of time, the bond you shared was heartwarming and kind. One of the few relationships of Angel’s that didn’t devolve into debauchery and drugs.
Two hours later, you stood in front of Charlie, hands once again rubbing together in an attempt to soothe the nerves that were making it difficult to hold eye contact with the princess as you filled her in on the decision regarding your future. You planned to move into the manor, and raise the baby in a place that most resembled a home, instead of growing up in a hotel room.
“You’re going to go live with my dad?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed at your words.
You tensed. Was she apprehensive of the idea?
“Yes, but it’s nothing crazy like I’m getting with your dad or anything… haha.. yeah,” you trailed off, because you were feeling like that may turn out to be untrue sooner than later.
At least, you hoped they did. For now, it was just something along the lines of roommates, even with how silly that sounded in your head.
“Well…” She began, rubbing her chin in thought, and sweat beaded down your forehead as she continued, “I think… it's a wonderful idea! I really enjoyed growing up there, and I’m sure your daughter would too!”
Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your body and your shoulders relaxed.
With Charlie’s blessing, it was all you needed to give Lucifer the news. He practically jumped for joy as you gave him your answer, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“I have to baby-proof the whole place beforehand!” he had proclaimed, racing around the makeshift room he had been staying in the past few days as he grabbed his cane.
“She won’t even be able to crawl for a while longer,” you had laughed with a raised brow.
“I can’t afford anything less than perfect,” Lucifer shook his head, grabbing his coat and hat to get everything ready as soon as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of creation, remember? It’ll only be a jiffy.”
The king had literally exploded into a burst of confetti, a sizzle of magic zapping him out of the room and away to the manor. You had blinked, the colored paper mache settling on your shoulders as you turned towards the hallway.
It seemed like the only thing that was left was to start packing, and so away you worked for the next few hours.
Peaches was swaddled tightly against your chest in a makeshift baby wrap, made from a sheet of fabric that held her close and secure to you while you placed clothes and other items into organized boxes.
Lucifer had been back in a jiffy, appearing at your door right as you finished stuffing everything away into storage. It took a snap of his finger for all of your things to go poof in a cloud of red smoke, and the king had summoned a limo to take the three of you back to the manor, since traveling with magic was risky with an infant.
You had stood on the front steps of the hotel, trying to contain the tears as you wished farewell to your friends. They watched you leave with furrowed brows, and Charlie had even sniffled once as you and your daughter climbed into the white vehicle.
“Come by and visit us sometime!” Charlie called as the limo pulled off from the curve and you leaned out the window for a final wave as the hotel disappeared from view.
When you arrived at that glittering, white, and gold royal home, you were met with tall, imposing statues depicting regal figures from centuries past, their stony gazes fixed upon the entrance. As the limo pulled up to the front steps, you noticed the large gardens surrounding the manor, each flower seemingly in perfect bloom despite the season. Fountains sprayed later spouts of water up in the air, before cascading down into glittering pools.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Lucifer had smiled as you took your tour around the premises, examining the once-neatly trimmed bushes that lined the place.
There were no imp servants, or attendees at all really, which explained why the place was beginning to look overgrown by the hellish flora. Large red vines climbed up the manor’s side, a few even weaved across large panes of glass, windows that would have once offered a beautiful sight.
It appeared the current homeowner was not doing a very good job maintaining the place, and you weren’t going to let this place rot any longer. You’d have to add landscaping to the job description when you felt good enough to do such heavy tasks.
Right as you stepped through those large, golden doors, you were greeted with crystal chandeliers that illuminated a giant corridor. Plush, red carpet met your feet as you a few more steps inside, your eyes tracing over the array of paintings and sculptures lining the walls, along with a few family portraits and other elegant decor.
It was clear that the interior was designed by the women of the house, the lack of circus decor even prevalent inside the Hazbin Hotel was nowhere in sight. As you followed Lucifer down the hallway, you guessed his withdrawals had given him no strength to change the house to his liking. You stepped through a tall, open doorway into what seemed to be a parlor.
Lucifer paused, turning to you with a warm smile as you joined him with your daughter in your arms inside the living space. You took in the sight of velvet couches circling a large fireplace and a small bar snug against the opposite wall, bottles of liquor lining the racks behind the counter.
"Welcome home," he said, his voice soft as he turned. Peaches cooed softly, seemingly content in the entrancing, shiny surroundings. You followed Lucifer down another large corridor, and he began to give a proper tour of the residency.
You didn’t realize how big this place really was until he showed you the third parlor in the house. This one had more tables, seemingly for dining primarily, but with a similar fireplace nestled in one of the walls near two, red armchairs.
When Lucifer said you’d have large, private areas, you assumed he was just being generous and giving you some of his dwellings. Now, you knew that wasn’t the case, as there was definitely enough for the both of you between three large bathrooms, five bedrooms, and two dining rooms.
It took a few days to settle in, as Lucifer helped you unpack your things with easy magic and you found renewed energy in making the nursery perfect for your daughter.
It was clear, from day one, that the two of you weren’t going to be just roommates, when you found yourself stealing kick kisses from him as you organized the nursery, or when his hand found your waist as you rocked Peaches to sleep in your arms some days. Some nights, you found yourself playfully bantering with the fallen angel in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in your hands as gentle music played in the back.
Lucifer’s presence and companionship seemed to be what you needed for your emotions to begin to stabilize, along with the fact that you had practically an entire mansion to yourself, instead of sharing the living areas with a large group of demons like back at the hotel.
The king wasn’t holed up in his home all the time anymore, as he joined his daughter in promoting the hotel and actually making an effort to go to a meeting here and there. He had a purpose now, and you noticed that subtle ethereal radiance that lined his figure began to glow brighter with each passing day.
Lucifer’s social battery was still adjusting to the changes in his daily routines, and some nights he’d return with heavy eyelids and sluggish steps, as if he had returned from a battle against Heaven.
You had been sitting in the front parlor one cozy night, a book in your hand as you waited for the king’s return. He usually wasn’t gone so long, and the dinner you had made had gone cold, so all there was to do was sit around and wait.
Your daughter’s colic seemed to have tapered off by now, as it has already been a few weeks since you arrived at the manor. This was a relief, and you found yourself sleeping much longer, your energy and patience naturally returning.
That fear of being useless began to dissipate, now that you were able to enjoy time in the kitchen, testing out new receipts for Lucifer as his chef. He paid you very handsomely, even though you rarely did cook as you recovered from postpartum and kept busy with the baby.
You didn’t complain though, it was nice to see a paycheck that could actually cover all your groceries and bills, if you actually paid any of the bills around here... did Lucifer even have bills?
Your thoughts were cut off when the sound of heeled boots thumped across the corridor right outside the room, and the book in your hands lowered to the coffee table in front of you.
Lucifer kicked off his boots at the door to the parlor, his hooves meeting the carpet as they dragged towards the couch you were lazing on. His blonde was hair disheveled, and some of the gold buttons on his vest were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of what lay below his collarbone.
He looked exhausted, his eyes tiredly frog-blinking as he fell against the cushions beside you, before exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Rough day?” You whispered softly, and he turned his head slightly to face you.
“Just.. a lot,” was Lucifer’s response, his eyelids fluttering close for a few moments as he drank in the warmth from the crackling fire nearby.
You watched the fallen angel for a few more moments, his breath rising and falling slowly as he relaxed. His skin practically glowed against the soft colors thrown across the room from the dancing flames. A thought crossed your mind, and hesitantly, you reached a hand to Lucifer’s shoulder.
You felt him tense slightly from your touch, before relaxing slowly as you gripped his shoulder and forearm and began tugging him to lay down against you. He turned his head, raising a brow as he began to lean against you.
“Come here,” you smiled warmly, as you pulled him to fall over against you.
Lucifer’s head softly landed on your lap, his face upturned towards the ceiling as you smiled down at him. He watched the orange light reflect against your skin, enhancing your already perfect features.
You lifted a hand towards his face, before you began to gently brush your fingers through his hair. Your nails grazed against the king’s scalp and a satisfied sigh left his lips. A hum reached his ears, as you quietly filled the room, with the soft tune.
Something stirred inside the king, and emotions began bubbling up into his throat, and he could barely contain them as his lips parted.
“Can I tell you something?” Lucifer whispered after a moment.
“Of course,” you nodded, tilting your head down to him.
“I think… that I’m in love with you.”
Those words had your hands stilling against his scalp, and your breath hitched.
Lucifer in love with you?
Oh, the joy you felt, at finally hearing those words you only had dreamed of for so long. Your grin spreading ear to ear as heat crept across your cheeks.
“Oh, you silly man,” you laughed softly down to the nervous face in your lap, before you gripped Lucifer by the collar and pulled him up from your lap.
You leaned down and pressed your lips softly to his, and the king rose the rest of the way on his own. He pulled you against him, as his back hit the cushions and you pivoted to straddle him as the kiss deepened.
Lucifer’s arms were snaked around your waist, and your hands cupped both sides of his face as the two of you were lost in this intimate, quiet moment of affection finally revealed.
Time flew by fast after that, once your daily routines began to settle into place. Lucifer began to step in more in raising the baby, and sometimes you’d find your daughter in his arms, and a sweet, soothing tune coming from his lips.
You’d stand there, leaning against the nursery doorway as you watched with a warm smile. Peaches was beginning to like–no, love him. You could tell when she started to let him dress her up without her usual stink eye. She was now able to sit up and speak in her own, unique form of baby talk.
“Stop moving,” You had heard Lucifer laugh one day from inside the large bedroom, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be!”
A string of incomprehensible sounds followed, high-pitched babbling from the tiny figure in response.
“Hey, don’t give me attitude, missy!” You heard playful chastising from the king, and you turned into the doorway to see his back towards you, as he kneeled over your daughter.
Her tiny legs kicked in protest as he wrangled something onto her, and you took a few steps into the room before announcing your presence.
“Lucifer…?” You started, nearing the bed.
He jumped at your voice, before pivoting to face you with an innocent smile. Your daughter was visible now, some kind of bright yellow fabric around her head and hugging the rest of her body.
“Hey! Don’t mind us, we're just testing something!” Lucifer’s smile widened.
“Testing what?” You asked with a smile.
Lucifer’s smile turned playful as he turned back to your daughter and lifted her towards you, and your eyes widened.
Peaches was dressed in a fuzzy, yellow duck onesie. Its head was designed into a hood that was pulled over her head, the orange beaking sticking out and resting slightly on her forehead. She babbled something incoherent with an open, gummed smile, something probably along the lines of ‘Look! Don’t I look so gosh darn cute?’
“I pulled out some of Charlie’s baby clothes from storage, and funny enough they fit Peaches just fine,” Lucifer continued, placing his cheek against your daughter’s and rubbing it affectionately with puckered lips, “She is so adowable in her wittle onesie, huh?”
“Yes, she is!” You cooed, leaning forward to pinch one of her cheeks with a grin.
The three of you were beginning to turn into a proper family, and it became obvious when Lucifer started making breakfast for the three of you in the early mornings, despite paying you for such tasks.
“You know that's my job, right?” You quirked a brow as Lucifer stood in front of the stone, flipping large, fluffy pancakes in a pan, before placing them upon a steaming pile of deliciousness.
“You have days off, don’t you?” He hummed in response, turning off the stove and sliding the plate into his hands, “Will you grab the syrup for me, please?”
You opened the cupboards nearby, grabbing the large bottle of syrup as you followed him toward the dining area, your daughter playing with a rattle on the floor near the long table. She was able to crawl now, a speedy little demon that took off as soon as you turned the other way.
Luckily, Lucifer had baby gates to help with that, and now she was easily confined into any room for fear of escaping. Her tiny stomach growled and she lifted her gaze from the toy as you and Lucifer stepped over the gate.
Peaches squealed with happiness, and began to crawl towards you, her hands plapping against the tile as she moved. She slowed right next to the last dining chair at the table, before her head lifted to examine it for a moment.
Your daughter began to lift herself onto two feet as she gripped the dining chair’s leg. She was getting good at standing by herself, but she had never managed to successfully step forward and not flop back onto her butt.
You set the syrup on the dining table, ignoring her movements as first as you helped set the table. It wasn’t until you turned to place her into the high chair, did you watch your daughter’s foot begin to lift.
Peaches took one step forward, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain balance. Your mouth dropped, and your arm reached out to grip the back of Lucifer’s shirt and tug him beside you.
“What’s going on, why are yo–” Lucifer froze beside you, as your daughter lifted the other foot and took another wobbly step forward.
She had never remained on two feet for this long, and she didn’t look like she was stopping yet. Lucifer quickly lowered onto his knees, and you joined him as he stretched out his arms.
“Peaches, come on!” He called to the little girl, who was only a foot away from the two as she smiled at the fallen angel and took another step closer.
You joined him, cheering for your daughter as she took another step, and another, and then she reached out her little arms towards the two of you. She took the final step, before she lost total balance and fell forward.
The both of you jumped forward and embraced Peaches at once, the three of you in a tight huddle of affection as your daughter giggled against your chest.
You peppered kisses against her forehead, tears pricking at your eyes as you lifted them to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His eyes were glistening as well, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, your smile large and brilliant.
It was clear now, that your little family had grown to include another, and you were so thrilled it was Lucifer. Your ex, and the fears that came with his betrayal began to dissipate from your mind, and a tear rolled down your cheek in happiness.
From that day on, you promised to make sure that your little girl would always have a father in her life, although it seems like you’ve already found the one who would cherish her for the rest of eternity.
“Psst, Mom!”
You grumbled incoherently, still in the clutches of sleep as the voice rudely interrupted the nice dream you had been having in the early hours of the morning.
“Moooooommmm, wake up!”
You stirred awake at the voice hissing in your ear, your eyes fluttering open inside the dark master bedroom of the manor. Someone was standing right in front of you, a short figure tapping her foot impatiently as you lifted your head from the pillows.
The room was still covered in blackness, the morning light unable to escape through the blackout curtains blanketing the large bedroom. You could see the outline of a small figure in the shadows at the edge of your bed, illuminated by the open doorway behind her.
“What is it, baby?” You rubbed your tired eyes, turning to face your daughter.
Peaches was much older now, the name long outgrown her as she aged from toddler, to child, to girl. She resembled a nine year old now, that cute baby fat gone from her limbs, and her chubby little cheeks beginning to sharpen into gorgeous features.
“Can I go with Charlie to the mall? She said she’ll pick me up in an hour if that’s okay.”
Charlie and your daughter had been doing everything together lately, which you guessed was because of the older woman’s joy in having a little sister she could take under her wing. They may not be related by blood, but nobody could tell the difference with the bond those two shared.
Peaches often assisted her at the now-bustling hotel, learning how to best help the inhabitants of Hell through the teachings of her sisterly figure.
“Sure, tell Charlie I said hi,” you nodded with a smile, and your daughter bounced giddily on her toes.
“Yay! Thank you, mom!” She lowered her face down to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping her arms around your neck for a tight hug before backing away, “I Love you, see you later!”
You watched her rush out of the room with a slip in her step, the door closing softly behind her.
“What was all that about?” A voice tiredly mumbled beside you, and warm arms snaked around your waist.
You laid your head back against the pillow, repositioning your body to face toward the naked figure beside you.
“She just wanted to go out and have some fun with Charlie,” you replied to the tired, pearly face before you, his blonde hair disheveled around him as he blinked the sleep away with a yawn.
“Those two are like glue, nowadays,” your husband, Lucifer, yawned, pulling you flush against his bare chest in one smooth motion.
You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses across his skin, earning a pleasurable noise from his throat.
“Should we get up and make some breakfast?” You asked into his skin.
“Five more minutes,” you heard him mutter, as he rubbed his cheek against yours affectionately.
That gives me five more minutes to think about how lucky I am to have you by my side.
“Okay,” you smiled softly, placing a loving kiss against his forehead before snuggling closer, “Five more minutes.”
woah lots of emotions in this one, good thing everything worked out in the end, eh?
the art was done by indxlulu over on twt, go check out some of their other work!
Le gasp! what’s this?? A baby crib and a violin… how could these two possibly relate?? 🧐
Don’t fret, the final part to my pregnant!reader fic is coming! My plan is to have it dropped by this weekend, so a nice conclusion with a decent length. sorry this took a little longer than usual!
but i think you’ll be fed with this irresistible art by a mutual of mine that’ll be thrown into the pot! Here is only just a warmup sketch, but check out the wonderful artist, indxlulu, over on twt! Go give em a follow & see their other lucifer pieces 🤭
now, take this unedited morsel of what i’ve got cooking:
Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite awhile, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her.
The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. She was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.
You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.
You squished your daughters cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”
“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”
“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”
“What are you doing?” An amused, velvety voice came from across your room.
You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the babies lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.
There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.
He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter.
Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world was.
Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.
“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it.
“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.
“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.
You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.
“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke.
Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat.
Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again.
“How is everything going?”
“Good,” you lied.
“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you.
Lucifer’s cane twisting between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.
You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him.
Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever, his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.
You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet.
His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.
He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.
Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure.
— ‘I hope I am the motivation behind your strokes in the next portrait…’
just realized I never posted this scene from part one of my artist!reader series I commissioned not too long ago! just a little visual for the ending of it, where Lucifer decides to fluster the newest resident to the hotel with a kiss. Was this the moment they became the apple of his eye? 🤭
lovely work done by DawnDrawnS over on X, I asked them to just go with a basic arm to keep immersion haha, you’re welcome to replace it with whatever your heart desires
stay tuned for a commissioned piece still in progress depicting a scene in the next part of my pregnant!reader fic!! (a different artist too! ready for a sneak peek? 🫣)
Hey, I just wanted to say THANK YOUUUUU for 2k followers!!
i’ve only been on tumblr for about 2 1/2 months and it has been great! The support for my writing has been really amazing, and seeing all of your guy’s comments and the fanart really motivates me to keep going! ✌️
my inbox is always open for anything yall want to spill, i enjoy seeing new messages and all the ideas you guys come up with for my writings that i try my best to include!
anyway, i also wanted to let you all know that ill be working on the final bit of our motherhood journey regarding my ‘Lucifer Doting’ fic, starting monday :) give me a little bit to cook, and it should satisfy you!
・❥ You’re about to be sacrificed for a satanic ritual, until a handsome, charming stranger comes to your rescue.
~9.5k words
x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. wanted to play around with the cult concept again, but this time much less angsty. had fun with this one, hope you enjoy!
warning: sexual themes, cult stuff
The first thing you remembered when you awoke, blind and dazed, was the thick, musty scent of damp earth.
The air tasted stagnant on your tongue, as you parted your lips to wet the cracked, delicate skin. Throat dry, quenched of thirst, and stomach growling softly, you lifted your cheek from the cold dirt.
Where were you? How did you get here?
The fabric against your eyes prevented you from recognizing anything in your surroundings, the only object visibly present was the warm, orange glow that peeked through the blindfold tied around your head. It flickered with life, a dancing light that you could only guess was a lamp of some kind.
Thin, plastic restraints kept your wrists bound tightly behind your back, dull pain radiating from where they dug into your skin.
Dull pain radiated from where they dug into your skin. For a few moments, you laid perfectly still, using your remaining senses to listen for anyone or anything in the vicinity. Still, you were rewarded with nothing and no clue of your whereabouts.
Slowly, you rolled onto your back and awkwardly shifted to sit on your knees. You turned your head, facing the dull light flickering softly behind the cloth against your eyes. What now? Head towards the light, or away from it?
Your breath quickened, heart pounding as the situation began to settle in your mind. Someone kidnapped you, bound you, and then left you here in the dark for whatever gruesome fate was coming. Unless this was some kind of weird surprise party pulled by a friend, there was no way whoever was near had good intentions.
Almost on cue, footsteps echoed somewhere far off to your right, closing in on your location. You tensed, holding in a breath as you shrunk to the ground. Then, a second set of footsteps entered the vicinity, closing in on your location.
They seemed to have arrived somewhere right in front of you, but were obscured by something, perhaps a wall as the footsteps halted.
“Hail Satan,” A low, masculine voice echoed into your ears.
“Hail Satan,” the other replied, as if in greeting, “Is the sacrifice ready?”
What did he say? Satan? Sacrifice?
“Yes,” the other hissed with delight, “Once we finish the preparations at the main chamber, we will deliver them cleansed and ready to the prophet.”
Were they talking about you?
“Let's hope this year turns out to be successful, we’ve already sacrificed the lamb already” the other grumbled, shifting beneath a large “Good job keeping an eye out all night, but Brother Erik has requested your presence. He is waiting for us near the goat pen.”
“Of course. The sleeping agent we used was highly potent, they shouldn’t awaken for another couple of hours,” the man replied, and you heard footsteps receding from the scene, the shuffling of gravel fading in the distance as you exhaled a breath of relief.
This was bad, really bad. You needed to get out of here, now.
Leaning forward, your forehead hit the ground as you dragged your face across the dirt. The blindfold was forcibly peeled off your eyes, and they flew open as soon as you rose back onto your knees. You blinked, turning your head to observe the strange scene, heart pounding.
Rough, stone walls encircled you, the small torch attached to the wall cast orange light across the room, revealing a row of large barrels and wooden boxes marked with strange symbols. You were in a cave, these strange men dragged you underground?
There didn’t seem to be anything to break your bindings, and the only way out was a small human-sized gap in the rocks that glowed softly with the same orange light as the torch nearby. Maybe, if you were careful enough, you’d be able to slip away undetected and find a way out.
Slowly you rose unsteadily to your feet, taking a final, deep breath as you took a step toward the cave's exit. There were definitely torches outside, and from what you could see the walls were still rocky. A tunnel? It would be difficult with your hands bound, but at least it would be lit and you could use the torches as a guide.
Right as you crossed the threshold, your body connected with another equally firm, but squishy being as they ran into you with surprised oof.
You froze for a moment, your brain kicking into survival mode and your body instinctively using a leg to shove the stranger backwards, before reeling away.
“Don’t come any closer!” You shouted, and the hooded figure jumped at your outburst, raising his hands towards you and shaking his head vigorously as you stumbled backward.
“Shhhhh!” He hissed, his yellow gaze practically glowing from underneath the dark hood as he advanced on you quickly, “They are going to hear us!”
Your back hit the wall, and you winced in pain as jutted rocks dug into your back. That was the least of your concerns though, as you opened your mouth to scream again right as the robed man reached you, before he lifted a hand to clamp around your mouth.
His palm was warm, hot to the touch even as they were planted firmly against your lips. His face was inches from yours, but in the barely lit room, it was just his usual-colored eyes that you could make out underneath the hood.
“Just keep quiet while I—”
You didn’t give your attacker time to get any closer, before you parted your lips and jerked your head harshly to the side. You chomped mercilessly down onto his skin, his fingers in between your teeth as you thrashed.
The hooded figure yelped, pulling his hand away from your face with furrowed brows as his gaze flicked from his hand to your angry figure.
“You bit me!” He cried, rubbing his fingers with a small frown as you rose to your feet, arms still bound behind your back as you glared at him with ferocity.
“And I’ll do it again!” You retorted, straightening your posture as you rose to full height.
“Quiet! I’m trying to help you!” He whispered, turning his head to check the open doorway before meeting your gaze again.
“Help me? Dressed like that?” You laughed, your eyes lowering to the upside-down cross tied around his neck and the pentagram sewn on the sleeves of his robe.
“I know, I know, it looks bad,” The stranger growled at himself, backing away closer to the torch to give you space, “But, if you turn around so I can get those bindings off you, I can prove I’m here to help.”
“You really expect me to turn my back to you?” You laughed in disbelief.
“If you don’t want to, I can just… leave,” He finally shrugged.
“Leave?”
“Yep, out that doorway right there,” he pointed behind him, and the glow from the torch nearby was beginning to reveal his features, and you could see the hint of a smile on his face.
Was he really being truthful? Fuck, it was a 50/50 shot. You bit your lip painfully, deep in thought. Finally, you sighed, facing the rock wall away from the stranger, your wrists exposed to him.
You felt the hairs on your forearms raise like static, before you felt its familiar, painful tiny shock against your wrists. You flinched just as the bindings snapped, slipping from your raw skin onto the ground beneath.
You gasped softly, freedom finally in your grasp as you lifted your hands to rub at the stinging marks rubbed into your skin.
He was closer, now, but not close enough to cut your restraints. That was odd, did you bite him that hard he backpedaled as soon as you were free?
“See? No harm done?” He smiled innocently at you, before he backed away to the cave’s entrance.
Slowly, you followed, taking closer and closer steps towards the figure, mind racing.
What if you bolted? Pretend to follow the man and make a mad dash for the exit as soon as the chance arose. You could outrun a couple of satanic-worshiping old geezers, couldn’t you?
Except, he promised to help you, and seeing as you took a nasty chomp at his hand and he was still trying to free you… maybe, sticking close to this guy wasn’t too bad of an idea.
As you neared the entrance, the stranger turned to you, and the torchlight finally lit up his face. You almost stopped dead with shock, as your eyes traced over his features.
His porcelain skin practically glowed in the dim environment, like starlight on fresh snow. You’ve never seen a man so white before, and never so gorgeous either. His supple, plump lips curved slightly at your reaction, a hint of amusement in those odd, yellow eyes that seemed to suck you in without resistance.
A few strands of sun-kissed hair stuck out from the hood of his robe, and they curled delicately against his forehead, splayed messily. Have you ever seen such blond locks either?
And, was he wearing makeup? Those rosy-red spots on his cheek looked like a bad application of blush, as they stuck out like twin targets from his pearlescent complexion. Even with those odd cheek spots, it only accentuated his ethereal, otherworldly aura.
“Are you okay?” Pretty Boy’s words broke you from your thoughts, and you stopped mindlessly rubbing at your wrists. You halted right in front of him, his small figure blocking the way as you met his gaze.
“Sorry?” You finally asked.
Slowly, he lifted a finger and reached it towards the painful, thin outline of the tight binds that had bound you for most of the evening.
“Does it hurt?” He whispered, his brows furrowed with an unreadable expression. Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure as you stood there frozen, his finger just about to brush against your skin.
You could practically feel the warmth radiating off his figure, a wave of serenity washed over you, and you made no move to pull away. Your savior didn’t make it very far before he hesitated pulling back his hand before exhaling a deep breath. He reached into his robe and extended a neatly folded twin outfit towards you, beckoning for you to take it.
“Here, put this on. It’ll keep your face hidden as we move.”
You wanted to open your mouth, ask him about his hesitancy, but instead you silently took the garment from his frame and slipped it on. The robe was scratchy, but you weren’t going to complain as you lifted the thick hood over your head and pulled it forward to settle right above your eyes.
“Perfect,” The stranger smiled reassuringly at you, before turning towards the doorway, “Now come on, let’s get going before they notice you’re gone.”
“Who are you?” The words left your lips as you stayed frozen in place, watching the man intensely as he halted in his tracks.
“Oh, right, let’s rewind here,” he laughed, pivoting on his heel to face you, bowing slightly, “My name is Lou, not short for anything, just Lou.”
Lou. That was a cute name.
“What about you?”
“Get me out of this hellhole, Lou, and I’ll give you my social security number,” you responded dryly, brushing past him to poke your head out of the gap of the cave's entryway.
“Feisty, aren’t we?” he quirked a brow, his lips curving into a playful smile, “I respect your determination to live.”
You turned your head slightly to shoot the handsome man a glare, before you strained your ears, listening for any of hints human activity.
The tunnels were dimly lit, save for the glow from the torches nailed to the sides of the tunnel. You could hear conversations in the distance, echoing against the tunnel's walls as they reached your ears. Lou stuck his head out next to you, glowing eyes squinting as he stared down the darkened pathways.
“I think we’re good, let's go,” He whispered, before slipping past you and into the tunnel. With one last, shaky breath, you followed Lou out into the cavernous hall.
“Why are we going toward the voices?” You questioned quietly, inching closer to him for comfort as the two of you strolled down the tunnel.
“Your prison is on the farthest side of the main cave’s entrance,” he replied, turning his head to meet your gaze, “We’ll have to cross through a couple of crowded rooms before we can get out of here, but don’t worry, I know how everything works around here. We’ll be fine.”
You didn’t reply, instead lifting your gaze towards the cave’s ceiling. Jagged, branching rocks hung like icicles above your head, glowing faintly with orange light from the torches below. How easily could these things break off and fall? Would they bring you a quicker death than at the hands of the cultists?
“The cave system goes way deeper than just these smaller tunnels, ” Lucifer continued as he kept pace beside you, “These guys basically hit the jackpot when their founder first discovered the place an odd hundred-something years ago, haven’t let go of it since.”
“They’ve been doing this for a while?” you whispered hoarsely.
How many people have been murdered inside these tunnels, forced to endure such pain and torture just to please some make-believe goat-man that frolics around in a pit of fire and death? The delusion was unmatched, and the inhumanness even more.
“Oh, yeah!” Lou nodded, recounting the memories of his past attendings, “It’s like Coachella, but for cultists. They gather from all over the place to worship beings of indescribable evils and partake in all different kinds of rituals. Much more than just the human sacrifices, like the–”
“–you’re telling me you come here, again and again, to witness these human sacrifices?” Your head snapped in Lou’s direction, an icy glare meeting his widening eyes as he clamped his mouth shut.
“Well, yes—but no!” Lou shook his head vigorously, taking a step backward as you strode forward, anger reignited in your gaze as you bared your teeth.
“How do I know you’re not going to kill me?” You continued to advance towards Lou, pointing an accusatory finger towards him.
“What?!” He sputtered.
“For all I know, you could be leading me to my death!” Your voice was shaky, the weight of the situation dawning on you with the realization everything here was real, not some crazy dream.
“B-but I saved you!” Lou pressed himself flush against the rock wall as you closed the distance, practically chest-to-chest with the man. He tensed at your proximity, breath hitched with wide eyes at your looming figure.
“So?” You growled, taking a finger and jabbing him in the chest, and his frown deepened, “This could be one final cruel, sick joke to bring my guard down before you tie me to a stake! Can’t slaughter the cattle when they're scared, right? Or else it poisons the meat!”
God, he was so good-looking up close. It distracted your verbal attack on Lou just for a moment as you felt the temptation to see how much better it would get if you ripped that stupid hood from his head.
It felt like some otherworldly power was pulling you to stare dumbly at his perfect features. As if he was some kind of siren beckoning you to take a closer look. If you did get any closer, however, you’d practically be lip-to-lip with him. Which, if you were being honest, didn’t sound like such a bad idea…
An invisible hand lifted to slap you hard across the face, before waggling a finger at your lack of self-respect. Why were you thinking about this?! You were about to die and the only thing on your mind was how good-looking this guy was!
“I know you’re scared,” Lou’s soft words broke the silence. You tensed, finger still mid-jab against his chest as he met your gaze.
“This must be a lot for you to take in,” he continued, taking a small step forward from the cavern wall, his brows furrowed in anguish, “But I promise, I don't come here to party with these sickos. I sneak in here to save the people that they kidnap, like you.”
Is that why those cultists were hoping the sacrificial ritual would go smoothly tonight? Had Lou been sabotaging their plans year after year?
The anger drained from your face, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You needed to pull yourself together, lest you wanted some cultist to find you having a mental breakdown or murdering someone out in the open like this.
“I’m here to help you. Please, just let me help.” Lou continued, and you met his gaze again.
Slowly, he lifted a hand, a gesture of peace, a physical promise that you would live to see morning. You looked at the much darker appendage with hesitation, your eyes flicking to Lou and then back to his hand.
“Trust me?” Lou pleaded, the tone in his voice sounded genuine, and kind as he stared at you with round, puppy-dog eyes. It was becoming increasingly hard to deny such a pretty face, and you sighed softly in defeat.
Slowly, you reach out and slip your fingers into his palm. His thumb lifted to grip your wrist softly, and you flinched slightly in pain. Lou withdrew his digit instantly, growling softly to himself at your reaction before his fingers wrapped around your thumb and forefinger in an awkward, clumsy handhold.
That familiar, soothing warmth from his touch was welcoming, as it seeped into your skin and sent you another dose of serenity. Your racing heart began to slow as Lou tugged you moving again.
Then, you heard voices growing louder at the end of the tunnel, near a large crack in the wall that seemed to be an entrance to another cave. Two shadows loomed around the small corner, and you held your breath, head lowered as they came into view. Lucifer squeezed your hand reassuringly, before two matching robed figures strolled past.
“Hail Satan,” the men greeted in unison.
“Hail Satan,” Lou replied in a deepened, masculine tone. Even in such a tense moment, the surprise at how dorky he sounded had you smiling underneath the hood.
The cultists passed by with no suspicions, and you sighed softly with relief, confidence slowly gaining. As long as you keep your head down, keep your identity concealed, the rest of the cultists won’t question a thing. Not to mention, if Lou was telling the truth about coming here for years, he knew how to best placate these freaks if the time came.
Soon, the two of you came upon a large opening, an entrance to another, much larger cave than the one you had been held in. You could see large flames flickering inside the room, voices reverberating against the rock. A few figures sat near the entryway, but slowly slipped inside the cave as you and Lou rounded the corner.
The voices grew louder, speaking in an ominous, strange tongue that made goosebumps erupt across your skin. Prayers of some kind as you saw bodies bent low to the ground, all facing something hidden behind the cavern’s walls.
Sweat was pooling in your palm, and you began to breathe heavily at the proximity of such a large group of robed men chanting softly inside. Their synchronized, baritone prayers rang in your ears, and your heart only quickened its pace.
An entire room full of these guys? This was a little much. You imagined just sneaking down the tunnel and being home free, not coming face to face with the entire cult. Could you really keep up a believable act that you were one of them?
Lou’s head twisted to watch you hyperventilate softly, your eyes zeroed in on the entryway as your thoughts raced. His brows furrowed, and his free hand began to dig inside his robe. After a few moments, his fingers wrapped around something small as he pulled his hand out and lifted his head to meet your gaze.
“Here, take this,” Lou extended an enclosed fist towards you, and your brows furrowed just as he revealed the object snug in his palm.
It was a yellow rubber ducky, like those old toys you used to play with in the bathtub. It stared at you with a permanent, frozen-beaked smile, innocent to the dark, sinister atmosphere circling the trio.
“... What is that?” You tilted your head, smiling slightly at the odd reveal.
“Just a little trinket of my creation,” Lou replied, holding it farther towards you, “I always bring this little guy along with me on trips up here, but I think you need it more than me right now.”
Your eyes widened slightly, gaze flicking from Lou’s large, shark-like smile–which was weird, but not the weirdest thing you’ve seen tonight–to the rubber duck in his hand.
Slowly, you reached forward, wrapping your fingers around the toy. Your skin softly brushed against Lou’s as you retracted your hand, before inspecting the little yellow duck.
Did he notice your anxiety about going inside? You were surprised Lou was being so caring, giving you something personal of his to help ease your nerves. Why would he bring this with him to places like this? Did he bring them for people like you, or him?
You squeezed your fingers around the duck’s little body, and as the air expelled from out of its mouth, it quacked softly, barely echoing against the rocks. You squeezed it again right as you inhaled, and released the duck when you exhaled. Slowly, you began to control your breathing and settle your racing heart. You pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind, before looking up to Lou.
“Did you say you made this?”
“Yes, It’s no big deal, though,” he shrugged bashfully, averting his gaze, “Just something I tweak on whenever I’m bored, nothing special.”
“Well, I think it's… cute.” You said slowly, brushing a thumb over the duck’s head.
“Really?” His lips curved upward, his eyes moving from your hand to meet your genuine gaze,
“Yes, and impressive. I could never do something like this, especially making the squeak sound so similar to a quack.” you nodded, matching his smile.
“It does more than just quack!” He said excitedly, a playful glint in his eye, “But first, we have to get out of here.”
You nodded, tucking the ducky underneath your sleeve as Lou turned toward the entryway. You followed him up the large crevice, before slipping inside.
Tall fires licked at the air on either side of the large cavern. Robed men sat in neat, organized lines, their bodies lowered to the ground, heads bowed submissively towards the large painting on the wall.
It depicted a white-furred goat, standing on two hooves, overlooking a sea of fire that expanded out into the distance. His horns were large, and they wrapped around his ears like a ram as his sinister red eyes stared into your soul.
Your fingers wrapped tighter around the rubber ducky inside your sleeve, and you tentatively squeezed it. It barely made an audible noise compared to the chorus of voices, and you began to use it as a fidget toy to calm your rising nerves.
You averted your gaze from the painting, head lowering slightly as you scooched between kneeling bodies along the back wall, hand still entwined with Lou’s as he slipped past the robed figures.
“Is that supposed to be Satan? The guy that rules Hell and everything?” You whispered to Lou, who stopped in his tracks to face you.
“Well, no. Satan doesn’t rule Hell, Lucifer does,” He sighed, shaking his head, “I mean, I understand these people choosing the ugly one to rule a place like that, but seriously, if you’re going to dedicate your entire life to worshiping a guy, make sure you’re at least getting the name right.”
‘I wonder what Lucifer looks like in comparison, but I'm sure anything would be better looking than that thing,’ you thought, glancing back at the demonic goat-man wall painting with a quirked brow.
“Satan would also make a terrible ruler,” Lou continued, turning away from you to continue sneaking through the worshippers, “It would be like putting a pyromaniac in charge of a fireworks facility, chaos ensues… and not the fun kind.”
You weren’t going to question why he seemed so matter-of-fact about that, as the two of you made it to the other side of the cavern, near another exit.
A small group of robbed men were passing by, and as you scooted over to give them room to pass by, one of them rammed into you, shoving you back by your shoulder to make room.
You were about to turn on your heel and snap at the man, before you felt Lou tug you faster through the remaining crowd.
“Watch out,” he teasingly called to the man behind you, but quiet enough for only you to hear, “They bite!”
You resisted the urge to elbow Lou in the side, and instead shot him a playful glare, trying to hide the upward curve of your lips. He only snickered softly, pulling you through the exit and out of that dreadful cave.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Lou turned to you, smiling softly as he released your hand.
That comforting warmth left your skin and something deep down whined for his touch again. You shook those thoughts away as you met his gaze, nodding in agreement.
“Yes, I thought they were going to be much more suspicious. Is that the last cave we have to go through?”
“We have like.. two more?” Lou said, partially to himself as he recalled the route, “It shouldn’t be much longer, don’t worry.”
You groaned internally, adjusting the hood around your head before following Lou down the tunnel. At one point, he had taken one of the torches from the wall, holding it in his hand as the two of you walked along the quiet path.
“Do you make anything else than these ducks?” You filled the silence, your thumb absentmindedly brushing against the plastic body of the toy in your sleeve.
“I used to,” Lou replied after a moment, his chipper tone dampening slightly, “More than just silly toys. I once created great things that benefited the entirety of humanity, until…”
“Until?” You prodded gently.
“Let's just say some things don’t turn out how we expect them to,” he replied somberly.
You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he was frowning underneath the hood. If you would have known that topic was a sour spot for him, you wouldn’t have brought it up. Lou’s face was so handsome with a smile, your brain was prodding for you to do something about it.
You opened your mouth to speak, to say something at least. Words weren’t able to leave your lips before another large crack in the wall, followed by the sound of deep voices once more came into view.
The opening was glowing a bright orange, a much larger fire flickering inside the cavern as Lou slowed right before the entrance. Thunder erupted from the cave, and you jumped. Listening for a few moments longer, you realized the sound was emanating from large drums inside. They boomed in rhythm with the strange chorus reaching your ears from the entrance.
They were so loud the floor was vibrating softly beneath your feet, and you struggled to understand Lou when he turned to you, speaking something before slipping into the cave. Hastily, you followed him through the crevice, slipping past the jutting rocks that pulled against your garment.
“Wait!” You wrapped your fingers around the fabric of Lou’s robe, halting his movements rights you passed through the threshold.
As you stepped into the cavern, the heat from the large fire washed over you, and the rhythmic beat of drums pounded in your chest. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, and something else indescribable, something primal that made the hair along your arms rise.
Before you was a scene straight out of a horror movie. Robed figures swayed and danced around the towering flames in the center of the cavern, their movements erratic yet somehow synchronized. Their robes, adorned with demonic symbols and intricate patterns, billowed around them as they moved.
There were so many cultists partaking in whatever weird, dancing ritual they were performing that the moving crowd stretched to the walls. There would be no slipping by this time, and you gulped softly at the sight.
Lou watched you silently, an unreadable expression on his pretty face as you turned to meet his gaze.
“The fastest way to get through here is to join them. We should hurry, I’m sure they’ve noticed you’re gone by now.”
Join them? As in, dance with these weirdos until you reach the other side of the cave?
You were about to laugh, pat Lou on the shoulder for the good joke, until you saw his face. It was dead serious, save for the way his lip was beginning to curve upwards into a playful smirk.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I can’t dance,” you shook your head with a humorless laugh, slowly backing towards the mouth of the chamber, “This is crazy, I’m not going out there.”
The chanting of baritone voices filled your ears as spinning, cloaked figures circled the large fire, completely entranced in their satanic waltz as Lucifer’s smirk widened.
“Don’t worry, I got this,” he spoke confidently, wrapping gentle fingers around your hands as he tugged you forward, closer to the dancing circle.
For a moment you thought of fighting back and ripping your hands free from his grasp, bolting out of the cavernous room and far away from any robes for the rest of your life. Except, you probably had zero chance at getting out of here without Lou, the handsome man dead set on joining whatever kind of hellish scene was in front of you.
That playful glint in Lou’s eyes only made the adrenaline pump harder through your veins. Something deep inside of you was willing for you to follow the handsome stranger’s command, to prove to him that you weren’t a sack of potatoes he had to heft all the way to the exit.
“You’re going to regret this,” you frowned, your face as serious as possible as you finally relented to his tugging.
“Is that a promise?” Lou smiled mischievously, fingers gently intertwined with yours as he pulled you into the mass of robes.
As the pulsating rhythm of the chanting engulfed the chamber, Lucifer and you found yourselves swept into a whirlwind of movement. The flames leaped high, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the cloaked figures spun around the fire.
With a twinkle in his eyes, Lou guided you effortlessly through the dance, his movements fluid and graceful. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn't help but be swept up in the energy of the moment, your body moving in sync with his.
It was as if whatever spell the rest of the dancers were under finally had you in its grasp, beckoning you to enjoy the sacred dance.
Around you, the cultists swirled and twirled, their voices rising in fervent devotion to their dark deity. You ignored them, your attention solely upon the pearlescent face that was only a few inches from your own, as he spun with you like two seniors soaking up their last high school dance during prom.
A loose rock resting on the dirt floor caused you to stumble on your feet, and you fell backward with a yelp. A firm hand caught you, fingers splayed across the middle of your back as you lifted your eyes to meet Lou’s handsome features.
“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” He winked, pulling you back onto your feet after a moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, before continuing your rhythmic swaying around the fire.
As you danced with Lou, laughter bubbled up from deep within you, a sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins. His hand in yours felt warm and reassuring, anchoring you to the moment as you lost yourself in the dance.
Your steps may have been clumsy and slow, but Lou didn’t take notice, his features alight with amusement, as he pulled you closer toward him.
“See? Not too bad.” He grinned, his chest bumping against yours as he spun you again, and that laughter finally left your lips with a shake of your head.
You lifted your head to stare into those golden orbs of his, a wordless siren’s song taking hold of you again as your eyes lowered to those soft, supple lips of his.
If the atmosphere around you wasn’t whispering your demise, you might have done something brazen like capture his lips in their own dance.
“Only because you’re doing most of the work,” you teased instead, a genuine smile gracing your features.
Lou must have noticed your lightning demeanor, because his eyes only softened and he matched your smile. One of his hands lowered to your waist, and this time you felt you were dancing with your prince charming across a ballroom as he slowed his pace to let you drink in the moment.
For a brief minute, all thoughts of danger and fear were forgotten, replaced by the pure joy of movement and companionship. As the fire crackled and the chants reached a crescendo, you and Lucifer danced on, united in a shared moment of defiance against the darkness that surrounded you.
Your eyes lifted to the other crevice in the cave, the two of you having successfully danced to the other side of the room, one step closer to making it out of here alive. You perked, joy overcoming you as you pulled Lou along out of the crowd and through the exit.
The much narrower tunnel was empty save for the two of you, as your hands hesitantly released each other. Lou walked over to the wall, a torch flickering softly attached to the jutting rocks as he lifted a hand and pulled it free from the tight clasp.
“Shall we continue?” He smiled, raising the torch slightly above his head to light the way as you caught up to join him.
Your pace was faster now, the night growing darker and the urgency growing every minute you stayed in this underground base of cultists.
The two of you crossed through a few winding tunnels, passing other caves on the route. Some were dark, quiet just like your prison had been, while others were filled with voices and laughter. Thankfully, there was only one cave left you’d need to get through before you could be home free.
All that was on your mind was to wrap yourself in the soft covers of your bed and hibernate the rest of the week away. After this, you could live without any human interaction for a couple of months, maybe forever. Except... The only company from tonight you wanted to hang on to was Lou’s.
Would it be weird if you asked for his number? Invited him for some coffee at a later time? No, that was weird. He was your savior, not some Tinder match waiting for the first date.
These cheek-flushing thoughts kept you busy for the next few minutes, as Lou guided you through the rocky maze. He was quiet, his eyes darting to every cave opening and corner, his ears straining for any footsteps or lone wanderer.
The silence between the two of you was peaceful, giving you time to think about recent events.
“Why do they want to sacrifice me?” You said after a few moments.
“It’s pretty simple, actually,” Lou started, scratching his chin, “First, they sacrifice a newborn lamb, which is supposed to create a portal from Hell to the living world, so that a demonic spirit can pass through. But, it's the human sacrifice that gives said demonic spirit their powers, enough for them to grant whatever the summoner wants.”
“Have you ever seen them actually summon the Devil?” You tilted your head curiously.
“..No,” Lou responded slowly, as if he was planning his next words carefully, “But, I’m sure if the exceptionally charming figure were to be around here somewhere, he wouldn't reveal himself until necessary”
“Doesn’t the bible say he was God’s prettiest angel? Unless Hell turned him into some kind of monster, he’s probably still fairly good-looking, especially since he convinced all those other angels to fall with him.”
“Couldn’t be any better than what’s right in front of you, eh?” Lou turned, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You only laughed softly, shaking your head at his antics. You weren’t sure how Lou would compare to the real deal, but you had an idea of who you’d choose as the winner in such a competition.
A few more minutes, and the two of you came upon a tunnel that split off into two different directions. Both seemed identical, and even Lou seemed to be having trouble figuring out the next steps.
He stood there, eyes flicking from one path to the next, as he bit his nail in thought.
“Are you lost?” you finally questioned, crossing your arms as he pivoted to face you.
“Me? Ha! No,” He chuckled nervously, lifting his hood slightly to rake back his hair.
The small glimpse of those shiny, silky strands had you wishing these cultists chose something more revealing as an outfit choice.
“Okay… so which way?”
“I—um… let’s see. I think we go… right, yeah! That’s it, we go right.” Lou nodded his head, confidence regaining as he turned toward the right branching route.
You quirked an eyebrow but made no comment as you followed him down the path. A few more cultists passed by, but they didn’t pay any mind to the two of you as you continued down the tunnel.
It wasn’t long before you rounded the corner, and the final cave’s entrance loomed ahead. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you practically skipped to the large opening, giddy with joy.
Lou took place in front of you again, his back brushing against the jutting rocks as he slipped through the gaping crevice, strange noises echoing from the other side.
“Alright, this is the last one, right through here—”
Lou stopped dead in front of you, his mouth dropping in surprise at the scene before him. You slid through beside him, lifting a brow at his strange demeanor before turning your head to the strange noises in front, before your mouth dropped as well.
Inside the much smaller cave, was what seemed to be a small crowd of… exposed individuals. They stood and bent around the room, encircling a pile of naked bodies.
At first, you thought they were dead, until you saw a woman lift her head from the mass, eyes drunk with pleasure and a dopey smile on her features.
Oh… my… god.
Moans erupted, louder now, as you watched a naked man, ass exposed for all to see, kneel in front of a similarly undressed man, his mouth moving forward to clasp around the other man’s….
Your hand shot up to your mouth, and you swallowed down the bile building in your throat.
These guys were having orgies, too?!
“Wrong tunnel…” Lou finally spoke, eyes wide at the explicit scene as you turned away with a gag.
“I’m guessing this is one of the fun little activities you like to join sometimes?” You grumbled, pulling the hood completely over your eyes, hiding from the moaning mass.
The sounds emanating from inside the room were pleasurable, joyous, and everything a nymphomaniac could dream of.
“It’s gotten bigger since last time,” you heard Lou laugh awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he turned to you with a sheepish smile.
“Maybe, we should turn back. Go down that other tunnel?” You hoarsely pleaded.
“The cave's main entrance is right on the other side, we can't turn back now.” He whined, gripping your shoulder and spinning you to face him.
“I am not partaking in this!” You growled, your eyes glancing at all the exposed skin before squeezing them shut with another gag.
“I’m not asking you to!” Lou shot back defensively, “But, we just need to sneak through here, and you’re free!”
Freedom. You were almost there, almost home. A bunch of naked strangers weren’t going to stop you from making it out of here alive.
“Fine,” you relented, “But, you go first.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Lou replied sarcastically with a huff, before he turned, straightened his shoulders, and stepped further into the cave.
Before he could make it any farther, your hand wrapped clumsily around his as you yanked the hood further over your eyes and followed him in.
You steeled yourself, tense as the view directly at the ground gave you a little peek into what was going on around you.
Bodies rolling together, in all different positions, some you didn’t even know existed as you bumped into naked man after naked woman.
“Nothing like debauchery to proclaim your love to the Devil,” you grumbled internally as you stepped over someone’s bare foot that was tangled with another.
“Ah, pardon me… just gonna squeeze through here,” Lou said, as he pushed past a pair of strangers practically eating each other’s faces.
You were halfway through the cavern, before you felt sweaty fingers wrap around your ankle.
Your head snapped to a very beautiful woman, a placated smile on her face as she stared up at you.
“A pretty face like yours deserves some love, why don’t you come and join me?” She sent you a sultry grin, and your frown deepened.
“No thanks, I'm good…” You started, shaking her hand off your ankle.
You barely took another step before a second pair of hands brushed against your other ankle, a large hand grazing up your skin and underneath your robe.
“What’s the rush?” The strange man called to you, his hand sliding farther up your robe.
“Hey, get off!” Lou growled warningly, before protectively pushing you behind him as he ripped the man’s fingers from your leg.
The stranger only held up his hands in surrender, before slinking back into the naked mass. Lou nudged you to get moving again, as you listened.
Then, two identical women, twins you assumed, blocked your path. Their large breasts bounced against their chest as they strolled forward, large grins on their faces.
“A new face!” One of them gasped with glee, “Finally, things won’t be so boring around here.”
“Umm…” you started, until the second woman cut you off with a laugh.
“You’ll need to undress first, honey. That’s where the real fun starts.” The lady licked her lips, eyeing your figure hungrily.
“Woah!” Lou cut in, pulling you closer to him, “Sorry, ladies, but we’re just passing through.”
“Is that so?” One asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“That’s right,” he responded, his tone serious as he tugged you along, and you stepped around the two naked individuals, your eyes set on the cave’s exit only a few more meters away.
Again, you felt hands on your robe as you turned to see one of the women trying to get a peek underneath. You wrapped your fingers around the fabric and harshly pulled it from their grasp, sidling closer to Lou as the two of you zigzagged through.
Your breathing was becoming heavy, as panic set in with all the sweaty, disgusting hands practically groping you, tugging at your robe to remove it.
If Lou lost his grip on you, would you be dragged into the mass with no way of escape? This was never how you imagined you were going to greet death.
Lou turned to meet your gaze, and he must have felt the way your hands began to shake as he growled again, pushing past you to kick at another man’s grip on your garment.
“I said get back!” He boomed, and you winced slightly at the authority in his voice. It was strong, and it had you wanting to submit to him instantly, like some kind of other-worldly power.
The others around you also lowered themselves slightly at his tone, but soon they were even reaching towards Lou, who was practically beating them off with bare hands as the two of you backed away.
“Okay, we’re done here,” Lou huffed beside you, before you felt strong hands reaching underneath you and hoisting you into the air bridal-style.
One hand went to hold you firmly underneath your back, while the other wrapped around the back of your knees, and your eyes widened.
Lifting your head, you met Lou’s gaze who smiled reassuringly at you, as he began to practically hop across the cultist’s backs to make it to the other side.
You didn’t mind being carried around for the rest of the escape, especially by such a handsome face. Being so close again, you could smell Lou’s scent against his chest.
Apples and the faint scent of cinnamon. Your nerves began to settle instantly as you deeply inhaled the scent, pulling the hood over your eyes again to shield your poor mind from the rest of the grizzly sight.
You felt Lou take a couple more steps on solid ground, and the brushing off rocks against your legs as he slipped through the threshold and out of the cave.
He took a few more steps, and the orange glow from the torches faded, and fresh air hit your neck.
“Phew, looks like we made it out in one piece!” you heard Lou exclaim, and you perked from his hold.
Your head lifted, and your eyes met moonlight. Without a second thought, you scrambled out of Lou’s grip as he hastily tried to set you down beside him. You ripped that itchy hood off your head, that cool breeze brushing against your cheeks as you took a deep, refreshing breath.
You were outside, hidden amongst the shadows a few feet away near the small opening in the ground that held sinister, demonic secrets.
You extended your arms, taking in the full moon’s light as it basked you in a pale glow.
Lou watched you, smiling softly as you greeted the familiar sights of towering pine trees, the overgrown grass, and the distant calls of the owls and other nightly sounds.
The sounds of freedom, of safety, of home, sweet home.
“Congratulations,” Lou strolled up to you, and you turned to face him with a large smile, “You made it out alive, with barely a scratch on you!”
“I almost didn’t with that last stretch,” you laughed, stepping closer to him, “Thank you, for saving me from those… people.”
“I’d never let anything happen to you under my watch,” He responded, nudging you with his elbow, “They were just all enamored by your face, it’s hard to think straight staring into it for so long.”
Your cheeks heated at his compliment, and even Lou seemed surprised by his own words as he averted his gaze, a tint of red mixing with that porcelain complexion.
“So… this is it? You’re going home now?” You asked softly, desperate that the answer wouldn’t be what you expected.
“Yeah… it’s about time I head out,” Lou nodded slowly, trying to do everything but meet your eyes as he fiddled with his robe’s sleeves.
Your heart sank a little, your lips curving into a frown at the realization that this was goodbye.
This stranger, who wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, lept into the dragon’s lair to pull you out and guide you to safety. You had never met anyone selfless like that, nor had you met anyone so good-looking.
Lou was like your… guardian angel. An ethereal figure who appeared during your darkest moments to lift you, physically and mentally, up from the depths. And now, he was leaving you to flap those wings and disappear into the night.
‘Please stay,’ you wished, as he finally turned his head to meet your gaze. Could he see the desperation behind your eyes?
You weren’t sure, as Lou stood silently for a few moments, before he lifted his hands and pulled the hood down from his head.
You held in a gasp, the way those blonde strands curled messily around his face, as they practically shimmered in the moonlight. He was drop-dead gorgeous now, and you felt your inner thighs beginning to heat against your will.
Holy moly… could this guy get any hotter?
Lou watched you for a moment, before his brows furrowed, lips pursed slightly in hesitation as if he was fighting the urge to say more.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ you wanted to tease, give the handsome, snow-skinned man a taste of what you could offer if he snuck around just a teensy bit longer.
The words never left your lips though, divulging into another missed opportunity that you’ll most definitely regret later when you were trying to sleep this traumatic night away.
Lou’s smile faltered for a moment, before they curved back to that charming, heart-fluttering grin.
“Well, looks like you better get going,” he sighed, “Even though tonight was pretty crazy, I enjoyed spending it with you.”
“I could say the same thing. But… how do I get home?” You frowned.
Lou lifted a hand to point somewhere behind you, and you turned your head to follow his finger. Off into the distance, strobes of multicolored lights lit up the city only a mile or so down the dusty path before you.
Your eyes widened at the familiar, towering buildings that dotted the cityscape. The neighborhood you turned down every afternoon to go home every evening practically screaming at you from down the mountain.
“Wait, we’re this close to my house? That’s crazy, I though—”
The words died in your throat, when you turned to find the spot before you empty. No hint that there was even a man beside you at one point, as the grass swayed softly around you, and the breeze tickled the hair on your skin.
Where did he go so fast? You twisted your head, trying to find a glimpse of the pale figure, to no avail.
You were left alone, with Lou nowhere in sight. Your fingers tightened around the rubber duck in your pocket soothingly as your heart sank even further.
Slowly, using the moon to light your path, you turned away from the spot Lou had vanished from, and began to trek down the dirt path.
Finally, you were going home. Although, you weren’t sure whether you’d be able to forget this night any longer, not with that dashing face at the forefront of your mind.
It had been exactly one year since you were kidnapped and taken to that hellish cave. The events replayed in your mind as you entered the large cave opening underground, surrounded by hooded figures that brushed past you as they crowded around a large stone table.
You had kept the robe Lou had given you, washed it a hundred times, before hiding it deep within your closet, never to see the light of day.
Until tonight. When you had risen from your bed, brows furrowed, mind set on one, idiotic plan of action.
You were going to go back. Back to those twisting tunnels, the smell of damp earth mingled with sinister intentions, and the hypnotic chanting of prayers.
And, back to that handsome face.
You didn’t remember when you had become dead set on going back, part of your mind begging you to turn on your heel and leave as you joined the large gathering inside the cavern.
The first ritual of the night was the sacrificial lamb. It cried out helplessly, bound on top of the stone table, surrounded by what seemed to be the leaders of the cult.
Their robes were much more fashionable, tinted with gold as one man in the center raised a large knife, chanting an unknown tongue as the rest of the crowd joined in.
“Satan!” One of the leaders bellowed, “Take this offering as a token of our devotion, and rise to join us from the depths of Hell!”
You lowered your head, averting your gaze at the painful bleating of the lamb as metal met soft skin, the knife digging deep until it twisted the little creature’s heart open from inside its chest.
The small animal’s cries died as blood seeped onto the stone table, a dark red river that flowed across its smooth surface before cascading onto the dirt floor beneath.
As the cultists around you sang praise and talked amongst themselves, you slowly backed away, pushing through to the back of the crowd.
“Dale, good to see ‘ya! How are the kids?” You heard one merrily ask to another.
When you exited the mass of robes, you inhaled deeply, settling your nerves as you twisted your head across the room.
Since it was the beginning of the night, the cultists were busy catching up with each other. They chatted away as if they were discussing the weather, instead of their next sacrifice.
Sneaking along the wall, you slipped out of sight and towards one end of the room, multiple paths branching out into dimly lit tunnels.
You stopped, craning your neck to try and find anything to gauge your memory.
This tunnel seemed familiar… was this the way back to your prison? If Lou was right, and they did this every year, then there would be some new, terrified face waiting for death somewhere around here.
You shook your head. No, it must be the tunnel on the other side of the room. The stalactites on the cave’s ceiling were much longer than the ones you had remembered from last year.
Turning, you took a step forward to check out the other route. Right as you twisted your head, you ran straight into another cultist, and you stumbled back with an oomph at the force.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” you growled, as you looked down to adjust your robe.
“Woah! Sorry about that, just got lost in my thoughts,” the familiar, male voice responded, and your eyes widened with shock.
You didn’t say anything, instead, you lifted your head, frozen in place as the pale figure brushed dirt from his chest as he met your gaze.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just heading to the bathroo—”
Lou stopped, his mouth agape, as your familiar features dawned on him.
“It’s you!” his eyes lit up instantly, a soft smile dancing across his lips as he skimmed down your figure, covered with the same robe he had given you exactly one year ago.
Oh, how you missed those pretty eyes of his, and the cute red spots framing his lips.
“What are you doing here?” He looked at you funny, as if you were crazy for coming all the way back here.
Which you were.
“You forgot to say goodbye, last time we spoke,” was your reply, as you tilted your head at the man.
“Oh… right. I’m sorry, goodbyes are just not my kind of thing. I wasn’t trying to be rude! I just thought you would be better off if…” he stumbled over his apology, as if you’d turn around and leave forever if he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse.
Your smile only widened, and Lou’s frown dissolved as you stepped closer to him.
“Ready to go save some poor, wayward soul?” You whispered, extending a closed fist towards that handsome, pearlescent face.
You opened your hand, revealing that familiar, yellow rubber duck that smiled innocently at Lou.
He reached a hand forward, fingers reaching towards the toy in your palm. Instead of taking it from you, he curled your fingers back up, closing your hand into a fist once more.
“I think whoever we meet will need it more than me,” Lou smiled at you, eyes soft as he drank in your presence.
“Let’s not keep them waiting, hm?” You shot him a grin, reaching your other hand forward to entwine with his, before pulling him away from the crowd.
Lou only chuckled, keeping pace as the two of you sneaked down the tunnel, towards that familiar, sinister prison you had called home only a year ago.
You were praying the dance lessons you had taken during the year would impress your new handsome, blonde, partner in crime later tonight.
If not, there was always next year.
y’know i keep saying “this next fic is gonna be short” but it’s obvious my brain doesn’t know wtf that means 😭 like i’ve literally tried to sit down and right plain ol’ headcanons before but i just don’t have a bone in my body for that kind of stuff lmao
but i just thought the idea of lucifer getting summoned to commit evil acts, to then just do the complete opposite and save people is funny af bc my boy is not cool with straight up murder like that.
x: i actually enjoy alastor’s room a lot, esp that little pocket dimension he’s got going on. thought we’d take a chapter and play around with it!
~ 6.1k words
When you stepped into Alastor’s room, the last thing you expected to see was the opposite wall divulging into some swampy void of tall, dark trees as fog rolled across the grass. You swore you could even hear the faint sounds of bullfrogs calling across the flooded expanse.
A bayou in the middle of the hotel? Alastor must have done this, no doubt. Stopping just past the threshold to the large room, you pointed a questioning finger towards the swamp.
“What is that…?”
“Just a place to test my powers,” Alastor brushed past you, and the soft, orange lights nearby flickered to life as he entered beside you, “Somewhere the consequences of my actions won’t affect the outside world.”
“Consequences?”
“Correct,” Alastor seemed to be enjoying educating you on magic and what he was capable of, as he continued to undo his coat near the doorway as you explored, “The limits of my powers continue to expand, and anyone with a good head on their shoulders would do well to understand the potential risks involved when playing around with demonic forces. This is a sanctuary I can do that without causing chaos inside the hotel… and a quaint little view as well.”
“Is it real?” Your gaze skimmed across old black-and-white photos of demons you didn’t recognize.
“An illusion carefully crafted with years of work. I’ve fine-tuned it to display scenes closest to my memories from before.”
“It must remind you of home,” you said softly, eyes tracing an alligator skeleton nailed to the wall, a string of small, flickering lights snaking around its ribs and up its tail.
Even if Alastor never mentioned it without a little prodding, it seemed as if his old home on Earth was something he continued to keep close to him. He still had a passion for music, for southern food, and his drive to keep everything the way it was only further displayed his fondness towards his life on earth. What wasn’t there to miss when you’d end up in a place like this for eternity?
“Indeed,” Alastor nodded slowly, and you watched his signature red suit slip slowly down his back. Underneath, a crimson dress shirt shimmered softly in the ambient light. Thin, leather straps hugged tightly across his chest and back, before wrapping around his shoulders for one and down his sides to latch tightly on his dress pants.
The chest suspenders accentuated his slenderness, shaping the pointish frame of his suit to lovely lines like the noticeable curve of his hips. His thin, feminine waist was as prominent as ever with the straps keeping his shirt nestled tightly against his skin, revealing a more sophisticated figure than what his tuxedo suit had to offer.
Wowie.
You prayed Alastor would turn around to face you, only so you could see how yummy he looked from the front while he placed his signature red coat onto the hanger next to the door. You struggled to keep your eyes up as they traveled farther and farther down his firm back until—
Wait, a second. Was that small, dark red tuft of fur that was nestled against the small of his back, actually what you think it is?
It jutted out from the top of Alastor’s pants, relaxed against the tight fabric. As the demon walked towards the bookshelf, arm raising towards a vintage radio, it swished cutely behind him. You zoned in on the ball of fluff, mouth slightly agape.
TAIL!
Heat instantly crept onto your cheeks, your fingers twitching, itching to reach forward and wrap your fingers around the plush fur. Alastor’s tail looked as soft as his ears, and that made your face only boil hotter as you imagined how his hair must feel similar. The thought of burying your face in him like a pillow made you smile dopely, before the realization of what you were thinking made you clamp your lips into a thin line.
Smacking a hand over your face, you tried to hide your embarrassment as Alastor moved a few feet further away, completely oblivious to your flustered figure ogling him.
What was wrong with you?! Here you were supposed to be helping him with his wounds but instead
Alastor’s tail was much more reactive than his ears, and as his fingers fussed with the radio dial, the increasingly audible jazz tune that began to waft through its speakers had that tuft of fur beginning to rise. White peaked from his underfur, as it slowly lifted in a silent expression of pleasure from the demon, as the music began to pour from the radio crystal clear.
You could understand why he was so intent on keeping it hidden underneath his suit. It didn’t seem like Alastor had complete control of his tail, and there was no doubt he saw it as a ‘weakness’ that other powerful demons could use against him somehow.
You thought it was adorable, and somehow, you’d convince Alastor of that too.
A gentle jazz beat with words you didn’t recognize wafted through the air, as Alastor turned to face you with a satisfied grin. Your eyes instantly shot up to meet his own, but not in time for the demon to notice your strange, heated demeanor and the way you cracked a quick, innocent grin.
He definitely caught you staring at his ass, and now you had other things to stare at with how snug that leather strap was across his upper body, and the way it seemed to only make his chest puff out even more. You definitely weren’t having a hard time controlling your gaze as Alastor sidled to the desk, a playful glint from his monocle as his eyelids lowered slightly.
“Find something of interest?” He hummed, cracking a charming smile as he slid his claws gently across the oak desk’s surface, tracing lines downward until he landed at the top drawer. Pulling it open as you averted your gaze, eyes searching for anything of interest.
“Why, yes,” you nodded, putting a hand to your chin in dramatic thought as your attention landed on the bookshelf Alastor had just moved away from, the rows of books on full display, the titles unreadable in the dim light.
“You love to read, unsurprisingly.” You smiled as Alastor pulled a small medical kit from the drawer, turning to face you slowly, “Do you have a preferred genre?”
“Murder mysteries are a favorite of mine,” He nodded, striding over to the twin vintage cushioned chairs that sat next to the fireplace, “The fear and the adrenaline that spikes through the protagonist as they try to find the killer before the killer finds them, a thrilling hunt from both sides.”
Alastor giggled at that, placing a hand to his mouth as if recalling a fond memory as you slowly joined him next to the fireplace. It flickered with bright green light, licking at the metal railings keeping its size in check as Alastor stood beside the chair, gesturing you to sit.
“You’re the one injured,” you frowned, plopping down into the chair as you took the medical kit from his free hand, “It should be me doing these things for you.”
“Manners don’t go out the door just because there is blood present, I am still a gentleman,” Alastor replied with a waggle of his finger, before he took a seat near you, his claws tapping against the chair’s arm rhythmically with the jazz music.
The warmth from the fire had your eyes drooping slightly, exhaustion tickling the back of your scalp. Even though it was technically still early afternoon, almost getting blown up multiple times, meeting the king of Hell who also saved your life, and being in the center of the two power demon’s bickering had drained you.
Alastor’s room was very serene, the soft jazz lulling you into a tranquility that had you sinking further into the chair. The deep brown, neutral tones of the antique furniture that framed the room, along with the orange lights that flickered softly along the walls were easy on your eyes, and you smiled softly as you unclipped the medical case’s lid and opened it slowly.
With invisible hands, Alastor’s chair moved forward without effort, scraping softly against the dark red carpet beneath before stilling right as his legs were about to brush against your own. Skimming through the contents of bandaids, your attention landed on packaged tiny alcohol wipes and thin white gauze. Placing the two items on your lap, you leaned over and placed the medical kit on a side table nearby.
Lifting a hand towards Alastor, you beckoned him forward and he slid his fingers into your palm. He leaned forward as you pulled his hand into your lap, one elbow against the arm of the chair, a hand cupping his chin as he watched you tenderly dab his cuts with the alcohol wipe. The smeared blood against his skin was cleaned off as you worked, and Alastor only silently judged you on the strange, affectionate behavior.
Why would you care so much about a few scratches on his hand, when it meant nothing in the long run. It's not like the rose was made out of angelic steel, yet you fretted simply because he could still feel the sting of the thorns on his tender skin. For any other demon, Alastor would have slapped them across the face with a tentacle for suggesting to look after him in this way. Why would he reveal any kind of weakness to someone who could use it against him, or view him as what, fragile, delicate? That was not something The Radio Demon could have for his image.
Except, your intention was nothing but pure since the first time Alastor had met you. Even Charlie, the sweet and naive woman he’d come to grow fond of, still had her reasons for treating Alastor with great kindness. He was beneficial to her hotel’s success, and as long as he felt welcomed, he’d help her turn her dreams into reality. Since he began climbing the political ladder of Pentagram City, anytime someone wanted his presence was to use him.
You, on the other hand, had no ulterior motive. Even when you learned from your friend the terrible things they claim Alastor committed, your curiosity and kindness towards him never faltered.
You had never asked for his help, even going so far as to deny his assistance when it came to putting that snobby boss of yours back in line. Every time the two of you had crossed paths, it had been him initiating the meeting, him making the first moves for you to notice his presence, him seeking you out.
And now, even seeing Alastor in any kind of vulnerable state, your soft and gentle demeanor didn’t waver, didn’t dull knowing he wasn’t a second-to-none overlord that could take on any threat as he’s so valiantly demonstrated before.
You didn’t value him any less for his injuries, and in truth, your image of him only improved knowing he was just a man in demon form. Someone with insecurities, human emotions like pain and jealousy, and a good eye for flora.
Except, Alastor wished you’d be paying less attention to his grievous wounds, and instead of focusing on the question you were rudely interrupted trying to answer this morning.
“Come to a decision on your stay at the hotel?”
Your hands halted in mid-air, the gauze between your fingers while you had been finishing up wrapping his fingers with the white tape. You had been thinking this whole time about different haircuts to subtly introduce Alastor to improve the only slightly lacking feature on his figure.
“Well–I, um, about that…” you started, grimacing at the way the words fell out of your mouth were scrambled under his intense gaze, “I have been thinking, but I mean, there’s a lot to think about. First off, while I believe Charlie really has something going on here with the hotel… I don’t think I fit the criteria.”
“Of course you do!” Alastor chuckled, as if you had just said the silliest thing to have graced his ears, “If a harlot and that slithering simpleton have a chance at leading a virtuous existence, then I'd say the cards are in your hands for that too!”
You were about to open your mouth, before he leaned back into his chair, slipping his bandaged hand out of your grip and back to his side to inspect it carefully.
“And, I’m quite confident you could find a more fulfilling job here at the hotel, instead of under that spineless wretch of a man,” Alastor continued, reclining back into the chair as he tilted his head in thought.
“Probably…”
“Not to mention, complimentary room and board? My, you’ve got a very tantalizing offer right in front of you, any sorry bloke off the street would be jumping at the opportunity you’ve been given.”
Was that true? Alastor was really selling this to you, and you reached up a hand to soothingly scratch your neck as you thought. Would it be so bad to stay here?
Your thoughts from earlier this morning replayed in your head. There wasn’t anything specifically keeping you from denying the offer. You worked a dead-end job around people you were uncomfortable with, the place you were renting was small and falling apart, and you had nobody holding you back. Your friends were there, but weren’t close in your circle. Which kind of meant you didn’t have a circle… except these new demons at the hotel. You were warming up to them, and they weren’t too bad.
Did you really have a shot at redemption? Were you worthy of eternal happiness?
What if having such made you a laughingstock, what if joining these people made you a target of Heaven? That wouldn’t be good, and you were a nobody with no power that
“Al…” You sighed with a groan, placing your head into your hands. Why did you have to be so indecisive?!
“Why don’t we make a deal?” Alastor's smile cracked wider, the curves of his lips becoming sharper as an unreadable expression crossed his eyes.
“A deal?”
“Just a simple thing,” He smiled innocently, leaning “No contract or handshake necessary, I believe you are trustworthy to hold up your end with just words.”
God, he was super close to you now, practically nose to nose as he looked at you expectantly. A playful glint shimmered in his red monocle, and your breath hitched at his proximity.
“What kind of deal?” You finally whispered, heat creeping onto your cheeks.
“You want to learn my interests, want a peek into my life above, hm?” He inched closer to you, smile widening as you leaned backward, “If I take you directly to the source, show you life as I lived it, then you must move to the hotel and stay for one month.”
‘Source’? What did he mean by that? And, if you agreed, you had to stay for a month? But, he was going to open himself up and share his past life with you, which meant a lot to you.
His eyelids lowered again, something you had noticed earlier when he caught your ogling. Were they lowered in amusement? Some amateurs attempt at bedroom eyes? You could hardly think straight with how close he was to you, a hundred routes of where things could go next skimming through your mind.
Maybe that was just a delusion of yours, wanting Alastor to show more interest than just pretty flowers and a ring that he seemed to sport on you just for show. You barely knew the man, but his kindness and, oh, and that voice… you were just so impatient.
Alastor wasn’t a big physical romantic, you could tell. Which meant you needed to take things slow, respect his space and his pace. He flustered so easily when you complimented him, obviously new to the whole romantic thing in general, and that only made you want to do it again.
Which meant, it would be you that would have to make some moves this time. Even if they were small, it seemed any act of affection would send the deer demon into a tizzy. A kiss on the cheek? Too brazen. A flower crown for his antlers? A little too cottage-girly for him, perhaps.
“I enjoy your excitement at my proposition,” Alastor broke you from your thoughts, as he smiled widely at your dopey expression again, “But I’ll need you to agree with words, darling.”
You really needed to learn to keep your facial expressions in check, it was embarrassing how easily Alastor had been able to catch you mid-daydream so easily.
“...Okay.” You finally whisper, and energy crackles inside the room right as the words leave your lips.
“Wonderful!” Alastor beamed, rising from the chair in one smooth motion, his good hand wrapping around your forearm suddenly before pulling you up beside him.
Blinking, you felt him slip an arm around yours before tugging you across the room. The jazz from the radio seemed to increase in volume the closer the two of you stepped closer to the pocket dimension a few feet away.
You halted right at the edge, the croaking from the frogs, and distant calls of the owl grew louder as you lifted your head towards the looming trees. The sky was starless, a large, dark blue shadow masking the scene at night as the fireflies danced. What was Alastor planning?
“Just a moment, I need to grab my cane,” he left your side, walking back to the fireplace as your gaze stayed frozen on the swampy atmosphere ahead.
You leaned forward, trying to get a better look around the weird little pocket-dimension. Even the air inside changed, you could practically taste the humidity in the air as it began to stick to your forehead.
Did the grass still feel like grass, even in a powerful illusion like this? You had no idea Alastor was capable of this kind of magic, especially such vivid scenery. Slowly, you lifted a foot over where brown wood melted into greenery, still hesitant to touch the strange grass.
You held a breath as you crossed the threshold, the sounds of grass crunching beneath as you walked into the wetland. You could feel the water in the soil squelching as you walked slowly, towards nowhere in particular as you twisted your head at the unfamiliar area.
Thick, swampy vines curled around large trunks and snaked into deep, mucky waters. The way was illuminated by the flickering bodies of fireflies as they danced almost rhythmically to the soft jazz in the background. Sometimes, the surface of the water nearby would ripple, and you swore the shadow of a long body of something stalking underneath the surface passed right next to you.
When you turned to face the line of trees in the distance, two pairs of glowing, yellow eyes met yours. A silhouette of a four-legged creature, tall with branching antlers that tickled at the leaves above its head. The two of you locked eyes for a few moments, and you opened your mouth slightly in awe as it stood elegantly before you.
“My, you are quite a wanderer!” A chipper voice exclaimed behind you, and you pivoted with a yelp to face the static-laced voice smiling softly toward you.
“This place is really amazing,” you laughed, twisting your head to find the buck had disappeared, “It actually feels like we’re back on Earth, almost.”
“It gets better,” Alastor hummed beside you, extending a hand that you accepted with gentle fingers as he grasped you softly.
“Well, how do I look?” He leaned closer to you, puffing his chest slightly as you skimmed across his pretty figure.
Your hands tentatively lifted to adjust the slightly angled black bowtie near his collar, and Alastor only watched you carefully as you fixed it back into place.
“Perfect,” you sang with a smile, and he mimicked your expression with glee.
“Always a charm, my doe.” Alastor winked, before he slid his arm through yours once more and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside you.
His smile was playful, as he glanced at you standing tense beside him. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going to teleport you again, or do something magically stomach-twisting that had you wishing for a paper bag on the side.
“Now, close your eyes…”
You followed his instruction, squeezing them shut with a deep breath.
You barely had time to exhale before the wind around you turned to a deathly chill, and the humidity was zapped from the air as that familiar feeling of weightlessness had you tightening your hold on Alastor.
You felt him shifting beside you, although you couldn’t imagine into what as your eyes stayed shut tight, cold gripping at your shoulders. It felt like the ground was alive, transforming right beneath you with barely a tremble as you held your breath tightly.
Then, your ears popped and you felt the grass beneath your feet shift to firm, rocky pavement. There was music, jazz again, but this time the words were audible as women's voices sang with the bumping rhythm.
‘I’m just a little Jackie Horner,’
‘Since I met my sugar cane,’
“Are you going to keep your eyes shut the entire time?” Alastor prodded beside you, his tone laced with amusement as you relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice.
Taking a deep breath, you crack an eyelid, the darkened atmosphere easy on your vision as you slowly open your eyes to reveal a scene straight out of a history book.
You were standing in the middle of a cracked, paved road, illuminated by a stretch of tall lamps that cast warm orange tones across the street. Buildings with tall shutters for windows beckoned an invisible finger for you to follow, as spicy, southern food hit your nostrils and the sounds of riled entertainment reached your ears.
‘I left a light lamp on that old corner,’
‘For the moon in lover’s lane,’
They all held porches that spanned the entire front of the house-sized buildings. Darkened, silhouetted figures laughed above your head, as you stood there in awe.
There were a few cars parked on the sides of the street, with thin, flimsy wheels reminding you of distant times when vehicles were just starting to reach the public eye.
It really felt like you had stepped into the past, everything reminisced to a world before TVs, social media, and WiFi. When newspapers and radios ruled supreme, people came together and danced on the streets instead of dancing behind the camera on silly apps.
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
‘All the boys are jealous of me,’
“Welcome to New Orleans in Roarin’ Twenties!” Alastor beamed beside you, gesturing to the long row of storefronts, the air humming with lively energy and pulsing with vibrant rhythms of tunes long forgotten.
You jumped at the sound of a baritone horn blaring from beside you. A steamboat filled with flickering lights and singing, boisterous voices chugged past you, its large wheel churning as water cascaded from the paddles.
A figure turned to you, masked in shadows before they raised an arm and waved across the water towards you. Your lips curved wider with a smile, before lifting a cautious hand and returning the gesture.
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
‘All the boys are jealous of me,’
You felt someone bump into your shoulder, another one of those mysterious figures that filled the street.
“‘Scuse me, miss,” the stranger tipped his hat apologetically to you, bowing slightly as he brushed by.
‘So I never take her where the gang goes,’
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
You twisted your head to finally get a good look at the strangers around you, before your eyes widened at the sight of a doll-like man, his mouth sewn into a wide smile. Black buttons glinted at you from where his eyes should have been, as the man placed his hat back on and turned away.
You didn’t have time to process the sight before Alastor was pulling you down the street, a live band played outside one bar, the paint mashing keys to a much faster rhythm as two women swung each other across the sidewalk with laughter and the clicking of heels.
Alastor pulled you along until the two of you stopped at a bakery storefront. Shadowed puppets flowed around you, as your eyes landed on a steaming plate of deep-fried goodness sitting patiently on a table right outside the doorway.
“Beignets,” He hummed, handing you a pastry, “A cultural classic in these parts.”
‘I’m a rowdy dowdy, that’s me,’
It reminded you of a tiny pillow, sugar coating its surface as you squished the crunchy delicacy before lifting it to your lips.
Taking a bite, the warmth of the bread bloomed across your body as the food traveled down your throat. Your tongue reached out to swipe at the leftover sugar hanging on your lips, as you smiled with pleasure.
‘She’s a high hat baby, that’s she,’
Alastor only watched you with a soft expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you fill your mouth.
“You seem to be enjoying that,” he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth still partially occupied by the delicious treat. “It’s amazing! I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pastry.
“Well, there’s a lot of things you have yet to experience, my doe!” He sang, before tugging you along with a static-laced chuckle.
As the two of you strolled down the bustling street, your eyes caught a small crowd surrounding a man in a tall, black hat as he smiled charmingly at the audience.
The magician, dressed in a dapper suit adorned with intricate patterns, stood before a small crowd, his hands moving with precision and finesse as he dazzled onlookers with his feats of magic.
Curiosity piqued, you and Alastor paused to watch the spectacle unfold. The magician’s fingers danced across a deck of cards with effortless grace, manipulating them in ways that seemed impossible. Cards vanished into thin air only to reappear in unexpected places, leaving the crowd gasping in amazement.
Alastor only glanced at you unamusingly, and you laughed softly at his facial expression. Magic card tricks were nothing in comparison to what he was capable of, and you were sure he could wow this illusionary crowd in a heartbeat.
The two of you turned, halfway down the street now, as Alastor pointed at a few different sights. He even introduced you to instruments you’d never heard of before as the two of you continued on.
“Have you ever performed?” You turned to him, another southern treat in your hand as you kept pace underneath the gas-lit lamps above.
“On the streets? No, not like this,” Alastor shook his head, his nails clicking against his cane rhythmically with the music wafting from a bar nearby as the two of you stood near the edge of the river.
You had gotten your hands on a small cup of Duchess Potatoes, a light, creamier version of the classic spud. Placing a small spoonful in your mouth, you swirled the flavors across your taste buds as you watched Alastor stare out at the open expanse of water.
“Once in a while, I’d stop at an old friend of mine’s jazz club, and on the nights I had a few extra drinks in my system, I'd lend my voice to the flappers as they danced.”
“That sounds like fun!”
“It was,” He nodded, recounting the memories with amusement, “Mimzy would always tease me that I'd make better use as a flapper than a radio host. Sometimes, I think about life if I would have
You laughed softly, imagining such a scene of Alastor dancing in a high skirt and fishnets.
It wasn’t until the doors to a bar at the end of the street burst open, and large instruments were dragged through the threshold and out into the streets. Men gathered, readying their musical weapons for another nightly show as onlookers turned their attention to them.
“Do you hear that?” He asked with a large, devilish smile as he turned to face the small crowd gathering. Couples glided in, teasing each other as they paired around the pianist and his band of stringed instruments. You watched his ears twitch slightly, twisting towards the rising noises.
“It looks like they are all going to dance!” You replied next to him, and Alastor turned to see interest gleaming in your gaze. He watched you for a few moments, before his crimson eyes landed on a trolly that was moving its way down the large street and towards the band.
You felt fingers lace around your wrist, and the gentle tugging from beside you as you met Alastor’s mischievous gaze.
“Let’s make sure we don’t miss it, then!” He winked, before he pulled you towards the lumbering vehicle.
With wide eyes, you watched Alastor take a running start and gracefully leap onto the back of the trolley, hanging tightly to the railing as he beckoned for you to join.
You watched for a moment, before taking a deep breath and running to catch up with the trolly. Laughing, you reached out a hand to grasp Alastor’s as you closed in on the back of the vehicle.
You felt a sizzle of magic drag you an inch forward, and your fingers laced with Alastor’s as he pulled you beside him. He snaked one hand securely around your waist as you leaned out from the side of the vehicle, the wind whipping against your face as you watched the street lights flicker past.
“I used to time myself on how fast I could make it on,” Alastor’s voice broke you from your awe, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure if I've improved since my younger days.”
You only smiled softly, the proximity of his touch hot on your mind, but you didn’t speak a word as the trolley continued on its path, the bar’s lights flashing with life as you beelined towards it.
The trolley was fast, as it sped by the large steamboat, which honked as if in greeting to the passing vehicle. The trolley replied with a jingle of its own, before the boat disappeared farther down the river.
The trolley began to slow a few feet from the band, which you were thankful for, unsure if you had the physical form to tuck and roll successfully had you needed to make a quick exit.
Alastor landed on the pavement with a thump, twisting his grip so he could help you down with both hands firmly placed at your sides.
“Let’s hurry before we miss it!” He sang, before pulling you along towards the crowd. The pianist thrummed the keys, inciting the dancers to twirl faster and they were lost in a hypnotic bustle of bodies fluidly maneuvering against each other. The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed along with the drumming beat, twisting in a tune of its own creation as you and Alastor moved closer.
But, why did it look like he was going to pull you in the center? Weren’t the two of you just going to stand back and watch?
You didn’t have time to answer your own questions before you were in the center of the dancing couples. You froze with the spotlight on you, the jazz ringing in your ears as your shoulders softly pumped to the music.
Alastor took your hands carefully, his legs beginning to move in practiced motion as you stood there awkwardly.
“I can’t dance!” You squeaked.
“It’s the Charleston, darling!” His voice cut through the romping rhythm, sending you a charming grin as he began to move his feet, “It’s not too hard, just follow my lead!”
Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves as you focused on Alastor’s movements. His feet moved with precision and fluidity, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. You tried to mimic his steps, clumsily at first, but with each passing moment, you found yourself growing more confident as you fell into sync with his rhythm.
As the music swirled around you, you lost yourself in the dance, allowing Alastor to guide you with gentle precision. His hands were warm and reassuring against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you moved together in perfect harmony.
The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed in time with the drumming beat, creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to envelop you in its embrace. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the dance.
With each step, each turn, you felt yourself letting go of your inhibitions, allowing the music to flow through you like a river. You spun and twirled with glee, lost in the intoxicating energy of the moment, a smile spreading across your face as laughter bubbled up from deep within your chest.
As the song reached its climax, you and Alastor moved as one, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of movement and sound. In that fleeting moment, there was no past or future, no worries or doubts – there was only the here and now, the exhilarating rush of the dance, and the feeling of Alastor’s touch against your skin.
As the music faded into the night, you found yourself breathless and exhilarated, your cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. You turned to Alastor with a grin, your eyes shining with newfound confidence.
“I can’t believe I just did that!” You exclaimed, the thrill of the dance still coursing through your veins. Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze warm and affectionate as he tilted his head towards you.
“You were marvelous, my dear,” he replied, his voice filled with pride. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as extraordinary as you.”
You returned the smile, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swayed next to him. The music was beginning to die, the scene slowly falling away as the grass began to replace the tiled, stone pavement under your feet.
Never did you imagine you’d find yourself dancing near glistening waters, eating the delicacies that the human world once had to offer.
Never did you imagine, Alastor would be such a good dancer! And, dancing with you, no less!
“I think my hunger for information has been quenched, for now,” you smiled playfully, eyes locked onto Alastor as the world around you shifted.
“Good,” Alastor smiled satisfactorily, before a mischievous glint reflected through his monocle, “Now… I believe it's time to hold up your end of the deal.”
Right. The part where you had to move into the hotel. One month. Not a year, not forever, just one month. Couldn’t you decide by then?
Yes, you could. You could come to a decision now, honestly, but something else was itching at the back of your mind. An act of affection that would no doubt get a reaction from the demon in front of you.
“I think you’re onto something…” You nodded slowly, pulling Alastor's hand toward you with a sly smile.
Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at your behavior, as his fingers lifted closer and closer towards your lips.
With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Alastor’s breath caught in his throat, a startled look crossing his features as he watched you with wide eyes.
Finally, the roles had reversed.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held his hand in yours, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The touch of your lips against his skin sent a fire igniting inside Alastor, one he was struggling to contain.
A flush of color spread across his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability that took you by surprise. His usual composed demeanor faltered for just a moment, revealing the depth of emotion hidden beneath the surface.
“Y-you…” Alastor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched for the right words. But before he could find them, he was interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing in the distance, the moment broken by the world slowly shifting around you.
Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Alastor withdrew his hand from yours with careful movements.
“Well, I suppose we should be getting your things,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. But the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed the lingering effects of your gesture.
Behind him, the fireplace illuminated the non-magical side of Alastor’s room, the vintage clock displaying arms that had barely moved an inch since you left on your little adventure.
“Seems so,” you replied with a honeyed tone, batting your eyelashes at him as he adjusted his bowtie with clumsy fingers.
If you had looked down while flustering the poor man, you’d have noticed his tail high, white fur on full display behind him. Instead, you brushed past him and back into the confines of normalcy.
awwww man, we made it, alastor finally has his girl staying at the hotel! and a lil kissy kiss :3
i hope you guys could understand what was going on lmao i spent like an hour or two looking up pictures of new orleans, southern food, and steamboats 😂
thank you with your patience on this part, have a great day! 🤍
x: i actually enjoy alastor’s room a lot, esp that little pocket dimension he’s got going on. thought we’d take a chapter and play around with it!
~ 6.1k words
When you stepped into Alastor’s room, the last thing you expected to see was the opposite wall divulging into some swampy void of tall, dark trees as fog rolled across the grass. You swore you could even hear the faint sounds of bullfrogs calling across the flooded expanse.
A bayou in the middle of the hotel? Alastor must have done this, no doubt. Stopping just past the threshold to the large room, you pointed a questioning finger towards the swamp.
“What is that…?”
“Just a place to test my powers,” Alastor brushed past you, and the soft, orange lights nearby flickered to life as he entered beside you, “Somewhere the consequences of my actions won’t affect the outside world.”
“Consequences?”
“Correct,” Alastor seemed to be enjoying educating you on magic and what he was capable of, as he continued to undo his coat near the doorway as you explored, “The limits of my powers continue to expand, and anyone with a good head on their shoulders would do well to understand the potential risks involved when playing around with demonic forces. This is a sanctuary I can do that without causing chaos inside the hotel… and a quaint little view as well.”
“Is it real?” Your gaze skimmed across old black-and-white photos of demons you didn’t recognize.
“An illusion carefully crafted with years of work. I’ve fine-tuned it to display scenes closest to my memories from before.”
“It must remind you of home,” you said softly, eyes tracing an alligator skeleton nailed to the wall, a string of small, flickering lights snaking around its ribs and up its tail.
Even if Alastor never mentioned it without a little prodding, it seemed as if his old home on Earth was something he continued to keep close to him. He still had a passion for music, for southern food, and his drive to keep everything the way it was only further displayed his fondness towards his life on earth. What wasn’t there to miss when you’d end up in a place like this for eternity?
“Indeed,” Alastor nodded slowly, and you watched his signature red suit slip slowly down his back. Underneath, a crimson dress shirt shimmered softly in the ambient light. Thin, leather straps hugged tightly across his chest and back, before wrapping around his shoulders for one and down his sides to latch tightly on his dress pants.
The chest suspenders accentuated his slenderness, shaping the pointish frame of his suit to lovely lines like the noticeable curve of his hips. His thin, feminine waist was as prominent as ever with the straps keeping his shirt nestled tightly against his skin, revealing a more sophisticated figure than what his tuxedo suit had to offer.
Wowie.
You prayed Alastor would turn around to face you, only so you could see how yummy he looked from the front while he placed his signature red coat onto the hanger next to the door. You struggled to keep your eyes up as they traveled farther and farther down his firm back until—
Wait, a second. Was that small, dark red tuft of fur that was nestled against the small of his back, actually what you think it is?
It jutted out from the top of Alastor’s pants, relaxed against the tight fabric. As the demon walked towards the bookshelf, arm raising towards a vintage radio, it swished cutely behind him. You zoned in on the ball of fluff, mouth slightly agape.
TAIL!
Heat instantly crept onto your cheeks, your fingers twitching, itching to reach forward and wrap your fingers around the plush fur. Alastor’s tail looked as soft as his ears, and that made your face only boil hotter as you imagined how his hair must feel similar. The thought of burying your face in him like a pillow made you smile dopely, before the realization of what you were thinking made you clamp your lips into a thin line.
Smacking a hand over your face, you tried to hide your embarrassment as Alastor moved a few feet further away, completely oblivious to your flustered figure ogling him.
What was wrong with you?! Here you were supposed to be helping him with his wounds but instead you were too busy drooling at how pretty he was!
Alastor’s tail was much more reactive than his ears, and as his fingers fussed with the radio dial, the increasingly audible jazz tune that began to waft through its speakers had that tuft of fur beginning to rise. White peaked from his underfur, as it slowly lifted in a silent expression of pleasure from the demon, as the music began to pour from the radio crystal clear.
You could understand why he was so intent on keeping it hidden underneath his suit. It didn’t seem like Alastor had complete control of his tail, and there was no doubt he saw it as a ‘weakness’ that other powerful demons could use against him somehow.
You thought it was adorable, and somehow, you’d convince Alastor of that too.
A gentle jazz beat with words you didn’t recognize wafted through the air, as Alastor turned to face you with a satisfied grin. Your eyes instantly shot up to meet his own, but not in time for the demon to notice your strange, heated demeanor and the way you cracked a quick, innocent grin.
He definitely caught you staring at his ass, and now you had other things to stare at with how snug that leather strap was across his upper body, and the way it seemed to only make his chest puff out even more. You definitely weren’t having a hard time controlling your gaze as Alastor sidled to the desk, a playful glint from his monocle as his eyelids lowered slightly.
“Find something of interest?” He hummed, cracking a charming smile as he slid his claws gently across the oak desk’s surface, tracing lines downward until he landed at the top drawer. Pulling it open as you averted your gaze, eyes searching for anything of interest.
“Why, yes,” you nodded, putting a hand to your chin in dramatic thought as your attention landed on the bookshelf Alastor had just moved away from, the rows of books on full display, the titles unreadable in the dim light.
“You love to read, unsurprisingly.” You smiled as Alastor pulled a small medical kit from the drawer, turning to face you slowly, “Do you have a preferred genre?”
“Murder mysteries are a favorite of mine,” He nodded, striding over to the twin vintage cushioned chairs that sat next to the fireplace, “The fear and the adrenaline that spikes through the protagonist as they try to find the killer before the killer finds them, a thrilling hunt from both sides.”
Alastor giggled at that, placing a hand to his mouth as if recalling a fond memory as you slowly joined him next to the fireplace. It flickered with bright green light, licking at the metal railings keeping its size in check as Alastor stood beside the chair, gesturing you to sit.
“You’re the one injured,” you frowned, plopping down into the chair as you took the medical kit from his free hand, “It should be me doing these things for you.”
“Manners don’t go out the door just because there is blood present, I am still a gentleman,” Alastor replied with a waggle of his finger, before he took a seat near you, his claws tapping against the chair’s arm rhythmically with the jazz music.
The warmth from the fire had your eyes drooping slightly, exhaustion tickling the back of your scalp. Even though it was technically still early afternoon, almost getting blown up multiple times, meeting the king of Hell who also saved your life, and being in the center of the two power demon’s bickering had drained you.
Alastor’s room was very serene, the soft jazz lulling you into a tranquility that had you sinking further into the chair. The deep brown, neutral tones of the antique furniture that framed the room, along with the orange lights that flickered softly along the walls were easy on your eyes, and you smiled softly as you unclipped the medical case’s lid and opened it slowly.
With invisible hands, Alastor’s chair moved forward without effort, scraping softly against the dark red carpet beneath before stilling right as his legs were about to brush against your own. Skimming through the contents of bandaids, your attention landed on packaged tiny alcohol wipes and thin white gauze. Placing the two items on your lap, you leaned over and placed the medical kit on a side table nearby.
Lifting a hand towards Alastor, you beckoned him forward and he slid his fingers into your palm. He leaned forward as you pulled his hand into your lap, one elbow against the arm of the chair, a hand cupping his chin as he watched you tenderly dab his cuts with the alcohol wipe. The smeared blood against his skin was cleaned off as you worked, and Alastor only silently judged you on the strange, affectionate behavior.
Why would you care so much about a few scratches on his hand, when it meant nothing in the long run. It's not like the rose was made out of angelic steel, yet you fretted simply because he could still feel the sting of the thorns on his tender skin.
For any other demon, Alastor would have slapped them across the face with a tentacle for suggesting to look after him in this way. Why would he reveal any kind of weakness to someone who could use it against him, or view him as what, fragile, delicate? That was not something The Radio Demon could have for his image.
Except, your intention was nothing but pure since the first time Alastor had met you. Even Charlie, the sweet and naive woman he’d come to grow fond of, still had her reasons for treating Alastor with great kindness. He was beneficial to her hotel’s success, and as long as he felt welcomed, he’d help her turn her dreams into reality. Since he began climbing the political ladder of Pentagram City, anytime someone wanted his presence was to use him.
You, on the other hand, had no ulterior motive. Even when you learned from your friend the terrible things they claim Alastor committed, your curiosity and kindness towards him never faltered.
You had never asked for his help, even going so far as to deny his assistance when it came to putting that snobby boss of yours back in line. Every time the two of you had crossed paths, it had been him initiating the meeting, him making the first moves for you to notice his presence, him seeking you out.
And now, even seeing Alastor in any kind of vulnerable state, your soft and gentle demeanor didn’t waver, didn’t dull knowing he wasn’t a second-to-none overlord that could take on any threat as he’s so valiantly demonstrated before.
You didn’t value him any less for his injuries, and in truth, your image of him only improved knowing he was just a man in demon form. Someone with insecurities, human emotions like pain and jealousy, and a good eye for flora.
Except, Alastor wished you’d be paying less attention to his grievous wounds, and instead of focusing on the question you were rudely interrupted trying to answer this morning.
“Come to a decision on your stay at the hotel?”
Your hands halted in mid-air, the gauze between your fingers while you had been finishing up wrapping his fingers with the white tape. You had been thinking this whole time about different haircuts to subtly introduce Alastor to improve the only slightly lacking feature on his figure.
“Well–I, um, about that…” you started, grimacing at the way the words fell out of your mouth were scrambled under his intense gaze, “I have been thinking, but I mean, there’s a lot to think about. First off, while I believe Charlie really has something going on here with the hotel… I don’t think I fit the criteria.”
“Of course you do!” Alastor chuckled, as if you had just said the silliest thing to have graced his ears, “If a harlot and that slithering simpleton have a chance at leading a virtuous existence, then I'd say the cards are in your hands for that too!”
You were about to open your mouth, before he leaned back into his chair, slipping his bandaged hand out of your grip and back to his side to inspect it carefully.
“And, I’m quite confident you could find a more fulfilling job here at the hotel, instead of under that spineless wretch of a man,” Alastor continued, reclining back into the chair as he tilted his head in thought.
“Probably…”
“Not to mention, complimentary room and board? My, you’ve got a very tantalizing offer right in front of you, any sorry bloke off the street would be jumping at the opportunity you’ve been given.”
Was that true? Alastor was really selling this to you, and you reached up a hand to soothingly scratch your neck as you thought. Would it be so bad to stay here?
Your thoughts from earlier this morning replayed in your head. There wasn’t anything specifically keeping you from denying the offer. You worked a dead-end job around people you were uncomfortable with, the place you were renting was small and falling apart, and you had nobody holding you back. Your friends were there, but weren’t close in your circle. Which kind of meant you didn’t have a circle… except these new demons at the hotel. You were warming up to them, and they weren’t too bad.
Did you really have a shot at redemption? Were you worthy of eternal happiness?
What if having such made you a laughingstock, what if joining these people made you a target of Heaven? That wouldn’t be good, and you were a nobody with no power that
“Al…” You sighed with a groan, placing your head into your hands. Why did you have to be so indecisive?!
“Why don’t we make a deal?” Alastor's smile cracked wider, the curves of his lips becoming sharper as an unreadable expression crossed his eyes.
“A deal?”
“Just a simple thing,” He smiled innocently, leaning “No contract or handshake necessary, I believe you are trustworthy to hold up your end with just words.”
God, he was super close to you now, practically nose to nose as he looked at you expectantly. A playful glint shimmered in his red monocle, and your breath hitched at his proximity.
“What kind of deal?” You finally whispered, heat creeping onto your cheeks.
“You want to learn my interests, want a peek into my life above, hm?” He inched closer to you, smile widening as you leaned backward, “If I take you directly to the source, show you life as I lived it, then you must move to the hotel and stay for one month.”
‘Source’? What did he mean by that? And, if you agreed, you had to stay for a month? But, he was going to open himself up and share his past life with you, which meant a lot to you.
His eyelids lowered again, something you had noticed earlier when he caught your ogling. Were they lowered in amusement? Some amateurs attempt at bedroom eyes? You could hardly think straight with how close he was to you, a hundred routes of where things could go next skimming through your mind.
Maybe that was just a delusion of yours, wanting Alastor to show more interest than just pretty flowers and a ring that he seemed to sport on you just for show. You barely knew the man, but his kindness and, oh, and that voice… you were just so impatient.
Alastor wasn’t a big physical romantic, you could tell. Which meant you needed to take things slow, respect his space and his pace. He flustered so easily when you complimented him, obviously new to the whole romantic thing in general, and that only made you want to do it again.
Which meant, it would be you that would have to make some moves this time. Even if they were small, it seemed any act of affection would send the deer demon into a tizzy. A kiss on the cheek? Too brazen. A flower crown for his antlers? A little too cottage-girly for him, perhaps.
“I enjoy your excitement at my proposition,” Alastor broke you from your thoughts, as he smiled widely at your dopey expression again, “But I’ll need you to agree with words, darling.”
You really needed to learn to keep your facial expressions in check, it was embarrassing how easily Alastor had been able to catch you mid-daydream so easily.
“...Okay.” You finally whisper, and energy crackles inside the room right as the words leave your lips.
“Wonderful!” Alastor beamed, rising from the chair in one smooth motion, his good hand wrapping around your forearm suddenly before pulling you up beside him.
Blinking, you felt him slip an arm around yours before tugging you across the room. The jazz from the radio seemed to increase in volume the closer the two of you stepped closer to the pocket dimension a few feet away.
You halted right at the edge, the croaking from the frogs, and distant calls of the owl grew louder as you lifted your head towards the looming trees. The sky was starless, a large, dark blue shadow masking the scene at night as the fireflies danced. What was Alastor planning?
“Just a moment, I need to grab my cane,” he left your side, walking back to the fireplace as your gaze stayed frozen on the swampy atmosphere ahead.
You leaned forward, trying to get a better look around the weird little pocket-dimension. Even the air inside changed, you could practically taste the humidity in the air as it began to stick to your forehead.
Did the grass still feel like grass, even in a powerful illusion like this? You had no idea Alastor was capable of this kind of magic, especially such vivid scenery. Slowly, you lifted a foot over where brown wood melted into greenery, still hesitant to touch the strange grass.
You held a breath as you crossed the threshold, the sounds of grass crunching beneath as you walked into the wetland. You could feel the water in the soil squelching as you walked slowly, towards nowhere in particular as you twisted your head at the unfamiliar area.
Thick, swampy vines curled around large trunks and snaked into deep, mucky waters. The way was illuminated by the flickering bodies of fireflies as they danced almost rhythmically to the soft jazz in the background. Sometimes, the surface of the water nearby would ripple, and you swore the shadow of a long body of something stalking underneath the surface passed right next to you.
When you turned to face the line of trees in the distance, two pairs of glowing, yellow eyes met yours. A silhouette of a four-legged creature, tall with branching antlers that tickled at the leaves above its head. The two of you locked eyes for a few moments, and you opened your mouth slightly in awe as it stood elegantly before you.
“My, you are quite a wanderer!” A chipper voice exclaimed behind you, and you pivoted with a yelp to face the static-laced voice smiling softly toward you.
“This place is really amazing,” you laughed, twisting your head to find the buck had disappeared, “It actually feels like we’re back on Earth, almost.”
“It gets better,” Alastor hummed beside you, extending a hand that you accepted with gentle fingers as he grasped you softly.
“Well, how do I look?” He leaned closer to you, puffing his chest slightly as you skimmed across his pretty figure.
Your hands tentatively lifted to adjust the slightly angled black bowtie near his collar, and Alastor only watched you carefully as you fixed it back into place.
“Perfect,” you sang with a smile, and he mimicked your expression with glee.
“Always a charm, my doe.” Alastor winked, before he slid his arm through yours once more and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside you.
His smile was playful, as he glanced at you standing tense beside him. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going to teleport you again, or do something magically stomach-twisting that had you wishing for a paper bag on the side.
“Now, close your eyes…”
You followed his instruction, squeezing them shut with a deep breath.
You barely had time to exhale before the wind around you turned to a deathly chill, and the humidity was zapped from the air as that familiar feeling of weightlessness had you tightening your hold on Alastor.
You felt him shifting beside you, although you couldn’t imagine into what as your eyes stayed shut tight, cold gripping at your shoulders. It felt like the ground was alive, transforming right beneath you with barely a tremble as you held your breath tightly.
Then, your ears popped and you felt the grass beneath your feet shift to firm, rocky pavement. There was music, jazz again, but this time the words were audible as women's voices sang with the bumping rhythm.
‘I’m just a little Jackie Horner,’
‘Since I met my sugar cane,’
“Are you going to keep your eyes shut the entire time?” Alastor prodded beside you, his tone laced with amusement as you relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice.
Taking a deep breath, you crack an eyelid, the darkened atmosphere easy on your vision as you slowly open your eyes to reveal a scene straight out of a history book.
You were standing in the middle of a cracked, paved road, illuminated by a stretch of tall lamps that cast warm orange tones across the street. Buildings with tall shutters for windows beckoned an invisible finger for you to follow, as spicy, southern food hit your nostrils and the sounds of riled entertainment reached your ears.
‘I left a light lamp on that old corner,’
‘For the moon in lover’s lane,’
They all held porches that spanned the entire front of the house-sized buildings. Darkened, silhouetted figures laughed above your head, as you stood there in awe.
There were a few cars parked on the sides of the street, with thin, flimsy wheels reminding you of distant times when vehicles were just starting to reach the public eye.
It really felt like you had stepped into the past, everything reminisced to a world before TVs, social media, and WiFi. When newspapers and radios ruled supreme, people came together and danced on the streets instead of dancing behind the camera on silly apps.
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
‘All the boys are jealous of me,’
“Welcome to New Orleans in Roarin’ Twenties!” Alastor beamed beside you, gesturing to the long row of storefronts, the air humming with lively energy and pulsing with vibrant rhythms of tunes long forgotten.
You jumped at the sound of a baritone horn blaring from beside you. A steamboat filled with flickering lights and singing, boisterous voices chugged past you, its large wheel churning as water cascaded from the paddles.
A figure turned to you, masked in shadows before they raised an arm and waved across the water towards you. Your lips curved wider with a smile, before lifting a cautious hand and returning the gesture.
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
‘All the boys are jealous of me,’
You felt someone bump into your shoulder, another one of those mysterious figures that filled the street.
“‘Scuse me, miss,” the stranger tipped his hat apologetically to you, bowing slightly as he brushed by.
‘So I never take her where the gang goes,’
‘When I take my sugar to tea,’
You twisted your head to finally get a good look at the strangers around you, before your eyes widened at the sight of a doll-like man, his mouth sewn into a wide smile. Black buttons glinted at you from where his eyes should have been, as the man placed his hat back on and turned away.
You didn’t have time to process the sight before Alastor was pulling you down the street, a live band played outside one bar, the paint mashing keys to a much faster rhythm as two women swung each other across the sidewalk with laughter and the clicking of heels.
Alastor pulled you along until the two of you stopped at a bakery storefront. Shadowed puppets flowed around you, as your eyes landed on a steaming plate of deep-fried goodness sitting patiently on a table right outside the doorway.
“Beignets,” He hummed, handing you a pastry, “A cultural classic in these parts.”
‘I’m a rowdy dowdy, that’s me,’
It reminded you of a tiny pillow, sugar coating its surface as you squished the crunchy delicacy before lifting it to your lips.
Taking a bite, the warmth of the bread bloomed across your body as the food traveled down your throat. Your tongue reached out to swipe at the leftover sugar hanging on your lips, as you smiled with pleasure.
‘She’s a high hat baby, that’s she,’
Alastor only watched you with a soft expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you fill your mouth.
“You seem to be enjoying that,” he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth still partially occupied by the delicious treat. “It’s amazing! I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pastry.
“Well, there’s a lot of things you have yet to experience, my doe!” He sang, before tugging you along with a static-laced chuckle.
As the two of you strolled down the bustling street, your eyes caught a small crowd surrounding a man in a tall, black hat as he smiled charmingly at the audience.
The magician, dressed in a dapper suit adorned with intricate patterns, stood before a small crowd, his hands moving with precision and finesse as he dazzled onlookers with his feats of magic.
Curiosity piqued, you and Alastor paused to watch the spectacle unfold. The magician’s fingers danced across a deck of cards with effortless grace, manipulating them in ways that seemed impossible. Cards vanished into thin air only to reappear in unexpected places, leaving the crowd gasping in amazement.
Alastor only glanced at you unamusingly, and you laughed softly at his facial expression. Magic card tricks were nothing in comparison to what he was capable of, and you were sure he could wow this illusionary crowd in a heartbeat.
The two of you turned, halfway down the street now, as Alastor pointed at a few different sights. He even introduced you to instruments you’d never heard of before as the two of you continued on.
“Have you ever performed?” You turned to him, another southern treat in your hand as you kept pace underneath the gas-lit lamps above.
“On the streets? No, not like this,” Alastor shook his head, his nails clicking against his cane rhythmically with the music wafting from a bar nearby as the two of you stood near the edge of the river.
You had gotten your hands on a small cup of Duchess Potatoes, a light, creamier version of the classic spud. Placing a small spoonful in your mouth, you swirled the flavors across your taste buds as you watched Alastor stare out at the open expanse of water.
“Once in a while, I’d stop at an old friend of mine’s jazz club, and on the nights I had a few extra drinks in my system, I'd lend my voice to the flappers as they danced.”
“That sounds like fun!”
“It was,” He nodded, recounting the memories with amusement, “Mimzy would always tease me that I'd make better use as a flapper than a radio host. Sometimes, I think about life if I would have
You laughed softly, imagining such a scene of Alastor dancing in a high skirt and fishnets.
It wasn’t until the doors to a bar at the end of the street burst open, and large instruments were dragged through the threshold and out into the streets. Men gathered, readying their musical weapons for another nightly show as onlookers turned their attention to them.
“Do you hear that?” He asked with a large, devilish smile as he turned to face the small crowd gathering. Couples glided in, teasing each other as they paired around the pianist and his band of stringed instruments. You watched his ears twitch slightly, twisting towards the rising noises.
“It looks like they are all going to dance!” You replied next to him, and Alastor turned to see interest gleaming in your gaze. He watched you for a few moments, before his crimson eyes landed on a trolly that was moving its way down the large street and towards the band.
You felt fingers lace around your wrist, and the gentle tugging from beside you as you met Alastor’s mischievous gaze.
“Let’s make sure we don’t miss it, then!” He winked, before he pulled you towards the lumbering vehicle.
With wide eyes, you watched Alastor take a running start and gracefully leap onto the back of the trolley, hanging tightly to the railing as he beckoned for you to join.
You watched for a moment, before taking a deep breath and running to catch up with the trolly. Laughing, you reached out a hand to grasp Alastor’s as you closed in on the back of the vehicle.
You felt a sizzle of magic drag you an inch forward, and your fingers laced with Alastor’s as he pulled you beside him. He snaked one hand securely around your waist as you leaned out from the side of the vehicle, the wind whipping against your face as you watched the street lights flicker past.
“I used to time myself on how fast I could make it on,” Alastor’s voice broke you from your awe, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure if I've improved since my younger days.”
You only smiled softly, the proximity of his touch hot on your mind, but you didn’t speak a word as the trolley continued on its path, the bar’s lights flashing with life as you beelined towards it.
The trolley was fast, as it sped by the large steamboat, which honked as if in greeting to the passing vehicle. The trolley replied with a jingle of its own, before the boat disappeared farther down the river.
The trolley began to slow a few feet from the band, which you were thankful for, unsure if you had the physical form to tuck and roll successfully had you needed to make a quick exit.
Alastor landed on the pavement with a thump, twisting his grip so he could help you down with both hands firmly placed at your sides.
“Let’s hurry before we miss it!” He sang, before pulling you along towards the crowd. The pianist thrummed the keys, inciting the dancers to twirl faster and they were lost in a hypnotic bustle of bodies fluidly maneuvering against each other. The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed along with the drumming beat, twisting in a tune of its own creation as you and Alastor moved closer.
But, why did it look like he was going to pull you in the center? Weren’t the two of you just going to stand back and watch?
You didn’t have time to answer your own questions before you were in the center of the dancing couples. You froze with the spotlight on you, the jazz ringing in your ears as your shoulders softly pumped to the music.
Alastor took your hands carefully, his legs beginning to move in practiced motion as you stood there awkwardly.
“I can’t dance!” You squeaked.
“It’s the Charleston, darling!” His voice cut through the romping rhythm, sending you a charming grin as he began to move his feet, “It’s not too hard, just follow my lead!”
Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves as you focused on Alastor’s movements. His feet moved with precision and fluidity, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. You tried to mimic his steps, clumsily at first, but with each passing moment, you found yourself growing more confident as you fell into sync with his rhythm.
As the music swirled around you, you lost yourself in the dance, allowing Alastor to guide you with gentle precision. His hands were warm and reassuring against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you moved together in perfect harmony.
The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed in time with the drumming beat, creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to envelop you in its embrace. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the dance.
With each step, each turn, you felt yourself letting go of your inhibitions, allowing the music to flow through you like a river. You spun and twirled with glee, lost in the intoxicating energy of the moment, a smile spreading across your face as laughter bubbled up from deep within your chest.
As the song reached its climax, you and Alastor moved as one, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of movement and sound. In that fleeting moment, there was no past or future, no worries or doubts – there was only the here and now, the exhilarating rush of the dance, and the feeling of Alastor’s touch against your skin.
As the music faded into the night, you found yourself breathless and exhilarated, your cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. You turned to Alastor with a grin, your eyes shining with newfound confidence.
“I can’t believe I just did that!” You exclaimed, the thrill of the dance still coursing through your veins. Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze warm and affectionate as he tilted his head towards you.
“You were marvelous, my dear,” he replied, his voice filled with pride. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as extraordinary as you.”
You returned the smile, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swayed next to him. The music was beginning to die, the scene slowly falling away as the grass began to replace the tiled, stone pavement under your feet.
Never did you imagine you’d find yourself dancing near glistening waters, eating the delicacies that the human world once had to offer.
Never did you imagine, Alastor would be such a good dancer! And, dancing with you, no less!
“I think my hunger for information has been quenched, for now,” you smiled playfully, eyes locked onto Alastor as the world around you shifted.
“Good,” Alastor smiled satisfactorily, before a mischievous glint reflected through his monocle, “Now… I believe it's time to hold up your end of the deal.”
Right. The part where you had to move into the hotel. One month. Not a year, not forever, just one month. Couldn’t you decide by then?
Yes, you could. You could come to a decision now, honestly, but something else was itching at the back of your mind. An act of affection that would no doubt get a reaction from the demon in front of you.
“I think you’re onto something…” You nodded slowly, pulling Alastor's hand toward you with a sly smile.
Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at your behavior, as his fingers lifted closer and closer towards your lips.
With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Alastor’s breath caught in his throat, a startled look crossing his features as he watched you with wide eyes.
Finally, the roles had reversed.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held his hand in yours, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The touch of your lips against his skin sent a fire igniting inside Alastor, one he was struggling to contain.
A flush of color spread across his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability that took you by surprise. His usual composed demeanor faltered for just a moment, revealing the depth of emotion hidden beneath the surface.
“Y-you…” Alastor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched for the right words. But before he could find them, he was interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing in the distance, the moment broken by the world slowly shifting around you.
Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Alastor withdrew his hand from yours with careful movements.
“Well, I suppose we should be getting your things,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. But the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed the lingering effects of your gesture.
Behind him, the fireplace illuminated the non-magical side of Alastor’s room, the vintage clock displaying arms that had barely moved an inch since you left on your little adventure.
“Seems so,” you replied with a honeyed tone, batting your eyelashes at him as he adjusted his bowtie with clumsy fingers.
If you had looked down while flustering the poor man, you’d have noticed his tail high, white fur on full display behind him. Instead, you brushed past him and back into the confines of normalcy.
awwww man, we made it, alastor finally has his girl staying at the hotel! and a lil kissy kiss :3
i hope you guys could understand what was going on lmao i spent like an hour or two looking up pictures of new orleans, southern food, and steamboats 😂
thank you with your patience on this part, have a great day! 🤍
YOOO Can we have a part 2 of pregnant—now momma reader?
We need Luci to officially start dating y/n!
yall keep distracting me with ideas for part 2 😭 i’ve got like 2 fics im trying to work on rn AND i keep thinking about this one and sihshshshsjjs my ADHD cannot handle this.
my priority rn is the next part to my alastor fic, although tbh i’ve come across bit of a writers block for it but im still chugging away since it’s been sitting awhile. i’ve also got this short luci fic that came to mind suddenly that i’ve been trying not to drop bc ill probably lose motivation to write it if i do ☠️ my silly goober of a brain
I honestly probably will do a part 2 of the momma!reader tho, once i’ve finished with what i’ve got going on rn. i’ve been enjoying the ideas you guys have been throwing out at me for it, it gets the gears turning and everything. i’m always interested in what you guys are thinking!
— self indulgence time, say howdy to my hellaverse oc! [+ a fic]
Kokabiel, one of Hell’s original celebrities and fashion icons [art by mamma_hisa]
I have a 6k word fic that’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile, and i worked long enough on it so i think it deserves some sunlight
i wrote the first chapter to a lucifer x oc story in an AU where Lilith leaves when Charlie is a baby and Kokabiel accidentally becomes her maternal figure, and it was going to be long but then I never touched it again ☠️ she was made originally made for the fic but she’s so gorgeous and mommy i spent days fleshing her out as my main bbyg.
working on a few things so take this for now to get a taste of her and some morningstar love! no romance, just introductions.
“Charlie, please go to sleep” The pearlescent figure next to the small bed begged the toddler, who was trying to scramble out of his grip and away from the covers that were wrapped around her waist.
The man’s platinum-blonde hair was disheveled, dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep that was quite evident on his features as he tiredly pulled the girl back onto the bed, holding her still as she whined against his hands.
His mouth opened in a wide yawn, his shark-like teeth glinting in the soft light that emanated from the bedside lamp next to him. He blinked slowly, trying to rid himself of the exhaustion that was trying to overtake him, his eyelids beginning to droop even as he continued to wrestle his daughter.
Charlie shot her father a nasty glare, brows furrowed as she frowned deeply. The bright red spots that graced the chub of her cheeks lowered as her lips curled downward. They were one of the many features she shared with the pale man before her, including those soft, sun-kissed locks and snow-bathed skin.
She also shared the same tired eyes that met hers sternly, but her mind was too active to allow her body those much-needed hours of rest.
The rest her father, Lucifer Morningstar, also needed.
“I know you’re sleepy, sweetheart! Just lay still so daddy can get some shut-eye too, hm?”
“No!” Charlie whined, lips puckered in distraught as her strength began to wane. Why would she sleep when she could be playing with her stuffed goats instead?! It just wasn’t fair!
“Yes!” Lucifer commanded, before he growled softly and lifted a finger towards the small child, a glint of golden light lit on the tip of his claw as he pressed it softly against Charlie’s forehead.
For a moment it flickered against her pale skin, and Lucifer removed his finger as Charlie froze at the sudden tingling sensation.
Her mouth was in the shape of a small o as she tried to get a look at whatever her father had placed on her, but the only clue in her vision was the twinkle of aurum light. A warmth began to seep into her skin, emanating from the magic blooming across her face.
Like a firework launching into the night sky, the tiny orb shot from her forehead up towards the ceiling, before it burst into a flurry of sparks that glimmered in the darkness, casting the walls with their vibrant hues.
The golden light danced above Charlie’s head, her eyes wide and in awe as the golden sparks began to melt into rippling waves that spiraled across the ceiling.
Lucifer flicked off the bedside light, the room darkening slightly as the magic above basked the room in a subtle warm glow as it pulsed rhythmically.
He still sat beside the bed, hand resting limply against Charlie’s chest as the interest in her eyes soon turned to sleepiness, and her eyelids began to droop.
Lucifer watched with a small smile as a magical display began to lull Charlie into sleep, and it only took a few more minutes before her face relaxed into a peaceful expression and her breathing swallowed.
Roughling rubbing a hand down his face with a sigh, Lucifer stood from the floor. His fuzzy pink robe drooped from his shoulders just enough to expose his bare, finely chiseled chest.
Quietly, he tip-toed across the bedroom, stepping over dolls, stuffed animals, and other trinkets that littered the floor. As long as he was careful, he wouldn’t risk waking the child.
Lucifer’s fingers wrapped around the door handle, before he waved his hand in the air, and the golden light dispersed, showering the room in shadows once more.
Cracking open the door just a tad, he slipped into the hallway. Lucifer’s back hit the door’s solid, oak frame as he exhaled a sigh of relief. The fallen angel felt like he could slide down onto the plush red carpet and hibernate right there, but he was the King of Hell, he had too much self-respect for that.
Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, Lucifer began to drag his feet down the hall, fatigue gnawing at his mind as he passed by the large paintings that hung upon the dark red walls, a perfect backdrop to the fair-skinned figures that posed elegantly inside the gold-framed portraits.
A man, his apple-red cheeks practically brushing against the edges of his face as he smiled brightly. A woman stood tall beside him, a dark purple dress hugging her curved figure as she posed regally. Her fingers entwined with her counterpart, their intimacy evident.
Lucifer would take that down, eventually. It only ever reminded him of painful memories, of that violet, sultry gaze through which she would send him as they basked in the warmth of the large fireplace in the large lounge in their castle.
Wine glasses emptied again and again as the King listened to her gentle humming, her fingers laced with his as she pulled him closer. Her lips left wet, sloppy kisses against his chin. The faint trail of black lipstick as her mouth connected with his in a passionate embrace of body and soul, intertwined.
Lilith, the previous Queen of Hell. Lucifer’s ex-wife, Charlie’s mother.
How long had she been gone now? Lucifer knew the exact day, he practically memorized the minute and hour when she left. When Lilith had sent him one last look from the open front door, her gaze unreadable through the black shades on her face, her honey-colored hair flowing like water around her figure as the two lovers locked eyes for the final time.
“Goodbye, Lou,” Lilith had whispered, her voice like silk against his ears even in such an anguished moment. Strands of hair covered her features as she spoke, shielding her expression as she turned her head, her back facing the fallen angel as she stepped through the threshold.
Out of his home, out of his world.
And, Charlie’s too. It’s hard explaining to a child that their mommy went on a very, very long vacation. He’d have the courage to tell her… eventually. Except, that meant she might one day blame him, too.
What could Lilith have been feeling, happiness, sorrow, anger? Lucifer would never know, he had tried so desperately to even understand why she had left in the first place. Had there been signs? An argument of some kind he had forgotten? What had he done wrong, that his first love and the mother of his child, would leave him to care for Charlie and the realm, all alone?
It was Lilith who held most of the influence when it came to the lower-classed demons, her words and songs enlightening the residents of Hell, cultivating the realm like a garden as she watered the needy and uprooted those with dark intentions like invasive weeds.
To the people of Hell, Lucifer was the epitome of complete, ultimate power. The embodiment of pride, and the reminder of who would always have control.
He was rarely seen in public, especially in his own Ring, full of the very demons he despised the most. Sure, he had his covers on magazines and face plastered all over LuLu World, but that was where it ended.
Instead, the King kept his duties strictly to those most loyal and most powerful. The rest of the Deadly Sins, the Ars Goetia family, and once in a while joining on an overlord meeting.
As long as they understood who not to cross, the safety and security of his family would never be at risk, if one could even try and pose any threat to one of the first creations. The Morningstar that shone before Lilith, before Earth, before everything.
In all honesty, Lucifer didn’t really do… anything, when it came to his subjects.
It was Lilith whose appearance was imprinted into the minds of her subjects through her many concerts and powerful political influence. It was she who had given them the confidence to defy Heaven, to stand against their exterminations that plagued the Pride Ring once a year.
Now, Lucifer was left to hold up face, to keep the realm from divulging into chaos, as the stability of the hierarchy of Hell slipped slowly and slowly through his fingers. No matter how many demons he could smite with the snap of his fingers, the sinful on Earth would always be sent to him as punishment, for the both of them.
He needed to keep them all in line, as respectfully as possible.
Which meant Lucifer was alone to take care of Charlie, who was insanely active and needy for attention, like any demon her age. She couldn’t stay out of trouble, and Lucifer had to juggle her, his own volatile emotions that had been causing him to skip more and more meals, and the piling events that always filled his days this time of the year.
The annual gatherings with the Ars Goetia that he had to attend symbiotically to keep their unwavering loyalty, the meetings to make sure the rest of the Sins were keeping their rings afloat, and flaunting a little bit of his power to the Overlords in Pentagram City that liked to stir trouble in his own ring.
Hell needed a future so that his daughter would have something to rule over when she came of age and wisdom. No matter how he tried to push the thoughts of his little girl growing up and leaving him, sooner or later, the fledgling would have to leave the nest.
Lucifer could see it, clear as day, his spirit and creative spark deep in her gaze when she listened to his many ideas and visions of what could have been and what surely will be. The way she giggled quietly as he presented her toys of his creation, her soft gaze looking at each little trinket with adoration and inspiration.
If she was anything like the man Lucifer used to be, that meant she would no doubt rebel against his views of Hell and his subjects, and that scared the King.
Lucifer continued to pass more portraits, dimly lit by the warm glow of the wall lamps dotting the hallway. Pictures of his daughter, the other Sins, and the grand opening of LuLu World. The final portrait next to his bedroom door was a small painting, an almost-perfect recreation of the only Heavenly creation he still held close to his heart.
The Morning Star.
The large ball of bright, white light illuminated against the oily-black backdrop that was also speckled with smaller, glittering stars. Some shone in vibrant, multi-colored hues that lit the painted night sky with a soft celestial light.
Except, none of those stars shone as bright as his star, the star specifically created for him by a face whose familiarity had been long lost in time. A face that still gnawed at the edge of his mind every time he stared at that painting, those long-buried memories slowly crawling from the depths of his soul.
Maybe, one day, he’d have the strength to remember.
When the door to his room was pushed open softly, Lucifer’s eyes hit the digital clock on his nightstand. It was one in the afternoon, and Charlie would only nap for a few hours before she awakened with renewed energy.
The toddler has grown restless lately, anxious to see a new face, to take a peek outside of the confines of their large home. No matter how many magical displays Lucifer presented the child, she always grew bored, and that frown was becoming more permanent on her lips as the days passed.
It must be tiring waking up and practically seeing your reflection almost every minute of your day.
There was no one Lucifer could trust in the presence of his daughter, though. No one he could see fit enough to care for her, not even himself. He struggled, being a father, for his little apple pie.
Parenting was not easy, especially when you had no idea what you were doing. It was especially hard when you were too afraid to upset your daughter with stern words and an authoritative voice, which meant the toddler ran the house.
The most powerful being in Hell would have to put his foot down to his little girl… eventually. After this quick nap, maybe.
The large bed, much too big for only one person, beckoned Lucifer with an irresistible invitation. His legs moved with renewed strength before he fell face flat into the soft, cool duvet that welcomed him kindly. His muscles relaxed instantly, his feet dangling limply from the end of the bed as he finally opened his mind to the idea of sleep.
Slowly, Lucifer’s consciousness began to ebb, and his snores echoed around the room as his mind stilled into blackness.
What he wasn’t aware of, as the fallen angel sunk deeper into the plush, red blankets, was that the small bed on the opposite side of the hall was empty. Its previous inhabitant was currently tottling towards the door to his workshop that had been slightly ajar just across from her bedroom.
With wide eyes, Charlie scanned the room as she poked her head through the crack in the doorway, her little button nose twitching as she drank in all the little knick-knacks and prototypes of fantastical ideas that would never see the light of day.
It was dimly lit, save for the faint red glow pouring in from the large circular window above the desk across the room. There was nothing of interest on its smooth, wooden surface to the tiny awe-struck eyes. Instead, it was the soft, chromatic light that caught her gaze on a low shelf right next door.
Floating elegantly above a short, circular pedestal were seven glowing rings, stacked above each other a few inches apart with zero gravity. Each held a unique hue, from green to pink, as they lured Charlie with their ethereal glow. If she could lift her little body just slightly onto the chair against the desk, she could reach them.
What could they be, so pretty just floating like that? They looked just like glow-stick necklaces! Would Daddy think she was pretty if she put them on and showed him?
With a large smile and slightly unsteady steps, Charlie crossed the room, her tiny feet pitter-pattering against the soft carpet as she beelined for the colorful display. When she reached the wooden chair, her chin barely grazed against the cushioned seating as she placed her palms gingerly against its plush surface.
With a mighty heave and a sharp inhale of breath, the toddler began kicking her legs wildly as she tried gaining momentum to hoist herself onto the chair.
Charlie sputtered for breath as her grip loosened due to her sweaty palms, but then her leg hooked onto the seat railing, which gave her momentarily support to pull herself farther up until her knee grazed the top of the cushion.
Placing one arm underneath her for support, the toddler reached the other out towards the ring. Her fingers splayed out, the whites of her eyes glowing red as they reflected the ring’s vibrant hue.
Charlie held her breath, beginning to tip over just as her index finger grazed the very edge of the ring’s surface. Red energy shot down her spine, sending her hair to stick out with static
The girl barely got a squeak in before she vanished in a burst of lightning that barely resonated a sound as it zapped her away.
The red ring flickered once, faltering above the rest for only a moment, before it stilled into place.
And the room was empty once more.
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀🤍🤍🤍
On the outskirts of the Pride Ring was a small, white villa nestled against a rocky cliff face, surrounded by tall, black fencing that ended in sharp, spiked ends. Purple magic sizzled off of the tips, a clear warning to anyone who wanted to enter: They would not be welcome.
Inside the powerful barrier, was a large garden filled with a surreal combination of beauty and decay. Vibrant flowers bloomed amidst twisted, blackened trees that seemed to reach out with gnarled branches like skeletal fingers.
The floral scent that wafted from the blossoms permeated the air, mixed with the slight tinge of sulfur of Hell’s odor.
Nestled among the dark purple bushes and other hellish flora, were tall snow-white sculptures of men and women, their stone eyes staring lifelessly across the garden’s expanse.
A diverse cast of figures, short and brawny, too tall and lanky. Each unique from the rest.
Except, for their facial expressions, in which they each held a similar look of terror. As if they had been frozen in place during a time of anguish, of a terrifying encounter that left them to rot inside their pretty stone casks.
They were positioned across the lawn in a perfect, meticulous manner. As if someone spent day in and day out holed up inside the black fencing, with nothing to do but continuously cultivate their blooming garden.
One particular statue, which held the image of a goat-like man, staring up at the sky as if in one final prayer, was currently being inspected by a gracefully poised woman standing before it. Painted on his frozen cheek, was a small black lipstick-stained kiss.
From a distance, you’d think she was human. The silky, black dress that hugged her curves was reminiscent of ancient Greek fashion. Her shoulders were fully exposed, garment held up by a high neckline that tickled at her throat as she leisured, a glass of alcohol in her hand.
Her rich, deep brown skin stood out among the pearlescent, marble statues. Practically shimmering against the red hues that basked her home with the midday light.
An ethereal radiance seemed to seep from her skin, giving her silhouette a faint, golden glow that made her skin shimmer like light on morning dew.
Her hairstyle was similar to a ponytail, a partial updo that sat at the top of her head like a bun, before the long, white locs cascaded down her back.Along with two large strands that framed the sides of her angled face.
The big differential between her and a woman strolling down the street? The horns that graced the top of her head. They curved to end just above her forehead, a black crown that cemented her place as another resident of Hell.
Travel a bit farther down her figure, and you’d find those large, white tendrils of hair that swished as she turned slightly had a funny texture to them that most would mistake for thick braids.
Except, braids aren’t made of scales, are they?
At her ankles, a multitude of snakeheads stuck out their tongues, tasting the air as their beady red eyes scanned across the grassy scape.
They twisted around each other, curling into themselves to keep a tighter form as they wriggled against the woman’s back, interest peaked at their surroundings as their tongues flicked in and out.
Once in a while, a head would spot some small, hellish critter skittering across the yard looking for food. And, before one could blink, its jaws would open wide as it shot forward, pulling slightly at the woman’s scalp as it clamped its maw around the tiny creature.
It would slink back near her ankles, trying to gulp down the tasty delicacy as the other snakes around it poked and prodded for a taste. They hissed and snapped at one another, fighting for a morsel.
The woman turned her head, shooting the reptilian mass a glare as they wrapped around her legs. Milky white pools met multiple red, glowing eyes as they slunk back slightly at her scolding, giving time for the one snake to finish gobbling up his snack without fuss.
The two smaller serpents that framed her face weren’t as long as the rest of their siblings, instead reaching to her breasts as they lazily rested on the fabric of her dress.
Tenderly, the woman lifted an arm, and her shorter serpent curled delicately around her hand, until its head rested gingerly on her palm.
Gently, she brushed a thumb along its snout, and it hissed softly with pleasure, its eyes closing shut as it nestled farther into her warm skin.
“Jameson, another margarita, please.”
“Yes, Lady Kokabiel,” a small imp butler bowed, his cropped, curly white hair bouncing slightly as he lowered his head.
Turning, the imp trotted towards a shaded area underneath a weeping willow tree, its low-hanging branches that grazed against his shoulders were dark red, shielding the large mixture of alcohol from the heat of the day as he poured another glass of the blue liquid.
When Jameson returned, Kokabiel handed him the empty glass before plucking the margarita from his grasp. She sent him an appreciative smile, her white freckles sparkling like starlight as they curved with her lips.
She swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching the small vortex for a few moments, before lifting it to her lips and taking a sip.
That’s how Kokabiel spent most of her days in Hell, nowadays. Getting a buzz off of fruity liquor and fawning over her snakes, as she lounged in her garden with no one to bother her.
It had been a long time since she left the spotlight, previously a fashion and sex icon, Kokabiel had flaunted her good looks and curves to promote all kinds of products and events, dominating the biggest runways. She even starred in a couple of A-list movies, growing her until she reached the peak of stardom.
Kokabiel had earned her place at the top of the pyramid, right next to many older, successful celebrities in the industry. Lilith was a big name, even bigger than Koko’s with how beautiful of a singer she was, pulling in fans like a siren with her honeyed voice.
Even with such cutthroat competition, Kokabiel never felt that she was fading out of the audience’s vision with how fast her mailbox would fill with writings from her fans
Fanart, declarations of love written in sparkly pink ink, and invitations to large parties and prestigious events. Even now, she still received fan mail here or there, although they were usually left unanswered.
She had never wanted to retire in the first place, her plans for the future only confining to grow bigger by the day. Until one night, during a party hosted by the overlords of the city, was Kokabiel confronted with an ultimatum.
“I know your secret,” he had smiled devilishly. That flat-faced, know-it-all smirk the man sent her one evening, as he confronted her in the darkness of a hallway.
“What secret?” Kokabiel laughed dryly, shooting him a question glare.
“Oh, you know,” his pixelated eyes lifted to the darkened sky through the ceiling-high windows nearby, Heaven’s white glow cascading through the panes, “The one about where you really came from, not the Lust Ring lie you like to spin to the audience.”
The alcoholic buzz in Kokabiel’s system faded in an instant, and her snakes coiled against her back, hissing loudly as she shot him a deathly glare. It had seemed he had chosen to give the news from a safe distance, too far for her snakes to reach. A smart man.
How did he find out, and what did he plan to do with that information?
That smile of his had only widened further, giddy at the fact he had her in his grasp. He could pull the strings, keep her away from his industry. This secret, that he had only stumbled upon accidently, was going to make sure she stayed gone.
Kokabiel had never caused trouble, never flaunted her power to rise up Hell’s hierarchy, never made any public displays of how easily she could rip demon’s souls out of their bodies if they got too close.
Nor did any demon claim to be owned by her, as they were too busy being decorative pieces to tell their tale.
Kokabiel’s presence was a mystery to her powerful counterparts. Her aura was too clean, too ethereal to be a sinner or an average hellborn. But, she had never actually said the words ‘Yes, I’m from Heaven.’
She didn’t need to, anymore. After that little conversation, the talking TV had made a deal. Keep that pretty face away from the cameras, and his lips were sealed for eternity.
Kokabiel had announced her retirement a day later, not answering a single question about why or where she was going. Those cameras and microphones that had gotten shoved in her face received no words as received hurried into her limo.
How could Kokabiel, someone whose face was once plastered onto entire sides of buildings, fall so hard because of some up-and-coming overlord with the intent to control the masses? She’d had bigger spats with the paparazzi on the side of the street than this!
Now, she didn’t have to worry about those annoying flies anymore, with their constant flashes that always anguished her snakes and the peppering of questions.
Finally away from any prying eyes and those awful, bright flashes that plagued every step Kokabiel took out in public. Here, she could do and say anything, without someone waiting to jump at the opportunity to sell a shitty, non-contextual picture to the highest tabloid bidder.
Solitude gets boring, though. Even with her snakes to crawl over and her garden to tend, one could only vent to the marble figures for so long before they felt their sanity slipping.
That was until an imp had squeezed his way through the thick pickets of her fence, those short white curls singed at the tips from the magic that stung him.
Whatever was chasing the small man was more dangerous as he continued to beeline toward the bushes that could shelter him.
The imp had turned his head, catching the sight of his pursuers as they reached the fence. Three burly, tall shark demons roared as his tiny frame sped off.
That only led him to meet horns first into the stomach of the owner of the fence, and the land he was currently trespassing on. With an oomph he landed on hit, gaze darting at the being standing above him.
Kokabiel had quirked a brow, unamused as she wiped the dirt from the front of her dress. It wasn’t until one shark demon rammed into the fence, did she lifted her head and a dark frown played on her lips.
He had seen it, the power behind her gaze, when the loan sharks blew up one of her favorite rose bushes as they broke through the gates.
“How dare you,” she had hissed, her white gaze boring into the thugs, glowing with a much fiercer intensity as she bared her teeth, “Get out!”
The imp had flinched, but Kokabiel’s anger was not directed at him as she stepped right above his quivering body, and he could feel the soft grazing of scales against his raised arms before he turned to watch the woman continue to meet the loan sharks halfway.
“Not without our little friend there,” one sneered, his teeth glinting as he gave the woman a silent warning of his strength.
“Unfortunate that you aren’t the one making the demands,” she retorted, putting herself between the sharks and their prey.
With a loud, collective hiss, the bodies of her snakes lifted, encircling her head, and they opened their maws with extended fangs, displaying their own grim warning with bright red eyes.
The aggressor didn’t like that so much, as he opened he pulled out a large, glowing steel-laced ax and charged right for the duo. The imp squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.
The Kokabiel’s pupils shifted from that starlit glint into black pools of emptiness, and the air sizzled with a powerful energy right as the shark-faced man swung his weapon to connect with her shoulder. At the last moment, the fallen angel ducked and backpedaled, right as one of her snakes lashed forward, jaw wide to reveal twin, deadly fangs and struck the demon right in the eye.
The scales of her snakes pulsed with a golden shimmer, and the demon’s mouth opened in a painful scream as his feet took on an ivory color, hardening to stone.
The other sharks near him tensed, the rage on their faces instantly draining as their comrade's feet cemented to the ground, that stone plague creeping farther up his waist as he writhed in place, clutching his eye as black blood seeped from the large gash.
They took a step back, then another, and another as the only blubber left on the struggling man was his large head. His teeth gnashed in mixture of anger and pain, but his good eye only showed fear, right as it was glazed over by white stone.
After that, the rest of the loan sharks had fled, huffing and puffing as they tumbled through the broken fence.
Then, the snake that had bit the demon began to convulse, writhing with an open maw like it had something stuck in its throat as black blood from its victim landed on the grass below.
Like some hellish form of mitosis, the scales of the serpent began to stretch and split, revealing a mirrored version of the reptile that began to take form and separate from its twin.
With wide eyes, the imp watched the two snakes finally , this new, fresh face shaking its head in confusion, before the rest of the scaly follicles began to surround and inspect their new friend with flicking tongues.
Kokabiel only watched the demons scurry off, before she sighed and adjusted her dress. Pivoting, she turned to face the imp, her arms crossed as she regarded him curiously.
The scrawny demon gulped as he stared wide-eyed. Was he next?
“What’s your name?”
“W-what?” The imp replied hoarsely.
“Your name. You have one, don’t you?”
“it’s… Jameson, madam,”
“Thank you, and I assume they’ll kill you if you try and go back into the city?”
Jameson nodded slowly, rising tentatively from the ground to look up at the woman.
“Well, it seems you are out of options, Jameson,” Kokabeil had quirked a brow, a small smile on her lips, “but, it appears I’m in need of a butler. What do you say to free room and board in exchange for your services? I’ll let you keep your soul, I promise.”
He had looked at her, suspicion in his gaze as his eyes darted to the snakes that coiled around her, shooting him hungry glares. How could someone with power like that be so… nice? If it were any overlord back in the city, they’d have taken his soul and his free will.
But, the offer didn’t sound too bad, and she didn’t look crazy. Just… lonely. Maybe, staying here would be so bad.
That’s how Jameson had begun working for the retired celebrity he now called master. Weirdly, he didn’t do many things a butler would do.
Sure, he cleaned and was at her beck and call most of the time, but Kokabiel did most of the things on her own. She cooked, tended to her garden which was slowly growing by the day, and kept up on the juicy rumors that circled the city.
Usually, Jameson spent the day as entertainment for her. As an ex-clown in the circus, Jameson had a few tricks up his sleeve he’d showcase for the fallen angel, and she seemed to eat it up with amusement.
Kokabiel’s thoughts towards him? He wasn’t exactly sure. Obviously, she was much kinder to him than anyone else he’d worked for, but her zipped lips on anything related to her past or what kind of demon she was made him unsure.
There were times she got… sad. That was the best way to put it. Jameson never saw her cry or have a tantrum, but sometimes she’d get so sullen even her snakes seemed rather depressed.
And, once a year there was a day that Kokabiel would lock herself away in her room, and would not call for him at all the entire day. Not even for food to feed her snakes. What could make her so depressed for that one day? A lost loved one? Her death day, perhaps?
She rarely mentioned her influential era as one of the largest fashion icons and models Hell had seen, although she didn’t need to with her collection of the seductive, sultry gazes she on the many ripped out pages of magazine covers she had framed on her walls.
The few times he did go into the city, heavily disguised to run errands for Kokabiel, he’d pick up the newest tabloids or fill her ears with the latest gossip circling the entertainment industry.
“That’s what that old fart is up to now?” She had chuckled about an old acquaintance as she moisturized her snakes with a scale-safe lotion, “He used to be an A-list actor, and now he’s selling retinol cream? Ha!”
The snakes had hissed with a chuckle-like sound, mirroring their mother as she coddled them. They still made Jameson nervous, even after all these years, they had a mind of their own, each individual one it appeared. But, they all seemed to have the same thoughts when it came to him: hungry.
Watching the snake finish its snack made Jameson a little uneasy as Kokabiel turned away from the statue and she took another sip of her drink.
“I’m getting tired, Jameson. I think I'm going to go inside, maybe take a nice, warm bath to relax.”
“Would you like me to get the water heated?”
“No, thanks. I can do it myself.” She said, beginning to walk towards the patio doors.
Jameson’s eyes flicked past her shoulder, at the very moment the statue began to sizzle with a powerful energy that even made his curls stand on end.
Red sparks erupted from the front of the statue, right on the pedestal it was standing on which raised a few feet in the air. Jameson could only stare in disbelief as the sparks began to swirl like a vortex, until they burst and sprayed like confetti and a figure materialized an inch off the marble surface.
The tiny stranger landed with a quiet oomf, before she stood on her feet with a slight wobble, her little hands held out in front of her for balance.
Jameson’s eyes flew open at the sight. It was a child! Her platinum-blonde hair disheveled, and her large eyes were darting around the area with confusion and fear.
When her eyes landed on him, she took a tiny step back, her eyes growing wide as she stared nervously at the new face.
“M-m-madam!” Jameson finally croaked, his finger pointed towards the girl with a slight quiver as he tried to get the words out.
“What..?” Kokabiel quirked an eyebrow at his stammering figure. Jameson’s eyes never left the strange girl, and she slowly followed his gaze to the statue.
The toddler and the fallen angel locked eyes, before Kokabiel’s mouth fell open and she stood there silently for a few moments. Charlie’s eyes widened, and she pulled her arms to herself in comfort at the shocked faces.
“What…. is this?” Kokabiel finally spoke slowly, eyes trained on the little being standing awkwardly on the statue. Her snakes lifted their heads slightly, tongues flicking the air as they tried to get a scent of the girl.
“It’s a child, madam,” Jameson whispered.
“I know that! But, how did it get here? What’s the point of having a magical fence if everybody can just walk right through it?!”
“She didn’t get through the fence, madam!” Jameson squeaked, shaking his head furiously as he explained, “She just… appeared here, like out of thin air! I saw it all!”
How could that be possible? There’s no way a child could harness such strong magic. It must be some kind of illusion, trickery by a powerful demon trying to use her empathy to get the best of her!
“You!” Kokabiel pointed an accusatory finger at Charlie, taking a small step forward “How did you get in my garden?”
“Um…” Charlie started, but her words—of what little she had—died in her throat. She only took a step backward, trying to escape from the attention
“You’re trespassing on private property!” Kokabiel continued to stalk forward, she was only a few feet away now, her snakes becoming antsy as they curled around her, hissing softly.
“Oh…”
“Who are you?”
Charlie took another step back, her hair grazing the leg of the marble figure. Where was she?
“…Char—eep!”
Charlie’s heel hit the foot of the statue, and she tripped, her back hitting its leg as she slid awkwardly sideways. Her tiny fingers grasped desperately at the smooth, white stone, but to no avail, as she tumbled right off the edge of the pedestal.
Jameson squeaked in terror, before throwing his hands over his eyes to protect him from any grisly sight. He heard Kokabiel gasp, but no sickening thump or terrible crack of bones meeting the firm ground.
Slowly, he splayed his fingers and lowered his hands, his eyes widening. He stood there gobsmacked at the scene, mouth agape in silence.
Yes, Charlie had been unable to save herself, falling helplessly in the air…. right into the arms of a shocked Kokabiel.
Kokabiel stared wide-eyed at her own reaction to the split second of instinct that propelled her to catch the child. Charlie was tightly secured in her hands, being held at arm's-length as far as possible.
Charlie blinked, before her eyes met those glowing white pupils with a slowly growing smile. She had one hand wrapped around the wrist of the taller woman, as she lifted up her free hand and sent a small, shy wave.
“Hi!”
[art i commissioned for the chapter by ruspettaa]
woahhh nice little(ha!) introduction to my oc, with some cute art of charlie! If I were to ever continue writing this fic, the relationship would be more focused on charlies than lucifers, at least at first. Slow-burn/co-parenting kinda thing bc Koko can def exist without being a relationship with our handsome king. she’s sipping margaritas free as a bird rn.
kokabiel is a loosely based version of the biblical figure with the same name who created the stars and constellations. One of the reasons she fell was for teaching humanity astronomy. A few others fell with her too, but she instead melded into demon society instead of her heavenly counterparts.
the only people that know of her true identity are Hell’s royalty, and Stolas probably has a signed autograph of hers somewhere around his office seeing as his duties are closely bound with her creations.
she’s a business woman too, though i am trying to figure out whether she sells snake-skinned accessories as a fashion line or diluted venom that’s a psychedelic drug which makes you feel all euphoric and stuff. l
I also have no idea who her voice claim is 😭 i imagine it being smooth and buttery like Beyoncé, but i’m sure there’s other voices similar to hers that I haven’t found yet.
i’ve got a comm [by wkyarts51243] in the works that will be styled closer to the show, so here’s a sneak peak i guess ☠️ I’d say her height is slightly shorter than charlie (not counting her horns lol), but I haven’t settled yet.
i have more art (one of her and luci hehe), which i might share either. but you can have the full version of the first art pic, with an extra piece from the same artist 🤭
also making this post so i can cement her backstory and stop changing it up ☠️ it’s its writing officially now yall
anyway, enough rambling, back to writing!! have a great weekend 🤍
