Roe’s Writing Nook

The Hail Mary’s laboratory was usually a comforting hum of sterile ventilation, the soft clicking of Rocky’s claws on his Xenonite dividers, and the rhythmic scratching of pencil on paper as Ryland Grace calculated fuel consumption.

Today, however, the atmosphere was thick with a profound, multi-limbed existential crisis.

Rocky sat on his side of the xenonite partition, his central body tilted forward in an Eridian posture that screamed absolute, unadulterated bewilderment. His small, delicate hands were twitching rhythmically, a rapid-fire clicking sound vibrating from his vocal organ.

"Grace," Rocky’s mechanical translator droned, though the underlying Eridian tone was sharp and frantic. "Explain again. I require verification. The tape measure of time you provided. I am confused."

Ryland sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted, his jumpsuit stained with a mixture of dried astrophage residue and spilled soy-sauce-substitute. "Rocky, buddy, we’ve gone over this. It’s simple arithmetic. I am thirty-three Earth years old."

"Thirty-three," Rocky repeated, his claws tapping against the clear barrier. Tap-tap-tap. "A blink. A tiny fragment of life. You are a larva, Grace. You are a small, fragile, unhardened hatchling who has somehow learned to fly a spaceship. I am constantly terrified you will break because your carapace has not seasoned for a century."

"I don't have a carapace," Ryland muttered, adjusting his glasses. "And I'm a fully grown adult. On Earth, thirty-three means my joints hurt when it rains and I think about buying a house in the suburbs. I am mature."

From the corner of the lab, curled up on a makeshift pile of insulated blankets and spare jumpsuits, you snorted.

You were the third, unexpected variable in this interstellar equation. A brilliant, albeit incredibly stubborn, high school prodigy who had crossed paths with the Project Hail Mary initiative under circumstances that were ninety percent bureaucratic oversight and ten percent "well, they have a genius-level understanding of Eridian harmonic frequencies, put them on the backup crew." When the primary crew died, and the mission parameters shifted into high gear, you had somehow ended up in the extra astrophage-sleeper berth.

You were currently seventeen.

"If Grace is a larva," you chimed in, turning a page of your digital tablet, "what does that make me?"

Rocky’s central eye-analog didn't move, but his entire body pivoted toward you. The Eridian had become fiercely protective of both humans, but his understanding of human biology was largely filtered through Grace's terrible, rushed explanations.

"You are smaller than Grace," Rocky observed, his voice synthesizer dropping a octave into what Grace called his serious-science voice. "Your bone structure is less dense. You consume more simple carbohydrates and sleep in erratic patterns. Grace, what is the chronological status of [Name]?"

Ryland froze. He looked at you, then at Rocky, then back to you. A look of sheer, impending doom crossed the scientist's face. He had purposefully avoided this specific conversation because he knew exactly how Rocky’s hyper-protective, communal Eridian instincts worked.

"Uh," Ryland started, waving his hand dismissively. "They're fine, Rocky. Don't worry about it. They're part of the science team."

"Grace," Rocky said, his tone growing dangerously sharp. Click-clack-click. "Do not lie to a watchmaker. State the number of Earth orbits [Name] has existed."

You grinned mischiefly, completely ignoring the frantic, pleading head-shakes Ryland was throwing your way. "Seventeen, Rocky. I've been alive for seventeen Earth years."

The silence that followed was absolute.

For three full seconds, Rocky didn't move. Then, a sound erupted from his vocal organ that sounded like a bag of marbles being violently shaken inside a metal bucket—the Eridian equivalent of a choked gasp. He stumbled backward on his five legs, his claws scraping frantically against the deck plates.

"Seventeen?!" the translator blared, the digital voice struggling to match the sheer panic vibrating through the partition. "Seventeen?! Grace! Grace! What mean they are younger than Grace?!"

"Rocky, calm down—"

"Seventeen orbits!" Rocky’s arms waved in a chaotic, defensive pattern, his body spinning in a small, anxious circle. "You brought a hatchling into deep space! A literal soft-shell! A tiny, unformed, pre-molt embryo!"

"I am a teenager!" you protested, though you were laughing so hard you had to press your face into a pillow. "I can drive a car! Well, legally, back home."

"You are baby!" Rocky yelled through the speaker, his frantic pacing accelerating. "Grace, you are incompetent caregiver! You are terrible elder! Why is the pebble doing calculus?! Why is the pebble handling toxic astrophage?! Why is baby in vacuum tube?!"

"They're a genius, Rocky! And it wasn't my choice to bring them!" Ryland defended himself, throwing his hands in the air. "They sneaked into the final selection process because they solved the Eridian-coordinate translation bottleneck! I didn't personally kidnap a child and put them on a suicide mission!"

"Is a child!" Rocky insisted, flattening himself against the xenonite glass to get as close to you as possible. His delicate hands tapped against the divider right next to your head. " [Name]. Look at me. Do you feel your bones hardening? Are you receiving proper minerals? Grace, where is the milk? Humans require milk for the tiny ones!"

"They don't need milk, Rocky, they're seventeen, they eat normal food—"

"Silence, incompetent larva!" Rocky snapped at Grace. He turned his attention fully to you, his tone shifting into something incredibly gentle, a soft, low thrumming sound echoing from his chest. " [Name]. Do not fear. I am here. Adrian is here. We are adults. We will protect the tiny, squishy human."

From that exact moment, the dynamic on the Hail Mary shifted entirely.

If Grace was a crewmate, you were suddenly elevated to the status of a precious, endangered galactic artifact. When the mission finally succeeded—when the Taumeeba were contained, the sun-eating crisis averted, and the choice was made to head to Erid instead of a dying Earth—Rocky’s protective protocols went from high to absolute planetary defense system.

By the time the ship arrived at Erid, you had spent years in the company of a frantic scientist and a hyper-fixated Eridian. You had grown a bit taller, your voice a bit more mature, but to Rocky, you were still the seventeen-year-old hatchling who needed to be shielded from the universe.

And then, you met Adrian.

The Eridian atmosphere was a crushing, super-heated soup of ammonia, meaning you and Grace lived in a custom-built, sprawling human habitat dubbed The Castle. It was a massive, reinforced structure filled with Earth-normal air, proper gravity, and large xenonite viewing bays that looked out into the dim, bustling underground city of the Eridians.

Adrian, Rocky’s mate, had been briefed extensively before your arrival. Rocky had sent light-signals ahead, thousands of them, detailing every aspect of the vulnerable human hatchling they were bringing home.

The first time Adrian came to the viewing partition, you were sitting at a table eating a bowl of reconstituted oatmeal.

Adrian was larger than Rocky, with a carapace that had a deeper, more textured blue-gray hue. They stood next to Rocky, and the moment they saw you, both Eridians tilted their bodies in a synchronized, protective lean.

"The pebble," Adrian’s translator murmured. The tone was softer than Rocky's, imbued with a deep, resonant weight that instantly felt like a warm blanket. "Rocky told me the stories. It is so small. Rocky, it has no shell at all. Just skin. How does it stay together?"

"I use glue," you joked, looking up from your breakfast with a bright smile.

Adrian’s claws clicked in a frantic, distressed pattern. "Glue?! Grace! The pebble is falling apart! Bring the medical paste!"

"They're joking! It's a joke!" Grace shouted from the kitchen, sounding deeply tired. He walked into the common area holding a mug of coffee. "Adrian, don't listen to them. They've been spending too much time with Rocky. They're completely fine."

Adrian did not listen to Grace. In fact, within a week, it became abundantly clear that both Rocky and Adrian had mutually agreed that Ryland Grace was an unfit parent, and they were taking over full custody of your well-being.

Because Eridians couldn't enter your environment without dying, and you couldn't enter theirs without being instantly crushed and cooked, they expressed their doting affection through engineering.

Every morning, the airlock's sterilization chute would cycle, and a small, custom-made Eridian drone would trundle into your living area. The drone, painted a bright, friendly yellow (which Rocky had learned humans associated with warmth), carried gifts curated by Adrian and Rocky.

One day, it was a perfectly spherical, polished piece of Eridian stone, smoothed out so it wouldn't hurt your "frail, squishy hands."

Another day, it was a complex, mechanical puzzle made of pure iron, designed to keep your "fast, hatchling brain" entertained.

" [Name]," Rocky’s voice would come through the habitat's intercom system, always accompanied by Adrian’s supportive thrumming in the background. "Adrian has constructed a new clothing-shell for you. It is made of woven fiber-metal. It will protect you from predatory Earth creatures should they manifest in your room."

"Rocky, there are no predators in my room," you laughed, pulling out a heavy, incredibly flexible, and surprisingly comfortable metallic jacket from the drone. It was lined with soft insulation they had replicated from the ship's stores.

"Better to be safe," Adrian’s voice joined in. "The hatchling must be armored. Grace is lazy. He does not wear his armor. He is foolish. You must be wise, tiny friend."

You put the jacket on. It was a bit heavy, but it felt like a hug. You walked over to the giant xenonite window and pressed your hand against the thick glass. On the other side, Rocky and Adrian were standing side-by-side. Seeing you wear their creation, they both began to sway from side to side—a rhythmic, joyful Eridian dance.

"Look at the pebble," Adrian clicked softly. "A very stunning hatchling. Very sturdy now."

"Yes," Rocky agreed proudly, his claws tapping against the glass right where your hand was. "The strongest hatchling on Erid."

Grace walked into the room, took one look at you wearing a custom suit of Eridian chainmail while eating a bowl of cereal, and sighed. He looked out the window at his alien best friend and his mate.

"You guys are spoiling them," Grace complained, though there was a fond, relaxed smile on his face. "They have chores to do. We have to analyze the crop yields for the hydroponics bay today."

"No!" Rocky shouted through the speaker, his body tilting defensively in front of Adrian. "The pebble will not do labor! Labor is for hardened shells! The pebble will rest and grow their bones!"

"I'm literally eighteen now, Rocky," you pointed out, leaning against the glass. "I had a birthday last month, remember?"

"Eighteen is nothing!" Adrian declared fiercely. "In Eridian years, you are a negative number! You are a thought! You are a whisper! You will sit on the soft cushions and eat the sugar-carbs we sent."

You looked over at the drone, which was currently unloading a massive plate of sweet, baked treats the Eridians had synthesized using human-safe organic compounds. They looked like giant, golden-brown honeycombs and smelled like cinnamon.

You looked at Grace, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, Ryland. The council has spoken. My bones are too soft for agricultural analysis today."

Grace rolled his eyes, but his expression was soft. He walked over, patting your shoulder—the heavy, metallic shoulder provided by two overprotective alien parents who lived in a hyper-pressurized world of ammonia, but whose hearts were completely universal.

"Fine," Grace smiled, looking out at Rocky and Adrian. "But if they get a cavity, you two are inventing an Eridian dentist."

Through the glass, Rocky and Adrian clicked in triumphant unison, their bodies swaying as they watched over their favorite, most precious little human.

It was one thing to take care of others, it was another thing to be taken care of. You loved taking care of others, it all seemed to come naturally to you even before the extensive medical training you received back in MIRA. You were almost always helping someone else, whether it was family or friends or even coworkers, you were there for them no matter what. It was easy for you to put the needs of others before your own so it was even easier for you to realize what someone else needed before you realized you needed it yourself. When it came to Simon and Grace, you knew what they needed long before they even thought of it or had the chance to say it out loud.

When it came to Simon, you just simply needed to exist. To stay beside him and let him know that everything he was currently apart of was real and not some trick his mind was playing on him. He needed the conversations you'd provide him with day in and day out. Some days you would be asking him about the plants he was taking care of and if they had any medical properties or were just there to look pretty, other days you'd ask him if he had a favorite color or perhaps a favorite food. All simple conversations, yet ones that kept him grounded in the moment and let him know that you cared about him and his well being. Whenever you would catch him slipping into a dark place, his face twisting into one of fear, you would quickly act by taking hold of his hand, gently squeezing it and whispering hushed words of affection to let him know everything was alright and he didn't need to worry because you, alongside Grace and Rocky, were here for him no matter what he went through. Through it all, Simon began to realize just how much he needed you beside him.

When it came to Grace, you needed to help him with just simply keeping himself alive. He was a man of science so it was extremely easy for him to just forget the basic human body needs like sleeping and eating whenever he suddenly delved deep into an experiment he was working on. You knew how important his work was, even if there really was no one to report the findings too besides whoever was nearby at the time, but you allowed him to work for as long as he needed until you deemed so otherwise. You made sure that he took breaks in between testings by bringing him water, coffee, or some small snacks you managed to find while digging through the supplies you brought from the Skeld. Sure they may not have been as good as the food from Earth but hey, nutrients are nutrients.

When he began to reach high numbers of hours without sleep, you were the first to usher him to bed. Rocky would always join you in after he realized what was going on and just how long the two of them had been working for. "Red, come on! I'm almost at a breakthrough!" Grace would complain as you shoved him out of the lab and into the corridor with whatever strength you had which, to Grace's surprise, was quite a bit. "And the breakthrough can wait until tomorrow when you have the right amount of energy to celebrate it. Now, off to bed." You would scold him, watching as he'd pout but eventually go to bed. It was one night after you had scolded him to go to bed that he began to realize just how much you cared for his well being. He realized then and there just how much he, just like Simon, needed you beside him.

At one point, you'd even begun to take care of Rocky too. While you didn't know anything about Eridians, Rocky was nice enough to sit with you whenever he wasn't with Grace to tell you all there was to know about him and his species. You had taken one of the laptops you brought over from the Skeld and made a whole log of everything the two of you talked about so you could have it on hand if anything were to happen to Rocky on the way back to Erid. You learned that Eridians relied on echolocation to see, that their hearing skills were extremely accurate and could hear so much as a pin drop, that they survived in an ammonia high pressure atmosphere (thus explaining the tubing and ball he rolled around in as oxygen would kill him if exposed for too long), and that the biology that makes up their bodies is extremely detailed and would take you quite some time to properly process. The thing that surprised you the most was the fact that Eridians have five hearts, one located near each of their main leg joints.

"Red only have one heart?! Question statement?!" Rocky had shouted one day as you explained your own biological makeup to the Eridian, a small laugh escaping you as you nodded. "Yeah, I only have one. Right around here." You explained as you moved your hand to cover where your heart resided, feeling it beat against your ribcage. "Though there's different points around my body that also give off a replication of a heart beat. They're called pulse points and it's where my arteries pass close enough to the skins surface so you can feel it." You would show Rocky just where you were talking about, completely oblivious to the way Grace and Simon stood nearby to watch the biology lesson you and Rocky were having. "Grace and Simon only have one heart? Question?" Rocky asked. You gave a nod and began another more in detailed explanation of how the human body worked.

After your lesson with Rocky, you had left the lab to properly begin to learn just how the Eridian body worked via your laptop and the vast amount of notes you had taken. Once you were gone, Rocky would turn his attention to the two males who still stood near one of the labs many counters. "Rocky likes Red." He simply stated to which both Grace and Simon would answer at the same time. "Me too."

That left just you now, and who took care of you? Well it should be yourself, but recently you've been slacking in that department. Recently, a vast majority of your nights have left you sleepless as the very same nightmares that once plague Simon and Grace now seemed to pick you as their next target. You would vividly recall the look of that monster, the way the yellow spacesuit of your crewmate that was once a vibrant, bright color now stained red and torn wide open from the chest down to reveal the razor sharp teeth of this creatures gaping maw, it's jagged tongue lashing wildly.

You would be frozen to the spot in your dreams, forced to watch as it killed your crewmates over and over and over again, forced to listen to their screams and cries for you to help them despite being unable to do so; One night in particular, Grace and Simon's bodies were added the mix of your own crew. The monster would eventually turn to look at you each and every time, the visor of the helmet cracked and broken to reveal multiple sets of blood shot eyes that seemed to stare deep into your soul. Each time it would speak to you in that horrible, twisted voice that was anything but human. "Don't think you can escape me, little Red, because you're next." It lunged at you with incredible speed with nothing but the intent to kill on its mind.

You always woke with a gasp escaping you as the monster was mere centimeters from your face, shaking in your bed as you looked around the room and would only begin to relax as you spotted the sleeping forms of Grace and Simon nearby with Rocky fast asleep in his contraption of a bed. You wiped away the tears that formed in your eyes before slipping out of the room, blanket wrapped tightly around you as you would make your way to the window just outside the dorm and sit yourself against the frame. You pulled your knees close to your chest, attempting to make yourself small as you watched the stars twinkle before they'd become blurry in your vision before you'd allow yourself to just silently cry. It eventually became a routine thing for the past couple of days and if Grace, Simon, or Rocky was on watch, you'd lie to them and say you were just fine before you'd leave without another word.

Those nights, alongside just forgetting your other basic needs, were catching up to you quickly. Simon was the first to notice. You weren't as engaged in his conversations as you were before and almost seemed to be staring at the plants with a distant look in your eyes. He would ask you time and time again if you were alright and each time you'd snap back to reality, forcing that smile and telling him you were just tired and he didn't need to worry. Grace and Rocky would be the next to notice. Whenever you sat at the table in the lab and listened to Grace ramble on and on about the success of their experiment, you were nodding off with your chin resting in your hand.

"And so we- Red?" Grace asked as he finally turned to look at you, a frown on his face as he adjusted the glasses on his face to see you properly. You jerked a bit upon hearing your name, your eyes suddenly opening as you looked to Grace, inhaling quietly as you stretched in your seat before relaxing a bit.

"Hm? Yeah Grace?" You answered him though the tiredness was evident in your voice and the overall look on your face. You looked just as you did when they first found you on board the Skeld and it was making Grace's heart ache to see you in such a state.

"Are you alright? You look exhausted…" Grace questioned, moving to lean against the counter as he tilted his head slightly to get a better look at you. You would frown as you watched him, letting your hand drop onto the counter as you leaned back in the stool to try and avoid his gaze.

"I'm alright Grace, really. I'm just tired." You answered him.

"When Red last sleep? Question?" Rocky spoke as he scuttled through the tube to look down at you from above. You craned your neck to look up at the Eridian, making a face at the pain that suddenly ran through your neck as it was positioned at a weird angle.

"I slept a few hours ago." You answered Rocky now, but neither him nor Grace believed you. Before either could make accusations though, you got to your feet. "I'm gonna… Just go over here." You spoke quickly, slipping out of the lab and muttering a quiet 'sorry' as you almost ran into Simon on your way out. Simon watched as you rounded the corridor, making your way to the don't go crazy room before he'd turn to look at Grace and Rocky. His expression matched Grace's in an instant.

"So, we're all in agreement something is wrong, right?" Simon asked as he fully stepped into the lab and over to the table you had sat at just recently. Grace nodded with a small sigh, moving a hand to rub up at his face.

"Yeah, something's really wrong. They look like they haven't slept in ages. And who knows the last time they ate now that I think about it." Grace replied as his hand would fall from his face before coming to rest upon the table, fingers tapping against the counter. The three of them would look between one another, as if quietly having a conversation before the automated voice of Rocky broke through the silence.

"Red take care of Rocky, Simon, and Grace. We take care of Red. Statement."

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there for just watching the screens as they showed a video of some sort of beach somewhere on Earth, you honestly didn't spend much time looking at the names to care as you picked one at random. The sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and the sounds of seagulls in the distance were the only noises you heard as you attempted to put yourself back together. The medical side of you immediately knew what was wrong; You were burning the candle on both ends and they were now meeting right in the middle causing your burn out. The exhaustion, on top of also not eating or drinking anything in the past couple of days also proved to be a big factor into your now weakened state.

You were so deep into your own head you didn't hear the noises of your crewmates growing closer until you felt Rocky's xenonite ball suddenly roll over your thigh to rest into your lap with a faint 'thud'. A small wince escaping you as you shot the Eridian a small glare. Did he forget just how heavy he was? Let alone how heavy the xenonite ball he rolled around in was? Just when you were about to complain to him, you felt something suddenly drape around your shoulders. Your attention was now turned to look at the cream colored cardigan that belonged to Grace now resting around you before you'd look up to see Simon standing there, Grace moving around him to sit down on the walkway on your right side with arms full of what looked to be various sized silver pouches.

"What's going on?" You questioned, suddenly alert and worried. This was new; Very, very new. Sure you all grouped up together from time to time to work on things, watch movies together, or talk in the cockpit whenever the flight cords needed to be corrected on the journey to Erid, but never like this.

"We should be asking you that." Simon returned the question as he sat himself down on your left side, looking at you with concern. "You've been acting odd this past week. Don't think we didn't notice."

"You haven't eaten much, not to mention we haven't seen you drink or eat anything in the past twenty-four hours." Grace added on, placing the pile of silver pouches beside him; Ah, now it dawned on you. Those pouches were snacks and water, they were beginning to piece together just what was wrong with you. You frowned as you turned your attention to Grace, opening your mouth to speak but were cut off again.

"Is Red okay? Question?" Rocky asked, looking up at you as you turned your attention to look down at him. As you were about to answer his question, you felt your throat growing tight and the tears beginning to well in your eyes; No, no you weren't okay. You hadn't been okay all week but you kept telling yourself otherwise. You opened your mouth to speak, to try and tell them what was wrong, but nothing was coming out. Simon moved himself closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to gently squeeze at them and pull you against him.

"Hey hey… Come on, it's alright..." Simon began to comfort you, Grace moving closer on your opposite side to rest his hand on your lower back to rub at it in slow, comforting circles, though he watched you with worry.

"You've been helping us a lot lately and… I'm sorry that we didn't notice you were starting to struggle sooner." Grace began, keeping his hand on your lower back as the tears started to fall freely from your face and be absorbed into Simon's shirt; You'd have to apologize for that later. "But we're here now, and we're gonna help you just as much as you've helped us this past week."

You would shut your eyes, burying your head further into Simon as the tears ran down your face faster and the sobs began; You were so, so tired and the fact that they all noticed it broke you. They weren't supposed to take care of you, you were supposed to take care of them. As a medic, that was your job; To provide aid and care to those unable to do so themselves.

"I-I'm sorry." You choked out, trying hard to calm yourself down. "Y-You guys shouldn't have to see me like this, let alone help me." You confessed what you thought to the three of them, all of them falling into a mix of shock and confusion. Simon tightened his hold on you, a frown crossing his lips as the initial shock wore off. Didn't need to help you? Just what were you on? Perhaps it was the lack of sleep getting to you, even Grace said some weird shit when he was on such a small amount of sleep.

"Shouldn't have to help you? Red, come on now." Simon spoke, moving his arm from around you to gently push you away, his hand finding your chin to gently grab and have you look at him. He felt his heart shatter upon seeing the tears running down your face, at how red and puffy your eyes had suddenly gotten in such a short period of time and the overall exhaustion that was etched into your expression. Just how long were you hurting? And why didn't him, Grace, and Rocky notice sooner? His thumb would move across your face, gently wiping at the tears that fell before he'd release your face to take hold of your left hand. "You need to learn to lean on us from time to time, huh?" Simon added onto his previous statement and as you opened your mouth to speak, Grace cut you off instead.

"I agree with Simon. Like I said before, you've helped us so much these past couple of days, Rocky included. It's only right that we help you when you need it. You may be a medic, yes, but that doesn't define you as a whole. You're still a person under that title, someone who eats and breathes and sleeps just like the rest of us. You may think you have to do all this on your own, that you have to sacrifice so much just to help others and I get it, I really do! But at the end of the day, you gotta look after yourself as well. You can't help others if you yourself are out of commission." Grace spoke with such a soft, caring tone that it honestly made you sob harder. You felt his hand leave your back, taking hold of your right hand to gently squeeze it where they allowed you some time to cry it out.

"Now, are you gonna tell us what's been going on? Or do we have to keep getting all sappy with you?" Grace tried to joke after a couple minutes, a broken chuckle escaping you as you looked between the two men then down at Rocky who let out a few notes as if to sooth you in his own Eridian way.

"Alright, alright… Don't bombard me with the sappiness." You'd joke back, the tears coming to a slow but gradual stop as you kept hold of their hands, squeezing them both. "I've been having repetitive nightmares of that creature that infected Yellow. Each night I keep seeing my crew members die, each night that thing looks at me and charges at me with intent to kill and then I wake up. There… There was even a night where both you and Simon were killed and I couldn't do anything about it." You looked from Grace to Simon, watching as their eyes widened in response before you'd look back down to Rocky as to not picture their mangled bodies below that horrible monster.

"What was it you told me that one night?" Simon questioned, trying to recall word for word what you had told him when he had his own nightmare. "It wasn't real, just vivid, even if it felt real." He repeated your words back at you, watching as you slowly relaxed at his words. Right, you did tell him that and you helped him through it, helped ground him in this reality and not the one he was stuck in.

"I mean, come on," Simon added, letting go of your hand to wave his own around in the air. "Do you really think I'd let Grace or you die like that?" You turned to look at Simon, gently shaking your head in response. From what you've gathered, Simon was one hell of a man and you highly doubt he'd go down without one hell of a fight.

"No, I don't think you would." You answered him, looking down as Rocky gently shook the ball as if to get your attention.

"Rocky protect! Rocky very strong, stronger than Simon." Rocky raised his arms and moved them into a position as if trying to flex what non-existent muscles he had. It caused you to laugh, an actual genuine laugh and not something that was forced. Simon rolled his eyes at Rocky's remark, lifting his own arm to flex his bicep. You turned your attention back to Simon as you saw his arm move before suddenly all your worries about some stupid nightmare were gone. The bulge of muscle that strained against the fabric of the shirt he wore clearly wiped your mind clear but you'd quickly look away as to not get caught staring. You looked towards Grace now, noticing the way his own face had a faint blush to it like yours did as he stared at Simon's bicep. He'd quickly clear his throat once he caught you looking at him, shaking his head as a result to try and put his brain back into play.

"Right well um, the point is that nothing is going to happen to you, not while we're around at least." Grace comforted, squeezing your hand gently. "So don't let those thoughts destroy you like this again, alright?"

You agreed with a nod of your head and a squeeze of your hand in his. A smile crossed his face before he'd let go of your hand to dig through the pile of snacks, finding a simple pack of crackers and one of the water pouches before he'd pass them off to you.

"We'll start off with something light first before giving you something heavier to eat later on." Grace informed, watching as you took both packs and, using Rocky's ball as a makeshift table, opened the pack of crackers and began to eat them. You took it slow, knowing that if you inhaled the entire pack in one go you would certainly give yourself an upset stomach and you really didn't want to puke now that you had somewhat of an appetite back. As you ate, Simon watched over you while Grace grabbed the laptop nearby and began to scroll through the file folder of movies that were uploaded, attempting to find something for you all to watch. Once he found a suitable movie and pressed play, he placed the laptop aside and began to watch it with you, Simon, and Rocky.

Throughout the movie, Simon and Grace would check in on you and ensure you were doing okay, slowly giving you a bit more food whenever you requested it. Whenever they asked how you were feeling, you answered honestly and told them you were doing much better now then you were just hours before. At one point you had leaned forward against Rocky's ball, your arms crossed on the surface with your head resting on your arms. Slowly your eyes would shut as the halfway point of the movie was reached and with the warmth from the xenonite ball, the faint scent of Grace on his cardigan and the feeling of Simon's hand now gently rubbing at your back, you quickly were pulled into a gentle and peaceful slumber.

Simon's gaze would turn away from the screen to look at you as he felt a shift in your breathing, his head slightly tilted to try and get a better look at you before he'd smile softly. "They're asleep…" Simon whispered, taking in the slow rise and fall of your back as you lay hunched over. Grace looked over, leaning forward a bit to check on you himself before he'd let out a small, quiet laugh.

"Yeah, yeah they are… Good, they need it." Grace remarked, adjusting how he was sitting so he'd be able to stay there for several hours more. Rocky would look up at you from his position though he wouldn't dare rattle the ball, knowing right now you needed this sleep more than you would need any other kind of sleep in your entire life.

🍎 Expect grand romantic gestures done with a performer’s flair: bouquets of roses that bloom in your hands, little hand-made trinkets, private serenades on his piano.

🍎 Lucifer loves physical affection, but he’s mindful with you. He’ll start with brushing shoulders or linking pinkies before working up to pulling you into his chest during long conversations.

🍎 He secretly treasures when you initiate—even something as small as tugging at his sleeve to hold his hand makes him giddy.

🍎 Your shyness never frustrates him—if anything, it makes him protective. He wants the world to see your brilliance, but he’s content being the only one who gets the full version of you.

🍎 Lucifer is not a morning person unless you’re involved. He’ll sprawl dramatically across the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, sighing about how cruel the world is to rouse him from slumber until you shift closer, burying your face against his chest. That makes him hum contentedly, curling around you like you’re his sun.

🍎 You’re shy about morning kisses at first (messy hair, sleepy face) but he adores you most like this. He’ll whisper how beautiful you are, making you hide under the blankets, only for him to peel them back with a grin.

🍎 Lucifer is surprisingly good in the kitchen, but only when he’s in the mood to perform. Pancakes shaped like hearts, flambé dishes with way too much fire, over-the-top presentations. He insists you sit and watch while he plays chef, kissing your cheek as he serves the meal like it’s a royal banquet.

🍎 He secretly loves when you cook for him, even something as plain as tea and toast makes him beam because it’s you taking care of him.

🍎 He has no problem being touchy in private. He’ll scoop you onto his lap mid-conversation, nuzzle into your neck while you’re trying to read, or hold your hand while he rambles about his latest ideas.

🍎 You’re shy about asking for affection, so he makes it easier for you: leaving his arm draped over the couch so you can lean in, resting his hand palm-up on the table so you can slip yours into it.

🍎 He secretly adores when you’re flustered around him. Your bashful glances and stuttered words feed his pride, but instead of mocking, he treats it like treasure. “Ah, to think I can render such a lovely creature speechless,” he muses, kissing your forehead.

"Dad… I need to tell you something important."

He lowered the newspaper slowly, that ever-present smile on his face.

"Go ahead, my dear. You know you can tell me anything."

You swallowed and took out the test, placing it on the table in front of him.

"…I'm pregnant."

For three full seconds, only the background music could be heard. Alastor's smile didn't change… but his eyes changed. They darkened.

He rose with graceful slowness, took the test between his long fingers, and examined it closely. Then he looked at you. His smile widened so much it almost seemed painful.

"Pregnant…" he repeated in a low, melodic voice. "My little girl… is going to be a mother."

He carefully placed the test down and wrapped you in a hug. His hands pressed you tightly against his chest. You could feel his body tense, as if he were holding something very large.

"What fascinating news," he whispered near your ear. "Who is the fortunate gentleman who dared to touch my little princess?"

His tone was gentle, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it.

You pulled back slightly and told him the name. Alastor chuckled softly.

"I understand… I'm going to have a little talk with him. Just to make sure he understands his responsibilities." Don't worry, my dear, I'll be civil… —he smiled more broadly— …at least at first.

From that day on, things only got more intense:

He accompanied you to every doctor's appointment and asked the doctor uncomfortable questions.

He began hand-carving a wooden crib with intricate details (deer, shadows, and protective symbols).

Every night he made you herbal tea "for the baby" and told you stories from when you were little.

In private, he was already discreetly investigating the father's past.

Sir. Pendelton

He's the calmest and kindest of the three fathers-in-law.

He's very proud that his little girl has met someone and is now starting her own family. He might feel a little insecure about your safety, but if you let that man into your heart, then he's a good person, at least to you.

Pendleton is, by far, the most emotional and sweet of the three. An eccentric inventor, somewhat clumsy, but with a heart of gold. His daughter is his greatest pride, and he has always treated her like a princess.

He was in his workshop, surrounded by gears, tubes, and strange prototypes when you walked in. He was wearing goggles and had oil stains on his shirt.

"Dad… do you have a moment?"

"Of course, my little inventor! What do you need? Do you want me to build you something new?"

You took a deep breath and blurted out,

"I'm pregnant."

Pendleton froze. The screwdriver fell from his hand and clattered on the floor. He slowly pulled his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Um… pregnant?" he stammered. "My little girl… is going to have a baby?"

Suddenly, he let out a shout of joy and scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around despite his slender build.

“I’m going to be a grandfather! A GRANDAD!! This is wonderful!” He gently set you down and began pacing back and forth, talking at breakneck speed:

“I need to build a crib immediately! With an automatic rocking system, fall protection, and temperature control! Also, a cry monitor with alerts on my watch! And a steam-powered stroller! Oh, and educational toys! My grandson is going to be a genius!”

He stopped abruptly and looked at you with concern.

“But… are you alright? Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous? Sit down right now! You can’t exert yourself!”

Despite his enthusiasm, he also had his moment of insecurity. That evening, while you were having tea, he confessed to you in a low voice:

“I know I’m not the most… normal father. I’m a bit odd and clumsy. But if that young man makes you happy and respects you… then I’ll accept him. Just promise me that you’ll let me spoil my grandson rotten.”

He's the grandfather who will cry during childbirth, the one who builds strange toys, and the one who brags about his grandson to everyone.

Vicent Whittman

No…no NO NO NO NO NO

He would never let any man touch HIS daughter, it's impossible, it's a fake pregnancy test, yes, that's it…

Oh, Vincent is going to kill him

Vincent is the most possessive, controlling, and dramatic of the three. For him, his daughter is sacred. No one was good enough for her. The mere thought of anyone touching her drove him crazy.

You were in the living room of the house. Vincent was reviewing scripts for his upcoming television show, his hair perfectly styled and his suit impeccable.

"Dad… I have something to tell you."

"Tell me quickly, princess, I'm busy."

"I'm pregnant." The silence that followed was deafening. Vincent slowly looked up. His expression shifted from confusion to utter denial.

"…What did you say?" You repeated the words. Vincent jumped up so fast he knocked the chair over.

"No! That's impossible! You can't… you can't be…! Give me that!" You handed him the test. He looked at it as if it were a personal insult. His hands began to tremble.

"This is fake. It has to be fake. Someone is playing a cruel joke on you." Or… or they forced you. Tell me who it was. Give me their name right now.

When you told him the name, his face went completely dark.

That… that insect. That wretch. I'm going to destroy him. I'm going to ruin his career, his reputation, his entire life. Nobody touches my daughter and lives to tell the tale.

He had to sit down because he was having an anxiety attack. He ran his hands over his face, breathing heavily.

My little princess… my baby… she's going to have a baby… he murmured, his voice breaking. “You're not my little girl anymore…” After the initial shock, he went into “overprotective dad level god” mode:

He practically moved you into his house “for your safety and the baby's.”

He hired a private doctor to check on you every week.

He investigated every last detail of the father's life (and probably threatened him privately).

He was already planning the nursery with state-of-the-art technology and security cameras.

Husk: "Ugh, His kids coming to visit, they don't see each other often but whenever they do see each other, Al makes a whole big thing of it, stressin me out" He grumped out.

Angel: "His daughter? How is that possible? Ain't me like, Asexual or something? How you gonna have a kid if you won't bone?"

Husk: "I dunno, maybe she's adopted, she got his eye's though"

Angel: "Huh, so you've met her?"

Husk: "A couple times"

Angel: "Is she like him...with the radio and the tentacles?"

Niffty: "Nah"

Angel: "Ah! Niff Jesus we gotta but a bell on ya, you can't just run up on a guy like that jeez"

Niffty: "She's more into modern tech, and no tentacles, none that Ive seen" She said caressing her knife slowly.

Angel: "aha, well why she coming in now? it's been like five month's I ain't never heard him talk about her"

Husk: "No idea, last I heard they fell out after she brought a TV"

Niffty: "The guy hates Tech" She said, scratching her knife into the wooden table front of the bar.

*knock Knock*

Alastor's already strained smile expanded to reach his eyes as he strides to the door swiftly opening the door to reveal...

Alastor: "Y/N! So very good to see you my dear, Oh how I've missed you" He said pulling her in to the foyer in a tight, unnatural embrace , Angel leered over to get a proper look at her, from across the room little could be seen her face squashed into her fathers torso as she pushed herself away he squinted to look at her face, and indeed he did have his eyes, but little else, except the yellow teeth.

Y/n: "Good to see you to Dad, I've missed you too i guess" She said under her breath.

Alastor's eye twitched, you had just walked in the door and already you are testing him.

Alastor: "I heard that My love, keep your snide little comments to yourself, m'kay?" He asked, snapping his neck to the left.

Alastor: "Chum's! come greet my dear Y/n won't you?!" He bellowed pushing you towards the bar by the small of your back.

Y/n: "Dad, I already know Niff and Husk I-"

Alastor: "OH! but you haven't met Angel Dust, oh he's such a character" He said practically shoving you onto a stool across from Angel.

Y/n: "Hey Husk"

Husk: "Hey Y/n...you want me to make you something?"

Y/n: "Yeah, Gin and Tonic please" You said slumped over the bar.

Alastor: "She'll take a strawberry lemonade"

Y/n: "Dad I'm too old for thi-"

Alastor: "She'll take a strawberry Lemonade" He said again sternly looking you in the eye.

Alastor: "Now my Dear, where oh where are you belongings'?"

Y/n: "Just outside the door" You answered as Husk poured you a Strawberry Lemonade passing it over to you.

Alastor: "Good good, Husk go take them to Y/n's room won't you?"

Husk: "I'm a bartender not a bags boy Al"

Alastor: " I said go get her bags"

Husk lowly exhaled and dragged his sorry self towards the door.

Alastor: "right well, Angel this is my daughter Y/n"

Angel: "Daughter aye? And how exactly did that happen?"

Alastor: "Why what ever do you mean dear Angel?"

Angel: "Ain't you asexual? Can't exactly have a kid if you ain't boned someone"

Alastor: "Oh! well I made her of course"

Angel: "What?"

Y/n: "He made me, as a precaution"

Alastor: "Oh no dear we've been over this, I made you because I wanted to raise you"

Y/n: "Uh huh"

Angel: "Wait wait, I'm confused did you make her as like, a Frankenstein while you were alive or like..?"

Alastor: "No no, I bared no children when I was alive I made her down here"

Angel: "Okay but HOW?"

Alastor: "with some gold dust, an old voodoo doll and a rib of mine. It doesn't hurt to to supplied with a sum of power and magic of course"

Angel: "...uh huh" he watched as Husk dragged your bags up the stairs.

Alastor: "And my lovley creation will be staying with us for some times"

Y/n: "A month, that's all"

Alastor: "Oh a whole month! we have so much catching up too do, shame you won't ever answer any of my messages"

Y/n: "maybe I would if it weren't in the form of a telegram!"

Alastor: "Oh you young people, with your phones and TV's, whatever happnded to radio"

Y/n: "oh god please don't start" He patted your head as you slumped even further down the bar.

Alastor: "Yes well, while you chat with Angel I'll be sure to arrange the others I'm sure they'll be dying to meet you"

Y/n: "Yeah, okay Dad" you said dismissively sipping on your straw, Alastor of course saw this as his body tensed forcing himself to walk off following Husk up the stairs to corral the other tenants.

Angel: "So, Toot's you don't seem all that happy to see your pop's why is that?"

Y/n: "I didn't want to come here, It's just till extermination day since that dates been moved up"

Angel: "Oh, so your coming here for safety? well this place get's attacked every other week so I'm not sure if that's a great idea"

Y/n: "Oh no, I don't want to be here, It's just my Dad is convinced my place isn't safe enough, and he goes on about how we barley chat (mainly because he refuses to get a phone) and like 'how would I know if you were slain, am I just supposed to go looking for you sliced corpse' and besdies it's not like I have a choice so here I am, until the end of this month and then I'll finally go home again and not talk to the fucker for another seven years"

Angel: "Damm, if you hate the guy so much why not just not come, technically your Hell born so I'm sure you could leave the city, go on down somewhere like Pride, or Lust he can't come dragging you back"

Y/n: "Oh, but he can"

Angel: "How? Guy can't leave the ring"

Y/n: "You've seen that keyring of that little doll on his staff?"

Angel: "Yeah?"

Y/n: "That's me. He shakes that thing a couple times and BOOM and back where he wants me, coming 'voluntarily' just feel's less shit I guess"

Angel:" Oh...Damm" he looked over around the bar awkwardly tapping his foot waiting for Al to come back while you sipped on your god damm strawberry Lemonade.

You reach out and bring him closer, your lavender hands sliding up his furred arms to cup his face. This time when your lips meet his, there's no hesitation—the kiss is slow, sensual, deepening with each passing second. You taste the faint static on his tongue, feel the sharpness of his teeth as you explore his mouth.

Alastor groans, a deep, resonant sound that vibrates through both of you. His claws come up to tangle in your silver hair, careful not to pull too hard. His body presses against yours, warm and solid, his erection pressing against your thigh. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart through the fur on his chest.

When you finally break the kiss, both of you are breathing heavily. Alastor's red eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His deer ears are flattened against his head, but not in fear—in arousal. His perpetual smile has softened into something more genuine, more vulnerable.

"That was..." he begins, his voice layered with static that crackles with emotion.

You smile up at him, your violet eyes glowing softly in the dim light of his bedroom. "Good?"

"Very good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with more confidence. His hands slide down your back, tracing the curve of your spine, the delicate wings of your shoulder blades. When his claws reach the base of your tail, you shiver, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Alastor pulls back, his expression concerned. "Did I hurt you?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No. It felt... nice."

His smile returns, a little more sure now. He leans in again, his lips finding yours once more as his hands continue their exploration of your body.

"I want to feel you," you whisper against his lips, your breath warm on his skin.

Alastor's ears twitch, and for a moment he seems to hesitate. Then his hands slide down your body, his claws tracing delicate patterns on your lavender skin. They're surprisingly gentle, considering their sharpness—he's being careful not to hurt you.

His touch is tentative at first, exploring the curve of your waist, the dip of your hip, the softness of your inner thigh. When his fingers brush against your wetness, you both gasp simultaneously. Alastor's red eyes widen, his radio dials spinning briefly before settling.

"You're..." he begins, his voice layered with static that crackles with wonder.

You nod, guiding his hand to where you need him most. "Yes."

His touch becomes more confident then, his fingers exploring you with a curiosity that's both innocent and intensely arousing. He watches your face closely, his perpetual smile softening into something more genuine as he learns what makes you gasp, what makes you arch into his touch.

"You're beautiful like this," he murmurs, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek. "So responsive. So... real."

You kiss him deeply, your tongue sliding against his as his fingers continue their exploration. The kiss is hungry, desperate, filled with all the pent-up longing you've both been carrying. Alastor groans into your mouth, his other hand coming up to tangle in your silver hair again.

His touch between your legs becomes more purposeful, his claws tracing delicate patterns that make you gasp and arch against him. He's learning you quickly, finding the rhythm and pressure that makes your breath catch. When his thumb brushes over your most sensitive spot, you break the kiss with a soft cry, your violet eyes fluttering closed.

"Like that?" he murmurs, his voice layered with static that crackles with satisfaction.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Just like that."

He continues, his movements growing more confident as he watches your reactions. His red eyes are fixed on your face, drinking in every expression, every shudder, every soft sound you make. His perpetual smile has softened into something more genuine—a look of wonder mixed with intense focus.

When you're trembling on the edge, he slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure until you're begging without words. Only then does he bring you over, his fingers working you through the waves of sensation that crash through you.

As you come back to yourself, breathing heavily, you open your eyes to find him watching you with an expression you've never seen before—awe, mixed with something that looks like reverence.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his erection, feeling the heat and hardness of him against your palm. Alastor gasps sharply, his eyes squeezing shut. His entire body tenses, the muscles in his arms and chest going rigid beneath his fur.

For a moment, you worry you've moved too fast—but then his breath comes out in a shuddering sigh, and he leans his forehead against your shoulder. "Oh," he breathes, the word layered with static that crackles with overwhelmed sensation.

You watch his face closely as you begin to move your hand slowly up and down his length. His expression is a study in conflicting emotions—pleasure, yes, but also something like disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend what his body is experiencing. His perpetual smile is still there, but it's strained at the edges, his lips pressed together as if he's trying to hold back sounds.

His deer ears are flattened completely against his head now, twitching with each stroke of your hand. His claws dig into the bedsheets, tearing small holes in the fabric. When you glance down, you see his tail—usually kept hidden—has emerged, a short, furry deer tail that's twitching rapidly against the mattress.

"Alastor?" you whisper, slowing your movements. "Are you okay?"

He nods, his eyes still shut tight. "Yes," he manages, his voice thick with static. "It's just... overwhelming."

"Tell me what you need," you whisper against his ear, your breath warm on his furred skin.

Alastor shudders, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Faster," he breathes, the word layered with static that crackles with desperation. "Please."

As if hearing his thoughts—or perhaps because you actually did—you begin to move your hand faster, your grip firm but not too tight. Alastor's breath comes in short, sharp pants now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His claws have torn completely through the bedsheet, and you can feel the mattress beneath.

He's beautiful like this, you think—vulnerable, overwhelmed, completely undone by sensation. His perpetual smile is still there, but it's different now: less a mask and more a genuine expression of pleasure, though strained at the edges. His deer ears are twitching rapidly, and his tail is thumping against the mattress in a frantic rhythm.

When you glance down, you see that his erection is weeping precum, the tip flushed a deep red that matches his hair. You can feel the heat of him through your hand, the way his entire body seems to be vibrating with tension.

"Good?" you murmur, watching his face closely.

Alastor nods, his eyes still shut tight. "Very," he gasps. "Don't stop."

You lean down and lick the tip of his erection, tasting the salty precum there. Alastor gasps sharply, his entire body jerking beneath you. The sound that escapes him is part groan, part static crackle, layered with overwhelming sensation.

"Love—" he manages, his voice breaking on the second syllable of your name.

You lick up and down his throbbing cock, taking your time, exploring the texture of him—the smooth skin, the prominent veins, the way he twitches with each pass of your tongue. His taste is unique, a mix of salt and something else, something faintly metallic that might be the static that always surrounds him.

Alastor's claws are digging into the mattress again, tearing fresh holes in the fabric. His deer ears are flattened completely against his head, twitching with each movement of your tongue. His tail is thumping against the mattress in a frantic rhythm that matches the pounding of his heart.

When you finally take him into your mouth, sliding down his length as far as you can comfortably go, Alastor cries out—a raw, unfiltered sound that's half static, half pure pleasure. His hands come up to tangle in your silver hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding on as if you're the only solid thing in a world that's spinning out of control.

You look up at him while keeping him in your mouth, your violet eyes meeting his red ones. What you see there takes your breath away.

Alastor's eyes are wide, filled with tears that spill over and track down his furred cheeks. His perpetual smile is still there, but it's trembling at the edges, his lips pressed together as if he's trying to hold back sounds that want to escape. His deer ears are flattened completely against his head, twitching with each small movement you make.

His hands are still tangled in your hair, but they're not pushing or pulling—they're just holding on, his claws trembling slightly against your scalp. The static that always surrounds him crackles and pops in time with his ragged breathing, filling the room with a sound like distant radio interference.

For a long moment, you just hold him there, watching his face as he watches you. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, can taste the salt of his tears mingling with the taste of him. His entire body is trembling with tension, with pleasure, with something that looks like disbelief.

Then his breath hitches, and he gasps, "Stop—please, stop."

You immediately remove yourself from him, sitting up and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Alastor? Are you okay?" you ask, your voice filled with concern as you take in his tear-streaked face.

He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes are still wide, the radio dials spinning slowly before settling back into their normal red appearance. His hands come up to cover his face for a moment, and you hear him take a shuddering breath.

When he lowers his hands, his perpetual smile is back in place, though it looks more strained than usual. "I'm... I'm fine, my dear," he says, his voice layered with static that crackles with embarrassment. "It's just... something happened. I felt... I felt like something was about to... come out."

He looks down at his still-erect cock, then back up at you, his expression genuinely confused. "Is that... normal? I've never experienced anything like that before."

You can't help it—a soft giggle escapes your lips. "Yes, Alastor," you say gently, reaching out to stroke his furred cheek. "That's supposed to happen. That means you were enjoying yourself."

His ears twitch, and he swallows hard. "Oh." He looks from your face down to your body, his gaze lingering on your wet womanhood. "I see."

Alastor's gaze lingers on you, his red eyes darkening with something new—not just arousal now, but curiosity. He reaches out, his clawed hand hovering over your wetness for a moment before his fingers make contact.

You gasp at the feeling—his touch is surprisingly gentle despite the sharpness of his claws. He watches your face closely, his perpetual smile softening as he sees the pleasure written there. His fingers explore you tentatively at first, rubbing the opening of your womanhood, then circling your clit in slow, deliberate motions.

You guide his hand to where you need him most, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist to show him the rhythm you crave. Alastor's eyes widen slightly, but he follows your lead, his fingers sliding inside you with more confidence now.

The feeling is exquisite—his claws are surprisingly gentle despite their sharpness, and the coolness of his furred skin against your heated flesh makes you gasp. He watches your face intently, his perpetual smile softening into something more genuine as he sees the pleasure written there.

"Like this?" he murmurs, his voice layered with static that crackles with curiosity.

"Yes," you breathe, arching your back as he finds a particularly sensitive spot. "Just like that."

He continues, his movements growing more sure as he learns what makes you gasp, what makes you moan his name. When he adds a second finger, you cry out, your hands gripping the bedsheets. The stretch is perfect, the pressure exactly what you needed.

Alastor's grin widens, seeing the effect he's having on you. He notices that when he rubs a certain spot inside you, your back arches off the bed and you gasp sharply. He focuses on that spot, his fingers working relentlessly as his other hand comes up to rub your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

"I'm close," you whisper, trembling beneath him as his fingers work you relentlessly.

Alastor's eyes widen slightly, his perpetual smile softening into something more curious. He doesn't quite understand what you mean, but he can see the tension building in your body—the way your muscles are tightening, the way your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, the way your violet eyes are fluttering closed.

He doesn't stop. If anything, he increases the speed of his movements, his fingers thrusting deeper inside you while his thumb circles your clit with more pressure. The static that always surrounds him crackles and pops in time with his movements, filling the room with a sound like distant radio interference.

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure crashes through you. Alastor feels your insides tighten around his fingers, a sensation that makes his own breath catch. He stills his hands but doesn't remove them yet, watching your face as you ride out the waves of sensation.

When you finally calm, breathing heavily and boneless against the mattress, he slowly withdraws his fingers. You lay there panting for a while before opening your eyes to look at him.

You reach for his still-erect cock, your lavender fingers wrapping around his heated length. Alastor gasps, his eyes widening as you begin to stroke him slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort.

Instead, you see pleasure—raw, unfiltered pleasure that makes his perpetual smile tremble at the edges. His deer ears twitch rapidly, and his tail thumps against the mattress in a frantic rhythm. The static that always surrounds him crackles and pops in time with your movements, filling the room with a sound like distant radio interference.

"You're still so hard," you murmur, your thumb brushing over the weeping tip.

Alastor nods, his breath coming in short pants. "I... I don't understand it," he admits, his voice layered with static that crackles with confusion. "The feeling... it won't go away."

You give him a soft, slightly dazed smile—the kind that comes after intense pleasure. "That's because you haven't finished yet," you explain gently. "Your body still needs release."

His red eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of curiosity and something that looks like vulnerability. "Release?" he echoes, the word layered with static.

You continue stroking him slowly, your lavender fingers moving up and down his heated length with a gentle, steady rhythm. Alastor's breath hitches, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on the sensation. His claws dig into the mattress again, tearing fresh holes in the fabric.

The static that always surrounds him grows louder, crackling and popping in time with your movements. His deer ears are twitching rapidly, and his tail is thumping against the mattress in a frantic rhythm. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, can see the way his entire body is trembling with tension.

After a moment, you give him a soft, slightly dazed smile—the kind that comes after intense pleasure. Alastor opens his eyes and chuckles, the sound layered with static that crackles with amusement.

"Did you have a good time, my dear?" he asks, his red eyes watching you closely.

You nod, still smiling that drunk-looking smile. Then your gaze drops to his still-erect cock, and you look back up at him. "Could you... use your mouth on me?" you ask softly. "Like I did to you?"

Alastor's ears twitch, and he seems to consider this for a moment. He looks unsure—whether he would like the taste or the act itself, you can't tell. But after a brief hesitation, he nods. "If that's what you want," he says, his voice layered with static.

You watch his face as he lowers his head between your legs, his red eyes meeting yours for a moment before he focuses on your womanhood. His perpetual smile is still there, but it's different now—curious, analytical, like he's approaching a new culinary experience.

He licks the opening tentatively at first, his tongue flat and warm against your sensitive flesh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tangle in the bedsheets. Alastor's ears twitch at the sound, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes—not disgust, but perhaps surprise at the taste.

He doesn't pull away, though. Instead, he sticks his tongue inside you, exploring with the same careful curiosity he showed with his fingers. His eyes close as he focuses on the sensation, on the taste, on the way your body responds to him.

It doesn't taste great to him—you can see it in the slight tightening around his eyes—but the noises you make seem to be more than enough to satisfy him. He continues, working his tongue around your womanhood with growing confidence, finding the spots that make you squirm and gasp.

Your hands come up to tangle in his red and black-tipped hair, guiding his head gently as he works his tongue inside you. Alastor doesn't resist—if anything, he seems to appreciate the direction, his movements becoming more purposeful as you show him exactly what you need.

He finds a rhythm, his tongue thrusting in and out of you in time with the gentle pressure of your hands. The static that always surrounds him crackles and pops with each movement, filling the room with a sound that somehow enhances the pleasure rather than distracting from it.

You can feel the tension building in your body again, that familiar coiling sensation in your lower belly. Alastor seems to sense it too—his movements become more frantic, his tongue working you relentlessly as he chases the sounds you're making.

When you're close—so close you can feel the pleasure gathering like a storm about to break—you tighten your grip in his hair. "Alastor," you gasp, your voice trembling. "You can stop."

He withdraws his tongue immediately, looking up at you with red eyes that are dark with something you can't quite name. His perpetual smile is still there, but it's softer now, more genuine. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears twitching as he waits for you to speak.

"I'm ready for you to enter me," you say softly, your violet eyes meeting his red ones.

Alastor looks down at his still-erect cock, then back up at you. He nods, his perpetual smile softening into something more genuine. "Very well, my dear," he murmurs, his voice layered with static that crackles with something that sounds like nervous anticipation.

He positions himself between your legs, his furred hands resting on your lavender thighs. You can feel the heat of him against your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing gently against your wetness. For a moment, he just stays there, his red eyes watching your face as if waiting for permission.

You reach up and stroke his furred cheek, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's okay," you whisper. "Go slowly."

Alastor nods again, his ears twitching. Then he begins to push forward, entering you inch by careful inch. The stretch is different than his fingers—fuller, deeper, more complete. You gasp, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders as he fills you completely.

He stills once he's fully inside you, his breath coming in short pants that crackle with static. His eyes are wide, his perpetual smile trembling at the edges. "Are you... alright?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You nod, gasping as you adjust to his size—the fullness, the heat, the way he stretches you perfectly. "Yes," you breathe. "I'm more than alright."

Alastor's perpetual smile softens into something more genuine. "You feel... good," he murmurs, his voice layered with static that crackles with wonder. "Very good."

"Then keep going," you beg, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Please."

He nods, his ears twitching. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip remains inside you, then pushes forward again, setting a gentle rhythm that makes you gasp with each movement...

Wanna make your own choices and see what happens next? READ/PLAY HERE! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

🎮interactive fanfic "Yes, You Can Pet The Deer" by Candybellcat

Alastor:

He'd definitely be shocked when he found out you were pregnant. The Radio Demon with a child? It was a ridiculous thought! He never voiced this, but you knew by the slight screeching noise he emitted and the corners of his smile that twitched ever so slightly

After awhile though, he became fond of the thought of you carrying his child. A little demon spawn of his own might be nice, someone he can show the ropes too and hopefully inherit some of his immense power.

He'd always cook for you, insisting that you rest and he'll whip up his mothers old jambalaya recipe! His cooking was delicious, even if he said that it was even better with the "meat" he'd get from Cannibal town which you refused to eat

Alastor would make sure you're getting proper exercise as well! He'd take you outside for a walk around town, warding off any creeps who'd dare come near you

At night, he'd come to the room while your half asleep and spoon beside you, shifting you onto your side, "Mon cher, sleeping on your back isn't good for the baby. Up up up".

He would whisper sweet little things in your ear, saying how excited he was to raise a child with you, and how he hopes they'll look like you

"You look absolutely radiant, dear" "Have you thought of any names yet, chérie?" "I'm absolutely thrilled for their arrival" "I do hope they'll share your beautiful smile"

Vox:

Carrying Vox's child was... a big twist in your relationship. Vox had never planned to be a father, not in life and especially not in the afterlife!

When you told him, he totally freaked out. His brain must've short circuited as soon as the word "pregnant" left your mouth. His screen displayed an error message and suddenly, all the lights in pentagram city just flickered out in an instant

After calming him down once he's back online, you talk through it and he's a lot more content with the situation at hand. The words "I'm gonna be a father" scared him, but he quickly got used to it and was able to say it was a wide grin on his face

Of course, he'd never let you leave the tower. He can't take a chance on you or the baby getting hurt. Besides, anything you need he can get for you in an instant!

Vox would always be checking on you. Even at work, he'd order you meals and send down employees to cater to every need. You vaguely mention something your craving? It'll be at the door in 20 minutes. Your back hurts? a masseuse will be sent down immediately

As he'd work, he'd have the pictures of your ultrasound pinned onto his monitors where he'd glance at them every once in awhile with a smile on his face.

Vox had even designed a wristband (sort of like a fitbit) that'd track your stress levels, activity, heart rate, sleep quality, and body temp. He, of course, had access to it at all times and if even one of your levels seemed out of place he'd be by your side in an instant to take care of you

When he'd get home, he'd immediately kick off his shoes and curl beside you on the bed, baby talking to your stomach: "Who's gonna be the scariest demon in Hell? You are! You are!"

Lucifer:

Lucifer was ecstatic when he found out you were pregnant!

He already loved being a father, but now he was gonna have two kids?! He almost passed out from excitement

Lucifer had announced the pregnancy to Charlie with a corny T-shirt that said "Hell's Greatest Sister" and it wasnt long before the two were hugging and crying happy tears together

Lucifer is nothing but supportive through and through with everything you may need. You're tired? He's happy to nap with you. You're scared? He'll lend an ear and whatever else you may need to feel more comfortable

All the sins would send gifts as well— little onesies, toys, and other things to help prepare for the arrival of your child

Lucifer was constantly by your side through all this, flipping through name books excitedly and counting down the days till he finds out the gender!

You ever see that one keeping up with the kardashians scene where scott helps kourtney shave her yknow what since she cant reach due to her pregnancy? Yeah, Lucifer'd 100000% help you do that.

You'd been attempting to "tame the beast" when you'd called Lucifer over for help. If he were any other man, he would've hesitated. But not Lucifer. He grabbed that fucking razor and got to work like he was a professional

Anyway— Lucifer would cuddle your stomach, his hand splaying over it reverently as he marveled at the growing life underneath.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬:

∘ How They React To Your Tongue Piercing

∘ How They React To You Being Dominant

∘ How They React To Your Back Tattoo

∘ How They React To Your Perfume

∘ How They React To Being Shut Up With A Kiss

𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

∘ Gen Z Things With The Hazbin Men

∘ Gen Z Things With The Hazbin Men (II)

∘ Gen Z Things With The Hazbin Women

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬:

∘ The Love Triangle

∘ Vox With Alastor’s Daughter

∘ How You Became Alastor’s Wife

∘ Riling Up Vincent While Live On TV

∘ Complimenting Vox’s Heterochromia

∘ Alastor Longing For His Mother’s Guidance

∘ Vox Serving Time In The Navy

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬:

∘ Vincent Being Jealous Of Alastor

∘ Human Alastor As A Bestfriend

∘ Vox With A Spanish-Speaking Partner

∘ When Alastor Gets Overwhelmed With Love

∘ Alastor Winning NNN Without Trying

∘ A Pregnant Reader At The Hotel

∘ Enticing the Hazbin Men Into Saying Yes

∘ The Hazbin Men In Your Hyperfeminine Room

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬: