#dad lucifer

■ OKAY FOR STARTERS

■ if Adam is genuinely interested in a relationship with you, like it's not just to get at lucifer then he's the biggest softy

■ im a firm believer he is a sweetheart in private moments in a relationship

■ to everyone else he's a total jackass but when you two are alone?

■ he's so respectful and loving to you

■ but if you're innocent

■ this man has the biggest corruption kink in the fucking world and the fact he gets to have his way with the daughter of his "enemy" satisfies him more

■ but it does make him feel a bit warm when it becomes obvious just how in love you are with him

■ and anytime you tell your dad about your boyfriend he lights up! so happy his daughter has found someone :)

■ but shit goes down when he asks to finally meet him, he figures if his daughter is in love he should definitely know him

quick recess from that train of thought

■ adam! who's got you laid out on his bed, working his shirt off

■ adam! who hears your little murmur about being a virgin

■ adam! who is immediately rock fucking hard at the fact he gets to take that innocence from you

■ adam! who hovers over you, kissing your neck as he helps you out of your pants, his other hand tugging impatiently at your shirt

■ adam! who can't get over how fucking beautiful you are, all other motives thrown out the window, he just wants to make this good for you

■ adam! who growls when he works a finger into you, feeling how tight you are and hearing you whimper

■ "princess you gotta relax, gonna stretch you out. i know baby, i know. just let me make you feel good"

■ adam! who scissors his fingers in you, desperately trying to make this easier for you

■ adam! whose cock makes you tremble when you see it finally, he's big. i think he'd be above average, 7-8.5ish inches, girthy too.

■ "baby don't worry ill make it fit, daddy's gonna take care of you, okay?"

■ adam! who audibly groans after you don't even bat an eye at his slip up

■ ugh he'd be so sweet as he's guiding it in you, kissing your face, maybe even rubbing your clit to try and get you to relax

■ but just as he's about to bottom out hears a little "s'too much daddy" from you and he swears he could have cum right there

■ if this wasn't your first time he'd be pounding the shit out of you now

■ but he's gentle, at least at first

■ "okay sweetheart, i need more, can you do that?" he'd murmur, so sweet.

■ and then he fucking rails you

■ HEAVY BELIEVER he's gonna try and go atleast 2 rounds with you, maybe more

■ you're just too perfect he can't help it

ANYWAYS

■ so like, you're really oblvious to the beef between your dad and adam

■ like it's just never been expressed

■ plus lucifer doesn't have a great relationship with his kids!! so the fact you've even told him about your boyfriend makes him happy

■ so you go out for dinner! it's a classic! you have no idea why you're boyfriend is acting so weird!

■ what does NOT make lucifer happy is seeing you walk in with adam, his arm slung around your waist

■ he's in denial for a moment, standing from his spot as he meets you halfway

■ "dad, meet my boyfriend, adam!"

■ there's a beat of silence, and you're not sure why

■ but lucifer extends a hand "adam, it's so nice to meet you" he says through gritted teeth

■ tbh both are pretty quiet, only exchanging niceties until you leave for the bathroom

■ adam squeezes your hand as you stand up, watching you walk off.

■ then he turns back to face lucifer, a smug smirk plastered on his face

■ "you motherfucker" "well actually technically im a d—" "shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up"

■ lucifer genuinely has to convince himself not to fucking kill adam right here. reminding himself that his daughter is in love with him.

■ lucifer decides he doesn't have to like adam for him to support you

■ but adam is such a little shit, once you get back to the table he will not shut the fuck up

■ but you seem so happy, lucifer sees the way you look at adam. he sighs.

■ even when adam tugs at your collar a little "fixing it" supposedly but lucifer knows it's definitely just to flash that little love bite he left there

■ and to you it seems like your boyfriend and dad are getting along great! you're so happy

■ at the end of the night your dad pulls you aside, doing the whole dad talk thing.

■ "if he breaks your heart.."

■ but you hug him for the first time in a long time, and he decides he can tolerate this for as long as im happy.

■ your dad loves you, maybe not your boyfriend, but you.

■ and adam.. deep down knows there's a little bit more to his facade. he cares about you, how could he not? this started out as just a way to get under lucifers skin but he's found himself genuinely hoping your dad doesn't try to sour the relationship

■ so when you take his hand as you part ways with your dad he sighs in relief

■ you're all his, and he wouldn't want it any other way <3

Lucifer was basically contemplating every bad decision he's ever made in his life as he stares at the face of his unconscious son.

He barely managed to save (Name)’s wing by reattaching it, but it'll take a while before it's usable again.

Coat and hat off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it in his moment of stress.

Eyes rimmed red from crying, cheeks stained with tears as he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the heavy feeling you usually get from crying so much.

He practically started having a mental breakdown the moment he knew that (Name)’s life wasn’t in any immediate danger. It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that he finally calmed down.

Sitting on a chair next to his son's bed, Lucifer sighs as he puts his face in his hands. He hasn't told Charlie yet. He doesn't really know how he should go about explaining what happened at the palace without freaking her out.

Wounds inflicted by angelic steel take longer to heal. He doesn’t know how long it would take for (Name) to wake up. It’s been about 3 hours since the attack, and he’s been restless ever since.

Still no sign of movement from (Name) as he lays motionless on his bed. The only way Lucifer could tell that he’s even still alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Running his fingers through his hair as he stood up from his chair, reaching for his phone in his pocket, he hesitated to call Charlie. He didn’t know how to disclose the situation to her. There’s no easy way of doing this. I mean- how do you go about telling your child that her brother could possibly end up in a coma after being attacked by bloodthirsty psycho angels! That’s ridiculous! Everything about this is ridiculous! He’s ridiculous! He’s literally the King of Hell! He should’ve done more to ensure the protection of his son! If he just had the time to construct a barrier around his home then maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. If he hadn’t been in a hurry to go save Charlie, he would’ve given it more thought. The fact that (Name) would be left defenseless all by himself with no one to help him. It’s basically a miracle that he even managed to survive all by himself. What with his inexperience in life or death fights. What kind of father would he be if he can’t even protect his children from harm! An incompetent one, he thinks.

His hands shake as he grips his phone. Taking a deep breath, he presses on Charlie’s contact and hopes that everything goes well.

“Dad! Thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been trying to call you ever since you left in a hurry earlier- Is everything alright?” Just hearing Charlie’s voice over the phone makes him want to cry again.

He swallows the lump in his throat, “I-I’m okay, sweetie! It’s just- uhh,” just say it dammit! That’s her brother! She needs to know! “It’s (Name). He- he’s not doing good at the moment.” He cringes at his attempt.

“What?! Is he okay?! What happened?”

“He-,” his throat felt dry as he swallowed, “the palace was attacked.”

“WHAT?! Is (Name) okay?!” Her panicked voice could be heard over the phone. He tried to breathe properly to not breakout into another panic attack. “Dad?! Why aren’t you saying anything?!! You’re scaring me!”

“He’s-,” he winces at the break in his voice before clearing his throat, “He’s okay now! I managed to get here on time before he-,” his voice cracked again as tears wells up in his eyes.

The other side of the line goes silent for a bit. Charlie most definitely heard his pathetic attempt at trying to compose himself.

He clears his throat again, “His wounds are healing. But I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He settled with. His voice raspy from crying.

On the other side of the line, Vaggie was standing next to Charlie, comforting her as she processes the information she just received. It was just them two in the lobby. Everybody else was either out or resting in their new rooms.

“Do you need me to come over, Dad?” Charlie asks.

“No need for that, apple pie- I’ll stay here until he recovers. You need to stay at your hotel. I can handle it. Promise.”

“Okay,” she swallows, forcing back her tears, “Call me if you need to. Okay, Dad?”

“Of course. Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye-,” he hangs up.

“Everything okay, babe?” Asks Vaggie, “You seem pretty worried.”

“Worried? Me? Pshh- no! Not at all! I mean- it’s not like the angels attacked my Dad’s castle and put my brother in a coma!-,” Charlie rambles.

“What?!” Vaggie yells in shock, “Is he okay?”

“Dad said that he’s okay. (Name)’s just resting-,” Charlie starts pulling at her hair. “Why would they attack him! He didn’t have anything to do with any of this!”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything. She just takes Charlie by the hand and takes her to their room as Charlie continues to worry about her brother. Which is valid cuz like- (Name)’s her brother-

When they reach their room, Vaggie takes Charlie by the hand and leads to bed.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s got your father’s blood flowing through his veins, no? He’ll wake up before you know it- Trust me.”

Charlie sniffles, “You really think so?”

Vaggie nods, “I know so. Now- why don’t we rest and cuddle. We’ve had a long day. I think we deserve some rest, don’t you think?”

Vaggie then helps Charlie change into pajamas as they both lay in each other’s arms in bed.

“Feeling better?” Vaggie asks.

Charlie nods, “I just hope he wakes up soon.” As they both continue cuddling in bed.

Imma be honest y’all. This isn’t my best work. Didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. Kinda lost motivation half way through. Not sure if you can tell. But anyway! Here’s how I thought it would go. Hope y’all like it! Stay healthy and keep hydrated! ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

Bye babes!

-DebonairPrince

His voice was deep. He had red eyes. That was what silenced you after all that. You panted, catching your breath, that constant string of hateful fire coasting up and down your back where they had cut off- 

They had cut off- 

Oh, dear god, they'd cut off your wings- 

You had a sensation of gentle small hands turning you over on the barren ground, a glow of golden healing touching the bloody nubs on your back while you finally found your voice again, albeit a hoarse whisper instead of a scream. 

"My wings." 

Hot, angry tears tracked down your face and fell onto the dusty ground.

That was all you managed to say. 

"I know, darlin'. I know." 

"They- they- cut off..." 

"Shh," he said, "Shush now. Focus. Breath for me. I don't need you passing out again." 

Through his coaxing and the soft healing tingle of the golden powers emanating from his hands, you were able to quietly measure out your breathing though your chest while his magic knit up the violent wounds on your shoulders with a cool icy and sometimes itchy sensation that had you tensing. 

"They'll grow back," he continued. "They will. It might take some time, but they'll grow back, I promise." 

His hands, light but firm, investigated your neck, head and shoulders for breaks and cuts. You had no choice but to let him. The both of you stayed like that for a long time, his magic and hands soothing wounds you didn't even know you had. His voice took on a strangely conversational tone while he worked.

"I'm Lucifer. But I guess you know that already." 

The King of Hell. 

"I find a lot of you down here. Classy of them, isn't it?" 

You shut your eyes. Scrunched them up real tight, as the memory of what had just happened played in your mind. 

You had been held down. It had taken several of Lucifer's brothers to keep your arms behind your back, another couple of Sera's female commandeers to keep your feet from kicking out and you had actually managed to brutally punch in some noses before the inevitable had happened; Michael, fierce blue eyes blazing, approaching with a freshly sharpened dagger, Emily screaming your name, yourself casting desperate glances between Sera and Michael in tandem as you eventually begged and pleaded for them not to do it. 

But they did; Sera, turning her face in shame as she ordered Michael to make the cuts. You had been turned brutally, your arms yanked fiercely as you fought and fought, your heart beating rapidly as Michael's blade sang and the first wing had been severed in a white hot flash, golden blood running down your legs while you screamed and screamed..

"Hey." Lucifer's hand patted your cheek. "Get back to me, now. Come on back. There you are." 

He eventually helped you in a sitting position and he himself sat cross legged beside you. Waiting, it seemed. Poised to sit patiently for however long it took. You were taking in the sight of him now. His white pants and shirt, red pinstriped vest, an apple cane and a jacket abandoned somewhere off to the side. You noted his rolled up sleeves and the golden stains on him, the dirt coating him that he didn't seem to mind.

"How long will it take?" You asked him, your voice barely carrying with how hoarse it was. 

Lucifer smiled grimly. "For me, it took a long time. Millenia. All six of them. For you, I don't really know. Seems to differ from angel to angel. We all have a unique healing period. You seem young," he added after a moment of taking in your appearance, "It shouldn't take you as long as you'd think." 

You didn't have to say anything at all because you knew he understood. It was in his face. Written all over it, actually, that deep seated hurt that reflected yours like a ripple in a crimson pool. 

He helped you stand. You did so, and stumbled, but he caught you with steady arms and stood there as long as it took for up and down to right themselves in your mind. 

"They were my family." 

He nodded. "Yeah." 

"They were my family, and they were supposed to love me." 

It's like you were pleading with yourself. With the sky, with god, with your soul, to reach out and understand- that nonverbal wrenching of stability that had tossed everything you knew aside like a child's toy become garbage. 

"They were our family," he said, "And they were supposed to protect us. Come on," he held out his hand. 

You hesitated. 

In that moment, the devil looking at you with crimson eyes, his mouth quirked in a handsome crooked smile that revealed the edges of white sharp fangs, you were considering. Your options. You had none. 

"You don't have to trust me. But I'd like to help you if you'll let me." 

You hesitated again, then took his outstretched hand, a motion that had him fully grinning. Like he had secrets. He had jokes and secrets, and hidden pathways in his mind. You supposed he would, being who he is. Especially the jokes part. 

He had so many.

Whether you wanted him to or not, he told a relentless number of them on your way to his daughter's hotel, some of them going over your head and others that pulled you back from a darkened cavern in your soul that had you almost cackling from the pure ridiculousness of it. 

You had gone through quite possibly the most traumatic event of your entire existence and here you were wheezing about the mental image of a duck who went to the doctor because he had a fowl cough. The laugh made your ribs hurt.

Yet, when you had gotten settled into the hotel, when you had chosen your intentionally barren and tiny room despite Charlie's protests - a series of meaningful stammers that insisted you deserved more than that- a bigger room, a softer bed, maybe something warmer with bigger windows; you insisted no no it was fine. This is perfect for me. 

It's perfect. 

You stood there in the room after they all left you alone then sat on the bed, bare feet on the wooden floor and stared at the whiteness of the ceiling and walls. Counted cracks and imperfections in the plaster. Drank in the silence and unfamiliar scent of a home that wasn't yours. You were just beginning to feel this distress that hurt like no other when the muscles on your back seized reflexively in a movement that would have unfurled your wings.  

This undid you in a tumultuous manner that hit you like a ton of bricks, keeling you till your face was pressed into white unfamiliar sheets and you screamed and screamed for an unknown amount of time till you felt dizzy, clutching at your own hair, at covers, at your own aching neck and at anything that could ground you. Anything at all. 

Your habit of screaming at nothing landed you in a series of unconventional situations at the hotel. When you felt one coming on you would disappear. Into a closet here, a distant unused and red-painted living room there, that smelled of dust and old books. An abandoned office. The cubby under a stair that led to an attic. The sun-warmed balcony beside an upstairs greenhouse full of hellish plants that smacked their teeth greedily at you as you walked past them. 

You had a habit of just sleeping wherever at that point. When you did make it to your room, the King of Hell himself had a habit of busting in toward midmorning to tap his cane on the side of your headboard, yank open the curtains of your small window overlooking the hotel yard and boom, "Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey!" 

And whether you got up or not, the regular visits did not stop. He came by to give you coffee (untouched), a series of meals from the day (left cold as you ignored them before they were swept away and replaced), sometimes to offer spurts of cheerful conversation or anecdotes about the doings of the hotel that you just did not understand at all. Sometimes, you thought, he talked just to hear himself. His voice though was about the only sound you didn't mind. 

Lucifer was small, but his voice tended to carry pretty far. As you laid there with your cheek pressed into your pillow you would hear it in different places around the hotel deep and resonant; snippets of conversation, a golden series of singing notes as he went about his business. 

One night you heard him playing the fiddle, and that was something that finally filled you with an emotion other than this constant panic mixed with numbness that had been clouding your mind for however long you had been here. 

For one, you knew it was him because the sounds he was pulling from this instrument was like no other you had ever experienced. It was a cascade of notes and swirling rhythms that coasted into your open window, filling you with awe, and you couldn't help but go to it and lean out, searching. There he was. Perched like a bird on the balcony outside his room, about a landing below you, all six of his red and white wings unfurled and drifting in the moonlit hellish sky as he played the golden fiddle in his hands like it was an extension of himself. 

The music was both fast and soft, melodic and aching. It was a series of vibrations that didn't seem like it all came from one instrument. There's no way it did because his music harmonized with itself, multifaceted and swirling like the layers in an orchestra. 

 When the music stopped, you leaned out further, bracing your hands against the brick outside your window, your voice hoarse as you yelled, "Hey Lucifer!" 

He looked around for the voice then found you looking at him from the window to his upper right and cheekily tipped his hat at you. 

"Did you really go down to Georgia?" 

"What do you think?" He responded. 

"I think you did," you yelled. You wanted to. You wanted this; to yell, not scream. "But I thought you lost! Why do you still have your golden fiddle?" 

He leaned back and laughed, his wings catching the air when he lost his balance from doing so- he effortlessly looped around to perch back onto the balcony. 

"You know what I did?" 

You looked at him in silence. 

"I went back to that kid and I stole it back. That motherfucker cheated." 

Then came the morning he waltzed in to tap the floor with his cane, walked over to the window and yank the curtains up- oh, that blinding sun-

"Rise and shine!!!" 

"UGH." 

"You know the drill. Let me look at your back, ducky." 

"No." 

Despite your protests he yanked your covers down till your whole pajama-covered self was subject to the elements beyond comfy blanket land and you let out a series of increasingly creative expletives at him that had him chuckling deeply. 

"Good to know they haven't bred the pure sass out of the current angelic generation. Damn. Now stop being cheeky and let me see your back." 

You glared at him for disrupting your peace. 

He deadpan stared back at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Easy way, or hard way. Your choice. But if you want wacky wings when they come back I guess that's on you...whatever! Guess I'll let them grow back crooked!" 

Whistling, he turned to leave. 

"WAIT!" 

Lucifer stopped.

You sighed and turned over till you were on your stomach. You hated your back being messed with, and even though you knew he meant well about it, you gave him hell every time. 

"Go ahead." 

"Good girl," he chirped. "You didn't let me change the dressings yesterday. So mind you this is about to hurt." 

And it did. It was like yanking the bandaid off a scabbed over cut times a thousand, but for once you didn't scream. You'd had enough of that. And the nubs on your back where your wings used to be had taken to itching, bleeding randomly, and then aching through the night which is why you twitched when Lucifer jabbed softly at the left one to test for bone breaks he might have missed on one of the many healing sessions he'd already put you through. 

"Well, well, looky what we have here! It's a pair of little baby wings!!! How adorable." 

You started. "Wait, what??" 

You didn't believe him till you leapt out of bed, made him stand outside the door so you could strip, then stood in front of your floor length mirror to gape at your bare back with trepidous excitement. 

There they were. The beginnings of wing-shaped appendages that, when you reflexively twitched those unused muscles, made them 'unfurl' as best as they could and feathered your shoulders in a motion that felt like a bird tapping you on your arm. 

You dressed quickly, tugging a tank top over your head and grimacing at the scraping of fabric over your delicate brand new wings, dashing to the door to slam it open to find Lucifer standing there grinning. 

"I told you it wouldn't take long," he said impatiently, "But NoooOO, you didn't believe me. Someone said 'oh it's gonna take forever, I'm gonna be a flightless angel for the rest of my life-' what did I tell yah?" 

"You uhhh" 

"I told you. You believed me when I told you how much healing hurt. But not when I reminded you that it wasn't forever. Hmm? Is that not what happened?" 

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. 

"Sorry." 

"Whatever, whatever," he waved off your worries, "We've got CELEBRATING TO DO! It's been long enough. You're coming downstairs for breakfast. And what's more..." 

He was still talking, fully thinking you were right behind him, but his ceaseless cheerful chatter moved off with him as you stood in the hallway and looked back at your plain tiny room...then you looked at the stairs going down to the bottom floor. 

You smiled, knowing that night you were going to ask Charlie for a bigger room after all; maybe one with carpet and its own bathroom.

You were still standing there when Lucifer popped back up to the top of the stairs, wings unfurled keeping him afloat as he stared at you with his arms crossed.  

"Have you even heard a word I've been saying?" 

"I lost you at 'what's more' ," you responded with a little giggle. 

"Oh get your ass downstairs."

"Race you!!" 

"You can't even fly yet-" 

"I didn't say anything about flying!" 

You thumped down the stairs with Lucifer hot on your heels, cursing at you for your head start, your laughter eventually echoing together in the sunwarmed hallway as you ran down to your first real breakfast in the Hazbin Hotel.