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jonesy-and-max · 11 months

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part 10: Snap-Mart

“Soup is Good Food,” by Dead Kennedys blared from the rickety van as Max parked in front of Snap-Mart. The purple, yellow, and pink sign read SNAP-MART in bold, italicized letters, a snapping hand with three sharp, little lightning bolts zapped from the pointer and thumb in illuminated neon. White fluorescent light poured from the gallery windows, its flow blocked only by various advertisements for various sales, deals, their famous Mighty Guzzler frozen drinks (Don’t forget your First Wives Club Collector’s Cup!), and three fliers for “Italian Wedding @ the Silver Mine! Saturday - Doors Open 7p!” that made Jonesy’s skin crawl. Though the sun had increasingly dipped under the horizon, Snap-Mart’s parking lot remained well-lit.

Max once more checked the clock on his dash. It was now five-twenty five, and they were starting to become uncomfortably behind schedule. Jonesy cleaned out and reassembled her inhaler and followed behind Gina who had already headed into the convenience store.

Bing-Bong

The door chimed for each member of the trio, alerting the clerk at the counter to the new customers.

“Yooo!” The familiar shy baritone of Jonesy and Max’s D&D comrade-in-arms, Azrael greeted them with delight. The fifteen year old goth was just as tall as Jonesy, but always stood with a self-conscious stoop in his posture. His straight black hair had gotten very long lately, now reaching down to his painted black fingernails. His silver rings clinked as he waved to his older friends, but especially towards Jonesy.

“What up, Azrael.” Jonesy gave the boy a salute and made a quick turn towards the nacho bar while Max made a beeline to his pale pal. Azrael’s crush on her made her uncomfortable, he was a genuinely kind-hearted kid, he liked poetry and despite his obsession with death and decay, he wrote flowery poems about nature and romance. His mom and dad were Chinese immigrants, and were always warmly welcoming to her and Max when they would go over to his place to game. All of this only served to tie her stomach up in guilty knots whenever she saw him. Best to just avoid contact as much as possible until he moved on to another object of his affections.

Azrael’s eyes followed Jonesy for a few seconds with pained longing before pulling them to meet Max.

“Dude! Opening day!!” Max drummed on the countertop. “After the weird as fuck day I’m having, it’s all gonna be worth it when my ass hits that seat and the lights go down.”

“So jealous, dude. I don’t get out til nine tonight. Sucks.” Azrael tried to find Jonesy again, but could only make out the top of her head.

“Bogus, dude.” Max started cramming bags of Reese's Pieces, gummi bears, and various candy bars into his jacket while Azrael’s attention was noticeably elsewhere.

“How’s Jonesy doing?” Azrael asked.

“Uh. Fine. We had a run-in with the dynamic dildos earlier, Farley & Greg, and they kind of got in her head, but I think she’s finally comin’ out the other side.”

Azrael’s attention finally came back to Max, “Shit. Should I try to scrape those fliers off the window? I told them not to put those there, but they just ignored me.”

“Don’t sweat it. We have more important things to discuss! Before I tell you my story, though, dude, what happened with the fuckin’ seance?? Did you see anything??”

Azrael smiled, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a polaroid. He handed it to Max, “You tell me.” He said.

In the inky night of the cemetery, illuminated by two candles set atop respective gravestones there could be seen, what some might interpret, as the ghostly image of a hand. Its long, boney fingers, reaching out of the darkness.

“Holy shit, Az. Is that…”

“Mr. Crooked Bones. My summoning worked. Or at least partially. I’m still alive, so…” He gave a small shrug.

“Shyeah, for now. Shit, dude!”

“I didn’t have the rest of the enchantments I needed to give him corporeal form. Plus I’m still cleaning that cat’s jawbone I got from that roadkill. If I’m gonna really summon Mr. Crooked Bones, I need a talisman to protect me. Last night was really just a test.”

“Well, don’t finish it without me n’ Jonesy.”

“Oh, totally, dude.”

The two of them fist bumped, making an exploding noise on impact.

“Mutually assured destruction!” They said in unison.

“So, what happened to you today?” Azrael circled back.

“You are not going to believe this!” Max leaned in closer. “So you remember the story of Futureland Arcade…”

Gina lazily perused the drinks, opening the case and pulling out a can of soda, shaking it up, and putting it back. Through the fogging glass of the door she found herself staring at Max as he chatted with the goth kid that worked behind the counter. He’s so gross. God, why does my sister hang out with that loser? I wonder if they’re fucking or something. Gina furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose, laughing to herself, Ha-ha, shyah, as if. She rolled her eyes and wiped the fog so she could continue her observations. He’s kinda funny, though. That would’ve been funny if like, when she had come out of the back and, like, me and Max were like…we were kissing or whatever. Ugh. So fucking gross. Gina looked at her shoes, chuckled and looked back at Max. My sister would lose her mind if I kissed him. That’d be so gross. If we kissed. She took out another can of soda, shook it up until it was tight with agitated carbonation and put it back. Why did he invite me to the movie? Why would he want me to come with them? She looked around, making sure no one was looking at her, and continued watching Max through the foggy glass. What the fuck is happening here? Her thoughts seemed concerned. He smells like a wet dog.

Jonesy stared at the nacho bar in awe. The fresh nachos were housed in a deep basin, underneath a roof of warming lights, next to a variety of fixins such as chopped jalapenos, black olives, diced onions, black beans, salsa, and ground beef. A faint sizzling could be heard in harmony with the hum of the lights. It gave Jonesy a sense of calm and understanding she would never be able to express in mere words. She touched the goosebumps on her arms and leaned forward to feel the warmth against her face. She closed her eyes and smiled, opening them again slowly, they moved to the right to see the keg of liquid cheese.

“Well, hello there you.” She winked at the keg, biting her lip and putting a flirty finger on its pump. “My daddy warned me about girls like you.”

She snatched up a basket, loaded it with hot nachos and pumped glob after glob of neon golden cheese onto them until they swam amongst the gooey goodness like a frenzy of sharks, their dorsal fins only just breaching the surface. She munched and crunched, sucking the cheese of her fingers as she went back in for more. Every so often checking for any unwanted observers like a watchful meerkat in the African plains. Loading her basket back up and beginning the feast anew.

“It’s not fair that you can’t just eat this cheese. Like, just fill up a cup and eat with a spoon. Because of “SOCIETY.” She said to herself, complete with cheese stained finger quotes. She ruminated for a minute before her eyes wandered over to the self service soda fountain. There were cups there. Empty cups. Cups for filling. You would be a trailblazer. Who’s gonna stop you?? Azrael?? As if!! AZ if! She giggled to herself. She chuckled and giggled and snorted as she pulled a large cup and rushed back to the nacho bar.

“Yo. That’s absolutely, fuckin’ insane!” Azrael was in awe listening to Max’s tale of the Futureland Queen Rat. “Dude! We have to go back there.”

“You read my mind, sir. This time though, I’ll be prepared.” Max mimicked pulling out a couple of swords from behind his back.

“We’ll take back the arcade! For Lake’s End! For mankind!”

“For us,” Max added, “For fame and fortune!”

The two fist bumped again.

“You know,” Azrael thought aloud, “The way everything collapsed and remained completely intact…I wonder if it has anything to do with the -”

“Oh! With the heavy -”

Max and Azrael tripped over each other’s words, both trying to get to the point at the same time.

“UFO presence!” They said in unison.

The two of them had bonded significantly over their love of the paranormal and the unexplained. They had fantasized about becoming full time supernatural investigators more than once.

“The area over the strip mall has been a hotbed of UFO activity since, like, the sixties.” Max continued.

“I wonder if they’d been excavating some kind of base underneath the arcade.” Azrael posited.

“It makes sense…”

Jonesy placed her basket of cheese (that happened to have nachos in it) down on the counter, “You guys aren’t talking about the Lake’s End Dracula again are you? I keep telling you guys, it’s just an old mannequin in a field.” She rolled her eyes and dunked a hot dog into a large cup of nacho cheese.

“Uh, how much of that cheese have you eaten?” Azrael asked.

“A lady never tells and a gentleman never asks!” Jonesy dunked her dog back into her cheese cup. She took a bite and rolled her eyes back in ecstasy, “Fuuuuck yesss, dude.”

Gina joined them at the counter, placing a bubblegum flavored Mighty Guzzler next to her sister’s nachos.

“This was the important thing you had to get at the store?” Jonesy raised an eyebrow.

Gina just shrugged dismissively, “Can we go now?”

“Shit! What time is it?” Max suddenly realized how long they’d been dicking around Snap-Mart.

Azrael checked his watch, “Five-forty-two.”

“Shit! Ok, yeah, we gotta go, come on everyone, back in the van, giddyup!” Everyone threw some cash on the counter as Max began hustling them towards the exit, “Game tomorrow, Az?”

“Oh, definitely.” Azrael smiled.

Gina was first at the door, already pushing it open as she turned from Max’s face to look straight ahead. Through the glass she could see two figures in the parking lot. As it became clear to her who those figures were, a sinking feeling dropped in her stomach. She stopped short, Max and her sister crashed into her and the three of them walked into the door, Gina’s face mashed against the glass, leaving a clear outline of oil, foundation, and lip gloss.

“Gina!” Jonesy yelped, “The shit, dude?”

Gina pushed them back and searched for an escape route in her mind. She had avoided telling them the real reason she was tagging along and was desperate not to reveal herself. She looked over her shoulder and could see the figures were headed directly for the store.

“Are you okay?” Max asked.

“Fine!” Gina blurted out. “Fine! Okay. Like, okay. Right now, Jennifer C. and Jennifer K. are in the parking lot. They’re headed this way.”

“So? Aren’t those dicks your friends?” Jonesy crossed her arms.

“Yeah. But, like, also no. Okay. I’m going to level with you guys. I kinda thought if I just hung around you guys, I’d be able to avoid them. They don’t exactly hang in the same circles as you two.”

“Not sure what that means, but continue.” Jonesy raised an eyebrow.

“Are they looking for you?” Max was excited about the potential for drama, “Are they gonna kick your ass?”

“Is that how you got the bruise??” Jonesy’s face became almost motherly in her concern. Angry, disappointed, but concerned for her sister’s well-being.

Gina avoided eye contact, “Yeah. Jeinnfer C. shoved my head into my locker when I wasn't looking.” She was embarrassed that she let Jennifer C. get such a cheap shot in.

“Oh, she’s fucking dead.” Jonesy cracked her knuckles.

Max put a hand on Jonesy’s shoulder, “Wait a second. So why exactly do they wanna kick your ass?” Max knew there was a little more to this story than what Gina was letting on.

Gina rolled her eyes and let out a huff, “Jennifer C. thinks I blew her boyfriend.”

“Does she think that…because you did?” Jonesy asked.

Gina shoved Jonesy, “No, skidmark! I blew her ex-boyfriend. She has a new boyfriend. Who I did not blow!”

Max thought for a moment, “So, who gives a shit?”

Gina shrugged, with some attitude, and hugged herself. She crouched down in a fetal position and groaned. Jonesy kneeled next to her and put her hand on her back.

“Hey, like, are they really gonna beat you up or whatever? Cause, I won’t let that happen.”

“Yeah, dude, me either.” Max added.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll deal with it by myself…I always do.” Gina said, her face buried in her arms.

Jonesy’s heart broke for her sister. A life, a world, she was not aware of laid bare in those few words. The hurt, loneliness, and shame, it hit her like an arrow through the chest. The anger inside Jonesy began to bubble to the surface. She stood back up and tapped Max on the chest with the back of her hand.

“Hey, Max?”

“Yeah, Jonesy?”

“I think we should have a little talk with Jennifer C.”

Max smiled with anarchic glee, revealing his fang.

#opening day #story #oc #original story #ao3 #writing #original characters #videocreator #clerks #90s #nostalgia #ao3 writer #punk #dead kennedys

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some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer?#He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :)#fanfiction #writing

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