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Lucifer Morningstar had always been a creature of contradiction, and that hadn't changed after the birth of his daughter, Rory. The world he once ruled—Hell—was still his responsibility, a realm he had once burned with his wrath, now a place he was supposed to govern with a steady, paternal hand. But, there were nights when the temptation to escape that responsibility became unbearable. And so, under the cover of darkness, Lucifer would sneak away, slipping through the cracks of his commitment, to return to the one place that felt like home—the family he had to leave behind. Specifically the soft, rhythmic breath of their newborn daughter.
It wasn't that Lucifer didn't love his daughter, nor that he didn't want to be the father she deserved. Quite the opposite, actually. But he had made Rory a promise. It was never meant to be easy. He had been sentenced to eternity in Hell, and for the sake of all he had ever known, he should have stayed. But Rory's small hands, her delicate features—each moment spent watching her sleep shattered the walls he had so carefully built around his own heart.
And so, he would return. Night after night, Lucifer found his way to Chloe’s home, his movements quiet as he let himself in through the window, which, despite everything, was never quite locked. A subtle invitation, he thought, though Chloe would probably be upset to find him in here, failing to keep his promise—well, perhaps not. He didn't know for sure what she would think of it, nor if she wasn’t already aware of his sleepless nights spent with their daughter.
The familiarity of it all made his heart ache—both in the most beautiful and painful ways.
At first, he told himself it was only for a moment. Just a brief visit. He would cradle Rory when she stirred in her sleep, a soft lullaby on his lips. She would settle, and then he would leave. Chloe wouldn’t know. But as the weeks passed, the visits became longer.
He watched Rory grow, those small, early milestones—the first time she grabbed his finger, her tiny giggle echoing in the quiet room. He couldn’t stop himself. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back to Hell, but for the first time in his life, Lucifer Morningstar wasn’t just a ruler; he was a father. And there was something deeply addictive in that feeling—something that made every second in her presence a precious eternity he couldn't let go of.
Could he do this? Could he be both a father and the Devil? The answer was no. He knew it. But each time he picked Rory up from her crib, soothing her soft cries as he made the most for Chloe to catch up on sleep, Lucifer told himself he would leave. He had to.
But he did not.
Still, as the days turned to weeks, the weight of his decision began to press harder on him. Rory was four months old now. A beautiful, spirited little thing, but oh, how she refused to sleep. She would cry in the middle of the night, and Lucifer found himself hovering over her crib, rocking her gently as her tiny fists flailed. His heart would break in those moments—when she needed comfort, and he was the only one who could give it. Chloe deserved her rest. She was a detective, and her work was never-ending. But Lucifer? He had nothing but time. And so, he stayed, preventing Chloe from waking up and having restless nights.
He would rock her until her cries softened and turned to soft coos. It felt as though time slowed, as though the entire world fell away and all that mattered was this tiny person in his arms, the little one who carried both his and Chloe’s blood, the girl he would do anything to protect.
Lucifer never stayed long enough to see the morning light, but even so, each time he left, it was a piece of himself that stayed behind, cradled in the warmth of the home he should never have allowed himself to be a part of. He could hear Chloe stirring in the other room, no doubt waking to find him gone again, just as always. It had become a silent routine.
One night, after another of Rory’s fits of sleeplessness, Lucifer was sitting in the chair by the crib, Rory nestled in his arms, her eyes fluttering as she fell back into a peaceful sleep. His lips brushed the soft crown of Rory’s head, overwhelmed by the depth of love he felt for this tiny human. His voice, normally smooth and filled with wit, was now tender, thick with emotion as he whispered softly into her ear, "I love you, little one. You are the best thing I have ever known. I never knew love could feel like this. Never. But now I do. And I will always protect you, no matter what." His fingers gently stroked her tiny cheek, his heart swelling with the unspoken promise he had made, knowing that this was all he could give her for now, and that these night visits would have to end up pretty soon as she’d quickly—too quickly grow up.
He lingered for a few more moments, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Despite her earlier cries, she had settled into a peaceful sleep now, her small hand loosely gripping his finger. Lucifer couldn't tear his gaze away from her.
But the quiet comfort that filled him was short-lived. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion of countless sleepless nights catching up to him. There was something about this moment—the stillness of the room, the rhythmic sound of Rory's breathing, the warmth of her in his arms—that was too peaceful, too comforting to resist. Lucifer, the Devil, the immortal being who had spent millennia in torment and fire, finally found himself succumbing to something he had never allowed before: peace.
And so, he sat there, cradling her gently, his head finally dipping as the weight of sleep overtook him. The soft rocking motion of the chair continued on its own, but Lucifer’s breaths became slow and steady. He had eventually fallen asleep, his body curled into the warmth of the nursery, with Rory resting against his chest. For a moment, there was no Devil, no ruler of Hell, no ancient torment. There was only the quiet, loving bond between a father and his child.
Then…
“You shouldn’t be here, Lucifer…”
He crooked an eye open, suddenly taking in the sight of Chloe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.
Busted.
“I…I—”
“I know,” Chloe whispered.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The tension in the air was thick, and yet it was full of something else: understanding, acceptance. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t make excuses. He simply looked at her, as if he was waiting for her reaction.
Chloe’s lips quirked into a soft, understanding smile. “Lucifer,” she said quietly, her voice laced with affection and something deeper.
Lucifer gave a small, weary smile in return, his voice hoarse from sleep. "I know," he murmured, his words barely above a whisper. There was no need for more—no need for explanations, no need for excuses. The quiet truth hung between them, unspoken but understood. "I couldn’t help myself. She’s... she’s everything, Chloe."
Chloe nodded, her eyes softening as she stepped closer to him. “I’m not mad, Lucifer. I never was,” she said, her voice gentle, but with a quiet knowing that seemed to echo in the room. “Besides, I had this gut feeling... nights with a newborn were surprisingly too peaceful,” she let out a soft chuckle, the sound of it a relief in the midst of their unspoken tension. “But you have to be careful. You can’t keep doing this forever.”
Lucifer’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. “I know,” he replied, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed a lock of hair away from Rory’s peaceful face. His voice softened. "But I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to leave you, either."
“I don’t want you to leave, either,” she whispered. There it was—something between them that neither had truly acknowledged until now. The absence of Hell, the absence of the Devil, of the eternal torment he had spent so many centuries drowning in. All of it faded into the background, replaced by the quiet reality of the family they had built together.
With a deep sigh, Lucifer shifted his weight, slowly making space for Chloe beside him. She settled into the chair next to him, curling into Lucifer’s side, the soft warmth of each other’s presence a balm to their souls. The room seemed to breathe with them, the low hum of the night air wrapping around them as they both looked down at Rory, so small and fragile in her slumber. The faintest curl of her lips as she breathed, the tiny twitch of her fingers—it was all so precious, so fleeting.
The weight of the world seemed to dissipate for those few minutes. In the stillness of the nursery, with only the soft glow of the moonlight casting shadows on the walls, Lucifer wasn’t the Devil, and Chloe wasn’t the forbidden fruit. They were simply two people, together, marveling at the gift they had in their arms.
Lucifer couldn’t help but smile as he watched their daughter. "She’ll grow up too fast, won’t she?" His voice was low, almost reverent, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. "One day, I’ll have to let go until you… you know..."
Chloe’s eyes softened, and she nodded, her chest tightening. “She will, and… I know,” she said quietly. “But for now, she’s ours. Just for now.”
Lucifer looked down at Rory, his expression filled with a quiet sorrow that wasn’t born of regret, but rather the understanding of the inevitable. And in that realization, the sadness of what was to come washed over him like an unexpected wave. The time they had together, the stolen moments, would one day be nothing but memories. Lucifer felt his heart swell with both love and an aching sadness, a bittersweet understanding that made the present so much more precious.
“I’ll cherish this time,” Lucifer murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll cherish every second I have with her.”
Chloe placed her hand gently over his, her fingers brushing against his skin in a silent agreement. "We will," she whispered. "We’ll cherish it. All of it."
The room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as Chloe rested her head against his chest, her eyes never leaving Rory. They sat there in that small, sacred space, watching their daughter sleep. Time seemed to stretch out, bending around them in that moment, each of them silently acknowledging the impermanence of the life they had built. And yet, there was peace in that, a kind of acceptance that the love they shared—though fleeting—was worth every sacrifice, every challenge, every decision that had led them to this point.
Lucifer kissed the top of Rory’s head gently, his fingers tracing the curve of her tiny ear. "I love you, little one," he whispered once more, the words slipping into the quiet air between them like a sacred vow. "And I love you too, Chloe.”
Chloe didn’t respond verbally. She didn’t need to. Her hand squeezed his, and in that simple touch, they understood each other completely. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not Hell. Not the world. Not the future. Just the three of them—together.
For now, they had each other. For now, they would cherish this moment, these quiet nights, before the world changed again. Before Rory grew up and the visits stopped, before the time would come when Lucifer could no longer sneak in through the window to cradle his daughter and whisper promises in her ear.
But that was a tomorrow they didn’t have to face today.
And so, they stayed. In the stillness of the night, the world outside could wait. They had time, and that was all they needed. For now, they were just a family. For just a little while, Lucifer could be a father, and Chloe could let him. And in that stillness, they found a peace neither had known they were capable of.