The Songbird and the Serpent (Lucifer Morningstar X Reader)

Bad Moon Rising

Author's Note: I got you guys a slightly long chapter as an apology for taking so long! We changed Wi-Fi companies, I had to deal with some family issues, and a breakup... so I apologize for the late chapter. And uh... I didn't like what I wrote and started over. Writer's block sucks. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

WARNING: There will be mature themes such as: profanity, violence, and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

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The sky above Hell blazed with a constant, otherworldly red hue, casting a crimson glow over the landscape. The streets below were a chaotic mix of demonic residents, all going about their daily routines amidst the pandemonium. I stand at the top of the fire escape attached to the side of the club, not ready to go to work just yet.

It had been a few days since I last spoke with Lucifer. I wondered if he had told Charlie the truth -- if things were really okay. Several times, I had nearly sent him a text, only to delete it before pressing send. I kept second-guessing myself, ultimately deciding to wait for him to reach out first.

The metal staircase shuddered slightly as I made my way down the fire escape. With a couple of hours before the club opened, I would join my co-workers to get everything ready. Dax, as usual, was likely hiding in his office, emerging only when something demanded his attention -- or when he craved it.

When I got downstairs, a note was taped to the club door. Above the note was a sign saying the club was closed for the day.

"SB! My little birdie, I need you to run some personal errands for me. The club will be closed today, so think of these errands as your job for the day. On the other side of this note is the things I need you to do. Once you're done, enjoy the rest of your day off!

--Your Charming Boss, Dax"

Strange -- he's never closed the club before. I frowned, plucking the note off the door and flipping it over. Scrawled in messy handwriting were ten different errands he wanted me to run. The man was old-fashioned, refusing to rely on technology. If he needed anything, he'd either leave a note or show up at my door.

Great. He knew I hadn't ventured beyond this neighborhood since moving here, and now I had to navigate around Hell on my own? Why couldn't he handle this himself, like he usually did? Or ask one of the other employees? I sighed and headed back up to change out of my work clothes. Once I was ready, I checked the first errand on his list.

"Run to my friend's residence and pick up a package for me. And no peeking!!! Here's the address--"

I fold the note and slip it into the pocket of my bag, mentally preparing myself for the errands ahead. At least it's a break from the club, I think, as I step back out into the busy streets of Hell.

With each step away from the club, anxiety gnawed at me. I had this looming fear of dread that wanted to swallow me whole. By the time I reached the crosswalk that left my neighborhood, my breath was shallow, and the world around me blurred. That day came back to me and I realize I never gave myself time to process my death. If I had just put my foot down and ignored my boss, I wouldn't be dead. I never got to do any of the things I wanted to do. I had been so caught up with all the drama in my life and when I was finally free from it, I died. I couldn't help but feel guilty about being selfish, I ended up saving someone after all.

My legs felt like lead, my heart pounding in my ears. I kept inching forward, trying to cross the street, not paying attention. It wasn't until a horn blared that I snapped back to the present. A car screeched to a halt just inches away from me. I stumbled back, falling hard on the pavement. The rough asphalt scraped my hands, but the sting was nothing compared to the cold sweat that had broken out across my skin.