The workshop doors slammed open with a clatter, and the sound of frantic little footsteps echoed through the hall long before Lucifer appeared. A blur of pink robes, bouncing blonde hair, and squeaking duck noises zipped around the corner like a wind-up toy set loose.

“Moonliiiight!” he called out in a sing-song shout, breathless with excitement and pride.

He practically skidded into the living room, clutching something carefully in both hands as if it were the most precious artifact in all of Hell. There, sprawled comfortably across the enormous couch, was his towering wife—his Moonlight—resting in serene silence. Her massive form filled the space like a soft, comforting mountain, and Lucifer’s heart immediately soared just seeing her.

Without hesitation, he bounded forward, scrambling up onto the couch with the determination of a tiny creature scaling a beloved cliffside. His feet padded softly across the cushions as he made his way up beside her, settling himself close enough to lean against her warm fur.

He held the object out with both hands, arms stretched as far as they could go, his entire face glowing with anticipation.

“Moonlight! Look, look, look!” he beamed, eyes sparkling. “I made you a new duckie!”

Nestled in his palms was a lovingly crafted little duck—bright, shiny, and clearly handmade with an absurd amount of passion. This one wore a tiny crescent-moon crown, delicately carved and painted, matching the nickname he reserved only for her. Its wings were accented with soft silver details, and when he squeezed it gently, it released the smallest, sweetest squeak.

Lucifer bounced once where he sat, practically vibrating with energy.

“It’s a Moon-Duck! Just for you! I thought—well—I thought it should be pretty, like you,” he said, his voice tumbling out in a rush. “I got the wings right this time! And—and—and it even sparkles when the light hits it!”

He leaned forward, carefully placing the duck on her massive chest, right where he could see it against her fur. His expression softened into something almost reverent.

“I wanted you to have it the moment I finished,” he whispered with a goofy, lovestruck grin. “My Moonlight deserves the first squeak.”

He snuggled in closer, tiny against her huge form, already proud, already waiting for nothing more than the warmth of her quiet presence as he rested beside her—his gift safely delivered.