#&. ( lucifer ) a fiddle of gold against your soul.

[errantsouls]

“A bridge. Throw yourself.” @ papa — shit i heard at college ( accepting ) / @loyaltyson

" That was rude. Wow. Who taught you manners? " He chews on that thought for a moment, makes a show of it, makes a show of realization. " Oh, right, right. " He tchs his tongue, disappointed, and exhales a theatrical sigh, gaze shifting skyward as though begging for help. " The one who had to be taught not to bring his flaming sword to the dinner table, giving lessons in manners. Wonderful. "

[tomb-of-flora]

Okay so I am VERY late to adoring Supernatural. I watched it for the first time last year and I've been wanting to share thoughts but I feel like I'm just so late to the party it's all been said. But then I realized it was stupid to care about that, so I'm going to talk about probably my favorite line in the show.

In the S5 finale "Swan Song", right before Lucifer posesses Sam he says, "A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you."

Now obviously this is a fun reference to "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" and it's a super well delivered line. It's funny to have Lucifer himself reference the song and it's an intimdating opening to their internal battle. But my FAVORITE thing about this line is the fact that the Devil loses in the song. The Devil is both cocky and desperate and because of that he picks a fight he absolutely cannot win and Johnny humilates him.

Lucifer isn't just goading Sam, he's reminding him of a story where someone bet against the Devil and won—of a time where human pride overcame demonic pride. He is literally goading Sam into being cocky by implying that he's being too cocky himself. He's telling him that he thinks he's gonna win, but maybe that's the reason Sam will win. And then, of course, Lucifer does win and steal Sam's body.

I just think it's such a brilliant and nuanced line packaged in such a perfect reference. I've thought about this line nearly every day since I first heard it.

[reallifeorfantasy97]

This part right here?

Will never not be the funniest thing ever.

Lucifer and Alastor are going toe-to-toe about who's the best help/dad to Charlie, and Lucifer whips out this bad boy.

And it is fucking perfect because it is literally "I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I'm better than you". 😂

Image Description: An image of Lucifer, from the waist up, standing in a spotlight. He’s playing a golden fiddle, wearing a comical frown- eyes wide, brows frowned, lips turned way down.

[errantsouls]

He's not surprised. He would have been more surprised if he'd said yes, because the point of this whole exercise wasn't that it was an actual offer: it was to watch this, and, maybe, prove a point — even if it is just solidifying that point to himself.

He never really had much fear about it being accepted. Not really. Because he spent enough time in the cage with those two to know that —— 

❝ Of course not. ❞ And the Devil smiles benignly, seemingly with all the understanding in the world. ❝ And it’s okay. Truly. It is. To be selfish. To want to save yourself. ❞ 

He spreads his hands. ❝ See: the kind of crazy I don’t respect are the self-sacrificial idiots. The ones who throw themselves into damnation again and again because they aren’t smart enough to think of other ways —— ❞ He tilts his head just barely, those blue eyes fiercely bright. ❝ Maybe you aren’t so much like your brothers after all. Interesting. Here I thought it was hard-coded. ❞

There’s a moment of hesitation, that anger still smouldering in his rib cage.. but it flickers slightly. Of course he knows better than to trust Lucifer. They were cage mates, after all. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice back then. Tortured in the cage, his only company being Michael, Lucifer, and for a very short amount of time- Sam.

Adam was intimately familiar with the cage… though not to the extent of the crazed angel in front of him. He can vividly remember the pain, the agony. He remembers every second of Hell. And he won’t forget it either.

He’s angry with himself… for the fact that he even briefly considers this little challenge, this little deal that Lucifer spreads in front of him. There’s a piece of him that believes it’s all in jest, that the Morningstar was just being dramatic to make a point.

But what if it’s legitimate? What if…

He has to stop himself from thinking too much… because he knows what he would do… If it meant locking up Lucifer for eternity… throwing away the key? The only price being his eternal damnation?

He’d jump back in without much hesitation.

What is he but an insignificant speck in the story of the universe? He’s nobody. Ten years in the cage he spent. For ten years he was forgotten. Even to his blood, he was nothing. What a price to pay… nothing in the eyes of the rest of the world.

“No.”

[violetpurpleviolet]

Supernatural , Season 5 , Episode 22

Swan song

Also is this like the first time “Carry on my Wayward Son” is played? I know it’s like the theme song. But it’s the first time actually hearing it in an episode.

OG Percy Jackson fangirl , and can’t keep seeing Adam as Luke (Though i refuse to admit that movie exists)

The chuck intro was so sad?? Also his writing wasn’t that crappy as people claimed?

“A fiddle of gold against your soul, says I’m better than you.”

Wow, Jared’s acting here is peak. I love it!

WAS THAT A STAR WARS REFERENCE FROM LUCIFER? “Such anger , young Skywalker”

Lucifer says “We’re two half’s made full , M.F.E.O.” When did Lucifer get all this slang? Is it like him taking a bit of Sam’s memories or something?

MFEO - I had to look it up , Made for Each other.

Also, Lucifer wants Sam happy.

Oh my Azaleas gang. Wait I’m still confused to why so many other were also fed demon blood for the plan then? If they knew it was Sam all along?

Chucks narration is killing me. I am killed.

“But they were never in fact homeless”

Why is Dean so.. Dean?

Is it bad that I feel Lucifer makes more sense? That no one can make “God” do anything.

Hahahahahah Dean.

I love that he’s doing it his way , and ofc he’ll give himself intro music.

“Hey , Ass-Butt” Iconic Castiel line.

“Castiel did you just Molotov my brother , with holy fire?”

“No one dicks with Michael but me” What the?

Bobby dies? :( (I know he’s there in later seasons)

“Sam it’s okay , I’m here , I’m not gonna leave you”

the Impala.

Wow. I loved that it wasn’t music , but just wind during that scene. It was wow.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean , I got him”

Did he take Michael in with him??? whaaaat?

Also , Sam’s look of fear before jumping. And then looking at Dean. And then falling in.

It reminds me of the scene where Dean is going to say yes , and then looks at Sam and says no.

Bobby is dead , Sammy is dead.

“Cas, are you god?”

oh Bobby is back too! :/

“What would you rather have Dean, Peace or Freedom?”

because he made a promise.

Did Chuck just disappear?

Uh? what?

[tuninghearts]

A long day at the hotel calls for Alastor to have a rest. An unexpected visitor appears down the street, and he finds himself returning home with him.

Radioapple Week - Day 1

Prompt: Late Night/Early Morning

“Alastor,” Charlie gleams. “Where are you heading?”

“To clear my mind,” Alastor informs. Nights at the hotel, especially if they were to the brim with duties, lures him to a drink at the bar downtown. To quench his thirst, to soothe the soul that hasn’t earned enough rest.

“Oh, well, that’s alright.” She smiled, lights above making her glitter with a soft glow. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll be back before daybreak, don’t worry.”

~

Asphalt was kicked beneath his shoes—the roads that cower from buildings were much dirtier than he last remembered. He shouldn’t be taken aback; Hell was no circus of whimsical joy and happy-go-lucky citizens, it burns with ruthlessness and devils not willing to spare mercy to the unfortunate. A pot mixed of past sins and more to be collected in its putrid shell.

Purple disco lights wash over the floor in front of him when he steps inside. Music blares from the speakers, rattling whatever soul was left inside of him. The bar was in the corner, and he took his seat on a stool next to him, creaking with displeasure.

“One shot of whiskey, please?” Alastor asks the bartender. Laughter ensued beside him.

“Yeah, and you know, it was gone by the end of the day,” the man laughs, wrecked by the effects of the alcohol. The white coat—though drizzled with a dozen stains—was not unrecognisable. It was Lucifer, the King of Hell, uncommon to be seen fiddling in matters of Hell. A pleasure to meet him, for having royalty in his fingertips was a delight he’d lick off in an instant.

He met him once and bad blood flowed through their veins, entangling them in a dozen problems, but it wasn’t one that could escape through the grasp of his fist. However, it’s docile, or at least in his definition, for it’s not blood-curdling screams and suffering, it’s not toying with the boundary of life and death—it’s about fatherly relationships with his daughter.

“Good morning, sir. Didn’t expect to see you at this time of day, or night, as I should call it," Alastor laughs, as the glass was set atop the table in front of him.

“Alastor, we meet again,” Lucifer tips his back against the air. “What brings you down here?"

“Clearing my head of the Hazbin Hotel.” The drooping of his face was exquisite. He could taste gold on his tongue. “How about you?”

“What’s not to do in Hell, you know?” Lucifer giggles, and his arm topples upon Alastor’s shoulder. It’s deathly cold, it sends pinpricks up his nerves until they fry him to bits. His shoulder moves away from his touch, and it nearly sends him crumbling to the floor. “Jeez, warn me before you do something like that.”

“Warn me before you do something like that.”

Lucifer’s face sours, lemon sprouting from the corners of his lips, before he picks up his cup of beer and takes a sip. “Why are you sitting next to me if you despise me so much?”

“I don’t despise you like that, don’t worry. You’re much better than the thousands of demons here.” The glass curls in his fingers, and the whiskey runs past his tongue.

“I didn’t need a ‘don’t worry’ for that information, but thanks.”

~

He couldn’t count on his fingers how many seconds had passed.

He found himself sitting in the bar, Lucifer laughing at some joke that creeped from the soft lining of his throat, somehow bursting with flowers and not painful agony. The alcohol reeked from him, and he could hear it in his own voice, see it in his own actions. It’s odd, he had never let himself loosen up, even under the influence.

“Say, it’s been lovely having a conversation with you,” Lucifer smiles, and he never thought he could make daisies appear from him. “Would you like to come home with me?”

“Your place? What the hell are we going to do there?”

“I figured that you may not want to pass out on the street, so why not have you come home with me?”

“Oh, sure,” Alastor chuckles. “Wait, Charlie… I told Charlie I’d be back—”

“I’ll let her know where you are, don’t worry about it. Now, take a hold of my hand, and let’s head to my place. If you want to hold my hand, and if you want to go to my place, that is.”

He slips his hand into his, and with a delicate force, Lucifer’s fingers entwine with his. Ribbons that should not be locked together to form a bow, but they somehow were able to create something magical, something beautiful, from the ruins of themselves. With a snap of a finger, golden swirls envelop them, and he’s in Lucifer's room.

“Welcome to my room,” Lucifer smiles, as he takes a step back. “Quite messy, I know.” A cloth on the floor—Alastor presumes it to be a shirt that hasn't been washed or picked up from the floor since it was last disposed of—was kicked to the side. “Come on, get in bed with me.”

"With you?”

“Or—Or, you can take the bed instead. Don’t worry about me, I can sleep fine on the floor.”

“No, no.” Alastor didn’t know what made his mouth move like clockwork, but somehow, he finds the gears turning faster than he can manage—it whizzes into volts of electricity that scald him and push past the barrier of his control. “You can sleep with me, don’t worry.”

“Really? Then, come in. Oh, wait, we need new clothes.” He stumbles to his closet, and the doors swing open, crashing into the wall behind them. He was surprised to know a dent was made in delicate wallpaper. “Oh, my bad,” he giggles. “Here, take your pick. You like red, right? Here, take this.” A red shirt and black pants were picked from the darkness and thrown in Alastor’s direction.

His current attire slipped from his body, and Lucifer’s did too, as he can hear a duet of clothes toppling to the floor. The new clothes were tight, hugging his skin in an uncomfortable manner, but with his head surrounded with clouds of haziness, the bed seems to be his only priority.

Lucifer, in a yellow shirt that flows along to the breeze, along with white shorts, crawls into bed. “Come, lie down. We don’t have to cuddle, or anything.”

“Who said anything about cuddling?” Alastor laughs, before he gets under the blanket. “Though, I appreciate your consideration for me.”

“Good night, Alastor.” Lucifer turns around in bed, and Alastor lays his head in silk.

~

He loathed the day more than he expected.

His head aches with confusion and a terrible hangover. Skin-tight fabric was never so harsh on his body until he felt himself being drawn away from slumber. Unfamiliar purple wallpaper sets in his hazy irises, and that’s when the realisation hits him like an arrow.

This isn’t my room.

“What the—” He jolts upright, to the agony of his spine. Lucifer yawned, as his fist rubs against his eyelids.

With a faint rasp to his voice, Lucifer grumbles: “Alastor?”

~~~

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

[errantsouls]

Brilliant eyes hold to her, unbreaking. Unblinking. Inhuman, and not even pretending otherwise. There's a balance here — like a marble balanced precarious on the tip of a knife — because oh, human souls are so little to one such as he. To one side, it falls somewhere safe, somewhere soft. The other, hellfire.

She answers. The marble wobbles, steadies. Doesn't fall.

He waves a hand. " Oh, everyone loves to have someone to blame. The devil tempts, the devil punishes. I'm why they lost their job. Their marriage. They broke their leg. Taking punches for all of, " and there's a hesitation, a bristle of power, an agitation, " you, " and it rattles, settles, calms; he smiles, and it's benign. " Since the dawn of time. Tell me. How much of that reputation is fair, hm? "

@errantsouls asked: did you really think i was that heartless? / luci

Should Sophie answer honestly? She thought that he was heartless; but was that something she should voice aloud? It seemed like anyway she went she might end up on the wrong side of life and death. Now would be a great time to not be by herself.

"I don't know," it's said with a muster of courage, taking a deep breath to make herself seem bigger, like she had confidence in what she was saying. Being neutural seemed like the best plan in her mind, but she didn't want to seem as weak as she felt in the moment, so fake brava it was. "I mean, you have a reputation of being not so nice. What should I think?"

[peaches-and-pity-points]

Listen, I saw one (1) image from hazbin hotel that appears to be Lucifer (The DEVIL), playing a GOLDEN FIDDLE

AND NOT ONE OF YOU UNCULTURED FUCKS MENTIONED THE CHARLES DANIEL BAND'S HIT SONG, ONE OF THE BEST EVER MADE

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA

"I'll be a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I'm better than you"

[quietwingsinthesky]

im.pisssing myself, . please share everything anyway 🤲

askdjalsdj okay hold on here it is. i completely missed the "headcanon" part of your first ask and went straight in on the small details about him that i like bit.

i came up with two and now i can't not mention both of them.

the first is how lucifer namedrops his vessel in his first meeting with sam. never not thinking about that. no other angel ever does that, not a single one. but lucifer shows up in sam's dream and one of the first things he does after introducing himself is go "and say hiii to nick :3 he's my other special little guy but he might explode a little bit if i wear him too long so say yes soon please?" like, we don't even know who castiel's vessel is until halfway through the season he's introduced, but not only do we know nick off the bat before lucifer possesses him but we know that lucifer! idk! thinks about him! enough that he mentioned him! fascinating to me!

the other little detail that i love is in swan song, when he's gearing up to possess sam and sam is telling lucifer to his face that he'll drag him down to hell. not only is the rest of this scene (lucifer drawing a little pitchfork in the frost on the window, sam showing off his powers in a way identical to lucifer's were in abandon all hope, lucifer telling sam that he knows about the horsemen rings so that sam's yes is truly and completely informed consent) utterly perfect, but then to cap it off with lucifer saying, "What do you say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you."

there are hundreds of stories where the devil gets the upper hand. hundreds. and lucifer chooses, in this moment, to reference the most famous one where he loses. where a human bests him because he is so stubbornly human! lucifer made the decision to put himself in the losing position opposed to sam from minute one, and!!! i think a lot about sam being able to wrangle lucifer when he sees himself in the impala's reflection, which is obviously a testament to sam's willpower but i think, too, to lucifer realizing he's fighting a losing battle. handing over the fiddle, you know.

asjdjalksjd no i lied you want to know another funny one? i think lee made a post about this somewhere, but when lucifer is having grace... sex? sharing? time with anael and she tells him to slow down because he's being too greedy. <3 yeah. yeah.

[errantsouls]

i'm a monster. -Ethan @ daddy-o — angsty angst ( accepting ) / @loyaltyhunted

❝ Why would you —— ❞ And honestly, truly, there is something that’s sharply and deeply pained. ❝ Because —— what? Because you’re my son? Because of what you can do? Because of how some of them see you? ❞

His brows burrow together, tightly. ❝ They can name you whatever they want. They don’t matter. You, ❞ and he doesn’t touch often, not really, but his hand presses to Ethan’s shoulder regardless, ❝ are powerful. Beautiful. And it scares them. Do not let them name you something you aren't. ❞

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 36

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You and Sam lay on the baby's hood. "The idea that death would simply relinquish the ring feels weird," you whispered. It wasn't a question; you weren't even certain if you were even talking to Sam.

"I love you," you assured, this time speaking directly to Sam.

You chuckled, "You and your stupid brother."

"I love you too," Sam replied.

Without further words, you both lay there, sipping your beers and looking at the stars.

Dean approached, and you both acknowledged him with a nod.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm in," Dean stated.

"With what?" you asked.

"The whole Satan ordeal," Dean confirmed.

"You're going to let me say yes?" Sam inquired.

"What? No," you slid off the hood. "That's out of the question."

"I'm not letting you do anything. You're a grown-ass man; it's your choice," Dean replied. "But if it's what you want, I'm with you. However, it goes against my instincts. Looking out for you is ingrained in me, but you're not a child, and I can't keep treating you like one. I have to grow up too. I have a girl to take care of now. But I know if anyone can handle it, it's you. I trust you; I believe in you. But you have to tell me right now that it's what you truly want."

"I let him out. I have to be the one to put him back in," Sam responded.

You chortled, "I wouldn't mind a chance either. The pervert thought I was just going to say yes. There's only one guy I want to spend the rest of my life with," you winked at Dean.

"I did not need to know that," Sam grimaced.

As Castiel and Sam packed the blood, Dean joined you and Bobby.

"Sorry, Bulldog, about the blood," you began.

"I get it, but we need to," he replied.

"I know," you sighed sadly.

As you and Bobby explained to Dean about the various signs you had seen that give you a clue where lucifer was, Bobby mentioned Detroit, Dean confidently confirmed, "The devil is in Detroit."

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked.

"Yep," Dean's voice left no room for doubt.

"I'll ride with Bobby," you smiled.

Before Dean could argue, you explained that he had Sam and Cas, and Bobby needed someone.

You all stood on the street corner, taking turns with the binoculars. When it was finally time to leave, you all hugged Bobby.

"Love you," you said.

"Love you too, kid," Bobby hugged you.

Dean looked at you, puzzled. "Why are you saying goodbye?"

"I have to go with Sam, Dean. If anyone can save him, it's me. Lucifer wants me; maybe I can convince him to let Sam go."

"No, Y/N, that wasn't the plan," he grabbed you.

"Bulldog, when do we ever stick to plans?" You reached up and kissed him. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone on this Earth. I hope you know that."

After much discussion and arguing, you all agreed it was time for Sam to consume the blood.

Then you walked toward the demons.

"Hey guys, is your father home?" Dean asked, making you laugh.

But you were all suddenly grabbed and dragged up the stairs of a building, brought before Lucifer.

"Hey, guys, nice of you to drop in," Lucifer said. "I knew my 'loves' would be sorry, sorry about the chill, but it's not really my style to burn hot."

"We're not here to fight you," Sam said, causing Lucifer to turn to him in surprise.

"I'm going to say yes," Sam declared.

"You're serious," Lucifer said to Sam, but you replied, "I'm here, aren't I?"

"But we do this; you don't kill me, Sam, or Dean," you demanded.

"I know Sam has the Horseman rings, the key to my cage. Don't lie to me," Lucifer said, but he proposed, "But if this is how you want to play it, how about Sam and I have a little duel, a wrestling match inside your head, or a fiddle of gold against your soul?" Lucifer smirked at the song reference.

"No!" you shouted. "Just take me. You don't need Sam to have your babies, just me."

"Ah, but I do," Lucifer replied. "As much as I'd love to breed you myself, you would die. Your mortal body couldn't handle me."

"Yes," Sam said beside you, causing you to turn to him.

"Sam, no," you shouted, but a blinding light filled the room, and you fell to your knees.

You heard Dean chanting, and you ran to Sam, who howled in pain. "Dean, he needs you!" you shouted, causing Dean to grab Sam.

You watched as Sam stood up and walked toward the hole in the wall. He stopped and slowly turned to you both, smirking.

"I was just messing with you," Lucifer said. "Sam is long gone."

Dean held you close, and you watched in horror as Lucifer picked up the rings.

"I told you it would always happen in Detroit," Lucifer said to Dean, looking at him for a moment before grabbing you.

You tried to pull yourself out of Lucifer's grip, but you couldn't. He held onto you tightly and vanished.

"Dean," was the last thing he heard as he helplessly watched Lucifer take you away from him.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @my-obsession-spn @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @spnbaby-67

[foreverfallen]

“Y o u’ r e   s p e c i a l ...”

Lucifer & Lilith //       as written by @fallcnintohell & @lovedmore  Happy Holiday season, my good friend! 

[lysmune]

Promises of

      A thousand things that she believes the Demon Prince to be, and a thousand times he proves her wrong.

(Diavolo/F!Reader)

     Promises of a painful, slow death is what she believes he’ll give her, but a radiant smile dispels her fears. With liquid ambrosia for eyes and vermillion-struck hair, she’s never seen someone so intimidating, so contrary.

     “I hope your year in the Devildom is a great one!” the stranger chirps, loud and booming, and friendly.

     “Thank you,” is all she manages.

     Promises of a scornful, prideful visage  is what she believes is his flair, but he bears no ill-will towards the hubris of humanity. A thousand lights splayed below the balcony, a gaze set onto the distant future, graced by the soft glow of hope, he tells her that he wishes for peace, more than anything.

     “Don’t all you demons despise us?” she piques and he laughs deeply, sonorous in the never ending darkness.

     “Maybe, but I,” and he turns to look at her with a gentleness that she’s never thought to find in a hell-spawned man, “I find human souls, flawed as they are, beautiful.”

     Promises of friendship is what she believes would be the farthest thing possible, but when he calls her in invitation to see the black roses blooming in his greenhouse, she finds that maybe, it isn’t the most far-fetched situation.

     “Look!” he exclaims excitedly, pointing towards a small bird, tufted in crimson, its winding onyx tail fluttering as it perches itself on the flower’s stem. “It’s a black-tailed canary. It’s a bird native to the Devildom.”

     “How pretty,” she comments, watching the bird fixate its beady eyes on her before it takes off into flight.

     Lord Diavolo chuckles beside her. “Seeing such lovely things up close really does lift my spirits,” he murmurs in awe, in wonder, underscored by a melancholia she can’t quite fathom.

     In response, she presses her hand on his shoulder, humming in agreement; he simply smiles.

     Promises of gold is what she believes would catch his fancy, but his curiosity lies in the fleeting moments caught in polaroids. From swirling pink blossoms to the grin of an aquarium’s beluga, to the cascading reds of a maple autumn and a white winter’s falling snow; he finds joy in all these.

     “This is my favourite,” he notes fondly and she leans over to look at the object of his attraction. It is the simple snapshot of a summer daybreak, the first light of dawn. “The sun never rises here in the Devildom, so I’ve always been curious about it. Your world’s truly blessed.”

     How the Underworld’s Prince is so much of an optimist, she’d probably never know, but it warms her to see him so full of life.

     When he passes the picture back to her, she shakes her head and, with more than a little uncertainty, presses her fingers against his hand.

     “Keep it,” she insists. “Consider it a gift for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

     Promises of an uneventful night is a relatively easy feat, she believes, but the seven brothers prove her wrong when she’s crowned the guest of honour. They shower her with neatly wrapped gifts, words of gratitude and a group hug so earnest it moves her to tears.

     They take turns dancing with her tonight, seven brothers gliding through seven different musical pieces. Mammon steps up into a bold, thrilling hustle; Leviathan sways with unusual confidence in a jazzy foxtrot; Satan twirls her into a fittingly passionate tango; Asmodeus sweeps her around in an excelsior schottische; Beelzebub rounds a blustering, grinning quickstep; Belphegor drifts into a draping, dreamy carousel and Lucifer, unsurprisingly, leads her gracefully into a viennese waltz.

     What does surprise her, however, is when the Prince comes up to her, requesting her for a dance. “If you’re not too tired, of course.”

     She smiles and places her hand atop his, letting his fingers curl around hers. “No, it would be my honour,” is all it takes for him to capture her breath in a slow, seamless waltz that lasts a beat longer than it should.

     Promises of a shrinking distance isn’t what she foresaw, but he is insistent in having her company, which she, admittedly, isn’t too bothered about. He greets her jovially when he meets her in front of AkuDonald’s, dressed down in a maroon Oxford shirt and beige khakis, a pair of shades completing his look; she wonders if that’s his way of avoiding attention.

     As they both stand in line, he strikes up polite conversation, questioning her how she’s been, how her classes are going, how she’s finding RAD and the seven brothers, and she is, quite frankly, genuinely surprised by how much she’s come to enjoy the entire affair. He’s about to answer when they hit the front of the line, a tired looking demon snippily asking for their order.

     Like always, she goes for the fried shadow goose AkuBurger, the six-pack AkuGizzards and a blushberry slushie. He takes a little more time deciding, but eventually settles for the Hellfire DoubleAkuBurger and a Blackburn coffee before he insistently pays for their meal. Tipping her head down in thanks, she takes the tray and leads him towards a relatively private corner in the joint where he tucks into his lunch undisturbed.

     “Do you come here often?” he prompts and she shrugs, swallowing her food down.

     “Enough,” she responds. “The food here is generally safe for me to not die from.”

     He chuckles. “Not a fan of Devildom cuisine?”

     “Just not nearly as bold to eat something with ‘Double Poison’ tacked onto it,” she explains. Catching him eyeing her gizzards, she picks one up in between her fingers and offers it to him. “They’re good.”

     Leaning forward, without so much of a warning, he takes it from her hand with his teeth and she stiffens, embarrassed, unsure if he’s being serious or just messing with her, or if he’s just dense.

     “You’re right,” he answers, happily smiling as he licks his lips, “they are.”

     She tries not to think about it too hard, simply nodding in agreement before they pass the rest of the time with small-talk, light banter and the never-ending cringe of dad jokes so terrible she has to laugh at each one. Once they’ve finished and exited the premises, he thanks her for her time today, smiling as he always does.

     “I had a lot of fun,” she gladly admits, to which he hums, pleased.

     “I did, too,” he reciprocates and then, a little less playfully, a little more seriously, “If it’s alright with you, let me walk you home.”

     “You don’t -“

     “I want to,” he assures, insists. “I enjoy your company and I’d like us to spend more time together.”

     She warms at his boldness, more evident today than any other, at the way he tentatively reaches for her hand in consent, in invitation, and she accepts it with a nod. With a smile that crinkles his eyes and a careful hold, he leads her back to the House of Lamentation.

     Promises of constant contact is something she’s sure he isn’t one to keep, especially given his consistently packed schedule, but when she’s back in the Human World, her D.D.D rings most often with his name.

     He fills her days with updates on work, on Lucifer’s increasingly baggy eyes, lamenting at how much less bright the Devildom is without her.

     “You’re being dramatic,” she chuckles as she picks up a carton of eggs. “It’s not that bad.”

     “No, it is,” he implores with a huff. “The brothers miss you, including Lucifer, even if he denies it. Teasing him is no fun anymore,” he protests and she clicks her tongue at him. There’s a pause before a sigh, then, “I’m not being honest here.”

     “No?”

     “No,” he repeats; “I miss spending my time with you, I miss being able to see you, I miss talking to you in person. I miss you; I miss you a lot.”

     She runs her fingers through her hair and oh, fuck, he really shouldn’t spring these things onto her. She’s sure he can hear her heart over the phone when it’s this loud.

     Tightening her grip on the trolley’s handle, she responds with an, “I miss you, too.”

     Promises of staying away are best upheld because they’re the smarter option, the safer option, but when she’s back in the Devildom, she‘s compelled to see him again. Barbatos directs her to his study, knocking on the door before he leaves her by the room just as Lord Diavolo lets her in.

     The wind is knocked right out of her chest when he scoops her into a tight hug and she eases into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He smells faintly of warm spice and agarwood, of a familiarity she’s sorely longed for.

     “I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, the hint of a tremble in his voice.

     “I am, too.”

     Promises of subtlety is a given, she believes, but he hasn’t much thought for it when he clasps a golden bracelet onto her wrist. It is a simple chain, studded with tiny opals, and much too lavish for someone who’s come here as an exchange student.

     “This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” she asks, raising a brow as she fiddles with the accessory, to which he frowns.

     “Do you not like it?” he inquires and she shakes her head.

     “No, I do,” she assures, and she really does. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery, it’s just that, “I’m not quite sure if I’m so deserving of such things.”

     At that, he takes her hand, pulling her a little closer. “You are,” he affirms softly, gently lacing his fingers with hers. “Let me be a little selfish.”

     She chuckles. “You’re being selfish by giving me a gift?”

     “No,” he replies as he levels her with a crackling, sparking gaze and her heart skips a beat. “I’m being selfish because I want you to myself.”

     Promises of indulgence are what she believes to be a demon’s domain, but he simply holds her in his arms most nights, content with the simple pleasure of having her there with him, of talking to her, of hearing her say his name without the formalities.

     “You’re not anything like I thought a demon would be,” she muses as he hugs her tighter from behind, letting her head rest on the line of his shoulder.

     He chuckles, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, briefly. “No?”

     “I expected them to be a little more ...” she trails off in search for a word, then, “churlish.”

     “I can be,” he mumbles while he lazily nibbles at her ear, patterns kisses into her jaw and the exposed column of her neck. “I’m just being polite.”

     She hums. “Maybe.”

     “You don’t think so?”

     “No,” she responds with a peck to his cheek, hand coming up to the side of his head, pulling him closer against her. “I think you’re just a touch holy.”

     His skims her skin with tongue and teeth, breaths warm, chuckling as he does. “You’re bold to say that to the Prince of Hell.”

     Promises of a Lord unshaken is what she believes the demons see, but behind all the closed doors, he bares his vulnerability to her against the starless, perpetual nights.

     “Do you want to talk, Diavolo?” she asks. He’s silent for a moment before he offers his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her to his side, letting his arm drape down to hold her at her waist.

     Overlooking the city sprawled under him, he sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confesses under his breath, the uncertainty wavering his voice. “I want peace between all the realms, but do they? Do my people?”

     "You don’t think they want that?”

     “We’re demons. War is within our very nature,” he states simply, pressing her a little closer to him. “A few of us are fallen angels, others human, but most demons were born here, and all of us are vengeful, resentful creatures,” he murmurs; she says nothing. “The fallen angels want nothing to do with the Celestial Realm, the human-turned-demons carry over their hate and the rest of us have just always had a taste for destruction.

     “For most of us, we’ve always felt like the two worlds looked at us with nothing but contempt. When Heaven smites an angel unruly, they’re punished into being a devil; when humans talk about eternal torture, we’re the very picture of it. Demons are a proud folk, we give back the respect we’ve been shown, but when everyone has only ever hated us, what is there to be but bitter? And the cycle keeps going, it has for the last thousands of centuries.”

     “I’m sorry,” is all she can offer and he chuckles.

     “Please, it’s alright,” he assures with a smile, though it’s wearied with the burdens of a leader. “I’m just ... wondering.”

��    She isn’t sure what to say to him, if she can even comfort him. She’s no angel, or demon, and even as a human, she’s never been a particular occult; she’s just an exchange student who lacks understanding of the tension’s nuance.

     “Look, hey,” she starts, “I know I’m not the best person to say it, but your people respect you. They might squabble with Heaven or us humans, but they’ve put their trust in you; otherwise, in all honesty, I think they’d have just eaten me and Solomon alive.”

     He cracks a small, tiny smile at that.

     “You needed mutual agreement between all the realms for this exchange program, and you did it. If that tells me anything, it’s that they’re probably tired of all the fighting, too,” she surmises. He laughs, just barely, before he bends down to kiss her forehead, letting it linger.

     When he pulls away, he says, “Thank you, that helped.”

     “Did it?”

     He hums. “A little,” he responds, loosening his grip on her. “I need to be alone for a while, is that okay?”

     “Take all the time,” she answers. Placing a quick kiss onto his cheek, she turns on her heel and walks away. Comforting demon royalty isn’t something she’s good at, and maybe she never will be, but space? Space is something she can give him.

     Promises of ‘unto death do us part’ is tradition, the idea of a romance that spans the fire of life until it’s snuffed out by a swing of the scythe, but she believes that mortality is fickle to him. A being of a thousand years that will live on for a thousand more, and she fills in the mere potential century; a year for him is a decade for her.

     Yet here he is, knotting the string of his life to her in promise. “Make a pact with me,” he declares, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as though she were royalty.

     Her breath hitches. “Diavolo.”

     “Let me be yours,” the demon pleads, yearns, longs and she’s a little taken aback by the openness of it all.

     “You don’t have to,” she says but he surges, drawing her in.

     “I want to,” he asserts, unyielding, though she’s still unconvinced.

     An act of binding. That’s what it means to be tied down to a contract, and she knows full well what the consequences are, for the both of them, should any of them trespass their terms. With the seven brothers, she did as the situation demanded, but with Diavolo, there’s absolutely nothing that warrants it.

     He seems to sense her unease, because he squeezes her hand, brings her closer. “It’ll be fine,” he assures; “Let me show you what you mean to me.”

     “I know where I stand with you,” she tells him as she raises a hand to cup his cheek.

     “Do you?” he asks in rhetoric, pressing his lips against her pulse, eyes locking onto hers. “You needn’t ask and I’d gladly give a century of my life for you, freely offer you my soul, and even if you love me less, leave me for a human, I’d regret none of it.”

     She swallows his words when he presses his lips to hers, wholly engulfed by the sincerity of it all. Gentle as always, tender as always, and none of the demon she’d thought he’d be, his hand coming up to caress her face. He leaves her lightheaded, breathless, forehead touching hers, the warmth between them near unbearable.

     “I trust you, utterly and entirely; let me show you that I do,” he murmurs and she clasps her hands behind his neck, her lips hovering above his.

     “Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

     He chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”

     Promises of sacrifice and loyalty, they aren’t taken lightly by the laws of a contract, but he pledges himself anyway, so readily and so staunchly she almost falters.

     In reverence, he traces the mark - his mark - that runs from her shoulder and coils around her arm, marvelling at the sight of it. “Was it painful?” he asks as he glances to her, worry underscoring his words.

     She shrugs and offers him a smile in hopes it’ll reassure him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

     Leaning in to thumb a kiss to her clavicle, he chuckles low. “Sometimes I forget you’ve made pacts with the seven strongest demons here,” he says and the pride in his voice makes her chest swell.

     “Eight,” she corrects while she cards her fingers through his hair, trailing the curl of his horns, eliciting a quiet, pleased hum from him.

     “Eight,” he repeats in satisfaction before he lifts his head up to meet her and she, emboldened, enraptured, captures his lips in fervour.

     Agarwood and warm spice, she drinks the taste of him, smoky lapsang and carbon ashen. He spills her name into her mouth, once more into the spellbound night when she punctures a soft bite into the juncture of his neck, a hymnic praise that makes her feel nothing less of otherworldly. He almost - almost - whines when she pulls away, chuckling as she does.

     Under her, he’s nothing short of breathtaking, with topazes for eyes and vermillion hair, and dark skin marked by black, steeped in gold. Triangular patterns of red hiss around his throat, the newly formed pact pulsing with magic and she trails her fingers across them, enamoured.

     “You’re beautiful,” she finds herself professing and he lets out a quiet laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing under her touch, the sound reverberating.

     “I’m all yours,” he surrenders and she’s touched, honoured by the sincerity of his proclamation. “I will be until you say I no longer am.”

     “And I, yours,” she promises before she laces her fingers with his and kisses him once more.

[chiisana-sukima]

(Not to be That Nurse, but autism special interest. I apologize for difficulty with tone. My intended tone isn't confrontational, but "I have specialized knowledge of facts to offer. Here is a gift of autistically offered facts")

Sam’s consent to Lucifer is very much not true consent either. “Informed consent” (rather than just “consent” used alone) as a term comes from the medical community and includes both uncoerced and fully revocable as part of its definition. I agree Sam’s "yes" to Lucifer in that one moment in Swan Song when he finally agrees, was informed as to risks and benefits, but it was neither uncoerced nor revocable.

“I would rather die than say yes to you” -> “I’ll just bring you back then” is coercion. Lucifer's efforts to compromise Sam, including as a child, through Azazel, Ruby and Lilith prior to Lucifer being freed were coercion by Lucifer, and also not informed. The entire surrounding circumstances of the specific terms of the "fiddle of gold against your soul" agreement, where if Lucifer wins, he starts the Apocalypse and if Sam wins, there's no Apocalypse but Sam is stuck forever with Lucifer to be eternally tortured, are both coerced through threats of violence to others and non-revocable. The whole thing is exactly as bad as Michael's subordinates' behavior towards Dean and significantly worse than Gadreel, who at least appears uninterested in harming anyone but Sam.

I believe "Heaven and Hell are equally bad" is the intended reading, although of course I'm not in Kripke's head, so I don't know for sure. My opinion of Gadreel's ethics is very low too; just not quite as low as my opinion of Lucifer's.

Even satan got Sam's informed consent. Gadreel tricked him.

[moinstar]

Commissioned fic from @/light_arin on Twitter.

Tell me the story that sealed your heart.

Moin gave Barbatos a grateful smile as he handed her the cup of coffee. She remembered the first time she had asked for coffee at the tea party. The way he changed his cup with his unfaltering polite smile, just like the one that graced his lips in the current moment.

A playful spring breeze tugged on her red locks as she took a sip of her coffee, the warm weather making it possible to have the tea party in the garden. Floating candles cast a soothing light over them, adding to the formal yet comfortable ambiance of the tea party. Her gaze was filled with mild curiosity as Diavolo and Lucifer talked about some business. The Demon Lord’s eyes were closed into crescents as he let out a light chuckle, a contrast to Lucifer’s slightly exasperated sigh.

“At least everything ended well, Lucifer. Isn’t that right, Barbatos?”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“As true as that may be, I wish he would learn to be a proper demon by now.”

Ah. They were speaking of the illegal gambling rings Mammon had been involved in. The poor second-born had been strung to the ceiling before they left for the tea party because of it. Moin smiled a little sheepishly, taking another sip of her coffee as she wondered if anyone had helped him down by now. If they hadn’t she would try to do it later.

She took another sip of her coffee, her eyes fluttering shut as she let her thoughts wander. The warm candlelight filtered through the branches of the trees surrounding them, catching on the ring she wore on her left hand. The glint caught Diavolo’s eye, and he leaned forward, the curiosity clear on his expression as he recalled what he had learned about humans and rings in the past.

“I heard that humans have traditions and symbolisms that go with wearing rings.”

Moin quickly opened her eyes, jolting in surprise when she met the golden gaze that was watching her intensely. She nodded in affirmation, waiting to see if he said anything else. Emboldened by her nod, the young Demon Prince continued.

“I’ve also heard that it can vary from nation to nation, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but… Moin, the ring on your fourth finger… Are you married in the Human World?”

Moin almost choked on her coffee, shocked by the sudden question. She set her cup down slowly, a quiet yet dark chuckle leaving her lips. Lucifer fought the urge to arch an eyebrow at her distant look, glancing at Diavolo. The look of concern that flit over the Demon Prince’s features prompted the Avatar of Pride to clear his throat, subtly attempting to remind Moin of her table manners. She flinched slightly, glancing at Lucifer before smiling gratefully at Barbatos who was standing beside her with a clean napkin. The three waited in silence as Moin dabbed at her lips, watching as she fiddled with the napkin in her lap. Moin bit her lip hesitantly, meeting Diavolo’s gaze as she struggled to organize her thoughts.

“Um… No, I’m not married. Although, it is true that the ring on the left ring finger usually means you’re married or engaged to someone. I just…”

She paused, propping her elbows on the table as she looked at both of her rings, one on each hand. Deciding to explain what the rings meant to her, she leaned against her left hand, not noticing Lucifer’s brief look of disapproval. To him, elbows on the table was an act of disrespect, but the young Demon Lord didn’t even bat an eye as he leaned forward, eager to hear her continue. With a small smile, she met Diavolo’s gaze, turning her hand so that he could see the silver ring that decorated her right middle finger.

“The silver ring was given to me by a dear friend. It symbolizes that your true friends will always be there no matter what. Even through ups and downs and broken relationships, my true friends will always be close to my heart. Like this.”

Her smile softened as she clasped her hands together, the silver ring glittering besides the black ring of her left hand as she pulled her hands to her chest. Her smile turned slightly pained as she looked down at her fingers, her gaze fixed on the black ring. As she untangled her fingers, she held up her left hand, watching the way the candle light caught on the dark metal.

“In the human world, people believe that the left ring finger is a symbol of your heart. That’s why when people fall in love, they buy a ring to seal their love for each other.”

Moin looked up briefly to see everyone watching her with interest. The information seemed to be new to them, and it was clear that they were fascinated by this tradition of the Human World. With a deep breath she steeled herself as she continued.

“Those rings are usually silver or gold. But… I got tired of love. Of giving it, and of waiting for it. As I grew up, I learned that love is always fleeting. So I never believed in marriage. That’s why mine is black… I chose it to symbolize sealing my heart.”

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she glanced down at her ring, unsure of what to say as a silence settled around them. Just as she was about to speak up, her gaze widened in surprise, fixed on the tan hand that now held hers. The Demon Lord’s black nails gleamed beside her black ring, and she felt a slight twinge in her heart as she slowly raised her gaze to meet his wistful look. Diavolo gave her a sad smile as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze with a shake of his head.

“You’re lying, Moin.”

Still trying to process the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, Moin stared at the red-haired prince in surprise and confusion, her lashes fluttering as she blinked rapidly. Diavolo’s sad smile became slightly amused at the expression of obvious shock on Moin’s face. His gaze filled with an encouraging warmth as he brushed a thumb over the black ring on her ring finger.

“You say you’re tired of love, but that’s not true. Look at you. You’re so full of love. Your soul is pure and white, radiating with the love you hold. The love that you showed the brothers. The love that brought them to love you.”

Moin swallowed harshly as she lowered her gaze, her bangs covering her face as she felt tears well up in her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, a desperate attempt to keep the tears at bay as she tightened her grip on the young prince’s hand. A soft smile graced his features as he gently squeezed her hand, silently showing that he wasn’t going to let go.

“Even Lucifer loves you. Isn’t that right, Lucifer?”

The Avatar of Pride let out a quiet sigh, his ruby gaze fixed on the small girl. His gaze was unreadable as he took in the way she was still bowing her head, her red locks casting a shadow of her eyes. Yet, something seemed to shift within him, his voice soft as he leaned forward to pat Moin’s head.

“Of course.”

Moin looked up at him in surprise, giving him a grateful smile as she wiped away a stray tear with her free hand. Deciding that he had done enough, Lucifer gave her head one last pat before pulling away. Her gaze shifted from Lucifer to Diavolo, before glancing at Barbatos, and finally settling on the hand that was still clasped with Diavolo’s.

“I… I just still can’t believe that I did all of that. I feel like I didn’t do much to deserve-”

Moin broke off in the middle of her sentence as Diavolo pulled her hand to his chest. The steady beating of his heart sent a wave of security over her as he gazed at her with warm golden eyes.

“Moin…”

She swallowed harshly, unable to draw her gaze away from the Demon Prince as he continued.

“You deserve it all. I’m so proud of you, Moin. And all of us are grateful for your presence. After all, if it wasn’t for you, who knows how long this farce would have lasted?”

His eyes closed to crescents as he gave a warm smile, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Moin gave up on fighting her tears, letting them fall freely as she flung her arms around Diavolo’s neck. Once more, a grateful smile tugged on the corners of her lips as she hugged him. Diavolo blinked in surprise, faintly aware of Lucifer and Barbatos sharing a surprised glance themselves. Then a quiet whisper drew his attention back to the one in his arms.

“Thank you…”

He let out a light chuckle, gently returning the embrace as he rubbed her back.

“No, Moin. I should be the one thanking you.”

Lucifer’s expression was blank as he took a sip of his tea, setting the cup back down with careful and controlled movements. His ruby gaze was fixed on the small girl that was not pulling away from the Demon Prince. His grip on the cup tightened ever so slightly as he watched her smile at Lord Diavolo.

She had done so much for him. No, not just him. For all his brothers. An unfamiliar warmth blossomed in his chest as he watched her, but the feeling quickly twisted as Lord Diavolo wiped the tears from Moin’s cheeks.

He was happy to see her smile. Happy that she was there with them. But deep down, he also felt jealous. Jealous that she wasn’t in his arms. Jealous that the smile wasn’t directed at him.

“Is everything alright, Lucifer?”

The quiet voice of the Demon Butler shook the Avatar of Pride out of his thoughts. He glanced at Moin and Lord Diavolo, checking that they hadn’t heard the seemingly harmless question before turning to meet the mossy green gaze that watched him with interest. Barbatos placed a hand on his chin, tilting his head slightly as he awaited an answer. Lucifer placed a hand on his chest, pushing down the feelings that had been rising within him as he responded with a controlled smile.

“Of course.”

[iraacundus]

The Sins of Angels

devil!Taeyong soulmate!au 

Genre: fluff, fantasy, smut, angst Words: 10k

warnings: sex (incl. degredation), swearing

better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven - Paradise Lost, John Milton 1667

You weren't a bad person, but clearly, you hadn’t been a great one either. You had to figure that was the case as you stood in a really long queue at the front desk of Hell. There were some people around you crying and screaming, but most people just stood in stony silence, waiting until they reached the end of the queue.

It was a casual four weeks later when you reached the front, which for Hell you supposed was quite quick. You wondered if it was meant to unsettle you, to form part of your eternity of torture, or maybe that's just how long bureaucracy in the afterlife took.

“Name and time of death?” You finally heard be called out to you. You had to think for a second, the hours of standing in the queue had really started to rot your brain.

“It’s y/n and I died on the 3rd March 2020 at 9:58pm” You said, having no idea why you knew your exact time of death, but the desk man wasn’t surprised and therefore it must have been something dead people just knew. The desk man handed you a gold coin.

“Straight ahead to the gates, tell them you’re going to the second circle,”. You took the coin and nodded. “Have a terrible time,” he said, sounding so bored that you were sure he was having a worse time.

No sooner had you step away from the desk to contemplate your impending doom before he called you back.

He stared down at the old 1980’s computer in front of him in slight disbelief, hitting the side of it three times just to make sure it was actually working properly. Seeing that this made no difference the man shrugged and motioned for you to come closer to the desk.

“Just had a message from the boss man, turns out your wanted down where the real actions happens,” he said taking back your coin. He placed it carefully back in its box before reaching down below his desk and fiddling for a moment.

“Could you come round here and stand beside me?” he asked, you noted his tone had become much more polite ever since he had read his computer message.

“First interesting thing to happen at this desk in ninety years,” He said looking at you, eyes not blinking for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time before pointing down to where he had been fiddling.

“This is a passage to the City of Dis. It’s a ten hour-long fall and it hurts when you get to the bottom, but it’s that… or ten hundred years of torture to get there and we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Don’t we have all of time,” you questioned, Hell had always been marketed as an eternity of suffering.

“You mean to say,” the man began, “That you would actually prefer to endure the ten hundred years of torture?” He was incredulous, you didn’t think his eyebrows could lift any faster.

Neither seemed like a good option, but you couldn’t possibly die twice so one hard fall had to have been the better option. You looked down at the endless dark hole, trying to contemplate what was being proposed here.

“You don’t really have a choice, please jump down the hole, you’re really holding up the queue, I’ve got targets to meet.”

You couldn’t ascertain whether the last part was a joke or not, but you had realised that overthinking wasn’t helping anyone. You took one last look at the man at the hell desk before launching yourself into the depths of Hell.

You screamed for about the first minute, before realizing it was pointless, you had a long while to go until you hit the ground. You pondered about why you might have ended up where you were, cursing that in real life you hadn’t bothered to study the nine circles of hell, that might have given you a clue.

About three-quarters of the way through your fall it started to get lighter again, but also hotter, it was exhaustingly hot, worse than Death Valley in the summer hot. You felt like you had been falling for much less than a few hours, you weren't sure if time worked the same way in eternity. You almost wanted to cry but the thought that an eternity in Hell could be worse though, which somehow comforted you. Even though you knew that it could get worse and probably would.

-----

It was a while longer until you finally hit the ground. It hurt like every single bone in your body had broken. You just lay there, contorted.

“Oh... That looked like it hurt!” You heard someone exclaim from above you. You half-opened one eye to see a boy staring down at you. All you could notice was that he was very good looking, something you had noticed about desk boy too now that you thought about it. Every bone in your body may have shattered, but if all the people in hell, looked like the men you had seen so far... your complaints were limited. A fact which truly made you think you had really lost any sense of reality.

“You need to get up ... you haven't reached your final destination.” He said. You swore under your breath before pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, something that induced the agonising pain all over again. The good-looking guy just stared at you with a wicked grin.

“I have all the time in the world babe quite literally infinite time, but the person we are going to meet does not have infinite patience. And- and I can’t stress this enough - he's really fucking scary so stand the hell up,” he grabbed your arms lifting you to your feet, shaking his head, “get the hell up, did you not appreciate what I did there.” You stared at him blankly.  

“My humour is wasted in this bloody city.” He complained.

You said nothing, you had literally no idea what to say to this man, if he even was a man.

“I’m Yangyang by the way,” he continued, “one of this city’s finest fallen angels, fell straight from heaven into the ladies' hearts.”

Now you were standing up you realised the light you had seen was just endless fire, the only break in the fire was a stone path that didn’t seem to have an end, at least not an end that you could see.

The fire was filled with burning souls in the distance, the screams you could hear were unnerving, you wanted to somehow disappear. Yangyang didn’t even seem to hear them, the screams of hell must have become just a faint music to him over time, like radio music in a shop.

You followed closely behind him as he led you along the fire-lit path. As you got closer to what you presumed was the city of Dis the sound of a distant roar of voices got louder and louder, but there was still no end in sight.

“What did you get kicked out of Heaven for... if it’s not rude to ask?” You were trying to create any sense of distortion from the horrifying surroundings.

He laughed, the fire reflecting against his face that still held the same wicked grin.

“I’m not offended and even if I was, this is Hell, people are rude all the time it doesn’t matter. Here in Hell you can do what you want babe. There is only one person youwill have to listen to; Lucifer himself. Most people listen to the fallen angels too, but I fear you will end up being more important here than me.”

You knew in theory who Lucifer was, fallen angel, cast out by God. Somehow though, you hadn’t expected him to exist even after you got to Hell, you assumed he was just created to scare children and adults alike. The idea of fallen angels was also a foreign one to you, you hadn’t even known there were more people like Lucifer.

“And to answer your question, I got kicked out of heaven for being too fun,” he said, laughing mostly to himself. You doubted that was the official reason he got kicked out, even if he decided to justify it as such.

-------------------------

The walk came to an end at the edge of a vast canyon. At the very bottom, you could see a very grand building surrounded by markets and various other buildings. In the rock face, there were many entrances and balconies which people seemed to live inside.

“We don’t have to jump do we?” You asked, feeling like you had done enough falling for at least the next six lifetimes in Hell.

“There is a lift.”

He said like it was very obvious, and you were stupid for even suggesting otherwise, even though he had seen the end of your bone breaking fall.

The lift wasn’t like any modern-day one, more like one you would have seen in a mine shaft in centuries past, just bigger. There was a large queue for the lift which Yangyang didn’t seem at all bothered by. He grabbed your arm and walked through the queue, the sea of people parting as the jumped back in what appeared to be fear. You couldn’t understand why; Yangyang seemed nice enough.

You stepped into the lift and clung to the side as the door shut. The metal groaned slightly before beginning to lower. You could see each of the levels more clearly now, there were four distinct areas above the ground floor.

“The city is the 6th to 9th circles of Hell,” Yangyang explained, “For people who committed worse crimes, treachery, heresy and all that.”

“What is the second circle?” You asked back, hoping he could provide you the answer to your biggest question.

“Is that where you were headed?”

You nodded.

“Just before I was told to jump down the hole and ended up here, I was originally meant to go to the second circle.”

Yangyang just laughed but didn’t bother to answer the question and you weren’t brave enough to ask again.

The metal began to screech again as the lift hit the ground floor and the gate began to open. The people waiting at the bottom also immediately moved back when they saw Yangyang step forward, pushing you off the lift and past the crowd.

Yangyang set off walking, through market, after market in which everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was the odd scream of pain here and there but there were more screams of laughter, more voices chatting and bargaining.

As you got closer to the centre of the floor the buildings got bigger and grander, some of them almost palatial.

“That’s my house” Yangyang said pointing to a large building to the right of you. It looked quite nice, even if a drunk man had passed out on the front steps.

“You can get drunk in Hell?” You asked.

“Ninety percent of the people here are drunk ninety percent of the time.” Was his answer.

You walked for a few more minutes before reaching the gate that surrounded the grandest building of all, Devil House, Yangyang informed you. The gates were opened by two guards as you approached, how bowed at you both as you passed. Yangyang walked you up to the door before knocking six times.

After a minute or so the doors opened seemingly by themselves. Situated behind the doors was a grandiose entrance hall made out of black marble, a gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

You looked at Yangyang expectantly for him to explain what would happen next, but he said nothing, the wicked grin gone from his face. For the first time he actually looked somewhat scared.

You suddenly noticed a man standing at the top of the staircase. He was staring straight down at you with a glare that could have killed, ifyou hadn’t already been dead.

“My Lord,” Yangyang managed to choke out, he stared down at his feet, his hands fidgeting. When you looked back away from Yangyang, the man, who you guessed was the Devil, was standing right in front of you. Blood red hair, perfect jawline, flawless skin - out of all of the good-looking men you had seen here so far, he was the most perfect.

He reached out and kissed your hand.

“Welcome to Hell, my love, my name’s Lucifer, but you can call me Taeyong,” he said.

-----------------

You woke up in a bed with some of the softest pillows you had ever felt, you sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings, not knowing how you had ended up there. The bed you were on was the only piece of furniture in the completely white room. There was a door at the far end of the room and a window that looked out onto the fire and darkness below.

You stood up carefully and walked over to the window. You could see the guards still standing by the gate and a few people fighting in the corner of the street.

A light knock came at the door.

“Come in?” You replied after a brief pause, realising that the person knocking was assuming this was your room.

The door swung open and Taeyong, Lord Lucifer, walked in. You froze where your stood by the window, even though he was standing about ten meters away from you.

If Taeyong sensed your fear, he chose to ignore it,

“I hope you're comfortable, I had one of the women change your clothes, I figured you would prefer that,” he said. You looked down, where your previous dust-ridden clothes had been was now a silk nightdress, you raised your eyebrows slightly. It was a beautiful item of clothing but slightly on the revealing side for meeting a man you didn’t know.

“Isn’t that very nice of someone who is meant to be the Devil?” you asked him. He looked you dead in the eyes and tilted his head slightly,

“If you want me to be mean darling, that can be arranged... but I would prefer if we could be civil.”

You nodded, once again lost for words. You couldn’t remember much about your life, but you were pretty sure that in life you had always had something to say. Yet since you had gotten to Hell you were more often than not lost for words.

You started to remember the events of the previous span of time, you remembered falling and meeting Yangyang. Yangyang made you feel comfortable, you had many questions and hoped maybe he would be able to answer them.

“Could I maybe talk to Yangyang,” you asked. Taeyong shook his head.

“No.” His lips rested in a firm line; you were starting to understand why Yangyang said he was someone to be afraid of. Yet with a life of torture already assured you felt you had nothing left to lose.

“I’m just gonna say it,” you began, ‘what is going on here, like what’s with the whole situation, I don’t remember anything about my life, or even how I ended up in this room, all I know is I jumped down a hole, met Yangyang, who was definitely scared of you by the way, and ended up here right now. I know that you are the all-powerful Lucifer, but you won’t let me see the one person I vaguely know or trust.” Taeyong just smirked out your outburst.

“You don’t always get what you want in Hell and I wouldn’t make a habit of trusting fallen angels” he replied.

His lacklustre reply stirred a deep sense of anger within you, you found it really hard to tolerate people who thought they were better than others.

“Is this my torture? Because if so, you guys are using weird tactics these days... like rather unorthodox if you ask me, I think I might rather just be burnt.” You instantly regretted the comment about being burnt, “But also please don’t burn me.”

To your surprise Taeyong half smiled at your comment.

“I’m not torturing you; I assure you that definitely involves classic techniques like burning people to death. In fact, I would argue that fact fate has left you lucky.”

“What does that mean?” You asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“There are worse things in death than having to marry me.”

You blinked about ten times in a row, the words gone from your mind again, blank.

“Sorry one second,” you said, holding up four hand, “can you just elaborate on that, because last time I checked I wasn’t engaged to any devils.”

“Not any regular devil, theDevil.” He corrected, before looking down at the expensive watch that was on his wrist, “I have to go and sort some things out, feel free to look around the house, just don’t leave and don’t interact with any of the staff around the house.”

You didn’t have time to formulate a reply or protest before he was gone, door shut perfectly, as if he had never even been there.

You sat around in silence for a few minutes before becoming curios about your surroundings. Your room was totally empty so you hoped the rest of the house wasn’t as such or it would have been a rather dull house tour.

Fortunately, as soon as you stepped out of your room you were faced with a very different sight. The corridor had a plush red carpet lining the floor and paintings and tapestries lining the walls.

You entered room after room, most of them just empty bedrooms, though none as empty as yours had been. As you ventured a little further into the house you began to find more interesting rooms.

There was a corridor that constituted only of studies another that had what seemed to be conference type rooms with long tables and lots of chairs. Around the other side you finally came across the dining room where there was food laid out on the table. A whole feast that you didn’t dare touch for a variety of reasons.

A man stood in the corner of the room, when he saw you enter, he bowed down just as the guards had, something that unsettled you.

“In case you wanted to eat,” the man explained, gesturing towards the table. You noticed there was only one place set for eating, at the same time you wondered if the concept of being hungry even existed in Hell. You felt your stomach grumble slightly, answering your own question.

You gave a weak smile to the man before sliding into the seat. This could be where the torture begins, you thought. It could have been poisoned food or turned into rotting flesh when you ate it, yet it looked so appetising you could hardly believe that would ever be the case.

Still unsure of weather to eat it or not you turned to the man,

“Do you know where I could find this guy called Yangyang?”

“I think we both know that I can’t tell you where Yangyang is,” he replied. You looked back to the food pressing your lips together, it had been worth a shot.

“I would be happy to try and answer any questions you have instead, my name is Yuta, I am a personal assistant of sorts,”

“Another archangel?” you asked. Yuta shook his head.

“Nope, just a demon.”

Yes, just a demon, of course.

Yuta watched you staring at the food and quickly guessed as to why you are hesitant,

“It is perfectly safe to eat; you are an honoured guest of hell.”

“That is exactly what someone who wanted me to eat the torture meal would say,” you replied accusatorily. Yuta laughed to himself slightly,

“If you don’t want to eat it that’s also fine, you will starve for eternity but that is, what as this other demon Johnny often says – not my problem.”

You still wondered if it was reverse psychology, but the hunger pangs had really started to kick in, so you decided to eat the food regardless.

You quickly realised that it wasn’t poisoned and that it was actually some of the most delicious food you had ever eaten.

After you had eaten for a while you looked back at Yuta who was still standing there watching you.

“How come I am allowed to talk to you and not Yangyang?” you asked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he replied. Yuta followed the word of Taeyong just as much as everyone else did, the devil really did seem to have a lot of power.

You stood up from your seat, as you did the dishes and food vanished at a click of Yuta’s fingers. Demon magic. When you headed towards the door Yuta remained where he had always been, unmoving.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose, I’m y/n by the way.” You said just before you left.

“I already knew that,” Yuta grinned. Everyone you had met in Hell acted weirdly, both in general and specifically towards you. You couldn’t figure out why there was no torture or why you had supposedly ended up engaged to Taeyong.

You had thought about asking Yuta more questions, but it seemed like Taeyong didn’t want you to know the answer to your questions and therefore none of his buddies were ever going to tell you, so you didn’t bother.

You went another three weeks before you saw Taeyong again, or anyone else for that matter. The only person you had seen was Yuta who watched you eat every day, would enter into general conversations with you about himself, and tales of demons but would never answer any questions you had or explain anything useful.

“I really need to talk to Taeyong,” you asked him, pretty much pleading at this point.

“Not an option,” Yuta replied.

“Where is he?” you asked for the ninth time that day.

“Hell,”

“Yeah very funny bud. I am not marrying him, I’ve only met him once and then he fucked off, not really the kind of behaviour that would make him a good husband.”

“He will return soon,” Yuta said, clearly trying to hide his own laughter, as a Demon he thrived on your suffering ever so slightly.

“You are annoyingly vague.” You sighed, “Can we not just break the rules, like this is hell can we not just sneak out and go and do something, this house is boring there is nothing to do and I would still really like to talk to Yangyang.”

Yuta pressed his hands together before speaking,

“No, we cannot just ‘break the rules’ Taeyong is all powerful I would rather not piss him off. It is very unboring here, I still have two million years’ worth of top-quality stories lined up, not all of them mine, I will admit. You only met Yangyang like one time, no need to make it twice, furthermore he will not answer your questions either, he too fears those who should be feared.”

You banged your head against the table repeatedly.

“This is definitely Hell!”

“You are rather dramatic y/n.”

You could see Yuta out of the corner of your eye and though he was laughing you could tell he also felt sorry for you.

“I will see what I can do,” he relented. You stopped hitting your head, got up and ran over to Yuta, throwing your arms around him.

“Thank you!” you said in earnest.

At that moment the door on the other side of the room opened and Yuta froze.

“It seems I have been gone too long, my fiancé is turning to other men,”

You let go of Yuta and spun round.

“She was hugging me because I offered to find out where you were…” Yuta tried to explain but you cut him off.

“Yeah well I have only been stuck in this boring house for a whole month with only him to talk to so if we are close that is your own fault.” You shouted at him.

“Don’t shout at him, that’s not gonna end well,” Yuta whispered to you aggressively.

“I am just a little bit angry, no, a lot angry and seeing as I cannot have any friends or meet any people, I will be voicing them to the only two people I am allowed to talk with.”

Taeyong said nothing, he strode over to where you were, grabbed your hand and dragged you from the room.

Yuta looked alarmed as you left. Taeyong led you down several corridors until you reached one of the grandest offices you had seen yet. He let go of your hand and slammed the door behind you.

“I would appreciate it if you were not rude to me in front of the people who work for me.” Taeyong said.

“I would appreciate it if you weren’t such an elusive dickhead.”

“I had … work to attend to,” he said, hand running through his bright red hair.

He was standing only a few feet away from you causing you to notice just how good looking he was for the first time. He had a cut in his eyebrow and a jawline that was stronger than anything.

“Whereas I was stuck here, doing nothing. Yuta is nice and all, but his stories get kinda old after the first thirty. I just don’t understand why I can’t talk to anyone or leave this house, why I can’t know anything about hell.”

“I…” Taeyong almost started to explain but then shut his mouth again, leaning with his hand against the door.

“What are you afraid of me finding out?” you asked him.

Taeyong sneered.

“If I told you then it wouldn’t be a secret.” He paused for a moment before walking towards you. “I can’t decide,” he said, “whether to risk falling in love with you.”

“So, you have a bad relationship past?” you guessed. Taeyong said nothing so you assumed you had hit the bullseye.

“See, now we are getting somewhere,” you said, “if you explain things to me life is a lot easier and I won’t resent you as much.”

Taeyong continued walking towards you and you walked backwards away until your back was pressed up against the wall.

“We aren’t alive.” He corrected, you could feel his breath on your face, he was inches away.

Taeyong’s face looked pained, confused.

You don’t know why you did it, maybe it was the lack of physical contact, or the slightly sexual nature of some of Yuta’s stories but you felt like it was the right choice.

You place your hands on Taeyong’s cheeks, pulling his face down towards yours, lips together. You had only meant for it to be an innocent kiss at first, just a few seconds. You didn’t know Taeyong, but you wanted to take away the pained look on his face for just a second.

But as your lips touch you felt a deeper desire, your lips moving against his with a slight sense of urgency. Taeyong’s hands moved to your waist pulling you closer towards him, his grip like iron.

After a minute or two you pulled away, realising that you hadn’t breathed, that you didn’t need to breathe, a surprising perk of Hell. You opened your eyes to see Taeyong staring down at you, the pain still in his eyes, but now mixed with something else, something more positive, you didn’t know quite what.

“I’ve never had a girl kiss me first before,” he remarked. You smiled at him slightly.

“Well I just…” you couldn’t really explain why you did I, you didn’t know, because you still resented this man quite a lot., “It doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you assured him.

Taeyong leaned down and placed a final peck on your lips.

“You have made my choice for me though, there is no way I can avoid falling in love with you now.”

“Yuta are we friends,” you asked him.

“Why do you ask, please don’t ask me you break you out again you know I can’t,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry.

“I just mean if I told you something personal because I needed advice you wouldn’t need to tell Taeyong right? As long as it’s not my plan to break free. I have no girls here to talk to, or even any other boys, you’re my only hope,”

“I don’t see why I would have to tell Taeyong something like that no, so you can count me as a friend on this one.”

“I kissed Taeyong.” You blurted out the second he finished speaking. Yuta blinked a few times, nodding his head slightly.

“Did I really need to know that?” he asked.

“Do you know why I would have done that?”

“This, is the single worst question you have asked me yet, how would I know how your brain functions?” Yuta joked. You sighed, picking up your spoon and placing it in the ice-cream in front of you, that even with demon magic was fast melting due to high temperatures.

A few minutes later you walked back out and started searching the house for whatever room Taeyong was in.

You walked through room after room, to the point where you were not even sure which way was back anymore.

Eventually you came to a room with a door that must have been made out of gold. The door had a picture carved into it of an angel falling from heaven into the fire below. Your feet stopped. It had to be the room you had been searching for.

You knocked loudly but there came no reply, so you pushed the door open slightly, peeking into the room. At first it seemed empty, just like yours had been. There was a wooden bed with a canopy, that looked like one you would see in a period drama. It was ornate and stylish with two bedside tables either side.

Those three pieces of furniture were the only ones in the room.

You felt bad about intruding into someone else’s space, but it didn’t stop you, if you had been a better person you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.

You walked curiously over to the bed and sat down on it, the bed was perfectly made, not even a crease as you ran your hands across the bed covers.

You stared down at the bedside table, something you didn’t have in your own room. The one on the left side was empty, not even a dust particle to be seen.

You rolled over the bed to the other drawer, expecting it too to be empty.

You pulled it open to see a few things inside. There were a few letters which you felt like you shouldn’t read, a pen, a picture of Taeyong and Yuta and at the back of the drawer a small red book.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but you couldn’t help but peek into the book. The first page was inscribed with a verse:

And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.

So, the stories were true. But as you flicked through the pages you only became more confused, some were written in a language you didn’t understand or even recognise, some were filled with cursive handwriting recounting stories, much like the ones Yuta had told you, but it was the final few pages that confused you the most. There were paintings of five girls, each on a separate page.

Each had their name written underneath, a date and a timespan. The first 120AD - 3 months up until the most recent 1827 – 2 months.

In the last entry to the book you saw your own face. It was a picture of you sitting in a café in the sunshine, it had to have been from your life. You were drinking iced tea and laughing like nothing could have stopped your happiness. The date 2020 but no time span.

You didn’t understand what it meant entirely but you weren’t stupid either, you realised you were not the first girl who had ended up here.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the book was snatched away from you. You stared upwards to see Taeyong, eyes dark and unforgiving.

“What gives you the right,” he began through gritted teeth, “to look through other people’s personal items.”

He placed the book back in the drawer.

“I would say you can’t come into this room when I’m not here, but I assume you have already seen all there is to see,” he laughed darkly.

“Who are those girls, what do those dates mean?” you asked, still curious and somehow still unafraid, even though the man in front of you looked ready to kill.

Taeyong said nothing. You placed your hand over his lightly.

“I can only become close to you if you let me, and if we are to get married for whatever mysterious reason of fate, we should be close.”

Taeyong moved his hand back and looked away.

“We don’t need to be close; all that book proves is that in this cursed place, fiancé does not mean future wife.”

“Would you stop being so damned elusive for a fucking second?” you said. Taeyong lifted one eyebrow smirking.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Yeah I don’t understand if you don’t tell me.”

Taeyong’s smirk faded until he just looked sad. He looked over at you and smiled slightly.

“You can leave the house if you want, make some friends, just don’t leave the city, it’s not so fun outside the walls of Dis, its where the real sinners go.”

You were surprised, freedom wasn’t what you expected to gain from your trespass into his personal space.

“Why now?”

“Because even though you probably won’t choose hell in the end, I at least don’t want you to resent your time here.”

You walked round the bed to sit closer to him but as you sat down, he stood up.

“I think it is easier for both of us long term if what happened yesterday… doesn’t happen again.” He looked down at the time, “I have some rogue demons to chastise, I’ll get Yuta and Yangyang to show you around town.”

Five hours later you were drunk at a vodka bar in hell where Yuta had disappeared with some girl about an hour previously and you were left laughing with Yangyang until your stomach hurt.

“You have way better stories than Yuta,” you joked as Yangyang recounted a mishap between him, a goat demon and a man who had been sent to hell mostly for his obsession with stealing collectable plates.

“and you,” he replied, “are much more fun to be around than any of Taeyong’s previous ladies,” he said, covering his mouth as soon as he said it, “well fuck,” he finished off.

“Do not fear young fallen angel for I already know of these previous ladies, as in I know they exist and nothing else.”

Yangyang breathed out a sigh of relief.

“If I had let that secret go, well I would probably have been stung by bees for the next couple hundred years, every day at three o’clock.”

“There must be worst tortures?” You prompted. Yangyang shook his head.

“Don’t ever underestimate hell bees,” he said in a statement that sounded like he had his own history with said hell bees and that you shouldn’t press further.

“I know of the ladies and I guess that’s what makes him act weird towards me, but I don’t understand what happened.” You explained.

Yangyang looked around to see who was looking before motioning you to come closer.

“I can tell you, but you never heard it from me,” he said, “I must be drunk to be telling you this. Basically, Taeyong is cursed, not by God that’s just this whole hell thing but in a personal argument with an angel named Taeil. Taeyong once stole Taeil’s fiancé back in heaven, so when he was cast down to hell Taeil vowed to take revenge. Ever since as soon as a girl dies, who is someone Taeyong would definitely fall in love with, Taeil make sure they are sent right to his door, calls them the brides of hell. Well with the first one Taeyong didn’t realise it was Taeil, he just thought he had found his soulmate. Yet three months later Taeil shows up at the gates of hell und summons her fourth, Taeyong following close behind. He offers the girl a chance to go to heaven to have everything she ever wanted, that her going to hell was just a mistake and she is meant to marry him in heaven. And the girl agrees. Because as much as she loved Taeyong she wasn’t willing to give up the idea of eternal paradise for him, same for the next four girls… and now you. With the last one he didn’t even try. He didn’t talk to her once he just kept her locked up until Doyoung came. When she left, she said she hated Taeyong, which hurt him just as much as when he was betrayed.”

You took another shot of vodka.

“Well that… is a story and a half,” you remarked. Yangyang shrugged.

“Did the first girl really love him?” she asked. Yangyang nodded.

“They were happy together, Taeyong isn’t a bad guy to the people he loves, he’s not the same person he was a couple hundred thousand years ago, he’s not a great guy by any means but he was kind to the girl and they loved each other, the first betrayal is still the worst.”

“How could she do that to him if she loved him,” you asked him, you had only known Taeyong a short time and for most of that you had resented him, but you had started to understand him.

“Heaven isn’t something you refuse,” Yangyang said simply.

Before long you were both back to laughing and drinking, increasingly incapacitated. An hour later Yangyang was dragging you back to the steps of Taeyong’s house. He knocked on the door, lazily calling out,

“Taeyong, come and get y/n! I want to go to bed!” he said.

Taeyong appeared at the door a few moments later to see you lying on the ground semi-conscious, cocktail umbrella still in you grasp.

He leaned down and picked you easily, something you welcomed after Yangyang’s drunk drag.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he said. You shook your head laughing.

“No!” you protested like a stubborn child, “I want to sleep next to you, in your room.”

Taeyong looked somewhat shocked.

“I already explained it would be better if we just kept out distance,” he began before you cut him off. You put your finger over his lips to silence him.

“Starting today,” you said, “I am going to stay with you forever, starting right now, in your bed.”

Taeyong sighed, continuing on to your room before placing you down in your bed, he tried to leave but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Please don’t leave me alone again,” you asked him quietly, “I don’t like being alone in this place.”

Taeyong’s eyes soften, his resolve defeated, he sat down next to you in the bed.

“I really won’t leave you, I won’t go with that mean Taeil guy,”

“Yangyang is so dead,” Taeyong said.

“We’re all dead silly.” You lay back in the bed, pulling Taeyong’s arm so he fell down to lie facing you.

“And you will leave, they all do,” Taeyong explained. You blinked a few times.

“I’m not them, I’m y/n, I’m my own person. And anyway, I bet none of them ever kissed you first.”

“Why did you kiss me?” Taeyong questioned thoughtfully.

“I really don’t know I just suddenly felt like it was the right thing to do in that moment, like fate had been leading up to right then and there.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Taeyong sighed, “we are all just puppets of people like Taeil.”

“For someone who has power over a whole dimension that is a very defeatist attitude.” And before he could protest anymore you placed your hand on his cheek, your fingertips brushing a few strands of his hair,

“Am I really not different to any of those other women? Maybe their choice wasn’t wrong, maybe they just weren’t right for you, maybe I am,”

“I’m scared of you in particular, I have watched parts of your life on earth and I could see myself with you more than anyone before, and that terrifies me,” Taeyong admitted.

“I cause fear in the devil, what a powerful woman I am,” you joked grinning at him, “Don’t underestimate me.”

Taeyong brought his hand up to cover yours that was still rested on your face.

“You said you hate being alone here, why would you ever choose to stay here?” he asked.

“Because I wouldn’t be alone, I would have friends like Yuta and Yangyang and I would have you, Taeil chose me because we are a perfect match, right? Well then we will always be happy, also Yuta assures me he has a few million more stories lined up and I can’t miss out on that.”

Taeyong’s eyes stared into your soul, he licked his lower lip slightly before moving so he was positioned over you, resting on his forearms.

“I really hope that what you say is true,” he said before bringing his lips to meet yours.

A few weeks passed, you didn’t see Taeyong very often, he was still very busy, but he had made your life in hell become somewhat enjoyable. You spent most of your days playing around with Yuta, Yangyang had work to do, and getting to know the city. When you did see Taeyong he still somewhat guarded, but he was a lot more genuine with you.

You were just coming back from a game of throw the devil with Yuta when you noticed a bright white letter sitting on the doorstep, Dear Taeyong was written on the front in cursive writing similar to that of Taeyong’s.

Yuta grimaced at the sight of it. You didn’t have to ask who it was from because you knew it was from him, from Taeil.

“Well it was fun to get to know you,” Yuta said, holding out his hand for you to shake, “I wish you all the best in heaven, it sounds like a great place.”

“I’m not going,” you said. Yuta snorted,

“No one would ever give up that chance, especially not for someone they barely know, you’ve talked to Taeyong, what three four times, you might be crazy but there is no way you’re that crazy.

You looked up at the orange sky above, wishing more than ever that you could remember your past life, so you could understand what choice you would have made when you were alive.

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, maybe I suffered permanent brain damage when I fell down that hole on the way here… but I just have this feeling, a feeling that tells me that I belong here, with Taeyong, with you, with Yangyang, that this is my fate.”

“Don’t suffer a harsh fate just because you feel sorry for the devil,” Yuta exhaled deeply.

“How is this fate harsh?” you asked, “maybe for most people hell is the worst, but I have only had good experiences here, I may have complained about your stories, but they weren’t that bad,”

“Any fate is harsh in comparison to perfection.” Yuta mused.

“It’s almost like you want me to leave,” you joked. Yuta looked at the letter with envy.

“If you want to stay here that’s your choice and I will be happy not to see you go, but it’s not the choice I would make.”

You pushed him slightly on the shoulder to ease the tension.

“You would be bored after five seconds up there,” you said opening the door and kicking your shoes off into the hallway.

You both went to eat and were wrapped up in conversation but neither of you could ignore when you heard the front door slam loudly and Taeyong scream out a list of profanities even from the other side of the house.

You gave Yuta a small smile before hurrying downstairs to try and find Taeyong. He was kneeling in the hallway staring down at the open letter on the floor that was set alight, the pages burning until there was nothing left but ash.

You tried to sit near him to comfort him, but he pulled away.

“I won’t go with him,” you said quietly. Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you fucking will, no matter what you say humans are all the fucking same, you’re not special.”

You were taken aback. You had known the letter would upset Taeyong, but you hadn’t expected him to act with such anger.

“I don’t need your stupid fucking pity,” Taeyong hissed, the venom in his voice not something that could be faked, “I may want to love you but at this point I hate you at the same time and I will hate every girl that comes after.”

Your eyes narrowed and you snorted slightly.

“I didn’t pity you before Taeyong,” you said, “but this is pathetic.”

You picked up a vase that was next to you and smashed it on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong said standing up, alarmed at your sudden violence.

“I don’t remember my life on earth,” you began, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t an angel. I do know who I am now though, I commit petty crimes with Yuta for fun, I am attracted to a man who tortures people for a living, and I broke your vase just because I can. That doesn’t make me evil but I’m not a saint and I certainly don’t see a reason to go to heaven. Call me a narcissist but at least here I’m special, at least you will love me and for whatever reason my brain seems to value that more than eternal glory or whatever.”

“I’m a difficult man and this is a difficult place, I’ve just sheltered you from it so far.” Taeyong said.

You stepped closer to him until your lips were right by his ear.

“Then show me,” you whispered, “show me hell,” you stepped back, “show me what life here is really like and then I can make an informed choice, I can’t chose you if you don’t even give me a chance.”

“That seems fair, you can at least be Queen of Hell for a day” Taeyong agreed.

Which is how you ended up hours later back on the lift out of the city. This time you had no broken bones and you instead wore a dress of fire, courtesy of Yuta’s demon magic.

Taeyong led you through the circles of hell, through all the punishments, betrayers frozen in ice; tyrants and robber forced to swim in boiling blood; the eternal combat of the wrathful sullen and lazy and the lustful caught in the endless violent wind to name but a few.

“Hell is a horrible place for a lot of people, the city of Dis is the exception not the rule, to live there you have to live with that.”

“Then who are the people wondering around, in the villages outside the city?” you asked, not really wanting to dwell on the torture.

“The pain of torture dulls after a few thousand years and those people become free, everyone here is free because of that. After a few thousand years you can just get up and walk away and live a life again. I burned in fire for three thousand years until one day I just walked away and found the demons in the city,” Taeyong explained.

“So, the torture ends?” You asked him. Taeyong nodded,

“Pain has no power if you have experienced 1000 lifetimes of it, it just becomes normal.”

“Then I can live with it.” You said.

Taeyong looked surprised.

“It probably makes me a bad person but then I suppose that justifies my place here but if the torture ends then I can justify within myself living here, marrying you.”

“If I chose to stay, do I have to suffer the thousands of years?” you followed up.

“Does that change your answer?”

You didn’t know. But you didn’t think so, you just didn’t ever want to say something you weren’t totally sure about.

“But no, you wouldn’t, every millennium I can pardon someone, I have saved that for the chance someone ever choses to marry me,”

“Not the pessimist I always thought then,” you giggled. Taeyong laughed,

“It wasn’t optimism, it was fear… though the pain ends, I still didn’t want anyone who had made a choice to stay with me to have to experience it, because while it normalises after a thousand years the first couple hundred really are torture.”

“Well then I can’t really have any objections to hell then, or to such a thoughtful devil as you.”

“Would you like to sleep in my room tonight,” Taeyong asked suddenly.

“I knew there were other perks to Hell,” you joked.

“Well you’re a beautiful girl and I’m certainly no saint.”

When the sky turned from orange to blood red you were in Taeyong’s room. He was sitting up in his bed, shirt unbuttoned slightly, making the room feel even hotter than the inferno it already was.

You fiddled slightly with the bottom of your shirt before pulling it straight off, to reveal the lingerie that had been left in your drawer by Taeyong since day one. Taeyong smiled to himself dragging his finger over his lip slightly.

You continued, pulling down your shorts to reveal your panties, stepping ever closer towards Taeyong, who had begun to take his own shirt off as well, revealing his chest underneath.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the ground as you crawled onto the bed, towards Taeyong, fuelled by new confidence given to you by the look the devil. His eyes burning with lust.

You had barely touched him before he caught your arm and flipped you over, once again resting on his forearms above you but this time he kissed your neck.

“I’m the king of hell, I’m in charge here,” he said, bringing his hand up to massage your breast as he marked your neck, causing you to illicit a moan, any plans you had slipping away.

You watched him grin as he pulled away,

“You’re beautiful,” he noted. You noticed the same thing about him, it was clear he used to be an angel, but the scars on his chest, a product of hell somehow only made him more attractive. As you both paused your eyes travelled down to his underwear, where a wet patch had already formed at the tip of his dick.

Taeyong caught you staring,

“Wanna suck?” he asked and so you nodded but Taeyong stopped you as you leaned down to touch him.

“I want to hear you say it, I want to hear the sinful words, worth of the Queen of Hell.”

You had no problem obliging, you didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do for this man at this point and you still weren’t a hundred percent sure why.

“I want to suck your cock, I want to choke on it” you said to him with a small smile, before once again leaning down and pulling at his waistband. Taeyong was pleasantly surprised by your own addition to the statement,

‘I didn’t realise you were such a good slut,” he grinned a grin that quickly turned into a moan as you took him into your mouth, pushing your head down until you felt him against the back of your throat causing you to gag before moving back up and down again. As you sucked you looked up at Taeyong, tears forming in your eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he said. It didn’t take long until Taeyong’s breathing got heavier and you swallowed his warm cum that burst into your mouth, not missing a drop.

He recovered quickly and before you realised it, he was kissing you again, his hands wasting no time in removing your own panties, that were already soaked.

“I’m glad I have this effect on you,” Taeyong smirked as he chucked them across the other side of the room. Taeyong’s fingers stroked over your wet entrance but before he could slide a finger in you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Not today, I just want to feel you inside me,” you asked, and he was happy to oblige, just as you had been.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. When you were ready you could feel him rubbing his dick over your wet folds, teasing you.

“I’ve gone months without sex down here because of you, just fuck me, please,” you begged. Taeyong immediately thrust his full length into you, but despite this initial urgency, he kept a slow torturous pace.

You whined in complaint which had no effect on Taeyong’s actions.

“This is what you get instead of a thousand years of torture baby, and also you feel so good, so tight around me, I want to savour it.” He said.

You moved your hips back to meet Taeyong, trying to get him to increase his pace.

“I’m sure Taeil would fuck me harder,” you teased which was all it took.

“So that’s the game you want to play,” Taeyong smirked before pulling out completely. Before you could even complain about the loss Taeyong thrust back into you again in tandem with a smack on your ass.

“You’re a bad girl, and bad girls get bad treatment.” He kept one hand on your hip and one hand grabbed your hair as he pumped into you hard and fast, your moans getting louder each time.

“If you don’t shut up Yuta will here you,” Taeyong complained, “but I bet a naughty slut like you would like that wouldn’t you,”

You moaned in agreement.

“I want to hear you say it,” Taeyong said, smacking your ass again.

“I’m a naughty slut who wants Yuta to hear me fucking you.” Taeyong groaned at your sinful words, his dick beginning to twitch inside you.

A few seconds later you felt his cum inside you and Taeyong continue to fuck it into you, which was enough to push you over the edge.

“Fuck!” you screamed out as Taeyong kept fucking you through the aftershocks, before pulling out and getting you to kay down next to him.

“I love you y/n,” he said, his eyes filled with affection, “even if you are a naughty girl.”

Two days later Taeil appeared at your door. It was 3pm in the afternoon when he knocked. Taeyong answered the door and went outside first, you didn’t go until he called you a few minutes later.

“Hello y/n, I am Taeil, Angel of Heaven.” He introduced himself.

“I am aware,” you replied curtly. You could see the fear in Taeyong’s eyes, and it made you want to cry, you couldn’t believe he still thought you would leave him.

“I am here to give you the chance to come to heaven, where you can have everything you ever wanted and live in perfect peace, instead of a tumultuous eternity in hell.” He began but you cut him short.

“I am fine here actually but thanks for the offer.”

Taeil didn’t look phased, maybe it had taken a while before the others agreed.

“I can give you everything, memories of your life on earth, the chance to meet your family again, here you will endure years of pain.”

You remained resolute.

“That’s a no thank you, have a nice day,” you said grabbing Taeyong’s hand and moving to head back inside

Taeil stopped you, his arm placed in front of you. He reached into his pocket and played a scene into your mind.

It was what you guessed was heaven and all you could feel was an immense sense of peace, you saw people around you smiling and cheers of laughter not screams.

“My answer is still no,” you said. Taeil looked perplexed.

“No one who has seen heaven has ever turned it down, what could be better than the everlasting peace?” he asked.

You looked up at Taeyong who still looked frantically worried and smiled. You saw Yuta hopping from foot to foot behind a bush with Yangyang to eavesdrop what was happening.

“Everlasting love,” you replied, “Everlasting friendship,” you continued, “and besides I reckon hell must be more fun anyway.”

Taeil took a few steps back, something close to anger appearing on his face.

“If you turn this offer down, I will never give it to you again,” Taeil asked. You shrugged.

“Have a nice flight back,” was all you said before leaning up and giving Taeyong a kiss on the cheek.

“I won’t want what I can have because I have all the things I need, and that is my peace.”

Taeyong wrapped his arms around you grinning,

“You really are one of a kind, kissed me first girl,” he remarked. Taeil scoffed.

“Have fun being damned together,” he said before heading back out the gate.

“Being damned never looked so good!” Yangyang called from behind the bush. You laughed, sure at that moment you had made the right choice.

Even if you hadn’t Taeil came back every year for the next thirty years, despite promising it would be the last each time, unwilling to accept that he had lost. Each time you found a creative way of telling him to get lost. Each year Taeyong looked less and less scared that you would leave him until he finally realised you never would.

“Get lost Taeil!” He called out, “My wife isn’t interested in your schemes and she never will be,” he shouted before he proceeded to make out with you in a very non-PG way causing Taeil to cover his eyes and run. After that he never returned.

A hundred years later you sat with Taeyong under the orange sky and smiled.

“Do you believe in fate now?” you asked, rubbing your thumb on the outside of his hand.

“I believe in my love for you, be that fate, the end to my torture or just sheer luck. Whichever it is I’m thankful for it, because hell is lonely but when you have someone with you, it’s just a very warm place with a lot of alcohol and screaming.”

Maybe the second part wasn’t so eloquent, but it was right. Hell wasn’t something to be feared when you had someone by your side. Because for Taeyong being alone had been more torturous than the fire.

At that moment Yuta’s demon child ran into the garden and set fire to the tablecloth and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Yuta then threw the child about a mile, probably a demon throwing high score.

The afterlife you had chosen wasn’t what most people had chosen, most people didn’t even get a choice and so when Taeyong kissed you in the darkness lit up by flames you felt like someone who was lucky. You didn’t know why this was the afterlife you lived or why Taeyong had ever meant so much. But you final realised that you didn’t need to know. That sometimes things could have vague answers and that was okay. As long as your love for Taeyong was clear, then so was the choice you had made.

As you had once shouted at Taeil whilst chucking a demon at him,

“What’s so good about resting in peace anyway,” you found resting in chaos much more entertaining.