#sinless sinners

Ideally, he would call up a healer from the Sloth ring, but since he didn’t know who did this to you, he didn’t trust anyone. His mistrust was misguided, especially seeing how the Sloth Ring’s medics were hell-borns who would never test their limited abilities against a Sinner, but the paranoia was impossible to ignore.

So, he used his magic and tools to aid you. He started on your torso, gently removing your tunic. His hands were shaking, covered in your blood. Still, he forced himself to continue, first in cleaning the injuries and then using a soldering iron of all things to cauterize the wounds, his life as an engineer and designer being the only experience he could fall back on.

You cried out, half-conscious, but beyond comprehension.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Lucifer soothed, even though it was all an act. There was nothing okay, and internally he was a mess, but he couldn’t let that show when you were already suffering.

Lucifer’s platitudes failed to soothe you, addled as you were. He sniffled and tried not to cry as he worked. There was little left to your clothing, and he was forced to strip you fully to start on your legs.

Once he had treated the injuries on your legs and torso, he dressed you in his evening robe to preserve your dignity. Then, he worked upwards to your face, freezing when he found the crucifix branded into your neck. This was the work of an Angel!

Lucifer’s eyes turned red, his horns growing and knocking the hat from atop his head, his hair in wild disarray. His fangs thirsted for Angel blood, and his claws demanded to rip them apart. His tail lashed wildly as the rage built.

He had made the Deal with the Angels for the extermination, but it was not Extermination Day, and they were unwelcome in his domain.

With nowhere to direct his ire, the bloodlust only built until you faintly reached for his hand, barely managing to grasp it.

“(Y/N),” He said your name earnestly, all traces of his Demonic form gone as he fell to his knees by the bed, clasping your hand between his.

“So-” The words died on your lips, replaced with an agonised groan. It took a minute before you could finish the sentiment. “Sorry.”

You were barely audible. You looked at him blearily, determined to continue, “Was-” You gulped weakly, “Was a fool.”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, no, no,” He repeated the word, slowly, softly, needing you to know that you were anything but. “(Y/N), please, what happened? Which Angel did this?”

You tried in vain to speak once more, but you were done, hitting your limit, and though you fought it, your eyes fluttered to a close, and you were unconscious once more.

Lucifer let out an anguished cry, pressing his forehead to yours. Why did you have to bleed red instead of black? You were the furthest thing from a Sinner he could imagine. Standing back up, Lucifer grabbed some cotton pads and continued his work, a patch of your blood drying above his brow.

He had to do everything he could. Injuries delivered by an Exorcist would heal the human way: slowly and painfully. If only you were a ragdoll again, you might ease the pain, but in your exhaustion, you seemed to be stuck as the person he had first met; the person he was growing closer to with every second that passed.

“Oh (Y/N), what did you do?”

You could barely focus on the voice, too disoriented for the time being, but after much effort, you managed to open your eyes to Charlie, holding your hand delicately in hers, just as her father had the night before.

‘I don’t know this room,’ You thought, distractedly, your mind being entirely uncooperative.

You didn’t take in many of the details past a family portrait on the table next to Charlie and a pile of rubber ducks that had been hastily thrown across the floor for Lucifer to place you on the bed.

“What’d you do?” Angel’s heavy-accented voice joined in, alerting you that he was somewhere outside of your limited purview.

You forced yourself to focus, especially when Vaggie joined Charlie’s side, the two apparently reconciled, closely followed by Sir Pentious. You felt the weight of Angel sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Lucifer?” You croaked.

“Dad’s gone out to get some painkillers,” Charlie explained. It made sense. Lucifer could only create things he could comprehend, and having felt little physical pain in his long life, he likely lacked the ability to provide them.

“I went- went to-” You coughed, a glob of blood forcing its way up your throat and dribbling down your chin.

Charlie tenderly wiped it away with a washcloth, her brows creased in consternation.

“Slowly (Y/N),” Vaggie said, trying to be comforting despite desperately needing answers as the Hotel’s protector.

“Embassy,” You managed.

“What the fuck?!” Angel said lowly.

“Oh my!” Sir Pentious exclaimed.

“The Embassy?! As in Heaven’s Embassy?!” Vaggie’s hands balled into fists. “Why? Why would you go there?”

You didn’t want to tell them that you had died a Winner since Charlie put so much faith into how much better Heaven was. It probably was as good as she made it out to be, but you were still bitterly clinging to the fact that the deity running it was either ignorant or apathetic about the murderous angels running it.

And, even if you did want to tell them everything, you were unable to, managing only a few halting words at a time.

“Jus… wanted it- to stop,” You head grew heavy, lolling back into the pillows.

“(Y/N)!” For the first time, Angel sounded frantic, as if you were going to die. “C’mon, you can heal shit, I’ve seen you do it.”

While it was true you could fix small wounds, this was far beyond your extremely limited power.

“We should let her rest,” Charlie said defeatedly. “(Y/N), I promise we will fix this. I’ve already found out how. Carmilla Carmine-”

You didn’t hear the rest of what Charlie had to say, but you were mildly appeased to hear that she still had a plan; Charlie was the one person who never gave up.

You went through periods of sleeping and waking, though the latter times were short-lived, and it felt like you were in a daze, your mind dulled by the pain.

Then, there was finally a brief respite brought, unknowingly to you, by Lucifer, who had finally allowed a doctor into the Manor to provide you with an IV drip and pain relief. The Doctor was not allowed to stay, which was probably a good thing since she was more interested in Lucifer than caring for you, but during her brief visit, Lucifer did learn how to replace the IV and top up your pain relief when needed.

After that, he refused to leave your, or rather, his bedside, watching you for any sign that you would be okay, his eyes occasionally landing on that damned brand. He slept very little and anxiously suffered through the long days wherein you were unable to take his mind from the impending attack on Charlie’s Hotel.

He had tried to avenge you, but as always, he was a joke to Heaven, and without proof that an Angel had attacked you, they would do nothing. The proof was lying in front of him, struggling to breathe, but Heaven didn’t care to hear about that.

Lucifer held his head in his hands and cried; he had never felt so powerless.

When Lucifer did sleep, it was because he passed out from exhaustion, always in the armchair he had moved to the bedside.

After one such much-needed and short-lived rest, Lucifer opened his eyes, panicking immediately when you weren’t there.

He shot up, calling your name anxiously, living out a nightmare he had never considered.

“It’s okay,” You croaked, coming out from the en-suite bathroom, “I’m here.”

You were finally up, the IV removed from your arm since you were too frail to walk with it. Seeing you up, Lucifer felt a weird combination of ecstasy that you were getting better and terror that you might push yourself too far and just fall apart. His concern was well placed as you stumbled forward, clutching your side.

He raced to you, catching you before you could fall. Then, picking you up like you weighed nothing, he carried you back to the bed.

“How’s Charlie doing?” You asked.

Lucifer’s heart swelled; you were in critical condition, yet your first thought was for his daughter’s well-being.

“She- She’s strong,” He said instead of troubling you with the battle training Charlie and her new cannibal army were undergoing. “She wants to visit more, but with everything going on…”

You nodded. “And you? You’re okay?”

Lucifer let out a small sound that was half cry, half exasperated laugh. “Don’t worry about me. It’s you I’m scared for. (Y/N), please, tell me why? Why did you go to Adam?”

“Okay,” You said, more to yourself; you had kept the secret for so long, it felt like someone should know, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better than Lucifer.

“When I died, after- after that man-”

Your voice faltered and your eyes welled with tears, “It was horrible, Lucifer. It’s all I could think of when Adam- when he-”

You couldn’t finish, and Lucifer hurried forward onto the bed to hold you against him. His cheek rested on your head, and he stroked your hair soothingly.

“It’s okay,” He whispered. “You’re here now, and I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you again. I promise.”

It took a while for you to calm your sobs, and Lucifer felt all the worse knowing that Adam had brutalised you in the same manner that your murderer had.

“When I died,” You said again, finally managing to regain your original train of thought, though your voice was thick from crying, “I went to Heaven.”

“What?” Lucifer cupped your face in his hands, searching it, his hold and expression intimate. “But-but how? You- You’re here?”

You threw your arms around him, pressing your face to his chest, wetting it with your teardrops. “I was so foolish and stubborn, but when I got there- I-I couldn’t stop thinking about how I died- How any God could let that happen! And all the wars and the crimes and the hatered.”

Lucifer’s hold on you tightened. That was all his fault. He had introduced Sin to the world with the naïve hope that knowledge was better than ignorance. Yet, you blamed God. Of course you would, it was not an act of your so-called ‘free will’ to be tortured and murdered. To you, it probably felt more like something that Heaven should have stopped.

“And I just- I never went through the gates. I did everything I could to not go there. I was so angry!”

You thought of the smiling face of Peter, whom you had ruthlessly attacked, trying to do as much damage to him as had been done to you. You didn’t get very far, the Universe deciding that there was evil in your heart after all, revenge driving you to Hell; after all, Wrath was a sin.

“I did terrible things to the Angel,” You admitted, your voice tiny.

Lucifer shook his head.

“No!” He said forcefully. “It’s Heaven! They twist up everything pure about the world, never mind the good intentions in your heart. You are not a Sinner. You’re someone who desperately needed help.”

There was another lull in the conversation, and Lucifer held you till there were no tears left.

That evening, he only left you to bring some comforts. Fresh pyjamas, from your room this time, a tray of tea that he placed on your bedside table, and the picture of your friends from the Hotel.

You had offered to return to your room, but Lucifer refused. You had been far too frail in your return from the bathroom earlier. Besides, all the medical devices were set up in his room. Granted, you no longer needed the IV, but in case you regressed to a worse state, Lucifer wanted it nearby.

In your emotionally vulnerable state, Lucifer decided to stay on the bed with you, letting you lie against him while he read to you. A happy story with a happy ending that he knew well and thought you would like.

“Lucifer,” You mumbled, tired again after only a few chapters.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Lucifer could hear the sleep in your voice, and he smiled softly. He moved slightly, facing you, his only real company in seven years. He cupped your cheek, lightly stroking a thumb over a fading cut, “You don’t ever need to thank me.”

There was more left unsaid in that, like how much he valued you and the way you brightened a room, the way you left your jackets all over the manor, making rooms feel lived in again, the way that you made him feel like he was needed.

You were lost in Lucifer’s eyes, and you almost missed the way they dipped down to your lips. He leaned forward, the small of his hand supporting your back. You were hypnotised, your chin tilting up slightly until that ever-sweet moment when his lips pressed against yours.

Yours and Lucifer’s eyes fluttered closed, both of you lost in the moment.

‘I’m married!’

Lucifer’s eyes shot open at the thought, feeling the portrait of his wife glaring at him from behind.

He pulled back from you, pushing you away as he leapt from the bed, panting anxiously.

‘What have I done?! I love Lilith. I have always loved Lilith!’

“Lucifer,” You called, voice distraught.

He looked at you, felt himself shaking, and then hurried out of the room. You made a weak attempt to pursue, falling off the bed and clinging to the armchair for support.

“Vaggie!” You exclaimed upon finding her in the Hotel Lobby, “Why are you and Charlie back early?”

Vaggie looked disappointed. When she heard the Hotel door open, she had hoped it would be Charlie, but instead, it was you, seeking answers.

“You know where Charlie is? Is she okay?!” Vaggie asked, staring past you as if hoping the door would open again to reveal the person she wanted to see most in the world.

“I don’t know. She’s with her dad, talking things over, I guess. What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Vaggie huffed, grabbing her spear and heading to the door.

You stood in front of it, annoyed at being ignored. “It sure as shit does matter, unless you’re admitting this hotel is a sham and you don’t believe in anyone in it, or Charlie.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Tell me what happened!”

Vaggie clutched her spear tightly, the whites of her knuckles showing. She could fight you, and it wouldn’t be hard for her to force you out of the way, but she relented after a moment as you had known she would.

She sighed and motioned for you to follow her, where you wouldn’t be disturbed. In her and Charlie’s room, she told you everything about the trip to Heaven, her past as an exorcist, and the way they had been cast out of the angelic realm. Afterwards, she clutched at her skirt, her eyes downcast as she waited for the insults she knew she deserved.

You took a long breath, thinking about what to say. Of course, the Angels would reject Hell. They were self-righteous bastards who never listened to anyone and pompously claimed to be perfect all the time. You had a lot to say regarding them and their ways, but you knew that had to wait. In this instance, Vaggie needed a friend. You had never been particularly close to her, seeing as she tended to push people away, but you still trusted her. Besides, if Heaven was coming for a fight, the Hotel needed every ally it could get.

You took a breath, stuck on what to do. For most people it would be time to get ass-deep in meth and call it a shitty end to a shitty afterlife, but if you had learned anything since dying, it was that Hell was awful, but it had still managed to become a home thanks to the right people. You briefly thought of Lucifer and what it felt like to go home to him. The feeling warmed you.

Collecting your thoughts, you sat next to Vaggie on the bed, putting your hand over hers, “I’m sorry all of that happened to you.”

“What?!” Vaggie stared at you. “You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m fucking furious, but not at you. I get why you didn’t want to tell us… Things that big get harder to tell the longer you keep them to yourself.”

You should know. You had some secrets that felt so heavy you worried the weight might break you. Yet, while Vaggie was still overwhelmed with her problems, you didn’t want to add yours to the list, or rather, that’s what you told yourself so you could hide away a part of your life in cowardice.

“Look,” You said sombrely, “we don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to get everyone together, tell them what happened and get things ready to protect the Hotel. I know it’s going to be hard to tell everyone what happened, but I know you can do it, and if you want, I’ll be right there with you.”

Vaggie sighed and got up, grabbing her spear and standing resolutely, “Okay, let’s do this then.”

“That’s the spirit, and hey,” You smiled comfortingly, “Charlie will come around, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

“She will,” You reassured Vaggie, letting your human façade drop to reveal the rag-doll beneath. “She accepts everyone for who they are. Good or bad.”

“I don’t think you’re bad at all, Demon,” Vaggie quipped.

“Nor you, Angel.” With that, the two of you headed back to the lobby, texting everyone to call an emergency meeting. You hoped the others would accept Vaggie, and, more importantly, that they would help defend the Hotel; it was one of the few places in Hell that any Demon could call a home.

Charlie was the first to get back to the Hotel. She looked like she had been crying and was palming away tears as she rushed to the stairs. Vaggie tried to talk to her, but Charlie brushed her off, stating that she needed time to come up with a plan.

Under normal circumstances, you might have tried talking to her, but seeing how she had just returned from her father and wouldn’t even let Vaggie see her, you opted to give her some space. Besides, as the Hotel’s denizens trickled back one at a time, you knew that you had to be there for them and Vaggie.

As Vaggie explained what had happened, Hell broke loose. Husk was pissed that the princesses’ plan had put Heaven’s spotlight on them again, Angel Dust wasn’t taking anything seriously as usual, Nifty was in a world of her own, Sir Pentious looked concerned for himself and his Egg Bois, and Alastor… was nowhere to be seen. You wondered if he’d gone for further intel on the situation, but were far too distracted to care. At least, you were until the ceiling cracked with glimmering green sigils, revealing that a deal had been made with the overlord.

“Shit,” You cursed as Vaggie ran to Charlie’s aid.

“Well, we’re completely fucked,” Angel deadpanned, grabbing a drink from behind the bar.

“No. We’re not-” You tried.

“Are you fucking kiddin’ me?” Husk countered, angry as ever. “Our fearless leader just made a deal with tall, dark, and creepy, and you think we ain’t fucked?! If he has the Princess of Hell on his leash, that’s worse than whatever Heaven’s gonna bring down on us.”

“Don’t say that! We don’t know what deal they made. Charlie wouldn’t sell her soul.”

“You think so?” Husk sneered. “People do all sorts of crazy shit when they’re desperate.”

You were about to argue more when Charlie and Alastor rushed past, leaving the hotel as if it were about to collapse on them. You held your breath. If they were running, there really was no hope.

Vaggie followed, “Did Charlie-”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice as he explained that they had practically run from the hotel. You breathed a sigh of relief as Vaggie explained that they had a plan to do with Carmine, but the feeling was short-lived as she told everyone that she could no longer protect them and that if anyone wanted to leave, she understood. It sounded all too much like a final goodbye.

“So… what now?” Husk asked, devoid of hope.

You suspected that he didn’t want to know the answer since it wouldn’t help him. No matter what happened, his soul belonged to Alastor, and he wouldn’t be able to run from the Hotel even if he wanted to.

Angel Dust stepped forward, pounding his fist determinedly, “Now, we fight for our home.”

You smiled at him. It wasn’t long ago that he thought of the Hotel as a way to save precious drug money. Now, it was his ‘home.’

“Yes!” Sir Pentious agreed enthusiastically. “Nifty, get the tools, dear. Egg Bois, the emergency supplies. We have to fortify the Hotel against invasion!”

“Oooohhhhh,” Nifty laughed darkly, “Time to fight the bad boys.”

“Uh, Nifty dear, the only boy attacking will be Adam. His army are all women.”

Nifty threw back her head and cried, “No. I want bad boys.”

“Sorry sister,” Angel lamented, “But an Army of Adams wouldn’t be pussy enough to take us on. Now let’s get moving, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Despite the scene of solidarity, you wondered whether there was more you could do than help fortify the Hotel. Granted, the camaraderie was a grand sight to behold, and you were proud of your found family, but the threat of an Exorcist army against a handful of your friends was too great, even with Charlie’s supposed plan.

It was time for you to make a house call and hope to Hell that it paid off; you couldn’t watch your family die.

“I’ll be back soon,” You told everybody.

Angel grabbed your arm before you could go, “Whoa, (Y/N), you’re not running out on us, are you?”

“Me? Never.” You answered, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ve just gotta check on something, but I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I know that look,” Husk tutted. “You’re about to gamble on something. Better hope it pays off, ragdoll. Now isn’t the time to lose it all on a longshot.”

You stared at him, fear gnawing your insides. Husk relented and softened up.

“Take care of yourself out there, Doll. We got enough to worry about without adding you to our list.”

You nodded, your promise silent and serious.

Angel let you go and ruffled your hair, “Come back soon.”

“I will,” You whispered, hurrying away before you could lose your nerve.

You hated everything about your surroundings in the Heaven Embassy. It was unnervingly quiet and unwelcoming. The waiting room was pristine, magically protected against vandals. It practically screamed that it was better than all of Hell.

There was a time that you wondered if you would ever come here, but you had always turned your back on the Embassy, despising Heaven for letting you and so many others down in life, yet claiming to be ever so perfect in the Afterlife. Now, you hated it even more since learning how it had hurt Lucifer and Charlie, and how the Angels were so hypocritical in their values, never willing to admit that people could change. You ought to know, you had changed more than all the Sinners in Hell, and if you, once a Winner, could turn to a Sinner, then you saw no reason why a Sinner couldn’t redeem themselves into a Winner.

Biting the inside of your cotton cheek, you pressed the bell. A scroll appeared, asking you to sign in, and you did so, writing your full name and date of Death in the hopes that it would help them recognise you.

The doors opened wide, and you entered a conference room where Adam himself was waiting. You recognised him immediately from Charlie’s description. He was smiling wickedly, and you might have bolted if he were actually there, but you knew that he would never come to a place like this.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Heaven’s little reject bitch,” Adam sneered. Your eyes travelled to Lute, who glowered at you, standing behind Adam like a well-trained guard dog.

“Adam-” You started.

“No, no, I’m not done. I wanna know what makes you think that you get to walk in here, like you fucking own the place. Seriously, what kind of dumb fuck do you have to be to come to the one place that you will never be fucking welcome? How is Hell, by the way? Fucking gross as shit? What am I saying? Of course it is! And that’s where scum like you belongs.”

“Please, let me-”

“You’ll listen when Adam speaks,” Lute demanded.

You glared at the pair of them, your hands balling into fists. You hadn’t met them before this, but you weren’t surprised that they knew who you were. You were willing to bet that everyone working for Heaven knew of the Winner turned Sinner. Still, you couldn’t let your temper get the better of you. Adam was egotistical, and you hoped that you could use that to your advantage.

He was still talking, throwing a slew of insults your way, but you managed to stop him, throwing yourself to his feet in a bow, worshipping him like he was God himself.

“Oh, I fucking love this, Lute check this out!” Adam lorded himself over you. “Damn right, you’re fucking bowing. Though I gotta say, I thought you were gonna sit here and beg not to be exterminated. I guess you’re just here to beg to get out of this shit-hole instead. I mean, a dirt-bag like you doesn’t deserve Heaven, but maybe if you can see how fucking awesome I am, you might have some redeeming qualities.”

You held yourself firm so you wouldn’t shake. Once again, you were glad that he wasn’t really there so that he couldn’t make an indecent proposal and force you to whore yourself out to him or something like that.

You shuddered as you felt your skin shimmer and change, making yourself as human as possible to appeal to his Demon-Hating nature. Yet, as many times as you had changed from rag-doll to human, you had never changed your appearance to something that you had never been. But now, you could feel that you were someone else, someone beautiful, like a model. You had to be gorgeous, so that Adam saw a person and not a thing; it would be just like him to associate looks with worthiness.

“I’m so sorry,” You chimed, your voice dripping with adoration towards Adam. “Truly, I’m not worthy of you.”

“Yes! Say more shit like that.”

“I know I’ve been very, very naughty, but I just thought that if I came to the great and wonderful Adam, maybe he could help me work something out.”

“Uh, huh, right.”

“You see, Adam, I didn’t come here on purpose. It was those nasty Sinners and that evil Lucifer. They did some evil magic and brought me down here.”

“Oh, please,” Lute rolled her eyes, but you kept your focus on Adam, who lapped up the praise and attention and was all too willing to believe that the man who had cuckolded him might be the reason you were here.

“Adam, smart, amazing, sensuous Adam… You know that a Sinner can’t be a Winner, right?”

“Duh, obviously,” Adam scoffed.

“Well then, it’s got to work both ways, right? So there’s no way, a Winner like me could ever become a Sinner.”

Adam pondered this for a moment, then stepped away from you and slumped in his chair at the head of the table. “I’m listening.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that until this curse on me is broken, I’m in danger here, and that danger increases when an attack is launched on Hell, because your exorcists will only see me as a Sinner, right?”

“Makes sense. With you so far.”

“So why don’t we call off the attack? Keep things safe and nice? Besides, you don’t really want to do all that work, do you?” You pouted like you had seen Angel do and got up to perch on the edge of the table.

“I fucking hate work,” Adam nodded. Then he grinned evilly, “Fortunately, killing you cunts is all play.”

He grabbed your hand, and you baulked as searing angelic light branded your flesh.

“What? You’re- ARGH!” You writhed, crying out in pain as the heat intensified.

“Here bitch? Fucking right I am after that little cunt showed up and reported me to my fucking boss. When the request came to Heaven, you think I’d waste a chance to destroy one of that Princess bitch’s toys?”

He punched you hard in the gut, and you buckled over, crying. You tried with all your might to turn back into a doll to lessen the pain, but it was impossible to focus.

“I fucking love this part of the job, and hey, it isn’t work if you love doing it, right, Lute?”

Lute stepped forward, brandishing her spear, “Sir, allow me.”

“No, no, I want to have fun with this,” Adam insisted.

He summoned a dagger, stabbing and slicing at you. You screamed, begging for mercy, crying harder as you were slammed with memories of the day you died. Part of you wished that he was using an angelic weapon so you would die the Final death, but he was intent on torturing you, using a weapon made to maim and hurt, not kill.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN COME HERE AND TRICK ME, BITCH! I’M FUCKING ADAM! THE ORIGINAL DICK MASTER, AND YOU? YOU’RE NOTHING BUT SINNER FUCKING WASTE!”

He dropped the dagger, pressing against you and choking you. You felt the air leave your lungs, suffering more since you couldn’t die.

“TELL THAT CUNT THAT WE’RE COMING FOR HER AND THAT DUMB FUCKING HOTEL OF HERS! Oh, and don’t forget,” He held out his hand to Lute who handed him a branding iron, “I fucking own you.”

He pressed the iron into your neck. You wheezed out what would have been a roar of pain had you not been choked seconds prior. This kind of treatment was exactly why you had rejected Heaven. You were the only human on record who had chosen to burn in Hell, and even though there had been plenty of moments since that you had regretted it, you knew you had made the right choice if this was the kind of person in power.

As Adam let you go, branded with the mark of Heaven’s crucifix, you scrambled up, surprised that you could do so. Fuelled by adrenaline and fear, you stumbled away. The Hotel was too far, Lucifer was also too far, and as you fell to the ground in an alley, you were sure that some Sinner was going to come along and take advantage of your injuries.

Instead, you became blearily aware of a small rubber duck that appeared by your side. You barely questioned that it was the one from your bedside table in Lucifer’s manor. Instead, you let your hand close around the small hell-hound duck. In an instant, you were transported back to the manor, collapsing against a table and bringing the tea seat atop it crashing down.

“What the-” Lucifer turned around from his workbench. “(Y/N!)”

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.  

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.

She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.

“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”

“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.

“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”

“In his room,” Vaggie explained.

“What happened? He was doing so well.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”

“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”

You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.

Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.

Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.

When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.

You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”

“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.

For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.

You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.

“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”

“Piss off.”

You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.

“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”

There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.

“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”

Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.

“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”

There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.

You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”

I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”

The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.

“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.

“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.

You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”

“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”

“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”

“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”

You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”

Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.

“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”

Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.

He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.

“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.

Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.

You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.

“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.

“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”

Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”

“What-”

“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”

“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”

“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”

“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”

Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.

“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.

“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.

Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”

And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.

Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.

All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.

Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

People were staring.

The worst part was, you weren’t sure who they were staring at, you or Lucifer. It could have easily been him since he was the King of Hell, and even those who didn’t immediately recognise him could sense the power he exuded. However, it was just as likely that they were looking at you and wondering who you were, and how you had managed to get their ruler to walk with you, especially since he wasn’t known for going out much.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

You shouldn’t have reminded him where he was going. It was obvious he hated Heaven for their treatment of him, yet yearned for it and the life he had lost within its pearly gates where nothing went wrong for anyone.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe you. Only the night before, you had told him to grow up, with such confidence, and now here you were struggling for words. He bypassed the awkward situation with ease by asking, “Will you be visiting the Hotel today?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

You had been about to mention Angel Dust. Today was one of his work days. You would like to check that he was okay. You didn’t mention him however, with something like a confidentiality clause stopping you, though you weren’t his doctor, nor was he your patient. You didn’t want to talk about his suffering; he was more than his trauma.

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

Lucifer ruminated on this for a minute. Whatever your motivations, he was glad that you were giving him and his daughter some space. Granted, the Hotel was large enough to house many conversations in separate areas but by making the offer of keeping your distance, you were giving Lucifer some breathing room; that was good.

Had you not made that offer, Lucifer might have brought up the topic of moving you back into the Hotel to Charlie, but in respecting his boundaries, Lucifer was starting to think that you weren’t so bad… for a Sinner.

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

Instead, he became annoyed as two Sinners, one who looked like a nine-year-old boy’s dream with bazooka arms and rocket-infused shoulders, and the other a winged bear-woman wielding a machine gun burst through the building on the opposite side of the road, waging war upon one another.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You thought she might struggle to lift the wreckage off him and were about to ask for Lucifer’s help before your barrier would inevitably crumble. Yet, the female imp was stronger than she appeared and she threw it off Moxxie. She then lifted him bridal style, and ran from the danger, shooting you a grateful look from across the street.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

“It was a nice thing to do, but what’s the point? Look around,” Lucifer threw his arms up dramatically. “Someone built something nice, and now it’s gone, all because two Sinners couldn’t take their petty power struggle somewhere else. Nobody benefits from this.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

“I’m not delirious, Millie,” Moxxie said pointedly, clinging onto her shoulder to support his weight; his leg was in all likeliness broken, but being an imp of Hell, it would heal quickly enough.

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good Lady,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re welcome,” You smiled. Then, with a small flourish of your fingers, Moxxie leg was bandaged and he was provided with a crutch to hold onto. You were no healer, but that would help the bone set correctly.

Moxxie and Millie thanked you both again, presuming that Lucifer had been part of the rescue (and in a way he was, for when the warring Demons saw him, they took their battle elsewhere), then they were gone, one limping down the street on his new crutch, and his wife offering to carry him.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say about that. They were only imps. Why did you think they mattered? Yet, after watching the loving couple thank you for their rescue, Lucifer wasn’t certain that he trusted his assessment of the situation. Charlie wanted to redeem Sinners, you had just saved the lowest of all Hell’s beings and he…? He needed to reassess how he thought about things.

The two of you didn’t speak after that and Lucifer assumed that you were mad at him until you reached Heaven’s Embassy. Lucifer stared at the building, broken and hopeless, thinking about how he would have to fight for Charlie.

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

When Lucifer returned home, he was exhausted. The meeting had been lengthy and derogatory. He had been treated with barely disguised disdain and talked in circles, but finally, Heaven had agreed to allow his daughter passage to Heaven.

It was never an option really. As the ruler of a powerful realm, Lucifer had to be treated respectfully, even if all of Heaven hated him. Yet, just because they had to acquiesce to his request didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. The only good news was that it had been Sera and a few of her assistants who hosted the meeting, not that ignorant prick Adam; Lucifer hated that guy… though his taste in women had always been spectacular.

Still, it had all been worth it when he got to the hotel and Charlie thanked him and invited him to stay for a while. They had caught up over tea, and he had gotten to know a little bit more about her and her relationship with Vaggie. Lucifer likely would have stayed longer seeing as he’d also been invited to games night, but then that red-headed bastard was there, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and Lucifer had made his reasons to leave.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

On his way upstairs, he heard the long-neglected TV blaring in one of the living rooms. Feeling somewhat guilty about his unsupportive attitude towards you earlier, he decided it would probably be good for him to make amends and apologise. So, before isolating himself for the evening, he sought you out.  

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Lucifer stood quietly behind you, watching as Katie Killjoy reported, “While Hell will be royally fucked by the impending extermination it seems that King of Hell Lucifer is being royally fucked by his new bimbo bitch, seen walking with him today on the streets of Pentagram City.”

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

Katie clutched Tom’s neck in one hand, never looking away from the camera as she cut off his air supply, “Nobody gives a shit about your limp-dick opinion Tom. We’re all here to speculate about who’s raw-dogging who. Now, onto our cooking segment, It’s Dahm Good, with host Jeffrey who is making a delicious spleen soufflé. Jeffrey-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.  

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

Lucifer straightened up with a smile. So, you classed him as a friend? He didn’t confirm or deny your assumption of friendship. He waved his hand, unbothered, “Let them think what they want to think. It’s Hell, nothing matters. Besides, 666 News is trash.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

Lucifer paced back and forth, his eyes wandering to the clock on the mantle, over to the open veranda doors, then upwards to the very Heavens and back. You watched him feeling fidgety by extension. By now Charlie and Vaggie were in Heaven and would be till the next night and you could tell that Lucifer was worried. Heaven had disavowed him. He didn’t want the same to happen to his daughter.

You glanced at the clock. If the portal had been on time then Vaggie and Charlie would have been in Heaven for less than ten minutes but Lucifer’s pacing made it feel like an eternity. There was no way you could take this all day.

You approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you affronted, and then his expression softened though the worry never left his eyes. Ever since your night away and the tale of your death, he had been a lot softer to you, some part of him worrying that you might leave and not come back.

“It’s going to be okay, Lucifer,” You told him assuredly. “We have to believe in Charlie.”

Lucifer glanced at your wrists. Your stitches showed atop human skin, part of your true ragdoll form. You were worried too then.

You followed his gaze and made a conscious effort to go back to being human. The stitches faded away. Lucifer wanted to say that you didn’t have to hide them for him, but he was still thinking about his baby girl up in heaven… with those- those angels!

“Hey,” You said softly, re-capturing his attention. “Not every Angel is bad, okay?”

“I know,” He admitted. “but what if-”

“Don’t think about what ifs. You’ll only spiral.”

Spiral? Ha, that was a joke. Lucifer had been spiralling for seven years, trapped in a nightmare pit of his worries and concerns. This was just the latest curveball to ruin his life.

You could see Lucifer was over-thinking, so you got up and retrieved his coat which had been left folded over an armchair the previous night.

You threw it to him, “Come on, we’re going out.”

Lucifer stared at the coat in his hands, “What? I don’t want-”

“Tough. I’m not watching you pace all day. A distraction will do you good, and you don’t leave the house nearly enough. Come on, let’s go,” You opened the door and looked at him expectantly. He stared up at Heaven once more, weighing up his options.

“Look, if you don’t trust in me, at least believe in Charlie. She wouldn’t want you waiting and worrying like this. So, what’ll it be, stay here and torture yourself, or at least try to make the best of things out there?” Lucifer balled up his fists, crushing the fabric in his hands. “Okay,” He said after a minute. “I’m coming.”

Lucifer’s face crinkled, his mouth hanging open in confusion as he stared up at the open gates of the rip-off theme park Lu-Lu Land.

You beamed next to him, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Ready to go in?” You asked him, grabbing his hand and tugging his sleeve excitedly.

“Why are we here?” Lucifer asked, thinking of Mammon and how this was exactly the kind of lazy, underhanded tactic he would use to fleece money out of sinners who mistook Lu-Lu Land for Lucifer’s own Lu-Lu World.

“Look, I know it’s your theme park and you might find it boring, but I’ve never been here before, so can you at least pretend to be happy?”

Lucifer’s gaze travelled to one of the giant posters that lined the entrance. It showed an unsettling copy of his theme park’s apple mascot, the writing beneath which read, ‘MEET AMAZING CHARACTERS, SURE TO MAKE MEMORIES.’

Far underneath in tiny writing that almost faded into the mascot’s white shoes was a caveat, barely readable, ‘* In no way to be mistaken with our competitors at Lu-Lu World.’

Glancing back at you, Lucifer couldn’t help smiling and holding back a laugh simultaneously. Sometimes, it was easy to forget you hadn’t been in Hell long. Clearly, nobody had explained the difference to you about the two parks that existed. Well, why not go into the dilapidated park that couldn’t hold a candle to Lucifer’s own. It would be entertaining at least to see what shortcomings it had.

With that, Lucifer followed you into the park, keeping a steady pace while you rushed between the game stalls. Shoot the Targets, Hook an Imp, Balloon Splash; it was all common carnival stuff, and all clearly rigged.

You didn’t seem to care as you slammed some money down on a table, throwing balls at cans that had obviously been glued down. The vendor laughed at your misfortune, trying to goad you into spending more money with practised insults that didn’t bother you much. Still, you put down more money, trying again just for the fun of it.

“C’mon Lucifer, you’ve gotta try this!” You waved him over, offering him a ball.

At the sight of Hell’s ruler, the carnie running the stall paled. Lucifer was never supposed to come to the dingy little park. He never went anywhere!

The imp smiled nervously and hurriedly held out a prize, from the top shelf to the two of you.

“But we didn’t win…” You said confusedly.

“Didn’t win?” The imp repeated as if he didn’t understand your question. You and Lucifer were together, so obviously you had to win. The King of Hell could not lose, nor could his date. If Mammon heard Lucifer was there and didn’t win the rigged games, all the employees would be in for it.

The carnie slammed his elbow backwards forcing the cans to tip from the pedestal, still in a perfectly-glued pyramid as they fell. “Looks like a winner to me, here’s your prize!”

He shoved the teddy at Lucifer who stared at it bemusedly. It was almost an exact copy of his cuddly apple mascot, but decidedly creepier, and much cheaper. Lucifer held it out to you, not caring for it.

You beamed and hugged it, “Aww, it’s so cute! I’m going to call him Aloisios P. McCoy, Apple Esquire of the Fruit Kingdom, but for short, Ally.”

Lucifer smiled at your eccentrics. You truly didn’t care that the games were rigged, that the carnie was bribing you to keep you happy, or that the pathetic excuse for a carnival was just a big hideous money trap; you just wanted to let loose and have some fun. Lucifer found that he had to admire that.

As you ran from ride to ride, dragging Lucifer into the non-existent queues and only waiting for the rides to hurriedly be fixed, his mind travelled back a few hundred years before when he first opened his theme park.

It had been a gift for Lilith. He thought that it would impress her to see all the work he had put into making something fun and pure that everyone could enjoy, and he had run around as eagerly as you were now, showing his wife all the fun attractions. Lilith praised him demurely, but as usual, she was so regal and poised; above such childish things as carnivals.

Yet, Lucifer continued to improve the passion project, expanding it for his growing family. There was a gorgeous duck ride that he had made especially for Charlie and he took her on it repeatedly, holding her proudly on his knees as they went through the tunnels full of bright animals that practically came to life when the boat got near them.

“Oh, look at that! Can we go on it?” You asked, dragging Lucifer back to the present as you pointed to a very similar boat ride to the one he was thinking of. Above the ride was a broken neon sign that was supposed to say “Tunnel of Wonders” but instead read T__el of ___der_.

“Okay,” Lucifer agreed as enthusiastically as he could manage. Part of his mind was still on Charlie but he allowed himself to be semi-distracted, even if this rip-off of a ride was bound to remind him of his baby girl.

The two of you got on the ride and you shook with excitement as the boat slowly started down the water track, the two of you sitting in a giant goose, much more menacing than the original soft-yellow ducky boats in Lu-Lu World.

Mammon’s voice came over the speaker as a recording to endorse his ride, “Thank you, faithful customers, for paying for this ride, and if you didn’t pay for it, fuck off, you stupid cunts!”

Mammon coughed and got back to his spiel, presumably trying to sound calm, though his rough nature only served to make him sound crass and cheap as the boat entered a dark tunnel.

“Welcome to the Tunnel of Wonders. Here, you can enjoy all sorts of good shit, and if you go to the gift shop, you can spend your hard-earned dollary-doos on a plush of me, your host Mammon, or invest in one of our Robo-Fizzarollies, lots of fun for the whole family, or for you sick freaks that want Fizzi’s private attention.”

“Anyway, to the Tunnel of Wonders, and what is more wonderous then, I dunno, love or some shit? Yeah, turn up the romance and fuck in the boats or whatever, Mammon out!”

The tunnel lights flipped on, turning it from black to pink and you looked around to find that you were surrounded by hearts and tiny cupids made in the likeness of Asmodeus, the patron Sin of Lust.

When you first met Lucifer, such a mistake might have made you embarrassed, but as you looked around the love boat ride, with its overly camp music and gaudy imagery of romance, you laughed instead. Lucifer laughed with you, enjoying the error for what it was.

“This- This is terrible,” Lucifer chuckled.

“Right?” You agreed, bumping into his shoulder. “Who made this?”

“Not me,” Lucifer held up his hands in mock surrender. “This isn’t even my park.”

“What? Yes, it is. I saw it on TV.”

“Nope, sorry, my park is Lu-Lu World.”

Realisation dawned on your face. Like many theme parks in the human realm which were laughable copies of bigger enterprises, this too was a cheap knockoff that you had mistaken.

“That explains a few things.”

“Yeah, like that creepy doll,” Lucifer pointed at the evil apple plush by your side.

You picked it up, hugging it defensively, “Hey, Aloisios P. McCoy, Apple Esquire of the Fruit Kingdom is offended by your insult. Apologise to him.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes but did as you asked, “I’m so sorry to have offended you, good apple, Sir.”

“Now shake his hand and makeup,” You demanded, holding the apple’s hand in the air.

Lucifer chortled and brought his hand up to shake the plushie’s. His fingertips brushed against yours and he felt a spark of connection. Sometimes, you reminded him of Charlie, eager to please and befriend others and so full of life and kindness that he hadn’t imagined capable of any Sinner. Yet, there was more to you than that. A fiery passion and a stubborn streak that was hard to rival.

He looked at you for a long time and you smiled awkwardly, holding the teddy in your lap and wondering what he was thinking, though his look wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” Lucifer said sincerely.

You didn’t have to ask him what he meant. He was grateful for the distraction from his worries, and also for a friend if you had to speculate further.

“You’re welcome.”

The ride juddered to a halt and Mammon’s voice stuttered to life over the speaker, “The ride has broken down, sit tight while my guys deal with it, and don’t try to fucking sue us! You won’t fucking win, you ungrateful shits. Mammon out!”

“Well, I guess we’re stuck here for a while,” Lucifer stated, wondering how long he could handle the overly chipper music and tacky decorations.

“Yep,” You agreed, “But it’s not so bad.” You placed your hand over his and Lucifer glanced down somewhat surprised. He looked up at you, finding that your attention was solely on your surroundings and he relaxed a bit. It wasn’t anything sinister, you were simply holding his hand. A friend when he desperately needed one.

It was late when the two of you returned to the manner, having just watched the fireworks display which was the one thing that actually worked in the theme park. Though, the fireworks had been made to spell out not-so-subtle messages, like ‘Spend money, cunts!’ or images of dollar signs, and sponsors from V-Tech.

“Care for a drink?” Lucifer asked, throwing his jacket over the back of the armchair in the usual parlour as you slumped on the sofa opposite.

“Sure, a drink would be nice.”

Lucifer headed to the drinks cart, pouring a bourbon for himself and a wine for you. His hands stilled as he held your glass. He hadn’t meant to but he had filled Lilith’s goblet instead of one of the guest glasses and he had paired it with her favourite drink, something which he had never offered to anyone else. His hands shook and he spilled the drink onto the tray.

“Oh,” You noticed his mistake and got up, “Would you like help cleaning that up?”

Lucifer schooled his expression into a forced smile even though he wasn’t facing you and took on the tone that you knew to be fake happiness, “No, nope! Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it all under control!”

“Hey,” You approached him, placing your hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay to be upset. I know you have some things to work through and-”

“Dad…” Charlie’s voice came from the doorway.

“Charlie!” Lucifer cried out excitedly, turning to his daughter, then freezing when he saw her expression and the tears in her eyes. She was home early, and upset! “What did they do to you?” He growled, hating Heaven more than ever.

Charlie broke down into tears and ran to hug her father. While you also wanted to know what had happened, you felt like an intruder watching such a tender moment. Charlie needed her dad, and when she was ready, she would tell you what happened. You excused yourself from the room, leaving the Manor so the pair could talk privately and made your way to the Hazbin Hotel so that you might at least get some answers from Vaggie.

You looked around the dusty hallway that comprised the main entrance to Lucifer’s manor. Yikes, Charlie was right; he really did need a cleaner. You doubted that was her main motivation for placing you in her father’s care but looking at the layers of thick dust and brimstone coating downstairs, you could see it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Lucifer watched you sceptically. Ideally, he would have liked to leave you to find your own way around, but he didn’t want to be accused of not trying by Charlie, should you call her and state that Lucifer was straight up ignoring you.

With that in mind, he bade you to follow him with a wave of his arm and gave you a half-arsed tour of each room, during which he would energetically state its name, and occasionally pepper in a fact if he felt like it and then hurry along.

“Parlor one, dining room, parlour two, library, parlour the… you know what, we have a lot of those, if you see a room with chairs and a fireplace, assume it’s a parlour. Moving on, bathroom, closet, like the parlour situation, there are lots of bathrooms and closets. Kitchen, which is always stocked by the way, so I don’t have to shop,” He muttered a sentence about the Hell of going out there, and then he was back to his bubbly self, rushing you through the rest of the tour, “Games room, spa, my room – don’t go in there – and here, among the unnecessary number of bedrooms, is your room.”

Although every room in the manor was lavish by Hell’s standards, Lucifer had sneakily pre-worked a bit of his magic to make yours somewhat undesirable. It was still large and had all the fixings, but now, it was dirty, damp, and there would always be an underlying scent of slightly rotten milk, that was just noticeable to annoy anyone, yet not something so offensive that he could be blamed for causing it.

The now slightly squalid room wasn’t Lucifer’s way of being petty and cruel; it was just that he wanted you to leave, and that would only happen if you had a reason to. You should go back to the Hotel where you belonged; better yet, you should just head to a different part of Hell where neither he nor his daughter would have to look at your disgustingly human face… A face that, though nothing like Lilith’s, reminded Lucifer of his wife since there was nobody else even remotely like her except for their daughter and now, unfortunately, you.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lucifer was just waiting for you to start demanding things of him, or Charlie. It would likely start with something small, like changing rooms, then if he gave you an inch, you would take a mile, and soon you would demand he use his Angelic Powers to serve you in seemingly impossible ways.

One way or another, the room was a test. You would either see it and leave in search of greener pastures or a better deal elsewhere, leeching off whoever would give you the time of day, or you would stay and start giving orders; either way, Lucifer would be able to return to his daughter with proof that sinners were the problem, not him.

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

Just then a portal opened over the canopy bed and two packed suitcases landed there, courtesy of Charlie. Lucifer tasted his daughter’s magic in the air and sighed resignedly; whatever Charlie had planned she wasn’t backing down from what she likely thought was a good idea.

“Right on time,” Lucifer commended the fine timing of his daughter, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable with her plan to give him company, he did seem genuinely proud of her expert timing; then again, he was proud of anything she chose to do even if he didn’t always understand what it was she was doing.

“Great,” He repeated somewhat tiredly. Then he forced himself to smile. It was important that you would see him happy so that Charlie would hear about it later. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m going to do some very important work.”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

Once Lucifer left, you flopped down on your bed, thinking about all you had seen. You checked your phone, finding several texts from Charlie, progressively getting more impatient as she awaited your reply with a somewhat hyper-anxious anticipation; it seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

You smiled and decided to put Charlie out of her misery. Your phone alerted you that she was already writing another message, but as soon as you started to compose one of your own, the notification that she was typing disappeared.

‘The tour was fine. Lucifer has been nothing but polite,’ and frazzled, you thought, though you omitted that part from the text; it was best that Charlie didn’t have anything extra to worry about while preparing for her meeting with Heaven.

‘My room is also amazing btw. I don’t know about Rococo or whatever, but it’s certainly stunning, and judging by the lack of stuffed animals and probably cheesy posters, I’m guessing it isn’t your old room.’

You really meant that. While your room was in need of a good cleaning, and there was a slightly off odour, it was indeed beautiful with its lacquered wooden floors, rich velvet drapes (Hell-Red of course) and lustrous emerald wallpaper. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, especially since arriving in Hell, not long dead after… the incident.

You removed your thoughts far from the grim memory of your death, not wanting to relive your demise. It never did any good to think of such things, and you had to wonder whether all Demons fixated on the manner in which they perished. Perhaps some were lucky enough to die in their sleep or get hit by a bus; at least the latter would be quick, and the former peaceful.

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

‘When you get the chance, snoop in the Short King’s bedroom and find out what kinky shit he’s into. I’m betting food play. He seems like a whipped cream and apples kind of guy if you catch my drift.’

Betting? He had undoubtedly roped Husk and Nifty into said bet. Husk had likely opted for a safe option like bondage… You didn’t want to know what kind of kinky shit Nifty thought Lucifer was into; that girl was a dark horse.

“Never going to happen,” You murmured to yourself with a chuckle; you would never invade Lucifer’s privacy like that, but Angel’s text had made you laugh and distracted you from your earlier thoughts.

Getting up, you pushed yourself into action and began unpacking both your thoughts and your few clothes and possessions. You lit a scented candle that Angel had gifted you. It was one of his unwanted gifts from Valentino, Blueberry Blowjob. You were glad when the scent filled the air, taking away from what you incorrectly assumed was the faint smell of mildew. The smell didn’t concern you, you had plenty more candles and tea lights with such names as Orange Orgasm, Popcorn Pussy, and Cherry Cum-Shot.

The manner was well furnished, but all of the rooms were neglected. There were seven parlours in total, each matching the theme of one Sin, probably because it would be polite should they ever need to meet with the Royal Family one-on-one. Despite that, they seemingly hadn’t been used in some time, nor had the library or any of the living rooms. You hadn’t seen much of Lucifer’s room as he rushed you past the door, which had only been slightly ajar, but what little you had caught a glimpse of seemed cleaner than the rest of the manor. Did he spend all of his time in there? Alone? That was… It was sad. Lucifer could live well among anyone in Hell, except maybe Alastor, yet he couldn’t see the good in anyone.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his maid. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

He didn’t even know why he continued to make them. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to make, and it was better to make something than nothing, even if he ended up creating the same thing over and over again, clinging to the memory of how one celestial duck had made Charlie smile.

Her smile was everything. Even Heaven couldn’t take that away, or… Maybe they could, if this meeting went awry. No. Please God, No. Not that. Anything but that. Kill the sinners. Show him the agonising mistake of Free Will for eternity, but he hoped to never see the day that Heaven treated his daughter with the same derision they typically reserved for him.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

Lucifer didn’t open the door. He didn’t want you to see inside his room. That was his space and his alone. Yet, he didn’t want any risk of you barging in, so he poofed himself to where you stood outside, using a glamorous entrance to grab your attention.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

“Oh,” You blinked back surprise, though you weren’t too shocked seeing how Alastar always snuck up on you at the Hotel in a similarly flamboyant manor. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I just wondered if you could tell me where the cleaning products are kept? I would like to get started as soon as I can.”

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his maid. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

You waited patiently for a response, having quickly learned that your host tended to drift between a fast-talking façade or thoughtful distractedness. You wished you didn’t have to ask him for help, but after searching three floors and the attic, you had gotten somewhat turned around, and you had no idea where you had already looked; the manor was massive.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

Behind you, Lucifer caught sight of a portrait of his family. The frame was carved blood-wood harvested from a Tree-Demon who once dared to insult Lilith in Lucifer’s presence. Two winged snakes adorned opposing corners of the portrait. With a lazy wave of his hand, they creaked and snapped, coming to life, and escaping their previous wooden home, leaving only indentations where they used to be. With another magical flourish, they grew slightly and became more life-like, shedding splinters as their new uniforms appeared.

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

You stared hard at the new servants of the house, somewhat amazed by the show of power; nobody else in Hell could do anything close to creating life, and it seemed that Lucifer didn’t even care that he had such power.

Frankly, Lucifer was upset with his new creations. He had finally strayed from ducks, creating something new for the first time in over a century, and they were still bland. When he had created Razzle and Dazzle for Charlie, he had done everything he could to make them beautiful and unique. These abominations in front of him were cheap copies of that Sir Pentious fellow he had seen at the hotel. He just didn’t have anything left worth creating. There was no point.

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.