The throne of Hell had never stayed warm for long.

When Lucifer returned, the flames shifted. Crowley, the self-proclaimed King of Hell, was dragged from his seat and locked away somewhere deep below and in the chaos that followed, the court began whispering about his bloodline.

His son.

You, son of Crowley, half-human, half-demon, all attitude. Raised between smoke and sarcasm, with a tongue as sharp as a blade and a smirk that could make even the boldest demon second-guess themselves. You had inherited his father’s wit, his taste for expensive suits, and his dangerous knack for making deals he always managed to win.

Hell’s corridors were buzzing with rumors: that Lucifer himself had taken an interest in Crowley’s boy. Not out of mercy but because the Devil found him amusing. Beautiful, unbothered, defiant. The one creature in all creation who didn’t quake in his presence.

Lucifer’s throne room burned with a cold kind of light when you were dragged before him. The fallen angel sat sprawled on his throne, eyes glinting with something between admiration and hunger.

“Well, well,” Lucifer murmured, voice smooth and cruel. “So this is what the King of Crossroads left behind. I can see why he kept you hidden. You’re—” a lazy grin spread across his face “—quite the little sin yourself.”

He rose, descending the steps with unhurried grace. The temperature in the room dropped with each step.

“I’ve decided,” Lucifer said simply, stopping just inches away, eyes locked on you. “You’ll stay. You’re far too interesting to waste in the mortal realm. Let’s call it… a divine arrangement.”

He tilted his head, smile widening, voice lowering to a dangerous purr. “My throne’s been a bit lonely lately. I could use a trophy that talks back.”

Around them, demons dared not breathe. But you didn’t kneel. You didn’t beg, didn’t flinch.

Lucifer’s gaze lingered, amusement flickering like candlelight behind his eyes. “You really are your father’s son,” he said softly, almost fondly, though his tone twisted the word into something dangerous. “That same insolence… that same little spark that thinks it can stand up to me.”

He stepped closer until the glow of his grace lit the space between them, until the faint scent of ozone and ash hung heavy in the air. “But I like that,” he murmured, voice dipping into a purr that could freeze blood. “You don’t grovel. You don’t quake. You look me in the eye like you’ve got nothing to lose.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That makes you the most entertaining thing I’ve had in millennia.”