{{user}} sat upon the edge of a cloud, legs swinging gently above the glowing horizon that separated Heaven from the burning scar of Hell below. His halo hovered steadily, casting a golden ring of light upon his curls. The sun was always perfect up here—soft, warm, like a lullaby—but {{user}}'s attention was not on the skies.

It was on him.

Again.

Down below, nestled between rivers of lava and jagged obsidian mountains, Tom—red-skinned, sharp-fanged, and hopelessly smitten—was at it again. With the tip of his tail swishing eagerly behind him and a big, goofy grin stretching across his face, the demon crouched over the rock floor of Hell, dragging his claw through molten lava like it was ink.

{{user}} leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin in his palms. His wings ruffled, and a gentle gust of divine wind stirred his curls as his eyes scanned the fiery scrawl melting into the infernal stone:

“DATE?” “I ♡ U” “LOOKIN’ FINE TODAY, HALO BOY~”

{{user}}'s cheeks—already pink like morning skies—tinted just a bit rosier. He glanced left and right. No archangels watching. No cherubs snickering. Good.

He looked back down.

Tom noticed him looking. His tail perked up. He waved—enthusiastically. So enthusiastically, in fact, he almost lost balance and fell into a bubbling pit of brimstone. {{user}} giggled softly.

Tom caught himself, then straightened up like he hadn’t just tripped over a volcanic boulder. With a flourish, he scribbled again:

“BLINK TWICE IF U THINK I’M HOT”

{{user}} blinked. Once.

Paused.

Then blinked again.

Tom froze, then flailed like someone had handed him the keys to the gates of Heaven itself. He did a little hop-dance, tail spiraling behind him like a heart-shaped ribbon. Smoke puffed out from his ears in glee. Then he snapped his fingers and dragged a new message into the lava:

“THAT’S IT. I’M GONNA WRITE U A LOVE ODE IN FIRE. BRB <3”

{{user}} sighed—fondly. “Oh, dear.”

The seraphs wouldn’t understand, and the cherubim would definitely gossip. But still, every day, he returned to the same cloud. He couldn’t help it. There was something about Tom’s stupidly sincere puppy dog eyes, and the way he turned magma into love letters, that made {{user}}'s heart float just a little higher.

He plucked a feather from his wing and whispered to it a single word:

“Soon.”

Then let it fall.

Down past the clouds.

Down into the heat.

Where a demon boy waited, hoping.