Lucifer x Reader x Lilith | AO3 | Part 1 (Here)| Next ->
Chapter One: Golden Lilies And Angel Feathers
Since your Fall, there have been three things you pride yourself in; not letting your eternal punishment defeat you, resisting further temptation, and keeping a low profile. Were these odd priorities considering you had already lost it all and landed in literal Hell? Sure. But being a seraphim doesn’t just leave you overnight. Usually. Unless you become roommates Verosika Mayday and let her take you out drinking. Then everything falls apart apparently. But it’s fine! You’re totally totally fine! Everything is great! You just need to escape from in between two sound asleep, very pretty and very naked blonde strangers, find your clothes, do the walk of shame home, and find verosika’s stash of painkillers for her hangovers. This is all her fault, if you think about it. She owes you.
Typically you were fairly good about avoiding huge events. Even with Verosika trying to drag you out with her and her group fairly often. But according to her, this one was non negotiable. The Asmodeus himself was opening a new club in Lust, and everyone who was anyone was going. Which was even more a reason to skip, frankly, but Verosika had worked her ass (and other parts) off at work to win VIP tickets to the grand opening for her, her weird boyfriend Blitz (with an O somewhere that is not pronounced apparently), or whatever his name was, you, and a few others. A very generous end of year bonus frankly, Succubi got good benefits. Anyway, it would be rude to ditch her. Friendship was about compromise after all, and angels are amazing friends! Or, well, fallen angels in your case… You should be used to that by now, but you aren’t. Do others get used to it…?
Looking back, going to that club was your first mistake. The second was letting Verosika and her friends dress you up. You ended up in a rather short dress with a sweetheart neckline and a handkerchief skirt, with long detached sleeves so you could move easier. The fabric was a vibrant purple and seemed to shimmer with a golden glitter pattern that formed a particular type of flower in the light. You couldn’t remember the name of them for the life of you. The trim at the neck and skirt, along with the sleeves themselves were made of pink and white feathers. You were going to kill Verosika. Was she trying to make people realize what you were?! But she swore to you that feathers were very in at the moment. Less and less sinners had wings in recent years, so they were becoming more luxurious and hard to get.
The jewelry was a whole other thing. A golden snake belt and an apple necklace. Really hitting the nail on the head, huh? You knew she was getting tired of your reluctance to accept Hell and your moping around, but this wasn’t even subtle. Going out for a night of sin, wearing the reason you fell from grace as accessories.
You agreed secretly with The Original Fallen for millennia. Samael. Quietly resenting your elder sister, Sera for leading the charge to cast your mutual friend away. He was right. Humanity deserves to choose their own paths. How could anyone truly be good unless given the opportunity to be evil? Adam and Eve were not truly good people, they were blank slates. That choice allowed them to choose their own paths.
After millennia of silence, you couldn’t stand the casual, quiet slander against your old friend anymore. It wasn’t exactly constant bashing, but in a way, when his existence was ignored, it felt worse. So you foolishly approached Sera, to confide, to reason with her. Not to bring him back, but to suggest at least an open communication with Hell! It would benefit the winners! They could write to their loved ones who chose darker paths. Because surely parents and spouses and children still miss their loved ones, even if they were not as pure. And… perhaps you could write to Samael and even to Lilith. You had not known her nearly as long or as well as you had Samael, but you could remember faintly how beautiful and brave and stubborn she was. You understood why Samael had chased her like a moth to flame. You had almost done so too.
It had not gone over well with Sera. She saw through it immediately. You had truly wished to help the winners as well, but The Morningstars being even part of the reason was more than enough to upset the council. Sera loved her rules. She followed the laws of Heaven to the letter. Sister or not, the council must hear of this, and decide your fate. And so they did. You were accused of following The Morningstar. Of worshiping him. Of trying to contact him to join his flock. A huge exaggeration, really, but there was no point in reasoning with them.
When you landed in Hell, it was the worst physical pain you ever felt. And the first. Pain receptors were… new. You had kept your wings at least. The only mercy Sera negotiated for her sister. But they were now a darker, greyish blue instead of periwinkle. So were your eyes. And soon a splitting headache overtook you, like two knives were exiting the top of your skull, twisting their way out. Not knives, it turned out. Horns. Spiraling horns like a sheep. Haha, God has a sense of humor. After being called part of the Morningstar’s flock, you became a damn sheep. Good one, Almighty.
Your first thought was to go find Samael. But now that it was real… Now that you were in his realm… It felt foolish. After nearly ten thousand years, why would he remember you? Why would he miss you? An old friend from days long gone, days that probably pained him to recall. What if your presence disturbed the fragile peace he had created with his love? What if he didn’t believe you when you said you voted for him to stay in Heaven?
No. No it would tear you apart completely if he rejected you. If your existence pained him instead of overjoyed. So you set off on your own. You ignored the newspaper articles stating that there was a search and rescue for a new Fallen Angel that The King sensed in his domain. Search and Rescue…? No, it was probably more of a manhunt. Angels were despised here, you figured that out fast. Keep your head down and wings hidden. And you did that for four months. Until you got hired as an assistant by a pop singer named Verosika Mayday, who thankfully turned into a friend you could trust. Eventually.
You had to admit, the outfit looked good on you. And damn Verosika was good at makeup. The shoes weren’t as elaborate, black platform boots over torn fishnets, but they pulled the outfit together. And finally, Verosika handed you a masquerade mask. A white feather swan mask, matching the feathers on your dress. Verosika explained that it was changed to a masquerade at the last minute. ‘Some important guests don't want to be recognized or photographed or whatever.’ Interesting…? Well okay, you can do this. It’s just a big party. Your first since The Fall. If Heaven’s galas for the higher angels even counted as parties. You suspect this will be rather different…
POV: Lucifer Morningstar:
Why was he going to this thing again? He hates parties. He hates Sinners. Well, except for his Lilypad, but she was hardly a Sinner. Oh right! Lilith! That’s why he’s going! Well, and to support Ozzie, but mostly because Lilith asked him to. It had been ages since they last went out together properly! With their duties as Monarchs and the last few centuries of mortals cracking down on witchcraft linked to him, a lot has been happening. And most of all, with the curse. Both he and Lilith were heartbroken that despite all their efforts the traditional way, with magic, with mortal science, with anything, they were yet to have a child. Hell, even with their open marriage and multiple shared partners over the millennia, they were yet to be blessed with a child. Lucifer had been confident that the curse from Eden was no match for a Seraphim…
No, No! He wasn’t thinking of that tonight! Lilith asked for a fun, carefree night to let loose! He was going to magic away his angelic metabolism and get ridiculously drunk with his wife! But… what if he was recognized? He’s The Devil, of course he’d be recognized! So would Lily! Then the whole night would get derailed by nosy patrons of the club and reporters showing up and-
He felt Lilith hugging him from behind before he saw her. She kissed the top of Lucifer’s head and held him close while humming to him, sensing his anxiety. She always could. And this always worked to sooth him.
“What is worrying you this time, my sweet dove? Is the night ahead too overwhelming? We can always stay in~” Lilith spoke softly, voice as melodic as usual. Lucifer swore she was the real angel. He idolized her.
“No, No Lilypad- Well, sorta but I don’t want to cancel! This is important to you, so it’s super important to me! I’ve got this!” Lucifer insisted. He definitely didn’t look adorable, all insistent and stubborn about pleasing his love. Ignore Lilith’s claims. The Devil is not cute! “I’m just kinda worried about uh… y’know, us being recognized? Heh. I just don’t want the paparazzi to ruin our night…”
Lilith laughed softly, turning Lucifer to face her and cupping his face. “Is that all, my love? Why don’t we just ask Ozzie to make it a masquerade event? That way, we can be drunken lovesick fools in peace.” She pecked his nose. Very unfair, his lips were right there! But, her solution did sound perfect. Everything she suggested was perfect. It was Lilith. And if tonight would be him and her, it was going to be perfect.
Lucifer smiled as Lilith chose a mask depicting one of her beloved screech owls. He of course chose a duck themed mask, making Lilith chuckle once more. He’d Fall all over again to hear that sound every day.
Keke appeared out of nowhere, to Lucifer’s usual delight. His precious familiar. She was delivering yet more proof of a fellow fallen angel. A few preened feathers, greyish blue in color. It reminded him of his old friend, but no. These were a darker shade. Hers had been periwinkle. Lucifer smiled sadly at Lilith, both a bit disappointed that it was unlikely to be her. But the night shall go on.
@damsel-loves-machines, @willoryn
Constructive criticism and advice welcome and encouraged!!
Divider credits: @hatoslay
