DEVIL (1/??)
I know I should post it yesterday, but well, I had a party to go... Anyway! Here are we with the first chapter of Devil! I hope you love it!
MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT
Warnings: tension.
Pairing: Lady Devil! Rio Vidal x Fem reader
Summary: you didn't imagine that a trip to capel would cost you so much.
Mark 8:37
What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
Life wasn’t fair.
And you knew that well, but it didn’t stop you from hoping every single day that it might get better. Sitting by your father’s hospital bed, unable to watch him fight for his life.
Your father had fallen into a coma after an accident at work. He was an engineer, and fell from scaffolding along with four interns, suffering a traumatic brain injury on impact. You found out when your school principal called you in for a talk. A neighbor came to pick you up and drove you to the hospital, where you found your mother quietly crying by his bed.
That was three years ago.
Three years of watching your mother lose pieces of herself to the looming death of the man she had shared her life with for almost thirty years.
Most of the time, you held it together with them, but today was different. This was the end. Your family could no longer afford your father’s medical costs. The curse of living in America at a time like this…
The machines beeped in your head, charting the fading life of your father, vanishing little by little. And with him, your heart shattered, splintering into a thousand shards like glass.
Would your mother look at you and see your father’s reflection once he was gone? Would that only bring her more pain?
You swallowed hard, holding back the tears.
“Mom, I’m going to get some air, okay?” You hugged the woman from behind and kissed her cheek.
“Okay, sweetheart.” She murmured absentmindedly.
The moment you stepped outside the room, you let the tears fall. Breathe. You ordered yourself, lifting your chin and wiping your cheeks with a sharp exhale.
Being half-Latina, you were raised Catholic, but your faith had never been strong. Not until your father’s accident. Now you prayed, made promises, as if the world itself were ending.
“Are you alright?” A nurse approached, resting a hand on your shoulder.
“Just a bad day.” You tried to smile, but it never reached your eyes.
The woman smiled in a soft, maternal way. “Everyone has those bad days here, but they’re usually followed by good ones. Hold on tight, dear.”
“Thank you.” You whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You wished you could run away, but the hospital felt like a maze of white walls.
“Why don’t you take a break in the chapel?” She suggested, watching you. You turned toward her with watery, suddenly hopeful eyes.
It really seemed like a good idea.
You thanked her quietly and walked toward the chapel. When you stepped inside, it was empty. The pews glowed faintly under the fractured colors of stained glass. You walked to the front rows, sat down, and closed your eyes, hands pressed together in prayer, while more tears slid down your cheeks.
Three years ago, all that mattered was college—you wanted to study music and play with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, one of the best in the country. But after the accident, your mind could never stay on studying, and by some miracle, you barely made it into the University of Chicago.
Part of you was angry. Angry at the accident, at not having money to go out with friends and live like a normal young adult, at watching your mother trapped in this infernal limbo.
Anger was necessary, it kept you going.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed there praying, but then you realized you weren’t alone. The hairs at the back of your neck stood up with that unnerving sensation of invisible eyes fixed on you.
Your jaw tightened. Slowly, you turned, stealing a glance over your shoulder at the shadowy doorway.
For a second, you couldn’t breathe. Because a tall, slender figure was there, as though every nightmare and every phobia had converged in that pocket of darkness.
Then you blinked, and the shadow vanished.
Now she was framed in the doorway—a woman—wearing a black dress and red lipstick that defined the shape of her lips, yet somehow didn’t clash with such a sterile setting.
She looked at you with a confidence, a dominance, that made you shiver. As if she wasn’t even aware she was standing inside a church.
Her eyes. Enormous, brown eyes that seemed tinged with red from where you sat, made your nails dig into your thigh while every primal instinct screamed at you to run. She was terrifyingly beautiful, like a model. Dark hair—brown, not black—falling just below her shoulders.
And again, you returned to her eyes. There was no warmth there. Her features were striking, a straight nose, a carved jawline, high cheekbones that lent her… sweetness.
It was almost a sin for a woman like this to exist.
You had to be careful.
Any sudden move could shift the balance into survival mode. Where, obviously, you were the prey and she the predator.
And yet you couldn’t stop wondering who she was. She was fascinating to look at. Absorbing in a way you couldn’t explain.
Almost symbiotic.
Silence stretched between you. You wanted to wipe your tears, but you couldn’t move—frozen in fear and awe.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt your prayers.” Her voice slid through the air like wet silk.
You shivered at the sound. A voice that could tempt any woman, conjure her darkest fantasies.
You had to get out. Every instinct was still screaming at you to leave.
“Uh… no, I was just… leaving.” You lowered your head, shifting uncomfortably in the pew.
The woman stepped forward. She seemed… at ease. The stained-glass light shifted strangely around her, almost bending away, leaving her deeper in shadow.
Could that even be possible?
“Visiting someone?” She asked, casual on the surface.
“My father.” Just saying it stripped away the fear and desire she had stirred in you and the fragility rushed back.
“I’m sorry.” Another step closer. She glanced up at the Virgin Mary with an odd, almost knowing smile, as if she were intimately familiar with the saint. Which, of course, couldn’t be true.
“Thank you.” You fought against the tremors running through you. “Are you visiting someone as well?” It was a risk, you knew it, but showing fear wasn’t an option.
Her lips curved into the ghost of a smile.
“Not exactly.”
One step.
“Are you a doctor, then?” She had to be here for a reason, right?
Suddenly, the woman laughed, as though you had just told an inside joke.
“Do I look like someone who saves lives?”
“I… I’m sorry, I just assumed.” Swallowing hard, you rose, slipping past her and heading for the door.
Until the tall woman called you by name. You froze where you stood.
“How… how do you know my name?” Terror clenched your throat so tightly the words hurt coming out.
The woman, still gazing at the Virgin, turned to face you. Her head tilted, studying you, her body moving with deliberate slowness.
“You sent a prayer for your father.”
Confused, you nodded.
“And I came to answer it.”
Her chocolate eyes consumed everything, her words hitting you like a blow. Was this some kind of joke? Was she some creep lurking in hospitals to prey on fragile women?
“No, my dear. I’m not some creep waiting to prey on fragile women.”
She laughed darkly again, and the sound sent shivers down your spine.
“W-what? You’re not a doctor. You said you don’t save lives. I don’t understand…”
She raised a finger, demanding silence, and you shut your mouth, of course. The slender figure drew closer and closer, until you were no more than a meter apart. Now you could feel that terrible darkness radiating from her.
“I’m not a doctor, but I save lives when there’s something in it for me.”
You stepped back.
“I still don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, my dear. You’re…” she leaned in again, sighing almost passionately. “Innocent. Sweet… You don’t need to worry. I’ll be happy to spell it out for you.”
She reached out a hand to touch you, but stopped herself. Her expression dimmed, returning to its usual taciturnity.
Then, with the snap of her fingers, the chapel vanished, and you were standing in front of your father’s room, staring at the door. Your father still lay sleeping, serene, your mother resting her head on the bed while holding his hands.
“I make deals that change lives.”
“What?… How?” You were still paralyzed, not understanding how you had shifted places.
You had to be dreaming. That had to be it. No one around you moved. The nurses were frozen, your parents too. The monitors connected to your father were unnervingly silent. You couldn’t even move yourself.
That was how your nightmares always went.
You had to wake up.
“You want your father to get better, don’t you?” Her voice was low and alluring, like a lover’s.
“Of course I do!” You almost shouted, suffocated by your own immobility.
The tall woman loomed over you, like a venomous snake. “And what would you give for him to be healed?”
You strained to turn on your heel, to look her in the face, but instead you found yourself eye-level with her chest. She was growing taller and taller. In that moment, you would’ve sworn she reached eight feet.
“I—”
“Think now, and think carefully.” Her brown eyes dipped toward your lips, as if she were considering claiming them for herself.
A wild flush burned across your cheeks.
“Anything.”
“Hm,” she paused to study your face. “Anything is a very dangerous word.”
You swallowed hard, unable to look away. Her eyes were like Saturn, but inside them you saw your father laughing, taking his daily walks, smiling.
The hunger to return to that moment, to see him healthy and happy again, was so strong it gave you courage to cast aside your fear and speak the truth.
“Anything.”
The slender woman seemed amused by your seriousness, and a slow, seductive smile tugged at her lips.
“Would you give yourself to me? Sell your soul?” Her black pupils swallowed the entire orbit of her brown irises. It was almost… demonic.
“Sell my—”
“Your soul.” She opened her palm, as though expecting you to take it.
“What do you even mean?”
“I’ll show you.” She extended her hand closer still, hesitating, you accepted the touch, and the second your fingers met, you were swallowed by darkness.
Everything around you was nothing. The cawing of ravens hissed in the night. You tried to see, but it was impossible. It felt like a dark, endless limbo.
“What is this?” You finally whispered, though fear was choking you.
“The end of everything you know and love.”
“Hell.” You assumed.
A little calmer—or as calm as you could be—you looked around again, frowning. Where were the flames and the damned souls?
“Hell is different for everyone, you know. It’s not all fire and brimstone.” The woman’s laugh was warm; she seemed to be enjoying you.
“I only see darkness.” You said, bewildered.
“Because your hell is nothingness.”
And then, you were back in the chapel. A wave of vertigo hit your head, and your knees buckled to the floor. The woman remained untouched, as if she were used to shifting through physical spaces. Her hands were in her pockets, waiting patiently.
Gasping for air, you spoke:
“Can you… save my father?”
Part of you wondered if you were dreaming. You had to be. There was no way you were speaking to the devil herself, bargaining for your father’s life.
“I can.”
“But you… you said you don’t save lives.”
The woman—or rather, the demoness—laughed deeply.
“I said I look like I don’t save lives, and as a rule, I don’t.”
“Then why do you want to help me?” You pulled yourself up and sat on the nearest pew.
Lady Devil walked over to one of the stained-glass windows, tilting her face upward to let the sun touch her skin.
“Because I hunger for corruption, and you are a pure soul. I need to corrupt you.”
“C-corrupt me?” The word was heavy on your tongue.
When you thought of corruption, you thought of stealing, hurting others, illegal things you would never do. But the woman turned to face you. Shadows gathered around her, her brown eyes merging with a soft ruby red.
“I want to possess your body, your soul. I want to show you the pleasures of the dark side, of the flesh. I want you to confess your fantasies. All of them, even the worst. And I want you to let me fulfill them with you. When I claim a pure soul through pleasure and drag it into darkness, that soul belongs to me in every sense.”
Your darkest fantasies? You tried to think… but nothing came to mind.
“Everyone has fantasies, darling. Even pure souls like you.” She extended her hand and twirled a lock of your hair between her fingers.
“You… you said you make deals, right? What would ours be?” Oh God… you were really considering this, weren’t you?
“You will come to me every Friday night, at the stroke of midnight. I’ll be free to do whatever I want with you until dawn. Only then may you leave.”
Her face was unreadable, impossible to gauge.
“For how long?” You whispered, lips trembling, trying not to imagine what she would do to you.
“Three months. A marvelous gift for myself, to celebrate the anniversary of my fall.” She smiled in wonder, now lost in your face. “And then, when you die, your soul will be entirely mine. Trapped in that nothingness I showed you.”
Twelve Fridays? You could endure anything for your father’s sake.
“How do I know you won’t let him die after you’re done with me?”
The woman’s smile was frightening. Not because it was monstrous, but because it was so sinfully sexy it promised every kind of vice.
“I may be the devil, but I’m no liar, kitten. I take what I want, and I promise on my black heart you will get what you want.”
You narrowed your eyes at her. You weren’t stupid. You’d seen plenty of movies about deals with the devil, and there was always, always a catch.
The trick was finding out what it was.
“And what about my mother, or anyone else I love? You’ll save my father, but let someone else die instead, won’t you?”
The demoness’s eyes widened at your boldness.
“That’s called cosmic balance for a reason, child. And no, I don’t have to bow to its will. You won’t face the death of anyone else because of our little deal.”
The words radiated possessiveness, making you feel strange between your legs. Was your soul really worth it to her? If yes, then you had a shard of certainty and refused to waste it.
“It’s not enough. Swear. Swear that no one I love will ever be harmed, and that my father will remain safe and protected forever.”
The second you cast the challenge, an invisible electricity flared. The heat rising between you was a promise of what was to come—and that was scary as hell.
“Fine!” The woman snarled, leaning in and sniffing the air. “I can grant extra protection to your pathetic favorite little humans. But if the other side makes a move, that’s on your precious angels, not me.”
Okay.
That was enough, right?
“Alright then… three months where I submit to you, and you heal my father.”
The words came out so naturally you barely noticed…
“Submit?” Lady Devil laughed, deep and low. “That’s your fantasy, baby doll? To submit? To have me… dominating you?” The look she gave you made every strand of hair on your body bristle. And it stirred that damned little voice you’d buried under the mask of the perfect daughter.
“Is it a deal?” You averted your eyes, cheeks flushed.
The demoness smiled.
“Yes. It’s a deal.”
“So… do we shake hands or something?” You stretched out your hand, still not daring to meet her gaze.
The demoness glanced at your hand hanging in the air, then yanked you forward. Your chest slammed against hers, startled by the heat of her body.
“You always seal a pact with a kiss.”
And then she tilted her mouth over yours, burning your lips together as her tongue invaded and ravaged you.
You moaned, dizzy, feeling heat spreading everywhere. The sensation of falling forever into darkness was terrifying; suddenly, your feet lifted off the ground, and you clung desperately to her neck.
You melted into her.
And then your mind betrayed you, wishing she would push you down on those pews, right in front of the saint’s statue and… Shit! You tried to banish those filthy thoughts, praying for a single point of light in the darkness that had swallowed you whole.
There was a blinding flash of light, the brush of soft feathery wings against your cheek—and then, a vision.
You saw a shining city among the clouds, streets of gold and crystalline stone.
Then it was gone, and nothingness remained.
Your lips left the demoness’s, but the heat lingered. Dimly, you knew she had heard the impure whispers of your mind.
“You’re mine now, pretty doll.”
And when you opened your eyes, you awoke. You were sprawled across one of the chapel pews in the hospital. As if everything that had happened had been nothing more than a wild, forbidden dream.
You sat upright, running your fingers through your hair to gather yourself. Looking around, you could swear the saints were condemning you…
You made the sign of the cross in apology.
But then you startled, pressing a hand to your chest, because you could swear you heard a deep, feminine laugh.
“I’m losing it. The stress is killing me.” You whispered to yourself.
For as much as you would have done anything to save your father, there had been no negotiation—because she simply didn’t exist.
~*~
Yes, R, she didn't exist...
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