"Ya know, let's just steal those pictures."
The words shouldn't have weighed as much as they did.
But they dropped heavily, sinking into the room like a bad omen.
No one laughed.
No one moved.
For a few heartbeats, Hell itself seemed to lean closer.
The low hum of distant static crept along the walls, soft at first, then insistent—like a radio searching for a station that didn't want to be found. The lights flickered once. Maybe twice. The tall, scandalously dressed sinner tilted his head, eyes flicking to the ceiling, then to the corners of the room, half-expecting red eyes to blink open from the shadows.
Nothing answered.
That somehow made it worse.
"Yeah," the slutty sinner added, too casually, too fast, "in and out. Easy."
Silence pressed in harder.
"This is gonna end really badly." The long-haired, blonde demon spoke out, slapping her hand on her face in exasperation.
"Not if we don't get caught!" The pink one shouted back, grabbing the spider pornstar's by the arm before running up the stairs where the bedrooms are.
The stairs creaked beneath them, each step louder than the last despite their efforts. Every shadow felt wrong, stretched just a little too long. The porn star demon glanced back more than once, convinced he'd see antlers at the bottom of the staircase. Nothing followed. They reached the door.
Alastor's door.
Even untouched, it felt occupied.
The door opened with a soft, almost polite click.
Inside, the room was drenched in dark burgundy and muted gold—half old-money decadence, half 1920s luxury, frozen in time like a photograph that had forgotten how to age. Everything was pristine. Untouched. The four-poster bed looked more like a display than something meant to be slept in. An antique radio sat in the corner, its brass accents dull with age, its dial mercifully silent.
Too silent.
The quiet was so loud Angel swore he could hear his own pulse.
"So," he said finally, voice low, "let's find those photos and see who Smiles is trying so hard to hide."
Cherri crossed her arms, eyes scanning the room. "Do you even know what they look like? Or—hell—anything at all?"
"Nope," Angel replied cheerfully. "But I'm great at finding bad boys~ or things I shouldn't find. Same thing, you know."
They search everywhere possible: even the ones they did not want to find something there.
Finally, the slutty demon found them and stopped moving.
"Cherri... c'mere a sec."
The explosive, pink-haired girl notices the lack of that excitement in his voice as she wonders what he found. Seeing the pictures, she ran to him to see them.
The pictures were yellowed with time. In it, for a rare time, Alastor's body wasn't glitching on the photo: he had that usual annoying smile and red suit, elegant and without a single wrinkle. Typical of Alastor, you'd tell me. However, it was the one next to him who got both sinners to stop in their tracks: a raven sinner, with large black wings and a bird tail, swooping the floor from its dust, a pair of high-waisted palazzo trousers paired with a copen blue blouse tucked in those pants. Their eyes weren't focused on the camera. They were angled just past it, as if they were already looking ahead of everyone else in the room. The person stood until Alastor's smile, and their face had that young, fresh and joyous smile Hell shouldn't have suffering there.
YOU ARE READING
Strings of Fate
Fanfiction"I need to get out of here... All this is a mistake." That's what you first thought when, one day, you happened to be forced to be someone's bride. What did your lovely mother think of all of this, that you'll feel love at first sight for a man you...
