#Gwendoline Christie Lucifer

[rippersz]

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶

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(Rebel Angel who somehow doesn’t know who Lucifer is)

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It seemed that the Almighty had reached his limit. His breaking point. His last straw. You exhausted him- worried him- pushed him too far and he had had enough. Too many broken rules. Too many annoyances. Too many thises and thatses and one or the other. So many complaints… so many arguments… so many accounts of general public disruption…

God never allowed insolence. God never allowed anything less than perfection.

And you were terribly flawed.

That was the reason- surely- as to why you found yourself waking up on a dark cold marble floor instead of in the cool holy waters of your ivory bath.

The wings at your back ached and something in your chest was bruised, swiftly gathering atoms of divinity to weave the pain away. Too, your hands were red when you turned them over - stinging with the remnants of a hard fall. And your knees were skinned; epidermis peeled back and raw. It looked as though you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge. It felt like you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge.

“Stuck up- bastards-,” you grunted, pulling yourself up onto your hands and knees.

The fucking lot of them - every other single fucking angel up there in those clouds… they were morons. Idiots. None of them knew how to have a good time. None of them knew how to have fun. There were no parties in Heaven. There were no parties in paradise. There was no difficulty in Nirvana. And you loathed that. Hated that. For years you sat on your ass, from childhood to adulthood, watching with wide bright eyes as the world went on around you. Your parents made you the way you were, keeping you sheltered and happy and strong while the other little angels played outside and were born with glowing lights around their bodies. They learned all sorts of things out there - mingling in the ‘real world’ - watching as guardians.

But your human died one day after being born - and you had no one to guard. And God sort of looked at you after that and thought ‘Meh. Do what you want with her.’ and that was the end of it. From that point on you were just- there. A distraction for the others. A nuisance for most. A good time for few. But it seemed God decided you’d fucked around for the last time - and he cast you to-

…well. You weren’t exactly sure where you were.

Unlike Eden, the place you were in was dark. Desolate. Lit with something… unsettling. The air smelled of sulfur and burn - and you swore you could see ash float about in the nonexistent wind. There were no clouds either, and no subliminal gentle hum that typically played on a loop within the city - meant to carry the angels and souls through their hours. Inspiring joy. Happiness. Obedience. The tune was bloody annoying was what it was - you’d always held some type of disdain for it. But there, surrounded by a very sudden eerie quiet, you wished you could hear the choir singing again. It would, perhaps, only slightly lessen the sudden feeling of being entirely out of place. The metal bowls of flame fixed between long marble columns… the strange fire-pit you faced upon standing on your feet and shakily turning around… the- oh… the color of the sky… no such phenomenons existed in Heaven. Flames were rarely seen. And the sky was never- well you would have remembered if it were ever red. Or a weird mix of fiery orange and black. Or even grey. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. There were no silver pathways leading from this place to the other; and there was no distinct shine to the universe itself. No… divinity. No divinity at all.

So where in the Lord’s name were you?

“How peculiar…” a voice purred, “…an Angel? In my realm?… It appears you have fallen quite a long way.”

You turned, body tensing with discomfort. You didn’t know anyone else would be present. You hadn’t even heard them come in. Yet when you looked around, searching and curious, having to do a complete 360, you found there was someone present.

Something present.

The fire in the great pit that separated you had grown into an inferno. You could barely make out the creature’s face through the heated disruption. The blonde curls, you saw. The way they fell just so across a pale forehead. And the wings… by God, the wings. You were drawn to them almost instantly. A set far different from your own, laying poised behind the thing’s strong back. Dark, you noticed. And sharp. Leathery? Yes - definitely. Nearly… bat-like… and powerful, without a doubt. You squinted, trying to see through the flames, but it was to no use. The stranger was tall but drowned in shadow. Hidden, almost - even though you could see the midnight color of their silk robe.

How intriguing… You blinked, wondering if there was a chance that you were possibly hallucinating (and ignoring the fact that angels couldn’t hallucinate), but you weren’t. It was real. And it was silent. And you were staring.

“Who are you?” The volume of your tone made you wince. In Heaven, everyone had to raise their voices over the soft din of the choir, eventually giving them the natural disposition of talking loudly. But in the silence of that strange land, it sounded like the ‘gunshot’ some humans described when first stepping into the silver city. Noisy, booming, and honestly embarrassing.

Though the creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they didn’t seem to care. Not at all. Instead, you noticed the slightest shift in the robe’s sleeve and could just barely make out the velvet outline of long fingers floating delicately through the ashen air before the fire in front of you- the fire separating you- the only thing keeping you strangers and safe- disappeared. Went out. Settled into heated coals and sizzling sounds. And thus, revealed the monster.

The very… very… very… very attractive monster. The handsomest of monsters. The most beautiful monster. With shining crystal eyes, blue like the holy water you rested in during times of sleep, and soft pink lips, putting human flower petals and sunsets to shame. And with a pale pallet, nearly… nearly glowing…

“I am in no mood for games, little Angel,” the pretty monster hummed, tilting its head as it began moving.

Slow step by slow step, you watched in awe as it grew closer… and taller… and more glorious. You’d never seen anyone like them. No soul, no divine thing, no creature in the silver city looked like that. Looked so- so- well you didn’t even have words. Literally and figuratively. Your mouth dropped open and you floundered, searching for something to say, trying to find your sense as each thought in your mind began fraying - destroyed by their proximity. Destroyed by the soft hard line of their jaw and the curve of their chin and bridge of their nose. So glorious… so holy…

“I-” your voice croaked, “I don’t- I don’t know… who you are,” you confessed, voice softening into something innocent.

It was the truth - the honest truth! - but for some reason you felt… stupid. For not knowing what it was or who they were. From a young age, angels were expected to know everyone and everything. Nearly every other angel’s name by heart; every religion and each God; every world and all things in between. Including greater entities. Anomalies. Beings with great power - like Dream of the Endless and his friend, Desire. And most angels did know such things. Most angels did retain such information. But of course, as it goes in any walk or form of life, one must always slip through the cracks. And that was you. There were many things you didn’t know and many things you didn’t care to know. But standing there in front of them, below them, looking up to see the way some stray beacon of light made their fair curls shimmer, you realized you probably ought to know them. Their presence felt so… intoxicating… it was hard to understand how you hadn’t come across anything like that before. Especially when you felt your hands shake as you realized just how much they loomed over you… Like Azrael. But they- it?- was not Death. You knew Death. You had tea with Death once… before trying to poison them. Just to see what would happen of course! Just to know. (Nothing happened, unfortunately. They just sort of blinked and gave you an exasperated look and told you to go away. There was no more tea after that.) But despite not being Death, they still held that air about them. That distinct aura of doom. Of glorious defeat. It swelled in the pits of those icy eyes.

And such glorious icy eyes they were. So beautiful. So intense. You felt frozen beneath them, any hint of scorn directed at the Almighty suddenly gone in the face of the new creature. Entirely overshadowed by morbid curiosity… and the tiniest hint of fear. You’d never really felt fear before. But the rushing in your heart, and the sound of golden blood in your ears, and the whimper that nestled in the depths of your throat could only mean terror, couldn’t they? You watched realization slowly dawn on the creature’s face. You watched their brows furrow slightly, then you looked down to see those peach lips parting - slowly, softly, god-like.

“Intriguing…,” their breath smelled of wine and dying stars, “…you really have no idea, do you?”

Their tone was lilting; their accent sublime. So pronounced, so gentle, sounding almost like a song within the crackling silence of the fires going on around you. It had you leaning closer, drawn like a foolish sailor to a siren’s whims. Just utterly transcendent. Just inexplicably marvelous. It had a weight to it that you’d only seen in God… but the creature before you was most certainly not God. Not in any religion. No, it was something else. Something more abstract. Something darker. But you couldn’t place even a single fingertip on it.

“No, no clue.” You sounded breathless.

Hearing that seemed to please the creature in some odd way. There was a glimmer to their eye that wasn’t there before - and they appeared… delighted?

“Well,” it sighed, sculpted pale hands poised in front of a soft abdomen. “I believe that calls for an introduction.” And then there was a pause. An ominous, strange pause - as if the being was silently telling you that you had one last chance to be honest; coaxing you into admitting a truth that you didn’t know nor understand. But when you just blinked at them, hanging onto their words for dear non-life, quite unsure of what they wanted, they seemed to finally accept reality and internally concede.

“Lucifer,” they cooed, voice ringing and smirk evil, “Morningstar.”

Morningstar…

…The Morningstar.

The one whispered about… the one gossiped about… the name passed from one seraphic mouth to another… the occasional ‘talk of the town.’ Everyone seemed to know about them but you. They were formidable, yes, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Their origins were unknown. Their story was a shot in the dark. Perhaps that’s why you felt so odd within their presence - like a sweating blushing thing that wasn’t sure of its place in the Heavens. Or in any realm, for that matter.

You sort of felt the need to bow. It tingled in your shoulder blades, wormed beneath your ribcage, but refused the instinct. You were an Angel. You bowed to no one but God, and even then you rarely did so. Everyone in the clouds knew you to shirk such an honor. A brave few even murmured about the Morningstar and how you’d ‘fall’ just like them. At the time you ignored them, having no clue what they were talking about. But looking around you then, feeling the weight of the burning air, you knew you were a long way from Heaven. Perhaps in its very antithesis, though you had no name for that just yet. Did everyone in that realm have a figure like Lucifer’s? Did all of their hair shine like that? Were all of them fair-skinned and untouchable? Was it Heaven reversed?

You couldn’t control the way your eyes slid over to their wings. They were far larger up close… and taloned, you noted. Was there a chance they were soft? They looked soft. Leathery and strange, with skin stretched over bone, but soft nonetheless. And as if sparked by your thinking, they twitched, flaring for just a moment before relaxing once again. You looked back up into Lucifer’s eyes, not at all surprised to see the lingerings of malice. They did not look like they wanted to kill you, but they did not exactly look welcoming either. No, there was no warmth there. Just curiosity. And openness. You were no threat to this being… and that irritated you. Every religion knew to respect the angels. Every religion knew to understand that they did the bidding of God. Every religion knew to welcome them with open hands and a smile.

But you were not welcome. Not with open hands and certainly not with a smile.

So how dare they? How dare it? How dare this- this- Lucifer? You felt your back straighten, renewed with energy as you found your mental footing. The ache in your body was gone, whatever wounds you’d sustained just faded memories of some minutes. That’s right - you were angelic. Divine. This Lucifer had no idea who it was speaking to.

“And I am Y/n,” your voice was hard, “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

You were expecting bared teeth. A growl, maybe. Perhaps the full extension of those glorious wings. A hand around your neck would have done enough all on its own. But the only response you inspired was the slightest twitch in the Morningstar’s right cheek. It tugged at the corner of their lip, making them smirk and sneer all at the same time - but only for a moment. A very quick moment that wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t been watching. And just as swiftly, they were back to neutral; a pleasant little expression on their face as their eyes suddenly ran over your body - from top to bottom and back again. You were grateful that you were still wearing your toga; pristine and white, draped over your one shoulder and tucked under your other arm, tied tightly at the waist with a thin golden band - divine in nature and very handy. Your feet, on the other hand, were bare. And the golden cuffs that usually graced your wrists were gone. You felt disheveled. You felt less than pristine. You looked… exactly as you had always felt. Like a mess. Like a bright glimmering mess. Like a pile of abstract art that existed among the carefully carved statues of Heaven. You felt… you looked… far more beautiful than you ever had before.

It was hard to tell if Lucifer agreed.

“No I suppose it doesn’t,” they hummed, referring to your earlier response. “Though I should hope you know that’s the point.” The Morningstar spoke nonchalantly- as if they weren’t the most strangely intriguing thing you’d ever come across.

Their words, on the other hand, were confusing.

“No. I don’t know where I am,” you glanced around for a moment, still stuck without a clue, “so I wouldn’t know. Care to enlighten me, Morningstar?”

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or you will lose your tongue,” they replied quicker than light, voice deep and sharp enough to cut.

It felt like the air changed then, becoming nearly suffocating in its depth. It crawled into your lungs, into your veins, making you swallow around a sudden lump in your throat while your eyes started to water. Clearly, Lucifer was powerful. Not someone to be messed with. And not nearly as patient- nor ‘kind’- as God. At the brief thought of him, you glanced up; like you’d suddenly see the city gates open again and you’d be welcomed back and lightly chastised before being sent on your way around the clouds; like you’d somehow be saved. But there was no reckoning. There was no call. There was no miracle. There was only Lucifer.

“Do you wish to return to the silvery city, little Angel?” You turned back to those calm frozen eyes, resisting the urge to get lost in them.

“Yes, of course,” you said as though your answer was obvious (which it was).

“Interesting,” they hummed, tilting their head to the side slowly - like a hungry snake, “…I felt that way once, too.”

You frowned. Just what in Heaven’s name was the Morningstar talking about? No, you’d never heard of angels being cast from Eden, but you assumed that it was maybe like a one time thing? Like a mini punishment and you’d be summoned in any coming minute? For a second there you even considered the dark marble and flames and strange domed ceiling and weird cave walls were all part of an odd dream. But the sincerity in the Morningstar’s hushed tone said otherwise. Like they- like it was the truth. Like they truly had done what you did (though many more times) and looked to the sky in hopes to hear the choir once more. Like the weight of whatever happened to them would become a similar weight for you. Their words sent your head in circles.

“What do you mean?” You finally demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

That seemed to amuse them as they smirked, eyelashes fluttering slightly. “I fell too. Once upon a time,” they paused, watching your eyes for any understanding. When they didn’t find it, they continued. “Right after succumbing to defeat.” A flicker of something dark rushed through their gaze. It unsettled you.

And sparked more outrage.

“What- what are you talking about?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in clear exasperation.

What ‘defeat’? What ‘fall’? How long ago was all of that? What even happened? How did they get those wings? Who were they really and what were they capable of? And honestly, dear God, would someone just tell you where the fuck you were?!

“Ah,” they pursed their pretty lips, “It’s no surprise you’re here now. Angels are not meant to be so foolish,” the Morningstar declared, still lilting and song-like and beautiful and terribly insincere.

Their insult had your blood boiling. Who the fuck were they to say that? They were no Angel. They didn’t understand a damned thing. They didn’t know you and they didn’t deserve to know you. No matter how sublime a creature - such glory only existed on the outside.

“You wouldn’t know a fuckin thing,” you spat, giving them the best glare you could, “you’re no Angel.” A sneer painted your face.

“Foolish and blind, it seems…,” they mused as they began walking around you, lining your arms up at one point before continuing their small trek around the round bowl of the fire pit.

They paid you virtually no attention as they went, keeping their eyes trained on what appeared to be a balcony a few feet away. Interestingly enough, although their realm was warm, they seemed to be ice cold. There was not an ounce of heat that passed through the silk of their robe when they brushed past you. The proximity to something so powerful again had that feeling of needing to kneel traveling up your spine, but you pushed it down and worked on keeping the Morningstar in your sight. If you stopped looking at them, it was only a wonder as to how easily they could catch you by surprise.

“But you don’t look very…,” you trailed off, knowing you were going to say ‘angelic’, but realizing that you were… well you were wrong. Quite wrong.

Lucifer kept walking, not caring to stop for your reconsideration. But you didn’t need long. Those curls actually seemed rather… familiar. The way they surrounded the head, covered the ears, accentuated the cherubic features, glowed despite there being no light; and the willowy glide of their body, slow, methodical, full of undeniable beautiful grace; and their voice, distinct and delicate and precious and captivating; and their height- and their jaw- and their lips- and eyes- and proud nose- and perfect posture- and heavy wings- and… well… every bit of them seemed almost… holy.

Seemed almost like… like… like something you’d seen before. Briefly. In a painting and in a scroll. Only once or twice.

“Samael.”

It came out as a whisper but the monster still heard. And it made them stop in their tracks, wings swaying while the world paused.

You sucked in a heavy breath, feeling a very small shot of fear run down the curve of your neck.

They were Samael. Or they used to be Samael. God’s favorite. God’s best creation. The wisest, handsomest, strongest, most glorious Angel to ever be. The staple of divinity. The most beloved and the most cherished. There was a time once where you walked past an elder and heard them murmur about Samael. They had called you the antithesis. They had called you, in short, the most un-divine angel. If the fallen Samael was the best, you were the worst. And though you did not fully understand the story, though you did not know how they fell or when they fell or why they fell, you knew that their power had changed. The light had gone out and made room for the dark. Their wings shed their feathers and their skin lost its warmth. And they changed. They rebelled.

You frowned, feeling a tug in your heart at the sight of them standing there - glorious and tall and never beaten down. Never one to be truly defeated. They chose that risk - they knew of the consequences. But you? You? You were young. You were not wise, no, but you were clever. Smart. Hot-headed. Wasn’t Samael hot-headed once too? Wasn’t Samael flawed once too? Your small pathetic acts of rebellion were nothing in comparison to all that the Morningstar did.

So why did you wake up in their realm? What did God mean to say?

“Things have changed, little Angel,” their voice grasped you by the throat and brought you back to the present, “dwelling on the past reaps no benefits.”

“But I-” you swallowed, looking around wildly, finding that the gravity of what happened had begun to sink in. “No. No no no, I don’t belong here. I didn’t- I didn’t choose this. I don’t belong here!”

“Why shout when he has closed his ears to you?” The Morningstar asked, turning to face you with curious innocent eyes. “Why fret when you know what you’ve done?”

You squinted, confused, finding yourself taking panicked steps backward.

“That’s the thing, I didn’t do anything!” You insisted, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at your sides. “I didn’t lead a- a- a fucking rebellion against God! I didn’t hurt him! I’m- I’m pure! I want to go home!”

Lucifer stared at you, face blank.

“…This is your home now.”

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:) - Ripley x

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[gothic-daydreamer]

An Angel Trapped

Chapter 2 -

Summary: An Angel meets the true evil.

Warnings: violence and threats.

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When I awoke the pain in my head had increased tenfold. My whole body was in the worst agony imaginable, and I wished my Lord would give me the release of death.

The last thing I remembered was blood, the smell of terrible rot and a beastly snarl from the flayed man. No, a man could not survive that. This was something else.

I attempted to clench my fist into the sand again, I had found it soothed me slightly to feel the soft grains under my skin, but I found a much harder, smoother surface instead.

Voices, the same gruff ones from before were conversing in a strange language I was unfamiliar with. I could tell they were behind me from the direction the sound travelled from, and I clenched my teeth to hold back a groan of pain as I strained to open my eyes.

I blinked rapidly, clearing my spotty vision. I was in a dimly lit room with some torches placed across the walls for light, I saw very minimal as I was facing a darkened stone wall. The voices continued, but I mostly ignored them. All I could tell was, from the tone of their voices, it was a tense conversation.

One voice was clearer, and even in a foreign language sounded authoritative. It was deep, but distinctly different to those it was conversing with. The voice sounded angry.

No, not merely angry. It held the fury and power to bring the walls down around us. This voice frightened me.

Slowly, and with great effort, I turned my head to the voices. I saw the flayed man first, he appeared agitated. Another creature stood by his side with the feet of a goat but the upper body of a man, an equine tail swung behind him, like some twisted version of the minotaurs I'd read about. But across from them, that was where the malevolence in the air seemed to emanate from.

A throne of thorns coiled around metal and stone held the light of the room, the polished marble glinted with a malicious intent as if to sit on it was death.

The person seated, however, didn't seem afraid as the two other creatures were. They seemed to fuel it, actually. It was made infinitely clear to me who held the power in the room. Their hair was of short, blonde curls, blue eyes like sapphires glinted with the same effect as the throne upon which they were seated.

My heart rate was rapid with fear, this was an evil place. I could feel it in my very soul. I glanced at the three people in the room, luckily their focus was not on me. If I was lucky I could perhaps get free from this room, if I was unlucky...

I steeled myself against such thoughts, the first step to escape was believing it was possible. I pulled myself together, sending one last look to my captors to ensure their focus still hadn't shifted. Then I slowly began an army crawl towards the doorway.

It was still swelteringly hot, even in this room. Sweat beaded on my forehead and i found myself loathing my normally beloved fur cloak, it was to be my undoing if I couldn't get it off.

My legs were tied too, I soon came to realise. I kept crawling, dragging myself along the smooth surface below me with great effort from my trembling arms. I didn't care if I collapsed, just as long as I was out of this room.

I made it a few feet before i realised there was a halt to the conversation behind me. By the time I noticed it I knew my attempt had failed. But still, I kept going. Until a hand shot out to grip the rope around my ankles, dragging me backwards and eliciting a cry of fear from me.

"little bird thought she could escape. Stupid bird" the voice from the flayed man spoke in the broken version of the common tongue, I looked back over my shoulder at him and saw a wet, blackened appendage from his mouth lick the bloody tissue around the gaping hole. I felt bile rise in my throat at the sight.

The warped minotaur trotted closer, and then I noticed the rusted curved sickle in his hand "we should take half of wing. To punish" I barely made out from his gutteral voice, and began struggling against the flayed man as my trapped wings fought their binds to save themselves from this threat "no- no please"

My voice was no longer strong, no longer unshakable. I was crying, I realised. As if the humiliation of being captured wasn't enough, now they saw my tears. My head bowed to shield myself from their sadistic gazes, I needed to maintain dignity in front of my captors.

The flayed man held me, gripping my shoulders and pressing my front into the floor as the Minotaur clamoured closer. I could smell the rot of the flayed corpse as he got closer, breathing on me with rancid breath. I nearly vomited from the stench.

My struggles grew more desperate as I saw the rusted blade's dulled edge mere inches from my feathered wings. My heart hammered and my eyes watered once more,

"please- anything but my wings- anything!" I had never been so afraid, especially as the echoing laughter of the evil creatures above me found my terror amusing. I squeezed shut my eyes and prayed for salvation.

"that's enough!" A booming, powerful voice broke their laughter and ended their amusement. The creatures froze on the spot and swivelled their heads to the being upon the throne, instantly bowing their heads "yes Master"

I heard boots, or perhaps they were heels, striking the floor as someone sauntered slowly towards me. Each step they took radiated a power I had only ever encountered in my Lord. Whoever this being was, they rivalled God himself.

"if you fools are done toying with my newest pet, you may leave us" despite being worded as a suggestion, it was painfully clear it was more of a direct order. The creature that inspired fear in the flayed man and the Minotaur stood over me, and as I opened my eyes I saw it was heeled boots they wore.

My gaze climbed long legs covered at knee length by a silver silken robe, up to broad shoulders and finally a beautiful, ethereal face. I'd never seen a face like it, in the Silver City or any other realm. There was a soft, pure beauty, but also a dark primal evil that sent a shiver of the most direct fear I'd ever felt. The being's blue eyes masked dark urges, and even more sinful thoughts.

"yes Master" the creatures muttered in unison, heads down. The flayed man gave me the most hateful look I'd ever received, like he wanted to strip the flesh from me so I suffered his same fate "and, if you desire, Mazikeen will provide a reward for this... Gift" the sapphire eyes never broke from me, and the flayed man nodded. He left the room at his Master's orders without another word.

Said Master was still watching me, an unreadable expression on their face. I met their eyes again, and if I wasn't tied on the ground I would have shrunk away from the being above me. Their hand raised and I found myself bracing for an attack or unwanted touch, but instead their fingers clicked with a resounding snap and I felt the ropes binding me loosen so I was freed.

I pushed myself onto my knees, my wings ruffling to ease the ache of being bound uncomfortably together "stand up"

The being possessed a quiet voice, but their dangerous aura more than made up for the lack of volume. Infact, the quietness added to the fear this person induced in me. My legs trembled a little, whether it was fear or exhaustion I couldn't tell, but I found myself on my feet. The flayed man's Master was tall, imposingly so. They towered over me and cast a shadow of malevolence, even if they had yet to harm me directly.

Suddenly they were close, but they were not bent. Instead I was gasping on their level as their clawed hand held my throat in an iron grip, my wings beat against them but this powerful being didn't seem to notice. Their blue eyes seemed to darken with my fear.

"I normally kill trespassers on my doorstep" their deep, power-filled voice sent shivers through me. There was darkness, yet a softness too. Like the calm embrace of death "an Angel would be a fool to set foot in my domain"

This creature that tightened their grip was... Captivating, in a deadly sense. Their eyes were alert constantly, like a predator waiting for its prey to slip up and fall into the trap waiting for them "so tell me... Little angel, what gave you the nerve-" the grip tightened and claws were beginning to pierce my soft, divine-born skin "to travel to Hell?"

[dianneking]

10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes: Day 10 (Lucifer Morningstar)

We have come to the last of our goodbyes. My goodbye to this short series. Arguably, this is my favorite of it all and I can't even express properly why. There's something so epically heartbreaking about it all. I hope you like it as much as I did. Also, yes, I realize it's very Good Omens- coded, no I didn't watch Good Omens, but I blame all of my mutuals for getting me into the hive mind about it (you know who you are).

Summary: What was the cause behind the fall of the brightest of all angels? What did their defiance of the Almighty look like? It was love. Love is what ultimately spelled destruction for Lucifer. No, not Lucifer yet. Samael.

TW: Angst, Religious topics, Drabble, Goodbyes, Hurt No Comfort, Dialogue Only - Wordcount: 100 words - AO3 link in title below

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Day 10: Lucifer Morningstar (Sandman) - The Fall

“We shouldn’t be out here – we each have our tasks, you know it.”

“Those tasks will be there for all eternity. Right now, I want to hold my beloved a bit longer.”

“But…”

“I love you more than anything.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Shouldn’t we angels only tell the truth? I love you more than myself, more than reason.”

“Stop it.”

“....It’s too late now, my love. Even if I didn’t say it, I now know it, so He knows it as well.”

“No, it’s not true. Don’t say it… Don’t say it!”

“I love you more than Him.”

“SAMAEL NO!”

Liked it? Here's the link to the previous one! And to the 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes masterpost! And to my own masterlist of all my fanfictions!

[countslimeula]

Light-bearer.

"The most beautiful, wisest, and most powerful of all angels"  - Dream of the Endless, “the Sandman” Ep. 4: “A Hope in Hell” 

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[ Image I.D: 

First image is an Illustration of Lucifer Morningstar from the Sandman series.  They are a tall humanoid, with pale skin and short platinum blond curly hair.  They are wearing a latex overcoat and have a pair of bat wings on their back.  They are looking down at the viewer while their hands are held in front of them, touching their finger-tips to each other.  They are framed by a radiant light and a thin red “halo” around their head. They are smirking. 

Second image is a close up of the same illustration zoomed in on Lucifer's face. 

Image I.D ends. ] 

[yourmomwhitediamond]

Yes I posted this on insta almost a month ago, but I'm terrible at remembering to post my art on other platforms. Soooooo...Here's my Lucifer doodle I will never finish ಥ��╭⁠╮⁠ಥ

I'm struggling with art block and writers block (: How fun

NONE OF MY BOOKS HAVE BEEN UPDATED IN MONTHS. I HAVE SO MANY DRAFTS THAT I'VE SCRAPPED TOO.

[gloriousgwendolinechristie]

The Los Angeles Times has chosen Sandman Vs Lucifer for Epic Battle of the Year for their Envy Awards 2023!

[hannaloony]

[meowmeowhissss]

She is perfection and I am going crazy right now

[milfsloverblog]

Deliver Us From Evil

Part 1 : Gluttony

Lucifer Morningstar x nun!reader

A/N: this has been eating at my brain for weeeeeeks and I just had to write it. Oh to be a nun getting tempted to sin by the one and only Morningstar…This is how I heal from my religious trauma ig. I hope you’ll enjoy this series as much as I do! <3

You remembered the first time you’d seen them as if it had happened yesterday.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” You whispered, hands clasped together and head hung low. 

The church still smelled of incense, a reminiscence of the mass that had just been conducted. The prayer bench was uncomfortably hard under your knees and a strand of hair had escaped from your veil. But still, nothing could have taken your attention away from your prayer. 

Click.

Clack.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” You kept whispering to yourself. 

Click.

Clack. 

Heels, a part of your brain thought as you tried your best to focus on your prayer. Not unusual, they were part of many women’s church outfits. Not yours, though. Never yours. 

Click-clack

Click-clack

The sounds were getting closer and closer by the second. Perhaps a worshipper who wanted to speak with you. They would have to wait. Just another minute. 

“And lead us not into temptation,” You continued. 

Click-clack. 

“But deliver us from evil.” 

The noise had suddenly stopped then. 

You lifted your head and brought your hand to your forehead to perform the sign of the cross, opening your eyes to look at the tall crucifix that was hanging from the wall, when you were met by a sight that made you gasp. 

Someone was standing there, towering over your prayer bench. You could hardly see their face as they stood against the light, the same light that illuminated the top of the stranger’s blonde hair and made it look like a halo. 

“Sister,” You heard them call you, their voice low and velvety. You could have sworn their lips hadn’t moved, but then again they were standing against the light.

“Sister!” Another voice came from behind you, a shrilling one that felt like a nail was being pushed against your eardrums and immediately made you turn around. 

“Mother Superior,” You quickly got up from your knees and lowered your head to look at your feet. 

“The afternoon lecture is about to start, you better hurry up if you don’t want to be late again.” The older woman said sternly. 

“Yes, Mother Superior. I apologise, I simply wanted to pray-“ 

The woman cut you off, waving her hand in front of her in dismissal. 

“You weren’t invited to speak back, sister.” 

You took a deep breath and clenched your jaws before giving a nod, only lifting your head when you heard the woman walk away. 

You quickly turned back around to apologise to the stranger but, to your surprise, they were gone. They hadn’t just walked away though, you would surely have heard that, they had simply vanished. 

You saw them again a few days later, standing at the back of the church during the Penitential Act. You had somehow felt their presence, looking over your shoulder to confirm that someone had been looking at you. No one else seemed to notice them, everyone probably too focused on the priest’s speech. You shook your head and looked back down at your feet. When you looked over your shoulder again a minute later, the space where the stranger had been standing was empty. 

And again, days later as you were doing the dishes after dinner. You had been left alone in the kitchen when you noticed the figure standing behind you in the reflection of the saucepan you were cleaning. You gasped loudly and let go of the pan, letting it clatter on the ground as you spun around. 

“Be not afraid,” the figure spoke, extending one of their arms towards you. Their voice was smooth like silk, the kind of voice that would have anyone believe anything it says. 

“How did you get in here? This part of the church is for the convent only.” You didn’t sound as harsh as you wished you had, but again you never really did. 

“Well, I can certainly go if you wish me to but…” the stranger stayed quiet for a few seconds before resuming. “I doubt you will ever be in the presence of an Angel again.” 

You were glad you hadn’t picked up another pan or plate for it would have surely joined the other one on the floor. 

“An Angel,” you whispered and it all suddenly made sense. The appearing and disappearing, the aura they seemed to carry around themselves. 

“Forgive me,” you quickly said as you dropped to your knees and looked down at the tiled floor. 

“You are forgiven.” The Angel spoke, walking closer to you until the tip of their shoes entered your visual field. “You mustn’t tell anyone about this, do you understand?” They spoke again, bending over the pick up the saucepan you had dropped. 

You got back on your feet and took the pan from their hands, giving a nod to acknowledge what they had just told you. You wanted to ask them so many things, why they were here and why they had chosen you but the sound of footsteps quickly approaching stopped you from doing so. The Angel pressed a finger against their mouth as a reminder for you to keep this encounter a secret, disappearing right as the mother superior stepped into the kitchen to berate you about your slowness. 

You didn’t see the angel again for a few days until one peculiar night. You had already said your prayers and were lying in bed reading a book by the candlelight when you felt the change of energy in the room. Slowly, you lowered your book, taking in the tall figure that was standing in the corner at the foot of your bed. 

“Angel,” you whispered as if scared to wake up the whole church. 

They walked around your bed and sat down as you pulled your legs against your chest. 

“I brought you a present,” the Angel's lips spread in a smile as they handed you something wrapped in golden foil. 

“Chocolate?” You asked as your fingers mindlessly wrapped themselves around the treat. 

“Dark, with a subtle hint of sea salt.” They answered, making you salivate at the thought of it.

Slowly, carefully, you opened the foil and licked your lips at the sight of the chocolate bar. 

Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.

“I shouldn’t,” you said. “I can’t. I should keep it and wait, so I can share it with my sisters.” 

“Don’t be foolish, little one.” The angel tutted, shaking their head a little and making their blonde curls bounce. “This is my gift to you, not the whole convent… You wouldn’t refuse an Angel’s gift, would you?” They said, standing up from your bed. 

“No! No, of course not!” You quickly answered, snapping the chocolate bar in two halves to prove your words. You snapped it again to detach a perfect square from the bar, bringing it to your lips and hesitating for a second before placing it inside your mouth. The chocolate tasted bitter and salty as it melted on your tongue, making you swirl it around to properly enjoy the taste. 

“What do you think?” The angel snapped you out of your thoughts, watching with hungry eyes as you swallowed their present. 

“It’s delicious,” you admitted in a whisper, silently thanking the dim light for hiding your blushing cheeks. 

“Have another piece,” the angel suggested, taking a step closer. 

“I really shouldn’t…” 

“Says who?” They smiled, gently taking the bar from your hands and snapping a piece off before holding it in front of your mouth. 

You knew what to do. You had gone through this dozens of times during the Eucharist. Holding the Angel’s gaze, you opened your lips, slightly sticking your tongue out to allow them to place the piece of chocolate on it. 

They watched your eyes fluttering shut as you savoured your first sin, making them smile proudly. With their thumb and index taking hold of your chin, the Angel made you look up at them once more. 

“Swallow.” They ordered, their eyes glistening with vice as you instantly did as you were told. 

“Thank you,” you said after a moment of silence. 

The Angel pushed a soft smile and let go of your chin. 

“I have to go now,” they said, their long fingers smoothing over their white robes. 

“Will you be back?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask. 

“Of course I will, there are so many things I have to teach you.” They smiled again, wider this time with their teeth on display. 

You wrapped the remaining chocolate pieces in the golden foil and hid them inside your bedside table before turning back to the angel, only to find them gone. But the knowledge that they’d be back helped you fall into a peaceful sleep. 

“Gluttony,” Lucifer whispered to themselves as their fingers danced over the open fire of the throne room. 

One down, they thought. Six to go. 

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[viceandmature]

Shax and Lucifer in Good Omens / The Sandman

[rippersz]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

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(A fem!reader x Lucifer Morningstar NSFW one-shot)

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Lucifer.

The sweetest end to a life of misery. The dimmed light at the end of a dark tunnel. The succubus of depraved dreams.

The very reason why you begged to be sent to Hell.

And, coincidentally, the very reason why you wanted to stay.

For, really, what was the use of residing in Heaven when God’s hair didn’t fall in perfect blonde curls? What was the use of dipping into paradise when the Lord’s eyes weren’t so piercing? Or when the Almighty’s lips didn’t curl up at the ends, like a mischievous cat that felt hunger clawing at its lungs? And what was the point of staying in nirvana when the lights hurt your eyes? And when the angels’ symphony was simply too damn loud?

That’s just it.

There is no point. There never was.

In your opinion, although the air smelled of sulfur and death and rotted campfire smoke, Hell was a much better place. It was warmer, for starters. And it was… it could be… eerily silent. You realized that early on into your job when you began cleaning Lucifer’s chambers on a daily basis. Because outside of that private space, the world was filled with the faintest screams of the damned. Constantly. Every day - morning to night, even though time in that realm worked in strange ways and could not often be measured. If you cared more, you were sure you’d find it maddening. But you didn’t care. There was no reason to. Because unlike those subjected to whatever punishment they deserved, you were favored. Sort of. Kind of. Well, maybe not entirely, but enough. You were favored enough.

After all, no one would expect Lucifer Morningstar to have a maid. Someone to polish the floors, wipe down the columns, sweep the stairs, make their bed and tend to the flames whenever they burned. Someone to dust the surfaces and make sure nothing was out of place. Someone to keep the Lightbringer’s world tidy.

And yet? Yet, there you were. Breathing in the strange hot air, sweating slightly in your constricting white uniform, getting down on your hands and knees or stretching tall or nearly bending over backwards to clean anything you could. To make sure that they wouldn’t notice a lack of proper upkeep because you took your job very seriously and to do something wrong or to miss a small speck of dust was to be crucified. No pun intended.

Though looking beyond that- looking beyond your ‘duty’ and your life… there was something else. A different sort of loyalty simmering beneath the surface of your skin. Begging to reveal itself any time you were around your employer. Your Master. You never said it, but you thought it. Often. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ ‘No, Your Majesty.’ ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ always translated to ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘No, Master.’ ‘Thank you, Master. Thank you so so much.’

You were almost certain that no other servant they had wished to refer to them as such, but you didn’t care. It was, after all, difficult not to be affected by them. By their power. By their mere existence. They were the rebellious. They were the dark. They were the end and the beginning. The bringer of light and death. They were the anti-Christ… the anti-life, as they had even claimed to be. And although you’d never admit it, that strange familiar heat that warmed and bubbled within your heart, was the very reason why you defected. Heaven may have taken you first, yes, but upon realizing how utterly… empty… it seemed, you realized it wasn’t what you wanted. It wasn’t fulfilling. It wasn’t satisfying. It wasn’t exciting. And you hadn’t met the Creator, no, but that didn’t matter. When you complained, begged, argued, the angels grew sick. ‘Throw them to Hell, then. The silver city doesn’t need any more traitors.’ And it was then to the traitor’s realm that you went. Falling from the sky, sent by the Heavens; tumbling to the floor, received by Hell. Upon arrival, you wondered briefly if you had made a mistake. The air was too hot, the sounds were too much, the world was too gloomy. But then you looked up. Bruised and aching and breathing heavily on that marble floor, you looked up…

…and felt divinity for the first time ever.

For there- illuminated by flames and standing tall and lit with a glow that God simply didn’t have the power to take away- was the Lightbringer themself. Lucifer Morningstar. Goodness they were taller than you could ever imagine. And far more graceful… far more lethal. With great leathery wings of midnight and contrasting pale skin as smooth as porcelain; with strong tapered fingers and long limbs and such a sculpted side profile… you could do nothing but stare. In awe? Perhaps. Wonder? Most certainly. Love? Well… was that really possible? To love The Devil at first sight?

“What do we have here?” A voice, rich and deep and knowing filled the stagnant air; and thus confirmed that yes, actually, one could fall in love with Lucifer Morningstar a second after meeting them.

—

But memories such as that were only ones you held close to your chest when trying to sleep at night. No one would ever know them. No other demon, no other Lord, no other damned soul. For any memory, any dream, any wish you had where Lucifer’s name was mentioned were ones you wanted all for yourself. Yes, there were people (demons) out there who would understand your… infatuation, for lack of a better word, but that didn’t matter. In fact, that was exactly the reason why you wanted to keep such thoughts to yourself. Jealousy was the death of lovers, and Lucifer was a being you wanted all to yourself.

Well… as if that were possible.

Really, the only time you spent together was in your head. And outside of that, you merely passed them in the hall, reported to them in the morning and evening (hard regarding Hell’s time-zone but you figured it out), and showed up when summoned. Of course all you discussed was work and any upcoming events that the palace needed to prepare for, but other than that - nothing. Nothing at all.

You tried not to take it personally. The Devil was busy and you were just their maid. You kept their home tidy and they compensated you with room and board. That was that. And you tried to accept it, really you did; you tried so hard not to drape yourself over their bed when you cleaned it and you tried not to imagine what those cold fingers would feel like dragged upon your skin… but when you were waxing the floors on your hands and knees and the clicking of their heels could be heard from down the hall- your mind lost control. It ran rampant. It turned fuzzy, dripping into a strange ‘shut-off mode’ that focused solely on Lucifer. Solely on Lucifer and solely on the desire that ran through your body at the very thought of them.

Them… with those strong wings and long fingers and soft jawline… with those sharp high heels and that penetrating gaze. Knowing everything, seeing everything. Spiraling with something sultry, burning right through you, matching the dark wickedness of their lips. Oh those lips… they made an appearance quite frequently within your dreams. Caressing the hill of your shoulder, pressing to the soft insides of your thighs… such gentle perfect lips, literally carved by something divine. Admittedly, they seemed flawless from afar, but you knew the truth. You knew that there was a single scar on the right side of their upper lip; it blended in with the paleness of their skin, but your eyes had memorized its location. Your eyes snapped to it when they spoke. Your eyes traced its shape; wider at its northern tip and thinner toward the bottom, where it ran into the delightfully pink flesh of their lip. Your eyes stroked the tiny flaw and yearned to feel its depth beneath your tongue. Your eyes… and your eyes only. For no one, perhaps save one or two powerful beings, had gotten as close to them as you had.

It was one time, when you had first started. Mopping wasn’t that hard of a task, but at the time you were inexperienced and unaware. Specifically when The Devil themself was standing behind you, observing your attention to detail as you wet and re-wet the same spot over and over again. And it was only when they cleared their throat, gravelly and low, that you had gotten a fright. You nearly jumped 20 feet in the air as you let out a gasp, turned around, stepped back, and of course promptly fell right on your ass. You would always remember the confusion that swirled around in your little mind as Lucifer stood over you, watching with amusement. They were pressed against the world, as tall as a skyscraper, larger than life and stronger than destiny. Stronger than fate. Stronger than any other seraphic being to ever exist. And you were nothing beneath their heel. You were nothing in comparison to them. And for some reason- for some twisted, maddening, intoxicating reason- you found that inexplicably attractive. You found that unbelievably desirable. You found that far more bewitching than anything else in the world. And whether they noticed that or not didn’t particularly matter as, in the next moment, they leaned over. Bending at their slim waist, placing one hand on their hip, reaching out with the other and delicately wrapping cold fingers around your jaw. The touch made you short-circuit, causing your eyes to widen like a scared puppy’s as you stared up at them with wonder and fear and a myriad of other exhilarating emotions. You weren’t sure if they could see the way your heart was surging within your chest, pushing at your rib cage and begging to be swallowed whole and torn apart by those perfectly imperfect white teeth, but- again- it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t have stopped them from the way they tugged you forward, dragging you through the soapy water; or from the way they leaned down, slow and scary, purposefully making you wait for their words. And you played into it all, hanging on by a thread as your throat bobbed with the effort to hold back a sudden whimper.

Then soft lips parted; blue eyes, tinged with a brown and green ring around the pupil, stared; and you noticed the scar in that second. You noticed it and you felt your mind melt out of your ears.

“Careful, maid,” The Devil purred, “wouldn’t want you to break anything now, would we?” And although it was just a moment, being there with them like that felt like a lifetime. You remembered that their breath smelled of figs, and wine, and something akin to metal - blood, you had guessed some time later. And because you didn’t have a response then, Lucifer let you go. They pushed your face away with a strong hand, leaving you to scramble and press back onto your palms. The feeling of their touch lingered as they stepped away, donning their familiar sneer, and clutching their hands before them. “Clean this up,” and they turned to leave, “Otherwise you’ll have more than a few broken bones to nurse.”

And once again, you were left alone.

—

For some time after that, you were sure you had dreamed it. The mind, after all, could conjure powerful images when knee-deep in admiration; and you were well-past that point. But upon seeing the scar again in the light, when they were looking over one of their flames, you realized it had been real. It had all been real. And thoughts of them continued to create mountains in your head, and make your fingers twitch while you fell into dreams, and left a searing heat boiling in the depths of your abdomen when you woke up. It was terrible. It was everything. You wished you could feel their touch again. You wished, all the time, that you didn’t have to imagine their longer fingers pressing onto your tongue and making you drool. Or that you didn’t have to infer what it would be like to kneel before them and put your lips to their leathery boots and kiss and lick away the ash and dust that gathered there. And for as much as you did enjoy fantasizing, thinking such things was beginning to mess with your job; keeping you distracted as you nearly burned yourself against the fire while cleaning the bowl that held it.

Sometimes, only when you were alone in bed, you wondered what it would have been like if you hadn’t asked to be sent to Hell. Perhaps you’d be pampered amongst the clouds; drinking anything you wanted and feasting on anything you wanted and feeling the love of anyone you wanted. Or maybe you’d still feel the emptiness that overcame you when you first arrived at those pearly gates. Maybe you’d still feel unsatisfied and cheated and terribly curious about what lurked on the other side of mortality. What sludged along beneath Earth and the Heavens. Yes, maybe you’d still yearn to be in Lucifer’s grasp; even though, in that timeline, you never met them.

Goodness, what a terrible thought. To have never met the Lightbringer? To have never seen their smirk or their glare or that damned scar on their lip? That sounded horrid. Honestly you preferred not to exist at all rather than be devoid of their presence. So thank goodness it was all just a thought; a dip into the wonders of ‘what could’ve been’ - and thank goodness you fell asleep each night within that hot air, breathing in the scents of Lucifer’s domain, and knowing that somewhere nearby they paced the halls or lounged within their chambers. That knowledge in particular was rather nice; it was comforting to know you were safe; claimed by the second most powerful being in the universe. There was a hierarchy within the palace, yes, but that didn’t matter. You were their maid. No one could touch you.

And if anyone dared to test that theory… well you had become aware of the consequences some time ago. The group of important demons due at the palace during that time weren’t very nice to you. From wandering eyes to thinly veiled threats- they had smelled your ‘fresh blood’ the moment they stepped into Lucifer’s hall. But then promptly forgot where they were. And who they were talking to. And who owned the person they were talking to. Safe to say, only someone with a death wish would comment on your white uniform.

But despite that, you wore it with pride.

The mark of the prettiest Angel- having fallen and survived. Pure white, reminiscent of the highest honor; the softest wings, the most saintly color. You wore it and you wore it well. The skirt was knee-length and comfortable, the puffy sleeves were short and didn’t chafe, and the collar was high, hugging the sides of your throat in a similar fashion to the one beautiful garment that Lucifer wore from time to time. You enjoyed the thought of matching with them… you enjoyed the implications of being theirs. And although you weren’t allowed to wear any jewelry, that never stopped you from admiring the pieces they owned. Resting comfortably in an ornate box that sat atop their dresser were different types of rings and even one or two necklaces and a single set of earrings. They were all made of real gems/silver/gold, but you knew that The Devil didn’t particularly care for riches. They had it all. One less diamond wouldn’t kill them. And that was, perhaps, another reason as to why you couldn’t help but feel weak when they slid into your mind.

Such a powerful being… so nonchalant… and they spoke so slowly… so deeply… and they walked with such height… and had the prettiest lips… and the longest fingers…

“This doesn’t look like cleaning to me, little maid.”

Your heart did a somersault within your chest as you looked up. Your eyes were wide. Their eyes were heavy-lidded. Amused. Looking down at you as they stood with their fingertips pressed together in front of their waist, standing and haloed by dark wings. All you could do then, stuck beneath their attention, was swallow harshly and try to control the sudden shaking that overcame your body.

You’d been caught red-handed. Literally. Standing beside their bed, staring at the silk blood red sheet that ran against your palms, held tightly in your hands. It was halfway off the mattress and spilling a bit onto the floor, and you were caught in the middle of your own mess. A change of sheets rested on an armchair behind you, but that didn’t matter. You were caressing the fabric with your thumbs. You were basking in its softness. And you had lost track of time, too focused on your own memories- your own depraved thoughts- to realize that The Devil themself could walk in at any moment. It was their room, after all. Complete with a large four-poster canopy bed, a distinguished vanity, a set of armchairs and a table, bookshelves that lined the far wall, and two other doors that led to their bathroom and closet. It was, admittedly, your favorite place to be in the entire palace. The fireplace was always burning - the colors of the room were a good mix of onyx, crimson, and gold - and the smell there was far different than the smell in any other part of the underworld. For instead of anguish and sin, the air toyed with the light scents of freshly blown out candles, jasmine, and vanilla. Every time you walked in there to clean, you took a deep warm breath and resisted the urge to curl up on their bed and take a nap.

Though as you stood before them, on the other side of their half-covered mattress, you wished you had previously dared to fall asleep there before. It would have been a fascinating story to harbor after being banished, considering The Devil most likely didn’t care for those who caressed their divine bedding.

“Just what exactly were you doing?” Their voice came again, breaking your mind’s descent into the clouds and instantly yanking it back down to Hell.

A quick nervous glance up told you that Lucifer wasn’t angry. No, they were more amused than anything else. But then again, that seemed to be their constant state of existence around you. As though you were a dumb little puppy who didn’t know how to do much beyond cleaning and when they caught you thinking, they thought it was funny. And perhaps it was funny. You did often lose your voice around The Devil, so you may just as well have acted like a scared little animal in their presence…

…was that what you were doing then? Glancing every which way, unable to make eye contact, feeling the heat of the fire seep into your skin? Shaking slightly and secretly wishing that they’d grab you by the arm, throw you onto the bed, and have their wicked way with you?

Well… the more you thought about it, the more time you wasted. So you swallowed your tongue and cleared your throat.

“I was- um- cleaning, Your Majesty,” you bowed your head and clutched your hands in front of you.

A small hum filled the air. You felt your heartbeat on your tongue.

“Are you certain, little maid?” They spoke softly, deeply, running their fingertips along the edge of the mattress before pulling their hand back and assessing the state of their skin. “Because to me, it seemed as though you were rather… distracted.” And Lucifer smirked upon seeing the cleanliness of their fingertips.

And while they did that, feeling a strange sense of pride and lust curl up within their being, you felt your heart drop.

Distracted….

of course…

…They knew.

They knew.

One could never keep anything from The Devil; so why in the underworld did you think you were any different? Why did you think you could keep something like sin away from the Lightbringer’s eyes? They were always so careful with words - always so choosy - always one step ahead… and they knew.

They knew about the needy little dreams that plagued your nights. They knew about the blush that you woke up with, and the shake in your knees when you got into the shower and found your own hands wandering from your chest to your thighs. They knew about the heat that bubbled between said thighs, and how the ache- the terrible burning enticing ache- pushed you to take care of it in the only way you knew how. With searching fingers and light touches and soft moans muffled by the white fabric of your pillow; with distracting thoughts and lewd whimpers and sinful pleas- begging and begging and begging the Lightbringer, The Devil, to pleasure you until your heart melted against your insides. They knew about all that and they knew about the little whispers you spoke to yourself when the water spilled from behind the curtain and dripped down your face and created the perfect cover up.

Or… what you thought was the perfect cover up.

In reality, it seemed there was no place in Hell that The Devil could not reach. That The Devil could not hear. That included your shower. Your bath. The bed you writhed in at night when you imagined their teeth attacking the flesh of your chest. And your tummy. And your thighs. And your neck and calves and back… And in a similar sense, they heard every single thing you murmured to yourself when the flames in your room were extinguished. The faint cries of ‘Master’ as you let the soap slide down your arms; the muted whines of ‘Yes yes yes right there-’ as the steam pressed to your bathroom mirror; the mewls that escaped from your wanting lips, hugging the tile of your shower, incriminating you with every little noise…

Oh they heard it all.

And because of that- you were completely and utterly fucked.

“My my… such a strong heartbeat. One could even say you were- frightened.” Their voice was closer than it was before, and when you blinked, you found that they were slowly- slowly slowly slowly- crawling onto the bed.

Your body froze as you watched two large hands press into the mattress, swiftly followed by a knee. They were clad in a rich mahogany leather; an outfit that clung to the muscles in their arms and legs, spanning broad across their chest and still leaving room for their wings. Oh those wings… Twitching gently as they stalked toward you. You, being their prey. You, being their victim.

And as soon as that realization clicked into your slow silly little mind, you did the only thing you could think to do when filled with terror: you begged.

“Pl-please, your Majesty- I- I am so so sorry for my behavior. I have been inappropriate and- and- disrespectful and stupidly idiotic. I promise you it will not happen again, please, I am begging you- please understand, I-” you stopped.

You stopped, abruptly silenced by the slim finger that pressed itself to your lips. Their skin was just as chilled as you remembered it. And their eyes, when you looked up into them, were far more entrancing than they had ever been. As if The Devil simply could not help the way their very soul reacted to your submissive behavior. ‘Such a silly little maid,’ they were probably thinking to themself, ‘such a silly little maid with her silly little outfits and needy little sins. The poor thing had no idea that I heard it all….

…And the poor thing has no idea what I will do to her because of it.’

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Hope you enjoyed! I will be working on requests for a bit now and taking a short break from my other fic. I have not watched The Sandman so if some things are wrong, I apologize. I do hope I also did well with Lucifer’s characterization. If I did not, I again apologize. Thank you for reading. - Ripley

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[tampire]

Lucifer and Mazikeen in their Wednesday and The Witcher roles (Larissa Weems and Philippa Eilhart with Wenclair and Radskier)

[writing-for-life]

Lucifer—Fausto Giurescu

[yourmomwhitediamond]

I ordered six bloody sets of Gwen's Lucifer pictures for the signing on Saturday when I only meant to get two different types to choose from. Oh well 🤷‍♀️ I'll just stick the spares onto the doors in the house ig

[gardenveela]

We’ve all charged, since the beginning. Even you, Dream Lord.

issue 23 redraw

love mixing comics colours with show versions of characters!

[ellovett]

LUCIFER SHOTS IN THE SANDMAN S2 TEASER I AM GIGGLING AND TWIRLING MY HAIR

PLEAAASEEE GODDDDDDDD IM SO READY PLEASEEE PELASE