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daydream-cement · 2 years ago

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The Road Trip Ch. 1

Larissa Weems, Captain Phasma, Miranda Hilmarson, and Brienne of Tarth are all stuck in a car together, headed towards a vacation none of them are prepared for.

this fic has been such a joy to write with my @bri-sonat !!! this was such a labor of love and i loved writing every bit of it :)

“So, you want to take a right up here and get on to the highway,” Brienne looked up from the map in her lap, pointing towards the turn coming up. She was sitting in the passenger seat beside Phasma, who was driving the car.

At Brienne’s direction, Phasma snapped her head toward the knight, giving her the usual glare, signaling that she was very much aware of where to go. “Yes, thank you, Brienne.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and with a sigh, the captain flicked on the car turn signal before steering the car down the ramp leading to the freeway. “Can you two shut up back there!?” Larissa and Miranda had taken their places in the backseat. The headmistress sitting behind Phasma, and the constable sitting behind Brienne. The shapeshifter had made a comment on how the chromed captain should’ve slowed down even more when turning, and Miranda had simply opened a bag of crisps.

“Sorry, Phasma…” Miranda would gladly admit that she found the captain a little intimidating if it meant she would keep her life. “I’ll open the snacks more silently next time.” She glanced at Larissa who was leaning slightly forward, only enough for her voice to reach Phasma’s ear, silently begging the headmistress to keep her mouth shut.

Phasma had warned them all in advance that in her car, her rules were final, and her rules were: ‘keep your mouth shut, or I will shut it for you.’ It was a simple one, the problem was, Larissa had no interest in simple things, not allowing herself to get bossed around considering she usually did the bossing.

“I’m just saying, you could’ve taken that turn a little bit more gracefully. It almost made Miranda spill her drink on me,” Larissa stated matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes at Phasma’s stubbornness. She thought she was offering ‘constructive suggestions’ on the captain’s driving, and that it would be appreciated. It was not.

“I’ll kill you a little bit more gracefully…” Phasma muttered under her breath, instantly questioning why she had agreed to go on this God-forsaken road trip knowing that if the entire ride was going to be anything like the first ten minutes had been, she would surely lose her sanity. She was starting to envy Lucifer’s choice, to not respond at all. She too wished she wasn’t in this car.

“What was that?” The shapeshifter hadn’t quite heard exactly what the captain had said, but she could draw her own conclusions about what it could’ve been if she based it on the very little she knew about the chromed trooper.

“I said, I’ll kill you a little bit more gracefully if you don’t sit your ass back, stop breathing into my ear, and shut your mouth.” Even if Phasma’s voice was at a normal volume, the threat, and anger in it did not go unnoticed, and Larissa decided that it was best to obey her for now if she wanted to get to her destination in one piece.

The silence in the car was deafening after Larissa had leaned back into her seat, Brienne sneaking occasional glances at Phasma, and Miranda had started munching on her snacks. Every once in a while offering the shapeshifter some by silently holding it out for the headmistress to take, which she did.

The sounds of classical music filled the car which helped in lulling Miranda to sleep who was now napping against the window, her head on a pillow that she brought from home. Larissa had opted to take her phone out, answered some emails, and was now playing Candy Crush on it, trying to pass the time, mindlessly snacking on the crisps the woman next to her had given her before falling asleep.

Brienne had her eyes fixed on the map in her lap, reading over the bookings again and again, ensuring that everything was as it should be. Sitting next to Phasma who relished in the silence, staring dead ahead at the winding road as she drove them closer to their destination, was proving to be an interesting experience.

The knight would not say that she was intimidated by Phasma, but there was definitely professional regard that played a part, wanting to respect the trooper's wishes for tranquility.

“Hey, Phasma?” The knight in the passenger seat spoke up, silent to avoid waking Miranda and to evade enraging the captain by making too much noise. She had contemplated saying anything for the past half hour but landed in having to swallow the fear of angering the scary woman next to her.

“Brienne.” Remaining focused on the road, Phasma’s mouth formed into a frown, a tiny bit annoyed at the disruption of her peace but grateful for her hushed voice. “Is something the matter?”

“Not really. I just wanted to bring it to the captain’s attention that once constable Hilmarson wakes up she will be... energetic, to say the least.” Brienne had been terrified of bringing this to Phasma’s attention, knowing it would not be liked by the driver. “I’d say we have another ten minutes of silence.”

Phasma grunted, “Thank you for the information, Lord Brienne.” To say that the chromed trooper would cherish the next ten minutes was an understatement. She already rued the seconds leading up to Miranda’s eventual rousing.

“You’re welcome,” Brienne went back to her activity of reading over the documents in her lap, every now and then looking out the window, observing the passing landscape.

As if she had an internal alarm clock, Miranda awoke ten minutes later on the dot with new-found energy, causing Larissa to put her phone away, realizing she had spent almost two hours playing that silly game. It did prove to be a successful way to pass the time, even if it felt like no time at all had passed.

“What did I miss?” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Miranda took in the very quiet space, glancing to the rearview mirror where she met Phasma’s eyes that bore into hers, causing the constable to look away faster than she had intended.

“Not much,” Larissa mumbled next to her, answering her query.

“Not much? Wha- Does this mean you’ve been sitting in silence this entire time?” Miranda couldn’t believe her ears, this was not how a road trip was supposed to be. There was supposed to be loud music, sing-alongs, and games. Apparently, there had been none of that during her slumber and she found that offensive.

“Yes. It is how our driver wishes for it to be.” Larissa had given up on defying Phasma long ago, succumbing to the captain’s will for serenity. The headmistress turned her head to look out the window as the comforting sounds of piano filled the car space once again.

Miranda frowned, almost pouting, at how boring her fellow travelers were being. This was not how she expected the trip to be even if she knew of Phasma’s rules beforehand, but she had hoped that the captain would be adaptable and abandon her regulations once she realized how fun they could have. This was too boring for her.

The constable started looking about the car, peeking over the passenger seat to see what Brienne was doing but grew bored of that the second she saw the large map. She switched her eyes to Phasma who did not rip her eyes away from the road for even a second, other than to stare at Miranda through the mirror after she had woken up.

Phasma was an interesting person to study but she was not stimulating enough to keep Miranda entertained so she moved her gaze again, landing on the headmistress’ turned head. She was staring intently at Larissa’s hair, hoping that the shapeshifter would notice her trying to get her attention.

Larissa could feel Miranda’s eyes on her as the shapeshifter stared out the window. The constable would want to have more interaction than the knight, captain, and principal were currently offering her. Finally, Miranda’s voice rang out once more, “Larissa, we should play a game.”

“A game?” Larissa shifts back to stare at Miranda plainly; it had been years since she partook in a travel game.

“Yeah! Have you played the alphabet game? Or twenty questions? Or maybe, maybe we could play eye spy?” Miranda’s excitement was contagious, causing Larissa to smirk. The constable’s demeanor reminded Larissa of her more energetic students, endearing Miranda to the shapeshifter.

“Pick a game and I’ll try my best to learn.”

“Oh, let’s do the alphabet game! Brienne will be good at this! I can tell.” Miranda was talking a mile a minute, explaining all of the rules to her fellow passengers, “All you have to do is one of us will pick a category and then we go around in a circle, stating something that starts with the letter we are given. Like if the category is food, Larissa might say apple for the letter A and then Phas would say banana for B, and then Bri would say cake for C!”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Brienne’s voice sounded from the front, her ears spiked after hearing her name, clearly uninterested in whatever the two women in the backseat were planning on doing to pass the time. She was content reading the map and had no need for games to keep her mind stimulated, finding occupation in the small things being something she had mastered over the years.

“Oh, please Brienne! It’s no fun with just two people!” Miranda begged, her hand coming up over the back of the seat to squeeze the knight's shoulder.

Brienne sighed, rolling her head back and staring up at the car ceiling. “Fine. But if we miss our exit, that is on you.” The knight returned her head to its previous position, looking over at Phasma. She could practically see the frustration grow within her and decided to save the chromed trooper from this ‘irrelevant and childish game.’ “However, we should probably leave the captain here out of it, I have a feeling that she would not find it as enjoyable as you, Constable.”

“Okay, fine, but Phas if you wanna join in at any point, you just jump right in.” Miranda took charge of the game, knowing if she left it up to the other women, they might not end up playing the game. “I’ll make it easy on us and pick a category. We are gonna do ‘things you can find outside’ and Bri, you are gonna start okay?”

“Can’t you find anything outside?” Larissa asked, her brow furrowing.

“I was about to ask the same question.” Brienne followed Larissa’s statement, glancing at the map every now and then to make sure they did not miss their exit knowing Phasma would not be happy if they did.

“Nature-y things! You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play devil’s advocate. Luci doesn’t need your help.” Miranda gave Larissa a playful shove and then laughed at her own joke.

Phasma’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white. “Just get on with the game already! Enough with the dilly-dallying, it’s annoying.” Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she found the three’s game slightly intriguing, she had never heard of anything like it before. She wouldn’t want to partake, of course, but there was that naturistic curiosity that she couldn’t shake, even if she tried.

“Bri!! Go!! Something nature-y that starts with A!” Miranda wasn’t interested in pissing off Phasma more than she already had, so she was more than happy to do what she was told.

The suddenness of the beginning of the game caused Brienne’s mind to freeze for a second, scrambling to find an answer, “Uh, oh, umm, shit. I guess, apple?” She was unsure of her answer, but it was found in nature, after all.

“Good one! Bear!” Miranda partially shouted, regretting her decision when she watched Phasma tighten her grip on the steering wheel even more.

“Catkin.” Larissa had prepared ahead of time, already thinking about the letter she would get four turns from now. Miranda shot the shapeshifter a strange look, questioning the validity of her answer, “It’s found on a tree...”

“Oh, it’s me again. Deer? Yeah. Deer.” Brienne was growing more confident in her answers, getting the hand of the new game she had been introduced to minutes ago. She was used to being put on the spot as a knight, but this was entirely different. Her brain was working overtime trying to come up with responses fast enough.

“Elephant!”

“Frog.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna do ‘G’, Phasma?” Miranda knew what the response would probably be, but she felt guilty for not trying to include her.

“Yes. I am sure,” Phasma responded through gritted teeth, Miranda’s game already transitioning from intriguing to exasperating.

“Okay, then... Brienne, it's your turn.” Miranda rolled her eyes, frustrated that the chrome-clad captain wouldn’t participate in her game.

“Grass.” Brienne smiled to herself, proud that this answer came to her much quicker than the others. Could’ve had something to do with the vast amount of greenery running along the asphalted road, there wasn’t much else to look at.

“Hill!” Miranda was on the edge of her seat, ready with her response when Brienne finished speaking.

“Isopod.” Larissa wore a smug smirk with her answer, believing it showed off her diverse knowledge of many topics. In most situations, she stood out in a crowd due to her height, but this group simply made her blend in, so her intelligence was the only thing she could rely on to stand out.

“Jagu- Oh! Phasma, our exit is coming up.” Brienne interrupted herself when she noticed that the ramp to get off the freeway was closer than she thought. She had gotten so invested in the game that she completely forgot to check the map, thankfully there were signs along the road that reminded her. “Sorry, Hilmarson, Weems. We’re going to have to put a lid on the game for now.”

Miranda huffed in response, slouching back in her seat, her only source of entertainment gone for now.

“This exit right here?” Phasma was satisfied with their incessant game finally ending, even more so that their destination was close. She would finally get out of this car. She lifted one hand of the steering wheel, pointing towards the ramp that was getting closer and closer.

“Aye.” Brienne nodded, looking up at what Phasma was pointing at, and then down at her map again, checking so it matched, checking so they didn’t take the wrong turn. The captain placed her hand on the steering wheel once again, using her other to switch on the turn signal, preparing to change lanes.

The shift of the car caused the pouting constable to dramatically slide over, her head landing on Larissa’s shoulder as she stared out the front windshield. The shapeshifter wanted to comment on the roughness of the steer, but refrained from it, not wanting to anger Phasma even more. She instead brought a hand to the back of Miranda’s head, running her fingers through her short hair and shaking her own head gently at the silliness of the Aussie woman.

“Are we there yet?” Miranda called out, keeping herself comfortably attached to Larissa’s side.

Phasma’s only response was to glare at Miranda through the rearview mirror, conveying her words very clearly through her piercing gaze: ‘ask again, and I will kick you out of this car.’

Brienne was much kinder than Phasma and decided to answer Miranda’s query, “No. I would say that we have another forty minutes in this car before we arrive.” After she had finished speaking, a calm filled the car and it remained for the duration of the drive.

Lucifer was waiting patiently at the destination when they arrived. Their expression contained a nearly undetectable smile as they were mildly surprised all of the women arrived in one piece. With Phasma in the car, they had expected at least an appendage to be missing. Lucifer’s voice twinged with the mischievous knowledge that they had been the sole cause of this silly little trip, “How was your journey?”

Phasma slammed the door shut, looking over at Lucifer with a scowl as she grumbled under her breath about how frustrating they all were. How rude they were for ignoring her very clear rules. Brienne emerged from the passenger side, closing it before answering the lightbringer’s inquiry, “For me? Fine. For the captain? Best not to ask.”

“I slept during most of it, but it was okay. A little boring for my taste, personally.” Miranda shrugged before stretching, trying to get rid of the rigidness and stiffness currently hounding her limbs.

“We are lucky someone isn’t dead,” Larissa huffed, gripping her purse to her as she took her place at the lightbringer’s side, not particularly interested in helping with the bags while Phasma was near the trunk. After their little spat at the beginning of the trip, Larissa was avoiding her at all costs.

Lucifer was amused with Phasma’s and Larissa’s answers. This was going to be very entertaining to the Lightbringer.

Brienne rounded the car, stopping in front of the trunk and opening it. She and Phasma, the strongest ones in the group, had been chosen to carry the heavier pieces of luggage that had been brought on the trip. This was quite obvious, and the two women had no issues with accepting the job, but they started to question just how much of this was needed for a week’s vacation.

As Phasma lugged the baggage toward the shared house they had rented, she realized she would have to sit through all those hours once again when it would be time to return home. It made her groan, knowing that she had barely stayed sane on the ride here. She did not know how she would survive. Less keep this week accident free. Her trigger finger was already twitching, and she just had to be grateful that they had separate rooms.

The trip back was going to suck, that she was sure of.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwen christie #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got #captain phasma #star wars tfa #star wars #star wars the last jedi #star wars the force awakens #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar (sandman)#the sandman #fanfic #fanfiction #crack fic #the road trip

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 months ago

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yall should really check out my fandom lists

you might be surprised who you find there

i promise i write for so many different things

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chamiryokuroi · 11 months ago

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Surprised that It has been a few weeks since Hazbin dropped and I haven’t seen a single Supernatural crossover fic…

#is the spn fandom finally dead?#one would think Hazbin would be free real state for spn fanfics and yet #like I have seen a Lucifer (netflix) crossover before I saw a spn one

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imprincipalweemspet · 2 years ago

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My Queen

English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistakes.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Obscenity, Finger Fuck, Oral Sex.

I hope you like it. 😌

Enjoy! 😘

═.☆.══════ .☆. ══════ .☆.══.☆.══════ .☆. ══

“You look so beautiful. On your knees just for me, a simple object for me, satisfaction.”

Your breath quickened at her words, and the worst thing is that she was right, you will fulfill any sinful wish that this angelic demon asks of you.

With her beautiful blonde hair that seemed so soft to the touch, her alabaster skin that contrasted deliciously with her crimson robe, those piercing eyes that seemed to know all your dirty desires just by looking at you.

Your nipples were rock hard, wanting to be touched.

You rubbed your thighs together to get some friction on your sore clit at the sinful sight, but to no avail.

Your vaginal walls pressed against nothing, wanting just a little touch from that beautiful creature.

For a long time you longed for your mistress, to have her in your unworthy hands, to be able to taste hers, her beautiful, full and pink lips, every day you dreamed of having her between your legs, licking and sucking your pussy.

But you were aware that this was never going to happen, you were just a miserable object to give him pleasure.

You could see how her hands slowly opened the delicate robe, revealing the soft skin of her legs.

You were ecstatic, admiring your queen.

“Come closer, pet, on your hands and knees.”

You crawled slowly towards the throne, as you had been ordered.

Your face was at the height of her knees, and you watched as your queen slowly separated her thick thighs.

You gasped at the sight of her pussy, her soft shaved lips with a small shock of blonde hair resting just above her swollen clit.

“I don’t have all day, you little bitch.” She said impatiently.

I take your hair in a tight fist, digging her sharp nails into your scalp, crushing your face against her pussy.

You squealed at her abrupt action, but that was forgotten as you felt the sweet taste of her burst through your taste buds.

Your tongue began to caress her hard little clit, making her purr softly. Her hips begin to squirm, a sign that you were doing the right thing.

Her back arched as your fingers played with her hole as you ran your tongue back and forth over her sensitive clit.

Your attentions were abruptly interrupted when your lady tilted your head back, forcing you to meet her eyes.

His gaze was cold as metal.

You let out a pathetic groan at the loss.

Your lips were still stained with her fluids, and you could still feel her sweet taste on your tongue.

You were desperately trying to bury your face between her thick thighs again, but she was stronger than you.

“Apparently you’re liking this more than you should, hmm?”

“My little bitch.”

“Beg, little bitch.”

“Ask me to cum on your dirty tongue.”

Your body shuddered as another wave of arousal hit your body, with your fluids running down your thighs. Landing on the ground, her voice had an inexplicable effect on you.

“Please, my queen, let me bury my dirty tongue inside her beautiful pussy. I’ll be her toy whenever she wants, you can use me whenever you want. Please let me you, my beautiful queen, I’ll do anything. Please, ma’am, please!”

She threw her head back, letting out a laugh, pleased by your pathetic words.

“Okay, but, only because you asked so nicely.”

“Thank you, my queen,” you said desperately.

“You’re too good for a disobedient bitch like me.”

She loosens her grip on your hair, allowing you to bury your face between her luscious thighs again.

Your tongue reconnected with her swollen clit, you gently slid your fingers into her cunt, moving them in and out in a steady rhythm. Her fingers held your head firmly while her hips slowly moved up and down to the rhythm of your tongue. Her breathing became labored as she neared her climax.

You enjoyed the feel of her warm thighs against your cheeks as they closed around your head.

Her beautiful body began to tremble, her hand clenched hard in your messy hair, her breath faltering. Her body tensed, and she let out a loud moan.

You were rewarded with a flow of her sweet juices as you experienced the sweet contractions of ecstasy in your fingers.

You continued to lick around her sensitive area, but avoiding her sensitive clit as you searched for the last few drops of her nectar.

You distribute small kisses down her soft thighs, slowly raising your head to look up at your queen into her deep blue eyes, cold as ice.

Your lips and chin glistened with the remains of her orgasm on your face.

Your body throbbed with desire, desperate for your queen’s touch.

“You know what they say, my sweet girl. Good girls go to heaven and bad girls go to hell.” She said, snapping you out of your reverie.

“And as far as I’m concerned, mean girls don’t deserve orgasms.”

“I already got bored by you, you can retire. ”

You groaned in disappointment at her cold words.

Your muscles were stiff, since you were in that position for a long time, kneeling in front of the throne, worshiping your queen.

You got up slowly, trying to keep your balance so as not to fall.

You were about to leave when her hoarse and authoritative voice stopped you.

“Before you go, wipe your dirt off my clean floor.” She said, referring to the little puddle of arousal you left where you were kneeling.

Your face turned red, you felt embarrassed and humiliated by his words but, at the same time, excited.

“I want you to clean them with your dirty tongue.”

You froze for a few seconds at his words.

She raised her perfect blond eyebrow, waiting for you to do as she asked.

You fell to your knees again, resting your palms on the cold ground, leaning your body and sticking out your tongue to lick the ground.

“I want your eyes on me while you do that, my little pet.” She said in a haughty voice, an evil glint in her eyes.

You agreed to her request, looking into her eyes, when your tongue came into contact with the salty taste of your fluids.

You slowly cleaned the floor, leaving no trace of your fluids.

Without looking away.

Only following the ruthless orders of your queen.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer sandman #lucifer netflix #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfic #smut #lesbian fic

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roseyreveries · 5 days ago

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janiehellion · 6 months ago

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Of Curves & Seraphim

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Finally finding peace in your new home away from Los Angeles, you thought you had left the hurtful memories behind. But when Lucifer returns, his remorse and desire for redemption open up old and new wounds. But, after all, only the Devil himself knows what it means to fall and rise up again.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM!PLUSSIZE!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: FLUFF / HURT / COMFORT / MILD SMUT

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.309

MASTERLIST

You were home. Your new home.

It was quiet there, like a sanctuary that kept you away from the harsh world outside. You felt safe here, wrapped in a cocoon of loneliness, far from the eyes of hate and whispers that had hunted you, far away from that city that haunted you: Los Angeles.

Your body, which was a battleground for your insecurities, now seemed to have found peace in the silence of this new place. It had taken you months to build this safe haven and to find comfort in yourself, despite the scars of self-hatred that still came out every now and then when you looked into the mirror. The loneliness had weighed heavily on you, but you learned to accustom yourself to it and to live with it, and frankly, in a weird kind of way, you started to love it.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the silence was broken by a voice from the past.

"May I come in, please?"

Lucifer stood at your doorstep, his usual confidence sincere and vulnerable. It had been months since you'd last seen him; since you'd fled the city, you'd fled from memories of him. He was a part of your life then, a part of the pain, someone standing in shadows.

He was very different now from what he used to be. Where was that Devil you had come to know, the one full of power and charm? His eyes were looking into yours, not with their usual confidence but instead with a rather sincere and vulnerable look, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Why are you here? After all this time?" Your voice was neutral, but your heart was racing in your chest.

"I needed to see you," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours with a look that was almost pleading.

A bitter laugh escaped you. "I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that... I mean, it’s clear that you're standing here because of me, but... you know?"

"I don’t think I understand, my dear," he replied with confusion in his voice.

You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "You never liked me, Lucifer. Why... why do you want to see me now? Out of nowhere?"

He seemed to be searching for the right words. "You’re wrong. The moment you left the LUX and Los Angeles, I realized and saw you for who you really are, and I regret pushing you away. I was blind."

Your eyes searched his face, trying to find the devilish charm you remembered. But instead, you saw a man stripped of any arrogance.

"That night... that last night," he continued, "when we held each other close, half-drunk, and when we were laughing without any care in the world, I saw something in you that I wanted to get to know better and feel closer to me."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. "Do you remember that night? The night where you suddenly took my hand and held it? I felt a connection that I had been too proud to even acknowledge."

You nodded, the memory coming back to you. "I didn’t want to remember it. I guess I was just very upset in the end, after all."

"Upset?" He repeated the word with confusion and disbelief. "Darling, you were more than upset. You were breaking apart inside, heart and soul, and I couldn’t even see it. I didn't even notice..."

He stepped closer again, his hand moving to stroke your arm gently.

"Why are you here?" You asked again, your voice trembling with hope and fear at the same time.

"Because of the last event at the LUX," he said, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I saw you there, and thinking back, it made me realize how much I had lost. I saw the pain in your eyes that night—the way you tried to hide from me and from everyone in shame. And I knew I had to do something. It made me think..."

You struggled to understand his words; your heart was torn between the past hurt and the present yearning. "But you didn't do anything, Lucifer."

He sighed deeply. "Listen... That night? Everything was perfect from the outside, but there was no soul, no fire. It was as if the whole night was fake, and I had missed the chance to actually get to know you and understand you."

Silence fell between you, now only filled by your little and almost quiet sobs.

"You understand me truly," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "No one else ever really has. You saw right through my mask and understood the devil behind the charm. So, let me at least ask you: How did you do it?"

You eyed him as you were looking at the man with a face pitied through all times, hiding behind masks and illusions. "I spent time with you, trying to see beyond your devilish façade. I saw the darkness you hide, and not only the anger, but more the pain you carry within."

He reached out to take your hand, his touch gentle yet insistent. “I have spent so many nights regretting my decisions, wishing I had taken the chance when I had it. But now... now I want to make something right."

He had taken your hand and pressed a soft kiss against your skin. "I want to show you how much you mean to me and how much I have come to desire you."

"What do you want from me, Lucifer?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "I want you to see yourself the way that I see you."

At that, he pulled you closer, and his lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. You felt the heat of his mouth and the tenderness of his touch as he pulled you near, to which you answered with your own lips parting so that his tongue could press against yours.

"You were so beautiful that night," he murmured against your lips once he pulled away a little bit.

You smiled softly, a smile that was half-joyful and half-sad. "No, please don't say that. I... I don't know about that, really."

"No. It was me. I didn’t know," he admitted, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. "But I do now. I want to show you that you are beautiful and that you are worth loving."

His hands moved to your waist, pushing you inside your home, and he soon made you sit down gently on the couch in your living room, his fingers grabbing the edges of your clothing and slowly removing them with care.

When you were finally naked before him, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of your body. "You are perfect," he whispered. "More than I'd ever deserve."

He got down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, your shoulders, and your breasts. His touch was light but filled with a certain hunger that made you shiver.

"I want to show you how much I need you," he whispered against your skin, his voice a low growl.

Without breaking eye contact, he pushed you back onto the couch and quickly moved between your legs, his eyes wandering over your body, before he leaned in and began to tease you. His tongue licked your clit, and his fingers gently explored your pussy soon after. And he took his time, watching every reaction and every moan that escaped your mouth.

"Are you feeling okay?" He whispered. "Tell me if there’s anything you need. I want this to be perfect for you."

You swallowed hard, and the lump in your throat was almost too big to ignore. "I think... I think I just need you to be here," you whispered back. "To hold me, to show me that I’m not just a burden, that I’m worth something."

He nodded slowly with a small, but somewhat sad, smile. "Darling, I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be the one to show you how much you mean to me and how much you are worth."

His fingers followed the curves of your waist, the curves of your hips, and the softness of your thighs.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Every inch of you is perfect, just the way you are."

You shivered at his words, him being so close and sending a thrill through you. "Do you actually really mean that?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I do," he said, pulling you closer to him. "You are everything I’ve ever wanted. I see you, not just your body but your heart and soul."

He kissed you again, and his hand cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall from your eyes.

"I’ve missed you so much," he whispered against your lips. "I’ve missed you more than anything."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I’ve missed you too," you admitted, your voice sounding muffled against his skin. "I’ve felt so lost without you."

Lucifer began to kiss you again, his lips now going down your neck, across your collarbone, and to your breasts.

"You’re so lovely," he murmured between kisses. "Every part of you is perfect. I want to worship you."

He continued his slow exploration of your body, his hands moving to your stomach, your hips, and your thighs, before he gently moved between your legs again, his hands parting your legs again.

"I can’t get enough of you." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, before he soon enough pushed two fingers inside of you. "You feel so good."

You sighed in pleasure, your body moving in rhythm with his. "You make me feel so beautiful right now," you moaned. "I never knew I could feel like this."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently on the lips. "I’m glad," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "You deserve to feel loved."

As the time went on, your own movements became slightly more urgent, your body tensing up. Lucifer saw that you were getting close, but he held back from fingering you faster, making sure that your own pace was his main focus.

"Are you close?" he asked softly.

"Yes," you whispered back, your body trembling slightly. "I’m so close."

"Let go," he urged you gently. "Let yourself feel it."

And you did, allowing your orgasm to happen as you clung to him, your body clenching around his fingers that were still deep inside of you while his other hand held you close.

"Just like that," he murmured. "Let it all out."

You gasped, your body arching against him as the feeling overtook you, but as soon as your orgasm slowly ended, you found yourself wrapped in Lucifer’s arms, your body resting against his and out of breath.

"That... That felt incredible," you whispered, your hands stroking his back. "Thank you for making me feel this way."

Lucifer smiled down at you. "Let me take care of you some more then."

He carefully got up from the couch after he pushed himself away from you. "Come with me," he said, extending his hand to you.

You took his hand, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

"How about you enjoy a bath?" Lucifer asked.

You nodded, and soon enough, he helped you into a hot bath, the warm water relaxing your body.

"I want you to relax," he said, his voice gentle as he ran his fingers through your hair before he sat on the edge of the tub, his hands gently massaging your shoulders. "You deserve to feel this way," he said. "You’ve been through so much, and you need to know that you’re loved."

His hands moved carefully, not wanting to hurt you, kneading away the knots and tension in your muscles, and his fingers were applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel calmer and cared for.

"You’re so strong," he murmured. "I know you’ve had to deal with a lot, but you’ve come through it all with such grace, you know?"

You sighed, your eyes opening up to meet his gaze as you looked over your shoulder at him. "It hasn’t always been easy," you admitted. "But having you here by my side again makes everything better right now."

Lucifer smiled, reached for a washcloth, and gently began to wash your body, making sure every touch was soft and comfortable on your skin. "I want you to know that every part and every inch of your body is perfect to me."

Once he had finished washing you, he took a dry towel and carefully patted your skin dry after guiding you out of the bathtub. He took your hand and guided you back to your couch in the living room.

"Let me quickly get something from your kitchen. I’ll be right back," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving the room.

He returned a few minutes later with a tray of treats: fresh fruit, chocolate, and a cup of warm tea, setting it down beside you on the coffee table.

"I thought you might enjoy a little snack, so I robbed your fridge," he said with a laugh. "And don't you dare to refuse the chocolate."

As you reached for a piece of chocolate, you couldn't help but listen to the thoughts that were coming back to your mind.

"I shouldn't be eating this," you mumbled, staring at the chocolate in your hand. "It's no wonder I look the way I do. Disgusting."

Lucifer's eyes suddenly snapped to yours, showing a hint of anger. "Don't say that."

But you ignored him, unable to stop. "Look at me, Lucifer. I'm not like those perfect women you see every day. I'm... I'm fat. Ugly. Who would even want this?" You gestured at your body with disgust.

His jaw tightened, and he sat down on the couch as well. "Stop it."

But you couldn't simply stop. All the self-hatred you had kept hidden away came out. "No! I hate my body! I hate the way my stomach looks when I sit down. I hate my thighs, my arms, and my face. I hate the way clothes fit me or don't fit me. I'll never be good enough, whether I lose weight or not. I'll always be the fat girl that people look at with pity or disgust. The doctors? They tell me I'm all healthy, sure, but others? They don't! They judge me beforehand, and you know what? They're right!"

Lucifer's expression darkened, and he gripped your shoulders tightly to make you look at him. "Listen. You are not disgusting. You are not ugly. And you are not unworthy of love."

You let out a bitter laugh, and the tears are now rolling down and over your face. "And how can I see anything good when all I see is failure? Imperfection? Worthlessness?"

Lucifer's grip tightened even more, just slightly, his eyes burning. "You are human. You have imperfections, but those are what make you human, what make you... you! And I love you for all of it. Every single inch of your body."

"Stop it! You don't love it! I hate my stomach. I hate how it folds and feels. I hate how it looks when I sit down and how it spills over my jeans. I hate my thighs—how they touch and rub together, how they look when I walk. I hate my arms—how flabby and big they are; how I can't wear sleeveless tops without feeling like everyone is staring at them, laughing their asses off!"

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, but the words kept coming. "I hate my face—how round it is, how I have this damn double chin that never goes away no matter how much weight I lose! I hate my stretch marks, my cellulite, and all these fucking things that remind me every single day that I'm not good enough! I hate that when I look in the mirror, all I see is someone who doesn't deserve to be loved! Someone who's only ever been judged and hated because of how they look! And I deserve it!"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt you yet. He let you get everything out, his hands still holding you by your shoulders.

"And you know what else?" You continued, your voice rising. "I hate that I'm constantly comparing myself to others. I hate that I'm always thinking about my weight, about calories, and about how many I'm actually eating, even though I know that a piece of chocolate won't do me any damn harm! I hate that I can't just enjoy any kind of food without feeling guilty about it! I hate that no matter how hard I try, I always end up back here, hating myself!"

Tears streamed down your face now, and your voice broke. "I hate that I'm trapped in this body. I hate that I can't escape it, that I can't just rip it off and be someone else. I hate that every time I look at myself, I see failure. A worthless fucking loser. Someone who's not worthy of love, happiness, or anything that's good. I hate that I'm always going to be the fat pig. The pig everyone looks at with hate and disgust. Do you know what it’s like to hate every inch of your own body? Of yourself?" You continued while you still held the piece of chocolate in your hand that was slowly melting already. "To look in the mirror and despise the reflection that's staring back at you? You know... worthlessness? It’s not just a feeling; it’s a daily reality to me."

"Stop," Lucifer commanded, but you were too far gone to even listen to him anymore.

"No, you need to understand, Lucifer! I’ve spent my whole life being told I’m not good enough because of how I look! I’m too fat, too ugly, and too much of everything that no one likes! And I can’t escape it."

Lucifer finally let go of your shoulders and clenched his fists, his frustration now boiling over and his true self showing through.

"Enough!" he yelled, the living room seeming to darken due to his anger. "Do you think you’re the only one who knows what self-hatred feels like? Do you think I’ve never looked in the mirror and despised the creature that's staring back at me? The Devil, condemned to eternal damnation, hated by everyone, including myself!"

His sudden angry outburst shocked you into silence, your sobs stopping slowly as you looked at him a bit in fear. And you knew that you truly looked at the Devil for the first time at that moment.

"For millennia, I’ve been the symbol of sin, the embodiment of everything vile! I’ve carried the weight of my Father’s rejection and of my own choices, and it’s left scars deeper than Hell itself!"

He roughly cupped your face. "You need to understand. You’re not alone in this. Your pain, your self-hatred—I get it! I understand it! I’ve lived it, and I still do. And it’s why I can tell you with absolute certainty that you’re worth so much more than you believe!"

You shook your head, still feeling trapped in your despair. "How can you even say that?"

"Because I see you," he whispered, finally calming down again. "And I feel you."

He kissed your forehead, holding you closer now.

"And you know," Lucifer said, "sometimes it takes the Devil to understand what it means to struggle with one’s own nature. Sometimes, it’s the fallen who see the truth of what it means to rise again."

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plush4bunny · 22 days ago

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A hard pull makes you fall off your throne and to the ground. You stop breathing when you see a floor made of black marble beneath you, not the one found in your kingdom. Another tug and your head is forced upward, to look at the face of the one holding the leash: none other than Lucifer.

- scene from @chrism02’s 4th chapter from their Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman) x reader fanfic called “Dice with Death”

#gwendoline christie #lucifer morningstar sandman #lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman 2022 #the sandman netflix #fanart #fanfic fanart #fanfiction fanart #fanfic rec #character art #character illustration #artists on tumblr

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musingsofad4ydreamer · 19 days ago

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Masterlist Navigation

9-1-1/9-1-1 Lone Star

Beef

Bullet Train

Bridgerton

Chicago Med

Crashing

Fellow Travelers

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Harry Potter

Lucifer

MCU

Never Have I Ever

On My Block

Pen15

Spider-verse

Star Wars

Suits

The Last of Us

The Lincoln Lawyer

The Rookie

Top Gun: Maverick

Triple Frontier

Twisters

Wicked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Headers are from the following people: @icnss, @xialing-gf, @moviesframes33-blog, @mistirling, @twojeonss (pinterest), @twtarchive, @saintedits, @embracethedits, @detailspacks, @agentsofedits, @axtridicons, @this-is-freeridge, @latenightedits, @serieedits, @staincastle, @filmscruise

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rippersz · 2 years ago

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ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

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

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

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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