@eternaltm | cont. from where sunny slapped my ass into orbit
THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.
this time that they have spent together has been, yes, like a DREAM — but the DEVIL knows better than most that all dreams must eventually come to an end. lucifer had been under no illusion that the museum is necessarily SAFE; after all, he found it with ease from the other side of the country, drawn to its energy — to colin’s energy, in truth — like a magnet. it would be too much to hope that danger would not come knocking, eventually.
and despite having yet only glimpsed the god’s power, he knows colin can protect himself. he KNOWS mere mortals cannot hope to strike him down — but that knowledge does nothing to stop the FLOODGATES from opening when the inevitable occurs, when one of those PATHETIC WRETCHES that call themselves HUNTERS decides to take a BLADE to lucifer’s 𝐆𝐎𝐃.
the sin most often attributed to the devil is PRIDE.
but his WRATH burns like the fires of hell itself.
lucifer knows malice and this man is saturated in it. oh, he thinks he is doing the world a favor by trying to purge it of anything inhuman, but little does he know that in trying to rid the earth of evil, he has only INVITED it to his doorstep. the rage bubbles, festers, eats at him like any rotten thing will — grabs hold of him and turns him into something MONSTROUS, into something OTHERWORLDLY, into a NIGHTMARE of unholy vengeance. the door splinters into pieces when he bursts through, and he relishes in the abject horror in the human’s eyes when met with the face of the DEVIL HIMSELF.
❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌. 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄? ❜
a discovery made — the man will not repent, has no intention to let things simply rest. wrath only rises and lucifer welcomes it, lets it overtake and CONTROL. that all-consuming DEVOTION that would have had him place stars in the sky now roars like an inferno in his chest; hands that have cradled a god’s so tenderly within their own now used once more to hurt. it is all lucifer knows, now — how to tear things down, how to destroy — he had thought himself better, had thought himself changed, but a single threat to the one he cherishes and he slips back into the role of the PUNISHER like a second skin.
the hunter puts up a fight. not many have the fortitude to do so, when confronted with HELL’S TORMENTOR. but in the end, he begs for his life, as countless others have done before him.
but then — , the blade — , the silver blade that had torn divine flesh and spilled divine blood — , the blade is in the hunter’s hands — and lucifer does not even THINK before he wrests it away and lets it FIND ANOTHER HOME.
the blood on his hands of mere weeks ago has not yet dried, and yet lucifer finds another life taken by his hands. a rule broken twice, a rule he once had no trouble following, and now the death of two humans are on his shoulders.
what has HE done?
he is a 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.
but william lucas will never hurt colin again.
heedless of the sting of his own wounds, heedless of the red that stains his clothes and marks him as a KILLER, lucifer returns to colin. the devil falls to his knees and CONFESSES with the bitter taste of DESPERATION on his tongue, mingled with the metallic tang of blood; speaks of a protection offered without even being asked for — and as he kneels before the god he cannot help but think of rejection, of being met with hatred when he had only loved. he sees the shake in colin’s hands and thinks it anger, hears THUNDER in his memory and recalls the way the HEAVENS SPLIT beneath his feet. drenched in crimson with open hands, lucifer awaits damnation —
and is shaken when he is met with LOVE instead.
shuddering breath catches at the words, a strangled SOB wrenched from his throat the moment colin’s hands touch his face. he has not stopped TREMBLING since steel met flesh and it worsens now, a shaking that comes from deep within his bones. every nerve feels exposed and RAW, overwhelmed by the sheer adoration the god lavishes him with. haunted eyes flutter closed as lips brush his forehead, swallowing another broken noise; he grips colin’s hands like a lifeline when they are offered, lets him pull him to his feet.
he leans into the GOD, into his LOVE, legs unsteady as foreheads press together and his offering smears between joined palms. forgiveness — he chokes at the word, feels tears prick at his eyes, hot and stinging. he sinks into it, DROWNS in it, brows furrowed, taller frame curled into the other’s. he intertwines their fingers and lets his aching soul be soothed by tenderness.
this thing he has done — for you, for you, for you.
❛ please. ❜ he gasps, encompassing multitudes in a single syllable, raw vulnerability in his eyes as he lets himself be led. his heart POUNDS in his chest, stumbling feet following without second thought. a name is spoken, whispered into the night like a prayer. ❛ COLIN. ❜
