Hey lovelies!
First story woop woop! I'm still new to this fanfic game so let me know what you guys think. Reviews welcome! I know it's angsty, but Lucifer will notice something is wrong I promise! But for now, enjoy!
Characters not mine, credits go to whoever made the t.v show.
…
Maze knows they don't belong here. The divine entangling with the mundane, the mortal, the weak. It was a fantasy. It feels wrong to be here, wrong to be on Earth.
She feels as though she is drowning.
Trapped forever in the ocean of the mundane world, feels as though whenever she tries to break the surface, she chokes. Swallows a mouthful of water and her pain, suffering, helplessness overwhelms her. Wraps around her neck and squeezes, swirls around intestines and punctures, grinds her bones and rips open delicate lines through sinewy muscles.
For as long as she swims, she can never reach the surface of the water.
…...
Maze has memories of when they just arrived. Dark times, and then light. Things were easier, happier somehow. She'd spend her days with Lucifer, they'd wake up early and play, tracking and finding and tearing and reveling in the chaos and screams left in their wake. But those times seem distant. Faded.
She's too deep in the ocean, and she can't look back.
Every night finds her curled up upon herself in a fetal position. The most skilled torturer in Hell, brought down so low. She rocks back and forth silently, shuddering from the waves of pain and her teeth feel permanently embedded in her bottom lip. She presses so hard she draws blood, thick, golden and heavy.
Beads of sweat pool down her back, and she's suddenly stretching, writhing, burning from the heat and the pain and it's all too much. In the next second, it changes, the heat snaps around her like an elastic band, and is replaced by a crippling cold. Barely manages to push her gelid hands together to try and will some heat into her limbs, before the tremors start and she's writhing again.
She's wasting. Body racked by attacks every night, voices chanting in her head, cruel and mocking. You don't belong here. She keeps her lips pressed together and refuses to make a sound. Scorches silently through the night, and in the morning, throws on a small black dress and makeup to hide the bags under her eyes, the smear of exhaustion tainting her face.
She looks normal so he doesn't get suspicious. Keeps up a facade. Lucifer wants to stay, and so will she. She is with him till the end. She will stand by his side, through it all. For him, with him, in-spite of him.
…...
She can't remember the exact time he made her. Only that from nothing there was something, and suddenly she had found herself flat on the ground. The gritty, rocky surface underneath her fingers. The all-consuming heat, the steam, thick and impenetrable around her. And then from the darkness, a shadow.
A gasp stuck in her throat and two glowing eyes are there, burning through her. Burning with her. And then she is being drawn forward, new legs moving of their own accord and he is towering over her. Throws her neck back in submission and from there it's all teeth and growls and pain, the glorious bottomless pain. He winds around her soul, tangles with the intricacies of her body and she swears, right then and there, to protect him. Follow her maker, follow the Devil.
Flash to the present, and that promise still remains. Binding her to him in such intricate intimacy that humans can't even comprehend. The closest they can get to the feeling is through sex; get as close together as they can without devouring each other whole. She misses it, sometimes, in those rare moments that she feels something other than the familiar, all-consuming numbness. Misses how he used to devour her whole.
They don't belong here.
It's eating her up from the inside out.
…...
Lucifer doesn't notice. He has no time to notice, no mind to. All his attention on the playthings of Earth, shiny new toys he has yet to infect. He's out every night, and practically all day. Dressed in the most expensive suits, shirts, shoes; the meaningless brand names that hold so much power over humans gracing his form.
She loses count of the number of fresh meat he brings back to Lux. Always glittering in a thousand ways, assuming that the more they sparkle the more attention they attract. Maybe they're right.
Any form of modesty is long forgotten by his conquests, dazzling in their short dresses that barely cover lace thongs, and dangerously wobbling on high heels that threaten to snag and trip and fall.
Today he enters with a blonde dangling on his arm, her shimmering red dress so tight it looks like a second skin. Maze is lounging on Lux's suede couch, the picture of eloquence, luxury, poise. Wears the same dress as yesterday, he won't notice, and her makeup impeccable.
Everything is normal. Her act continues.
She stretches both feet languidly out in front of her, the personification of ease, ankles choked by black heels wrapped around tightly. The straps dig into her flesh, but she doesn't feel it. She has to look the part, everything else is secondary. Watches wordlessly as he easily lifts up his plaything, slamming her up against his bedroom wall as if the slut weighed nothing. Takes in the movement of his arms, toned muscles rippling underneath damp flesh. She can smell the young women's desire from here, and as Lucifer's conquest moans, and she sees him split into a grin, sharp and demonic.
Maze tilts her head back onto the couch, ignored, and for a split second drops her guard down. The pain crashes like a wave, paralyzes her. She's sitting stark upright before she knows it, every muscle in her body working to fight against the shuddering, quaking feeling threatening to explode from her chest. Swallows once, twice, and slowly the feeling subsides. Once she is sure she has control of her body once more, Maze relaxes, sinking back onto the sofa in relief. Opens her eyes and inhales sharply. Lucifer is watching her.
Time slows.
She sees him narrow his eyes and take in her body, sprawled gracelessly over the sofa, her face, smudges of weariness visible through her makeup, until he finally captures her gaze, hollow and worn down. They stare at each other wordlessly. The slut has her head thrown back, face pinched in ecstasy but is opening her eyes at a crawl. Lucifer's gaze is unreadable and fixated completely on her, lusty grin replaced with a cold, calculating stare. His eyes swallow her whole, and all she knows is him. For the first time in months, she feels. Her breath hitches in her throat from the way he stares at her, hard and angry and controlled. A faint stirring in between her thighs.
She blinks, and time seems to speeds up. Sees Lucifer nudge the door to his room open with one foot, and both him and his entertainment slam away from view. As if they hadn't just started at each other. The ache between her legs forgotten. Nothing feels real.
Maze wonders if she's going insane.
Insanity would be a blessing.
…...
In the shelter of Linda's office, Maze sits. Stares at the Devil's favorite therapist, and breaks down. She doesn't cry. She can't bring herself to. Instead recounts the months and months of never ending exhaustion, the pain and panic attacks and helplessness. She's Alice down the rabbit hole, but there is no door. There is no Wonderland.
As the minutes go by, Linda rattles off questions.
"Have you been sleeping well?"
Silently mutters, "no"
No, no she can't sleep at night. She can't eat. Can't drink. Can't feel. The list goes on. A long line of confessions, a list of all that she has abandoned in the recent months. Sex, laughter, work, fresh air, anything, everything. Linda informs her she has depression. Tries to comfort and soothe, but it falls on deaf ears. Maze leaves the office with a long prescription for antidepressants, Linda's card clutched in her fist and the therapist's sighed words, "I wish you would talk to me, Maze. I'm here to help. If you ever feel like opening up, come find me. I'm free anytime. In the meantime, these medications should help."
As she walks down the hall to the door, something echoes in her mind, forgotten words springing to life. Ages ago, Linda told her that pain doesn't last forever. Clearly, Linda had never been to Hell.
…...
Once again, let me know what you guys think! ;)