@fatepowered continued from here
Her expression softened as Lucifer spoke, the hard edges of her face melting into something achingly tender. Without a word, she reached out, her hand trembling just slightly before it found his cheek. Her thumb brushed along the sharp line of his jaw, a quiet, grounding gesture that seemed to still the air between them.
“There is nothing you could do,” she said softly, voice laced with both certainty and sorrow, “that would ever make me stop loving you.”
The words left her lips before her mind could fully grasp their weight. Because, truthfully, she didn’t know what he had done. Not really. There were whispers, dark things carried on rumor and legend, and the way his eyes sometimes flickered with what she assumed was guilt—ancient, heavy, unspoken. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Part of her was terrified of the answer, of putting shape and detail to the shadow that haunted him. If she knew the full truth, would she still say these words?
Yet, her fingers lingered against his skin, a silent plea that she hoped he understood: her love was not blind, but boundless, the kind that endured even the worst of what he feared himself to be. Even as words of doubt threatened to whisper in her mind, her heart refused to let go. Whatever he’d done, whatever sins he bore—it didn't matter anymore.
