#angel whos blind and uses their wings to feel their surroundings

[butchdykekondraki]

too many able bodied angels . wheres angels w disabilities . wheres the mentally ill angels . huh . where are they . its not statistically probable for ALL of them to be able bodied and neurotypical

#[ren] #deep sigh. ok reasonably i know its cause most angels were modeled after actual people. but im going to start killing either way ok? #angel who gets really bad back pain from their wings #angel whos blind and uses their wings to feel their surroundings #angel whos deaf and just keeps fucking learning sign language in different languages for fun #angel who uses their sword as a cane #angel who uses their wings to float because they have leg pains #angel who has chronic migraines and cant look at mirrors for too long because theyre so bright #angel who uses their wings to bat away hands from their cane #sorry im. rambling #idk !! too many able bodied angels i think.

[thefallennightmare]

Mercy-two

gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: I hope you all enjoy what I have planned for this story because it's going to be amazing!

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @cookiesupplier @lyschko666 @shilohrosechicken @thebadchic @iknownothingpeople @sammyjoeee @malice-ov-mercy @kaelyn-lobrutto24

LETHIA

I stood before the old, cracked, mirror, completely bare, and a scowl stared back at me as I took in my new appearance. I felt off; wrong, and despised the darkness that encompassed the room. I held my hand out in front of me to look at the long black nails; sharp as knives. My gaze then took in the sight of the wings that protruded from my shoulder blades and a sob left my lips when I realized that I didn’t look like myself. The ink that covered my arms had no true meaning or designs but one held my gaze longer than the others. 

It was on my ribs and the design was of a snake wrapping around a hand that held an apple. I titled my head in confusion at it, unsure as to why this design was the one that stood out to me so much. 

Up in the kingdom, my hair was down to my back in golden waves, my nails were short nubs, and my skin was pure with no ink. But I wasn’t sure what I was more afraid of, my wings or my eyes. 

My eyes were blood red as I stared at myself in the mirror. It was as if pure evil was in my presence.

The devil. 

My body shook at the thought, not knowing where that word came from, and the noise my wings made echoed throughout the abandoned building I was holed up in. The wings that I felt disgusted by. Angels were known by their wings and everyone knew of my bright golden ones. But now, the darkness that caused my fall had taken over every aspect of my form. 

My wings were black as the night sky but seemed to almost glow in the darkness of the building. What used to be soft and weightless was now heavy and jagged as it felt like a crushing weight against my back. I wrapped them around myself, hiding underneath the dark feathers, and I let out a shuddering breath. I despised the way I looked now and turned my back to the mirror, refusing to look at myself any longer. 

During my time in the Kingdom, I never was present when angels fell but I heard many stories. In all of them, an angel never changed during their fall. They lost their wings but their looks remained the same. Throughout the entire history of angels and the Kingdom, as far as I knew, I was the only angel that drastically changed. 

Was it because I went against the King? Was it because of who I found myself in bed with before my fall?

I didn’t know where I went from here, unsure of the path I needed to follow. Since creation, I followed some sort of leader or order but now my purpose didn’t matter. 

Through all the doubt and confusion, there was one thing I knew I needed to do. I sat with my legs crossed and took a deep breath while letting my eyes flutter shut. I’d been in this place for the last few days, hiding away from the outside world, as I tried to center myself. Even though I was upset with the way my appearance changed from the fall, I was glad that my powers remained; especially the fact that I was able to become aware of my surroundings. I was in a different time period and while at first, I felt different, an outcast among mortals, with hours spent dream walking I was able to learn more about where I fell.

The cool air brushed along my bare skin, my nipples perking, as I let out a long breath, finally feeling weightless when the scene in front of me changed. No longer was I sitting in the abandoned building but instead, I was standing in front of yet another mirror, still naked. I looked in the reflection of the glass seeing a bed behind me with orange lights glowing from behind it. There was a figure sitting at the edge of it with a piece of fabric wrapped around his waist and water dripped from the long strands of his hair. 

The window to the bedroom was open and a crow perched itself on the sill of it, cawing when our gazes locked. I’d seen this crow many times before when I dreamed walked, almost as if it was my familiar. 

With another caw from the bird, the man on the bed snapped his head, brown eyes drinking me in as I shifted on my feet and when his hand extended towards me, I studied the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of skin. 

“Lethia.” 

I twitched as if hearing my name on his lips awoke something within me. 

“Come here.” 

Instantly, he pulled me into his lap and my hands rested on his shoulders. It wasn’t only his hands that were tattooed, almost every inch of his chest, stomach, and arms were as well. 

He brushed the hair from my face but I kept my gaze cast away from him, not wanting him to see the darkness behind them. 

“Don’t hide from me, Lethia. I want to see those eyes.” 

A finger lifted my chin where briefly our gazes locked and my heart beat widely in my chest. His name weighed heavy on my tongue but I refused to say it. He licked his lips before they pressed delicate kisses along my jawline, down to my neck, and I sucked in a breath when he used his grip on my hips to move me back and forth on his lap. The fabric that covered his bottom half did nothing to hide the outline of his cock as it pressed against my heated core. 

“Say my name,” he rasped in the crook of my neck leaving bites against the skin. 

I did my best to shake my head as a moan fell from my lips. Unlike outside of the dream state, I was able to feel his touch; his fingers gripping my hips, his teeth scraping along the pulse point of my neck, and the head of his cock breaking free from the fabric and sliding against my folds. 

There were many times in the kingdom that I found myself intimate with other angels, my most recent lover the reason for my fall, but something with him was different. The way my heart pounded so hard in my chest, I could hear it in my ears. Or the way my stomach burned with desire and spread through my entire essence. 

“Say it,” he poised the head of his cock at my entrance. 

I shook my head. “No.” 

A grunt sounded from the back of his throat before he switched our positions so he was leaning over me while I lay beneath him. My fingers quickly worked through the long strands of his still-damp hair, marveling at the softness of them. Intense eyes stared down at me, lip caught between his teeth. 

“You’re an angel.” 

“Shit,” I mewled when he finally pressed his cock between my folds, filling me up completely. 

Not giving me a second to breathe, he began slamming into me with such force I scratched my nails down the tattoos of his chest and stomach to try and grab onto something. 

“Say. It.” He punctuated each word with a hard snap of his hips. 

His fingers linked through mine and held our intertwined hands above my head. The fire burning from his eyes was almost too much to take so I dropped my gaze lower to his neck and I sucked in a breath at the tattoo. 

A snake wrapped around a hand that held an apple. 

The pad of his thumb brushed against my swollen clit in fast circles and my toes curled as the orgasm washed over me in a tidal wave, his name finally falling from my lips. 

“Noah.” 

My eyes snapped open with a choked breath as I nearly stumbled over in my position on the floor. I was back in the abandoned building, alone, and quickly rose to my feet while trying to gain my composure. When I dreamwalked in the past, there never was a set destination, only going where my brain and heart guided me. I wasn't sure why it led me to the man who saved me a few nights ago. 

My skin prickled with desire, the feel of Noah still heavy on my senses, and I squeezed my legs together hoping it would kill the ache in my core. It wasn’t uncommon for angels to lay with other angels; I had before, more recently with Lucifer. Which, some above in the Kingdom would say that’s the reason why I fell. 

But with this mortal, Noah, something felt different inside of me. An unknown heat burned my entire soul at the mere thought of him. Although I couldn’t feel his physical touch, his emotional touch hindered me in the most confusing ways. 

With a deep breath and a roll of my shoulders, my wings sank into my back while I reached for the jeans and shirt I stole from the store around the block. I quickly got dressed and slipped into my black boots. I tried not to let the thoughts of those brown eyes and the tattoo on his neck hinder me from my current mission. 

I needed to find a church. 

NOAH

My feet pounded lightly against the pavement as I left my car parked in the street, ready to meet up with the guys for a late lunch. I’d been in the studio most of the day and when Jolly called about getting something to eat, my stomach growled in agreement before I could. 

“You need to get out of the house, Noah. You’ve been locked in the studio the last three days.” 

I didn’t bother arguing with Jolly because it was true. The old, battered, notebook I used to write my lyrics never left my side the last few days, my current page being bookmarked by the long black feather; the one Lethia left behind in her wake. The image, the thought of her taking over every part of me. Even in my dreams, she felt so real. The touch of her, the scent of her, and her sweet sounds especially the dream I had mere hours ago felt so fucking real. Even the crow that watched us from my window. 

I was still perplexed as to why for the last few weeks I kept dreaming of Lethia, long before even meeting her. And why ever since I did meet her, the dreams felt more intense; real. 

Running a hand through my hair, I rounded the block and pushed past the large crowds of people that poured out from the bar, stumbling into the streets; dressed to the nines in costume. With Halloween a couple of weeks away, some of the local bars were having Costume Nights, hence what I was seeing right now. There was a sudden commotion just past the group of people and I stopped at what I saw.

“What the fuck,” I muttered the curse into my hand as I rubbed my jaw. 

Lethia was standing at the corner of the block with her hands wrapped around a man's wrist. 

“What gives you the right to say those vulgar words to me?” the anger in her voice radiated down the block. 

The man, dressed in a white toga and golden leaf crown, tried to rip his arm from Lethia’s grip but hissed out in pain. 

“Those jeans do wonders for your ass, sweetheart. Those tits are begging to be grabbed.” 

A scowl pulled on her lips. “Mortals. You’re disgusting. You all think you’re owed anything you desire.” 

“I’ll give you whatever you desire,” the man traced a finger down her face. 

Jealousy stabbed my chest seeing how close he was to Lethia but before I could step in, she had twisted his arm over her head, causing him to flip over onto his back, slamming into the pavement below. He tried to fight it but Lethia simply stepped on his chest, keeping him locked in place with her boot. 

“What the fuck,” he struggled. 

Lethia pressed the heel of her boot harder into his chest. “I should eviscerate you, right here. In front of your friends who simply can’t stand up for you. How pathetic.” 

One of the guys’ friends snuck up behind Lethia to try and wrap an arm around her neck to pull her away but she must have heard or sensed him because she whipped around, knocking him back with elbow. 

“Fucking bitch!” The second guy cried out, clutching his bloody nose.

Toga guy scrambled to his feet but Lethia was two steps ahead of him and kicked him in the nose, knocking him back down. 

“How is she so strong?” Toga guy spat out blood. 

Hearing the crowd next to me muttering something about calling the police, I cursed and pushed my way through, knowing that if I didn’t do something soon, Lethia would be in a position she couldn’t fight her way out of. 

“What the fuck!” She screamed as I quickly scooped her up, tossing her over my shoulder. “Unhand me! NOW!” 

Her hands smacked against my back but not wanting to risk staying around the mess of bodies at my feet, I quickly ran back down the block toward my car. 

“Can you stop smacking me?” I grunted while shifting her position on my shoulder. 

“LET ME GO!” Lethia tried to knee me in the gut but I wrapped my arm tighter around her legs, keeping her locked in place. 

It took a bit of trouble but I managed to reach for my keys to unlock my car just as I walked up. Yanking the door open, I gently dropped Lethia into the front seat, her feet kicking widely at me. 

“I swear to gods if you don’t stop kicking me, I’m going to leave you here to deal with those assholes on your own,” I said with agitation. 

It was a lie. I had zero intentions of leaving her here with them, even if she could handle herself. 

Lethia halted her thrashing for a moment, tilting her head up towards me as I leaned over the car. 

“Gods? What Gods? There is only one King,” she said. 

Sudden commotion from where we just came from caught my attention and I saw Toga guy and friend frantically looking around. 

“Shit,” I cursed while quickly buckling Letha into her seat. 

“What is this contraption? Why can’t I move?” 

Ignoring her shouts, I shut the door and ran across to the driver's side, easily slipping behind the wheel. Thankfully I was able to drive away without the two guys noticing Lethia was in my front seat.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked, glancing at her briefly. 

She kept pulling on her seatbelt. “Those men said such vulgar things. I couldn’t allow them to get away with it. 

The sound of the blinker echoed in my car as I turned left, our destination unknown. 

“I’m pretty sure you broke both of their noses,” I chuckled. 

“I would have done more if you didn’t pull me away,” Lethia grumbled under her breath, the seatbelt snapping against her chest. 

She didn’t even flinch. 

“You need to let me out of whatever this thing is.” 

I raised a brow. “Have plans?” 

Her red eyes assessed every inch of my car before her gaze fell on the side of my face. 

“None that concern you,” Lethia replied flatly. 

I hummed while pulling the car to a stop at a red light. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel as silence filled the tiny space between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Lethia stared straight out through the windshield of the car. 

“Do all mortal men have staring problems?” Her lips were pulled in a tight line. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my smirk away. “I’ve never seen eyes your color before.” 

When the light turned green, I began driving again, hoping Lethia would give me an inclination on where she wanted to go. 

“There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Noah,” she clicked her tongue on her teeth. 

My cock twitched in my jeans at the way my name sounded on her lips and I shifted in the seat, my knuckles turning white from how hard I was grasping the steering wheel. 

I cleared my throat. “I’m glad to see your injuries healed up nicely.” 

“I said they would, didn’t I?” Lethia smugly smiled. 

Ignoring her witty remark, I pulled into a parking lot. She gazed up out of the window at the large yellow M sign. 

“Mephistopheles?” 

“No,” I shook my head with furrowed brows. “Mcdonalds. I thought you might be hungry.” 

She fell back into her seat. “I don’t eat.” 

I continued to stare at her, confusion etched in my bones. This was only our second meeting and every time she either said or did something that made me question where she came from. 

“I know you said you weren’t hungry but what if-.” 

Lethia suddenly sat forward. “Is that a church” 

With narrowed eyes, I followed her finger as she pointed to a building across the street. 

“Uh-yeah?” I answered with hesitation. 

“Thank you,” she gave a curt nod then all but scrambled out of my car. 

“Wait,” I followed her movements by walking in front of the car. 

But it was too late, Lethia was already halfway down the block. 

“Where are you going?” I called after her. 

“I need to talk to the King!” She waved a hand over her shoulder and then slipped into the sudden darkness that encased the church. 

I never pegged her to be the religious type, needing to talk to her king this late in the evening but then again, I didn’t know much about her to begin with. 

My feet went to follow but the buzzing from my pocket halted me and when I peered at the screen, I knew I couldn’t ignore this. With a long sigh, I got back into my car, Lethia still heavy on my mind. 

LETHIA

I sat in the long, beaten, pew, and stared up at the altar where a lone statue of Jesus stood. His arms spread wide as if it was accepting everyone’s sin with a stone face; literally. A low scowl pulled on my lips as I glared at the statue. 

“I don’t understand why your creation was more important than ours. The King always favored you more than us.” 

An ear-ringing silence filled the large space of the church as I continued to sit there, waiting for any kind of sign from above. 

“I’ve followed you since my creation. I was your number one for as long as I can remember. However, you cast me out because I loved someone other than you? We were all your children but didn’t think twice about turning your back on me.” 

I sat forward with a start, hands gripping the pew in front of me and my long black nails dug into the wood. 

“Why did you cast me in a different time? Is this punishment?” 

The only noise in the church was the sound of the old building creaking with the blowing wind from outside. 

“Fuck, give me some sort of answer!” I bellowed, my voice echoing. 

More silence and that’s what finally made me rise to my feet with a start and I spat on the floor. 

“Why did I think I’d get any answers from you? I’ll figure this out on my own.” 

Turning my back to the altar, my footsteps bounced off the marble walls as I pushed open the doors of the church, bounding down the steps with newfound adrenaline. It was foolish of me to think I’d get the answers I deserved in a building that was built for two things; worship and greed. 

My fire eyes stared straight ahead as I pushed my way through the bodies of mortals whose problems paled in comparison to mine. My mind was filled with so many different things, that I hadn’t realized I walked straight into a body, never feeling his touch, until my voice was called; quite loudly. 

“Lethia!” 

My gaze snapped up towards those familiar brown eyes, filled with warmth and concern. 

I was wrapped in one of his arms, although I couldn’t feel it, I knew his fingers were grazing over my lower back; I felt it in my heart. 

“Are you alright? You look pretty upset,” Noah asked. 

His scent tickled my nose and it brought back memories of when I walked in his dream earlier. I was able to feel everything in his dream; his touch, his lips on my skin, his cock as it buried deep inside of me, and my orgasm as it ripped through me. 

But here, in the flesh, I couldn’t feel any part of him on my skin. My lip quivered because out of all the confusion on where my life went moving forward, what dug the knife deeper into my chest was the fact I couldn’t feel him. 

He’s a mortal! Why does my heart yearn for him in ways I don’t understand?

“Are you following me? It seems like everywhere I turn, you’re there!” I snapped, ripping myself from his embrace. 

Something flashed in his eyes. “I promise you, I’m not.” 

The tattoo on his neck caught my attention as it peaked through the hood of his black sweater and I felt my hands twitch at my sides. My long nails practically begged me to dig into the bright-colored ink because it mirrored the one on my ribs. There had to be some kind of connection between us, hence why I thought of Noah when I fell and how easily it was to walk into his dream earlier. Not to mention our matching tattoos. 

His long hair was pulled back, only a few strands falling into the soft features of his face, and it was then that I noticed the large bag on his shoulder. 

“What’s that?” I motioned towards it.

“My guitar,” Noah shifted it on his back. 

“Guitar?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a faint smile. “You know, for music.” 

Music. 

“You play- music?” I spoke slowly. 

“Yeah, I have a band. Bad Omens.” 

The proud smile on his face made something flutter in the pits of my stomach and I shifted on my feet at the uncomfortable and unknown feeling. 

“Do you know Luce, then? He used to play music all the time for me.” I wondered. 

If the King couldn’t give me the answers I sought, I knew Lucifer would if I found him. 

Noah’s brows furrowed. “The name doesn't sound familiar, sorry.” 

Cursing, I ran a hand through my hair, it still shocked me that my hands smacked my shoulder instead of continuing to run through long longs. The short length would take time to get used to.

“Why don’t you let me take you home? It’s getting kind of late.” He suggested. 

I waved him off. “I was kicked out of my home.” 

Noah’s jaw dropped slightly. “So, where are you staying then?” 

Movement over his shoulder caught my eyes and I sucked in a breath; familiar emerald eyes staring back at me. They were calling me in, pulling my soul back to his. Black strands of his hair were combed back, further showcasing those bright eyes. His olive-colored skin I spent many nights in the Kingdom kissing sparkled under the moonlight. 

“Lethia, come home.” His deep rich voice spoke to me. 

“Lucifer,” I breathed. 

Noah’s face twitched. “What?” 

Ignoring him, I pushed past him and through the sea of people, trying to reach Lucifer until his form vanished with the blowing wind.

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x fallenangel!oc #mercy noah sebastian

[weirdmorefics]

I Don't Know Who I am Anymore

(Crowley x Platonic Reader x Aziraphale)

A/n- Sorry, I haven't been finishing requests it's hyperfixation time and this time it's Good Omens. This also can be read as romantic or platonic

Pronouns- They/Them

Word Count- 1,183

Summary- The reader is an angel more like was and gets cast out of heaven. When they fall they happen to fall directly in front of their good friend Aziraphale's bookshop.

I never expected falling to feel so cold. I just always assumed it would be burning hot as the air pulled you down to hell. I never thought it would happen to me though. I shut my eyes tight and waited for the feeling to pass. I tell myself this nothing I should embrace the cold before I am forced to an eternity of hell fire.

I hit the ground with a huge thud and cracked the pavement below me. I feel like I can't breathe which is a strange thing I have always been perfect as an angel. My wings shielded me from most of the blow from hitting the ground but I am missing a lot of feathers which are now on the ground. I move my wings around to see what is left of them and they are no longer the shiny white I once knew but a dark grey. Just when I started to breathe better from the fall the shock from the sight of my wings left me completely breathless. I start wheezing uncontrollably and try to stand up my vision blurring from my tears. I whip my head back and forth feeling many eyes on me expecting many demons to be staring at the incompetent angel that couldn't make it in heaven but instead, I see a shocking amount of humans pointing electronic devices at me. I turn in a circle and humans surround all sides except behind me there is a familiar bookshop.

Some humans were asking me if I was okay, some were assuming I jumped, and others said I must be on drugs. Then a tiny human came behind and pulled painfully hard on my already sore wings and shouted "Mom their wings are real they are really real!"

At this shout the building from behind me door swings open at high speeds. I instantly recognized him as the angel Aziraphale he used to be my dear friend we even helped Job together. He probably hates me now because I am no longer an angel they probably sent me here to get tortured by the person it would hurt most from. I just wanted nobody to get hurt! All I said is why should we fight Adam he is just a tiny human, he isn't even fully grown yet. I just didn't want a war where all kinds of beings would die and now I am a traitor! I look at Aziraphale with fear in my eyes pleading with him to just let me run.

I try to turn away but he is quick to grab my arm and announce to the crowd, "Be assured this is just a costume for an advertisement of a new book that will be coming to my shop soon! We were just testing that? Isn't that right Y/N?"

I swallow hard and nod in agreement so as to not make the angel hate me even more. The humans find this as an acceptable excuse because they often will accept anything to explain the unexplainable.

Aziraphale pulls me the rest of the way into the building that is filled with shelves and shelves of books.

Another person walks towards us " What was the commotion angel?" His face instantly sours at my presence, "Who is this demon and what are they doing here?"

That can't breathe feeling is back I try to back up towards the door in preparation.

Aziraphale looks at me and back at Crowley "Surely you must be mistaken! This Y/N they helped us with Job!"

"I remember Y/N but they were an angel this is a demon," He states like Aziraphale is blind. He gets closer to look into my eyes "Though they do look remarkably like Y/N. The Y/N we knew though refused to leave heaven after the job incident for her guilt of disobeying God." He rolled his eyes.

I fall to my knees and beg, "Can we end this charade, please? I know I was only sent here to be tortured before my eternity in hell! By those I consider my only true friends."

Aziraphale's jaw lightly drops open in shock, Y/N is the last angel he would ever think of falling. He is stunned speechless and does not move.

Crowley shakes his head and immediately pulls me to my feet, "No, no, no there is no need for that."

"I- I have failed God. I don't know who I am anymore. I have no purpose in this world. I will no longer be accepted by Heaven and Hell will surely not accept me as you said I did not leave Heaven in decades and I fell trying to keep the anti-Christ safe and out of celestial affairs. I am no one!" I rant out so fast I can truly breathe no more I start wheezing and tears blur my vision.

"Crowley I am not quite sure what to do in this situation. I have never witnessed an angel fall in person." He looks at Crowley with uncertained worried eyes.

Crowley walks up to me but I hardly notice in my state until he holds my body still, "Hey breathe! Heaven is idiotic to let you go! You are the most loyal angel I have ever met and so kind it is nauseating. Heaven doesn't deserve all you have done for them and Hell doesn't deserve your kindness! What do you say and join our side!"

I pull out of his grasp still tearful, "Your side! Aziraphale protects the gates and visited me frequently in heaven! He is an Angel and you hardly know me!"

What Y/N doesn't know is that Crowley already knows he frequents Heaven to visit Y/N. She is a common topic among them during their visits to the Ritz. Aziraphale has always regretted getting them involved with Job because it made their love of God turn to fear making her scared to connect to humans and leave Heaven.

"Trust me, I know you Y/N. You have loved humans since day one when you praised Aziraphale for giving his swords to the humans and assured him it was the right decision."

I twiddle my fingers embarrassed "You know about that?"

Aziraphale pipes in nervously, "Yes, sorry about that. I may have told him since you made me feel so much better in my decision. We also may discuss you a lot… I have been worried about you."

This angered "Did you have doubts about me being a good angel and if so why didn't you say anything!"

"Y/N you have to know I didn't imagine anything like this happening. But there has to be a reason you ended up here and not Hell and it isn't to torture you. You are good Y/N and I know it even Crowley knows it. So as Crowley said join us in our mission to prevent armageddon and we will take it one step at a time together."

I take an unsure breath and look at them both, "Ok I will join you."

#aziraphale x reader #good omens x reader #good omens fandom #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #crowly x aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowley x reader #crowley x y/n #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #good omens

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Five|

"What are you doing here Adam?" Y/n asks, backing away from him and Lute further. "Are you not listening? I just said I came here to settle this stupid argument between you and Sera. Duh." Adam rolls his eyes.

"I do not need you to settle anything." Y/n said sternly. "Not like I believe that's what you're actually here for."

"Well, look who's being clever." Lute sneered. "Of course that's not what we're here for."

"Then what?" Y/n nearly snapped. "We're here to silence you." Lute smirks. Y/n tried to not look intimidated, but there was no ignoring the sinking feeling she had. "Silence me." She repeats with a scoff. "And just how do you think you're going to get away with that?"

"Psh, easily." Adam smirks. "Look. I'm gonna make this real simple for you babe. You're gonna keep your mouth shut about this whole extermination thing, got it? After all, we wouldn't want someone as valuable as you to suddenly disappear."

"You do not scare me with you empty threats." Y/n starts. "Do you really think no one will notice if I'm gone? People need me here to give them visions of the future. Then what will you do, when people start to question? What will you do, when God notices his own creation has gone missing?"

Lute chuckles. "We'll just tell them you had a sudden change of heart." She approaches Y/n, circling her. "No one would be too surprised to know you decided to join Lucifer in Hell. After all, you do care for him so very much." Lute stops in front of her, leaning in close.

"So much, that you were willing to keep his revolt a secret from all of Heaven. Just so he stays safe." Her grin dropped, a look of disgust crossed her features. "How pathetic. You were willing to destroy the balance of Heaven, for traitorous scum like him."

Y/n felt rage building in her chest. "Do not speak ill of Lucifer. You have no idea who he is, who he truly is!"

"And you think you do?" Adam chimes in. "Hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but Lucifer's the one who allowed for us to come down there and kill those freaks."

Y/n's heart sank. "You...You're lying!"

"Afraid not." Adam shrugs. "Looks like your little friend isn't as perfect and pure as you thought he was."

No. No, Lucifer would never be ok with those exterminations. No one should be ok with it. As if eternal punishment weren't enough. The sinners would face death again, in such a brutal way. How could Lucifer ever allow that?

Had Hell finally tainted his heart? Had all those years of being surrounded by all of the world's evil turned him cold?

How could it not?

But Y/n didn't want to believe it. Lucifer was always so bright, he was always so full of love. He was a dreamer. He was...everything.

What happened to him in the last ten thousand years?

"That must really suck for you, huh?" Adam laughs. "Unless you wanna end up like him, then I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Otherwise we'll tear those pretty wings right off of you, and send you down there. Then you can wait for us to slaughter you like the rest of them."

Y/n was half tempted to risk it. But she knew Heaven needed her. Everyone relied on her visons. If she were to disappear, they'd all be blind to what would happen next.

She's already let Heaven fall into disarray before, now that she had the chance to correct that mistake, she would not let it happen again.

Y/n shut her eyes and let out a sigh. "Fine." She muttered.

"That's fucking right." Adam says before turning and walking towards the door, Lute right behind him. "Glad you see it our way, babe. See ya!" With a slam of the door, they were both gone.

Y/n brought her trembling hands to her face. She was wrong for letting them threaten her like that. Wrong for allowing them to get away with their slaughter. Wrong for keeping secrets again.

She exhaled shakily before gathering her nerves, and leaving for Michael's.

Michael was alerted to a rapid knocking at his door, he went to open it, and as soon as he did, he was nearly thrown back by the sudden force he felt.

Michael looked down, to see Y/n holding onto him tightly, her face hidden in his chest. "Y/n? What was that all...about..." He trailed off as he noticed the trembling in her shoulders and the light sniffles she made.

Michael quickly brought her inside and shut the door behind him. He portals Y/n and himself to his study and sat down on the couch, Y/n still in his arms. He said nothing for a while, and just let Y/n be. Though, he did let out soft hushes and soothing coos, in attempts to calm her down some.

After another moment, he finally spoke. "What's happened?" He asks cautiously. Y/n sniveled, while not looking up at him she answers.

"I just...I'm so overwhelmed Michael. And I don't what to do." She cried. She couldn't tell him the truth, as much as she wanted to. She saw what could happen if she did tell him.

Michael would inform the other Archangels about the exterminations. It cause an intense argument between them and Sera. It would get so bad, that God would have to get involved. But that wasn't all she saw.

There was a chance Sera would be punished for the decision she's made. She allowed the extermination to go on in secret from all of Heaven, from God.

Her punishment, would be sever.

As angry as Y/n was with Sera. She did not want a fate like that to befall her. And poor Emily. She was heartbroken by the news. So distraught, that she no longer carried out her duties as a Seraphim, knowing what Sera had done all this time.

The exterminations would come to an end, but at the cost of loosing two Seraphims.

And of course, Adam would make good on his word. He would find Y/n and well...

The visions stopped after that.

Michael cupped Y/n's cheek and raised her head. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I know your duties can be stressful. Is there any way I could help you?" He asks. Y/n sighs. "Can I just...stay here with you for a while? I really don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course." Michael says softly. "Is there anything else you need me to do?" Y/n rests her head back on his chest. "Will you talk to me? I don't care about what. Just anything to take my mind of things."

"Sure." Michael nods. "Um...Oh, I was talking with Cassius the other day. They were telling me of this animal on Earth that resembles a bunny, but it lives in the ocean. It's called a Jorunna parva, I believe they're a type of sea slug. They're quite adorable."

"Then I paid a visit to Azrael, which was interesting. Leo was there as well, and you know how those two can be when they're together for too long. I had to stop Leo from killing Azrael a certain point." Michael laughs awkwardly.

"Oh, and today I was with Galim. They were instructing me on how to expand my portals. I'm still learning, but in due time I'll be able to go from Heaven and Earth easily."

Y/n furrows her brows slightly. "Could you not before?" She asks. "Well, sorta." Michael shrugs. "I needed help from Galim of course. But I won't need their help for much longer. You know how I am, combat has always been my forte."

"How do you use the portal?" Y/n asks. Michael thinks of how to explain it. "Well...It sounds easier than it is. Galim instructed me to envision where I want to go. I must focus entirely on my destination." Michael holds his hands out in front of him and closes his eyes.

"Believe it or not, breathing has a lot to do with it too. A calm and level breath will relax the body, and allow for a clear mind. And then..." He exhales, and just like that a portal appeared in front of the two of you.

It was a small portal, only big enough to put your head through really. But Y/n could see clear as day what was on the other side. A meadow of tall green grass and beautiful flowers. She could hear birds chirping and the faint sound of running water from a river. Bright warm light from the casted over the lovely scenery. It spring on Earth, and it showed.

Y/n looked on in awe at the sight before the portal came to a close. Michael sighed and chuckled lightly. "Not my best. But yeah, that's pretty much it."

"You'll get the hang of it Michael." Y/n smiles. "Perhaps I should learn as well. I've never been to Earth, and wherever that was looked beautiful."

"Sure, but make sure I'm with you. My father would kill me if anything happens to you under my watch." Michael tells her. "Michael, I'm a big girl. You shouldn't worry about me." Y/n laughs lightly.

"I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, Y/n." Michael says seriously. Y/n's smile fell slightly. "Michael..."

"You've kept me sane for so many years. I don't know what I'd do if you disappeared." Michael holds her hand gently. "But, let's not think about that right now. You'd love Earth, the good parts of it anyhow."

Y/n smile returned, though there was an odd feeling in her chest she couldn't ignore. "Yeah. I bet I would."

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin lucifer

[do-not-lick-the-walls]

a devil put aside | chapter one - when it all goes to hell

masterlist | read on ao3

(gif from this lovely set by wearecrowley)

beelzebub x fallen angel!reader

summary: six thousand years after the war, you crash-land in hell's accounting department. someone unexpected comes to your rescue.

(she/her pronouns are used for the reader in later chapters, no use of y/n)

warnings: graphic depictions of injury, near-death experience, themes/ideas of death & dying, religious themes & trauma, strong language, vaguely sexual undertones to some of this lol

------

Your wings drag useless through the air as you plummet down, down, down like a falling star. All the eyes inside of you have gone dark; you're seeing only through your corporal ones, staring between your smoking feathers at the mass of sky that heaven dissapeared into. You're both weightless and heavy at once; the drop lifts behind your hips, pushes on your shoulders, tugs at your fractured wingbones. It's a long way down, and you're going down backwards.

As you fall, you realize that you've never really been afraid before. Not like this. You've never had the cause to be. Even back in the war, fear couldn't take you, for you had trust that She would shield you. And you were powerful, beautiful, six-winged and twelve-eyed in your true state of being, bright enough to blind, holy and free and clairvoyant.

And now you've lost it all.

This isn't anybody's fault but your own. Michael may have been the one to break your wings, and Gabriel may have thrown you over the edge, but it was you who lit this match and set yourself on fire. You and your pride.

As the sky goes dark and the air grows hot, there's nothing left to do but wait for impact.

It's not an easy landing.

You crash hard  through what must be the roof of hell, then hit the ground a second after. You go tumbling, knocking into and through unidentified obstacles with enough momentum to push them over or send them flying. The unmistakable sound of scattering printer paper takes over as you bowl straight through what feels like a stack of it, before bouncing against something metal and being thrown off-course, only to hit something else and shoot off in another direction.

Eventually, you roll to a stop, banged-up and unable to tell right from left or wrong.

A sob chokes from your throat. Whether it's born of relief, or grief, or pain, you don't know. Your brain spins inside your head, and something---no, many somethings---are shouting, hissing, chattering. Wherever you've landed, you're not alone.

You lie wrecked in a pile of fiberglass, copy paper and sin, bathed in dingy florescent light and the remaining embers on your mangled wings. An oppressive green tint hangs over the world. Filing cabinets lay toppled like Babel, and the hole you smashed in the ceiling stares down in judgement.

With a struggle, you pull yourself into sitting up. Even through the blur, you can tell the room is trashed, and get the impression it was so even before you made an entrance. Paper stacks cover half the floor, water damage crawls along the walls, the air reeks of sulfur and oil and cigarettes. Despite never having eaten, you feel the urge to retch.

You tried to prepare yourself on the way down. You tried to come to an acceptance. But now that you're looking at what you'll become, every peace you've made with this situation goes up in flames.

You're surrounded. By uncanny, fucked-up mirrors of the ethereal, as if somebody cut out an angel and they crawled in to fill the empty space left behind. Animalistic traits wind through some of their bodies---horns, tails, claws. One hisses at you with a long, forked tongue, another bares several rows of jagged teeth. They're speaking, but whatever they're saying, you can't hear it over the ringing in your ears---when did your ears start ringing?---and the tangle of voices and growls and snarls all fighting to be the loudest.

Desperate for space, you scramble backwards, ignoring how a white-hot jolt goes shooting down your wings as they drag awkwardly across the concrete. The demons are starting to crowd around you fully now, melting from individuals into more of a living mass that edges you back while it closes in. Then you're up against the wall, and there's nowhere else to go. Something wet runs down your face. You can't breathe---since when do you even need to breathe?---and there's nowhere to go, nowhere to go, nowhere to go. This is how you die, and it is your fault. Your fault, your fault. You squeeze shut the eyes you have left, curl inward, and brace.

"STOOOOOOOOOP."

It stops.

Everything goes quiet. The room holds its breath as you let yours out. For a moment, all you can hear is your own ragged sighs, and your heart---you don't normally have a heart either, why do you have a heart?---thumping in your ears. After a few seconds, you risk looking. Everyone's turned in the direction of the voice.

"What is the meaning of all this noizzze?"

The demons shuffle, mumble, and avoid eye contact in an obvious attempt to dodge the speaker's wrath. In another world, it might've been funny. You suddenly remember yourself and a few other angels doing something very similar once, Before the Beginning, when Gabriel caught you playing with stars instead of working.

Then the sea parts, and leaves you before your rescuer. Your eyes land first upon their shoes, then scan upward over the rest of them. They're dressed better than the others: sharp lapels adorned with pins, ribbons at their throat, red sash hanging like a warning sign across their chest. Everything about them radiates command. Authority. They are unmistakably in charge.

You know who this is.

Half of you knows to shrink away. The other half wants to reach out and touch.

Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, Prince of Hell, and Grand Duke Below fixes their gaze upon you. There is nothing left to protect you. Not your wings, not your miracles, not your mind. On desperate instinct, you start to pray, then realize it's futile. God can't hear you, and she wouldn't listen if she could. You are alone in the belly of this whale.

"Oh."

Beelzebub moves in a manner unlike the other demons. Less hurried. Their gait is smooth, deliberate as they cross the space between you, free of any unpredictable motions and with an unsettling kind of calm. They crouch to your level in that same careful way, and your eyes meet theirs through the hair that's fallen over your face. A gentle buzz fills your ears.

"Well, what have we got here?" They muse, cocking their head to the side. "C'mon, love. Talk to me."

Their voice contains the same authority as before, but it's softened around the edges, taken on a tone that's not unkind.

This is a trap.

The crowd is starting to push in again. There's a curiosity about them, a hunger, like they can't wait to rip out your throat and see what's inside. You can practically feel their mouths watering.

Beelzebub registers this as well, and must not like it any more than you do, because they whip back over their shoulder, and shout "Everyone, back up! Yes, ALL of you lot! Go on, BACK."

This is met with obedience from the lesser demons, and, although the yelling makes you flinch, you're grateful for it. If you're to be torn to shreds by the Prince of Hell, at least you'll have some breathing room while it happens.

Beelzebub reaches out a hand, wrapped in a netted glove that ends before the knuckles. Up close, it's construction is almost like that of spiderwebs. Long fingers lead to nails unexpectedly well-kept, unlike your own bitten-down ones. And, odd enough, their skin looks soft. Then you realize that this is probably not the time to notice things about their hand, considering it's about to clamp around your neck and squeeze the life from you.

It doesn't.

No suddenly-appearing claws wrap around your throat. Or gouge out your remaining eyes, or dig into your throbbing wings. They don't rip you apart.

They brush the hair away from your face.

"Let me see you, sweet."

Beelzebub is gentle as they urge your chin up. Careful, touch almost like that of a doctor with a patient, or a lover with their beloved. The ghost of a buzzzzz presses into your skin where their fingers nest beneath your jaw.

You shiver.

As they take in your face, their expression shifts many times over, though you can't place the emotions, then settles into a soft frown. Their thumb drags along your cheekbone, wipes away the wetness beneath your eye. The taste of smoke sits heavy on your tongue.

"Be not afraid, angel."

They say it like they're making a decision.

"C'mon. I'll fix you up."

In that smooth, slow manner, they rise and offer their hands. Their upturned palms aren't a command, exactly, but they're something close to it. The voice in your head continues to shout that this is a trap as you slide your hands into theirs, but there's no other option, here. Not really.

They grip you tight around the wrists and pull. Your wings cry out in protest of the movement, stabbing, as you fall upward into their chest with a gasp. The world is swimmingspinninglooping, and now you're the one gripping tight to them while you stumble and blink like a newborn foal.

"Go on, hold on to me. There we go." They anchor you upright. Something hot and wet drips onto the back of your knee, and after a moment, you realize that it's all over your back, too. It's soaking into your clothes, and now that you're standing,  dripping onto the floor. Smears of red around where you just sat---and the heart that's been put inside your chest---tell you exactly what it is.

Once you're stable enough, Beelzebub maneuvers your arm over their shoulders, and wraps one of theirs around your waist. Every accidental touch to a wing doubles the ache pounding through your broken bones, leaving behind a trail of whimpers and pained hisses that spill from your lips like prayers. Beneath your fingers, the fabric of their blazer is soft and thick, not so different to that of your own jacket; save for the color, and the way that yours is steadily growing wetter down the back.

After a deep, shaking breath and an attempt to swallow the taste of iron, you nod. They look back at the crowd of still-curious demons.

"What are you looking at? Back to work, all of you!"

The demons pretend to go back to work as Beelzebub helps you through the room. "Right. Stay close," they mumble, as if you weren't already wrapped to their side and relying on them to keep you from eating concrete. But still, you lean in a little further. There's strength there, you find, far more strength than their frame would suggest by it's lean build and delicate features. They're Prince of Hell, of course they're strong, your brain helpfully supplies. Are you an idiot?

Yes, say your wings, dragging lifeless behind you. Yes, you very much are.

Beelzebub keeps you on your feet as you stumble through the doorway and into the crowded throats of Hell.

Contact of any means is rare in heaven; being supported like this is already the closest you've been to another in centuries. Having to push through hell's living river of bodies is near enough to suffocate. Demons run hot, and soon, sweat begins to drip from you alongside the blood. You can't tell what's worse-- the shooting pain when the crowd jostles your wings, or the sheer discomfort from the heat and the stick and the smell. The loss of your inner eyes has left your vision at the mercy of lighting, like everyone else's. You weren't built to see in the dark, and the hallway lights are so dingy you're not sure they do anything at all. There are no windows here, just flickering overheads that buzz along with the flies.

So you focus on your feet. Partly to watch your step, partly because you can't take the way the demons keep leering at you. The laces of your oxfords have come untied and one of your spats is missing, probably lost in the fall, while the other one's twisted strangely around your ankle and coming undone. Beneath the green overhang, your pretty, cream stockings look diseased. Your heels less click than clomp as you stumble endlessly forward.

"Hold your head up," Beelzebub's voice slips into your ear, barely more than a whisper. "They can smell fear. Don't give it to them."

You don't know why, but you obey. Maybe there's comfort in a task, or maybe you're longing for approval. Maybe, deep down, you've got something to prove. Whyever you do it, you wipe your eyes, pick up your head, and stare back at those who stare upon you.

For the first time in six thousand years, you glare.

"Good," Beelzebub praises, in a way that makes something pleasant roll down your back. "Very good, angel."

They don't seem to mind the weight you've pushed onto them; you're hanging off their shoulders like they're the edge of the world. And, at this point, they might as well be. Your dead wings are getting heavier with each step, your throat's gone raw from heavy breaths, your newly-beating heart's still going wild. Every inhale has got you sucking down the cigarette smoke---or probably something worse---that lingers in the air. Every exhale trembles. Waves start taking over, make you dizzy on your feet. You're coming up on the end of your rope.

"Just a little further, next door on the left. Almost there."

You clench your teeth. Dontgiveittothemdontgiveittothemdontgiveittothem.

"Josh, get that door for me---out of the way, idiots!" Beelzebub pushes past a small crowd, positioning so as to keep you shielded from any more touch. Up ahead, somebody ('Josh'?) swings open a panel in the wall. They all but carry you the last few paces---you're falling apart at the seams, white-knuckling their shoulder as they help you duck through the doorway.

"If any of you so much as think about coming in, you'll be spending the next century without a tongue."

The door slams closed, leaves you in the pitch-black.

You slip from Beelzebub's grip.

And you're back where you started. Crumpled to the floor, dripping in your own sin. Snapped in half and deserving of it. You bury your face in your hands. It's all too much--- the falling, the crowds, the pain, it's so much. You don't have enough space in your head for it, you're going to crack open. You're going to crack open. You're going to crack open. The tears are spilling hard now, pooling on your face then running between your fingers. Your trembling breaths match time with the throbbing in your bones.

God can't hear you, and she wouldn't listen if she could.

"I know, angel," Beelzebub's voice rings soft beside you. Something brushes against your head, begins to card through your hair, and, after a moment, you realize it's them. The Prince of Hell is sitting next to you in the darkness, running their fingers through your hair.

And you let them. You let them whisper nothings while you cry, you let them push their hand through your hair, because it feels good. Because it feels good, and you're dying, and you can't make yourself shove them away like you should. You don't have it in you.

"Let there be light," they whisper.

The room takes on a gentler shade of black-tinged-green, just enough to allow sight. For you, at least. You have a feeling they could already see you through the dark.

"Alright, I'm gonna fix you up now, and I'm gonna be honest, it won't feel great. Hey, look at me," a hand wraps around your cheek, guides you face-to-face. They don't look very much like the Lord of Hell right now, you think, with their soft eyes and long lashes, and their thumb brushing away your tears. Their slow, calculated mannerisms are dropping into something less regulated, though still careful.

"I'm gonna need you to trust me, angel. I know that's a hard ask, if I were you right now, I sure as heaven wouldn't trust myself. But if you go thrashing about when I start, it's gonna make things a lot harder for both of us. I need you to trust me here, and stay still. Can you do that?"

You manage a nod.

"Good, now lie down for me."

It's entirely irrational. Borderline suicidal, this situation; to let yourself be locked in the dark with Hell's Prince, to freely bare your wounds to them. But it's not like you've got anything left to lose. You're dying as it is.

As they help lie you down on your stomach, half of your heart is able to trust them. And right now, in the dim, in the warm, on the concrete, half is enough.

"This is going to hurt, angel, so brace yourself. Alright, three, two, one..."

Their hand presses into your back, and you cry out as the dull, shining throb of brokenness contorts into something alive. You forget your one job. The instinct to struggle, to writhe against the ungodly sensation takes over your body. Beneath your skin, your wingbones are realigning and sewing themselves back together, sliding through limp, wet muscle and burned flesh to get to their places. You push into the ground, bite down on nothing, make desperate, useless movements with no object as you succumb to throes of agonized frenzy.

"Fuck, angel, stay still--"

You're pinned down by another hand on the small of your back, jerking you partly out of your craze. You gasp, whimper, dig your nails into your palms, will yourself to staystillstaystillstaystill while your bones snap into place. Your chest heaves against the ground.

Slowly, slowly, it ends. Relief takes over. Beelzebub lets you go with a sigh, and you echo it. Your wings are bloody and sore, but you can move them again, the cuts are closed, and you're finally in enough control to put them away.

You are exhausted. You are alive.

You breathe.

Whether angels can actually die, at least, by means other than hellfire, nobody's ever told you. You've never really thought about it before, and you sure as hell don't know now. To just have come so close, to be so certain that you're not going to make it, and then to be forcibly put back together and come out living... it's not the kind of thing that gives you any answers.

Beelzebub flops to the ground beside you, panting, and you're struck with the fact of what they've done for you. Somebody meant to be nothing but evil given form, and yet, they're the one who pulled you from the rubble. Who dragged you somewhere safe, who just held you down and mended your wings. Who saved you, their hereditary enemy of six thousand years.

"...Why?"

They don't answer.

You're not sure what happens now. Maybe you've fallen into a trap after all. You don't really want to find out, but you suppose you'll have to. And soon. But, until then, you're content to lie here on the floor.

A heaviness flutters over you, and sleep comes for the first time.

#good omens fanfiction #beelzebub x reader #good omens #good omens beelzebub x reader #x reader #beelzebub good omens #good omens demons #beelzebub #beelzebub/reader #fic #im proud of this ngl #good omens x reader

[misc-obeyme]

CONGRATS ON 500!!!

Can u do simeon + feather?

Take your time, and THANK YOU

<3 <3 <3

Hello and thank you!

Okay, so if I'm remembering correctly we never actually get to see Simeon's wings, so this is all just how I imagine it'd be. Kind of like with the demon form, I would think angels can do something similar with their wings. Anyway, I love Simeon he is so very pretty, so I'm glad someone requested him!

Thank you for participating!

GN!MC x Simeon with prompt Feather

Warnings: MC is in a little danger at the beginning, but nothing major and it's pretty brief.

It wasn't really dangerous for you to go out in the Devildom anymore. When you'd first arrived, you had to be careful. You were a human and nobody really knew you yet. But you had been here for quite some time at this point. Although you weren't always recognized, most demons knew you. And when they realized that you were the human exchange student who had pacts with the Seven Lords of Hell, they had a tendency to leave you alone.

And if for some reason someone decided to hassle you anyway, you were a full fledged sorcerer now. You could handle yourself.

So you didn't hesitate to go into the streets alone when you needed to. Not that this happened often, of course. There was always a demon brother who wanted to come with.

This day you happened to be alone. You were just looking to pick up a few things, nothing major. It was supposed to be a brief trip.

So you were surprised when you found yourself surrounded by a group of unfamiliar demons. You had been backed into a corner, stuck between two buildings with no way out. It wasn't really an issue. You could just teleport away, after all.

And you were about to do exactly that when a brilliant flash of white descended in front of your eyes. You were looking at something so bright and full of light, that it almost blinded you. What in the Devildom could possibly look like this?

And then your eyes adjusted and you saw that you were actually looking at Simeon. He was standing in front of you, facing you, with his large beautiful wings tucked around you. They gave off that soft light, making everything around you feel illuminated.

Simeon's eyes were also blazing with that light, looking more gold than they normally did, the circular halo shape in them more pronounced. He simply glowed before you.

He wrapped his arms around you before taking off into the sky. You clung to him as his wings pushed against the air, propelling the two of you out of that small alley. He flew a very short distance to a small empty park.

He landed there, setting you down carefully. And then the light dimmed and his wings vanished and he looked at you with concern.

"MC," he said. "Are you okay?"

You blinked for a few moments, trying to re-calibrate your mind after witnessing Simeon's wings, his angelic light. "I'm fine," you said. You shook your head a little. "I had it under control. I was just about to teleport, you know."

Simeon blushed and looked away. "Ah, I forgot you could do that. I just saw you cornered by a group in that alley and thought you might need some help."

You smiled. "I'm glad you came," you said. "I got to see your wings, after all."

Simeon looked surprised. "My wings?"

"You don't use them very often," you said. And then it was your turn to blush. "They're gorgeous."

Simeon laughed softly. "If you want to see them, all you have to do is ask," he said.

You took a step toward him, so close you were almost touching. "Can I see them again?"

Simeon obliged, his wings unfurling around you once again, the light surrounding you. He held them around you protectively even though there was nothing you needed protection from.

It was like you were being held inside a small sun the way each white feather seemed to glow. You were sure it was simply the contrast between them and the darkness of the Devildom around you.

You took another step forward, putting your hands on Simeon's chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around you.

"MC," he said, but you cut him off with a kiss.

The warmth that spread through you seemed to match the intensity of the light all around you. You could feel that heat on Simeon's skin as your fingertips fluttered across his shoulders.

You spent quite some time there, held by Simeon's arms as well as his wings, your previous errands completely forgotten. And even though you weren't going far, when you finally separated you would find yourself feeling dark and empty without the gentle comfort of his presence.

You were thinking about those moments later that night, staring at the ceiling in your room in the House of Lamentation. Remembering the soft look in Simeon's eyes as he held you, the gleaming of his wings, the way your heart seemed to beat out of your chest.

But Simeon had seemed to know that this would happen. And the small light from the single white feather you held in your hands was enough to hold you over until you could see him again.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #misc 500 followers event #misc writes

[nightgoodomens]

What if we chose us?

Aziraphale chose Crowley.

Now they need to escape Metatron who's right outside the bookshop.

Is Crowley powerful enough to hold Metatron back?

PART 1 - “Go and pack, Angel.” 

“No.” Aziraphale whispered out, still in shock, still breathless. “Crowley, WAIT!” 

Aziraphale did not expect himself to shout after him. But then, he did not know what he was thinking at all now. Crowley just confessed to him. Crowley just kissed him. 

Crowley was leaving.

“No.” Aziraphale repeated. “Don’t you dare to leave again.”

Crowley looked shocked, the black sunglasses hiding nothing. “I am not going to Heaven.” Crowley repeated clearly, voice low. “I don’t think you should be going to Heaven either. It is not safe for you. But you have made your choice.”

“Yes, precisely,” Aziraphale said quickly, nervously, and noticing Crowley taking a step back as if stabbed, he quickly added: “I am staying.”

“What?” Crowley’s expression would have made him laugh if not the fact that he could feel Metatrone already walking towards the bookshop.

“I hope you have a plan because I don’t know how you want to hold him back.” Aziraphale was looking nervously to the window. 

Crowley straightened quickly, looking around, the brokenness in his body gone, suddenly just on high alert.

“Tell him he can’t come in.”

“He’s an ANGEL.” Aziraphale gasped.

“Right…” Crowley scratched the back of his head.

“Crowley!”

“I am thinking, give me a moment!”

“It’s an embassy, no angel can hold him back!” 

Crowley straightened up with sudden realisation. “Luckily we’re not all angels here.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh, no.” Aziraphale said, sudden dread filling his body. “This is a bad idea.”

“Go and pack, Angel.” 

Aziraphale did not move. Was he really letting Crowley hold back Metatrone? Was he really letting him unleash Hell in Heaven’s Embassy? This was insane. Utterly insane. All for their selfish needs? They were horrible, absolutely horrible creatures. 

And yet he stood and watched without a word.

Crowley turned around and snapped his fingers and the blinds shut down on windows at once, sheltering them from any light. He heard the locks snapping in place. And then Crowley pointed his hand down, glasses already off his face, and Aziraphale heard the rumbling.

“Angel, you really need to pack.” Crowley turned his head to see him still standing stuck in one place. “I don’t know how long this will hold.” And then he threw his hand up and it was as if Earth shattered. Lightning and black fire slammed into the walls and Crowley held his hands towards the door, the dark shadows surrounding them. Aziraphale could feel Metatron approaching and the loud bang that followed threw Crowley back. But he stood his ground, arms still up, all his strength holding Metatron back.

Crowley was holding Metatron back. 

“AZIRAPHALE!”

The scowl in Crowley’s voice struck him as if the lightning hit him. And he realised Crowley was in pain. Metatron was hurting him. 

He saw Crowley’s black wings appearing. 

There was no time. With a snap of his fingers his journals and absolute basics were packed. Nothing else mattered in this room, not enough to waste time looking for it, not when Crowley was in pain. He grabbed the bag and there was another bang, a sound of bones breaking and a scream.

Aziraphale ran to grab Crowley by his arm as soon as he saw him falling to his knees, his wings falling down with him, as if he was not controlling them anymore.

He broke his wings.

The door slammed open. He saw Metatrone. He saw everything in white. And with one last look at the man, a look he never gave anyone, Aziraphale made Crowley and him disappear.

#crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #good ineffable omens #good omens #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable fandom #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziracrow #azicrow #good omens fanfiction #good omens season 2 #What If We Chose Us #hurt/comfort #husbands

[deathleadsarc]

GODDESS OF THE MOON AND STARS KHROSTEIA

ASSOCIATED WITH : Death, madness, and alchemy  SACRED PLANTS : oleander, deadly nightshade, and angel’s trumpet.  SACRED ANIMAL (s): wolves, serpents, ravens, and butterflies. 

the goddess of the moon and stars, she also is affiliated with illusions and transformation. the popular myth razmir’s labyrinth makes her the lover of the mortal alchemist after he faces her trials. Divine Mother, moons and stars supernova'd from her essence.  

Khrosteia is favored as patron goddess of scholars, alchemists, and mages. there are many arcane secrets that are rumored to have been revealed to mortals by Khrosteia. her greatest worshippers are known to brand their bodies with arrays that come from “khrosteia’s gift”. these mages and alchemists are exceptionally powerful. she is also associated with seers, the oracles rely on her moonlight to illuminate the paths in their visions, and it is ill-advised to ask an oracle for a prophecy on a moonless night, as Khrosteia will not deliver her blessing to see through the illusions that the oracle may see. 

in general, khrosteia is known as a goddess who works for her own benefit. sometimes her desires will be beneficial to mortals, and sometimes they won’t be. 

Blood sacrifices in pursuit of knowledge will surely bring you good fortune from this goddess. She values those who delve into what is forbidden to further their own gains, especially those who would sacrifice all else to make that happen. She values those that are willing to feel pain for their goals, adoring those that will kill or bleed to succeed. She loves to watch the madness of others come out. 

Compose harrowing arias of battle and bloodshed - involve passionate love and sharp violins in her name. Operatic is preferred, but she will accept any different kind if the story reaches her strongly enough. Piece together her altar with dim candles, bones and brambles, surround by a wreathe of roses and Belladonna berries, feathers to decorate and pray to her with. Performing alchemy on or near her altar will greatly please her. 

Her appearance is that of a dark-skinned, naked goddess wrapped in a pure white silken robe. Striking silver hair falls far past her heels, large black caprinae horns wrap her head like a laurel, with bright red eyes to capture your attention immediately. On her back she will be able to grow large and formidable wings of bone and sinew, with the rest of her body decorated with many alchemical symbols. Her third eye proudly on display, looking deeply into your truth.

one could consider the Goddess Khrosteia to be a goddess forbidden by the more morally lawful of scholars. though she takes great care of her patrons, she is not exactly known for her goodness. there is no benevolence. once weakness is sensed, weakness is punished swiftly. she will rip through bone and flesh, tear apart the brain that so dares to forget their piety.

a show of weakness as her patron is a direct sign of contempt. of mockery. disrespect. Most of, if not all, of Qistina's nature is a direct result of Khrosteia's soul. Qistina is not a traditional reincarnation, as alchemy is not a power of humans. rather, it is a power of gods. specifically, Khrosteia, who dared to show her power against the other gods before her. She is rebellious and utterly thirsty to remain free. Khrosteia comes forth against Qistina's soul every time she uses alchemy to overexertion. Her body simply cannot contain the goddess's power within, she would break apart. However.

in moments, there is a certain catalyst that sparks against her abilities as an alchemist. when soul of Qistina and soul of Khrosteia join as one. her body may disappear, but what remains is the very thing found beyond the end of the light. She becomes an EinSof - a god before gods were born. power compressed within a body of blinding light. a eye to give sight to the soul within sits in the middle of what could be a 'face'.

it is not death itself. it is a creature that exceeds humanity and cosmic being alike. both Qistina and Khrosteia fight from within. Qistina remains alive because of Khrosteia, and Khrosteia is still alive because of Qistina. In this, they become One and their souls join with that EinSof, that creature that sits beyond soul and eldritch knowledge. She will be different, yet the same. Such a joining has only happened once, if ever so briefly ― the moment when both the lives of Qistina and Khrosteia were in danger. Tied to the witches pyre for her crucifixion, killing all life in the village. All person and leaf and soil and air. Though it quickly returned to her soul at the behest of Khrosteia's soul, having just awakened from Qistina's constant discovery of alchemy. Qistina does not know to this extent, but there will come a time when she does. The madness of Khrosteia will surely bring about this second coming and further destroy the world for its betrayal of Her.

qistina consumes. when the goddess khrosteia's soul seeps strongly through her thoughts in times of alchemical performances, she will be prone to consuming her enemies. tearing through ribs to snag at the heart, remove it by the swiftness of needle through cloth. crack the skull to drink deeply the mind that so carried a daring to go against her power -

she is the moon. the beautiful moon. powerful enough to sway the tides, make calm the uncontrollable - make violent the quiet. brighten even the darkest of nights, frighten lost souls when hidden behind wispy clouds of grey. she gives hope to the hopeless, and dreams to the uncertain. qistina, is certainly a woman like this. she became her own moon, even without the power of Khrosteia ( the moon herself ) a powerful soul to break even the unbreakable, and a shining light in the darkness. but frightening and more beautiful than anything one could imagine.

#khrosteia tbt. #🜎 a history of poison and creations most pleasantly foul | history

[merwinspeaks]

Dear You,

They say when you’re driving that the most dangerous spot on the road is your blind spot. It’s the part of the road that you can’t see, but you must pay attention to at all times. If you’re not careful, a collision is almost sure to happen. Most cars today have blind spot detectors installed in them. This takes away all the guess work so that you can focus solely on the path ahead. Unfortunately, I never had that luxury. That’s exactly where you came from. You were speeding along in the lane next to me right outside the corner of my peripheral vision. I never saw you coming.

There’s a funny thing that happens afterwards. You don’t seem to feel any pain at all. That’s because adrenaline is deployed into your system. It acts as a temporary guardian angel that shields you from the pain long enough to escape the wreckage. When the pain does come, it’s a sober reminder of what has happened to you. I fell in love with you by accident, but I stayed there on purpose. I was surrounded by the fire, smoke and debris that used to be my heart. Still, you nursed me back to health when I was broken. You stayed and never faulted me even though I was the one that wasn’t looking where he was going.

We spent nights together that now seem like dreams. We spent countless nights together just felt right somehow. We traded stories of the lives we lived before we crashed into each other. After the nights ended, we would end up on the phone competing with each other to see who would be the first one to fall asleep. Through all of the conversation, the words I wanted to say to you remained caged in my mouth like animals in a zoo; fearing that they would never be able to live and thrive in the wild. Imagine my surprise when it was you who said, “I love you” first. In that moment, my mind became filled with infinite possibilities, and all had had you in them. In that moment, reciprocity didn’t seem like some figment of my overactive imagination. It felt like something tangible that I could hold onto easier than just hope.

Before I knew it, I was helpless. I leapt off the edge without making sure that my bungee cord was secure. That’s when I realized that the scary part of falling is not the falling itself. It’s what happens when there is no one there to catch you. I remember hearing “I love you” so vividly and I was so caught up in the moment that I never heard the “but…”. I don’t believe it was ever said, but it should’ve been felt. I’d been down this road plenty of times before so I should have known what kind of love I was getting myself into. Love takes many different forms. Though we both said the word, we were still speaking in different languages. I mistranslated yours. I can’t blame you. I should have gotten on the back of the ambulance. I should have been transported to a facility that knew how to heal my wounds better than I. I chose to stay at the scene of the accident with no insurance and no way to cover the damages. This is how you become emotionally bankrupt. By investing your life’s savings in things that don’t ever yield a return. You are so starved for something that you’re willing to eat whatever scraps you find. That’s exactly what I was. I was a stray dog that never had a home so I would always return to the same place that left the best leftovers. Even though it wasn’t the meal I deserved, it kept me full long enough until the hunger pangs returned.

Over the course of the accident, I never once thought to think of the pain you had incurred. Not only was our love different, but we were also different. I am a stray dog and you; you are a dove. As soon as your wings healed, it was time for you to fly. I couldn’t keep you on the ground with me. It was never where you belonged. I had to learn very quickly the acts of humility, chivalry, and letting go. I watched you spread your wings, defy gravity and fly away. I watched as long as I could until you were out of sight, and I was now staring at an endless sky. Where you are now, I pray it’s where you belong. I hope you’ve built a nest in the highest tree, and you watch out for people who aren’t watching their blind spots. When you say, “I love you” I now will know the place it comes from. I will respond and it will be with the same fervor, but without the same selfishness. Love never is and never has been selfish. I know that now. It takes delight in knowing that you are happy, no matter what that happiness looks like. I’m back on the road now. I’m driving slower now and I’ll make sure to check all areas before I decide to change lanes. Godspeed.

With All the Love I Have Left,

Me.

#letters #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #love

[cypaira-the-skeleton]

The True Origin of the Biblically Accurate Angel of Mischief

( More under the Keep Reading)

When I first came up with the Angel Of Mischief design I didn't really have an origin for Raven's form and powers.

Just recently I came up with an origin background for the Angel itself.

Of course, in a different AU, Raven was born as a human angel with supernatural powers, and further in the future she unlocks her True form and Biblically Accurate form.

(Image shown below is from a previous post)

In reality, They used to be an actual living deity.

(I know, lack of colour, but this is from my work sketchbook so I can't colour a lot)

It served by the side of a powerful almighty god as it's messenger, and also a deliverer of grace, miracles, and hope to humans.

Their original appearance was less hostile and more tame and holy. Their eyes were a shade of crystal blue, their wings were white as summer clouds, and their Halo and pigment on their limbs a shade of pure gold. The name they previously owned was Gale (short for " Nightingale " )

Gale was praised and adored in the mortal realm. Respect was always shown to any grace given to the humans. An altar was also erected specifically for Them! They were loved, and all the Angel cared for was the well being and happiness of others.

Unbeknownst to Them, the almighty god that Gale served noticed how his loyal Deliverer was worshipped so highly; much more than him or the other gods. Blinded with jealousy, the almighty god made a pact with a demon to trick the Angel into committing a sin, so that They could learn Their place.

The god requested a curse disguised as a 'graceful gift' to be specifically handed to him, to which he personally handed it to his loyal Deliverer, which resulted in Gale gifting it to the humans.

The fake gift caused all kinds of miserable events. Hostility rose up, crops were withering, their livestock were struck with sickness, and young humans perished like flies. After some time and thinking, the people who once worshiped the Angel now cursed Their name, and the altars that once existed were destroyed, all trust lost.

Gale was distraught, not understanding how this happened, until they remembered 'the gift'. Once called up to Their almighty god, They desperately tried to explain that They must have been tricked, saying it was never Their intention while pleading for forgiveness. The almighty god actually felt a bit guilty of his actions towards his Loyal Deliverer, and was about to grant forgiveness. That is until the ruler of the demons showed up, claiming that after what Gale had done They now belonged to him.

The Angel implored Their god to not banish Them. After a short chat between the almighty god and the ruler of demons, it was decided that Gale will not belong to either realm. They instead will forget what They used to be, and be damned to linger in the Void. The Angel begged and begged, but none listened. Gale was struck down, and was now stuck in a place where it was nowhere and somewhere at the same time.

First came grief, then disbelief, and in the end, wrath. Every second it passed more of Their memory slipped away, and the more They raged, the more Their appearance turned hostile. Wings and pigments of limbs turned into ashen black, and Their eyes and Halo's hues turned to a bright burning red, matching Their new horns. Decades could have passed, and the now nameless Angel held onto their rage, and what miraculously was left of their kind soul; Their memory completely gone.

They were damned to linger the Void, but a small light suddenly shined in the distance. Curious, They approached it, feeling its presence calling for Them ever so strongly. Reaching out They could feel something different, something changing. Once the light engulfed Their body a warm feeling surrounded Them, until moments later cold suddenly struck...

And a little girl with red ruby eyes was born.

#art #artists on tumblr #drawing #cypaira the skeleton #little nightmares human au #raven oc #oc raven #oc child #child oc #angel of mischief #raven angel of mischief #biblically accurate angel #biblically accurate angel of mischief #origin story #I know this sounds wild but...I believe that's a good origin story

[aaetherius]

[ @cxffexngel​ // for RoB lucifer! Local goth lucifer receives a fateful visitor! 👀 ]

It all happens too fast, blows exchanged between the archangel, the crew who had his back and the greater force they had waged war against - one of far too many powerful primal beasts who mindlessly rampaged causing havoc against the skies without a mind about the disaster their power harbored. Sandalphon always taking the heavier blows, always using himself as the shield of the skies he wanted to protect, he was the one deserving each painful swipe of claws and magic that charred skin that later healed quicker than some of the mages of the crew could even begin trying to heal. Twelve wings, blinding with power that could break space and time itself flare to their full might, with the intend of banishing the primal beast towards it's endless slumber and mercy so it could rest once for all - he understands the pain of sentience, the burdens of being given life yet blinded with rage and to be left alone, so it's a war out of mercy, even when the rampaging beast fights and fights until drawing it's last breath.

Time had become nothing to sandalphon, sounds muted at this point to his ears as all he focuses is to land a last hit, the surge of power from his wings canalized into a so, so blindling light wielding every element etched into his core as he focuses the last hit, charging it with every second, the crew backing him up while flying behind and the sparks of bristling light, fire, winds, earth and water all become pure energy within his palm; molded into a massive sword unlike the purple ones that aid his battles - golden like an angel's halo. It takes one hoarse scream, one for the others to get out the way, the inelegant bristle of wings tinted gold by a light that comes from inside from immense gathered power. It takes only that for the sword to be sent forward at maddening speeds and force that break the sound barrier in a shrilling swipe of his bloodied hands. And it happens all too fast. The flash of light that nearly burns his eyes before he could refocus, the smoke in the distance as wails of the beast fall to a deafening silence, the uncertain peace of nothingness as many eyes wait to see the results of Sandalphon's last attack and confirm that maybe it's a win - and oh how Sandalphon wishes it could be. He was tired, the attack having drained every last drop of energy that he had managed to gather preparing the attack but not allowing himself, just yet, to fall by the aftermath of it. He waits, and the light that magic left residues of unusually staying, like a crack in the sky that as moments pass, makes that feeling inside his chest realize something.

Time stopped.

It stopped in it's entirety. And the realization makes the archangel scan hesitantly his surroundings; clouds don't move, wind doesn't blow, the sun stalled where it is. Maybe, he overdid it, maybe it was the primal beasts's last defense. He doesn't know. But before he could try and investigate more, from behind he feels a void draw him in, and unconsciously his wings flap with all his strength to draw away from it before he could think or curse.

It's all like a blur after that, his eyes at some point having fallen shut tight and braced himself for whatever was going to happen, be it fire, hell, to be crushed - whatever it'd be that was going to be. But he could feel the pull of gravity; the feeling of falling in speeds not even his wings would be able to stabilize. It was too much so instead his wings curl all around him, especially the white ones despise he tries to use more the other pairs as if they had minds of their own - with what he could of the last drops of strength drawn out out pure desperation, a  protective veil of light shrouding the cradle of wings that fall from orange skies of twilight - like a shooting star that had fallen from the night skies. It's a silent fall, one no one ever sees. And the crater left when finally the archangel meets ground is so loud no mortal would've ever survived such a fall. Sand scorched by the light, grass turned to dust - and white and golden tipped wings vanish along the multicolored pairs the archangel bore, only leaving the stubborn, tousled and so out of shape brown pair that continue to shield the now passed out archangel at the bed of his landing.

    His sharp chin rests against his knuckles as a nimble finger glides effortlessly along the old parchment of an ancient tome that seems to scarcely hold his attention. It's an old tale. Nothing terribly inspiring or breathtaking, and one he had memorized long ago. Though that hardly makes it special by any means--it's little more than another book upon the expansive, and densely packed shelves that wind all around him. Hundreds, if not thousands, of golden shelves stretch upwards until they reach the very ceiling of his less than modest study. Why, the collection he possesses would make even the royal library look like child's play. And, upon those numerous, seemingly endless shelves, there isn't a single tome that the ruler of Hell hasn't memorized. Records of wars long since forgotten, crumbled up love letters from dying soldiers, legends from bygone days that harbor a hint of truth to them, tales of other worlds, and precious research that has never seen the soft flesh of human hands. Anything one can imagine, and then some, exists within these walls. For a scholar, it would no doubt be a dream come true, if not for the man who sat upon the scarlet throne in the very center of the circular, maze-like room.

   Lucifer was a name used to strike fear in the hearts of angels, demons, and men alike. But there were few who had actually seen his face. After all, it's rare of him to leave the palace. He harbors little interest in the affairs of mankind, so long as they don't tiptoe their way into territory where they're not welcome. And, even then, he rarely bothers to lifts his own finger to deal with them when there are demons frothing at the mouth to sink their fangs into their tender bones, and devour every last shred of their existence. And, so, the one of the most feared men in the world also became one of the most elusive. Which, of course, encourages humans to imagine, and lends then to create stories--as they tend to do. Each one more absurd and grotesque than the last. Yet, he can't stop a smile from forming upon his glossy lips as he reads over the ghastly scenes depicted upon the tome in his lap. Perhaps, to mere humans, this story they've conjured up is horrifying. A nightmare. Something only the devil himself was capable of.

   But oh the real thing was so much worse.

   He shuts the book, and sends it back, seamlessly, into its place upon one of the many shelves with a flick of hist wrist. How dull. For such imaginative creatures, they're certainly lacking in finesse. But even if the book can't hold his attention, something else is more than capable of grabbing hold of it. Nothing that happens in this world happens without his knowledge. Then again, with an entrance as bold as that one, he suspects there's not a soul within the three realms who hadn't felt the shockwave that had blasted through the earth. But it's not the impact that urges him to tap his long fingers against the arm of his throne, but rather the lingering sense of familiarity and desire that stir within him when he focuses on its source. So he stands, and leaves the stillness of his study to pursue something a tad but more enthralling.

        ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   The faint click of his shallow heels echoes through the now barren forest that greets him. The once lush greenery has been reduced to ash, and even the soil itself has lost its color. Even if life should return to this land, it would take many millennia for anything to be able to thrive once more. But the buzz of power still seeps into the stagnant air, and lingers all around him. Though he's aware he's never met its source before, it still feels familiar to him. But while he might not be able to place a name to it, he can easily figure out its source--or rather, what its source is. Nor does it take him long to make his way over to that source.

   A man, or rather an angel, flung uselessly into the dirt with a pair of disheveled, brown wings cradling his feeble form. He supposes he could simply take this opportunity to kill the other where he lies, but that would be rather anti-climatic, and one look at him is all Lucifer needs to be painfully aware that this 'angel' isn't from this world. While the power that radiates from him is similar, it's not identical. So, perhaps then, he can find some use for this discard angel after all.

    He kneels down silently beside the other, reaching out to brush some of the debris from those tangles wings before curling his fingers, and lifting the stranger's jaw from the dirt. "Now you've found yourself in a bit of a predicament haven't you, dove? Why now allow me to assist you?"    

#cxffexngel #| ☩ I would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: Sandalphon) | #| ☩ And when night falls ; the stars will guide you ☩ (verse: AU - Fallen) | #| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) | #{ Ahhh I hope this works if not just let me know! } #{ Not pictured: GBF Lucifer hyperventilating and suffering GDFJKGHFDS } #{ may you enjoy the chaos GDJKGDFS } #{ I don't have anything to say for myself } #{ I took a break from writing smut to write this and it feels the same GDFSJLGKHFS }

[valorxdrive]

❝ nothing feels impossible when i’m with you. ❞ [ from @maregiis ]

How did she always know the sweetest things to say? How through her lips, it was angel sighs and a touch of home, truth that always burned through any and all lies. Right now it was a tender strength that served as a beacon for the sheer hell that surrounds them.

Kingdom Hearts remains as an unwilling lord of the Grand Sky, locked there, all through the machinations of a man who intends to bring ruin to all of creation. For even reality screamed as bit by bit, the natural order was being frayed at a scale it was never meant to be. Folds of space torn being ripped open, unveiling an eternal night sky, yet that very destruction found itself stopped short by one pivotal force.

A Princess of Heart awakened.

Sora could only stare towards the yawning abyss as the hellish incarnation of Xehanort stood at the ready. No Name's seething eye bled crimson as if attuned to that very fury, leading towards the sight of countless keyholes continuously appearing, stretching a hidden realm within a particularly shaped void. Before them were the sight of flaming meteors that wailed through the heavens, each of them holding a planet's heft as a fearful shadow eclipsed the Keyblade Graveyard a thousand times over.

However, a distinct brand of calm managed to breath within body and Heart. Joy found itself dancing completely unhinged as it was Kairi's words that he managed to focus on the most. Right now, it was that raw scale of confidence that the Hero of the Keyblade retained, he knew with each and every bit of his Heart that it would be okay. That bared hand of his drew Kairi's close like a treasure, allowing for his once exhausted fingertips to gently scour it as he briefly turned towards her.

He held the raw nerve to momentarily ignore his greatest foe in lieu of the light of his life. "Kairi.."

"You've had this in you all along." He meant that, with All of his Heart. In junction with his own strength, it was their might that found itself keeping that yawning void reduced to the minuscule point that it was. As the unholy eyes of that mask of a devilish goat bore damnation and curses unbridled towards them, it'd be the force of their light that effortlessly swept away the mad chaos. The strength of Heart was now stepping up to the plate.

Within a momentary second, their love ignited a hint of the true light began to violently expand and erupt in a blinding fissure of energy. It was iridescence that mends, that heals, that banishes the wicked as the golden wings that tore from their backs began to stretch with serene grace. Sora's posture prepares itself as he leans in, allowing the shine of those valiant eyes to face the cataclysm ahead with courage.

"Nothing will ever keep us apart. That's what the strength you give me says." Even now as the jubilant sensation of the Kingdom Key swells through his arm, resonating merrily with Destiny's Embrace, their keys and their potential found itself completely unchained. Even amidst a taste of the elder Darkness, rebellion finds itself stepping upon that same field of defying all logic.

"Lets bring everyone back home!"

In a rare moment through the countless universes that expand across the Realm of Light, a magnanimous display of multiple explosions would tear across each and every field who gazed above, the future was being decided.

@maregiis

#maregiis #| Bottle Mail #| Meme #>:)

[georgina-layla]

APOLLO

There is no kindness in lust; the feral, instinctual, call to blood that wakes the dead, moves the stones, boils the flesh. It was no less different with him - a venture into the lion’s den dressed as a lamb branded in the scent of prey, walking blindly to a slaughter, no witch doctor to conserve my limbs, licked clean of innocence to be presented to masters and his kin alike. Of Madness in sin, I found myself at his feet; bare, bruised, blunder after each before the rise of the sun, guiding blindly to the blade I so generously give me neck to. I was his, for him a creature to study, to stare, to squander, and no one else. The damage of love wounds is not gracious on mortal flesh, a stain of pomegranate and passion not a soul should succumb themselves to. I had studied the gods he compared himself to - each titan rare in flesh and thus rarer in morals, blood and bone bound to each other in a caper of flames, a cadaver void of sentiment, par sex. Sounds of war scatter around us as I scrape at each timber frame he built to keep me close, caged in callous rage and close in distance. My mother would free me if she was given the chance, the ability, the temptation to watch me suffer has yet always been far too great for her. I was never asked what I want, what I feel, what validation comes with control? Contorted into configurations no daughter of earth and soil should see under sunlight, no rather a father of wind and water. I was not fit for the tomb he wished to bury me in, ripped of wings I grew out of wounding. There is no time for healing holed up  in the hands of a greedy child. And yet, like a moth to a flame, I would not let myself leave - not yet at least. A prison can resemble a palace if you pray enough, play in the dirt derived from darling predecessors, devotees to his dreadfulness.

What was I truly to do? To do for him, for you? Mortal marrow mannered into immolation; sensual submission surrounded by sweet solitude endowed to his silver platter hot to my touch, oh how endearing sensual surrender truly can be when you are ablaze from within. No fire burnt as hot as you, no sun as strong, no greek protege as powerful as the wrath you kept petted between soaked palms filled with fury. You did not want me, you wanted what mother never gave you, what meaning you sought savagely in the grass for, salivating at the sandals of forefathers who promised you power, yet abandoned you at the first glance of failure. Failure, it is what you are, what you were, and what you always will be. Fight the gods all you want, you cannot lose a birthright that was never inherently yours. But alas I remain here, licking each lesion you create for yourself like hungry mutt healing its master, honoured at each bone you toss to my dirty corner. A disciple, a follower - frantic and violent in each mannerism of love; heedlessly hounding at your abandoners in order to curb your craving of abuse from my hand. I could not tell what deity birthed you, but I wished for your long-awaited return to them. Divinity was never suited to you, no matter the cloak and cult. But I had known no better. You were an angel draped in opium drugged into a state of delirium, leaving my frail host deranged from debility no doctor could cure me of, what contaminated creed did I find you from? Go away. Go away. Go away. Fire still rages between your fingers and I wish to a divinity divided from you to dote on my burns, for there was never an eternity long enough to aid a transformation needed as yours. 

An agreement as such cannot be achieved without any sacrifice of sovereignty, yet no revel could relinquish the responsibility I felt for throwing each of my bones into your fire to keep him toasting. Blinded by a faux sun believed to have kept me shaded from wrath, yet how you were both my saviour and foe. I was told at infant, that a child who did not feel the head from a mother’s heart would set the village in flames just to feel its warmth - yet I was unsure whether it was your passing rage, or the brute flames that engulfed me foremost. 

#prose writing #spilled prose #creative writing #my writing #romance writing

[buckysbabygorl]

Hello! Idk if you’re currently accepting requests right now and if you aren’t, feel free to ignore or delete this! If you are, I would like to request a fluff oneshot with the reader (who possesses the ability to fly with wings) is practicing with their ability outside of the avengers compound one afternoon and standing in the field is Bucky, just watching them with pure adoration. 🥺

I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE LENGTH OF THIS REQUEST 😭

Flight Risk

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

~

“MOTHER FUCKER!”

Y/N fell once again as she took lift off.

At least she had manage a few feet this time.

Holy hell was this hard.

She looked to the clouds from her position in the grass, admiring the fluffy clusters above her. When she was younger, her mother told her they were made of the fallen feathers of angel wings, accumulating in soft mounds throughout the sky.

She reached to touch the end of her own wings, though they weren’t white, she liked to think that’s what the clouds above her felt like.

She knew they didn’t, in fact they didn’t feel like anything. Just cold, moist. Or so she had been told. She hadn’t felt them herself yet.

Her wings hadn’t been operational that long ago: DNA splicing experimentation and strenuous surgery had only produced these miraculous appendages on a  whim, she had been the only successful subject. There could have been more, but thankfully the Avengers stepped in once hearing that Zola’s previous experimentation had influenced a small group of mad scientists to use similar technologies. Kidnapping thousands of travellers throughout the decades and only recently been finding themselves successful in their results. They attempted to give people gills, fins, horns, hooves... and in Y/N’s case, wings.

They couldn’t send Y/N back into society; they knew she wouldn’t be accepted or be able to live a normal life. She was free to return to civillian life if she chose, but the team made her aware that she was more than welcome to join them.

So she did.

She surprisingly had proved herself to be a usefull asset, wings aside. She was strong, fast, cunning, high above the rest (both literally and metaphorically). She was a superhero now.

But unfortunately, she had no capabality of flying.

“I can teach you,” Sam said, “It’s not that difficult.”

“Your wings don’t count,” Y/N said, “Yours are mechnical. Mine are natural.”

“Well, as natural as science experiments can be.” Bruce said.

“Shut it,” she teased.

Technology aside, Sam had seemed like the only one with somewhat similar experiences to teach her some minor details.

He gave her the basics, but she was alone now.

Huffing, she lifted herself from the ground and dusted her clothes off. She shook out her wings, adjusting her shirt so that they didn’t bunch at the shoulders.

“Come on, you got this. Just bend, brace, expand, flap--”

She tried again, shooting up with wings narrowed. She then unfurled them as she rose higher into the air, but as another gust of wind came she found herself faltering and tumbling back down.

Bucky took out his earbuds as he jogged by. He hadn’t noticed her before, adjusting to the early morning hadn’t left him very observant of his surroundings. He watched as her wings spread, her eyes on the sky above. He couldn’t help but chuckle as she struggled to stay up, frustration scrunching her face.

“You okay? He called out.

She rested her hands on her knees, looking up at the voice. A small smile breaking her thoughts as she realized who it was.

“Yeah.” She called back.

He jogged to her place in the open field, slowing as he neared her and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Flight practice?” He asked.

“Not really,” she said as she crossed her legs, “It’s more ‘breaking for impact’ practice at this point.”

He laughed softly, bending to sit beside her as she checked her knees for scrapes.

“I take it Sam didn’t really give you the best advice.” He said, reaching out to run his thumb over a small bruise on her shin.

She sighed, “Well his heart’s in the right place but--we’ve got different mechanics. I don’t think he can relate to this. Not that many people can...”

She ran the back of her hand along the length of her wings, flicking upwards as she reached their soft end point.

Bucky admired the light brown color of her wings, reminding him of the sparrows that sometimes stopped on the windowsill of his bedroom. 

He was never really subtle with his staring, Sam had actually labelled it as his biggest problem. She wasn’t an exception to that; he often found his eyes chasing after her as she exited rooms, her expansive wings encompassing her figure. 

“One day she’s gonna catch you staring,” Sam warned, “you better hope she doesn’t kick your ass. She could get the wrong idea...”

Bucky didn’t like that her phrased it that way; as if he was gawking at her. He wasn’t looking at her like she was some freak, or a circus sideshow. It was more like... admiration.

She was beautiful.

He thought she was beautiful.

If anyone had taken a glimpse into his mind, it would be easy to understand that he wasn’t looking only because the wings were breathtaking, he felt she was too.

“Can I?” He asked.

His hand was held out in a loose open palm, just above the bed of feathers.

She nodded, and he ran his knuckles slowly along the length in the same way she had before.

They tickled slightly, the nerve endings in his fingers seemed to buzz. His hand shook slightly as he flicked upwards at the point, and she giggled quietly.

“It tickles when you do it.” She said.

He smiled, “Same here.”

He gently picked at blades of grass that had stuck to her wings,  “How long have you been out here?”

She looked up at the sun, noting its change in height.

“A few hours I think. I didn’t want anyone to see.”

“Well, sorry for the intrusion then.” 

She shrugged, “It’s alright. I like having you around.”

A blush creeped up his cheeks, and he ducked his head more, pretending to really focus on pulling out grass.

“So--uh, where do you think you’re going wrong?”

She chuckled at his bluntness, only further embarrassing Bucky.

“I don’t know. In my lift off I can’t make it stick. It just doesn’t feel natural.”

“Alright”, Bucky wasn’t sure how to help her, it wasn’t like he had any personal experience himself. “Well, what does feel natural?”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back to lie on the grass, hands cradling his head as he looked up.

“I guess--I mean, when you look at birds, they just start flapping. That’s natural for them. Humans don’t fly; Sam’s wings are mechanical…”

Y/N realized early on in their relationship that Bucky had a tendency to ramble; though he liked when others were “to the point”, he lacked that quality himself. But she knew if she was patient, he’d get there eventually. And truthfully, she quite enjoyed listening to his tangents.

“...so Sam’s advice is based off what the wings are designed to do. Maybe you need to try testing it out the natural way. Move your wings in a way that feels right. Does that make sense?”

No, it didn’t.

But she smiled anyway, “Kind of. Like, don’t think about it and see where my body takes me?”

He chuckled, “That’s a weird way to phrase it, but yeah, something like that.”

Suddenly she stood up, making Bucky jump slightly.

She was no longer looking at him, only closing her eyes and expanding her wings.

He liked that she was a “0 to 100” type of person, out of nowhere she’d get an idea and then it was all action.

She let the wind ripple through her feathers, and she tried to gauge the current off her wings.

Don’t think about it… what feels right?

She couldn’t put it into words; but as she focused on her surroundings, feeling the breeze… some kind of instinct came over her.

Wait…

Bucky intently watched as she inhaled; steading herself as her wings unfurled.

Wait…

As the sun gleamed behind her, leaving him completely consumed in her shadow. 

It was breathtaking.

Her eyes snapped open.

Now.

The sudden flap of her wings threw Bucky back, the hard beat shooting her upwards and leaving him in the grass.

Each stride she took was with purpose, and before they knew it she was flying higher than she ever had before.

Bucky stood, laughing and smiling in awe as she soared along the current.

The wind roared in her ears, so loud she could barely hear her own laughter.

She was amazed, she was flying.

She let the wind pull her, ducking her wings and shooting off in another direction.

Bucky spun around in circles as she flew around him, trying to catch her figure against the blinding sunlight.

He was dizzy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Jesus Christ,” he said to himself. He cupped his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice, “You’re flying!” He screamed.

“I’m fucking flying!” She screamed back.

Just wait ‘til Sam saw this.

But then she got cocky, dipping further than she should’ve.

She caught a draft that clipped her wing.

It was too late to catch herself before she was fluttering to the ground.

“Shit!” She screamed.

“Shit.” Bucky muttered.

He started running in her direction, arms reaching out like he was catching a football.

“I’ve got you,” he cried, “I’ve got you!”

He caught her just in time, bracing for impact as they both crashed into the ground.

Hair windswept and cheeks red, Y/N screamed out in happiness.

“Oh my god, did you see that? Did you see me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head as she dramatically recounted the experience, his arms firmly holding her against him.

“And then I was like whoosh and the wind came and it was like AHH and then--”

She was cut off by his lips on hers.

His lips were soft, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a gruff man…

Her eyes closed and she pressed further into him, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away, leaving her more shocked than the flight had.

“I’m sorry,” He started, “It’s just--”

He looked into her eyes, unable to explain it all. How could he? She was just...

“--I think you’re amazing.”

She smiled back at him, “Oh I’ll show you amazing.”

Her hands wrapped around his collar as she pulled him back in for another kiss.

Bucky would have to remind himself to interrupt flight practice more often...

~

I hope you enjoyed @halietigges this request was so fun to make!

Taglist: @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @dumb-ass-writer @cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @emmabarnes @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #tiktok #bucky barnes imagine #fatws #bucky #tfatws #buckysbabygorl requests #buckysbabygorl masterlist

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

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

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

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

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

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

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

#taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fics #bts fics #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Angel

Summary: You are their guardian angel.

Warning: Language, Injuries

Word Count: 2,159

* * * * * *

Your foot taps nervously against the bottom of the stool, eyes fixed on the folder in front of you, that contains the briefing of your mission. Nerves trying to further expel themselves through the clinking of your nails against the glass mug of tea.

Your mission in Vienna.

The first mission you’ve had overseas.

Being the newest member of the Avengers meant countless months of training until the team deemed you fit to go on missions. And even then you had to continue to prove that you’re ready to go further than you had.

It also meant still learning your teammates. There’d already been very strong relationships set between the team when Nick Fury pulled you in, claiming all your abilities would benefit them.

Having been born with special abilities meant dealing with the hate that comes with being different. When people found out it was rarely a good reaction.

So even though you agreed to join the Avengers, you kept your special abilities to yourself and instead trained to perfect the normal ones you had. 

“Y/n?” 

Thoughts get interrupted by the familiarly sultry voice of your teammate and half of your assigned mission partners. 

Natasha gently sets her bag at the door and walks closer to you, choosing to lean on the kitchen counter beside you.

“I know this is your first, fairly major, mission. Which can be nerve wracking. But I promise, myself and Wanda have your back. And I also know you’re more than ready for this.” 

E/c eyes raise to green, searching for sincerity and finding it. 

You nod, the corner of your lips just barely tugging up. Then you stand, silent as always, to leave the kitchen. 

All the while Natasha watches you, hoping her words had the proper effect, but still glad she didn’t fumble over them or say the wrong thing. 

Since you’d joined her team the redhead was unsure of you, almost as unsure as you were of all of them. Over time though, she’d grown more interested than unsure. She wondered what kept you so quiet, what was holding you back from them, from her, and what it was that seemed to plague your mind at every moment of the day. 

Trying to become closer to you became the goal which meant tailoring her approach. Natasha couldn’t come to you as the Black Widow, she couldn’t intimidate or seduce you into opening up. You have a fragile soul and she knew that.

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tried speaking to you and said the wrong thing or worded her thoughts the wrong way. But each time ended with you walking away and her, sometimes literally, smacking herself.  

With a huff, she picks up her bag, and starts toward the jet. It doesn’t take long to make sure everything is running properly so she waits inside for you and Wanda. 

The two of you appearing shortly after.

Natasha watches as her girlfriend speaks to you, your expression unwavering. It seems Wanda is walking on the same eggshells with you, pausing for long moments to think of what to say before speaking. 

It was no secret that Wanda is more in touch with her emotions and those of others out of the two, so it’s slightly odd to see the woman struggle with you as well. 

But just like Natasha, she tries. Because just like Natasha, she’s intrigued.

Wanda was taken with your beauty the second she saw you. Both internally and externally. Without invading your mental space, simply put she read your aura. But it was as if she could only read the surface of it. Like you were blocking her powers. Still what she found was beautiful.

That had drawn her to you even though you were keeping her at a distance. And so she did her best to make you feel comfortable and understood one the rare occasions you let her in. 

Now isn’t one of those times.

Wanda can tell that you’re anxious about your first international mission. She understands that, which is what she had been sharing with you when you got on the jet.

Two hours into the flight though, she’d stepped away, not wanting to crowd you. 

So as you laid down to calm yourself and rest, she moved to the co-pilots seat beside Natasha. 

Reaching over, Wanda grabs her girlfriend’s hand and laces their fingers together. 

A look is shared between the two, both worried about you but also confident in your ability to do complete this mission. 

There had long since been a discussion between the girlfriends about you. Revolving around their feelings for you.

They’d both admittedly felt guilty for developing feelings for someone outside of their relationship but Natasha had noticed the signs of Wanda’s crush and on the chance that she was right, she mentioned hers.

Being honest with each other lead to the idea of bringing you into their relationship, but that would all depend on you. Your feelings for them and your willingness to let them in.

But that was something to come later.

Now they focused on the mission at hand. 

The mission had begun exactly as planned. A simple data collection. 

Honestly you all should’ve seen the problem when the enemy base was empty, the data left unprotected. While your guards had been up for ambushes or unexpected threats.

Despite that, none of you had been prepared for a bomb. 

While leaving the base you’d caught the glare of a red light in the dark and the faint ticking and knew what it was. 

“There’s a bomb, we need to move now.” You rush, anxiety climbing as you all ran from the building. 

The three of you bad just barely stepped foot out the base when the bombs went off and despite your running you knew you weren’t clear of the blast. 

Your eyes frantically searched the field as the heat of the explosion got closer and there was no escaping it. So, in an attempt to protect the women, you laced your arms around them and pulled them to your body. 

In seconds their visions were obscured by beautiful white feathers. And while they had confusedly stared at their new unfamiliar surroundings, you gritted your teeth at the searing pain of the heat and shrapnel of the explosion. 

You held on though, unmoving until you no longer felt the suddenness of it.

“Y/n,” Wanda breathes, eyes following the shimmering white feathers to you, only to find your eyes drooping. 

They caught your now unconscious form. Your wings slacking away from their body as you were no longer awake to control them. 

Using their joint strength, they drug you to the jet.

Natasha moved almost in a panic, but kept her expression neutral, as she put in the coordinates of the mission assigned safe house. It would take hours to fly back to New York and that was time they weren’t sure they had. 

As they flew, Wanda took in your wings. The wings no one on the team knew about. 

Even though feathers were singed and there were bloody cuts, they still managed to leave her awestruck. 

“Did you know-” Wanda begins, looking up to Natasha who simply shook her head. 

When you landed at the safe house, they carried you inside and to the nearest bedroom. 

It’d taken a lot rushed research on their part to clean and patch up your wounds. They both knew how to tend to human skin but nothing about wings. But they managed, moving with care and gentleness as they removed the scattered pieces of shrapnel, tended to the burned feathers, and cleared away the blood. 

Seeing you hurt yet so beautiful stirred their emotions more than usual. Causing them both to act without thinking.

“Please be okay.” Wanda whispers, fingers smoothing over your silk like wings. Beside her Natasha repeating the same sentiment in her head as she leaned down and pressed a kissed to your forehead. 

Neither woman could leave you, resulting in Wanda falling asleep beside you, tucked under your wing, and Natasha occupying the chair in the corner of the room with her eyes trained on both of you. 

The woman was tired but more than that she was determined to make sure you were okay. Something she didn’t find out until hours later.

The signs of your consciousness came gradually but still alerted her, as the first one was the retracting of your wings.

Green eyes focused on the way the angelic appendages seemingly folded into your back and under your skin. It looked painful and the woman’s concern for you increased. 

She was so focused on you she didn’t notice Wanda wake up to see it as well, the second the warmth of your wings left her body.

Now both sets of green eyes were trained on you back. Mainly the very noticeable extra bones. They were raised a little higher than the normal back bones, both perpendicular to your spine. 

Still acting without much thought, Wanda reached out, her fingers ghosting over the smooth skin covering the bones. It felt as if there had been no wings there, as if the skin hadn’t just opened to let the large additions into your body. 

Neither woman noticed you wake up, not until a shiver wracked you at Wanda’s touch. 

Wanda jerked away, silently praying she hadn’t overstepped by touching you. 

“Could-”‘ your small voice reached their ears and Natasha moved to kneel beside the bed,“ can you get me a shirt?”

She nods, disappearing from your eyesight for seconds and returning with a top. 

After awkwardly pulling it on to make sure they didn’t see your naked front, you hesitantly moved to sit up against the headboard. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs.

Natasha’s brow furrows at the way you seemingly tried to hide from them, curling in on yourself. 

The redhead sits in front of you on the bed, hand laying against the bed as if she really wanted to rest it on your leg.“ You have nothing to be sorry for Y/n.”

“Really. You didn’t scare us, we were worried, not scared.” 

It was your turn to frown. 

You hadn’t been blind to their attempts to get closer to you. You felt guilty about it though. You were hiding such an important part of yourself from them, a part you weren’t sure you’d ever share. 

Not that that mattered now. They’d seen the real you. 

Whatever opinions they’d formed on you are sure to change. You’d lose them.  Like everyone else.

Both women watched the emotions flashing through your eyes and across your face. The confusion, the guilt, the sadness, then settling on fear. 

What were you scared of? 

Ever the emotionally observant, Wanda guesses correctly on why you’re scared, and takes the proper approach at talking about it with you.

“Y/n, why hadn’t you said anything about your wings?” She asks.

Your gaze moves to her slowly and your breath catches. 

Where was the hatred? The disgust? The fear?

“I-” your words fall short, eyes searching hers deeply for the reaction you usually got. 

When her hand wraps around yours in comfort and encouragement to speak you’re even more perplexed. 

Had you truly misread them? Mistaken them for the people in your past?

“I was afraid you’d be scared of them.” You swallow.“ Or find them ugly. I know it’s not normal but I was born with them.” 

Natasha feels her heartbreak at the obvious pain you’d endured because of them in your past. It was written in your eyes. 

She scoots closer and takes your other hand.“ Your wings are beautiful Y/n. And anyone in your past who thought otherwise were ignorant. People fear what they don’t understand.” 

Your frown returns,“ why aren’t you?” You direct to them both. 

“Because as beautiful as your wings are, as much as we don’t know about them, we see beyond that.” Wanda answers. 

Natasha stands, gently nudging you to the center of the bed, then sitting so you’re between the two. 

“Trusting new people is hard when you’ve been hurt by people you thought you could in the past. But I promise you can trust us and we won’t let you down if and when you begin to.” She assures.

How could you not believe the soft and honest admission? Especially coming from two of the most powerful women you’ve ever met.

“I think I may be starting to.” 

Moving with caution, hoping you aren’t the one overstepping this time, you lean your head on Natasha’s shoulder, and squeeze the hand Wanda is holding.

Natasha and Wanda know it will take time for you to fully open up to them but they’re more than patient. And if a time ever comes when you reciprocate their romantic feelings, they’d gladly treat you like the angel you are.

* * * * * *

taglist: @trikruismybitch 

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