#the panicked voice of the angel telling Abraham to stop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jtownraindancer · 5 years

Text

Michael x Reader: Royalty

Being a Prophet brought you some unexpected perks.

You could read a lot of dead languages, you were included in an alliance of Hunters and Academics, and you had also gained a full-time bodyguard.

The Viceroy claimed that it was more for his sanity than anything else, though you would later learn that it was more to do with how the last dozen or so Prophets had been extinguished well before their prime.

He wasn't so good at reassuring you after that little confession.

Michael did try, however, making sure to check in on you every day, visiting you at least once a week, and always just a thought away.

You tried to not be disappointed that he only saw your protection as another duty, another command issued by an absent Father.

You were walking home from the local thrift store when your opinion of that matter changed significantly.

One moment, you were contently strolling down the maple lined sidewalk with Bach lightly playing from your headphones, and the next you were in a completely different location, a firm grip on your arm and chipping white paint flicking from a concrete wall in front of you.

It took only a quick glance to immediately recognize the angel that was manhandling you, annoyance and confusion lacing together as you paused your music.

He only did this when he was annoyed with you, when you had were being particularly "defiant." But as far as you had known, a quick trip to browse vintage jackets and old books wasn't particularly rebellious.

"Michael, wha-"

He shot you a glare, one that silenced you immediately.

That wasn't anger in his eyes; that was fear.

All irritation fled you instantly, senses attuning to your surroundings.

The air was drier here, lack of engines and petrichor hinting at a location further away than you anticipated. The asphalt beneath you was tinged in tawny dust, but nothing seemed suspicious.

Except for the quiet.

You weren't used to the quiet.

It was as if Nature herself were holding her breath.

And there it was.

Another whoosh of air, perhaps a block or two away from where Michael was shielding you. There were several voices, some indistinguishable growls.

It left you cold, despite the scalding heat coming from the hanging sun.

You strained your ears to listen, desperate for some form of clarity, but you could recognize neither the voices nor the language being spoken as they neared your sanctuary.

You winced in pain, shifting slightly as Michael's blade slid into his left hand, his firm grip on the hilt signalling no mercy for his would-be opponents. His right hand was still holding your own, his fingers just shy of shattering you.

You were on the cusp of panicking.

Michael had always been on the more serious side, rigid regality and obstinate nobility. His mannerisms were sometimes almost alien, observations bizarrely specific. You were used to that, used to his little quirks.

But some part of you had forgotten that there was more to the Prince of Paradise than his majesty and sense of duty.

Michael was, and always would be, a soldier.

There was no denying it now, not when he stood as solid as marble, silently coiled to charge whatever threat he had detected.

There was no denying the righteous fury in his eyes, the way they seemed to spark with internal flame.

There was no denying how utterly microscopic you suddenly felt, a single quark being defended by one of the very first cornerstones of Abrahamic Creation.

Yet, for how small you felt, you couldn't help but want to defend him, absolutely struck dumb by the worry in his eyes, the scarcely concealed terror coated with such a thin shroud of bravado.

Whoever- whatever- the voices were, they were enough to summon dread from the First Light, and it did nothing to inspire your confidence.

Michael-

You could only hope the small glance your way was an acknowledgement of your prayer, could only hope that he had heard you and that he was willing to listen.

There was something evil drawing nearer, and while you were essentially blind, you could feel how strong they were.

They were ancient, and you knew- as much as the sky was often blue and the grass was typically green- that Michael alone would be no match for whatever these things were.

"It's my duty to protect you."

His voice was scarcely a whisper, but for how close you were to him, for how tense the situation, how silent your surroundings-

The words echoed, his underlying courage leaving no doubt in your mind that he would fight for you, until the very last drop of Grace was spilt, until his glorious wings were nothing more than ash.

So long as that flame burned bright inside him, he would fight for you.

You hadn't really considered the weight of that honour before, hadn't truly acknowledged just how special your position made you.

But you'd be damned if the first spark of Creation was going to die on your account.

"And you really think you can do that from the Empty? There is no shame in running."

A sore subject, you knew. And by the frustration creasing his features as he turned to address your comment, you could tell he remembered distinctly telling you of his irritations with younger kin.

You softened your expression, unashamed to plead with him.

"We'll retreat, regroup, research. Live to die another day."

His eyes narrowed, tracing over your features with consideration.

"They will never stop hunting us."

Good thing you knew some folks who had experience in that area.

"So long as I know you're safe, I don't care how where or how far we have to go."

"I don't need you to pro-"

"Shut up, Michael. Those things-"

"Daeva."

"-whatever they are, are beyond you alone. And as virtuous your intent, you're no good to me dead."

The quip earned the ghost of his smile, still near as bright as the noonday sun despite its dimness. You pressed on, earnest sincerity and growing dread as the creatu- the Daeva- drew nearer.

It was time to put all the cards on the table, and accept whatever consequences may follow.

"Please, Mik'hael."

I can't do this without you.

115 notes · View notes

infinitesimally-patton · 6 years

Text

The Angel Among Us| Chapter 1

First Previous Index Next

Summary: Virgil was sent down to earth to be the guardian angel of three teenage runaways. He must guide them to safety without revealing his abilities. Otherwise, he would fail his mission, and the ones he was supposed to guide would meet the same fate he did.

Word Count: 1273

Warnings: Death, Mentions of Suicide

Note: I managed to get to a computer! God, I haven’t written a multichaptered thing in so long, I’m so excited.

Virgil was killed in 2004. It was an awful day, one that he would constantly have nightmares about. He spent so long running away before the fateful moment, and it all came to nothing. The ones he was running from caught him and killed him on the spot. Shot through the heart, no chance of survival.

He never used to believe in an afterlife, until he became a part of it. The moment after he died, he opened his eyes. He was in a city, full of bustling people. It was jarring, and Virgil felt himself starting to panic. Calm down Virge. This isn’t real. That’s right, it was just a dream. But still, he died right? What is this place if he’s dead?

A stranger stopped in front of him. Oh no. Virgil hated talking to new people. It also didn’t help that this new person was insanely attractive. The stranger was staring at Virgil. Great, now he looked like a weirdo.

“You look scared. Are you okay?” The stranger stuck out his hand to help Virgil up.

Virgil grabbed the guy’s hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled, “I’m fine.” Virgil forced himself to look at the guy. He looked like a movie star. Dark brown hair, unshaven yet trimmed beard. Yep, definitely attractive. “Um, where are we?”

The guy smiled. “That’s not important.” He paused and seemed to scan Virgil. “You look sick.” Virgil didn’t feel sick, but maybe it was just the shock of waking up in a new place. “I’ll take you back to my place.” Normally, Virgil would refuse, but he just wanted to get out of the streets. So he followed this man, still not knowing what was going on.

Virgil supposed that he was disassociating, because the next thing he knew he was in front of a large mansion. There was a crowd of people in front, hoping to get in. The guy he was following paid no attention to them and walked right up to the front gates with Virgil in tow. He pretended not to hear the whispers of the others. Why did he choose him? I can’t believe this guy gets to be a guardian. Virgil didn’t know what they meant.

The inside of the house felt very stereotypical. A larger foyer with a staircase on either side, leading up to a balcony-like second floor. The guy led him upstairs to an office-like room.

“Take a seat, Virgil.” How does he know my name? “Let me introduce myself. I am God, but I go by Abraham. You are in heaven, and you died.” He paused to let the truth sink in.

I… died? That can’t be true. If I died, how am I experiencing this? Isn’t heaven supposed to be on a bunch of clouds? Why does it look like a city? Oh god, I’m actually talking to God. This can’t be real. It’sjustadreamthiscan’tbereal. Virgil started to breathe faster.

“Woah, woah, calm down. Look at me.” It took Virge a minute to realize that Abraham was trying to calm him down in an actual way. He followed his instructions, and soon enough Abraham could continue talking.

“This is my home. Not many people have been personally invited here from me. The only ones who have had a special task assigned to them.” He took a breath. “I gave them the task of Guardian Angel. It’s given to those who have had an unfair death, to prevent others from dying in the same way.”

“So… you want me?” Virgil couldn’t believe it. All his life he was never wanted for anything good. Now the actual God was sitting in front of him, telling him that his death was horrible, and he was being given a sort of second chance.

“Yes.” Abraham looked through some papers on his desk. “The truth is, Virgil, humans have stopped going by my will. I never intended for them to be so cruel, especially towards each other. I normally give the Guardian Angel task to those who have died from hate crimes. They died too young for an unforgivable reason.”

Virgil remembers learning about hate crimes. They would happen to people of different skin colors, different genders, different sexualities. The list would go on and on. Virgil knew which category he fell into.

“You’ll have to undergo intensive training, but you’ll learn skills that other angels don’t get. You’ll be able to heal, mind read, read emotions, and others. The task I have for you will be extremely challenging, but you’ll be saving lives. Are you up for it?”

Virgil thought about it. Would he be able to do this? He didn’t believe so at first. He wasn’t athletic, and his anxiety disorder got in the way of things. But still, he didn’t want others to face the same fate as him. He wanted to do this. “Yes, I am,” he said with confidence, which shocked him, “I don’t want others to suffer the same fate as me. I want them to be able to live.” Virgil’s voice sounded different to him. It had more conviction. Maybe that was a sign that he was changing.

Abraham smiled. “Good, the last few I chose declined. The Guardians were running low.” He stood up, and Virgil took this as a cue to stand up as well. “I’ll assign you a roommate, and you’ll meet them tomorrow. For now, you can sleep in the guest bedroom here.” He grabbed Virge’s hand and shook it firmly. “Welcome to the team, Virgil Sanders.”

Virgil died 13 years ago. Since then, he gained new powers and confidence. He was ready to go back to earth to protect others. Well, almost.

“You’ll do fine.” His roommate Evan was sitting on his bed with him. He had panicked about his task, and he was trying to calm him down.

“What if they don’t listen to me?” Virgil had to lead the group to safety, but he wasn’t a good leader. He was too shy to speak up.

“Why wouldn’t they? You have your fake backstory right? They’ll probably listen to you because you have more experience.” Evan was good at reasoning to calm him down. It usually helped, but Virgil’s brain would not listen today.

“I’m not sure if I can do this.” He had a pit in his stomach, and it was only a week before he has to leave. “Oh god, what if they get hurt, or sick, or worse? I won’t be able to react rationally, Evan. Why did Abraham pick me for this?” Virgil put his eyes on his knees, trying to stop himself from crying.

“Virge, look at me.” Evan’s voice was soothing. He picked up his head. He took his hands in his. “You’ll be fine. I can only speak from my experiences, but it’s so much easier than you think. It’s likely that they’ll be desperate for interaction that they’ll cling to you almost immediately.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Virgil mumbled, “your client was suicidal.”

Evan went silent for a moment. “You don’t know what’s up with these kids. They very well might be suicidal too. Just, please,” Evan looked right into his eyes, “don’t do what I did.”

Virgil could easily feel the tension in the air. Evan didn’t like to bring up his client. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It's fine; I know you're stressed.” He moved to get up. “I mean it when I say this, you'll be fine. You tend to panic over nothing. You'll get these kids to safety, Virge.”

Virgil didn't completely believe her words, but he still had a week to go.

Tag List: @musicwitchthomas @sanders-sides-fic-archive

#the angel among us #fanfic #virgil sanders #angel!virgil #sanders sides #// death #// suicide mention

143 notes · View notes