#My Supernatural Angel Wing Designs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghostlyfleur · 1 year ago

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𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years ago

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Toxic Love

Yandere Male Cherub x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Stalking, magical mind manipulation, religious themes, dub-con, general yandere behavior, smut) Word Count: 1.3k (A long time ago I had written a similar piece to this, but I deleted it because there was a request on another blog, that i had not seen until after I wrote my piece, that looked like it had heavily influenced my fic. Now I have reworked and added smut in celebration of Valentine’s Day. I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for any mistakes I forgot that it was going to be Valentine’s Day until just a few hours ago.)

Celael was a cherub. There were many cherubs, more commonly known as cupids. None of them looked like little flying babies though. Most actually had long hair, one set of wings, and skin in varying tones of pink and sometimes lavender or even red. Celael’s wings were a pastel pink, matching his skin tone, but his shoulder length hair was light lavender and his eyes were a passionate crimson red. Most cupids were happy with their existence, taking both pride and joy in their work, spreading love among the humans. But Celael was not happy at all. Through the countless years of diligently carrying out assignments, matching humans together, and keeping the love flowing for mortals he became more and more empty until he was pretty much running on autopilot. Just going through the motions. A void was festering within him that he failed to understand. Co-workers and friends did nothing to fill it, his job seemed a cruel mockery. He influenced the hearts and minds of humans until they were filled to the brim with love, but he could do nothing for his own ever withering soul. But he kept doing his sacred duty. But then one day he got an assignment to set up a cook in a little restaurant with a co-worker and when he went to go pierce each one of their hearts with a set of bonded arrows to push their hearts towards love he suddenly realized what he was missing. That cook he was supposed to match together with a waiter was you. And you were just exactly what he was missing. Every time he gazed upon you his heart beat faster and his palms grew sweaty, was this what love was? And just like many humans that didn’t need a supernatural push he was experiencing this all entirely without arrows. He decided to observe you to be sure, he knew how love worked and he wanted to be sure of his emotions. Celael was entirely invisible to you as he stalked you, watching you at all hours of the day. He loved the way you nervously stammered when talking to your boss. He loved the way you carried yourself, all shy but determined to do your best. And most of all he loved how you treated others, without an ounce of malice in your heart, though it made him worry that someone could take advantage of you, and that thought is what sealed the deal. You needed someone to keep you safe, someone stronger than another mere mortal. Someone like… an angel. After all, your co-worker could not do a fraction of what he could do for you. He could let you know safety in the paradise of heaven. And why shouldn’t he, your designated match was a mortal the same age that you were, but he was as old as time! He had paid his dues, served humanity for countless ages, didn’t he deserve you a whole hell of a lot more? He thought so. So he formulated a plan and set it into action, he had to get you to have just a small amount of feelings for him. That’s how the arrows worked, there had to be something there naturally for them to work off of. And this would also give him a chance to know you better than he had ever known any human, or anyone at all for that matter. Celael donned a human disguise. His wings were gone, his eyes became brown, his skin slightly tan, and his hair black. He, under the name Cel, applied for the position of waiter that had opened up after your inconsiderate co-worker just disappeared, seemingly walking off the job in the middle of break and never returning without ever mentioning it to anyone. Over the course of weeks and then months Celael became your absolute best friend, you confided everything in him and trusted him completely. You were practically attached at the hip and could always be seen together. Just when you thought you might be starting to have the slightest whisper of feelings for him you felt a pain in your heart and collapsed. With only a brief flutter of wings Celael whisked you off to his little corner of heaven, it was a cozy cottage on a large floating island that was surrounded by a pink sky. The amorous cupid placed you on his comfortable bed and waited for you to wake. When you did finally rise from your magically induced slumber he could tell by the way that you looked at him that everything he had done had worked flawlessly. He had shot you with some extremely strong and illegally crafted love and lust arrows to make you only have eyes for him. You saw Cel upon opening your eyes and your heart immediately fluttered while your crotch felt a bit warm, but there was something wrong. He had wings and odd hair and skin, and this wasn’t your bed. You looked up at Cel and started to question him but he closed the distance between the two of you and leaned in for a kiss, pushing everything else to the back of your mind as all of your conscious thoughts were consumed with your focus on him. He disrobed you and rubbed your thighs gently before kissing a trail up them to your crotch and using his mouth on your sex. You stroked his pretty hair and silently moaned and gasped, unable to form words because your need for him was so deep. Celael, who you still only knew as Cel gently guided you into missionary position and aligned his large cock with your hole before sliding in fully in one smooth motion. Now it was Celael’s turn to gasp, in his many years of life this was his first time giving in to carnal desires, never had he known a greater pleasure than when he slipped into you. He took his time, this was a delicate and wonderful act that was surely meant to be savored, he slowly thrust in and out of you as he tenderly licked and kissed from your neck to your lips, He planted a deep kiss to your lips and moaned into the kiss. He was sloppy, but passionate, you could practically fill the emotions radiating off of him and you matched them perfectly. You had never felt like this before, so dizzy, so lost in the moment, but you were with Cel and that was all that mattered. He bit and sucked gently at your nipples before putting you into a mating press and going quite a bit faster, but not ruthlessly. The cherub continued at a good pace until right before you both came, when he slammed his lips into yours so you could share a kiss as twin orgasms racked both of your bodies. He draped his wings over you while holding you tight, happy tears in his eyes as he beheld you. That festering void that had been within him so long had at long last been filled. A bit of the fog that had been building in your head during the intimate act started to disperse and you had so many questions but seemingly as if reading your mind Celael shushed you as you began to open your mouth. “Not now my beloved, we can talk in the morning, right now let’s just rest okay?” You murmured your agreement and the angel repositioned you both so that you were both on your sides with him behind you. He spooned you with an arm and a wing draped over you as his large cock slid back inside of you, it did not take long for him to drift into a blissful sleep and even though you felt something was really off you gave into love for him and fell asleep beside him.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere exo #yandere exophilia #yandere angel #yandere cupid #yandere cherub #male yandere #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #Male yandere x gender neutral reader #My OCs #My OC Celael #Yandere Valentine #Yandere Valentine's Day #Yandere Valentine's 2023

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avoicebehindthestars · 8 days ago

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On Rob's Good Omens sweaters...

Bluesky has some photos of Rob Wilkins wearing these two holiday sweaters:

At the first glance you go "awww, how perfect, I need those sweaters!" but then you're like "hold on a second!"

For the sake of this meta, I'm going to assume the designs are deliberate, and not just idk cheap fakes ordered from temu lol.

Let's start with stating the obvious. The red sweater has the characters' roles reversed - Crawly is sheltering Aziraphale. It's not a "book thing" either - there, Aziraphale held his own wings above himself. This is a minor detail, but Crawly's stance is also different than in the show - his legs are apart, in a position indicating strength, confidence, and protection. Meanwhile, the blue sweater has what looks like angel!Crowley sheltering a black-haired fallen angel. My first thought was that is could be Satan and this might be a hint that we're going to see Crowley's fall after all. But now I think different.

Regarding the red sweater in particular, my thoughts immediately wandered towards the multiple Edens theory and the two Crowleys theory. Just to quickly recap: discrepancies in the details on the walls of Eden have been spotted, and at one point someone from the crew mentioned that there were "many Edens" in existence (possibly testing grounds before the real one? Or several different enclosures for the first breeding pairs? We never found out). As for Crowley - many people have noticed differences in his looks throughout season 2. Most notably, his sideburns have differing length and it shifts within the same scene, e.g. the sideburns are long in the pub, but short when he leaves the pub; they are short during the "exactlys" argument, but long when Crowley snatches his sunglasses while storming out of the bookshop. Bildad the Shuhite also has two different hairstyle (one is shorter, more evenly cut and carefully combed, whereas the other is longer and a bit more "windswept"). There's also the matter of different camera filters, which is a commonly used technique to show different worlds (think Supernatural, and I think also some MCU films?), and the disappearing props.

So, taking the sweaters into consideration, could the world of Good Omens be comprised of multiple realities? The novel is one. Season 1 is another. Season 2 shows TWO (!), which are almost identical. Who knows, perhaps the Crowley with the short sideburns managed to sway Aziraphale in the Final Fifteen, or even changed his mind and hopped on the lift at the last moment? What if, presented on the sweaters are two more? On, in which it was Crawly offering shelfter to Aziraphale, and another one in which it was Aziraphale who fell (and his hair blackened in the process). Perhaps there are versions of this (sorry, couldn't resist!) in which they both fell, neither did, or they were an established couple by season 1?

It this were to prove true in the movie, it will have some pros, of course. Firstly, it would legitimise virtually all headcanons you might have (I was a little upset when s2 finale made it clear they weren't secretly a couple before). It would also boost creativity for all the reverse!Omens fic writers. And, of course, it would explain many things fans have noticed, especially about s2.

However, other than that, I don't think I like it that much. Above all, I simply dislike multiverse - I find them often too convenient narratively, while also needlessly convoluted. But aside from that, I wouldn't be happy to see that particular take in the movie. If we were getting out 6 episodes, it would be fun to watch particular scenes and increasingly go "huh?" as we spot consecutive discrepancies and minor details that don't work. And by the time it was revealed it would feel really rewarding that you have spotted the details, even if you failed to work it all out. Within mere 90 minutes… it just doesn't feel like enough time to drop enough hints, or, alternatively, the movie would be oversaturated with them. Finally, it would mean less screentime for the mercilessly truncated Aziracrow reconcilliation arc (which I am still grieving over), as instead we would receive glimpses of different universes, while still navigating the complex Second Coming plotline. Also, what would be the endgame? All the Aziraphales and Crowleys combining their forces to beat heaven and hell/the new christ/god herself? That's a bit too Marvel if you ask me, and with all my reservations about the movie, I rather trust Narrativia to offer us something much more original.

#good omens #good omens 3 #good omens movie #yes I hate that we're only getting 90 minutes sue me #good omens movie theory #rob wilkins #good omens meta

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highladyelenna · 7 months ago

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Just finished reading ACOMAF/WAR and I was shell shocked when I realized that Amren was a biblical angel in her other world.

ACOMAF PG 339: She stared at the Book-as if it were a ghost,as if it were a miracle-and said, “It’s the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” This is spoken about the Book of Breathings. None of the IC can even recognize what language it is and Amren informs them it’s not of their world. Also the name being in Hebrew, and meaning Holy To give is kind of a dead give away.

ACOWAR PG 284: “I was perfect, according to some. I did not regret, did not mourn-and pain…I did not experience it. And yet…yet I wound up here, because I was not quite like the others. Even as-as what I was, I was different. Too curious. Too questioning. The day the rip appeared in the sky…it was curiosity the drove me. My brothers and sisters fled. Upon the order of our ruler, we had just laid waste to twin cities, smote them wholly into rubble on the plain, yet they fled from that rip. But I wanted to look. I wanted. I was not built or bred to feel such selfish things as want. I’d seen what happened to those of my kind who strayed, who learned to place their needs first. Who developed…feeling.” Angels in the bible are depicted as warriors. Soldiers. Made to only follow the orders of their commanders. To follow the word of god. To not feel human emotions. And if they were corrupted, they’d fall from their home- heaven. Perhaps the rip was Amren falling from heaven into a new world. Also the fact that this is so Castiel from supernatural coded. “I yielded my grace-my perfect immortality. I knew that once I did…I would feel pain. And regret. I would want, and I would burn with it. I would…fall.”

ACOWAR PG 658: “I had not been designed that way, had not been ordered to do so. So, I watched. And that day I came here…it was the first selfish thing I had done. For a long, long while I thought it was punishment for disobeying my Father’s orders, for wanting.” “I wonder if my Father knew.” Again the wording here, designed and ordered. And the capitalization of the word Father here really puts it into perspective considering this is the only time the word “father” has a capitalization in the books.

ACOWAR PG 659: “And I could have sworn I saw great, burning wings, each feather a shimmering ember, spread wide. Could have sworn a crown of incandescent light floated just above her burning hair.” One could argue that “crown floating above her hair” is a halo.

But yeah, that’s my theory at least. Let me know if you guys have the same thought or something different!

#a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #amren #amren acotar #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #acotar #acotar theory

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bardic-tales · 1 month ago

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Oc-tober: Day 28: Monster

Content Warnings: alien power, body horror, chaos, combat, corruption, cosmic horror, demons, eldritch themes, infections, invasive behavior, life-draining, living nightmares, manifestations, supernatural, sword violence, tendrils, unsettling presence, visceral imagery, wounds

Bianca fits into the eldritch category. She is actually a cosmic horror. Outside of her true draconic form, she has tendrils that manifest from her back, writhing beneath her wings during combat. These tendrils tend to act like they have a life of their own, twisting through the air to either pierce or siphon life from her enemies.

When I was coming up with Bianca's character design, I wanted to show a manifestation of her corrupted abilities, so they can be seen as an extension of her corrupted powers.

The eldritch qualities tend to showcase her connection to the supernatural, often showing her with a visceral, unsettling presence that defies man's logic. Her sword, Noctemaris, acts as a focus to keep her abilities in check until she can control them. When unleashed, they tend to defy natural laws, coiling into reality like shadows that can wound and infect, too. They reflect her chaotic nature and the vast, alien power she wields, as in my lore angels and demons are just beings from another dimension.

Bianca's eldritch traits remind humanity that she is a living nightmare far beyond the comprehension of man.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @asirensrage @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9

@watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @seastarblue @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen

@chickensarentcheap

#bweirdoctober #oc-tober #oc-tober2024 #oc-tober: fwc: ff #oc: bianca moore - ff #final fantasy vii oc #ff vii oc #oc: bianca moore - original #oc-tober: day 28: monster

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were-bastard · 5 months ago

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Hey dude!! Thanks for always liking my posts! You rock!! 😸 I think you’re super cool btw! Being a fellow cat AND a thunderstorm too?? That rocks!!! How did you discover you were a thunderstorm? Does the feeling tie into being a griffin too since griffins can fly and thunderstorms are above ground, or are they more separate feelings?

Sorry for not answering this sooner! I saw your question and I had to think about it for a WHILE.

Extremely Long Ramble below:

So, I’m still not sure if I actually am a thunderstorm itself, but I’ve always (like, since I was a kit) been extremely connected to storms and other such weather. Whenever it’s stormy out, or just “bad weather” (the best kind of weather) like hail or rain, I cant help but smile ridiculously. I love it so much and I associate myself strongly with it.

Additionally, as you said, me being a gryphon gives me another layer of deep love for and connection to the sky and its weather. Something interesting I’ve found is that I (as a gryphon) consider myself under the umbrella of dragon, though moreso dragonfolk than anything, and (being a werecat), I see myself in most big cats (& larger lesser cats). As a werecat, I carry many lion and mountain lion traits- including my build and coloration. So, I find it fascinating that I associate thunderstorms with these creatures. Did I project myself onto them, or did they leave an imprint on me?

In a bit more detail, storms always felt like they embodied the archetypical role of a lion or a dragon- like how a thunderstorm can purr or roar, how it can shake the sky, and is, in general, animalistic. Weather always seemed like a living thing to me (in a way).

It’s also always been interesting that I, as both a sub-arctic gryphon and a cold weather feline (with thick fur & feathers) am so well suited to storms. The storms I’m used to are cold and biting, and I, in a body that is without my true fur or feathers, somehow was born with all of the features I need to endure the cold and wind. As an avian and a feline, I should have thick integument, ample fat reserves, and thick skin to insulate me. And somehow, despite being born into a body that is neither of these creatures, I have these things. Out of most people I knew, I’ve always been uniquely suited for harsh weather and cold environments that perfectly match my hearthome- the habitat I should be in.

I’m not spiritual in any way, yet the perfect alignment of my shape and the ability to enjoy the storms I so love is amazing. I’m a bird whose literally meant to hold and be held by the sky, and despite it being unable to reach me here, I still carry the traits that show I belong to it. Being so intertwined with something like that, in both love for it and design for it, often makes it difficult to distinguish between it and myself. When a bird is flying in the sky, being lifted by both its own wings and the sky’s updrafts/winds, is it strange to not separate the two? When I fly (if I COULD) we’re the same entity, I am a bird up in the sky- in a storm- just as I am the storm and the sky carrying a bird within it.

That interconnectedness often leaves me with a feeling similar to an almost animalistic angel. Since I am both myself and the storm, it’s difficult to perceive the whole of me without losing part of it from your field of view. Having my feathers, my talons, my wings, and pairing those with something as ever shifting as a storm gives the impression of an angel, despite me being perfectly mundane. It makes me feel bigger than myself, which is a sensation similar to the divinity(?) of a fallen angel- changed, but not fallen too far (aligned with earth). I fill that grey space that often drives humans to apotheosis, something large and impactful, but not supernatural. Like how some people say a supercomputer or the interconnected root system of a forest is an “angel”. I’m not divine, deific, or angelic, just large and interwoven between the parts of myself.

Being dragonkith as well gives a sense of belonging with the large growling things of the sky (not saying all dragons must be large or flighted, but those are the ones I relate my storm + self form to). As a gryphon on my own, I am a creature (or even a critter)- barely bigger than a bobcat and only intimidating towards small rodents and leporids- but in tandem with a storm, I am a beast, a force to be reckoned with (a dragon, in a sense).

I haven’t found a label that encompasses my “connected -> being” feeling that I have for storms and the sky, and despite attempting to make my own label, nothing fits. So, I just say that I’m a thunderstorm- even though that doesn’t even begin to cover or properly convey being sense of being.

So, yeah! I’m a thunderstorm, both distinct from my gryphon-ness and because of it!

#I’m so sorry for y’all who opened the read more #Zeph Squawks #Bird Stuff #felid follies #the sky above #therian #alterhuman #nonhuman #otherkin #gryphonkin #griffinkin #griffonkin #dragonkith #dragonhearted #wingkin #aviankin #dragonvibes

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melodyfsoul1 · 8 months ago

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Supernatural Angel Wings, Castiel

Made a couple designs for Cas, the first one being his original wings, then after pulling Dean from Hell, and finally after his Fall.

#My Supernatural Angel Wing Designs #Supernatural Angel Wings #supernatural angels #supernatural wings #supernatural fanart #supernatural #spn #spn fanart #angel wings #I'm a sucker for Wings #We never get to see The Angel's actual Wings in Supernatural so I designed my own Wings for them #my art #Supernatural Castiel #castiel #castiel fanart

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theliterarywolf · 10 months ago

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"Which is why I'm certain that the whole thing is less 'Heaven is evil' and more 'even angels have no idea what's going on, hence Sera's out here making faces that are the embodiment of 'I'm SHOOK'" Considering the conspicuous lack of mention of God (iirc), I'm suspecting (read: Hoping) that he's the one ultimately pulling strings for betterment across Creation and is the one who sent Pentious not only to Heaven, but directly into the Seraphim's laps. And that the reason he's not around is because he pulled a Supernatural!God and left because he got sick of watching his creations kill and be cruel to each other constantly. The reason Charlie's little story at the beginning seemed to act as if Heaven collectively started everything is because Lucifer would obviously be petty towards his former boss who booted him and his wife out. (You know before Supernatural fucked that up and went "jk God's actually evil lmao" in the last season) Also re: Ken Penders. I could swear he actually deleted his Twitter account, so if that's the case no need to worry! cross your fingers!

Imagine Hazbin ending with an incredibly down-to-earth conversation between God and Charlie, like:

Charlie - You're in charge of... not just Heaven but EVERYTHING! Why didn't you step in?! God - Oh, little one... Just as inquisitive as your father. And just as fiery as your mother. I'll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes when you do just enough, people will be able to wonder if you did anything at all. Look at your little hotel. Yes, Adam and Lute's little temper-tantrum caused it to be destroyed, but in the wake of that destruction..? Charlie - We were able to make it bigger. God - Now you're starting to get it. Just as you can't force sinners into redemption, I can't force people into doing my will. They have to discover it on their own. Hm? Charlie - I... guess that makes sense. God - Thatta girl. Now, go on. I'm sure that Saint Pentious and Emily aren't going to be able to keep Sera from blowing a gasket much longer. Oh, Charlie? One more thing? Charlie - Oh, uh... Sure! God - Do me a solid and tell Vagatha to visit every once and a while. She was able to remember her wings, after all.

And, of course, the Hellaverse design for God is a giant eyeball or something.

#discussion #speculation

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metalmonki · 13 days ago

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Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Night had settled, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Dean and I lay tangled together in his bed, the dim light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of leather and gun oil mingled with the faint crispness of the night air wafting through the open window.

Dean was propped up on one elbow, his other arm draped casually across my waist. His fingers idly traced patterns on my hip as we talked about the plan for the next day. Sam had found another hunt—something about a possible poltergeist in Kansas—and we’d decided to hit the road first thing in the morning.

“Back to business as usual, huh?” I murmured, my voice low to match the stillness of the night.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, except now I’ve got you riding shotgun and no excuses to pretend I don’t want you there.”

I chuckled softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Better not make me regret it, Winchester.”

His hand paused for a moment, then he tipped his head down to kiss my forehead. “Not a chance.”

The quiet that followed was comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. I was just about to close my eyes when the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings filled the room.

Dean and I both sat bolt upright, and there, at the foot of the bed, stood Castiel. His piercing blue eyes flicked between us, and his brow furrowed deeply, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with what could only be described as confusion—and maybe a hint of disapproval.

“You’re in the same bed,” Castiel said, his tone blunt and unfiltered, as always. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Cas, seriously? You ever heard of knocking? Or I don’t know, not teleporting into people’s bedrooms?”

Castiel ignored him, his gaze fixed on me now, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’ve been speaking with God,” he said gravely, “and He is… displeased.”

That got Dean’s attention. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up, his voice laced with irritation. “Displeased about what, exactly?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, his trench coat rustling as he crossed his arms. “You and Y/N,” he said simply. “You are disrupting His plans.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up. “Disrupting His plans? What does that even mean?”

Cas took a step closer, his expression more serious than usual. “God’s plan for you, Dean, and for you, Y/N, did not involve this... union.” He gestured vaguely at the bed, as though the sight of us there was evidence enough. “Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that God’s got a problem with me finally being happy? That’s rich, Cas. Real rich.”

“It’s not about happiness,” Cas replied, his tone more urgent now. “It’s about purpose. Your paths were meant to remain parallel, not intersect.”

Dean scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, squaring off with the angel. “Yeah, well, maybe God’s plans suck, Cas. Ever think of that? Maybe we’re done playing by His rules.”

Cas tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “You would defy God’s will for this?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he glanced back at me before answering. “For her? Yeah, I would.”

The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood up beside him, crossing my arms as I faced Cas. “If we’re ruining God’s plans, maybe it’s because they weren’t the right ones to begin with.”

Cas regarded us both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a rare and almost human sound. “You’re treading dangerous ground,” he warned. “God does not take kindly to deviations.”

Dean stepped closer, his voice firm. “Tell Him we’re not His puppets. If He’s got a problem, He knows where to find me.”

Cas looked at him, then at me, a flicker of something—doubt? Worry?—crossing his face. Without another word, he disappeared in a rustle of wings, leaving us standing there in the quiet room.

Dean turned to me, his hand finding mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Are you?”

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Cas can tell God whatever he wants. You and me? That’s the plan I’m sticking to.”

I smiled despite the lingering unease. Whatever storm was brewing, we’d face it together.

The next morning, the Impala roared to life, the familiar rumble filling the air as we hit the road toward Kansas. Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his movements effortless as he navigated the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Sam was in the backseat, a stack of papers balanced on his lap as he rattled off details about the case. “Any family that moves in moves back out again within about a month—objects moving on their own, cold spots, and what sounds like footsteps in the attic. A couple of classic poltergeist markers. No deaths so far.”

Theresa leaned against the window, arms crossed, nodding along. “And you’re sure it’s not just residual energy? Last time, we wasted a whole day on what turned out to be a faulty HVAC system.”

Sam shot her a look. “Pretty sure. There’s also been some whispering voices and a mirror shattering. That’s not exactly a draft.”

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing scenery, barely listening. Castiel’s words from the night before kept echoing in my mind: Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design. I tried to push it away, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Dean’s voice pulled me out of my spiral. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I blinked, glancing over at him. His green eyes flicked from the road to me, concern etched into his expression. He’d always had a way of seeing right through me, even when I tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been quiet. And not the good kind of quiet—like, something’s on your mind kind of quiet.”

Theresa leaned forward slightly from the back, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve been zoning out since we left Bobby’s. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Sam and Theresa before looking at Dean. “It’s nothing,” I said finally, but my voice lacked conviction.

Dean’s hand shifted on the wheel, his knuckles brushing against mine in a brief but grounding touch. “If it’s nothing, why are you chewing on it like it’s gonna bite back?”

Sam sighed from the back, folding the papers in his hands. “This about Castiel?” Dean asked.

I tensed, and Dean’s jaw tightened. “Cas? What about him?” Sam asked.

I exhaled, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s just… what he said last night. About us messing up God’s plans.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, God’s plans haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows, have they? You think I care what He thinks about us?”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it’s not that simple, Dean. What if—”

Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “No. There’s no ‘what if.’ You and me? That’s not up for debate. Not for God, not for Cas, not for anyone.”

Theresa leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not exactly Team God either, but maybe there’s something to it. If Cas thinks it’s important enough to show up, it’s worth considering.”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah, well, considering doesn’t mean worrying yourself sick over it. Cas said his piece, and we said ours. End of story.”

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I get where you’re coming from, Y/N. But Dean’s right—God’s plans haven’t exactly worked out for us in the past. Maybe it’s time we make our own.”

I looked out the window again, the Kansas plains stretching endlessly before us. Dean’s hand reached over, resting briefly on my knee.

“You’re with me, right?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. “Always.”

He smiled, and for a moment, the weight of Castiel’s words seemed lighter. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t facing it alone.

The motel room was as bland as they came—beige walls, worn-out carpet, and a bed that creaked if you so much as breathed wrong. But after a long day of nothing but mold inspections and realizing the supposed "haunting" was a total bust, it felt like a luxury. The air still carried a faint scent of bleach from when housekeeping had gone over the room earlier, but at least it was clean.

Sam and Theresa had decided to make the most of the free evening, heading out to a local diner that Sam had claimed made "the best pie in Kansas." Dean had scoffed at the idea of any pie being better than the ones at a certain diner three states over, but he didn��t argue when Sam handed him the room key and said they’d be back later.

Dean and I had opted to stay in, the lure of a quiet night too tempting after the day’s events. Now, we were curled up in bed, the flickering glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Dean had one arm around me, his other hand resting lazily on the remote as he channel-surfed through a lineup of mostly forgettable shows.

“Is it just me,” he murmured, “or is TV getting worse?”

I mumbled something incoherent in response, half-asleep against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing, combined with the low hum of the TV, had lulled me into a state of complete relaxation. My hand rested lightly on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Dean glanced down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re not gonna weigh in on the great TV debate, huh?”

I didn’t answer, already lost to sleep. Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my shoulder as he turned his attention back to the screen. Some old western was playing, the kind with over-the-top gunfights and dramatic music. It wasn’t exactly gripping, but it was enough to keep him entertained.

The room was peaceful, the kind of quiet that rarely came in our line of work. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling the rare comfort of contentment as he listened to my soft, even breathing.

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

Dean’s entire body tensed as the fluttering noise filled the room, disrupting the calm like a ripple through still water. He glanced down at me, relieved to see I was still fast asleep, before his eyes darted toward the foot of the bed.

And there he was—Castiel, standing stiffly in his trench coat, his blue eyes locked on Dean with the same intensity they always carried.

Dean sighed heavily, careful not to wake me as he shifted to sit up straighter. “Really, Cas? You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Dean to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that might have been disapproval. “I have news,” he said simply, his voice as gravelly and direct as ever.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before looking back at the angel. “Can it wait? She’s finally sleeping.”

Cas didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his full attention back to Dean. “No. It cannot wait.”

Dean sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Of course it can’t.”

The TV droned on in the background, the light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room as the scene faded into silence, leaving only the weight of whatever news Castiel had brought hanging in the air.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam x reader

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zifey · 8 months ago

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with ur ocs, im curious about that other comic idea u mentioned, think it called post mortem on twitter, what would it be about? and with izzy stuff, possible doodles would be cool since u said u wanna focus more on the other comic idea for now! also, im kinda curious about zephyrs design, i hope this isnt spoilery, but i wonder if those little wings might mean theres something supernatural about the character or not 🤔

Thank you for asking!! In short, Post_Mortem will be a comic about trauma, tyranny, friendship, and purgatory! That’s all i can really say about it now haha (for spoiler reasons). I haven’t mentioned it here quite yet, but the comic will be out in only a few months! First chapter is set to be out mid-June if everything goes well, on the neocities I’m almost done with (will post the link here when it’s done). When it comes out, I’m planning to make a tumblr page for it so people can ask questions and interact with me more about it specifically, so stay tuned for that!

As for Izzy and Elegy’s seperate story, “Izzy and the Necromancer”, yeah you’re correct, i’m not focusing on that so much at the moment, since i am on the Post_Mortem grind rn lol. I will for sure post about it here and there though! I still love my little sillies.

Since you asked about Zephyrs wings.. i feel the need to answer your question but… it’s a little complicated… The story takes place from Elegy’s perspective for the most part, so it’s sort of how she sees him I guess? The wings are more metaphorical than literal, he’s a person she’s been very close to for a long time. He’s the first person she came out to, and someone who’s always had her back, and so she views him as i suppose “a little angel” in her own emo way. She totally looks up to him since he’s mostly got everything figured out (college, relationships, family, etc) and everything seems to work out for him all the time (or so she thinks) That’s the best explanation I can give!! :P

#oc #asks #ask more questions guys i have fun answering!!!#i hope this all made sense

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downbad4yoongi · 10 months ago

Text

Fall from Grace

🤍Pairing: Demon!Jin x Angel!Jimin 🤍WC: 5,058 🤍Genre/warnings: angel and demons au, betrayal, smut, fluff

🤍Rating: R

🤍Summary: The rules for angels and demons are simple and straightforward, and can be summed up as: don’t interact.

A/N: This story is part of BTS Fests' Angels & Demons Fest!

Thank you to my betas: @colormepurplex2 and @moonleeai. Many hugs to @colormepurplex2 for my banner.

A Flicker in the Twilight

The twilight hums with the city’s heartbeat. Neon gods of advertisement pulse against the fading sky, casting a garish glamor on the throngs below. Lost in the kaleidoscope of chrome and flesh, Jin savors the symphony of human anxieties. They pulse through him, a delectable chaos dancing on his tongue. It is like the finest wine, this mortal cocktail – intoxicating, unpredictable, infinitely more thrilling than the bland ambrosia of his celestial past.

Leaning against the side of a building, Jin, once a grotesque tapestry of shadow and bone, now shimmers with angelic grace, courtesy of a botched mission and a particularly potent curse. He revels in the dissonance, the whispers of his true nature tickling the edges of his angelic façade. Humans, constantly oblivious to the storm brewing inside him, mistake his charm for benevolence, his mischievous grin for a divine smile. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a predator in a sanctuary of light.

He twirls a strand of hair as he watches the countless hordes of faceless humans stride past him. Humans, like fireflies, flit across the avenues, their souls like flickering flames. Most hold no interest, their predictability a dull ache in his immortal boredom. But then, a glint of pure, celestial light catches his eye. An angel, disguised in the borrowed flesh of a human youth, stands on the corner adjacent to him, radiating an aura as vibrant as a sunrise. He watches on as the angel, resplendent even in the mortal flesh, navigates the human tide with an awkward grace.

Jimin's name echoes in Jin’s mind, a whisper plucked from the supernatural airwaves. Jin cocks his head, watching the celestial, discerning that he is a novice. Jimin is inexperienced, a wide-eyed fawn in a wolf’s den.

Jimin’s innocence is like virgin snow, pure and untainted, waiting to be imprinted with the dark designs of Jin’s twisted amusement.

The perfect game piece.

A thrill dances through Jin like a lightning bolt, not the usual hum of predatorial amusement, but something altogether sharper, more intoxicating. A mischievous curl creeps onto Jin’s lips. With a practiced grace, that has been honed from centuries of deception, he weaves through the throng, the city lights glinting off his unseen wings.

“Lost, little lamb?” Jin’s voice, honeyed and smooth, cuts through the city’s cacophony.

Jimin turns, his cognac eyes widening in surprise. The golden rays emanating from his disguised form cast an ethereal glow across the chaotic street. But it is the darkness, a whisper hidden in the depths of his gaze, that draws Jin in. A flicker of rebellion, a crack in the otherworldly armor.

Jimin, drawn by a force he can’t comprehend, steps closer. The aura around Jin, a faint hum of darkness, should send him fleeing. Yet, he finds himself drawn deeper, a curiosity eclipsing his fear, curiosity over encountering another being like himself.

“N-no,” Jimin stammers, adjusting his borrowed human form with self-conscious fiddling. “Just…observing.”

Jin chuckles. “Observing the fascinating creatures of this earth, are we?” Jin offers a hand. “Well, allow me to offer some guidance. I know these streets better than any moonbeam.” This isn’t just amusement anymore. This is a challenge, a dance on the precipice of forbidden desire.

Jimin hesitates, the wings under his human guise rustle like whispered prayers. Then, with a sigh that ruffles the city air, he takes the offered hand, his fingers brushing against Jin’s with a spark that sends shivers down the demon’s spine.

“Thank you,” Jimin breathes, his gaze lingers on Jin for a beat too long, a whisper of starlight battling the celestial fire in his eyes.

The walk through the bustling city offers a motley of sights and smells for Jimin. Jin, his guide and tormentor in equal measure, navigates the throngs with practiced ease, a picture of casual charm. Jimin, on the other hand, is a clumsy swan in a human pond, his borrowed skin prickling with unease.

“So, earth delights you?” Jin asks, his voice a silken thread woven through the city’s hum.

Jimin blushes, his celestial aura flickering like an overeager candle. “It’s…overwhelming,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “So much chaos, so much life.”

Jin chuckles a rich, dark sound that resonates in Jimin’s chest. “A chaos that dances to its own rhythm, wouldn’t you say?” He stops abruptly, his eyes glinting with an amusement that sends a tingle down Jimin’s spine. “Does it resonate with you, little angel?”

Jimin’s wings twitch under his borrowed skin. He knows he shouldn’t linger, and he can sense that there is more to Jin than he sees. Yet, Jin’s presence is a maelstrom he can’t seem to resist.

“There’s something…” Jimin begins, his voice barely a sigh. “A spark in this chaos, a warmth that draws me in.” He meets Jin’s gaze, the astral fire in his eyes battling the forbidden embers that flicker there.

Jin’s smile deepens, a knowing curve that sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine. “Ah, the forbidden fruit, angel. Sweetest when plucked from the branches of danger.” He leans in, his breath a whisper of brimstone against Jimin’s ear. “But remember, little one, even the most tempting fruit can leave a bitter taste.”

Jimin’s heart hammers against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a gilded cage. The spark in Jin’s eyes, the warmth of his touch, draws him in like a moth to a flame.

“I…I don’t care about the consequences,” Jimin whispers, his voice barely a tremor. “I only know that this moment, this feeling, it’s worth the risk.”

Jin’s smile widens, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Foolish angel,” he murmurs, his voice a caress. “Then let us dance, shall we? Let us taste the forbidden fruit and see if its sweetness outweighs the sting.”

He slips his hand around Jimin’s, his touch sending a jolt of forbidden electricity through the angel’s borrowed form. And with that, they step deeper into the city’s twilight.

Eventually, their journey finds them using a fire escape to settle on a rooftop. The city sprawls out beneath them like a glittering tapestry. The wind whispers secrets through the night, carrying the scent of jasmine and asphalt. Jin feels a flicker of something unexpected. Not the sharp thrill of anticipation, but a pang of something akin to regret.

Was it the way Jimin’s youthful face pales in the moonlight or the earnest tremor in his voice as he whispers, “This place is beautiful,” that touches a dormant chord within Jin?

For a fleeting moment, Jin sees himself reflected in Jimin's starlit eyes. Not the monstrous entity of shadow and bone, but the young, ethereal creator he once was before the curse, before the fall. An echo of the celestial light he had long extinguished in himself.

Jin feels a strange vulnerability bloom within himself, a yearning for something he can’t name. Standing back, observing Jimin’s awe, he shakes himself. This is just a game, a predator’s pursuit—no room for hesitation, no space for compassion.

Yet, as Jimin turns to him, his face alight with wonder, Jin finds himself hesitating. For the first time in centuries, the predator holds back, the wolf unsure of its prey.

The game had just begun, and the rules, it seemed, were about to change.

Jin’s façade trembles under Jimin’s gaze, the carefully crafted mask of charm threatening to crack under the weight of an unwelcome emotion. The devil within him snarls, urging him to pounce, to exploit the celestial’s trust. Yet, the merest whisper against the infernal damnation of his being echoes louder, a flicker of empathy he can’t quite extinguish.

Jin swallows the tightness in his throat, forcing his lips into a familiar, playful smirk. “Beautiful indeed, little lamb. This is just the beginning. There are secrets woven into this city’s very fabric, waiting to be unraveled.”

Jimin tilts his head, the naive curiosity in his eyes still undimmed. “Will you help me find them?”

The question hangs in the air, a challenge and an invitation. Jin stares into the depths of those starlit eyes, searching for a hint of suspicion, a flicker of fear. But there is only trust, a pure and unadulterated yearning for knowledge and adventure.

In that moment, the predator falters. The game, he realizes, isn’t just about to change. It is about to shatter. He could still twist the knife, manipulate Jimin’s trust for his own amusement, but the thrill feels hollow, poisoned by the unexpected pang of something akin to…responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of night air filling his lungs. “Yes,” he says, the word heavy on his tongue. “I’ll help you.”

The decision tastes like ashes in his mouth, a bitter compromise between his monstrous nature and the ghost of his celestial past. He watches the smile blossom on Jimin’s face, a light that could rival the moon. Jin knows this isn’t just a game anymore. It is a dance on the precipice, a perilous tango between darkness and light, with the fate of two celestial souls hanging in the balance.

His gaze lingers on Jimin, the forbidden yearning gnawing at this resolve. This isn’t part of the plan, this impossible, intoxicating pull. But as Jimin’s eyes meet his, a larger spark of uncertainty ignites within the demon, and the fragile dam around Jin’s desires crumbles. Jin’s breath hitches. He knows the danger, the impossibility of their connection. But in the face of Jimin’s vulnerability, his own desire pulses with a forbidden fire.

Their lips meet in a kiss, a clash of celestial fire and demonic embers. It is a taste of forbidden fruit, sweet and intoxicating. As their lips part, a gasp escapes Jimin's mouth, a flicker of fear battling with the dawning realization of what they were doing. Jin sees it, the internal war raging within the angel. And in that moment, he knows the game has definitely changed. This isn’t just a dance with fate; it is a tightrope walk over the abyss, a gamble with their very souls.

But as the city lights shimmer around them, casting their forbidden tryst in a seductive glow, Jin can’t help but smile. He is a demon in angel's clothing, and he has just found his most tempting sin.

The night stretches before them, a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of their forbidden desire. And as they stand there, bathed in the twilight, the city holds its breath, waiting to see what masterpiece would be born from the ashes of their celestial clash.

Whispers in the Moonlight

The city, a pulsing tapestry of sin and salvation, thrums with the electric tension of their forbidden entanglement. As dawn bleeds into dusk, Jin and Jimin meet in the shadowed corner of a long abandoned courtyard, hearts echoing a forbidden rhythm. Jin, cloaked in starlight, leads Jimin on a waltz through the neon wilderness, every whisper a searing brand against the angel’s soul.

Jimin, wings folded beneath a borrowed human skin, wrestles with the celestial fire simmering within. Duty whispers harsh reprimands, yet defiance roars like a caged beast. Jin, the devil on his shoulder, grins with eyes like bottomless pools, each touch a whispered promise of rebellion.

The city lights shimmer on Jimin’s skin, turning his eyes into molten gold. He trembles, not from fear, but from the intoxicating mix of temptation and longing that Jin ignites inside him.

Jin leans in close enough for Jimin to feel the warmth of his breath against his cheek. “Do you hear it, angel?” he utters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. “The city’s heartbeat, pulsing with the rhythm of our forbidden song?”

His words are steeped in temptation. Jimin feels the celestial fire flicker, threatened by the seductive darkness Jin offers. He yearns to know the taste of rebellion, to shed the shackles of angelic rigidity and fly on the wings of his own desires.

Jimin, his heart a frantic drum against ribs, swallows hard. He can hear it, echoing in the symphony of car horns and distant laughter, a primal pulse that mirrors the yearning of his soul.

“It’s… maddening,” he whispers, his voice barely audible above the city’s din.

Jin chuckles, a sound like tinkling ice against velvet. “Maddeningly beautiful, isn’t it?”

His thumb brushes the crest of Jimin’s cheek, the touch sending a jolt of forbidden electricity through him. Jimin’s eyes melt even further under the neon sky and meet Jin’s, the heat of their gaze a silent conversation—unspoken questions dance in the air between them.

“Jin,” Jimin breathes, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. “I… I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a discordant note introduced to their orchestra. Jin’s smile falters for a moment but is quickly masked by his impassive façade. “And what, angel,” he drawls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, “is it that you can’t do?”

Jimin flinches at the challenge in Jin’s eyes. He knows he is playing with fire. While romantic dalliances with other angels aren’t forbidden, they aren’t looked on kindly, which is enough to deter most.

But something, some spark of rebellion, ignites deep within him, refusing to be silenced.

“I can’t deny this,” he says, his voice gaining strength with every word. “This…this fire that burns between us. We may be angels, Jin, but we are also men. And this city, this dark and beautiful chaos…it sings a song that my soul yearns to hear.”

The silence that follows Jimin’s confession is thick with unspoken tension. Jin’s eyes, usually warm and playful, flicker with a hidden storm. He takes a step toward Jimin, his gaze raking over him with an intensity that sends a shiver down the younger angel’s spine.

The city lights, once a backdrop to their clandestine meetings, now throb with a new meaning. The neon signs bleed into their vision, painting the shadows on their faces with a kaleidoscope of emotions. The symphony of car horns and distant laughter becomes a seductive song, urging them closer to the edge of what is and what isn’t permissible.

Jimin, emboldened by the defiance in Jin’s eyes, reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of Jin’s jaw. The touch is a spark, igniting a wildfire that threatens to consume them both. Jin’s breath hitches, and for a fleeting moment, his celestial façade flickers, revealing the hungry demon beneath.

Jin, feigning reluctance, breathes, “We can’t. The consequences…”

But Jimin, his heart pounding a forbidden drumbeat, cuts him off. “Consequences be damned,” he whispers, his lips brushing against Jin’s ear.

With that, he pulls Jin into a kiss, a desperate, hungry press of lips that speaks volumes of unspoken yearnings. The kiss is a rebellion, a declaration of defiance against the sterile order of their celestial existence. It is a taste of the forbidden fruit, a glimpse of a world where love, not duty, dictates their actions.

As they break apart, breathless and reeling, the city lights seem to dance in celebration. The air crackles with an electric tension, the very fabric of their world shimmering with the weight of their choice. One of them knows the path they are embarking on is fraught with danger, while the other leads them down this defiant path. In that moment, surrounded by the cacophony of the city, they only see each other, a beacon of light in the darkness.

The moon, a pearl amidst the velvet tapestry of night, bathes the hidden courtyard in an ethereal glow. Jasmine tendrils, heavy with moonlit secrets, cling to the crumbling brick walls, weaving a fragrant canopy above Jimin and Jin. Here, within the shadows, the celestial rules morph and blur, their breaths forming wispy constellations against the obsidian sky.

Jin, his dark hair a curtain against the lunar silver, cradles Jimin’s face in his hands. “There’s more to existence than humans and harp strings, angel,” he murmurs, his voice a caress against Jimin’s trembling lips. “The world whispers forgotten stories.”

Jimin, his resolve a fluttering moth against Jin’s intoxicating whispers, surrenders. He longs for the taboo secrets Jin offers, each a forbidden fruit bursting with a thousand forbidden flavors. Jin speaks of earthly music that makes the soul quake, of laughter that echoes through cobbled streets, of the bittersweet tang of tears shed for love and loss. He paints the world with his words, worlds where angels dance with mortals, where moonlight sculpts shadows into lovers’ embraces.

“And you,” Jin murmurs, his lips trailing along Jimin’s jaw, “you, my angel, hold within you the music of a thousand unplayed instruments. Let me hear your orchestra,” he pleads, his voice raw with the hunger for what they both know is improper.

Jimin, his hidden wings trembling like fervent prayers, traces the forbidden map of Jin’s lips. “I… I fear the melody might be discordant,” he breathes, his voice a thread lost in the music of the night.

Jin chuckles, a sound like wind chimes kissed by the starlight. “Then let me be your maestro, angel,” he whispers, his lips brushing against Jimin’s ear. “Together, we’ll orchestrate a symphony that will defy the heavens themselves.”

And so, under the moon’s silent gaze, they meld into one as their clothes litter the cobblestone around them. Jin’s hands overflow with the ample bounty of Jimin’s ass as he eliminates any molecule of space between them. The air around them resonates with the vibrations of their moans as their thickened shafts slide against each other.

As their bodies move in harmony, a symphony of passion and desire, the boundaries between heaven and earth blur. Jimin clings to Jin, his nails digging into the smooth expanse of Jin’s back, each thrust of their hips driving them closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The courtyard, once a sheltered sanctuary, now bears witness to their entwined forms, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows upon their skin.

Their rhythm quickens, urgency fueled by the forbidden nature of their love. Jimin’s breath hitches as pleasure courses through him like an electric current. He presses his forehead against Jin’s, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze that speaks of devotion and rebellion. At this moment, they are no longer angels bound by celestial laws; they are simply two souls set on fire, seeking solace in each other’s embrace.

The symphony of car horns and distant laughter fades into the background as their moans fill the air, mingling with the rustle of the jasmine tendrils above. The earthy scent of the cobblestones mixes with the musk of their desire, the ground trembling beneath the force of their passion.

Jin leans in, his lips brushing against Jimin’s neck, his voice a whisper against his skin. “Fear not, my love,” he says. “Our music is perfect, even in its forbidden form.”

Jimin gasps as Jin thrusts harder against him, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in Jin’s hair, his nails biting into his scalp. “Yes, Jin,” he moans, “make me your muse.”

The two continue their dance of passion, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The jasmine tendrils above, heavy with blooms, seem to sway in time with their movements, adding a sweet fragrance to the air. Their moans echo through the courtyard, the sound of two souls joining together in a forbidden ensemble. The moon watches over them, its light casting silvery beams upon their entwined forms. As they reach the crescendo, their bodies colliding and surrendering to the forbidden music, the world around them seems to pause in reverence.

Finally, the moment arrives. The tension between them is palpable as they stand on the brink of the abyss. Jin's eyes lock onto Jimin's, his gaze intense and full of desire. In that moment, their connection is tangible. Jimin's fingers tug at Jin's hair, pulling him closer. Jin's lips devour Jimin's in an all-consuming kiss, the taste of forbidden fruit on their tongues. The air around them crackles with electricity, singeing the air surrounding them.

Jin's hips thrust harder against Jimin, their movements syncopated and raw. The heat from their bodies radiates outward, leaving the rest of the world behind. Their existence is limited to this moment, this place, this kiss.

As the last shuddering breath leaves their lips, they collapse against each other, their bodies spent. The moon's gaze fades, and the courtyard returns to its quiet solitude.

In the aftermath, Jin and Jimin lay entangled in each other's arms, their breaths slowing and their hearts beating as one. Jin knew this moment would come, but he had not anticipated the depths of emotions that would ensue. He feels a mix of euphoria and trepidation, his heart pounding in his chest.

Jimin, on the other hand, struggles with the implications of their actions. He had thought to quash his longings, keeping them hidden beneath layers of celestial duty. Now, he finds those same longings have become impossible to ignore.

The consequences of their tryst linger on the horizon, a faint dissonance in the night’s melody. But for now, they bask in the lingering traces of their forbidden love. Jimin's fingers trace delicate patterns on Jin's bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He looks up into Jin's eyes, the weight of their actions and the uncertainty of the future settling upon him like a heavy cloak.

"What have we done?" Jimin whispers, his voice laced with both regret and longing. "Is this worth defying everything we know?"

Jin's gaze meets Jin's, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions that Jimin can't fully read. "Perhaps," he replies softly, "love is not meant to be bound by rules and expectations. Maybe it is meant to be wild, untamed, and willing to risk everything."

Jimin's heart swells at Jin's words, his fingers tightening their grip on Jin's body. He knows that the path they have chosen is treacherous and that they will face obstacles unlike any they have encountered before.

Celestial Fear

Dawn creeps through the cityscape, painting the courtyard in a blush of pink. Jimin stirs, his eyelids fluttering open to the sight of Jin’s sleeping face, the warmth of his breath tickling Jimin’s cheek. The forbidden intimacy of their entwined bodies sends a shiver through him, a delicious echo of their celestial rebellion.

But as Jimin traces the line of Jin’s jaw with his fingers, a shadow flickers across Jin’s eyes, a darkness deeper than the city’s nocturnal embrace. It was fleeting, gone as soon as it appeared, yet it left a tremor in Jimin’s heart.

“Jin,” he whispers, his voice hesitant, “what was that?”

Jin’s eyes flutter open, the celestial depths replaced by a flicker of embers, a glimpse of something wild and untamed. He sits up, pulling away from Jimin, and for a moment, Jimin feels a chill crawl down his spine.

“Nothing,” Jin says, his voice strained, “just a memory, a whisper from before.”

But Jimin isn’t convinced. The darkness that tinges Jin’s eyes, it isn’t mere nostalgia, it is something colder, something sharper. A doubt, a seed of suspicion, begins to sprout in Jimin’s mind.

“Before?” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “Before…what?”

Jin hesitates, his gaze flickering away. Then, with a sigh that seems to carry the weight of centuries, he turns back to Jimin, his eyes lock on his his with an intensity that makes Jimin’s heart pound.

“Angel,” he says, his voice husky, “before I met you, before all this… I was… different.”

A cold dread washes over Jimin. He knows, instinctively, that the answer he is about to hear will shatter the fragile world they have built in these stolen moments.

“Different how?” Jimin whispers, his voice trembling.

Jin reaches out, his fingers brushing against Jimin’s cheek, a fleeting touch that sends shivers down his spine. “I’m not an angel, Jimin,” he says, his voice barely audible. “I am…” he pauses, his eyes searching Jimin’s face for any sign of rejection, “I am fallen.”

The words hang heavy in the air, the revealed truth shattering the foundation of their forbidden love. Jimin stares at Jin, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Fallen. The word conjures images of rebellion, of darkness, of everything his angelic existence is supposed to reject.

But then, another truth dawns on him. The way Jin’s eyes had softened when he spoke of forbidden knowledge, the way his lips had burned against Jimin’s, the way he had whispered promises of defiant symphonies… could it be…?

“Jin,” Jimin breathes, his voice thick with emotion, “does that mean… you…”

Jin cuts him off, his lips crashing against Jimin’s in a kiss that is both desperate and tender. “You became the sun I couldn’t turn away from.”

The world spins around them. The city lights blur into a smear of monochrome. In that kiss, Jimin tastes not defiance but vulnerability, a demon confessing his love for an angel of light. And in that moment, Jimin knows, with a terrifying, exhilarating certainty, that he is falling too.

The consequences of their love looms larger than ever, a storm brewing on the horizon. But for now, under the fading blush of dawn, two souls, one fallen, one faltering, hold each other close, their defiance a whispered promise in the face of the impossible.

As the days pass, they steal fleeting moments together, each touch and stolen glance an act of rebellion against the heavens. In these stolen moments, they discover truths about themselves and each other that make their love burn even brighter. They learn that love can be both soft and fierce, a gentle caress one moment, an inferno of passion the next. And as their love grows deeper, so does the danger that lurks around them.

Whispers begin to spread through the divine airways like a dark fog descending upon their fragile haven. News of their trysts reaches the ears of the celestial council, a gathering of angelic beings who uphold the laws of the heavens. Their verdict is swift and unforgiving: Jimin and Jin's love is an abomination, a stain on the purity of their existence.

Perched on the brink of rebellion, the city quakes beneath a moonlit sky. Whispers of divine punishment swirl in the air, a constant reminder of the consequences for defying heaven's orders. Jimin feels his heart tremble as he gazes at his celestial flames, their once radiant white glow now tinged red with fear and doubts. He wants to retreat to the safe, sterile world of angels but cannot suppress the fiery longing that burns within him.

"Turn back, angel," booms a thunderous voice, sending a chill down Jimin's spine. "This path leads only to darkness."

At his side stands Jin, the fallen star, his obsidian eyes ablaze with defiance. His words are a whispered song of chaos tempting Jimin towards rebellion. "Choose, angel," he purrs, his seductive tone pulling him closer to danger. "Embrace the fire within or extinguish it under the rain of heaven."

Caught between duty and desire, Jimin stands at a crossroads with a heavy heart. Will he continue to follow his angelic purpose or surrender to the all-consuming love that threatens to devour him, wings and all? It feels like the city is holding its breath, an audience for the final act of this unlikely love story. Jimin must choose: remain shackled to heaven or fly free in Jin's embrace.

As the weight of his decision hangs in the air, Jimin feels the world around him blur into a hazy backdrop. His thoughts swirl in a tempest of conflicting desires, tearing his celestial essence apart. To choose Jin is to abandon everything he has ever known, forsaking his place among the heavens and casting aside his angelic duties. But to deny himself this love would be to wither away, a flame extinguished before it had a chance to dance and illuminate the darkness.

Jimin turns and gazes into Jin's eyes, and he sees a different kind of light - untamed and exhilarating. It beckons to him, calling him away from the predictable world of angels and towards a life filled with passion and uncertainty.

At that moment, Jimin knows what he must do. With trembling hands, he reaches out to Jin, feeling the electric current that courses between them. The celestial flames flicker their once vibrant glow, reigniting with newfound determination.

"I choose love," Jimin whispers with conviction, his voice carrying through the night sky. The heavens quake in response, thunder rolling across the city as if signifying a shifting balance of power.

As Jimin’s words echo, the air crackles with anticipation. The celestial council, shrouded in a halo of divine light, seems to hesitate, their judgment hanging heavy in the air. Jin, his face alight with a mixture of relief and defiance, grasps Jimin’s hand. Their fingers intertwine, a testament to the love that challenges the very fabric of the heavens.

The lead celestial, his voice laced with disappointment, speaks, “Your decision defies the sacred laws, angel. Are you truly prepared to face the consequences?”

Jimin, his voice unwavering, meets the celestial’s gaze. “I am,” he declares, his stance resolute. “For love, I am willing to forsake the heavens, to dance with the shadows, to face whatever judgment may come.”

A wave of murmurs sweeps through the council, some laced with disapproval, others with a glimmer of understanding. The lead celestial, his expression unreadable, ponders their response.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupts from the heavens, engulfing Jimin and Jin. It is a baptism of sorts, a celestial test of their resolve. As the light subsides, they stand there, transformed. Jimin’s angelic wings, once pristine white, now bear streaks of obsidian black.

“You have chosen,” the lead celestial booms, his voice echoing. “You have defied the heavens, and now, you shall bear the mark of your rebellion.”

Despite the mark, Jimin doesn’t feel shame but a surge of empowerment. They have chosen each other, defying the celestial order and embracing the unknown. Their path won’t be easy as the council’s judgment isn’t the end. They are now outcasts and will be hunted by celestial forces who see their love as a threat to the established order.

While their journey will be fraught with danger, heartbreak, and moments of doubt, their love will be their anchor.

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