#angel & demon AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hivemind-fantasy · 8 days ago

Text

So, this would be my first time posting an actual fanfic here, it's on ao3 also. I made this with one hand only because I just underwent surgery but nothing can stop me to write nevertheless!

Enjoy!

----------

Fading Wings

Summary: An amnesiac fallen archangel holds the key to balancing the celestial and demonic realms through a divine artifact concealed within. Betrayed by a former ally but protected by a demon devoted to her. Angel/Demon Fantasy AU. A Sabo x Reader x Coby work, multiple chapters.

Chapter 1: Shattered Wings

The cold air bites at her skin as she stumbles through the dense fog, her bare feet scraping against the jagged stones of an unfamiliar forest. The world around her is a blur of muted colors, as if everything exists behind a veil. The sky is an endless expanse of gray, swallowing any light that tries to break through.

‘Where am I? ‘

The question echoes in her mind, but the answer slips away like water through her fingers. She tries to remember—anything—but all that greets her is a hollow void where memories should be. The only sensation is a dull ache in her chest, as if something vital has been ripped from her, leaving her empty and exposed.

‘Who... am I?’

She presses her hands to her temples, hoping to force some recollection, but it's as if her past has been erased, leaving her with nothing but fragments of sensations—a fleeting warmth, the sound of distant laughter, a faint scent of rain-soaked earth. None of it makes sense. The harder she tries to grasp these wisps of memories, the faster they dissolve.

Her knees buckle beneath her, and she collapses to the damp ground, gasping for breath. She feels the sting of tears but doesn't know why she's crying. It’s not just the confusion, the loss of direction—there’s something deeper, a sorrow that claws at her heart. It’s as if she’s grieving for something she’s forgotten, a pain she cannot name.

‘What happened to me?’

Her fingers brush against her back, where she feels jagged remnants of what once might have been wings. The skin is raw, the wounds too fresh. There’s a strange sense of absence, a sensation that something sacred has been ripped away.

‘Wings... I had wings?’

The thought comes unbidden, startling her. She winces as if struck, her body instinctively curling in on itself. But she can’t remember the feel of them, can’t recall what it was like to soar through open skies. Only the ghost of that feeling remains, a faint echo that taunts her with what she has lost.

As she sits there, shivering in the shadows of the forest, she becomes aware of whispers in the distance. Voices, sharp and cold, seem to slice through the fog like blades. She doesn’t know nor recognize the owner of the voices.

“They say she fell from the heavens,” one voice hisses, carried by the wind.

“An angel cast down,” murmurs another, closer now. “But why? What did she do to deserve it?”

Fear claws at her throat. Fell from the heavens? The words strike her like a bolt of lightning, filling her with an inexplicable dread. If she truly was an angel, why can she not remember? What crime did she commit to be cast out? And why does the very thought of angels—her own kind—fill her with a sense of betrayal and terror?

‘I need to hide... ‘

The instinct to flee is overwhelming. She stumbles back to her feet, driven by a primal urge to survive, though she doesn’t understand why. She only knows that she can trust nothing and no one—not even herself.

(y/n)’s breath comes in ragged gasps as she forces herself to move through the dense underbrush. Every muscle in her body aches as if she’s been running for days, yet she knows she cannot stop. The whispers she heard earlier have grown louder, accompanied now by the faint, rhythmic sound of wings cutting through the air. Not the gentle flutter of bird wings, but something heavier, something more menacing—predatory.

She stumbles over a gnarled root, her fingers clutching desperately at the damp earth to keep herself upright. Every nerve in her body screams that she is being hunted, though she doesn’t know why. She is terrified, confused, and utterly alone.

Ahead, the forest grows denser, the twisted branches weaving together like skeletal fingers, blotting out what little light filters through the clouded sky. The air here feels colder, heavy with the scent of decay. In her mind, fragments of emotions surface—desperation, regret, fear—but they have no context, no meaning. It’s as if they belong to someone else, yet they weigh on her heart as if they are her own.

Suddenly, the ground trembles beneath her feet, and she hears the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Spread out! She cannot have gone far.”

The voice is deep, authoritative, and carries an edge of impatience. (y/n)’s pulse quickens. Without thinking, she presses herself against the trunk of a thick, ancient tree, trying to disappear into the shadows. She doesn't know who is after her, but the instinct to hide is all-consuming.

Peering cautiously around the trunk, she sees them: figures clad in silver armor that gleams even in the dim light, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly radiance. Angels—Luminara Knights. Their armor bears the golden sigil of Luminara, the celestial realm, though (y/n) does not recognize it consciously. All she knows is that the sight of them fills her with a deep, instinctive terror.

At the head of the group is a figure with blazing fern green wings, his expression stern and unyielding. This is Coby, one of the Virtue Lieutenants of the Luminara’s army, who once stood by her side, though (y/n) no longer recognizes the rosy haired man. His eyes sweep the area with ruthless efficiency, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. There’s a fire in his gaze, a desperation driven by duty. He does not want to do this, but he believes he must.

Coby pauses, a flicker of hesitation breaking through his disciplined composure. This is not how he imagined seeing her again. (y/n), the archangel he once admired—no, loved—is now nothing more than a shadow of her former self. She looks wild, broken, her once-brilliant amber golden wings reduced to ragged stumps. A pang of guilt twists in his chest, but he steels himself. The Seraphic Council has decreed that she must be brought back to Luminara, and Coby has never disobeyed an order in his life.

“Find her,” he commands, his voice unwavering. “She’s close.”

But in his heart, he wonders if capturing her is truly the right thing to do. If only he could reach her, make her understand. But that is a dangerous thought—one that could cost him everything.

(y/n)’s heart races as she hears their approach, their voices getting closer with each passing moment. She doesn’t understand why, but the sight of those angelic figures fills her with dread. A faint, broken whisper in her mind tells her that she cannot let them find her. There is something important she must protect, something she cannot allow them to take. But what is it?

As she tries to slink deeper into the forest, her foot snaps a branch beneath her. The sound echoes through the silence, drawing the attention of the Luminara Knights.

“There!” one of them shouts.

Before she can react, a flash of white light surges toward her, and she is blinded. She raises her hands instinctively to shield herself, but she’s too slow. The impact of divine energy slams into her, knocking her off her feet. Her back hits the ground hard, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Coby is the first to reach her. His eyes widen at the sight of her up close—this broken creature, covered in dirt and blood, is hardly the radiant being he once knew. But there’s no time for pity. He steps forward, extending his hand toward her, his voice strained with urgency.

“(y/n)... come back with us. I promise we can help you.”

But (y/n) does not hear the words; she only sees the glowing sigil on his chest and the glint of his drawn sword. Her instincts scream that she is in danger. Without thinking, she lashes out. A burst of raw energy, wild and uncontrolled, erupts from her hand, sending Coby staggering back. The force of it shocks them both—(y/n) because she did not know she was capable of such power, and Coby because the energy that struck him feels familiar, almost divine, yet tainted with something darker.

The other Luminara Knights spring into action, surrounding her in a tight circle. They move as one, blades raised, wings flared. (y/n)’s vision swims as panic consumes her. She has no control over her powers, but her fear acts as a catalyst. With a scream, she releases another wave of energy, scattering the knights like leaves caught in a storm.

Just as the knights begin to recover, a swirl of black smoke erupts between them and (y/n), and a figure steps through the shadowy portal. His eyes gleam like molten gold, his presence a stark contrast to the radiant knights.

It’s Sabo.

“Stay back,” he growls, his voice carrying a dark authority. His wings, now blackened and tattered, azure colored, flare wide as he stands protectively in front of (y/n). The sight of him draws gasps from the knights, who recognize him as the fallen angel turned demon general.

(y/n) stares at him, confused. She doesn’t know who this man is, but something in his eyes feels achingly familiar, like the whisper of a forgotten dream.

“(y/n), we need to leave,” Sabo says softly, not taking his gaze off the advancing knights. There’s a desperate plea in his voice, but also a fierce determination. “I promise, I’m here to help you.”

But (y/n)’s mind is a tangled mess of fear and distrust. She doesn’t know who to trust, who to believe. She hesitates, and that moment of indecision is all the Luminara Knights need to renew their attack.

Sabo grits his teeth and, with a flick of his hand, conjures a barrier of shadow to shield them. He turns to (y/n), his eyes burning with urgency. “Please, (y/n). Trust me.”

For reasons she cannot comprehend, something in her heart tells her to follow him. She nods shakily, and together they step into the swirling darkness, vanishing before the knights can strike.

As the shadows swallow them, (y/n) can’t shake the feeling that she’s made a choice that will change the fate of all three realms.

The shadows fold around (y/n) and Sabo like a shroud, whisking them away from the reach of the Luminara Knights. When they reappear, they’re in a secluded glade deep within the heart of the forest. The air is cooler here, the trees towering protectively above them, their branches swaying gently as if to offer solace. (y/n) collapses to her knees, exhausted, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Sabo watches her cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her confusion and fear. She’s a far cry from the powerful, confident archangel he once knew. But he quickly masks his emotions, knowing he cannot reveal too much. Not yet. She is fragile now, like a bird with broken wings, and if he wants to protect her, he needs her to trust him.

“Easy,” Sabo says softly, crouching down beside her. His once-golden wings are now darkened azure, but he keeps them hidden beneath his cloak. He knows that if she sees him for what he truly is now—a demon—she would likely flee, perhaps even turn against him. “You’re safe now... for the moment.”

As the swirling darkness clears, the chill of the forest night greets (y/n) once more, but this time, she is no longer alone. Sabo’s presence beside her feels both foreign and oddly comforting. He gently releases his grip on her arm, stepping back to give her space. They’ve teleported to a secluded grove, hidden deep within the heart of the forest. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the only sound is (y/n)’s labored breathing as she struggles to regain her composure.

(y/n)’s mind is still reeling. One moment, she had been surrounded by armored angels, their eyes cold and judgmental, and now, she is with a stranger who had saved her with powers that felt… different. There was something both celestial and infernal about the energy he wielded, though she lacks the knowledge to identify it.

“Who... who are you?” she manages to ask, her voice weak but laced with suspicion.

Sabo’s expression softens as he looks at her, his golden eyes flickering with something like pain. He had prepared himself for this moment, but nothing could dull the ache of seeing the confusion in her eyes. The way she looks at him—like he is nothing more than a stranger—cuts deeper than any blade.

“I’m... a friend,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully.

“I was once your ally, your protector.”

He hesitates, taking in the sight of her, the once-brilliant archangel now reduced to a shadow of her former self. “We fought side by side, (y/n). Before... before you lost your memories.”

(y/n)’s brows furrow as she tries to process his words. “I... I don’t remember you,” she whispers, the admission like a weight pressing on her chest.

“I don’t remember anything.” Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, as if ashamed of her own confusion.

The pain in Sabo’s eyes deepens, but he forces a reassuring smile. “That’s okay. I understand,” he says gently, though his heart feels like it’s being torn apart. The memories they once shared—of laughter, battles, trust—are now gone, scattered like ashes on the wind. But he can’t let her see his pain. Not now. Not when she’s so fragile, so lost.

“Listen,” he continues, trying to sound calm and reassuring, “I don’t expect you to remember me. But you need to trust me. Those angels... they won’t stop hunting you. They believe you’re dangerous. I don’t know why, but I promise you, I’m here to protect you.”

(y/n) studies him, her (e/c) eyes narrowing. She can’t sense any deception, but her heart is still guarded. She’s been betrayed once, of that she is sure, even if the memory itself remains elusive. For now, she nods, exhaustion and fear winning out over her doubts. “Okay,” she says softly.

“I’ll trust you… for now.”

Sabo nods, relief flooding through him. He doesn’t dare reveal that he is no longer an angel, but rather, a demon—an enemy by the standards of both their realms. It’s a truth that would shatter any fragile trust he’s managed to build. For now, he is simply a rogue warrior, a lone protector trying to keep her safe. That is the only way to keep her by his side long enough to ensure her safety—and perhaps, to help her remember the bond they once shared.

Far above in the celestial spires of Luminara, the Seraphic Council convenes under the shimmering arches of their grand hall. The air hums with divine power as the High Seraphs (the Arc-Seraph Akainu and his three Seraph Knights) stand in a circle, their forms glowing with ethereal light. Coby kneels before them, his head bowed, his heart heavy. He can still see the terror in (y/n)’s eyes as she unleashed that wild burst of energy. It had taken every ounce of his will to convince himself that she needed to be captured.

“Virtue Lieutenant Coby,” intones Arch-Seraph Akainu, voice as cold and precise as the edge of a blade. “You were tasked with retrieving the fallen Archangel (y/n), and yet, she eludes you, her memories were stripped down already.”

Coby raises his head, meeting the council’s gaze with a mix of determination and reluctance. “She is confused and disoriented, my Lords,” he explains.

A murmur ripples through the council as the High Seraphs exchange glances. One, with dark sunglasses, Seraph Knight Ryokugyo, steps forward. “The Soulstone of Eternity has bonded with her soul,” he says, his voice low and ominous. “If it remains within her, it could tip the balance of our realms into chaos. You must retrieve her, Virtue Lieutenant Coby, by any means necessary.”

Coby’s heart clenches at the command. He clenches his fists at his sides, fighting to keep his voice steady. “She... she is not the enemy. She is simply lost. If I can reach her, I can bring her back willingly.”

The Arch-Seraph shakes his head, his expression unyielding. “We cannot afford to take that risk. If she refuses to return, you are authorized to use force.” His eyes narrow. “And if she resists beyond reason, you are to eliminate her and extract the Soulstone.”

The words hit Coby like a physical blow. Eliminate her? How could they ask him to kill the Archangel, the one chosen by God to protect the balance between the realms, and also woman he once loved, the one who had been his closest friend? But he swallows his objections. To defy the council is to risk his own wings, his very existence. He convinces himself that he is doing this for the greater good, that capturing (y/n) is the only way to protect the celestial realm from the encroaching darkness of Abyssus.

But as he turns to leave, doubt gnaws at his resolve.

‘Am I truly doing this for the heavens, or is it because I can’t bear the thought of letting her go?’

7 notes · View notes

whumpsday · 2 years ago

Text

Kane & Jim AU: Angels & Demons

Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

content: failed escape attempt, demon whumper, angel whumpee, wing whump, magical exhaustion, magical whump, captivity

oh hey, remember that angel & demon au i talked about back in july? finally writing something for that! might do more pieces in this au at some point, but not anytime soon.

@amonthofwhump March Trope-A-Thon Day 4: Fantasy / Magical Exhaustion / Wing Whump / Wish Gone Wrong / Magical Healing

It had been more than a year since the demon took him prisoner, and Jim was frantic in his search for a way out. Unfortunately, Kane’s lair proved near-ironclad from the start, and had only become more so in the time since.

Ever since the magicless demon began siphoning his magic, Jim had become weaker day by day, exhausted by even moving around. Meanwhile, the demon grew more powerful by the day with his stolen magic, flaunting it about to his peers as if it were his own while Jim stayed huddled up back home, the secret Kane would never reveal.

But there was a catch: the demon had been getting sloppy. As Jim became too tired to do more than lay in bed all day, halo dim and soft wings curled around himself, Kane assumed him weaker than he truly was. He wasn’t leaving Jim so restrained anymore.

So, on a day when the demon didn’t siphon as much magic as usual, Jim waited until Kane left for the day and made a break for it. He was still woozy and exhausted, but he knew he had to take this chance while it presented itself.

He stood up and beat his wings, taking off into the air, relishing in the feeling of having enough energy to fly.

But he’d miscalculated.

He was only about fifty feet into the air when he realized he didn’t have as much energy as he’d thought he might, the demon’s siphoning having done a number on him. It was too much, the effort required to keep himself in the air too great, especially when he needed to go straight up in order to get back to Earth, let alone Heaven.

Jim faltered, plummeting down, only able to do as much as a single flap to slow his descent. He fainted from exhaustion before he even hit the ground.

Jim woke back in his bed. Not his home-bed back in Heaven, not his guest-bed at Liz’s house on Earth, but his prison-bed: this time with a shackle, giving off the cruel warmth of hellfire. Not enough to burn, but more than enough to keep him from breaking the restraint. He ached, but not too horribly. Maybe he’d been able to slow his descent enough to prevent serious injury, or maybe the demon had used some of his stolen magic to heal him. He couldn’t say.

He’d failed. There would be no escape for him, now. Jim wept, wrapping his wings around himself, the feathers encompassing him.

He flinched as the demon suddenly appeared in the room, glowing with Jim’s own magic.

“Nice little stunt you pulled here today, angel,” Kane growled, not an ounce of sympathy in his angry features.

Jim cringed back, curling up smaller. He missed being called by his name. The soft voices of his fellow angels calling him James, or Liz excitedly calling him Jim, a moniker he’d taken to using at the human girl’s influence. Not angel. So impersonal, said in the demon’s tone as if it made him inferior.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, attempting to placate him. “It was- it was a foolish idea. I didn’t have nearly enough magic to get anywhere. You know that. I won’t try it again.”

“You definitely won’t. I’ll make sure of that.” Kane stalked closer. His own wings, featherless like a bat’s, flared with irritation. “Sit up straight.”

Jim hated the way he was beholden to the demon’s orders. But what could he really do but obey? Kane was a hundred times stronger than him by now. He sat up, silently, though he held his pride in not responding with the Yes, sir the demon clearly wanted.

“I’ve been doing some research while you rested.” Kane rolled his eyes, as if Jim’s state of exhaustion wasn’t entirely the demon’s fault. “Many humans own birds, you know. So they’re practiced in this sort of thing.”

“I’m not a bird,” Jim protested indignantly. “And you do not own me.”

“You may as well be. The humans invented this process called wing clipping to keep their birds from escaping, or getting where they don’t belong.” Kane held his hand out, and a set of shears appeared in it.

“You’re going to cut my wings off?!” Jim cried, thudding back hard against the wall, his chain rattling with the sudden motion. “No, you can’t!”

“Yes, I can. I can do whatever I want,” the demon reminded him. “But no, I’m not going to cut your wings off. Just a few feathers.” He reached out for Jim’s wing, but he immediately tucked them both tightly behind himself, smushing the feathery appendages against the wall.

“The humans do that to their own pet birds?” Jim asked, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Liz doing that. But maybe as a guardian, his view of humans was tinted rosy. Besides, she was just a child. They tended to be more innocent.

“It doesn’t hurt the birds, apparently. So stop behaving like an infant and give me your wing before I do decide to cut them off,” Kane snapped, motioning for Jim to hold his wing out.

“I’m not a bird!” Jim insisted, voice pitching up with fear. Angels’ wings were sensitive, they could feel. “It’s going to hurt! I’m already shackled and don’t have the energy to fly in the first place! You don’t need to do this!”

“Using my magic to keep a shackle active at all hours of the day isn’t practical. I can either clip your wings once every few months, or cut them off entirely. Pick one.” The demon gestured once again, hand outstretched.

Jim whimpered, the tears in his eyes finally starting to fall. Reluctantly, he peeked out one trembling wing, the other still tucked protectively behind him.

Kane grabbed it roughly, spreading it to its full length by force. Jim shuddered at the feeling: he hated this. He hated hated hated it. Hatred was not a feeling he’d ever been too familiar with before Kane, but he felt it nearly every day now.

“Do not move, unless you want me to cut more than I initially intended.” Spreading Jim’s wing out with one hand, Kane readied the shears with the other.

Heeding the demon’s warning, Jim tensed himself, stilled other than his nervous trembling as he felt the cool metal against his delicate feathers.

Snip.

Jim screamed as agony as the shears chopped his outermost six feathers in half, the sharp, explosive pain almost like the demon had cut his fingers instead. He instinctively tried to fold his wing back up protectively, but that only made his wing tug against Kane’s grip, and he let out another cry.

“Stop! Stop stop stop!” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

Kane released his wing, and Jim winced as he folded it, the position even more painful on the fresh-cut screaming nerves.

The demon gestured toward the other wing. “Again.”

“NO!” Jim wailed. “I get it! I can’t fly with one working wing anyway!” He felt his pride crumble at the thought of both his wings experiencing this. “Please, sir.”

Kane hesitated, seeming to evaluate, then let out a sigh. “Prove it.”

“What?” Jim asked tearily.

“Prove it. Try your best to fly.” Kane pressed a hand to Jim’s chest, and he felt a little bit of his own magic flowing back into him. The shackle disappeared.

Jim hadn’t felt this much energy since before the demon took him down to Hell.

Kane stepped back. “I’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it,” he warned.

Jim nodded uneasily. He stretched both wings out carefully: the thought of trying to fly with this injury was... extremely unappealing, but it was certainly better than having it duplicated.

He beat his wings, and immediately cried out in pain, falling to the floor after gaining no more than three feet in height.

“Effective,” Kane noted. “Very well. I’ll leave the other one alone. As long as you don’t try to escape again.”

Jim scooted away from him. “...Thank you.”

The demon closed the distance easily, crouching over him and pressing his hand to Jim’s chest again. He felt the energy leave him as Kane took the magic away, letting out a groan.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” And with that, the demon disappeared.

With great effort, Jim hauled himself back onto the bed, his feathers throbbing with pain. He wrapped his wings around himself, the cutout in his wing leaving a hole in the previously-blanketing coverage.

also a note since i just posted a different demon thing yesterday: this has totally distinct, separate lore, completely unrelated.

taglist to be added in reblog!

#amow tropeathon 2023 #fantasy #whump #my writing #kane and jim au #demon whumper #angel whumpee #wing whump #magical exhaustion #magical whump #captivity #failed escape #defiant whumpee #angel demon au #whump writing

151 notes · View notes