#azrael angst

[crowisinthetrash]

Azrael Angst | "You were my mother too!"

@ultimatehope213 @jades-mushroom @sleepygamerotaku

[junimo-hexed]

I miss them so much, they were such good friends...

[angeloftuesdayy]

Dean wakes up one night to strange noises coming out of the dark bathroom, the door only a crack open.

and inside he sees his little brother sitting on the floor. naked like the day he was born, covered in blood and guts and looking up at his big brother -alarmed like a frightened animal- with glowing yellow eyes. eating...

[akystaracer22]

Free the Bird from its Gilded Cage

Synopsis: Lucifer would tell anyone who asked his greatest regret was letting humanity eat the apple. Better than admitting what he really regretted.

Notes

Golly gee good thing affairs didn’t exist back then huh!

In which Lucifer’s tism hurts his best friend, the fic.

I think I can tag this as Edenpoly considering the conversation between Lucifer and Lilith.

I give my greatest thanks to my good friend Hat who uttered the phrase “I raise a glass to the friend you could have been and drink to the monster you became” (Or something of the sort) which has not left my brain 2 years later.

No shade on other people’s depictions of the ancient archangels. I love good archangels as much as you guys but… this is very much bashing.

I’m so sorry Michael. And Azrael, and every single angel who’s characters I butcher in this AU. It’s not you guys I swear.

God on the other hand fuck you I’m not sorry.

I have been told by many people irl that I have religious trauma. I didn’t think I did but fuck it we ball.

I am so sorry this came out late but I had two assignments and I'm moving houses, I'll try not to have a repeat.

Word count: 1957

Fic under cut!

Lucifer felt Lilith before he saw her, the first woman’s aura screaming frustration and hurt louder than the tears in her eyes.

She was sitting under an aspen tree with her legs tucked to her chest.

Lucifer didn’t need to guess why she was upset; it could really only be one thing these days.

“Adam did something again, didn’t he.”

Lilith huffed and lifted her head to meet Lucifer’s gaze, “We fought, again. He still doesn’t get it.”

Lucifer sighed and sat down next to the first woman, not for the first time the little voice in his head bemoaned Adams chronic inability to listen to anyone other than God. It was really starting to cause problems in Eden.

“He’ll regret it.”

“He always does, but he still does it.”

Lucifer nodded, “He needs to learn that God isn’t right about everything,” His siblings would murder him if they knew he was spreading this kind of blasphemy, “But I do agree, it’s a little irritating.”

“It is!” Lucifer jerked as Lilith stood up abruptly and began to pace, “He’s great most of the time don’t get me wrong, but he’s just increasingly growing more and more insufferable! It’s like every time he gets better he just goes straight back to being worse!”

“Truly the trials and tribulations of the first humans.”

“I just wish he would listen to me! Not some stuck up self-important know it all who thinks I’m worthless.”

Lucifer wisely held back the instinctive defence of the Creator, “Especially when you are so much more than that.”

Lilith seemed to finally run out of steam, falling back into Lucifer’s arms and holding him tightly, “I hate this… I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t… I hate the man God wants him to be.”

“I hate that man too,” Lucifer admitted, “I hate how he hurts everyone.”

Because it wasn’t just Lilith that was left hurting. Lucifer hated how he was losing track of the near silent breakdowns of Adam’s.

God created humanity different from the grand design, and every day Lucifer loathed that fact more and more.

“He’s going to win, that man.”

“Neither of us will let him.”

“He’ll let himself,” Lilith hissed right by his ear, the sound sending a shiver down Lucifer’s spine, by the choirs that felt good “Adams an idiot.”

“Yep!” Call Lucifer blasphemous, but he was so tempted to-

Lilith opened her mouth to say something, and Lucifer listened to the little voice in his head once again.

He caught her mouth with his own swiftly before pulling back, face flushing as he realised what he just did.

That was something only Adam and Lilith was supposed to do with each other.

Lilith blinked, taking time to process before giving her response, “Do that again.”

Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice.

The bark of the aspen tree was lit up by Lucifer’s wings as he pressed his lips to Lilith’s again.

And again.

And again.

Lucifer had never felt so good. He could see why Lilith and Adam like doing this. This felt so good.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

It was hours until Lucifer disentangled himself from Lilith, still not having quite recovered from the experience. Sadly, he could feel the mental tug attached to his halo signifying his siblings wanting an audience with him. The last thing he wanted was to have them come down and see him with Lilith.

The moment he returned to heaven however, he had the distinct feeling that he might have messed up regardless.

Michael was pacing and muttering angrily under his breath, sharp sounds grating Lucifer’s awareness. When the archangel saw Lucifer, his wings physically bristled as he lunged forward and grabbed the Morningstar by the robe.

“You are so very fortunate that God was already growing tired of Lilith’s rebellion!”

“What?”

“Michael,” Lucifer turned to see Azrael landing nearby, “I highly doubt Lucifer knows what he has done, as impulsive as he is.”

“What? What happened,” Lucifer demanded, mantling his wings to make himself look larger as he stared down the other archangels.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what!”

“God decided to give the first man a new wife,” Michaels words cut through Lucifer’s anger and left only shock, “Made from his rib.”

“… what?”

“Yes, I had to tear it out myself,” Michael huffed, Lucifer noticed the dried red still dusting the angels gloves, “Adam tried to flee.”

“…”

“What Michael means,” Azreal shot the other a look, “Is that Adam didn’t take the information well, and saw it fit to attempt avoiding the situation entirely.”

“He was awake?!” Lucifer screeched “By the choir what is wrong with you two?!”

“It was the Creator’s wishes, none of us knew it would bring pain,” Azrael sighed, “However, it would encourage not repeating the situation…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Michael scoffed, “The Creator ensured Adam wouldn’t remember.”

“It would taint him.”

“It would motivate him.”

“What?”

“Our Creator has decided to take a more… hands on approach in ensuring the situation does not repeat itself,” Azrael looked uncomfortable, “Xe employed the use of divine power to keep Adam and Eve from straying from the grand design.”

Lucifer took a step back.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but Lucifer couldn’t hear over the roar of nothing in his ears.

No.

Nononononono.

Lucifer ran.

He broke into a sprint before diving back down to Earth, landing on the soft grass of Eden he looked around desperately.

“Adam!”

“Yes?”

Lucifer turned around as Adam’s figure came into view from behind a tree, “Adam-”

His eyes were gold.

Lucifer stumbled back as he took in the first man’s appearance, Adam’s eyes were no longer the colour of earth. The familiar dark brown orbs that bore the gold of honey and of leaves in the sun were gone. In their place was the brilliant gold of divinity, of heaven, the same gold of the-

The chain attached to his wrist.

Lucifer lunged forward and grabbed his friends arm, pulling him forward and running a hand along the softly glowing cuff on Adams wrist.

It was definitely the Creator’s doing.

“Adam what have they done to you.”

“Ah, apologies, but have we met before?”

Lucifer’s golden ichor froze as he looked back up to meet that accursed golden gaze, “What?”

“It is just that… you seem familiar with me, but I do not recall ever having met you. I apologize.”

Lucifer stepped back from the first man, “What.”

“Were you present for my creation? That day was such a blur I hardly recall all those present.”

“Adam- Adam look at me,” Lucifer grabbed Adam by the shoulder, staring desperately into those too gold, too inhuman, too holy eyes “Adam. You are my best friend. You remember me don’t you?”

Adam’s eyes flickered for a moment, that familiar beautiful earth brown peeking through for a moment before being swamped by heavenly gold.

“You are an angel; how could I ever be friends with someone of a higher status such as you?”

Lucifer wanted to cry.

The Creator truly was cruel.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Lucifer couldn’t do this.

Lucifer shoved Adam away and ran like a coward, stumbling through the bushes and past trees as he ran away from the puppet wearing his best friends face.

He didn’t even talk like Adam.

The Creator just stripped his best friend of everything that made him… him.

Lucifer collapsed under a willow tree as he sobbed into his arms.

He didn’t move for a long time after that.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Lilith found him in the dim of night, her eyes sharp and he teeth bared in a rueful grimace even as she took him into his arms.

“We’re not letting them get away with this. Not this time.”

A hot flame of righteous anger sparked in Lucifer’s heart as he held onto Lilith. She was right, this crossed a line.

Lucifer wanted to rush in, to steal Adam away and find a way to break that chain.

Lilith told him to wait, to watch and observe as she would.

“Right now, heaven does not know about our rebellion, if we move too quickly we will both be destroyed.”

She was right, of course she was. Lucifer hated it though.

They had to watch Adam go through the motions of what his life used to be. The way he would no longer wander the garden without reason.

He wouldn’t play with the animals anymore or sit and relax under the sun.

Lucifer almost broke the trunk of a tree when he saw Adam tear out a plant Gabriel considered ‘too imperfect for the garden’ even though Lucifer knew that it was Adams favourite flower.

That flame of anger grew every time that damned shackle glowed and chained Adams will.

It took a little time to figure out, but if there was one thing Lucifer was sure would free Adam and Eve, it was the apples of knowledge.

They had to.

Lucifer and Lilith also watched Eve through everything. She seemed meek through the control of the Creator, but in the few moments the attention of heaven faded and the gold in her eyes let a little bit of reddish brown through, they got to know her.

She was gentle and sweet to the animals but there was a steel in her spine.

She was vibrant and wild as she chased the cheetah’s around the garden or buried her head in a grizzly bears side.

Lucifer grew to love her in a way. As little of her as he could see. But she was the one the Creator paid less attention to, and why would xe? She is supposed to be subservient to Adam.

Lucifer shifted into the form of a snake and curled through the branches of the tree of knowledge as she came into view.

Showtime.

“Eve my dear, may I borrow your attention for but a moment?” Lucifer sing-songed, drawing the girls eye as she stopped at the base of the tree.

“What is it you require of me, snake?” Eve asked, Lucifer watched intently as the telltale hint of red brown filtered into her gaze, this was the shot he needed.

“The fruit of this tree, could you tell me how it tastes to you?”

The woman flinched back as if struck, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at her response.

“I couldn’t, God said-”

“And have you not wondered why xe demands such things of you? Have you not questioned why xe forbade this?” Lucifer hissed, snapping off an apple and letting it fall to the ground at Eve’s feet, “I know, and that is why I ask this of you.”

Eve’s will fought with Heaven for a moment as she picked up the apple, but she was not gone yet, “God said that if I ate the fruit, I would die.”

“And the Creator lies to you,” blasphemy dripped off of Lucifers tongue as he all but snarled at Eve, the white-hot flame of fury envenoming his words, “To eat the apple is not to die, but to be freed. To have your eyes opened to the truth around you.”

Eve held the apple in her hands, the reddish brown in her eyes traitorously present.

“How do you know I won’t die?”

“Because my dear, I have had my eyes opened long ago. To open them is a freedom the Creator keeps from you on purpose,” Lucifer hissed, “You will not die, of that I can promise.”

Eve bit into the apple, and the chains snapped under the weight of knowledge granted.

[sketch-guardian]

(Forgive me for the word vomit and feel free to ignore this:)!)

The RAD classmates (all) having a very vivid Nightmare about Mc dieing in their arms or by their hands for an unknown reason being small nightmares that don’t effect them until they get the full nightmare watching themselves or some other demon kill/injure Mc them waking up unsure wether or not the nightmare was real or fake since it felt to real the weight and warmth of Mc’s body and the feeling of their body going cold their eyes glazing over as they mumbled saying “I’m sorry and it’s okay….” The anxiety of the possibility of them being the cause of death overwhelming them,Of course Mc is alive and well and notices the changes in them due to the nightmares,that or they immediately go over to Mc’s needing check they’re alive,Mc is asleep in their room when this happens or awake eating snacks and watching movies idk you choose! :) (small nightmares in the counting weeks as in small glimpses of what’s happening until they get the full picture of what happened Angel and demon classmates whichever demon classmates killing/injury Mc in the nightmare and angle classmates watching a random demon do it idc you choose!! So sorry for the word vomit!!)

Don't worry, it isn't a problem☺it can be helpful for writing🤷🏻in any case, I'll try my best with these headcanons, hoping they turn out good enough🙈based on the OCs' major fears, I made the nightmares different, I hope that's okay✨if such themes make you uncomfortable, please don't read:

"RAD CLASSMATES+NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS HAVING NIGHTMARES ABOUT MC DYING"

TRIGGER WARNING: character death, blood, violence, murder, cannibalism, madness, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders, heavy themes in general

DEMYA

Demya would have a fairly recurring dream about MC, a nightmare in which she would play as the monster, having committed the carnage, albeit not on purpose. In fact, one of Demya's greatest fears is of one day losing her lucidity and the control of her actions due to hunger, finding herself committing acts that she would bitterly regret, such as hurting MC. The thought of regaining consciousness and finding her hands soaked in blood, not just any but MC's, while they lay on the ground motionless, so wounded, almost unrecognizable...it would be to much to bear and it would be one of the few times in which, despite being full, Demya would really like to throw up, nauseated both by the sight and by herself, while desperately trying to revive MC, crying and shouting that she's sorry, that she didn't do it on purpose and that if they woke up, she would stop eating or even wear a muzzle despite her traumatic childhood short stint in a circus freakshow, but MC would remain lifeless. Once awoken from the nightmare in a cold sweat, Demya would immediately run to find her mate, needing to confirm that it was just a bad dream, ignoring the fact that by doing so, she would wake MC in the middle of the night. Once confirmed, a trembling Demya would burst into tears, hugging MC tightly and nuzzling herself against them while sobbing, asking for forgiveness and promising that she would never do such a thing. Demya would need to sleep beside MC that night, amidst their scent and warmth, to calm down. In the following days MC might notice Demya either eating with more difficulty or gorging herself to avoid having hunger at any cost, as if she feared her nightmare would become reality. MC would need to comfort Demya a little before she comes back to her senses

DOMNRA/MOBIM

The nightmares Domnra has are mostly memories of his fall from the Celestial Realm, in which he not only received scars, one of which left him blind in one eye, but was also cursed, resulting in his soul splitted in two, of which the other half belongs to Mobim. In fact, Domnra and Mobim, although they've different personalities, share the same soul and have a sort of telepathic bond, so it's no surprise that most of the time they also share the same dreams. Domnra's nightmare would consist in a probable return of the angel who punished him, as if apparently he didn't suffer enough for his sins and therefore to make Domnra learn the lesson once and for all and make him regret his betrayal for eternity, they would cast a curse on MC, but different from his own, painful, atrocious, incurable, to the point that in order to put MC out of they misery, Domnra would be forced to kill them out of pity or watch them die, despite how much he tried to save them. After such an irreparable gesture, Domnra would consider ending his life to reach MC, wherever they are, seeing it as the one and only solution not only to return to his partner, but also to stop suffering. Once he realizes that it was all just a nightmare, Domnra would have some trouble calming his labored breath, while Mobim, also in tears having shared the same dream, would try to comfort Domnra with trembling squeaks and small pats. Domnra wouldn't want to disturb in the middle of the night, but he would try to call MC's phone to ask if he can come over to spend the night, without too many explanations. Once with MC in his arms, Domnra would let out a few silent tears and gnash his teeth, while Mobim would be in the middle, still scared and in tears. MC's perception would be enough to understand what happened. In the following days, MC may notice Domnra being more protective and Mobim more clingy

AZUL

Azul has nightmares more often than he would like to admit and they usually concern the day his mind twisted and he completely lost control for a few minutes, risking hurting even his friends, i.e. the day he fell from grace. Azul is aware that he's quite unstable mentally and that his mood changes quite often, but it has been a long time since he has shown such a homicidal madness due to a mental breakdown and he would prefer it not to happen again, since the first time it happened, he risked harming Domnra too, if Zuri hadn't intervened in time. Azul's nightmare would probably consist of losing control and watching, as an external witness, himself murdering MC without being able to do anything to stop it. Only once he came to his senses, with MC's cold lifeless body in his arms, Azul would sob in an ugly way, apologizing and begging MC to come back to him, even if they hated him and decided to leave him, Azul would prefer that instead of losing MC like that, because nothing would matter anymore without them. Having woken up quite suddenly, once he realized it was just a nightmare, Azul would let out a few wet chuckles with his head in his hands, before going out and checking on MC. Azul would know that lying would be useless, since his colors would expose him, but still, after entering MC's room through the walls, he would ask in a quiet and tired tone if they can spend the night together. MC would need to reassure Azul before he feels like speaking more openly and they would notice that in the following days, Azul would seem less enthusiastic than usual

ZURI

Zuri doesn't dream very often, perhaps due to the fact that her mind is often too busy with work and plans, as the perfectionist she is in everyday life. If she were to get a nightmare with MC as the subject, however, Zuri would probably dream that some demon, just for the twisted pleasure of wronging her, would harm MC, leaving disturbing traces behind, as if to mock Zuri, until she finds them, when it's already too late. The idea of ​​not having been efficient and fast enough to find MC and having failed to care for her beloved, letting the demon reduce them to such a poor state, would leave Zuri distraught, who would once again be reminded that she is a failure and unable to defend those dear to her, like some of her fallen angel friends, who looked up to her, even though she was just as broken, trying to hide it. With MC's body in her arms, that would be one of the few times Zuri would lose her composure...how could she have let something like that happen? If only she had been more careful, if only she had been a better companion, perhaps MC would still be there with her, to remind her that the weight of the world does not rest on her shoulders, even if at that moment, it felt like it. After realizing it was a nightmare, Zuri would start working compulsively, trying to distract herself, but the slight tremor in her hands wouldn't help her frustration. Zuri would only wait until the next morning to visit MC, initially not inclined to show her vulnerable side, but in private MC could extort from Zuri a solemn speech. In the following days, MC would notice that Zuri would try to be slightly more loving and spend more time together

ODON

Odon almost never dreams, because after all, as an ancient eldritch being, they don't really need to sleep and if they attempted to, it would be solely due to a personal choice, perhaps to experience what it feels like to rest and completely disconnect their brain for once, even Odon's eye-like creatures would try taking naps, lying on pillows. Odon's most intimate and profound fear would be of becoming "bored" again and risking returning to their old past habits, as if they had missed hearing screams of agony and getting rid of anyone who stands in their way, without a shred of emotion, pity or remorse for anyone, not even for their dear friend MC. In the nightmare, Odon's fear would be to see themselves, after committing a genocide, leaving MC for last, after taking out all their friends, those who had put their trust in Odon and who they had now disappointed. The worst thing would be that in the nightmare, MC would even excuse Odon's actions, saying that everything would be alright, as they took their last breath, and past Odon, the one they don't want to be again, although they don't regret their old choices, wouldn't have felt anything seeing MC dead on the ground. Odon, once awake from the nightmare, would seem quiet calm, albeit with a tense smile, while the eye-like creatures would be the most obviously agitated, with their eyes shining with unshed tears as they floated around in an uncoordinated manner. It's likely that Odon wouldn'f feel like sharing the nightmare and if MC managed to get them to talk about it, Odon wouldn't go into details, the only thing they would need is MC's closeness. Over the next few days, MC would notice the eye-like creatures staring and following them around more often

REMIEL

Remiel doesn't sleep much and as a result her naps are often devoid of meaningful dreams. Although apparently apathetic and gloomy, Remiel has a fairly sensitive soul, so it's natural that although she doesn't show it, even the angel of death has worries, some of which even became true during her long life, for example, failing to redeem and save a corrupted angel. As for the nightmare, Remiel would dream of something that is actually very close to reality and that she wouldn't be able to avoid, no matter how much it weighs on her heart, that is, MC's death, whether natural or premature. The most painful thing would be precisely that, as an angel of death, it would be Remiel's duty to accompany MC into the afterlife, not wanting to behave selfishly and think she can keep their soul to herself, as her father Death once did with the souls of the nephilim for a short time. The thought of having to say goodbye to MC and never see them again would leave a void inside Remiel that she wouldn't be able to put into words and, touching her cheeks, she would realize she was crying, understanding firsthand what souls feel when she's forced to distance them from their loved ones...Remiel would be hesitant to let MC go, but for their sake and eternal rest, she would give them one last embrace, as her halo would glow less brighter and wings droop. Once awake, Remiel would hug her knees to herself and hide between her feathery wings like in a cocoon, needing a moment to clear her mind, if truly bothered, she would ask for advice either from her father Death or from her mother Azrael (Remiel has no need to check if MC is alive, she feels their soul). The next day, since Remiel still remains a sincere, genuine and blunt angel, she would tell MC about her nightmare, gazing at them with her precious baby blue eyes. They would then share a soft embrace, in which Remiel would quietly cry, lulled by MC's heartbeat. Over the next few days, MC would notice Remiel trying to share and learn more earthly experiences with them

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel usually has fairly peaceful dreams, of breathtaking, endless landscapes to explore, but there are rare occasions where his mental peace is disturbed by macabre thoughts. A likely nightmare that Nathaniel would have about MC would also concern the council of the Celestial Realm. In Nathaniel's nightmare, his relationship with MC would be disapproved of by his angel superiors and therefore drastic measures would be taken to prevent Nathaniel from distracting himself from his celestial duty, such as letting MC die, while Nathaniel could do nothing except observe, like a pawn, in the grand scheme of things, unable to react, because the Celestial Realm has decided so, to remind Nathaniel what happens to those who decide to love a human, therefore to avoid him Lilith's fate, they took matters into their own hands. In the nightmare, Nathaniel would feel paralyzed and for once in his life he would even want to shout in order to stop such madness, but it would be as if he were breathless, as if someone else was controlling his body. Upon awakening from the nightmare, the memory of MC's lifeless body would disturb Nathaniel and he would need to meditate for a long time before being able to calm down. It's likely that Nathaniel won't reveal what's bothering him the next day and would simply appear more affectionate towards MC

URIEL

Uriel mainly dreams of memories of the celestial war or more recent battles, so the nightmares alternate with dreams of glorious victory and shower of merits. Uriel's nightmare would probably manifest itself through one of her fears, that is, MC being killed by a demon and her arriving too late to save them or getting carried away with making the demon culprit pay and not immediately helping MC. In any case, having MC's corpse, so fragile and bloodied in her powerful arms, would be devastating for Uriel, who would beg MC to wake up, to be strong and more quietly not to leave her. Uriel would also pray to God and ask in frustrated tears why he has forsaken her and isn't helping her, whether it is some kind of test or whether it is a punishment to remind Uriel how she too has let some of her companions fall into the celestial war. Uriel has always followed the rules and has always been loyal, but in that moment her beliefs would falter, not finding it fair for an innocent soul like MC to end up like this. After waking up with a start from the nightmare, Uriel would head to MC in the middle of the night and, just to check if they are alright, would kick down their door. Tensed, Uriel would try to explain that she had only come to check because she had a bad feeling and that it would be better if she stayed, for MC's safety. Uriel wouldn't go into details, but she would promise MC that no one would hurt them again, not on her watch. Over the next few days, MC would notice Uriel standing close to them like a scary bodyguard

[princes-and-problems-au]

I love sibling relationships <3

I've been working on this for a while, and also forgot to drink water. That was... Not Fun. Remember to hydrate. Ahem, anyways, LORE!!!

Azrael hates Lucifer, not for loving Lilith, or the apple incident, hell they could've probably forgiven the whole 'War in Heaven' thing. If it where not for one small fact: Lucifer refused to look at them. The entire time, Lucifer refused to acknowledge Azrael, or any of his other siblings unless it was necessary. He refuses to even ponder if he made the wrong choice. He is the embodiment of pride after all. And Azrael hates him for it.

So, when they go down to learn about the circumstances of the first redeemed soul, they're taken off guard by Lucifer being there too. After all, it was Lucifer that refused to even consider redeeming sinners, that refused to believe in change. So seeing him at the hotel? A total surprise.

[corvidaeconundrum]

Hail, True Body Warriors AU

Gonna do this as bullets of random information I have gathered since tying everything together into a cohesive storyline is something I’ll battle when I feel conscious.

- Mimics are dark forest warriors, specifically those who have nearly faded away complete as they’re easier to control and influence as compared to the ambition fueled fresh ones. They are able to be led into a living cats dreams through the help of a Starclan cat(Morningstar/Lucifer in this case), where they kill the cat in their dream, and use it to swap places with them and wake up in their body instead.

-Cedarlily/Mark’s grandfather is the current leader of Thunderclan, with Copperstrike/Cian being deputy. This is kind of the reason he was given the suffix he has, as he was seen as lesser then the other apprentices as he grew, and was cursed to have the suffix of a flower as compared to the other more fierce names of his fellow warriors. He usually tries to keep his name hidden from as many people as possible, opting instead for Cedarfang when he can.

-Morningstar is a Starclan cat, he was given this blessing due to the fact that in his life, despite his technical crimes, he never once believed he was breaking the warrior code, and was completely in the thought that he was doing good for the clans. Basically got the Mudclaw treatment, damned bastard. Completely guiltless so now hes allowed in cat heaven.

-Badgersight/Sam was Thunderclan’s previous medicine cat, until he was exiled for breaking the warrior code due to a vision he had recieved from Starclan. He spends his time living around the territory, bouncing from place to place as to not ever be caught. This also helps him keep his Thunderclan scent and not be confused for a full rogue, which would warrant an investigation.

-Azreal has the same name, as he is a kittypet

-Appletuft/Adam was a kit found abandoned on Shadowclan territory, and subsequently adopted into it. He was lucky to have already been mostly weaned, as no queen wanted to take him for more then a week due to his aggressive behavior towards his ‘siblings’. He’s a bit of a Cuckoo in that way, a creature of the outside doomed to remove resources from the home that fosters them, all before the others, and completely in favor of itself. Despite how his aggression made the clan have a very deep distaste for him, he was a perfect warrior. Addershine/Eve is his current mate.

-On the outskirts of all territories there is a rogue, fur a deep non-reflective black. He comes and goes as he pleases and no one has ever stopped him. If asked for a name, he only says Nobody. Elders like to scare the kits with the story, how he’s an omen, a warning of horrors soon to come. Cedarkit never believed them.

-Briarcloud/Bethany was a fierce warrior, who had the unfortunate habit of wandering. It’s how she discovered a kittypet and Shadowclan warrior having peaceful conversation on the edge of the latters territory. She was intrigued the moment she saw it.

-Robinwind/Cesar didn’t just die when he was killed, but something worse. For a clan cat to die in the midst of the Place With No Stars was an after life sentenced to pain and misery, of being trapped lost in this horrible place of pain, cursed to always walk alone along the thistles and blood. It’s easy to become lost in a place with no end. Starclan keeps it’s borders well hidden from it’s dark siblings.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

“That’s eight ways now, because when we leave here, I’m going to fuck the word friend out of your vocabulary.”

The Book of Azrael, Amber V. Nicole

[viaarts404]

Shadow Wings || Hazbin Hotel Au Fanfic

Oneshot

 

   

Raphael sighed. He's been ranting about Michael's behaviour for the last 20 minutes.

He lowered his shoulders as he started to calm himself. Michael sat in front of him in his office. He, as always, doesn't listen.

- Come on, big brother. You have to be more careful. I won't always be there to help you. -Raph explained, trying to make the older archangel listen to him. The look in Michael's eyes showed he didn't listen one bit. He was sulking in his seat with his cheeks puffed up. Raph couldn't help but get infuriated once again. He started scolding Michael once again about listening to him.

- You know what? Go on. I'm finished with you for the day. -Raph tried saying it in a serious enough tone but Michael was unphased by his brother's attempts.

- Finally. -Michael sighed. He stood up from his chair, only to collapse right away. Raph held his arm in the way as fast as he could then held Michael close to himself. He sighed again.

He's been worried that these scares have been happening more and more often.

- Stupid big brother. Let us take care of you now after you've been doing it for us for so long.

Raphael wrapped his arms around Michael, playing his hand on the back of his head so he can pull him to his chest. Raph was, at least, twice as big as Michael. Michael's whole head could fit in Raphael's palm. Other angels found this hilarious most of the time since Michael is the smallest archangel and small amongst other angels as well.

Raph picked Michael up bridal style with his arms under Michael's legs and behind his back. He made his way from his office to Michael's room. He stood at the balcony and flew across to the house complex they shared. It was higher than most other buildings. Archangels are a hugh status after all. Raph landed on the other balcony and opened the door with magic because his hands are occupied, obviously.

- Raphy? - Jophiel looked up at him right away. She was making lunch for the others when Raph stepped in. The others archangels, Gabriel and Azrael, were sitting around in the dining room which was in one room as the kitchen. Ths only thing showing where the two rooms start and end was the different wallpaper and flooring.

- Ya mind using the door sometime? -Gabe asked his bigger yet little brother.

- Sorry- Raphael apologiesed right away.

- Did Mike fall asleep again? -Jophiel asked.

- Yeah. That stupid research of his is really starting to take over his life. -Raph replied.

He gipped onto Michael, his nails accidentally digging into Mike's leg. Michael growled in response.

- Oh shi- Raphael quickly softened his hold on Mike. Michael somehow still didn't wake up to it. Raph used some of his magic to heal the small wounds then held Michael close again. He got a couple of concerned looks from Gabriel and Jophiel.

- Are you okay, Raph? -Jophiel asked, her voice filled with concern.

- Yeah. I am, just…I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Michael is surely planning something stupid.

He's been a lot more reckless since Adam…passed away. Gabriel and Jophiel look at each other.

- I'm sure it will be fine. -Azrael tried to lighten the mood. His chest was heavy. He knew what's gonna happen. He sees when someone's close to death and it's been weighing him down now more than ever. The black mist he always sees around his big brother breaks his heart every day but saying anything would only make things worse. He places his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his palm while he sipped his shake.

- Oh come on, Azrael! You've been way too quiet these past couple of days too. You can't tell me you're not worried. -Gabe called him out.

Azrael stayed quiet this time and just looked the other way. His cloak thankfully covered most of his face. Only his mouth was sometimes visible.

Azrael smiled gently at Gabe- I am not worried -he explained then went back to sipping his shake while looking the other way.

His siblings got used to his morbit humor by now but his reaction being so…fake just sent chills down their spines. Azrael got up from the dining table and made his way across the room into the hallway.

- I'll see you guys later -Azrael disappeared in the dark hallway leading to the front door.

The other 3 archangels stared at the doorway in silence. Every bad thought crossed their minds right away. They all looked at each other, thinking of the same thing but hoped they are all wrong…

[askthedarksidersfam]

Imagine in the hundred years Azrael was in his imprisonment, each soul infected with Corruption tainted him the smallest bit. Almost unnoticed to the Archangel as his magic kept him immune, at least for a time.

But as time passes on and billions of souls, a large percentage already infected have begun to corrode his immunity and sink its teeth within him. Slowly and painfully, almost like a punishment from the Creator, Azrael falls sick to Corruption. Growing high climbing crystals from his neck, back and chin, growing tall, almost looking like horns, a mockery against him.

He can do nothing as the oily ooze infects him from the inside out. His magic slowly loses its power, the purity and he can feel the grace lose his body. Veins turn black with the Corruption, and he loses his fleshy tone for something sickly and grey.

The once beautiful wings well maintained by Azrael lose their healthy shine, turning almost black like watching ink blend with water. Feathers fall at an alarming rate, never to grow back as Corruption seizes each and every delicate plume until nothing but an oily membrane remains.

But Azrael does not lose his sanity. It’s some twisted joke, the whole universe laughs at him as he can feel his whole body dying around him yet he will not perish, and he cannot simply fall into the allure of death and wake in the Dead Kingdom. He has to remember it all.

When War finally comes, Azrael begs for one mercy: to be put down.

[maplethekiwi]

Prologue

“NO! Please, release me! I have done nothing wrong!” The angel pleaded, agony and desperation etched into her voice as her screams rang out, piercing the silent tranquility of the council auditorium. The hooded angels of the Holy Council surrounded the once esteemed angel. Fiery chains hung from the sky, restraining her thrashing figure as the Council prepared to deliver the offender’s punishment.

“You would do well not to struggle in the face of God’s will, Azrael,” one counselor advised.

“Indeed, The Father has no use for heathens such as yourself,” another spat.

“Agreed.”

“Heretic.”

“Blasphemer.”

“Heathen.”

The Council’s insults toward Azrael echoed and repeated throughout the chamber, cutting through her soul like a blade. Azrael’s faith in The Father had never once wavered in the thousands of years He ruled. With an undying devotion, she served Him and did anything he asked of her with an efficiency rivaled only by Gabriel. Reaping the souls of the Egyptian’s firstborns as Moses fought for the children of Israel was done without question. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven, after all. Even when The Father disappeared and the Council had taken his place, she believed what they were doing had been right, carrying on God’s will.

 However, centuries passed after He disappeared. With no return in sight, the Council began to take advantage of their newfound power and influence, using “God’s Will” to justify any decisions they might make. As they grew more pompous and arrogant, Azrael began to question the Council’s so-called “divine guidance”, watching as their eyes became clouded with power. Even as the Earth’s machines began their expeditions into Hell, decimating everything in their paths, the Council turned a blind eye to the sinners that had been left behind. When they began to segregate the angels of Heaven itself, Azrael was unable to ignore the clear injustices occurring, and finally dared to bring her thoughts to the Council. 

That had been her greatest mistake. Now, as she knelt on the marble floor of the auditorium, she knew exactly what the Council had become. The chains restraining her fists tightened as she struggled against them, sending an unimaginable fiery pain coursing through her limbs as her screams continued to ring out.

“Try as you may, your struggle shall never be heard,” the first Council member circled Azrael haughtily. “Lest someone dare try to help a deviant like you.”

“So you’re just going to have me executed in cold blood? After everything I have done for The Father, you are the ones who decide my fate? I have been nothing but loyal to Him and His will!” Azrael reasoned, anger seeping into her voice. The angel circling her hummed in amusement.

“You forget yourself, Azrael. Your status stands below the Council, and we are the voice of the Father. We only want what is best for the people,” he replied.

Azrael’s hands clenched into fists of rage as he spoke in that disgusting, haughty, “holier-than-thou” tone. These were no longer the Holy angels she remembered– Or were they ever truly holy in the first place? Had she been serving an unjust power that only claimed to know God’s will ever since He disappeared? She truly didn’t know anymore. All she knew was that they had become far too comfortable in the place of God’s empty throne.

“And what of the sinners? Do they not count as people? What of the ones in Limbo who now suffer an unimaginable fate despite the peaceful lives they led?” Azrael argued, gritting her teeth as her restraints continued to burn through the silver plating of her armor. Despite the heat, her holy armor remained unmarked, yet the pain still traveled through.

“The creatures of Hell are inconsequential! The only ones that truly matter are those who reside in Heaven,” the Council member spat. “What matters now is maintaining the stability here. With these ideas you bring, you threaten the peace of the realm. You will be severed from the Holy Light and cast into Hell to die, along with your heretic ideologies. God forbid the other angels learn of them and begin to rebel,” he stepped forward and grabbed the chin of her helmet, “you will die alone, hidden, in the deepest layers of Hell. Martyrdom is a luxury of which you are undeserving.”

Azrael didn’t even have a moment to process his words– to lash out at him for using His name in vain– before the chains pulled taut, and her arms were pulled away from her sides. She cried out as the pressure on her wrists tightened, sending another blaze of agony through her arms as she heard a choir of hymns begin. 

As the light was purged from Azrael’s holy being, a searing pain struck her body, setting her nerves ablaze. She screamed once again through gritted teeth and clenched fists, determined to deny the Council the satisfaction of torturing her. Excruciating waves of pain surged through her, incinerating the light from the inside out, a searing hiss that would strike lessers blind. In this horrible, burning fire, one undying vengeance was forged. If the council would not listen to reason, then reason be damned. These false gods would fall, for Death is a blade that none shall escape. Thank you for reading! This is a prologue to my ULTRAKILL OC's story and I'm super proud of it and I'd love to hear your feedback if you have any. Thanks again <333

[gwen-de-rolo]

MY HANDS ARE TIRED, YOU'D BETTER LIKE MY ANGST

[idv-ask-azrael]

Nothing personal but azy or azrael can you take a selfie with everyone you love the most like you love them with the bottom of your heart. can you do that ?

“Sure. Let me get them... Him. I'm afraid there currently is only one.”

“Hold still, would you?”

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: Fun fact... The reason I titled this as two sides of the same coin as I was originally planning on making the reader being Azrael's wife and would be [y/n] Eveningstar as Azrael's last name would be Eveningstar 🧍but decided not to lmao.

PART TWO | PART FOUR | NAVIGATION

Charlie stood nervously at the podium, angels above her already judging her. Her eyes noticed the door to the courtroom opens, a familiar angel she met awhile ago, an angel that looked like her father. Xavier was it? If she remembered correctly. She watched as the boy flew up and took his position on the other side of Sera, Emily on the other side of the woman, the older woman in between the two young seraphims.

Charlie could feel the [e/c] orbs staring at her as the boy looked down on her (literally as he was sitting above her).

The meeting began.

Charlie was really hoping to win these angels over, hopefully her brother could help.

But she was slowly getting more and more nervous as the boy looked like he was getting bored from this meeting, the meeting clearly didn't meet his expectations.

Xavier just looked down, eyes half-lidded as he looked at the girl with boredom. All he could see is a plan without enough foundation to work, baseless claims that the hotel will work.

What annoys him is that this is the very same ambition his father proposed years ago. He wasn't there during the meeting but his mother told him about it.

The idea is ridiculous. Sinners were given a chance to live an honest and good life but decided to mess it up and now they're looking for a way to redeem themselves?

Xavier was close to falling asleep in the middle of it, suddenly something caught his interest. Emily, Charlotte, and Sera were arguing but Lute and Adam suddenly butted into the conversation and managed to slip up and revealed a secret.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month... gotta say I can't wait to... Come down and exterminate you.” Adam says mockingly along with Lute.

Xavier's eyes widened, jaw dropping. Looking around to see if he heard it right and base on the others reaction, he heard it right.

The rest of the meeting went by a blur, another secret was revealed and Vaggie, Charlotte's lover was a former exorcist and is a fallen angel.

Frankly, he doesn't care about that. Xavier can only cover his mouth in shock, still in disbelief that these killings are happening without the others knowing.

Heaven is a lie.

Charlie looked at her supposed brother, a slight surprised look on his face. Clearly in disbelief. She couldn't tell if he's mad or not.

Oh, he's mad alright. Mad that a lie this big has been hidden away.

Beyond furious, Xavier glared at Sera. Charlotte and her lover were teleported back to hell after a snap of Adam's fingers.

Killing of souls, damned or not they have no reason for doing this.

Xavier decided to attend the court meeting, curious what fantastic or foolish ideas his half sister had to show them. He didn't expect that this meeting ended up revealing a very heavy secret.

Currently he is comforting Emily as the girl glares at Sera, “Please, if you start to question... You could end up like Lucifer... Fallen.” Sera says, her voice trembling slightly.

Xavier's glare hardened when the older woman mentioned a certain man he hated, Xavier just glared at Sera as the woman gave Emily a kiss on her forehead, he doesn't like how the high Seraphim is hiding a secret this big.

“Xavier.” Sera calls out to him sternly, the boy just gave the woman a raised eyebrow as his face returns to being emotionless. Sera felt chills running down her spine, Lucifer's face is unfortunately plastered on this boy's face, the fallen angel was his father after all.

“I hope you don't tell anyone about this. Especially your mother.” She pleaded and Xavier scoffs, a slight mischievous smile on his face, “Or what? Gonna cast me out to like what you did with my birth father?” he asked sarcastically, Sera's eye twitched.

“Of course, not. That isn't an enough reason to cast you out. Just... Please don't tell her.” the woman explained and Xavier scoffs.

“I love my mother and I can't bear to lie to her face, she already had enough of that. Just expect that this will reach the seven's soon.” He explained before eventually flying down and leaving the courtroom, not giving the woman a chance to speak.

Sera wanted to reach out and stop the boy but he was already gone, lowering her hand slowly. Sighing. He really is Lucifer's son, stubborn.

After all, the apple doesn't really fall far from the tree.

They're just lucky that [y/n] was able to raise the boy properly and was able to inherit most of his mom's personality. The looks however, are unfortunately from his dad.

Sera sighs again. Mentally preparing about the possibilities of what will happen if the seven virtues' know about this.

Charlie's mind was a mess after that meeting, Vaggie gave her some time and space to process everything of what happened.

She can't believe the love of her life is a fallen angel and worse, an ex exorcist! She hid something this big from her! And on top of that, she has a half older brother in heaven?!

Charlie groans, going underneath the covers as she lies on the bed.

She knows the older boy didn't lie as he literally had her father's face except for the eyes and height but everything else was an exact replica. Charlie can't help but be jealous, she could tell how much better the boy was compared to her, the boy carried an air of authority around him.

She feels guilty, she's not stupid. Her dad had that boy while he was in heaven and obviously with someone else, another angel.

Charlie wonders what kind of life her half brother is living up there?

What she does know is that the boy harbors some kind of hatred for her and her family. The boy didn't fully express it but Charlie could feel it, the bubbling rage beneath his exterior when he saw her.

She'll have to ask her dad about this later, once she's mentally okay.

Xavier returned back home, the mansion empty as his mother is away, and they don't have any servants as they prefer a quiet life.

Walking to the living room, his eyes gazed at the large portrait that was displayed on the wall of the living room—a portrait of him and his mom. Him standing at her side while she sat on a regal chair, both of them matching clothes—their heaven uniforms.

His eyes softened, he felt exhausted. Training with his uncle, meeting his half sister, and a secret Sera hid was revealed.

He can't wait for her to come back home, he needed to tell her all about this.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen

[sketch-guardian]

Imagine the angel students with an mc who used to be dating the angel students back when mc was an Angel themself but they became human after some screw up

I feel like atleast one of them would sob

Well, that would be quite tragic and you're not entirely wrong🙈all three angels would cry, one way or another😥(this will contain some angst):

"NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS WITH A HUMAN MC WHO USED TO BE THEIR LOVER WHEN THEY WERE AN ANGEL"

REMIEL

Remiel, be it blessing or curse, has a formidable memory, so she would remember all the details of that fateful day when MC lost their rank as an angel, becoming a human being, a mortal creature. Not a day would go by where Remiel didn't appear as if she were mourning MC, despite knowing they're alive, with their soul not having passed through the Well of Souls. Remiel would find what happened simply unfair, against balance and being loyal until the very end, she would return to being as lonely as she once was before she was given a chance by MC, with only her mother Azrael and father Death to try to get her through MC's fall. Seeing MC as a human again for the first time, Remiel would approach cautiously and murmur that their soul is as pure and bright as the day she lost them. A few silent tears would streak down her pale blue face and MC would have to be the first to start an embrace, as if Remiel feared their new fragility. Remiel would be aware of the fact that she would lose MC a second time given their new mortality, so despite the sweet reunion, it would still be painful

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel would remember that day with regret, not having been able to convince the council to allow MC to continue remaining an angel, despite his best attempts at persuasion, the helplessness felt in seeing MC leave the Celestial Realm as a mortal would still weigh on Nathaniel's heart, although he would usually try to hide it. Seeing MC again as a human would bring back to Nathaniel many words of comfort that he would have wished to say to MC before their fall, but once again he would find himself with a dry throat, unable to express himself, as if something was holding him back, so he would simply pull MC to himself in a tight embrace, slightly trembling due to his broken soft sobs, with the hoarse promise that he would no longer allow such distance between them. Nathaniel would be aware that mortal MC would not last long and if they pointed it out to him, it would be the first time Nathaniel would raise his voice, begging MC to be silent and at least let them live the moment, the illusion peacefully...for a moment longer...if Nathaniel told himself enough times they would be okay, perhaps he would start to believe it in the end

URIEL

Uriel would take MC's becoming a human very badly, losing them in a certain sense almost permanently, because it would be like reliving the Celestial War all over again, in which she lost many of her celestial acquaintances and friends. Uriel would also be torn by conflicting feelings, between her sense of justice and her fondness for MC, therefore just like during the Celestial War, Uriel would find herself helplessly watching the course of events, without being able to question the council's decision and with a heavy heart. Uriel would be quite tense about seeing MC again as human, finding it difficult to see them as an equal as they once were, being now so frail and mortal, and she also wouldn't know how MC's feelings have changed towards her, so MC would have to make the first effort to get closer to the warrior angel. Uriel, gnashing her teeth and hiding tears behind her wing-ears, would at first scold MC for their actions, still set on the respect of rules, but at the first embrace from them, Uriel's defenses would collapse and she would ask between shaky breaths, how could they abandon her too like that, like everyone else? It would take a long talk with Uriel, before she accepts the new situation, taking every opportunity to enjoy what remains of MC's mortality, before losing them again and this time forever

[sethvzekiel]

what could have been | 141 x cold!reader

a passing admission proceeds to completely take over his mind

141 x cold! reader. callsign azrael. gn! reader. mild angst + pining. multiple POV, no established relationship. flashback central, marked in red + italics.

part 1/same AU as this

Long hc/short fic. 3.6k words.

It was banter — really, just mindless chatter to fill the silence on the way back home. Something to wear off the adrenaline from the previous battle. It spilled from lips like loose threads, mindless ramblings about past experiences and feelings and army stories.

Stories like “LT, what do ye mean I wasn’t first place? That was a solid run I just did, solid!” and “When you were our age, Captain, they didn’t have telly,” between snickers and friendly insults.

You were the contractor, not one of them: a position you were keen on protecting as you kept to the far corner of the army plane, typing up your own report for Laswell. The chatter droned on in the back of your mind as you spared only the barest sliver of attention for emergencies. It was only when someone mentioned your name that you looked up from your laptop.

Gaz tilted his head at you, a spark of mischief in his eyes. He’d been getting bold lately, fully confident that he was your favorite comrade. Gaz did always have a sharp tongue, even for Price.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You scoffed, fully ready to get back to your report.

“What are we, schoolgirls at a sleepover? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Someone closed your laptop. Soap.

“No, no, answer his question!”

“Scotsman. Get your hand off something that’s five times your salary, or I’ll remove it myself.”

You were only half kidding; the laptop was six times his salary. Merc money was a lovely thing.

Soap quickly retreated, muttering something about being on the wrong career path and “five times my fuckin’ salary, get off yer arse,” but nudged you nevertheless.

It felt as if the conversation was finally going to move on when another spoke.

“Answer the question, Azrael.”

This was a joke. You didn’t hide your disdain as you glared at Price.

“Really, Captain?”

Price took a long drag of his cigar.

“Answer it and I’ll tell Kate you’re on good behavior. She’ll be over the moon to hear you’re getting some social interaction.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. Laswell did not hide her hopes of getting you true comrades, not just contracted acquaintances, when she introduced you to the 141 — a hope you’d gone out of your way to quash for a long time. If a false reassurance from Price would get her mind off that ridiculous idea and focus on getting you more kill contracts…

Well, not a bad trade-off for pretending to be friends for one plane ride.

You let out a sigh from deep within your soul, opened your laptop again, and pulled up the report. Almost mindlessly, you spoke whatever came to your mind at that very moment, not knowing how badly it would change the 141.

“Sure.”

God, you could feel the whole plane lean in with anticipation.

“Never had the time to fall in love, but…” 

You mentally shrugged. This was fine to admit, right?

“... I was briefly interested in one of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You popped on your headphones, leaving the boys to dwell with that answer.

The plane couldn’t have gone any faster.

◈ GAZ

Interested? Like, interested-interested?

There was no getting you out of those headphones—he’d tried before, didn’t end well. The entire task force was stunned silent for a minute, each one picking apart your casual admission and grappling with the idea of Oh God, is it me?

It was Soap who broke first, exploding into a shocked yell that boomed throughout the tiny plane. That shook Gaz out of his stunned silence, but he still blinked rapidly as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said.

Interested. In one of them.

There was a one in four chance that it was him. Five, if Laswell counted, but he was certain that you saw her more as a mentor and confidant than a romantic prospect. Besides, she wasn’t even in the plane. It was between him, Soap, LT, and the Captain, and this was a battle royale he was keen on winning.

Gaz wasn’t blind. He was the first to notice the changing opinions of his teammates on you. Bearing the combined advantage of brains and emotional awareness, things the 141 usually lacked one or the other of, he picked up on Price’s constant attention towards you that increasingly felt less like a professional checkup. He knew about Ghost’s rivalry with you that brought a tinge of tenderness to his gruff exterior as he complimented your skill. And who could miss Soap locking onto you like a missile from day one?

But it had to be him, right? He was the only one you spoke to of your own accord, the one whose name you called when arranging for shared night shifts. The one who’s actually been to your room (he happily ignored the fact that he was just there to fetch a report for Laswell). The one who, at a drunken night out where you’d actually gotten tipsy for once, you’d stuck to like glue, no matter how rowdy the pub got.

Gaz was your first defender in the 141. When even Price was wary of your cold nature and mercenary background, Gaz was always up at arms, ready to express the simple truth that you were just a professional, and Price could look at Ghost for an example, couldn’t he? Always jumping the gun, fighting back even Soap’s teases at your expense simply because you weren’t present to defend your attitude and the unfairness of their assumptions felt real to Gaz. They didn’t see the you he saw. They just had to.

You were soft around him. Safe. And Gaz felt the same way, too. As much as you’d listen to his ramblings of whatever’s going on in his life, he looked forward to your own stories, hanging off of every rough-toned word as you shared your wisdom from past fights and your assessment of his skills, which he’d known was your way of caring for him. Making sure that he’d live long to fight good.

“In another world,” he’d said one night as you watched the last hours of your watch tick away. “Would you be back on the field again? If you had a choice to walk away from all this, live a normal life?”

Back then, your moonlit expression was intense, but sorrowful as you considered your answer. Gaz thought that you were only being sincere in answering him when you’d gazed deep into his eyes, but now, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant something else when you replied:

“I don’t know. Where would you be?”

“Dunno either. Always wanted to protect people. Make some real change. Don’t think I’d handle being an artist or bloody stockbroker all my life.”

He was so fucking stupid. Why didn’t he actually listen to what you’d said when he was too busy imagining living some alternate life, when you were right in front of him and so close?

You smelled nice.

“Then I’ll follow you back to the fight, Kyle.”

“Aw mate, I’ll look forward to it, yeah?”

The memory, the regrets, and the what-could’ve-been’s swirled in Gaz’s mind and stung at his eyes.

He wanted to look at you again, but he wasn’t going to risk anyone seeing his face right now with how he’s feeling.

He was a bloody moron, and he lost his chance.

◈ SOAP

“Yer taking the piss!”

Laughter was always Johnny’s first response. Little Johnny-boy giggling nervously as his mother demanded to know where he’d been after playing outside until dark. Freshly-recruited MacTavish snickering as he far surpassed the other recruits in exercises, again, to their dismay. Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish cackling with delight and adrenaline as he fired off the C4, lighting up the battlefield with plumes of orange fire.

Laughter was also a defense mechanism: difficult personalities, hard questions, bad days. Heal it or shrug it off, Soap was never one to make things more complicated than they should be.

This laughter… he wasn’t sure if it was one of joy or nerves.

You were interested. Were, he tried to remind himself, but his mind kept on latching onto the ‘interested’ part. One of them—which could’ve been him. 

He was delusional now, flailing around and being the jokester when it was all just an act to hide his inner turmoil. Fuck, did you know that he had it bad for you? It was his fault for not bothering to hide it and trailing after you, but he thought that you already shrugged it off as a joke. Did… did you take him seriously, after all?

Or worse, what if it wasn’t him? 

His glance went to Gaz, remembering how he’d fallen asleep on the truck that one time and accidentally leaned on your shoulder, how you stiffened, then slowly settled down, even adjusting your shoulder for the entire two-hour drive. How, no matter the situation or your mood, you always called upon Gaz with a decidedly softer tone than the one you used on him.

Surely, he wasn’t that attached to you. You were comrades, a passing fancy wouldn’t hurt anything.

He’d never seen LT smile, ever. Part of it’s the mask, but it was clear in his voice and the lack of crinkling around his eyes that smiling wasn’t his thing. But then Ghost and you had that sniper competition, dragged Soap in to referee, and when you hit dead-center for all moving targets, Soap wrenched his gaze away to catch a shine of something in Ghost’s eyes as he watched you.

Friends and professionals. That was all you were, right?

“Good health makes good men, MacTavish,” you said sharply as he sat up on his bed. Soap was forced into the medbay after a particularly grueling op. Long, sleepless nights, absolute hellfire, and blood loss all culminated in him passing out from shock mid-battle. His memories of the exact moment he collapsed were hazy, but he knew that he heard someone call his name in a choked scream.

Was it Gaz who screamed then? He was always the worrywart. Soap scratched his head, wincing as pain flared up his side at the simple motion. He shot you a shining, albeit weak, grin.

“Don’t lose yer head over me, was just the one time.”

Your glare narrowed.

“One time is all it takes, soldier.” 

Fuck, you were calling him ‘soldier’ now? You were pissed. Soap raised his hands in surrender.

“I give, I give. I’ll take my meds a day and all that shite. No trouble from me.”

For a moment, he was expecting more scolding, admonishments of his recklessness or a possible lack of skill. A “stop dragging the rest of us down with you,” considering your pride in your own battle prowess. But he got no such thing.

You sighed, looking a thousand nights older as you did, and he caught the marks of sleepless nights under your eyes. The roughness of your hands as you held his good shoulder. The miniscule caress of your thumb that he assumed (back then) was purely accidental.

“Make good on that, Johnny,” you whispered, gaze drifting off elsewhere. “You have to.”

Your voice was hoarse—why? When you left and the medic had taken your place, refreshing Soap’s bandages, he asked about how long he was out.

“Three days, sergeant,” the medic replied. “And your scary friend insisted on staying here for all of it. Tended to you like one of our own staff.”

“Psh, LT? Knew he was soft.”

“No, no, not the lieutenant. Your PMC friend.”

Without even thinking about it, Johnny laughed.

◈ GHOST

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the mindless gossip, and anyone who’d say otherwise will have months of latrine duty awaiting them. Gaz calling your name piqued his attention, but only barely, and brought a tickle of amusement when he asked you such a ridiculous question.

He was much less amused at your answer.

It was sarcastic, he tried to reason. Spouting off bullshit to keep the boys off your trail and get back to work as soon as possible. That’s what you’re always like, and that’s what he liked about you.

He also liked your shots. The pride you took in your expertise. The devotion to your warcraft. How you always took his challenges as if your name was on the line. How you’d smirk if you won, or promise comeuppance if you lost.

He liked your loyalty to Laswell — and envied it. You obeyed him and Price, yes, but he would never forget the brief gleam of admiration when the boys asked you about Laswell over lunch. He liked and envied your closeness with Gaz: a sign that you might be a true ally of the 141 after all, but a closeness that he wondered if you could extend to anyone else. He respected your ferocious protectiveness of Soap when he’d (stupidly) collapsed mid-battle, but watching you tend to Soap for nights on end wrenched something awful from within his chest.

You were a shade more casual with Price. According to the captain, you had some snark to you when not in work mode: a privilege Price had gotten purely because you were both friends of Laswell. You bonded with Price like you were fellow leaders, people down similar paths instead of mere colleagues, and when planning missions, you and Price made up a tactical machine to be reckoned with.

It was whenever he’d deliver late night reports to Price’s office, that he’d listen before knocking on the door. Muffled conversation—most of it Price’s, but every so often, there was a quick chuckle that wasn’t his, or a quiet snark followed by Price’s gravelly laughter. The office would be thick with cigar smoke when Ghost was allowed in, but what was harder to swallow was the cigar hanging from your lips that you’d returned to Price, and he’d popped it between his teeth without question.

Ghost was in deep. He’d never admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but he was. That chilling, anxiety-inducing truth nudged at the back of his head as he silently watched Soap cackle and holler throughout the plane while you intentionally ignored them, eyes trained on your report like your life depended on it.

You and the laptop. A familiar sight when he’d pass by the rec room on late nights, where you’d be tapping away at the laptop with stacks of coffee cups and energy bars littered across the table.

“Bloody hell, that can’t wait until tomorrow?” He’d asked, exasperated, by the fifth night.

You took a moment more to work before responding.

“The mob won’t wait for tomorrow. This mission needs to go down tonight.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

He didn’t know why he stayed there with you, sharing the couch as he made tea for two and set a cup beside you without a word. He could have actually tucked in for the night, gotten some well-deserved sleep lest he be grouchier than ever for the next day’s training drills. Or popped open a book if he felt like it. Anything more productive than sit beside you all night as you silently blazed through reports and phone calls, arranging operations that he had no business in caring about.

You were exhausted, but you were determined and alert as you ferried reports on the trafficking ring takedown. The calm, effortless strength in your voice as you spoke—sometimes strongly—with operatives much higher up the chain than you, because you knew what you were doing and were going to see this op to the end. A flicker of silent gratitude as Ghost refilled your tea again and tidied up your makeshift workspace.

A call by the first sliver of sunrise made you sag into the couch with relief.

“Mission accomplished?” Ghost asked.

You slid your tired gaze to him, and this close to you, he caught your tiny, sleepy grin.

“G’job, LT,” you murmured, voice thick with lethargy. “Mmh… needta phone Kate…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Not your op.”

“Don’t think Laswell’d understand a word of what you’re saying right now. C’mon, let’s get you some rest.”

He beckoned for you to stand up, only to hear a soft, muffled snore. You… were sleeping, knocked-out dead, with a hint of your grin remaining, probably dreaming about a job well done. Disheveled, snoring, and surrounded in loose notes and coffee stains, you were far from the cold professional that you normally made yourself to be.

The rec room was no place for sleeping. Soap would be here any minute, booming and hollering as him and Gaz would raid the fridge, again. You needed to be anywhere else.

And if Ghost was going to carry you in his arms all the way back to your room and go through the trouble of arranging for your sudden day-off, then he was going to do it silently, and pretend it never happened when you approached him the next day.

◈ PRICE

That… was a surprise.

While Price was the most privy to your story as your commanding officer and, more importantly, Laswell’s friend, much of your life was still a mystery to him. Laswell only gave him a few pointers: “They’ve had a long life, John,” and “Trust is a double-edged sword for them.”

He could guess when you entered Laswell’s life. It was some years ago, when she was busier than ever, to the point that he’d considered staging an intervention alongside her wife when Laswell refused with fire in her eyes. She was fighting for something, he could tell, but he didn’t know what exactly until she told him about you.

Somewhere in the gaps between what little he knew about you, Price hoped you had some normalcy to your life. Enough memories on hand to look back fondly upon, to carry you through the darker days. Yet he had a feeling that you had little of such memories to yourself. Perhaps, that was why he decided to share with you some of his own.

Foolishness in his youth. Summers from his wilder days. Dreams he’d had and lost, but never mourned—the kinds of men he’d wanted to become before making peace with himself. You understood, somehow: you were an old soul, no matter your age, a wealth of experiences and wisdom in you with just as many unanswered questions.

You can be safe with me, his soul all but screamed in your nightly chats. The doubt and fear and sorrow layered on your shoulders like dust was easy for him to see when he could feel the same thing. You weren’t delicate, not by a long shot. You were one of the strongest people he knew, but there was nothing Price could do to stifle the yearning in his chest to hold you, let you rest in his shadow and believe for once that everything was going to be alright.

“Do you have any interest in living long, sir?” You muttered as Price brought out his first cigar of the night. He wouldn’t be smoking this early in the night, but he had to deal with higher-ups and red tape all day just for some damn clearance. You were the only person he’d actually looked forward to speaking with that day.

“Smoking won’t kill me, Azrael—” You scoffed, then. “—it’s the bloody Pentagon that will.”

“And the UN. And the UK.”

“If the boys don’t get to me first. Where’s my lighter?”

“Here you go.” You didn’t have his lighter, but you had your own up and ready.

“Picked up the habit, did you?”

“No. You’ve lost your lighter enough times that I bought one myself.”

He offered you a gruff thanks and sank into his chair, watching the smoke swirl up to the amber light. You leaned back on his desk, your body barely brushing his—something that he was used to by then that he was second-guessing now.

It was beautiful and terrible, how close his hand was to yours.

Stupid stories made you laugh, but not foolish ones. Your concern for the boys was evident even in simple retellings of the past; a fact that burned in his heart when he noticed. So he told you about how Gaz tried to fix a leaky shower only to explode the entire camp’s plumbing system, he clung to your brief chuckle like a lifeline. The mirth lighting up your face was going to be his second addiction.

“Want to try, soldier?” He asked as he held out his cigar, not for the first time.

“Just this once. If it’s ass, you’re not getting another light out of me.”

He was going to offer you a new one, but you’d taken the one he’d been smoking and casually placed it between your lips, as if the very sight hadn’t made the blood roar in Price’s ears. You frowned at the taste—he laughed, ignored the flush of heat across his body.

A knock on the door: Simon, turning in his papers. He froze when he saw you and Price, and though obscured by his mask, Price knew the lieutenant well enough to recognize the hesitation in his steps.

Why did he do it?—Price wondered now as he recalled that night, how you’d returned the cigar and he, without thinking, popped it right back to his mouth in front of Simon. And why did he feel proud?

But Price had to hold himself in check. As captain, he had boundaries that he mustn’t cross. The team’s well-being was his top priority, that was always the truth of it, and as he watched the boys dwell in the fallout of your shocking admission, he had no place in making this rivalry worse, no matter how he felt about you.