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heartsformars · 7 months ago

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Under my wing~ hazbin hotel ships & Child! Reader

(platonic ofc)

CHARACTERS: Charlie & Vaggie, Angel Dust & Husk and featuring Alastor as the single dad!!

TW: Abandonment involved, mention of Valentino , alastor being an exemplary father (sarcasm), bad jokes, the reader is a hellborn, drama, reader being tortured (i.e. going through puberty).

One rainy day, a crying mother would leave her little baby in a dumpster, hoping someone else would find they or hopefully, they would die. She would leave, not knowing what would happen to you or how you would protect yourself from the dangers of hell. That place, which in spite of its high temperature could be considered cold, and unfortunately you had to learn that as soon as you arrived in the underworld. However, a shadow would be seen in that alley after hearing your cries of despair.Saving you (possibly) from dying under the hands of other foul demons But who is it…

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CHARLIE & VAGGIE

The one that got you home was definitely Charlie Could you blame her? She thought you were so cute! How could anyone leave you alone at such a young age? However, she still had a little bit of her girlfriend's reaction. -Vaggie, what would you do if one day I came home with a baby? -Show both hands charlie - -probably at first she would refuse, a baby was a lot of responsibility, and they already had enough with the hotel however it would be easy to convince her with your and Charlie's gaze. -She would just sigh and say she was fine with it while Charlie died of emotion and you just laughed. -Listen, they are both very attentive and would accept your every decision as mothers, there is really no way you wouldn't feel loved with them. -when they are both busy they will probably leave you with someone from the hotel. Neither of them trust Alastor, sir pentious was too distracted, Angel dust was definitely a bad choice and nifty wasn't even an option so you'll most likely be left in charge of Husk. -you'd probably just be sitting at the bar while angel dust is trying to convince you to say a bad word or give the poor bartender the middle finger. -Husk would just look at him with contempt. -However, when vaggie comes back from her errand and goes to see you, she's probably in for a surprise.

-How are you doing honey, husk take good care of you?- -Mama, you, fak you, dumb- -WHAT- -and you've got angel dust laughing on the stairs. -Probably after that Charlie would give a talk on respect (with you present obviously). -Although after she reconciled with her father she would definitely be Charlie's first choice to leave you in charge. -Although she was a bit scared at first, her father took it well so she didn't worry so much. -now, lucifer would be a BUNCH OF NERVES. He would grab you like you were some kind of crystal figure being afraid to drop you at some point. -after all you are his baby's baby! And his daughter hates him again if he throws you off the fifth floor? -he would probably keep you distracted with some rubber duckies and make some specials for you and keep you dristraide while he figures out what activities to do with you. -he haven't babysat a child like this in a long time. -however, it all works out (surprisingly) well! Even Charlie almost cries when she sees her dad asleep on the couch with you asleep on his chest. (She didn't bother to wake you two up) -now, I really don't think Charlie would be so strict with you, she wouldn't let you do whatever you wanted, but she would leave some room for your freedom and development! -on the other hand vaggie... -she's really not THAT strict but she won't have Mercy when it comes to punishing you when you do something wrong. -If you break a window accidentally don't think you'll get away with it, she'll probably make you replace it yourself to learn the consequences of your actions. -Other than that, however, they were both very patient with you. Always being there for you every step of the way. -And then after that you hit puberty. -They would probably have a hard time with your mood swings and other teenage problems. -however, they would always try to understand what you're feeling and not judge you for anything. -Especially Charlie -Now, if you introduced they to a boyfriend/girlfriend… -God, they would be in a mental duel, both of them. -However, the one who accepted your partner as part of her family first was definitely Charlie. -And vaggie would be fine with that! However, expect her to be watching you two 24/7. -But it's great to meet someone who makes our little baby so happy!- -Yeah…-

-Feel that they would both try to get you to have a certain part of their personality. However, you have the choice of how to be in the end and they couldn't force you to be something you don't want, neither of them 💓. -10/10 Mothers, I would let them adopt me.

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HUSK & ANGEL DUST

The one who took you to the hotel for the first time was Angel, I doubt that Husk leaves the hotel much outside of going to the casino or to a tavern... or both. -I mean, everyone was surprised when ANGEL DUST came with a baby to the hotel but it was fine for everyone. -Except for husk -There's no way you're planning on taking care of that kid! -Listen, I found him in a dumpster, all alone with no one to take care of him. I had to bring it in, who knows what would have happened to it if I left it there! -A child is not some kind of fucking joke, you know very well the contracts we're in. You, and me. If we're not free we doubt very much that child can be… -There would probably be a little dispute, however Husk would accept it... not so fast. Eventually he'll warm up to you, though, don't worry .-Charlie or vaggie will probably always find him sitting at the bar with you while he's looking his usual sour self. -although Charlie finds it mildly endearing-Angel dust hurts to leave you with Fat nuggets when he has to go somewhere fast. -and if he didn't, his first choice of nanny would probably be Charlie. -And she'd be happy to take care of you -she'd definitely spoil you with gifts and say things like "where's baby" -And on your birthday she would be the first to give you clothes or a toy. -and angel dust loves being able to have someone to leave you with when Val got heavy and Husk was too busy. -And even though Angel loves you very much sometimes (could) become a bad influence.... -but when that happens Husk is usually there to scold him.... -Husk wouldn't like you interacting with Alastor very much -even if he keeps a "good" attitude towards you he is afraid that he might use you as something to threaten him or that he might hurt you -and whenever he sees him trying to approach you he tries to intervene in some way.... -Oh but who could this little sweetie be- -and you have husk taking you in his arms making some silly excuse like "oh they’re hungry" or "it's just that it's bedtime!" when it literally might be three in the afternoon -although you wouldn't always be a child, and that was something they both knew. -but when you actually reach puberty… -And from then on Angel would have to learn to share his animal companion (and comfort) fat nuggets -The one who would know the most how to help you and listen to you would be Husk, he would definitely give the best advice for your worst situations. -And even if angel really can't even help himself, he will try to help you and support you in everything. -Overall good parents, 9/10 if I would let him adopt me, my parents, I love them,

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ALASTOR

-At the beginning, he saw you as a potential apprentice. -wouldn't really feel much of a parental attachment to you, he would use you mainly for his own convenience. -After all, every "mastermind" needs an apprentice, right? -although just because you are an avenue to continue his power doesn't mean he won't take proper care of you. -he would mainly leave you with Rosie and satan, you would find out everything from her. -and she would definitely spoil you as if you were her little girl. -she would be like that cool aunt who always sends you gifts lol -and you would ADORE her -Alastor would have passive-aggressive parenting with you. -you know when he gets mad even if he doesn't look mad, it's the experience I guess -surprisingly, even with alastor as a caregiver I feel like you wouldn't be as much of a son of a bitch as he is… at least hopefully… -you would get along with most of the people in the hotel except for husk -I wouldn't trust you much but i wouldn't hate you, just keep your distance -would teach you a lot of his tactics and powers -you would probably always try to smile like him to keep up the habit -although sometimes you forget and you're just serious, although he would take care to remind you every time he sees you TOO serious. -in general he would try to make you not to make his mistakes, since you were a child he would fill you with discreet lessons that will eventually serve you when you grow up, trust him… but be careful of his advice too. -ok, alastor has a few scores to settle with many of the sinners and overlords so don't be surprised if you have some idiots behind you trying to kill you lol -though don't worry, you'll always have your "father' to have your back. -although of the main ones would be vox, however as long as you don't pay much attention to him and stay out of his conflicts I doubt he'll do much against you. -he will probably call you by nicknames like "sweetheart", "little lady" (if you are a woman) or "darling" but never daughter or son -you are really just his apprentice, as I said before he doesn't see you as a real son or daughter -but if you call him father he wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure if he would be happy about it or not. -but he probably doesn't even care lol -6/10 as a father, at least he cares and protects you but you are not so much like a child to him

— This wasn't something I had planned to write, it just came out lol but I hope you enjoy it anyway, I don't have any requests right now and I have TOO MUCH things I want to write so expect anything from me these days.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin Hotel x reader #hazbin hotel platonic #charlie x vaggie #chaggie #vaggie #charlie morningstar #angel dust x husk #huskerdust #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #platonic #kid reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #Radio demon #vox #xov

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carnalpleasure · 4 years ago

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Michael x Angel!Reader 👼

hi!! i’ve had this idea in my head for months and finally felt inspired to start it tonight. i’m still working on my other two fics.. but Michael’s been calling to me lately💕

Summary: The reader assigns herself to be Michael’s guardian angel. This takes place at the beginning of Sojourn, with Michael in the wilderness. But takes a slightly different turn <3

Every human being in the history of humanity had been born with a guardian angel. The precious moment a newborn baby breathes its first breath of life, an angel is assigned to be their lifelong guardian. The angel’s main mission being to protect their human ward from the dark forces that had plagued the earth for all eternity. Ever since the serpent seduced Eve into her first bite of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

But that streak was broken one day in late March of 2012, when Vivian Harmon gave birth to Satan’s only begotten son.

She was the Anti-Mary. Instead of a blessed virgin being touched by an angel, she was a victim of a demonic sexual assault. She died giving birth to the Antichrist.

Michael Langdon was Satan’s very first creation. Because he was not a child of God, he was not born with a guardian angel. His father didn’t bother to assign him a guardian demon either. The spawn of Satan was left in the hands of none other than his grandmother Constance, whom his father felt was perfect for raising the little monster.

When Michael outgrew her, his father introduced him to Anton Lavey, one of his most trusted followers, who would then introduce Michael as the heir to the Church of Satan.

Michael, however, didn’t really take to Anton. He felt much closer to another key member of the church, Miriam Mead. She took a liking to the boy too and lovingly welcomed him into her home, where she taught him all about rituals, prayers, Black Mass, satanic prophecy.. She was preparing him for the apocalypse. His destiny, as they’d all say.

Once Michael began becoming aware of his powers, his father then led him into the hands of the Warlocks. They thought they were training him to be their next Supreme, but he only needed them to show him how to use his powers. They were disposable beyond that.

Michael was a loyal son, never questioning his father’s decisions, until his beloved Ms. Mead was permanently taken from him by the witches. Cordelia was right, why did he let this happen?

In search of answers, Michael fled to the wilderness on a quest. Jesus had spent 40 days out in the desert being tempted by Satan himself before his own Father finally spoke to him. Michael decided he had to do the same.

That’s when he wandered out into the forest on the outskirts of LA and started to trace a pentagram in the dirt, tired and out of options.

“I’m not going any further,” he sulked, dragging the jagged stone across the ground. “Father, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded, out of breath as he finished carving his sigil into the soil.

“I’m not leaving this circle until you talk to me,” he pouted stubbornly. “They’re gone.. the warlocks.. my Ms. Mead. Burned alive at the stake by the witches. Until nothing was left but ash and smoke,” his voice was breaking but he was too exhausted to cry.

“You tell me what to do,” he sighed, “or you let me die here.” Then he fell to his knees in the center of the circle and waited for a sign.

He watched the sun set and rise four times before he finally had a vision. But even then, he couldn’t be sure if he was seeing a sign or just suffering from severe dehydration.

He saw a little boy offering a cold grape Fanta, and a little girl holding a basket of red apples, and he thought maybe God was trying to tempt him into the light now. To distract him from his mission and derail him from his destiny.

He refused, “No, I’m on a mission. I have to talk to my father,” he said weakly. “Leave me alone.” Then the visions turned dark. He was taunted by Ms. Mead and then praised by Anton Lavey.

“You’re not real. None of this is.. re-real.” He shook his head and raised his hand to shield his face from the blinding light that was radiating from the High Priest before him.

“You’ve done a great job.” The Satanist proudly smiled. “No..” Michael protested, “I failed. I-I’m lost. I don’t understand my purpose,” he was out of breath and at a loss for words. He was tired of games, all he wanted was his father’s help. Everything was spinning.

The vision of Anton continued reciting to him from the prophecy in Revelation, calling him the Alpha and the Omega. Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He made a lunge for Anton, wrapping a hand around his throat to choke him out. Only seconds later, the vision vanished altogether.

And that’s when he saw you. The last thing he remembered was an impossibly beautiful girl with big white wings and a little white dress. He fell to his knees again, in shock and exhaustion, and collapsed into her arms. He felt the warm, soft embrace of feathers, and then he fell into a much needed sleep.

When he awoke a day later, he was still pretty disoriented from the lack of food, water, and sleep. His mind was a haze. He didn’t realize where he was, he only knew that this bed was softer than anything he’d ever felt.

The blankets felt like fluffed up clouds and the pillows smelled like lavender. A cool breeze caressed his skin, and he noticed the temperature of the room was significantly cooler than anything he’d felt in a long time. That radiating heat that seemed to consume him constantly just wasn’t there.

He reached his hand out to feel along the bed. Empty. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the angel from his dreams sitting there watching over him. But the room was empty too.

He sat up in bed, clutching the sheets and looking around anxiously. The room was nice, but it wasn’t anything extreme. It was kinda charming actually, soft and cozy. It didn’t look like anyone had been living here for very long.

Michael climbed out of bed, stepping foot on the soft, plush carpet and smiling at the touch. He walked towards the bedroom door which was just barely cracked open, and stuck his head out slowly to peak outside.

You were in the kitchen, digging around in the refrigerator when you heard him come out. You twisted around, bumping the fridge door shut with your hip and then dropping everything on the counter.

“You’re up already? Are you feeling okay?” The pained look on his face made you worry. He looked exhausted still, leaning against the doorway just to hold himself up.

You rushed to his side, a little faster than humanly possible, and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him steady himself. He leaned into your embrace but winced a little at your touch. His body was sore everywhere.

He couldn’t stop staring at you. Almost glaring, looking at you like you’d just lied straight to his face. You walked him to the counter, sitting him down across from you and then running back to quickly check the stove. He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.

“I’m making you a breakfast feast,” you smiled at him over your shoulder. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days..”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “But wh-who are you? How did I get here?”

You smiled gently, passing him a plate of bacon and eggs to get him started while you finished the french toast. “I’m Y/N, I brought you here,” you said happily.

He kept looking you up and down. You looked exactly like he remembered, but you were now missing one unique, defining feature..

“Are you-“ he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. It didn’t seem possible to him. “You had.. wings before,” his brow furrowed in confusion and his glare returned.

You simply nodded, glancing over at him and frying a piece of toast in the pan. “You remembered,” you said with a smile.

His confusion only grew. You poured him a glass of milk and then slid the fork closer to him. “Eat, please. We have plenty of time to talk later. I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” you brushed his blonde curls out of his face and the divine touch of your fingers briefly lingered on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

He hesitated, picking up his fork and taking a bite. It wasn’t just the starvation talking, he genuinely enjoyed your food. He immediately started feeling his strength and energy coming back. He felt revitalized.

It wasn’t just the food. Something about your presence was so satisfying to him. You brought him a kind of merciful peace that was only reserved for the saints. He didn’t need confirmation, he knew in his heart you were something holy. And he only hoped that you didn’t know what he truly was. If you ever fell in love with him, it would be your fall from grace.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered softly. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was committing a crime just by being in your presence. He felt like God would smite him any minute just for laying eyes on you.

You cupped his face in your hands gently, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eyes. “As of today, I’m officially a guardian angel,” you smiled proudly. Your eyes actually twinkled, it completely captivated him.

“Guardian? Who’s guardian?” his pouty lip quivered and you could see all the new emotions swirling around him like a hurricane. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening. He thought he must’ve been dreaming. He wasn’t dead, he knew that. He was destined for hell and there’s no one like her down there.

He was so cute. “Yours, duh” you giggled, letting go of his face and playfully tousling his blonde locks. He looked up at you with a small smirk that spread into a big smile. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “How?-“ he silently mouthed as the words he was looking for escaped him.

“You didn’t have one,” you shrugged. “So I.. guess you could say I volunteered.” You didn’t want to overwhelm him with too many details, but the adorable confused puppy look on his face was begging for answers. “Volunteered?” he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I just thought you should have someone looking out for you too.. you know. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not by God or anyone.” You said it with such sincerity, he could see it on your face how strongly you felt about those words.

His eyes started to overflow with tears but he couldn’t help but smile. It was the single kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. That’s when it hit him. You already knew what he was. You knew who he was. And you were willing to go against both God’s will and Satan’s to take over as his protector. You left heaven just for him.

He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and quietly sobbing into your chest. Tears of pure joy and gratitude. Little “thank yous” whispered on repeat against your skin, so close you can feel his lips brushing across your collarbones with each word.

He snaked his arms around your waist tighter and tighter, pulling you as close to him as physics would allow. It melted your heart how close he wanted to be to you.

“Aw.. you just want to be held,” you giggled, putting your arms around his shoulders and hugging his body closer to yours. “I’m here, Michael. I’ve got you now. You’re safe, you’re mine,” you cooed, your lips brushing against his temple.

His eyes were closed and his face was pressed against your chest, all he heard was a swift whoosh as your wings suddenly appeared, folding around both of your bodies like a soft shield tucking him into you. He’d never felt so safe before, all nestled in your feathers.

He peaked his eyes open to look around at them. “That’s fucking awesome,” he muttered softly, his jaw dropping as his eyes shot up to meet yours. You smiled down at him, kissing his forehead. You couldn’t help but giggle. He made you feel giddy, the way he looked at you. Like you were made of magic.

“My own guardian angel,” he said quietly to himself, still in awe of it all. He refused to let go of you for the rest of the day after that. All he wanted to do was lie in your arms. Feel your embrace. And you were happy to oblige because he needed to rest anyway. The two of you returned to your bed where he spent the rest of the night on your chest, fast asleep in your arms. The safest place he could ever be.

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon au #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon x angel!reader #sojourn!michael #ahs au #michael langdon x female reader #michael x angel!reader

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sondepoch · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8

Written in the Stars (Lucifer x Angel!Reader)

Four thousand years is a long time. In the absence of your most cherished friend, it feels even longer. But when a certain student exchange program in the Devildom reunites you and Lucifer, things aren't the same. Because four thousand years of separation is a long time. And the love you once felt for Lucifer has changed into something different—something forbidden. But that might not even be your biggest problem, because with each passing day, your holy wings are turning blacker and blacker.

MASTERLIST

Simeon cannot see the shackles that bind him.

He's not sure if that makes it better or worse. On the bright side, it allows him to forget that he is being held prisoner. On the downside, it forces the painstaking realization back down on his heaving shoulders every time he tries to lean forward.

He flinches against the wall, holding himself back as a cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. Give in, a part of him says. Give in, answer all the High Seraphs' questions about MC, and be free.

But the angel knows that, even in this torture, he'll never be able to bring himself to spill the secret that you've tried to hide so desperately. After all, if Simeon tells them the truth, he may go free; but then you'll be brought down to this very room to be put through the same torture he's enduring.

And he'll never do that to you.

Simeon groans, eyes opening to see the six glasses of holy water in front of him. They're crystal clear, shining oh-so-softly in the darkness of this room, but after well over twenty-four hours without drink, he seeks them like a moth to a flame. He doesn't just want water, he genuinely needs it, and he can't help but wonder what the seraphs will do to him when this torture of dehydration becomes life-threatening.

At the back of his mind, though, he suspects that it won't come to that.

Slumping against the wall, he recalls the dream Father had sent him. Or rather the vision that had been sent to all of you. It was far from the first time Simeon had been allowed to sit in on one of the conversations between the High Seraphs and Father, and he'd almost wondered whether the Celestial overlord was going to demand that he be freed from this cruel imprisonment. When the subject of discussion turned toward your fate, though, a smile bloomed on Simeon's face.

Gods be good, he had thought, realizing that he had the truth of it. Father is merciful.

Even now, as Simeon sits, he can hear the sound of you arguing with the High Seraphs, demanding your freedom. He hears your terms echo down the halls, reaching his ears long after you've said them: orders to allow you the right to return to the Devildom, to freely see Lucifer for not just the remainder of the year but for the rest of your life, to not be held captive in these towers ever again.

A soft smile finds its way onto the angel's face when he hears you demand that he be released, wherever they're keeping him.

You're too kind, little lamb.

Not that Simeon is complaining, though. He had been passed out when Father sent him that earlier vision, and the same fate threatens to arrive in the near future if he doesn't get some water and soon.

Simeon reaches another weak hand forward, testing to see how far he can go before the invisible shackles snap him back against the wall.

The sudden darkness causes him to stop.

His breath hitches in his throat, quietly trembling at the unexpected absence of light. It returns not a second later, and his muscles relax, smiling when he realizes that it's you causing these fluctuations.

Simeon's not sure if he should be proud or worried.

A broken laugh spills from his dry lips—interrupted by hoarse coughing—and he tries his hardest to recover, but he must pass out from the effort because when he next comes to, the sounds of your continued conversation echo down and fall upon his ears once more.

It's weak, but he can just barely make out what you're saying.

"You promise?" The sound is distorted, but it has the unmistakable inflection of your voice, filled with a hesitant hope. "Do you mean it?"

Simeon raises his eyebrows, wondering what you're referring to.

"Yes, child." Ah, that's a High Seraph speaking. "You've left us with no choice. You'll only continue throwing this tantrum for the rest of eternity if you don't get your way, so be on with it and do not return, you aggravating child."

Simeon's eyes raise. The High Seraphs are giving in? A part of him wants to laugh, that you've managed to disturb them so greatly with your "tantrum" that you've actually managed to achieve your demands, but another part of him is worried. Only Father has the explicit right to banish people from the Celestial Realm, but the way they told you to "not return" is awfully concerning.

"You—you mean it?" Your voice again, though the hopeful tint from earlier is more prominent. "You swear? Do you swear it, by the eyes of Father and all that is holy?"

"Yes, you obnoxious child of light. We swear, before the eyes of Father, the light within our hearts, the holiness of the Celestial Realm, that you may join your wretched union with Lucifer. Curses be upon you both, if Father ever understands how foolish this is."

Simeon's eyes widen. The words are riddled with jabs and mocks, entirely deriding as the High Seraphs speak to you, but they've said everything that needs to be said. The seraph who just spoke gave you explicit permission not just to see Lucifer but to be with him, having sworn a blessing (riddled with insults) before the eyes of Father, the light in their hearts, and the holiness of the realm.

They've given you the permission to do the very thing you desire.

Be with Lucifer.

A warmth blossoms in Simeon's heart, overwhelmed with relief and happiness for your sake. A liquid joy spills from his eyes, and he doesn't even wipe it away as he understands that the little girl he's spent the past four thousand years protecting is in love, and that you can finally act upon those feelings without it being a sin against your nature.

The High Seraphs have sworn it, after all.

He rests his head against the coolness of the stone wall, not even hearing the sound of wings approaching. He's about to give in to the temptation of slumber when the door on the far end of the room is kicked in, revealing your holy form as it crashes (rather ungraciously) inside the room.

"Simeon!" You call, first in joy. But when you see the disheveled state the angel is, your second cry of his name comes in concern.

"Simeon?! What have they done to you?!" You run forward to cup his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks. "You're crying!" You exclaim, lip trembling and eyes threatening to leak their own tears.

"Not for pain, little lamb," Simeon murmurs, running a hand through your hair. "I...I heard what the High Seraphs said. For you. And Lucifer." He summons all the strength he has left to flash you a smile. "It is the most wonderful news in the world."

"I'm so sorry for not telling you about Lucifer," You whisper, eyes searching deeply for anger or resentment on Simeon's features. "I never should have kept secrets from you."

"Shh, little lamb." Simeon shakes his head. "It's alright, you did what you thought was necessary."

"I know, but you're my guardian, and all this could have been avoided if I just told you the truth! If I had, you wouldn't be down here, being punished for my wrongs!"

The angel shakes his head, sighing softly.

"This is the best outcome either of us could have hoped for. If you had told me the truth, this might have all been avoided, but then the High Seraphs never would have allowed you to partake in any union with Lucifer." His eyes soften. "And you mean to…"

"I mean to marry him," Comes your response, slightly abashed at the words. Everything after is said with burning cheeks, rushed and choppy. "One day. Far in the future. When we're both ready. If you allow it. If. And only if we have your blessing. And if—"

"Little lamb," Simeon shushes you, a finger on your lips. "I told Lucifer, but never you. The two of you already have my blessing."

He smiles, resting his head against your forehead calmly while you sputter in shock, trying to understand when all this happened. Alas, as much as Simeon wishes to answer your questions, the burn in his throat is growing too strong for him to resist any longer.

"Little lamb?" He asks, finger pointing to the six glasses that have been kept just beyond his reach. "Would you be so kind as to fetch me some water?"

You comply instantly, making three trips to bring all the glasses back. Simeon hardly waits once they're within an arm's reach, and he downs the first glass in mere seconds. He raises the remaining glasses to his lips so suddenly that much of the water spills onto his chin and chest, but by the sixth glass, his thirst is quenched and he can bring himself to put it down before turning back to face you.

"Go, little lamb." He gestures toward the door. "The High Seraphs will be down here at any moment to free me, now that you've confessed to everything. And Lucifer will be waiting."

"Lucifer? You want me to return to the Devildom without you?"

"If I know him, he'll be long gone from the Devildom," Simeon chuckles. "Follow his light. Sense his aura. You'll find him, little lamb. No doubt, he's nearby."

You motion to get up, still hesitant to leave.

"Go," Simeon repeats. But this time, he's not saying the words as your doting friend. They're an order, his first and his last command to you as your guardian, to go to the arms of the man you love.

You heed him.

***

There's absolutely nothing Lucifer can do.

He floats helplessly, teetering on the border that marks the heavens, staying hidden in the clouds as he remains just outside the Celestial Realm. He's close enough to the tower of High Seraphs that he could see the flashes of light and occasional bouts of darkness as you fought with them earlier, so close that he could even hear your enraged shouts every now and then—but the tower has been still for nearly the past half hour.

He bites his lip, hating how there's absolutely nothing he can do for you.

What if they hurt you? He wonders, flapping his wings hesitantly as he tries to get closer to the tower, to no avail. What if they've locked you up again?

The endless questions plaguing his mind never seem to end, and he's certain that if he's left waiting any longer, he'd actually go crazy. But then, right when he needs it the most, his eyes detect movement.

You.

There's no denying it, the signature splash of (h/c) tresses battling the wind as you approach, (s/c) against the pale fabric of your clothes, wings turned white as you grow closer and closer to Lucifer, a beaming smile on your face.

He isn't a man to cry for joy, but Lucifer truly feels like he might in this moment, and he holds nothing back when you fly straight into his arms, the momentum of traveling at top speed hitting him hard as he flies backward with you in his arms. But that doesn't even matter anymore, because you're finally back by his side.

"Lucifer," You murmur, arms wrapped around him tightly as you bury your head in his shoulder. "I thought they'd never let me go."

"They let you go?" Lucifer asks, disbelief prominent in his voice. "The High Seraphs? Willingly?"

You giggle and hold him tighter, and he watches as you pull back just the slightest. "They couldn't say no after Father yelled at them for making me unhappy." You peck his lips. "They've given me permission to be with you, Lucifer. Forever."

The breath hitches in Lucifer's throat. He expected, if you returned, that you would be permitted to spend the remainder of the year with him at most.

But…

He holds you numbly, too overwhelmed by this news to do anything when you laugh sweetly and wrap him in another tight embrace, closing your eyes and resting your head atop his shoulder as you pull him as close as possible to let him know that this is real.

The demon returns your embrace, staring into the clouds in a strange mix of shock and wonder. He's no longer the Morningstar, no longer the pride of the Celestial Realm. What has he done to deserve such happiness, such a wonderful fate?

Tears form in his eyes, though he never allows them to fall, and it's in that moment when his vision is compromised that he makes out the familiar shape of Father in the clouds overhead. His eyes widen. The lord's gaze isn't forgiving as he stares at the son he banished, nor is it kind. But Father's eyes are soft as he watches the two lovers embrace, as if—though he may not love Lucifer the same way anymore—he does love MC, and he trusts Lucifer to make her happy.

He blinks, and then the vision is gone, the clarity of the clouds and his Father's face dissipating as a Celestial breeze pulls it all apart.

But Lucifer knows what he saw.

It's for you, he understands. The future he's been given, the right to spend eternity with the love of his life—it's entirely unsuitable for a demon, one who's been banished from the heavens and sent to the land of eternal damnation. But a life of love is wholly fitting for an angel. It is a life you deserve, and the life that Father has given you. This union is entirely for you, not for Lucifer in the least—but the fact that Father has trusted Lucifer, of all people, with your heart speaks volumes about your shared future together.

Trust, he thinks. After everything he has been through with Father, the god still trusts you with Lucifer. Is that a testament to the god's previous love for the demon, or a statement about his love for you?

Lucifer does not know. But the one thing he is certain about is that this eternity he has been given to spend with you will be perfect. He will ensure that much himself.

Lucifer quietly pulls your head off his shoulder, and a single look into each other's eyes is all it takes for your lips to connect, pressing firmly against each other in a passionate molding of love, lust, and warmth.

"I love you," He whispers, suddenly realizing that he's never said the words.

"I love you too, Lucifer," You murmur, recapturing his lips in another ardent kiss.

He can hardly say how much time passes like that, the two of you wrapped in each other's arms and kissing each other over and over again, as if neither of you can quite believe that you will no longer need to separate at the end of this year. It's still so impossible to wrap his head around: the notion that, just as he had you for eternity in the Celestial Realm, he now has you by his side for eternity once more.

Never has he felt so blessed.

"MC," He murmurs quietly, once he notices that the sun has begun to set. His eyes widen when he pulls apart, noticing your altered appearance. "Your wings. I've…" Ruined them, he wants to say, but he holds back because he knows how much you hate it when he insults the facets of demon appearance.

"I didn't even realize," You murmur softly, glancing your black wings. You raise a hand to Lucifer's cheek, and a strange sensation powers through his body. He watches as the feathers on your back turn from black, to gray, to white, and then realizes that this is the very power Father talked about in his vision. Your power to radiate light.

Lucifer's eyes widen as you return his own dark light back to him, the aura he usually emanates fluttering through his veins as he's forced, by your hand, to absorb his light for the first time.

By the time you're done, your wings are paler than snow, your holy halo shining brightly to match.

"I can control it," You say, giggling. "I wonder, can I make your wings change color the same way?"

Not even waiting for his answer, you turn to Lucifer with a cheeky smile and continue radiating light. This time, though, it's not Lucifer's aura pulsating through his veins but yours, holy and precious as it beats in tandem with his heart.

The demon isn't quite sure how he feels about the sensation, but he finally decides that he'll put up with it if it makes you happy. As predicted, he sees his wings begin to turn gray, but the sight of four wings no longer black prompts him to stop you.

"MC," He murmurs, a hand flitting onto your shoulder. You cease your ministrations instantly, and the moment you're not actively balancing his inner darkness, it comes rushing black, his wings bursting ebony once more. At the sight, he sees your own wings begin to darken, as if when you're not radiating light, you instinctively begin absorbing it. He chuckles. "It's not meant to be. Just like you," He strokes your cheek tenderly. "Are meant to have white wings."

You pout, resting your forehead against his. You make no move to halt the spread of blackness over your feathers, and Lucifer suspects that you're consciously willing to happen faster. "But I like it when we match, Luci."

"You'll make Luke scream again if he sees you with black wings."

"Luke can scream all he wants. He'll have to get used to it when I return to the Devildom."

"You're coming back?" Lucifer pulls back, eyes slightly wide. "You'll be returning for the remainder of the exchange program?"

"Of course, Luci," You chuckle, pecking his cheek. You beat your wings once, spinning the two of you as you continue to float gently in the air. "The High Seraphs basically told me to get lost and do what I want, as long as I stop disturbing them and don't run to Father to complain. So…" You trail a finger down to Lucifer's chest. "I can stay for the year. Even longer, if you'll have me."

"Of course I'll have you," Lucifer whispers, a smile spread out on his features once again. Truly, this day cannot get any better. He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging you with him as he spreads his wings out atop a cloud that hangs just outside the Celestial Realm. Fingers intertwined, you join him, curling up on his sides as you rest your head on his chest.

"I want to stay here forever with you," He hears you whisper. "Right here. Right in between the Celestial Realm and the Devildom. Under the stars, with no one other than us."

Lucifer smiles.

"I'll make it happen."

You raise your eyes at Lucifer's words, staring sweetly into his eyes.

"I'll build us a house, right here. A house in the clouds, where no one from the Celestial Realm or the Devildom will disturb us."

You laugh, and Lucifer feels almost insulted that you're finding amusement in his declaration. He's being honest.

"What?" He asks, ears a light pink. "You said you wanted to be here forever."

"How would that even work?" You retort with a giggle, pinching a lock of hair and tracing patterns with it along Lucifer's chest. He'd ask you to stop, but the adorable smile on your face prompts him to let you do as you please. Even if it tickles. "We'd have to fly an hour just to get to our home."

"Or we could enchant a door so that it takes us here, straight from the Devildom. I'm sure Simeon wouldn't mind erecting one in the Celestial Realm, as well."

"Hm," He hears you mutter, thinking. The demon can practically sense your complaint, that you're no good with object enchantments and something like that is far too complicated, but much to his surprise, all you say is: "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Let's build a house here. On this very cloud. And someday, when you're not as busy with Diavolo's work and Simeon is no longer my guardian, we can live here for the rest of our lives."

Lucifer smiles. It's a plan that can hardly be achieved within the next twenty thousand years, but the two of you are in no rush.

He silently watches as you mark the cloud with your light, radiating it smoothly until the cloud glows gently, setting it apart from others. "There," You say with a triumphant grin. "Now, we'll always be able to find this cloud."

You giggle softly, and Lucifer pulls you even closer, wondering how he managed to obtain such a wonderful lover.

It would be a stereotypical date, if not for the unique nature of the series of events that brought the two of you here. You're cuddling together, Lucifer's head resting just barely atop yours and your eyes are always locked on each other or on the mesmerizing scatter of the stars above you. The two of you have already spent so many nights at the House of Lamentation in the observatory doing the exact same thing, but nothing can compare to this moment.

"Do you think I can make a star?" Lucifer suddenly hears you ask. He blinks down at you, his hand brushing against the feathers of your wings in wonder of where this thought came from. "I mean, do you think I can radiate enough light to make a real star?"

"Of course," Lucifer answers. "But it might be a lot of physical exertion, so don't push yourself too far."

He glances down at you encouragingly, smiling as he senses you begin to channel your energy outward, and he can see a thin line of light stretch out of your figure. In your focus, you hardly notice when your wings fade to black, changing to match with Lucifer's own, and he doesn't comment on it either, opting to watch as a faint but unmistakable mark forms in the sky: a star. Tiny, and almost invisible if he's not explicitly searching for it, but it's a star.

"Lucifer," You gasp, fingers tightening around his hand. "I did it!"

"It's beautiful," He whispers into your ear, kissing the top of your head as you try to create another one. He doesn't complain about your changing the sky, knowing that the stars you send forth are so small and delicate that the humans probably won't even notice it.

But when you finally stop creating stars, he can't help but chuckle at your antics.

"Really, MC?" He raises an eyebrow, acting unimpressed. But in his heart, he finds it incredibly endearing. "A smiley face?"

"It's cute!" You exclaim, laughing into the demon's chest. Then, an idea seems to pop into your mind. "Close your eyes, Luci!" You exclaim, casting a glance up at him to confirm that he's following your instructions. "Don't open them until I say so!"

He hums quietly in agreement, taking this as an opportunity to continue tracing your body with the one hand that isn't intertwined with yours. He goes from mapping the outline of your wings to tracing the curve of your hip, quietly running his hand over the dip of your collarbone and then outlining the angles of your face. He keeps his eyes closed as his mind completes the visualization of your body.

Eternity, he thinks, a strange giddiness overtaking his heart at the word. It's still so hard to believe, but finally has you for all eternity.

And to think, I have Father to thank for that.

The demon suppresses a laugh, wondering how he'll tell his brothers.

"Lucifer?" The demon turns his head downward, eyes still closed. "Lucifer, you can open your eyes now."

He opens them, blinking down as you smile up at you. He almost wants to stare at you for longer, but your impatient gesturing up at the sky above prompts him to finally raise his eyes.

And when he does, he practically chokes on his own breath.

"You…" He mutters, eyes wide. How did you manage to do so much in so little time? "It's beautiful, MC. Truly beautiful."

He laughs in disbelief, his eyes smiling as he stares up at the stars above.

The sky is a work of art.

He has no idea how you managed to create so many stars in such little time, but you've created a constellation of your own, put together exclusively by stars of your own light. They're the faintest ones above, but they burn with the familiar light Lucifer adores. To his eyes, they stand out bolder than all the rest, proud and distinct against the blackness of the sky.

He smiles, his hand raising to trace the shape of what you've so meticulously laid out. "I love it," He whispers, staring even longer.

There, in the distance, hundreds of thousands of miles away but there nonetheless, is the constellation that outlines both of your figures in the night sky: your arms reaching out to Lucifer, wings outstretched behind you, and his own demonic form flying up to greet you.

Perfection, he thinks, wondering when in these past years you learned the mechanisms of art. Because what you've laid out for him in the stars is that: beautiful art, more stunning than any painting he has hanging in the House of Lamentation.

It's a scene that speaks not with the image it presents but the emotion it evokes, four thousand years of separation manifested in the yearning on both your faces; the joy of reuniting after so long hidden in the way your arms beckon to touch each other; the pain at being ripped away from each other once more locked in the desperation of your gazes; the sheer happiness at the prospect of the remaining eternity the two of you have together conveyed in the finality of your pose, as if you're about to embrace for the final time, never having to pull apart ever again.

It's your entire love story written in the stars.

Lucifer can't hold his pride over your skill as he marvels at your work. It's a perfect rendition of everything that has brought the two of you to this moment where you can finally be together, after thousands upon thousands of years of love and separation and more love.

It is, without a doubt, perfection.

Lucifer sighs softly when you raise your hand to his, slipping your fingers amid his and intertwining them so that his attention is focused not at the masterful constellation you've just created but on the sight of your hands locked together.

"I love you."

He's not sure who says it first, but neither of you bother repeating it. Why bother? The proof is in the stars, in the light you both radiate—dark and pure, holy and corrupt, love and lust.

It's a union unnatural, countering every instinct known to both angels and demons. It would even be a sin, if it weren't explicitly pardoned by Father.

This match is wholly aberrant, strange and twisted in the way this love has wedged its way into both your hearts, rooting itself so strongly that Lucifer wouldn't be able to get rid of it if he tried.

And yet, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.6k

Notes: I'm going to be straight with you guys, this is essentially the ending for this fic! the next chapter will be told from the POV of an outside character looking in on the evolution of MC and Lucifer's relationship. it will serve as an epilogue, if you will, and i currently plan for it to be significantly shorter than the usual chapters in this fic - so i want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading! this has been such a wild ride, and these past two weeks have been especially rough for me, just personally! being able to escape and write a soft, wholesome love story has done so much for my mental state, and i want to thank everyone who has shared this journey with me <3 the end is coming very soon, and i have enjoyed every step of this fic, from the annoying process of scrapping thousands of words to rewrite them (often multiple times in a row, god - my drafts for this series tell such a wild tale) to scrolling through every comment you guys have left, this has been an absolute pleasure and i thank you for joining me on this journey, whether you're reading this today as i continue to write or far in the future!

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/16/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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cyberneticlagomorph · 4 years ago

Text

Is there anything more daunting and dangerous than the blank white expanse of a page?

It glitters and glows like the spit-slick teeth of a predator, hungry for words that you cannot give it. No matter how much you want to.

Its gaze alone freezes all trains of thought, even in the minds of Writers and authors and artists alike, even those more powerful than I.

And as I sit here, trembling, at the mercy of Writer's Block and my own anxieties�� I can think of nothing that I want more than to run, to leave this page blank, and my readers guessing.

The End is Nigh, dear readers, and I am afraid.

So very afraid.

"I'm afraid too," says the rabbit we all know and love, his legs swallowed by moss and weeds and misshapen dreams. He stands right where we left him, sword in hand, broken sky above, the End of Everything staring him down.

All seven of Her glowing green eyes blaze with something worse than hate, and I wish for all the world that this was a much different story. A happy story, with a happy Ending.

But I've never written a happy Ending in my life.

There is silence now, neither Protagonist or Antagonist moves or breathes or blinks.

They know that this is how it Ends.

One of them will die today.

So it is Written.

So it will be.

"Shut. Up." The End snarls, lips curling back over venomous fangs that drip oily green liquid onto the cracked asphalt below. Flowers bloom from the puddle, and spread like a rainbow rash down the street. "This. This is all YOUR fault!"

I know.

I'm sorry.

"LIAR!!" Her scream echoes across the fourth wall and cracks my computer screen.

This…

This is where I leave you, dear readers.

I'm sorry.

Fangs sink deep into the papery flesh of the Narrative, tearing it apart as it is poisoned. Thorns grow from its wounds and strangle it like trembling hands.

Writer be damned.

Plot be damned.

I am the End of EVERYTHING, I will End this miserable excuse for story on my own terms.

Or die trying.

You have not won, sweet stupid rabbit, no one can save you now, no one will stop me now. The world is a page upon which fate is Written and I will burn it all to the ground. May its ashes be lost and forgotten.

Your dark eyes narrow at me, bone blade glittering as you charge. But I am in control now, and I don't play fair.

Deep beneath the earth, humans sit snug and safe in their bunkers, thinking themselves free of the horrors outside. From the canteens comes a deep and terrible shattering like teeth against an eggshell, and a figure crawls lazily from the steam wafting from any number of bubbling pots set on stoves across the world over.

She smells of cooking meat and blood drenched in exotic spices and honey. Stick thin, and dressed in a chef's uniform. Her sleeves and hands are stained with the blood of the starving.

She has no face.

Only bright white teeth.

She manifests in the homes of the rich, stuffing them fat with delicacies that humans have no names for. Each minuscule morsel is completely tasteless covered in edible gold. Like the kind of fare you'd find at high end restaurants, going for hundreds of dollars a plate, even though each serving is barely a mouthful.

She appears in slums with bread made from ash and bone, rat stew, and tainted water.

Pots boil in city centers, a roiling soup made from human offal that nothing in this world or the next could ever hope to surpass.

The poor eat their rations, their bread, their stew and grow sicker and hungry. Skeletal and drooling like rabid animals, they stuff their faces with food that offers no nourishment until there is no choice but to turn on each other.

Screens grow undulating limbs and crawl from the wreckage of humanity, their screens blinking wetly like the eyes of a crying child. On each one is a broadcast, a man with red eyes smiles a reassuring smile and says,"Hungry? Eat the rich."

And they do.

A hoard of near zombies growl and gurgle as loud as their empty bellies, they hunt down the wealthy, and they FEAST.

Pestilence rises from the pus and rot and ruin and watches as all the good Jack and his friends had done is undone in a flash.

Among the riots and feasting is a cop, his riot gear reflecting the terrified and feral faces around him as he marches slowly onward. There is nothing behind his helmet.

Only malice.

Only power.

Only slaughter.

Only Death.

I don't have to tell you what comes next, what Death does when he gets his hands on a victim. The sounds of bullets ringing out into the night can tell you, the smell of tear gas in a crowd can tell you, the cries of innocents choking out their last breaths in steel cuffs, wrists rubbed raw and bleeding can tell you.

Death is not merciful.

He is not kind or quick or clean.

He is inevitable.

You know it.

And he knows it.

This world will collapse under the weight of its own sins and I will be here to watch it dissolve like candy floss in water.

Tears stream hot and blue down your face, and your grip on the Vorpal sword trembles. They are not worth your tears.

They stole you, beat you, broke you.

Turned you into a monster and then threw you away like you were NOTHING.

You should hate them as much as I do.

You should be glad for their suffering.

They deserve to die.

Like HE deserves to die. I turn my gaze skyward and watch the world split as the armies of Heaven pour down like a wrathful rain.

The Divinity burns your skin, doesn't it Jack? And yet the smell of Angels makes your mouth water.

You are no better than I am, I think. A man made monster set loose upon the multiverse, expected to play nice and fit in the niches carved for us. But we don't, no matter how hard we try, how good we think we are, we are torn apart again and again and again until we are unrecognizable from our beginnings.

I think I could have loved you.

In another story.

In another lifetime.

We would have been good friends at least.

But it's too late for that now, and as the first wave of Angels assault me with Heavenly fire, I part my jaws and give them some fire of my own. Green, as bright and beautiful as the first leaves of spring, it turns their armor into bark and their marble skin into flower petals. They fall to the ground like confetti, and I claw my way up to Heaven.

The Gates bend and break beneath my weight like wire, nothing and no one can stop me as I wrap HIM in my coils, slowly constricting. My venom burns holes in HIM that grow fruit trees, and each fruit contains the knowledge of the multiverse. I want HIM to die slowly, to watch as HIS playthings suffer and burn because of HIM. The humans cry out, and they pray, begging, pleading for HIM to save them. But HE can't, HE won't.

What GOD would make a world so empty and hopeless as this? What GOD would let HIS followers murder and hate and destroy entire cultures in HIS name?

HE never wanted this, never wanted it to come to this, HIS teachings have been mistranslated and manipulated for millennia and now there is nothing left but hatred and sin.

My jaws part above HIS head, ropes of green spittle tarnishing HIS crown. HE does not fight me, how pathetic of HIM.

White hot pain explodes through my tail.

There you are, sweet hero, stupid rabbit.

Go home Jack, this doesn't concern you.

"But it does," you twist the blade, dislodging my scales and rending my flesh. My blood slithers up your sword, trying desperately to burrow inside of you and turn you Green. "You said that you think you could have loved me… well love me now, it doesn't have to be this way… I could… I could take care of you and help you heal, we could do it together."

You offer your hand, bloody and trembling.

The sound I make is inhuman and hard to describe in words, it is disbelief and venom and vengeance all at once. I stretch myself down to meet you, my eyes are the size of houses, and they reflect your trembling visage like great green mirrors.

"You're right, I should hate them, hate everyone… but I don't." a swallow, you taste copper and butterscotch, "I used to but I-I found people who cared, I found people who I love and who love me back and they make my life worth living… they gave me a reason to get better and stop hurting people… let me be your reason."

You reach out and touch my face, my scales are warm like the sidewalk in summer.

I crush GOD in my coils and HIS blood rushes over you like a wave.

There is nothing that can fix this, fix me.

No love will quiet the hatred in my heart.

I do not deserve kindness or redemption.

Love might have tempered your monstrous hearts, but it won't do the same for me.

Only one of us will make it out of this story alive.

"So it is Written." You say, solemnly.

So it will be.

My coils curl around you, quick as lightning. Your symbiote is the only thing keeping you from being crushed like a soda can, I hope you know that.

I don't waste time, and fling you down…

Down…

Towards earth.

Countless Angels have been discarded this way, wings torn from their backs, left to the mercy of gravity. It never gets any easier.

I tear a hole into space and crawl through it, into Fairyland, the place of my birth.

I devour the Sun-In-Chains, my replacement, and plunge the planet into darkness. I skin my teeth into the planet's crust and empty my venom glands into its core. Fairyland becomes my twisted Eden, choked with blinding bioluminescence, thorns, and poisonous things that not even I have a name for.

It's beautiful and terrible all at once.

Like me.

Like you too, I suppose.

You plunge your blade into my seventh eye and send me reeling, screaming, flailing. My frantically flapping wings crash into a nearby planet and reduce it to dust.

I pluck the sword from my eye and snap it into pieces.

You're becoming a real thorn in my side.

Seven perfect fingers snatch you out of the sky like the annoying insect you are and start to CRUSH YOU.

I will tear you apart with my TEETH if I have to.

You've had every chance to run and hide, or join in my crusade and you denied them all. I have no use for you.

Not even as a snack.

Or a toothpick.

"Then kill me." You growl through clenched teeth, blood already flecking your lips and leaking from your nose.

I throw you into a patch of thorns. Each and every one is serrated and ranges in size from a human finger to a school bus, you are impaled, skewered, crucified even.

Neon blue blood running down to the soil beneath, feeding my Eden.

And yet, you refuse to die.

Slowly but surely, you drag your broken body up and off the thorn, shakily levitating up to meet me.

You stare at me with dead eyes, blood pouring from the opening in your chest. Your lips part and black flames flicker behind your teeth, smoke curling from your nostrils as the color drains from your eyes in inky tears, until there is nothing but black.

Just like the hole in your chest.

You seem to crack like porcelain, to split in two like something precious dropped from a great height. What crawls from the darkness inside of you is something no human throat can utter, no human tongue can twist or shape itself the right way to name.

It's said that Demons possess.

But Angels abandon.

But what can be said of creatures that man has no name for?

The thing inside of you stares at me with eyes darker than the emptiness between stars, its maw is the belly of a black hole with teeth long enough to split a planet like an apple.

It is the bleak black emptiness that existed before the universe, and will exist again when there is nothing but dust and dead silence.

This… this is my Warden, my Prison, the creature tasked with my capture those eons ago. You are barely a speck in it's vast form, a limp and lifeless nucleus.

It roars, a sound that radiates across time and echoes across the multiverse.

"FROM NOTHINGNESS YOU CRAWLED, TO NOTHINGNESS YOU WILL RETURN." the beast howls in a voice that echoes from every dark and terrible place in the multiverse and shakes me to my core.

I will not go without a fight.

It lunges, claws outstretched, the endless expanse of its hideous maw seems to suck all the light out of the stars, out of me. I sink my teeth into its throat and pull, my body curling around and around it.

Its claws are impossibly sharp, tearing my flesh down to the bone. My blood falls to fairyland like rain. My face is grabbed and smashed into the planet's surface again and again. I crush the Warden close and set myself on fire, I am the LIGHTBRINGER, it will take more than some overconfident shadow to defeat me.

The Warden burns, it smolders and screams like steam escaping. I fling it away into deep space and charge after it, driving my seven horns into its belly.

I miss you by a hair, I feel you reach out and grab me just as I pull back. Amber chains snake from your weeping wound, to the Warden behind you.

You have no control over this thing, do you?

No.

Didn't think so.

But still, you stubbornly grab your chains and pull. The Warden does not come to heel, so much as it melts, engulfing you in its emptiness like a suit. When you open your eyes, you nearly dwarf me.

Nearly.

Your fist collides with my face in an instant, sending teeth flying like meteors. I cannot tell your rage apart from the Warden and I'm not sure I really want to.

Run.

For a second, we are stars, two pinpricks of light twirling around each other in double helices, colliding and clashing with enough force to summon new stars from the ether. We are creation and chaos incarnate.

We crash through debris fields, shatter planets and extinguish stars. Our blood becomes the new crawling things left behind in the wreckage. I'm smiling, the pain is dizzying, delicious, delightful.

My venom turns you into a garden, and you tear me apart with your bare and bloody hands.

Through it all we refuse to die.

Maws wide and screaming in tongues the universe hasn't heard since it was new, I am thoroughly seduced.

But I am growing bored with this game.

I shove my hand through the Warden and tear you out. You scream in undeniable agony, I close my fist around you and squeeze.

The Warden hangs limp and dead in the darkness of deep space, slowly dissolving.

Something oozes between my fingers.

Not blood, far too sticky and cloying to be that.

If Hope had a color, what would it be?

Would it be a color that only shrimp can see, and only gods have a name for?

You pry my fingers apart, tears pouring from your eyes the same color as Hope. Hope flows from your mouth as flames, rushes from your open chest as ferns and flowers and vines more beautiful than I could ever create. You reach into the forest of your heart and pull out Kindness, sleek and soft and sharp.

It melts in your hands, becoming a hammer, comically oversized like your Ma's. And then it grows, and grows, and in the blink of an eye it's bigger and I am. The swing alone takes out half a dozen solar systems before it hits me and sends me crashing through different universes and out the fourth wall. I land heavily on the Writer, dazed and bloody, your hand reaches through his broken computer screen and drags me back home, and there we float over the ruined remains of earth, the skin of my chest balled in your hand like a shirt. You kiss your knuckles and punch me hard enough to send me careening back down to the earth's surface, my crater levels a nearby city.

Do you care?

Are we beyond morals and niceties and caring about humanity?

You teleport to my limp and broken body, you scoop me up into your arms and hold me close.

I've folded in on myself several times, I'm barely the size of a person now.

I can feel those amber chains slithering around me, they clasp around my throat tight enough to choke.

I don't want to go.

Don't make me go.

I don't want to go back to sleep.

Please.

I'm scared.

I'm so scared.

You don't let me go, as I break down and cling to you like a scared child you don't let me go.

I wrap you in my wings, I shove my head under your chin and apologize when I stab you with my horns.

"I am your Warden, you are my Prisoner… you are the End of Everything, but I am the End of You…" your throat is choked with snot and tears as you squeeze me so tight I can barely breathe. "You… you deserve to be a Happy Ending and I refuse to live in a world without one."

You kiss my forehead and wipe away my tears. "We do terrible things when we hurt… you deserve compassion instead of imprisonment."

I can do nothing but sit there and bawl, choking on Kindness as thick and sweet as soft caramel.

Seven times seven thousand lifetimes worth of hate and sorrow and trauma run from my eyes.

You sit with me until the crying stops, until my throat is raw and all I can do is whisper.

I speak a Word, one that fixes the shattered sky and let's the sun shine properly again.

The sun speaks their own Words and resets the world, turning the clock back to the day before my escape, I do humanity one kindness and let them wake the next morning as if the past week were nothing more than a bad dream.

I am made to fix my messes, to undo my misdeeds.

The Horsemen are sealed away again.

Fairyland is repaired to the best of my ability, although there is nothing that I can do for the Sun-In-Chains. What's done is done.

GOD will be fine, HE'S GOD, and therefore more or less impossible to kill permanently.

All evidence of my tirade is erased.

I am finally bound in amber, my powers diminished. I dread returning to the cold depths of the well, but you won't let that happen.

You refuse to send me back to that lonely place beyond dreams and take me home, to your home. Warm and safe beneath the soil, I curl up next to you by the fire.

And for the first time in your short and terrible life, you get a good night's sleep.

#ic #action post #the end is nigh #blood #death #religious imagery //#blasphemy //#cannibalism //#police brutality //#ask to tag #body horror #dismemberment //#impalement #submission

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kneel-begyourpardon · 5 years ago

Text

Pure

Pairing: Loki x Angel reader.

Summary: Loki finds something he hasn’t been looking for.

Warnings: ANGST, mention of torture, nudity (no smut).

A/n: This is the first fan-fic of my Halloween specials (hopefully). Enjoy!

“What in the…”

Loki froze as his eyes landed on you. He definitely did not expect this when he came down there. He thought it was just an old abandoned place that would be great for him. But this. This wasn’t just that.

His mouth dropped open as he took you in. Sitting on the cold stone floor, hands chained to the ceiling. Skin dirty from dried blood and mud. Bones sticking out from your sides. Hair long and wild.

He knew you have been here for a long time. The dust was too thick on the floor for anyone to have been around. And your fragile body was enough for him to realize you hadn’t been fed for a while. He just didn’t know how long it was. It could have been years, decades maybe even a century.

But how did you survive? How were you still alive without any food or water. He was a god but even he needed these things to be alive.

Your head lulled back when you heard someone whisper. You thought you had imagined it like many other times, that someone would show up. Somebody would come back for you. Help you or at least kill you.

But when you saw a man in front of you, you blinked a few times to see if it was real or just one of your hallucinations but he didn’t disappear. The fear and hope settled in your heart. Suddenly you were very much aware of the situation you were in so your wings tightened around your naked body trying to shield as much as possible from the stranger's gaze. You wouldn’t let anybody else take advantage of you. But you knew if he actually tried something you wouldn’t be able to fight back.

Loki saw the fear in your eyes. He took a step forward but regretted it the moment you cowered back. He heard the whimper escape you when you moved. He could see how hurt you were and had no intention to add more.

“I am not here to harm you,” he said, raising his hands up in the air.

His voice. It was like medicine for your ears. For years you have heard nothing but your own screams and whimpers. You didn’t even how long you had been here. How much time had passed since those scientists packed things up and left you there out of fear of something called SHIELD. They came by check every corner, every cell but not yours. They found everything empty so they didn’t struggle to try and open the metal doors that had you locked away. You scream and begged but of course, they couldn’t hear you. Nobody could.

You learned not to trust humans, not to be naive, and you learned it the hard way. But you couldn’t help but hope that this man was telling the truth. That he would end this. And if he was lying hopefully he would at least have mercy on you and put you out of your misery.

“Don’t be afraid,” Loki said as he cautiously took a step forward, looking at your every reaction. “I’m going to help you.”

He wasn’t lying, he did want to help you. There was something about you that made his heart melt. Maybe it was your eyes. He could see hope in them and maybe that’s what made him want to help you. The fact that you still hadn’t lost faith. He knew you still didn’t fully trust him. How your wings tightened more around your body as he got closer made him realize that you were scared he would take advantage of your situation. So he reached on his sides, not looking away from your eyes. He swiftly took off his cape holding it towards you he took another step forward. He saw panic in your eyes as he bent down. The fear was visible on your face but the only thing that happened was your wings flattered slightly. You hadn't moved, even your head was in only one position, but your eyes followed his every action.

You felt yourself shake as the man lowered himself next to you. You didn’t know what he was about to do and knowing you couldn't move you were afraid. But the fact that he was only looking at your eyes and not your body, made you feel a little bit better. You tightly closed your eyes when his hands went behind you. Your breath got stuck in your throat as you waited for him to roughly grab you.

Loki gently laid his hands on you. To his surprise, you were burning up. The room was very cold due to the walls and no sunlight but somehow managed to stay hot. He heard a slight sigh when his cold hands made an impact on your skin and he realizes you didn’t manage to stay warm you were burning without your will. You had a fever. Not that he was surprised.

Loki gently wrapped his cape around your back pulling it forward and covering everything, including your wings.

“Here you go,” he said as he looked back at you and saw how your features relaxed.

You kept your eyes closed but could feel his gaze on your face. The soft material felt amazing on your body. It had been so long since you had anything this soft on you. And his cold hands felt amazing on your arms. You sighed opening your eyes you saw him looking at the chains that bound your hands. He looked breathtaking. His soft features. His stunning eyes and black hair. Maybe they sent you an angel to finally help you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of them. His soft touched and his voice...

Loki saw you staring and looked down at you with a soft smile. You trusted him. He saw that in your eyes. As much as he was relieved that you weren’t afraid, he couldn’t help but be a little bit disappointed. You should have known better than to trust a person that only showed a little bit of kindness but it deeply hurt him when he realized that this little action made you feel safe.

“It’s alright” he reassured you as he put his hands on the chain. He closed his eyes and a light green mist started licking from his fingers. You watched in awe as the chains starting breaking under the pressure of his magic. They snapped, freeing your hands but before they could fall on you, he easily grabbed them. The coldness of his hands felt heavenly on your burning skin.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said as he gently put your hands down on your body and tightly pulled his cape around them.

You looked him in the eyes and he saw how grateful you were. Your bottom lip started trembling and he was sure, if you hadn't been so dehydrated you would be crying. So he gingerly put his hands on your cheeks making you close your eyes. You were beautiful, the innocence that radiated off of you made him smile.

“I will take care of you,” he promised and stoked your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded and the tiniest smile made its way up to your face.

Loki grinned at your smile and let go of your face. Instead, he took a hold of your shoulders. As he began to speak.

“I’m going to pick you up if that’s alright with you?” he said and you once again nodded.

Was this possible? Were you dreaming? He just asked you if he could pick you up. Of course, he could. Anything to get you out from this hell hole.

He easily hoisted you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing and maybe you did. You leaned against his shoulder as he started walking and for the first time in forever you felt safe.

You sighed making him look down at you. Gods you were so beautiful even in this state. You were breathtaking. He slightly tightened his hold around you but not so much to hurt you.

This place was out of the question for sure. If Loki was going to take care of you, which he planned to, there was no way he was going to let you spend a second here.

PT: @simam12 @percyjackson886

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki marvel #marvel #halloween #halloween special #angel

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kaiqarker · 5 years ago

Text

lost and found | part 1

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: swearing, angst

summary: in which a savior of heaven is sent down to camp redwood to put an end to the bloodbath and help the lost souls that reside there.

tag list: @vixi3303

part one: the awakening

THE GIRL DIDN’T DARE let any of her doubts bleed to the surface while she took one step after another, entering the premises of the unholy ground that was camp redwood. she had done her research of course, learning the truth and the lies and how every drop of blood was spilt in between in all. the place itself was an undoubtable tragedy, and if her facts were right, so were the souls stuck here.

satan had been behind some of the most cruelest acts placed upon humanity, but she was was sure this was one of the worst. he had cursed the area; so whoever died (gruesomely in almost all cases) here, were trapped. this was a purgatory for them, a hell without the infamous flames and bloodstained sky. unfortunately, that kind of thing results in these ghosts giving up any sort of humanity they had left.

so not only did the living leave its twisted mark, the dead did too. some were plainly lost, forgotten that they had even perished. some were aware, but have been here for so long they were merely zombies, their hope and motivation to do much of anything gone. and then finally, there were the ones who decided that they would make the most of this opportunity, abandoning all sense of right and wrong and spreading their curse.

those were the people heaven were most concerned about. they were turning this campground into even more of a bloodbath than it already was. held back with no morals of any kind, they proved to be devious and heartless, willing to end of the life of any tourist that happened to wander into the area.

so heaven, the land of light and peace, had sent her. having been human once, they had thought she’d be able to get through to a few of them. and with her flawless ability to follow the rules and show compassion, she had seemed like the perfect choice to her superiors. she only hoped to live up to their high expectations, especially elijah’s.

branches snapped beneath her sneaker-covered feet as she followed a trail through the surrounding woods. her eyes shifted around, looking for any sign of another’s presence, and ultimately coming up empty. her eyebrows knitted together, not knowing what to think of the quiet hum of the forest and the blue jays that had just fluttered by. she had expected utter chaos and to be overwhelmed with the unresolved problems the camp harbored immediately. and yet, she dared to think that this place was almost... calming.

the pain that erupted from her shoulder blade pulled her out of her enchantment, a small cry of surprise escaping her while she stumbled forward, almost falling onto the ground where the autumn leaves would have barely cushioned her fall. she instinctively turned around, finding the sight of a smirking blonde standing merely a foot away from her, the bloody knife in her hand gaining y/n’s attention for a moment.

“sorry to be rude and not introduce myself, but i’m not in an introductory mood. quite frankly, i’m sick of talking in general. it can ruin the moment, you know?” the blonde said to her, twisting her wrist and making sure the blade was pointed directly at her.

the newcomer took a step back, standing up on her own and removing the hand she had placed on a tree trunk for balance. the irritation from her stab wound had almost completely gone away; she knew her ability to heal fast would probably come in handy down here.

“you call killing an innocent person a moment, montana?” y/n questioned, recognizing the doe-eyed woman instantly. she watched as montana’s red-stained lips turned into a flat line, her playful demeanor dropping.

“how do you know my name?”

“because i’m supposed to. it’s my job to.”

“that isn’t clearing anything up.” montana growled, gripping her knife tighter. she debated on whether she should let her explain or just kill her like she had originally planned.

“put the knife down and we’ll talk.” y/n replied with raised hands, indicating she wanted to do the ghost no harm.

“yeah, no thanks.”

montana lunged at her, the blade of her knife slicing the air and not her skin as y/n easily dodged the attack, more prepared than before. the soon-to-be angel studied the way she only grew more frustrated, huffing in displeasure before she went after her target again.

this time y/n didn’t just avoid the blonde, she grabbed ahold of her wrist, stopping the knife from being thrusted into her chest. montana tried with all of her strength to push against her grasp and allow the blade to burrow deep within the stranger, but y/n’s grasp didn’t falter. in fact, she twisted montana’s wrist just enough so that she would drop the weapon, and then pushed her away from her.

montana stumbled back, shocked and embarrassed at how easily she was overpowered. especially since she had been a feared predator ever since she had died and been stuck in this place. she loved the power she possessed and every plea of mercy she had gotten from her victims. and now, the blonde felt how she felt when she was alive, helpless.

“what the hell are you?”

“technically,” she began, picking up the knife that still had her blood coated on the blade, “i’m an angel. well, almost one. point is — i’m from heaven.”

montana was about to laugh at the outrageousness before her eyes happen to catch sight of y/n’s back, seeing only dry blood instead of a leaking flesh wound. she had stabbed her, she was sure of it. she had saw the blade puncture her skin and cut through her.

“no fucking way.”

“way.” y/n said with humor in her voice, letting herself be amused despite the fact she had someone who wanted to kill her right in front of her.

“what’s going on here?” a voice gained both of the girls’ attention, belonging to the one and only xavier plympton, who was clad in a pair of white shorts and a purple muscle tank.

his blue eyes find montana first but then they drift to the new girl, examining her pretty face, framed by stray strands of hair that escaped her pony tail. they lower down to where her white tank top clings to her chest and eventually past her matching shorts where her long legs were offered up to his view. he decided she definitely wasn’t hard to look at.

“who are you and why hasn’t montana killed you yet?” he asks, automatically becoming curious and taking a few steps towards both of them.

“i’m y/n. and believe me, she’s tried.” y/n gestured to the knife in her raised hand, wagging it back and forth for clarification.

“if you keep talking about me like i’m not here then i will kill both of you!” montana kicked off the tree she was leaning against, sending them both a glare that certainly didn’t intimidate either of them in the slightest. she took her place beside xavier, grabbing ahold of his shirt and yanking him down so his lips crashed messily against hers. her eyes closed in the satisfaction that she was still in control when it comes to things like this, wordlessly claiming he was hers to have and play with as she pleased.

xavier’s eyes stayed open for once, staring directly at the stranger and how uncomfortable she looked with the spontaneous action. he noticed her parted lips, averted gaze, and the blush that began to rise to the surface of her cheeks. she was innocent — and that sparked something within him.

finally montana pulled away with a pleased sigh, returning her focus back to the girl who had many surprises to offer. her eyes narrowed when she spotted her knife still in her hand, knowing she would get it back even if she had to break each and every one of her fingers.

“guess what, xav? she’s a fucking angel.”

“almost angel.” y/n corrected immediately.

“seriously? like an angel with wings and halos and shit?” xavier asked, tilting his head and believing it easier than montana did.

“they don’t actually have those. but... yes, i’m from heaven.”

“fine. what are you doing here then? because it can’t just be to ruin my day.” montana scoffed, crossing her arms.

“i’m here to help you.” y/n spoke with sincerity, eyes unwavering as they locked on both xavier and montana.

xavier felt the impact of her words, hearing the promise in her soft-spoken voice, and was unexpectedly affected. that itself confused him. he hadn’t allowed himself to care about anything since he died and got stuck here. there was no point. no rewards or consequences to any action. he had accepted years ago that this was his afterlife for the rest of eternity, and now he what? was supposed to believe this girl and have the hope she so clearly had? he didn’t. but a little part of him wanted to, and that’s what left him speechless for the moment.

“bullshit. get me back my knife and maybe i won’t cut your eyeballs out of your sockets.” montana rolled her eyes and held out her hand, already over this whole situation.

“really? after all of this that’s what you’re most concerned about?”

montana nods her head, lips pulled into a frown, and y/n shrugs nonchalantly as an idea pops into her head. “alright. fine. if you want it, go get it.”

before the blonde can say another word, y/n flings the knife with quite a force in a random direction, and montana can only watch as the weapon flies through the air and disappears into the trees. that was it. it was personal now.

“you little bitch!” montana hissed, ready to pounce on her again and give her murder another go, but she’s stopped by xavier’s grip on her arm.

“babe, stop. it’s just a knife. there’s other weapons in the sea.” xavier jokes, smirking at her enraged form, and he pretends that he wasn’t stopping her just to mock her.

“i don’t care. i just want her dead. let go of me before i kick you in the balls. dead or not i know it still hurts!”

“you can’t kill me.” y/n interjects, seeing montana cease her struggle in xavier’s hold. “i already died. that’s how i got to heaven in the first place. you can try, but i’d just come back.”

“fine. i can’t kill you. but i can hurt you. so i would leave while you still can, because i will make it my mission to torture you the entire time you’re here.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“then, i would start looking over your shoulder. you’ve seen what happens when you don’t,” montana grins wickedly as she nods her head to the dry blood still sticking to her skin, and without another word, she turns around and starts in the direction where her knife was thrown.

“she truly is lovely. i get what you see in her. so dedicated.” y/n mutters sarcastically, placing her hands on her waist while she wonders to herself how she will ever turn someone like montana around.

“montana sure is something,” she hears xavier respond from beside her, hearing the leaves crunch with each step he aimlessly takes towards her. she doesn’t notice until his hot breath fans her ear that he had gotten that close to her. “but she’s no angel.”

her neck pivots when she turns her head to face him, their noses almost bumping from their proximity from each other. his oceanic eyes held mischief and playfulness, staring directly into her guarded pair. it was clear he didn’t give much thought into having boundaries.

“i’m surprised you’re not trying to kill me too.” y/n states, managing to keep her voice steady and her face neutral even though the lack of space between them was unnerving to say the least. it was the most intimate situation she had been in since she was alive.

“little ol’ me? now what would make you think that?” he smiles charmingly but the dark humor in his tone is evident, his breaths from his words tickling her lips.

“i’ve read your file, xavier.” she breaks their little staring contest, taking a step back away from him. “you’re just as murderous and manipulative as montana.”

“and yet you’re not running for the hills.”

“because whether any of you see it or not, you’re redeemable.”

xavier can’t help but laugh, finding her words nothing short of unbelievable. “listen, angel. it’s cute and all that you think you’re gonna flap your nonexistent wings and fix our poor little broken souls, but most of us don’t even want saving. like me. i’m perfectly happy here. i have never been more free.”

“and your life alive was so horrible?”

“compared to this, yeah. i tried to save people, to do the right thing, and i just ended up dying — painfully by the way. morals blind you. they hold you back. it’s much more freeing to just let go. you should try it.” he explained, watching her let his response sink in. her face morphed into a frown, and he could have been imagining it, but her eyes seem to glaze with sadness.

“you’re... so wrong and you don’t even know it.”

“i’m not, angel. that’s just how it is.”

“then, bertie protecting you, saving you, that meant nothing?” y/n asked, watching his face harden for the briefest of seconds before he returned to smirking and raising his eyebrows at her.

“that was just pointless. i died anyway.” he shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets.

“still,” she argued, gravitating back towards him, “it was worth something before that. you were grateful and relieved and... sad when you saw the condition she was in.”

“maybe. but none of that matters now.” xavier dismisses, feeling something build up inside of him with the point she was making. his throat was tight and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to contain whatever it was.

“things could matter again, xavier.” she whispered, letting her eyes properly roam his face and all of its flawless alignments. he was beautiful, there was no denying that.

he allows himself to gaze shamelessly right back at her, studying the upturn of her adorable nose, soft, pink lips, and finally returning to her eyes that possessed so much depth it just about consumed him. it was no wonder she was an angel, every part of her was angelic and undeniably mesmerizing. his heart swelled with admiration, catching him off guard more than anything that had happened during their encounter. her influence on him terrified him.

“i don’t think so,” he declares coldly, newfound anger at her rising to the surface, masking any other emotion he was feeling.

“xavier.” she murmurs, surprised at his sudden change of mood. it seemed as if they were getting somewhere, and he did a total 180 on her.

“just do us all a favor and leave. because montana’s right, if you stay, we won’t take it easy on you.” he scoffs, glancing at her perplexed face one more time before he leaves her there on the trail, alone and questioning just about everything.

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x you #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton x reader #cody fern #ahs 1984 #ahs #au #lqveify

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 5 years ago

Text

Are You Ready?

by J. C. Ryle

I Ask you a plain question: Are you ready?

Are you ready for sickness? You cannot expect to be always well. You have a body fearfully and wonderfully made: it is awful to think how many diseases may assail it.

"Strange that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long!"

Pain and weakness are a hard trial. They can bow down the strong man and make him like a child. They can weary the temper and exhaust the patience, and make men cry in the morning, "Would God it were evening," and in the evening, "Would God it were morning." All this may come to pass this very year. Your reason may be shattered,-your senses may be weakened, your nerves may be unstrung: the very grasshopper may become a burden. Reader, if sickness comes upon you, are you ready?

Are you ready for affliction? "Man," says the Scripture, "is born to sorrow." This witness is true. Your property may be taken from you, your riches may make themselves wings and flee away, your friends may fail you, your children may disappoint you, your servants may deceive you; your character may be assailed, your conduct may be misrepresented: troubles, annoyances, vexations, anxieties, may surround you on every side, like a host of armed men; wave upon wave may burst over your head; you may feel worn and worried, and crushed to the dust. Reader, if affliction comes upon you, are you ready?

Are you ready for bereavements? No doubt there are those in the world that you love. There are those whose names are graven on your heart, and round whom your affections are entwined: there are those who are the light of your eyes, and the very sunshine of your existence. But they are all mortal: any one of them may die this year. Before the daisies blossom again, any one of them may be lying in the tomb. Your Rachel may be buried,-your Joseph may be taken from you,-your dearest idol may be broken: bitter tears and deep mourning may be your portion. Before December you may feel terribly alone. Reader, if bereavement comes upon you, are you ready?

Are you ready for death? It must come some day: it may come this year. You cannot live always. This very year may be your last. You have no freehold in this world,-you have not so much as a lease: you are nothing better than a tenant at God's will. Your last sickness may come upon you, and give you notice to quit,-the doctor may visit you, and exhaust his skill over your case,-your friends may sit by your bedside, and look graver and graver every day: you may feel your own strength gradually wasting, and find something saying within, "I shall not come down from this bed, but die." You may see the world slipping from beneath your feet, and all your schemes and plans suddenly stopped short. You may feel yourself drawing near to the coffin, and the grave, and the worm, and an unseen world, and eternity, and God. Reader, if death should come upon you, are you ready?

Are you ready for the Second Coming of Christ? He will come again to this world one day. As surely as He came the first time, 1800 years ago, so surely will He come the second time. He will come to reward all His saints, who have believed in Him and confessed Him upon earth. He will come to punish all His enemies,-the careless, the ungodly, the impenitent, and the unbelieving. He will come very suddenly, at an hour when no man thinketh: as a thief in the night. He will come in terrible majesty, in the glory of His Father, with the holy angels. A flaming fire shall go before Him. The dead shall be raised,-the judgment shall be set,-the books shall be opened! Some shall be exalted into heaven: many, very many, shall be cast down to hell. The time for repentance shall be past. Many shall cry, "Lord, Lord, open to us!" but find the door of mercy closed forever. After this there will be no change. Reader, if Christ should come the second time this year, are you ready?

O reader, these are solemn questions! They ought to make you examine yourself. They ought to make you think. It would be a terrible thing to be taken by surprise. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

But shall I leave you here? I will not do so. Shall I raise searchings of heart, and not set before you the way of life? I will not do so. Hear me for a few moments, while I try to show you the man that is ready.

He that is ready has a ready Saviour. He has Jesus ever ready to help him. He lives the life of faith in the Son of God. He has found out his own sinfulness, and fled to Christ for peace. He has committed his soul and all its concerns to Christ's keeping. If he has bitter cups of affliction to drink, he knows they are mixed by the hand that was nailed to the cross for his sins. If he is called to die, he knows that the grave is the place where the Lord lay. If those whom he loves are taken away, he remembers that Jesus is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and a husband who never dies. If the Lord should come again, he knows that he has nothing to fear. The Judge of all will be that very Jesus who has washed his sins away. Happy is that man who can say, with Hezekiah, "The Lord was ready to save me" (Isaiah 38:20).

He that is ready has a ready heart. He has been born again, and renewed in the spirit of his mind. The Holy Ghost has shown him the true value of all here below, and taught him to set his affections on things above. The Holy Ghost has shown him his own deserts, and made him feel that he ought to be thankful for everything; and satisfied with any condition. If affliction comes upon him, his heart whispers, "There must be a needs be. I deserve correction. It is meant to teach me some useful lesson." If bereavement comes upon him, his heart reminds him that the Lord gave and the Lord must take away, whenever He sees fit. If death draws near, his heart says, "My times are in Thy hand: as Thou wilt, when Thou wilt, and where Thou wilt." If the Lord should come, his heart would cry, "This is the day I have long prayed for: the kingdom of God is come at last." Blessed is he who has a ready heart.

He that is ready has a home ready for him in heaven. The Lord Jesus Christ has told him that He is gone "to prepare a place" for him. A house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, awaits him. He is not yet come to his full inheritance: his best things are yet to come. He can bear sickness, for yet a little time he shall have a glorious body. He can bear losses and crosses, for his choicest treasures are far beyond the reach of harm. He can bear disappointments, for the springs of his greatest happiness can never be made dry. He can think calmly of death: it will open a door for him from the lower house to the upper chamber,-even the presence of the King. He is immortal till his work is done. He can look forward to the coming of the Lord without alarm. He knows that they who are ready will enter in with Him to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Happy is that man whose lodging is prepared for him in the kingdom of Christ.

Reader, do you know anything of the things I have just spoken of? Do you know anything of a ready Saviour, a ready heart, and a ready home in heaven? Examine yourself honestly. How does the matter stand?

Oh, be merciful to your own soul! Have compassion on that immortal part of you. Do not neglect its interest, for the sake of mere worldly objects. Business, pleasure, money, politics, will soon be done with forever. Do not refuse to consider the question I ask you, - Are You Ready?

Reader, if you are not ready, I beseech you to make ready without delay. I tell you, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, that all things are ready on God's part for your salvation. The Father is ready to receive you,-the Lord Jesus is ready to wash your sins away,-the Spirit is ready to renew and sanctify you,-angels are ready to rejoice over you,-saints are ready to hold out the right hand to you. Oh, why not make ready this very year? Reader, if you have reason to hope you are ready, I advise you to make sure. Walk more closely with God,-get nearer to Christ,-seek to exchange hope for assurance. Seek to feel the witness of the Spirit more closely and distinctly every year. Lay aside every weight, and the sin that so easily besets you. Press towards the mark more earnestly. Fight a better fight, and war a better warfare every year you live. Pray more,-read more,-mortify self more,-love the brethren more. Oh that you may endeavour so to grow in grace every year, that your last things may be far more than your first, and the end of your Christian course far better than the beginning!

#Are You Ready?#J. C. Ryle #Isaiah 38:20 #devotional reading #sickness #trials #day of trouble #prepared

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omnomsauruswrites · 6 years ago

Text

Angel of Death Chp 16

Pairing: Veteran!Bucky x medic!reader

Summary: How many times can you save a life?

Warnings: Depression, PTSD, flashbacks, suicidal attempt.

Masterlist

“The land that has been a ping pong ball between conquerors and imperial states,” she sighed, as she stared at the expansive desert beyond the wall.

“You shouldn’t be this close to the wall,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah. A sniper could put a bullet in my head, I know,” she waved off. Her eyes never left the sandy view before her.

“What happened?”

She turned towards her companion. He was freshly washed and in a clean set of PT gear. She was still in a dirty flight suit that hadn’t been cleaned in 24 hours. She looked tired, so did he. The war took its toll on both of them.

“21-year-old male, expecting father, died on the gurney as we ran him into the hospital.” She turned away from him and back to the wall. “It reminded me of my dad’s story of how a medic saved his life when I was 9 and my sister was due. And now I’m the medic who took her father away.”

His hand went to her shoulders turning her towards him. “Listen to me, doll. I know you. I know you gave it your all to save his life. You can’t blame yourself for every loss or it will eat you alive.”

After visiting Rhodey, she walked to Sam’s headstone. She stared at it, arms crossed. Her heart was in a million pieces in her chest. Clint had texted her after the deposition, relayed that the gang had watched it all including Bucky. He didn’t go into any other detail, didn’t get into Bucky’s emotional state since finding out who she truly was.

“He knows, Sam,” she whispered. She pushed the tears from her cheeks. “God, he’s going to hate me. You two…. You two were inseparable. And I took you away from him.”

She sobbed. Her knees buckled and she collapsed. “It’s all my fault that you aren’t here and he’s going to know that. Why is it all happening at once? Why? Stark? This? Who hates me up there so much? Or is this karma?”

Bucky stared at the easel in the corner. It had been there for months even after he broke the canvas, taunting him. ‘Y/n suggest that…’ It’s what Steve had said. She knew. She had knew about the dream of owning a tattoo shop with Sam and Steve. She had fucking known and that’s why she had given him the canvas.

She had saved him, again. He still didn’t understand that part. She did it once, but why would she do it twice? ‘she loves you,’ Nat had said. Did she still love him? Is that why she was so scared? Had she been hiding from three years from him right under his nose? ‘You didn’t remember her.’ That part was true. She had always been a blur. But now, the dreams had her in focus, the puzzle was complete. Memories of them being in the desert happened more frequently since they started running and even more after they started hanging out.

“You are staring really hard there, punk,” Steve commented, bringing Bucky out of his daydream.

“She knew,” he murmured.

“Of course, she knew.”

There was silence until Steve turned in a page in his book. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Bucky voiced.

He heard the book close and Steve move on the leather couch. “Buck, the girl is scared. Clint explained it to you. She doesn’t interact with people she saves. Too scared of their reactions, good and bad. It’s understandable. But she pushed it aside for you. Pushed it aside for me. I have to commend her for that. Though she thought that we wouldn’t put the pieces together. Or at least, that’s what she hoped.”

“But.. I promised.”

“Promised?” Steve asked, looking quizzically at his friend.

“Before the incident, I promised her a date.”

“And she blamed herself for letting Sam die, she wasn’t going to cash in on the date. She’s been so scared of you harboring hate and guilt against her for Sam. And while you do, you never blamed her. You blamed yourself.”

“I was his NCO, of course it was my fault.”

“Did you ever express that to her?”

“Fuck.”

“HOW COULD YOU?!”

She tried not to cower. She felt the tears that brimmed her eyelashes and saw his strong, bulky figure in front of him.

“YOU TOOK AWAY MY BEST FRIEND! YOU TOOK AWAY A PIECE OF ME!”

“I didn’t ….” she choked out.

“YOU ARE A KILLER, YOU KNOW THAT! YOU LEFT HIM TO DIE!”

“I tried to….”

“IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU IN THAT BUILDING DYING LIKE YOU LET SAM DO! YOU TRUELY ARE AN ANGEL OF DEATH!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” she screamed as well she jolted up in bed.

Sweat dripped from her brow. Her shirt stuck to her skin, her breath was ragged. She stared at the wall in front of her. It was just a nightmare, just a vivid nightmare of Bucky, yelling how much he hated her. She sighed.

Two days back in NYC and the nightmares jarred her awake since she ran into Stark. It either had Bucky hating her or having him die in her arms. She pushed the sheets off her legs and threw off the shirt. She glance at her clock, 4 a.m.

She gathered her running clothes and went to change. A run. She needed a run.

Her office door had been closed Wednesday and Thursday. She hadn’t popped into classes like she normally did. Bucky hadn’t expected her full withdrawl. It wasn’t like her to completely withdraw from activities. He had seen her on previous bad days and she still stepped in and forced a smile.

He waited after class on Thursday night to talk to Nat. She was packing her bag when he asked, “How is she?”

Nat looked up from her task and to him. “She’s not answering calls.” Concern broke through him. “She texted when she got back but that’s it. She took some sick time. I know that but she’s not ….”

He watched her hesitate. He knew Y/n didn’t like her business plastered everywhere. She was reserved and closed off despite what she pushed patrons to do. “Look, if she’s in the same place she was after the hospital, she won’t answer anyone. She reverts back into herself. Her depression and PTSD will be back full force. But knowing her, she won’t seek out help. Won’t seek me or Clint out.”

He watched tears fill her eyes. His heart clenched because it was obvious how much y/n was loved. He stepped towards her, placing his hand on her arm. She patted in, knowing he wasn’t used to comforting others. “She survived the military hearings. I don’t know if she’ll survive this.”

She opened the door to her office. It was stuffy after the week away. She sighed. She had so much to catch up, plus interview requests to ignore. She walked in placing her bag and purse near her couch. She pushed open the curtains, opening the window. Her fingers went through her shorter hair, a decision she made after too many sleepless nights. She needed change.

Her eyes flitted around her office, recalling her last conversation in it. The one that revealed that she was indeed Bucky’s medic on that fateful day. She sighed. She hadn’t talked to him. Though he hadn’t reached out. She hadn’t talked to Nat, Clint or Wanda either. She had cut off all communicate since returning to the City.

Nightmares plagued her about Bucky’s reaction. Her morning runs were often at 3 a.m. now. It allowed her a few hours of sleep afterwards before the autumn sun rose in the sky. Her eyes refocused on her desk, noticing a small box. It was white. She hadn’t left it there. Her hand went to pick it up, noticing her call sign scribled on the box. No note, just the word Mercy. She lifted the lid to reveal a leathter and silver bracelet with a wing on the end.

She looked back at the writing on the lid. It was neat, but all caps. She knew the handwriting, she knew … Bucky.

She slipped her hat into her flight suit as she walked the hall to the DFAC. She tried not to yawn. It was too early or too late depending on how one saw it. The dining facility was practically empty. Night shift had already eaten, but the hall was open for stragglers like her. She pulled a tray with her as she collected some eggs and toast, then an apple. She went to a far table and slowly started eating, as she stared into space.

It was minutes later, when a tray was placed across from her that she pulled out of her daze. Her eyes focused and then refocused on the man before her - tall, muscley, too die for eyes, Barnes.

He smiled softly at her before murmuring a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey there, Sarge. You are up late,” she replied, biting off a piece of bacon.

“Night shift.” She hummed. “Mind if I sit?”

She shook her head. It was the first conversation they had alone. She recalled Sam, telling her Barnes thought she was a hero. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “So… enjoying the war?” He choked on the orange juice, he had sipped. She chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Who enjoys war, doll?”

“Those who get paid the big bucks. The ones making the guns and the bullets. Certainly not us.”

“That’s an interesting view.”

She shrugged, taking another bite. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She sipped on her juice, before conversing again. “Sorry, I just got done with a long shift.”

His blue eyes met hers in understanding. “I get it, doll. Life of a medic isn’t easy. Especially a medic like you.”

“A medic like me?” she asked innocently, as his cheeks turned crimson.

“Well … you know….”

“I don’t really.” She arched her eyebrow at him and she watched him squirm a little.

“You just have the best record.”

She nodded slightly. “So I’m told.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“I just do my job. Just like you do yours. I’m not in it for the accolades or the trophies.”

He smiled at her. “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

@scuzmunkie @cari105 @soldierplum @muggleluna @valkyrieofsmut @coal000 @xxashy999xx @wishingforahome @lokissoul @infinitycaprogers @randomfandompenguin @verygraphicink @givemethatgold @marvelausmylife @keldachick @slender--spirit @chook007 @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @jessieray98 @purely-imagines-and-fantasies @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @existingovertherainbow @calwitch @flashfanfics @creepshowzombae @everythingisoverrated @marvelausmylife @ex-bookjunky @winchesterswantmypie @ven9eance6661 @crownofmanga @38leticia @dracris33 @ladylovelyfan @mypage-myfandoms @everything-is-awesomesauce @jamiedr

#angel of death #angelofdeath #bucky angst #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

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