#hozier but give him wings

[tytotastisc]

Hozier but give him wings

I got a whole bunch of drawings of Hozier with wings. (On twitter we dub named him Angelzier)

Which I made based off of the lyrics in I, Carrion and a tweet someone made :)

Though I’m not sure if the peeps on tumblr are interested in it because I’ve been hated for drawing him like this on other platforms before </3

(I also got Hadeszier and 90’s Yaoizier if anyone wants to see these abominations 😭😭)

[thekinslayed]

Lovely As Can Be

summary | Your path crosses with Osferth's once more, who has blossomed into a different man from the last time you saw him. (based on this request.)

pairing | osferth x maid!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, public sex, grinding, osferth's not a virgin in this one Lord, fluff (lots of it), sharing an orange is a love language

wordcount | 6.5k

song rec | Would That I - Hozier

note | surprise surprise! here's something with our baby monk (who is looking super fine in that gif)! a certain scene was inspired by ophelia (2018), can you spot which one? :D

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

You had been helping the young maids put up the freshly washed linens to dry when you were informed of the arrival of some guests. Wiping your wet hands on your apron, you left the girls to welcome the travelers who were to stay in Mildrith’s inn. Passing by some of the other help scurrying around, you keep an eye on their tasks, giving out instructions when you catch something that would not pass your madam’s standards.

An amused scoff left your lips when you reached the front of the house, a familiar group of warriors awaiting you with enthusiastic grins. Uhtred called out your name, greeting you warmly.

“Ah, King Edward’s dashing knights,” you jested, greeting them all with a smile and a nod.

You were only a girl when you first received the pleasure of meeting Uhtred and his group of warriors. Freshly sixteen, Mildrith had taken you under her wing to work as a maid in her husband’s inn. It was the biggest in town and was frequented by most travelers when traveling south, hence the constant need for help within the establishment. In the first months of your position, you had spent many an hour scrubbing floors, cleaning out bed pans, and pouring mead for guests.

It was a couple of months after your assignment that the arrival of the arguably infamous Uhtred of Bebbanburg sparked much excitement within the town, especially in Mildrith’s inn where they were sure to be staying. You watched, wide-eyed, as the Dane and his group strolled through the establishment, carrying such a commanding presence that everyone had stopped to look at them. Behind the group, you noticed a lanky figure trailing behind them, swathed in holy robes, appearing smaller than the rest despite being the tallest. 

‘A Christian monk travels with Danes, how odd,’ you thought then. 

You remembered his blue eyes, always wide like a frightened doe. It was clear he was barely a warrior, freshly taken under Uhtred’s wing, but you had treated him with no less respect than you did the older men.

He was a boy back then, and now, standing before you, was a man; Osferth was now a seasoned warrior like the rest of them. When his back used to be hunched in insecurity, he now stood tall, chest proud. 

“Look at you, baby monk, looks like you’ve grown some hair on your chest," you commented, hand propping up on your hip. His build now filled out the robes nicely, shapely muscles filling in the loose crevices of the garment. 

“Ah, he’s grown them alright, even more down his–” Finan began, but a slap on his shoulder from the king’s bastard had him cutting his words short, bellowing in laughter.

“Very nice to see you again, my lady,” Osferth greeted sweetly, giving you a slight nod. 

“Sweet as ever,” you cooed, turning to the other men, “unlike some of ya!”

They opened their mouth to protest, but you quickly led them into the inn, ignoring their complaints of faux offense. You led the men to a long table in the dining area, where the afternoon meals were beginning to be served. The group of warriors sat down, weary and starved from their long journey. You called a younger maid to fetch some mead for the guests, before bringing over some bread and stew.

“Looks like Mildrith has you ordering people around now, eh? No more scrubbing floors for you then?” Uhtred mentioned, making you chuckle while pouring the liquor into their cups. 

“She has me watch over the newcomers, especially the clumsy ones, but aye, I earned my right to not be cleaning chamberpots now, my lord,” you responded, placing the jug of mead back onto the table. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get my hands dirty now and then!” 

You took a seat beside Sihtric when he scooted over for you, urging you to sit with them. There was a reprieve from the ache in your heels, joints relaxing in relief after long hours of being on your feet. You asked the men about their journey, listening in awe at all the battles they fought and the lands they traversed since you last saw them.

“And they hung us upside down from a tree! I mean seriously, they could have just tied us to a trunk and be over with it, but no, they had to dangle us like some roasted pigs!” Finan exclaimed, hands waving wildly at his retelling. A laugh bubbled from your chest, mixing with the deeper chuckles echoing from the table. 

Behind you, some stable boys had passed by in search of some mead to cool off after hours in the hot midsummer sun. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair, Uhtred points to Eadric, turning to you.

“Isn’t that…? Call him over, I want to know if he is keeping you happy as a married woman!” He exclaimed in sincerity. Confused, you turned around to who he was pointing at, before pulling down his extended arm before he could call Eadric over.

“Keep it down,” you said in haste, the smile on your face dropping. All four men looked at you in confused concern, looking at you as your gaze dropped to your lap.

“I am not a married woman. Eadric and I, we did not…” you trailed off, shaking your head lightly. 

“What?” Uhtred asked in bewilderment, gaze flickering to your former lover who had walked away to return to the stables. “But you both had been so eager to marry!”

“I know, I know. He, uh, he had a change of heart,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck. They all looked at you in pity, so you plastered a rueful smile on your face, waving it off.

“Tis no matter, we were young, and we were foolish. I-I’ve moved past it, really,” you reassured them. 

“If you need us to do anything, just say the word,” Uhtred said, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Aye, Sihtric is quite skilled at making things look like an accident,” Finan said lowly, making you giggle as the Dane nodded eagerly. Osferth sat silently, watching the light in your eyes dim at the turn of the conversation.

“Thank you, but there is no need,” you said gratefully. With a deep sigh, you rose from the bench and smoothed out your skirts. “Well, I shall go see that your rooms are ready, and if there is anything you need, you know where to find me,” you told them, before leaving them to their meals. You were unaware of a pair of icy blue eyes following your retreating form as you walked away, busying yourself with your tasks once more.

Before dusk had begun to settle into the horizon, Mildrith had sent you off to gather some greens for supper from the market. You had hurried to old Hilda’s shop, filling your large basket with greens for the stew as well as some potatoes and grain. You all but waddled back to the inn, balancing the heavy basket on your hip, willing yourself not to drop anything into the damp earth on your way back.

“My lady!” A familiar voice called out behind you, making you stop in your tracks. You lifted the basket higher on your hip, keeping a firm hand on the wooden carrier to prevent it from sliding down further. Osferth rushed to you, taking the heavy basket from your hands.

“Let me, please.”

“I do not wish to burden a great warrior with a task so little, Osferth,” you tried to reason, but the monk had already lifted the weight with ease. He smiled at you, shaking his head.

“No great warrior would deny a lady his aid when she needs it, he would be less of a man if he did so,” he explained, walking beside you back to the inn. An amused smile lifted on your lips, turning to look at the taller man beside you. Your eyes studied the shadows the setting sun cast upon his face, now more structured and manly than you had last seen him. The plumpness of youth had melted and given way to a sculptured jaw, an aquiline nose, and pursing lips. His bright blue eyes once shone with exuberant wonder and apprehension now reflected a more mature wisdom. He carried himself with an air of confidence you had never seen in him before, one that belonged to a man who was sure of himself. 

Catching your gaze on him, Osferth turned to you, raising his eyebrows in question. Your cheeks flushed at being caught in the act, your lips lifting into a shy smile.

“You seem so different now than when we last saw each other,” you said. The monk’s eyes caught the way you slightly bit your lip, watching how the plump flesh reddened at the contact.

“Different in what way, my lady?” Osferth asked.

“You seem stronger. More confident,” you told him, trying to pick the right words to describe the change you have seen in him. “Like there is a fire burning within you.”

A smile touched Osferth’s lips as he glanced at you, the corners of his lips curling upwards. Your eyes meet his icy blues, his dirty blonde tresses appearing much darker in the dimming sunlight. A hum left the monk’s lips, keeping his eyes on yours for a moment longer before returning to the road.

“I suppose I have,” he agreed. Osferth’s longer legs made for bigger strides, and the taller man shortened his steps when he noticed how fast you had to walk to keep up with him. He turned his head to look at you once more, “though I suppose I could say the same thing about you, my lady.”

His gaze roamed over your features, taking in your flushed cheeks, the rosy pink of your lips. Surprise sparked in your orbs, making him chuckle when you turned to him.

​​"You have grown more beautiful," his tone was matter-of-fact, like he was stating a simple truth. The words made your heart flutter, the breath catching in your throat for a moment. You had never been one to be bestowed such compliments, thus making the smallest of praises leaving you flustered. Osferth's eyes twinkled as he continued to stare at you, enjoying the way he seemed to make you flustered in his presence. "You have a certain glow about you, my lady. Like the warm touch of the sun on a summer's day.”

“My, it seems you have become a warrior and a poet,” you jested, earning a chuckle from the man beside you. 

As you neared the inn, young Ida had passed by the pair of you, carrying dried linens. You did not miss the way her eyes caught Osferth’s, the man beside you smiling at her. The young maid immediately blushed, ducking her head as she walked by. His gaze followed her passing form, craning his head back as she passed. You ignored the strange feeling in your chest at the sight, returning your eyes to the muddy road.

“I am certain Uhtred and the others had you meeting all kinds of girls around the land, seeing as you are now quite the charmer,” you teased Osferth, bumping your elbow into his. The young monk made a grunt of amusement, turning back to you. It had gone unnoticed by you when he had begun to walk much closer by your side, the back of his hand brushing against the back of yours with the sway of your arms.

“You think I am charming?” He arched a brow at you, a playful tone coloring his voice. You rolled your eyes as he spun your own words back at you, chuckling as the bastard nudged your elbow in return. 

“Oh dear, I fear all that time on the road has taught you all the wrong things,” you said, letting out a comical sigh that made Osferth laugh. As both of you reached the inn, you gestured for the warrior monk to hand you the basket, but he refused, telling you he shall take it to the kitchens for you, ever the chivalrous gentleman. You led him through to the bustling kitchens, busy in preparation for supper, where he had dropped the basket. Many words of thanks left your lips at his gracious assistance in hauling the heavy load of produce around for you.

“It is no trouble, my lady,” Osferth waved off. Looking around the area, you subtly reached into the basket, pulling out an orange to give to the taller man. You had secretly bought it for yourself, splurging on a treat you had not seen in ages. You handed it to Osferth, who looked equally in surprise.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, eyes wide at the side of the bright fruit. He took it into his larger hand, lifting it to his nose to smell the sweet scent of its zest, his lips letting out a delighted sigh. 

“This was the last one Hilda had, and I just couldn’t help myself,” you said sheepishly. “You can have it, Osferth, for helping me with this.”

“Oh no, I cannot, my lady! ‘Tis yours!” Osferth exclaimed, handing the round fruit back into your hands. You shook your head, pressing it back into his grasp.

“No, please! It is no matter, I am sure she shall have some again. ‘Tis summer after all, and the season brings much fruit into our harvest,” you explained, earning a sigh from the young warrior. You gave him a small smile, placing your hand atop his larger one. “I doubt you can find these on the road anywhere else.”

“Thank you, my lady, you are most gracious,” Osferth expressed, giving you a sincere smile. You stared up at his blue orbs, the corner of your lips lifting into a smile of your own. A strange warmth spread across your chest, making you feel coquettish and timid as the blonde towered over you. The tips of your shoes were a hair inch away from the tips of his boots, his warmth engulfing your entire being. At this distance, you had a direct view of the cleft of his nose, and the way his pupils changed in diameter as he gazed at you.

You were broken away from your trance by the sharp voice of Mildrith, calling you over. Your feet took a small step away from Osferth, clearing your throat. The young warrior sniffled, looking at his shoes and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should go, Osferth,” you said, giving him an apologetic look. He nodded in understanding giving you a small smile.

“Of course, I shall see you at supper, then?” He asked, to which you nodded. You watched as the young monk walked out of the kitchen, pocketing the orange you had given him. You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted higher, a girlish chuckle leaving your lips when he gave you one last look before disappearing down the hall, shooting you a roguish smirk. 

“Oi! What are ya gigglin’ over there for? Get a move on, missy!” Mildrith scolded, making you jump. You squeaked out a small apology, bowing your head when you passed by her to get on with your work, unaware of the way the mistress of the house shook her head at you in amusement, a small smile breaking out on her own lips.

One thing that attracted the numerous guests to the inn was the suppers. They were always boisterous, rowdy, and filled with music and chatter. Even the townspeople spend their nights at the inn, making the establishment somewhat akin to an alehouse with the drinks that flowed and the laughs that echoed through the room. Tonight was no different, the common hall was packed with guests and local folks alike, and chatter bustled through the air as you maneuvered around the room, refilling cups of ale with the jug in your hand. You greeted your regulars, ignored the advances of some that already had one too many cups of liquor, and kept your eye out on anything else your guests might need. You checked on the younger maids walking around, guiding the ones who were a bit unsure of what to do. When you had first started at the inn, working the suppers intimated you, with your timid nature and clumsy hands. The overlapping noises left you rattled, coupled with the growing rowdiness as the night went on. As you gained more experience and became one of Mildrith’s most trustworthy workers, you took it upon yourself to look out for the newcomers, treating them kindly instead of punishing them for every slip-up they made.

You had quickly exchanged your empty jug for a fresh one at the kitchens before walking back into the hall once more. You heard a voice call you over, turning to Finan who was waving you to their table. As you approached, you spotted the women sitting beside each one of them. You recognized them from the brothel a few doors over, a frequent presence during nights like these in your establishment. It was no surprise that Uhtred and his men had found their companions for the night so quickly, their reputations certainly bearing no lie about their proclivities. Your eyes flickered to where Osferth sat with his arm around a young brunette’s shoulders. You caught the way her fingers toyed with the cross pendant around his neck, leaning into the long expanse of his neck. The corners of your lips dipped slightly at the sight, a strange twinge in your belly. You caught yourself before anyone could notice, plastering a wide smile on your face.

“Enjoying the night, boys?” you asked the table, refilling their cups.

“Aye, good to not be shitting in the woods for once!” Sihtric exclaimed, earning laughs and cheers from his companions. Osferth sat silently, observing the way you rounded their table. He tried to catch your eye, but you seemed to be focused on the jug you held in your hand as you poured ale.

“Why don’t you come sit with us for a while? You are working too hard!” Uhtred urged, to which you only gave a smile.

“Tempting, my lord, but my madam would not be too happy. It is quite a busy night after all,” you said, earning disappointed groans from Finan and Sihtric. You shook your head at their antics, before excusing yourself. For a brief moment, your eyes meet Osferth’s, who had been staring at you the whole time. You gave him a small smile and a nod, before walking away, letting out a sigh as the corner of your lips dropped.

You stood by a pillar, leaning on your weight on the wood while watching the crowd. A man had stood on top of one of the tables, strumming his lute while the guests sang along. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure approaching the other side of the column, mirroring your position.

“Alright?” He asked, shooting you a concerned look. Another sigh left your lips, keeping your eyes on the lute player, feeling his gaze on the side of your cheek.

“M’fine, Eadric,” you said with indifference. Neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the echoes of the singing crowd fill the space between you.

“Mm, I know you. I can still read you well, you know, despite how we stand now,” he expressed, a somber tinge in his tone. A scoff left your lips, shaking your head at him slightly.

“Well, considering you can hardly read a few words on a scroll of parchment, I think it best if you stop fretting about me.”

“I will have you know I am capable of discerning whole sentences now, by year’s end perhaps I will be able to read you a sonnet to win your heart once more!” A laugh left your lips at his words, bubbling out before you could swallow them down. Your former lover looked satisfied with successfully getting a reaction out of you, smiling as your cheekbones lifted. 

From his place at their table, a young warrior monk watched you and your former husband-to-be. The brunette beside him had been whispering nonsense into his ear, yet he paid her no mind, keeping his attention on you and the way you turned to Eadric, leaning to say something into his ear over the crowd’s noise. 

As the night grew darker and the jugs of ale turned empty, you stayed on your feet, cleaning up in the kitchens away from the ruckus, alone. No Eadric, no Osferth, no grimy hand of a drunkard to grab you close. This was your favorite part of the night, to be granted a moment’s reprieve from the chaotic bustle of your days. It was peaceful to have a moment alone with your thoughts like a soft howl of wind on a dark night. Your hands worked mindlessly to scrub the dirty dishware while you let your mind run loose. There was little room for one’s thoughts in a position like yours. The days would often feel autonomic— clean off the linens in the morning, be in the kitchens by noon, and pour ale for the guests in the evening. The surprise of welcoming old friends like Uhtred, Finan, and Sihtric was a pleasant deviation from your otherwise monotonous life.

And dear Osferth. You supposed you had always been quite partial to him among the rest, you were close in age and personality, or at least you were. Where you were timid, Osferth was equally as shy, yet now, he had blossomed into something greater, forging his name into history, all the while you had remained a closed bud still rooted to the soil you had been planted in. As much as you missed the clumsy, doe-eyed baby monk, the warrior sat in your madam’s hall had as much power to render you weak as he did to wield a sword. To be under his gaze had you blushing like a young maiden, and he a dashing knight.

You shook your head, snapping out of your reverie. Osferth had seen many things and met countless faces, surely you did not hold a light to the girls that had come his way. It was no use to be feeling this way, not when he was to leave by the moon’s turn, not when you shall be left alone once more.

Dawn had barely broken through the horizon when you had risen from your cot, stretching your aching limbs with a groan. You had slept for barely three hours, but your body had grown accustomed to your early mornings, often rousing from your slumber with the sun’s rise. The air held a slight prickle of humidity during the summer, giving you no need for furs and a fire during the night. The rest of the inn laid fast asleep, and with the few more moments left to your own, you gathered a clean set of clothes, taking silent steps across the creaking floorboards to step out. The smell of the earth was refreshing, coupled with the morning dew that sprinkled the green grass. It was quiet, save for the howls of mourning doves that echoed through the trees. Humming an old tune to yourself, you made your way to the lake past the thick of the woods, placing your clean clothes on the ground before shrugging off your dress. Clad in only your thin cotton shift, your bare feet padded on the soft soil to approach the lake’s edge. You dipped a toe in, testing its temperature, before stepping down the shallow surface. The water held a slight bite of cold, just how you liked it. You took careful steps across the soft earth, the water rising higher up to your waist. You bent your knees to fully submerge yourself into the cool water, staying underwater for a moment, before breaking the surface to catch your breath. The water felt wonderful on your skin, even more so as it soaked your hair clean of yesterday’s muck. You bathed peacefully in the lake, scrubbing on your scalp and swimming across the water. You allowed yourself to settle, granting yourself a moment of calm before another busy day. Your eyes closed as you let yourself float on the water’s surface, humming to yourself once more.

The quiet peace of your morning was disrupted when you heard the first sounds of approaching footsteps. Alerted, you returned to your feet, looking around for the source. You had no place to hide, not when you were right in the middle of the forest’s clearing. You spotted a large rock situated against the lake’s edge, covered by tall, wispy grass, prompting you to quickly swim towards the stone and lean against it in hopes of hiding your bareness. Through the grass, you spotted a pair of boots approaching where your clothes had been placed, giving away your presence.

“My, a magnificent fish has come to shore!” A familiar voice called out, echoing through the air. Warily, you poked your head out to catch a glimpse of the intruder, only to find the warrior monk. You felt a relief to be discovered by Osferth rather than a stranger, your lips lifting into a small smile as you regarded him.

“Are you here to fish my lord?” you played along, feigning innocent curiosity. You crossed your arms over your shoulders to cover your chest as you stepped away from the rock, revealing yourself to the royal bastard. It seemed he had awakened not too long ago either, evident from his blonde tresses that were slightly ruffled. His feet took steps closer to the lake’s edge, while his hands crossed behind his back. He flashed you a lopsided grin at your query, shaking his head lightly.

“No, no. Though I am a warrior and have traversed these lands and back, I have no skill for the waters. Perhaps the fish will allow me to admire its beautiful scales instead?” he asked, blue eyes raking over your wet form. You bit your lip as he stared at you, cheeks warming despite the cool air. Stiff buds poked against the wet fabric of your shift, still covered by your arms. 

“There are far more handsome fish around here, perhaps you may find some better use of your time with them,” you suggested, making the warrior monk’s thin lips twisted at your words.

“I would rather not, I find this one particularly breathtaking,” he said, looking at you with a gaze that made your skin tingle. Your mind raced with uncertainty, while your skin burned with desire. To be graced with Osferth's magnetic presence had ignited a deep pulsating ache within you, one not easily stoked by any man. Under the morning sun, you gazed upon his face. He was handsome, very much so. The royal blood in his veins graced him with a beauty higher than that of any common man, but all his rugged edges were all thanks to his time as a warrior walking with Danes. You desired him, and now, he stood before you, all yours for the taking.

You looked around, making sure there was no one else in your surroundings, before uncrossing your arms and standing tall, baring your chest to his eye, pathetically covered by the now translucent fabric of your wet shift. 

“These waters can get quite lonesome for a fish like I. Perhaps my lord would like to join me?”

You visibly gulped as Osferth shamelessly stared at your breasts, waiting with bated breath for his next move. Keeping his eyes on yours, the warrior monk disrobed. He had been without his cuirass, only his robes and breeches. Piece by piece, Osferth’s pale flesh became exposed to your watchful eye. He had placed his robes neatly beside yours, before removing his boots and unlacing his breeches. A small gasp left your lips when he pulled his trousers off, standing tall with his gradually hardening cock on display. An amused huff left the monk’s lips at the way your eyes were stuck on his length, chest puffing proudly under your gaze. He was well-endowed, this he knew, it was what garnered attention from all those women after all. His long, muscled legs approached the edge, cock swaying with every step forward. A warmth in your belly grew as the young warrior dipped into the water, prickling your skin as his eyes stayed on yours the whole time. Your chin tilted upwards as he towered before you, the difference in your heights making you feel covered in his shadow, protected.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening?” you asked, voice dropping low with the change in proximity. Osferth hummed, giving you a small nod.

“Yes, though I admit, it would have been much better if it had been spent with your presence beside me,” Osferth said. His warm breath fanned across your face, the heat of his flesh radiating against yours, causing a shiver to run up your spine. His orbs flickered across your features for a moment, his hand hovering above your arm, yet not touching you. The corners of your lips shifted into a downward smile at his words.

“My apologies, my duties prevented me from doing so. Though it seemed the seat by your side had been occupied. Either way, you had splendid company, only the best in town for the King’s warriors,” you replied softly. He shook his head slightly at you, sniffling lightly.

“It was not her company I sought.”  

His large hand covered the width of your arm, pulling you closer into his space. Your hands placed themselves on his chest upon instinct, while his slithered around your waist. His aquiline nose dipped into the skin of your cheek, breathing in the scent of your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close upon the contact, your heart thumping at the feeling of a growing stiffness poking against your thigh.

“How did you know where to find me?” you whispered in his ear.

“I had stepped out for air after my morning prayers. It was then I caught a glimpse of you, walking into the woods,” he explained, lifting his head to look at you. Your fingers trailed against the edge of his jaw, feeling the small prickling of his lightly growing stubble beneath your fingertips. 

“You followed me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him. A sheepish smile formed on his thin lips, while yours lifted in amusement.

“Tis not safe for a lady to be alone in these woods,” he reasoned, tone light and almost playful. He furrowed his eyebrows in mock concern, shaking his head lightly. A chuckle left your lips, reverberating against Osferth’s chest.

“I know these woods better than you, Osferth,” you replied, to which he only shrugged. “Did the Lord speak to you in your prayers, leading you to me?”

“Aye,” he nodded. His hands squeezed the softness of your arms, before drifting down to settle on your waist. “He all but called me a fool, for letting a beautiful lady walk away from my midst without showing my affections.”

“I am no lady.”

“You can be my lady if you will it so,” he said. Osferth’s calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"You have met the most beautiful ladies in the land, and you will meet more. I am but a simple maid, why me?" you questioned, voice dropping to a whisper. A wistful sigh left his chest, thumbs caressing the plump flesh of your cheek.

"A flower may bloom in the most ordinary of gardens," he whispered softly, his voice carrying the weight of genuine fondness. "And yet, it is that very simplicity that makes its beauty all the more extraordinary."

His head dipped close to yours, your lips just a hair's breadth apart from his. "You have always enraptured me, from the moment I had first stepped into your midst," he confessed.

“Do you jest?” You asked, searching for any sign of any sign of insincerity; you found none.

“I do not jest about matters of the heart,” he whispered, leaning his face closer to yours. You couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut when his nose nudged against yours. His lips pressed a kiss against one cheek, then the other, almost in reverence. Your hands on his chest slithered up to wrap around his neck, pressing yourself further into his build. Your foreheads pressed together, basking in its each other’s warmth for a moment before Osferth leaned forward to capture your lips in his. A gasp left you in surprise, though you had quickly softened into his arms. You had let him lead you in pace, clearly having less experience than the well-traveled monk. The only other man you had kissed was Eadric, and even then you were young and had no knowledge of the ways of the flesh. This was different; Osferth kissed you the way a man kissed a woman, a lover, a wife. It was all-consuming, a kiss that bordered on gnawing, coupled with his wandering hands that caressed and squeezed your curves. They were rough despite the fabric of your shift separating his touch from your bare flesh, and as they cupped the sides of your thighs, he silently urged you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You obliged, letting him carry your weight with his hands supporting your rear. His stiff length is pressed between your bodies, its veiny underside pushing against the dip in your folds. A whimper permeated the air between you when he guided your hips to rub against his shaft, one echoed by a grunt from the warrior monk. It was an odd feeling, though deliciously pleasant. It was different from when your fingers would circle your pearl as you lay in your cot, biting back your sounds of pleasure lest someone heard through the thin walls. Your hips began to move with Osferth’s rhythm, grinding your pearl against his cock. 

“Osferth…” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his once more. The man had started to pant against your lips, small grunts leaving his lips.

“My lady,” he moaned out, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss was frantic and desperate, with tongues dancing against each other and teeth clashing. You moaned against Osferth’s lips when his cockhead snagged against your folds, rubbing deliciously against your pearl. The prickling heat in your belly began to grow, but you needed more.

“Please, Osferth,” you pleaded against his lips, before letting out a whine.

“What is it, my lady? Say what you need, and it is yours. I am all yours,” he responded. His eyes met yours, which had turned clouded with a heady tinge. There was a wrinkle in between your eyebrows as they furrowed in desperation.

“Take me, all of me,” you said. Your hand reached behind you, taking hold of his cock to guide it to your slit. With another deep kiss from Osferth, he breached your entrance, sliding you down his length. Your moan echoed through the breeze at the stretch, prompting you to bury your head in his neck. You bit hard into the junction of his shoulder from the slight sting; the lack of intimacy with another man leaving your walls unaccustomed to such a stretch. Osferth’s chest vibrated against yours as a deep moan left his lips when he bottomed out, stilling for a moment. 

When the pain in your walls began to subside, your hips slowly began to move. Large, calloused hands remained on your rear, guiding you up and down his prick. There was a slight ripple in the water from your movements, growing into small splashes when your hips increased their pace. 

You tugged the collar of your shift down, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Osferth leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on the stiff bud while a hand massaged the other. Breathy moans of pleasure freely fell from your open lips, singing a tune so sweet to the monk’s ears. Your fingers gripped the hairs on the back of Osferth’s neck, your hips never losing their rhythm. His lips switched to suck on the other breast, leaving soft marks on the supple flesh, marking you as his. 

“Do you like this, my lady?” Osferth asked against your skin, before trailing his kisses upward to suck on your neck. 

“Yes, oh yes!” you whined. The thought that someone shall hear your moans and discover the pair of you was forgotten with the way your mind grew dazed in Osferth’s embrace. Your nipples rubbed against his taut chest, the fine sprinkle of hair on the milky flesh ticking your sensitive nubs. 

“You are the most divine,” the young monk moaned, squeezing your rear. Your lower lip is caught between your teeth tightly, almost breaking flesh as you neared your precipice. The sensation of your pearl rubbing against Osferth’s pubic bone threatened to send you into overdrive, shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The warmth in your core bloomed upwards, starting to spread to your chest. Your walls began to squeeze his cock, signifying the start of your release.

“Osferth, ah, I am going to–”

“Go ahead, my beauty, let it go for me,” he coaxed you. Your release washed over you like a dam breaking through its walls. A whine left your lips as your eyes shut, your features scrunching together in bliss. Osferth’s eyes stayed on your face, watching you get lost deep in your delight. He continued to bounce you onto his cock through your release, before pulling out to quickly tug at his cock under the water’s surface. With the sight of your panting chest right before his eyes, Osferth’s cock released spurts of his seed. The clear water was painted with the cloudy fluid, diffusing into the lake. 

Recovering from the euphoric daze that had overtaken you, your eye stared into Osferth’s icy blues. You bit your lip to suppress the gigantic smile that had lifted your cheekbones, a giggle bubbling out from your chest. Your lover merely raised his eyebrows, a smile breaking out on his sculptured features.

“What amuses you, my sweet?” Osferth asked softly. You merely shook your head, before leaning your head against his shoulder in an embrace.

“Nothing, I am merely overjoyed,” you replied. A radiant glow fluttered in Osferth’s ribcage, his lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

After rising from the water and redressing, you and Osferth sat on the grass in silence. Your head was leaned against his, while his arm wrapped around your figure, rubbing your back in comfort. You wished for this moment to last for eternity, that you would not be called to your duties, and him to his own. Alas, such power was out of your hands, thus you willed yourself to savor the warmth of his embrace as much as you could. 

You felt him reach into his pocket, turning to look at him in surprise when the orange appeared in your sights. The same one you had given him in the kitchens.

“Why have you not eaten it?” you asked. You could smell the citrussy zest of the fruit in his palm, sweet and inviting.

“I was hoping to share it with you,” he said, making you blush. He began to peel the orange, its scent spraying all over. His grip had been too tight, lacking gentleness with the fragile pulp that ended up crushed under his fingertips. You laughed at the juices that spilled on his hands, before gesturing for him to hand the fruit over.

“You are making a mess! Here, let me,” you offered. The smiling warrior handed the orange to you, watching your gentle fingers peel the fruit expertly. Once the rind had been removed, you had handed it back to Osferth, but he had split the fruit in half, giving you the bigger portion. You let out a delighted hum as the sweetness coated your tongue, savoring the taste you only come by so rarely. Osferth watched you with bright eyes while eating his own. 

In the quiet still of the morning, moments before you were to be called back into the inn, you sat with your lover upon the grass. You shared an orange, along with soft kisses and words of tenderness. You knew naught what the end of the moon shall bring you, nor the end of the day, but you had this moment, one you shall always think of fondly.

[minhosimthings]

From Eden || HJY

Synopsis: You ask your favourite angel, Hyunjin about love. And he has a lot to say on a chilly night.

Pairings: Angel!Hyunjin × demon!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, biblical themes, Heaven and Hell, ik angels don't technically have genders but I made reader a bit feminine, teensy bit of angst, mention of Han because I love him, VERY poetic, me yapping about love

A/N: whatsup my popsicles your girl's back from her hibernation with Hyunjin because God damn this man has been bias wrecking me so much. Also this is based on Good Omens, so I hope anyone who watched the show notices the details I put in. As always, enjoy!

Song Recs: From Eden by Hozier, My love Mine all Mine by Mitski

I am yours,

The way the sea belongs to the moon,

And the way the moon belongs to the sky.

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

An angel and a demon lay on a tiny mound in a park.

“Do you ever think about going back up there?”

Your question stuck to Hyunjin’s mind like pollen to a bee. His magnificently outstretched left wing was practically numb now, from bearing your weight on it for so long. But Hyunjin didn't complain.

 After all, he wouldn't have let you lay on wet grass on a frosty November night if his life depended on it; even if he knew that you—as a demon—couldn’t technically feel anything. But as much as you’d tried to convince him of that factual piece of information, he’d rather throw his halo into a river than believe that you had no emotion hiding in you. Hyunjin was a stubborn angel.

Your stubborn angel.

“Not really.” Hyunjin said in a tone almost as soft as his feathers, “Why do you ask?” He pressed a light kiss to the side of your forehead before you could answer, as if wanting to distract you from the topic at hand. You’d understand why. He disliked the idea of talking about it.

“Just….” You trailed off with your sentence, not knowing what reason to give him. Why did you ask him that? 

Hyunjin hummed softly, shifting his legs so that yours could be more comfy. You didn't have the heart to tell him you were just fine in your previous position. In fact you didn't have a heart at all!

That was the common human perception of demons, Hell, Lucifer and all that jazz. But you knew that your boss, Lucifer, was only scary when his new assistant didn't get some paperwork done for souls to enter that paradise that was Hell. 

“Do you remember the first time we met on Earth?” Hyunjin suddenly asked you, his eyes still gazing up at the painting of the starry sky hanging above you.

“Of course I do.” You laughed gingerly. You vividly remembered the first time you had met Hyunjin.

Five Years Ago

 Contrary to popular belief, demons or—as you liked to call yourself—fallen angels, actually didn't like wrecking stuff and destroying everything in their path. You just had to trip people on the sidewalk every now and then and occasionally make a deal with a naive human who stumbles across a cross-road. Most of the time, you were stuck doing paperwork.

So there you were, on a fine November’s evening, strutting down a nice little street in your very cliche all-black outfit, when you abruptly stopped in your tracks in front of an art supply store. It wasn't the Studio Ghibli-esqueness of the shop that made you stop or the fact that the most beautiful paintings of flowers lined the big windows. 

It was the familiar celestial energy that was practically leaking out from the shop.

The energy only got ‘louder’ as you entered the shop, having lost the battle to your curiosity. You knew this feeling well enough to figure out that there was an angel or perhaps even God themselves hiding in this store. Turning into a corner, which was lined with shelves of paints of all sorts, you stopped in your tracks, when you lay eyes on the only other living being in the shop.

It was a tall, long-haired man, wearing a black worker’s apron over a white shirt and beige pants and restocking some empty shelves. Perhaps the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. But you knew better than to strike up a conversation with him.

He was no ordinary man, from the looks of the golden halo floating above him, something only you could see very faintly. 

Angels and Demons who get stationed on Earth are warned very strictly not to interact with each other. Not even so much as a glance if they accidentally reach for the last cupcake at a bakery. Hell and Heaven's monitoring systems were the best in the universe. But perhaps they were lying about that.

Because no sudden flash of death-inducing lightning struck you or the angel when he turned his eyes to you in the store and said with a sweet smile, “I can see you staring, you know.”

To say it in simple words, you were practically awestruck when you saw him face-front. It was a face which was….eerily familiar. Beautifully familiar. Like a face from a memory you had chosen to rewrite. His beautiful hair fell perfectly onto his face, framing it in such a way that all his features stood out. With eyes that stood proud yet gentle, like a stream by a forest, and lips that looked as if they could heal anything with a single kiss, one could say that he looked angelic.

“What are you looking to buy today?” He asked you as if you two were nothing more than mere humans, “The oil paints perhaps?”

“No…” You said with uncertainty, “I’m sorry I barged in, I just…” You paused, studying his features even more, why was he so familiar? “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

He smiled again, his eyes forming half-moons at you. “Don’t worry, the shop has a spell around it.” Then as if to certify his point, he said in a childish whisper, “Neither Hell nor Heaven will find us here.”

“Oh.” You said simply, not knowing what else to say. You slipped your hands into the pockets of your coat and considered him for a while. Then you slowly walked towards him, feeling warmer and warmer as you did. 

“Y/N.” You extended your hand, “Former angel of creation, collector of souls and occasional deal maker.” This was perhaps the boldest act you’d ever performed ever since you fell into Hell, “Oh and I like plants.”

“Hyunjin.” He took your hand in his and shook it formally, “I own this shop.” His gaze was locked on yours, never once wavering, “I’m an angel of Heaven.” He finished the sentence with such gusto that you were sure wind was blowing inside the store.

“Yeah I got that figured.” You said curtly, “I just wanted to ask—” You took a deep breath before speaking, “Have we ever…met before? I mean you just seem so familiar for some reason.” You let out a forced laugh, “I’m sorry if we haven't. It's just that I don't remember anything that happened before—” You stopped briefly, you hadn't talked about it much, “before my fall.” 

You noticed the way Hyunjin’s face dropped for only a second or two before he went back to his calm gaze. “No worries.” He said cheerily, “I don’t have a really good memory either so we can just start over from now.” 

As an angel of Heaven, a loyal servant of God and Humanity, Hyunjin hated lying. His honesty proved to be as useful as it was dangerous. For example, Hyunjin had gained one of his best friends, Jisung, when he kindly albeit bluntly stated that beige would be a horrible colour for Jisung to paint on a rock album’s cover. After a few hours of debating, in which many noise complaints were involved, Hyunjin had gained a human friend for the first time. He knew Jisung wouldn't live for as long as he would, but it didn't matter. Hyunjin loved the company.

Of the three lies he had spelled in his entire life, this was one of them. You were the second angel he had lied to. Well, fallen angel.

He, in fact, had a terrific memory. And he distinctly remembered the time he first set his eyes on you 

After a few days of the Universe’s creation, he had been ordered by Gabriel to bring you forth. They alleged that you had been far too creative in your matters of creation–and too curious as well. God didn't create curiosity for the angels.

After a few hours of drifting through the vast caves of the newborn Universe, Hyunjin spotted an angel of high ranking standing stagnant before what appeared to be a large canvas of infinite, colourful, space. 

Your wings were spread high and mighty, beautiful feathers of gold and silver silhouetting an excited figure. You were rushing your fingers about in orchestral movements. Every flick of your finger brought forth a string of rainbow colours that burst forth into one or the other star in front of you.

Angels were not meant to have feelings. It was something that only the lowest of 

organisms—humans—had. Atleast, that was what Hyunjin was taught.

But something inside him stirred when he set his eyes on you.

(Was it hatred? You’d broken the Rule of Heaven with your curiosity. Hyunjin loved rules.)

 Your sparkling eyes, filled with far more stars than any galaxy that surrounded him, captivated him. You looked like one of those things that the humans did, what was it called? Perhaps it was called a painting, but Hyunjin's memory disappointed him for the first time. He took a deep breath and flew towards you, his mind frantically racing as to how he’d tell you that you had apparently failed God.

“Ahem.” He had said, trying not to seem too overenthusiastic, “Excuse me?” 

Hyunjin couldn't find a word to describe your appearance when you turned towards him. He described the moment to you eons later—in a heated argument of betrayal and trust that shook the very Earth itself—as the most beautiful thing he had seen since his birth.

“Oh hello there!” You had responded, not waiting for the angel’s response as you beckoned him to come and stand by your side, “Come look! This is always my favourite part.”

‘Favourite part’ evidently meant the stream of colours that had just erupted in front of you both, some rushing off rapidly in different directions, while some lay still joining together to form a nebula. Hyunjin had seen the creation of nebulae before, but this one was exceptionally magnificent to look at.

“That's…amazing.” Hyunjin breathed out, his eyes widening by the minute as he stared at the dance performance in front of him. You stood with a smug smile on your face.

“I’m quite proud of it actually.” You grinned at him, “I love making nebulae the most. Don't get me wrong though, I still like galaxies!” You threw him a wink, to which he sheepishly smiled

“I don’t see the point in nebulae much though.” He mumbled, trying to make conversation, “I mean, a poor star has to die in order to make such a divine formation.” He motioned towards the theatre of colours in front of you, “It seems odd doesn't it? For death to be so beautiful a thing?”

“I dont think it's odd.” You said, tilting your head, your gaze fixed on his, “I think it's a lovely thing. That the star, which was so beautiful in its first life—” You turned your head back towards the nebula and smiled wide, “—is allowed to be so beautiful in its second one as well.” You grinned with all your teeth this time, “Makes me wonder about all those humans down there on Earth. I think they’re rather lucky to have a life which is short, don't you think? They get to appreciate love better.”

“Appreciate it?” Hyunjin asked, feeling a creeping emotion cling to his wings. Did curiosity always feel this amazing?

“Of course! Loving is practically what anyone would—and should—live for!” You said in the same cheery tone, “Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage and fed a beggar’s meal all day like Heaven thinks! Absolutely not!” Your eyes shone with determination, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love, I think, took God the longest time to make. It would be hard, wouldn't it?” Your eyes softened, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

Hyunjin drew in a sharp breath at your words. He didn't comprehend the concept of love that well, having only been taught that it is a dangerous thing. Now he mused on what danger might feel like.

“Personally I think we angels should be allowed to live a mortal life at least once in this infinitely dreary life-span of ours. I do love the idea of love so much and maybe we’ll learn to appreciate warmth once in a while. Heaven does get so cold.” You laughed.

“So it’d be like some sort of mission?” Hyunjin asked, cocking his head to the side. You stared off into the distance for a while before answering, your eyes wider than ever before.

“Oh I have such a brilliant idea!” You said, radiant joy lacing every word you said, “Why haven't I ever thought about it ever before?”  You noticed the dark-haired angel staring at you in confusion before you started to explain, “Why don’t we suggest to Gabriel and everyone else to have a few angels be posted down on Earth?” You looked around you frantically, before your far-seeing eyes landed on a tiny blue dot floating about its own space, “So we can keep an even better check on them.” You smiled widely, before looking at Hyunjin and making an excited sound, “I should go right now if I want to catch Gabriel at a good time.”

Your wings seemed to have understood your excitement, as they fluttered rapidly, at the prospect of going down to the planet you and a few others had designed so carefully. A planet that was neither too hot nor too cold. A planet filled with your favourite creations of God. A planet that was just right. 

“Oh I never asked.” You snapped your gaze to him, “What is your name?”

Right. He never told you his name. What an idiot you are Hyunjin, he scolded himself, getting distracted by pretty angels.

“Hyunjin.” He said, bowing his head, “My name is Hyunjin.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You said, bowing your head back, your lucent halo shining so brightly in Hyujin’s face. He already knew your name. He had to bring you to Gabriel in chains.

“Well I’m off to Gabriel’s.” You said, “Thanks for the idea, Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin never thought his name could sound so harmonious. So melodic, full of stories. A captivating name.

He relished that moment endlessly, all the while trying to suppress the carnal hunger within him that wanted to speak to you again. To explain all his thoughts and ask every question residing in his non-existent heart. He had that feeling that you’d know the answer to each of them. But he wouldn't have the opportunity to do that for a very long time.

A couple thousand years to be precise. 

In a paint store. 

Out in the middle of nowhere and yet in the middle of everything. 

Time always seemed faster to you after you became a demon. The same old routine—though it tired you out—seemed to continuously keep you on your toes. You couldn't remember the last time you looked up at the stars. For some reason unknown to you, you had always felt a special sort of connection to them, as if they were your own creation. You could always retrace your footsteps at night, feeling the warm splutters of light being shaped like soft clay in your hands. And then you’d forget it all by the morning.

It was only a dream, you’d surmise, demons don’t get dreams though.

But the dream you had that day was one you’d never dare to forget. 

The dream in which you stumbled upon a faintly familiar (absolutely gorgeous) angel, brought a few weird looking paints called gouache, realised you knew nothing about painting, and took up the angel’s offer to teach you.

The dream in which your colorless penthouse apartment held a little more colour when Hyunjin stepped into it, with a canvas and an easel and another home-stitched apron made just for you. A white one with tiny black cats on it. He always despised the fact that angels couldn't also turn into any animal they wanted. He wanted to be a snow-coat ferret. 

And the dream in which a sin was committed, a sin greater than when Eve sunk her teeth into God’s most precious jewel.

It didn't matter though. You weren't struck by Heaven’s lightning.

Just sweetly kissed on your forehead by Hyunjin as you both lay in bed, silently wrapped in each other’s arms tightly, afraid the other would float away if you let go.

“I think I want to love you.” Hyunjin said, "I think I really want to love you."

Love was for humans, not angels and demons.

"I think I do too." You said, breathing in his scent. It was the same old crisp smell of paint and a bit of something else. Rain maybe? Or was it pine? There were some traces of old paper as well but you thought—

"I love you, Y/N." Hyunjin exhaled shakily, "I love you so much." 

Love was not meant for demons.

"I love you so much too, Hyunjin."

Present

"How could I ever forget the time we met?" You chuckled, cuddling closer to Hyunjin. His warmth made you want to sleep so bad, but you persisted. Anything to complete a conversation with your favourite angel.

"I think that was the day I made up my mind to never leave Earth." Hyunjin said slowly, tentatively almost, “That was the day I found something—” He smiled, and closed his eyes, taking a breath in before continuing, “—that made me want to love again.”

“It's funny.” You chuckled, admiring a distant red star in the sky, “People would usually end that sentence with ‘live again’.” You sighed, the red star glistened again, “But we’re not people are we?” You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Hyunjin’s arm beneath your neck slightly shifted, causing you to press your nose into his chest instead. Angels smell like rain, you thought. His breathing slowed down and you could hear the cogs in his brain turning. My angel smells like paint.

“Would you like to be human?” Hyunjin asked hesitantly. The constellation of Cassiopeia was particularly bright tonight, with her five stars reminding everyone of the downfall due to vanity. You shifted again, not saying anything. The same silence remained hanging in the air for a few minutes, with the two of you just taking in each other’s mellowness. And then you spoke.

“What do you think about love, Hyunjin?” You asked him, for perhaps the fifteenth time in five years. Every time he had been confronted with that question, he’d either never answer it or find a way to flirt with you. But he couldn't escape now, you thought. He was trapped in between your arms and your attack of a thousand tickling kisses was notorious for its ability to—

“Love…..” He started, “is practically what anyone would—and should—live for.” You tilted your head curiously up at him and he began to narrate.

“Somebody once told me that, you know?” He laughed, “Back in heaven. She loved the idea of love so much, she gave me an entire speech about it.” He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage or thrown onto the streets.” His eyes seemed to gleam, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love  took God the longest time to make.” It would be hard, wouldn't it?” His eyes softened down at you, as he pressed the umpteenth kiss of the night to your skin, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

 Those words…..why were they so familiar?

“But I think I disagree.” Hyunjin said again, saving you from the task of replying, “As much as I liked that idea back then, I think I find it a bit incorrect now that I know more about love.”

“It's not like you to disagree on most things.” You smiled to yourself. Though Hyunjin did like giving his own opinions very honestly, he didn't like to disagree or argue over other people’s choices. Unless it was his mortal friend Jisung of course. Hyunjin chuckled and raised his hand up to touch the sky. You followed his outstretched finger to where it was pointing and your gaze stopped on something. 

A nebula.

Though you were a demon, you were still technically a celestial being. So your vision stretched about as far as the Aries constellation’s multitude of galaxies. And maybe even farther. You didn't know though. You were far too lazy to waste your energy on peering at the sky. 

“You know that angel who told me about love?” Hyunjin dropped his hand back down onto the soft grass, “She was creating a nebula when she said that.” 

Hyunjin shifted to lay on his side, his wing beneath you stretching to adjust to the new position. He fluttered his eyes from your eyes to your lips, admiring all of your features in the process. You felt warmth cloud your cheeks and ears. He always did that to fluster you, and it was a battle you could never win. 

Reaching out a hand, he cupped your cheek in his palm. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, relishing the moment like a touch starved human.

If this was what being human felt like, then you wanted to be human. 

“I think love is like a nebula.” Hyunjin said in a crooning voice, “Nebulas are created by the death of a star right?” He started to explain, amused at your confused expression, “When the star dies, those wisps of starstuff come together again to form something so beautiful, something which can support another galaxy, something that is as pretty as that late star.” He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, you could clearly see the mole beneath his eye, “That's what love is, I think.” 

You shifted in your place onto your side, and took him in—his words and his beauty. By God were both of them absolutely gorgeous. 

“Love is eternal.” Hyunjin’s voice was an early morning mist, “Love is something that can never truly die out, no matter what. It's those little things that we do without realizing it was the habit of someone in our past. It's the fact that we are all just made up of starstuff and little bits of someone else’s soul. In a way we are also nebulas, don't you think?” He brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hands were still warm in the cold night’s air, “I think love is a mystery which shouldn't be solved. Just embraced.” You blinked, feeling the mellowness of him and for a moment, you thought it was a dream.“I don't think love should be felt violently. Just….warmly.”

His solid form pressed into you, the familiar rise and fall of his breath. Your fingers resting gently on his chest, and the sense of closeness sent a rush of feelings that almost hurt. Your mind spun as you tried to recall your memories as an angel. Were you the one who had told him about love?

Hyunjin looked at you, at the faint crease between your brows as if he were afraid to lose you again. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to think for a moment—just a moment—that an angel and a demon could defy the rules set by the one who created them. If God didn’t want love to exist between Hell and Heaven’s soldiers, then damn Them, Hyunjin thought.

“If love is a nebula…” You softly hummed, eyes flickering to his lips every now and then, “...that means it's always changing right?” Hyunjin nodded, taking note of the teasing expression on your face and taking his eyes down to the grass instead, “Then I think I want love to be us.”

In that second heartbeat of silence, Hyunjin looked up, his eyes blazing with passion, and before either of you could think, you pulled him by the neckline of his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his with a desperate intensity that left no room for doubt.   

Your breaths mingled, Hyunjin could see the flicker of longing in your gaze, the vulnerability you’d always tried to hide. With a hum, he closed the distance between your bodies, capturing your lips again with a tenderness that held nothing but love, both of you melting into the intensity of the moment. 

“Love is us.” You said, after pulling away from the brief moment of passion, “I think love is nothing but us.”

“An angel and a demon?” Hyunjin asked, his lips faintly pinkish and his cheeks even more so.

You shook your head, “A star and another star.”

Hyunjin laughed heartily and nodded, “A star and another star it is then.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Love is us.”

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

Two stars lay on a tiny mound in a park.

And even if the jealous stars

Break and shatter upon the milky way,

I will still see Heaven in your eyes.

[pluvionpc]

“you called me ‘angel’ for the first time, my heart leapt from me… you smile now, i can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth”

— hozier, “unknown / nth”

“do you know, i could break beneath the weight… of the goodness, love, i still carry for you?”

(this is entirely caused by this edit by @padmestrilogy which has made me cry more than once pls go watch it)

idk if this is clear but the idea behind this is mainly that padmé ripped out her own wings to give to him (as he called her an “angel” when they first met). and he, indulging in his love for her, took them. though, padmé could only watch as they slowly fell apart the further he drifted from her (given he is often described as the “fallen angel” character). until, eventually, the wings were gone, killing her along with it

i think what really struck me about the edit is that it puts into perspective how many times padmé is left behind or can only stand there as anakin comes and goes, as he slowly drives himself further and further into his own mind. that her love for him paralyzed her, her rationality, and eventually destroyed who she was. something something love that corrupts

[iamthemain-character]

To Fall

xaden riorson x fem!reader

CW: Canonical violence, brief suggestive language

A/N: I'm currently reading Iron Flame so this is just based off Fourth Wing knowledge! Don't come for me lol

Song: I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier

I feel lighter than I have in so much time

I've crossed the border line of weightless

One deep breath out from the sky

I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm

All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

The first sensation you notice when you stir from your rest is the weight of your lover’s arm around your waist. You can feel the way his hand rests just under your breast, gentle compared to its touch just a few hours ago. You keep your eyes closed, savoring the peaceful intimacy of this moment. Your hand lifts from the mattress, trailing your fingers over the lines of his forearms, not needing sight to trace the familiar scars. You’ve gazed at these arms long enough, felt their strength, that you know each muscle as if it is your own.

“Good morning, beautiful.” The husky morning voice of Xaden curls around your ear, the sound traveling straight down to your heart. You feel his hard chest press against your shoulder blades as he pulls you in closer, his warmth permeating your skin, heating you up from the inside out. You could feel the bridge of his nose as he pressed his face into your hair, lips finding the bits of skin through the curtain of hair that fell over your shoulders. His hand pressed a little firmer against your ribs, as if he could meld you into his body through sheer strength. Not that you would have minded; you never felt as complete as you did when you were right against Xaden.

It was difficult to say what moments with Xaden were your favorite. He was an all consuming sort of lover, always giving his most in every second he spent in your presence. Yet the soft mornings, when the sun had not yet dared to cast her gaze over the earth, you perhaps cherished most. Xaden was entirely yours in those moments; not a Wingleader, not the leader of a rebellion, but just the man who loved you. And the man you loved fiercely in return. The bond between the two of you felt as fierce as dragons’, a desperate need to be near one another, to share in every part of your being.

Unlike dragons, however, the world tore the two of you apart. Your assignment to the front lines brought a chill into your bed, one that not even all of Xaden’s affection could brush away. You longed to give into his touches, the kisses that made you feel as if you were high above the world, but the knowledge that every minute brought you closer to your departure forced you to be sensible.

“You’re thinking.” Xaden murmurs, the plush of his lips ghosting over the curve of your ear.

“Always.” You sigh in return, turning your head to look into his eyes. There’s a shine in his Onyx irises, a light that you proudly note you bring to his life. You reach up your hand, trailing it over the path of stubble that covers his jawline. He makes a sound of contentment, one that you feel rumble in his chest, and he presses his head further into your touch.

“You’re going to need to write down all of those pretty thoughts for me.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against your palm, following the map of its creases.

“Most of them are going to be about you anyways.” You give a soft breath of laughter, knowing you would willingly write down every word for him if he asked.

“Even better.” He insists, moving his kisses to the pulsepoint at your wrist, as if he could kiss your very heart. “That means they’ll match mine.”

Your chest swells, and suddenly it's like your ribs have been cinched in, making your throat close in on itself. Your eyes prick with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to push them away. You slip your hand to the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers with the messy curls, savoring the silky sensation. “I’m going to miss you.” You whisper, the words only audible for Xaden, as if the walls themselves will hear you and shame your vulnerability. But here, in the bed, with only his ears listening in, you know you can allow yourself the emotions too often denied in the life of a rider.

“As will I.” Xaden replies, his tone low and gentle. “But you will be back soon.” He says the words so easily, voice as calm as the morning itself. But his arms tighten their hold on you, his hands pressing flat against your hip and your stomach, pulling your body as tightly against his as possible without crushing you. There's a desperation in his hold, and you think that he may be clinging to you rather than holding. Every time you leave, there's the unspoken knowledge between the two of you that you may not return. The uncertainty of life comes with the job, and with the warlike state on the front lines, mercy has turned her gaze away from the world.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” Your words are soft, but your tone is underlined with a plea. You know all too well how Xaden pushes himself when you are not there, pushing himself beyond his limit in his efforts to fulfill all the roles that fall on his–alebit perfect–shoulders.

“You’re the one we should be worrying about.” Xaden murmurs, his hands turning your body over so you’re facing him. His hand leaves your hip, coming up to stroke back your messy hair. “I hate knowing that I won’t be there to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.” You reassure him, your words truthful. You have more than enough skills to fend for yourself, and years of experience have trained you to be a dangerous opponent.

Xaden’s thick brows furrow, drawing together between his dark eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.” He growls, his fingers on your waist digging in a little, most likely adding a few more bruises to his marks littering your body. “I should be there to protect you, to make sure that you’re safe. I don’t want anyone laying a hand on you.”

The fire in his words burns straight to your heart, making your skin tingle with the warmth. Even though it's not possible to let Xaden defend you at all times, the very knowledge that he would so passionately protect you from all harm makes you fall in love a little more. “You’re needed here. The cadets have so much to learn, and they really can’t protect themselves.” You pause, your voice softening. “Especially yours.”

He nods, and you watch his shoulders tense as he is reminded of all the people he is responsible for. You’ve traced those 107 scars more times than you could count, kissed everyone as a silent promise to help him. So much rode on keeping those boys and girls safe.

“Just promise you’ll come back to me.” He says, his dark voice tinted with need.

“Always.”

And though I burn how could I fall?

When I am lifted by every word you say to me

If anything could fall at all, it's the world

That falls away from me

The hands of smoke are curled around your esophagus, choking out every last clean breath from your lungs. Your entire body ached, encrusted in your flight leathers from the amount of blood that you had been bathed in. Furthermore, it was unclear how much was yours versus the enemy’s, but you kept pushing yourself, knowing there would be no peace until every one of the Poromish fighters backed off, or more tragically, were dead. Your heart hurt even more than your wounded body when you thought of the innocent people who were dying, wondering how Nevarre would twist this battle to be blamed on the Gryphon riders and not the true enemy.

You climbed back onto your dragon, the two of you taking to the skies to evaluate the battlefield. The landscape was a nightmare painted by the cruelest of artists, the dirt turned to reddish mud from the sheer amount of blood spilt. It was a small relief to see the battle finally winding down, though it may only be because there was no one left to fight. You and your dragon flew out to the edge of the wards, continuing to look for anywhere that your aide might be needed.

Suddenly, your stomach turned into a sinkhole, swallowing up any seed of relief that might have been planted. The edge of the wards had moved, evidently from further weakening of the stones, and suddenly you and your dragon were exposed. Your dragon quickly banked left to dive back into the safety of Nevarre, but just a second too late. You felt metal hit your neck, right at the junction of your shoulder, pain shooting out like lightning from the point of impact. Your functionality disappeared with the jolt of pain, as suddenly you felt nothing at all. Except, the world was tilting, and rather than seeing the neck of your dragon, you were looking up at it, watching as it grew smaller and smaller. In the haze that surrounded your brain, you wondered if you were falling.

You wondered if Xaden had eaten that morning.

And then you thought nothing at all as darkness consumed you.

You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

While you're as heavy as the world

That you hold your hands beneath

Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

You were warm. Your entire body seemed to protest against its existence, but you were warm. And surrounded by softness. You opened your eyes–the action taking more effort than it should–and had to blink away the blearyness that blurred your vision. As you looked at the ceiling, noting the beams of dark wood that arched the ceiling, you couldn’t help but think that this looks like Xaden’s bedroom in Aretia.

Your eyes confirmed your suspicions as they slowly moved over the room, spotting the familiar wardrobe, dresser, and desk. All of which were places that you were familiar for far less than innocent reasons, but knew nonetheless. Hope slipped out of its cocoon, fluttering her new wings in your heart as you looked towards the door, looking for the owner of both the room and your heart. And your hope took flight, soaring through your body as you saw Xaden’s head resting atop his arm, his tall body slumped over the edge of the bed. His other hand grasped yours, a desperate need in his grip even as he slept.

You had seen the way his hands could wield daggers, swords, clubs even–not to mention the dark and powerful shadows that he could conjure with barely any movement at all. But to you, those hands held up your entire world. You knew that his calloused palms could hold you in a way that took away any fear, could convince you of his deepest affections, and could bestow a love within yourself so deep that you forgot to be insecure.

Softly, you ran your thumb over the curve of his knuckles, smiling to yourself as you gazed at your beloved. Despite your stiff muscles, you pushed through the ache to shift downward on the bed, curling up beside his head. At the sensation of the mattress dipping, Xaden’s head shot up, his hand constricting around yours. For a moment, his eyes are dark and wild, as if he’s ready to manifest that darkness around whoever threatens him. But then he focuses on you, and immediately they soften into the gentle depths that you’ve lost yourself in countless times.

“My love…” Xaden’s voice is hoarse, the usual strength gone as water wells in his eyes. His fingers flex as he resists gripping you so tightly, afraid he’ll break you.

“Hi.” Your own voice is soft, scratchy as it begs for water. But what’s more important is having the love of your life closer, and so you open your arms, wanting to feel Xaden fill them. He immediately responds, up from his seat in a flash and letting the mattress take his weight. His own arms envelope you, barely restrained from simply crushing your body to his chest. Your arms feel weak from lack of use, but you grip onto the man as tightly as you can, your fingers finding root in his dark curls.

You press your nose into the little gap between his neck and his uniform, inhaling deeply. An ocean of scent fills your mind, washing your body over with comfort and ease. He smells like the tall pines that surround Aretia, of the dark leather that was molded to his form, and the warm skin that laid underneath. It was the scent of home.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Xaden’s voice is a growl, but you know him well enough to hear the worry and care in the rough words.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You whisper softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his stubbled jaw.

Xaden lets out a shaky breath, hands tightening on your nightdress, seemingly unconvinced that you’re not going to suddenly disappear. “I should have been there.”

“There was no way you could have been.” You counter, trying to soothe him.

“I should have been there to protect you.” Xadens voice comes out dangerously low, frustration dripping off his words.

“You have a duty-”

“My duty is to you, dammit.” He takes a deep breath, trying to control his voice. “There is nothing I would prioritize over you. Let them strip my rank from me, let this whole rebellion fall apart again, I will not lose you.” Xaden murmurs the words like they’re an oath, like he needs you to let him dedicate his life to you. “If I need to live and die at your hand, then so be it. You are the only thing that matters. Nothing else.”

For a long moment, your words fail you, Xaden’s passionate vow stealing any protest or promise from your mind. “I love you” simply wasn’t enough to convey the depth of emotion and connection the two of you shared.

You leaned back a little, fingers brushing the curls at the nape of his neck as you gazed into his gleaming onyx eyes. “Then live at my hand.” You softly request, your own voice as insistent. “I don’t want your sacrifice. I want you, here, with me, until we both draw our final breaths.”

Now, it was Xaden’s turn to lack a response, the words weighing heavily on his heart. His whole adult life, he had been prepared to die for his cause, for what he believed in. But to live for something? To live for you? It was something he never considered; but if it was all you wanted, then by the gods he would do it.

“I’ll live for you, my love.” He murmurs, and he brings your empty hand to his lips, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers, then down to the palm, and finally kissing your pulse point. Your wrist throbbed steadily, reminding him of just how precious living was.

Leave it now, I am sky-bound

If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

We'll float away, but if we fall

I only pray, don't fall away from me

Xaden meant it literally when he said he would live and die at your hand. He did not leave your side unless absolutely necessary, and even then he’d always drag one of his friends in to watch over you, despite your protests that you were fine. Still, it was a little endearing, seeing how much he cared for you.

The healing process was slow, the poison from the arrow having done a lot of damage to your body. But you made steady recovery, taking the medicine you needed to, getting rest as well, though the latter often had to be enforced by Xaden himself. It worked both ways, however, as you would often convince the man of shadows to rest as well by welcoming him into the warm bed.

Walking proved to be the most difficult task during your healing period. Your body had been so violently ill with the poison, as well as the wounds you took during the actual battle, that you had been greatly weakened. That, in addition to you being bed ridden for some time, only added to the issue. When you started to literally get back on your feet, however, Xaden’s arms held you, preventing you from collapsing, encouraging every step. In the moments when you would grow too fatigued, he’d scoop you into those same arms to return to his room.

At first, you were frustrated with your inability to do such a basic thing, feeling like a dead weight on Xaden’s shoulders. But as each day passed, you came to cherish those walks through the halls of his home, his arm around your waist, warm and sure. Xaden himself relaxed more during those times, allowing himself to speak freely and enjoy the borrowed time you two shared.

It was during one of these outings that the two of you wandered down a hallway you had previously not explored. It was quiet, with a few pieces of art or items that had been salvaged from the original house. And then your eyes landed on a portrait; it was vast, spreading across the majority of the wall, showing off the smallest of details the artist put in. There was a man, strong and proud, and a woman beside him, looking gentle and wise. But what drew your eye the most was the depiction of the young boy between them, head held high, dark onyx eyes staring directly at the viewer.

The same onyx eyes that stared at you.

“Thats Mom and Dad.” Xaden’s voice is soft, sounding more vulnerable and childlike than you have ever heard before. You glance at him, seeing the bittersweet smile that ghosts over his features. His strong hand grips at your waist a little tighter, as if he needs a reminder that you’re still here, that he didn’t lose you too.

“You look just like your father.” You remark, your voice as tender as your beating heart for Xaden and his family that you’ll never get to meet. “But your smile is like your mother’s.”

Xaden’s smile grows more real, his eyes looking over you, full of gratitude and hope from your words. “She would have liked you. Both of them, I think.”

“I would hope so.” You muse, studying the people in the portrait. You wonder what it would have been like to actually know them, to be able to note what traits your beloved shared with his parents. Seeing the portrait of his father seemed so different from the traitorous man depicted in all of the history books. “What was he really like?”

Xaden tensed beside you, as if the thought of what you must “know” about his father made him defensive. Yet he just squeezed your waist, perhaps a reminder to himself that you weren’t there to burn his memories too. “He was a good man. Not perfect, but a good man. The kind I wish I could be.”

For a moment you let the weight of his words sink onto the two of you, the air thick with the hopes and fears that formed your very lives. You both knew that you and Xaden would carry the blood on your hands for the rest of your lives; even if you won the war, there would never be a moment you could truly say that you were good. But perhaps Xaden’s father felt the same.

“We’re going to finish what he started.” You say quietly, placing your hand over Xaden’s heart. The motion draws his gaze to you, his eyes seeming to come back from whatever far off place his mind sailed to. “We’re going to make this world the kind he would have wanted.”

Xaden doesn’t say anything, just placing his calloused hand on top of yours, his thumb stroking your cool skin. “He wanted things to be better for me.” He whispers, his voice raspy with choked emotion. “I want things to be better for our kids. I want them to be able to choose who they are.”

The idea of “our kids” doesn’t go unnoticed, making your heart flutter as you are reminded just how much Xaden truly wants a future with you. “We’re making things better for all of us. For our friends, our future kids…” You pause, smiling a little, “For us. And we’ll be able to share the story of just how wonderful your father truly was.’

You could have been an angel from above, the way Xaden gazed at you as you spoke; his eyes were reverent, full of devotion, holy and unholy. “For us.” He echoes, like it's another vow to strengthen his heart. A vow that he seals with a kiss to your lips.

I do not have wings, love, I never will

Soarin' over a world you are carryin'

If these heights should bring my fall

Let me be your own

Icarian carrion

Once you fully recovered, Xaden still wanted to keep you in Aretia. The very idea of you returning to Baisgaith just to possibly be sent away again didn’t settle well with his protective heart. Still, you were determined, and just as stubborn as he was, so he begrudgingly agreed that you would return with him.

Despite your lover’s disgruntled attitude towards your decision, the flight back was gratifying for both of you. Side by side, your dragons never strayed from one another, and neither did the two of you. During the few stops that were made, Xaden was quick to encase you in his arms, often allowing himself to indulge in some kisses that increased the time of your journey. If Xaden had been doting before, the near loss of you had only made him even more devoted to claiming every moment he could.

This only became more apparent once the two of you returned to Baisgaith, reciting your perfected story of your terrible injury and how Xaden had managed to nurse you back to health. Leadership, of course, wanted to take you away so they could get the full report;you could have sworn Xaden was a dragon himself from his barely contained irritation at being forced to leave your side.

It wasn’t until the sun had set that you were finally allowed to return to your quarters, having had the details of your experience laid out and rehashed time and time again. Leadership could not find a flaw in your story, however, and eventually let you go with a welcome back to the citadel. You were a little tired, pent up with frustration at your lying authorities, and ready to be back in Xaden’s arms.

Your feet barely had time to step through the door, however, before shadows consumed you, slamming the door shut, nearly splintering it off the hinges. Immediately, heat rose in your body, Xaden’s desire palpable through the little control he had over his powers.

“Finally.” His voice whispers, low and husky with lust against your neck, his nose pressing into the soft skin. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come get you myself.”

You inhale deeply, the distinctive smell that you know and adore filling your senses as you lean back against his strong body. He’s already shirtless, his heated skin making you wonder how long he was waiting for you, like a predator ready to pounce and claim. “You know how long these things go. Trying to make sure I’m not a traitor.”

“Of course.” He darkly chuckles, pressing warm, open mouth kisses up the curve of your neck, biting softly behind your ear. “Don’t you know I’m filling your head with all kinds of nasty plans?”

“You certainly fill my head with filthy thoughts, my love, but I don’t think it's the kind the government cares about.” You hum in reply, smiling to yourself as you feel his hands wander down your body.

His long fingers find the buckles of your flight leathers, popping them open with practiced ease. “Well well, perhaps it should be my turn to interrogate that pretty little mind of yours.” His voice curls into a coil in your stomach, stirring up your desire. “I would love to know just what I can make you imagine.” His hands continue their work on your pants, continuing the progressive removal of your layers.

Once you’re undressed, he spins you around, his hands ghosting over the shape of your body before settling on your hips. His thumbs press into the hollow below the bone, his fingers splaying over the curve of your ass. It’s not unlike watching your dragons lay claim to their possessions, the way he grips onto you, but his possessive nature only stokes the fire in your belly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss over your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “Gods, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You murmur your honest reply, your skin tingling with the sensation of his touch.

“I mean it.” He murmurs, biting at your collarbone before lifting his gaze to meet yours. “My whole heart, it belongs to you. I am completely, madly, and truly in love with you.”

Xaden is always such a man of action that you’ve never really had to doubt if he loved you. But as the words melt over your body, casting warmth like the early morning sun, you are taken by just how truly loved you are. “I feel the same.” Your words hardly seem equal, but Xaden’s smile reassures you that he is pleased.

“I want you to always be mine.” His voice has dropped, as if he wants only you to hear his words. His dark eyes glimmer in the little light of the room, making your stomach turn with anticipation. “I want to be able to love you for the rest of our lives. I want to have a life with you by my side.”

You watch as Xaden takes your left hand into his, his calloused palms comforting against your own smaller hands. His thumb brushes over your ring finger, sending a thrill through your heart.

“I can’t make you any promises right now.” Xaden murmurs, love radiating off of every single syllable that leaves his lips. “And I want to do this properly when the time comes, with a ring, and a beautiful setting. I want to get down on one knee so you know that I’m serious when I say I want to worship you for the rest of my life.” He looks up, finding your eyes, giving a small, tender smile. “But for now, all I can ask is that you’ll be mine. In whatever comes our way, whether we have one minute together or one hundred years, I want to know that I get to give my time to you. If you’ll have me.”

You blink, your eyes filling with water as you listen to his words. “Xaden…”You whisper, your voice choked with emotion. You swallow your heart, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you cup his jaw, thumbs stroking the stubble there. “No matter how far we go, no matter what we do…I am yours. Truly and irrevocably. Even if we fall, I won’t fall away from you.”

Xaden feels his own eyes smart with unshed tears, and so he gathers you into his arms, burying his face into your neck. You can hear him murmur soft “thank you”s and “I love you”s against your skin, his hands running down your back. You smile at his reaction, and you slip your hand into his hair, lifting his face enough so you can press your lips against his, pouring out your heart to him through your touch. Xaden immediately reciprocates, his heart always hungry for you, and his lips move demandingly, pulling you in deeper.

He lets out a needy huff, and his hands find your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. “Let me show you how much I love you.” He requests against your lips, sounding like a man desperate for water.

“I’m all yours.”

Xaden holds nothing back as he kisses you again, his tongue demanding its way between your lips, savoring your taste on his lips. He swiftly moves across the room, his bed becoming his altar as he lays you down onto it. He takes a moment, eyes moving over your body, as if he could commit every mark and line to memory. He takes your hands, his own strong and capable, but gentle as they hold you, and he presses kisses over the ridges of your knuckles. “And I, my love..I am all yours.”

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall

Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

If I should fall, on that day

I only pray, don't fall away from me

“Fen Xander Riorson, be nice to your sister!”

Xaden smiled to himself, hearing your voice carry over the springtime air. The sun was setting over the mountains of Aretia, the new grass soft under his body. As far as his eye could see, he saw the prosperous new settlements, the homes and businesses of his friends and family thriving within the new age. It was a sight he thought would only ever be fantasy at one point.

As he feels your familiar hands smooth over his shoulders, your soft lips pressing against his temple, he is reminded just how real his life is.

“That is your son.” You murmur in his ear, coming to sit beside him on the flowering hill.

Xaden chuckles softly, reaching out to snake an arm around your waist. “Our son.” He reminds you, nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. Even after all these years and two kids, he still feels the intense need to just have you. “He gets his stubbornness from you.”

You huff, feigning indignation, but your wide smile gives away your true feelings. You lean against Xaden’s side, watching as your son ignores any reprimands and continues to chase his squealing little sister through the field. “He gets his rebellious side from you.”

Xaden lets out a small snort of laughter, his arm tightening around your waist. He doesn’t deny it, knowing that the two children both take after their parents. It was his greatest joy, being able to watch the very humans the two of you had created grow up and discover themselves. You had fulfilled your promise, after all; the world they knew was much kinder to them than it had been to him. His marks and his scars would always remind him of that.

Xaden’s gaze looks over you, the form of his beloved wife, and it only makes his smile grow. Gray hairs are beginning to intermix with your natural color, denoting the time that has passed within your body. You moan and complain about them, but he sees them as a mark that you two not only survived, but lived. Truly lived. And now, the fruits of your labor only grew in abundance every day.

“I love you.” He softly murmurs in your ear,, his hand brushing away the hair so he can press a kiss to your neck.

You smile up at him, a little surprised at the sudden words, but delighted by them nonetheless. “And I love you.” You reply, your words full of truth and affection.

The two of you return to watching the children play, and the sun continues to disappear with the last few moments of day. But now, you and Xaden simply note it as a passing thought, your love no longer on borrowed time. The night will only bring another day, with the promise of letting you cherish every moment, never to be parted again

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Emotions | Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5521

Warnings: mentions of drug addiction, mentions of smut (MDNI this is an 18+ blog), mentions of iffy family dynamics

A/N: For this nonnie! I have a very deep love of music and a special connection with it, and pretty much all of my one-shot fics are gonna be titled after songs. If you'd like to connect with the music as well, here's a few songs I recommend reading while you listen to the chapter!

Emotions by Brenda Lee

In the Still of the Night by the Five Satins

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier

Snow Angel by Renee Rapp

Queue up on Spotify or your preferred streaming service, and happy reading!

General Writings Masterlist

Humans were curious. The more time you spent with them, the more you couldn’t understand why your father loved them so much. However, one human was beginning to pique your interest. His name was Sam Winchester. 

Your brother Castiel had been charged with rescuing Sam’s brother, Dean, from Hell. However, Zachariah had not given the word to begin the mission just yet. You, though, were charged with the care of Sam Winchester. 

He became interesting for a number of reasons. The Winchester boys had been of special interest to all of Heaven since their mother died in Azazel’s attack. You’d known of his existence and watched from afar as the sweet, intelligent young man became a cold shell of who he once was while his brother suffered in Hell. The demon Ruby— who you would be sure to kill as soon as you could get your hands on her— had been getting Sam addicted to the potent substance that was demon’s blood. If you had to compare it to a human drug, you’d heard many angels say it felt like a heroin addiction. 

Despite your disinterest in most of humanity, you were more compassionate toward them than most of your brothers and sisters. While some, like Uriel, were ruthless in their method to get humans on their side, you always took a more “humane” approach. No matter how many times humanity had broken your heart through their horrible mistakes leading to death and destruction, you still tried to show each human compassion. 

You watched from afar as Sam began to learn to exorcize demons with his mind. The experience was undoubtedly painful, and your anger with Ruby grew with each passing day. Always keeping your distance, though, because you knew now was not the right time to step in. Zachariah would give you the word when it was. 

You followed Sam down a darkened, busy street, keeping just far enough back that he wouldn’t be able to see you. He turned the corner onto what you assumed was another street, and you foolishly followed. Suddenly, you were pinned to the wall with a demon’s knife at your throat and an angry Sam staring down at you. 

“Who the hell are you?” the man spat, pressing the tip of the weapon into your throat forcefully. “Why are you following me?”

“Hello, Sam,” you said calmly. “My name is (Y/N). I’m here to help you.”

He scoffed. “What? Another demon coming to peddle your wares? I don’t think so.” The brunet stepped away from you and tried to exorcize you with his powers. 

You just remained still, large doe-eyes looking at him with a small smile playing on your lips. 

Sam then appeared scared. “What— What are you?”

“I’m an angel,” you replied evenly.

He laughed. “Right. C’mon, what are you really?”

You unfurled your large, beautiful wings and called upon a clap of thunder to ensure the shadow would be cast on the wall behind you. “I told you. I’m an angel.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Why are you angry?”

He spun around to face you. “Why am I angry? My brother’s been dragged to Hell, and you’re asking me why I’m angry?”

You continued to look at him in confusion. 

“I prayed. Every day for the last year Dean was alive. Why didn’t one of you answer?” he finished.

“It wasn’t the right time,” you explained. “Father wouldn’t allow us.”

“Well, fuck all of you guys, then,” Sam spat.

You were intrigued and confused by his intense anger. “Your prayers are being answered now. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Too little, too late,” he replied. “Now, leave me alone.”

You stared after him as he walked away. Didn’t he want your help? Why was he angry at you when you were simply obeying your father? His prayers were being answered, and he was cruel to you.

That should have enraged you. However, it only intrigued you even more.

***

You knew Sam had not told Ruby he’d seen you, which surprised you. Everything about this man was surprising you.

While his addiction to demon blood was horrific and disgusting to you, you were surprised how much… empathy, you believed the feeling was— you were starting to feel for him. He’d undoubtedly been manipulated by the demon into that state of being.

His incredible strength both physically and mentally was impressive. While he wouldn’t last a moment in a fight with you or any of your brothers and sisters, he was skilled in many different athletic pursuits. His interest in different philosophies was curious to you as well; most humans you'd come across were set in their ways with no interest in different points of view.

After your last conversation with him, you decided not to intervene unless he desperately needed you. And now, he desperately needed you.

Ruby had either knowingly or unknowingly sent him into a death trap. While Ruby conveyed she believed only two demons to be hiding in a warehouse, an entire lair of at least thirty laid in wait for the young man. You knew you’d have to get involved this time, no matter if Zachariah approved or not.

You watched from the skylights of the darkened warehouse as Sam crept around with Ruby following closely behind. Your father willing, you’d slit her throat with her own knife.

You could see the other demons beginning to creep in around Ruby and Sam. Sam was the first to notice something was wrong and spun around to face the demons behind Ruby.

You used your powers to appear behind a wire rack covered with boxes to have the element of surprise with the demons.

“Hey there, handsome,” one of the demons was telling Sam.

Another snarled, “And Ruby. I thought Lilith got rid of you.”

“Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job,” replied Ruby.

The demons had Sam and Ruby back to back as they closed in their circle around the two.

Taking out your blade, you stepped out into the dim light, heels clicking across the floor. All of the demons turned around to face you, as did Sam and Ruby.

“Wow, Ruby. Seriously? You’re working with an angel?” a demon snickered.

You didn’t allow any of the demons a chance to get another word in. You appeared behind the demon who had the nerve to speak up and plunged your blade through its vessel’s back.

A few of the demons tried to escape by fleeing their bodies, but you forced them back in. While you were compassionate, merciful would not be a word used to describe you. When you were crossed, you didn’t play nicely. 

A few demons tried to charge you, and you immediately reached out to two, grabbed their hands, and killed them while you used your free arm to plunge your blade through the other’s chest. With, in all honesty, very little effort, you managed to make your way through most of the demons. With the mess of dead bodies sprawled across the concrete floor, it made it easier to see what was left for you to deal with. That was when you noticed Ruby was gone, but Sam was still there, fighting demons with his demon knife. 

A demon behind Sam was preparing to stab him in the back, but you threw your angel blade through the demon’s throat just in time to save Sam. 

Slowly but surely, you made your way through the remaining demons. Sam panted from exhaustion and the few wounds he’d sustained but still stood with his shoulders squared. “I didn’t need saving,” he huffed.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but yes, you did,” you replied evenly. “I will admit, I’m disappointed your demon friend left so soon. I was looking forward to formally introducing myself.” 

Sam laughed, somewhere between mocking and a genuine laugh. “You were gonna kill her, weren’t you?”

“Without hesitation,” you nodded. “I know what she’s been doing, Sam. I know what you’ve been doing.” 

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” he said, his voice cold. 

“It is my business.”

“How?”

“Angels are only sent to earth for their missions; unless they’ve fallen,” you explained. “Like I told you before, you’re my mission.”

“And like I told you,” he sneered, “not interested.”

“I don’t understand,” you stated. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m answering your prayer. I thought you’d be happy.” 

“I told you; too little, too late—!”

“I’m not talking about the prayers for your brother anymore, Sam,” you cut him off. “I’m talking about your prayers for yourself.”

That seemed to quiet him down.

“I heard you. The first night you drank demon’s blood, you prayed. That was when I was assigned to you,” you told him. “Some of the angels believed you were too far gone. I, however, was the one to ask my superior if I could help you.” 

Tears welled in Sam’s eyes. “Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you save Dean?” 

“I wanted to,” you admitted, not quite understanding why you were spilling your secrets to a human.

He got angry again. “Why didn't you?!”

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing. “It is not my place to question my superiors. I serve Heaven first; not you.”

“Well, find some other way to serve Heaven. I’m not interested,” he grumbled, turning away. You noticed how painfully he rolled his shoulder.

“I can fix that for you,” you said, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What?” Sam turned back around.

“Your arm.” You nodded in its direction. “And those gashes. They look like they’ll get infected if you don’t let me help you.” You stepped toward him, and he remained still.

His impressive stature was incredibly intimidating to you despite your angelic status. You had never felt such a feeling; only when you were in the presence of the archangels. Whatever this feeling was, you didn’t think you liked it.

“May I?” you asked, hesitantly reaching your fingers out toward his arm. 

Sam nodded, face drawn into hard lines.

You closed your eyes as you touched his shoulder to concentrate on sending your healing powers through his body. You didn’t miss the way his muscles tensed momentarily before relaxing under your touch. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

You nodded. 

Sam hesitated for a moment before asking, “ What’d you say your name was?”

“(Y/N),” you responded.

***

You watched through the window of the cabin he was hiding in as Sam fought with Ruby over you. You expected Ruby to be angry, but you didn’t expect Sam to defend you. 

“She’s an angel, Ruby, she’s not here to hurt me,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You don’t know angels, Sam. I do. They’re not the peaceful hippies the Bible makes them out to be,” Ruby snapped. “If she knew I was helping you, she’d probably smite me.”

“She does know,” Sam replied, almost too quietly for even your enhanced hearing. 

“What?! You told her?!”

“No, I didn’t, I—” Sam cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She just knew, somehow.” 

Ruby clearly didn’t believe him. “Somehow,” she scoffed. “And somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever,” Sam huffed. He suddenly caught your eye in the window but covered it up by quickly looking back to Ruby. “I think you should go.”

She crossed her arms. “Seriously?” The demon rolled her eyes and began to walk toward the door. “Goodbye, Sam.”

You invited yourself into the room. “Is she gone?” you asked Sam, appearing in front of him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

“Your motivations confuse me, Sam Winchester,” you stated bluntly.

He seemed to chuckle genuinely. “Why?”

“Do you not believe Ruby to be helping you? It seemed you couldn’t stand the sight of me less than twenty-four hours ago. Why would you kick her out after all that and cover for me?” you asked, head tilting in confusion.

You knew you weren’t supposed to question. You knew Sam was simply an assignment; there should be no desire for further questions exchanged. However, a nagging force in the back of your mind refused to let those questions remain internal.

“I don’t know,” he responded, seemingly earnest. 

Suddenly, a song began to play in the background. Your head turned to the source of the sound; a peculiar little box with a spinning disc on top of it. You swayed to the soft music emanating from it. “What is this?” you asked.

“Music,” Sam replied from behind you.

You turned to face him. “I know what music is, Sam. What is the little box?”

“A record player,” he replied, much closer to you than he had been when you first turned to the sound of the music.

“And what is this song?” you asked, dewey eyes shining in the dim light.

“Uh, one of the records they had in this old cabin. I think the band’s The Five Satins. ‘In the Still of the Night’,” he explained.

“I think I like this song,” you said, your voice taking on a peculiar lilt you’d never heard yourself speak with before. You suddenly realized how close Sam was to you and backed away. “Well, if you need anything,” you began, “I am never far from you.” And with that, you were gone.

***

“(Y/N)?” you heard Sam praying. “(Y/N), uh, I don’t know if you’re listening—”

With a quick flap of your wings, you appeared in front of Sam in his cabin. “I am,” you replied. 

“Oh, hey,” he snorted. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his hands together and staring at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I don’t know what the right thing to do anymore is,” he admitted. Sam was suddenly embarrassed by what he’d said. “Uh, I don’t know why I said that…”

“Do not be embarrassed. I do not pass judgment on humans for their feelings,” you replied. 

That pulled a small smile from him. “Do you guys… not have feelings?”

“No,” you replied. “At least, I don’t think we do. Or, perhaps, what we experience as angels is too complex to be simplified into human emotion.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I believe I may experience compassion, but I am not merciful. Those two traits I have seen go together in human manifestations. My loyalty to my father is incomparable to any human form of loyalty. Most humans I have come across sacrifice their loyalties quite easily,” you explained thoughtfully. 

“And by your father, you mean, God?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

Sam hesitated before asking his next question. “What’s he like?”

His question caught you off-guard; it wasn’t something you’d thought about before. “Well, humans describe him as—”

Sam shook his head. “I know what people make him out to be. What do you say?”

That question startled you even more, and all you could answer with was the truth. “I haven’t met him.”

Now, it was Sam’s turn to be caught off-guard. “Really?”

You nodded. “I’ve been around just about as long as the planet, and I’ve never met him once.”

Sam considered for a moment. “And you’re still loyal to him?”

“Well, I don’t necessarily have a choice in that matter,” you replied. “I am an angel. I was created for the purpose of my loyalty to my father and carrying out his missions.” His questions were beginning to get under your skin, and you’d never thought so long about those things before. 

“Well, how do you know your orders come from him if you’ve never met the guy?” Sam continued to press. “How do you know somebody’s not lying to—”

“My brothers and sisters would never lie to me,” you cut him off. Perhaps this is what “offense” felt like? “I don’t believe lying to be something we are capable of.”

Sam took a deep breath and flexed his eyebrows. “Whoa, didn’t mean to strike a nerve, there.”

He did. “You didn’t,” you responded. 

A spell of silence was cast over you. 

“What’s it like?” Sam asked. 

You tilted your head in confusion. 

“That blind faith,” he embellished. “How do you do it?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I just always have. I am a Seraph; I believe ‘blind faith’ is my purpose.”

“Oh, seraphim’s a real thing? Are you guys the, uh, high-rankers?”

You nodded. “I don’t think of myself in terms of my rank, but I am superior to those in my garrison. My superior is Zachariah; the only one of us in direct communication with the archangels.” You felt yourself snap out of it. “I… don’t know why I told you that.”

“Well, I guess we’re even then,” Sam smiled. 

***

You began to see less and less of Ruby as days went by, and for that, you were grateful. It seemed she was only around for Sam to feed from her.

“What does she say the demon blood will do for you?” you asked Sam, sitting beside him on the edge of the cabin’s roof.

Sam gave you a curious look but answered your question anyway. “It’ll make me strong enough to kill Lilith.”

“And… why do you want to do that?” you asked trepidatiously. 

He answered your question quite blankly, staring ahead. “Revenge. For my brother.”

You nodded. “And what do you believe getting revenge will do for you?”

That seemed to challenge him. “I don’t know.”

“I have been with you since you were young, Sam. I watched you go off to college, I watched Azazel kill Jessica, and I watched every fight between you and your father.”

Sam turned his head toward you as you talked, a pensive look on his face. 

“And I think I decided that all of those fights between you two happened because of how similar the two of you are.” You turned your head toward him, the sunset casting a heavenly glow across Sam’s face. “This is one of those things you two have in common; vengeance. I cannot decide if that’s a good or a bad quality, if I’m honest.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “That’s fair.” His hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap. His eyebrows drew together, and you just watched him carefully. “You’ve never wanted payback? Not even once?”

You shook your head. “That’s not part of my job. I am a warrior, but I don’t feel emotional attachment to my fights. And, rationally, I know revenge is pointless. It doesn’t change the past. It can only make for a worse future.”

Sam was silent for a moment. “Wow. For a… shiny, hard, plastic, emotionless angel, that’s pretty profound.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “I am not plastic or shiny.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not. Just an analogy.”

“You humans and your words,” you sighed. “The English language is by far the most confusing.”

“Why do you say that?” Sam chuckled. 

“I speak every language ever created, Sam,” you explained. “Even Enochian is simpler than English.”

The young man laughed. “For an angel, you’ve got a good sense of humor.”

You tilted your head. “I didn’t know I did, but thank you.”

***

It had been about three months since Dean’s sentencing. The angels began to talk about how he’d said “yes” to Alistair and was beginning to torture other souls in the pit. However, you knew it was best not to bring that fact up to Sam. 

The brother in your care was still not doing very well. His addiction was getting worse, and his anger at himself for not being strong enough to take care of his most recent demon hunt. You watched through the window as Sam and Ruby shouted at each other, and their anger eventually devolved into Ruby kissing Sam. 

You were stunned, and something you’d never felt before flooded your chest. Whatever this feeling was, you hated it. You backed away from the window you’d become accustomed to staring through and walked off. You felt your vessel stumbling rather than walking, and you were unsure why your chest hurt. You stumbled through the night forward against a tree and held yourself there. 

Whatever was happening to you, one thing was for sure that you could no longer deny: you were beginning to feel.

***

A few days went by, and you hadn’t seen Sam. In fact, you refused to answer his many prayers. He begged you to come to him and told you he didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Eventually, your resolve broke. 

“Hey,” he said, standing from his chair and seeming startled by your appearance. “Wh— Where’d you go? Why didn’t you answer?”

“Why did you have sex with Ruby? Didn’t you know I was watching?” you asked, large eyes holding a pleading innocence. 

Sam seemed caught off-guard. “(Y/N), I haven’t had sex with her in weeks. Wh— Why do you care about that, anyway?”

“I saw you two. She kissed you. I know what comes after that, Sam, I’ve been around for thousands of years,” you continued. 

Sam shook his head. “She kissed me. And then, I pushed her off. I haven’t seen her since.”

You tilted your head. “Why did you do that?”

“ ‘Cause. I couldn’t do it,” he shrugged. 

“Why?”

“ I’m not into voyeurism,” he smirked. “I knew you were watching. I haven’t had sex with her since you showed up.”

You thought for a moment, realizing he was telling the truth. “Oh.” Was this feeling… relief?

Sam gave you a curious look, and you averted his gaze. “Why’d you wanna know?”

You shook your head. “Not important. How have you been these last few days?”

“Honestly?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Not good. The addiction… it’s, uh—”

“Bad?” you asked. 

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. 

“ ‘S not your fault,” Sam shrugged. 

“That is much different from what you told me when we first met,” you said. 

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I was angry then. Now, I know you.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you were surprised at the feeling. 

***

You hummed the tune of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins, a song that Sam had introduced to you. 

The man in question sat at the cabin’s kitchen table hunched over his laptop. Sam had suggested you come inside with him since you’d be keeping an eye on him anyway. You told him if Ruby came, you’d kill her, but he just shook his head. “If she knows you’re here, she’s not coming,” he’d told you. 

“You’ve got a pretty voice,” Sam commented. 

You stopped humming. “Thank you. When the cherubs in my garrison were young, they liked when I’d sing to them.” You resumed your song. 

A few minutes went by before Sam spoke up. “Can I ask you something?” 

You stopped humming again and nodded. 

“Why haven’t you gone after Ruby yet?”

Before you could think, you answered, “Because I knew it would upset you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s lips. “I appreciate that.”

You smiled in response. 

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” Sam told you. 

You continued to stare at him with your dewey doe eyes. 

“Can I ask you something else?” 

You nodded again.

“Whose body are you in?” he asked. 

You hummed as you thought. “I’ve been with her for centuries. She was being abused by her husband and begging for a way out. You see, angels have to get consent from their vessels. She wanted me to use her body to carry out my father’s mission.”

Sam nodded. 

“I quite enjoyed her company,” you continued. “I’ve never told any of my brothers or sister about this, but the day her soul moved on was the first time I ever felt something like… sadness.”

“So, angels, is it like demons where the vessel’s soul takes a back seat?” Sam questioned, his interest seeming very genuine. 

You shook your head. “Not with her, it wasn’t. She could force me out whenever she wanted, but she told me she preferred my company to that of her husband’s.”

Sam nodded but seemed pensive. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. “It’s just… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I can understand that.” You paused for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever spent this long in the company of a human; aside from my vessel.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

You nodded. “I was taught not to spend time with the humans I was charged with. We were always told that the more time you spend with them, the more you become like them. And if you’re a human, you are flawed. You can’t  truly live in service of my father while human.” 

“That sounds kinda fucked up though, (Y/N),” Sam told you. “I mean, don’t you think it’s… restrictive? Limiting?”

You considered. “I guess so. But… I’m sure my father had good reason. He wouldn’t try to hurt us.” 

“I don’t think he would, either,” Sam told you. “But I do think he did that for self-serving reasons.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“He creates these… beings— you and the other angels— to bend to his every whim. Think about it. He makes you emotionless, so you don’t question his ‘will’ or… rebel,” Sam explained. “He needs you to be perfectly loyal.”

Sam’s words swirled around in your head. “You’re confusing me,” you said, breath quickening.

Sam shook his head. “I’m not trying to. But you’re smart. I’m just trying to make you think.”

“No human has ever challenged me the way you have,” you responded. “I appreciate it.”

“You do?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been around a very long time. Things can get monotonous. It is… refreshing to meet someone like you.”

The corners of Sam’s lips turned upward.

The two of you went back to silence, and suddenly, Sam was up and running to the bathroom.

“Sam?” you asked, running after him.

When you got to him, he was hunched over the toilet bowl vomiting. 

Hesitantly, you reached toward him and began to rub small circles over his back. You remembered your vessel telling you that’s what she’d do to her children when they were sick. 

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I’m here.”

When Sam was done, he slumped to the floor, curling up into a ball. Sweat covered every inch of his body, and he began to shake feverishly.

You knew it was the withdrawals from the blood after not seeing Ruby for days. You wanted nothing more than to help him through it, but your healing powers couldn’t assist with demonic workings of any kind. What you could do, though, is put him to sleep. You ran your hand over his hair and got up from the floor.

After grabbing a blanket off his bed, you brought it back to the bathroom and sat back down beside him. When you’d tossed the blanket over him, you helped Sam rest his head on your lap. Then, you went back to running your hand over the brunet’s hair and used your powers to put him to sleep. His shaking subsided, and his breathing relaxed. You stayed with him through the rest of the night.

***

When Sam woke up laying against you, he immediately seemed embarrassed. He jerked back from you. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Sam leaned forward hesitantly. He kept pausing as his face got closer to yours, seemingly to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable wasn’t quite the word you’d use; there were a million thoughts running through your mind. And yet, you couldn’t string one coherent sentence together. 

You tilted your chin up, and it was all the confirmation Sam needed. His kiss was gentle when he first connected your lips. You responded, almost completely frozen, but still moving your lips in time with his.

Sam’s kiss got more desperate, and he pulled you across his lap, wrapping his large hands around your hips and back. 

And then, he was gone. You were confused only momentarily as you became aware of Zachariah’s presence in front of you.

“I know what you’ve been doing, (Y/N),” Zachariah chastised. 

You hung your head in shame. “I’m sorry, Zachariah. I let myself get too close to Sam Winchester, and—”

Zachariah cut you off. “Yes. You did. I’m disappointed in you.” He stalked around you, his multiple sets of wings encircling and taunting you. “You were one of my best, (Y/N). And now, I’m going to have to let you go.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at your superior. “Wait, please! I’m sorry!”

He patted your cheek. “I know you are. But you turned your back on us, (Y/N). You turned your back on our father.”

Tears welled in your eyes. 

“Ah! That. That, right there.” He caught the tear on his first finger as it slipped down your cheek. “Feeling. Feelings are human. You’ve changed, my dear sister.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cried softly. 

“I told you that Sam Winchester is a lost cause. I knew something like this would happen, but you? You didn’t listen. Goodbye, sister.”

And with that, you were sent barreling down to earth. The fall was incredibly painful; your wings feeling like they were being burnt off your body, each feather leaving ripples of searing heat in its wake. 

Nothing could stop you barreling toward the earth. The speed of your fall began to take a toll on you, and your vision faded to black. 

***

You woke up flat on your back in the middle of nowhere. Your limbs ached, and your vessel’s body was undoubtedly broken. Using your weakened powers, you healed your body enough to be able to stand. When you’d gotten your wits about you, you would heal yourself completely. 

You walked through the woods you’d landed in the middle of. The morning sun was still rising, the birds chirped, and light streamed through the trees. All at once, the reality of your situation hit you, and you cried.

You cried for your brothers and sisters you’d never see again; very few ever came to earth. You weren’t sure how you’d get to Sam without your wings, but you needed to see him. This feeling of need was still foreign to you, and you couldn’t decide if you liked how it felt.

All that time you’d spent in service of Heaven and of your father, and you were cast out as if you didn’t matter at all. You knew getting so close was wrong, but you hadn’t expected such harsh treatment. In all your years of being alive, you had never made a mistake. And after just one, you were kicked out? 

On the other hand, though, crying was freeing. Maybe Sam was right. Why would your father restrict you from feeling?

For a moment, the world was quiet. All you could hear was your soft sniffles, the birds chirping, and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. You took a deep breath, and for the first time, life felt beautiful.

***

Sam was praying to you, and you had no way of responding to him. Slowly but surely, you were making your way back to him. You could feel his soul calling to you, and it only spurred you on to continue walking. As an angel, you had no need for sleep or eating. And so, you walked continuously for five days; each step making Sam’s essence grow stronger. You could feel yourself getting closer to him.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” you heard Sam calling to you. “I don’t know if you’re even still listening to me, but I’m sorry for scaring you off. I— I shouldn’t have done what I did. Just… come back. Please.”

It broke your heart that you couldn’t get to him sooner, and you mentally begged him to wait for you. 

And finally, on the sixth day, you found Sam’s cabin. Joy and relief flooded your chest, and you smiled widely. You ran through the front door, and Sam jerked out of his chair with his gun in hand. When he realized who you were, he dropped his gun to the floor in surprise. “(Y/N)?”

“Hello, Sam,” you smiled, tears rimming your eyes.

“Wh— What happened? Why’d you leave?” he asked.

“I didn’t. Zachariah brought me back to Heaven, and… he took my wings,” you explained, looking down at your shoes. 

Sam’s confused and angry stare turned to his familiar puppy-dog-eyed stare. “What, why?” 

“I’m a fallen angel now. I betrayed Heaven,” you responded.

“By doing what?” he asked. “I kissed you, you didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, I did,” you assured him, stepping closer to him. “I started to feel. And… feel for you.”

Sam’s soft gaze flooded your chest with warmth. He used his first two fingers to tilt your chin up toward his and closed the space between your lips. 

You and Sam weren’t perfect in any sense. But you would take whatever you two were over your shiny, hard, plastic, emotionless past. 

Forever taglist is open; series rewrite taglist is closed!

[seenoversundown]

Golden Wings

I saw this tweet about hozier leaving love notes around the house for his partner to find and I could not stop thinking about it. Good luck!

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

I wake as I always do, surrounded by his scent. Woodsy, dark, and a tad floral. I do a big stretch followed by a small whine. I go to reach over to Andrew’s side trying to feel any trace of him.

“Andrew?” I murmur, my voice still heavy with sleep. I continue to paw at his side of the bed until I feel his abandoned pillow. I force my eyes to open and glance around the room, and realize I am most definitely alone. I prop myself up, a little sad I missed him this morning. But then out of the corner of my eye I notice a soft pale blue square against our dark emerald sheets. I lean over and grab it, becoming a little giddy when I realize it’s a note. 

The goddess of the day has risen, how I am unworthy to love such an ethereal being. 

When you are ready, there is breakfast downstairs. 

All my love, ~A.

I read and reread the small note probably a dozen times. His words always have a way of piercing into my heart directly and making a home inside. I hold the soft blue square to my chest and wonder how lucky I had to have been to have found Andrew. 

I slip on a matching cream colored silk set, Andrew’s favorite, and slowly make my way down to the kitchen. I glance around our small home as I walk through the hallways and wonder how we were able to move into here only four months ago but it’s felt like forever. It feels right. As I round the corner, the aroma of breakfast hits me. 

“Love, it smells divine,” I say. I’m greeted with silence in return, just another small pale blue square. 

Light of the day, your breakfast awaits you warming in the oven. I didn’t want to wake you- you looked so peaceful, but I had to run to the studio this morning just for some final touches.

I will be home in a few hours to you, my love, I promise. 

For now, eat your breakfast. Get your strength for the day. Look for more notes. I have plans for you. 

All my love,

~A. 

Again, I can’t help but reread his words, hearing his voice as if he’s reading them directly to me. Once I tuck the note in a safe place I open the oven to look at what awaits me. Andrew wasn’t lying. A fully prepared breakfast sits on a plate in the warm oven. He’s left oven mitts for me on top of the stove, which I grab eagerly. Breakfast smells even better when it’s sitting right in front of me. Veggie bacon, eggs sprinkled with cheese and spinach, toast with butter and maple sugar. 

As I sit down at my plate ready to devour the spread in front of me I spot Andrew’s discarded robe on the seat next to me. I don’t even hesitate as I reach out for it, wrapping myself in his scent and warmth. I feel even more relaxed now, if that was even possible, as I eat my meal.

I finish up my toast basking in the silence of our home. I can’t help but wonder when Andrew will be home, so I go find my phone to send him a text. 

Y/N: Thank you for breakfast, my love. I miss you.

A: You are so welcome, my dove. Look for the notes. I’ll be home before you know it. I miss you more. 

My heart flutters at his words like always as I go to put my cell phone in his robe pocket. Sliding it into the soft pocket, I swear I hear a paper-like crunch. I’m quick to take my phone right back out and stick my hand in to feel for the noise. It doesn’t take long before I pull out a small pale blue square identical to the ones before it. 

I knew you would put this on, my sweet. I have never known such a love as the love you give to me, I am forever in awe of you. 

Till we are bones, my love.

All my love, 

~A.

My heart thumps in my chest. I take the little note and add it to my ever-growing pile. Snagging a cup of tea, I walk around our sunlit living room and tend to our ‘plant children’. The monstera has always been my favorite, even though I tell Andrew they’re all my favorites. They do say you’re not supposed to have a favorite child. I don’t hesitate as I walk up to her, murmuring my good mornings and inspecting her as I grasp my mug of tea, bringing it to my lips. As soon as Andrew called me his, he kept my favorite kind of tea in superfluous supply wherever he lived- just for me. It doesn’t take me long to notice a little blue square nestled in her leaves. Of course he knew. 

Seeing you wearing my ring drives me mad. Watching you in the mornings, with it shining off the light as you talk to our plants is one of my favorite rituals. The way you speak to them with such kindness, such empathy- I cannot wait to raise our children together. A goddess such as yourself will be perfect with them. 

To the blues.

All my love,

~A.

I quickly glance down at my ring once I finish reading his words, immediate feelings of giddiness fill my chest. The perfect moss agate ring sits in a golden crown on my finger. I touch it, remembering the moment Andrew got down on his knee. He is always nervous when it comes to us- but not that day. That day, he was so confident. Bringing me to his hometown, showing me all of the places he used to go as a ‘young lad’ as he’d say. That trip I knew I needed him forever, and I guess he needed me just as much. I watched as he spoke Gaelic with the townsfolk in passing, his voice hitting my ears in such a dreamy way. 

It was when he brought me up to his favorite hill, the one he watched the sunset every day when he lived here, that he asked me to be his. Looking at the setting sun, wrapped in each other's arms, he feigned that he had forgotten something, and got up and started to look around. 

‘Andrew, what’s going on?’ I had said to him. When he turned to me his green eyes were the brightest I’ve ever seen them, I swear. 

‘Love, can you stand for me?,’ he said.

I think subconsciously I knew what was happening, even if I didn’t want to believe it. Tears freely fell from my eyes as he poured his heart and soul out to me, reaching out every so often to wipe a tear or give me a lingering kiss on my forehead. When he finally got down on his knee, I was a sobbing wreck. I can’t remember what he said, just me nodding and practically screaming ‘Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!’. 

Now his ring, his beautiful, intricate golden ring just for me sits on my finger. I sit in his chair, even though it’s usually both of us squished into it every night, and play with my ring. I watch as it hits the sunshine and sends dancing light around the room. It’s then, as I’m looking at the light, I notice another small pale blue note. I practically run to it, ready to read more of Andrew’s words. I take a moment once I have it to enjoy the anticipation before I read it.

Once the Gods realize you have escaped with their golden wings I’ll be in so much trouble. 

But, for now, you are mine. Do they know you’re here, love? Did I have it wrong and you were sent just for me? 

I’ll never be sure, but I’ll be eternally grateful for you. 

All my love,

~A. 

He’s trying to kill me I swear to anyone who is listening. It’s never been an act with Andrew, this has always been him. The love and adoration he gives me is unmatched. I can’t help but feel like I’m the luckiest person with him. I finish the rest of my tea, adding my two new notes to my pile that won’t seem to stop growing. 

I make my way to our shared bathroom and am a little surprised when I see another note. He truly thought of everything. I do my morning routine to try and prolong reading his letter, the anticipation is delicious. Once I do finish taking care of myself I carefully peel his note off of the mirror and finally allow myself to read it.

I cannot wait to see those eyes shine just for me. Thinking about it now I swear my heart skips an entire beat. That can’t be healthy, but you- you are my own personal drug. Stronger than all the others there is you. I need you. 

All my love,

~A. 

My eyes scan his letter too many times, taking in the way he writes his t’s and dots his i’s. I take out my phone and pull up my texts to Andrew.

Y/N: I need you as bad as you need me, love. I hope studio time is going well. Come home to me soon. 

A: You are the very air I breathe, my dove. See you soon. 

My heart flutters knowing he’ll be home soon. I decide I’ll stay in his robe and his favorite silk set and surprise him. Confident in that decision, I grab the book I’m currently reading and snuggle back up on our chair while I wait for him. I scroll on my phone for a bit, getting lost in social media for a little too long. Once I finally resign and open my book, a final little blue note falls out onto my lap. I can’t help but laugh, and wonder a little when he even did all of this. I waste no time reading the note. 

In every lifetime, I hope to find you. Our souls are destined to be intertwined throughout the centuries. You are the only one for me. 

I can’t wait to kiss you soon.

All my love,

~A. 

My heart is fully melted. All of his words from this morning play on repeat as I stare at this one note. How can one man be so fucking eloquent? I’m so lost in thought, I don’t hear the front door open or close.

“Dove?” Andrew shouts from the doorway. I’m on my feet in seconds, after all of these notes I missed my man something fierce this morning. He laughs when he sees me, arms outstretched ready for me. “There’s my dove. I hope you liked my notes this morning.” He says to me inbetween interrupting kisses. 

“Loved them? Oh Andrew, you have no idea. You know, I missed waking up to you this morning.” 

“I’m sorry dove, let me make it up to you.” He hoists me up in his arms and quickly kicks off his shoes before walking down the hallway to our bedroom. My laughter echoes in the hall, I’ve never been so in love. 

Masterlist | Taglist

[doubledeadstudio]

Hello, happy holidaysヾ(＾∇＾) I apologize for this being a long question but I've been thinking for a long time and I really have to ask if you would ask the RH crew (Mars, Abel and Fleur too if that's okay) for book and/or movie recommendations, what would they give ? If it's not a spoiler, what media inspired their depiction, if any? I want to practice English so I find new things I like, and I hope my words make meaning when I use translation. Have a happy holiday (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

Happy Holidays! This is so sweet. Good luck on your language journey.

Recommendations:

Crux Hertz - The Ritual (2017) or Bones and All (2022) (movie), Siddharta by Hermann Hesse or No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai (books)

Black Lumaban - Mad Max: Fury Road (movie), The Conquest of Bread by Peter Kropotkin (book)

Vincenzo Fontana - Possession (1981) (movie), The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde or Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (book)

Florentin Blanchett - The Substance (2024) or Dead Ringers (1988) (movie), Stiff by Mary Roach (book)

Abel Valencia - American Psycho (2000) or Wolf of Wall Street (2013), no books because he's stupid but I will give a TV show... Desperate Housewives

Inspirations:

So, the thing about this is really complicated because I'm an avid art fan and I consume all sorts of media, from books to movies to tv shows and music. Generally, I get a concept then my brain starts piecing things together. (Crux is the hardest to explain because he originally started off as the child of two of me and my husband's oldest OCs... and he became a whole separate beast on his own.)

But I can give characters that really remind me of them!

Crux - Sans (Undertale), Gojo (JJK), Loki (Marvel), Shawn Spencer (Psych) (This is the worst list of all time), also Markus (Red Embrace:Hollywood), and Lee (Bones and All). Hozier and Will Wood remind me of his aesthetic.

Black - Guts (Berserk), Lio Fotia (Promare), Fenris (Dragon Age), Warren Peace (Sky High), Bigby (Wolf Among Us), Juri (Utena). For music, grandson has his vibes.

Vincenzo - Lestat (Interview with a Vampire), Orin (Baldur's Gate 3), Gilbert (Kaze to Ki no Uta), Mahito (JJK), Alois Trancy (Black Butler), Ryo Asuka (Devilman Crybaby). His storyline was largely inspired by HP Lovecraft's Dreams of Witch House. For music, near everything by Emilie Autumn and Mindless Self Indulgence.

Abel - Ashley (The Boys), Rhys (Tales from the Borderlands), Nathan (Life is Strange). (I won't lie, a huge part of him is directly inspired to parody Right Wing pundits lolol) For music, no lie, Laufey and Lana del Rey, LMAO.

Florentin - Griffith (Berserk), Viktor Frankenstein, Dr Herbert West (Re-Animator).

~~~

For Mars:

Hello, Clovis here, creator of Mars! Thank you for the interest! Mars likes classic films with lots of sexuality and violence. Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, Chicago (he loves a good musical if it isn't too sugary-sweet). He'll go for the stereotypical Dad Movies too as long as he thinks they're suave enough, like James Bond and Indiana Jones. For books, he reads a lot more than you'd think and enjoys being well-read, but let's say A Song of Ice and Fire, because there's political drama and everyone's suffering. (Their misfortune and crushed innocence amuses him.)

Mars is inspired heavily from the Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood depiction of Greed. While not a direct inspiration (I've had the character for years), Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen is hilariously similar to him. Vintage mafia movies are where a lot of his aesthetic comes from. If you like crime thrillers, I would highly recommend the television show Fargo for bastard men that you love to hate, are scary as hell, and are darkly comedic. — Clovis @VileFable

[selineram3421]

Song Rec: Nobody's Soldier by Hozier

Isekai'd

Part 17: Both Losses

Part 16

~

Vash (Tristamp) X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ gn reader, cussing, weapons-guns/cannons/armored vehicle (pew pew), blood/gore, character death, long chapter, 🥲 ⚠

"Don't worry. Whatever happens, I'll protect you.", little Nai said.

The two twins were in the Geodome of Ship 5, sitting under the large tree that provided a good amount of shade.

Little Vash looked down before noticing something on his hand. Lifting it up, he saw a red geranium flower blooming in his palm.

Vash.. He heard the voice of Rem as he stared at the flower. Vash.

Then he remembered. What had happened earlier, what Nai was doing, and that he was still in the tank with..

"I promised, remember?", Nai turned to look at him.

"No.", Vash said and shook his head before standing up. "You aren't the one who said that to me!", he backed away from his brother.

Nai glared before also getting up to stand.

"The one that said that to me was..", the blonde said.

The scenery changed, no longer the Geodome but now a cold white empty space that looked like it went on forever.

"Vash.", Nai started, blades coming out of his back, lifting himself up. "You'll be so much happier if you stay here.", his voice was both of his younger and older self. "Please brother! Don't go!"

The blonde turned and ran, ignoring his brother's yells for him to return, to stop. As he ran, he heard Rem's voice, he started to age up once he stepped onto the field of geraniums. The flower in the palm of his hand grew before it was out of his hand and turned into the figure of Rem.

Vash.

"Wait! I'm coming!", he shouted out as he continued to run, now chasing the red floating figure.

As he passed through the red veil that trailed behind the figure, he aged up to his current older self.

"Rem!"

I'm so sorry I left you alone..but I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know I've lived on through you.

Vash stumbles but quickly catches himself and continues to run.

Thank you for protecting my hopes. My dreams.

The figure starts to shine.

My perfect boy, Vash.

The light gets brighter and Vash hears other voices with Rem's.

"VASH!"

"VASH! WAKE UP!"

The blonde wakes up completely, just in time to pull Meryl away and block Knive's attack with his gun. The glass and water showering behind him.

"Thank you. I was able to hear her voice through you both."

"Both?", the small reporter echos the last part.

Gathering up the mass, Vash removed the roots and flowers into a "black hole." It isn't long till the room and wherever else the large flora grew were absorbed and compacted into a glowing cube.

"You fool.", Knives scowled at the blonde.

"It's over. Your plan was a failure Nai.", Vash said as he lifted his gun, pointing it at his brother who had a wing on the right side of his back. "This ends, right now."

"It's not over! NOT UNTIL I SAY SO!", the platinum blonde charged towards the Plant in black. "GIVE ME THAT!", he shouted before attacking.

.

The roots branched out and grew, wrapping around your torso. It was painful and there was a strange tightening feeling. You let go of Vash and backed away, trying to stop the roots from growing.

"What the hell!?", you pull and tug, but end up crying out in pain. "AGH!"

It hurts! Fuck! IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!

You kneeled down and curled up on the "ground", your eyes closed tight as you groaned, hissed, and shouted in pain.

The light of the Plants around you began to dim slightly, back to their original glow before they floated over and surrounded you. But you didn't notice them until you were moved to lie on your back.

"What?", you mumbled, eyes barely open before another sting shot through you. "Ah!"

This was a new kind of pain.

You could handle what Knives did, you were working on adrenaline and the pain was numbing when you tried to get to Vash. But you body was exhausted.

This was like starting a fire. The pain flared up with every non-existent strike, you weren't even moving like before and it still continued. Like a thousand paper cuts. The tightening, the burning, and the roots kept going, blooming more red aster flowers.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?", you cried out, feeling like you had to kick and claw, but not doing it because of knowing it would hurt even more.

One of the Plants began to hum, and the others followed seconds after.

You kept squirming in pain, tears going down your face until one of the Plants placed a hand onto your forehead.

Then suddenly, everything was ok.

Vision going blurry. You looked over to the Plants and found them smiling down at you.

Am I dying? You wondered as you blinked slowly. Does that mean I can finally go home? See my mom again?

Then you finally closed your eyes.

Or is this the end?

Whatever it was, you accepted your fate.

The humming vibrations soon took over your thoughts.

.

Vash fought off his brother as they both fell from the tower.

He kicked and shot at his twin as they both tried to get the cube. The blonde was finally able to get his hands on it again and kicked Knive's away, growing out a wing on the right side of his back so he could get away.

He clumsily flew away, slamming into a building before bouncing off and slamming into another. He managed to land on the edge of a smaller building. Only for a few seconds, then he jumped off before trying to fly again. Then he was being shot at by the July police.

"Leave! Hurry!", Vash shouted. "You've got to get out of here!"

However the humans ignored him and kept firing their guns. Some bullets managed to get him as he tried to get away.

Landing roughly onto the concrete, Vash rolled to a stop as his blood rained lightly onto the ground. But he didn't let that stop him, and he stood up.

"You've got to run away! Your lives are in danger!", he continued to warn them.

"Open fire!", they responded instead and shot until Vash the Stampede was on his knees. "If you hadn't showed up, no one would have died!"

"Stop, he'll kill you!", he warned as the humans raised their guns at him again. "Run away!"

But it was too late, Knives slashed through the armored car and through the humans, blood spraying out as the limbs fell. Vash stared in horror at the scene caused by his brother.

"I told you Vash, our power is too immense.", Knives said from above. "They are not your friends and not your family. They are the enemy."

"You're wrong.", the blonde replied. "I know-I know that we..can live in peace!"

Vash flew back and reloaded his gun.

"You're nothing but a hypocrite!", Knives followed after him. Your very existence is a contradictory!"

The two brothers resumed their fighting, flying around the buildings of July as they did, the blonde speaking as he continued to fight off his brother.

"You think I haven't realized that yet? I don't care! I won't stop until they believe in me! I'll prove myself to them! I'm ready to do whatever I have to!", Vash opened the gun, ready to reload. "I DON'T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO ME!"

He slammed the crystalized cube into the gun.

It started to glow a light blue before changing into something else entirely. The cube fused with the gun and evolved into a large cannon like weapon.

The blonde quickly flew up, his twin following behind.

If I can release it out there, no one will get hurt. I just have to make it in time!

Vash lifted the cannon upwards towards space but Knives quickly entangled his blades around it, making it face back down to Noman's Land.

"I won't let you!", the platinum blonde shouted and quickly grabbed onto the other side of the cannon. "Doctor! Cut off the lab and set them all free!"

"Let go Nai! I can't hold it back anymore!", Vash warned. "It'll destroy the planet and the Plants with it!"

"I'll use this energy and push it back into Vash! I'll pry the entrance to the higher plane open!", Knives said before looking at his twin. "Vash! You fool! Forget these scum and give it to me!"

Vash glared at his brother before lifting the cannon back up towards the stars.

The two struggled against each other as they pulled the cannon to and from, trying to make it go the opposite direction of where the other wanted it.

"Listen to me brother! This is a war, let's gather our allies! Leave humanity and start to build our paradise, a world where we are free! That is the only way!", Knives tries to convince his twin.

Vash looks over at his brother with tears.

"Who are you?", he turns away. "You've grown so different that I don't even know you anymore!", the blonde says.

"And who are you?", Knives replies. "You adore them but they work us into the grave and don't care if we die!", he argues. "You and I? The humans will never understand our independence Vash! Never! They'll only see us as their slaves!"

"That isn't true!", Vash yells as he turns to look back at his twin. "There is a human that understands! The medic who knew. They didn't treat me differently, they never attacked me with hate, and they never used me like you did!"

"Wake up already! Nothing has changed since that day all those years ago!", Knives yells back. "How long will you remain the hunted!"

"I don't care if the humans hunt me! I'll just run away. I'll run, and I'll run, and I'll keep on running for another life time if I have to!", the blonde says. "But after everything calms down, I'll always go back to their side.. There's no choice.", then, with a closed eyed smile, he says. "Because I'm Vash the Stampede."

"More than a century to come up with an excuse and that's the best you come up with?", Knives says mockingly.

Vash manages to lift the cannon up before it could go off, facing it towards space and getting Knives off as well.

It fires a bright purple-ish light as it fires. The force of it is strong, so much so that he's being pushed back down towards the planet. Then he notices his brother in the beam.

"Move Nai! It'll kill you!", he warns.

Knives laughs as he continues to reach out toward the core of the energy, skin being burned away.

"Don't be silly brother. Nai has long been dead.", the platinum blonde says. "You should know, for you killed him."

Knives reaches closer to the core before holding onto it tightly, the flesh of his hand melting away to bone.

"Please Nai, stop!", Vash begs.

He's horrified to see his brother being burned away, the flesh on his twin's face burned off and the light of the core going through his brother.

"Let go!", he pleads.

"I'll make a paradise..for you and me.. I promise.", Knives manages the last few words out before his body can no longer hold on and let's go.

"Nai! NAI!!!", Vash cries out.

The blonde falls down towards July and the cannon goes off like a large bomb.

*hides in bathroom to finish this part up* Mwuahahahahaha

~Seline, the person.

Next: Part 18

Taglist@

@summerdazed @lunar-archangel @+?

ML Vash | ChL Isekai'd

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

a mix-up of good omens-coded songs (idk how to title this--)

Hellooo my maggots, so there were a number of songs that were just so good omens and ineffable lovers coded that I had to see how they sounded together. But me being me, I don't know how to actually mashup songs, so I just sang it the way I'd have wanted to mashup the songs and made it into one song.

Of course all songs remind us of Good Omens now, that's a different matter of significant concern. But these especially were very Aziraphale and Crowley's religious-trauma-and-being-queer vibey.

The songs I cover here are (in order and excluding repeats) Devil's Backbone by the Civil Wars, Take Me to Church by Hozier, Angel By the Wings by Sia, Falling by Harry Styles, Holy Water by Noah Davis, The Village by Wrabel and Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.

And, well. Yep. The lyrics in the order that I sing them are below the cut. Thank you maggots for dragging me into this brainrot it is painful and unholy and I love it here so so much. Thank you @falling-raine for yelling at me to post this. Wahoooooooo!

[LYRICS] Oh lord, oh lord, what have I done I’ve fallen in love with a man on the run Oh lord, oh lord, I’m begging you please Don’t take that sinner from me Oh, don’t take, take, take, take Take me to church, I’ll worship like a dog At the shrine of your lies, I’ll tell you my sins And you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life Oh lord, oh lord, what do I do? I’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you He’s raised on the edge of the devil’s backbone I just want to take him home Oh, I just want to take, take, take So take an angel by the wings, Beg her now for anything,  Beg her now for one more day Just take an angel by the wings Time to tell her everything Ask her for the strength to stay What am I now? What am I now? What if I’m someone you won’t talk about? I’m falling again, I’m falling again I’m falling  I’ve walked through hell and back again Cause I’m a man who loves a man No you don’t need to pray for me No I don’t need your Holy water I don’t need your sympathy, sympathy, your— Holy water Just cause you think differently, differently There’s nothing wrong with you It’s true, it’s true There’s something wrong in the village, in the village Oh Coz I’ve been there, sitting in the same chair Whispering that same prayer half a million times It’s a lie though, buried in disciples One page of the Bible isn’t worth a life But I’ve heard there was a secret chord That David played and it pleased the Lord But you don’t really care for music Do ya? And it’s not a cry that you hear at night It’s not somebody who’s seen the light It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I love them so much.

[just-floetcoeur]

Random thoughts on Shad

At 3am and in random order

“I would shun the light, share in evening's cool and quiet. Who would trade that hum of night for sunlight? But whose heart would not take flight? Betray the moon as acolyte on first and fierce affirming sight of sunlight. I had been lost to you, and flew like a moth to you, sunlight. […] Each day, you'd rise with me. Know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty. Strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily. With wax melted, I'd meet the sea under sunlight.”

-Sunlight, Hozier

Doodle of pre divine warrior Shad to retain your attention.

I was just listening to Sunlight by Hozier and thought it partially represent my concept of Shad‘s love for Irene. Because in some way he is the Icarus to Irene’ story. His obsession for Irene’s light and warmth is what caused his downfall.

This is a headcanon of mine -and I’m ignoring the story with Shad’s daughter- that, yes, the betrayal of the divine warriors caused him to go mad but it was only the little drop that tipped the scale. He already had years worth of repressed jealousy for Irene. It’s what caused him to battle her then fall in love with her and made him desire her death.

I use songs a lot as inspiration so I see it kinda like my interpretation of Buy the Stars by MARINA: “You bought a star in the sky tonight because your life is dark and it needs some light. You named it after me […] You bought a star in the sky tonight and in your man-made dark the light inside you died.” He is basically a being of the shadows and he’s been treated like a monster his whole life. So having that bit of light that is Irene is his only life buoy. He cherishes that light but also despises it. Why can’t he be the light in people’s lives? Why does he have to be the darkness? But there is no shadow without light so Irene is both the only thing giving him joy but also the cause of many of his flaws. (I don’t know if that makes sense.) He became obsessed with her, he wants to be her. He wants to be adored and loved. Her choosing to love him was everything to him. The person he admired loved him? Then he must’ve done something right in his life. He would’ve done everything for her. And having her friends betray him because “he was the source of all evil” was just a confirmation that despite everything he had sacrificed for the light, people still saw him as a beast from the dark. I mean compared to Irene who had given up everything to selflessly save this realm, he was nothing. So he came to the conclusion that Irene had to die. The whole world had to be destroyed for ignoring him. “You're buying stars to shut out the light. We come alone and alone we die. […] We don't own our heavens. Now, we only own our hell.” Basically, his pursue of the light is pointless because he relies heavily on the light instead of facing his darkness himself. So as soon as that light turns her back from him, he gives in to the dark.

“I will make this curse my blessing.” The relic was a curse because of the destructive powers it contained but also because it represented all that Shad hated about himself (“destroyer” is quite a negative therm and Shad was desperately trying to stray away from the dark. Also he already had divine powers himself who basically caused everybody to hate him.)

Closing thoughts: The song Skeleton Song by Kate Nash (specifically the Traveller-Feather MAP) and Razia’s Shadow gave me a thought. Irene and Shad are stuck in a never ending cycle of violence that started with love that turned into hate and needs to be returned to love to end. I don’t know exactly how but that’s how I see Shad go from the Shadow Lord to the Judgement in mystreet. (Even though Shad is beyond redemption at this point.)

Brain hurts, need rest

[tytotastisc]

Is this a safe space for Angelzier??

Reviving my guilty pleasure of drawing Angel Hozier

[youremyheaven]

vedic astrology observations

philosophical songwriters often have tropical virgo and pisces placements. many of them have jupiter ruled nakshatras. mrigashira nakshatra pops up a lot as well. all of these placements contribute to the contemplative nature of these natives, they are deeply reflective and take on an almost religious tone with regard to how they speak of things.

hozier- pbp sun + mercury, anuradha moon with ashlesha ketu

leonard cohen- uttaraphalguni sun, purvaphalguni venus, pushya ketu

sufjan stevens- ubp moon, mrig mercury, jup revati amk, punarvasu saturn amk, ketu in krittika

(in my previous post, i had mentioned how ubp & punarvasu natives love butterfly imagery and here's sufjan on stage with wings!!)

bob dylan- rohini sun and venus, krittika moon, mrig mercury, ubp ketu

bruce springsteen, uttaraphalguni sun, chitra moon+ mercury +ketu, swati venus, mrig rising

joni mitchell vishaka sun + mercury, pbp moon, punarvasu rising, mrig mars atmakaraka

2. Shatabhisha & Pushya natives make great teachers. They thrive in positions where they're able to empower and encourage others.

Sidney Poitier in perhaps his most famous role, as a teacher, in To Sir With Love. He has Shatabhisha sun.

Robin Williams, in one of his most iconic roles, as a teacher in Dead Poets Society (he also plays a teacher in Good Will Hunting). He has Pushya sun, Shatabhisha moon.

Aamir Khan plays a teacher in one of his most known roles in Taare Zameen Par. He has Pushya moon.

3. Fairy Godmother roles in cinema are often played by either Taurus rashi or Pisces rashi individuals

In the 1987 movie Maid to Order, the fairy godmother is played by Beverly D'Angelo who is Rohini moon

in the 1997 movie A Simple Life, Martin Short plays the fairy godmother. he has UBP stellium (sun, mercury and rahu)

1997's Cinderella has Whitney Houston playing the fairy godmother. she has Revati moon & jupiter (ive talked about pisces rashi's connection to butterflies before and look at how whitney's spreading her wings in this picture!🥺)

in 2015's Cinderella, Helena Bonham Carter plays the fairy godmother. she has Rohini sun & Ketu in Revati

Maleficent is played by Rohini sun, Revati moon native, Angelina Jolie

i've previously talked about how Rohini nakshatra is associated with shape shifting and transformation and Revati nakshatra is known as the wealth giving star. These two combined create the ability to deeply transform one's life, heal from old wounds and ways of living and rise to the high echelons of society. They're both known for creating wealth. it only makes sense that these natives would be chosen time and time again to play the "fairy godmother" responsible for transforming the lives of a virtuous person trapped in unjust circumstances

4. ive noticed that many mars ruled men (mrigashira, chitra, dhanishta) go after older women 👀 bharani is another nakshatra that pops up often (bharani is the meeting point of mars and venus)

my personal take on this is that mars influence makes natives interested in taboo and unconventional topics and areas. all 3 mars ruled nakshatras belong to the "servant caste" and bharani is an outcaste nakshatra. what this says is that these people have no desire or need to conform or adhere to the norms set by society. they don't care for the status quo and feel no sense of belonging to mainstream society so they simply do as they please<3

Ashton Kutcher, Dhanishta stellium (sun,moon & venus) was married to Demi Moore who is 15 years older than him. Demi is a Bharani moon.

Aaron Taylor Johnson has Mrigashira sun, Dhanishta moon and venus in Bharani and his wife Sam Taylor Johnson is 24 years older than him.

Hugh Jackman, Chitra sun (and mercury) and Mrigashira moon is married to Debora Lee Furness who is 13 years older than him.

Emmanuel Macron, Bharani moon is married to Brigitte Macron who is 25 years older than him

Nick Jonas, Bharani moon, Chitra venus and Ketu in Mrigashira is married to Priyanka Chopra who is 10 years older

Nick Offerman is married to Megan Mullaly who is 12yrs older than him. He has Mrigashira mercury atmakaraka and Saturn in Bharani amatyakaraka

Nick Cannon, Bharani rising was married to Mariah Carey who is 12yrs older than him

Blake Shelton, Mrigashira sun & venus, Jupiter in Bharani atmakaraka with Ketu in Bharani is married to Gwen Stefani who is 7yrs older

Roger Moore was married to Dorothy Squires who is 12 yrs older than him. He had Chitra sun & mars (amatyakaraka & atmakaraka)

5. others have made observations regarding how Jupiter influence blesses a native with voluptuousness. imo Jupiter, cancer rashi and Moon ruled nakshatras can make a native naturally busty.

Jupiter being the largest planet creates voluptuousness in its natives often blessing them with large breasts (obviously other placements will also impact your appearance) Cancer rashi because well, cancer rules the moon and the chest so its kind of a no brainer and honestly every cancer girl ik irl has a big bosom. Moon is yin and bestows its natives with a very curvy physique.

Christina Hendricks is Shravana moon

Billie Eilish is also Shravana moon

Emma Kenney is Vishaka moon with Ketu in Shravana

Ariel Winter is Shravana sun

Scarlett Johansson is Vishaka moon,rising and ketu

Katy Perry is vishaka moon & saturn

Jessica Simpson is Punarvasu sun & mercury and Vishaka rising

🐲🕊🧚🏼‍♂️👼🏼👸🏼🦋🦢🧜🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🕊👼🏼🦋🦢🧜🏼‍♀️👸🏼🦋🦢🧜🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️👸🏼🦋🦢🧜🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️

Tumblr has a 30 image limit per post so I cant include more examples :( but look forward to pt 2 <3

[alekthefox]

Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, Sunday NSFW headcanons (not just the basic stuff. Has shipping between all three in some parts)

Aventurine:

- He can match the music. Even two aspects of it (using hips+hand or both hands, he's practicing to do all three but it requires specific music too). Even as he's cumming he doesn't falter.

- Most people assume he's a bottom so it's sweet when he gets to top someone (he's a switch)

- Exceptional at edging others

- Nobody can survive him being a tease, merciless

- The gloves paired with a lot of lube sometimes

- Tongue piercing (to give more pleasure + "silver tongued" except his regular is actually gold/golden and he's got plenty of different ones. Such as one that looks like a pill on both ends of the bar.)

- Gun kink to the extreme (Loaded. Russian roulette. Maybe put in places it shouldn't be. He loves to hear the click of a blank.)

- Giving oral (or having fingers in his mouth, especially pressing down on his tongue) is his favourite because not only does he have an oral fixation but he's so damn good at it that nobody has kept their pride after

- Sometimes uses aphrodisiacs (with consent even if he's the only one taking it sometimes)

- Falls apart if someone is genuinely making love to him all sweet and gentle and tries to brat very hard because FEELINGS

- Loud. Obviously. Not just if he's putting up a show, he really is loud

- On a pool table

- Carries lube and condoms with him, if he's planning on it he also has flavoured ones

- Dirty talk, banter as foreplay (i call that "word play" kink)

- "Awh, come on. Play with me~"

- Massive ignore fetish

- He can and will buy any toy if he thinks his partner/s will enjoy it (with or without him) but only of the highest quality, even customs

Dr. Ratio:

- Loves skin contact (Cuddle fucking, mating press, prefers all being fully naked.)

- Loves receiving massages before/during/after/without sex (Oil is not a must but he enjoys it too.)

- Bottoms only if he fully trusts his partner/s because he completely loses all ability to think (Full on subspace, he cannot bottom AND dom.)

- Gun kink (Absolutely not loaded, he will check a million times before pointing it at someone.)

- Can and will find every single erogenous zone and sensitive spot

- Body worship

- No professor roleplay, he doesn't want to be in that mindset when actually with students (fears that it will Pavlov him).

- Would never fuck in Veritas Prime... but the IPC offices? Absolutely.

- Prefers beds or baths over any other location, he likes comfortability

- Mixes degradation with praise ("Such a beautiful mess." "You're a masterpiece I'd enjoy tearing apart." "Have you no shame? So pathetic, so pretty.")

- Very open to try kinks and researches them thoroughly beforehand to be safe and do it right/know what to expect. He could teach the subject.

- Loves to hold his partner at the ribs (facing each other), press slightly with his thumbs and trace one on each side (Something about health and weight.)

- Kisses one side of the neck while checking the pulse with two fingers on the other side

- Regularly will answer questions with just a smile as a warning before the action

- (when doming) likes orgasm denial/control followed by overstimulation, then many orgasms (Will absolutely drain his partner/s completely if allowed.)

- Begging (He insists others don't need to beg even if it turns him on.)

- With aftercare he'll go above and beyond and call it the bare minimum

Sunday:

- Mood lighting of the golden hour (Imaginary energy)

- Bondage (Imagary vines with or without thorns)

- His wings unfurl and spread when he cums, all three sets

- Will hold his breath to not make any sounds (WHYYYY?)

- Whimpers

- Thought fucking Aventurine's mouth was a good idea (read Aventurine's part)

- Pretends to be cold and unaffected but cannot keep that facade up for long EVER

- Hozier music

- His voice gets imbued with Harmony if he's losing his mind

- Fighting for dominance. He loves being knocked down a few pegs more than winning. Consider it slight, private humiliation.

- Masochist (maybe to a concerning degree)

- Clawing, grasping onto his partner/s for dear life

- Will bite his own wing or arm to keep quiet

- +if his partner/s cover his mouth with their hand he's gone gone

- Sensitive. Where? Everywhere. (Maybe because he's touch-starved)

- The only way to get him to be soft and sweet(in a dominant role) is to preen his wings (Based on behaviors of birds.)

- Prefers to submit, usually a bottom

Bonus: When Aventurine played that game with Ratio, the doctor secretly took out the only revolver bullet and was exceptionally menacing after the fifth click.

"You really want it? Are you truly that depraved? If you crave a bullet to bite down on while I fill you up, I will do so without a moment's hesitation."

Downright cruel. Aventurine came so hard for twenty-one seconds as soon as the sixth click was heard, the barrel in his mouth, and didn't even have the mind to be confused about it for a few full minutes.

[rottingfern]

strap the wing to me (death trap clad happily) || a Bad Omens fanfic

Pairing: fae!Noah x gender neutral reader (yes the smut is gn too)

Summary: He’s beautiful, so, so gorgeous, unless otherwise he’s completely grotesque, a scent of something eldritch you’d rather not acknowledge. When he kisses you, he tastes of burnt wax and antimony, straps candlewick wings to your aching back, and you don the death trap happily.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unbeta'd trash. overly flowery written pretty much entirely in prose. smutty smut smut. oral sex. just a tiny whiff of dubious consent by way of fae trickery

A/N: I drank a lot of wine and listened to Hozier on repeat the other night and then saw a very mind-meltingly beautiful pic of Noah on the dash and had a really weird dream and this is the result. Enjoy the ramblings xoxo Fern

Brainrot Club: @familiarscarsxelectrichearts @throughwoodsanddirt @cowpokeomens

Masterlist here.

Title taken from Sunlight by Hozier; banner made by @throughwoodsanddirt; dividers by @saradika

“You lost?” he asks, and that is what ruins you. You’ve heard the old stories of wicked fae-men and how to avoid them - beware strange beings in the wood, don’t stray from the path - but in all the stories, none author had bothered to mention they’d peek around a tree with wide, irresistibly innocent curiosity and ask you, You lost?

There’s a flash of a glint in his eye, a bare twitch in his lip predating what might’ve been a smirk, but you can’t help but smile at the childlike confidence in his voice, and then he smiles back and –

That too is your ruin. There perhaps hasn’t been a sweeter smile - not in your years, not in the years of all of time, you reckon - to grace a human being, and it steals your breath sure as he’d picked it from your pocket. He takes it as an offering, slinking around the trunk with the air of something much smaller, more slight than he; gravity must be a friend, lover, even, with the grace she offers to his motion.

His eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as you take his tattooed hand - an imperious command, or perhaps a childish invitation - granting you the proof of satisfaction you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for, a breath of relief expelling from its locked chamber you’d ignored until now. 

You stare, because how can you not? He is beautiful, yes, but his visage flickers from soft to vulpine with a flicker of shadow and moonlight, something inhuman, dangerous, alien turning well-bred beauty, like the kind some are just born with, masculinity encapsulated by that rare softness. 

He’s beautiful, so, so gorgeous, unless otherwise he’s completely grotesque, a scent of something eldritch you’d rather not acknowledge. Within a breath, he moves from shy, soft smiles to something aloof, something dangerously mischievous, something terrifying when the moon shines just so and you’re reminded of that glint in his eye. You only need blink for that chipped granite of his cheekbone and hardened brow to give way to that downy smile once more, like it had never gone.

You walk over roots, vines and ivies and he is barefoot, feet uncalloused and unscarred.

The trek back to the path is as treacherous as he warned, for which he never lets your hand go - vines threatening to trip you up with each step, roots growing where there were none minutes ago. He regales you with faerie-tales - his childhood, he calls it - and you follow his younger self through burrows and glades and loss and loss and loss and to the rivers and all the girls (and boys) that live in them, the monsters that he’d fought and the girls (and boys) he’d had there after, and to the mountains and still you follow and –

And he pauses, and you’re overcome with the bodily realization that you’re exhausted. You’re not sure how long you’ve walked, but your legs burn. Your feet are torn, shoes and socks evidently long gone somewhere along the way. Your head swims, and he barely turns before you collapse into him. 

You don’t register the hawthorn he’s pressed you up against, solid as stone, until the bark digs through your shirt to chip and stab at your skin, oozing wet warmth down your back that’s conflated blood and sap in your mind. A tsk from his mouth - the sound forms so prettily on his perfectly formed Cupid’s bow - produces a golden fruit in his hand, taken from a bush or his pocket, or somewhere else entirely. You’re too dizzy to follow the movement of his hand. It’s so splendidly shiny, citrine flesh pulled so taught it aches for just the single prick to burst the saccharine juice within. 

Before he even presses it to your lips, the scent makes your molars ache to grind it to a pulp. He teases it, hovering it before your mouth, reveling in your fight against the strong thigh he presses to your core to reach it. 

His fingers brush your lips when he finally acquiesces, and he blushes with a bashful smile like it’d been a mistake, and between his smile and the alchemically intoxicating scent of the fruit, you forget all about the warnings of eating Fae offerings and - 

It bursts like an eyeball with just the barest graze of your teeth, blessed wet rushing to coat your throat liquid as the taste has done to you; it is the sweetest, sharpest flavor you’ve tasted, salty too - though perhaps that’s the tears streaming down your face. Your core throbs a drumbeat. You’re nothing more than meat and nerves and blood in a sac of skin, pulsing as the seeds and pulp slither down your throat. 

Your head dips - involuntarily - to suck the sap from each digit. You want to wrap your legs around him, to grind shamelessly until you too are nothing but sap. 

When he kisses you, he tastes of burnt wax and antimony, straps candlewick wings to your aching back, and you don the death trap happily. 

He draws you down to the bed of moss with kisses and gentle strokes, soft and spongy and earthen and cool and moist beneath your naked skin. His great coat envelops you both, secreting beneath it the dance of his nails (not nails, but claws, unpainted black and whispering a deadly promise) along the planes of your burning, overstuffed skin. He swallows down your whimpers and gasps, curiosity painting his face lent by innocence to understanding his touch is the cause; too light a touch, you think, you need more. 

The callus of his fingers speaks of handiwork as they brush you, painting you red hot and wanting. He watches his brushes as they stroke lower with open fascination, like you’re the one alien and not he. 

You arch into him, begging for your flesh to be flayed from bone, for him to sink those razors he calls teeth down to the marrow. There they are at your chest, dangerously grazing the delicate pebble of your nipple, plump damp lips suckling it as though it is the fruit itself. There is his hand at your thigh, hot palm pressing your leg up his waist, clever, spindly fingers teasing the apex, wandering but never finding home. 

He laughs when you reach for him, for the heat beneath his trousers weighing heavy in the cradle of your hips. “Later,” he tells you, swallowing down your indignant whine before it can burst forth. Now, you want to beg, but then his hand reaches the destination you desire most, shackling you to the singular sensation in short, strong strokes, and you think, okay, later.

Your skin burns, stretched taught and oversensitive as he probes you, knuckles bulbs as they puncture the precipice, only the cool damp of the moss beneath you granting reprieve. You paw at it helplessly, unmoored, gripping up great chunks of it in Sisyphean effort to ground yourself against the fullness.  

He chuckles. “Never said you couldn’t touch,” he mutters against your belly, words muffled by your skin as the vibrations run straight through your core. Something ragged wrenches from you as you dive your hands in his hair, pulling at soft and silky and ink-dark even in the twilight canopy of the wood; a slippery purchase at best as he journeys downward, leaving lush, slick trails in the wake of his mouth that nearly steam against the cool of the breeze. 

He laughs, exultant, and curls those clever fingers inside you hard, bifurcating within you, plying and playing, and teasing and then, then, finally, his head dives between your legs. A hot breath first, a nudge of that pointed nose, then his wicked tongue, licking and lapping and curling, and then those sweet lips wrapping and sucking around you, tongue pressing until you’re reduced to faint breath, until you can only cling with the white static tuned to the red-earthen-hot tune of want. 

You come, spread apart like a dam on the moss. He leeches to you, stroking and sucking and curling and pressing until there’s nothing left in you but shallow heaves and twitching limbs. 

The smirk spreading his mouth when you finally settle in the cradle of his arms is so absurdly silly, so endearing and human, so real, you can’t help but laugh, curling drunkenly into it, each breath a stabbing pain you receive gladly. He gathers you, watching as you laugh, seeming pleased with himself as a cat with cream. 

Together, when you’re once again able, you gather what can be salvaged of your clothes. It’s not much, so he cloaks you in his coat, the unstarched fabric simultaneously stiff and soft against your bare skin, sliding silkily with each step. He guides you along by his lithe arm, veins dancing up the tattooed lengths like sinew upon bark, hand now sticky from being buried within you. 

The fallen leaves ease your way, damp earth gathering between your toes, sluicing off the pain with the cool of it. 

He leads you where? There is no door, no hawthorn trees nor spiderwebs, no shimmering air to pass through yet for a moment you are distracted, and then you are in the woods no longer. The walls are earthen, ancient vines thick as elk climbing like supporting pillars, illimitably, impossibly, reaching for nothing but night sky. The stars, though far above, seem sharper, tangible, and close as you might reach should you choose as you stare into the boundless void between; a darkness luring so sweetly you’d tumble into it for a single unsteady step. 

For the first time since he found you, you do not struggle to look away from him. Walls give way to great earthen colonnades, thousand-story balustrades housing hanging gardens of lady slippers and cowslips and columbines glimmering in the light of torches tall as men. Above it all is still the fathomless, terrifying sky, and everywhere there are people, throngs of faerie folk in every direction as far as you can see. Most pay you no mind but those that do, do so with blessedly parlous curiosity, curling lips clueing teeth that’d bite. 

The sheer number of colors and shapes and bodies has your memory grow fading, evanescent. Some have hooves or scales or feathers, beaks or antlers, and others - just a face the wrong side of sharp, limbs lengthened just past that boundary of eldritch. A few stand out: a man, long-haired and goateed who’d pass human were he not nearly twice the size of a regular man, with sclera deep as bitter licorice; another, flat-faced with the lightest eyes you’d ever seen, veins and sinew and muscle coiling and rippling beneath transparent skin; a creature you struggle to wrap your mind around, a great wolf’s maw forced where the young man’s mouth would be, slitted pupils twitching as he watches you pass, hackles raised. 

Your skin erupts in gooseflesh, and Noah bends his head to nip at it. 

There are three girls standing with heads bowed together, faces painted in warm knavery, identical in all but where they split the embodiment of moon, sun, and void. One’s hands look capable of melting your skin off, and another’s claws drip an ichor you’d let run poison deep below your sluicing skin as you’re blinded by the radiant glow of the third. 

You imagine them spreading you apart, tasting you, tasting them. You’re acutely aware of the heady sourness of your arousal, a scent so human amid bark and earth and animal scent, among burning floral oils.

They are beautiful. They are all beautiful, and you’re struck with a pang of precipitous, desperate hunger. You want all of them. Blisteringly. 

“All of them?” he chuckles, nuzzling the side of your face, insectile fingers gripping your jaw firm with practiced precision. “Greedy.”

Your veins already are hot, pulsing iron, overstimulated and frazzled, but now they spill crimson across your cheekbones, hairline tightening at the tone of his accusation. But he only coos, bringing you in with tangling arms round your waist. 

“Spare me,” he sighs against your temple. “Greed is good. You’ll have it all and more later. But first, let us sate that hunger.” Yes, let us, you think. You never could refuse his command. You hope he will feed you more of those delightful fruits.

[runninriot]

Hold On For All It's Worth

written for @steddiesongfics inspired by the song Empire Now by Hozier

wc: 1971 | rated: M | cw: mental health issues, thinking about death/wanting to be dead, depiction of injuries, blood | tags: post S4V2, Vecna is defeated, everybody lives, hurt/comfort, (implied) friends to lovers | ao3

Eddie should be used to it by now. Should be used to his life being a complete shit show. Always out to get him. Always finding ways to bring him down.

Life was never easy. Sure, it made a turn for the better when Wayne took him in, gave him a safe home and guidance, the kind of fatherly love he’d been missing before – Wayne made his life bearable, good. But even that wasn’t enough to rearrange his stars. Eddie, it seems, was always meant to be a fuck-up. An outsider. Struggling to find his place in this world.

He’s tired oft trying to get back up over and over again, knowing the next bump in the road bringing him down is waiting just around the corner.

Dustin keeps telling him everything will be fine. That he has to be patient, to wait for the wounds to fully heal. Says that the nightmares will eventually stop. That it’ll take some time but eventually, things will be good again.

And Eddie knows he’s not just saying that, that Dustin and his friends have been there multiple times. They’ve fought and lost and they’ve been hurt both physically and mentally and still, they keep going.

Keep taking a step at a time towards normalcy. Holding each other up, finding comfort in their shared experience because it helps to know that they’re not alone in the aftermath of an interdimensional war.

   “You’re no alone, Eddie. We’re always here for you. You’re one of us.”

He knows they mean it. Knows that, once you’ve been part of their suicide squad (like, come on. What else can you call a group of teenagers recklessly going to literal war with creatures that should only exist in fantasy games and books, not real life!?) you’re stuck with them.

It’s something Eddie still has a hard time getting through to his thick head. He’d obviously thought (hoped) that the little shitheads would stick around after everything. But never in a million years had he thought he’d gain more than one new friend. Real ones, like Red and Erica and Robin and... Steve.

They are such a weird group of individuals. Thrown together by accident, really. But they work, somehow. And they are doing their best to convince him that he, too, is part of it now. Part of this strange little family.

And he tries, really, to show appreciation for everything they do - always asking how he is, always looking out for him. Always there when he’s feeling especially down, ready to throw it all out the window because he’s just too fucking tired to deal with anything.

Like today.

He woke up with the worst headache, didn’t get any sleep because whenever he closed his eyes, he was back in that place that nearly cost him his life. Back where those winged demons nearly ate him alive.

Sometimes, he wished they’d finished their job.

Sometimes, he wished Dustin hadn’t come back to sit at his side while he succumbed to the darkness. Because if he hadn’t, Steve would never have found them, wouldn’t have felt the need to carry him out of hell – giving in to his hero complex or whatever it is that turned Steve into this knight in shining armor, summoning inhuman strength to pick up Eddie’s lifeless body while his own body had been weakened by bat bites and sore muscles.

If Steve hadn’t brought him back, Owens’ people wouldn’t have been able to save him. To restart his heart after it had already given up the fight. It should’ve been impossible to bring him back from the dead after being out for too long, after losing too much blood with his organs spilling out of his mangled body. But they refused to give up on him.

Dustin apparently threw a proper fit, fist-swinging and feet-kicking despite his broken leg, when they tried to get him out of the hospital, away from Eddie’s side.

Steve hadn’t let go of him even after heaving his blood-drenched, ripped-apart body onto the hospital bed. Dustin told him they had to physically remove Steve’s tight gripping hand from Eddie’s before they could take him to the ER. Probably frozen in shock because Eddie can only imagine how fucked-up and horrible he must’ve looked.

Nancy and Robin threatened to reveal the government’s secrets to the world if they didn’t at least try. They had enough proof, enough to show for. All it needed was one phone call, one newspaper article to get the ball rolling – Owens knew that.

They’re the reason he’s still alive. The reason he’s forced to go to physical therapy to get his body moving again. The reason for Eddie to wake up drenched in cold sweat almost every night. They’re the reason he’s forced to keep fighting, no matter how tired of it he is.

No matter how much he hates everything about being alive when his legs won’t move and his scars itch and his head pounds and all he wants to do is cry. Cry and scream and ask God or whoever why he can’t just let him have a goddamn moment of peace?

There’s a knock on his door, followed by Wayne’s face poking in through the gap when he opens it slowly.

   “Steve’s here. Can I send him in?”

Eddie wants to say no, doesn’t want Steve to see him like this – bound to the bed because his body refuses to work, with tears his eyes – but he knows it’s useless. Steve would just wait it out, come back in a few hours or maybe keep Wayne some company because the old man has apparently formed some kind of fatherly bond with him over the past weeks, to Eddie’s misfortune.

So, Eddie resigns, grumbles a displeased response before pulling his blanket over his head to hide.

He can hear Steve enter, can hear the door closing behind him and his quiet footsteps as he makes his way over to the bed. The mattress dips and Eddie can feel a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, can feel Steve’s warmth even through the blanket.

   “Hey, Eddie. How are you?”

Eddie wants to laugh, wants to spit out words of frustration, wants to scream at Steve for putting him in this misery. For saving him, for not just letting him rot in hell so he could finally rest in peace. But none of that makes its way out of his mouth because when he opens it, all the pain and frustration and anger bubble up from somewhere deep down, transforming into a pitiful sob.

He cries and cries and cries. His body trembles and it hurts, everything hurts and he can’t stop wishing, begging for it all to stop, for it all to be over.

   “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I wish I was dead!”

A hand comes up to grab the edge of his blanket, pulling it slowly down to reveal his scarred face, his messy hair, his swollen eyes. Broken and tired and so sick of his own existence.

   “Eddie?” Steve’s voice is delicate, soft, barely a whisper and Eddie hates himself for how concerned he sounds. Hates himself for putting this on Steve.

Steve shouldn’t have to deal with this mess.

   “Can I- is it okay if I touch you?”

Another desperate sob makes its way out when Eddie nods weakly, feels selfish and greedy for some sort of comfort – whatever Steve is willing to give.

What Eddie doesn’t expect is that Steve shuffles to squeeze himself into the small, empty space beside him, lying there face to face with him, his body so close that – if it weren’t for the blanket – they’d be touching from nose to toe.

Steve wraps one arm around him, the motion bringing him even closer to the other man’s body.

   “It’s okay to be frustrated” Steve whispers. “It’s okay to lose hope sometimes. I get it, Eddie. I know what it feels like to just want to give up. Believe me, I’ve been there more times than I can count.”

Eddie listens, still not able to stop the tears from falling but at least his breathing starts to slow while he focusses on Steve’s voice.

   “I’ve wanted to give up so many times but you know what I learned?”

Eddie shakes his head, his nose brushing Steve’s skin where his face is buried between his neck and shoulder.

   “I learned that, no matter how fucked-up things are, no matter how much you hate everything and everyone, if you’re really true to yourself, you’ll find there’s always, always something worth fighting for. You might not see it right now but it’s there. It’s there and it’s worth to get through the rough days because somewhere down the line, it’s waiting for you with open arms.”

Steve squeezes him, drawing him once again closer into his embrace.

   “But what if I never find it?” Eddie asks through a staggered exhale, hot and damp against Steve’s neck.

   “Maybe you just have to open your eyes and see it for what it’s worth.”

One hand finds his cheek, the one that’s unmarred, and when Steve leans away just enough to make space, he forces him to look up. To find Steve’s warm eyes looking down at him. Smiling, soft and loving in a way that makes Eddie’s heart stutter. Makes his stomach twist into knots when he realises just how close Steve is.

And then it hits him.

All the things he should be grateful for, all the things that are worth the struggle, worth the fight. All the things that he can hold onto on days like today, where the world feels like tumbling down.

The fact that Wayne didn’t have to hold a funeral for him, mourn over an empty coffin, an empty grave because his body had been left to decay in the Upside Down.

The fact that Dustin didn’t have to make true to his enforced promise to take over Eddie’s place at Hellfire, not yet at least.

The fact that Eddie got to see Gareth and Jeff and Zach again.

The fact that he’s breathing and walking and able to play his guitar – even if it’s still hard most days and it’ll take time to fully heal.

The fact that he’s got all these wonderful people in his life, people that care about him, that will always be there to catch him when he falls and help him back up on his feet if he can’t find the strength to do it himself.

People like Dustin and Robin and Steve.

Steve, who doesn’t care about Eddie staining his shirt with tears. Steve, who is holding him, one hand gently rubbing in soothing circles on his back. Steve, who had refused to leave him behind, who had clung to him even when he was technically dead. Steve, who keeps coming back, keeps showing up, keeps pestering Eddie with his annoying care and kindness.

Steve, who-

Who’s leaning in – tentatively, almost like he’s afraid of overstepping a line that was never there because ever since the moment Eddie had held that broken bottle against his throat, he knew there was an undeniable truth taking root in his heart – and kisses him.

Kisses him soft and slow and Eddie-

Eddie kisses him back. Sees, even through his closed eyes, that this right here is worth holding on for. Worth fighting for.

Worth being alive for.

No matter how many bumps are waiting for him on the road ahead – he’ll just take it one step at a time.

And if he stumbles or even falls, Steve will be there waiting with open arms, ready to catch him.