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geeks-universe · 9 months ago

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The Fallen pt. 5

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: smut, idk normal apocalypse type stuff

A/N: I’m not super happy with this chapter so I’m probably gonna edit it again later

Tag List: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade @tesha-i-guess @looneylooomis @pookiesnatcher @jayden-okayden @dovefeatheredraven @angelcritterz

Sometime during the night, when there were no doubts or fear, Cooper had pulled you closer into him, his chest firmly against your back, legs tangled in a mess of warmth.

Inevitably, when the memories of your long life crept in and dragged you from your peaceful slumber, you awoke to the smell of gunpowder and blood. Cooper’s arm was tight around your middle, holding you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away during the night.

You allowed yourself a brief moment, made longer by your own indulgence, where you let yourself feel.

Long gone were your doe eyes and breathless smiles. The world you inhabited required a steel stomach and an unbendable spine. For the past two centuries you’d denied yourself that spark, the bit of yourself that always felt so much- too much.

Your heart was a traitorous thing, had always been far too bright. Once, you’d prided yourself on that, on the love for others that was just so effortless.

You doubted yourself now, thought that maybe you didn’t even know what love was. Maybe you were just a sanctimonious asshole who didn’t care about others, just wanted to ride the high of moral superiority.

It was hard to think that, to view yourself as incapable of love, when the warm, even breaths of Cooper Howard on the back of your neck pumped fire through your veins.

Could it be possible, for you to feel affection- love- for him?

There was some amount of fondness, to be sure- something in the way your heart fluttered, your eyes gravitated to him.

But love?

You’d never been in love. You had loved before, many people in your life, but not romantically.

Not the kind that would put you on your knees.

“You look lost, sister.”

Amenadiel’s voice was deep, concerned.

You heaved a sigh, rolling out of Cooper’s arms. The corners of your lips turned down at the loss of him, body protesting your isolation.

“Twice in the same year, that has to be a record.”

The amusement in your voice wasn’t matched by your brother, his dark eyes trained on the man that’d been cuddled up to you for half the night.

“You should be careful,” he cautioned you, and though he kept his stature straight, you could see the worry in the tenseness of his arms, the tightening of his jaw.

You were his baby sister. Generally angels were unconcerned with the affairs of man- more spectator than intervenor. They remained in their realm, governing over humans only after they’d lived their mortal lives.

You, Lucifer, and Amenadiel were exceptions.

Three sides of the same coin, three siblings, three realms- heaven, hell, and earth.

“Since when have you ever cared about my choices?”

It was unfair, a poisonous comment from the lips of a little girl who was still bitter about the way life turned out.

Amenadiel had visited you, more so than any sibling. Granted, you and Lucifer had been given more than just proverbial prisons. After his return to hell, some years before the world turned to shit, he had been caught in a trap once again, unable to leave the confines of hell.

And you…

Well, your wings were tattered, brutal scars to remind you of what you were, but to never let you leave.

Clipped wings for a trapped bird.

“I’ve always cared.”

There was a softness there, in the way his eyes dropped. He was an undeniably intimidating man, but he’d always brought himself to your level when he spoke to you, almost scared of you seeing him as anything other than an overbearing, yet loving, big brother.

“Why are you here?”

The question wasn’t as venomous as the last, genuine curiosity momentarily winning out over an never ending feud.

“What happened to you?”

His question was so sudden, like he’d been holding onto it for a lifetime, waiting for the right time to get his answer.

“You were God’s Golden Warrior, his most fierce and compassionate child.”

An angry humor burned its way up your throat, culminating in something halfway between a laugh and a growl. Amenadiel, as patient as ever, let the rage light up your features.

“What happened?” You stood then, your full height not even nearing your brother’s, but there was no denying the spark of intimidation in your stance.

You’d been God’s Golden Warrior first, then Hell’s Champion.

Titles given not by privilege, but by prowess.

There were few who were capable of moving with such speed and precision as you. Your body and mind were weapons, capable of a destruction you never sought out.

Instead, you chose to be a healer, to let the divinity that flooded your veins be used for good.

You couldn’t heal now, not since the day the bombs fell- since you fell- and that bit of knowledge hurt worse than the disappointment on Amenadiel’s face, but just barely.

“Look at this place,” your voice rose with your anger, a sneer on your lips. “At them.”

Your brother did.

Guilt flashed in his eyes, followed by quiet acceptance.

“I watched this happen. We all watched this happen.”

It was so fucking hard to get Amenadiel to understand the thoughts that plagued your every move. Anger was easy, it shadowed the guilt and overwhelming sadness, like a rabid animal protecting its den.

Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t any of them see it?

“We do not dictate their lives,” he reminded you sternly, his arms crossing over his chest.

Your heart squeezed at the image of him, at the same expression he’d given to you so many times in your youth, bewildered with your silly antics.

“No, we just let billions of people suffer for the mistakes of a few,” you muttered bitterly.

The air, nearly frozen in time with the power of Amenadiel, grew thick with an exhausted argument. For millennia it’d been like this, each visit ending in similar disappointment. Maybe the damage was irreparable, maybe you would never reconnect with him the way you once did.

“Don’t forget who you are.”

And with that, he was gone.

You were left to your own musings once more, time ticking by like normal once again.

His words shouldn’t have bothered you, shouldn’t have crawled deep into your skin and taken root in your chest, but they did.

Don’t forget who you are.

Your legs twitched, a reminder of the position you’d been in less than a day ago.

Cooper had dropped you to your knees and you’d just let him.

You’d let him take whatever pleasure he wanted from you, had let him pump his anger into you until he’d thrown his head back with his release.

Your thoughts simmered, then blistered, dissatisfaction rearing its head.

You were not his toy, his little plaything to use as he pleased.

That little display had been for his benefit, but it wasn’t who you were. If he wanted you, he’d have to earn you.

You were gone before either of your companions awoke, Maze following closely behind as you prepared some rations for Lucy and Cooper.

Food wasn’t something you’d had in a long time.

Truthfully, you didn’t need it. Without eating, you’d survive, just as unchanged as the past several thousand years- water too. However, it hurt.

You still felt hunger, thirst, just as a human did. It didn’t debilitate you, or even make you unwell, you just felt a constant pain, an ache you couldn’t consciously fill. Humans needed food and water to survive, to even stand a fighting chance.

So, you lived in that pain.

You sighed, holding out your palm with a little bit of spare canned meat for Maze. The dog took it graciously, scarfing down the humble portion.

Lucy and Maze were easier to understand and interact with. Honestly, they were a bit refreshing. Well, Lucy was, Maze was very much a good dog, but that was usually the case.

Good humans?

Well, those were in pretty short supply these days.

It was easy to understand though, and you gave humans a lot of grace. After all, this world was a hard place that took and took, relentless in its efforts to either strike you down or make you another monster in the cog of the apocalypse.

“That smells better than I thought anything on the surface could,” Lucy mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She sat up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest as you passed her the sad excuse for a meal.

“Eat up, it’ll be a long day,” you told her, scratching Maze’s chin as you lounged a little more comfortably.

The instinct to spread your wings stretched at your spine, tamped down only by the presence of your new friend.

She hummed contentedly, taking a few bites slowly, like she was both savoring the flavor and debating on asking a question.

It seemed her curiosity won out as she swallowed another bite.

“Where will you go after I find my dad?”

You let the inquiry hang in the air as you thought on it, idly tapping your fingers on the top of your knee. You hadn’t given it a lot of thought, too focused on trying to give someone a happiness you could never have.

Maybe it’d heal a piece of yourself in the process.

“I don’t really know,” you admitted slowly, cautiously.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Cooper stir. He was awake, even if he pretended not to be.

You wouldn’t call him out though. If he wanted to listen in, so be it.

“You could-“ she paused, shaking off a bit of dust before she continued. “If you wanted to, you could come with me to my vault.”

The control Cooper always had a desperate hold on reared out of his hands, his body shooting up as if he’d woken up in a startle. You didn’t answer Lucy, didn’t bother to tell her if only because you knew it’d drive Cooper mad.

And he looked particularly put out as he grabbed his own portion of the food.

Where Lucy was well mannered and talkative, Coop took exactly what he needed and didn’t bother with conversation.

You sighed, getting to your feet and slinging your pack back on.

“Now that everybody’s had their breakfast, let’s get moving.”

Lucy was quick to join you, worry and fear chewing at her with each day that passed by. There wasn’t much left to the journey, about a day and a half if you had to guess, but there was a fairly important stop you wanted to make first.

“We’re going to make a stop tonight,” you commented, not bothering to check if Coop was following as you started making your way away from your temporary camp.

“And then we’ll be there tomorrow?” Lucy confirmed.

Your nod was enough of a confirmation for her, and instead of leaving her to her own devices, to stew in the depths of her concern, you engaged in conversation with her.

It was unimportant, for the most part, just questions about her family and her interests.

She’d told you about her brother, Norm, who she clearly had a deep affection for. Then she talked about her dad, and how close they’d been.

It was so… normal. Mundane. Domestic.

Before the war, you weren’t as involved with humans. You’d always kept them at a bit of a distance, scared to engage.

(And considering the first time you’d really tangled yourself in human affairs they claimed you to be the daughter of Zeus, married you to a Spartan, then started an entire pointless war over the male ego- you weren’t quick to re-enter society.)

But, eventually, with the help of Lucifer, you’d made friends. Integrated yourself, if you will.

Life had been a dream then, loneliness chased away by your friends and family. Lucifer had Chloe and Rory, Amenadiel had Linda and Charlie. Maze tormented you daily with very painful sparring sessions. (With the utmost love in her heart, mind you.)

Then Lucifer had been forced to return to hell, chained to his responsibility in the afterlife. Not long after, the world went to shit and the friends you’d had were all whisked away in some form or fashion, to hell or to heaven, depending on if they were Team Lucifer or Amenadiel.

You’d recognized the faraway look in Cooper’s expression too, like her explanation of her life was forcing him to face his own past.

Briefly, you wondered what that looked like.

He hadn’t really told you anything about his family. Hell, before the past couple of weeks you hadn’t told him anything about yours either.

Then, before Lucy could ask too many questions about the state of your own family, you inquired about Maximus.

There was a sadness when she spoke of him, like the uncertainty of the situation was a death sentence.

And maybe it was.

The Wasteland had a habit of making people disappear. It was so easy to just drift away, become little more than a distant memory and an occasional anecdote while the world moved on.

The conversation was enough to keep you occupied, to distract you from the impending walk down nostalgia lane.

For the most part, it was just you and Lucy talking, Cooper still deep in thought over the events of the past day. It was better that way, though, easier to focus on meaningless conversation than the streets around you.

The closer you got, the more you recognized.

The streets were so different now, not teeming with life as they’d once been.

Lux.

Los Angeles had become little more than a husk of itself, shells of buildings littering the streets, the desert sweeping in from all sides. Many factions had laid claim to the ruins, had rebuilt the city with scraps.

Through it all though, Lux had stood.

It wasn’t in perfect condition, but it did maintain itself far better than nearly every other building.

Not that it was particularly surprising, there were many, many divine artifacts locked away, for the protection of others.

“What is this place?” Lucy broke the silence, a hand blocking out the harsh sun as she followed the building to the top.

“It used to be a nightclub,” you shrugged, your boots crunching on glass shards.

Most of the windows had been smashed out, and when you entered the front, you were unsurprised to find that it’d been trashed, then picked clean. Beyond the general structure of the bottom floor, there was little recognizable content left. Even the poles had been taken down, lost to some raid or another.

You could almost picture it, your mind tugging you back to a time you’d walked through the throngs of people, pressing your way to the elevator to meet your brother.

This time, there wasn’t a crowd, just your two companions following in a hushed silence.

“It works?” Lucy gestured to the open doors of the elevator that you’d stepped into, your hand tracing the buttons reverently.

“Yeah, it’ll work,” you promised, a thousand little moments echoing in the press of a button.

You typed in the code, the one Lucifer had used to protect his property prior to leaving, and the elevator whirred back at you.

If you wanted to get technical, it had been Chloe’s idea. She wasn’t interested in coming back to Lux after Lucy left, haunted by the memories. She knew she’d meet him again, one day- but until then, she tried to maintain some semblance of normal while honoring Lucifer.

Thus, you’d all decided that you’d take Lux, and in doing so, you could maintain the artifacts that your brother had collected. You’d agreed only after drowning every surface in bleach.

He might’ve settled down with Chloe eventually, but he’d more than likely defiled every inch of the penthouse before that.

The doors moved with a groan, shutting you and your small party in as it ascended to the place you’d once considered home. Your heart twinged, each whine of the machinery bringing you closer to familiarity.

“How’d you know all this, sweetheart?”

Cooper finally broke his silence, the same one he’d had for the majority of the day, to ask. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for it or not, comforted by his voice but also frustrated with his actions.

“This,” you tapped impatiently against the rusting bar, nodding your head as the elevator screeched to a halt, doors springing open slowly. “Was my brother’s place.”

The look Cooper gave you could best be described as suspicious. You looked like you were in your mid-twenties, and this club was very obviously from before the war over 200 years ago.

You ignored it, however, instead calming the pounding of your heart as you stepped into the penthouse your brother had made his home for many years.

The lights above clicked on, a generator long dormant still capable of producing electricity. You weren’t surprised, Lucifer had really spared no expense on this place, because he hated inconvenience.

It was largely untouched, a few smashed windows and a heavy layer of dust the only real mark of the passage of time. It was still, quiet, lifeless. Your fingers idly tapped on the keys of the piano, untuned notes reverberating in the space around you as a brief flicker of life passed through the space.

You’d loved here, had once reunited with your family and friends, had held them all close as the weight of years and years in isolation forced you to your knees. The note died, the memory too, and you stepped away, towards the well stocked bar that was mostly intact.

“Now that’s a bar,” Coop whistled lowly, picking up the nearest bottle and investigating.

“We can stay here for the night,” you told them, dropping your pack on the couch, dust swirling at the upheaval. “There’s only two rooms, but the couch is comfy.”

Lucy was walking the perimeter with curiosity, hands tracing over the luxurious items with interest. She’d never seen objects like this, surrounded by metal and conformity. Everything in the penthouse was unique and expensive, millennia of history blended into fashionable decor.

Maze followed suit, sniffing and investigating every corner and crevice of the abandoned penthouse.

The distinct sound of a fridge opening made you turn towards the bar and cringe.

“I’d just leave that closed,” you commented, a shiver of disgust involuntarily crawling down your spine.

“What in the hell is this?” Coop pulled out a very brightly colored goop, one that you’d been too horrified to even touch after Lucifer had left, and then the world had ended.

“It’s uh,” you cleared your throat. “Lube.”

Amusement twitched on the ghoul’s features as he cracked the old jar open.

“Please don’t,” you muttered, not bothering to watch the scene unfold.

He’d specially ordered it from some Korean sex store, claiming that it tasted like bubblegum and caused all “bits and bobs to tingle”.

You slipped back into your brother’s room, pushing aside the old painting to get into the vault. The thrum of divinity always grew in intensity near artifacts, but this specific one lit a fire in your chest.

Lucifer had felt a connection to the Blade of Death, and Amenadiel had always been affixed to the Key, but you…

You clicked the lock open- the combination was Chloe’s birthday- and reached out, power strumming in the air.

Your fingers closed around the Medallion of Life, the world righting itself a little more around you. The three divine artifacts that made up the Flaming Sword, the three children of God that made up the three realms- there was an unbreakable tether between you and the medallion, which you’d strung around your neck.

“What’s that?”

It was Lucy who asked, who had followed you into your brother's room.

“Family heirloom,” you said, tucking the medallion beneath your jumpsuit.

Her eyes slid to the bed, still perfectly made, gazing with longing. Exhaustion had hit your party hard, the long days of traveling with the lack of adequate rations and an overbearing sun had left your companions little more than a tangle of limbs at night.

“Have the bed,” you told her, turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey,” she interrupted the quiet gently, thoughtfully. “How is it possible? That your brother owned this place?”

You breathed out a sigh, pausing momentarily.

“I’m a lot older than I look.”

Cooper was still rifling around the bar when you returned, his hat perched precariously on a shelf. Maze had jumped onto the couch, satisfied with her assessment of the new space and now content to just doze off.

Your gazes met, and instead of offering him the second room- your room- you nodded your head in a gentle goodnight, and walked the familiar path to rest. Your fingertips traced the walls, nostalgia threatening to bubble up, to form tears in your eyes.

You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let memories drown you in sorrow.

Don’t forget who you are.

But you wanted to.

You wanted to be anything but that person, but the person who hurt when others did, who couldn’t stand to watch anyone in pain.

The door to your room creaked open, the bright colors faded to vignette, like an old film. It still looked relatively the same- closet full of color, books lining the wall, retired weapons collecting dust like trophies.

Your bed looked so warm and inviting, and as much as you wanted to fall into the sheets and sleep for a decade, you decided it was best to maintain some amount of hygiene.

You chucked your boots off, throwing them somewhere in the wide, open space. Your socks and jumpsuit were quick to follow, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

The dresser drawers groaned with disuse, but opened with relative ease. You snagged an old t-shirt you’d stolen from some one night stand you didn’t bother remembering- the name of some old band plastered on the front in an eerie font- and a new pair of panties. Considering it’d been 200 years, you were surprised that they were in such good condition.

They smelled a little dusty and stale, but honestly, that was better than anything the Wasteland produced.

Just as you’d been about to slither into bed and sleep like the dead, the jingle of spurs sounded down the hallway, headed straight for you. Coop was slow, controlled, like he was having a conversation with himself on the walk over.

You listened intently, sitting on the edge of your bed as he decided whether he wanted to speak to you or not.

Slowly, with more caution than you’d ever seen from him, your door opened. The expression he wore was hesitant, and your heart squeezed at seeing some of the confidence in his swagger chipped away.

It struck you then, that you’d seen him play a similar role sometime back in his golden days. He’d been an apologetic cowboy, begging his lady love for forgiveness. She’d given it to him then, had confessed her undying love and then they’d rode off into the sunset, presumably to live happily ever after.

Not for the first time, you wondered if he saw the scene play in his head, if he remembered a time when all the bad disappeared with a shout of “cut”.

“What do you need?”

He shifted from foot to foot, an internal debate, before he took a step forward.

“The dog’s taking up the couch.”

A flimsy excuse. A real one, if it were you, but you knew he didn’t truly care about the comfort of Maze.

“And?”

You quirked a brow, not giving any grace. If he wanted something, he’d have to ask- nicely.

He sucked on his teeth, fingers running the brim of his hat.

“Really gonna make a man beg, sweetheart?“

“I usually do,” you met him with a pointed stare, leaning back on your elbows.

His gaze ran the length of your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare, smooth skin. Like a man possessed, he fell before you, dropped straight to his knees.

“I ain’t ever begged before,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers ghosting along your ankles. “Ain’t gonna start now.”

A smile tugged at your lips- slow and sweet, a woman who knew her worth.

“Not now,” you agreed with a hum, watching from beneath your lashes as he pressed the skin of your ankle to his lips, moving up a few inches before repeating the action. “But you will.”

A shiver ran the length of your spine when his touch reached the inside of your thigh, a smirk pulling on his mouth. He tugged at your underwear, sliding it down your legs at a torturous pace.

“Is that so?”

His breath was warm against your skin, the vibrations from his voice pressed against your legs. It was a sight to behold, him on his knees before you, worshipping each inch of yourself bared to him.

“Pretty as a peach,” he breathed, eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt.

You hummed teasingly, the sound turning to a breathy moan of his name as he bit the soft flesh of your thigh.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Coop,” you told him, leveling him with an even stare.

He kept eye contact as he licked a long, hard stripe up your cunt. Your breath stuttered, muscles tensing at the sensation.

“Neither am I.”

You barely had time to register the words, to understand the insulation, before he pressed his face against you, his tongue flicking desperately against your clit.

You cursed, hands knocking the hat off his head as you grabbed onto the back of his neck, holding him there. Your back arched when he sucked, his teeth just barely scraping against your sensitive nub.

He was ravenous, his tongue finding a harsh rhythm against your clit, sucking up every drop of wetness you gave him like he’d been without water for a week. The pressure in your stomach unraveled, muscles straining under the building tension.

Your body sung, pleasure climbing higher and higher.

Coop pulled away, and you nearly sobbed at the loss of his mouth, before his fingers- somehow devoid of his gloves in the chaos- were pressing into you.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” his accent was thick, honeyed.

You had maybe a second before-

A wanton moan tore itself from your parted lips, his name a prayer on your lips as his other hand held you open, his tongue relentless against your slick heat.

His finger was pumping in and out of you, quickly joined by another as he stretched you open for him.

You were saying his name over and over now, pressure building with each swipe of his tongue or curl of his finger. You were pleading with him, at the edge of it all wanting to just plunge into your pleasure.

Your legs flexed, tried to close, but Cooper held them open as your chest fluttered. Each touch was fire, so hot your body burned in an inferno of your desire.

Cooper. Cooper. Fuck.

Unintelligible words fell from your lips, growing in volume as you fell into the feel of him, pleasure bursting through your veins. You might’ve screamed his name then, might’ve drew blood with your fingernails as he tongue fucked you through your orgasm.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, and another to realize he was crawling up your body, pride plastered in the smirk he wore.

You’d give it to him, that was one hell of an orgasm.

But, you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. Not yet.

“Coop,” you warned, holding your hand against his chest.

The heart that beat beneath your palm was pounding with excitement.

“Darlin’,” he cooed the syllables, sweet as sugar.

If you were made of lesser stuff, you might’ve leaned into his touch, might’ve bunched his shirt in your fist and pressed your lips to his- but you weren’t, and you didn’t. Instead, you met his gaze, keeping him suspended above you.

You rocked to the side then, your leg wrapped around his middle while you flipped the both of you over, pinning him beneath you. It surprised him, the strength you displayed, so unlike when he’d had you on your knees.

You didn’t have to say anything then, didn’t even have to tell him what you were thinking. He could see it, could recognize the look in your eyes, and nodded.

He laid back, observing you above him. You wished you could tell what he was thinking, what caused the furrow of his now-gone brows.

A note floated between you, more joining with a skilled precision to create a beautiful melody.

A familiar melody.

Coop was already pushing you off him, feet pounding against the ground as you struggled to throw a pair of old sweatpants on. You were tripping over yourself, all uncoordinated limbs and excitable actions and you ran out the door and into the hallway, a few feet behind Coop.

He was already slinging insults, his gun cocked with a threat by the time you rounded the corner. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, couldn’t even see the worried expression on Lucy’s brow as you stared at the piano, the very same that had laid abandoned, silent, for 200 years.

There, in the center of the room, with a wide, devilish smile and a pristine suit, fingers sprawled across the keys, sat Lucifer.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard insert #fallout x reader #fallout reader insert #the ghoul imagine

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anonymousewrites · 5 months ago

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Adolescent Antichrist (Book 6) Chapter Fifteen

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Fifteen: Do Something Worthwhile

Summary: Lucifer and (Y/N) fight Michael to begin a new era.

Mouse Note: Only one more chapter to go. I can't believe how far we've come.

Wham!

Michael stumbled back. He clutched the Flaming Sword and stared at Lucifer. He had expected him to back off upon seeing the blade that could kill him utterly and completely.

But Lucifer wasn’t afraid. Or, he was, but anger was stronger than fear. No. Love was stronger. And Lucifer loved (Y/N). Michael couldn’t threaten (Y/N) without Lucifer interfering. He had to protect them, no matter the risk or cost.

“Dad!” cried (Y/N), trying to move forward. Amenadiel grabbed them and pulled them back since the sword was dangerous.

Lucifer advanced on Michael, and Michael swung at Lucifer. He ducked and rolled to dodge. He jumped to his feet, and Michael stabbed. Lucifer dodged, but the flames cut through his suit.

(Y/N) lunged forward again, but Amenadiel held them back.

“(Y/N), he has to do this on his own,” said Amenadiel.

“To Hell with that, it’s my dad!” said (Y/N) indignantly.

Michael chuckled and swung at Lucifer. He leaned back to dodge, but the hilt of the blade hit him, sending him flying. He hit the ground. Michael kicked his stomach, and he rolled over. Lucifer groaned in pain.

(Y/N) pushed out of Amenadiel’s arms and looked at Zadkiel. “Your staff. Give it to me.”

Zadkiel didn’t hesitate to hand it over. (Y/N) looked at Lucifer.

“Dad!” they shouted.

He looked at them, and (Y/N) tossed it to him. Lucifer caught the staff and blocked another stab from Michael.

“Oh, ho-ho-ho-ho!” Michael grinned. “My brother has a stick, whatever shall I do?”

Lucifer headbutted Michael. Michael groaned and stepped back. Lucifer swung the staff and hit him in the side. Michael jumped back and leapt into the air, black wings spread out. Lucifer’s white wings burst from his back, and he jumped after Michael. The battle took to the air.

“That staff is all that’s left of the tree of life,” said Zadkiel, watching Lucifer with it.

“Then it should be happy to be fighting for life instead of for death,” said (Y/N).

“I can’t believe this is what God meant by figuring things out,” said Em. “I don’t think He wanted His children to fight.”

“Or He was giving them free will,” said Marcel. “And He knew the consequences.”

“That can’t just be it,” said Olive. “He wouldn’t have left His children to be hurt as His final act.”

“What if He meant something more in His words?” said Leon, furrowing their brow.

“Like what?” asked Noa.

“I don’t know,” said Leon.

(Y/N) watched Lucifer and Michael anxiously. Each time the sword and staff clashed, sparks flew. (Y/N) couldn’t stand the danger their dad was in. They needed to help him. They knew honor was a whole thing, but if Michael tried to really kill Lucifer, (Y/N) couldn’t just stand there!

Lucifer flew back as Michael advanced on him. He blocked each stab and swing, but the heat of the blade was immense. He kicked Michael and shoved him back with the staff. The sun shone behind them, and the people below shielded their eyes to watch the figures battle in the air.

They rose higher and higher into the air above the coliseum as the battle grew more and more dangerous. Each one was fierce in their fighting, vying for victory. Michael wanted his power, and Lucifer wanted his family safe. Neither was willing to give up.

Around and around, they flew the length of the coliseum. They hit one another, neither gaining much of an advantage as they spun and dodged and slashed. Michael shouted in aggravation and struck over and over. Lucifer grunted as he blocked the attack over and over. He lowered with the hits.

Michael slashed down, and the staff cracked. He grinned and swung down again. Lucifer blocked, and the staff broke. The force sent Lucifer flying. He struck the ground hard, and the group gasped. Michael landed and stood over him.

“Goodbye, brother!” Michael raised the Flaming Sword.

“No!”

(Y/N)’s wings erupted from their back, and they leapt into the air. They slammed into Michael, and they went flying back together. Michael pushed (Y/N) back and swung. Their powerful wings flapped in the air, and (Y/N) soared up and away from him.

“Birdie!” shouted Em worriedly.

“(Y/N)!” cried Lucifer. His wings erupted, and he meant to fly once more, but shadows whipped up and restrained him.

Other shadows grabbed the rest of the angels and (Y/N)’s friends and family. (Y/N) refused to let anyone they loved get hurt. This was their fight now. They eyed Michael warily, but determination was equally as present in their gaze.

“You can’t be serious,” sneered Michael, circling them. “I’m got the Flaming Sword. I have the support of Heaven behind me.”

“You have the fear of Heaven, and your track record against me isn’t that great,” said (Y/N). “So, why don’t we make it 5-0?”

Michael narrowed his eyes and dove at them. (Y/N) dodged, using the shadows of the coliseum to grab for him. They snagged Michael’s wings, but he swung with the sword. The light cut through the shadows, letting him fly free once more. (Y/N) remained in the shadows, reaching for him as he flew.

“You can’t defeat me with shadows this time!” jeered Michael. He lifted the flaming sword, and the darkness retreated from him. (Y/N) gritted their teeth. “So unless you want to tear the world apart again, Antichrist, you’re just going to be the first darkness this God destroys!”

“I’ll never let you be God,” said (Y/N). “Not when your father left me to take care of things, and I said I’d keep things from going to Hell, and that includes stopping you!”

“As if you have the power,” said Michael, twirling the sword. “Lucifer will never be God.”

“That doesn’t mean you will be,” said (Y/N), flying straight towards him.

All the shadows around them dove out with them. They smashed into Michael. Even as he swung and burned the darkness away, (Y/N) slammed into him. Michael went flying, and the cloud of darkness condensed around him. With a roar, Michael exploded out of it, flames flying around the sword. Seeing (Y/N) dart out of the shadows, he dove at them.

(Y/N) evaded, but as he slashed, the flames burnt at their back. (Y/N) cried out, and their wings faltered. (Y/N) hit the ground, brought back their wings, and rolled. They hit a stop, and the shadows holding their friends and family left.

“(Y/N)!” cried a worried chorus of voices.

The moment before anyone could get to them, Michael grabbed them, and (Y/N) was pulled up into the sky. The sun was blinding as he shot upwards.

“I’m going to teach them all a lesson,” hissed Michael. “You most of all, you presumptuous interloper! You’re still an abomination, and soon you’ll be a goddamned one!”

(Y/N) grabbed his hands as he forced the blade towards them, and the heat seared at their neck. They cried out as their necklaces burned.

“Let my child go!”

Lucifer slammed into Michael, and Michael let go of (Y/N). They plummeted downwards. They let out a scream, startled.

"(Y/N)!”

Lucifer dove for them, and they reached up towards him as they tried to get their wings out and to work despite the burns. Their back ached, and the rush of air against the burns made them grit their teeth. Their fingers brushed against Lucifer’s.

“Dad!” they cried helplessly.

A dark shadow loomed up over them. Michael was a figure of black, a blot against the sun. He raised the Flaming Sword, and the fire seemed to melt with the sun as (Y/N) watched its power glow. And he brought it down towards Lucifer.

Crack!

Red jasper shards exploded around (Y/N)’s neck. Golden light enveloped their vision and the sky.

Everyone on the ground shielded their eyes in shock. Michael and Lucifer were thrown to the sides and landed awkwardly on the ground. The Flaming Sword went flying through the air, the metal and fire disappearing in the explosion of light.

When the light died, everyone lifted their gaze apprehensively. Lucifer looked up with pure panic, trying to find (Y/N). Michael groaned and tried to spot the Flaming Sword.

Everyone found what they were looking for at the same moment.

Floating in the light of the sunset was an angel. It was (Y/N). A faint golden shimmer still emanated from them as their wings supported them. Their red wings were spread wide, and the sunlight glinted off the golden iridescence of their feathers. The red and gold were like flames behind them as they descended. Real fire flew around their hand as they held the Flaming Sword. The fire seemed stronger and brighter than ever in (Y/N)’s hands. The brightness spread to their black markings that had turned a white-gold color, alight with magic. In fact, power itself radiated from them as they flew gracefully down to the ground.

They landed and looked at everyone. Their friends, their family, and all the angels stared at them, unsure whether to be relieved, apprehensive, or both.

(Y/N) took a deep, exhausted breath and looked at everyone. “No. More. Fighting.” They looked at all the angels. “God didn’t want this. He didn’t want you hurting each other, killing each other! He wanted you free to live your lives without His constant supervision and rule. So stop squandering that freedom on fighting.” They glared at everyone. “Do something worthwhile! Find who you are! God left you with freedom, which is way better than power. You can actually use freedom. Stop trying to figure out who His successor is because who really gives a damn who it is—”

“It’s you.” Lucifer interrupted the rant with two simple words.

(Y/N) faltered. “What?”

“It’s you, (Y/N).” Lucifer smiled. “You’re His successor.”

“I—” (Y/N) looked at their hands and saw the faint golden glow just beneath the surface. “Oh, god. No, no—”

“(Y/N), He chose you,” said Lucifer. He took their hand and squeezed it. “He chose you.”

“Take good care of things. Who better than you?” God’s strange final words echoed in their mind. All the odd statements, all the odd looks, all the odd compliments, it all coalesced into one fact—one plan. God’s plan.

“I’m God’s successor?” breathed (Y/N).

“Yes,” said Amenadiel. He smiled. “You are.” Amenadiel took a knee.

“He knew you would take care of things better than we ever could.” Proudly, Lucifer took a knee.

“We told you to campaign.” Noa took a knee.

“We get the responsible God in the end.” Olive smiled and bowed.

“He made a good choice.” Leon.

“We knew you were the boss.” Marcel.

“Who knew you’d fly so high, Birdie?” Em smiled lovingly and knelt.

“I thought there was something significant about you,” said Zadkiel.

One-by-one, the other people present bowed and took a knee before (Y/N). (Y/N). (Y/N) the Deity of Creation.

“No!” Michael glared at them. “You can’t be! It’s—It’s supposed to be me! I was with Father. It…” The anger melted from his face as grief began to appear. “It was supposed to be me.”

(Y/N) looked at Michael and walked towards him. Hesitantly, everyone else rose and watched the approach. Even Michael paled a bit.

“Michael,” said (Y/N). “You have been a total, total asshole.”

“Oh, no,” said Em, wincing.

“You have hurt a lot of people,” said (Y/N).

“What do we do if (Y/N) starts smiting people?” whispered Amenadiel.

“Cheer because it’s Michael?” suggested Lucifer.

“Lucifer!” said Chloe.

“You need to learn a lesson,” said (Y/N).

Michael closed his eyes, and everyone braced for some Heavenly Wrath.

(Y/N) instead undid the necklace holding the Flaming Sword together. The fire went out. (Y/N) put their hand on Michael’s shoulder. “You need to learn humility and humanity.”

“Wha—Ah!” Michael grimaced as his wings furled back into his back. He moved his shoulders. Nothing happened. “What did you do?!”

“I just cut off a part of your angelic nature,” said (Y/N) calmly. They looked at everyone. “I think…there’s been enough suffering. Enough death. We don’t need more.” They looked at Michael. “And as much as I don’t like you, I’m giving you a second chance. My dad made a life here. Amenadiel made a life. If you can learn to appreciate others and respect them as individuals, you’ll be a true angel. You’ll earn your wings back.” They looked intently at Michael. “Once you act like an angel, you can have all the abilities of one.”

(Y/N) turned and walked away back to their friends. “Are you all alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Em, looking at (Y/N). “You’re asking us that?”

“Yeah. You guys are my family,” said (Y/N) as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“And you’re alright?” said Lucifer worriedly. What did holding God’s power mean for someone? What if it hurt them?

“I am,” said (Y/N).

Lucifer relaxed. “Good.”

“(Y/N),” said Amenadiel.

“Yeah?” said (Y/N).

“I think you need to…say something,” said Amenadiel.

“Huh?”

“To the angels.” Amenadiel gestured to the crowd watching (Y/N). “You’re…God.”

“I’d prefer Deity since I’ve met God,” said (Y/N).

“This is so weird,” said Chloe.

“You’re telling me?” said (Y/N).

“(Y/N), please?” said Amenadiel.

“I already yelled at them for fighting,” said (Y/N).

“Just appease them,” said Lucifer. He nudged them. “You can even yell a little more.”

“…Fine.” (Y/N) turned around to face the group of angels. “Uh, hi. I’m your new Deity.” They waved awkwardly. They looked at Lucifer. He nodded encouragingly. “I know you must all be confused. I am, too. Frankly, I didn’t ask for this. But it’s happened.” They cleared their throat. “So we all have to live with it. I plan to continue living how I want. I think you should, too. Your father and mother left with the wish that you would all move on and find new lives. You’re angels of the Silver City, yes. But you’re also individuals. You have free will. I think…I think that if Amenadiel, Lucifer, and Michael are any indication, you all need a chance to figure out who you are, to find the good and the bad parts of you and learn to live with them. I’m not here to rule you. I’m here to nudge the world in a better direction.” They smiled. “I’m here to be a Deity who loves people. And that includes you all, every part.” (Y/N) waved. “So go on, shoo, go on an adventure, try something new, meet some people who aren’t your family. God—I—know you need it.”

(Y/N) turned back to their friends and family. “So?”

“It was amazing, Birdie,” said Em.

“I’m going to like this Deity,” said Olive. The rest of their friends nodded excitedly.

“You were perfect, (Y/N),” said Lucifer, hugging (Y/N). He smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”

(Y/N) smiled tiredly and leaned on Lucifer. “Can we go home, Dad?”

“Of course.” Lucifer kissed their forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

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