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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

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Falling to Temptation-Part 7

A/N: I am going ahead and posting this because I’m not sure if I will be near a computer later. And plus, I am excited (and a little scared) to see your reactions. Remember my ask box is ALWAYS open. Threats and intimidation can be left there. Ha ha ha I love you all.

WARNINGS: smut, PWP, cheating, angst, P in V, P in A, medical issues, medical speak, car accident, injuries, did I mention smut, I think this one is more angst though, a smidgen of fluff (if you squint)

“Your husband suffered severe head trauma,” the doctor in charge of his case explains. “There is an internal contusion on the front of his brain from, we surmise, the impact with the dashboard. His right ulna had a hairline fracture that we stabilized and set after our initial analysis.”

You look down at your husband, lying still and unconscious in the hospital bed. Thankfully Mavelin had fallen asleep on your shoulder as you and your brother-in-law awaited news. She did not need to see her daddy like this. Hell, it was killing you to see him like this; bloodied and bruised with a bandage on his head and a cast on his arm.

“When will he wake up?” you ask quietly, running your hand up and down Mavelin’s back. “Will he be..-” you pause as the appalling thought passes through your mind. “-coherent?”

“That we do not know,” the doctor answers with a grim look. “We will have to wait until he regains consciousness and run some tests. For now, though we are keeping watch on the contusion for any additional swelling it might cause.” He hesitates before speaking again. “If there is anyone who could possibly watch your daughter, it might be a good idea. We just don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The doctor heads toward the door to leave, when you speak up, stopping his departure.

“Doc, how are my brother-in-law and my mother-in-law?”

“A couple of broken bones apiece but other than that, mostly superficial wounds,” the doctor smiles. “I’ve had to threaten to restrain them both to keep them from rushing to Mr. Winchester’s side.”

You return the smile. You know he is right, this family is as thick as thieves when one of them is hurt, you’ve been witness to it many times since you’ve come to be with them. After the doctor leaves, you walk to the chair in the corner of the room and sit down.

How the hell did this become your life? Your husband, the father of your little girl, lying in a hospital bed possibly dying and just an hour ago you were fucking his brother in the kitchen of the Bunker!

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The door to your husband's room opens and you turn to see your brothers-in-law helping Mary walk in.

You quickly get up and let her sit in the chair closest to your husband's supine form. You watch your lover gently pick up your sleeping little girl and settle her on his shoulder before sitting down on the small couch you had placed her on.

"How bad is it, Y/N?" Mary quietly asks as she reaches for her son's limp hand.

You relay the doctor's prognosis, while trying to keep your tears at bay and failing. Your brother-in-law gets up and wraps his arms around you, trying to calm you.

"Shh, it'll be okay. He's tough," he whispers. "He is a Winchester after all."

You wiped your eyes and smile up at him. Being a Winchester doesn't mean much when the patriarch of the family was dead and gone, killed by the demon he had spent 2 decades hunting down. So no the Winchester name was not synonymous with resiliency in your eyes. Hell, they have all met death one way or another in their lives.

You look over at your husband and your heart breaks. He looks so small and insignificant laying there. If it wasn't for his chest moving, you'd think he was dead. Your heart hurts as you realize he isn't out of the woods yet and that very thing could still be a possibility.

Rounding the bed, you sit in the chair opposite your mother-in-law and take his free hand in yours. How could this have happened? What had you done to deserve this? To watch the man you love, the father of your child suffer. Tears burn behind your eyelids as you run your hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

He doesn’t deserve this. Your husband is good, decent, generous; the best man you know. So why is it him lying here, comatose, while so many malevolent humans and monsters are out there roaming the world? Why is it him that has to suffer and endure so much pain? You guess he is in pain, anyway; you can’t really tell because he is unconscious.

A whimper pulls your attention from him to the corner where your brother-in-law is holding a waking Mavelin. She doesn’t need to see her father like this so you stand up and kiss his forehead before approaching the sofa to take her from him.

As you reach out for her, he stands with her, her little head still laying on his shoulder.

“No, you stay with him,” he whispers. “I’ll take her on a journey around the hospital. Maybe we will hit up the cafeteria or snack machines.” He says, smiling down at you.

“Okay,” you concede and watch as he strolls out of the room.

“What about Castiel? Where is your angel friend?” Mary speaks up. Since her return, she still isn’t comfortable with the fact that her sons and step-son, along with her daughter-in-law, are all friends with a creature she considers supernatural and couldn’t bring herself to completely trust the celestial being.

“I don’t know Mary,” you answer honestly. After Cas had almost caught you and your brother-in-law in act and had informed you of the accident, he had disappeared. “He came to the Bunker and told us about your accident but in my panic I didn’t think to ask if he was going to be here. Why?”

“Well, I just thought-” she begins. “-he’s an angel and angels have the ability to heal. He’s healed us somewhat before. Maybe he could lay hands on my son and take this all away.”

Mary’s words resonated inside your head. Why hadn’t you thought of that?! Closing your eyes, you prayed to your feathered friend.

“Cas, I don’t know where you are. I know we kind of just left you there once you told us about the accident but I am begging you, please, come to the hospital and heal them. Please?”

A flutter of wings causes you to open your eyes to see the trench-coated angel standing at the foot of the bed, looking between you, your husband and your mother-in-law.

“Cas!” you exclaim on a breath. “Can you heal him? Use your powers and help him recover?”

The blue-eyed angel looked at you wistfully. “I wish I could Y/N. But my powers are not what they should be. My returned grace has not returned to optimum power. I am unable to heal right now.”

Your whole body deflated hearing his confession. You had hoped that the angel could work his magic and your husband would wake up as good as new. But then you realize, of course life wasn’t going to work out for you that way. You were being punished. God or some other higher power was chastising you, penalizing you for being weak and succumbing to your brother-in-law. You just hoped he, or she, wouldn’t go to drastic measures and kill your husband.

The ECG monitor above the bed starts beeping rapidly before it goes into one monotone long tone and the green lines that were once climbing and falling on the screen are now one single flat line.

Dun dun dun.....rememeber threats and initmidations to my inbox please. LOL Part 8 will be posted tomorrow evening at 6 PM.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @internationalmusicteacher @kricketc29 @natura1phenomenon @blacktithe7 @spnbaby-67 @travelingriversideblues-x @keymology @tftumblin @markofdean79 @thevelvetseries @deanwanddamons @winchester-fantasies @akshi8278 @michellethetvaddict @larajadeschmidt13 @xhannahbananax03 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

#supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #mary winchester #adam milligan #castiel #reader insert #choose the brother #choose your winchester #smut #angst #cheating #maybe a death #???

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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What Might Have Been - 8

My ongoing fic for @goodomenscelebration. Crowley has arrived in the post-Apocalypse wasteland, searching for Aziraphale. Angst and destruction ahead.

Parts 1-6 here.

Part 7 here (despite what the lying title might say)

Family

Crowley couldn’t sense Aziraphale.

Or rather, he could sense Aziraphale, knew he was somewhere in the world, but that was as far as he knew. Not the direction, nor the distance, nor anything else.

He circled over the V-cut valley of Devil’s Dyke, looking for anything familiar. Looking for anything alive.

Those cliffs to the left looked like the ones they had chosen for their home, but there was no cottage, no garden, no little copse of trees sheltering it from view. The landscape had been scraped clean to the bright-white stone underneath.

He circled again, over a lake of fire, another frozen but sublimating, like dry ice. A river of sludge that seemed to run uphill. White bones of animals that never lived in this part of the world, looking far too large to be allowed.

Another circle, further out. Over there – the village of Ditchling. Aziraphale dragged him down there for tea at that little café twice a week. He liked to walk down the main street and wave to the humans as if he’d lived among them for decades.

No one lived there now.

With a flutter of black wings, Crowley came to rest at the traffic circle in the center of the village. To one side, that bakery where Aziraphale liked to browse cakes and bottles of wine, windows smashed, shelves bare; to the other, the old Post Office building, which looked as if it had been torn apart from the inside out. What little remained of the brick walls were black with soot.

One whole side of the village was just gone, foundations still smoldering: the little shop where they bought vegetables whenever Aziraphale got it in his mind to try cooking dinner, the jewelers where they would look at rings, had been looking for months, still hadn’t made a decision because Aziraphale needed Crowley’s to be perfect.

Just past the bakery was a little plant shop, which had fared no better. Little pots and planters – once brightly colored, now chipped and faded – held the brown, withered remains of plants. He touched one, and it fell to dust between his fingers. Nothing could survive here.

Except, in the back, he thought he saw a bit of green. Stepping carefully through the shattered window, Crowley moved through the shop to a corner that got little light, but also shielded its plants from whatever happened on the street. And there it was: a tall succulent, most of its green waxy leaves already turned yellow and fallen off, but a few still clinging to life. He tugged at one, and it was still springy, still a little soft.

“Well. I don’t know how you survived this long, but a little water and you might make it.” He picked up the pot. “Doubt we’ll find any. But let’s see what we can do.”

He was easing back through the window and happened to glance back towards the traffic circle –

Something – someone – darted across the street.

Crowley hunched, pulling his wings out again, clutching his plant close, ready to flee. Aziraphale? Probably not; if the angel were that close, no chance his sense would be so confused. Someone else.

He could run, of course, fly away. He was here to find Aziraphale, and nothing else. He would find his angel, take him home, rescue their lovely home from the Archangels, and never think of this place again.

Except…

Except he was here now, and he didn’t know what was going on.

Crowley hated not knowing what was going on.

And the best way to find out was to ask someone.

With one last brimstone-scented breath, Crowley started towards the figure.

By the time he’d rounded to corner, it was empty again – just a long stretch of road, past the little café with the garden in the back, the inn, the church. It was too silent. Wind whistled over broken glass, but that was all. No rustle of paper, no skitter of feet, no birds, no insects. With the sky dark and scabbed over, he couldn’t even tell what time of day or night it was. The world seemed paused, frozen, holding its breath.

A foot scuffed.

Crowley pressed himself to the side of the inn, wings hidden. Something was just around the corner, perhaps in the parking lot. He set the plant down in the window box, among the decaying remains of its kin, and pressed himself to the wall, trying to look without being seen. It didn’t work, though, not only because his glasses got in the way.

“Right,” he whispered to himself. Could be a demon. Or an angel. Or…anything. Be ready to look and run. He had enough energy for one more form shift today, and a rat could very easily get lost in the ruins.

Snapping around the corner, Crowley found the other being was also pressed tight to the wall, trying to peer without being seen. Almost as tall as Crowley, dressed all in black, with short blond hair, just a hint of curl. The boy looked at him with wide – and very familiar – eyes.

“Adam?” Crowley took a step forward.

Mistake. Crowley was, immediately and without passing through any intermediate space, on the roof of the church across the street. He skittered for a second, trying to keep his balance on the impossibly steep pitch, but the building was in ruins, the consecration weakened to the point that he could barely feel it at all.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” The boy shouted, already backing up the street. “I won’t do it any longer, you hear me? I mean it this time! I want – I want to be left alone!”

“Adam, wait!” He shook out his wings again, jumping after the boy. There was no mistaking him, of course – the powers were a giveaway, but he looked almost exactly like the young boy he and Aziraphale had visited in Tadfield only a month ago. Except that Adam had been full of smirks and slouches and bad jokes, trying to convince Crowley to let him drive the Bentley just once around town, no one’ll know but me and Dog. Explaining his idea for a new ice cream flavor even the Americans hadn’t thought of yet. Laughing when Aziraphale asked him if it was possible to get a rotary smartphone.

This Adam stood ramrod straight, body shifting back to attention every time he stopped moving. Older, he seemed, stronger for certain, with a calculating look that took in everything. His eyes darted now, as he frowned, hiding a fear Crowley had never seen in him, not even at the Airbase three years ago.

But it was still him. Still his godson.

“Adam,” he tried again, softening his voice, holding his hands to the sides. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah,” he bunched his fists. “A demon. Think I don’t know? You might not be dressed for battle, but it’s obvious. Well, back off, or I’ll put you inside the church next time. I can, you know.” His lip trembled. “And I’m – I’m not going to fight again. I don’t – don’t care what you lot do to me, I’m not –”

“No.” Crowley took another step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you, Adam. You should be able to see that. In my mind.”

“Not looking in a demon’s mind,” Adam snapped. “Not after last time. You keep your nasty – everything to yourself.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if planning to run. But it was a long way to the next town, with bugger-all in between. “Why d’you keep calling me that, anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Crowley adjusted his glasses, almost pulling them off. Would it make the kid more comfortable, or less? “Isn’t that your name?”

The sullen shrug was almost something the real Adam would have done, except without the little smile that always followed it. “I guess. No one’s called me that since…” he waved a hand, taking in everything.

“What happened, Adam?” A Tudor house had stood nearby, white plaster and ornate stickwork, with a brick section said to date back a thousand years. All gone now, except a set of brick steps, rising ten feet to open out onto empty air. Crowley sprawled against the side of it. “To England? To you?”

“Armageddon,” he snapped. Well. That was fairly obvious.

“You didn’t stop it?”

“Stop it? I started it!” He clenched his jaw, face twisting in pain. Both hands pressed to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to. The voices…they get so loud. Until I can’t think. Until I don’t want to think.” He looked up again, tears in his eyes. “I know – we both know they’ll make me go back. Just. Let me have until then. Just a few days.” Genuine pleading, the kind that only comes from real fear.

“Go back where? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Go back to your – your stupid war! I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to destroy angels, I don’t want to kill two billion humans, and I don’t want to declare myself God! I just…I want…” He bit his lip, stepping back, as if expecting to be hit.

“What?” Crowley slid down the wall to crouch just above the ground. That all sounded familiar, something from the books of prophecy Aziraphale had never stopped reading. But all that could wait. “What is it you want, Adam?”

The boy leaned against the brick stairs, and arm length away, and slid slowly down until he was in a crouch of his own. “I want…I want to go home. I miss my mum and dad. Your lot made me send them away, at the first battle.” He shrugged. “Not that they cared about me.”

“Ugh,” Crowley cracked his head against the wall. He did not come out here planning to deal with teenaged self-esteem issues. “Adam. Look. We both know the only reason your parents went away is because you compelled them. For Someone’s sake, I’ve met them. There’s no way they don’t care about you.”

Adam frowned in confusion. “How do you know my parents?”

“Ehhhhh…long story.” Crowley smirked. “You could save us both a lot of time, just read it from my head? No?” He shrugged. “Then you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve met your parents. And I can tell you, it’s absolutely disgusting how attached to you they are.”

Adam snorted. “I think you’ve got the wrong parents, mate. Mine didn’t need to be brainwashed to take off back to America without me.”

Crowley stared ahead.

Then he turned to Adam, ripping his glasses off. “Did you say America? Did you – back to America?”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged. “Thought you said you knew.”

Crowley wrestled with a sudden feeling of unease. Somehow, in an Apocalypse-torn wasteland version of the home he’d built, he’d found something that could make it worse. “What’s…tell me your full name. Full human name. What your parents called you.”

“Well, my mum called me Adam,” he said slowly, “but my full name was Warlock Adam Thaddeus Dowling.”

(Note for clarity: This is Adam. In this universe, the switch didn’t go wrong, he was raised by the Dowlings, and I compromised a bit on the name to what I hoped would be least confusing. I also tried to make his personality partway between Adam and Warlock, thanks to those Dowling influences. He’s 14 here.)

#good omens fanfiction #good omens celebration #goc2020 #crowley #adam young #good omens prime #alternate universe #good omens #fanfic #family #post apocalyptic #angst #good omens angst #My writing #What Might Have Been

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retvenkos · 4 years

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9 years

Tuck Everlasting - Miles Tuck x Rose and Thomas and Anna, angst

tuck everlasting month 2020, day 16

A/N: so, first of all, i changed miles' canon age for when rose leaves. also, in the books miles has 2 kids - a boy, and a girl named anna. i, of course, decided to include her because miles with a daughter would have been perfect - exactly what he needed. the emphasis, however, lies in the word would...

Summary: But time has a way of changing things. Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to wonder what the world had planned for her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would work to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

9 years.

Rose had known the Tucks for 9, long years.

She first met them when the family came into town, having just settled nearby, looking for men to help build their would be home. Even then, Angus Tuck was a self-made man. He knew how to build houses (after all, he had made their first home, before it burned down) and was only looking for help on account of his age. He was nearing fifty and wasn’t as spry as he used to be, so he decided he could use the help of another man - someone young, who could follow directions efficiently. Rose’s brother had fit the description perfectly, and a deal was struck: he would help the Tuck’s with building their home, and they would let him use their horse for farm work.

Rose had met Miles Tuck that day and believed they were kindred spirits, of sorts. He was just as bookish and quiet as she, and while he was blunt and occasionally harsh with his words, his heart was well-meaning and made up for his shortcomings. He was 2 years older than her, at the time, and when the Tuck’s departed, her brother teased her relentlessly.

The next morning, she joined her brother in going over to the Tuck’s homestead, helping Mae unpack her things and cook a large dinner for the men on an open fire. They bonded, speaking of literature and culture, technology and faith. Those days were simple and happy, spent bonding with a family she adored and learning about the world they had come from. There was quite a lot of world, beyond Treegap, New Hampshire, and to hear about it was fascinating.

After a long day’s work, the four men would eat as though they hadn’t seen food in years. They would thank Mae and Rose, praising their cooking, and would have a smoke afterward. Jesse would sneak off sometime before the pipes were pulled out, and Miles would drift away from Angus and Roses’ brother, not caring for conversations of hunting or fishing. Rose would sit beside him, quietly, and start up a conversation with Miles, the two smiling and laughing in the firelight.

When the cottage was finished, Rose helped Mae move the last of her valuables indoors and sighed. “I suppose I no longer have an excuse to come and bake with you.”

Mae had smiled, and there was something in her eyes that sparkled as though she knew a secret. “As long as Miles lives here, I’m sure you’ll find a reason or two.”

Rose had stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed by the older woman’s words, and Mae said nothing further on the matter. When she said goodbye to the Tuck’s, Rose couldn’t look Miles in the eye.

As they walked home, her brother looked at her with raised eyebrows. Rose shoved him and told him to shut up.

Miles had called on her a few weeks afterward, asking her if she’d like to take a stroll through town. She had smiled, then, admiring the redness in his cheeks and the sincerity in his tone. They courted for a year, and on a beautiful autumn day, they had gotten married.

They had vowed to love each other. They promised to stand by one another and let nothing come between them. They had sworn to be honest with one another, no matter what.

That had been 7 years ago. Rose was 22 and naive to the ways of the world.

Now, staring at her mother, a six year-old Thomas playing on the ground beneath her, and another baby kicking in her stomach, Rose had seen much more of the vast, unexplainable world. Her mother handed her a cup of tea and she sipped at it politely, trying to wonder how to begin.

Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to not believe her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would conspire against you to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

Rose had thought her mother to be too faithful, then - too reliant on the universe working in her favor. Then she had met the Tucks, and throughout the years, she learned bits of their secret.

“Nothing could make me love him less.”

“Of course, not.” Rose’s mother sat across from her at the table, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes heavy with wisdom. “You are his wife, after all.”

Rose nodded. She had never questioned her vows. She loved him and had no secrets. But something ate at the back of her mind, gnawing at her, asking her if perhaps Miles had broken his.

“But you are a mother and every mother loves her child more than anything else.”

Rose looked at her boy - his dark curls falling into wide eyes, his cheeky smiles and soft hands. “I would do anything to keep Thomas safe.” Her hand went to her stomach, and the baby inside moved. “Anna, too.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

At first, there wasn’t much to question. The Tucks had come from out of town to settle, and no one knew their prior family. They joked that youth ran in the family. Jesse looked as though he hadn’t aged a day from when he met Rose, but that was because he was a boy and excitement held onto adolescence tightly. Mae was no younger than her own mother, and yet her hair maintained the same vibrant red of her younger years. Not a single hair turned silver to match the few she had when they first came to Treegap. Rose only ever seemed to get older with time, but motherhood was exhausting and easily deepended wrinkled and added crows feet to smooth skin. If she ever mentioned it, Miles would kiss her, saying she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and Rose would get lost in his love.

After a while, it was their health that Rose found peculiar. Angus and Mae were well into their fifties, approaching that heavy age where the world pulled them closer to the ground in which they would one day lay, leaving aches and pains in the morning, and tiredness in the evening. However, the couple never seemed to be bothered by time, and in the winter, when aches were at their worst and illness swept through the town like a breeze, the family stayed unaffected by the damp that set into their home or the draft that came under the doors.

What had frightened Rose the most, though were not trivial wrinkles or impeccable health. What had caused her to draw away from the family she had always loved and shook Rose to her core was Jesse’s fall.

When she thought about it later, she remembered how the sunlight seemed to bend around him like a halo, the branches falling with him like wings on his back - like an angel, her mother had said. Or, she said, in a quiet tone, like Icarus. A Greek tragedy - too reckless for this life, too young for his experiences.

Jesse should have died upon hitting the ground; a fall from that high, with his body hitting branches as he fell, his head bloody and his limbs lying at odd angles when he landed on the ground should have killed him. He was Icarus, after all, plummeting towards his grave. When he did not, the Tucks were relieved and Rose was, too. But she also had a mind that told her of mortal wounds - those injuries that people do not survive.

Something was broken that day, and it was not Jesse’s body.

Thomas had been four, then, still a toddler that needed a father to show him the way. Rose was still uncertain, in those days, believing in Miles and those vows she had made more than anything else in the world.

That was 2 years ago. She was 27 and growing fast.

Was she grown, now?

“What do I do?” She looked at her mother for guidance but already knew she did not want to hear her reply.

Amongst the Tucks was a fallen angel. They were no longer in God’s grace.

“You already know what must be done.”

“But I cannot.” Tears were welling into Rose’s eyes and she pushed them back, not allowing them to fall. Thomas had stilled in her games on the floor and stared at his mother, eyes wide and full of wonder. “I can’t leave Miles… I can’t leave my husband.”

“You’re not leaving Miles.” Her mother put her hands on top of Roses’. “You’re leaving The Adversary.”

“No...” Rose fell to the ground and wept. Thomas grabbed her skirts, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. “They’re good people.”

“They’ve been claimed by evil.” Rose shook her head, but her eyes were filled with fear. “You have your children to think of. You must leave.”

“Where will I go?” Rose asked, her voice cracking, her head bowed.

Her mother leaned down to pick Rose off of the ground. Rose was sobbing still, her body shaking with effort, her breathing laboured and broken. Her mother smoothed her hair and let Rose cry on her shoulder. Thomas hugged his mother’s legs and patted her pregnant belly.

“Go to the Lord, Rose, and pray. It’s all you can do.”

…

Rose stared at the empty page beneath her and willed herself to write something down. She had loved Miles for 9, long years. She had been by his side all the while, never once believing him to be something dark and sinister.

When Jesse had fallen, Miles had been right there, calling out his brother’s name, holding the boy’s body to his chest. When Jesse’s eyes opened and he coughed up blood, the deep red dripping down his chin and staining his shirt, Miles had carried him to their home with tears of relief in his eyes. He had borne the burden of almost losing his brother, determined to not let anyone else suffer.

Rose had borne the burden of knowing that he shouldn’t have survived.

To the Tucks, Jesse’s prolonged life was a miracle. But Jesse’s life was heavy on Rose’s conscience - like a curse.

It was only fair, now, that Miles shared in her burden. A letter was the only way he could ever know the reasons for why she would do what she intended. Miles knowing why would explain her actions and the guilt of what she was to do would be his, as well.

She was going to explain herself - like a good, honest woman should. Honesty was one of her vows to him. Miles may have kept secrets and cast her in shadow, but she would shed light on her action and give him the honestly she promised one last time.

Rose was 29, now, and time was stealing away her life, one day at a time.

She could not wait any longer for another explanation to arrive. The rumors in town were insidious. The Tucks were an unnatural family. There was no other way - no other path she could take.

Rose looked at the grandfather clock that she had been given as a wedding gift. In only a few more hours, light would start to fill the house. She had to go, now. There was no time for explanations or apologies.

Rose stood and crept to where they kept their money box. She took what little they had, and prayed that the Lord would provide the rest. She turned, one last time, to look at her husband, pain in her eyes.

He was still 22, the same as they day they met, no changes made to his mortal body. He did not look like the evil he was supposed to be, but evil was a master at deception.

Her baby kicked and Rose held back a sob.

Stealing into Thomas’ room, Rose prayed to the Lord. She prayed for guidance, for strength, for something to make the bile in her throat lessen, something to make her actions feel like less of a betrayal.

Thomas woke at his mother’s touch, and she told him they were leaving. He asked her if papa was coming and a tear slipped down her cheek. She bent down to look him in the eye, and when she spoke, her words were thick with sorrow, but clear and low. “Not now, Thomas. We will see him again, one day, but not now.”

He didn’t understand, but followed where his mother led. Their footfalls were quiet, with the grace of God guiding them outside and into the night.

Rose had a destination in mind - somewhere Miles would never find them, somewhere where she would not see him at every street corner and in the aisles of a store. She thought of her life with him; her mind combed through those 9 years in a moment's hesitation and lingered on her mother’s words, spoken with gravity.

You already know what must be done.

Rose held Thomas’ hand in hers, the other resting on her pregnant stomach. Inside, the baby put her foot to where her mother held her. She knew what must be done for her children - there was nothing that was too difficult, nothing too unthinkable when done in their name. She prayed that one day, when she told Thomas of all that had been done, that he would not hate her for her actions, done in his name.

She did not look back at the farmhouse as she left. She had to leave Miles behind her. Still, she closed her eyes as she traveled into the night, the wind stinging her cheeks, damp with tears, and thought of the man she had met in Treegap, 9 years ago.

“Forgive me.”

#tuck everlasting #tuck everlasting musical #tuck everlasting broadway #tuck everlasting month #tuck month 2020 #miles tuck #thomas tuck #rose tuck #miles tuck x rose tuck #angst #imagine #one shot #fic #milestuckoneshot #thomastuckoneshot #rosetuckoneshot

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aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

HBO Max New Releases: December 2020

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Time and time again during this year’s pandemic, movie studios have had to make the best of a bad situation. HBO Max’s list of new releases for December 2020 comes along with the most extreme example yet.

WarnerMedia undoubtedly had big plans for Wonder Woman 1984 when it scheduled it for a holiday release last year. After moving it to the summer, however, the conglomerate had to delay its theatrical release time and time again. Now HBO Max is the lucky winner of the saga, as it gets to premiere the long-awaited sequel on its servers on Dec. 25.

While Wonder Woman 1984 is definitely the headline this month, there are some other intriguing streaming options for HBO Max in December. The month plays host to a whole host of high-powered documentaries like Heaven’s Gate: The Cult of Cults (Dec. 3), Alabama Snake (Dec. 9), and the Tiger Woods documentary Tiger (Dec. 15).

There isn’t much going on on the TV side of things. His Dark Materials is set to run its season 2 finale on Dec. 28. But at that point, everyone will likely be on their fourth Wonder Woman rewatch.

Here is the full list of everything coming to and leaving HBO Max in December 2020.

HBO Max New Releases – December 2020

December 1

3 Godfathers, 1949

40 Days And 40 Nights, 2002 (HBO)

Absolute Power, 1997

Adam Ruins Everything, Seasons 2-3

The Adventures of Pinocchio, 1996

Amanpour: Sex & Love Around the World, 2018

Amistad, 1997 (HBO)

Annabelle: Creation, 2017 (HBO)

The Bay, 2012 (HBO)

The Beguiled, 2017 (HBO)

Beyond Reasonable Doubt, 2017

The Bishop’s Wife, 1947

The Blind Side, (HBO)

Blow-Up, 1966

The Book Of Henry, 2017 (HBO)

Bright Young Things, 2004 (HBO)

Bundle of Joy, 1956

The Carbonaro Effect, Seasons 2-5

Chasing Life with Sanjay Gupta, 2019

Cinderella Story: If The Shoe Fits, A, 2016

Code 46, 2004 (HBO)

Comedy Knockout, 2016

Contraband, 2012 (HBO)

Crimes of the Century, 2013

The Crow, 1994 (HBO)

The Crow: City Of Angels, 1996 (HBO)

The Crow: Wicked Prayer, 2005 (HBO)

Dead Wives Club, Season 1

Death Row Stories, Seasons 1-4

De Blanco La Patuda (aka White Is For Virgins), 2020 (HBO)

Deep Blue Sea, 1999

Demolition Man, 1993

Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: Dog Days, 2012 (HBO)

Fallen, 1998

Falling Skies, 2011

The Family Man, 2000 (HBO)

Father of the Bride, 1950

Fifty Shades Of Black, 2016 (HBO)

Final Destination, 2000

Final Destination 2, 2003

Final Destination 3, 2006

The Final Destination, 2009

Finding Jesus: Faith, Fact, Forgery, 2015

Freelancers, 2012 (HBO)

Free Willy 2: The Adventure Home, 1995

Free Willy 3: The Rescue, 1997

Free Willy: Escape from Pirate’s Cove, 2010

The Girl With All The Gifts, 2016 (HBO)

Gladiator, 2000

Gun Crazy, 1950

Harry And The Hendersons, 1987 (HBO)

Hell in the Heartland, 2019

Hero, 2004 (HBO)

The History of Comedy, 2017

Holiday Affair, 1949

Hot Fuzz, 2007 (HBO)

How It Really Happened, Seasons 1-4

The Human Stain, 2003 (HBO)

The Hunt with John Walsh, 2014

Inside Evil with Chris Cuomo, 2018

It Happened on Fifth Avenue, 1947

Joe Versus the Volcano, 1990

Juice, 1992

Just My Luck, 2006 (HBO)

Kung Fu Panda 2, 2011

Laff Mobb’s Laff Tracks, 2018

The Last Samurai, 2003

La Unidad, 2020

Logan’s Run, 1976

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, 2001

The Man Who Came to Dinner, 1942

Mars Attacks!, 1996

Meet Me in St. Louis, 1944

Michael Clayton, 2007

Misery, 1990 (HBO)

The Misery Index, 2013

My Dream is Yours, 1949

Nancy Drew, 2007

No Blade of Grass, 1970

Omega Man, The, 1971

On Moonlight Bay, 1951

Outbreak, 1995

Paid Off with Michael Torpey, 2018

Phantom Thread, 2017 (HBO)

Period of Adjustment, 1962

Pope: The Most Powerful Man In History, 2018

Project X, 2012 (Extended Version) (HBO)

Rachel Dratch’s Late Night Snack, 2016

The Redemption Project, 2019

Risky Business, 1983

Robots, 2005 (HBO)

Rock Of Ages, 2012 (Extended Version) (HBO)

Romance on the High Seas, 1948

Room for One More, 1952

Sanctum, 2011 (HBO)

The Sentinel, 2006 (HBO)

Sex and the City, 2008

Sex and the City 2, 2010

Shaun Of The Dead, 2004 (HBO)

The Shawshank Redemption, 1994

Shop Around the Corner, The, 1940

Snakes on a Plane, 2006

Snow White And The Huntsman, 2012 (Unrated Version) (HBO)

Something’s Killing Me, 2017

Southland, Seasons 1-5

Soylent Green, 1973

SPAWN, 1997

Stargirl, Season 1

Striptease, 1996

Susan Slept Here, 1954

Talk Show the Game Show, 2017

Tea for Two, 1950

Those Who Can’t, 2016

Three Godfathers, 1936

THX 1138, 1971

Timeline, 2003 (HBO)

Tom and Jerry: A Nutcracker Tale, 2007

Tom And Jerry: Santa’s Little Helpers, 2014

True Grit, 2010 (HBO)

Unfaithful, 2002 (HBO)

Unmasking a Killer, 2018

Very Scary People, Season 1

The Wedding Date, 2005 (HBO)

Westworld, 1973

What Bitch? (HBO)

Wrath of the Titans, 2012 (HBO)

Wrecked, 2019

Yogi Bear, 2010

Young Man with a Horn, 1949

December 2

Baby God, Documentary Premiere (HBO)

December 3

Full Bloom, Season Finale

Heaven’s Gate: The Cult of Cults, HBO Max Documentary Premiere

Looney Tunes Cartoons, Bugs Bunny’s 24 Carrot Holiday Special Premiere

My Gift: A Christmas Special From Carrie Underwood, HBO Max Special Premiere

Stylish with Jenna Lyons, HBO Max Original Series Premiere

December 4

Beyond the Spotlight, Season 1

Bright Now: Alien Worlds, 2020

Engineering the Future, 2020

La Leyenda Negra (HBO)

Jujutsu Kaisen (Crunchyroll Collection)

December 5

The Photograph, 2020 (HBO)

December 6

Euphoria, “Trouble Don’t Last Always,” Special Episode Premiere (HBO)

Murder on Middle Beach, Docuseries Finale (HBO)

December 7

Axios, Season Finale (HBO)

December 8

40 Years a Prisoner, Documentary Premiere (HBO)

La Jauria (The Pack), Season 1

One Night in Bangkok, 2020

December 9

Alabama Snake, Documentary Premiere (HBO)

The Trial of Christine Keeler

December 10

4 Blocks, Seasons 1-3

Esme & Roy, HBO Max Holiday Special Episode

Haute Dog, HBO Max Holiday Special Episode

Let Them All Talk, HBO Max Original Film Premiere

House of Ho, HBO Max Original Series Premiere

Summer Camp Island, Season 3 Premiere

Veneno, Season Finale

Valley of Tears, Season Finale

December 11

Adult Material

Midnight Family, 2020 (HBO)

One Way Or Another, Season Finale (HBO)

December 12

The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart, Documentary Premiere (HBO)

December 13

Tiger, Docuseries Premiere (HBO)

December 15

Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel (HBO)

December 16

The Art of Political Murder, Documentary Premiere (HBO)

December 17

CNN Heroes, An All-Star Tribute

The Flight Attendant, HBO Max Limited Series Premiere

Homeschool Musical Class of 2020, HBO Max Special Premiere

Love Monster, Season 1-2

Sesame Street: Holiday at Hooper’s

December 18

Diego Torres Sinfonico, Season 1 (HBO)

Hasta Que La Boda Nos Separe (aka The Wedding Unplanner), 2020 (HBO)

December 19

Wendy, 2020 (HBO)

December 20

I Used to Go Here, 2020 (HBO)

December 21

Industry, Season Finale (HBO)

December 23

Squish, Season 1

December 25

The West Wing, Season 1-7

Wonder Woman 1984

December 26

Independence Day (Extended Version), 1996 (HBO)

Road Trip, Season 1

December 28

His Dark Materials, Season 2 Finale (HBO)

December 29

Los Dias De La Ballena (AKA The Days of the Whale) (HBO)

December 31

The Champ, 1979

Conan Without Borders

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Leaving HBO Max – December 2020

December 10

Lights Out, 2016 (HBO)

December 15

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part, 2019 (HBO)

December 26

American Animals, 2018 (HBO)

December 27

Arizona, 2018 (HBO)

December 31

An American in Paris, 1951

Analyze This, 1999

Austin Powers In Goldmember, 2002

Austin Powers: International Man Of Mystery, 1997

Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, 1999

Batman & Robin, 1997

Batman Forever, 1995

Batman v Superman: Ultimate Edition, 2016

Bonnie and Clyde, 1967

Boogie Nights, 1997

Bringing Up Baby, 1938

Clash Of The Titans, 2010

Constantine, 2005

Demolition Man, 1993

Dirty Harry, 1971

Doctor Zhivago, 1965

Empire of the Sun, 1987

Friday the 13th, 2009

Free Willy, 1993

Giant, 1956

Gladiator, 2000

The Hey Arnold! The Movie, 2002

The Hobbit, 1977

Jonah Hex, 2010

La La Land, 2016 (HBO)

Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle Of Life, 2003

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, 2001

The Lego Ninjago Movie, 2014

Lucy In The Sky, 2019 (HBO)

Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, 2012 (HBO)

Monsters vs. Aliens, 2009

Rugrats Go Wild, 2003

The post HBO Max New Releases: December 2020 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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aikatxt · 5 years

Text

in empty fields beneath neon lights

i. wings

my grandmother used to have the walls of her house covered in insect wings, pinned against cork boards and kept safe behind a wall of glass. hundreds of brown moth wings, put up for display. in the sitting room, the prettiest wings were left for guest to peer at; vibrant blues and reds and oranges, stripes and stained glass patterns.

i don’t know what happened to all those insect wings. the house seemed to dim and darken, then crumble after she died. the glass-like dragonfly wings vanished; those were the ones that captivated me most in my early years.

i wonder what it means that i can only think of the dead when i see a dragonfly pass by.

the cemetery where my grandmother is buried is old; like everything else in small towns, it has a history we’ve all forgotten. but i don’t visit for my grandmother most days. no, it’s the weather-worn angel that always catches my attention. i know it stands guard over an empty grave; they never found her body, and after twenty years, it’s clear she will always be a case that cannot be solved.

its wings are chipped and grey, hands clasped and the stone veil over its head gives only the faintest hint of a face.

the name on the headstone it stands over reads:

Myra Victoria Ksapre

July 15, 1981 - 2009

Lost, but never Forgotten

i wonder about her sometimes. leave flowers at my grandmother’s grave, then sit before the memory of myra and quietly tell her about the butterflies that often rest on her angel’s shoulders.

there is something enchanting about watching a butterfly flutter its wings, gently moving them to keep the wind from blowing it over. i think of my grandmother teaching me how to pull apart a butterfly without damaging the wings, of her hands cradling the tiny corpse, of those hands on my shoulder as she instructs me on how to pin it up.

i leave, and the butterflies keep their wings.

ii. neon

they’ve added more lights since i was last here. like everyone else my age, i had longed to leave the slow, tired life a our small town behind. unlike most of them, i managed to find my way out into the world and tried to leave the past behind me.

it’s an old story: running away and becoming someone else. and it always ends the same.

i come back, and my ghosts remain with me.

i haven’t told my mother that i’m back yet. i haven’t spoken to my father in six years. so i leave my suitcase against the wall of this small hotel room and look out over the once familiar streets. it’s near midnight, and the neon green sign for the next door bar illuminates the street and transforms the groups of stumbling, laughing people into something more magical.

a moth flies by, moving sporadically, up and down but forwards nonetheless. i watch it fly towards the neon sign that spells the hotel’s name. it’s too small for me to keep sight of as it moves away from my window, but i can clearly imagine the little moth hitting the light and the heat ending its life quickly and painfully.

a memory returns to me suddenly: a humid summer night, laughing as i chased after fireflies in a grassy field, my grandmother cradling a moth in her hands and my grandfather speaking to someone in hushed tones near their old car.

it’s been a long time since i last thought of them. been a long time since they were buried.

though it’s past midnight, i doubted that i would get any sleep soon, so i head down to the bar across the street in the hopes that a drink would get my mind off of things. the neon lights feel nostalgic in a strange way and i am suddenly struck with the realization that my youth is gone, escaped me years ago and i was too focused on running away to notice.

on a cork board stuck outside the old movie theater that closed down when i was in middle school, i see myra’s face suddenly, half hidden in shadow. the missing sign is weathered and worn, but her smile hasn’t changed.

the only people who can keep their youth are the ones who die young.

iii. roses

the house has fallen apart. faded graffiti decorates the walls both inside and outside. the yard my grandmother once cared for is overgrown and wild.

on the edge of the town, with the nearest neighbor being a mile down the dirt road, it’s clear that this house has been forgotten. no one wants to buy it, so no one wants to fix it up. abandoned, my grandparent’s house is slowly being reclaimed by nature.

the rose bushes my mother helped plant have grown large and unruly. they cling to the chain-link fence that surrounds the house. i have to wrestle with the branches just to open the gate, and thorns cut through my skin as i make my way up the barely visible path to the front door.

the lock on the door has been broken. i’m sure the bolder teenagers must have broken in, telling each other ghost stories and scaring each other as they looked through the aging rooms of the house.

with the early afternoon light coming in through broken and dusty windows, the house is filled with golden light. the floorboards creak under my feet as i walk around, looking at how a place once so familiar has changed. though the frames filled with insect wings and bodies have disappeared, couches and tables have been left behind. the dining table still has the marks made by a seven year old me trying to saw through it with a butter knife.

i wander aimlessly. i don’t try to go upstairs; the wood is old and decayed and though i may not care much for my own health, i still don’t want to fall through the steps.

there’s a door in the hallway i don’t remember. it opens easily, the hinges loud in the silent house, and any light that makes it through the windows disappears here. there’s a staircase that goes down into darkness.

i would have remembered this. why don’t i?

with my phone as a flashlight, i descend.

iv. chalk

it smells like mold and dust, so strong it feels like it coats the inside of my mouth. i put a hand over my mouth and nose and force myself forward.

there are no windows. there’s not much of anything. but against the walls, i find a few frames, glass cracked, holding the dusty remains of insects. the dragonflies are among them. i want to take them back up, pack them beneath the clothes in my suitcase, but my eyes keep going back to the far corner of the basement.

i can’t see anything, but i know something is there.

heart in my throat, i make my way deeper; the walls seem to press down on me, a part of me screams to run away and never come back, but i force myself to put one foot in front of the other. i accidentally kick something, and when i look down, i see green chalk slowly rolling away from me.

distantly i remember my mother talking to my grandmother: ‘i never did find my chalk after that summer. and you never bought me any again. did you ever tell me why?’ my grandmother’s elusive smiles, her apple cakes, her insects. the old photographs in the family albums of my mother as a child, drawing colorful illustrations on the concrete of the garage.

when i look up, the light of my phone illuminates the bones peeking out of old clothes, the type my mother wore when she was younger.

“it was my father you know,” says a girl emerging from the shadows. her features are blurry. “asked your father to hide me down here and never speak a word of it. what do you think of that, sophie? your best friend beneath you and you never noticed.”

this girl mistook me for my mother. a dreadful understanding dawned on me.

“sophie is my mother. she never told me that she knew you.”

“your mother? how long has it been?”

she steps closer. it’s easier to see her now. see that same face, the same eyes as those missing posters, just without the smile.

“very long. we’re a small town. your disappearance turned you into a legend, myra.”

“they did the same thing to johann when i was still alive.” she stops just a few feet away from me. “i need you to do something for me,” she says.

i stare at her, the girl whose empty grave i sat near, whose face haunted my entire life in this town, whose memory was only shared in whispers and tears.

“anything,” i promise.

v. rituals

i wonder if my grandmother knew. she must have; the missing chalk she kept from my mother means she must have seen the body. the questions i asked as a child about myra had been answered with the words found in the news about her disappearance. i wonder if her hands that pulled apart insects were red with the blood of others.

my mother must never know. no one can ever know.

myra’s father and my grandfather are dead. who would take on the consequences of a murder over twenty years old?

i go back to my hotel room. i text my mother and promise to visit her in two days. i shower and get a drink. i go through the slow ritual of getting ready for bed, thoughts a thousand miles away. i dream of myra, young and alive, and wonder why?

these are answers i will never have. this is a secret i will carry to my grave. the sins of my grandfather are the ones i must bear. my grandmother had me well acquainted with death before i ever entered school. i can carry another ghost.

i leave at one in the morning. i let the rose bushes take their share of my blood, then put myra’s bones in a large trash bag. when i leave, i pluck off a rose for her, then another just to rip off the petals. i sneak into the cemetery, where nearly every light is as dead as the people inside. it takes me another hour to dig up her empty grave and lay her bones to rest.

“thank you,” she whispers from behind me. i don’t turn around. i fill in the grave.

when the sun begins to rise, i toss the trash bag and shovel into a dumpster down the street. when i come back, the sunlight falls upon the stone angel like a halo. the dead are at rest. her case will never be solved. i alone will know where she was hidden.

at the feet of the angel is a dead butterfly. i reach out and tear off its wings.

the apple never falls too far from the tree after all.

#short story #nosebleedclub #inkstay #writerscreed #spilled ink #prose #original writing #cw: insects #cw: death #cw: ghosts #cw: murder #idk how to tag this

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waroftheself · 4 years

Text

How To: Love A Monster

i. At first, you are not the monster. you are just a broken girl, looking for love in places that she shouldn't be. but you weren't always the monster. even monsters start out human, dear. you were not born with long claws painted red with the blood of those who have fallen to you

You are just a silly little girl who does not understand the harm you can do to your victims.

ii. Then, you meet her. the poor angel who fell just to talk to you. good lord, she's your opposite. she's soft and small, beautiful and gentle. Funny in a lovely way that always felt so warm and kind, had a wide smile and a tinkling laugh, that almost sounded like bells and you loved her. iii. unfortunately, you destroyed her. you ripped her wings to shreds, you made her cry tears that she never thought she would and you broke her. you tore your angel apart. iv. you still weren't a monster not yet you were just a bit more terrible than you were before more broken, touching you was like squeezing shattered glass, you cut everyone you loved. v. then, you love him oh, you fell fast for him he was beautiful too though, in a different way from your angel no, he was rough and hard, moved fast, smiled like a satisfied wolf. And you, you were soft for him. you were gentle and you let him in easy he barely had to fight you you fell almost immediately vi. you broke him too oh, god, you ripped him to shreds you were the monster then the terrible being that we knew you'd become at the start your boy didn't see it, he didn't heed your warning when you told him that you were notorious for eating hearts and tearing souls to pieces vii. no one will love you anymore poor thing you tried to love and only broke destroyed those who got too close love for you is a war, a constant screaming battle and somehow, you're the losing side you poor broken girl looking for love in people you will always break no one can love a pile of glass,

they end up getting hurt

#poetry #my poetry #spilled ink #words #War of the Self #shut up braye

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thestorytellerofkpop · 5 years

Text

Angelus Custos

Title: Angelus Custos

Word Count: 3.6k+

Rating: T+

Genre: Realistic fantasy, Guardian Angel AU

Warnings: Car crash scene

Pairings: Taehyung (V) x Female Reader

Summary: You were never one to believe in heaven, hell, or even a higher power sometimes. So, when you’re on the brink of death and saved by a beautiful angel, you don’t really know what to believe in anymore. What you do know, is that angels are just as breathtaking and gorgeous as everyone makes them out to be.

You weren’t expecting anything to happen. After all, it was just another Thursday as you drove down the highway, rushing to make it to work on time while you were jamming out to whatever was on the radio. With one hand you grabbed your coffee as your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, urging your old car to just go a little faster so you wouldn’t get an earful from your boss. You didn’t see the truck in front of you, sliding into your lane and going much too slow. With a curse you slammed on your breaks but it wasn’t enough and you hit the back end of the truck, sliding towards the concrete barricade of the highway’s median as your break locking mechanism kicked in from the force in which you slammed on it.

Then everything went black.

You could hear faint noises around you. The rushing of cars on the asphalt. The breeze they caused. But you couldn’t feel anything. There was no pain, no numbness, just nothing. You couldn’t even feel yourself breathe, but you knew you were still here. You were alive and the crash didn’t kill you. After all, how could you be dead when you were actively thinking like this? But then, why couldn’t you feel anything?

Suddenly, behind your closed eyelids, you could see a plethora of colors. Shimmering rainbows and white sparkles that calmed you.

“Open your eyes, dear one.” you heard a baritone voice speak. The voice sounded too perfect, too pristine to your ears.

“Am I dead?” you couldn’t help but ask as you stared at the bright colors behind your eyes. Your voice was gravelly and rough, and you wondered how it got that way so quickly. Surely your screams couldn’t have worn it out that much?

“No, you are not dead.” the voice chuckled and the sound resonated in your heart, urging you to hear more of it, to get closer to it.

”It is not your time to die yet. You are okay and everything is gonna be just fine.” the voice soothed you, and suddenly, you could feel a heavy presence in your hair. Fingers, combing through the locks in gentle strokes. You hummed, leaning into sensation.

“I know you can hear me.” the voice said. “Obey me now, and open your eyes.”

With all your strength, you managed to pry one eye open, and you could see the blurry image of the black pavement and white lines of the highway.

“And the other eye.” the voice giggled, watching you open your other eye slowly.

Suddenly, your vision cleared and your eyes scattered about. You saw your car first, the front end rammed into the stone median and crushed to pieces, broken glass scattered around you. Then you screamed.

You saw your body laying next to you, your leg pinned underneath a tire, unmoving and lifeless.

How did you even fall out of the car…oh right, you weren’t wearing a seatbelt. And you remembered grabbing the car door upon impact, you somehow must’ve fallen out of the car at the right time for the tire to pin your leg to the asphalt.

But, you were right here, thinking and talking and oh, your body wasn’t breathing. And even though you couldn’t feel yourself doing it, the shortness of breath in your heart gave your hyperventilation away.

“Shh, don’t be afraid.” the voice spoke, suddenly above you. Your eyes trained onto the person it belonged to and oh.

Oh.

You didn’t believe him when he said you weren’t dead, because the man standing in front of you had to be the most beautiful creature you have seen in your lifetime. He was practically glowing and sparkling in front of your eyes, every movement he made was accompanied with a shimmer of light. His hands were soft as he lifted you to your feet, and you watched yourself move away from your body. You felt the panic rise in your throat and before you could voice your concerns, the man was holding you close, urging your head to rest against his shoulder.

”It’s only a car. Forget it.” he whispered to you. His words and touch calmed you, but millions of questions raged through your mind and you didn’t know what to say first.

“M-My body.” you started.

“I know, I know,” the man shushed you, a wave of calmness rolling down your shoulders and back, relaxing your body. “But I am right here, and I will not leave you until you are safe.”

“Until I’m safe?” you asked, pushing yourself away from the man’s hold to stare at your immobile form.

“Yes, I had to extract you from your body, just until the ambulance arrives, so you can continue to live on. Like I said, it’s not your time to join us yet. Shh, let me soothe you.”

“Extract me?”

“What you’re experiencing now, is your soul being freed from your body. You can’t feel, only your body can feel, but you can think and continue to live on. Your body was too weak to keep you alive, so until it can do that again, you will be in your soul form with me.” the man explained.

“Who are you?” you asked, turning away from your soulless body to stare at the beautiful man. He smiled at you gently, his long shaggy hair flowing in the wind around you.

“I am Taehyung. And I am your guardian angel.”

A flash of fear passed through you. No. There was no way this could be real, that he, Taehyung, could be real. There was no way that this could be happening to you. There was no way you were meeting an angel, that your soul was living on past death. No, no. It couldn’t be.

“There is no need to fear while I’m watching you. You are not alone. Feel my presence and listen to my words.” Taehyung cooed, moving closer to you.

“Let me take your hand. Allow my soothing waves to rush over and comfort you.” he urged, reaching a hand out to you. Something inside you wanted to listen to him, to let him hold you and comfort you until you were in nirvana. But there was still an underlying fear in your mind. How did you know that this was real? That this was really happening? Maybe you were just hallucinating.

Regardless, Taehyung took your hand into his. His fingers felt warm and a wave of comfort rolled over you, warming your body as your mind suddenly felt high in the clouds. It was too much, and suddenly you felt tears spring into your eyes. You began to cry, and you threw yourself into Taehyung’s arms, searching for a sense of security and hope.

“It’s okay to cry.” his voice blew into your ear in a hush, and Taehyung’s waves of comfort didn’t stop until your tears dried on your cheeks. Taehyung whispered sweet words to you, coaxing you to be calm and relaxed.

“Stay still for me, the ambulance is coming.”

“Just stay still and breathe.”

“All is well and all will be well. Shh, you’re doing so good Y/N. You’re so strong.”

Taehyung held you for the longest time, and when he let you go, the waves you felt from his touch suddenly coming to a stop, you whined. This made him chuckle, and he placed a reassuring kiss on your forehead.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to free your body from this vehicle.”

“But, my leg…”

“I know your leg is pinned, but I’ll take care of that with my angelic superpowers.” he winked.

Suddenly, the car moved just enough to allow Taehyung to grab your body, moving it out into the barren stretch of concrete next you. You followed him, and sat down next to your body with Taehyung.

“So, if you’re an angel, then do you have any wings under that tunic?” you jibed, and this made Taehyung smile.

“Oh no, I have no wings. I don’t need wings.” he looked over at you and suddenly your heart jumped, beating a mile a minute. His eyes seemed to darken as he stared at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. You nodded.

“Good, place all of your trust in me. For I am the one who watches over you, and I know what’s best.” he said, placing his hand on your body’s immobile leg. A white light surrounded you both, and you stared in awe as it engulfed you, then vanished.

“There. Your leg should be fine now.” Taehyung said with a nod. “Now, we wait.”

“Taehyung?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything really going to be okay?” you couldn’t help but ask and Taehyung didn’t miss the twinge of fear in your voice.

“I promise everything is fine. You are going to be just fine.” he reassured you, taking your hand into his again. You felt the calming waves rush over you again, and you relaxed at the feeling of his skin on yours.

“The only thing you need to worry about right now is yourself. Forget about the car and everything else, just focus on me.” he cooed, using his free hand to cup your cheek as he turned you to face him.

His eyes were deep and rich, golden brown like caramelized sugar. You could’ve stared into them for hours, could’ve stared at Taehyung for hours. But a soft sigh passed through his lips, and even though his breath smelled like candy and sweetener, you felt a sad sense of longing overcome you.

“Can you hear the ambulance coming? They’re about to arrive and they’ll take you to the hospital.” Taehyung’s thumb rubbed against your cheek, once, twice, before he let you go, standing from his spot on the ground.

“I must leave you now, and return your soul to your body. For they are here.” you saw Taehyung smile sadly, and before you could say a word you were thrust into darkness again.

Suddenly, everything came to you in a rush. The stabbing pain in your leg, the gravel lodged in your throat, the shortness of breath in your lungs. The feeling of arms grabbing you and placing you on something soft. Your eyes slowly opened, and like Taehyung said, the ambulance was here. Paramedics rolled you into the vehicle, hooking you up to a respirator and trying to get answers from you. Who were you? Does anything hurt? But you didn’t care about that. With bleary eyes you searched for Taehyung, but he was gone. The only people around you were the paramedics and a cop that started to work on the traffic control from the crash.

You closed your eyes. All you wanted to do was sleep. But before you drifted off, you heard him. A soft whisper into your ear that made you sit up in the stretcher in shock, frightening the paramedics as the ambulance doors closed.

“Goodbye, beautiful.”

~*~

You were finally home from the hospital. You laid in your bed, thinking of the events that transpired over the past few days. Healing in the hospital had been daunting, but thinking of Taehyung gave you an anxiety beyond belief. You had kept your encounter to yourself; you didn’t want to be sent to that kind of hospital next, but could you deny your supposed angel from being real any longer?

You shook your head as you got into bed, settling against the sheets and pillows as you tried to shut your mind off. But it was no use, the only thing you could think of was Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung. You were restless, fidgeting around in the blankets of your bed as the image of Taehyung filled your mind: his flowing hair, his golden, gentle eyes, his full lips and they way they moved as his honey voice filled your ears-

You groaned, smashing your face against the pillows repeatedly. It was no use. Taehyung was embedded into your mind and heart, and he wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

“Hey,” a soft and familiar voice rang out around you. No. It wasn’t Taehyung. He wasn’t real. “Are you okay?”

You sighed, shaking your head. You really were going crazy. You were hearing things, that was all. It was all just some crazy dream, and to top it off you were manifesting feelings for someone who wasn’t real. You decided to humor yourself though and check to see if he was there. You removed your face from your pillows and shrieked when you saw Taehyung at the foot of your bed. Okay. Maybe he was real.

“Oh!” Taehyung instantly rushed towards you, sitting on the edge of your bed as you scrambled to put distance between you both.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Taehyung smiled sheepishly as you sat up against your headboard.

“Taehyung, what are you doing here? In my room?” you asked.

“I heard you cry out and I thought you might’ve needed me.” he said softly. He was shimmering in the low lighting, and you wanted nothing more than to feel that shimmering skin against yours again.

“Are you always watching over me?”

“I’m never far off,” he shrugged, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I am bound to you. To protect you from danger and to preserve your peace.”

Taehyung suddenly smirked, throwing his legs onto the bed so he was sitting cross-legged in front of you. He slowly reached out to you, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands. You closed your eyes and sighed at the comforting touch, feeling the waves he emits roll down your body in gentle succession. Taehyung leaned forward slowly, allowing you the chance to stop him, before he pressed his forehead to yours.

Images flashed behind your eyes, and a plethora of visuals and sensations came over you. The sound of running water filled your ears, the smell of fresh apples and burning wood filled your nose, and the feeling of warmth engulfed your body and made your entire being finally come to a completely relaxed state. The entire experience chased the pain and worries away until you were left smiling and leaning into Taehyung, trying to feel more, more, more. But he backed away, smiling at the whine that left your lips.

“That includes chasing away the restlessness.” Taehyung winked.

This couldn’t be real.

“I am though,” Taehyung seemed to have read your mind. “I’m real, and I am here with you, no matter how much you’ll try to deny it. You’re not crazy, I promise.”

“Taehyung…” you tried to speak, but you couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Shh, it’s okay, there’s no pressure to speak. The last time we spoke was in a more difficult circumstance. And you healed so well from the crash, that’s good.” Taehyung gave you a half smile, before he frowned. He took your hands into his, both of his big hands covering one of yours.

“But I know the fear from such an event can linger, so it makes me happy to see you in good health. It’s the reason for my visitation, actually. To see how you are doing. Like…an angelic house call of sorts.”

“Do you make house calls often?” you teased and Taehyung chuckled.

“Normally angels don’t meet their assigned human, but I was sent to check on your recovery.”

“Mine?” you asked, shocked.

“Well, yes, because yours was a very special recovery.” Taehyung blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Special, huh?” you teased, picking up on his embarrassment.

“Heh, yes, very special. To me at least.” Taehyung admitted. “I don’t usually allow the soul to form a corporeal form and talk with me during an accident like that. Normally I’d just whisper into my disciple’s ear until they were safe. We aren’t really supposed to allow you humans to see us.”

“Then why did you allow it with me if you knew you’d get in trouble for it?” you chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t say that I’m worth that risk.”

Taehyung’s hand suddenly squeezed yours tightly, and you felt warmth spread throughout your body.

“I must confess, there is an element of selfishness to my visit.” Taehyung admitted, turning to avoid your gaze. “Forgive me.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” you rushed to reassure him. “Please, tell me why you’re here.”

Taehyung sighed, his eyes lingering on your conjoined hands.

“I’ve been here, on the edge of your life, watching over you, protecting you since your soul was born. Your strengths and weaknesses and failures and triumphs, I see them all,” Taehyung whispered, gauging your reaction. When you nodded at him, he continued.

“I’ve walked with you throughout your whole life. I thought all angels felt love to those they were assigned too but, it wasn’t until the accident that I felt…I longed…to see you again. I can scarcely explain it.” Taehyung’s cheeks were dusted with rose, and you were sure yours matched his perfectly. When you didn’t answer, he removed his hands form yours

“Forgive me again. It’s not my place to share this with you.” Taehyung moved to stand, but you grabbed his hand again. A soft gasp left his lips as his golden eyes melted into your own.

“I…I’ve been thinking about you too Taehyung. A lot. More than is probably normal,” you chuckled, “I’ve been asking to see you again, and I think I can feel the longing feeling you’re having too. That insatiable pull?”

Taehyung smiled and nodded, his teeth on full display as he jumped back into your bed.

“Wait, you have? You’ve been thinking of me too?” he giggled when you nodded. “You’ve been praying to see me again, oh thank the heavens. Did you feel it that day as well? This bond, intertwining feeling? Ah, it’s difficult to put into words.”

“It’s almost like those cheesy soulmate stories.” you joked.

“Soulmates?” Taehyung’s held tilted in confused and you couldn’t help but coo at him for being so cute.

“Y’know, soulmates? Where two people are seemingly connected together as one.” you tried to explain. Taehyung hummed in thought for a moment before speaking again.

“It was like a soul cry, my spirit longing for yours. Beyond the sacred assignment of guardian. I asked the high angel about this, seeking to find an answer, but he told me nothing about this feeling.” Taehyung sighed.

“What do you mean Taehyung?” you asked, pressing him on.

“You see, the day I allowed you to meet me, something changed within me. I returned to my post and my spirit was soaring the cosmos, but my heart felt as if I had left it on earth…with you.” he squeezed your hand and his lips turned up at seeing your shocked expression.

“And so I was sent back, I mean, I asked the high angel to be sent back. To seek an answer for this longing.” he licked his lips “There have been recordings, throughout history, where an angelic and a human soul have been mated. Live together, and become one, upon meeting. But it’s so rare…”

“Taehyung-”

“I come here with no expectation, but to declare my love for you. And to lay my heart at your feet. Even if it means…” he bowed his head, bestowing a kiss on the back on your hand.

“Even if it means what Taehyung?”

“When an angel gives their heart up like this, we become mortal. It’s all I can think of to do, all of what I know to do, to be with you. To offer my immortality, to be your earthly guardian. As long as we both shall live. That is if you want me, of course.” he chuckled nervously, playing with your fingers. You placed your hand on his cheek and relished in the way he nuzzled into your touch.

“Taehyung, I cannot deny these feelings for you. I believe that we are mates, soulmates, whatever you want to call it. You’re the only thing on my mind, and the only one I want.” you whispered into the night. Taehyung let out an airy laugh, and you felt something wet touch your fingertips.

“Can this be? Could such a miracle be mine?” he mumbled as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at you, a watery smile lacing his lips as his eyes shined brighter than all the stars in the sky. Taehyung cupped your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours once more.

“You are, more beautiful than music, my love. My darling, be mine? And let me be yours? We can be the guardians of each other’s hearts, for as long as we draw breath. Please, take my love.” his hot words fanned over your lips and it felt as if your heart was bursting out of your chest.

“How could I say no?”

Taehyung smiled, and pressed his lips down to yours. They were softer than silk, warmer than the sun, and they moved so tenderly against your own you felt as if you could cry from the plethora of emotion you felt for this man, this angel.

“Come to me now, let me hold you properly.” Taehyung pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that made you feel safe and loved. Taehyung sighed in content, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Such an amazing feeling. I haven’t felt like this in many millennia. Can you feel it? Our hearts beating as one.”

You nodded, hiding your face into his shoulder as you relished in his touch.

“Tomorrow morn, I will go to the high angel and give up my heart to you, Y/N. My love, my life. I will become mortal, and I will always protect you, until we both return to the heavens above.”

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lyonofsaintmark · 4 years

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HEAVEN SENT // HELL BENT

Hey, so, being extra I decided to do a two part playlist for SAMAEL. First one is metal flavor, second one is southern gothic. Liner notes and links below the cut. :V

(Art credit for the covers to Cam!)

HEAVEN SENT / (side a)

BISHOP PIERRE CAUCHON: The church opens her arms to you, but if you do not sign, the Church will turn her back to you, and you will stand alone. JOAN OF ARC: Alone? Yes, alone....with God! --The Passion of Joan of Arc

Leo Hawke, the human bound to the divine.

ULTRAnumb (Blue Stahli)

Violated, so degraded The show has just begun Dominated by all you hated This will make you ultranumb

Drag Me to Hell (Lord of the Lost)

The more I reach out for Heaven The more you drag me to Hell

Better the Devil (Tim Skold)

Tear my soul apart Drown me in your sea of darkness I’ll be your lucky star If you promise that you’ll never let me go Better the Devil you know

Losing My Religion (Lacuna Coil)

Oh, life It’s bigger than you And you are not me The lengths that I would go to The distance in your eyes

Devil in My Life (Grace Jones)

Devil in my life, treading on thin ice With your words so wise, always in disguise Devil in my life, I’ve seen it in your lies Slowly mesmerized, as I fall you rise

Operation: Mindcrime (Queensryche)

It just takes a minute And you’ll feel no pain Gotta make something of your life, boy Gimme one more vein You’ve come to see the doctor ‘cause he’ll show you the cure I’m gonna take away your questions, yeah I’m gonna make you sure

Wings of Feather and Wax (Killer be Killed)

I never stopped to notice The fire in your hand A burning so consuming But now I understand And now I’ve fallen like Icarus to land Too late to kill the flames I fanned

Ambassador (Evergrey)

I am light to cast away shadow Spirit, Holy Ghost, and even Jesus God walking Earth Ambassador

Just Like You (Celldweller)

It’s the dark of night and I’m at the end of my line Alone in my head and waiting for something divine To answer me Drowning in silence, the internal violence I pray to make it through

Flight on an Angel’s Wing (Deadsoul Tribe)

Come with me, my friend Come with me and clear your mind So tired of the lies they laid upon you Open your eyes and you’ll see I’m going to take a flight on an angel’s wing Far and away She’ll carry me home

Small Town Boy (Paradise Lost)

Mother will never understand why you had to leave But the answers you seek will never be found at home No, the love that you want will never be found at home Run away, turn away

A Demon’s Fate (Within Temptation)

Angels have faith I don’t want to be a part of his sin I don’t want to get lost in his world I won’t play this game

Gates of Hell (Timeless Miracle)

Far beyond the gates of Hell Tricked the Devil, broke his spell Traveling ‘round the River Styx to freedom

A Grave Mistake (Ice Nine Kills)

But I heard that you reap what you sow So here’s to believing in ghosts And when you see my face you’ll know You can’t save yourself or save your soul When you meet the man whose life you stole On weathered wings and broken bones A fight for the fallen, flies the Crow

Lost and Damned (Kamelot)

Don’t ask why Don’t be sad Sometimes we all must alter paths we’ve planned Only try to understand I want to save you from the lost and damned

House of Eternal Hunt (Avatar)

It’s my time My darkness, my might divine It has been foretold this land Will live and die by my hand Child to the moon and the storm Silent shadow growing I’m reborn

Darkling (Sirenia)

You’ve got to chase your demons on the run Put out their fires, their dark desires The exorcism has begun Slaying all, leaving none

/ HELL BENT (side b)

If there is a hell, it’s what Christians have made of this world, in Christ’s name. -- Ammon Hennacy, The Book of Ammon

Lyon Hawke, the angel who fell to earth.

Angels Look Like Hell (Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band)

The Devil don’t live down in Hell The Devil’s right here, doing very well And it’s hard to tell It’s hard to tell When devils look like angels And angels look like hell

Old Devils (William Elliot Whitmore)

From behind these bars the view don’t change Desperation, death and despair From what I hear of the outside world It ain’t so different out there And they tell me there’s a war without no end The old devils are at it again

In the Branches (The Builders and the Butchers)

They left angels singing in the branch of a burning tree Said it was all a game His daddy went and twisted in the bed that he made And you’ll end up the same He went down, down, down Down where the fire is born

Birds with Broken Wings (Ben Caplan)

I climbed up a mountain just to kill my son An angel tried to stop me with a ram Well, he said “Your mind’s infected” But I said “You lack perspective!” You gotta walk the bottom if you wanna see the top

Sins of My Father (Tom Waits)

Does the light of God blind you Or lead the way home for you I’m gonna take the sins of my father I’m gonna take the sins of my brother I’m gonna take the sins of my mother Down to the pond

Laplace’s Angel (Will Wood and the Tapeworms)

You could break an angel’s fall And ignore the devil’s call Still forsaken shoulders fall silent now It’s no more than cultural You and me, inseparable It’s a small Hell, after all

Boy, Decide! (Murder by Death)

There’s a son He is born with a silver spoon in his mouth Go on, boy, admit There’s gotta be something you love Enough to protect

Caves (Brown Bird)

The corners of the heart are caves That echo with the bloodcurling cries of babes We’ve sheltered in a shadow of a doubt Where faith is abated by design

Dream of Sleep (The Peculiar Pretzelmen)

When I dream I dream of sleep And when I sleep I never dream I’m bending and I’m breaking Under weight of the secrets that I keep

Funeral March (Strawfoot)

Good riddance to you You’re in the clear You watched me dying Never shed no tear I used to be a man ‘til lines were drawn Oh, I’m marching on

Old Pine Box (Those Crooked Bastards)

Brother, I have never not been lost The apples on the tree have turned to rot And all around I feel the Lord’s eyes watching If you think I’m gonna whimper Well, I’m not Throw me in an old pine box And nail that lid on top

Some of Adam’s Blues (Quaker City Nighthawks)

My name was written In the foundation Despite our faithlessness You bring salvation And now I know it’s true

God’s Gonna Cut You Down (Johnny Cash)

You may throw your rock Hide your hand Workin’ in the dark against your fellow man But as sure as God made black and white What is done in the dark will be brought to the light

Strawfoot (Sixteen Horsepower)

I am not alone And looks can be deceiving When you get down to it You’re talking when you should be leaving Why is it you don’t want what he’s giving? It ain’t no sin, son, to be forgiven

Dynamite (Devil Makes Three)

I know that it’s coming I ain’t worried now ‘Cause we got enough here to go around And every single person gonna get them some

Hell’s Coming With Me (Poor Man’s Poison)

I am the righteous hand of God And I am the Devil that you forgot And I told you one day you will see I’ll be back, I guarantee And that Hell’s coming with me

I’m Always Walking as Somebody Else (American Murder Song)

Traveler I am Knock-two-three-four God is in your country The Devil’s at your door

#spot the out of context spoiler time #outoffilm

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

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For You, I Will Give Up My Wings [Whumptober 2019 - Day 17: “Stay With Me”]

Summary: Once upon a time were an angel and a mortal who wished nothing but to stay together despite the forbidden nature of their relationship.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V (mythology/angel AU) Ship: Moonblossom (Serena/Ruri)

Wordcount: 2.271 words

Content Warnings: Light religious theming (blasphemy, sin, angels, albeit not used in a Christian context). Secondary character death.

Notes: Another mythology-esque AU for this prompt, this time with Moonblossom and angels. I may not look like it because my Arc-V OTP is Peregrine, but I'm a sucker for Moonblossom's aesthetic, and I felt dirty writing a fic inspired by "Alluring Secret ~ Black Vow" (and its companion song White Vow) for an F/M ship. Again, this isn't whump and more like a story with some whumpy elements, but at this point who cares. Also, my apologies for the abrupt ending to it, I really wanted to finish it by tonight.

Oh, also: an important character in the show dies in this story. I haven't put the "Major Charcter Death" alert on "This Is Gonna Hurt" for this because they're a minor, nameless character in this, but in case you don't wanna read that... Here's your chance to look away.

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

----------

Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

This was a question as old as time, she realized, as she stared at her own white wings full of feathers. She had heard of fallen angels before, of former comrades that had betrayed their kind’s guidelines to live with a mortal or, in the worst rumours, a demon. They had various names: the black-winged, the banished, the betrayers, the traitors, the fallen, the forgotten. All in all, they all had a common point: they were angels whose identity had been erased by the term, punished for their crimes by getting lost in the sands of times and fading memories.

For a long time, the Angel of the Moon, Selena assumed she was over asking herself that question. She was an exemplary angel amongst her peers, only doing what was right and what was allowed. She used her powers for the greater good and nothing else, defending the right, condemning the wrong, never stepping out of her zone. She had been promoted as an archangel as the result of her hard work, presented as an example for all other angels to follow. Her footsteps had been blessed by the gods, her halo shone brighter than most, a statue had been erected in her name in the place she assured the peace of minds and hearts of, Cordelia.

However, things changed on one fateful day.

The Moon was lighting the territory of Cordelia in its cold, benevolent light. Not a word was to be heard in the peaceful streets of the city, the inhabitants either already asleep or taking care of the last tasks of the day: ends of dinners, children’s bedtime stories, the last words of a letter. The windows shut down one after the other, the walls losing colours, dark blues winning over yellows and whites.

In the dark of the night was Selena, Archangel of the Moon, flying around, ensuring the tranquillity of the city. This was a mere duty to her: she had never had to enforce anything before, merely making sure nobody was stepping out of line. Crime was absent from the streets, even when the sun had set down, because her watchful eyes were always there. She was but a well-meaning agent of peace and order, an agent sent by the gods to ensure serenity in the mortal minds they had given life to thousands and thousands of years before.

However, and despite her best judgement, there were citizens she preferred watching over than others. One of them was a young girl trying to live by with her older brother. Her flower shop was one of the places Selena liked the most watching over during daytime, amazed by her talent at growing flowers and her crystalline voice who sang like the most beautiful of birds. She spent more time there than anywhere else, charmed by her kindness and dark locks of luscious hair falling to her hips.

Unbeknownst to her, one of her feathers once fell on the floor of the shop during the day. The girl picked it up as soon as she noticed it, intrigued by its pure white, and looked up. Unable to flee, back round against a corner of the shop’s roof, the angel’s eyes met hers as her smile melted her surprise away.

I see you, benevolent angel, she said, putting the feather in her hair and against her ear. Thank you for watching over my shop.

Selena was unable to reply, surprised that she could be seen, forbidden to talking to mortals no matter what; so she nodded along, her thoughts swirling around. This was nothing but wrong, she knew it with an undefeatable certainty; yet this felt right, too right, and her wings shivered as she flew away from the shop, leaving another feather behind her. Even in her panic, she wished for the girl to pick it up and wondered if she

However, during a harsh winter that almost froze all of the city’s cultures, the brother of the girl eventually fell sick. Despite his condition and his sister’s pleas for him not to, he continued working to afford them to continue living as they always had. Ruri tried everything in her power to convince him not to, promising she’d go as far as selling the shop or finding a rich husband if it meant he’d rest. Alas, her brother valued her dreams above everything else on this earth and ended up refusing all of her offers, leaving her broken-hearted.

For a time, watching over the shop hurt Selena. As soon as he had collapsed from his illness, the girl spent most of her time at her brother’s side, her hand in his, as she told him stories to less his pain; only to tearfully beg him, in silence and when he’d be asleep, to stay with her. She’d try brewing healing concoctions with her knowledge of plants, to very little effect, until she had spared enough money to pay for a doctor. The verdict was decisive, falling upon the little family like a sword, as the boy was doomed to die soon; and poor Ruri was left even more heartbroken than she had been before.

For the first time, Selena wondered if she shouldn’t have made a deal with a mysterious force for the boy’s life to be spared, as the pain of her citizens pained her to witness. Alas, she was no healing force: her light did nothing to his ill, as the gods had decided for this mortal and no angel could go against the goddesses of life and death. His thread would soon get cut by a steady hand. There would be no benevolence or malevolence in her fingers and scissors as they’d execute their decision, only their mission to make sure the cycle was running properly.

On the day the boy died, the angel was watching over their house, mourning with the girl. His last words were of care and attention, asking her not to cry and not let herself get consumed with grief, for she needed to outlive him now that he’d be gone. He begged her in a voice breaking under its own weight to take care of herself and her dreams, now that he wouldn’t be there for her, promising he’d still keep an eye on her from wherever his soul would go next. Yet, even with his warm words and the smile she was forcing herself to give him, the girl broke down crying as soon as his hand went limp and his heart went cold.

Please, watch over my sister, his soul begged of the angel as soon as it left the body, eyes shining.

I promise, she replied. Now, you can join the skies above and reunite with all those that you have lost, you who spent his life caring for his dearest.

From then on, Cordelia mourned the loss of one of its youngest inhabitants. People gave the grieving sister their condolences, bringing gifts with them, buying her flowers as support. The plants almost died because her tears prevented her from properly caring for them, leaving them to dry and wither away like her brother had in front of her eyes. Would no action be taken, desolation was soon to fall onto the small flower shop, life leaving it day after day, ivy growing and covering the façade.

As such, to honour her promise, Selena spent most of her time in the city taking care of the shop for the girl, feathers meddling with the roots. Her fingers gave their life back to the plants, slowly but surely, petals getting their colours back and the agreeable scent she had always known returned. Things were finally looking better, the light and warmth of the sun coming back: this wasn’t time of dying for the little shop and its owner.

She’d often get spotted by the girl, who’d then tell her some stories or, simply, talk to her about her day. Selena couldn’t answer her questions with words, but she could nod along, and that was more than enough for them. They’d spend a morning, an afternoon, an evening or even an entire day conversing like this. Before long, the mortal girl had earned her smile back, making her promise to her brother a reality. By all means, her mission was a success; but she didn’t leave, continued taking care of a mortal’s plants with her, and loved every second of it.

On one day, the gods told the angel she had been assigned a new task. From then on, her status as an archangel would fully come into play: she’d be supervising other angels and never go back to the mortal’s soil. The news that should have warmed her spirit and gratified her instead made her feel nothing but resentment and hatred: she didn’t want this. She wanted to spend her days with the girl from the flower shop, the mortal that made more sense in her life than so many of the duties she owed to the gods.

She had but a few days to engrave images of Cordelia into her mind before leaving forever. Even if it wasn’t forever, who could promise her that Ruri would still be there by the time she’d come back? Her only wish was to remain with this mortal until the end of her life, nothing else; and yet, she gulped her pleas when faced by the goddess she depended of, for she could not go against the gods. Keeping her feelings concealed, she instead let herself weep in the night streets of Cordelia, finding over and over the words of departure she’d give to her dearest, her soulmate.

Their adieux went horribly wrong. She tried conveying the idea through moves, but it didn’t work, and the girl didn’t understand her. Eventually, the conscientious angel was obligated to explain with the words she had forbidden herself to ever use. Her tongue burned and her throat knotted, the sin puncturing her ribcage. Nevertheless, nothing could have prepared her for Ruri’s reaction to it, full of another wave of grief, anger and confusion all the same. Would have angels had a heart, she’d have broken Selena’s.

Stay with me, she then pleaded with her mortal eyes and her mortal voice, hands tied in a prayer, her legs folding into a kneeling position.

The angel wavered in her certitudes and convictions, a foreign temptation invading her thoughts like poison flowing in its victim’s bloodstream.

I cannot, for I have a duty to serve, Selena replied. I am an angel, you are a mortal; this is not meant to be. I am so deeply sorry for it.

Please, stay with me! Ruri cried, youthful eyes filling with sorrow and misery. I don’t want to see you go, I can’t be without you!

Her halo’s light dimmed with each word she told the mortal, her wings twitching, urging her to stop the blasphemy and go back to her former idealistic self. The dilemma was eating away at her very soul, feathers falling from an anxiety foreign to her kind. That was when this sentence came back to her, the question she used never to wonder about.

Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

Her mind repeated it over and over again, weighing pros and cons, meticulous and obedient spirit leaving place for a burning chest devoured by a very human passion. Her feelings were, for the very first time, sent into a turmoil unknown to her species, the one the gods would go through whenever they were faced by their own faults, and she realized how hypocritical the people commending her had been all along. Would angels have been able to cry, tears would have stained her porcelain face, rotting her luminous skin with the darkness and dirt of the pain she was currently experiencing.

That was, until the girl, whom until then had been nothing but an untouched paragon of pureness, committed the ultimate sin. She ran to an angel, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her with a furious passion, the kind no being could ignore no matter their kind or nature, and the angel found herself giving it back, purposely corrupting her own lips with the saliva of a mortal. On that, her wings turned black as the night, feathers falling and spreading far and wide, the excruciating pain almost locking her into an eternal agony.

To her surprise, and despite the forbidden nature of her acts, her wings didn’t fall; and, right as they turned black, she saw white feathers blossom in the back of the person she had just gladly given her angel righteousness to, her eyes watered for the first time. With a tearful smile, Selena embraced her nature, her feelings and her dearest person.

If the devil was the holder of her happiness, and that of her beloved, then she’d sell her angelic soul to Them; and there was no regret to be had there. There was no shame in being part of the Forgotten if she couldn’t enjoy her immortality with someone else and, as she embraced corruption herself, she gladly let go of her burden.

Would an angel sell their soul to the devil in the name of love?

No, as there was no devil to sell angelhood to; instead, they’d give it to the goddess of love and make someone into an angel to her service. That was the answer that she had not been looking after enough until it had been almost too late.

#arc-v #moonblossomshipping #serena (arc v)#ruri kurosaki #femslash #whumptober2019 #no.17 #stay with me #au: angels #angst #cw character death #cw religious undertones #ship: moonflower fragrance

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soulxism-archive · 4 years

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creatorofclay said:

A delivery person dropped off a very large fruit bouquet. A wide variety of fruits and chocolate in the shape of different flowers with a little flag in the center that read "Happy Birthday, from Elijah and Chloe." It looked almost too pretty to eat. //Angel/demon au from an almost loving father in law uwu

Aiden was at home, waiting for Lust to return when he heard the doorbell. Approaching the door he accepted the bouquet of fruits and he grinned, His eyes bright as he looked at the edibles before walking back into the house and setting the gift on the table to read the gift, his smile only softening.

“This is just a such a beautiful gift, Can I eat all of this myself? I don’t want to ruin it.” He laughed as he carefully plucked one of the chocolate covered fruit and hummed as he took a bite, “I need to thank Elijah and Chole properly after.” he wondered if his beloved would enjoy the chocolate covered treats.

#creatorofclay #✧ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ… [ ᴀsᴋs ]#v. Broken wings and angel tears { Fallen }#e. Birthday special

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bisectionalbisexual · 6 years

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Feathery Wings

This fic is directly inspired by the song of the same title by Aurelio Voltaire, and any words that are in italics are lyrics directly from the song. Please give it a listen! It’s a really beautiful song!

Word count: 5,322 Pairings: Moxiety TW: oh boy here we go… suicide, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts, etc. Blood, swearing, descriptions of Pain, Major character death, burning, overall just a lot of bad and I’m so sorry. (Let me know if I need any more!!! Plz!!!) A/N: I cannot apologize enough for what you are about to read, but THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING, so that’s a good thing. Also, this story is in no way trying to promote any religious agenda or make fun of anyone, I didn’t look anything up, everything is from my own knowledge, and my own made up stuff I just pulled out of thin air. Summary: Virgilius (pronounced with a “V” sound, I know it wasn’t back then but we’re sticking with it) was an angel who had fallen from Heaven for crimes against God. He is now burdened with the task of trying to save “The Lost Ones” over and over and over again until finally, he meets a young man with a spark. A young man that just might make Virgilius’s time on Earth just as divine as Heaven.

Gonna put the “Keep Reading” right here in case someone accidentally reads what they don’t want to.

~~~

It burned so badly.

The feeling of falling from his dimension was unbearable. At least it used to be his dimension. The pain was scorching hot through his wings, tears were streaming down his face and floating up into the dark abyss that was the cosmos. He used to think the stars were beautiful, now they were only dim light. He was approaching Earth, he could feel it, the burning became so searing that it almost felt cold. The fall to the ground caused the ground to shake violently, but he couldn’t feel it. He only felt the numbing pain throughout his entire body, not to mention the aching tightness in his chest. An unfamiliar metallic taste arose in his mouth. Was it blood? It had to have been.

By using what strength he had left he turned his head to see what had become of his elegant pure white wings. The sight he was met with elicited a shrill ear piercing scream. His wings were tainted with black, scorched by flames, and covered in Ash. What made him beautiful was gone, he was cast down by what he loved, and now his pure blood was soiled. He laid there and sobbed for hours, to him it felt like a couple millennia before the rain came down. He figured it would bring relief, but it only brought the stinging pain of a thousand needles piercing through his flesh. He needed cover, he needed safety, he needed warmth. But none came, he tried lifting himself up just to fall limp, he was too weak, and therefore useless to help himself. He was now one of the fallen, an Angel cast down from heaven as punishment for unspeakable deeds. He went by many names through his many years of existence, but those he cared for had called him “Virgilius.”

Virgilius had grown to like his name, it made him unique against other Angel’s whose name’s had meaning of righteousness and Holy Value. But he also feared his name, because it felt as though it meant he didn’t fit in up in heaven, he was unknown, he was a mystery. His name landed him here, on Earth, to suffer amongst the mortals for all eternity. So, The Dark Angel laid there for weeks, he could have remained for years, hopeless in going back home, he could never regain his pure wings once more.

One day, however, he felt a strange pulling at his heart. Something beckoning him to get up, to move, and it felt urgent. He didn’t know why he was forcing himself up for the sake of this unknown force, but he had no choice, and before he knew it he was rising to his feet. It took him a while to gain his footing, but once he was steady he managed to gently outstretched his wings, wincing at the stiffness coursing through his entire being. His strength had returned, and the pain was lessening, so without a second thought, he began trudging his way on foot towards the tugging in his chest. The feeling became stronger as he grew closer to what was calling to him, and the stronger it became the more intense pressure his body was being put under, he felt himself swaying in and out of Earth’s plane of existence and he wasn’t sure if anyone could even really see him, but he didn’t care, he needed to stop whatever was going to happen. He found himself on a bridge above an aggressive body of water. The waves were crashing and slamming into the sharp rocks below as if the height wasn’t deadly enough. Virgilius’s eyes landed on a young boy standing beyond the barrier of the bridge, and if he were to let go of the platform he would surely fall. But maybe he intended it to be that way.

This young boy was 18-year-old Logan Pierce, senior in High School, straight-A student. He had a very bright future, he was going to be a brain surgeon. That thought alone left a sour taste in his mouth, he hated the idea of cutting people open and holding the fate of their lives in his hands. But there was no escaping his fate, his family was putting so much pressure on him to be successful and have a wife and children, but that’s just not him. He wanted to be an astronomer!… He wanted a husband!

But it didn’t matter, what he wanted didn’t matter, it never did. Virgilius felt this young man’s pain deep in his soul, no one understood him. His family had shunned him. He managed to face the puppet master and cut his strings, but now he had nothing. Logan stood there looking down at the water below him, it was almost calming. The sound of the waves almost brought a smile to his face as he breathed in the cool crisp fall air, but then a honking car drove by interrupting his blissful silence. That’s it, he can’t take it anymore, there was no such thing as silence, everything was so loud-!

“You, there on the bridge,” Logan paused, looking around only to see no one, the only sound being the wind, whistling by as it sang to him. “Where have you been? What’s your name?”

There it was, some kind if voice calling out to him but he just couldn’t find the source.

“Hello?” He rasped out, his grip tightening on the concrete platform, “Who’s there?!… I-I’m Logan…” ‘You’re going crazy, Pierce,’ He thought to himself, ‘there’s no one there. You’re all alone…’

It didn’t take Virgilius long to realize that his celestial status prevented the mortals from seeing him, his existence only coming off as an illusion, his words becoming a song in the wind. He tried to get closer, to somehow grab the boy and pull him to safety, but it was too late. With a slip of footing creating a scraping sound on the concrete, the boy had fallen off the bridge.

“No! Wait, please!” Virgilius ran to the edge of the bridge, watching the boy’s silhouette fade away, and the pain in his chest abruptly stopped.

He failed.

He saw that boy’s future flash before his eyes, he would have minored in Astronomy in college, he was going to meet the love of his life in the hospital he would work in, a charismatic grief counselor named Emile Picani… but now Logan Pierce ceased to be.

Tears began to stream down the Angel’s cheeks, and his breath picked up to a frightening pace. He was so unfamiliar with crying, but he seemed to have been doing it a lot lately. Something about this planet was giving him this sensitivity to human emotion that he had never felt before. Why was this happening? Why was he connected to this boy? He felt the dreaded tug in his chest again, but this time he didn’t know where it would lead. He took a deep breath to calm himself as he outstretched his wings feeling his feet lift up off of the ground. At least he was still able to fly, but he could no longer soar as he used to.

He drifted down from the bridge, he needed to find this boy. If the pain came back then he must still be alive, he had read of humans performing miracles all the time.

'He must be here. He had to be here!’ Virgilius quickly saw the dark red liquid polluting the water as the stream carried on undisturbed. He followed the flow of blood to the source to find the broken and battered body, his face pale and cold, and not even a glint of life was left behind in his eyes behind his shattered and bent glasses. Now Virgilius knew the pain in his chest, it was mourning, heartache, loss, however you want to describe it. He knelt down next to the body, praying the soul be sent to heaven regardless of how he died, he wished mercy upon this boy. Voices beginning to accumulate above him broke him away from his thoughts. He looked up to see a crowd forming on the bridge with what he assumed were what the humans used for communication, and he saw flickering lights of red and blue.

The guilt that plagued his being hit him like a strike of lightning, but the crowds of people coming to observe the boy told him that it was his time to leave. He just needed to get out of here. He needed to go home. There was too much pain here, he just couldn’t take it. He stood and ruffled his feathers as he rose to reach the stars. But his efforts bore no fruit when some invisible force kept him from leaving Earth’s atmosphere. His wings were not gone, but they were no longer of heavenly divinity. Like any fallen angel he must earn his wings back, he must redeem himself for his sins, but-

“I failed…” A soft whisper escaped from his lips as he fell back to the Earth’s surface.

That was the tug, what lead him to poor Logan Pierce, he was fated to save that boy’s life, and he failed.

He landed somewhere different this time, rather than the softness of Earth, he felt cold hard asphalt beneath his feet. He tore his eyes away from the sky to see that he landed atop a building. His chest became tight, his heart pounding against his ribcage telling him that something was wrong. 'No… no, not again, please!’ His head whipped around left and right, he was alone on the roof. The pull was coming from below, and he rushed down the stairs to follow it. Whoever this person was, Virgilius needed to save them, this was his second chance. He scoured every floor until he got to the very bottom, and the pain only worsened as he got closer. But as soon as his hand touched the door the stiffness abruptly stopped.

'Oh no. God no.’

He barged through the door to find the body of another young man, hanging from the ceiling by a rope made with scarves tied together. Virgilius’s hand was brought up to cover his mouth, silencing the audible gasp slipping from his lips. He took slow steps further into the room, as he looked around he saw a rejection letter from a popular Performing Arts school, as well as an open laptop with a note typed on the screen.

“Dear Valerie,

If you are ever able to read this… I’m sorry. I just wasn’t strong enough. You were the only one that was there for me, you were the only one who never rejected me. After my parents kicked me out, and what happened to Thomas… I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this pain, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. You’ll move on, I’ll become a faint memory in your amazing mind. You’ll lead a wonderful life.

-Roman.”

As Virgilius read the letter he saw the life of young Roman Murphy, he saw his past, present, and future. This letter was to his childhood friend, Valerie Taylor, she was the one who stuck with him through every part of his life. The good and the bad. She was there when his parents disowned him after he came out about his sexuality, after his older brother Thomas was killed by a drunk driver in an accident, and she would have been there to console him through the rejection of his dream college. Roman Murphy would have lived to become a High School Drama a teacher after a semi-successful career as an actor. He would have been a devoted husband, and an even better father, and after every show, he would have been greeted by his son Remy and “Auntie Valerie” backstage while his husband, who went by “Dee”, waited outside with roses.

Virgilius knelt once more and wept, holding his head in his hands. He wasn’t fated to save these humans, he was fated to suffer as he watched the life drain from their face, to know he couldn’t do it.

He would never be able to save them.

This torture continued for years. The pain in his chest migrated into his entire being the longer his punishment went on, and he always remembered the names and lives of the souls he couldn’t save. In the times he wasn’t too late, he would urge them to stop as he tried to do with his very first, Logan Pierce, only for his voice to get lost in the air.

He wanted them to realize the permanent consequences to what they were doing.

“You, there on the wall, where will you go to once you fall?” He needed them to see that there was help! Just waiting for them. Waiting to be seen. “You, lost at sea, do you need me? Do you need directions?” But they were all lost.

Virgilius felt entirely broken when he came to the home of a Patton Matthews, a 26-year-old college dropout just struggling to get by. Today was a bad day.

Patton had come home to an empty house, empty being that his dog Skip had somehow gotten out and ran off somewhere. This wasn’t the first time, but Patton just aimlessly wandered around the apartment until he stumbled into his bedroom. He felt numb, he hadn’t genuinely smiled in forever, the only thing keeping him here walked out of the door a long long time ago.

Virgilius was desperate to save someone, to just tell them to stop, and he was saying anything to try and get them to snap out of their toxic state of mind, just for a second, just to listen to him. He walked in on Patton loading a revolver and aiming the barrel at his head. This boy’s life came to Virgilius in a flash, just as all the others did. He needed to act fast, but he felt just as hopeless, his voice kept breaking as his sobs slipped through his voice.

“Hey… put down the gun… what were you thinking?!… You were someone’s son!”

Patton tensed, dropping the gun into his lap and he looked down at his hands, “what… What am I doing?!” The numbness subsided, and the heavy reality of what he was doing set in as he began bawling into his hands. He needed to go, he had to find his dog, he needed to call his mom! He needed help. He stood and turned to completely dispose of the gun only to freeze, seeing the mysterious figure standing behind him.

“What the-? W-who the hell are you?!” Patton gripped the gun with shaking hands, pointing it to the stranger in his bedroom.

Virgilius seemed just as shocked as he looked around, then down to himself, “wait, wait, you can see me?” He asked, the tears streaming down his face coming to a halt.

“Of course I can! Why… why wouldn’t I?”

The Angel slowly raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat but Patton’s grip on his gun never softened. Making sure to be gentle, Virgilius outstretched his wings for Patton to see. Patton’s jaw nearly dropped all the way to the floor and his hands fell to his sides,

“you're… you- wha… what are you?!”

“I’m an angel, from heaven, and I’m here to help you.”

This all sounded like complete and utter bullshit to Patton, but he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. There was an angel, right in front of him. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued, and he was curious enough to set down his gun to ask his questions.

Watching Patton put down his weapon made Virgilius nearly hysterical, but the tears welling up in his eyes were now of joy, he finally stopped one, he did it… 'I did it!’

“Uh, hey? What’s wrong?” Patton tilted his head wiping his own eyes with his sleeve, as the Angel dropped to his knees.

“Thank God!!! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Um… okay? You want some water or something?”

Virgilius assured the human that he was alright, he simply had to explain. He told Patton the story of how he began his attempts to save who he began calling “The Lost Ones” in order to earn his wings after he had fallen. Patton was amazed as he heard his tale, but it made him wonder all different things about angels and heaven and hell, to which Virgilius responded with “You were lost, but now I have found you, I finally found you.” He’ll get his answers later.

Once Virgilius had finally calmed down enough to rise back to his feet, he spun around to see his white feathery wings, to feel the wind in his hair once more as he ascended to heaven… but they weren’t there. They were still dark, torn, and burned. He was still broken.

“No… no, no, no, why aren’t they fixed? Why can’t I go back?!”

His breath became frantic as he desperately kept fluttering his wings to see some kind of change but he was left with nothing. Patton watched as the angel nearly descends into madness over his wings, and he couldn’t help but step in.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I-it’s okay,” he took careful steps forward, “it’ll be okay, alright? Just take a deep breath.” ‘Well this just did a 180,’ Patton thought.

“No! It’s not okay! My wings, they’re the same, they didn’t change back… they were supposed to change back!…”

Virgilius had worked himself up so much that he just melted into Patton’s arms once he was close enough. He hugged him tight muttering into his shoulder as Patton hushed him as his mother used to when he would get all worked up. He led Virgilius to the living room and sat him on the couch then got him a glass of water.

“Just keep breathing, okay? You can crash here until you get this whole wing thing figured out.”

He gulped down the water and took a deep breath before speaking, “you… would do that for me?”

“Well, sure,” Patton shrugged, “I mean you did just save my life… I don’t got anything better to do anyway, so… -Hey, I never caught your name.”

“They, um, they call me Virgilius.” He answered, wiping his eyes and relaxing into the soft couch.

“Virgelio-?”

“Virgilius.”

“Vertigo-?”

“Virgilius.”

“…”

“I’mma just call you Virgil,” Patton said with a snap of his fingers.

Virgilius pondered the name choice for a moment before nodding, “that sounds like it would work, and you are Patton.”

“Yup, you got it,” Patton smiled softly, a small smile that “Virgil” happily returned. Patton plopped down next to him with a heavy sigh, needing to just contemplate all that’s just happened. He wanted to die, and that feeling hasn’t really left him yet, but this miraculous creature just appeared to stop him… that had to have meant something, right?

“So, tell me, what is an angel doing down here?… And what would an angel be doing saving a nobody like me?” Virgil pondered his question for a moment, leaving back to stare at the ceiling.

“Well… A long, long time ago, I fell to this place from another dimension. And thrust amongst the beast, and the way they behave, it borders on dementia…” Virgil closed his eyes shaking his head with a wince, “And now after all these years I can barely take it, I don’t think I can make it.” He opened his eyes and stared up as if he wasn’t even speaking to Patton anymore. “Take me away from here, I wanna go home… I’m so sick and tired of, the taste of tears. The sting of pain. The smell of fear. The sounds of crying… I just wish I could have saved them.”

Patton watched as the Angel turn away to collect himself, he thought for a moment in hopes to comfort him, so with a sigh, he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, those are, uh… some pretty wise words. Ever think of writing them down?”

Virgil turned to look at Patton’s attempt at a small smile with confusion, “write down my words?”

“Yeah, totally,” He got up and rummaged through some drawers before pulling out a notebook, “let me show you.”

He came back to the couch and sat down, flipping to an empty page and starting to write down while murming the words to himself. “Okay, what’s next? Just relax and tell me what comes to mind.”

Virgil stayed quiet as he thought, but he couldn’t think of how to put words together now that he was put on the spot. Patton frowned and tapped his chin with his pencil, he perked up with an idea the tossed a pillow over to the opposite end of the couch, “lay down and rest your head a bit, been a long day.” Virgil nodded and laid back, resting his head on Patton’s lap nonchalantly. He froze holding his arms up watching Virgil kick his feet up on the pillow.

'Well then…’ he thought to himself before sitting back with a sigh, ‘I guess it’s not so bad…’ “Anything?”

“Well,” Virgil spoke up, “I just… I wish that I could really speak to these people, I mean, they were at the edge of their lives, but isn’t a life supposed to be fulfilling? Was it all really the way they wanted?”

Patton scribbled down in the notebook for a moment before tilting his head in thought, “in my case? It was because my life wasn’t fulfilling… I would always try to smile at the end of the day, make everyone think I was okay, but I really never was.”

“But you are so young,” Virgil sat up and turned to Patton sitting criss-cross, “sure you don’t have eons, but you have an entire lifetime to grow and change. To make your smile genuine…” His eyes darted downwards as he came to a realization, “to earn your wings.”

Patton felt a faint smile tug at the corner of his lips, “huh, never thought about it that way.”

Virgil hadn’t either, but it seemed to had just occurred to him. He studied Patton, seeing his life just as he did the others, “this… wasn’t your first attempt, was it?”

His face flushed red in embarrassment then he let out a nervous chuckle to hopefully defuse the growing tension, “I- um, yeah… but I wouldn’t really call what I did a suicide attempt, right?” Virgil just stared at him, knowing fully well that purposefully walking in front of cars caused more than an adrenaline rush.

“Okay yeah it was, but things were really complicated. Being 15 was hard, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know, but things were really complicated. My parents split when I was 7, and for over half of my life, I had to watch my father just… slowly kill himself in front of me. He’s alive, mind you… but in jail… so that’s fun.”

Virgil listened carefully, understanding why Patton would be hurting in that time, but he didn’t want to press the issue further. Virgil saw something else, this time Patton’s future, but somehow… it was Virgil’s as well. He saw the two of them living together for quite a while, he saw Patton, Virgil, and a small dog named Skip living happily in a tiny apartment. He seemed content, comfortable… human.

“So, um- listen to what I got: As you stand here at the edge of your life, what do you remember? Was it all you wanted? I’m trying to earn a set of feathery wings. I wish I could protect you here, please don’t cry now. Smile, as you stand here at the edge of your life, your troubles are over, mine are just beginning. I’m trying to earn a set of feathery wings. To take me away from here, it’s me you leave behind.”

“Well, then,” Virgil said putting on a small smile, “sounds like you’re the poet, not me.”

Patton couldn’t help but chuckle weakly before shaking his head and going back to scribbling down in the notebook.

~~~

Virgil and Patton grew very close over the years, and with the chest pains suddenly stopping, Virgil almost forgot about the arduous task of earning back his wings. He almost wanted to stay on this miserable planet, just to be with Patton. He had taught him the ways of humans, and he introduced Virgil to the interesting form of expression that he would learn to love deeply- Poetry. Virgil wrote his thoughts in a notebook that Patton gave him, and at the end of every week Virgil would read his new poems to Patton whenever he got back from school. After dropping out of college, Patton thought he was a complete and total screw-up, but once Virgil came into his life he had an entirely new outlook on the world. He enrolled in a small beauty school and is on his way to becoming a licensed cosmetologist. All the while using Virgil to practice as much as he can.

Whenever Patton was away at school, Virgil was at home taking care of Skip and working on his writing. Virgil spent hours scribbling down what he was feeling with Skip resting in his lap. Through all his time with Patton, he learned what friendship was, he learned the true value of a relationship with somebody. But as Virgil learned more about human feelings, the more he began to feel. The majority of his poems seemed to be all the pain and fear he saw in the human race, but now all he thought about was Patton.

He had a good understanding of friendship, but whatever he was feeling felt like it was more than that. So he did the only thing he knew how to do to express himself, he wrote a poem for his Patton.

‘You were once lost, but as was I. When seeing your pain, it made me cry. But now through all these years, I’ve seen you grow into a man, one you were fated to be. But never in my wildest dreams, would I see you here with me. You gave me a new purpose and cared for me in sickness, I need you as you need me. Together we have no weakness. You are my wings.’

Patton came home with boxes of takeout for dinner, making him have to shoo away Skip who was whining for a taste at the smell. Virgil got up with a smile to greet his friend and eagerly showed him his new poem.

He usually wasn’t worried about Patton’s opinions on his work, because he always loved whatever he wrote, but now Virgil seemed to be nervous.

Patton read the poem carefully, unable to hide his blush as his lips turned up in a smile. When he was finished he immediately hugged Virgil, squeezing around his waist tight. Patton was a hugger, Virgil learned that the hard way, but he was starting to get used to it.

“I love it, Virge,” Patton murmured as Virgil hugged back.

That was another new occurrence over the years, Patton had already come up with the nickname of “Virgil” from his previous name Virgilius, but he started making his shortened name even shorter through other similar variations. “Virge, Vee, Virgie,” and so on, but Virgil preferred to call his friend just Patton, which was fine by him.

Eventually, the hug broke away, and they spent the whole night just talking. Patton told Virgil about his day, and Virgil told Patton about his. Virgil’s were always less eventful, but Patton still listened intently.

And so began their flourishing relationship, it started out slow, but they both got a handle on it. Patton taught Virgil how to hold his hand when walking together, and made the rule that Patton had to always sit on the right of Virgil, since he was left-handed, so his dominant hand would always be free when their fingers would be intertwined. It was the little things like that that made their relationship special, it wasn’t that Virgil was an angel at all. In fact, he became more human every single day, eating regularly, and sticking to a healthy and normal sleep schedule alongside Patton. But Virgil could pretend to be human all he wanted to, but that wouldn’t change the fact that he was an angel. Patton was fated to live a long healthy life with Virgil, but they could never grow old together, Virgil could only watch as Patton grew slower with each day. Patton was now in his early 70s, but Virgil hadn’t aged a day. Their relationship went from Patton taking care of Virgil, to Virgil taking care of him up into his last moments on Earth…

Patton Matthews

January 15th, 1992- May 29th, 2065

Aged 73

You may be gone, but you will never be lost.

It looked as if Virgil was the lost one, standing in front of his love’s grave, gripping a crumpled piece of paper in his hands as he tried to fight back the tears.

“Y-you'll… you’ll never be lost again…”

His voice broke before he immediately broke down in violent sobs, falling to his knees to clutch onto Patton’s gravestone, pulling himself closer to it. He would be lying if he were to say Patton was gone too soon because he lived a long happy life. He became one of those “sassy gay hairdressers” as he would say, who didn’t have to retire due to arthritis. And the light of his life was an angel in the darkness, a being not meant to be on our planet but was there indefinitely, a free-thinking individual who decided to stay and live his life with this one human. Virgil wrapped his black, torn, and burnt wings around the grave as he wept. He hadn’t cried like this in a very long time, and now it’s possibly even harder than when he was first cast down onto this planet. He sat there for hours until his tears ran dry, forcing him to let go, unfolding the piece of paper that was crushed in his grip.

He kept swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to speak, it was the end of the week, and Virgil had to read Patton his new poem. “I’m trying to earn a set of feathery wings, to take me away from here… It’s me you leave-” He stopped closing his eyes tight, fighting down the urge to cry tears that weren’t there. “You’re gone from here. Don’t leave from here… Don’t leave me here! I hate it here! You’re gone from here, don’t leave me here. I need you here… I need to see you smile…”

He dropped the paper to hold his face in his hands, now that his Patton was gone, what was he to do with his eternity here on Earth? The coldness of the rain coming down was interrupted by the feeling of a warm hand on his back.

All of his senses were suddenly in a haze. He wouldn’t dare move his hands leaving his eyes useless, and there was a deafening ringing in his ears and all he could feel was the heat of an unknown light. Then all at once came back to him, he removed his hands to see a sight that was all too familiar. He was home, he was nearly blinded by its heavenly glow. The feeling of joy washed over him as he looked from side to side to his clean, fluffy, and pure white wings making him turn around fluttering and flapping them with a smile. He froze when his eyes landed on the familiar figure in front of him, with their soft cuddly pet cradled in his arms.

“There’s my Angel.”

~~~

OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?! If you read this and actually enjoyed it, thank you so much. I worked really hard on it and I was in a place where I just really had to get out all the dark stuff in my brain. Love ya!

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides angst #patton sanders #winged virgil #sander sides au #moxiety #heed my warnings

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valide-sultana-blog · 6 years

Text

When he had finished, when he had stopped speaking and looked to her in a solemn sort of silence, Leora didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to day that would make the situation weighing on his heart any lighter and she didn't know what to do to genuinely help. "I don't expect you to think much in the way of positivity," He said, his smile impossibly sad and self depreciating. "But I cannot say that I didn't hope for a positive word or two." As he moved to get up, she watched him heave into a standing position and stagger a bit when he nearly lost his balance. Reaching out, her right hand encompassed his left and she held it. Leora held on because she didn't want him to leave just yet, she didn't want him to leave thinking that she hated him for what he had done to himself.

Tracing her gaze along the tattoos, along the contracts bonding he and three other demons together, she looking into his eyes as she gave a gentle tug. Pulling him down and beside her, she turned his hand over in her grip and ran her fingertips along the lines of his palm. "While I'll never truly understand why you did that, I can't judge you for that. I won't." She bit into her cheek, both wanting to tell him but hesitant to do so. Inhaling she let her finger tips trail along his arm and to the bend of his elbow.

"Love seeketh not itself to please," he recited, silently enjoying her attentions and locking them away for the other sides of him to feel. For Vergil to act upon. "Nor for itself hath any care; but for another gives its ease. And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

"Love seeketh only Self to please," she responded, those eyes of hers digging into his very core. Searing him and ravaging him with their molten moonlight. "To bind another to its delight." He cupped her face after he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, he noticed that his hand was shaking. Could she feel it too? "Joys in another's loss of ease, and builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

"And am I selfish? After all that I have showed you--my fool's folly?" His thumb traced along her cheekbone and to her bottom while her light touch was barely felt on his wrist. "Do you think that the love I crave--the love that I want--is selfish?"

"In a way," she hummed, her voice low. "You'll be rendering us both. Tearing something that is barely new asunder, broken and cracked like a fallen angel's wings." Her hand reached out and cupped his face, he leaned into the touch, absorbing as much as he could. "Nothing will change but everything will. You'll no longer remember me and I will go on wondering what could have been." Her eyes closed and when she opened them, she smiled sadly. "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

"Look for me in him, I'll always be there."

"Promise me something, V. Promise yourself that things will change this time and you'll take care of yourself." Her fingers carded through his hair, causing a shudder to rush along his body. "Promise yourself that you will focus on thoughts and actions that build you up instead of thoughts that tear you down and eat you up inside."

He opened his mouth but her hand fell over it.

"Promise me that you will come to help Vergil love himself."

**so what do you guys think?

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dat-town · 6 years

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Destined to fall | scene v.

Characters: Taehyung & You

Setting: fallen angel au, reincarnation au, historical au

Genre: angst

Warnings: character death, lots of violence since it’s set during WWII

Summary: Your love story is a tragedy written with blood throughout the centuries.

Words: 5.4k

Chapter index

SCENE V. RULE THE UNDERWORLD Kobe, 1945

God is dead, Nietzsche said and at that time, it really looked like he was right.

Explosions, screams and chaos everywhere. The world was like burning lava, a boiling cauldron and humans, the fools were stars waiting to be burnt out. There was no evil and innocent anymore, even good people did bad things in order to survive. Everybody was a victim, merely a puppet in the game of leaders, those who fought for power. Because people never learnt from their mistakes. And Taehyung? The Devil himself? He used to be the puppet master before it all buried him under its weight. He didn’t need to do anything anymore. It was enough to whisper the right (wrong) dreams into the right (fallible) people’s ear and all of it all fell like domino. One after another, attack after attack. It would have been a lie to claim he wasn’t a bit sad about what humankind became but God deserved this betrayal. His own beloved children killing each other, how ironic.

Yes, that’s right: this endless war sacrificing too many human lives made even the Devil sad, it made him lose that last ounce of hope he had in humanity. He didn’t feel guilt, only sorrow, melancholy and nostalgia.

But most of all, he missed you, the sound of your laughter, the touch of your hands and all the wonders you gave to the world. He walked around in the streets between scattered ruins, watching the Sun from where it rose the earliest. You would have loved Japan, he thought and wished you were there smiling at him and making him forget about the ruthless war going on out there. On the other hand, he was happy he didn’t found you, not yet, because otherwise that would have meant you had to live during such cruel times… again. You had seen so much blood and survived too many decades of pain, you deserved better, a more peaceful world.

One you couldn't get with him by your side.

“Long time no see, boss,” came the snarky comment and Taehyung grit his teeth as he stepped on a piece of broken brick splattered all over the ground in the darkening port city of Kobe.

“Go away,” he spit out. He didn't need company, he had no patience for one.

But certain people... demons didn't know when to shut up and how to behave like decent beings around their superior. This creature didn't seem to fear death and rotting in Hell in the most painful way.

“Oh are you still moping over that human girl?” he laughed disgust clear in his voice and spit on the ground that humans built and destroyed, the race he and other demons despised so much. Taehyung found it pathetic, that so many of his once so-called brothers didn't fall for a cause, for a reason but because of their own pride and because they thought they were better than humans, more worthy of attention than those rats. They didn't know anything but pain and destruction when it came to Earth beings.

The man in nothing but black, arms tattooed, smirk on his face walked right in front of him, moving in an accelerated motion, the aftermath of a fresh kill, blood still bright red on his hands. Taehyung just glared at him, unfazed and cold.

“How can you be our ruler? You are pathetic,” the demon made another attempt at riling him up even more, testing his boundaries, pushing where it hurt.

“Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Azazel,” Taehyung hissed at him through his teeth. His hands curled into a fist, ready to fight, something he didn't have to do physically for so long because he had others to do it for him and because war and murder didn’t end in blood and death every single time. Killing a soul, living in a lie or in desperation was sometimes even worse.

But now his knuckles wanted to harshly kiss skin, tearing it apart, making it bleed. He wanted to hurt and he wanted to watch the change of insulting eyes turning into a regretful one when the demon realised what kind of mess he made.

But Azazel went along with it, he greeted his rage, he bathed in the anger of his gaze. That was what he wanted all along.

“Or what?” he asked, taking a reckless step forward, too close for the Devil’s liking. Something gold flashed through the demon’s eyes and his mouth curled into a wolfish smirk. “Will you cry on my shoulder?”

Taehyung scoffed wondering if he should make his hellhounds eat this dirt of a demon or simply rip him into pieces and put the parts on display to remind everybody what rebellion meant.

“Leave or I will make you,” he warned Azazel, for one last time because he was being nice for once, throwing chances like this.

“Oh I’m shaking so hard,” the man bit out sarcastically and his followers, that bunch of lower demons hiding in his shadow laughed together with him. Azazel spit at the first fallen in despise. “You are getting old. It’s time for somebody else to rule.”

“You mean yourself?” Taehyung laughed as he eyed him up and down. Stupid bloodthirsty demon, he had no idea what it meant to rule. “And over what will you rule once you kill everybody?”

Fear, pain, greed, they all moved humanity ahead towards bigger goals, so maybe Devil wasn’t good but he wasn’t all that bad either. It’s a paradox, isn’t it? Because if he wasn’t evil then what right did he have to own the Underworld? He built this kingdom and it will die with him if he had to. He would bring everybody down with himself.

Azazel opened his stupid mouth to answer but before he could utter a word, the ground split under them, shaking as the horrid noise filled the air, making the buildings shake and the glass shatter. Taehyung knew it was a bomb before he heard the collision far enough to leave him safe and sound yet close enough to leave destruction in his surroundings, like that trembling building towering over him.

“Rot in Hell,” the demon spit out and he laughed.

“We are already there,” the elder smirked. From his point of view even the prettiest place was like Hell without you and he would have watched the world burn happily if it wasn't for you.

Azazel snapped at that and lunged at him with his full weight throwing the first fallen under the falling bricks and an office building threatening to collapse. Taehyung saw him run away and cursed under his breath as anger bubbled inside of him. How dared he touch him with his filthy hands? How dared he challenge him and then leave like a coward? How-

He heard it first. He heard that sound resembling earthquakes but didn’t pay much attention to it, too focused on that damn demon escaping. Then came the pain, which wasn’t intense at first, the ripping feeling only came in waves. An enormous weight put him down and it was dumb because he had survived worse without a scratch but now? It felt like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. In the back of his mind he recognized the redness on his palm as his own blood but he still tried to get up…

However, his attempts came to be in vain. Then blissful darkness masked the world and everything became numb.

He dreamt of you.

It was too good to be true, he thought, blinking and seeing you through his lashes because his eyelids were too heavy to keep his eyes open for much longer. Yet, he stared quietly, wondering when and why he got the privilege to dream and especially to dream of you. Or was this the afterlife? Did he really die? Was it heaven after all he did?

Because there was no way that you were there smiling at him so sweetly. Or maybe he was hallucinating because he just woke up with a headache, blank mind and bruises all over. Yeah, it must have been it.

“What happened?” he croaked out disorientated and tried his best to sit up in what looked like a hospital bed. The mattress was a bit uncomfortable under his weight and the sheets smelled like antiseptic. Its terribly distinct human smell disgusted him.

As he looked around in a room, he assumed was a war hospital with all the wounded patients and nurses running around. It was all too plain, a sight to forget but then his gaze fixated on you and his breath hitched. You were real in your entire solid and shy demeanour. Not only an illusion, not a mirage. You found him.

You wore a light blue uniform and held your hair up in a messy bun. Despite your mouth curving into a soft smile, you pushed him back onto his pillow with quite a strength when he leaned forward abruptly, risking his wounds to open up and bleed through the bandage.

“Rest,” you told him firmly, not leaving any other options for him to take and he watched you in awe. You just touched. He felt your fingers brushing his shoulder and then your palm against his forehead to check if he had fever. Yet, you acted like a stranger.

You poured water into the glass on his night table, took out a few pills and motioned for him to swallow. He did as you asked because even if he was capable of healing without medicines, he was your patient now… Again after so many years.

Your almond eyes reminded him of Silla. Just like your light touches, fingers careful on his wounds, they all brought back memories of you treating his torn wings. The first of firsts was always a bittersweet memory for him but you didn’t seem bitter at all, mostly just worried as your shining gaze met his.

“There was bombing on the streets,” you finally provided an answer as an explanation but as it all came back to him bits by bits, he knew it wasn’t merely the bombing. It was Azazel who pushed him under the collapsing building. That fucker! He will make sure the demon will pay for this and wish he would have never been born.

“You were buried under sixteen flights of bricks. Nobody knows how you survived,” you added with a smile of somebody who knew secrets. Because you did, you had so many of them. You knew exactly what he was and how he could survive. Yet, you didn't say anything. You just brushed the reckless locks of your hair behind your ears and intertwined your fingers in your lap.

You reminded Taehyung of your first life together so much, he had trouble breathing. It was you, the kind, the selfless, the one to heal him all over again with beautiful eyes in a country of war. He feared so much that the past would repeat itself but you had rather feared for him than yourself.

“Take care of yourself. What would I do if you weren’t there in my next life?” you whispered knuckles brushing against his cheek and looked at him like you loved him. Because you did, oh how much you did! Because in this life you remembered him before he did and you prayed, begged even so you could be together again, just once you asked.

Without me… you would be happy, he thought but he was way too selfish to voice that out.

“I love you,” he said instead, searching for your gaze, the forgiving and your sweet smile was salvation itself.

“I love you too,” you bent down to kiss him and soothe his worries away. He wished it was that easy forgetting about the weight of Earth on his shoulders. Simply being with you was worth it anyway.

A poet once said that demons run when a good man goes to war. Apparently, he was wrong and knew nothing because demons, they were the front line of any war and Taehyung led them. Not personally of course, but he adapted to the idea of Evil. He once hated the hatred, the torture, the brutality and the weakness it represented, however he was wiser now. He knew that the world needed balance, it needed both good and bad… it needed him.

Darkness existed before him and will exist after he will be far gone. The thing he owned but no other fallen had was the knowledge, that he learned how to control and form it like he wanted. Each time Death claimed you he used it as revenge, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. He didn’t care who he hurt as long as he made sure God was watching. It was an eye for eye deal and the Devil always kept his word.

He wasn't proud of what he did but he couldn't find it in himself to regret anything. All his actions, they led him to you. One way or another, he always came back to you. Even bruised and hurt, he held your hand.

“How many?” you asked sitting next to him, watching the city in flames through the broken window. In a world of chaos, there was no place like safe haven.

The hospital was run down the previous week. After that Taehyung encouraged you to leave the country with him. To get on the last ships going south, heading to a hopefully peaceful place but you refused to leave your patients behind. You were too kind, too good for this world. Since then you had been in hiding, crashing in abandoned buildings in the constant fear of bombs falling down.

So your sudden question caught Taehyung off guard. It was so out of blue yet he knew you had your reasons.

“Millions,” he croaked out without shame or hesitation.

The number just increased and increased since he had a big influence in the First World War. What did you wait for? What did you want him to say? To lie? He was the Devil after all. He was feared for a reason.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, curious.

You had never complained about his being before, never asked him to change. Was it because you blamed yourself for making him this way or did you really accept him unconditionally?

“No,” you shook your head as an answer, black halo of hair falling into your face, shadowing the glint in your almond eyes. “You would never hurt me.”

That much was undeniably true. He could never lay a harmful finger on you. Not even if you asked. Still, it didn't make him less of a monster.

“But I have killed a lot. I am no better than the soldiers you despise murdering thousands here,” he protested running a hand through his now faded ash blonde hair. Your gaze followed the motion and you reached out to take his bony fingers and intertwine them with yours.

“What's the point of wars? Power? These soldiers don't even have a choice, they are forced to join the army and to kill innocent people, to destroy. People say it's the Devil's doing but no, it's all us, fallible, selfish humans doing monstrous things, playing gods,” you muttered, head resting on Taehyung's shoulder, enjoying the warmth while you could. “You, on the other hand, you are doing this out of love. A twisted kind, yes, but you are just as stuck in a treadwheel as I am. You lost your wings because of me, because you saved me! How is that fair? You were made to rule over the realm of chaos God throw away and didn't want to deal with. You made home in it and learned how to survive. I'm not saying you had no choice, that you are innocent and I would not absolve you of your sins but you had your reasons.”

Your whispers were elixirs for his hurting wounds and filled his aching heart with even more love. For such a pretty young face, you sounded so wise and you were, you have seen so much loss and so many battles in all your life. You both were old souls in young bodies.

You lifted your head turning towards him, nose bumping into his on the way and from this close, you could see the adorable moles and light freckles on his flawless, handsome face.

“To them, you might be a monster but I know you have a gentle soul and that's what I fall in love with each time,” you exhaled your confession right into his mouth, his breath fanning over your chapped lips and you could have been swallowed up by his black hole-like orbs.

“Have you ever regretted it?” he asked, scared and desperate. However, he had no reason to be afraid. If it was up to you, he would have never lost you.

“No,” you replied right away. If it's for him, you would have never regretted anything. “And you?”

His head signalled no fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, squeezing your hand gently.

“You're the gravity and I fell for you. I wouldn't change a thing,” he whispered and leaned forward to prove his feelings with a chaste press of lips, chasing after your sweet kiss in such dark and bitter times.

The Eastern bloc started to fall apart one by one, defeated by the enemy with more developed technology. Rumours among civils whispered about nuclear weapons and total annihilation but Japan, the country that had never lost a war before refused to give up. What a way to go! Sentenced to death by their own pride.

“We should have fled when you told me to. Sorry,” you apologized for your stubbornness after days spent in an underground bunker waiting for it to be over. No war lasts forever, that much you both knew.

“It’s okay. We are together,” Taehyung smiled at you, rubbing your dirty cheeks with his thumb and pressed a quick kiss onto your temple oh so lovingly. “I’ll go out for food.”

“I’ll go with you,” you got up from the crappy mattress immediately. You didn’t want to stay behind without him, not knowing what happens to him. Of course, you knew it was almost impossible to kill him but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Y/N...” he said softly, rejection clear in his voice as he looked at you with those melancholic, sad eyes but you didn’t let him finish.

“No. We’ve talked about this, remember? You can’t control my decisions, they are my own to make,” you reminded him and sighed exasperatedly when you looked around in the tiny bunker in which the two of you made home recently. No sunlight, no wind in your hair, barely enough water to drink. You remembered fear, poverty and torture from your earlier lives but this had been the worst. Not knowing whether it was day or night, how much time passed. If it wasn’t for Taehyung you might have given up already. “I feel like going crazy if I stay inside for any longer.”

“Okay,” he grunted and you could tell how much willpower it took him to accept your will.

“If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault,” you promised and sealed it with a kiss. Taehyung practically melted into you, cupping your face and reciprocating the kiss deeply. In these moments, when you closed your eyes and with his arms around you, you could almost forget about the world. You pressed even closer, hands running up on his smooth back under the thick layers of clothing. You only pulled back when Taehyung let out a hiss and stepped back.

“What?” you furrowed your brows but the fallen avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go,” he grabbed your hand lightly leading you to the super safe steel door of your little shelter. You didn’t question further since you thought you would still have time for that when you arrive back after the food hunt. Without a word, you nuzzled close to him and with masks covering half your face, you rose to the surface.

Kobe was in ruins, it was even more destroyed than in your memory. Barely any building left untouched, the streets were full of litter and dead, the road was painted with dried blood and you felt nausea bubbling up from your upset stomach despite not eating properly in the last days. Or was it weeks, who knows?

It took quite a walk to find an old convenience store that wasn’t emptied to stretch and only the sounds of faint rattle of firearms stopped you from stuff your mouth with all the expired food. You could wait until you got home, you reasoned and put everything in your bag.

“You done?” Taehyung helped you up. You nodded almost as eager to go back to your place as you were to get out. But just as you were about to cross the threshold, a cold voice sent chills down your spine.

“Hey Lucifer, I told you we would meet again.”

“And I told you I would kill you when that happens,” Taehyung retorted in an alarmed voice, hiding you behind his back as he was looking left and right, desperately searching for the owner of the voice.

“Charming,” Azazel chuckled as if it was all a big joke for him. Then his voice dropped low and full of intent. “So is she her? The girl who made Satan weak and fall onto his knees?”

“Leave her alone!” your angel snapped and you curled your hands into his coat, with your heart in your throat.

But nothing could prevent you from falling over and screaming in agony as a dirty set of sharp teeth sank into the flesh of your shin and dragged you backwards, to the legs of a man dressed in all black, eyes red and evil.

“Y/N!” Taehyung reached towards you as soon as he heard the sounds just to face a hellhound holding you as its captive. Blood was flooding from your wound as tears rolled down your face.

“Ah-ah… remember Pudding? The guard of your precious Underworld’s gate?” Azazel patted the dog-like creature’s head. “While you were too busy protecting your girl, me and ma boys took over. Now he listens to me well. Good dog. If I wanted, he would tear your precious princess into bloody pieces.”

“Let her go,” Taehyung ordered when the demon dared to touch you, brush your hair out of the way and point a knife right to your throat.

“Maybe I will... If you beg for it,” the man clicked his tongue impatiently and yanked at your hair until the metal blade drew your blood. You hissed as the warm liquid wept down your neck. ”Come on, do it! Or you think I’m just joking, that these are empty threats? I will cut her pretty throat if you...”

“Okay, wait. I will do it. Just please… please don’t hurt her,” and the fallen, the proud one held up his hands in defeat. Your tears were no longer out of pain but from sadness.

With a satisfied smile, Azazel waved off his wicked pet.

“Pudding, go home,” he ordered and the hellhound disappeared into thin air, releasing your hurting leg, burning deep in the wound. Yet, the demon’s grip on you didn’t get loose, the knife was still there threatening to cut you open. He sounded even more arrogant than ever. “Go on. Kneel and hand me the keys of Hell.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the horror in Taehyung’s eyes at the mention of the keys. Your lips were trembling as you tried to shake your head as careful as you could to tell him not to do it. You knew if Taehyung gave up on the last thing the demon wanted from him after his dignity, he would kill both of you anyway. But how could he not try to save you? He loved you more than his own kingdom.

“On three, we will exchange,” he opened up his palms where a golden key ring appeared out of nowhere. Azazel nodded as he hungrily eyed the item. “One, two...”

“Three!” the demons cut him to it as he shoved you forward and stole the keys from Taehyung’s hand who was busy catching you. The deadweight was the first he realized and he only saw the deep cut wound later on your throat, artery damaged. His expression resembled pure shock and eternal grief when he looked up.

Azazel just laughed, swinging the dagger in his right like it was a plaything. Crimson drops of your blood rained down as the keys clinked in his other hand.

“Oops my hand must have slipped,” he mocked.

“No,” Taehyung roared rocking your lifeless body back and forth, staring at your mouth that hung open, the blood still smearing from the deadly wound and your eyes staring up to the sky, empty and helpless. “NOOO!”

You said it wouldn’t have been his fault but it was. He wasn’t fast enough, this time he was right there but still couldn’t save you. He was the one who angered Azazel, not you. Yet the filthy demon killed you to get back at him. You are his weakest spot and everybody who wants to hurt him, hurts you.

It was Silla all over again.

“You are a dead man, Azazel,” Taehyung growled in an inhuman voice, standing up slowly, crying black tears.

“You can’t kill me. You just proved how weak you are,” the demon scoffed playing with the keys as if he ruled over this place but the first fallen knew better.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst,” he said and with the power he had in himself, the anger, the grief, the madness, he curled his hands into fists imagining Azazel’s insides breaking and rotting in his grip. He was panting hard as he tried his best to keep his focus on the body’s most vulnerable points, the part that could hurt the most.

The demon standing in front of him choked on air, dropped down onto his knees as blood flooded out of his mouth, nostrils, ears and even his eyes. The sight of horror in his eyes satisfied the sadistic side of Taehyung as he grabbed him by the neck and forced the dagger out of his hand.

“I warned you,” he gritted through his teeth as his goodbye and dabbed the knife into Azazel’s weak body dozens of time until he lost counting, until his anger died down.

Numbly, he walked back to crouch down next to you hugging you close to him and swaying there while his body shook with loud cries.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it.

He buried you in a field of roses, a place you would have loved and prayed for your soul, for you to come back to him in your next life, so he can say sorry and make you happier. When he broke into a rundown hotel to wash down the blood, yours and the demon’s too, he didn’t care about getting caught anymore. With Hell’s keys close to his still heart, he was ready to kill anybody who bothered him. However, when he heard footsteps, they didn’t belong to humans.

“You killed him,” Seokjin stated astonished like he didn’t believe his eyes, staring at the blood on Taehyung’s hands.

“Yeah and I would do it again,” the fallen shrugged cleaning his hands under the flowing water of the tap and looked up at his sudden visitor through the dirty motel mirror. “It’s not a big deal. I have killed our kind and did worse before.”

But it was, that’s why Seokjin came, because the horror on his face implied that things were changing. And Taehyung had a hunch about it for a while, he felt the change in his own body.

“But it’s different now. You… when you kill them or make them kill each other, they go to the Purgatory if not straight to Hell. However Azazel… you deleted him from history. You killed his immortal soul. That’s something only Father can do.”

“Well. In that case, I did him a favour by getting rid of that worm.”

“You really don’t take it seriously enough,” the angel sighed.

“What do you want me to say? That I shouldn’t have done that?” Taehyung snorted bitterly because it had been long since he cared about should have and must have options.

“You know how fallen ones become demons? You know what happens to their souls? Every time they kill an innocent human, they lose a part of it until there’s nothing left. Azazel was long gone when I killed him,” he reasoned and Jin hummed acknowledging the possibility of this fact.

“And what about your soul then?”

“I… I think it’s connected to hers,” he mumbled a bit uncertain even though every evidence proved it. Despite all the monstrous things he did he still had humanity in him, the ability to feel sorry and love. People often blamed Devil for all tragedies but they tend to forget he wasn’t the driving force of evilness. He wasn't a fallen hero of light, he threw that name away from him. He was a soldier, a general in each war dark and light fought, he was always on the opposite side of God’s army of angels and believers. Seokjin should have considered him an enemy, a threat, he should have killed him on spot whenever they met because he was a menace that didn’t deserve all these chances he got. But he didn’t, he had no order to do so which meant that all his efforts, all the murders were for nothing because the Almighty still had plans for him.

“So what happens to you when you kill?” the archangel asked him but didn’t even question the bond between his and your soul. Maybe you were just ill-fated, star crossed lovers always finding each other at the wrong time in the wrong place. Maybe you never stood a chance because your right time hadn’t come yet.

Taehyung didn’t answer, not in words at least, just turned around pulling the shirt over his head to reveal his scarred back.

“You are growing wings again,” Seokjin whispered in shock and awe but not in disgust, gaping at the fallen’s back and the black bones sticking out of the flawless skin. They were as ugly as his crimes, dark like the sins he committed and painful like he deserved to suffer according to the books of justice.

“Yeah and they hurt like hell, as if thorns were spouting out of my back, tearing the skin,” Taehyung grimaced flapping the wings out of experiment and one of the black feathers fell to the ground as a proof of the dying texture. “I know why I get this but Y/N... She can’t die but cannot live either. It’s ruthless. If it was me I wouldn’t care but…”

“That’s why it’s called a punishment,” Seokjin nods understanding, almost sympathetic which is funny, isn’t it? Feeling sorry for the Devil is a rare occurrence.

“But why does he have to punish her too? Why not just me?”

If God really was fair, then how he would have explained this? Most of your lives you were a pure soul and an obedient daughter. Your only sin was loving him unconditionally.

Seokjin shook his head with a bitter smile, blonde mop of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Remember? She took you away. One of his favourites. One of those he trusted the most,” he said and Taehyung scoffed loudly.

“Is he jealous?”

Seokjin’s answer came as a lecture of an elder, simple and forgiving for the foolishness of youth.

“No. He just doesn’t like to be wrong.”

But oh how wrong he was if he thought Taehyung would let him get away with playing him like this. He was his best pupil and now it was time for the student to outdo the master. But for now, it was time, to wipe this place off Earth, he thought looking out of the window staring at the remains of Kobe, this hell of town.

And just as cherry blossoms bloomed, incendiary bombs painted the dark sky bright orange like falling stars and millions of fireflies were born from the flames around them as the city burned.

Next chapter

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