#fallen angel au

[namelessbutters-doodles]

The Fallen Angel.

Characters: Paul Stanley, Ace Frehely, Mystery character.

Pairing: Spacechild.

Setting: ????

Au: Fallen Angel.

Summary: ‘’Now….’’

‘’Fall.’’

Those were the last and haunting words Paul was told and heard once he fell through the white clouds into the deepest depths of the darkness he feared as he screamed all the down. Flailing like a dove who didn’t know how to fly yet due to being so young but in this case his wings were being burned and clipped as he was falling.

Burning deep into his soft plush skin, blood were pouring from the wounds that were being made each second he cried out. His frightening screams and cries filled the skies with horrifying sounds that people looked around to see the source, the earth shook as….

__________

⚠️Warnings: i'm in a good mood I swear, Blood and injury, mentions of shit(it's not what your thinking it's not that), horror, symbolism, Fallen angels, religious themes, Au, oneshots, Angst, Hurt/comfort, implied torture/sex, Heaven, Ask to tag.

Comments and Reblogs, are Deeply appreciated!

Also on A03

‘’You are banished from this very heaven’s you’ve stand on, no longer you’ll be an angel once you’ve fallen or call yourself a saint after what you have committed down on that sinful land that those people called earth. You’ll no longer bare the wings of angelic nor the halo that hangs above that foolish head of yours, or call this place…home. The very place you were born into, call the people you’ve known as friends or family here now known as just acquaintances due to you betraying your them, your own kind.’’

‘’You disgust me, them, all of us.’

‘’Heaven is ashamed of you.’’

‘’As of today, you are no longer welcome here…Stanley.’’ 

‘’Now….’’

‘’Fall.’’

Those were the last and haunting words Paul was told and heard once he fell through the white clouds into the deepest depths of the darkness he feared as he screamed all the down. Flailing like a dove who didn’t know how to fly yet due to being so young but in this case his wings were being burned and clipped as he was falling.

Burning deep into his soft plush skin, blood were pouring out from the wounds that were being made each second he cried out. His frightening screams and cries filled the skies with horrifying sounds that people looked around to see the source, the earth shook as the screams intensified as the falling did, his tears flew off as he screamed. His clothes were turned into nothing but scraps, his wings were becoming black as the night yet there were red as blood spurted out more from the wounds.

Some People watched from the distance, seeing the holy light from the open skies the people always pray to. Watching the skies bare it’s light on a figure as they watch the whole thing in silence or in awe. Amazed or scared from what they are seeing in this moment in time, not moving at all due to the unknown. They all just watched as they heard the violent screams of an angel who was falling from heaven.

They Just watched.

As rain started from the skies, pelting the ground with droplets of water. Animals ran to take cover as did the humans, going into there huts or caves for which they’ve callen home all these years to them, ignoring the anguished screams that was still roaring through the skies or the ground shaking from the angel’s suffering, the feather wings that were burned off were now on the ground as kids were collecting before heading inside. 

‘’Mama, Mama! Look what i got!’’

The child said, jumping around with a feather in hand. Smiling with glee, calling for his mother to tell her what he had collected.

‘’What is it, sweetie?’’ The mother asked, smiling. Turning around, picking her child up carefully as she looked at him happily. 

‘’What have you found now, My Son?’’

She asked, Quizzically. 

Her son smiled. Giggling, his face glowing as he showed his mother what he had gotten from the outside.

‘’This!’’

‘’A feather?’’

‘’Not just any feather, an angel feather!!!’’ He exclaimed, cheerfully.

‘’An Angel feather? Where did you get that?’’

‘’It was on the ground, outside was being strange.’’

‘’Strange, how honey?’’ The mother questioned, a bit curious.

‘’Well…the ground was shaking, noises were getting um…BEW!!’’ 

‘’Loud?’’

‘’Mhm.’’ The Boy nodded, but not before saying….

‘’Loud and there was a light from a sky.’’

‘’A light? What kind of light?’’

‘’A bright one, the sky was opened.’’

‘’The sky was…opened?’’

‘’Yup!’’

The mother’s face twisted with concern, the child played with the feather. Running his little hands over the white and black parts as he stared at it with awe and admiration. Mother carried him to the window, not a care in the world in the boy’s face at as the mother looked out.

And to her shock, the water became blood as the skies closed on it’s. She leaned her ear against the window for a second, hearing….

‘’PLEASE, HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!’’

“”MAKE IT STOP!!!’’

‘’MAKE IT STOP!!!’’

‘’MAKE IT STOP!!!

‘’KILL M-!’’

The mother took her ear away from the window, her eyes trembled as those words echoed through her head. Lips trembling, holding her son close to her as she could, She gulped…

Knowing exactly who it was.

That voice.

That voice that was always sweet and known when they’ve talked or sang, that voice when her husband had him over for some festivities, that voice that talked to her child with kindness like no other.

That voice….

Was…

Him.

‘’Mommy?’’ The child quietly said, touching her brown locks. Trying to get her attention as she stood in fear and realization as the outside roared with thunder, muffling those anguish cries and the shaking of the earth. ‘’Mommy?’’

‘’Mama?’’

He said, snapping his mom back to reality as her breath became more shaky and shuttery as the blinds that prevented light from coming into the house and concealed the the reddish droplets that pelted from the sky. She turned to him, tightening her hold on him. Rubbing her hand through his hair. Petting him softly, as she tried to keep calm.

‘’Yes, sweetheart?’’

She breathed, looking into his eyes. Those sweet eyes of his, that reminded her of her…

Husband.

‘’Are you okay, mama?’’

She stared, then look back out. 

Rain was getting more heavier, the ground became reddier each second as the lightning grew louder than life, almost hitting the ground in different sections of the village. Almost hitting a farm, the homes where the people lived and almost starting a fire.

More animals ran as they heard, making frightening noises but not as frightening as the angel did just noises you heard from animals when they seek shelter. The wind got intense as the door almost flew open but luckily they were block thanks to locks and bolts and sometimes boulders.

Boulders that were big as day, like the one beside the house.

Waves clashed against each other as it was war, the sky turned blacker and the mother turned white.

Thinking about her answer, leaning her ear against the window she heard…

“ACE!!!’’

The words echoed, pulling from the window. She turned once more to her child, looked him dead in the eyes and…

‘’Where’s your father?’’

Thunder crackled.

Ace ran as fast as he could through the forest, breathing heavily. Almost tripping on rocks, fallen branches, anything in his wake as he ran like hell. Getting coated in red from the rain, his outfit was ruined, his hair, everything except his eyes as they were trembling with fear. Hoping what he saw wasn’t real as he ran to the light that was becoming dimmer each second the sky was closing.

Ignoring the signs, the tree’s falling. Almost killing him but he prevailed as his boots were being ripped apart and filled with mud each time he stepped or slid on something that made him fall. Busting his nose, that was bleeding. 

Dripping down his face, into his mouth. Swallowing as much as he could, trying to make it. His heart raced with fire as he heaved. Heart palpitations skyrocketing as he didn’t stop to rest or breath for a sec.

His mind was cluttered with one thing and one thing only as his locks of silver flown with the wind as He….

‘’SHIT!!’’

Jumped over a cliff, as time slowed. Tree’s were struck, falling as ace right now. Holding his breath, his heart stopped, lightening roared, the waves clashed as ships were getting harder and harder to steer as Ace was bombarded with thoughts of loved ones. Memories he dearly held to his heart as….

Badum.

Badum.

Badum.

Sweat drips.

He gulps.

Eyes forward.

Mouth open.

A Word.

‘’Please, god. Let me get to him. Please.’’

‘’Let me see Paulie.’’

‘’Let me see My angel, you’ve thrown away because of….’’

‘’Me.’’ 

Badum. 

Ba-.

!!!CRASH!!!!

He makes it.

Barely, but he makes it.

Immediately running again as the skies began to clear as they were closed, the red became water again. Clear as glass, winds dying down like the wilts of a dying rose as the sun comes out from within the clouds as Ace grunts.

Legs hurting so much from running, he wants to stop but can’t due to wanting to find his angel who had fallen from heavens above and hoping he’s not dead from a mighty fall that would or not kill him. Maybe even paralyze but he digress, as blisters began to form on the soles of his feets as his boots tore from the speed he was going as it was race.

Race against what?

Time. 

How much longer will it be for him to get there and see his angel alive or dead? How long it’ll be if he keeps running like this and does not die from the lack of air in his lungs? Or his body is overproducing so much sweat he looks like he can melt away in a flash? How long can he live for what he did to make his angel fall and be no longer the heavenly being he once knew?

Those sweet doe eyes, the black locks of hair he loved stroking along with those gorgeous white wings that were soft as a pillow or bed, that body that was always a delight to look at when those intoxicating moments would arrive when their feelings grew stronger for another like their different souls. That voice of his that would bring him down to earth when things get tough or the way it would echoed throughout his head when….

The angel moaned out his name.

In ways he never imagined, anyone else would despite their differences with each other yet….

It worked and he still wanted to work, no matter what anyone else thought.

No matter what they say.

God say.

Anyone say.

Nobody has a say for what they’ve both done and will do once they’re together again if….

The angel’s still alive, that is.

‘’Paulie…please be okay.’’

Hours past, a light shone on the fallen branches in the middle of the forest as things became calmer and lighter for the ones in the village and forest but things weren’t calmer or lighter at all for one individual of them all.

The crying hasn’t stopped, the bleeding hasn’t stopped gushing out from the back of the angel who’s lying in the middle of the forest, covered in dirt and soaked with blood as the final parts of his wings were burned off.

Releasing a harrowing scream from his hoarse throat, laying there naked in pain, filth and whatever that made him look….

Like a filthy sin he was, as he heaved.

Tears stopped running, burying his face in the dirt to hide from the world or anyone that would see the very angel that fallen thus was banished by god for….

Committing a sin.

A sin he felt wasn’t a sin but…

A sin that felt more like a blessing.

A blessing that made him feel more human and more angelic but….

One that caused him to be cut out from heaven.

One he doesn’t know how to feel nor explain but one that….

He won’t make again.

As he laid there, the sun shined on him more as he shook from the cold that was coming. He looked around, he was alone yet surrounded by an abundance of once white flowers that showed off their pureness, angelic, innocence to the world now coated in his….

Filth.

The red dripping off from the flowers, onto the muddy ground. The petals falling off like the last feathers, their heavenly appearance gone just like his. His browns no longer shined brightly nor reflected his happiness, his hair no longer curled or done beautifully now it’s just a mess like a rat’s ness.

Nails that were once pristine were also coated in blood, his fingers trembling from the cold and the more blood that was gushing from his back he looked….

Like a bloody mess.

A bloody mess, that was surrounded in darkness yet the sun was the only thing keeping him company. Giving him comfort in his time of anguish and pain as whimpered and cried away the hours that went past.

Just laying there, punishing himself.

His mind.

Body.

The decisions he made by giving his body away to….

A human.

He should just rot away, he thought. But no….

Life had other plans.

Plans that would…

Start a new chapter in this life.

As the angel whimpered, the weather became normal as the animals did. All was quiet until…

‘’Paul!’’

A Yell was heard.

‘’Paul, where are you!!!’’

Again.

‘’Paulie!’’

Again.

‘’Curly!!!’’

And again, interrupting the angel’s pain and cires as the yells got louder. The angel shook from the pain, trembling as he tried to move. Sticks, bugs, sharp things under him moved with him as he crawled and screamed…

‘’Ace!!!’’

Hoping it wasn’t a hallucination, he yelled once more as tears started.

‘’ACE!!!’’

He cried, trembling as he got up. Trying not to stumble, yet fell into a muddy pile of feces but he got up and ran.

His legs weak, he ran.

‘’ACE!!!’’

Leaves crunch underneath his dirtied foot as he grabbed onto a tree almost falling once again but he prevailed.

Breathing heavily as he…

Swallowed.

‘’ACE!’’

He cried, once more as it echoed.

Crying out his lover’s name, falling and stumbling into things then falling on a fallen tree crying out the name that made him fall in the first place.

Heaving, gripping the tree as he released one more cry that rocked the whole world once more.

!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCEEEEEE-!!!’’

He screamed, coughing out blood from so much yelling and crying as he fell onto the tree as his eyes closed almost…

Going into the darkness, thinking all is lost and that this is a worse place than hell until….

‘’Paul!!!’’

‘’Paulie-!’’

‘’Paul!!!’’

His eyes opened, trembling as he saw….

Ace standing over him, dirtied and bloodied like him. Staring at him with those eyes of his with worry as Ace crumbled to the ground in horror, seeing his lover in a grotesque way made him rumble with disgust almost causing him to puke as he smelled shit and blood that was running down his body but…

He pushed back the puke, swallowing it down whole and gently touched Paul with his bare hands ignoring the blood, the smell that was getting worse each second he was near and…

Embrace him in his arms.

Stroking his head gently, as he too started to cry.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, as he held him close to him.

His fingers stroking through the tangled curls of his beloved, holding him close as the sun lightens them up.

The only thing protecting them from the darkness around them, the reality of what’s happening and how it happened made their minds run crazy, hearts beating frantically as it was thunder crackling, emotions running high as Ace tried to soothe himself and paul.

Running his hand down his bloodied back, feeling the wounds bleeding out.

Touching it lightly as he could, sent pain throughout Paul's body.

Paul whimpered, Ace pulled his hand away.

Comforting Paul with his words.

‘’I’m here, paul. You’re okay, your okay….’’

He repeated over and over, not knowing if Paul would be ok as he looked at his trembling hand.

Finger’s shaking, lower lip wobbling as he repeated those very words once again as he saw….

Bit’s of feathers on his hand.

Paul’s feathers.

That were once white now…

Black as the night.

He gulped, fighting back the puke again and the tears that were threatening to fall as he picked up Paul and walked away with him in his arms as the light still shined on them both leaving a trail of blood and….

Feathers. 

Marking the sight of the fallen angel who had fallen for a human like….

Ace.

‘’Mama! Look at papa's home! He’s carrying someone!!!’’

The child exclaimed, the mother running to the window. She looked, gasping loudly from what she’s seeing as she heard the loud gasps of the people coming out from their homes as the father walked through the village carrying someone.

Covered in blood and dirt.

That was dripping from them both as they walked.

‘’Sweetie, go to your room.’’ 

She uttered, eyes trembling.

‘’Why Mama?’’

‘’Sweetie…please go to your room, mama has to help papa…ok?’’

Her voice shocked, turning to her child. Seeing the eyes of innocence in them as she bent down and looked at him at all motherly, putting her hand gently on his shoulder as she said…

‘’Go to your room, and i’ll help you with your collection.’’

‘’You will?’’

‘’Yes, i will.’’

‘’Mmmhh…you promise?’’

Holding up his pinky finger to his mother’s face.

‘’Pinky promise?’’

The mother smiled, holding up her pinky thus connecting with her child.

Signifying her promise to him.

‘’Pinky promise, my son.’’

‘’Pinky promise.’’

The child went off to his room, as the mother watched on.

As her expression twisted, her thoughts plagued her as she stood.

Heart racing as…

The door opened, creaking loudly as it could.

Turning around slowly, she heard.

‘’Jeanette, it happened.’’

‘’What happened?’’ She uttered, eyes shaking as she looked down at the figure in Ace’s hold breathing slowly.

As she looked in horror and awe.

In horror from bloodied he looked yet still was radiant like the angel he was but he was no angel anymore.

He was…

‘’He fell.’’

A Fallen Angel. 

‘’Is he going to be okay?’’ she asked, looking him over as ace walked.

Placing him on the couch, covering him with his jacket.

Concealing Paul’s naked body, putting a pillow under his head.

Watching over him.

Tending to him.

Fingers stroking through his locks of hair.

Looking at him with a look that only a lover would know as…

‘’Ace.’’

‘’Mhm?’’

‘’Is he going to be okay?’’

Jeanette asked worryingly, bending down. Looking over at Paul as she reached for a towel nearby, wiping Paul’s face gently.

The silence grew between them, as the towel became coated more with the red and brown.

Tainting it, Like Ace tainted…

His lover.

Taking him away from the very home he called heaven.

Taking him away from his friends. 

Family.

Taken him away from everything he loved dearly and knew all because they….

Gotten close.

Became more than friends.

Became more than something.

Then just a thing, as they…

Made love.

Love that…

Gotten Paul to be banished all because of him.

Ace.

‘’Is he going to be okay?’’

Jeanette asked, again.

Snapping Ace out of his thoughts, he turned to Paul.

Then the outside.

Then his wife.

Then, finally Paul.

He took a deep breath, bending down.

Close enough to Paul, as he heard the shaky breath coming out from him as he said.

‘’I Don’t know.’’

Was in the mood to write, for angst and spacechild so here's some angst ;D.

i'm not going to apologize for what i've done in this, so catch me outside~ (i'm sorry.)

@starry-eyed-never-satisfied

@elrohare

@ohblackdiamond

@sluttery-withoutshame

@angelbambisworld

@krisspng

@insanityisdivine

@genesstankycodpiece

@speckster

@ladyshandioftheendless

and anyone else who'll read this~

So, tootalooo~

Love, Butters ♡

#butters speaking #kiss #kiss band #kiss army #kissblr #paul stanley #Spacechild #ace frehley #kiss fic #Ace/Paul #fallen angel au #I was writing this while I was talking to ELRO XD

[avonne-writes]

Hi ! Big fan of your service to this fandom 🫡

I read one of your posts of an Angel!Gale AU. I was immediately enchanted by the concept. And I know you're a good writer of things of the heart and the soul and dare I say, the ethereal (because I'm reading reverie haha).

But I meant to ask you, and I'm sorry if you've said this already, but do you plan on writing a fic for that AU?

Hi dear! Thank you so much! 🩷 I'm so glad you think that AU would work well in my writing style.

Yes, I’m planning to write it. I want to finish Reverie and post a few HS AU one-shots first, but my fallen angel AU is high up on the list of potential multichapters I have. I will post something for it in any case, I just need some time.

#buck x bucky #clegan #anon #fallen angel au #my writing

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

DAY ELEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

pairing: fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance

summary: you and tess go in to dismantle a cult, neither of you were expecting to find a rugged fallen angel being experimented on.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: possessive!joel, piv, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, violence

a/n: this was heavily inspired by miyazaki's on your mark music video! also we're almost add the end babes, only one more to go, isn't that exciting!

Ash sticks to your skin. The air is warm and damp, the scent of it churning your stomach and making you want to vomit. You observe the city as the aircraft inch closer to a particularly fancy and tall building. Purple and blue neons bleed into the night sky, blurring the sight of the stars. Both you and Tess are standing at the edge of the opening, ready to make the jump down below. You look at her and she nods with a fleeting smile. 

“Let’s get these fuckers,” she says, her voice modulated as it echoes in your earpiece. “See you on the other side.” 

She extends a fist and with your heart still beating madly in your chest, you bump it. Without speaking, she counts down, one finger going down at a time.  Your gaze flits between the building and her hand, sweat building at your temples and sliding down your spine. You’ve heard of this place before. A religious cult famous for abducting people and in some extreme cases experimenting on them if they refused to follow the leader’s guidance. 

The last finger goes down and you both jump in unison. 

Your visor comes down, blocking the vicious wind from cutting your skin. Tess is slightly ahead of you, her helmet also fully materializing around her skull, brunette hair fluttering at her neck. The mission was simple. Go in and arrest who you can find, shoot those who resist. 

The two of you touch down on the rooftop of the target building and quickly pull out your weapons. Tess leads the way as you both enter the building through a concealed access point. The interior pulses with a neon-laden atmosphere, where every corner is bathed in vibrant, shifting hues. Holographic information displays punctuate the surroundings, casting an ever-changing cascade of colors across the sleek, polished surfaces. 

You and Tess navigate through the dimly lit corridors, guided by the faint hum of machinery and the eerie whispers of cult members echoing through the halls. The air is thick with tension, and every step feels like a potential trap. It almost feels like a labyrinth with the way the halls constantly turn and twist, you faintly hear Tess cursing from underneath her visor. You share her sentiment. 

Moving deeper into the building, you finally encounter the cult's followers. They wear a strange blend of traditional robes and cybernetic enhancements, their faces obscured by eerie masks that display holographic symbols and patterns. 

The confrontation escalates quickly. They don’t even have any weapons on them yet they jump you, before you can start shooting one of them gets the better of you and knocks you to the floor. Tess is there in an instant, a laser blade to the throat is all it takes for the person to go limp on top of you. 

The room erupts in chaos but it doesn’t mean much to either you or Tess. This wasn’t your first mission together, and the two of you had adapted a fighting style that complimented each other’s strengths. The deafening blasts of energy illuminate the room with dazzling bursts of color. Bodies fall, and the cult's resistance begins to crumble. 

You press on, determined to reach the heart of this twisted cult. Along the way, you discover hidden chambers filled with bizarre experiments and technology. You take a mental note to come back later on and investigate. The air is thick with the smell of chemicals and the unsettling hum of machinery. Tess makes a sharp turn and you follow, entering a dim room. More cult members attack you, they look like scientists, they fall just as easily as the rest.

“What the hell is this place?” Tess mutters, walking ahead and looking around. A blue hue coats the entirety of the room, the sound of liquids making up for most of the background noise. 

You notice a table right in the middle and without a second thought you head towards it, ignoring Tess’s warnings to be careful. Something draws you to it. To him. Your pulse quickens as you notice a man lying on top of the metal surface, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. His chest is bare, the lower half of his body covered with a thin, dark pair of sweatpants. 

He’s beautiful. Rugged features scorned with cuts and bruises, but still stunning. His hair is a mess, lips chapped. He’s barely breathing, a sudden worry surrounds your heart, turns your stomach sour. 

“Hey, check it out,” Tess says, walking around the table. Her hand moves over a lifeless wing, feathered and dark as night. You hold your breath, eyes going wide. “Do you think these are real?” 

You don’t touch the wings, feeling like it might be disrespectful to the handsome man. You eye them warily and think about all the things these maniacs must’ve done to him. “They look real to me,” you murmur. “What should we do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If we bring him with us surely the government will experiment on him too,” you point out. “He’s been through enough.” 

Tess drops the wing and raises an eyebrow, “You in love with him or something?” she shakes her head. “We really need to find you some good dick.” 

“That’s not what this is,” you hiss, cheeks burning up. “You know it’s not right. He can stay at my place.” 

“And you think they won’t come looking for him?” 

“They can’t look for something they don’t know that exists.” 

Tess contemplates your words for a moment and you worry this might be where she draws the line. Her kind eyes flit between you and the half-naked man, then her shoulders drop, yielding, she lifts her hands. 

“Fine, let’s get this hunk of meat out of here.” 

However, neither you nor Tess had calculated how heavy he would be. 

“Holy fuck, how much does he weigh?” Tess groans, holding him by the ankles. You had your hands tucked under his armpits, barely keeping him from dropping to the steel ground. 

“Maybe the wings add to it,” you answer, short of breath. Using the strength from your knees, you jerk him up so your arms can get a better grip. Sweat beads at your temples and slides down your cheeks. “Fuck—” 

“He’s gonna suck your fridge dry,” Tess huffs. “All the gadgets in the world and not one to carry a heavy. . . what is he? A damn bird?” she shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.” 

“If you could shut up for two seconds,” you say, gasping for air. “This might be easier. Besides, we’re at the door.” 

“Oh fuck, we actually are.” 

Tess manages to kick it open and you both peer down the rooftop, you hold on to the unconscious man tighter, scared he might fall. 

“What now?” you shout from over the wind. 

“Now,” Tess says, her gaze meeting yours, she flashes you a smirk. “We jump.” 

Despite the multiple rules you’ve broken by taking in Joel—a fallen angel he’d explained when he woke up, much to your disbelief— to your home a week ago, your mornings start surprisingly calm. You have a small apartment and as you head to the kitchen, you watch the trickles of the morning light warming the floors. You enjoy these silent hours in the city. No bright neon light burning your eyes, no constant buzz of huge billboards humming in your ears; just the sun, the soft sound of birds chirping and soft wind carrying notes of clattering dishes. 

You fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove, turning the flame on to let it slowly come to a boil. While waiting, you reach for your favorite coffee mug, the one with a chip on the handle that you can't bear to replace. As you retrieve the mocha pot from the cabinet, you notice a slight, fleeting shadow out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see Joel standing in the doorway, his wings tucked neatly against his back. He hadn’t been able to open his wings fully yet, his wounds too deep to heal. 

A sudden anger simmers in your soul. The things he must’ve endured and all for what? For a bunch of people to feel good about themselves? For the to find out how to be immortal? All of it was absolute bullshit. 

You pull out another mug. 

His dark eyes meet yours and you swallow, a shudder rolling down your spine, “Good morning,” you choke out, pouring some ground coffee into the mocha pot's filter basket and assembling the pot. The soothing sound of the kettle on the stove fills the room as you watch Joel walk closer, his steps nearly soundless. 

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, standing right behind you. His presence frying your nerves and making your hands tremble. “What’s that?” 

“Coffee,” you answer. You place it on the stove and turn on the heat. “I’m making you some too. You can try it,” then you turn, eyes going wide upon noticing just how close he is. His eyes bore into yours, observing your soul and every inch of your face. Your eyes trace the bridge of his nose and linger on his lips; so lush. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip entices you to come closer but you hold your ground. “Are you hungry?” 

He nods, eyes untrusting. 

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I’ll make us breakfast. How are your wings feeling?” 

He licks his lips, “Better.” 

You nod and look towards the fridge, your lips pressed tightly together. He finally backs away, allowing you to prepare an omelet for the both of you.

Joel silently watches as you crack the eggs and mix in the basil, tomato, and cheese.  He watches as you pour two cups of coffee and bring out the plates. He watches as you sit and finally turn to look at him; still standing in the kitchen, watching. . . observing. 

“Come sit,” you say and pull back a second chair. “You watched me prepare it there’s no poison in it promise,” you give him a playful smile and you swear the corners of his lips twitch. 

He sits and picks up his fork, you cut the omelet in half, sliding it over to his plate, “So since you never had coffee before I didn’t put any milk and sugar in it, you can taste it and if it’s too bitter I can add some.” 

Joel picks up the mug, his wings slightly raising in alarm as he sniffs the hot beverage. He raises a brow, eyes meeting yours, “How do you drink yours?” 

“With lots of milk.” 

“I feel like that defeats the purpose,” he closes his eyes and takes a sip. He smacks his lips slowly, eyes fluttering open to give you a look. “Not bad,” he says. “I like how the taste alerts me.” 

“Well,” you answer with a smile. “Don’t have too much of it or you’ll be up all night.” 

“Who says I’m already not?” 

You stiffen at the words, meant to be a playful quip turn real in mere seconds. Joel seems unaware of the sudden pressure forming in your shoulders, around your spine; he bites into his omelet, moaning at the taste—which adds a whole different kind of pressure. . . mostly gathered between your legs.

“Can’t you sleep?” you ask silently, looking down. “Because of. . . what they’ve done.” 

Joel lowers his fork, lifting his gaze in hopes of meeting yours, he furrows his brows upon realizing your downward-looking lips and your eyes that don’t meet his. 

“That’s a small part of it,” he says, the soft authority of his tone bringing your gaze back up. “I remember those moments in bits and pieces, they come and go. . . It’s the fall that still keeps me up at night. ” 

“The fall from. . . heaven?” 

“Yes.” 

And that’s it. He continues to eat, continues to drink until all of it is wiped clean in front of him. 

“Let me clean your wounds,” you say and stand up from the table. Joel hadn’t been able to fly at all since you and Tess busted him out of that hellhole. He had been reluctant to treatment but realized quickly that he needed modern medicine if he was going to get better. “I’ll be right back.” 

When you come back you find him sitting on his usual stool. It was high enough so that his wings wouldn’t drag across the floor. He sits silently, eyes like those of a hawk as he watches you place the supplies on the coffee table. You start by delicately peeling off the old bandages, ensuring they don't cause any pain or pluck a feather. The only sign that he feels any discomfort is the rapid pace of his breathing

You find that you enjoy these moments of vulnerability. Some part of you doesn’t want him to go. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, crumbling the old bandages and throwing them to the floor for later cleaning. 

His spine straightens, “For what?” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t.” a moment of silence stretches between you before he speaks again. “You saved me.” 

“Tess did too,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips. Those two had been butting heads as soon as Joel woke up. 

“She told me on multiple occasions that she would’ve left me to rot.” 

“That’s how Tess cares.” 

“Humans still confuse me.” 

You snort and begin cleaning the wound, he winces a bit, “We’re not all bad.” 

You’re happy to see that he’s nearly completely healed. His red, wet wounds from before now a tender pink. Your eyes move up to his neck. You’ve always stared at his neck since the very beginning. It reminds you of the columns of old temples that now lay in ruin thanks to the new world. His sun-kissed skin is a temptation, your lips tingling with the need to feel bare skin, wondering if it’s as warm as you thought. 

“I don’t think I should bandage up the wounds anymore, they should breathe,” you murmur, your voice coming out hoarser than you thought. “But still, you need to be careful.” 

Joel doesn’t say a word but his wings twitch as if they can sense your sinful thoughts. Maybe they do. You have no idea how angel powers work, or if he has any. 

He’ll leave soon, you remind yourself. You’ll be alone again. 

You don’t know what it is that guides your hand, but you realize in shock that your fingers start to dance along the exposed skin of his nape. Indeed it is as warm as you thought. You feel the way muscles tense under your touch, hear his heavy breathing. 

Reality comes crashing in and you pull away with a sudden flinch, an apology ready at your lips— 

He’s fast. Inhumanly so. Joel takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you to his lap, you fall sideways with a sharp yelp. The angel doesn’t say a word and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You shudder at the touch of his lips. Whimper at the way he runs his nose down your collarbone. 

“I can smell the arousal on your skin,” he drawls and tastes your skin with the flat of his tongue. “I can taste it too. Such a sinful little thing.” 

“I—I’m—” You’re what? Sorry? You don’t feel sorry. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“You don’t have to. . .” 

Joel snorts, “I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he answers, he grips at your shirt and tugs you down while grinding up, the heft of his cock rubs against the swell of your ass. You both groan at the contact. “You feel that? You feel what you’re doin’ to me?” 

Your heart leaping, you guide his hand to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes flashing with desire, he slips his fingers under the fabric, you shudder at the drag of his fingers between your folds. Joel burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his chest rattling with a growl. 

“So wet,” he musters, the pads of his fingers stroking your throbbing clit. 

“Now you know what you do to me.” 

His wings suddenly stretch out from one side to the other, making him look even larger if possible. Your eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You imagine if you stare at them long enough you could see stars. 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. He pulls his fingers out and holds your waist in an iron grip. You whimper at the loss. “You don’t know me. This ain’t a game.” 

“That’s right I don’t,” you answer. “I only know what I feel. And what I feel, Joel, is something I’ve never felt before. Something that both excites me and makes me want to run and hide because soon enough, I’m going to have to deal with it all on my own. You’ll be gone and I’ll be here, trying to gather the pieces of my bleeding heart.” 

You think you might be imagining it, but his wings become a shield, caging you in. His gaze seems almost broken. Distraught. He mumbles something inaudible. Your brows furrow and you ask him to repeat himself. 

“My wings are healed. I lied to you.” 

You think you misheard him but at the same time you know you hadn’t. You blink rapidly. You don’t understand, how can be healed? 

“You can fly?” 

“I can, sweetheart.” he pulls you closer, your covered nipples grazing against his firm chest. Your breath catches in your throat. “I lied to you because. . . I don’t want to go.” 

“Joel. . .” 

“You still want me?” he asks, cutting you off, voice rueful. “I’m selfish. I get what I want and do anythin’ to make it happen. Why do you think I was cast out? Not exactly one of god’s favorites.” 

You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks. His voice deep, dripping like sweet molasses. You brush your lips together and his chest heaves, his grip on you tightens, his cock throbbing. 

“You’re my favorite,” you whisper. 

The dam breaks. 

You find yourself bent over the low coffee table, the wood creaking under your weight, your cheek smooshed against it. Joel holds your arms behind your back, rutting against your ass like some wild animal in heat. Arousal pools between your legs and you feel a fresh wave of wetness spreading within the threads of your underwear. 

“Do you even know how to fuck?” you ask, hoping to gain some kind of edge despite the obvious difference in strength. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d be surprised.” 

He pulls down your sweats and the heft of his cock weighs heavily between your ass cheeks. Slick gathers between your folds. A soft whimper trembles in your throat. You can’t see him but you can imagine him looking down at you, seeing how desperate and needy you are. Joel parts your cheeks and presses forward, his cock gliding between your soaked tighs. He groan rattles in his chest and you feel the bulbous head of his cock stretching your entrance. 

“Oh god. . . Joel. . .” 

A choked-out sound drops from your lips as he wraps his fingers around your throat and pulls you up, it’s harder to breathe in this position, your body bent in a way so that your eyes can meet. He kisses your forehead. 

“Not god,” he says, thrusting forward and filling you to the brim. Your face goes slack, brows pinching with pleasure and a hint of pain. Your moan is loud and long, your eyes still glued to his. You shudder at the intimacy. “It’s just me, sweetheart. No one else. I’m the only one that get’s to fuck this pussy—the only one that gets to see your face like that.” 

You lick your lips and breathe heavily. When you nod, Joel releases you and you fall forward, bracing yourself with your elbows at the very last second. 

“Look at you,” he groans, large hands stroking your cheeks. “Do you even know how soft and warm your insides are?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls back, your body is set a flame, pleasure building and winding you up like a doll. Your thighs shake, he just watches you drown in your lust. He’s intrigued, you think, because he just waits with the head of his cock still inside. You wiggle your ass, hoping for him to move, to fuck you senseless. 

You’re reprimanded with a sharp smack to your ass but you welcome the pain, embrace it. 

You can’t see it yet you feel it. The vicious drip of his spit on your stretched-out hole. You shiver and your eyes roll back into your skull, his thumb traces where you two connect, smearing his saliva, “J—Joel, please,” you beg but you know it’s futile. He’s going to take you apart only to piece back together. 

“You still think I don’t know how to fuck?” he hisses, a cruel taunt you didn’t expect. You shake your head and close your eyes. Another smack follows, prompting the clench of your cunt. He groans. 

Joel finally gives you what you want. What you need. 

His pace is brutal, fast and hard, desperate, just like you feel. He knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust, the smack of his hips bruising. Joel has no shame in the voices he makes, he groans, moans and fucks you harder, forcing you to be loud with him. When you let out a particularly high-pitched whimper, he covers your body with his own like a blanket and ruts into you. His wings rustle and shake, the tip of it touching your lips before it moves away. You see bright starts when he grazes upon a particularly sensitive spot, your jaw dropping and body tensing. He mouths at your neck, hand sliding between your legs, the pads of his fingers brush against your puffy clit—

A knock. A loud one at that.

The sound startles you both into stillness, and you let out a hiss from under your breath. You’ve forgotten that Tess was going to come by. Apologetically you reach back and manage to squeeze Joel’s thigh, your fingers sliding over the muscle from sweat. Joel understands that this will have to wait but instead of letting you go like you expected, he lifts you up from the coffee table, your back flush against his chest. You both face the door and another knock follows, your body tensing. 

“I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you for no one,” he groans, pushing even deeper. Your head falls to his shoulder and your nipples tight. “She can come back.” 

“Joel, she might hear us,” you hiss but make no move to actually stop him. You feel him smirking against your skin. He slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you—hard. Your body jerks and you cover your mouth last second before a moan can slip out. 

“That’s it, just keep quiet and she’ll be none the wiser.” 

Tess’s voice calls out your name through the door and knocks again, louder this time. Your eyelids flutter, your orgasm rapidly building from the thought of being caught. If Tess decides to break the door, which you don’t put past her, she’d see you in your full naked glory; your breast swaying with every ruck of Joel’s hips, your face dazed as you attempt to keep your noises to yourself. . . 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet—you’re turned on, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you like the idea of your best friend seein’ you gettin’ your brains fucked out?” 

You don’t dare answer and instead, you just take it. His fingers toy with your clit, swirling and drawing shapes over and over until your entire body is trembling and your core is tight. Joel’s hips stutter, pacing frantic, “Yes yes yes yes—come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you so bad, come on, that’s it—that’s it—” 

It happens both suddenly and torturingly slow. Your body locks up and you squeeze around him, gushing and moaning helplessly into your palms. Your nostrils flare. Joel holds you tight, preventing you from accidentally jerking away and falling face-first into the table, you think Tess is still knocking but it soon ends. Your body is quivering, slick dripping, and sliding down his length. He kisses your cheek, then drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. 

He starts to move again, “Joel,” you whimper and he stops, lips decorating your skin with more kisses. “I want you to come inside me.” 

You swear his cock swells even more. 

“Yeah?” he sounds amazed, almost. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” 

“Please.” 

“A’right sweet girl, I will, I will,” he bites the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips drilling into you even harder than before. Your brain short circuit. Your poor, sensitive cunt tingling with overstimulation. With every snap of his hips you feel slick gushing from your core and your hands fully drop from your mouth, your body pliant with pleasure. 

It doesn’t take Joel long to come undone. He fucks into you one last time and keeps you still on his cock. Another orgasm rips from you at the pressure, his come filling you with violent, desperate spurts. His hips twitch. Joel licks the salt off your skin and then kisses the damp skin. You sigh with relief, hand dropping to your stomach. It feels good. So fucking good for him to claim you in such an intimate way. 

“Mine,” he growls, fingers biting into the flesh of your stomach. Again, his wings form a shield around you, trapping you two together. 

You smile and thread his fingers with your own, “Yours.” 

Note to self, always go to the door when Tess comes over. 

But honestly, how the hell were you supposed to know that she came over to warn you? 

You’ve seen the text first. You were out on the street doing some quick shopping before you returned home to Joel, however, before you could process what she had written you were surrounded. Familiar symbols of the cult decorated their suits and before you knew it, your vision blacked out. 

When you open your eyes once more, you notice that your hands are bound to the ceiling to keep you up. You hear the familiar buzz of the purple binds, much stronger and deadlier than regular rope. The back of your head throbs, an unpleasant pressure behind your eyes, you hiss and look down. 

The door opens. 

“Where is he?” a man with a white mask asks, stepping into the dingy cell. 

You raise your gaze, “Who?” 

You can’t see his face but you know he’s angry underneath the cheap plastic. He balls his hands into tight fists and before you know it, his knuckles hit you square in the jaw. You groan and spit up blood. 

“Where. Is. He.” 

You cough, the taste of iron overwhelming your taste blood. Still, you don’t yield. You look him straight in the eye and force a broken smile. 

“Who?” 

Joel knew all of it was too good to be true. 

The good food, the sex, the woman who loved him despite what and who he was—it should’ve tipped them off that it was only the calm before the storm. The solitude before ruin. He’d seen it many times before, why had he ignored it now? 

His eyes narrow and his wings fold, aiding his sharp dive to the building Tess had described. The wind slices at his cheeks, deafens him.  

Joel knows why he ignored it. 

It was because he was happy for the first time in forever. 

He crashes through the glass ceiling, shards of it bursting across the hard marble floor. He sees familiar people in suits covered in symbols. Joel snarls at them, his wings close to him. They’re the same people that imprisoned him—and now they had found the only thing he cared about to lure him into the wolf's den. Well, his capture won’t be easy this time. 

He’ll make them pay. He’ll make them all pay. 

Joel spreads out his wings and watches the foot soldiers cower in fear. He feels the dark energy pulsing in his palms, adding to his strength, and without a second thought he unleashes it, sharp arrows of darkness spearing their hearts, making them see their worst nightmares before falling.  

He kills, kills, and kills. They all feel his eternal pain before they fall, a fall that is much kinder than the one he had to endure. Joel leaves a trail of corpses on his way to you, his heart locked in fear of what might have happened to you. 

Joel senses you—your fear, your pain, your hope. He follows those strong feelings. You lead him to a hard steel door, and with the flat of his palm, the door turns to dust. 

Joel’s heart stops beating. 

You’re strung to the ceiling, your temple caked with blood, your body battered and bruised. You can barely breathe, your lips parting with short gasps. 

His rage is sudden and blinding. His shoulders raise with his wings, he sees the other man in the room with you, his gloved hands wet with your blood. The man turns to grab a weapon but Joel doesn’t grant him the favor. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of him, his hands on his jaw, he forces the snap of his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the small chamber. 

He deserved something worse than death for hurting you, momentarily Joel regrets giving him the easy way out. 

“Joel,” your voice drags him away from his thoughts, his heart breaks at how soft it is. “Is that you?” 

Joel’s wings drop. He realizes his hands are wet with blood and shadows, he shakes the shadows off but the blood remains. 

“Joel?” you say again, and this time he snaps out of it fully, making his way towards you. He cradles your cheeks, kisses you deep before shattering the cuffs around your wrists. You sigh when you feel the familiar broad chest against your cheek, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Joel.” 

“It’s me,” he answers. “I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. In the end, you got here, didn’t you? That’s what matters.” 

He should’ve come sooner. Shouldn’t have waited around for Tess, he should’ve broken into every building and burned this city down until he found you. Leaving the chamber, Joel is careful not to make any sudden movements. His eyes soften, a hard knot in his throat when you nuzzle into him while he carries you away. 

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re safe,” his grip tightens around you. “I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you. Never again.”

His steps come to a sudden halt as he feels your weak touch on his cheek. Joel looks down in worry but you’re smiling, his chest lightens. 

“Same goes for me,” you say, voice hoarse. “They can break every bone but I’ll never let them take you. Never again.” 

Joel looks at your weathered body. Humans were always so fragile, so prone to death. You’re nothing but a speck of dust compared to the dangers that lurked in this world—compared to him. But human resilience has always been something that immortals had feared. 

He smiles and nods. 

Joel firmly believes, deep within his heart, that he is safe as long as you’re here with him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #fallen angel au #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

[valorianknights]

Another Crackship? Yes, Please.

Emily as a fallen angel and she's taking it as well as one can in her situation... But hey! Fallen Seraphim buddies! Poor baby😞

Emily made some cute outfits for Fat Nuggs and an Egg Boi 🥰

I was trying to figure out a different outfit design for her when she's working in the hotel as a "Joy Concierge" and her fallen design.

I don't have the heart to take away her princess sleeve puffs. They're too cute on her. Maybe her eyes only change color when she's upset? Idk.

Emily missed her sister, so Lucifer made her a Sera duck 🦆😭

I was already drawing Emily for a Fallen Angel thing, but then I came across this fic while going through Emily's tag on AO3 and well... Here we are.

I mean I already made one crackship, I may as well support another one!

Thanks to @owlofnonsense for this ship.

If anyone's interested:

#hazbin hotel #hazbin emily #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #fallen angel emily #fallen angel au #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Idk what to call this ship #any suggestions? #Emily x Lucifer Morningstar #Rubber ducks... everywhere #fat nuggets #egg bois

[mint-yooxgi]

Indulgence - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Hongjoong

Yandere AU & Fallen Angel AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Hongjoong X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,038

Warnings: Religious themes and imagery, the typical angel/demon bs, heavy sexual themes: masturbation, voyerism. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Ngl, this was way darker in my head lmaooo. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Twelfth of The Feral Drabbles

Really? Broad daylight? You certainly are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe that’s why I love you so much.

You know, it hasn’t been easy since the fall, but you have truly made the pain I first experienced worthwhile. I’ll even let you in on a little secret…

I fell because of you.

You: you’re captivating, did you know that? I’m not easily impressed, but there’s just something about you that drew me in from the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. One of His creations that puts even the most beautiful of us to shame. You should be protected, and kept away from those unworthy to gaze upon you.

After all, I’ve always been taught: nothing less for the best!

I will keep you safe. I will worship you like you clearly deserve. You need me, just as I need you. After all, I no longer have to worry about those stupid morals or duties down here. Only you.

From my experience, humans tend to… indulge in their more primal desires at night, but you? Anyone could look into your room right now and see what it is that you’re doing. Really, you’re lucky I’m here to make sure that that doesn’t happen. No one else can see the way your hands trace over such delicate curves. No one else deserves to watch as your chest stutters with every hitch in your breath.

I only wish it were me in that room making you breathless instead.

One of the various reasons I fell, My Beloved, was due to my desire for you. You make it increasingly hard to control myself around you, not that I’ve ever seemed to have any sense of control around you to begin with. I’ve long since ached to feel your touch on me, to know what those hands feel like tugging on my hair, cupping my face so tenderly, and maybe even squeezing my ass…

Well, you get the point.

I want you, and I will do everything in my power - or rather, with the power that still remains inside of me - to make you mine.

I’ve truly never given much thought to indulgences before- no, wait, that’s a lie. I promised myself I would stop lying to you. You deserve my truth, and only my truth. You’re the only one that does. Everyone else can go visit Uncle Luci downstairs for all I care. You are the only one who matters to me now.

Anyways, I digress… Indulgence. What a strange word. To even so much as imply that basic wants and necessities are something to indulge in is completely abhorrent. Every person’s needs - angels, demons, humans - are different, and to act like an indulgence for one is completely natural for another defeats the purpose.

My brothers down below revel in the more sinister indulgences, while those stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ chickens I once belonged to would shun them, even though the majority of us would do the same damn things. Isn’t it interesting, Beloved, that one is revered while the other is feared? What makes demons worse than angels for doing the same, horrific things?

Ah, but enough about my family trauma… Let me now focus on you.

Oh, I suppose in my tangent, I zoned out for a little there. You’ve certainly been busy in that time, not that I’m complaining. 

No. Never. I could never fault you for anything.

Unless you tried to run from me. Or you decided to fall in love with another. Or you wanted to leave me.

Okay, so just don’t do anything bad, and we’ll live- what do you humans like to call it again? Oh, ‘Happily Ever After.’

Really, I’m just lucky that you decided to move out to the countryside. You don’t have many neighbours, but really, Beloved, you never know what kind of monsters can be lurking in the shadows. Fear not, for I am here to watch over you. Always.

And gaze upon you, I do… 

Such beauty…

Such marvellous wonder…

Look at how those beautiful thighs part, practically begging for me to be between them right this very moment. Look at the way your legs tremble, and you’ve still yet to touch that gorgeous cunt of yours.

It’s a shame really. I should be the one giving you such sweet release. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.

No! Don’t cover your mouth with your hand! Let me hear you!

Oh my… That was close… I almost smashed my hand through your window, Beloved. Do you see what you do to me? I told you I can hardly control myself around you, but you can’t blame me. You just have such a strong affect on me…

Such a perfect scene spread out before me, and you want to taint it by muffling your sounds? What am I supposed to do with myself if I can’t hear what you sound like whimpering and whining for me? How is that fair?

I want to know everything about you. I want to consume you in the best of ways, just as you have enraptured me with your very soul. Let it shine beside my own, a brilliant white to contrast my now scorched wings. Wings that now brand me as a Fallen with their blackened feathers.

Black feathers are meant to be a sign of shame amongst my kind, but all I can feel is pride. You have given me hope for a new life, and I would fall all over again if it meant spending even one second with you.

I love you, My Beloved, and nothing will ever change that.

So, please, won’t you open up to me?

Yes… That’s it, Beautiful, just like that. Cup those gorgeous breasts for me. Imagine that those are my hands holding you so. Feel my fingers pinching your nipples, my tongue flicking against your skin.

How I long for the day where I can finally touch you. I want to be able to bring you to new heights, and show you pleasures that you’ve never even dreamed about. You should be taken care of with the utmost attention, and I promise you that that is what I’ll do. I’ll take my time worshipping every dip, every curve of that wondrous body of yours. I’ll make you sigh my name like a prayer, nothing but the most intricate of praises delegated unto you from my lips.

Fuck- spread those legs for me. Let me see all of you in your glory. Let me discover my own personal heaven on earth in you.

My Beloved… is this all for me? Is the way your essence drips out of you because you long for this, too? It must be. There’s no other that could make you this wet, no other that could have you trembling just from the mere thought of them and what they could do to you.

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one able to affect the other like this…

Oh, Beloved, you really are putting on a show just for me! It’s like you can read my mind!

Perhaps… No. I shouldn’t be so bold.

Then again, after everything that’s happened, why shouldn’t I be? I have long since submitted to the fact that I am yours, and you are mine. There’s no doubt about it, not when I feel this strongly for you.

I must get closer, this glass separating me from you is burdensome. I need to see you, unobstructed. I need to be able to hear your every sound, unfiltered.

I suppose I should be grateful for my wings now, the black blends right in to the shadows my brothers downstairs revel above all else. I’ll admit, I’m not quite used to hiding in corners. We angels typical love standing out, but for now, I’ll lie in wait. It’s much better for the both of us this way. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to see me even if you tried.

Oh, Beloved, look at you… How the mere sight of you, hand teasing at that gorgeous pussy, nearly brings me to my knees. The way your lips are parted as little breaths escape you while your eyes flutter shut and your nose scrunches is the most captivating sight I have ever had the pleasure to behold.

My only wish is that you could see the effect you have on me. Like you, my whole body is heating. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. Hell, even my wings cannot help but flutter in anticipation as I sneak my own hand down the front of my body. I’ll allow myself the pleasure of touching myself in time with you. I’ve only ever dreamed about it a countless amount of times before, anyways.

Dearly Beloved, won’t you give in to yourself? Give in to any and every desire you’re currently thinking about.

Touch yourself for me…

That’s it, Beloved, let me hear the wet drag of your fingers through that dripping cunt. I want to drown in your pleasure with you, don’t hold back.

Now I see why you covered your hand with your mouth…

It truly is hard to keep quiet when there’s such a temptation spread out before oneself. You are the greatest temptation I have ever known, and if I didn’t stifle my moan just now, you would have know that someone else is in the room with you. Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? You’d get scared and stop what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when you needed me most.

Fuck- there is no sound more holy than the breathless way you whine from such a simple touch.

Does that feel good, My Beloved? Are your fingers enough, circling over that delicate little clit of yours? Wouldn’t you rather feel mine? What about my tongue? You’d let me have a taste of that intoxicating nectar that flows from your pretty cunt, right? You’d let me get lost in you for however long I’d like? I’ll always give you everything you could ever want, My Beloved. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Everything.

All that I am, is yours, Beloved. I hope when the time comes, you can say the same for me.

Oh, Beloved… do you know how fucking sexy you are when you moan like that? Do you know how it makes my heart stutter to hear you get lost to your own pleasure; how my cock aches for you? You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be tempting me like this.

I’m honestly embarrassed by how close I am already. I’ll have to work on that if we are to make love all night long when the time comes. And it will. I will make damn sure of it.

For now, why don’t you come for me? Rub that little clit, and come for me. Don’t hold back now, I want to see you. In all of your raw glory.

Yes, yes, yes, that’s it! Don’t stop now, Beloved. Let me hear you scream for me!

Fuck- I can practically taste you on my tongue already… look at that gorgeous pussy, just fucking fluttering in bliss. 

So beautiful, and all mine.

Wait a second… I taste… blood.

Oh, I suppose I bit into my hand to keep myself quiet while I came with you. No worries, I’ll heal in the blink of an eye. Getting to see you come apart like that for me, though… priceless.

I wish I could stay, but I think one of my wings knocked into one of your picture frames on the wall, and I think you heard it despite the blissful haze that still clouds your mind. The last thing I want is to get caught like this. It’s not proper of me.

Really, what would you think?

I hope you didn’t catch that soft giggle of mine as I left your room, My Beloved, and I certainly hope you don’t discover any of my feathers I may or may not have left behind for you. If that’s that case, and you finally learn of my existence, my devotion to you… well, whatever on earth would I do?

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere hongjoong #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #hongjoong smut #hongjoong scenario #hongjoong imagine #ateez smut #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop au #fallen angel au #chubby reader

[superiorsturgeon]

Fallen Angel Pyrrha: pt 2

Part 1

Jaune: *now young again and walking through the sands of Vacuo with RWBY*

Fallen Angel!Pyrrha: *floating behind Jaune* Goodness, it’s hot…! 🥵

Weiss: Seconded…🥵

Yang: *wearing her jacket tied around her waist* Aren’t you an Angel or something, P-money? I can’t believe you’re even affected by heat.

Ruby: *shading her eyes with her hood from hot Vacuan sun* Your new look is cool and everything, but can’t you change your clothes?

Fallen Angel!Pyrrha: You know, I’m not sure! 🤔

Fallen Angel!Pyrrha: Let me see… *concentrates* 😖

Fallen Angel!Pyrrha: *armor dissipates and is replaced by extremely revealing outfit consisting of a black-and-red thong and micro bikini top*

Succubus!Pyrrha: 😨

Succubus!Pyrrha: AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! *covers herself with her wings*

RWBY: 😳

Jaune: Damn, now I’M feeling hot…! 🥵

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #team rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc x pyrrha nikos #fallen angel au

[thirstykateyes]

My drawing for the ghostsoap discord servers halloween exchange for my exchange partner @/sulanoarts on twt!!

Some Körangi fallen angel!! It fought me a lot but it came out alright asfghj

#SpookyGhoapExchange #call of duty mw2 2022 #call of duty #mw2022 #cod #call of duty modern warfare #kats art #fallen angel au #call of duty mw2 #konig x horangi #kim horangi hong jin #konig modern warfare #konig cod #korangi #könig #horangi cod

[denournent]

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil” (Matt. 6:13).

"He too was a tempter; he, too, was a link to the second [world], the evil world with which I no longer wanted to have anything to do." (Demian - Herman Hesse)

#fallen angel au #what if i write something oof 👀 #charlos #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #*

[speeshularts]

the way you draw mikoto & john (especially your fallen angel au) speaks to me on a spiritual level. thank you

WAAAAH OMG!!! Thank you so much... They're so fun to draw, maybe i'll draw them more :3c

#art #milgram #mikoto kayano #ミルグラム #fuuta kajiyama #mikofuu #fallen angel au #0903 m #0903 #fuuta isnt taller he's just in john's lap i promise #johnfuu #090903

[memphisflash]

“The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.”

─ Revelation 12:9

A little moodboard for an upcoming fic... 🪽

@notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @peaceloveelvis @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis au #elvis presley au #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #fallen angel au #tamwrites #moodboard

[avonne-writes]

Fallen Angel AU

What if every human has a guardian angel assigned to them to help them through life?

These angels have strict rules to follow about how much they can interfere on the human plane of existence and what they can help with. They're able to give their person invisible hugs, for example, or help them make more fortunate decisions, but they can never ever talk to their person or let themselves be seen. And they must not use their own energy to heal their person if the person is dying.

Breaking the rules can result in various punishments. The most severe: banishment from Heaven.

Gale is a young angel, but he’s very talented. The people he guarded so far in his few hundred years of existence all had great, happy lives, were decent citizens and never got into any trouble. Lots of trainee angels look up to Gale and try to get him to share what his secret is.

Gale, fresh off the case of a philanthropist who died of old age, gets assigned to a "rescue case" as they call them. A human who got abandoned by his angel or whose angel has been reassigned due to failure or incompatibility. The entities "upstairs" have high hopes that this human isn’t beyond saving yet, and that he, at least, would be a nice challenge for their little star.

So, Gale braces himself and sets off to try to guide one Bucky Egan, 20-something disaster back to the fortunate path.

But this time, nothing goes according to Gale's plans, because he ends up breaking one of the most important rules of a guardian angel - he falls in love with a mortal.

---

One of my WIPs 🥰

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #my writing #I've been playing around with this idea for a while now #another wip on the list! #fallen angel au

[vylad243]

What's the fallen angel Vox AU?

^ this ask right here! Well I haven't thought or worked on it much since I haven't exactly had a chance. It was an ask sent by an anon though and it caught my attention as it was unique, and Kevin-ibw gave me permission to go ahead with the au!

Basically Vox is a fallen angel who quickly rose to an Overlord ranking. He hid his fallen status from others, but Alastor caught on by accident from stalking checking on the man he was courting.

It's an au I will gladly accept headcanons for since it was an anon's au in the first place and it would feel fitting to create the world with you guys

#hazbin hotel #anonymous #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radiostatic #fallen angel au

[casuallyimagining]

Fallen (1) | myg

Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Summary: If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then where does that leave you? Spurned by your ex-fiance, you seek the one person who can help. But as it turns out, the price of revenge may be a little more than you bargained for.

Genre: Fallen Angel AU, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst

Word Count: 9,208

Warnings: homelessness, abusive ex, manipulation, emotional abuse, forced isolation, major character injury, blood, mentions of critiques of organized western religion, threats of harm, brief mentions of an almost-panic attack, arguing, more to be added later

Notes: Thank you to @daechwitatamic and @madbutgloriouspond for reading through this fic and for listening to me talk about it literally every day. And thanks to @btsmosphere and @toikiii for helping me with the angst.

Fallen Masterlist | Next Part

Everything is grey. Or, at least, that’s how it feels. You rarely come this far uptown, where the trains run on elevated tracks instead of under your feet. You follow the tracks along the river. They said he’d be somewhere around here, under the el between the old Radio Shack and the bodega. Above, a train rumbles past, its speed whipping up a wind that blows your hair into your face. 

You pull your jacket closer and step over a puddle.

Honestly, uptown would be nice if it didn’t seem like it died in the 70s. But, at least near the el, everything gives off that decayed vibe. Faded posters still cling to the bricks in alleyways advertising bands that hadn’t toured in decades. Window displays for nameless stores show off mannequins dressed in clothes that would have been long out of fashion by the time you were born. 

Something glowing near one of the track supports draws your attention. It’s a metal trash can, its contents ablaze. Just behind the can, leaning against the steel support, is a man. His clothes are tattered, and as you get closer, you can see he’s sucking on a lollipop.

“Goat?” You’re almost in front of the burning can. The man doesn’t answer you, doesn't acknowledge you, he just continues to stare into the flames. “Are-are you Goat?” you try again, taking a step closer. “I’m looking for someone. I was told he’d be here–uptown under the tracks where no one comes. Some of them called him Goat.”

The man snorts derisively, a small, bitterly amused smirk appears on his lips. “Not to my face they don’t.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want,” you concede. He doesn’t seem to be upset, but you don’t want to push his buttons. “I need to talk to you.”

“No thanks, kid.”

“It’s important.”

The man–Goat, or whatever he’s called–rolls his eyes. “You humans are always so convinced you need my help.” He turns then, tossing the stick of his lollipop into the fire, and starts to walk away. “I’ll give you a piece of advice: you can’t handle it.” He throws the last thought over his shoulder, barely even turning his head.

You walk quickly to catch up. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m stronger than I look.”

As you emerge from the shadows of the el tracks, you’re able to get a better look at him. He’s slight, thin, with barely any visible muscle. His dark hair hangs long into his eyes, which are an intense shade of deep, dark brown. He doesn’t look like much, and for a moment, you think that maybe you have the wrong man. But there’s a quiet power to how he carries himself, as if he could turn into something all-powerful and terrifying in the blink of an eye. You can see it in how he walks, how he carries himself. He’s dressed like just another unhoused person, but there’s a confidence around him that would make it nearly impossible to think he’s anything else than the immovable force that he was.

“You would know a thing about being stronger than you look, I think,” you say quietly. 

He sighs and pauses beside a light pole, leaning against it and allowing you to fully catch up to him. “What do you want.” It’s not a question.

“I need something.”

He laughs, eyebrows raising in surprise. “You want a favor?”

“Not a favor. I’ll pay you.”

“You’ll pay me?”

“Anything you want.”

He shakes his head, pushing off the post and continuing to walk. This time, though, it’s much slower, as if he’s inviting you to keep up. You’re intrigued–he’s intriguing–and you aren’t about to give up yet. So you walk with him, up the street, past the dusty old bodega and into an alley.

“I don’t want anything,” he says, eyes focused ahead.

You shrug. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

He stops and turns to you, stepping close, so close that you can smell the smoke from the garbage fire on his clothes, in his hair. He inspects you, dark eyes gazing deeply into yours. “Who have you been talking to about me?”

“Your friends.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“The ones who live down here.”

Again, he laughs, stepping away from you. You can still smell the smoke of his clothes. “They’d kill me if they got the chance.” He continues walking, leading you down another side street. This one looks just as Disco Dead as the previous one. “You should watch your step. There are snakes everywhere.”

You sigh. At this rate, you’ll be dead before you convince him to help you. But you press on. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“How?”

“You tell me.”

He hums, scrubbing a hand along his chin in thought. He shoves his other hand into the pocket of his oversized, tattered coat. “What do you want, kid?”

“Revenge. On my ex-fiance. He’s…” You shake your head. Your ex-fiance is a lot of things. And you hate all of them. 

“Real winner, eh?” He hums, turning from the alley and onto the avenue. 

The shops here are just as old, the signs just as peeling and time-worn, but some of these are open. Their doors are propped open and music–a strange cacophony of reggae, latin fusion, and jazz–floats out onto the street from old boomboxes. Judging by the advertisements in the windows, these storefronts were stuck somewhere in the 90s. An improvement, but not quite enough.

Finally, he stops just outside of a run down electronics store. The front window still has a CRT tv that’s hooked up to a security camera filming the street. You and the man are reflected back in the screen. He’s standing so close to you that the sleeves of his tattered coat brush against your arm. 

“Sure, okay,” he says finally, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk. 

For a moment, you’re taken aback. That was… much easier than you had expected it to be. Your shock must be evident on your face, because then he says, “What do you need?”

Carefully, you collect yourself, school your face into something you hope is a neutral expression. “I just want him to suffer.”

He whistles lowly, fluffing his hair. “Doesn’t exactly give me a lot to go off.”

“Can you do it or not?”

Briefly, he looks amused. His smirk turns into a smile. It’s soft, and it’s a little cocky, but it sets your mind at ease a little bit. “Might take a bit to get it right, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I want him ruined,” you say softly, taking a step closer. “Personally and professionally. Just like he did to me.”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“Thank you, Goat.” You smile, and he smiles back. A wide, gummy thing that seems to show off all the teeth in his mouth. “Or, I guess…?”

“Yoongi. Call me Yoongi.”

It’s amazing how cold it’s gotten in the span of a couple weeks. It hasn’t snowed yet, but you can definitely tell that it’s going to soon. There’s something about the smell of the air, how the wind feels as it whips its way under the el tracks. The puddles under the track from the water and moisture dripping from the trains look frigid. You step around one and approach the man standing at the burning trash can.

He looks cold, too. He’s wearing the same tattered coat as last time, and now you notice the places where you can see his shirt through the holes. You wonder if he has anything else he could wear, any other layers he could put on now that it’s getting cold. You wonder if he has anywhere to go when the temperatures start to dip at night, somewhere other than huddled around a Hooverville fire. 

He smiles as you get closer, much different from the indifferent glare he’d fixed you with the first time, and you warm a little bit. It’s sweet, the half-grin he shoots your way, almost as if he’s excited to see you. You’d tried to keep your distance over the past few weeks, despite the fact that you’d been practically bursting at the seams to know how things were progressing. But that doesn’t mean you hadn’t seen him at all.

He’d wandered past your work a few days ago. You couldn’t be quite sure, but you were pretty sure he’d actually floated past the front windows of the bar. But he’d paused and waved, and you’d waved back only for your coworkers to look at you like you were crazy.

So there was a 50/50 chance that Yoongi was actually just a figment of your revenge-addled imagination. But you know. That’s what happens when you cavort with a fallen angel. C’est la vie. 

“Kid. You came.” He greets you cheerfully, his eyes focusing down on the fire in front of him. He reaches down beside him and grabs a small stack of papers–old posters and some trash, from the looks of it–and drops them into the flames. Sparks fly up, and you watch them glitter in his eyes. “I’m a little surprised, to be honest.”

“Well, it’s hard to ignore a creepy text from an unknown number asking you to meet under the el at nearly sundown.” You shrug. “You really should sign your texts. Or, I don’t know. Give me your number.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and scoffs, but you could swear his cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The wind picks up, touseling his hair and chilling you to your core. You push your bag further up onto your shoulder and shove your hands deep into the pockets of your coat. Yoongi steps closer to the fire, visibly shivering, and again, you find yourself concerned for him. But before you can say anything, he clears his throat.

“I think I’m going to need some more details about what he did to you,” he says softly. You bristle at his words. Brown eyes find yours, and you can sense that he hates having to ask. 

You sigh. You’d hoped to be able to get through this without having to tell him about any of it. You’d done a lot of healing in the time since leaving your fiance, but so much of it still stung–and some of it, you were still dealing with the fallout. You’d thought that because of who he was, you wouldn’t have to tell Yoongi anything.

“I thought you could just sense that stuff.”

He frowns. “I can tell when it’s enough to balance out the universe. But I need to know what I’m balancing for.”

“What have you tried so far?”

“Admittedly not much just yet.” Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck. “I started small to test the waters. But between his keys disappearing and his clocks never being the correct time, he’ll never be on-time ever again. I’ve also crashed his computer several times and wiped a few important files. He’ll need them in a few days. He’s currently up for a promotion, but uh… not after his boss finds out that the reports for three of their biggest clients are gone.”

You hum. It’s a start. Your ex-fiance was incredibly dedicated to his job. You’d loved that about him, back when you loved him. So it did give you a sick sense of satisfaction to know that slowly, his job was slipping through his fingertips. But…

“It’s not enough,” you say sharply. “You need to go further.”

“Right. That’s why I was hoping you could give me more information.”

“Well, I…” You sigh. Where the hell do you even start? How the hell do you even start? You look around. The surrounding buildings are still grey, still decaying, still… damp. You can’t see them, but somewhere nearby, someone is rooting around in a dumpster. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware of how cold it is, and how stinging the wind is, and how exposed you are. You rub your arm. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Yoongi watches you, and some emotion crosses his eyes. But you can’t tell what it is, and it’s gone before you can really even analyze it. Silently, he nods and holds out his hand. You think that maybe he’s going to lead you away again, on a goose chase through the weird eras of this part of uptown. But he doesn’t. 

Brown eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and then a warm wind picks up, blowing Yoongi’s long hair into his eyes. Your stomach lurches and then something soft rises up to meet you. You open your eyes–when did you close them?--and suddenly, you’re no longer under the el.

There’s a clatter off to your left, and the ding of a bell. Distantly, you hear someone ask “You want some more coffee, hun?” The surface under you is soft, but not so soft to be mistaken for comfortable. Yoongi sits across from you, a smug smirk on his lips.

A diner. You’re in a diner. It’s fairly busy, too, and for a moment, you’re worried that someone noticed the two of you just appearing out of nowhere in a booth. But shockingly, no one is even looking in your direction.

“How…?”

Yoongi shrugs. “People see what they want.”

“Oh… okay.” 

You settle into the vinyl seating, resting your hands against the table. The formica surface is sticky and you recoil in disgust. Yoongi watches you, his cat-like eyes following your movements with curiosity. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the clinking of dishes and the noises from the kitchen. 

A waitress flutters back and forth between the tables and the stools at the counter, taking orders and pouring coffee. She either hasn’t noticed you’re there or she doesn’t see you at all. Quite frankly, neither would shock you. Another order appears in the window with a ding and the waitress spins to place the plate in front of a man at the counter. 

After a second, she approaches your table to take your order. You aren’t particularly hungry, but Yoongi orders a plate of fries and a slice of cake to share. She pours Yoongi a cup of coffee and promises to return with a glass of water for you and then she’s gone.

“So.” Yoongi clears his throat and leans on his hand. He studies you curiously. His voice is soft when he next speaks. “I really do need to know what he did to you, kid.”

You sigh. It wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to talk about. Your fiance had been terrific at first. Loving. Loyal. Kind. You’d known him since college, had seen him go from gangly, awkward first-year to second in his class in one of the country’s most prestigious law schools. You’d watched him graduate, had been there when he was named partner, celebrated every raise and promotion as he climbed the ladder. But slowly, over time, he’d changed.

“He used to be lovely,” you admit softly, dragging a finger through the condensation on the glass of water the waitress sat in front of you. “But somewhere along the way, he changed. Or maybe he was always like this and I didn’t notice. I don’t know.”

“Sometimes people hide who they are.”

“After a while, I realized that I wasn’t myself anymore. There was nothing about me at that point that didn’t revolve around him. I hadn’t seen my friends in over a year. I was completely dependent on him financially. He’d gotten me a job at his firm, we lived in a nice apartment near the river. But I didn’t want to only be Song Dawoon’s wife for the rest of my life. And when I left, I…” You shrug, hands falling into your lap. “Well, he showed me, I guess.”

“He took it all away?”

You nod. “My whole life, gone in less than 24 hours.”

“Your friends?”

“Turns out he’d been feeding them lies.”

Yoongi hums deeply and frowns. And when the waitress returns at that precise moment with a plate of fries, he jumps slightly at the clatter. When she’s gone, he leans closer, no longer resting on his hand. He picks up a fry and inspects it briefly before popping it into his mouth. He makes a face, though you can’t necessarily tell why. You consider for the first time that maybe he’d never eaten before.

Gently, he pushes the plate toward you. “Eat,” he coaxes softly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But now that I know, I can change tactics.” He sighs, his eyes falling to the plate as he traces the edge. “I’ll make sure he gets what’s deserved.”

Things go silent. Yoongi coaxes you to eat again, but other than that, the sounds of the diner take over. Slowly, the fries disappear. You try not to watch him–or, at least, you try not to be too obvious about watching him. He’s warmed up in the diner, his full cheeks no longer bright pink and windbitten, but you worry about when you leave. 

What happens then?

Does he have somewhere to go to get out of the cold? Does he stay in a tent in the encampment under the el? Does he go to a shelter? Or does he huddle by the trash can fire through the night? His clothes are so thin, there’s no way they protect him from the cold. Does he even get cold?  

You barely notice when the waitress comes to take away the plate and replace it with another, this one topped with a slice of cake large enough for two. Again, Yoongi nudges the plate in your direction, but you let him have the first bite. He practically melts when his lips close around his fork, and suddenly you’re struck with a thought. 

You would like to know more about him.

It’s weird, and a little random. But you want to know more about what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’re curious about his past, though you aren’t sure you’d ever be brave enough to ask. But he’s fascinating, you’re fascinated by him, and so you smile gently at him when you stab into your side of the cake. He returns it warmly, and it reflects in his eyes.

The days pass quickly, and soon enough, it’s almost a week later. For reasons you can’t quite figure out, you’ve seen Yoongi for the majority of the days after your impromptu trip to the diner. Or, perhaps seen isn’t the right word. Anyone else, you would say you’d been hanging out with them. But with Yoongi, that didn’t seem quite right.

He’d shown up at the bar. You’d assumed that he wanted to tell you about his most recent attempts at bringing enough justice to Dawoon to rattle his teeth. But he sat down at the corner of the bar and watched you curiously while you served the customers that were there before him. When you finally made your way toward him, he shot you a warm smile.

You’d only spoken a few words to him when it became abundantly clear that you were the only one that could see him. Your coworkers eyed you warily, and the other patrons sitting at the bar were looking at you like you were the drunk one. You whispered a soft “Stick around. I’m closing,” to him and promptly ignored him for the rest of the night.

Which is how you ended up here. With the bar’s sound system blasting late 90s pop while you pile dishes into the dishwasher. Yoongi perches on the countertop beside you, dark eyes watching you curiously as you place cups into the tray for washing.

“Is there a reason why I’m the only one who can see you?” you finally ask. It’d been bothering you all night, and now seems as good a time as any to ask.

He shrugs, and for a moment, you think he’s going to answer, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you hit start on the dishwasher and follows you back out to the bar. “You humans are… complicated,” he says cryptically, as if that’s supposed to answer your question.

You hum. Ain’t that the truth.

He stands behind you as you take stock, checking the bottles behind the bar to see what’s low. Gingerly, he picks up a bottle of bar brand rum and inspects the label. “Why do humans drink this?” he asks, voice quiet.

It’s your turn to shrug. “Celebration. Relaxation. Happiness. Sadness. For fun. To forget.”

“That’s a lot of contradictions.”

“Humans are complicated.”

He grunts and falls silent, putting the rum back behind the bar.

It’s a day later, and Yoongi is following you around once again. It’s weird how comfortable it is. He’s in your apartment, beside you in the kitchen. You’d been right in the diner–he hadn’t tried many human foods. He didn’t really need to eat. But he had a sweet tooth, and that was the extent of his experimentation.

Mercifully, it’s your day off, and you’ve taken the time to expose Yoongi to breakfast foods–waffles, you argue, are among humankind’s greatest creations. You had set him to task cutting up melon, and truthfully, you’re a little worried he’s going to cut his finger off. But it turns out that he’s a natural with a knife, and you aren’t sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But he chats with you while he cuts into the juicy green flesh, the thwack, thwack, thwack of the knife a nice rhythmic background to the conversation.

“It’s why the trains are always late,” he explains, his voice quiet, but sage. Somehow–you weren’t entirely sure how–he’d gotten on the topic of rail infrastructure. You hadn’t exactly been able to follow his logic, but his voice is nice, the slight gravel to it is soothing, and you think that maybe, you could listen to him talk for hours about nothing. Which is a strange thought because a month ago, you hadn’t even known his name.

The waffle maker beeps, and when you open it, the steam swirls out from a perfectly golden brown waffle. You pour more batter in and shut and lock the plates.

“Why do they call you Goat?” you ask quietly. It’s sudden, and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Yoongi’s knife and the every-so-often ding! of the waffle maker. Suddenly, you’re struck with the idea that maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me.” You can feel yourself clamming up. “I was just curious. That’s all.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay, kid.” He waves you off with a sigh. “Those snakes will do anything to humiliate me. I’m a joke to them.” Yoongi shrugs, his lips flattening into a line. “Goat. Not good enough for the guys up top. Not bad enough for the ones down below.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You hadn’t considered that maybe the nickname was mean. “I didn’t know they were making fun of you.”

“How could you?” He shrugs, pushing the sliced melon onto a plate. “They’re assholes, not worthy of my time.”

“Still–I’m sorry you have to go through it. It’s not fair to you.”

The waffle maker beeps again and you pull the last fluffy piece from the plates before unplugging it. You hand Yoongi the syrup and push the slightly cooled waffle in his direction. Warily, he pours some syrup and tears a piece off the waffle. He eats, humming lowly after a second and nodding his head.

“It’s good,” he confirms, flashing you a smile and licking some syrup off his thumb.

You feel yourself stand a little straighter, a small smile spreading across your face. He dives back in, tearing off another piece of waffle.

“Oh!” He finishes chewing before continuing. “I have some updates if you want them?” 

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“I took what you said, and I gave it some thought. So first of all, he’s now only telling his friends and coworkers the truth. Which is fun. His secretary already wants to kill him.” You nod, no longer interested in your own meal. “And I’m working on slowly rearranging his files. Not the public ones. I’m not trying to get a paralegal fired. But his files and notes. Choi, Park, and Park are very annoyed with him.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

“You don’t seem too happy, kid.”

“It’s just…” You sigh. It’s weird. You’re happy that Dawoon is getting what he deserves. So why do you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach? You shrug. It doesn’t matter. “Humans are complicated.”

You sigh and flop down onto your couch, throwing your phone down beside you. It’s been nearly a week, and you haven’t heard a single peep from Yoongi. You feel a little dumb for how it’s affecting you, but how else are you supposed to feel? He’d spent three weeks practically glued to your side, visiting you at the bar, following you around the city while you ran errands. You’d introduced him to some of your favorite foods. It’s stupid–after everything, you still only barely knew him–but you considered him a friend.

But now, for the second time in as many years, you find yourself alone and frustrated and feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Yoongi doesn’t have the capacity to hurt you as deeply as Dawoon’s betrayal had, but that doesn't mean that it doesn’t sting.

You’d met Dawoon during your first-year orientation in college. He was assigned to your group for the weekend. He’d been squirrely and awkward, and had followed you like a puppy around campus during the tour and all the first-year activities. But by the time classes started that Monday, you were fond of him. By the end of your first year, you were dating. By the end of his first year of law school, you’d moved in together.

He had been your best friend. He’d brought you coffee for every late night study session. He’d held you while you cried when the stress of your senior thesis got to be too much. He’d helped you relax during spring break the year you managed to burn yourself out so much that you considered dropping out. Dawoon had been there for every up and every down, and you’d loved him for it. 

You aren’t sure when things started to change. Only that, at some point into your nine-year relationship, they had. You woke up one morning, completely alone, and realized that you weren’t happy. It had been a long time since Dawoon had told you he loved you, and an even longer time since you’d felt like more than just arm candy. When you’d brought it up to him–that you felt like you weren’t an equal participant in the relationship, that you felt like he mattered more than you did–he’d gotten angry. So angry, that he’d almost hit you. So you’d left. Broke off the engagement, packed your bags, and left.

24 hours later, your life was gone, burnt down around you. Your boss, your friends, all tricked by Dawoon’s lies. That was almost a year and a half ago. 

You were finally starting to feel like a person again, and Yoongi was a big part of it. And now, he’s gone, too.

At the beginning of the week, you’d been surprised–sad, even–that Yoongi hadn’t popped up sometime throughout the day. But you’d gone to bed that night content in the assumption that perhaps he was busy with your favor or someone else’s, and that the next day, you would see his lopsided smile as he floated into the bar during your shift.

But no such luck. A day passes, and you go from surprised to worried. Where could he possibly be? You hope that he isn’t frozen somewhere, never to be seen again.

Three more days pass, and you find yourself getting angrier–both at Yoongi and yourself. Why hasn’t he even tried to contact you? What could he possibly be doing that he couldn’t answer a single one of your texts? Or one of your calls? Or even just float by the bar when you’re working to let you know he’s alive?

Why hadn’t you offered to buy him a new coat? You knew his was in tatters. You knew the nights were getting colder. You could have offered your couch.

That anger festered, and now you’re pissed. At Yoongi. At yourself. At the world. Thankfully, you don’t have to completely start over again, but there’s something just as crushing about finding yourself alone again. It’s not productive, your anger, so you channel it into something more positive.

You clean. The whole apartment. Top to bottom. Starting with your bedroom and working through the bathroom and the kitchen. You blast the punk music from your early teen years on your phone and set about the living room, dusting your bookshelves and reorganizing the contents. 

You’re almost ready to get out the mop and bucket when you hear a ‘thud’ against your door. Just one, and not very loud. You’ve almost decided to ignore it–it’s late, and your apartment is between enough bars that drunks falling into your door is not uncommon–when the soft knock comes, slow but deliberate. It persists, despite your efforts to get back to your cleaning, and finally, you can’t take it any more.

You march to the door, throwing it open violently. “What?” you snap before even getting a look at the knocker.

The person falls forward, and you catch them easily, grunting under the dead weight of their body. Through slashes in the man’s jacket, you can see what you think is blood–golden and viscous against lightly tanned skin–sticking what’s left of a sweater to a bruised and battered body. You hold him carefully, pushing black hair away from his face. Something inside of you knows already, but you need to be sure. 

“Yoongi?” Your heart sinks. “What happened? Where have you been?”

He splutters a bit and sags in your arms. You struggle to maneuver him further into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. “Snakes,” he manages, wincing as you nudge his arm around your shoulders. 

You frown, helping him slowly hobble out of your doorway and into the living room. Your goal is the bedroom, if you can make it. He would probably be better off on the bed if you can get him there. Snakes. They told you they were his friends. He’d warned you about them. Said they’d kill him if they ever got the chance. You suppose he was right.

Together, you limp halfway through the living room before Yoongi groans. “Gotta lay down, kid.”

“The bed’ll be more comfortable.” He grunts, and you can tell he won’t be able to make it that far. “Couch, then?”

He stumbles, and you almost lose your grip on him, but you manage to keep him upright. “Floor. Please.”

Gently, you ease him to the floor, pushing your ottoman out of the way so he doesn’t have to curl up. You pull the pillows off the couch, kneeling down to lift his head and slip one under so he’s comfortable.

“Do you need a blanket?” you ask softly, rushing out of the room. 

He grunts out a ‘no,’ but you grab him one anyway, and a glass of water–though if you’re honest, you have no idea how he’s going to drink it laying face-down on the floor, but it seems right–and then a straw because that makes more sense and rush back. You sit beside him on the floor and place your collection around you so you can reach any of it should he need.

You reach out, hesitating just slightly before your hand touches his hair. You don’t want to hurt him. But then he groans and curls slightly in on himself from the pain, and you think that maybe you can’t hurt him any more than he already is. So gently, ever so gently, you lower your hand into the inky blackness of his hair. It’s wet from sweat and sticky from blood–there’s a gash on his temple that his long hair can’t help but get stuck in–but you smooth it down anyway, away from his face.

You stand and return moments later with a bowl full of lukewarm water and a rag. “They really kicked the shit out of you, huh?” you ask softly, wringing out the rag and dabbing it against the cut on his temple. Yoongi hisses in pain and recoils. “I know, I’m sorry,” you murmur, using your other hand to smooth his hair down. “Who are they?”

“Demons,” he groans, dark eyes barely opening to look at you. “I was doing a job over by the harbor on Wednesday and they jumped me.”

“Wednesday?” you exclaim, washing out the rag and wringing it again. You move to his left shoulder, where three terribly bruised scratches run from his clavicle across his shoulder blade and down his black. “Yoongi, that was three days ago.”

He flinches when the rag hits his skin and you apologize softly. His sweater and coat fall apart in your fingers as you try to clean his wounds. You finish cleaning his back, wiping the dirt and blood and grime out of the scratches. You can see where they’re already starting to heal, where they’re already scabbing over and the flesh is growing back. You imagine that, among the other special abilities he has, he heals faster than a human. Which is good for him, because you weren’t kidding. He looks like shit.

“You good?” You stroke his hair again, pushing it back away from his eyes. 

He nods ever so slightly, deep brown eyes meeting yours briefly before he winces in pain. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not gonna die?”

Yoongi scoffs, then lets out a low groan. “Looking to get rid of me, kid?”

“Never.” You fluff his hair and stand. “I’ll be right back. Yell if you need me.”

He calls your name before you’re even out of the room and you turn to him. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

He gestures vaguely, barely lifting his arm from the floor, but you get the idea. For taking him in. For taking care of him. For making him feel like a person.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, and pat the door frame. You disappear into your bedroom before he can say anything else.

You throw open your closet, flicking through the hangers, searching for one in particular. Somewhere in here’s an old sweater, one of the only things you managed to take with you after Dawoon, stuffed into your suitcase. It’s cream colored, you remember, chunky knit. You haven’t seen the sweater in over a year, but it’s got to be in here somewhere.

You tug it off the hanger in triumph just as a thud sounds in the living room. There’s a flapping noise, like a sheet shaken to remove the wrinkles. Confused, you slowly creep back out. There, lying precisely where you’d left him, is Yoongi. Except now, sprawled to either side of him is a pair of feathery black wings.

“Yoongi?” you question softly, stepping into the living room clutching the sweater to your chest.

His head turns away from you. “I couldn’t keep them in any longer. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I brought you a sweater. Your clothes are ruined.” He grunts. “If you’re feeling up to it, I can help you into it.” Your eyes widen. There was probably a less weird way to phrase that. “Because of your shoulder. It’s kind of really fucked up.”

He snorts, a light laugh leaving his lips, and then winces. “Thanks.”

You sink to the floor beside him, hand finding his hair once again. “Are you… you’re sure you’re going to be okay?” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, and with a groan, rolls onto his side. He’s facing you now, one wing draped over his body and partially in your lap. “Don’t worry too much about me, kid. I’ve been through worse.”

Something about that breaks your heart. Maybe because you can tell. It’s the tone of his voice, but also it’s how mangled and damaged his wings are, and how you could see scars on his back under the scratches from the demons. He’s seen much worse than this.

Your fingertips brush against his wing gently and the feathers twitch away. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He sounds tired, his voice husky and ragged. “No one’s ever touched them before.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh.” His brows furrow. “It’s okay. It didn’t hurt.”

Something about his tone gives you pause. Ever so gently, you run your fingers through the feathers of his wings. It’s purposeful this time, and he doesn’t flinch away. In fact, he practically purrs, a deep exhale leaving him.

You can tell that his wings used to be beautiful. Closer up, the feathers are a dark grey, and most of them are still glossy. It’s just that… there are patches where there are no feathers, and places where you can see the bony protrusions that make up the physical structure of the wing. Some of the feathers are bent and broken, some are crushed, the soft, downy tendrils clumped together.

But despite everything, the feathers are soft and delicate, and they run through your fingers like water. You trace a scar along the ridge of his wing, the tip of your finger dragging through the feathers slowly, and at first, he jumps a little bit, but he quickly relaxes.

“Hey Yoongi?” you ask softly, your focus on the feathers resting against your leg. He hums an acknowledgement. You can feel his eyes on the side of your head. His curiosity is back. He must be starting to feel better. “How’d you…” You sigh and gather some courage. “How’d you fall?”

“Ah.” 

“It’s just… you said that you weren’t good enough for them, right? But the demons clearly aren’t…”

“Not my biggest fans, no.”

“So, I just…”

When you finally look at him, you’re struck by how beautiful he is. Not just in a ‘you’re pretty’ way–which, admittedly, he’s that, too. But in a ‘you’re fascinating’ sort of way. Everything about him seems contradictory. His eyes–sharp, catlike, ever observant–sit above a soft button nose, round cheeks, pouty lips. His wings are so beautiful, yet so broken. Even his words, which were sharp when you first met him, are now much softer and friendlier. Sharp and soft. It suits him, somehow.

His dark eyes watch you watch him. And though his face says he’s irritated, his eyes glisten with mirth. He enjoys watching you fumble, apparently, and you recognize that you should be more annoyed by that, but truthfully, you’re happy that he’s feeling well enough to even entertain the thought of mischief. A small smile spreads across his lips, and you find yourself smiling back at him.

“Okay,” he grunts, shifting himself closer awkwardly.

“What are you–? Be careful!” you chide gently, confused by his actions. 

He finally seems to settle when he’s laying perpendicular to you. His head lands in your lap and you freeze, arms raised in surprise. Yoongi readjusts slightly to get more comfortable against your thigh. He stretches his wing out–the tips of his feathers brushing against the ceiling–and winces slightly with the movement.

When he’s settled in, he sighs. “I didn’t fall. I was pushed. They don’t really tolerate dissent. Even if you’re right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s really not that deep of a story, kid. Top brass and I had some disagreements, that’s all.”

“Such as?”

He hums. “Oh you know. Just some minor things.” He rolls slightly so he can look you in the face. “I have these radical ideas where I think people should be kind to everyone and that everyone is worthy of respect.”

You finally drop your hands, and they find the feathers on the ridge of his wing. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of such an extremist.”

“Yeah well.” He grunts, using his arm to push himself upright. He wobbles a little bit when he’s fully vertical, and you reach out a hand to hold him steady. “When the big guy said ‘Love thy neighbor’, he didn’t really leave room for exceptions.”

You hum, your hand falling from Yoongi’s arm when you’re satisfied that he won’t fall over. He stretches, wings folding behind his back with a surprising amount of grace. It strikes you in that moment that he didn’t need to come here, didn’t need you to stitch him up. He could do it all on his own, quicker than you could have ever taken care of him. The scratches on his shoulder are already healed over–they’re still pink and inflamed, sure, but they aren’t bleeding anymore. You wonder how long it took for his pain to go away. So then why…?

“Why’d you come here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can even register it’s a bad idea. 

“What?”

“I mean, I’m just a human. I haven’t done shit for you.”

“That’s not true.” His brow furrows. “You brought me a sweater.” He reaches forward to grab the forgotten top.

“That’s not a lot. You did most of the work.”

He shrugs the sweater on, the cream material falling loosely over his torso. Somehow, his wings poke out of the back just fine, even though there are no holes for them. You’re curious, but you also aren’t about to ask him about it. The sweater is big on him, oversized in that two-sizes-too-big sort of way. 

“It’s a lot to me,” he says quietly.

Was he always sitting this close? Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of his knee touching yours and how his fingers are barely brushing your own. Deep brown eyes meet yours, his attention flickering quickly downwards before dragging back up to your eyes, like it took a great effort. And then he’s leaning in. Or maybe you’re leaning in. Both of you? It doesn’t matter. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Can he hear it? He can probably hear it.

He’s millimeters from you, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. “Can I kiss you?” He asks it so softly, it’s barely audible, even from this distance. 

You don’t even think. You just nod.

His lips meet yours, and it’s like all of the air is sucked from your lungs. It’s quick–he breaks it far too soon–and you’re admittedly a little lightheaded. He doesn’t get far, though, before you’re pulling him closer again, hand cradling his jaw. His lips are slightly chapped, and he moves gently against you. Not too fast, not too forceful. It’s almost as if he’s hesitant. But then he adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls you ever so slightly closer.

When you finally pull apart, your face feels warm. Yoongi’s looking at you, dark eyes swimming with some emotion that you can’t really place. But it’s gooey and soft, and the warmth spreads from your face to your whole body. No one had looked at you like that since… well, since Dawoon, and really, it had been a long time for even that. Yoongi offers you a small smile, and you return it, suddenly very nervous. He stretches his legs out in front of him, hand brushing yours once again.

What in the world are you supposed to do now? You didn’t think you were so far over Dawoon’s betrayal that you were ready to kiss… anyone, let alone Yoongi.

“You uh…” You cough, feeling very awkward, and fumble for the right thing to say. “You want to watch a movie?”

When you wake up, you aren’t sure what time it is. It’s weird. You remember the movie–an old Scooby Doo made-for-tv special from your childhood–and sitting beside Yoongi on the floor. You remember the shuffle of his wings as he got comfortable–the couch apparently too rigid for the sensitive appendages. You remember how he tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but the shaking of his shoulders gave it away.

What you don’t remember is falling asleep.

But it’s now morning, early light streaming through the windows. The tv is off, and there’s a blanket thrown over your shoulders. Your apartment is so quiet you can hear the foot traffic on the sidewalk outside. Where’s Yoongi? You push yourself up off the floor, squinting as you look around. You check your bedroom, and the kitchen, and the bathroom, and he’s nowhere. He’s just… gone.

You sigh and collapse onto the couch, heart and stomach somewhere in your ankles. You feel sick. This is different from when you were angry and worried about him. Now, you’re just angry. 

How dare he? How dare he make you worry about him? How dare he show up on your doorstep without warning like that? How dare he make you care? 

How dare he kiss you like that and leave without a word?

Something stings behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut, letting your head fall to hit the back of the couch. How could you be so stupid? After Dawoon, you’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t let yourself get invested like that again. It only led to this. Sitting alone, a mysterious stinging in your eyes, wondering what you did wrong.

You grit your teeth and give yourself another ten seconds to wallow in self-pity. And then you stand. You promised a coworker you’d cover her lunch shift at the bar today. You can’t afford to miss it. Plus, you do better when you don’t have time to dwell on things.

Unfortunately, the bar is dead. You count the glassware at least a dozen times. You wipe down the bar more times than you can count. You wipe down every bottle in the well and on display, double-check the kegs, restock the bottled beer in the fridge. A few hours into the shift and you’re faced with the fact that it’s not as good a distraction as you had hoped. Thankfully, there are at least a couple patrons, and since there are no servers staffed for the lunch shift, you’re forced to take care of them. 

You’re grateful for the customers, grateful for something to do, for the outlet. But then the door opens, and you throw a quick “Sit anywhere! I’ll be with you in a sec!” over your shoulder as you pop into the kitchen to grab one of the table’s appetizers. When you emerge, you nearly drop the nachos you’re carrying.

At a table in the corner sits a face you’d rather forget. He’s tall, and handsome–a far cry from the spindly first-year you’d met a decade ago. His black hair is a little shaggy, perfectly styled to be out of his face. He wears a suit, no doubt it cost him more than your entire month’s pay, tips included.

Song Dawoon.

You steel yourself, take a second to plaster the customer service smile back on your face, and step out onto the floor. You drop the nachos off at the correct table without spilling a single chip, despite the fact that your hands are shaking like you’re experiencing your own personal earthquake. You promise to refill the man’s Jack and Coke, and then you take a breath and step toward Dawoon’s table.

“What can I get you?” you ask through your best plastered-on smile.

Dawoon looks up at you, a sickly sweet grin on his face. “How have you been? I didn’t know you worked here!”

Sure he didn’t.

“Sit down,” he suggests, kicking out the chair across from him. 

“No thanks.”

“Sit. Let’s talk.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for questions.

Cautiously, you sit. Your leg starts to bounce. Between the anger from this morning and your nerves now, you’re dizzy and nauseated. It’s a big city. You’d hoped that you’d never have the displeasure of seeing Dawoon again.

“The funniest thing has happened to me,” he says, leaning forward, his fingers steepled. “I’ve been having the worst luck lately. My keys disappear. My clocks are all broken. My files are disappearing. And you’ll never believe this, but all of my clients keep forgetting my name.” He hums and shakes his head. “It’s strange. Almost supernatural. Like if someone hired a vengeful spirit. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You shrug. “Not at all.”

“See, that’s the thing. I think maybe you do.” He beckons you closer, but you don’t move. His voice is dark. You’d only ever heard him like this once before.

The day he swung at you.

“I think,” he continues, voice low, “you know a lot about it. I’m not quite sure how, but if I figure out how you’re ruining my career, you’ll have to pick up the pieces three states over.”

“You know, that’s really rich coming from you.” You stand, the chair scraping from behind you. You take a deep breath. “I think you should leave now.”

It takes everything in you to walk away with your head held high. Your legs are shaking by the time you get back behind the bar, and as soon as you’re safe in the kitchen, you sink to the floor. The cook eyes you warily but says nothing, simply hands you a glass of water and goes back behind the prep station. 

The room is spinning. Your chest is tight. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re afraid it’ll pop out of your chest and flop around on the floor like a fish. The door to the kitchen swings open and shut, open and shut, a dull throb that barely registers somewhere in the back of your mind. Your hands shake as you take a sip of the water. Someone pats your shoulder as they pass by.

It takes ten minutes for you to breathe normally again, and another five for your blood pressure to return to that of an alive human being. You stand, give the kitchen staff a nervous nod in thanks, and sneak back out into the bar. By now, Amy–the other bartender–has clocked in. A quick glance around the room eases your nerves. Dawoon is gone. The other patrons are still there, but Dawoon is no longer sitting in the corner. 

You lean against the bar and sigh. And then you pull yourself together and finish your shift.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You’re drained. You want nothing more than to sleep for a week, take a hot bath, and drink an entire bottle of red wine. And not necessarily in that order. You collapse onto the couch, television remote in hand. Despite your exhaustion, you’re still wired. 

In the glow of your tv’s home screen, you see something glossy on the floor at your feet and reach down to pick it up. Something soft brushes your fingertips, and when you finally grab it and inspect it, you’re face-to-face to a single dark grey feather.

Your head falls, hitting the plush back of the couch. You feel your eyes start to sting again. It’s all too much.

A noise to your left startles you–the sound of a blanket being shaken to get the wrinkles out. You squeeze your eyes shut briefly. Of course the universe is forcing you to do this now. 

When he says your name, it’s barely a whisper–deep, gravelly, it matches the early hour. Stubbornly, you ignore him, your eyes squeezed shut. Maybe, if you don’t acknowledge him, he’ll go away. But then you hear him step closer, and you’re jumping to your feet.

“What are you doing here?” you question him sharply.

“I wanted to check on you, I-”

“Why?”

“Song Dawoon, he’s-” Yoongi frowns. “You’re upset.” He takes a step forward. “Why are you upset?”

You scoff. “Don’t talk to me about him.”

He looks confused, dark eyes clouding over with questions. And for a moment, your heart flutters. But then a part of you–the angry part–reminds you that you’d woken up this morning alone. And an even larger part of you reminds you that Dawoon knows somehow, and you grit your teeth.

“You left me alone.” Your eyes sting again, and you try to blink it away. Now is not the time. “You left me alone and I had to deal with him by myself.”

Something akin to worry crosses Yoongi’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter!” You’re exasperated, and you can feel your heart rate increasing–you try to take deep breaths despite the fact that your lungs feel like they’re being squeezed. “Don’t you get it? He ruined my life because we weren’t in love any more. He took it personally that I wouldn’t stick around and enjoy our perfect, abusive relationship. He told my boss I was selling information to a rival firm and got me fired. He told my friends that I talked shit behind their backs and made them hate me. He took away my entire support system and kicked me out on my ass and he’s still coming after me.” You take a shaky breath and force yourself to stare Yoongi down. 

“I didn’t know. You didn’t say-”

“Of course I didn’t! Why would I want to relive the worst months of my life? God, I…” You throw up your hands and turn away. “How useless are you? I thought you were supposed to be able to sense this stuff? Maybe not the specifics, but at least the severity, or… or something!”

“I-”  

It’s all too much. Yoongi standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Him leaving, Dawoon’s threats. You can’t take it anymore. 

“You need to…” You take a deep breath, force your voice to steady, blink away the stinging. “Thank you for your help, but unfortunately, I don’t think this will work.”

“What-”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I won’t be needing your help anymore. You can go.”

“But I…” Yoongi’s brow furrows, and you watch as he deflates. His shoulders sag, and something changes in how he stands there. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there not to understand? I don’t need your help anymore. We never have to see each other again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Go.”

He nods, black hair falling in front of his face. His eyes are downcast, but you think you see a shine in them that wasn’t there before. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before speaking again. “Okay.” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Okay. Well… I guess this is it then.”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

He’s gone in a flap of invisible wings, and suddenly, it’s dead quiet in your apartment. You stand there for a moment, silent, unsure what to do next. And then something in you breaks, and you sink to the floor in front of your ottoman. Tears well in your eyes, and it’s barely a second before you’re sobbing into your hands. 

He was still wearing your sweater.

Fallen Masterlist | Next Part

thank you for reading. I have no idea when part two will be out--I don't normally do this, but I couldn't wait to get part one out, so I'm still working on the rest. I'd love to hear what you thought about this part! it might even inspire me to finish the fic!

Check Out my Masterlist

#min yoongi #yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga #suga x reader #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #fallen angel au #fallen angel yoongi #bts angst #bts fluff #bts suga angst #bts suga fluff #bts yoongi angst #bts yoongi fluff

[hawksinacup]

Au where you summon a demon, but out comes the divine being that is Hawks. Beautiful and holy in every way, his brilliant, seraphim wings are jaw dropping and stunning. Golden cuffs on his neck, forarms, and ankles, with golden jewelry littering his hands and ears. His glowing amber eyes staring into your soul. For a moment you look back at the summoning circle and see if you did it wrong. No. You didnt. You did in fact summon a demon... or some... sort of being.

Turns out, you summoned a recently fallen angel who has yet to be tainted, except for his wings. Instead of a blinding white, they are a blood red, to symbolize the blood of the innocent. Innocent lives that have fallen because of him. His sins forever remaining on his body, through his wings.

He asks you what you want, you reply with "I want this person dead." Hawks frowns and denies your request as he refuses to kill another soul, for the more he kills, the more tainted he becomes. He refused to harm and shed blood. He was part of God's holy army, but after falling victim to the evil, manipulative words of a demon, he killed so many innocent lives and was punished. Outcasted to become a fallen angel and to forever rot in hell.

However, since you summoned him, how? He has no idea, nor do you, he has yet to do any 'rotting in hell'. He then decides to make a deal with you, he will serve you as an eternal servant if you create an eternal bind with him, in which your soul is his after death, and as long as he does not have to shed any more blood. You agree and you two form an eternal bond.

So now you have a fallen angel, a beautiful and handsome one at that, at your side to bend to your will.

#mha hawks #keigo takami #bnha hawks #hawks #fallen angel au #i dont know #I just thought of this for some reason

[ahlovelightaflame]

It Simply Cannot Be! ~ *Joshua Hong*

Summary: Joshua is good and he prides himself on being good. That's why he's in the Legion of Angels. That is, until they decide he's not good anymore and cast him out. It simply cannot be!

Pairing: Kim Mingyu X G/N!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1085

Warning: Religious Trauma (but not the kind you're thinking)

Masterlist

Taglist: @samepoisonsamevine @kpop-will-kill-me

The night was quiet and the candle light flickered low. You were cleaning up the bar as per usual, making sure the glasses were clean to use tomorrow. There were still a handful of stragglers that kept mainly to themselves. Every so often, one would come up to you, pay their tab, and quietly leave. It wouldn't be long before the last of the crowd would trickle out and you'd be all alone. Not that you minded. It was about time for you to get some shut eye anyways.

At least that's what you thought when the door to the inn slammed open in a flurry of wind and feathers. Before you knew it, the tornado was at a stool before the bar, half leaning over it. You simply stared at the cyclone who was in the middle of a conversation with you.

"It simply cannot be!" He wailed. "Do you have any idea how much I worked for this? Everything I have sacrificed for them? And just like that, gone! Demoted! Banished! Cast out! As if all of my years of servitude meant nothing to them! How could this be? It simply cannot, I tell you!"

"Good evening to you, Joshua." You greet him, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your eyes are still trained on the pesky stain in the stein glass you're trying to clean.

"Are you even listening to me?" He continued with another whine.

You nod. "I am, though to you I must not seem very engaged. But I am listening to you."

He narrowed his eyes on you. "You also don't seem very sympathetic to my concerns."

You finally look up and notice that the Joshua before you does not look like he normally does. Usually he is white, gold, and glowing. But his color and light are now faded. He is gray, silver, and dull. You can already guess what happened to him without him trying to tell you. Although, you're unsure as to why he had fallen.

"The legion of angels have not been kind to you, have they?" You sigh and shake your head. "I tried to tell you that it was best to stay away from them, but you wouldn't listen. Still, are you alright? Falling is hard and very painful. I can make you something to help ease the pain."

He shook his head. "The pain has subsided a great deal. It's just a dull throb now."

"And the emotional pain?"

"I don't think it will ever go away." He whispers and you sigh once more.

Taking one of the already clean glasses, you mix a sweet and frothy concoction before passing it towards him. "Drink this. You'll need it."

"What's this?" He asked, eyeing the odd drink with suspicion and a hint of disdain.

"Just drink it. It'll soothe your body and your mind."

He carefully drinks it in one go. You softly smile and he returns it before shyly passing the glass back to you to clean.

"How much do I owe you?"

You look up at him and there's a sharp look in your eye. "Just sit there and listen to what I have to say."

He nods and you get back to finishing your cleaning. "I told you to be careful of the Legion of Angels. Now, I knew you could easily join the Legion and I'll admit, I was a little impressed with how quickly you rose through their ranks. But I know better than anyone how much harder it is to maintain your precarious position on top when there is no room for mistakes. And I know it hurts to fall. I was worried about you. I've always been worried about you. And while I knew you could do very well, I also knew it was a matter of time before something happened. The winds of change will always bring change, as much as the Legion tries to deny it. I'm just glad you didn't fall too hard."

He sighs and places his chin onto the bar. "I made a terrible mistake, haven't I?"

You shake your head. "Not at all. You made a choice, Joshua. And while it may hurt now, it will get better. Things always get better. It's a back and forth dance we all must dance while we are alive. You will get better, I promise. And the best thing is you learned while you were at it. You've grown, though it may not seem like it at the moment."

He gives you another smile. "Can I ask a personal question?"

"Of course."

"Did it feel this way when you became a disgraced God?"

You suppress your shudder with ease and pick up another glass to clean. "It hurt much worse. Angels come and go. Gods are forever. I will always carry this pain until I am once again reinstated. And then I will go through it again when I'm knocked off my pedestal once more. As I said, it's a back and forth we must go through as we live."

He nods. "I understand. But do you think the Legion will ever let me join their ranks again?"

You shrug. "Give it time. You still have some lingering effects of being an angel, and that includes the prolonged life span. Use it and continue learning. Perhaps you'll rejoin them or perhaps you'll find a new calling. Only you can make that decision, not anyone else."

With a much more confident smile, he sits up. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"You're very welcome." You put the last glass away and toss your rag into a pile of laundry you will need to complete tomorrow. "Would you like to stay tonight and rest your wings, Joshua? It's on the house."

He grins. "How could I pass up an offer from a God who protects weary souls? Yes, please."

"I'll have a room done up for you. And tomorrow, I can put you in contact with the Order of Fallen Angels. They can help you navigate life now, considering that you are now half human and half angel. You're going to need a better support system than just me."

He frowns a little at your words. "But I can still come to you if I need support, right?"

You pause a little at his words before nodding. "Sure, if you would like."

"I would very much."

"Very well." You nod. "Now, shall I show you to your room, Fallen Angel Joshua?"

#Seventeen #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Oneshot #KPop #KPop Fanfiction #KPop Oneshot #Carat #Joshua Hong #Joshua Hong X Reader #Joshua Hong Fanfiction #Joshua Hong Oneshot #Joshua Hong Angst #Joshua #Joshua X Reader #Joshua Fanfiction #Joshua Oneshot #Joshua Angst #Angel #Angel AU #Fallen Angel #Fallen Angel AU #God #God AU #Oneshot #Angst #Fluff

[superiorsturgeon]

Rookie-Angel!Pyrrha: wow. Theres so much to being a guardian angel.

Angel: yup. Dont worry, you have the heart and spirit. You'll get there in no time.

RA!Pyrrha: Thank- hey, what's that commotion?

Angel: oh, that? Well, some Valkyrie and Angels are having a free for all to see who gets to collect the soul of the Rusted Knight. He's apparenly about to fall off a tree mid-battle soon.

RA!Pyrrha: oh ny! The Rusted Knight is real? That's Grand! I remember my mother reading me that story.... w-wait. He didnt die when he drank the poison? A-and he's about to d-die? And they're all....

Angel: Fighting over his soul, yeah. The Valkyrie claim their "little sis" on Remnant called dibs already, but we Angels know the Knight, his family has fought our fight for generations and he's even fought at the side of the God of Light's champion.

RA!Pyrrha: ooo-oh, wow! The truth is stranger than any legend. Still, i hope someone who will be kind to him wins..... dying in the line of duty still hurts.....

Angel: oh, they'll be 'kind' alright. This group is mostly just thirsty thots looking to score with a new arrival. Bah, i say we should just send a reaper spirit for this Arc dude, plenty of time to make a pass on him later.

RA!Pyrrha: *twitch* what.

Angel: oh yeah, that wasn't in the legend, right? His real name is Jaune Arc or something. I read the file; some time travel bullshit and a stable time loop happened. It's kinda-

RA!Pyrrha: It's a free for all, correct? (Hard eyes)

Angel: uh

RA!Pyrrha: And the heavenly blacksmith is over there, right?!? (Flexing muscles, swords rattling in the distance)

Angel: uhhhhhhhhh

RA!Pyrrha: And im ALLOWED TO GUIDE SOULS AS WELL, CORRECT? (Wings extend, a circle of floating swords forming a halo)

Angel: y-es? (Sweating)

Angel-Of-War!Pyrrha: (sweetly) oh good!

(Her eyes narrow)

AoW!Pyrrha: word of advice. Don't get in my way-HEY, I HAVE A PRIOR CLAIM, THOTS. BACK OFF!!!!!!

Angel: *gulps*

Jaune: *blinking, lying on the ground where he fell* Oooohhhhhh…I don’t think my aura will save me this time…

????: It’s okay…I’ve got you…

Jaune: *blinks and squints* P…Pyrrha…? Is that you…?

Pyrrha: *cradling Jaune in her lap and tenting her red-feathered wings over him* Hello again, Jaune! You had quite a nasty fall!

Jaune: *looks around and sees piles of beaten/bruised angels and loose feathers everywhere* Wha…what happened…? Am I dead?

Pyrrha: *brushes Jaune’s long hair back* It was close, but I saved you just in time!

Jaune: What happened to all the other angels?

Pyrrha: Oh, well…it turns out sometimes there’s…competition…when it comes to being a guardian angel! 😡

Pyrrha: Luckily I was able to convince everyone else that I was the one for you! ☺️

Jaune: *looks back up into Pyrrha’s eyes and reaches up to touch her cheek* I can’t believe I get to see you again…! 🥹

Jaune: I like your horns and black wings!

Pyrrha: …my what…?

Pyrrha: *looks at her wings which have turned black* 😧

Pyrrha: *feels for her halo and finds two curving horns* 😨

Pyrrha: …Uh-oh…!

#rwby #jaune arc #Pyrrha Nikos #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc X Pyrrha Nikos #Pyrrha had one job #sturgeon asks #fallen angel au