Okay, so....! Picture Nathaniel being a himbo AND a total slut. I know that's not a popular opinion BUT humor me and imagine: him having sexual urges and not wanting to do anything about it for lack of self control but, once he's gotten some, he turns into a total whore for it. Getting covered by fluids and being used is his bread and butter, but you'd never know from a first impression.
Since 2020 was an extremely shitty year, have this lil' art piece. And sorry I didn't manage to post it sooner, at 2 AM I suddenly felt really sick and decided to go to sleep XD
Nathaniel, the Defender of the Crystal Spire wishes all of you Happy New Year's Eve :3
Repost of the story from a prompt of @imagine-darksiders. I did, as the title says, a big dumb and was trying to delete a sideblog a while back and accidentally threw out my main. So, here you go. Imma do the first three parts here because I’m lazy and don’t wanna make three separate posts.
It was a normal morning, you had just gotten up from your bed and were preparing for the day ahead. You blearily rub your eyes as you descend the stairs to the main level of your house. Stifling a yawn, you make a pot of coffee and hope that the day wouldn’t be too taxing. After gathering the things to make your breakfast, the red light on the coffee pot flickers to life. You grab your favorite mug and, muffling another yawn into your pajama sleeve, pour yourself a cup of coffee. The warmth soaked into your palms as you add the necessary ingredients to the black liquid. You take a sip, feeling the caffeine rush through your system. It helped, if only slightly, to make you want to go to work.
You had just sat down to eat your breakfast when a very disconcerting sound made its way to your ears.
CRASH
You jump from your chair and nearly knock over the precious lifeblood in your mug. You grab the handle of the mug and rush outside, flinging open the door and scanning around. At first there was nothing wrong, but then your eyes landed on your car. The entire roof was caved in, but nothing around it told you just how it had happened.
“Oh... dammit.” You mutter to yourself as you rush over to your one and only car. You place the mug of coffee on the hood and sigh to yourself, circling the car to see just what had happened.
When you reached the other side of the vehicle you finally saw it.
Or him, that is.
A huge man is laying on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out in the gravel of your driveway. As you look closer, you realize that this is no normal man. Sparkling golden armor accented with creams and silvers encased his entire body, except for his head, which sported a nasty cut. You spotted a pair of beautiful white wings like those of a dove sprouting from his back, the only problem being that one of them was bent at a quite unnatural angle.
You glance at the coffee mug on the hood of the car and cautiously take another sip, wondering if you really should have stayed up that late last night. You cautiously make your way closer to the creature, kneeling down and setting your mug upon the ground.
I really hope he isn’t dead. You thought as you placed two fingers on his neck, releasing a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse. You sigh. “I can’t just leave him out here. He’ll cook in that armor.” You shake your head, still not fully believing that the creature had actually crushed your car. Or actually existed. You take out your cell phone and call your work, saying that you wouldn’t be able to come in today.
Cursing softly to yourself, you take a closer look at the creature’s face. He -you were assuming by looks alone- had dark skin and white hair. A short, neatly trimmed beard was on his chin and a scar marred the left side of his face. You couldn’t see his eyes as they were closed. His features were strong as if they had been carved from stone and, even though he was currently unconscious, you could feel an aura of power and authority emanating from him.
You shrug to yourself and stand up, taking one of the man’s feet and tried to drag him into your house. You didn’t know what else to expect, but the guy was heavy. You huff and take a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would give you a boost. You grab the man’s foot again and grunt as he slides a few feet. You sigh.
This was going to be a long day.
When you finally get him into your house -wasting half of the air conditioning because it took a while- you flop onto the floor.
“Why is it so damn hot at nine in the morning?!” You lamented, looking again at the man who was now sprawled across your floor. Wiping a bit of the sweat from your brow, you rise from the floor and place your fists on your hips. “May as well get him on the sofa so I don’t trip on him later.” You grumble and eventually drag the gargantuan man onto the -in comparison- tiny sofa. The furniture creaks its protest as you try to get most of the man onto the sofa. Well, his arm may be hanging off and his legs too, but you did pretty well if you do say so yourself. You sigh to yourself as you take the recliner on the other side of the room, wondering what you should do now that you have the day off. You eye the stranger and the cut on his head. “I may as well clean him up.” You go into your bathroom and rifle around until you find a first-aid kit.
You take a cotton swab and uncap the small bottle of rubbing alcohol, shaking your head as you invert the container once. You kneel down in front of the sofa and dab at the cut until you deemed it clean. After letting the alcohol dry, you dig around for the Neosporin and a band-aid. You curse. You only had pink ones left in the container.
“Suppose he’ll have to get over it then.” You shrug and put a dab of the antibiotics on the bandage before affixing it to the right side of his forehead. You look at the injured wing and place your hand on your chin. You work at a bird sanctuary over the weekends, so you have had plenty of experience with wings, but you wonder if his are different than the ones you have had to bandage over the years. Shrugging, you move to assess the damage. It was broken alright, and pretty badly too if you consider the angle it was at earlier. You pray he wouldn’t wake up while you were setting it because it would hurt like the dickens, but you were prepared. Thankfully, the man stayed unconscious and you aligned the bones with a rather sickening crunch. No matter how many times you had done that, the noise was no less unnerving. You wrap the wing as best as you could with the cheap bandages you had in the first aid kit and wonder if you should see if there was any other damage. Shrugging to yourself you pull up a chair to the sofa and begin to unclasp the armor.
There were a few other cuts on his arms you patched up with the pink bandages, but nothing serious. You had placed the armor in a neat pile in the corner so you wouldn’t trip on it and were putting the first aid kit away when your phone buzzed.
You took it from your back pocket and looked at the screen, your face going cold.
It was from your parents.
Be over at about five. Bringing cake for dessert. Love you, Mom and Dad.
“Shit, shit shiiiiit!” You whisper, your voice going up a few octaves in pure nervousness. “What the hell am I going to do?” You glance at the time. 4:30. “When the hell did it get so late?!” You scramble around your house, kicking yourself for forgetting that your parents were coming over that night for dinner. Even worse was that the rest of the family was coming over the next day for the fourth of July. They were going to watch the amazing fireworks show the town put on. You sprint outside, nearly falling down the front steps and tearing the keys from your pocket. Miraculously, your car started and you cursed to yourself as you drove it around to the back of your house, hiding it in the shed. You rocket back into your house where the man was still unconscious on your sofa. Thousands of things were running through your head. What were they going to say? What were they going to do? You didn’t know this man and here he was on your sofa?! You frantically pace back and forth in your living room, biting your nails and running your hands through your hair. Hide him maybe? But where? Your family goes wherever usually; they had small kids.You didn’t even notice that the man had woken up. You only noticed when he spoke.
“Where am I?”
You jumped at least a foot in the air when the voice met your ears. You whipped around to see the man scanning the room with inhumanly white eyes. You could barely make out his iris it was so light. You back up a good five feet when he sits up and his eyes land on you. Smiling nervously, you scratch the back of your head.
“You, uh, kinda landed on my car. Unconscious.” A snowy eyebrow lifted. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to bake in the sun.”
The man glanced around the room again and glanced something caught his eye apparently. His gaze snapped over to his arm where a hot pink bandage was stuck. Curious, he looked back to you.
“You were a bit beat up so I, uh, patched you up. Pretty nasty cut on your face and a broken wing.” The man touched a finger to where another pink bandage was. “Sorry about the color; they were all I had left.”
“No need to apologize. I should be doing so for damaging your property.” His voice was deep and held a certain power she rarely heard from anyone. “Thank you for being so kind to me. I must ask your name.” You thought about it for a brief second before deciding to trust him, giving him your name.
“So what is your name?”
“Oh! I seem to have left my manners back home. My name is Nathaniel.” You hum; the name suited him. You were about to say something when a noise that made your face drain of all color met your ears.
Knock Knock Knock!
“Oh shit! UH! This is really awkward. My parents are here for dinner.”
“I am sorry for intruding. I will go if you want.” He didn’t sound at all upset.
“No, no. I just need to think of something. A coworker? Friend? Shit. I have no clue what I am doing.” You run your hands through your hair and pace for a few seconds before another series of knocks ring through your house. “Okay. A friend from work or something. That’ll work. But shit! You have wings. They aren’t as chill as me. I hate to ask this but is there any way you could… hide them without armor or something?”
Nathaniel’s eyes traced you as you paced back and forth, biting your thumb. He knew you wouldn’t leave him alone while injured, that much was clear. “Give me a moment. Do you have anywhere I could-?” He trailed off, looking at his armor.
“Oh!” You pointed out the restroom at the back of your own room. “You can put the armor on the dresser I guess.” Another, more urgent, set of knocks rings out and you rush to the door. You fling open the door and your parents’ faces greet you. Your mother is holding the cake they promised for dessert and your father held a few bags.
“You took quite a while. Everything alright?” Your mother asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh! Sorry about that. I was finishing drying my hair from the shower I took. Hard to hear in there.” You lied. “Everything set for tomorrow?”
“Yes. Everyone is all ready to come over. Are you ready for the herd of them though?” Your mother strode in, your father in tow, and made a beeline for the kitchen.
“I’m prepared for them.” You smiled. “I may need a few minutes to get something for dinner though. Hope you aren’t starving now. I have had a long day.” It wasn’t a lie; you have been swamped even though you had no work today.
“Your father can stand to wait a few more minutes.” Your mother glanced at where your father sat in the living room. “Need any help?”
You fumbled over the pots and pans, throwing a recipe together in your mind. You were still shaken from that morning and weren’t paying enough attention to what you were doing. “Crap!” You jump when a pot lands right on your toe. “Good thing this is the one I need.” You fumble as you fill the pot with water and set the stove for cooking. “May I ask what is in the bags?”
“Just some sparklers and other such things for the kids.” You hum in response as you pull out various things from your refrigerator.
“Good idea. Need to keep them occupied until dark. You mind helping me tomorrow for lunch? I have a menu planned, but I haven’t made anything yet. My job has made sure of that.”
“I hope you know that you are going to have to swat your father away from it.” You laugh. “But he should be manning the grill with your grandfather so you can get him back if he is too annoying.”
“Hear that, Dad?” You call. Your father gets up from the sofa and makes his way to the coffee pot.
“Yeah, yeah. As long as you don’t eat raw hamburger meat.”
“As long as you don’t try to eat the cake while we’re making it.” Both you and your mother scold at the same time. Loud creaking shifts the attention to the man standing in the doorway between your living room and kitchen.
“Oh! You could have told us you were having someone over and we could have come tomorrow with the rest.”
You put some pork chops in the oven and pour the pasta in the boiling water. “No need. I just found out recently. My friend from work a while back came to town.” You hoped the lie wasn’t too obvious. “This is Nathaniel. Nathaniel, (M/N) and (F/N).”
Nathaniel bowed his head shallowly. “It is nice to meet you both. I thank (Y/N) for welcoming me so warmly at the last minute.” He was now wearing robes, which your parents noticed immediately, that were a rich brown color. Despite that, they were somehow bright. Gold thread accented lighter patterns in the fabric.His wings were nowhere to be seen, and you deduced he hid them under the loose robes.
“Yeah. I was excited to hear that he was coming back from his hometown.” Your parents seemed to run with it, assuming he was from a different country with different looks than them. You were grateful that your parents don't question things too much.
A somewhat awkward silence fell over the kitchen as you drained the pasta and added the necessary ingredients to it.
“Well I hope all of you are up for pork chops and macaroni.”
You felt as if all eyes in the universe were on you as you set up the four places at your table. You shifted nervously as you brought the food to the table and set it down in the center.
“Welp. Hope you enjoy.” You say, fidgeting as you sit down at your place at the end of the table, waiting as the other three seated at their places took their share of the food. You finally ladle your portion of the macaroni onto your plain white plate and took one of the pork chops, glancing nervously around the table.
“So, Nathaniel, are you going to be coming with us to the fireworks show tomorrow?” Your mother piped up as your father eagerly cut a piece off of the porkchop.
He glanced to you and you gave a slight nod. “I suppose I will be attending.” He replied, somewhat awkwardly trying to figure out how he should cut the porkchop with the tiny silverware in his enormous hands.
“Have you ever seen the fireworks show? It is a treat no matter how many times you see it.”
“I have not seen it. I look forward to it.” Nathaniel looked somewhat perplexed; probably trying to figure out just what fireworks were. Humans were incapable of magic; so how would they work fire?
“So what exactly is your job?” Your father asked after thoroughly salting the macaroni. “(Y/N) Mentioned that your used to work with her?”
Nathaniel took a moment to think, swallowing what food he had in his mouth and placing the silverware down on the table. It was only polite when engaging in conversation. He raked through his brain for an answer. Did you tell him your occupation? He glanced around the table and saw you glancing down. His eyes followed yours to where there was something on the napkin at his place. I work at a bird sanctuary. Was printed. “I used to help her out with the birds. She is a wonderful caretaker.” Nobody else heard it, but Nathaniel heard you release a silent breath when your parents bought it.
“Where are you from, Nathaniel?” You mother asked, curious.
“Not around here. I’m not exactly sure what you would call it here.” You sighed as that only seemed to evoke more prodding from your parents. He seemed adamant on not telling them he was, in fact, probably an angel. You had guessed that a while ago, but never got the chance to ask. The white hair, the eyes, the wings, golden armor. It added up in your mind. He was probably a warrior one because of the way he held himself. You absentmindedly ate your dinner as the other three conversed. You noticed Nathaniel was more focused on talking than food, and assumed it was an angel thing.
A silence fell over the table and only then did Nathaniel continue eating. You had finished your food and your father was going in for seconds. Your mother had finished as well, but had politely placed her silverware down and seemed to be studying the newcomer. She glanced at you a few times, but you disregarded it as you picked up another porkchop. They were cooked the way your grandmother cooked them and you made them only a few times a month. Okay, okay, every other day. They were that good. You’d think you would get tired of them, but they went so well with everything, and they were so easy to make! You couldn’t resist! Besides, it was summer and everyone grilled outside as much as they could; you included.
“I’m ready for cake.” Your father stated before getting ready to go and cut himself a slice.
“Is everyone else ready for cake before (F/N) eats half of it?” Your mother rolled her eyes before herding your father away from the cake and expertly managing to find where you kept your cutting knives. She had a way of finding everything even if it wasn’t her house.
“I’m ready!” You nearly launch your chair backwards as you place your plate in the sink and exchange it for a clean one. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week!” It was a rare occurrence when you lived with your parents that cake was made. Unless you had the random craving for cake poppers and made them yourself. And were promptly swarmed by the rest of your family. You watch in anticipation as your mother cuts the first slice of the fluffy and perfectly iced cake, expertly avoiding getting any of the icing on her hands. It plopped onto the plate and she handed it to you, your eyes lighting up. Nathaniel had never had this ‘cake’ before -as a matter of fact, he hadn’t had a lot of earth food- and was curious to why you seemed so excited about it. You weren’t nearly as excited over the other food. Was it special? Some sort of tradition?
“Nathaniel, dear, would you like some cake?” Your mother’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. Should he try some? He heard Azrael was a big fan, absolutely beaming every time the word was mentioned. Well, beaming more than usual.
“I would like some please.” He finally decided, getting up from his place to receive the plate held out for him. He picked up his fork, still marveling at how tiny it was, and glanced over to you. You had already finished and were glancing over at your mother, contemplating getting another slice. Nathaniel mentally shrugged and tried a bit.
He understood what Azrael meant now.
After dinner, you cleaned up the plates and placed them in the sink, seeing your parents head for the living room after declining their help with the dishes. Nathaniel remained in the kitchen.
“You okay over there?” You called as you placed one of the pots in the dish drain, moving on to a plate. It was a few moments before you got a response.
“I am fine. Just… pondering.” You grunt in response and continue on with washing the dishes.
“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Nathaniel raised his head from where he was staring at the wood grain in the table.
“Nah. Isn’t too much trouble for me. You can go in and watch TV or something if you want. No need to stay in here.” You respond, glancing over your shoulder to see your parents on the sofa and watching the news.
“I can wait until you are finished.” Nathaniel responded. You shrugged, puffing a strand of hair out of your face as you washed the last pot. You drained the sink and washed off your hands, drying them on one of the towels that hung around your kitchen.
“Come on, I wanna see if my show is on.” You walk into the living room and grab the remote off of the coffee table and scan over the guide before finding your show, no objections from your parents which was a rarity.
“The kitten show?” Your father huffs. “I thought that was what YouTube was for.”
“My house. I can watch kittens whenever I want.” You respond, sticking out your tongue as you sit on the recliner tucked perfectly in one corner. That, you had made very clear to your family, was your chair and nobody was allowed to sit in it unless they had explicit permission from you.
“Kittens?” Nathaniel asked curiously as he took a seat on the floor and looked to where you all were looking. He felt his heart nearly explode from the odd cuteness of the animals. They were so… small and helpless. He had the urge to pet them, but it seemed that you didn’t have one that he could see. He heard you say ‘aww’ more than a few times as the ‘kittens’ grew up and somehow didn’t lose that cuteness.
Several hours of kittens passed and your parents decided to go to bed. You directed them to the one guest room you had in your house and continued to watch the screen.
“Are you an angel?” You asked suddenly, disregarding the fact that it sounded like the beginnings of a terrible pick-up line. Nathaniel didn’t seem to notice that fact and turned away from the television.
“I suppose you still do have questions.” He shifted. The man had moved to the couch when your parents left and seemed saddened by something. “I am an angel.”
“What kind of angel?”
“I used to be a warrior.”
You lifted an eyebrow, not sensing the remorse in the angel’s face. “Used to be?”
“It… is a long story.”
You leap in excitement. You always liked stories. And one from a warrior angel! “I have time. I’m a night owl anyways.” Nathaniel was slightly cheered by your enthusiasm and a smile quirked the edge of his scarred lips.
Imagine just a great, green vale packed with individuals.
Imagine a bunch of humans chanting "Fury, Strife! Fury, Strife!"
Imagine Nathaniel and his no-longer-corrupted fellows, smiling slightly as Death rode past them, with the roars of delight of the Makers behind them, maybe Draven laughing a bit in the back.
Imagine Uriel and the Hellguard giving War a hard, but respectful nod.
Honestly, imagine cheers and applause as the Horsemen ride through the middle. Maybe some exaggerated waving from Strife, a chuckle of pleasant surprise from Death, great grinning from Fury and dramatic yells of an exhilarated War.
I left a blank copy for y'all. Plus, y'all are free to edit it around if it doesn't suit your likings.
Anyways, I have Uriel's facial structure but I share similar height (long limbs and all) and body type of Azrael's (him being more lean). My hair? That's a tough one because none of the characters have wavy hair?? Rather, it goes straight before ending in waves around my shoulders. But Azrael also as close as I can with my personality?? I don't know, it's still veeerrry iffy because there's still a lot of difference between us. I would say Strife too but I'm not funny like that, despite me making memes. I don't make jokes on a whim or any of that sort.
If anything, I'm more like a mixture of Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters) and Grace (Resident Evil: Requiem) if we have to refer to characters outside the fandom.
I would put down Uriel or Azrael for my favorite angel buuuut I put them enough as it is on this. So, I'll go with my third favorite angelic character. It was actually a mixture between Abaddon and Astarte for my favorite boss fight too. As much as it was a pain fighting Astarte.
