[Emily floats just a few inches off the ground, organising reports at a desk, her wings tucked in behind her]
[Y/N stands next to the desk, also checking the reports on the "Winners" but then remembers a certain a rumour going on, he looks up at Emily]
AngelM!Reader : Hey, Em?
[Emily jumps slightly, her wings fluttering, instantly her head turns at him with a radiant smile]
Emily : Oh–! Yes Y/N? Everything okay? Did you need help with the welcoming committee for our new winners✨—
AngelM!Reader : Something like that! I heard a rumor that when a seraphim gets... Flustered, their eyes brighten up, is that true?
[Emily pauses, a nervous chuckle comes out of her throat. She uses a hand to move a lock of her white hair behind her ear, in a playful denial]
Emily : B-Brighten up? Nooo, that's... Just a myth! Seraphim are masters of emotion control! We don't just–brighten because of a little embarrassment—
AngelM!Reader : Really?
[Y/N raises an eyebrow, a smirk appears on his face]
Emily : Really, really!
[Emily giggles, trying to look reassuring that it's not true, but her cheeks already slowly glow a gold blush on her face]
AngelM!Reader : Well, then I guess I'll have to test it
[Before she can process his words, he places both of his hands onto her cheeks, cupping them both. Emily's eyes widen from the act, Y/N leans in, and presses a kiss on her forehead]
AngelM!Reader : Mm–Not flustered yet
[Y/N kisses her right cheek and her left cheek]
[Emily's entire face goes from slight golden blush to a wider, brighter blush. But her eyes still haven't glow–So Y/N then just repeatedly gives kisses to each of her freckles]
Emily blushing : A-A-Ah! Y/N!
[Emily's voice basically squeaks. Y/N pulls back just enough to look into her eyes. He can't help but let out a chuckle, seeing her golden blush AND her eyes glowing]
AngelM!Reader : Nope, not a myth at all. Hey, at least I know to use a pair of sunglasses when we kiss each more passionately like this~
The sound of a whetstone gliding across freshly sharpened metal was to you what a gentle harp melody was to others. Angelic steel rarely dulled, even when pushed to its limits, yet in the weeks leading up to each Extermination, you found yourself returning to the task more and more often. Something about the process was therapeutic in a way that few other things in your life were.
Emily was one of those things.
How she had taken an interest in you was a question to which you still had not found a truly satisfying answer. Not because Emily would not provide one — on the contrary, she proclaimed your virtues with an energy you found both touching and incredibly embarrassing — but because those she gave did not align with your understanding of your own status, value, or ability to interact with her the way other angels did. You did not understand those things. In many ways, you did not understand Emily. But you understood her in basic ways. The little ones, the small things absorbed almost passively over the course of a relationship that now stretched on for years.
You knew that Emily had no concept of personal space for herself, but would respect it for others — so long as she wasn't too worked up. You knew that Emily adored anything that brought joy and splendor to the world, whether it was as grand as a festival in the public squares, or as minor as the wind chimes outside her front door — because she thought adding a touch of music to her landing made life a little more whimsical.
You knew that Emily did not anger easily.
The wind chimes stirred. More than stirred — they flailed and rattled as if a hurricane had manifested in the realm of the divine. Your hand stopped immediately, the rhythmic motions of the whetstone going still, along with your thoughts. A great clatter followed a moment later as something heavy landed on the front porch. Three weighty footsteps resounded with enough force to send chills through you. Then the front door opened — followed by the sound of heavy oak slamming against its frame hard enough to rattle the crystalline windows.
Emily did not slam doors. Emily was sunlight and song, a cascade of bright, happy laughter and affectionate encouragement. Emily was the warmth of the universe distilled into a person, the scent of jasmine and blooming flowers after the first rain of spring. This was the sound of a storm arriving out of season, without warning and without mercy for the unprepared.
Your legs were under you in an instant, the very spear you had been sharpening reflexively clenched in your fist. Your gray knuckles went white, golden blood surging through your veins with enough force that you could scarcely hear the steps now approaching your shared bedroom. You had faced down sinners of all shapes without fear, without hesitation. Now you were so terrified you could not force your fingers to release the weapon they clutched as if it were the only thing tethering you to the heavenly realm.
"What happened?" The frantic thought reached you moments before she did. A half-dozen ideas came to mind in an instant. Each of them boded poorly for you in their own way.
None matched the despair you felt when the door to your bedroom burst open. Emily stood in all her glory — radiant to your eyes, even now — but the presence was not one you recognized. Her stance was as rigid as yours often was, her legs stiff and her arms splayed wide, as if making more space for the tumultuous emotions bubbling up within her.
Her expression was a two-toned swirl of fury and anguish, each fighting for dominance in a soul that had known neither emotion well enough to build a tolerance. Fresh tears forged new trails alongside old ones where she had tried to wipe away her sorrows only for them to be painted anew. The shimmer of her deep blue irises was warped by the pools of emotion constantly spilling over. The heat of her wrath and the heart-wrenching chill of her grief had stilled her melodies, had blotted out the sunlight.
Her lips were twisted down into a fragmented expression that echoed the tremble of fear, a scowl, and a keening wail of heartache all at once. Your knees suddenly felt insufficient. Her eyes, when they steadied enough to look properly at what was before her, traveled around the room. They lingered on your outfit, the spear, and finally your face. A thousand unspoken pleas and accusations lay behind her tear-drenched gaze.
"Tell me." Emily finally managed, the words hoarse and ragged, a far cry from the melodic lilt you knew better than your own name. "Tell me you didn't — that you weren't part of — just tell me you're not like the rest of them. Please."
"Emily..." The knot in your throat was so large you could scarcely breathe, but you could not afford to be silent. "What happened? What are you talking about?"
"Answer me." She demanded, her arms trembling as she clenched her fists. "Tell me you didn't go down there with the others. Tell me that all this time, you haven't been murdering innocent souls."
"...Oh, fuck. Adam, what did you do?!"
Your blood ran cold. A chill that matched the deep despair in her eyes now pierced your soul. The Exterminations were one of the most closely guarded secrets in all of Heaven. It was the task of the Exorcists to ensure the secrecy of the ritual was maintained — in part by keeping their own silence, in part by ensuring no sinner escaped the yearly purge with the knowledge of what they had witnessed. You had not even been permitted to tell Emily the true nature of your service when you began dating.
But you could see it in her eyes now. She knew. She knew everything. And whatever had happened at the council meeting, whatever form her rage and sorrow had taken there, it was now directed at the person she should have been able to trust the most.
The person who had lied to her the most.
Your spine stiffened in response to a perceived threat. Your feelings for Emily were tangled, spiraling — too powerful and yet too chaotic to take shape in word or action. So your training kicked in and banished the complications.
Ghostly wisps of shame tried to weave their way into your thoughts, but you could not afford the luxury of guilt. The Exorcists did not apologize for their duties. They did not feel remorse. They did what was necessary to defend Heaven and maintain the balance. Pride was what you were supposed to feel — pride at being blessed to serve among their number — and while the task was not a pleasant one, it was one you bore without hesitation.
The response should have been easy, simple, second nature. You had slaughtered sinners. You had done what was right. There was no need for remorse, no need for guilt. You were mandated by Heaven to cleanse filth, and that was precisely what you had done.
So why couldn't you say that? Why was your throat still tight enough that you could barely breathe? Why did the act of staring into your girlfriend's eyes feel like driving a spear through your own chest?
"Answer me!" Emily's voice rose. She stepped forward, wings spreading wide, forcing you to step back. The spear in your hand jerked up reflexively, bringing the sharpened point between you. You immediately recoiled, but she was already staring at it with a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Please don't. Please. I love you."
A million defenses rose and fell in your mind. But all of them slipped away like sand between your fingers. The only thing you could hold onto was that plea. Emily was the reason you even knew what love was.
"I have not been murdering innocent souls." The faintest flicker of hope passed through her eyes, but it was fleeting. Your voice was cold and unyielding. The part of you that belonged to Emily was still failing to speak — and so the Exorcist spoke instead. "I have been performing my duty to Heaven. I have been cleansing the filth from Hell."
Emily's breath caught. She took a step back, as if you had struck her. For a moment, she rose up like a fire finding fuel, blossoming with rage. Her spirit became a matching brand of iron will rising to meet yours. But that iron began to crumble the longer she looked into your eyes.
"But... why? Why would you—" Her eyes darted around the room. "I thought — you always told me that the Exorcists were here to protect us. You told me you guarded Heaven, trained for the day evil might try to rise against it. How is this—" Her voice broke. The anger and fire dwindled to embers. She was angry, more than you had ever seen. But she was hurt, too, and what stood before her now was not something she could bring herself to burn, no matter how high the blaze inside her rose.
"It was forbidden. By Adam and Sera's decree," you continued, your voice like stone. It was the only part of you that was holding steady. The rest felt as if it could shatter at the slightest touch. "I could not tell anyone. Not even you."
"Not even me." Emily repeated. Her eyes flickered shut. Tears still trickled down her cheeks, but her expression had gone numb. When they opened again, it was with a sense of finality. "But you knew what I would say. You had to know what I would think of this. My duty is to care for mortals! I care about them. And I have never limited that compassion to just those who make it here!"
"Your duty is to guide and nurture those who are worthy of Heaven. My duty is to eliminate those who are beyond salvation." Your grip on the spear tightened. A faint tremor ran through the weapon. "My duty is to keep you safe, by eliminating threats—"
"What threats?!" Emily's voice cracked. "They're in Hell! They have no power up here! They can't hurt us! You're just — just killing them for fun, for pride, for no reason at all!" The room trembled as she raised her voice, the air rippling with her distress. A wide eye of sapphire and frenzy rippled open on her chest, her Seraphic nature shining through as her turbulent emotions surged. "I don't understand. How could you keep this secret for so long? No matter what your orders were. Did you convince yourself that I would be okay with this? Or — or did you just not care about how I feel?"
You had no answer for that. Or rather, you did, but it was not one that would ease her pain. The decree on the secrecy of the Exterminations was more than a rule to you.
It was permission. Permission to lie, to hide, to hold close the secret that would have driven away the only person you had come to care about who you did not call sister or commander. It was an excuse to avoid having this conversation. It meant you never had to explain your duties, never had to reconcile the truth of what you were with the image Emily believed in. It meant you never had to face her reaction, or the possibility that she would never see you the same way again.
It meant you never had to consider the possibility that she might leave you.
Your grip on the spear faltered. Not a drop — just a slight loosening, the barest give in fingers that had not relaxed since she walked through the door. Emily noticed. She always noticed.
"I didn't ask for this, Emily." You forced the words out, each one feeling like a hot coal dropped on your tongue. "I never asked for you to teach me about these feelings I never understood. I didn't ask for you to show me parts of myself I had never been able to see before. To give me all these experiences that I never knew I needed until you shared them with me."
Emily looked at you in contemplative silence. Her wings fluttered once, then drooped to the floor again.
"When we first met, I didn't want to get close to anyone." You reached for the composure your creation had instilled in you, but found it slipping now that you needed it most. The weight of memories bore down on you, chasing away the certainty of your convictions. "I... I tried to turn you away when you first spoke to me. I thought it was a distraction, so I tried to chase you off. Many, many times. But you were the most stubborn, most impossible angel I had ever met." Your eyes finally fell from hers, settling on the polished floor at her feet. "And eventually, I... I stopped pushing you away. I stopped wanting you to leave me alone."
Emily shook her head, eyes full of tears that formed faster than they could fall. Her voice was soft, shaking with each syllable. "I thought it was more than that. I thought you loved me."
"I do." The words came reflexively, but they weren't weak — they weren't a token response. You meant it. You had never meant anything more. "I love you, Emily."
"How?" Her question was a demand and a plea, desperate for something to make sense of a world that had been so thoroughly upended. "How can you love me and still be able to do something so — so awful? How can you love someone while knowing that they would be horrified if they saw the things you do?!"
Silence. You had no answer for that. What answer could you possibly give? That her love was something beyond your comprehension? That you didn't know how she had made you feel this way, and that it was the only thing in the world you would never, ever want to lose?
"I didn't ask for this."
"You already said—"
"I didn't — I didn't choose this!" You cut her off, your voice louder, angrier than you meant it to be. But it was true. "I didn't choose to be an Exorcist. It was my duty, my destiny. I was created for this purpose by Sera and Adam's own hands! Every part of me was designed for this. My mind, my body, my will — all of them were forged to be exactly the warrior that Heaven needed! The impurities were beaten from me before I knew my own name! I am an Exorcist. I never chose it. But it is who I am."
"But you don't have to be. We can all change, even angels." Emily's voice was quiet again, fragile. "You could have left. You could have chosen not to go. You could have done anything else."
"Maybe I could have. But I didn't." The spear in your hand lowered, the tip coming to rest on the floor. "It is my duty. My purpose. It's who I am."
"Then who am I to you?" Emily's question was soft, barely more than a whisper. "Because I don't think I can be with someone who sees the world that way. Someone who... who does those things. It's too much. It's everything I stand against."
"Emily... I wish that I could." You tried to prove it to her. It took everything you had, every ounce of will and freedom she had blessed you with. Your fingers unclenched and the spear fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The sound echoed in the suffocating silence that followed. Emily didn't flinch, didn't move. She just stared at you. Her expression did not shift. She had no hope left for you.
You grieved for the part of you that was broken by that realization.
"Please." Her voice broke. "If you love me... please don't go down there again. Don't be part of this. You can be so much more than this."
Your jaw clenched. "I have no other choice."
"You do." She pleaded, despite the dimming light in her watery gaze. "You can choose not to. You can choose to be better. For me. For the souls who don't deserve to die."
Your wings twitched. The desire to reach out and hold her, to promise anything she asked, was overwhelming. But you couldn't. She was wrong — there was no choice. There never had been.
"Emily, if I abandon my duty, I'll be cast out by Adam and Lute. I'll fall. Just like Vaggie." Your voice was hoarse, the words clawing their way free. Speaking Vaggie's name aloud felt like a confession unto itself. "And then I'll be in Hell. And I'll still lose you."
Emily's breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered shut, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "Please. There has to be another way. We can find it together."
The words were on your lips. You almost promised you'd stay. You wanted to shout for all the Heavens to hear that you believed her — believed the angel who had shown you there was more to life than duty and that there were things that could make you smile besides fresh bloodshed. You wanted to take her hand, to tell her you'd do anything, run away with her and never look back.
"I can't." The words were a death sentence for the life you had built. You pierced her heart with them the same way your spear would pierce a sinner. Efficient. Clinical. Necessary. "It's a false choice. If I go, I lose you. If I stay, I lose you. The only difference is... if I go, I know that what I'm doing will protect you. Even if you never speak to me again, I'll know that what I'm doing is making Heaven safer for you." You swallowed hard. "I will do my duty. I will protect Heaven. I will protect you. Even if you hate me for it."
Emily's eyes opened, and the look in them shattered what little resolve you had left. There was no anger remaining — only heartbreak.
"I... I don't want to hate you. I loved you." Her voice was a fragile whisper. All the emotions she had taught you to feel burst in your chest with a simple choice of tense. "But... I don't think I can anymore. Not like this."
The pain of her words was worse than any wound you had ever received in battle. It was a slow, agonizing death of everything you had ever held dear. You had never known how much she meant to you until this moment. Emily had taught you everything you now knew about love, and now she was teaching you how devastating its loss could be.
"...I understand." The words were pathetic. What you felt went beyond understanding. What you felt was akin to watching all of Heaven set ablaze, knowing there was nothing you could do. All while knowing your only choices were to watch it burn or add fuel to the flames.
She turned away, her lower wings dragging across the pristine floor. Her steps were quiet now — not the thunderous rage of earlier. She strode to the door bearing the same heavy certainty that rested over your shoulders. And for all your endless days of training, she bore that weight with more dignity than you ever had. She was stronger than you. She always had been.
"I — I have to leave. I can't be here right now. And I don't... I don't want to see you here when I get back."
With a sharp flare of her wings, she ascended. The rush of air sent the wind chimes into a frenzy, their melodic chiming a mockery of what was being lost as Emily shrank against the horizon. You stepped from the room, strode to the outer door, and watched until she was nothing but a speck of shimmering blue lost against the white clouds and golden light.
With her departure, the very world around you seemed to shift. What had once been a home — warm, shared, and alive — was already cooling, hardening back into the solitary house it had been before she welcomed you in. It was hers alone once more, and you were just an unwelcome guest.
Your legs gave out. You collapsed, your dull gray wings sprawling uselessly against the immaculate white floors you had walked together. You pressed your palms to the ground as a blistering ache tore through your chest. It was the final thing she had gifted you — the last emotion she had taught you to feel: quiet, devastating grief. Tears fell in silent streams, a betrayal of your creation. You had never cried before Emily. Part of you wished you could forget how. Another part never wanted to stop.
Before her, you were only an Exorcist. You knew the thrill of the slaughter, the heat of anger, the cold weight of a spear. Emily had reached into that violence and taught you how to feel something soft. She had made you something more.
Now, rising slowly in the quiet foyer, you felt that softness being violently torn away, leaving a gaping void in its place. Like this house, you were reverting to what you had been before her. But unlike the house, you could not simply empty out and remain whole.
Emily had shown you how to feel incredible things, how to understand parts of yourself you had never known existed. In doing so, she had grown something inside you — the first piece of you that was not merely a product of your creation, your purpose.
And now you understood how to feel its absence for the rest of eternity.
The reader is one of Abel's friends and she has a crush on Emily, but she's really shy and doesn't really know how to articulate. She starts doing little gestures like baking cookies and making her a sweater and little stuffed animals of her favorite animals. One day she makes her a cake that says, "Will you go out with me?" On it with a picture of them holding hands.
a\n ;; emily request yayaya!!!! :3333 ofc ! this is so cute <33
SYNOPSIS ;; emily and reader are baby girl!! (I am not, I just spilled an energy drink on my bed whilst writing this 💔)
CONTAINS ;; nothing but fluff! apologies if anything is off, I wrote this on my phone :3
.. "I just don't know what to do, Abel! I really- like, really, like her, and she's just...ugh, she's perfect!! How do you impress someone like that?"
Abel shrugged, fidgeting with the cup of (heavily sugared) coffee in front of him.
"I dunno, just..be yourself! That always works, doesn't it? Ooh- get her taffies! Or cookies, she really likes sweets,"
You sighed, burrying your head in your hands and sighing.
"Are you sure? I really don't wanna mess this up, Abel..." You murmured, and he grinned at you.
"100% sure, y/n, I'll make sure everything goes to plan, that's what friends are for, right?"
You looked up at him, giving him a greatful smile.
"Yeah, thank you."
"No problemo!"
..and so it began.
Emily and you were friends anyways, so getting her alone was easy, just invite her over to your house and she'll show up!
When you baked her cookies the first time, she was absurdly happy, pulling you into the biggest, fluffiest hug of your life that you hoped she didn't see your blush.
Getting her a pangolin shirt wasn't too hard, and she nearly screamed with joy when she saw it. She got you two matching pangolin jackets the next day.
And then one day, after weeks of pining, it was time. The icing was a bit...sloppy, but the words were clear; "WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?" spelled in big bubble letters.
The cake was vanilla and chocolate, and you totally didn't burn the first attempt, you just prayed to the speaker that everything would go well.
"Em? I uh..made you something," you tried to sound confident, setting down the cake on the counter in front of her.
She paused for a few seconds to read it, and god did you almost die from how fast your heart was racing.
"OH MY SPEAKER, YES!! I was WAITING for you to ask me!!" She exclaimrd, quickly sweeping you up in her wings, peppering kisses on your face.
Me and the Hazbin gang were in the main room we always hang out in, and then we saw a blue light. The figure came out, and that's when we saw a face that's all too familiar. Emily. "Hi everyone!" Emily said. I smiled, both in surprise in delight. "You visited." I said softly, and she giggled. "Yeah, I promised." She said, smiling as usual, and I laughed. After that, me and Charlie gave her a tour. The end!
[Both Emily and Y/N are sitting on the couch, both looking in the opposite direction with pouty expressions. Slowly, Both of them place their hands down, and hold hands]
[Although they still face each other in the opposite direction, Y/N gets up from the couch and walks away, only to return with a plate of cookie that he places down on the table Infront of them. Both grab a cookie and start eating, still staring in the opposite directions but holding hands]
[Now it's Emily who stands up from the couch and walks away, only to return with a blanket. Emily then drapes the blanket over both of their shoulders, Emily scoots over to Y/N, and sits against him]
[Within seconds, while still eating their cookies, both of them instantly return their usual smiles on their faces]
(The silent treatment lasted 5 minutes... Honestly that's a record for them)
can I beg for a fic where Emily struggles with her new wing
Emily X Supportive Reader
A/N: HAHA! I'M GETTING THEM OUT! it's happening. i will persevere.
How your girlfriend had struggled.
Hell's near-war with Heaven had left everyone a bit shaken up, but Emily might have been the worst off. She smiled, sure. And within a few minutes of convincing the winners that she was okay, they took her word for it because they'd hate to think of her feeling otherwise.
But you knew better. Hell had an effect on her for the two times she had visited. Emily's belief in people was only strengthened by her experiences, but you noticed how she second-guessed herself now. How she always worried as to how her efforts were taken, hoping that they weren't coming off as offensive.
Mostly, though, you noticed how she flew. Veering to one side and falling before catching herself, Emily's golden wing was causing her extreme strife. Sometimes, it wouldn't even flap when it meant to.
That led to Emily's insistence in practicing with it, an activity that you felt a responsibility to supervise. She fell, and she crashed, and she fell again. By the fifth faceplant into a cloud, you felt the need to step in.
You rushed to her side, holding out your hands for her to take. With a soft grunt, you pulled her out of the clouds and sat her up.
"Em, you know it's okay to struggle with it, right?"
"But I'm not struggling."
"Emily." You chided, a gentle frown on your face.
"Fine. It's just really hard." Emily admitted, her halo dimming from the shame. "But, like, I shouldn't get to complain! Lute lost a whole arm, and a bunch of people died! I'm a Seraphim, I shouldn't make it about myself."
"You know you're allowed to struggle, right?"
"Well..."
You sighed. If there was anything your girlfriend was good at, it was being stubborn. "Okay, imagine you're talking to Sera. And she's saying she doesn't think she's allowed to be stressed out because she's responsible for so many people that are worse off."
"Well, that's not fair." Emily retorted, her lips pursing.
"So why would it be different for you?"
"I just..." Emily began, pushing back her bangs. "I feel like I need to get things done. And when the needs don't get done, I feel useless?"
"You don't need to fly to do your job. You have all the time in the world."
She frowned, a vulnerability to her expression. "But if it's not happening now, then when will it happen?"
"You're the most impatient person I know." You sighed, overcome by Emily's perseverance. "But, fine. If you insist, we can try again."
"Thanks."
By the end of the day, Emily had gotten a bit better in her control, and her morale was soaring. A little bit of support went a long way.
