Anime x readers!

Changes - Fallen!Simeon

Is it blasphemous I did this on Easter? I really love fallen!Simeon

Otome: Obey Me Shall We Date

Simeon knew the fall would hurt.

He knew his wings would be ripped from him, and that new, twisted ones would take their place. That his halo would crack and warp into sharp horns and that his heavenly glow would dull to the pulsing darkness of the devildom.

He knew there would be pain to which he could not imagine beforehand, he had witnessed it happen to each of the brothers he so dearly loved, how broken they were and how destructive the impact was.

But he feared none of these, he accepted them all.

They said they would welcome him when the time came because they knew as well as he, that he would fall to hell if only to land in your arms.

He thought he understood what was to come, that it was be simple in a way, burning, pain, punishment.

But it was none of those that truly had it's effect on Simeon, when abandoned by the heavens he knew what he would find, a home and caring arms. It was far more than the brothers knew at their time.

It was the freedom.

Something that he could never understand under the strictly laced path he had always been led to, made to follow.

It was not spoken order, or even a looming command, but something held within him keeping him on his saintly path like an automatic whim without question.

Like a guidance collaring him, so subtle and unassuming that he never knew it was there.

Simeon feels empty. So deeply empty and hallow that haunts him as deeply to the core as he can imagine. Once a shepherd he is now but a lamb lost without hope or guidance and it does not hurt, so much hurts, but this feels cold and so vastly unknown.

'Freedom' he is told. As heaven's hold no longer controls him, he is free to think and feel, speak and wonder anything he could dream now.

"Their hold on you is gone." Lucifer's gaze is sympathetic, soft in a way he might have once teased him for, but he knows it's not pity. Not when he watched each of his brothers aimless and lost without such inability.

He lay through the night with his head cradled to your chest, your quiet, even breathes so comforting he can't help but whimper and hug your waist closer, begging it does not wake you.

He knows you would worry, fret over the pain in his eyes and comfort him until he convince you he felt better, tired even. Lies, that should burn his tongue before spoken yet fall from his lips without resistance.

His grip on you does not falter, pressing himself against you as much as he dare, wings, obsidian black and alien against his skin wrap around you, holding him closer as if you are the only warmth under hell's crust.

"Their hold" of Heaven, of Father, was something he never knew he felt. It was a warm, comforting hold that he associated with heaven itself, with each added golden gift for his angelic accomplishments it grew, that stability of an unwavering control.

But his golden chains had snapped. Every delicate chink turned molten and burned into his skin wear it lay, the soles of his feet so agonizing he could not stand when he arrived.

You had been scared to touch him at first, the fresh marks seared into his skin brought further tears to you eyes at the pain caused to him.

He assures you, with each hesitant trace of the markings that you only soothe him, your finger carefully grazing the once gold lines from his throat now scars of the disgraced grounds him more than anything else, lets him breathe and imagine they now hold him to you.