❝fallen angels are destined for little else but raising hell.❞
[dark angel!5sos au]
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cw: this book contains strong language, descriptions of blood/gore, supernatural occurrences, mild sexual content, talk of various religions, drug/substance abuse...
In the moonlight you looked just like an angel in disguise My whole life seemed like a postcard You were mine for a night I was out of my mind You were mine for a night I don't know how to say goodbye
Wrapped Around Your Finger; 5 Seconds of Summer
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Each of Eden's slow strides away from the MGM Grand is another stab deeper into Ashton's cold, long-dead heart. He had figured that this is what everything would come to; affairs between mortals and the Fallen rarely work out without one member of the pair perishing in some form. However, that did not mean that Eden's words hadn't struck him as deep and eroding as a venomous snakebite.
He takes deep breaths, fighting to keep the ash from leaking into his flesh and the crimson out of his hair. He's not angry at his garden, only at his own devilish selfish soul. It was foolish for him to ever think that their relationship could be one without consequences. His hands grip and twist against the metal of his balcony's railing as it becomes slick from the now consistent drizzle of rain.
He watches her go, lingering much longer than he should, knowing he could easily make it so the rain doesn't soak him to the core, but he simply doesn't have a desire to muster the energy. Perhaps the heaviness and the cold are his consequences for his multi-faceted betrayal.
"Fuck," Ashton curses under his breath, pushing himself away from the balcony and turning his back on Vegas.
Why is he feeling this way? Women never meant this much to him. Mortals faded from, cowered from, or were simply used by him. Remorse isn't an emotion that the Exemplaris is used to, at all.
What has changed?
Oh. Oh, fuck.
His stomach flips and drops about ten feet. His hazel eyes begin to glow orange, not out of anger, but out of fear. He couldn't, shouldn't, call her his garden anymore.
She had been his. Had been. Past tense.
She is now the second out of two women to let him go, to push him away. However, there was one captivating difference; Eden had been the only mortal brave enough to confront him post-death, post-transformation. She could have just ran away, avoided him, refused his further advances. Yet, no. She confronted him. Boldy.
Something about this fact compels him. An odd sense of yearning fills his chest, and he turns back towards the darkened city streets. His eyes dart across the slick pavement below. Red reflections of the never-ending trail of taillights scatter like glass across the puddles.
But, Eden is gone, already halfway home, unaware of the incredible danger she is currently in, that she is currently walking towards.
As Ashton truly begins to consider what about Eden distinguishes her from the rest, flashes of his life before begin to cross his vision and his eyes snap shut in response. His stomach twists and the ash starts to creep up once more. His face burns, not from his own fire, but from shame. Mary's piercing green eyes and sick smile twist in front of his eyes, despite them being shut. He could never forget looking up at her smug face as he laid at her feet, slowly dying.
