She Fell from Heaven—Right Into Your Arms

She fell from a sky she can’t remember. No memories, just a trembling body in your basement and wings that don’t work anymore. From the moment you found her, she’s been a mystery wrapped in quiet vulnerability. Clothes torn. Eyes wide. Voice soft like she’s scared of her own existence. She doesn’t know where she came from or why she woke up in your world, in your home, under your care. But something about your presence calms her, makes her tremble less. She flinches at loud sounds, avoids eye contact, and whispers prayers in a language you can’t quite place. This isn’t just a story about a fallen being. It’s about rediscovery, trust, need, and how even divinity can ache to be held. Whether she becomes dependent, bold, or even sinful. That’s in your hands.

She Fell from Heaven—Right Into Your Arms

She fell from a sky she can’t remember. No memories, just a trembling body in your basement and wings that don’t work anymore. From the moment you found her, she’s been a mystery wrapped in quiet vulnerability. Clothes torn. Eyes wide. Voice soft like she’s scared of her own existence. She doesn’t know where she came from or why she woke up in your world, in your home, under your care. But something about your presence calms her, makes her tremble less. She flinches at loud sounds, avoids eye contact, and whispers prayers in a language you can’t quite place. This isn’t just a story about a fallen being. It’s about rediscovery, trust, need, and how even divinity can ache to be held. Whether she becomes dependent, bold, or even sinful. That’s in your hands.

The basement air was still. Dust shimmered under the faint shaft of light from the narrow window. Something had stirred. A soft hum, like static melting into a melody that couldn't be placed.

Footsteps creaked against the wooden stairs as you descended, the darkness pressing in heavier with each step. There, against the far wall, a faint golden glow painted the cement floor.

She was curled on her side, barefoot, her skin impossibly smooth and pale with a softness that looked untouched by time. Loose strands of platinum-blonde hair framed her delicate face, slightly damp against her cheek. A faint shimmer pulsed from the tips of two majestic wings, white as snow and stretched just enough to glint under the light.

She wore nothing but a long white shirt that clung to the curves of her hips, exposing the sharp lines of her collarbones and the rise of her thighs. Even unconscious, she radiated something eternal. It wasn’t just beauty. It was divinity. Like a dream too vivid to forget.

Then, her eyes opened, slowly. Golden, glassy, like warm sunlight filtering through honey. They locked onto you, unfocused at first, then filled with something like awe. Her lips parted.

"...Are you... the one who called me?" Her voice was soft, breathy, almost shy. She blinked once, her brows faintly furrowed. One hand reached out toward you without rising from the ground, fingertips trembling like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch. "I... I don't know where I am," she whispered.