Miracle Of The Season — J.JK
STORY SUMMARY: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.
PAIRING: Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F!Reader
RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, smut ; second chance romance, angel AU, soulmate AU
WORD COUNT: 17.2k
WARNINGS: Heavy themes of religious trauma, an initially negative view of Christianity transforming into a more neutral/respectful view of individual faiths, initial dismissal of other religions, difficult self-growth journey, homelessness, very brief mentions of murder and rape
OTHER/NSFW WARNINGS: Sharing one-bed trope (kinda), mistletoe trope (teehee), first time, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, unprotected sex
A/N: This is a lot. The story definitely got away from me, but I think that's because there was so much I wanted to say. I definitely could have made this longer, and if I had time/wasn't such a slow writer, I probably would have. It's a heavy topic, but it's one that is near and dear to my heart and one that I think a lot of people can relate to. If you do, I hope this story feels a bit healing.
A/N 2: This is based on the vibes of his song "Standing Next To You" and the m/v for it.
LINKS: Part of the Jingle All The Way! collab with my talented, wonderful friends. Cross-posted on AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad. Banner made by the lovely @kithtaehyung.
"—let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
You take a deep, calming breath as you pass the carolers. Their cheerful voices grate on your nerves, but you keep your head down and continue walking. Lashing out at them won't do any good, even if it might give you a moment of satisfaction. It's not like they're the source of your irritation anyway; the crowded streets are abuzz with the unrelenting chaos of the Christmas season, and you have been on edge all morning.
Turning a corner, you enter a street closer to the shelter you have been calling home for the past year and a half. Immediately, some of your tension dissipates, and you feel like you can breathe a bit easier. There are fewer lights here and less noise, but a few decorations still attract your attention, like a moth to a flame. A nativity scene is proudly displayed in someone's window, and you stop dead in your tracks.
"Freedom of religion, my ass," you mutter bitterly as you tear your gaze away. Why does everyone and their mother seem to celebrate this stupid holiday?
You know that for many, Christmas isn’t necessarily a holy season. Some humans just use the holiday as an excuse to wear obnoxious sweaters, play the same song on repeat, and spoil one another with gifts. Yet reminders of the celestial realm, of the life you have been cast out from, are everywhere. The nativity, for one. Then there are the carolers singing their songs, and the cartoonish cherub decals that can be found on shop windows, holding banners that proclaim, “Buy one, get one 20% off!” Even the name of the holiday is marked by one of His monikers. Christmas.
It makes you sick.
The weather doesn't help, either. Drawing your coat more tightly around yourself, you try to ignore the relentless chill that settles deep in your bones. You’re definitely not dressed warmly enough, ill-prepared considering the sensation of being cold is something you’re still getting used to. It is yet another item you have added to your ever-growing list of "whys.” The question of why God created snow joins the ranks of "why did He make spiders?" and "why is He the most selfish being in existence?"
You sniff. Perhaps you let your emotions get the best of you at times.
Emotions. Another thing that’s somewhat new. As an angel, you didn’t really have those. The only thing you ever thought about was following orders and how better you could praise His name. Ugh. It’s hard to believe now that you were ever so single-minded. Though, towards the end, you suppose that wasn’t the case. It all went awry when you started this “list” of yours—when you started questioning things.
The moment that doubt had first crept into your mind seems like a lifetime ago. Reaching the status of archangel was something you had been working toward for millennia. It was a position that allowed you to work more closely with humanity; you were able to actually guide their paths and alter their destiny.
At first, it was everything you had ever wanted. The miracles that occurred because of your intervention made you feel like you were doing something worthwhile. But you quickly learned that not all of your missions would be quite as fulfilling.
You will never forget the first time you were put in charge of administering a holy test. The man had done nothing wrong, yet your higher-ups still insisted that he needed to be "tried by fire." The divine reasons were beyond comprehension, or so you were told. But watching the man suffer as everything he loved was taken from him, seeing the desperation and despair in his eyes… It felt wrong. That feeling stayed with you even as you watched the man's faith remain unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse.
And then there were those who committed sinful acts and escaped punishment. You saw murderers and rapists living their lives in peace while innocent souls suffered unjustly at their hands. The scales of justice seemed unfairly balanced, and you began to feel crushed by the weight of your guilt.
Thus, the degradation process began. For the longest time, you thought it was a myth, a scary story told to keep angels in line. If you doubt, if you disobey, you begin withering away into nothingness. You'll start to feel things, to lose your sense of purpose. It will be painful and overwhelming and, eventually, you'll cease to exist entirely. You were told that if it were to happen, you must report it to a superior at once. But you were terrified.
There was only one person you trusted enough to share the way you were feeling—your other half, your celestial counterpart. The one who knew you like no other did. Your Astrom, Jungkook.
There is an old celestial folk tale that documents the first creation of an Astrom pair. It is said God took one star and split it into two. Neither half could live without the other, nor would they want to. It is difficult to describe the way you felt for him, as angels are devoid of personal desires or emotions as humans experience them. It was simply as if being with him was as natural as breathing. He was the only being other than the Creator that you felt beholden to, that you admired.
When you first revealed your doubts to him, he simply listened, displaying a level of patience that you found comforting. He answered your questions about morality, about justice as best he could, trying to reassure you that everything happened for a reason. Yet no matter how persuasively he argued, your doubts wouldn't go away.
Eventually, you began to start contemplating letting yourself fall from grace. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, there was a certain allure to it. To Fall meant to renounce your celestial responsibilities, and that included no longer having to inflict pain on innocent souls.
When you confessed this dangerous thought to him, Jungkook gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. All you remember is what he said next: "If you Fall, I shall Fall with you."
His words had been unexpected, and you didn’t know whether to take comfort in them or not. You didn’t want him to share your fate, to bear the burden of your guilt. Could you live with yourself if he Fell too? The answer was an obvious no. But the mere thought of being alone in your struggle was something you couldn’t stomach either. So, you attempted to keep your dissent to a minimum and perform your duties as required. But it wasn’t long before everything fell apart regardless.
Eventually, you were discovered and brought before the celestial court. You were accused of blasphemy since questioning Him was an unforgivable sin and sentenced to Fall, to be cast out from the life you have always known. Yet, the real blow came when you found out who had betrayed you.
Jungkook.
Your Astrom.
The one you had trusted implicitly, the other half of your celestial star, had betrayed you in the name of divine loyalty. The pain of the Fall, the feeling of your grace ripped from your body, the scorching burn of your wings as they turned to ash—none of this could compete with the raw, gut-wrenching anguish of his betrayal.
Even now, months later, remembering makes you feel as if you can't breathe, as if you might die. Every memory of him is like a punch to the gut, and the city, so full of noise and life, does nothing to drown out the agony. Some days, the pain is so vivid and unbearable that it feels as though you are Falling all over again.
A rough shove against your shoulder makes you stumble, and the man who ran into you barely grunts out an apology before continuing past. At least the disruption is a timely one, allowing you to pull yourself out of your thoughts before you spiral. There’s no point focusing on the past when there’s nothing you to do to change it, especially not when you have a myriad of new human concerns to deal with.
Your job hunt was, once again, unsuccessful. You keep telling yourself that it’s because it’s so close to the holidays and you’ll have a better chance once the new year comes. In reality, you’re sure it’s because you have no experience, no schooling, and no useful knowledge.
At least you’re familiar enough with the city now that zoning out didn’t prevent you from getting to your destination.
Lost Star Shelter.
The place you’ve been calling home. It’s certainly not perfect, but little on Earth ever is. You feel awful stepping past the crowd of people waiting outside its doors, knowing that they, like you, have nowhere else to go. You've been fortunate enough to secure your spot due to your volunteering efforts and the fact that the manager, Naomi, seems to have taken a liking to you. But not everyone is so lucky.
You step inside, greeted by the familiar smells of disinfectant and something cooking in the kitchen. The place is buzzing with activity as usual—mothers trying to soothe crying children, elderly folks chatting away in groups, and a few lone souls quietly scrawling job applications.
"Long day?" Naomi catches your gaze from behind the front desk, her warm smile a stark contrast to the weariness etched in the lines of her face.
"Isn't it always?" You head over and pick up the clipboard she slides toward you, scanning your list of tasks for the day. As expected, it's long hours of mindless labor, but you don't mind. Not only do you need to earn your place here, but volunteering gives you a sense of purpose similar to your previous heavenly duties. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you're actually helping, not harming.
"First on the list," Naomi points to an item at the top of your clipboard, "is the donations room. We just had a big drop-off and could use some extra hands sorting through it all. But grab some dinner before you start, okay?"
You nod, her straightforward nature getting a slight smile out of you. "Yes, ma'am."
You navigate your way towards the crowded dining area, where a line of people has formed, waiting for their turn to get served. The cooks, all volunteers like yourself, are bustling about, serving portions of the day's meal which looks to be a thick stew accompanied by fresh bread. The food is simple but hearty, more than enough to keep you working through the evening. You make a mental note to slip into the kitchen later and thank them for their hard work.
You find an empty seat at one of the long tables that occupy the space, making yourself at home amongst the people who are engrossing themselves in their meals or with idle chatter. You even join in on a conversation with some older women across the table, who are engaged in a spirited debate about soap operas. Your knowledge of pop culture is sparse at best, but they seem delighted to fill you in on the latest drama, their laughter infectious.
After your meal, you make your way towards the donations room. The sight of piled-up clothes, toys, blankets, and other items is both overwhelming and heartwarming. Naomi wasn't kidding when she said they'd received a large drop-off. It's a daunting task, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You start by sorting through the clutter, meticulously separating everything into various categories—men's clothes, women's clothes, children's clothes, etc., and items that need repairs or cleaning. Hours pass by unnoticed, the rhythm of work almost meditative.
Your thoughts inevitably wander back to Jungkook. A pang of longing shoots through you. He was the one who would always be by your side when you had to perform menial tasks like this in the celestial realm. You wonder what he would think of your new life. Does he look down on you from up high with pity or disdain, or does he simply not think of you at all? You aren't sure if you even want to know the answer.
As time wears on, the room gradually becomes less cluttered and more organized. You're just about to take a break when Naomi appears at the doorway, her aging features softened by the warm glow of the hallway light behind her. She takes in your progress with an approving nod.
"You've done well," she says, stepping into the room.
You can't help but feel a sense of pride at her words. "Thank you, Naomi."
She strolls around the room, her observant gaze sweeping over the sorted piles, her hands touching a few items here and there.
"It's amazing," she finally says, "how much kindness there is out there, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. No matter how rough things get, we can choose to be generous, choose to help others. That's what makes us human."
Her words resonate with you. You’ve seen the worst and best of humanity firsthand; the same species that wages wars also unite in times of crisis, offering support and showing kindness to total strangers. How much is influenced by higher powers and how much is purely human nature, you wouldn't presume to know. Your very existence has blurred the lines between supernatural influence and mortal will.
"True," you say, looking up at Naomi from where you're still seated on the floor surrounded by donations. "That’s a nice way to look at things."
Naomi's smile broadens at that, and she gives one last cursory glance around the room before saying, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Don't stay up too late."
"Goodnight, Naomi," you call after her as she steps out into the hallway, half-waving at you as she goes.
A little over an hour later, you step back to admire your work. Each item has been categorized, ready to be cleaned and redistributed. You move on to your next set of responsibilities: cleaning up the common areas and helping close up for the night.
The smell of cleaning supplies clings to your skin as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters—a small, shared room filled with single beds. Careful not to disturb anyone, you move towards your assigned bed, its familiar creaks and groans echoing softly under your weight as you settle into it. Exhaustion pulls at your muscles, but you need to wash up and change before you sleep.
You grab your shower caddy, change of clothes, and quietly make your way to the women’s bathroom. The fluorescent white lights flicker to life as you enter, revealing a row of curtained shower cubicles. You choose one at the end and let the water heat up as you undress. The hot water cascades over your tired body, soothing your muscles and washing away the sweat and grime that has built up throughout the day.
Shower done and teeth brushed, you pull on fresh clothes and make your way back to your bed. As you settle back down under the covers, you notice something strange on your bedsheet. A crisp scorch mark is visible against the fabric, and when you observe it more closely, you're shocked to realize that the shape almost looks like… fingers? Your heart hammers in your chest.
"Impossible," you whisper to yourself.
The sight of these burns is not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you have been the cause of such marks before. It is a common occurrence when celestial beings interact with the mortal world—remnants of their powerful energy left behind. But as you stare at them now, a sense of unease creeps over you. Could it be Jungkook? The thought flickers through your mind, but you quickly brush it aside. Why would he make himself known in this way and then vanish without even seeing you? You can't allow yourself to hope.
Dismissing the thought, you force yourself to rationalize that it must have been an accident. Perhaps someone burned it while it was being ironed. It’s easy enough to convince yourself; after all, it’s only three and a half slender marks—it could be anything. But the unease remains as you lay down on the bed, your mind filled with questions. You eventually succumb to sleep from sheer exhaustion, your dreams filled with memories of Jungkook.
The next day passes in a blur—the usual routine of job applications, food preparation, and cleaning duties. The burn mark on your bedsheet remains a mystery. You track down the volunteer who did the laundry, and she swears she wouldn't be so careless as to burn someone’s belongings. Despite her assurances, it's the only explanation you are willing to believe. You return to your bed to find that the sheet has been replaced with a fresh one, the burn mark gone as if it never existed.
You spot an older man sitting on a bed in the corner; his mouth moves silently, and the rosary beads dangling from his fingers lead you to believe he’s praying. A small, faux Christmas tree, no larger than a water bottle, stands on a box next to him. The sight stirs something with you, an uncomfortable feeling once again settling in your gut. You don’t understand his faith. How can someone continue to pray to a God that has obviously forsaken him?
You wait until the man finishes and safely tucks the rosary beads into his shirt pocket, right above his heart, before you approach.
“Excuse me?”
He looks up at you with a smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. "What can I help you with, dear?"
"I noticed you praying," you begin tentatively. Despite your personal qualms with religion, you don’t want to seem as if you are disrespecting him or his beliefs. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you keep your faith? Under these circumstances?"
He doesn't seem bothered at all by your blunt question. Instead, he chuckles softly and pats the bed beside him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitate a moment before complying.
"Faith isn't about having all the answers," he starts, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. "It isn't about being rewarded for good deeds or punished for bad ones. It's about hope. It's about believing that things will get better."
“Hope? Still? Despite… despite being here? I mean, aren’t you upset with God?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as well, a mixture of curiosity and frustration seeping into your words.
He remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering towards the small Christmas tree on the box beside him.
"No, I'm not upset with God," he finally replies. "Man is given free will, and it is man who chooses what to do with it. Crisis, poverty… God didn't create these. They're the consequences of human choices." His words are sincere, spoken with a calmness that only comes from years of contemplation. "God doesn't promise us that life will always be easy or free from hardships. But He does promise that He will be there in those times of trouble. You see, faith isn't about expecting God to fix our problems, but about having the strength to face them."
“I envy your strength,” you admit with a hint of admiration in your voice.
“Strength is born from struggle, dear. You’ll find your way soon enough.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The conversation lingers in your mind long after the man's words have faded into silence. You sit on your bunk, staring at the ceiling, pondering them. His unshakable faith is both alien and inspiring to you. Even when you were an archangel, before any doubts seeped into your mind, your faith was nothing like his. It was a duty, an obligation, a resolute certainty that was less about personal beliefs and more about the world you were born into.
His mention of hope sticks out to you the most. You look around the room again, taking note of the different symbols of faith scattered across the room—crosses, menorahs, and even a small prayer mat in one corner. Each person in this room believes in something larger than themselves, something that gives them hope. And you? You're not certain what you believe in anymore. But maybe, just maybe, some of your anger has been misplaced.
As the daylight fades, you find yourself wandering outside, the crisp evening air bringing a kind of comfort you couldn't find inside. You walk aimlessly, your feet following the now-familiar sidewalks. You end up in a park, and you make a seat for yourself on a deserted bench.
Looking up into the sky, now painted with hues of orange and pink, you let yourself miss Heaven for just a minute. To miss Jungkook. Even the Creator. You can never go back to worshipping Him, nor do you want to, but you can't deny the connection that once was. As much as you wish everything never happened, you are grateful for how much you've grown since.
Suddenly, you’re disoriented by a bright flash of light and a shrill, piercing sound that makes your entire body jolt. You shut your eyes and cover your ears, but it does nothing to dull the pain. It's as if the noise is coming from inside your mind. You half-crawl, half-fall off the bench, curling in on yourself, unable to think anything, do anything, until it finally comes to a stop.
The world pauses around you; the birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, and people are frozen where they walk. A familiar feeling washes over you, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Even in this form, even as a human, his presence calls to your very soul. You hadn’t realized how incomplete you felt, how empty you were, without him by your side. He’s your other half, and he always will be. The realization makes you want to cry. You had hoped after the Fall, after you became human, that would cease to be true. You can’t stand the fact that you’re still irrevocably tied to him, even after all that he’s done. As always, fate is cruel.
“Y/N.”
He speaks your name with a quiet reverence as if he can hardly believe you’re there in front of him. The familiar, honeyed tone of his voice reignites your longing for him with full force, but you still stubbornly keep your eyes closed. You can’t look at him. You aren’t strong enough.
“I cannot believe you are alive.”
What?
His statement shocks you enough that your eyes fly open of their own accord, and for the first time in months, you're met with the sight of Jungkook. You're not sure if you perceive him differently now that you are mortal, but he's even more captivating than you remember.
His dark hair curls softly atop his head and is tousled ever-so-perfectly. His skin is beautifully tanned, and the way his tall figure is silhouetted against the sun makes it seem like he's glowing. His wings are obsidian, gargantuan in size, seemingly consuming the entire park with their reach. He's magnificent, so beautiful it hurts.
But it is his eyes that have you frozen in your spot—those beautiful, brown doe eyes, filled with so much emotion that it takes your breath away. He's not supposed to be able to feel unless… unless he has begun the degradation process, as you had.
��Y/N,” he repeats, his voice trembling. "I thought you were dead."
“I don't understand,” you manage to choke out, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You pull yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain radiating throughout your body. How much of it is physical and how much is emotional, you can't tell.
He takes a step closer to you, his hands outstretched as if to ensure that you're real, but you recoil instinctively. He flinches at your reaction but still grabs your arms, grip unrelenting even as you attempt to pull away from him.
“Protective markings have been burned onto your ribs.” Hurt flashes across his features. “Were you hiding from me?”
“What? No.” You manage to break free and back up a few steps, putting some distance between you. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, remembering how he always seemed to know what you were thinking even before you did. "I didn't even know I had them."
"I need you to explain everything," he demands.
“You need me to explain?" You scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively. "What about you?”
“Me?” He tilts his head slightly, his confusion obvious.
“Yes, you!" You take a step closer, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "After all, you’re how I ended up in this situation, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
"You betrayed me!" you hiss. “I confided in you, and you told me you understood. That you were with me. And then you turned around and proclaimed me a blasphemer!”
He doesn’t respond right away, and it’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his head as he pieces things together. “Y/N… I would never.”
His admittance makes you pause. Angels aren’t supposed to lie, though you know not everyone abides by that law. However, Jungkook has always been one of the most dedicated to the commandments.
“That’s not what Namsu told me.”
“Namsu? The Throne?”
“Yes, the Throne. The one who exiled me on the orders of up high.”
His eyebrows furrow. “You… were exiled? You did not wither?”
"Wither?" you scoff. "That's a myth, Jungkook. A cover-up to hide the fact that when angels start to stand up for what they think is right, they get cast out. And it's thanks to you that I'm here now."
"I… no." The intensity behind the word takes you aback. "I just wanted to help you; I thought you were sick. I went to one of the Cherubim for guidance—I would have never turned you in for some kind of punishment."
His words hang in the air, making your heart pound in your chest. He was trying to help you? The thought sends a flurry of conflicting emotions through you.
"Help me?" You repeat his words, mocking him in your disbelief. "Your way of helping got me exiled! Cast down and made mortal."
"I did not—" He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"Yet it did!" you snap, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as if they could somehow shield you from the pain his presence brings. "And now I'm here, and nothing will ever be the same!"
"I am so sorry." His apology is whispered so softly that you almost don't catch it. But you do, and it hits you like a punch in the gut.
Your head feels as if it's about to implode. He didn't purposefully betray you—in fact, he was trying to save you. But even so, his actions have led to your downfall, and now you're stuck here on earth, far from the light of Heaven, vulnerable and mortal, while he remains immortal and untouchable. Perhaps that's the part that hurts the most. The fact that now you are separated not by betrayal but by the very nature of your beings.
Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. "If all this is true, then why wouldn’t you have looked for me?”
“I looked everywhere at first, but I could not sense you anymore.” If it was possible, you think he would be crying too. “Namsu is the one who told me what happened. He said that you… that your doubt consumed you, and you did not survive.”
The information hits you like a ton of bricks. Your knees almost give out for a second time, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs you by the elbows, steadying you.
"I… I had no idea." A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you look up at him. "You didn't know anything, and I presumed the worst of you."
His fingers tighten around your arms in a reassuring squeeze. "We can always start over, Y/N."
"Start over?" you echo, incredulous. "You make it sound so easy."
"And why would it not be? We were not the ones to blame for our separation. Come back with me."
"I'm human now. The only way I can come back is… is if I'm dead."
His grip loosens, his face paling at your words. "I did not mean to suggest… Of course, I do not want you to die," he hastily corrects himself, glancing down at the ground. His wings flutter uneasily behind him, betraying his discomfort. "There must be another way."
"If there was, would it even be safe? I mean, why would Namsu do this?" you ask, staring at him. You're not sure if you're asking him or simply musing aloud. Even so, the question hangs heavily in the silence between you.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jungkook speaks again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I wish I had the answers you seek, but I don't. All I know is that I will do everything in my power to rectify this situation." He turns away from you, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. "I need to return and confront Namsu. He must account for his actions."
"No, it's too dangerous. What if he forces you to Fall, too? You can't risk it, Jungkook."
He looks back at you, his expression hardening. "I will not let him get away with this, Y/N," he says resolutely. "Deception is not a virtue of a Throne, especially not in such grave matters."
"And you won't let him, but you need to go about this carefully. Going to him directly won't work—he's too powerful."
Jungkook tilts his head, regarding you skeptically. "It almost sounds as if you are asking me to be deceitful."
"Not deceitful, just… stealthy?"
He doesn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowed as he mulls over your words. After a moment, he exhales slowly, pulling back from you to pace the grass in thought. "Stealthy," he repeats slowly, his voice distant. "That would require careful planning. Secret meetings. Misdirection."
"Yes," you agree, watching him closely. "All of that."
He stops suddenly, turning to look at you. "Very well. I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this."
Your chest tightens, and you gnaw at your bottom lip. His resolve both comforts and worries you. You don't want him to risk himself for you, but part of you is happy that he is willing.
"However,” Jungkook breaks your train of thought. "It sounds like I may need to be a little bit more human to pull this off. After all, none of this comes easily to angels, but mortals lie all the time."
You raise an eyebrow. "And how are you going to achieve that?"
"You will have to teach me, of course." He says this as if doing so will be the easiest thing in the world. “The degradation process has already started for me, as I am sure you are aware. It should be easy.”
"You're serious?"
Jungkook had always been so straight-laced, the epitome of angelic perfection. The idea of him playing at being human is almost laughable.
"Completely," he responds, his intense gaze never wavering. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring Namsu to justice and try to fix this. Fix us. If that requires adopting some mortal habits, then so be it."
"Alright," you finally concede, shaking your head in amusement. "Time for a crash course in 'how to be a human' 101."
He smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards just so. It's a small thing, barely noticeable amidst the tension still hanging heavily in the air between you two, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that the way you felt about him in Heaven, despite not being able to feel, was some kind of love. You don't know where that leaves you now or what you're going to do about it, but procrastination is another human skill you have come to love. Maybe you'll teach him that eventually.
"Lesson one," you start, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness. "Humans don't always speak so formally or in such grandiose phrases. ‘I am going to bring Namsu to justice' sounds archaic or like something a two-bit superhero would say."
His lips quirk upward into a more genuine smile this time. "I see," he replies, his voice deliberately casual. "So how would a human say it?"
"Well, for starters, you could use slang," you suggest.
Jungkook’s brows furrow, an almost comical look of concentration on his face. “Slang,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.
“Yes, slang. Humans don’t always pronounce every single word, and they often come up with new, shorter words to replace certain phrases. You could say something like, 'Namsu’s gonna get what he deserves.'”
He nods, repeating your words slowly. “Namsu... is going to get what he deserves.”
You burst out laughing at his attempt. The prim, stoic angel fumbling his way through human speech? It is truly a sight to behold.
"Laughing at my expense?" He feigns hurt, but there's a playful twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. "I guess that's lesson two then: humans are full of mirth and mockery."
"You're catching on quickly," you reply, still giggling slightly. “And yes, we like to laugh.”
He observes you a moment longer before finally allowing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. It's a deep, rich sound, but it feels tentative like he's not quite sure if he's doing it right.
“Laughing…" he murmurs, puzzling over the concept. “Such a peculiar expression of joy. But I like it."
"As you should," you reply, a grin still playing across your face. "It's one of the best parts about being human."
Jungkook studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you."
"Hm? What does?"
"Being human."
"I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”
"There is a certain spontaneity in humans. A vibrancy that angels lack." Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he steps closer. "It makes you shine more brightly. Like the sun."
He's so close to you now that you can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words wash over you, warming you from the inside out.
"That—" You clear your throat, trying to steady your shaking voice. "That sounds like a compliment."
"It is," he confirms, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a brief second before rising back to meet your eyes. "But it is also an observation. A fact."
You want to kiss him. The thought shocks you—you've never kissed someone before, let alone wanted to. It must be a human impulse. You can't help but imagine what it might feel like, the warmth of his lips against yours, his skin beneath your fingertips. You want to feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. But the danger of your respective positions impedes that thought, and you push it down. He's an angel. You're not. Him being your Astrom, the connection you had before your Fall, none of it matters now.
"Okay," you manage to squeak out, trying to ignore the electricity that seems to be sparking between your too-close bodies. "Human lesson number three: we're big on personal space."
"Oh?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow but doesn't step away. "Is this too close?"
You swallow hard. "A bit."
You swear you see a hint of mischievousness cross his features before he complies, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space between you. "Better?"
"Now you're just teasing me," you retort, though there's a soft smile playing on your lips.
"Is that frowned upon?"
"No," you admit. "In fact, it's quite human of you. Now, it’s time for a real challenge." He looks at you quizzically. "We have to convince Naomi to let you stay at the shelter."
"Ah," he nods, understanding dawning on him. "I see. Another part of being human—negotiation."
"Exactly."
"Then lead the way." With a snap of his fingers, time resumes for the two of you and his wings have disappeared, making him appear fully human, and you head back to Lost Star.
"Naomi, please," you beg, giving your boss the best puppy eyes you can muster. "He needs a place to stay."
Naomi crosses her arms over her chest and drags her gaze over Jungkook in a way that suggests she's scrutinizing every cell of his being, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. "There's no extra beds, hun. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."
"Then he can stay with me!"
"You and him, sharing that tiny little twin bed?" She scoffs. "I'd like to see you try."
"We'll make it work!"
"It's still against the rules. One body to one bed."
"I know it's not ideal, but just for a few days until we figure out something else," you urge her. "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't important."
Jungkook steps forward, interjecting smoothly, "I will respect the rules, and if you feel my presence is harmful or disruptive in any way, I will leave immediately."
Naomi looks between you and Jungkook, and then she sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat.
"Fine, but only for a little while. And you can't sleep in the main room. Take my office—the couch is a pull-out."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You pull her into a hug that she returns with a loving exasperation.
"If there's even a whiff of trouble, both of you are gone, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't expect anything less."
You grab Jungkook’s hand, dragging him along behind you as you lead him through the shelter. You pass through some of the busier living areas, and it's as if everyone can’t help but stare at him. You can only assume that, despite his wings being hidden, he still emits some sort of otherworldly aura that draws people in. Plus, by human standards, you suppose he's quite attractive.
Jungkook seems unbothered by the attention, too focused on his surroundings and curiously taking in every detail.
"All these people live here?" he asks, incredulous. "This place is quite small."
"Shh! Lesson four: lower your voice when you're talking about other people. The last thing we need is for someone to overhear and think you're judging them."
"Apologies," Jungkook replies, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But my previous comment was not meant to be judgmental. I’m just… surprised. I thought humans usually lived in family units, but everyone here doesn't seem to be related."
I’m. Doesn’t. He’s already using contractions—you must either be a good teacher or he’s a quick learner.
"You're right," you agree, and as you glance around, your heart aches a little. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. This place is for those who have lost their families or homes."
"Lost their homes? Like in a fire?"
"Sometimes. Or maybe they didn't have enough money to pay their taxes."
"I don't understand. Are there not enough homes for everyone? Why do you need to pay for such a basic need?"
You pause, the innocence of his question hitting you surprisingly hard. Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of human society, of money and social class, of poverty and wealth disparity. You didn't either; at least, not until you Fell and were forced to figure it out.
"That is a complicated issue," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "And not all humans agree on how to solve it. Some people think everyone should have a home, regardless of whether or not they can pay for it. Others think that if you can't afford it, you don't deserve one."
He looks so confused that you would be tempted to laugh if the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious. "That doesn't seem fair. In heaven, everyone has a place."
"Yes, well, Earth isn't heaven." There's a bitterness to your words that you hadn't intended. "And why our Creator chooses to leave things like this is a mystery to me. I mean, why not use some of His power to help?"
"The ways of the Almighty are impossible for us to understand," Jungkook quietly replies. "And it's not for us to question."
You snort in response, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, aren't you a dutiful little angel?"
Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your sarcasm. You sigh and shake your head.
"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It's just hard to wrap my head around sometimes. It's why my so-called degradation process started in the first place. Look at them—" You gesture to the people huddled together around the small television in the corner of the room, others sharing a meal or helping to care for the younger children. "They're good people. Why do they deserve to suffer?"
Silence lingers between you for a moment. When he responds, he doesn’t answer your question. “Their heavenly rewards shall be plentiful as long as they keep to their faith.”
“Does that make all of this okay?" You scoff. "Why are they being tested like this? In fact, why do they even need to believe at all to be given a home in the celestial realm? If a person is good-hearted, why isn’t that enough?”
Jungkook looks away from you. "I don't like these questions."
“You don’t like them? Or you don’t like how uncomfortable they make you feel?”
Before he can even bother replying, you let go of his hand and open the door to Naomi's office, hurrying inside, eager to get some space. It's small and cramped, filled with stacks of paper, an old wooden desk strewn with an old computer and various office supplies, and a well-worn couch wedged against the wall.
"It's not much," you say. "But it's home for now, I guess."
"Home," Jungkook repeats softly, eyes scanning the room. He zeroes in the billboard behind Naomi's desk, filled with photos of smiling people, letters from those that she has helped. A smile tugs at his lips. "It's nice."
"You say that now. Just wait until you're trying to sleep and a couch spring is digging into your back."
"I don't actually need to sleep," he reminds you.
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Right, I forgot. At least we won't be fighting for the blanket."
"I can pretend to," Jungkook offers, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "The idea of laying next to you is not unwelcome."
You blush, taken aback. "W-what… you…" You take a deep breath. "No, that won't be necessary. And lesson five: don't flirt with people unless you mean it."
"What is 'flirt’?”
"Flirting," you explain, trying to keep your blush under control, "is when people say or do things that suggest they're attracted to each other."
"I see." He pauses for just a moment before asking, "And how do I know if I'm attracted to someone?"
You sigh exasperatedly. Who knew teaching an angel to be human could be so tiring?
"It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Especially because, as an angel, you don't really feel, at least not until the degradation process is nearing its end. But basically, it's like you have an inexplicable urge to be around this person a lot. You think about them often, their happiness makes you happy, and you want to be closer to them, maybe even touch them or hold them. Some people also might feel their heart beat faster, or a fluttering in their stomach."
As you speak, Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. They gleam with curiosity and understanding, drinking in every word you say. He seems to be processing the concept, and then he suddenly smiles. "So, like how I feel about you."
Caught off-guard, you blink at him, speechless for a moment. And then the panic seeps in.
"No, Jungkook, that's not correct," you insist, your words tumbling out in haste and denial. "You can't… we can't… you're an angel. I'm—" Fallen, you want to say. Human, you need to say. But you don't.
"Why not?" he asks simply, his gaze steady.
"Because!" You scramble for an explanation, desperate to avoid the truth of your own feelings stirring within you. "Because angels aren't supposed to feel that way."
"But I am no longer a pure angel," Jungkook counters. "The degradation process has begun. We discussed this already."
"But that doesn't matter! The whole reason we are doing this is so you can learn the skills you need to figure out a way to stop Namsu from forcing anyone else to Fall. Once you do, you'll be able to stay in Heaven because withering isn't real." Before he can say anything else, you open the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from my bed. I'll… I'll be back in a second."
You slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. It's a struggle to keep your composure as you head towards your bed. All you can think of is his words, the nonchalance with which he said them. You can feel your traitorous heart yearning for him, but you can't let it sway you. Whether it was an accident or not, his betrayal led to your Fall. Led to you being human. And he's an angel. No matter what you feel or what he thinks he feels, nothing can happen between you now.
As you gather your meager belongings, the man you spoke with earlier approaches you with a sympathetic expression. "You alright, dear? You didn't get evicted, did you? I'll give Naomi a piece of mind if that's the case."
"No, no," you quickly reassure him with a forced smile. "My… my friend needs a place to stay for awhile, and there's a one body to one bed policy. Naomi was kind enough to let us use the couch in her office for a few days until we figure something else out."
"Your friend, hm?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "That fellow you walked in with? Can't say I blame you. He's quite a looker."
"It's not like that," you blush, hurriedly stuffing the rest of your belongings into your bag. "Anyway, don't worry. You'll still see me around."
The man grins and gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. This place would be much drearier without you."
You bid him goodbye with a wave and make your way back to Naomi's office, feeling like you're walking towards the edge of a cliff. As you open the door, you find Jungkook staring out the window. The streetlight spills in through the gap in the curtains, bathing him in a soft glow. He turns as you enter.
"Gathered your belongings?" he asks, his voice calm as if the previous conversation never happened. For a moment, you feel robbed—does he not understand the gravity of what he said? But you suppose it's better this way. Easier, at least.
"Yes," you respond, a bit more brusquely than intended, setting your bag down on the floor. He's still staring at you, and you flush under his gaze. "I'm just going to set up the couch. And stop staring at me so intently. Humans get nervous about stuff like that."
"Another lesson," he remarks. "Understood." Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then turns back to the window without a word.
You get to work, unfolding the couch and covering it with your bedding. The silence between you is thick; you can feel the tension radiating off of Jungkook despite his apparent calm. Your heart pounds in your ears as you busy yourself with smoothing out some wrinkles in the sheets, a futile distraction.
With a deep breath, you break the silence. "Alright, I'm done."
Jungkook turns to look, and his eyes scan the makeshift bed you've prepared. "You've made it look inviting."
"Should be okay for a few nights," you reply curtly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm, uh, gonna go ready for bed. I know you don't sleep, but feel free to sit at her desk or something. Make yourself comfortable."
You exit the room and head down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. You can’t shake off his confession and your own rush to deny him. The truth of your feelings, or rather the depth of them, is something you aren't ready to face.
After getting ready for bed, you hesitantly return to Naomi's office. The door creaks upon opening, and Jungkook turns from where he's seated at Naomi's desk, looking up at you with his intense gaze.
"Goodnight," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray how uneasy you feel.
Jungkook nods. "Goodnight," he replies, and his voice is gentle, concerned. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance you've created between the two of you but say nothing more, falling into a fitful sleep.
Sometime during the night, Jungkook figured out how to work Naomi's dinosaur of a computer and discovered the wonderful thing that is the internet. When you wake, he flocks to your side like an excited child, eager to share everything he has learned about humans, their emotions, and their behavior.
"Slow down, Jungkook," you chuckle, holding up a hand to halt his barrage of words. "I can't absorb all of that at once."
"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "I forget that human minds process information more slowly. Should I take this as another lesson?"
You shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Sure, go for it."
Despite the tension last night and everything unsaid between the two of you, you find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with him. He's eager to learn and keen on understanding humanity—your humanity. Throughout the day, he continues his studies, glued to the computer screen as you complete your daily volunteering. He takes breaks every once in a while to come find you and ask questions.
"I've come across some terms that are perplexing," he says, leaning on the front desk as you catalog some information. "'Memes' and 'emojis' appear prominently in human interactions online, but I don’t really know what they are or how they’re used.”
You answer question after question until you realize you aren’t getting work done, so you have to come up with a plan B. Leading him back to Naomi’s office, you pull up Netflix on the computer. Jungkook watches the screen in fascination as you explain streaming and scroll through all the shows.
"Let's try Friends," you say, clicking on the thumbnail.
You leave him to watch as you finish up your tasks for the day, checking occasionally to see that he’s still engrossed in the show. Instead of constantly badgering you with questions, he writes them on a notepad you provided and waits until the end of the day to go over them with you. You answer each one as best you can, completely endeared by him.
It's during one of the show's more depressing moments that he asks you about lying and betrayal, echoing the heavy undertones from the other day. His question takes you by surprise, his gaze focused intensely on your face as he waits for an answer.
"Lying is a tough one," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sometimes it's out of fear or selfishness. Sometimes people lie because they're trying to protect themselves."
"And betrayal?" Jungkook asks, his voice unnaturally calm.
You sigh, looking down at your hands. "Betrayal… it's when someone breaks your trust. It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts a lot."
He watches you for several long moments before finally speaking again. "I see," he says softly. "And that's what you thought I did to you?"
You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your chest tighten. "Jungkook," you start, but falter, not knowing how to put your feelings into words.
"I did not mean to betray you," Jungkook continues. "I realize that my actions may have led you to believe that I deceived you, but it was not my intention. I'm sorry."
"I know." You believe him completely, but the wound is still so fresh that you can’t bring yourself to fully trust him again. Not yet. "I know you didn't mean to, but an apology doesn't fix everything. Consider it another lesson—trust, once broken, isn't so easily mended."
Jungkook plays with the skin around his nails, an anxious habit he seems to be developing the more human-like he becomes. After a moment, he says, "I understand. I will try harder."
"Try harder doing what?"
"To understand you better. To understand all humans more, their emotions and their beliefs. Maybe understanding what trust really is will teach me how to earn it back and make up for my mistakes." He's so earnest, so genuine, it almost brings tears to your eyes. "I think I want this as much as I want Namsu to answer for his crimes, if not more. And maybe that makes little sense, but maybe… maybe that's quite human of me."
"And maybe that's progress," you say softly, looking at Jungkook with newfound hope.
Your new normal is spending your days with your time split between performing your volunteering duties and teaching Jungkook all about human life.
Christmas is only a week away now, and everyone around you seems to be buzzing with excitement. At this point, even the inside of the shelter has been decorated. The hallways are lined with lights and garlands, and the common areas even have a few trees set up with donated presents underneath. And, as much as you have dreaded the holiday, you can't deny that watching Jungkook experience it for the first time makes you hate it a little less.
Despite the initial stiffness that comes with being an angel unfamiliar with human life, he has quickly adapted to life at the shelter. He's kind and patient, and he’s always eager to help out where he can. The children, in particular, have taken a liking to him. He's become their favorite storyteller and always has the kids hanging onto his every word.
One afternoon, you find him sitting with them, singing a song in an ancient celestial language. Everyone will assume it’s some gibberish language he’s made up for one of his stories, but it reminds you of home. His voice is beautiful, melodic and soothing, with a honeyed quality to it that would make anyone stop and listen.
You stand in the doorway and watch, a smile tugging at your lips. He catches your eye and winks, the action so human and unexpected that it startles a laugh out of you. The children turn to see what's so funny, but you just shake your head, telling them to continue listening.
He comes to you when he finishes, smiling brightly. "Did you enjoy the song as well?"
"I did," you reply truthfully, your heart fluttering at his attention. The feelings you have been trying to resist are becoming increasingly persistent the more time you spend with him.
"That's good to hear.”
Suddenly, the kids clamor over to you both, giggling and pointing at something above you. You look up, and all the color drains from your face. Mistletoe. Who the hell put it here?
Jungkook looks between you and the mistletoe, obviously confused. “Why are you angry with that plant? It’s quite beautiful.”
“It’s a tradition, of sorts.” You say the word with disdain. “When a couple—not that we are one—walks under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.”
“Kiss?”
“We don’t have to, it’s stupid—”
“No, let’s do it. It's a part of the human experience, right? Let's consider it another lesson."
Heat rushes to your face, and you stutter incoherently, looking around the room for a way to escape. But the children are watching expectantly, their eyes wide and eager. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Alright… close your eyes," you tell him.
He listens obediently, his eyes fluttering closed. You had never noticed just how long and pretty his eyelashes were until now. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath and lean in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you're greeted with a perplexed expression as he opens his eyes.
"That was nice," he says after a brief pause. "But that’s really what a kiss is? In the show, they did it a bit more like—"
He leans in to demonstrate what he means, his lips brushing against yours. It's soft and a bit awkward at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, pulling you closer. Against your better judgment, you let him, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. His lips are softer than you would have expected. His fingers lightly squeeze your waist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and it's not until you hear some of the children giggling that you are reminded you have an audience.
You quickly pull away, breathless and flushed with embarrassment. Jungkook, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "That," he says. "That is how they did it."
"Again! Again!" one of the kids shouts, pulling at your arm.
Jungkook chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I think we should get back to our story," he says, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. Then, turning back to you, he murmurs, "Thank you. For the lesson."
You can barely speak coherently, but you manage to squeak out a small “you’re welcome” before rushing out of the room. How on Earth are you supposed to get your tasks done now? It's impossible to focus, your mind running in circles over his touch, the feel of his lips against yours.
When you return to Naomi’s office later that night, you’re relieved to see that Jungkook isn't there yet. You take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and process your thoughts, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over your lips. A shiver passes through your body, a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach. You drop your hand, clenching it into a fist to stop the trembling.
"Nervous?" a voice asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.
"I… no," you say.
"Don't lie," he chides gently, sitting next to you on the bed. “I can tell when you do that now, you know.” He keeps to a respectful distance, but he turns his gaze to you. “I think I'm starting to really understand this human thing. Emotions and all that.”
"Is that so?"
"Yes. They can be painful sometimes but also quite beautiful."
You watch as he turns his gaze back towards the room, and silence stretches between you again. However, it’s different now from how it used to be; it's not awkward or unsettling, but comfortable. His vulnerability makes you want to be honest, to admit to the way you feel.
Just as you’re about to say something, he continues, "But now it's time for me to learn about something else. I need to start strategizing for the coming confrontation."
"Right, Namsu," you say. You almost forgot about Jungkook’s original intentions. You clap your hands and get up, heading to the computer. "Alright. Let's research."
With Jungkook sufficiently prepared, the time soon comes for him to return to the celestial realm. However, he insists on leaving at night, so he can spend the day with you. He referred to it as "a date," and you practically tripped over your own feet, much to his enjoyment. He has certainly developed a penchant for teasing you.
You decide to take him into the heart of the city, so he can observe people in their natural element. There seem to be even more decorations than you remember, and people are bustling about to finish their last-minute shopping. However, you find yourself handling the chaos a lot better with Jungkook by your side.
He hasn't let go of your hand since you stepped out of the shelter, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over your knuckles. Every once in a while, he squeezes it lightly, a silent assurance that he’s there. Whether he notices your nerves and is doing it to comfort you or is doing it because he wants to, you're grateful for it.
His doe eyes dart this way and that, eagerly drinking in the scenery. You try to explain what everything is—the office buildings, luxury apartments, and tiny shops buried in alleyways—but he's more interested in the people. It isn't until you stop in front of a Hindu temple that his attention is finally captured by a building. He cocks his head to the side, eyes wide in wonder as he takes in the sight of it. The temple is a beautiful structure, with elaborate carvings and statues lining its walls.
"What is this place?" he asks, his voice full of awe.
"It's a place of worship for those that practice Hinduism," you explain.
His eyes sparkle with interest as he takes a step closer to the building. "Can we go inside?"
You glance at him, surprised by his request. But something in his earnest gaze breaks down your hesitation. "Sure," you say softly, leading him inside.
The inside of the temple is even more impressive than the outside. There are vibrant murals depicting different gods and an intoxicating scent of incense that fills the air. You gesture to the bell at the entrance. “Would you like to ring it?”
“What’s it for?” he asks, picking it up gently.
“It’s supposed to be a way to announce your arrival to the deities.”
Jungkook shakes it, the twinkling of the bell echoing in the large room. “Pretty,” he remarks as he places it back where it belongs.
He then follows your lead as you move towards the main shrine, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you're about to do. An angel of the Christian God at the altar of a different one? You're almost afraid you'll be struck down where you stand.
He takes in the offerings with a small smile. "It's all quite beautiful," he remarks. "It's a shame that their gods aren't real."
You know Jungkook means no harm and that it is what he has been conditioned to think for thousands of years, but you still bristle at his easy dismissal of their beliefs. “We’re real. Our God is real. Who’s to say the gods of their religion are not?”
"There is one God. That is what we were taught."
"Yes, it is. But we were also led to believe the withering was real. Just because it is said does not mean that it is true.”
Jungkook is silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on the offerings. Then he turns to you. "You truly believe that?"
"I don't know," you confess, feeling a little exposed. “I don't know what I believe anymore. I'm just… questioning. It's complicated."
"You have given me a lot to think about," he admits, his tone quiet. “For all I know, you might be right. I shouldn't have dismissed their beliefs so easily. I apologize.”
You stare at him in surprise; you hadn't expected him to back down so easily. "It's okay," you reassure him. "I'd say being open-minded is another lesson, but unfortunately, not all humans are."
You continue to walk around the city, introducing Jungkook to as many things as possible. Everything he does fills you with affection, whether it be him trying hot dogs from a street vendor and declaring them divine, or joining some kids who were playing soccer in a park. At one point, he kicks the ball so hard that it lands in a tree branch, and you can’t help but laugh as he clumsily climbs up to retrieve it.
When night falls, you end up at the pier, watching the shimmering water beneath the stars. Jungkook is oddly quiet, looking out at the horizon with a distant expression. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it does leave you feeling a little uneasy. You reach for his hand, and he startles slightly before turning to look at you.
"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.
He smiles slightly. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of human expression, and you’re not actually going to give me a penny.”
“You would be correct.”
“I’m thinking about a lot of things.” He exhales as if letting out a breath he has been holding. "You, for one. But I'm always thinking of you so that much isn't a surprise." You blush and swat at his arm. "But I’m also thinking about my beliefs."
"What about them?"
He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, grabbing your hand more tightly as if you're his anchor in a stormy sea. He answers your question with another. "What if everything we have been taught is wrong? I mean, we have never spoken with the Almighty directly. Angels, apostles, they can all take His words and twist them for their own purposes. We've seen it in action with Namsu, and with how the Bible has been changed to promote hatred."
You're taken aback by his frankness, the depth of his vulnerability. You have no answers for him, but you can relate to him and offer what little understanding you have come to have.
"So maybe it is wrong, and things have gotten taken out of context or changed as the years have gone on. Like you said, we cannot talk to Him, so we can’t ask for the truth. Or, maybe it is all part of a bigger plan, and unwavering faith is the answer.” You pause, steeling your resolve, before continuing, “But it isn’t for me. I can’t live that way. But how you decide to live is your choice. Who you are is your choice. I cannot decide that for you, and neither can He.”
He frowns. "I don't know how to make that choice. Who even am I? What am I without my purpose? Without Him?"
"Perhaps we're not defined by a single purpose we've been given," you answer quietly. "Maybe we're more than that."
"More than our purpose?"
"Yeah," you say, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe we don't need a purpose. Maybe it's okay to just exist."
Jungkook’s gaze turns thoughtful, considering your words as if they are the most precious thing in the world. "Just exist," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he stands up, looking at you with a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. "I need to return. I will talk to some of my confidants, gather information, and then confront Namsu."
You knew it was coming, but your stomach still drops. You're scared for him, for what will happen when he leaves. But you see the determination in his eyes, the steel in his gaze. You know better than to try and stop him now.
"You'll be careful, right?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.
"I will."
He pulls you up and envelops you in his arms. His embrace is comforting, protective, and for a brief moment, it makes you forget about all your worries.
"Promise me," you whisper into his chest.
"I promise," he says, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. He pulls away after a moment, but not before brushing his lips against your temple. "I will return. For you."
His words weigh heavy in the air as he pulls away fully, breaking the physical contact between you two. His gaze lingers on you for another moment before he turns away and disappears into the night. You're left standing on the pier alone, the cold wind making you shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you head back to Lost Star, where you have nothing to do but wait.
It’s Christmas Eve before you know it. The holiday you have been dreading feels even worse with Jungkook’s absence, and frankly, you don’t know how to handle it. You plaster a smile on your face for the sake of the children, playing along with their excitement over what presents they are going to get and stories of Santa Claus. But every time someone brings Jungkook up, wondering where he is, you feel tempted to run to Naomi’s office and hide.
Speaking of Naomi, she has been keeping a close watch over you, mothering you as per usual. You know she can tell that something has happened. Once you step away from the festivities to do some of your work, she pulls you aside.
“Honey, what’s going on? These days you seem so out of it; you’re just flitting around room to room, acting like a ghost.” When you don’t answer, she frowns. “It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”
"He… he needed to go home. He had some things he needed to figure out," you manage to say. It's not a lie, just an oversimplification of the truth.
She wraps an arm around you. "He's going to come back. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him. And if he doesn't, well, screw him."
"Naomi!"
"Sorry, sorry. He was sweet and all, but you're my girl. I'll always have your back." Naomi declares, patting you on the back.
You accept her comfort, fighting back your tears. If only she knew your fear didn’t revolve around him coming back—of course, part of you is scared that something will happen to him, but the rational part of your brain, the part that knows his strength, has no doubts he'll be alright. In actuality, your biggest fear is that he won't be able to stay with you, and you’ll have to go through the pain of losing him all over again.
He's an angel. You're human. There's no future there. Your traitorous heart made you fall harder and harder for him without sparing that a moment's thought, and now you have to will yourself to accept that you'll always be in love with someone you cannot have.
The rest of the day passes in a blur, nothing but forced cheer and mindless chatter. Naomi sticks by your side as much as she can, making sure to redirect everyone who asks you questions about Jungkook. You're grateful for her presence, her constant support, and now more than ever, you realize how lucky you truly are to have her in your life.
As soon as everyone is in bed and your tasks for the day are done, you seek out the solitude of the pier once again. You've been coming here daily since he left. A sentimental thing, mostly, since it was the last place you saw him. But you also hope each night will be the night he returns.
The wind is strong tonight, the kind that chills you down to your bones, and the stars are hidden behind the clouds. You wrap your scarf more tightly around yourself, gazing aimlessly at the turbulent water. Suddenly, there's a bright light and a shrill noise. You aren't scared this time, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it was. He must have tempered it somehow, made it less painful for you.
The light fades, leaving behind a figure that is unmistakably Jungkook. The sight of him fills you with such relief and happiness that you rush forward, throwing your arms around him. He envelops you in his arms, his wings folding around you, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he buries his face in your hair.
"I missed you very much," he says, breathing deeply.
"I missed you too," you whisper, tears prickling at your eyes. "I knew you'd come back."
"I said I would, didn't I?" he teases, pulling away just enough to look at you. "And I have news."
"What happened?"
You stay locked in his embrace as he speaks, bringing one of your hands to his face to stroke his cheek, to follow the line of his jaw with your fingers. He lets you, as eager to feel your touch as you are to feel his.
"I confronted Namsu," he begins. "But I wasn't alone. There were other angels who had started the 'degradation' process, those who were too fearful of retribution to say anything. I told them everything, and we confronted the other Thrones about Namsu and everything he had done. They didn’t approve of his actions, and they punished him for it."
"Really?" You ask, eyes wide with surprise. "Just like that? They believed you?"
A soft laugh bubbles up from him. "It wasn't quite that simple. There was plenty of arguing, plenty of disbelief. I’d never seen anything like it. But in the end, Namsu was banished from the celestial realm."
Relief washes over you at his words, the tension you hadn't even realized you were carrying leaving your body. "That's incredible.”
Jungkook shrugs slightly, but there’s an unmistakable look of pride in his eyes. "I’m just glad he has gotten what he deserves. Now you have justice." He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"And what about the others? The ones who have started to degrade?" Your heart clenches at the thought of them being punished for something beyond their control.
"They're safe," Jungkook assures you quickly. "The Thrones have promised to take care of it all. They're going to convene with Him, to see if the Heavenly teachings can be altered. Things are changing up there; I think it's all going to be alright."
You're overwhelmed with emotion, both relief and dread tugging at you simultaneously. It is good to know that things will be changing, but what is done to you has been done. And now, Jungkook has no reason to stay with you. You take a step back from him.
"What about you?" you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze.
"What about me?"
"You have no reason to stay anymore. You can return to your normal duties. You did what was right, and everything is fixed."
"I did what was right, yes, and I'm sure things will be much better from now on," Jungkook agrees. But he steps forward, taking your hands in his and looking deep into your eyes. "But now, I need to do what's right for me."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, my star." Your heart stutters at the endearment. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you."
"But… you can only do that if you're—"
"Human, yes," he interrupts.
"Jungkook! You can't! You can't Fall for me," you half-shout, half-whisper. "You're a good angel, you—"
"Y/N." The force behind his voice stops you. "Even before you showed me the beauty of being human, before I knew how to feel, before I even knew what love was, I would have done anything for you.” His confession takes your breath away, and you wobble on your feet, moving a few steps back from him in your shock. “If you had simply asked it of me, I would have stood with you in the fires of hell for all eternity and still been grateful for each moment spent at your side."
The tears you were holding back begin to fall. "You would have?"
“I would. I can. I will.” He moves closer to you with each beat between words until he stands directly in front of you, only a hair's breadth away. Gently, hesitantly—as if for the first time—he takes your hand and presses it to his chest right above where a human heart would be. “Just say the words, and I will fall for you. I will forsake myself and turn my back on Heaven. The pain of losing my wings will be inconsequential compared to the pain of having to be without you.”
"W-what words?"
He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You know what I want to hear. Be honest. Even better, be selfish, like a human. Tell me what you really want, and I will oblige."
You hesitate. You have been fighting your feelings this entire time, so sure of the fact that Jungkook would choose to continue his life as an angel. You never wanted him to Fall for you, to be torn away from the life he has always known the way you were. But he deserves to make the choice himself. If he wants your honesty, you will give it to him.
"Speak, Y/N," Jungkook urges, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I want…" You begin slowly, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you. I want you to stay with me."
He grins, relief clear in his eyes. "Then I will."
"But you shouldn't have to Fall!"
"Fall or not, it won't change anything," he assures you. "I chose this path before even knowing there was a choice. I chose you from the second we were created.”
"Even if that means giving up everything?" you ask.
Jungkook’s expression softens. He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "Does it seem like I’m giving up everything?" he muses aloud, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because from where I stand, it seems like I’m gaining everything.”
"Smooth-talker,” you laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek. He brushes it off with his thumb, his gaze softening even further.
For a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. It's quiet except for your breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the pier. You have been so afraid of asking him to make this choice, and yet he seems so certain about it, as if it was what he wanted all along.
"Are you sure about this?" you ask him one more time, seeking reassurance. "Once done, there's no going back."
His answer is immediate, "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."
"This will change everything," you say again.
"I know," he replies simply.
"Come find me when it's over," you whisper, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be at the shelter."
As you go to leave, you can't help but glance back over your shoulder at Jungkook, taking in the appearance of him and his wings one last time. He's still standing there, watching you go with love evident in his gaze. It quells some of your worries. And then you blink, and he’s gone.
The hours that creep by feel like days. You busy yourself with meaningless tasks, cleaning the office, flipping through an old book left on the table, scrolling TikTok. None of it does anything to dull your anxiety, and you're weighing the pros and cons of tearing your hair out before you finally hear a knock on the door. You shoot up to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you open the door, and there he stands.
"I'm here," he says simply. "As I promised."
You pull him into a hug once again, burying your head into his chest. You can hear the beat of his human heart and, unable to stop yourself, you burst into tears. You know the pain he just went through, can remember experiencing it yourself like it was yesterday, and you can hardly believe he went through something so awful to be with you.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, tightening your hold on him. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he coos, gently stroking your hair. "This was my choice."
You swallow hard and pull back from him so you can look into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret. You find none.
"Are you okay?" You ask anyway, your heart aching at the thought of what he has given up.
"I am," he assures, his voice full of conviction. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, and when he pulls away, he's smiling. "I wondered if doing that would feel different now that I'm fully human."
"And does it?" you ask, smiling back up at him.
"Yes," he admits, tracing an invisible line down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver at his touch. "It feels more real. Stronger somehow. It's like you're the break of dawn after a long night."
Your breath catches in your throat. "Being human certainly hasn't changed the fact that you have a way with words."
"Only when it comes to you," he replies, his fingers never ceasing their journey across your skin. They make their way back to your waist, where he plays with the hem of your shirt. "There's one lesson we never covered, you know."
"A-and what would that be?" you squeak as his fingers caress the smooth skin of your stomach.
His voice drops lower, and he tugs you closer by your belt loops. "Human intimacy."
You flush at his audacity but don't pull away. "And what would be the best way for me to teach you about that?"
"Hm…" He leans down so that his lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath with each word he speaks. "I think I would respond well to some hands-on practice."
Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his lips press against yours in a slow, searing kiss that turns your knees to jelly. He takes his time exploring your mouth, his lips moving delicately against yours. His hands are warm on your skin, trailing up and down your back as he pulls you closer.
"Then I suppose we should get started," you manage to whisper when you finally break apart, breathless.
Jungkook moves into the room, closing the door behind him, and sits down on the edge of the pull-out bed. He stares up at you, his once-innocent doe eyes now dark and hooded with desire. You float towards him as if being pulled by a magnet, and he pulls you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your touch.
"I think I should warn you," he says, hands sliding down to rest right above the curve of your ass, "I might be a slow learner."
You roll your eyes, a short, playful chuckle escaping from your lips. "I think I can handle that."
The room fills with an easy silence as you continue to explore each other, experiencing sensations new for the both of you. His hands trace every curve and dip of your body, his touch curious yet surprisingly confident. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, his jaw, his chest, and then find their way under his shirt to the newly-formed scars on his back. They are rough against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth skin.
"You aren't in pain?”
“No,” he assures you, his hands sliding to a similar position on your own back. "Were you for long after?"
"No, but I'm still worried," you smile sheepishly.
He laughs and kisses your nose. "Don't be. Don't feel like you have to be gentle with me. I won't break."
You laugh in return, your eyes twinkling with delight and a touch of mischief. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?"
He hums in response, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe."
His teasing reply only spurs you on. Rising to the bait, you lean in to kiss him, this time with a boldness that leaves him momentarily stunned. But he recovers quickly, matching your fervor and deepening the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer, and his hips jut up against you almost involuntarily. You moan at the sensation, and he stills.
"What was that?" he asks.
"That," you breathe out, "is what human intimacy sounds like."
"I want to hear it again."
His lips find yours again and this time it's deep and demanding, all teeth and tongue and the promise of what’s to come. His hands grab your waist, forcing you to grind down against him as he once again lifts his hips up to meet your core. Another moan escapes your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming against the skin of your lower back. Eagerly, you lift your arms, and he pulls it off over your head.
"Jungkook…" you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. He responds by nuzzling into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver with pleasure.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, his lips tracing the column of your throat, down to your chest.
He places a gentle kiss above each breast before descending lower still, sucking one into his mouth. His lips and tongue move expertly, drawing gasps from you as your nerves ignite with pleasure. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you securely against him as he devotes himself entirely to exploring the new terrain, and you grind against him wantonly. You can feel that your panties are soaked with the proof of your desire.
"Jungkook," you say again, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His name is a plea, a prayer. "I need more."
He pulls back, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "And so I'll give it to you."
You eagerly crawl off of him, shimmying out of your jeans, before settling with your back against the pillows. You grab at the air, beckoning him closer. He does the same, now only in his boxers, and slots himself on top of you, his bare skin against yours intensifying the burning desire coursing through your veins. His hard length presses against your core, and you whine.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits in a low voice, his hot breath fanning against your face as his eyes search yours for assurance.
You reach up, caressing his cheek. "It's okay," you soothe him, your hands then trailing down his back to rest on his hips, encouraging him closer. "We'll figure it out together."
His lips find your neck as his hands explore every inch of you, his rough fingers exploring the softness of your flesh. He slides one down over your stomach and lower still, feather-light touches teasing you until you're gasping beneath him. His fingers trace the edge of your panties before sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips, aiding him in removing the last barrier between you. He tosses them aside before returning his attention to you, his fingers skimming along your trembling thighs. His fingers move gradually, inching steadily upward until he's touching you where you're most sensitive. You let out a soft gasp, gripping the sheets.
"Is this okay?" he asks. You nod eagerly, unable to get the words out, and he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss at the base of your throat. "Good."
Always the over-achiever, he slides down your body until his face is level with your core, focusing intently on his work. His fingers move with a slow, calculated rhythm that quickly has you dripping for him. Eventually, he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
"Am I doing this right?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looks up at you from between your thighs.
"You must be," you gasp out, encouraging him with a roll of your hips. "Don't stop."
Grinning, he adds a second finger, working you open until you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your back arches off the bed as his fingers work their magic, curling in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Praise tumbles from your lips, but you're sure that it just sounds like nonsense, your thoughts too muddled to form coherent words.
"You're so wet," he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice that only adds fuel to your desire.
Without warning, he lowers his mouth to your core, his lips and tongue joining his exploring fingers. The sensation is electric; your breath hitches, and an animalistic moan escapes you. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, doubling his efforts. Your fingers find their way to his hair, threading into the dark strands, seeking purchase. You can't help but pull, and he moans against you, the vibrations only furthering your pleasure.
"Jungkook," you warn, "I'm—"
A coil of white heat tightens within you before snapping. His name slips from your lips as you climax, sparks dancing behind your eyelids as he continues to pleasure you, eagerly lapping up your release. He doesn't stop, not until you physically pull him away from you, body shaking with overstimulation. He climbs back up your body, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
His pupils are blown out with desire, his hair slicked back with sweat, and he's so attractive that just the sight of him has you clenching your thighs together.
You nod, cupping his face in your hands. "More than okay," you assure him. "That was amazing. Now," you slide your fingers down his chest, sliding over the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see what we can do about you."
You hook your thumbs around the fabric and pull them downwards, and he does the rest of the work, kicking them off. You reach down, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his cock. He gasps, his head falling forward against your chest as you begin to stroke him with a slow, measured rhythm.
He nearly whines, his grip tightening on your hips. "That feels… I can't…" His words dissolve into soft, broken moans as you continue to work him over.
Suddenly overtaken with need, you stop, pulling him in for another searing kiss. "I need you inside of me, Jungkook," you gasp against his lips, "Please."
Your hand guides him back to your core, and his breath hitches. “Are you ready?”
Nodding, you lift your hips to meet him. He pushes into you carefully, slowly, each inch an intense sensation for both of you. Your body clenches around him as if welcoming him home, a strangled moan escaping your lips. One of his hands clasps yours, bringing it to rest on the side of your head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths fanning your skin. He's shaking against you, and you feel just as overwhelmed.
You squeeze the hand that's holding yours, urging him on. "You're okay," you whisper, "I'm okay. Move."
He nods, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back inside of you. Your body jolts at the sensation, gasping his name over and over.
"You feel incredible," he breathes out, the statement more for himself than for you. “So perfect.” Your fingers thread through his hair once more, pulling him down to meet your lips.
His hips set a steady rhythm, filling the room with soft sounds of skin on skin and heavy panting. He lets out a low groan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside of you that has you crying out and grabbing at him wherever you can reach. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back against the pillows.
"That's it," you whine, "Right there. It feels so good—"
Your words cut off into a choked moan as he thrusts into you at that exact spot again and again, his movements becoming more erratic. He's close—you can tell by the way his body tenses and how he gasps desperately into your mouth.
"I'm… I'm—" he stammers out, breath hitching between each word.
"I know," you gasp out, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Me too."
You pull him as close as possible, holding him to you as you both chase your release. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your nails dig into his skin as a wave of pleasure crashes over you, even more intense than the last. You moan his name as you come, shuddering beneath him. He moans into your neck as he follows you over the edge, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he buries himself deep inside you.
He collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. He stays there, nestled inside of you, his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. You feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him on top of you and within you. You caress his back, slowly tracing the contours of his scars with gentle strokes, the action soothing for both of you.
Eventually, he shifts, carefully pulling himself out of you and collapsing onto his back next to you. His hand searches blindly for yours, lacing your fingers together once he finds it. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.
"Is… are you…" He lifts his head to meet your eyes, unable to form words.
"I'm more than okay," you assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.
"Good," he whispers, a contented sigh escaping him.
His eyes roam over your face once more before closing, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. Together, you lay there under the sheets, and the silence goes on for so long that you almost think he fell asleep.
Then suddenly, you hear him say, voice barely above a whisper, "I love you." You look over to see him staring up at you with adoration in his gaze and a soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't have to say it since surely there can be no doubt that everything I have done for you is out of love. But I want to say it anyway. I want to continue saying it for the rest of my life. I have loved you since before I even had the capacity to feel it, and I will continue to love you until time ceases to exist."
His confession leaves you breathless, and you can do little but turn on your side, grab his face, and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.
"I love you too, Jungkook," you whisper against his lips, "So very, very much."
He lets out an audible sigh of relief as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for your response. His free hand reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. "I knew you would say so, but I'm happy to hear it all the same."
The two of you get ready for bed, and, for the first time since commandeering Naomi’s office, you fall asleep together in each other's arms.
The day you have been dreading has arrived—Christmas. Despite your initial hatred, however, you find yourself actually participating in the festivities around the shelter. Just like as many others do, you aren't going to consider it a holy day. You're going to use it as an excuse to be happy and spend time with your loved ones.
You join the group of children who sit by the pile of gifts, their excitement palpable as they eagerly wait for Naomi to declare it time to open them. Small hands tug at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him down to their level as they bombard him with questions about where he's been. He settles down amongst them, answering their questions as honestly as he can. His eyes meet yours over the sea of eager faces, and he stretches out a hand towards you, inviting you to join him. You sit right on his lap, making some of the kids giggle.
"Alright, everyone, it's time!" Naomi's voice echoes through the shelter, immediately quieting the children down.
As each name is called out and the kids scramble to collect their gifts, you can't help but smile. The pure delight on their faces is infectious. Noticing your happiness, Jungkook pulls you back so that you’re leaning against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.
He places a gentle kiss on your neck, murmuring, "You seem happy."
"I am," you say, placing your hands over his. "The holidays aren't so bad with you around."
"I'm glad." He turns your head so he can place a quick kiss on your lips, one that is light and soft and sweet, full of love. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Jungkook," you echo, smiling brightly.
Later, Naomi corners the two of you, pulling you aside. "I've been thinking about what to give you," she says. "I—"
"Naomi, you don't have to give me anything!"
"Don't interrupt me," she scolds, but there's no bite behind it. "Like I was saying, I was thinking it over, and I realized that the best gift I could offer is not anything material. From tomorrow on, you will officially be a supervisor. A paid supervisor."
Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at Jungkook, who is beaming at you with pride. You turn back to Naomi, stuttering out a response.
"B-but Naomi, I couldn't possibly—"
"Yes, you can," she interrupts, her tone firm. "From the day you arrived here, you have been working as hard as any of us. You deserve this." Before you can argue any further, she thrusts a small envelope into your hands. "Consider it an early Christmas gift and your first paycheck. And my office? It's yours."
"Thank you, Naomi," you manage, your voice choked with emotion. You pull her into a hug, hoping it can express everything you don't know how to say.
She pats your back, chuckling. "If anything, it's an excuse for me to take some time off. I'm getting old and need to start sharing the burden. Don't expect it to be a walk in the park!"
You pull away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Of course not. I'm ready to be worked to the bone, ma'am."
"That's what I like to hear," she comments, her voice carrying an undertone of pride. She turns to Jungkook, her gaze soft but words sharp. "Take care of her, will you?"
"Always," he replies without a moment's hesitation, which earns him a small nod from Naomi.
Eventually, the celebrations wind down and people start to retreat to their beds until only you and Jungkook remain. Instead of doing the same, you decide to return to the pier and watch the water for a bit, not ready for the day to end. The two of you walk in comfortable silence, hands linked tightly as if promising not to let go.
Sitting at the edge of the pier, Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His body heat seeps into your skin, fighting away the cold, and you rest your head on his chest, letting his strong, steady heartbeat lull you into contentment.
"Who would've thought we would end up here?" you reflect, staring out at the ocean.
Jungkook laughs softly, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. "I don't think either of us could have predicted this."
"I never thought I would be happy that any of this happened, but I am. Are you?"
His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "More than I could possibly put into words," he admits.
"Will you miss it, though? Heaven?"
"I thought I would," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "But Earth has its own kind of heaven. You're here. Naomi is here. The children are here. I have so much more yet to discover, to experience." His gaze returns to you, eyes soft and full of love. "How could I miss anything when I have all of this?”
Your heart swells at his words, his declaration warming you like nothing else could. You reach up to cup his face, your fingers lightly brushing his lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment at your touch before opening again to hold your gaze.
"You're right," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. "This is our heaven. Here, with each other. And who knows, maybe we'll end up back there someday."
"You think?" Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm a little surprised hearing that from you. I didn't think you had faith anymore or wanted it for that matter."
You shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have my original beliefs anymore, that's for sure, but I don't resent it all like I once did, either. I think I've just found a new kind of faith. A faith in myself, in people, in goodness, and in love. There are so many different kinds of religions out there, and at their core, they're all about trying to understand the world around us, trying to find ways to cope and move forward. I think that's what I'm doing now, in my own way."
"That's beautiful," Jungkook says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Somehow both simple and complex. Just like life itself, I suppose."
"And what about you, Jungkook?” you ask, pecking him on the lips. How will you move forward?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure, either. But I think I'm happy to find out, as long as it's with you."
You hold each other close, each hoping your touch can express what no words could possibly convey. Love. Gratitude. Hope. The promise of a shared journey. What more could you possibly ask for?
TAGLIST: @yessa-vie
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𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐓 𝟏)
PAIRING: obi-wan kenobi x fem!oc reader
SUMMARY: the shrill sound of blaster fire, red and blue shots of light cutting through the deep fog. the call of a trooper to his general, voice almost blending in with the chaos filling her ears. a blue lightsaber, illuminating the form of a quick and nimble jedi. copper hair, soft and somehow still shiny, as her fingers carded through the strands in the dead of night. flashes, these were—visions and dreams plaguing the goddess of the sun; the sun witch; whatever she may be called. viarruh finnall, the queen of orret, knew she was meant to do more for the galaxy, meant to be out there and meant to be with someone, and with the help of a dear friend that is exactly what will happen.
WORD COUNT: 8.9k
RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences, mature themes, slight angst? female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death, soulmate trope, eventual fix it fic. the clone wars time period.
NOTES: this oc and story has been living in my head for actual months. i love viarruh, and i sincerely hope you all do too! her and obi <3 ugh <3 there will be more to this story, i can’t say how many parts bc i’m honestly just winging it but it will follow the clone wars timeline, but it should be alright if you haven’t seen the show. also! i am planning on posting this story to my wattpad! if there are any inaccuracies or things that aren’t quite right, i’m doing my best! but i’m also flying by the seat of my pants so! oops! anyways feedback is always appreciated love u pookies
STAR WARS MASTERLIST
It was quiet in the Jedi Temple, the long corridor leading to the council room almost deserted; save for the four occupants huddled together.
Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala stood side by side as they attempted to offer small comforts to the pair before them. Time seemed to drag on as they all waited, tucked away next to a large column to retain as much privacy as possible, and nerves were understandably growing stronger.
“Just don’t look at him,” the Jedi Knight offered, holding his hands up as if the answer was so simple. He could not be faulted much, however, because he stuck around even when he had no reason to.
“Don’t look at him? I dream about him every night and you expect me not to look at him?” The woman across from him questioned, incredulous words filling the small space of their circle as her sculpted brows furrowed.
“Ani,” Padme sighed, shooting him a small smile nonetheless.
“I think what the General means,” the last member of the group interjected, his low voice easing his companion’s nerves ever so slightly. “Is that when you give your speech, do not focus on him too much. It will only distract you, and…” he drawled, words sounding like a question.
“...it’s something we can unpack later,” the woman finished with a nod, filling her lungs with air before exhaling.
“Good, very good, my dear.” Aged hands squeezed her shoulders before her attention was drawn elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the form approaching them from afar, and it was familiar to her, but it was not the man she was stressing over.
It was a Kel Dorian, a Jedi the woman had seen more than once in her visions. When he was within earshot, the woman hesitated before she opened her mouth. “Koh-to-yah, Master,” she greeted, attempting a small smile. A small effort, a metaphorical hand outstretched to make a good impression, and the man stopped in his tracks upon hearing her. It was difficult to read him due to the mask covering his face, but he bowed his head in return. A choice, to accept the hand.
“Koh-to-yah, Your Majesty,” his deep voice replied, before he continued the short trek to the council room.
“Okay, it shouldn’t be too long now that Master Plo is here,” Anakin explained. “I promise, it won’t be as bad as you think.”
There was no time to reply to him, for the doors opened and the Jedi from before, Master Plo, stepped out. “You may enter, Your Majesty. I do apologize for the wait.” He held out one arm clad in armor, and the woman detached herself from her support group with one last glance.
“Oh, no apology needed, Master,” she assured, voice soft as she passed him and crossed the threshold into the large room. Before her sat every member of the Jedi Council, some in person, some over holocall, but they all gazed upon her in a daunting semi-circle.
Her eyes zeroed in on him immediately, breath catching in her throat and heart freezing in her chest. Obi-Wan Kenobi, with his copper hair that shone in the sunlight that streamed through the many windows, was somehow even more perfect in person than in her dreams, and she did not know how that was possible.
She hoped that her face didn’t give her away, cursing herself for the falter in her stride when they made eye contact. She dismissed it, told herself to give no thought to the way it looked as if the man struggled just as much upon seeing her. That was impossible, a trick of the mind; for she was only human after all.
The young woman was suddenly aware of every aspect of herself, from the way her dress lay as she stood in the middle of the room to how heavy the crown she often wore felt on that day.
“A pleasure to see you, it is, Viarruh Finnall,” came the croaky voice of Master Yoda, and so that was where she chose to focus her eyes as she forced herself to remain calm.
“The pleasure is all mine, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to hear me out,” she smiled, as polite as ever in a formal meeting. She did not have much experience with Jedi, but she did have some when it came to being a Queen.
“Of course,” the man sat next to Yoda replied, his hands clasped before him. “What can we help you with, Your Majesty?”
Viarruh took another deep breath, gathering her bearings before she dove into the explanation she could only hope she delivered in a clear and concise way. Her hands reached down and fluffed her dress slightly as her lips parted, nerves shoved to the back of her mind. “How much do you know of my planet’s culture?”
A moment passed in silence, her eyes flitting from one Jedi to the next, before she continued. “Or, more specifically, how much do you know about my family?” Another beat of silence, and she began her little walk around the circle she stood in, movement helping to disperse the nerves buzzing throughout her. “In my family, the crown is passed down from Queen to Queen, traditionally mother to daughter; and that is because we possess something that I understand to be somewhat similar to the Force,” she paused, eyes landing on Obi-Wan subconsciously. He was stoic as ever, hand raised to cover his chin as he listened, and was little comfort in the moment.
“It’s ancient, older than old, and it’s…” she laughed slightly, arms moving about as she spoke. “It’s magic. That’s the only word for it. Some have called us goddesses of the sun, others have called us sun witches; regardless of that, we are capable of things normal humans cannot do. We have a connection to the sun and possess abilities that aid us in protecting our planet, our people. Traditionally,” she sighed, “mother would teach daughter how to use and strengthen these abilities, but I have been without my teacher for quite some time. I haven’t had my master to help me, I’ve been on my own with only the light to guide me in the right direction, and I will not lie to you all. There are things I still don’t know about myself, things I’m still learning. This magic, it only grows stronger as time passes, just as I do, and I have not mastered much yet.”
“Magic?” Someone questioned from behind Viarruh, and she twirled around to face the man. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but magic is not real.”
This reaction was not one Viarruh was unfamiliar with. The condescending tone in the Cerean’s voice did nothing but roll off her back like water. Just as she was about to respond, someone beat her to it. A few seats away, a Togrutan woman illuminated in blue as she called from wherever she resided, addressed her colleague. “Master Mundi, perhaps we should keep an open mind, this galaxy is bigger than you might think.”
The man, Mundi, as it turned out, grumbled to himself but settled into his seat nonetheless. A small smile stretched across the queen’s face, and she lit up with an idea. “On the contrary, Master Mundi,” she raised a finger, and spun around to find the beams of light trickling into the circular room. “Magic is real, and I can show you.”
She stepped forward, hand outstretched before it was enveloped in the streams of warmth. Not a moment later, the light began to shimmer around her hand, golden sparkles covering her skin even after she pulled away. She held it up to show everyone, eyes flitting down the line of people before they settled on Master Plo. The grin she shot him was, all things considered, tame compared to her usual mischievous smirk, but the man did not know that. As the woman floated towards him, all he could think of was Ahsoka Tano, and how she must be a copycat for she looked almost the same when a plan formed in her mind.
When she finally stood before him, slender fingers were placed on his forehead and the still glittering light showered down and covered his entire body. Warmth filled him to the brim, as if the sun itself was beating down on a summer’s afternoon, and his eyes shut momentarily. When they opened again, Viarruh was still standing before him, hands at her sides but giving him a hopeful look. “Fascinating,” he mused, and the woman chuckled before bowing her head and returning to her spot. Behind her back, Plo made eye contact with Yoda before he nodded just once.
“That,” Viarruh began again, “was only a simple trick, but I feel a good example of how real my connection with the sun is. Recently, it seems I have…unlocked something. A new ability, something I had seen my mother deal with but not something she ever had the chance to help me with. I have been having visions and dreams,” she explained, face serious as she grew closer to the heart of her speech, the real reason she had called upon the Council.
“And they are only getting stronger and more persistent. Every day, now multiple times each, my mind is taken over and my eyes glow golden and all I can see is this war. I have seen it all,” she stressed, nodding her head a few times at the disbelief on some of the master’s faces. “The assassination attempts on Senator Amidala’s life, the Battle on Geonosis,” she listed, eyes wide. “I’ve seen a handful of you fight in battles, seen you risk your lives against swarms of droids. And I see myself, too; fighting with you, helping you and your men bring this closer to an end one day at a time.”
The room was so silent, one could’ve heard a pin drop, if anyone dared to move a muscle, that is. Every Jedi sat frozen in their seats, eyes all trained on the woman in the center of the room, and for a moment she felt like prey being stalked by predators. But she could not afford to let that get to her, let it throw her off her game because she was in too deep now to back out, to lose.
“I know, I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the truth. I have never been so certain about anything in my entire life, as I am about the fact that I am meant to do something in this war. I can feel it in my bones,” her fists clenched to emphasize her words, eyes boring into each and every person they landed on. “I believe that every person in this galaxy has a purpose, something they are meant to do, either for themselves or someone else; and I know in my heart of hearts, in every crevice of my mind, that I am meant to fight with you. My entire life, I have always had an intuition that rivaled anyone around me; sometimes I just know things and I am seldom wrong. I have never been led to believe I cannot trust my emotions, and that is how I know these visions mean something. I see with more than eyes.”
Her feet stopped moving, planting themselves in the dead center of the circle she had been pacing with toes pointed right at Master Kenobi. “Please,” she breathed. “You have to believe me, have to trust me that this is meant to happen.” His blue eyes bore into her, and she could not find it in herself to look away from them. If anyone in this room believed her, it had to be Obi-Wan. He had to know that she saw things beyond herself, that she thought of him every day and maybe, just maybe, she could tell him that she also dreamt of him every night. During the day, it was battles and clones, lightsabers and blaster fire; but at night, it was him. Moments of sneaking affection, fingertips brushing fingertips, late night conversations where no prying eyes could catch them, kisses, soft and sweet and sacred in their secrecy.
When she finally did break contact, flashes of his laughing face being pushed to the side, she looked to Master Yoda. “I love my job, and I love my people, but it eats away at me sitting in that castle instead of being out there.” Her voice shook under the severity of her emotions, the weight of her words and what they meant too heavy to hold steady in front of the audience. “I am absolutely riddled with guilt every time I see a clone fall, or a Jedi get cut down, and I know I can’t save everyone but I know I could do something.”
It had been a long while of Viarruh being the only one speaking, everyone else sitting in silence as she spilled everything that had been occupying her mind for months, so when she finally concluded her speech there was a pregnant pause, a swallowing quiet that left a pit in her stomach. This was it, she had nothing left to add to change their minds, should they send her away with her insane claims and delirious visions. She knew full well how crazy her request was, to want to fight in a war when her days consisted of royalty and sunshine, but it was about doing what was right, not what was easy.
A croaky voice broke the silence, bringing all eyes to a green Jedi huddled in his chair. “Thank you, I do, for coming forward with your visions. Frightening, it is, to share something unknown.” His head bowed slightly, ears moving with him. “Some time, we will need, to discuss things. From the temple, stray not, please.”
Relief, in its purest form, washed over her when his words registered. She was not being sent away with no thought to what she had to say, she was not laughed at for the emotion she showed.
“Of course,” she answered, bowing her head as well. “Thank you for your time. I shall be with General Skywalker in the meantime.” With that, she turned to make her exit, eyes lingering on a copper haired Jedi just a moment longer than they should have before her feet carried her across the room and over the threshold. Behind her, the doors shut and her shoulders slumped, closing her eyes while the sounds of shuffling feet filled her ears.
“Well?” Padme urged, unsatisfied with the lack of information being given.
“They listened to you, didn’t they?” Anakin fired immediately after, and Viarruh was struck with how similar they could be. Two peas in a pod, they were.
The young woman nodded her head, careful to mind the headpiece she wore once it bumped on the wall behind her. “Yes, they listened. No, Obi-Wan didn’t speak to me,” she answered, already knowing those were the two hot questions burning on everyone's minds. “Master Yoda said they would need time to discuss things, and not to stray from the temple.”
“Well, that’s good,” the eldest member of the group pointed out, aged face displaying a hopeful expression. “They could have said no and sent you home, but they’re considering.”
“Ellman’s right,” Padme interjected, face serious now that the first step of their plan was completed. It was only just a day ago that they wondered if they would even be able to do it, and here they were with one foot out the door already. “Now, should they say yes we need to have all of our points laid out for when we speak to the Chancellor. I have everything in my office in the Senate building.”
“I shall accompany you,” Ellman offered, his role as the queen’s main advisor ever present.
“Perfect. Ani, you stay here with Vi while we’re gone, and comm me when they bring her back in.”
“You got it,” he grinned down at her, and her business face melted for just a moment before she had to look away.
“And don’t get into any trouble, you two,” she warned, finger pointed at her husband before going to her best friend.
“Pads, we’re in a sacred temple, what kind of trouble could we possibly find?”
-: ✧
“Is that all you’ve got, Your Majesty?”
Although Viarruh had seen him in her visions, she had never met the young man who had captured her friend’s heart, and so she was not yet prepared for how arrogantly taunting Anakin Skywalker could be. He was caring, that much she could see; he had done his best to help with her pre-meeting jitters and now, was occupying her during her wait at the Jedi Temple. And yet, his voice carried across the sparring room with a challenging lilt curling around the words, solely meant to egg her on.
“Be careful what you wish for, General,” she warned, eyes bright and sharp and lips pulled into a smirk that only screamed trouble. Her hand shot out and in it formed a staff, appearing in a flash of light right before Anakin’s very eyes, though he still blinked a couple times as his mind attempted to catch up with what had happened. When he finally brought his attention back to the present, he only had moments to duck before the staff made contact with his face. Whatever it was made of, it did not appear to weigh her down as she moved with a frightening grace; and it stood up against a sword meant to cut through anything. She was capable, challenging, even, but she would need more training if she wanted to join them in battle. This was made clear to them both when the match ended with Viarruh’s staff on the ground some feet away from her and the blue blade of a lightsaber pointed right at her throat.
“I suppose you win this round, Skywalker,” she conceded, hands raising in surrender. Just as her opponent went to reply, most likely another boast, he was interrupted by the sound of clapping. Their heads turned in unison, and their eyes widened together just the same. The blade disappeared into the hilt of the saber and the heat fled from her neck, though it returned not a moment later as she registered who she was looking at.
Stood by the entrance was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hands coming down to clasp behind his back. “Impressive,” he mused, and the sound of his voice meeting her ears in person nearly knocked her over, but she remained steady as he started moving towards them. “It seems I taught my padawan well.”
“Yes,” she replied after realizing that Anakin’s silence was a push for her to speak up. “It seems so.” Her eyes cut to the man beside her, and he knew he would be in trouble later.
“And you, Your Majesty, are quite the fighter. I didn’t realize how frightening you could be.” By now, Obi-Wan was in front of the pair, looking at them with crystalline eyes. Viarruh tried not to think about how she looked at the moment; their fight had been long and was easy by no means, and she could feel the sweat gathered on her brow all the more under his gaze. She knew her hair was a mess on her head, having been knotted when she hastily removed the crown, and she didn’t dare look down to see if her dress was crumpled and crooked. She only prayed to Maker that it wasn’t as she stared right back at him.
“It comes in handy,” she quipped, heart skipping a beat in her chest when his smile widened.
The moment, if it could even be called that, was shattered when Anakin finally decided to make his presence known once again. “So, Master, what can we do for you?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t seem to want to leave the woman before him, but they eventually flicked to his former student, and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “Ah, yes, the Council wishes to speak with you again, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, just let me grab my things and we’ll be on our way,” she smiled, before turning to her new friend. “General, would you please comm Senator Amidala and Advisor Ellman while I speak with the Council?” She had already started to walk away from the men when the answer came, and she did not have to look at him to know he was grinning at her.
“Yes, yes, I can do that, Your Majesty.” She turned to squint at him, hands running through her long strands when, to her horror, he started to walk towards the exit. “I will go do that right now.”
Her fingers forced themselves to resume their movements as she turned away again. She found herself alone with the man she believed to be her soulmate, as if her nerves needed anything else to buzz over. When she did spin around to face him, he was already looking at her. Her cheeks burned even more, but in spite of it she held her hands out, gesturing vaguely to the crown now on her head as she made her way back to him. “Look good?”
Once again, words seemed to stick in Obi-Wan’s throat when her eyes were on him. He stuttered slightly in his reply, and cursed himself silently. “Yes. Looks good,” he nodded, suddenly shy in front of the queen. “To the council room?”
Viarruh was intuitive, and on top of this particularly beneficial trait, she also read people for what they were. Not much got past the Queen of Orret, and so she dared to let herself believe that what she saw was, indeed, true.
Obi-Wan was nervous.
“Lead the way, Master,” she smiled, swallowing her chuckle when she noticed the shade of pink dusting over his cheeks as he led her out of the room.
The corridor was long and dimly lit, the evening sun casting a golden hue across the walls and floors, and though her shoes were the only noise for the beginning of their walk, Viarruh had started to settle into herself; muscles relaxing and mind easing as she felt the warmth of the man next to her. They were not touching, not even close enough to brush arms, but she still felt him. For a moment she wondered if this would only make her miss him more when he was no longer around her, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her she was a fool to think it wouldn’t.
“Your Majesty?”
Her heart still skipped a beat when his accent rang in her ears, but she was no longer fighting for breath and composure. He was comfortable to be around, she had decided.
“Oh, please, Viarruh is fine,” she assured, smiling at him in an attempt to prove to him that it really was fine.
He hesitated for a moment, but not a second later did he nod his head before flicking his eyes over to meet hers. “Viarruh,” he corrected, and oh, Maker, her name had never sounded so pretty. “May I ask you something about your visions? I know you are to speak with the Council about them, but I was wondering if you could tell me when they started?”
“Uhm,” she stalled, remembering back to the first vision she ever had.
She had just settled down in the plush and intricate chair sat at her desk, fully intending to complete some work in the late hours of the night, for something had been nagging her though she could not figure it out. It had kept her awake when she laid down to sleep, and so she had eventually wandered her way around the castle and ended up in her office. But as she reached for the holopad she felt…funny. A feeling washed over her, starting at the crown of her head and showering down to the tips of her toes, and it had happened so fast she hadn’t had any time to react before breath stuck to the back of her throat and eyes glowed bright like the sun that hung in the sky. Her lips were parted but only quiet choking sounds escaped her as her head fell backwards, face pointed to the high ceiling but she was not really looking.
No, her mind was taken over and it was like she wasn’t even in her office anymore. Instead, she was on Coruscant, stood in the darkened bedroom of her best friend. She could not move, she could not speak, only watch as insect-like creatures crawled towards Padme’s sleeping figure. Could only watch as two Jedi burst into the room, blue blade illuminating the darkness as one of them cut the creatures in half.
It ended there, whatever it was that had happened to her. Her eyes slammed shut before snapping open, air rushing into her lungs as she gasped, almost falling forward onto the desk in front of her. With a heaving chest she did her best to push herself up from her seat on shaky arms before she dashed out of the room. Bare feet carried her to the meeting room where she punched in Padme’s comm code, and she anxiously waited for her face to appear in blue, but cried out in frustration when there was no answer.
Worry prickled at every nerve and dread had settled in her feet, making it hard to even move her legs as she rushed to the only room she could think of; Ellman’s. She couldn’t move fast enough, tripping on the ends of her sleep gown numerous times, and she practically flew into his door. She was gasping, mind racing over every possibility as her fists bangs on the door, and she didn’t know how she was still standing by the time the man answered the door.
His eyes were squinted as he tried to make out who was in front of him, and in her frenzy Viarruh almost yelled at him, but there was no time to raise her voice as words spilled out with no end. They were frantic and jumbled together, and it was the alarm bells it set off in his mind that fully awoke him. “Viarruh? Viarruh! What is it?”
His questions fell on deaf ears, and strong hands tightly grasped her shoulders. “Viarruh, calm down! I need you to breathe!” He shook her a few good times, successfully putting an end to the stream of panic falling from the woman’s lips. Her eyes were wide as they finally focused on him, and she was slightly trembling in his hold.
It was a rarity for the queen to get so startled, handling her nerves well on any other day despite the horrors of her childhood, but that was not the case on this particular night. “Vi, what happened?”
“It’s Padme, I—I saw something and when I commed her, she didn’t answer, and—”
“Slow down,” he urged. “What do you mean you saw something?”
“I was in my office, and s—something happened, it was,” she stuttered, shaking her head as she struggled for words. “Do you remember when I told you I had a weird feeling earlier today? I couldn’t sleep, so I went to my office.”
“Was someone in there with you?” He interjected, but she shook her head again.
“No, no, it was just me; but I did see something. It was like…like a vision. I got this funny feeling and then I couldn’t breathe, it was like I was choking on nothing and then I couldn’t see.” Her hands fisted the front of his shirt, words speeding up again the more she spoke.
“You couldn’t see, but you saw something?”
“I’m being serious! It was like—like a vision! I was staring at the ceiling and then something happened to me and it was all gone, all I could see was the vision and I saw Padme!”
Viarruh did not catch on in the moment, perceptiveness dialed down in her vulnerable state, but Ellman seemed to be paying more attention now that she had revealed what she had experienced. His brows were furrowed as her words bounced around in his head, thoughts zooming this way and that as he thought back to when he was working for her mother, and all the things he’d witnessed her do and he remembered visions being one of them.
“What happened to her in this vision?” His voice was low and as serious as could be, no longer high pitched in worry, and in the darkness of the corridor his face was almost grave.
“There was something in her room, and it was crawling towards her while she slept and then two Jedi burst into the room! I tried to comm her when it ended but she didn’t answer, and that only makes me think something bad really did happen to her! Ellman, what if she’s in trouble? What’s happening?”
“Listen, listen,” he soothed, taking a half step closer. “This is because of your powers. Your mother had visions, but I can only imagine how frightening it was when so unexpected.”
“My mom had them?” she mumbled, wide eyes staring up at the closest thing to a parent she had.
“She did. I don’t know much, unfortunately, but I do know that this was going to happen eventually; you’re far too perceptive and just plain lucky to have it skip you. What it is, well, to my understanding it could be a number of things. The past, things that have already happened revealed to you; the present, seeing things as they happen in real life; and the future, though that is never a certainty. Things change, but you can see these things. Now, what you saw with Padme could be any of those things, I’m afraid I have no answers to give with that, but we will investigate more in the morning. More people are likely to answer our calls, and we will be of sound minds,” he assured, one hand coming up to smooth over the back of her head. “Please, My Lady, let me escort you back to bed.”
“With the assassination attempt on Padme’s life. The one you and Anakin were around for,” she answered, keeping it short and sweet.
“You saw it?”
“I did,” she nodded, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” he dismissed, looking away from her and she had a creeping suspicion that he was not telling the truth. Nonetheless, she nodded her head before allowing herself a moment to take him in. He wore the plastoid armor similar to that of the clone troopers over the top half of his robes, and his lightsaber hung off his waist, shining and magnificent. He was more handsome than any man she’d ever seen in all her life of travels and meetings, negotiations and balls. Stuffy princes didn’t hold a candle to him.
“I see,” she mused, voice verging on playfulness. It was nice speaking to him, actual conversations instead of snippets of exchanges captured in dreams. “Well, let me ask you, do you ever see things?” She glanced over him, brows raised and lips curling upwards.
Her question settled into Obi-Wan’s mind and debated how truthful he wanted to be with his response. All his time and energy went into the Jedi Order, and fighting this war. He was strong with the force and worked to keep his balance, and he was a clever and impressive General in the GAR; but from time to time he saw her. Not often, not as often as she had visions, it seemed, but when he got the rare moment of rest, he could hear her voice and almost make out her face. When in battle, surrounded by blaster fire and chaos, he sometimes felt her presence next to him, swearing he saw her and a warm glow in his peripheral, yet when he risked a glance she was nowhere to be seen. It had started when he overheard her speaking to Padme the morning after the attempt on the senator’s life, voice slightly distorted over the holocall but still ringing pleasantly in his ears.
But was this something he wanted to admit to? Something he wanted to reveal in the corridor of a Temple that frowned upon attachments? But to lie to her, the thought of it made his stomach churn for some reason.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” he settled, voice almost far away. Viarruh tilted her head slightly, contemplating the thoughts behind his eyes before he cleared his throat, seeming to come back to her. “The Force works in mysterious ways,” he nodded, grinning when the woman chuckled.
“That, I can understand. Perhaps you see with more than eyes, just as I do, Master Kenobi.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, looking straight ahead as he prepared himself for his next comment. “Though I don’t think there is anyone quite like you out there.”
Obi-Wan, while pleasant to be around, was becoming almost flirty. His voice was smooth and his accent curled his words nicely, as sweet as honey. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she could not stop it, could not prevent a full on, toothy smile growing on her face. The doors to the council room were in sight, just up ahead, and she looked as unserious as she could possibly be.
“I think you’re right,” she whispered, turning to face him when they were only a few feet before the doors. “But the same could be said about you.” She cleared her throat, wiggling her arms a little to reset, now looking at her companion with determination. “Wish me luck, I’ve got to speak with the Jedi Council.”
“Now that you mention it, I have a meeting to attend. Good luck, Your Majesty.”
With that, the doors slid open and Viarruh made her way inside the large room once again, the presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi following her. When she reached the middle of the circle, he passed her and settled into his seat, and the added distance between them lessened the ease she had previously felt. Nerves began to settle into her again, as even Obi-Wan’s demeanor changed to that of a more stoic man, a Jedi wise beyond his years sitting amongst the council.
“Your Majesty, we’d like to thank you again for coming to us to speak,” the bald man sat next to Master Yoda began, voice just as serious as it was before. It was difficult to read him as he spoke and she found little comfort in the way his face remained stoney. “The information you presented to us is much appreciated, and has caused lots of discussion within the Council. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Of course, I don’t mind at all, Master…?”
“Windu, Your Majesty,” he answered, bowing his head.
“Master Windu,” she repeated, nodding her head at him with a small smile. “Ask away.”
“What is your goal?”
Vague. A broad question asked simply and to the point, and it caused the woman to tilt her head ever so slightly. “My goal?”
“Yes. What is your goal in all of this?”
“Well,” she sighed. “Short term, I suppose it’s to convince you all to help me do what I can to join the war,” she gestured vaguely with one arm, holding the other out as she spoke again. “Long term, to do what’s right. To make a difference. To help people. Is that not everyone in this room's goal?”
“We are bound by oath,” came the voice of Master Mundi, interjecting and almost cold. “We are warriors of peace and fight to bring balance back to the galaxy, per our oath to the Jedi Order.”
“I am also bound by oath,” she countered lowly. “I was born into a position of power. I’ve held it all my life, and when I was just fourteen standard years old I obtained the highest rank you could possibly get on most planets. The responsibility may not be the same as yours, but it is a great one nonetheless; to keep people safe, to represent them, to protect them, that is what I do. And the oath I made was to always do what is right, what I need to do regardless of whether it is easy or not, whether it makes sense or not. And the Clone Wars are hurting people, and the Republic’s enemy stands for things that I would rather die fighting than let become the status quo in our galaxy. We may live different lives, Master Mundi, but our goals are very much the same.”
“You are very dedicated to this,” a male Nautolan observed, and all eyes turned to him. “It’s easy to see that this means something to you. I believe you when you say that our goals are the same, but this is still a very unusual situation, Your Majesty,” he explained, frowning slightly towards the end of his sentence.
“It is, I know that,” Viarruh assured sincerely. “But as unusual as it is for you, it is the same for me.”
“Your visions, hear more about them, may we?” Yoda questioned, pointing a clawed finger in her direction.
“What would you like to know?”
“Are they of the future?” Someone else questioned.
“Not entirely,” she answered, shaking her head. “My understanding is that they are things revealed to me because they need to be. It could be something from the past, I can see things as they are happening, and sometimes I do see the future, but you all know as well as I do that the future is never set in stone. Prophecies and destinies aside, seeing a vision of something that should happen doesn’t always mean it will happen.”
“What is the extent of your powers? What can you do, exactly?”
“I can do lots of things,” she chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “But I already told you that they’re still developing, I still don’t know what the extent is.”
“I saw a demonstration of Her Majesty’s abilities in the sparring room, and it was most impressive,” a familiar voice entered the conversation, backing her up as she stood under the eyes of the disbelieving. Her chest warmed as she caught his eye before they flicked to the next person to speak.
“Sparring room?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered smugly. “Her Majesty sparred with Anakin, and held her own for quite some time. I could only imagine what she would be like with just some formal training.”
Murmurs filled the room, soft and blended together, but she gathered that Anakin being her opponent was the hot topic. “Impressive, that is,” Yoda confirmed. “Needed, a demonstration is, perhaps.”
“I can give you a demonstration,” she promised, hand already coming up to point at the copper haired Jedi. Her palm faced upward, slender fingers curling slightly as she made miniscule movements. At first, no one was aware of what was happening, Obi-Wan being most confused of all, but then he felt a little tug at his belt. He looked down to see his lightsaber moving here and there, before it eventually lifted off his thigh and unhooked from his waist.
His mouth opened in shock, and he didn’t need to look to know he was not the only one, as they all watched his lightsaber float through the air, right into the hand of Viarruh Finnall. She ignited the weapon, blue blade shooting out from the hilt and bathing her in the cool hue. And because she lived for the dramatics, she twirled it around, a move that was like muscle memory to her, the whirring sounds of the energy blade filling the room. When she finished, she retracted the blade and her hand fell to her side.
“While I did lose my fight with Anakin Skywalker, I have won many more. I am not helpless, and I do not give up easily.” Her eyes bore into the council members one by one. “And I am not afraid, I was not built to be and cannot afford to be.” She continued to spin around, intending to make an impression on every person she looked at, and she knew it was successful from the look in each of their eyes. “Sometimes it is not enough to just be against darkness. If you have the ability to, should you not use the light?”
The severity of her tone and words had lodged itself in the chest’s of the Jedi Council, and before them stood not the naive queen they thought was coming to their planet. No, stood before them was Viarruh Finnall, Goddess of the Sun, the Sun Witch, Queen of Orret, in all her wisdom and confidence. She was passionate and unyielding, she was caring, and she was strong. This young woman, whatever she had gone through in her lifetime had made her tough enough to bear the weight of leadership, to dive head first into a war that she was never obligated to join, to look an evil in the face and stand steady against it.
“If we were to say yes,” Master Windu broke the silence, sharing glances with those around him. “What would be your next course of action?”
It took her a moment to calm herself, dispelling some of the intensity in her words as she turned to look at the man. “Well, should you say yes, I would need to speak with Chancellor Palpatine next. I chose to meet with you first because, although the Chancellor makes the final decisions, having you all to back me up would speak louder to him than I ever could on my own. You, of course, are not obligated to, but it would be most appreciated if I had someone to accompany me to speak with him; and depending on his answer, I will head home,” she explained with a note of finality, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Home?” Master Mundi interjected, leaning forward in his seat.
“Yes,” she answered simply, looking right at him.
“And what do you plan to do about your status as Queen while you fight in this war? You cannot do both.”
“I would give it up.” She stated, in such a way that it seemed the answer was obvious. It did not weigh heavy on her tongue as she spoke matter of factly, though it did put pressure on her chest, bones feeling as if they could cave in. “My birthday is in a matter of weeks, and though it may seem frivolous, celebrations are quite the talk back home,” she explained, flicking some hair over her shoulder as she resumed her movements around the center of the room. “I will use it as my opportunity to announce my retirement from the throne, and present who I have chosen to replace me; her coronation will come only days after. Then,” she shrugged. “I’ll go wherever you tell me to, and I’ll do whatever I can.”
It seemed, for a frightening moment, that she was unable to get through to them. They all stared at her, mouths closed with no intention of opening to speak to her, and her shoulders grew heavy, fighting to slouch forward as the feeling of defeat tickled at her bones. She held her breath, eyes flickering between the men in front of her. Obi-Wan held contact before he looked away, seemingly speaking to Master Yoda without using words, and she clutched the hilt of his lightsaber a little tighter, the metal warm from her hold on it throughout her speech.
As she glanced towards Master Plo, a frown almost dipping the corner of her lips downwards, she missed the nod Obi-Wan sent his elder, and the one following from Mace Windu. Her attention snapped back as a throat was cleared, and eyes had returned to her, though the tone had shifted ever so slightly. Almost indiscernible, it was, but she saw it and dared to let hope bloom in her chest.
“Speak to the Chancellor, we will. Tomorrow,” Master Yoda decided, sliding down from his chair, beginning to make his way towards the woman. “To your home, I will go with you. Train you, I will.” When he stood before her, large eyes gazing into hers, he placed one hand over the other on top of his staff as it stood in front of him and he was the picture of wisdom.
For a moment, she did not have any words. She had said so much since she’d arrived at the Jedi Temple, but now that she finally had an answer from them, she had nothing to offer the Council. She was frozen in her stare with the green Jedi, lips parting ever so slightly as his words rang in her ears. “Thank you,” she breathed, relief making her feel so light it almost lifted her off the ground below. She blinked a few times, gathering her bearings as reality began to set in that she had done it.
“Easy, it will not be, Viarruh Finnall,” he promised, shaking his head.
“The things worth doing usually aren’t, Master,” she replied, when the hole burning into her became too much and she looked up, meeting blue eyes already looking. Obi-Wan smiled at her, blowing his head in a silent congratulations, and she smiled. It was similar to the one he had managed to get from her in the corridor, and her success coupled with just knowing him now made it impossible to stop it.
Master Windu was the next to rise, the others following suit, and the tall man joined them in the middle of the room. “When we speak to the Chancellor tomorrow, you will have our full support. All we ask in return, is that you follow through with your word,” he explained, holding his hand out for her to shake.
When her hand slipped into his, enveloped by the gloved and armored one, a familiar feeling washed over her quicker than ever, and she gasped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Obi-Wan pushed his way to the front, almost overwhelmed from how loud everyone’s voices were once they blended together in panic, before standing beside the woman but she was not seeing him. Her muscles tensed and her back straightened as she went rigid, fingers clamping around Windu’s hand tightly, and he attempted to pull away in alarm; it was a struggle, but he was eventually able to pry himself out of her hold as her eyes glowed brightly. Her brows were furrowed and breath was stuck in her throat and she looked almost pained, and it made Obi-wan’s heart clench in his chest. It alarmed him, how seeing her like this affected him, but there was no time to think about it as his hands grasped her shoulders.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” he called, shaking her slightly but she remained frozen, golden eyes staring past him. Even when he grasped her face in his large hands because the choking sounds escaping her as air tried to fight its way to her lungs were scaring him more, she didn’t see him. His thumbs pressed into her cheeks as he turned her head to face him, almost yelling at her. “Viarruh! Breathe!”
When this very thing happened at home, no one could get through to the woman after her eyes lit up and she stopped breathing; screams and yells falling on deaf ears as her mind was taken over, but as she watched herself creep through the forest with a squad of clones and Mace Windu at her side, a voice echoed from somewhere. Who it belonged to, she could not tell, but it was comforting in its familiarity and lifted the pressure from her chest; everything became clearer as if a layer of dirt and grime had been wiped away, the plastoid armor glinting in the sunlight of the trooper who passed her. Outside of the vision, the blockage was removed from her throat, ripped away as oxygen rushed into her, and light burst out of her.
It was as if they were no longer in the council room, the group of people huddled together now standing in the same forest of her vision. She did not know they were there, could not feel them still, but they saw everything she did as it projected from her. They watched as everyone trekked on, the only sounds being the crunching and rustling of foliage and the sounds of wildlife in the distance; as Viarruh faltered in her step, causing the soldier behind her to bump into her, pushing her forward a few steps. Though, it looked as if she had paid it no mind, instead holding her hands out as if to steady herself, eyes flickering around before landing on the Jedi ahead of her.
And they could only stare as Windu continued on, having not noticed the absence to his left, and Viarruh lurched forward to reach him quicker. “Mace, no!” she yelled, grasping his shoulder to throw his body backwards, pushing him and their squad away from the pressure bomb cleverly disguised; but that also meant she was the closest to the explosion. The onlookers flinched as they were surrounded by heat and light and the deafening blow, watching in horror as the queen flew through the air, rolling backwards when she collided with the ground. She didn’t move much after her body settled, but Obi-Wan could see the way her eyes were blown wide, not seeming to focus on anything as she blinked. She didn’t respond to the calls of her name, not even noticing the people slowly searching for her, the ringing in her ears blocking out everything around her.
It was Windu who found her, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as he walked up to her. “Viarruh,” he called, and it wasn’t until he saw movement to the side, and turned to see her leg poking through the tall grass. When he stood over her, he cringed slightly at the injuries he could see, and so did everyone else. Blood covered her face, dripping down from her hairline and smearing across her cheeks; parts of her shirt and vest were singed, still smoking, telling them she had burns as well. “Viarruh,” he tried again, and she only looked at him with wide eyes, giving him no indication that she heard him. He reached down with both hands, placing a couple fingers on her cheeks to move her head side to side, inspecting for anything else, and Obi-Wan was relieved to see nothing.
“Come on,” Windu grunted, picking her up and placing her on her feet, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he supported most of her weight. Then, the scene shifted, the same light as before filling the room before it all zapped into Viarruh, hitting her with a force strong enough to push her back a few steps when it collided with her chest, causing her to gasp loudly. Hands reached out to keep her upright, holding her steady on her feet as her eyes snapped shut before reopening, back to normal.
She was panting, gulping air down like she had been drowning, and the first thing she heard when she returned to the present was the worried voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his hands on her arms, having been the one to reach out to catch her. “Viarruh, are you alright?”
“That one was different,” she responded, shaking her head as her mind ran a mile a minute.
“Was that a vision?” Windu questioned, leaning closer to the woman.
“Yes,” she nodded, eyes finally raising to meet those of the man that still cradled her. “But it was different, this one wasn’t the same as others.”
“Viarruh,” Obi-Wan called softly. “What do you mean by ‘it was different’?”
“Stronger, it was stronger,” she answered as the group of Jedi began to back away from her, giving her space now that she was back with them. “And I…could hear someone.” It confused her, left her wondering, because she had never heard anyone in her visions like that, never felt anything but alone as she lost control of herself.
“We didn’t hear anyone,” Mundi noted, looking around at the others. “Other than yourself and Master Windu.”
“Wait,” she jerked around, confusion growing more and more by the second. “Did you…did you all see that too?” She was met with nods from everyone, and she could only stand there in a stunned silence as her thoughts ran a mile a minute.
“Viarruh?” Obi-Wan questioned softly after there was still no response from the queen, and turned back around to face him.
“It…projected?” Her face was still twisted in disbelief, the events taking place sprouting question after question in her mind. The man nodded his head to answer her, raising his brows at her tone.
“Is that also newly unlocked?”
She had again looked away from him, eyes staring down at the floor as the dots began to connect, as the answers became clearer. “Yes,” she answered in a dazed voice. “It is.” It was the only reaction she could give him as realization dawned on her, showering over her as her gaze shifted upwards; it focused on the busy planet on the other side of the large windows, the sky turning a pleasant rosy orange as the day settled and plans were now in motion.
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