#celestial snow angel

[astronomypolls]

[bonefall]

oo snowkit becomes snowcarve?

He does!

In StarClan, you can use the names and appearance that you could have had, if you died young. It's very rare that you get permakits or permapprentices. I lifted from the COTC story about Smallstar and his siblings.

(Though, in BB those kits actually survive and it's MAPLESHADE’S kits who lead to the law on protecting children, Darkstar's Commandment, the Queen’s Rights. Smallstar is the leader of WindClan and xey're super chill. Xey own a lovely shawl.)

So Snowkit chooses to appear as Snowcarve, an Honor Title he would have earned for the creation of a full written Clan cat language, expanded from the simple glyphs. I'm not sure if he's a popular patron, but I do know that Bramble and Tawny invoke him sometimes.

Unfortunately though he's more invoked for general guidance by the two of them, not for possibilities like I think he'd like. He watches over them though, like a guardian angel. A lot of cats secretly have those.

I'm not sure who he follows around more often though. I think he LIKES following Tawny more because she's a better listener to his omens. But he feels like Bramble NEEDS him more, y'know?

Also notably, Snowcarve was technically their uncle, but the relationship is best described as "1st cousin." Rabnir in Clanmew, a familial role about somewhat distant but parallel growth, seen also with Brightpaw and Swiftpaw.

[cybrsan]

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

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me Fun Facts 521-530

• Satan believes Luke is the kind of person animals gravitate to

• Beelzebub once swallowed a DDD and therefor Karasu—Karasu was terrified

• A rumor spread that Lucifer would become a pro-gamer, he denied when Diavolo asked and Diavolo wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed

• According to Simeon, Luke’s Angel Blessings are “very potent”

• According to Luke, Diavolo is naturally gifted at customer service type jobs

• Lilith traveled to the Devildom as a soul to watch over her brothers but has forgotten how to get back to the celestial realm

• Luke has seen the demon king before, over a thousand years ago at a ceremony

• Accoridng to Lucifer there exist witches capable of summoning enough snow to cover the Devildom but their prices would be too high

• Demons can manipulate humans by giving orders. They are forbidden to do this to exchange students

• Despite being very productive, sometimes Barbatos tells Lucifer to finish his work too

511-520 • 521-530

[phoward89]

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: In the Corso penthouse things escalate quickly between you and Coriolanus in the moonlight bedroom. Is this change for the better or worse?

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Smut, Fingering (f receiving), Oral (m receiving), Degration. Slapping.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 3:

You were taken back by how large the penthouse was as Coriolanus guided you thru the front door. Even with only the silver-white light of the moon, you could see that the entrance foyer was larger than your front room back in your wooden shack of a house in 12. You couldn't help, but wonder how large the penthouse was as a whole. Would it be able to fit your entire house plus those of your neighbors on your street back in the Seam of District 12 in it? 

You were curious about the size of your new home, the 12th floor penthouse of a luxury Corso building. A building that had pillars and marble worthy of the ancient Roman Emperor Caesar himself.

Then it dawned on you, you were from District 12 and now you were in a 12th floor penthouse. Was that a coincidence or fate?

The door slammed shut behind you, pulling you out of your mental reverie and reminding you that you're not alone; that Coriolanus is right behind you.

“I promise, you'll get a tour of the place tomorrow.” His baritone, thick with exhaustion, echoed from the darkness. His black dress shoes clicked against the floor as he closed the space between you. 

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Your breath was caught in your throat as you stared out into the moonlit room, awaiting your fate. Whatever that may be.

The large room was silent, too silent, and you felt like prey about to be attacked by their predator. Your ears strained to hear the movements of your predator since you were too nervous to turn around and find out where the imposing head gamemaker truly was. Suddenly, a scream caught in your throat as a large hand touched the small of your back; causing you to jump out of your skin in fear.

“Oh, darling, there's no reason to be so jumpy.” Coriolanus’ voice assured you from behind. His breath fanned over your cheek as he bent over slightly, towering over you like a weeping willow. His lips hovered over your ear as he reassuringly whispered, “You're safe here with me, your Coryo.” 

But were you truly safe with him? He was the man that had designed the deadly arena you were trapped in for days, battling for your life. How could you be safe with him? Surely you weren't in any danger in the Capitol. The dangers were back in the arena. Right?

Turning slightly, your eyes searched for his face. Coriolanus’ pale face was illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, making his pale skin have an ethereal glow while his normally icy eyes had a celestial glint in them. He looked as beautiful as an angel. 

A fallen angel.

Lucifer.

Yes, he was as beautiful as an angel turned devil.

You blinked away the thought of angels and devils alike only to avert your eyes from Coriolanus’ facial features and ask, “I survived the arena and I'm here in the Capitol now. Why wouldn't I be safe?”

A thin line crossed Coriolanus’ lips as he thought how to explain things to you. He didn't want to scare you with the harsh truths of the situation you were in by not just being his, but the victor of the First Quarter Quell. One truth being that he was a powerful man that had enemies posing as friends behind large fake smiles at every turn that wouldn't think twice about hurting the beautiful woman on his arm, who made his cold dead eyes flicker with life, to get to him. The other truth was a much darker one. You were a victor, HIS Victor, but still a victor and every high profile Capitol citizen knew that a desirable victor could be bought for a night if the prize was right. If the capitolite could pay a high price, then they could use the victor as their whore in any way they wished. 

Now that was a fate Coriolanus refused to subject you to. You were his and he didn't share what belonged to him. Sadly, that wouldn't stop horny, lecherous capitolites from salivating over you in lust though.

He was going to keep you close at all times during public appearances to make sure that nobody could steal what was rightfully his. He’d also have Tigris make your gowns match his event suits, just to drive it home to everyone in the Capitol that you were his and only his. If somebody so much as looked at you sideways he’d kill them and make it look like an accident. Coriolanus’ mind quickly weaved the words to say that would pacify you. Rubbing circles into your lower back, he gave you the sugar coated truth of, “The Capitol can be a dangerous pit of vipers, my darling rose. If you don't know how to play the game, well, you're in danger of being eaten alive.”

Tilting your head slightly, you countered him. “And I suppose you know how to play the game?”

“You supposed right, Y/N.” Coriolanus confirmed. Leaning his face dangerously close to yours, so your noses were barely touching, he vowed, “When the time is right, my darling rose, I'll teach you how to be a master chess player in the Capitol’s games.” His breath mingled with yours, that's how close his lush lips were to your cracked ones, as he suggested, “Let's get to bed, darling. It's late and I do have a busy day come sunrise.”

Your heart was beating out of control against your ribcage; your mouth went as dry as the desert. “Where-where’s my bedroom?” You slightly stuttered, feeling overwhelmed by the platinum devil’s looming presence over you. 

“I was just about to bring you there, my darling rose.” Coriolanus answered you.

“Okay, thank you.” 

As soon as you entered your new bedroom you realized that it was the master bedroom and even with the only light coming from the moon shining into the large floor to ceiling windows, you quickly took notice that the decor was fit for a man. Oh no. This wasn't just your room, but Coriolanus’ as well. Shuffling a bit into the room as the platinum blonde man shut the door, you stated, “We're sharing a room.”, although it did sound more like a question with how shaken your voice was.

“Well, considering it's my penthouse, yes, darling, we're sharing the room.” Coriolanus answered, crossing the room to a large closet. “Strip out of your dress; I'll give you a shirt to sleep in.” He told you, not even giving you time to make a remark about him owning the penthouse, as he slid open the closet door and reached inside of it.

“Where's your wife? Isn't this her room as well as yours?” You asked before you could think any better of it. You couldn't help it, sometimes your brain to mouth filter didn't work.

Coriolanus’ body shook as if he was possessed by an earthquake. He roughly yanked a white button down shirt off a hanger, causing the wire hanger to fly out of the closet and onto the floor somewhere. Slamming the closet door shut so hard that the thing bounced right off its track, he spun around and seethed, “I told you, Y/N, that I don't tolerate brats and back talk. I also told you in the car not to worry about Livia; that she won't be my wife too much longer.” He threw the shirt at you, causing it to hit you smack dab in the face, only to order with a careless wave of his hand, “Strip and put that on; then get into bed.” 

With the shirt in your hand, you went over to the bed while he started to take off his white fitted shirt. Pulling off your floral dress, you heard him tell you, “She's across town in the townhouse she lives in. I use this penthouse, my childhood home, as a getaway from the hateful shrew.” You didn't say a word, just slipped on the dress shirt he gave you to wear as a sleep shirt. 

The moonlight shined over Coriolanus’ back, which was turned to you, and highlighted his scars as he toed out of his dress shoes and pulled down his black slacks. You took note that one was a long silver thing, most likely from a knife or an ax wound, while the other was a burn scar that had marbled a large chunk of his shoulder and flank a white and pinkish shade. You've seen scars before, but those were always from mining accidents. Never like this. 

Before you could think twice about it, you crossed the room until you stopped right behind Coriolanus. Your hands, slightly raw from handling a knife and the elements in the hunger games, shook as you raised them. Your fingertips lightly ghosted over the scars on his back, scars that he let nobody (not even the wife that he hated) see for fear that they'd think him weak or lesser of a man.

Your feather-like touch burned his skin as if the wounds healed from 15 years ago had been reopened with a flaming hot poker.

“What happened, Coryo?” You asked, genuine concern flooding your voice, as Coriolanus stood in front of you in only his boxers and socks. Socks that he desperately wanted to take off, but couldn't due to your touch on his back rooting him in place like a tree.

It's been so long since he's been touched so lightly, so innocently, that he'd forgotten how good an affectionate touch of a woman felt.

He put all of his effort in steadying his breathing (he was a grown man and a politician, not a green boy in his academy days) so you wouldn't realize the effect you had on him. Oh, and the effect you had on him was intoxicating. He could feel his bulge growing in the confines of his boxers. Only your innocent touch and genuine concern over his scars from what seemed like another lifetime, when he was another person, would make all his blood rush to his cock.

“I was caught in some life and death situations when I was your age. I survived and was victorious.” Coriolanus answered, his voice clipped and measured, before he pulled away from you as if your touch burnt hotter than the flames of hellfire. Looking at you from over his shoulder, he sighed, “I'm not in the mood to share the story, my darling rose, so just be a good girl and go to bed.” His head turned back around, causing him to stare at his feet, as he added in as an afterthought, “I'll join you shortly.”

You didn't say a word, just turned around and made your way over to the large bed you'd be sharing with the head gamemaker. Your dress was strewn over the bottom edge of the bed, the soft cotton floral material contrasting against the dark silk duvet. You debated whether or not to fold up the dress and set it aside or just leave it there and crawl into bed. 

The bed was large enough that you could get in without rustling your dress, but you decided against it. While you folded your dress, you heard the sound of Coriolanus collecting his clothes from the floor. With your now folded dress in hand, you turned to find a place to put it, only to see Coriolanus draping his clothes over a nearby desk chair.

You knew that he wanted you in bed, but you needed to put your dress up. It'd get lost if you just left it on the bed. So, silently, you padded over to the desk and placed your folded up dress on the edge of it. 

His back was turned to you, so he didn't see you. Honestly, you didn't know if you wanted him to. His interactions seemed all over the place when It came to you and, right now, you didn't know how to feel about that.

Before the platinum blonde man could turn round, you quietly rushed over to the king sized bed. You thanked your lucky stars that it was so big. It meant that you didn't have to worry about any awkward sleeping positions with Coryo.

Hmm…or at least that's what you thought. 

Your Coryo had other plans for your sleeping arrangements.

You pulled back the dark pearly duvet only to reveal red sheets embroidered with white roses. The silky sheets were a pop of color against the duvet and pillows. Your knee crumpled the sheets as you climbed into bed.

Coriolanus made his way over to you, watching as you sunk down into the large bed, looking like an absolute angel in it. Before you could even reach for the duvet, to pull around your shoulders, his voice sounded out with a simple order of, “Leave it. I'll pull it around us once I join you.”

That right there, that simple sentence, was what tipped you off that you'd be sleeping close to the head gamemaker. A fact that had your stomach doing somersaults. You literally held your breath while the bed dipped beneath Coriolanus’ weight. He pulled the duvet over your bodies before slithering his arm around your waist; pulling you close to him. Oddly enough, his boa constrictor-like hold made you release the breath you were holding.

Quickly, you came to terms with your new sleeping arrangements. There was nothing you could do, but let him spoon you with his bulge brushing against the swell of your ass. 

He pressed a goodnight kiss to your temple.“Sleep well, my darling rose.”

“G’night, Coryo.” You responded as you heard his breathing start to even out, indicating that he'd found sleep shortly after his head touched his pillow.

Ha! Sleep well. That's rich, considering every time you closed your eyes you were transported back to your time in the arena. Different faces and names along with arena locations fluttered around your brain as you tried to sleep, causing your eyes to fly open. 

You doubt that you'll ever sleep well again. 

You began to toss and turn, causing Coriolanus’ hold on your middle to loosen. No matter what position you rolled into, your insomnia remained. Eventually you turned your head to the window, eyes locking onto the silhouette of the moon high up in the city’s black velvet sky. You couldn't help, but wonder how bright the moon was shining back in District 12 and if anyone back home was staring at it like you were due to insomnia.

“You need to sleep, darling.” Coriolanus' voice mumbled out, causing you to stop staring at the moon and to turn to stare at him instead.

“I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I'm back inside that arena, Coriolanus.” You honestly told him as you felt your eyes grow heavy with sleep that nightmares would never let you get.

“It’ll pass in time.” He told you in a tone that had a sense of foreshadowing in it. 

Coriolanus adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard, only to pull you close to his side. His large calloused hand wrapped around your neck, thumb caressing your pulse point as his prominent nose nudged against yours. “Y/N, you need to calm down and rest. Luckily for you, I know the perfect way to help you do that.” 

Before you could even ask him what he meant, his soft lips were hungrily pressed against yours. The fact that your lips were chapped and cracked from the elements you were exposed to didn't bother him. In fact the roughness of your lips seemed to turn him on.

Coriolanus’ hand traveled from your neck up to your jaw while his other one dug into your hip. His long fingers held your jaw in a firm grip, that was borderline bruising, as his teeth nipped and tugged at your bottom lip. 

Suddenly Coriolanus' teeth bit down into your lower lip, drawing both blood and a moan from you. Quickly his tongue soothingly lapped up the metallic liquid blooming on your lip, causing heat to pool between your legs. You let out a tiny whimper, giving him the opportunity to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Your breathing sped up unevenly as Coriolanus’ tongue explored your mouth, entwining your tongues in an intimate dance. One of your hands dug into his bicep while the other found its way to the nape of his neck. He pulled away slightly, gasping for air, only to attack your lips once again. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to live and he was a man suffocating for a thousand years.

His hand ran up and down your thigh, causing you to subtly rub your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache between them. A dull ache that was becoming harder to ignore thanks to him swallowing all the air from your lungs with his sinfully plush lips.

Pulling away from you, only to pepper kisses up and down your jaw, he smirked, “I see you're needy for me, my darling.” 

“Um…” You stuttered, feeling any and all words slip from your mind due to the heavy feelings of want currently coursing through you.

Coriolanus stopped kissing your jaw, only to look at you with black, lust blown eyes. His baritone was rapsy, from the strain in his own boxers, as he orders, “Use your words, Y/N.” His large hand slung your leg over his hip as you sat next to him, slightly propped up on your side. His hand trailed up your inner thigh, teasingly. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.” 

All you could do was stare at him with lust filled in your eyes. You knew what you needed, but being inexperienced you were unsure of how to word it. Your breath hitched as his hand brushed your inner thigh, close to where you needed his touch the most to soothe the growing ache in you. It was as if he knew what you needed, but was purposely holding back and edging you on until you verbally confirmed what you needed; what you wanted from him.

Deciding that your growing ache overpowered your impending embarrassment, you shyly looked at Coryo and softly said, “I need you.”

A Cheshire grin of victory appeared on Coriolanus’ lips. “See, that wasn't so hard to say now was it, my Victor?” His hand slipped out from underneath the hem of your shirt (his white button up) and suddenly his pointer and middle fingers were pressed against your swollen bottom lip. “Open.” He demanded.

You opened your mouth, with the question of why on the tip of your tongue, but you never got to utter a word since he slipped his fingers into your mouth. “Suck on them.” He ordered in a raspy tone, causing you to obey. Your tongue swirled over his digits before sucking on them. “Oh, you suck my fingers like such a needy little slut. Can't wait until you suck my cock like one too.” 

Coriolanus removed his fingers from your mouth with a loud wet pop. “Unbutton your shirt, darling.” Coriolanus told you as his hand disappeared under the hem of your shirt. As his fingers teasingly touched your dripping folds, he all but moaned out, “You're so fucking wet. Is that all for me?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out, feeling yourself clench at his touch. A touch that felt both like fire and ice as he played with your folds, only to start rubbing gentle circles into your clit. “Coriolanus.” You called out in a breathless whisper, fingers shaking as you unbuttoned your shirt, like Coriolanus ordered, while feeling the pleasurable pressure of his thumb on your clit paired with a finger ghosting your wet entrance.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Coryo?” He asked, teeth grinding, while slapping your pussy with a punishing force.

“Coryo…” You whined, shifting as a result of feeling the sting the slap left on your pussy.

“Oh, now my needy little slut calls me Coryo? Hmm…you learn quickly, my darling rose.” Coriolanus told you in a tone dripping with a dark mix of authority and lust. His fingers went back to working your folds as if they were the strings of a fine instrument while devouring your mouth in a heated kiss that was more teeth than lips.

You had finished unbuttoning your shirt and went to reach for his neck, to use as an anchor as he kissed you and played with your soaking cunt, but to your surprise he broke the kiss and ordered, “Take off your shirt. I want to see your tits.”

You nodded and pushed your shirt off your shoulders, making it crumble behind you on the bed. Coryo’s eyes were black as coal and danced with the fires of lust as he looked upon your bare chest heaving up and down. He felt his cock get painfully harder in his boxers as he grabbed one of your tits; pressing an open mouthed kiss on the other. All while his middle finger slipped into the wet heat of your tight hole. 

Your mouth made an O shape as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of your tight hole, teasing you. One of your hands latched onto his shoulder while the other found itself entwined in his platinum blonde curls as his fingers greedily kneaded your tit while his teeth grazed your nipple.

“Oh…Coryo…” Fell from your lips like a prayer as you felt him slip a second finger inside of your cunt while twisting your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Coryo pulled his lips from your nipple with a wet pop, only to darkly smirk, “That's it, Y/N. Beg for me, beg for me to finger fuck you like a good little slut.” 

Your face flushed every shade of red at his dirty, degrading words. Oh god, his words sent a warm tingle straight to your core. What was wrong with you that such filth turned you on?

Stilling the pair of fingers he had stuffed in your soaking wet pussy, he stared you down and ordered, “Beg or I won't fuck you. Won't let you cum hard on my fingers, my darling rose.”

Subconsciously, you darted your tongue out of your mouth and licked your lips. With your chest quickly rising and falling paired with an achy need in your pussy, you obeyed Coryo. “Please, Coryo, finger fuck me like your good little slut.” You pleaded, voice overcome with want.

Hearing you say ‘your good little slut’ instead of repeating his words of ‘a good little slut’ made Coriolanus go primal with an urge to devour you. Yes, you were his. You even confirmed it in your desperation for a pleasurable release. You knew you were his and that did so many things to Coryo. 

“Don't worry, my good little slut, I'll make you feel good. I'll make you cum.” Coryo promised, curling his fingers up into your cunt only to press against your spongy spot. The high pitch whine you let out paired with the way your hips bucked tipped him off that he found your g spot. “That's the spot that's going to make you soak my fingers with your cum, huh?”

“Uh huh.” You mumbled as you felt him begin to thrust his fingers harder into you, making sure to hit your spongy spot every time.

Coryo bent his head down, only to start roughly kissing your boobs while his hand worked your sopping wet pussy fast and hard. His teeth grazed the swell of your breast only to place a biting bruise there. 

“Coryo…don't leave a mark…” You breathlessly requested.

Coriolanus didn't like to be told what to do, especially in the bedroom where he was always the dominant one, so your request pissed him off. His eyes flashed dangerously as his head tilted up to look at you. Grabbing your hair into a rope and roughly tugging it, causing your head to snap, he warned, “Don't order me around or I’ll stop and won't let you cum.”

Your eyes searched his to see if he was bluffing, but all you could see was the truth behind his lust blown pupils. “I won't order you around. I promise, Coryo. Just, please, let me cum.” You told him, desperate to cum since, during his threat, he stilled his hand (one again).

He added a third finger inside of your tight pussy, causing you to feel a slight burn at the stretch, and rubbed your clit with his thumb all while telling you, “Consider this a warning, since your still so innocent, my darling rose, but if you pull this again I won't let you cum no matter how much you beg. I'll just stuff by cock in your mouth and call it a night.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded. 

Coryo smiled, happy that you learned your lesson, before latching his lips onto your collar bone. He pressed a few open mouthed kisses before sinking his teeth down into your flesh. His teeth grazed bone, causing you to let out a loud scream. His tongue tastes your metallic blood as he lapped at your wound. He soothed it with the swirl of a practiced tongue while pumping his fingers faster and faster into you.

You pulled his head away from your collar bone, only to look into his crazed eyes and declare, “I'm close, Coryo. So close.” 

Coryo captured your lips in his, quickly letting you taste the metallic tang of your blood, only to pull away and murmur, “I know, darling. I know you are.”

His forehead was leaning against yours as he pistoned his fingers in and out of your wet hole, causing obscene loud squelching sounds to fill the air. Your hips began canting up, chasing your high, as you held onto him like a lifeline. The knot in your stomach got tighter and you knew that any minute you were going to break and come undone.

“Coryo…” You moaned, clawing at him to anchor you in the moments before you came tumbling down.

“Cum right now, my darling rose. Cum right now like the little slut you are.” Coryo ordered, his voice thick and raspy, as he roughly pumped his fingers into your pussy while sloppily, but quickly, thumbing at your puffy clit.

You cum hard with his name loudly falling from your lips; your fingers digging into his shoulder and scalp. You stared into his lust blown black eyes as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, helping you ride wave after wave of orgasmic aftershocks. He only stops whenever you tug at his wrist while whimpering, “Too much, Coryo.”

With a proud smile on his face, Coryo removed his soaking wet hand from your pussy and brought it up for you both to see. “You're a very messy girl, Y/N. Soaked our sheets.” He chuckled before licking every single one of his fingers clean. Then he licked his palm clean and told you, “My darling rose, you're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.”

He dipped his hand back between your legs, only to use his pointer finger to gather some of your juices. Removing his hand and placing his finger to your lips, he ordered, “Taste how sweet you are.”

Without even thinking about it, you wrapped your mouth around his finger and swirled your tongue to taste your tanginess.

“Good girl.” Coryo praised you while removing his finger from your mouth with a wet pop. Grabbing your hand, he brought it to rest on the large bulge in his boxers. “You feel that, my darling rose? That's what you do to me.”

Looking between his bulge and his face, you asked, “You want me to suck your cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes, well, it would be nice considering what I did to make you feel good.” Coryo countered, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. You were just asking him a question, he didn't have to be so condescending about it. 

“I've never-” You began to tell him, only for him to cut you off with a simple, “I know, Y/N.” 

He removed your leg from his hip and got out of bed, all the while telling you, “I’ll teach you what I like, my darling rose. Don't worry your pretty little head over it.”

You watched him pull down his boxers, causing his hard dick to bounce up against his stomach. Your eyes widened at the sight. Yes, you've never seen one before, but by looking at Coryo's you knew he had a big cock. It had to be at least 8 inches. It had veins running alongside it and the head was an angry shade of red. Precum was leaking from his tip and all you could do was stare at it. 

“It's so big.” You gasped as he rejoined you in bed.

“You really think so, Y/N?” Coryo asked. He knew he was blessed with a big cock, but hearing you say it gave him an ego boost.

“Yea.” You nodded, eyes flicking between his hard cock and his eyes.

Coriolanus made himself comfortable by leaning against the headboard and bending his knees slightly. “Get between my legs, darling.” He instructed.

“Do you want me laying down or crouching or?...” You trailed off while crawling down between his legs.

“Whatever’s more comfortable for you. It doesn't make any difference to me as long as my cock’s in your mouth.” Coriolanus crudely told you. His eyes were glued to you as you bent down on your knees while placing a hand on each of his thighs. When you looked at him with a nervous innocence in your eyes, it turned him on. “Place a hand at the base of my cock and start by licking the tip.” He told you, knowing that if he didn't you'd probably stare at his cock wide eyed all night (well morning, but it didn't make that much of a difference).

You nodded before placing your right hand at the base of him and licking his leaky tip. His precum had a salty, musky taste to it but it wasn't horrible. In fact, you found that you didn't mind the taste of him. You gave his tip another lick, only to flicker your tongue over his slit.

“Oh fuck…” Coriolanus gritted out. He felt his balls tighten and he knew that he had to get you to move this along. He couldn’t cum just from you teasing his tip. That would be embarrassing, not to mention beneath him. “Wrap your mouth around it and suck, darling.” He instructed you. 

Nodding, you did as you were told and put his cock into your mouth. You began to suck, only to discover that his size made your jaw hurt. Also, he was so big that you started to gag on his cock. You tried to calm yourself and breathe thru your nose, but it was easier said than done. 

Upon seeing tears leaking from your eyes, Coriolanus groaned. “Darling, take as much in as you can and use your hand to work the rest for now.” Reaching his hand into your hair, he added, “Don't worry, it won't be long until you'll be able to take all of me.”

You let his big cock fall out of your mouth with a wet plop, only to look up at him and say in a worried voice, “Okay, but are you sure this is going to feel good for you? You're the only man I've ever been with and…yea…” 

You honestly did want to make him feel good since he made you feel good. Right now in this moment the only thing that mattered was returning the favor. Anything else (like how he was cheating on his wife with you or how he designed the arena that you could've died in; get nightmares from) would be dealt with later.

Coryo's too small black heart clenched at your words. How could you think that you were unable to make him feel good because you've never been with a man up until now? Didn't he tell you he'd teach you; show you what he liked? Didn't you agree to let him be your teacher? Was it your youthful innocence making you second guess yourself?

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he assured you, “You’ll be able to make me feel very good, my darling rose, because I'll teach you what to do.” His thumb brushed over your swollen lips as he darkly added, “I'm the only man you'll ever be with, Y/N, because you're mine and I don't share what's mine.” 

“But I have to share you?” Came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think better of it. 

Coryo raised his hand up in the air only to bring it down against your already bruised cheekbone in a loud, punishing smack. Grabbing your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger, he lowly hissed, “I don't fuck my wife so you're not sharing me, Y/N. Don't you dare accuse me of not being faithful to you because I am.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks, causing him to use the pads of his thumbs to wipe them away. “You have nothing to worry about, my darling rose, I'm obsessively loyal to you and would never taint what we have by cheating.”

If you weren't still half blissed out from your orgasm minutes earlier his words would've been a huge red flag waving wildly in the wind. But, since your brain was still up on cloud 9, his words went right over your head. All you could do was nod your head at him. 

Tenderly stroking your cheek, that he just struck, Coryo sighed, “I really didn't want to slap you again, Y/N, but you left me no choice by accusing me of making you share me with that awful bitch.” 

“I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't thinking.” You told him, mostly because it was the truth. You really didn't mean to make that remark. It just slipped out.

“Yes, well, you need to be more aware of your words. You're in the Capitol now and saying the wrong thing here, well…just don't do it if you want to keep your tongue.”

Holy shit! Was he threatening to make you an avox or just talking in general? Honestly, you didn't know and you didn't want to find out. 

Threading his fingers in your hair, he smiled, “Why don't you get back to sucking my cock so we can get to bed.”

So that's what you did. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking as much of it as you could into your mouth. Using your hand, you worked what you couldn't fit into your mouth. Just like Coryo told you to do. Quickly, you realize that hollowing out your cheeks made it a bit easier to take in his cock. 

As your tongue slid up the underside of his veiny cock, while you sucked him, Coryo let out a low moan. “You're sucking my cock so good for your first time. You're such a good little slut for me.” His hand tightened in your hair as he ordered, “Go a bit faster now and play with my balls.”

You couldn't say a word, since his cock was in your mouth, but the look you gave him showed that you understood him. Quickly, you listened and started speeding up your movements while bringing your left hand to his balls. Your hand fondled his balls as spit began to spill from your mouth.

It was a messy site and it turned Coryo on. Seeing you, his innocent Victor, nearly choking on his cock with spittle falling from your mouth was better than any wet dream he could've ever imagined. Oh, and looking at you rolling and squeezing his balls full of his cum in your hand spurred him on. 

Suddenly, before you could even comprehend what was going on, Coryo tightened his hold on your hair and began to trust his hips up. “Fuck, you feel so good. I need to fuck your throat.” He groaned. 

His balls began to tighten up in your hand as he fucked up into your face with a wild feralness. It was as if he was possessed by the spirit of a wild animal. He needed to mark you as his and what better way than shoving the tip of his cock to the very back of your throat.

As he bucked his hips, bullying his cock down your throat, you continued to suck him and use your tongue on him. You never stopped playing with his balls either.

For your first time sucking cock, you seemed to figure out real quick how Coriolanus liked it. Perhaps next time it'll go over without a hitch, unlike tonight…

You felt the roots of your hair burning as Coryo’s grip on your hair grew tighter. “Fuck…Y/N, I'm gonna cum.” He bucked up in fast sloppy movements while ordering, “You better be a good little slut for me and swallow every drop.” 

You remembered how you heard some girls at school from the merchant sector gossiping in gym class about how one of the Seam girls was nasty because they heard a rumor that she swallowed. You remembered how when you got home you asked Ashlie, your older brother's girlfriend, what the merchant girls meant and she gave you a quick talking to about it. All she said was that girls who swallowed when going down on a man were considered dirty girls and not to do it. That no respectable man would want a girl that did that.

Well, it seems that all of that was bullshit because the head gamemaker of Panem was ordering you to swallow his cum with a look full of lust, neediness, and adoration in his baby blue turned black as coal eyes. Coriolanus Snow was a very respectable man. Hell he was listed as one of the richest men in Panem according to some late night talk show, so if he said to swallow then it wasn't such a dirty thing after all.

Suddenly, you felt thick, hot ropes of cum shoot onto your tongue and down your throat as Coriolanus let out moans and curses around the proper noun that was your name. 

You did what he wanted and swallowed down his salty seed.

When you let his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, he caressed your cheek. “I see you swallowed every drop I gave you. Very good, darling.” Using his other hand to pat the spot on the bed next to him, he said, “Come here, I’m tired and we both need some sleep.”

Crawling over to the spot next to him, you sighed, “I'm afraid I won't be able to go to sleep, Coryo. Every time I try I have flashbacks and nightmares.”

Coryo adjusted himself to lay comfortably on his back. Stretching an arm out, in an invitation for you to snuggle up to his side, he tiredly told you, “You’ll be able to fall asleep, Y/N.” As you settled in next to him, he added, “You're safe with me, my darling rose.” While laying your head down on his chest along with resting a hand there, he pulled the blankets over you both and said, “Just lay your head on my chest and remember that I'll always protect you.” Leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “I will kill for you, darling. To keep you safe with me, I swear I will kill half the Capitol if that's what it takes to keep you safe in my arms.” His sleep laden voice got even softer as he declared, “You're mine and I'll never let anything hurt you again. You'll always be safe with me, my darling rose.”

You drifted off to sleep with those odd last words of his (a promise of safety, possession, and murders to come) going in one ear and out the other.

Maybe if you weren't so exhausted, both mentally and physically, you would've paid more attention to those words. Maybe they would've made you run for the hills. Or maybe not. 

Even a monster needs somebody to love them. But what is a beast without his precious rose? 

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Holy Light.

Pairing: Biblically Accurate!Yandere!Angel x Reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Spiratial Non/Con (?), Religious Imagery, Body Transformation, and Slight Blasphemy.

At some point, it’d gotten into your head that this may be what euphoria is supposed to feel like.

It would have to be a cruel type of euphoria, if that were true – if anything could be true in a place like this. The colors were too harsh, made stark and oversaturated by a light not quite any you’d ever seen before. You couldn’t tell what you were resting on, if you were elevated or suspended or simply floating on solid air, but it was too soft, too stiff, a bed carved from glass and bone and all things joyful. Your skin seemed to pulse, to burn in the space between muscle and tissue, the source of your pain as unidentifiable as the one inflicting it onto you, as the color of the sky above your head and the depth of the fire-laden pits that plummeted below your feet, home to a world’s worth of abominations that seemed to slip into your mind and rot with so much as a glance towards their chasms. Those, at least, were grounding in their hideousness. Ugliness could be believed. Beauty to such a violent extent was not meant so comprehensible.

Beauty. Was this really beauty? It felt beautiful. You wanted it to be beautiful, as the way the open sea could be beautiful when there was no land to interrupt the endless waves. You hated it. You thought you hated it, at least, hated the way your eyes throbbed in your skull, loathed those little gaps of bliss that seemed to fester between your conscious thoughts. You couldn’t even call it righteous suffering, because you weren’t suffering, because this could never be suffering. It was ecstasy. It was perfection, sharp and terrible and agonizing.

“Divine creature. Lovely little one. Sweetest miracle of the flesh.” It wasn’t a voice, because the being speaking had no mouth, no body you could see nor any that you wanted to. It reverberated in your mind like chapel bells, piercing your consciousness like cleansing fire and burning all else away. Every word was another golden braid draped over your heart, wrapped around your lungs, strung through veins with all the delicacy of a needle penetrating cloth. You may’ve choked on it, if you’d still been able to feel your throat. You could’ve, if it would only let you. “What does my drop of sunlight desire?”

Something shifted underneath you – feathers, you realized, each vane its own perfect, snow-white arc. When you glanced down, you found that they stretched as far as your eye could see, blotting out anything beneath you into a dense coagulation of pin-straight barbs and silver shafts. They seemed to go on forever, interlocked and overlapping, no wings to keep them bound together or a body to make use of such an excessive collection. Except… Except there were wings, outstretched and arched upward, and there was a body too, only it wasn’t a body, only it was, only it couldn’t—

“Bliss? Pleasure beyond the mortal realm?” There was no body, because that voice could never belong to anything with flesh and blood. Pure, rolling heat washed over you, leaving a scorching sort of warmth searing into your body, your skin, your soul. Something deep in your chest clenched, tightening to a painful degree, and in a childish attempt to escape it, you rolled onto your side, pulling your knees into your chest and curling into yourself. Feathers danced against your bare skin, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how you would start to get away from them. “Would you like to join us, precious one?” It went on, oblivious or simply neglectful to your pleas for it to stop. “Would you like to rise into the celestial? Would you like to be of paradise?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your mouth wouldn’t open, unwilling to give the light another place to infest, and you weren’t sure you had the strength to move your tongue. In place of anything coherent, a cracked sob bubbled up from the core of your stomach, muffled behind sealed lips and grit teeth. Your vision blurred, but you didn’t realize tears were rolling down your cheeks until two wings ascended from the flurry, forming a makeshift shell around you. It was supposed to be comforting. You knew that intrinsically, as a songbird knew when it was about to be caught and left in a cage. You knew that it was meant to be soothing, and you knew it wasn’t. “Why does my precious one anguish so?”

Why wouldn’t you? Were you not supposed to be in pain? Did the mothers left in the valleys not cry out in agony as their sons were taken to the mountaintops? Were sinners turned to salt and stone not meant as warnings most to those who once loved them? Did the virgin not shed tears when He came to her with a request she had no choice but to fulfill? Would He have loved her, if she hadn’t?  

You shut your eyes, but that didn’t help. Light played behind your eyelids like an ever-blossoming kaleidoscope, patterns of watchers and rings and blazing swords fighting past the darkness. Blindly, you clawed at your face, attempting to stave off the burning ache settling between the fibers of your creation, to take what was slowly twisting and coiling in your mind and get it away from you. There was only a hum, deep enough to leave you screaming in pain, and then, the being spoke, its wings closing tighter around you. “Of course. You aren't as one of us should be.” And then, as you began to taste blood on the back of your throat. “I will correct you, if that is what you wish.”

It was immediate, instant. Bone tearing through the skin of your hips and shoulder blades, flesh hardening and smoothing over where it was meant to be soft and textured, teeth sharpening behind lips and limbs cracking into new formations and claws sprouting from nailbeds. You coughed up blood, then viscera in writhing clumps, then when you had no more to give, something bright and golden that tasted like ash as it fell past your lips. White feathers were soon painted in shades of scarlet and ichor, but the creature didn’t seem to care, to feel remorse. How would it? What sympathy could a falcon ever feel for the insect thrown off-course by the movement of its wings?

“Drop of sunlight,” Low, deafening, as terrible as knives on glass and as lovely as wind through cattails. It was all you could do to tremble, ready to crumble under the weight of yourself, of what could not be you, anymore.

It was all you could do to smile, as you finally found to strength to open your eyes.

“Is it not beautiful?”

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

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Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

______________________________________________

Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

______________________________________________

Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

[another-lost-mc]

candy prompts: barbatos + sweet

before the angels take you on a little vacation to the celestial realm, barbatos has a gift for you.

pairing: barbatos x gn!reader

content: sfw. fluff. domestic bliss, mutual pining, a teensy bit of angst (he just loves you so much and he's gonna miss you~). oh, and kissing.

word count: 1.4k these are supposed to be short wtffff

The castle kitchen is bustling with activity when you push the door open and step inside. Luke and Barbatos both turn their heads and welcome you as they finish their little pet project. The young angel is especially excited to see you and he gestures towards the counter where all his hard work is displayed. "Look at how much we made! The other angels are going to be thrilled, don't you think?"

Luke has told you countless stories about Michael and the other angels he admires in the Celestial Realm, and most of them love sweets. However, you're not sure that explains why there's nearly a dozen pastry boxes stacked high on the countertop in front of you. You have no doubt they’re all filled to the brim with cookies and cupcakes and other sugary treats Luke wants to bring on this trip to visit his home realm.

It's possible Luke went overboard just a little bit, but you share an amused look with Barbatos over the angel's shoulder. Luke’s excitement is contagious and you can't help but return his giddy smile with one of your own.

"You know what? I'm sure all of your friends are going to be very excited when they see what you've made for them." You ruffle his hair and bite your lip to stifle a laugh when a poof of flour floats in the air around him and settles like a dusting of white snow on his shoulders.

Thinking practically, there's no way Luke can safely carry all these packages on his own; the tower of boxes is taller than he is! This many boxes would be a struggle even if you helped him, but it seems Barbatos has already solved the dilemma for you. He glances at something—someone—behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you recognize Number Two who pops up out of nowhere. He hovers over your shoulder and nuzzles your cheek in greeting.

(The Little Ds know by now that if they visit the kitchen when their boss and the young angel are baking together, they'll probably get to help taste-test their creations once they're finished. Barbatos warns Luke not to indulge them too much, but the angel can't resist slipping them cookies or bits of cake when the butler's back is turned.)

Barbatos watches fondly for a moment before he clears his throat to get the lesser demon's attention. "Please help Luke take these to the foyer, and do remember to be careful with them. The contents are quite delicate.”

Number Two gives his boss cheeky salute and a wide, toothy smile. With a surprising burst of speed, he rushes forward and takes the first few boxes from the top of the stack. The other lesser demons that were helping with the kitchen clean-up take the opportunity to abandon their chores and help carry the other boxes instead. They all cackle delightfully as the packages teeter precariously in their claw-like grips. Luke yelps nervously and bids you a hasty see you soon! before he rushes after them in a cloud of powdered sugar.

The kitchen is quiet once the others are gone, and something dark on the now-bare counter catches your attention. "Oh, it looks like they forgot one." The box is smaller than the others and decorated differently too. While the others were standard white boxes tied with gold ribbon, this one is black and tied with a bow of emerald-green.

Barbatos brushes your side when he steps up the counter and he looks pleased that he managed to surprise you. "Actually, this is a gift for you, dearest. I hope you'll enjoy it while you're gone." He tips his head towards the box and encourages you to open it. It looks too pretty to open, but you do as he asks and tug carefully on the ends of the bow before lifting the lid and peering inside.

It takes a moment for you to realize what you're looking at. There's a large tin of loose leaf tea, his personal custom blend. There's a row of individually-wrapped scones that smell faintly of cinnamon and vanilla bean. Nestled inside a layer of tissue paper is a small jar of midnight-berry jam; you already know it's made from fruit he picked himself in the castle gardens.

His presents for you have always been thoughtful, his sense of practicality perfectly blended with his own selfish desire to impress you somehow. You already cherish this gift as much as any other, despite its apparent simplicity.

To anyone else, this would be nothing more than a small selection of Devildom breakfast fare for your week-long excursion to the Celestial Realm.

To you, it's Barbatos's way of providing you with something comforting to drink if you feel homesick while you're gone. It's his regret that he can't be there with you and his hope that you'll eat well despite his absence. It's also a promise: like all mornings you've woken up in his bed to find warm tea and scones prepared on a tray nearby, it's because he's thinking of you, the other master he serves willingly with bated breath on bended knee.

For some reason your eyes are watery all of a sudden. The laugh that warbles from you fails to hide the way you sniffle and try to wipe your eyes without him noticing.

"Come here, love." Familiar hands settle lightly on your waist and draw you closer to him, and suddenly you regret agreeing to go on this stupid trip.

"Barbatos, I—" But whatever you're about to say seizes in your throat when someone knocks softly on the kitchen door.

"Sorry to interrupt," Simeon apologizes when he steps inside. He looks between you two guiltily. Barbatos's eyes snap up at the intrusion, and Simeon makes a wise choice to step back at the menacing growl reverberating in the demon's chest. "I wanted to let you know we're ready to leave when you are." He mouths sorry one more time before making a quick retreat. Even though he closes the door behind him, it's pointless—you're out of time for farewells.

A warm puff of air tickles your ear when Barbatos sighs quietly. Goodbyes aren't any easier for him, or at least they aren't when it comes to you.

"It's not often you travel somewhere I cannot follow." As he murmurs his vulnerable confession, his hands dip under the hem of your shirt, seeking the warm comfort of your bare skin. "I'll miss you more than you can imagine," he whispers, and he pauses with indecision.

To hell with it.

He steals a few more moments with you while he can. His warm breath fans lightly across your face when he leans towards you, followed by a soft brush of his lips against the corner of your mouth. The forked tips of his tail tickle your leg when he closes the distance and kisses you properly. It's unhurried and sweet at first, but then his tongue teases the seam of your lips and he answers your muffled sound with needy groans of his own.

Like his gift to you, kissing him feels like a promise that no one in the three realms could love you as fiercely as he does.

When he finally steps back so very reluctantly, your lips are glossy and plump. It soothes the instinctive urge to claim you somehow, and he takes a moment to admire how lovely you are. When he's satisfied, he laces his fingers with yours and leads you from the kitchen.

Simeon and Luke are waiting for you in the foyer when you arrive. The angels are eager to leave, but they don't dare complain about the delay. Even Barbatos knows he needs to see you off safely before he does something reckless.

(It's far too tempting to tuck you away in his room and keep you to himself. None of the others, except perhaps his Young Master, would dare barge into his space to find you.)

He offers insincere apologies to the others for delaying your departure while you pack his gift carefully with the rest of your belongings. You hum as you swipe your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of him that lingers there. You don't notice that he mirrors the action himself, or that he stares at you with molten, greedy eyes as you step through the portal he conjures for you.

He carries on with his tasks as best he can after you're gone, and it's a surprisingly easy feat. Time passes so quickly when he gets lost in thought imagining all the ways he plans to cherish you when you return.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

[merao-mariposa]

we'll meet again on some snowy day

In which they meet again after Phil travels to the other plane

<3•<3•<3•<3•<3

Philza was busy, and Missa knew very well what it was like to be busy, so instead of being upset by his husband's sudden absence, he took advantage of filling the hours of alone time he couldn't have with his children in the past.

The happiest moments of his days being the three of them were those in which he could learn more about his children, the proper method to care for Lullah's hair or Chayanne's interest in streaming. Now that they were off the island, his little ones' imagination was the limit.

He allowed himself to breathe the cold air that played in his lungs, Quesadilla did not reach that cold even in its harshest winters, but the arctic hardly had warmth to give if you moved away from the dominions of the empire.

he noticed in the distance how another black shadow was approaching, crossing the frozen air with impetus and Missa smiled slyly when he was close enough to his earshot shouting the now customary "MUMZA SEND GREETINGS"

As quickly as the little crow got to him Missa made sure to lavish his plumage with soft, loving caresses, slightly interrupting his loud ramblings of “TECHNOBLADE AND PHIL TOOK A TEA” “DADZA CHOKED ON HIS MUG LMAO” “GREAT EMPIRE, POG EMPIRE” “SOUL HARVEST POST TEA O7” “TEA FOR THE ANGEL OF DEATH” “SOULS FOR THE EMPIRE” “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” with loud purrs

Soon the tea party gossip between old friends and apparent war crimes was amplified when a cloud blackened his view, surrounding him with hundreds of messenger crows that Phil had sent to keep his family updated on his adventures with the most important people in his life, he laughed with joy as he tried to pay attention to the messages he had been receiving for a while.

It was a dense cloud, so dense that Missa had difficulty seeing beyond his nose and even so he smiled happily knowing that Philza had been able to safely reunite with his people, he was a little afraid that as soon as they escaped from quesadilla the older man would not longer want him and the reaper would never see him again thanks to the difference in power between them, from the angel of death to a simple death reaper made him feel small.

He should have given him more credit, Philza is loyal in a way only a crow would ever be.

Missa is enthralled with the cloud of happy stories wishing that the sapphire-eyed man could stay longer on the plane of the dead experiencing more wonders that he did not notice anything else until a pair of firm, warm arms rested firmly on his waist.

He cried out loud and confused when the crows began to chant a name that tasted like honey in his mouth. Amazing how no matter how much time passed Missa always seemed to fit into Phil's arms like he was made to be in them forever.

The cold blue sky or the frozen ice envies the bluish color in his man's eyes and when he smiles at him, he feels the snow melting around him, every time he returns from the celestial plane he looks happier and revitalized as if shining with pure joy and Missa wants him to stay there and be this happy every day of his life, he deserves it. Stupefied, he still does not notice how among the sea of ​​feathers that still surround them, a pair of revitalized wings press around him like a shield against the elements.

“Misaaaa”

“Philza!”

“Missa…” His warm breath against Missa's collarbones makes him shiver and he places his hands on the opponent's shoulders. Allowing himself to enjoy the shorter man's company.

“I missed you” mentions the skeleton

“I missed you too” he murmurs something muffled against the fabric that protects Missa's body.

“How is the boss?”

“Well, she sends you greetings!” As if he didn't already know from the crows "Techno too, he says hello and asks when are you taking Chayanne to train?"

Sighing softly into the blonde hair Missa allows himself to meditate. “Mmh he flew to the Nether to help Dapper with a special loot or something. "he'll probably be back in a day or two."

Philza laughed softly at the thought of his little dragon, more than worrying about him, he would worry about every damn mod down there.

“When is Techno available, cariño?”

“For his favorite nephew? It better be all the time in the world,” Philza exclaimed with a happy laugh that pierced Missa's chest literally and figuratively.

Suddenly the crows around him cleared up a bit but before Missa could react a soft and indignant voice echoed in their minds.

“Chay is not Uncle Techno's favorite!”

“Llulah!!” Philza left his husband's comfortable chest to greet the dragon that was flying near them.

Although he will deeply miss the touch as soon as it faded, he knew that he would have the arms of his platonic husband again later, he allowed himself to enjoy the scene in front of him without worrying about anything else: Chayanne's absence was felt in the air but the laughter of father and daughter only predicted positivity, for a moment he almost lost the elegant but simple clothes in light blue tones and the royal blue cape that adorned his partner, on his head rested a gold crown symbol of the Empire. His girl, on the other hand, had soft and deep colors, something about her still gave vibes to a pre-Hispanic dragon, a mix between snake scales and colorful feathers, there were also poppies snaking between her long horns that Phil was now complimenting, “Chayanne will be so pissed off when he see that they grew more than his”

“Let's see those teeth!”

Both dragons were omnivores with a special attraction to meat but if Missa had to guess

“Is it me or are Chayanne's even bigger?” Missa asked, stroking Lullah's snout a little, who did not hesitate to blow some thick, black smoke from her nostrils into Missa's face.

Philza burst into laughter as Missa tried to scold the dragoness, ignoring that some ash got in his face making him look very funny actually.

“If you don't behave I'll make your dad cook today!” Llulah remained silent about that, wanting to refute something about how her fangs were sharper than Chay's, how apá Missa deserved it a little, which was with love! And pray not to have the classics…

“In fact I learned a new recipe with avocado toast, do you want to hear that? You have an avocado toast and BOOM you put nother one on top” Lullah made a tired groan and Dadza was such a smug “I call it; an avocado sandwich”

“That's great, man” Missa barely contained the urge to laugh while the dragon twisted her tail in displeasure, “But you won't be too tired now to cook?”

“Definitely not for you, mate”

Laughter resounded once again in the frozen when, just as when she was a small egg, Lullah dropped into an exaggerated pose of defeat.

Yeah. he felt good having waited for this.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Part 2 of this (diavolo & lucifer being very gay in canon) because I ran out of space in the first one

1. The entire Devildom thinks Diavolo & Lucifer are dating/in love;

2. It just sounds cute okay

3. Diavolo apparently notices when Lucifer's pupil dilates by 2mm 😐

4. Diavolo probably has a 500pg book about how great Lucifer is

5. Remember how much Diavolo gushed about Lucifer's butler uniform, took a lot of pictures of it etc? Apparently he saved that uniform or had a new one made, then took the first chance he saw

6. Cottagecore?

7. Diavolo finds Lucifer sneezing cute😬

8. Diavolo prioritises Lucifer over everything, even his own kingdom & the way Simeon keeps poking at it & Diavolo keep avoiding directly answering him + Simeon later teases Lucifer about Diavolo liking him in S3👀

9. The snow sculpture which looked incredibly realistic and had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas

Can't have more screenshots so here's some important conversation word for word:

10. Diavolo, after meeting Lucifer for the first time, Lucifer tries his best to act like an ass to make Diavolo hate him but Diavolo still treats him kindly. Lucifer despises Diavolo at the moment because he's a Demon who according to Lucifer & the Celestial Realm can't even have a "well-ordered society". Diavolo somehow in a single night manages to form a crack in Lucifer's prejudices & make him doubt his Father who he holds in very high esteem. Diavolo also uses chess to prove his point about creating peace and a balance between the three worlds. This is the conversation that follows:

Lucifer (an angel): I see. ...Diavolo. Your strategy truly is fascinating. Do you think we could get together sometime? I'd like to learn more about it.

Diavolo: Are you talking about chess now? Or the nature of our relationship?

Lucifer: Heh...

^The ambiguity Lucifer uses when talking gives that old queer feeling of: Our relationship (whatever it may be) is very forbidden and anyone catching wind of it will be bad so for plausible deniability I'm going to tie the true meaning of this conversation to something more innocuous

11. Conversation they have after this^ flashback/particular conversation:

Diavolo: ...That's when you finally held out your hand to me, and we shook. The way you radiated charm as you smiled at me. I still remember it like it was yesterday. When I saw the look on your face I was convinced. You were fair and righteous, someone who would be able to lend an ear to anyone, to listen to what they had to say. Someone who had a truly beautiful spirit.

In other words Diavolo has the worst case of rose-tinted glasses, specially considering Lucifer was choking Mammon & trying to rip his arm of while Diavolo said all this.

12. Diavolo (in demon form): Back when he was an angel, he was so divine, so awe-inspiring that it was intimidating. But now he's attractive in a different sort of way. He draws your eye toward him and then doesn't let go. He truly is worthy of the moniker "Morning Star"! Even steeped in the darkness of the Devildom, he shines just as brilliantly as ever!

Lucifer (in demon form), blushing: ...Diavolo, could we change the subject, please?

Lucifer (in demon form): I've told you that it embarrasses me when you shower me with such excessive praise in public.

Diavolo (in demon form): Afterall you're already beautiful enough as it is!

a.) This is Gomez Addams level of devoted jfc

b ) Diavolo was straight up reciting poetry at one point

c.)......What's with "in public"....so it's fine in private?

d.) Diavolo gushing about Lucifer has the same energy as Mammon gushing about MC

e.) What do I have to do for someone to be this in to me?

13. Diavolo has multiple copies of Lucifer in a swimsuit saved in different places (not the swimsuit he wears around MC & his brothers btw but the one he wears around Diavolo which is actually just trunks and & an open hoodie/shirt)

14. Diavolo might actually have a whole file of rare pictures of Lucifer? He's got the butler ones, the swimsuit ones and the candid glasses one that he threatened some poor guy to delete after saving a copy for himself

15. The ship in a bottle that Diavolo gave Lucifer, that he loves so much he keeps it in a place where he can always see it

16. Lucifer: No, that scream was far too vile to have come from Diavolo.

....so you know what he sounds like when he screams and you think it sounds good...?🤨

17. Diavolo gives a flustered Lucifer a piggyback ride around RAD

[miranyx1337]

Alastor x angel reader

FEATHER chapter V

When I opened my eyes, I sensed it was the day I never wanted to face. The day to start implementing a grand scheme against heaven. Crimson light pierced through the curtains, but it wasn't the familiar sunlight. A magnificent pentagram gleamed above the hotel, and an army assembled against heaven. They aimed to extinguish my people, but did I possess the right to thwart them?

I observed malicious smiles honing angelic weapons, relishing the thought of golden blood. Yet, what emotions would Adam's blood evoke in me?" I'll likely be his top priority. I suspect he forced my mother into silence and passivity. If only I could erase his little secret from memory.

If souls could be judged anew, why hide it? Is it about his dignity or perhaps the will of God?"

Strips of bandages cascaded near my bare feet. As I reached the portal in the nick of time, I grievously injured two of my wings. The pain of unfolding stiff feathers pierced my back, accompanied by a subdued hiss escaping my lips.

Examining my ravaged visage, circled light eyes, disheveled hair, and wings with missing feathers. I confronted the memories of the previous evening. Running my fingers over my cheek, recalling increasingly embarrassing details,

Wait, didn't Vaggie once mention that Alastor's favorite meal was decaying deers? Oh heavens, I hope he didn't consume them yesterday. I watched as my cheeks reddened and feathers bristled. It wasn't what I had planned, yet I easily surrendered to the arms of the radio demon.

I braided my hair and arranged feathers in any sensibly stylish manner. Trembling hands slowly buttoned up the snow-white shirt, a silver corset wrapped around me, and beneath a light skirt with a slit, long black boots peeked out.

"What time was really left? Three weeks until the battle?’’ Approaching the balcony with determination, I forcefully swung open the doors. Only 4 or 5 meters separated me from the ground. With a smooth movement, I jumped onto the railing. maintaining balance by leaning on one of the columns.

Barely 9 days passed, yet it felt like an eternity without flying. A few deep breaths, I spread my arms to sense the balance. Seconds from the jump, a sudden tug pulled me back. A black tentacle gripped my waist, and moments later, I found myself in the arms of radio demon.

"I knew you might feel regret, but I wouldn't accuse you of suicidal attempts," he whispered directly into my ear. I sharply recoiled, standing on my own.

I glanced back to utter the first words of the day. "Jumping from the balcony is nothing compared to a hellish portal," I proudly replied, resuming my climb on the railing.

"Sweetheart, just wait a little; impatience isn't a trait of wise people," he cautioned.

"What should I wait for? An army furious angels led by Adam?" I questioned.

"Wait for my plan to work."

"No offense, Alastor," I addressed him directly for the first time, "but your army of cannibals can only break their teeth on celestial blades."

His face revealed he didn't take criticism well. " Oh, I see you don't appreciate demonic beings,". The atmosphere thickened. "And me.

When I first learned about the plan from Charlie and Veegie, I was terrified. However, my deep longing to return home was tied to their success. My lips opened in silent astonishment; they truly wanted to face the angelic forces.

So, what's the plan? Invite them for dinner with our own bodies?"

The plan is the last thing your beautiful silver head should worry about. I'm the one pulling the strings here, Soon, we'll partake in a feast with Adam's head served on a platter and golden drinks in our cups."

"Stop talking like that about my kind ," I insisted.

"Oh About angels flying here to murder hundreds of souls or those who aren't in a hurry to descend for you?" he mocked.

My lips tightened in a grimace; I felt anger taking control over me.

"Alastor, stop!" - I shouted, to my own surprise, feeling my hand clenching on the cold metal.

A blue chain led from my hand straight to the tied demon, who instantly froze.

Alastor looked at me with undisguised surprise, his eyes wandering across my face and hands, trying to connect the dots until he finally found an answer.

Alastor POV:

Angel magic weakened contracts but also made them susceptible to a new owner

The hands that touched me with unique delicacy this night, now are helding the chain tightly around my neck and hands, instantly making me to be on my knees

As quickly as they appeared, they vanished, and I desperately gasped for air.

Y/N approached, visibly in shock but stopped a few centimeters in front of me.

The sudden command still echoed in my ears, piercing through my body like a blade.

Traces on my wrists and neck burned. I know the feeling of chains, but their angelic version was something else on my sinful skin.

Oh fuck it, I became properity of an angel

From her bewildered eyes, I gleaned that she has no idea what just happened. Does she even know about soul contracts in hell? If not, it's better to keep it that way. "Give me a second," I propped myself up on trembling hands, clumsily attempting to stand, "and I'll explain everything."

I felt a slender arm lifting me up. She gripped my face, examining it from every angle.

"We will talk later," she uttered with a gaze lowered.

I tried to read something from her expression, but with a stony demeanor, she turned towards the balcony.

A strong gust of wind forced me to lean on a cane and close my eyes. When I reopened them, Y/N had dissolved into the air. Only the shadow of wings traversed the crowd gathered below.

Simultaneously, giving me time for deep reflection on how to deal with this... unconventional situation."

[astronomypolls]

[8infinite-space8]

Sh2-106, also known as the Celestial Snow Angel, is an emission nebula and a star formation region in the constellation Cygnus.

Distance: 2,000 light-years.

[hopeluna-archived]

These are just some random headcanons of mc i had

. Mc is abnormally healthy for a human. Like were talking being left in the snow for hours with summer clothing and the only thing that happened is that they were colder to the touch.

. Following the previous headcanon. Mc's organs and blood are compatible with any race and every type with in that race e.g you a ab positive angel no problem mc gotchu

. Mc has perfect pitch(being able to play a song on an instrument after only hearing it once) but only for magically enhanced songs so like cursed music or blessed music(if the celestial realm has it)

. Mc gives normal humans the uncanny valley feeling because compared to them mc looks less like a human and more like an animated character come to life. The only reason solomon isnt affected is because he's been with asmo for a long time so your inhuman beauty doesnt affect him beyond it suprising him thqt a human can look like that.

Anyway sorry for rambling i really wanted to get someone's opinion on these headcanons and you seemed like the best bet

Goodbye

Oh nonnie i'm so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and idk why but I never noticed it until now

And never be sorry for the rambling, any ramble is welcome here ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡

That is actually so possible. 'Cause if you think about it, not just MC being like a literal descendant of an angel but I feel like over time staying in Devildom has probably affected MC and made them like a bit disease-proof.

Well that is definitely interesting but I don't really see how that happens yk? Like is the reason for MC's body compatibility again because they have a bit of angel in them or something else? Still its a good headcanon to think about!

Again, feel like MC developed that shit cause of how long they were in Devildom imao.

YES TO THIS ONE!! MC definitely gives people the heebi jeebies. Why? We don't know they just do. And Solomon's just in the background chilling.

[destielbeatlesminibang]

Title: When My Mind Is Wandering (There I Will Go)

Author: rachelindeed

Artist: sidewinder

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Finale fix-it: In order to save Dean's life, Cas has to temporarily take him as a vessel. While Dean's body heals, they decide to explore what a life outside of hunting could look like. On a volunteer trip a few towns over, they are reminded of the beauty of community. And as Cas's thoughts mix with his own, Dean learns how freeing it can be to see himself through the eyes of someone who loves him.

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Consensual Possession, Angelic Possession (Supernatural), Developing Relationship, Romance, Healing, Fix-It, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On (Supernatural), Post-Finale

Posting on June 25

Keep reading for a short excerpt.

It wasn't just senses, emotions, and words that flowed back and forth: memories joined the tango, too. Dean could always tell which were Cas's by the hyper-focused detail. Angelic memories weren't tied to the data limits of human brains, so they held onto everything like fancy honking celestial IMAX cameras. When Dean remembered some conversation they'd had years ago, it was the normal kind of approximation where he could paraphrase some key things said, tell you if there'd been rain or sun, maybe grasp a general image of how Cas had looked in the moment. Meanwhile, Cas could still count the raindrops on the driver's side window, still see the tiny shadows on Dean's face as his eyelashes caught the light.

It was kind of funny seeing himself that way, but honestly, not as freaky as he might have expected. Sure, the fact that Cas had perfect recall and instant replay on every stupid thing that'd ever come out of his mouth was not ideal. But Dean had been prepared for something a little more…acid rock? Psychedelic? Far out? He’d kind of figured he wouldn't be getting out of this without staring down the gullet of his own soul. And it's not that he'd wanted to look at that mess on the regular, but just once might have been cool. Just to know.

Turned out, though, that 'seeing' souls was a matter of multi-dimensional fusion, and Cas couldn't plug Dean's eyes into that. It'd be like trying to teach his ears to taste or his nose to hear.

"OK. But what's it look like, anyhow?" he asked Cas. "My soul?" It was late, very late, on their last night at the hospital. Physical therapy had been its usual unpleasant cocktail of boredom and misery. The headache radiating back-to-front across his skull was screaming at him to bust out, get drunk, just move. But going home felt like starting the timer back up on figuring out his life, and he wasn't ready for that either. So he brought it up because he could, and he was curious. Maybe you could call it fishing for compliments, too; so sue him.

He'd had a rotten day, but Cas thought he was beautiful. They were living in each other’s thoughts, there was no hiding that. Whatever Cas saw in his soul, Dean was betting it'd be just a bit poetic. Stars, fireworks, snow on a mountainside; vague grandeur, the type of stuff somebody might print for a calendar.

But Cas was lost for words. He did his best to find Dean an answer; focused for sincere, silent minutes on crafting some apt description or honest comparison. Dean felt him shiver—a tiny, charged, silvery thing. But in the end, a little helpless, he only said:

It looks like you.

[barbstail]

The Sunflower Jewel (A Michael X MC fanfic) part 1

(After Devildom falls under a mysterious non-stop snow storm, MC is borrowed by the celestial realm in exchange for a stone that can temporarily save Devildom.)

(MC goes by gender neutral pronouns.)

Mc arrived followed by their usual seven demons who all took their respective seats along the large table. Diavolo and Barbatos were already in their seats. It wasn’t long before Diavolo, with a stern and grim expression, spoke up. “You all know why you are here.”

“Who can I blame for this!” Asmodeus demanded, his hair had clearly fallen victim to the storm’s winds.

“Ya! Who ruined my money makin'! I was going to be rich!” Mammon protested.

“All the restaurants are closed…” Beelzebub groaned.

Before the rest could lay out their complaints they were stopped by Lucifer’s deadly glare. Silence fell onto the meeting room. Lucifer coughed, before meeting his attention back to Diavolo. Taking the small cue from Lucifer, the prince began to speak. “I’m sure all of you are aware of just how serious of an issue this is and just how important it is to find both the solution and source of this issue,” He went on “We have found no leads on where this storm might have come from and if we leave this storm as it is then-.” He was interrupted by a knock at the doors.

Barbatos answered the door and out came a group of familiar faces. There was Raphael, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon. Solomon with his typical smile spoke “Pardon, we can as soon as we heard.”. After being welcomed in by Dia they all took the rest of the empty seats, leaving only one chair left. Lucifer, taking note of this spoke up “Are we expecting company?”.

Diavolo looked over to Lucifer and did a subtle nod. “With this kind of matter, I asked for assistance from the celestial realm.” He answered before adding “He should be here shortly.”. Lucifer raised a brow “Who-?” but his question was already answered when there was a bright golden light outside the door followed by the meeting door being opened and out came a both familiar and unfamiliar face.

Mc gave the newcomer a curious look. It was so odd to see someone who shared so many characteristics of Lucifer but not at the same time. If it weren’t for the man’s white longer hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and outfit then it would be hard to tell Lucifer and the newcomer apart.

“Welcome, Michael. I’m so glad you come and join us.” Diavolo greeted.

“Archangel Michael!” Luke beamed, giving a smile that could practically warm up this entire cold room.

The rest of the crowd gave either a more positive or a more natural reaction to the reveal.

Michael gave a soft smile to the people around him, giving a small wave of the hand. “Hello again, I hope you’re all in good condition despite the situation.” His tone was professional but gentle at the same time. He walked over and took the empty seat beside Luke and Ralphael.

“Long time no see.” Solomon acknowledged. Michael gave a look of agreement. “We simply must meet up again sometime.” He responded but before any more familiar greetings could occur Diavolo cut to the chase. “Arch Michael, has the celestial realm agreed to assist the Devildom?”. The two gazes meet, and Michael is taken aback by the bluntness. “I do not blame you for being on edge, lord Diavolo. I know I would be too,” The Angel started “The celestial realm has agreed to help the Devildom in exchange for agreeing to our conditions.” After Michael finished his sentence there was a wave of annoyance from the demons in the room.

“Of course there are conditions,” Mammon muttered.

“Classic celestial realm,” Leviathan commented.

“What conditions?” Lucifer spoke up. The two shared eye contact before Michael reached into his bag and pulled out something that was clearly wrapped with care. With a careful hand, the angel began to unwrap it to show a beautiful jewel. “If you place this sun jewel in this castle’s tower it should create magic powerful enough to fight off the storm that has taken over the Devildom. We offer this as a temporary solution as I’m sure the answer to this storm will be found eventually.” He explained.

“That is…” Lucifer muttered under his breath.

Michael nodded. “The jewel from all those years ago, you could imagine how long it took to find it again.” The angel had a nostalgic look in his eyes as he looked down at the jewel. “As you can imagine, this artifact is incredibly precious to both the Celestial Realm and to me, which is why I cannot just let the Devildom just borrow the sunflower jewel.” He explained. “In exchange for this artifact, the celestial realm with borrow something or someone of equal value to Devildom.”.

Diavolo spoke up “We have plenty of artifacts to give.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Michael frowned.

“Of course.” Lucifer scoffed.

The archangel coughed into his fist, getting Raphael's attention. “Raphael, could you please show them how we will ensure that we are getting something of equal value?” He asked to which Raphael stood up from his seat. Pulling out an oddly shaped stone, he began to whisper an incantation. The stone floated in Raphael’s hand, spinning round and round before suddenly bolting in MC’s direction.

MC flinched in response to the incoming rock, mammon being quick to shield them from the incoming blow. But just as the stone was about to hit, it stopped in place in mid-air. Mammon peaks over his shoulder to see the stone floating in mid-air. “Hey, what gives?!” He exclaimed in an irritated tone of voice. He still kept his arms wrapped around MC, not taking the chance.

“The judgment stone has found something of equal value,” Michael explained.

Mammon perked up. “Heh! I know I’m awesome and all but there’s no way I’m going to the celestial realm.” He said, looking ever so egotistical. He finally let go of MC, moving away from them but the stone didn’t move.

“It doesn’t want you, Mammon.” After Raphael said that, one by one it began to click to the crowd what this meant. MC would be the one that would be borrowed by the celestial realm.

“There's no way they’re going!” Mammon exclaimed, turning to look at his dear human. “Right, MC? Ya ain’t gonna agree to this are ya? Who knows how long they’ll keep ya!” MC furrowed their brow at their first man’s words, clearing thinking.

Diavolo, with his arms crossed, looked over to Michael. “Just how long will you be borrowing MC?” The prince asked the archangel. “For as long as you keep the sunflower jewel we will keep MC. Once the jewel is returned so will the exchange student.” With Michael’s words, Diavolo seemed to ponder the idea in his head. “Will MC be cared for?” He questioned. The angel nodded. “Of course, MC will be our guest after all. They’ll be treated like royalty, I presume you’ll treat our jewel with the same respect as well?”.

“I will do it.”

Everyone’s heads turned to MC. “I agree to the deal,” MC reassured with their typical look of determination in their eyes. Some of the demon brothers were about to protest but were quickly silenced by the celestial prince “Does this mean we have a deal?” He said, his blue eyes peering straight through the demon prince. Diavolo narrowed his eyes, before finally breaking his temporary silence “It’s a deal.”.

Next part