#Fic: Demon Face and Angel Heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ja3hwa · 1 month ago

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♡ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

Day Twenty - Priest/Demon Au

【Synopsis】 : There was a demon on the loose. Wreaking havoc in the small village that San was a priest in. And little did Father San know is that the creature was a lot closer than he would think.

『Word count』 : 4.03k

-> Genre: 18+ Supernatural. Angst. Gore. Suggestive.

Pairing: Priest!San x Female!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Blood. Gore. Mentions of assult. Weapons. Demons and angels. Religion. Death. Making out. Sinning. Dirty thoughts. Thick flirtatious tension. Listen, I was deep in my feelings when i wrote this argh.

Note: Thank you to my dearest @skteezcursed for the help in this fic. Our late night brainstorms are always my favourite thing to do, hehe. ♡♡♡

Networks: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

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San paced around his office, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated as the minutes progressed. He had been in this tiny, god-forsaken town for the past three months, searching far and wide, under every rock and pebble, and still, he was not any closer to finding this wandering demon. His agency had put him undercover as the new priest in the local church since sadly the old one had passed away from sudden circumstances, which San later found to be the said demon’s doing. He had hopes to find the creature and kill it before it hurt anyone else, but sadly, the challenge seemed bigger than he anticipated.

Placing his hands on the large spruce table, he takes in all his notes for the millionth time. The demon had a distinctive pattern, killing only men, twenty-five and over, locally born, ranging from all classes and backgrounds. But what did they all have in common? Why did the creature choose these men in particular? What was the trigger? San felt like he was about to rip his hair out if he couldn’t figure it out by the end of the fourth month. He slammed his hand down onto the table in a fit of rage. Feeling the heat shift into his spine at the thought, the demon could be anyone. That he had passed by it without knowing. It could stand right in front of him, and he had already probably missed it.

“Father…” Your sweet velvet tone snapped him from his thoughts. You were tightly holding onto your bible with one hand against your chest, prayer beads lacing through your fingers while your other hand held the large door open. Your expression was filled with innocence and worry. “I heard noises. I… Are you okay?”

His heart skips at you, the sweet church girl, his face tainting a dusty pink ever so slightly. “Uh.. Yes. I'm just…working.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn't admit it, but through these past months, he had fallen quite infatuated with you. Your smile began an addiction he sought out every day.

Every early morning, you came into the church alone to pray before skipping to his office to ask if he needed any help. You were so kind and caring in welcoming him into the community. Making sure he had everything he could ever need shortly after he arrived. You were the only good thing to seemingly come out of this dull, mopey town.

Looking at you cautiously step into the room, your eyes wandering to the decoration on the shelf that you had no doubt memorised already, an idea came flooding into his head. You were locally born, as far as he was aware. And you know of everyone, so maybe he needed to gather some intel from an inside source and who then, you, the sweet sunshine that cascaded over the grey hills of this village. “Actually… I would like to ask you a question.”

You stopped in your tracks to glance over at the man, showing no sign of any emotion. You were still, pondering even. Your eyes wide and curious but your lips held in a thin firm line. “Ask away, father.”

He almost lost the question from his shuttered tongue as he watched your mouth creep up into a loving smile. But alas, he cleared his throat, quickly looking down to graze over his notes. “I must confess something…”

Your body tingled in inquisitiveness, taking a step closer. “Yes…” you bit your lip slightly, fiddling with the beads in your tight grasp.

“I am not just a priest. I am a hunter of sorts.” He lifted up a piece of paper for you to take in your free hand, letting you look it over. The paper was old, aged marking the edges and face. It was information about demonology. Words that seemed to pop out the most on the page were ‘dangerous’, ‘demon’, ‘sinful’. This thing... This demonic creature was in your home, killing the men of your village. One by one.

“...So it’s true. There is devil work lurking in the town.” You gulped your hands, shaking slightly, handing the piece of parchment back to San. “Is anyone else aware of this?”

“No. You are the first and only person I’ll tell. This town doesn’t need to start going on witch hunts to try and find the creatures themselves.” San pinched his nose, just imagining it gave him a headache. He let out a sigh, picking up a few more sheets to place in front of you, "This is all I know. I was sent here to capture and eradicate the beast that has been luring men into the outwest woods. But for the life of me, I can't find the connection to all of the victims other than them being male."

You looked over all the names, reading each autopsy report carefully. Your mind to a thought, no, it couldn't be.. could it? Looking up at San, you gulped. "Umm, F-father."

"Please just call me San." He grunted, tugging on his white band around his neck, feeling himself grow hot being frustrated and also being near you.

"I think I know the connection..." You picked up another piece of paper scanning while San stared at you intensely, waiting for you to proceed. "The first five victims. They had been accused of misconduct prior to their deaths."

You pointed to one of the names showing San, "For example, John Hart, he was reported for beating his wife." You pointed to another name further down the list, "Edward Smith's wife called assault on his husband, saying he raped his daughter, but there wasn't any evidence."

You turned the paper back to yourself, raking your hand through your hair, "All of these men have either beaten, assaulted, and raped women or have been accused of it."

San slumped down on his seat in defeat. A conflict shadowing in his view. All these men were pigs. That was the connection. "Great, so I have a demon playing god and smiting men for misdeeds...perfect." he placed his palm on his face, groaning in annoyance.

"What are you going to do now, fath—I mean San?" You took a seat on one of the chairs opposite the deck, resting your bible down on your lap as you sat up straight.

San clicked his tongue, glancing at you for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The way you said his name was music to his ears. A tone he would never get tired of. But he shook his thoughts to look at the papers littering his desk. "We're gonna catch a demon.”

Following the next few days, every evening you and San would meet up to discuss the case while also slowly gathering materials for the trap. You had told San any more information you’ve heard or if you heard of any more allegations about any of the town's men. Luckily no one had spread any new rumours about anyone which was good, leaving you both to focus on the task at hand. Capturing and then eradicating the demon. One particularly cold evening, you and San had spent a little bit too long searching through town books, not taking any notice of the sun lying to rest. It was only when you started to feel the chill on your exposed arms that you gazed out the window, seeing nothing but pitch night.

“When did it become so late?” Your voice barely above a whisper. San, who was only a few feet beside you, looked up from the book in his lap, suddenly feeling the coldness creep down his spine.

"We should call it a night." San slammed the book a little too harshly, making you jump. He caught your reaction but decided it was best to bite his tongue. Instead, he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, "I'll walk you out."

You took his hand gently, your soft skin making him gulp. The touch of you was electrifying, like a thousand little fireworks going off at once in his chest. His fingers wrapped tightly around yours, tugging you up off the library floor, but his tug was a little bit forceful, causing you to be pulled flushed against his chest. Your free hand coming up to brace yourself on his chest. "F-father."

"I told you to call me San. Please. I'm just San." He whispered his breath, pooling against your cheek. He watched the blush taint your cute features, your eyes widening as he inched closer. You smelt firewood, vanilla, and a beautiful mixture of floral scents. You were intoxicating.

"San...We are still in the church." You murmured, eyes slowly fluttering as you let him creep closer until his lips were a brush away. Your hand that landed on his chest lowered, feeling his strong muscles underneath his robes.

"I know..." He grunted through his nose. He snaked his hand from your wrist to your upper arm before taking place on the back of your neck while his other found place on your hip. "We aren't doing anything sinful."

"Hmm, but your thoughts would say otherwise." You smiled.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking about." He chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

"I could take a guess.” You closed your eyes, sealing your lips on his, feeling an overwhelment of sparks crackling down your spine. San grunted through his nose as the kiss became rougher. His fingers tangled into strands of hair on the nape of our neck, while he swallowed every whimper and moan from you. It was like you were a deliciously wicked sweet treat.

Forbidden fruit he was not allowed to taste.

He couldn’t explain it but it was like you were the only thing that mattered the minute he met you. Like you were the puzzle piece he had been missing “S-san” You tried to pull away from him but his grip was firm on you, “We are going to…” You felt his tongue against your mouth, “Get..c-caught.” You couldn’t help but smile beneath the desperate kiss.

He finally pulled away, groaning in disappointment. “I know…” He sighed letting his grip loosen. Your hands snaked up his body gently before you pulled away entirely.

“Walk me out?” You suggested what he had asked moments prior. San couldn’t help but feel himself grow in his slacks as he gazed upon your swollen lips and dishevelled hair. You were stunning in every possible way. He walked with you to the front of the church, his hand grazing your own every time your arms swung a little too close to one another. San felt like a schoolboy all over again, walking next to the girl he had a crush on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” San smiled bittersweetly, turning to face you completely. You faced him also, shyly looking up at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"Tomorrow, San." You gave him a soft smile. Your fingers tangle with themselves as you patiently wait for him to say goodbye first.

"Well, sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow..." The way your name fell from his lips made your heart thump as you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He swore he felt a tingle dance from where you place your lips on his cheek. Walking off into the village towards your home, san never took his eyes off you until you were out of sight.

"Lord..." He sighed, feeling himself breathing properly for the first time all day. He felt a twinge in his body at the loss of your scent, but alas, he had work to do if he wanted to catch this creature. But a part of him began to second guess himself. Yes, demons are bad, killing anything they want. But this demon. It had a reason. And a stupidly good one for that matter.

It annoyed him at the confliction. All demons are bad. Right? They lust for blood and chaos. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stepped back into the large church entrance, his mind spun from all the thoughts. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Something he had missed, maybe? Pinching his nose, he felt lightheaded. His fingers danced around his nostrils, suddenly gasping. "Blood?"

Looking up to the aisle in the middle of the church, he saw the moon start to pool into the room through the round window by the altar. And then, as he took another step, his mind snapped. His eyes clouded over with black, and he fell towards the floor.

He was out like a light.

When San awoke, he could feel the stiffness in his neck. He must have been out a while. Groaning, he held his head as he slowly sat up. But what caught him off guard was he wasn't sitting where he fell. He had moved? Looking around his fuzzy eyes, he noticed he was right on the altar, leaning against the lectern.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings. Noticing the moon has reached its peak, shining through the top window, indicating it was almost midnight. He had been passed out for almost two or three hours give or take. But what caught his attention was the overwhelming smell of iron. He touched the top of his lip, feeling the blood from his nose had dried. But this blood smelt fresh like it was right behind him...

In horror, he turned his head to see the gruesome sight that anchored his mind in dread—a lifeless man strung up on the cross behind him, the body pallid and still. A choked gasp escaped him, slamming his hand over his mouth as the image in front of him flooded his conscience. He went to move, but that was when he noticed his legs were bound. He struggled against him, confusion spiralling into terror. What was going on?

Just then, the church doors creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was you, but the tender girl he had come to love now had an aura that chilled him to the bone. Her once bright eyes were shadowed, and your skin was tainted in a light shade of pink. "San!!"

You ran over to him. This is when he could finally see you properly in the moonlight. Little horns poked from the top of your head. "San. I thought... You're okay." You sighed, your voice sounding different. It was smoother, seductive almost, lacing with an otherworldly quality.

"What is this? What’s happened?” he stammered, heart pounding painfully in his chest. You were a demon. A lust demon to be exact. He'd never met a succubus in real life before, but he knew what they looked like through details in his demonology.

"I don't know. I got a letter saying you were hurt and needed my help." Your voice cracked as you reached for his bonds, but when your skin touched them, it stung, burning your skin. They were cursed? "W-who did this?"

"I could ask you that." San's bitterness caught you off guard.

"W-what do..." You looked down and saw your hands were shaded in pink, and in a flash, you ran for the silverware on the table seeing your distorted reflection. "Y-you can see me..."

"Yes.." San replied coldly and conflicted. How could you, of all people be a creature of the damned.

"San, listen, please. I'm not the demon you've been trying to catch, I swear." You kneeled back down to him, but he shuffled away, making your heart flinch. "I've watched you since the moment you came into this town. Your love, your promises, and your weakness. You want to save things. Not kill them. You are caring. That is how I fell in love with you.”

"Love? Demons can not do such things." San's voice felt like venom on your skin, making tears pool in your eyes.

"They...I can. I did. You changed that for me."

“No, I—I thought you were human,” he gasped, memories of laughter and warmth filling his mind, only to be replaced by dread. He missed so many signs. From the smell of you to the way you had with words. You were using him.

"San, I wasn't, I swear to you. I might be a monster, but I've never hurt anyone." You interrupted his thoughts, shuffling closer, your presence both magnetic and terrifying to San. "Please, San, you have to believe me."

San wrestled with his emotions as the reality of your true nature engulfed him. Were the demon he had been searching for, cleverly disguised and lurking in the heart of the town, feeding on the very compassion and affection he thought in no way could lead to sin? Or were you telling the truth? Were you just an innocent creature caught in the crossfire?

Looking at you, he can see the swirls of pink and crimson mixing with your human eye colour. The sweetness he fell for was still there. "I believe you."

You jumped into his arms, tears spilling down your hit cheeks as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the church pulsed with an otherworldly energy, San realised he had known he made a daring choice—not to fight or falter but to embrace the truth of who he was, who you were. Life wasn't all black and white. There were beautiful shades of grey that he never took the moment to gaze at before. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet familiar scent before pulling you up by your chin to stare into the eyes of the creature he thought he had fallen in love with.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry." He declared, a newfound resolve gripping his heart as he smiled at you. But before you could say anything, a new voice. A deeper one echoed in the cold eerie church.

“No, Father. You are wrong. But not for what you think.” The man's voice was a cruel tone, dark and chilling. Both of you snapped your gaze to him, seeing he was not alone. Two other men were trailing close behind him. "And here I thought you wouldn't succumb to her charms..." His face was finally revealed in the light. "My best hunter."

"Winlock?" San's voice was laced with confusion. His mentor? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, San. For an expert hunter, you never really got the wit down, did you?" The man chuckled, making the other two follow suit like some perfect chimed robots. Winlocks gaze glances at the hanging corpse, still hammered into the cross. He couldn't help but click his tongue.

"You know it almost pained me to kill these men. But desperate times called for desperate measures." The older man cracked his knuckles as he paced slightly. You shuffled closer to San, cuddling desperately next to him. For the first time in all your life, you felt fear.

With all San's strength, he pushed against the ropes, his spirit igniting in defiance. In this moment of battle between light and dark, he defied the very nature of the demon that he loves and found the depths of the confrontation. He felt a flicker of the love he had for you, now intertwined with anger and betrayal from his mentor, another he had loved in a way. Whatever you were, he no longer cared. No, all he wanted was you safe. Little did you know, you could hear San's thoughts loud and clear, pooling into your brain like a tidal.

"We've been looking for her for years. Laying traps, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't take the bait. That was until we found out she wasn't like other demons..."

Without dropping your eyes from the man, you placed your hand just over the bounds on San. You began to focus on the ropes, whispering an incantation in your head over and over.

"She's also a witch." Winlock snarked, snapping his fingers. One of the men quickly made his way over to you while the other seemingly grabbed out a book from the satchel that hung over his shoulder.

"S-san. SAN!!" The man grabbed you by the horns, yanking you backwards before dragging you towards Winlock. You cried out, trashing against his hold. San went to stand, but the bounds were still tight, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the rope, it burnt him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" San barked.

"Awe, San. You really are a stupid little boy." Winlock grabbed the book from his henchman, flicking through the pages with a cynical smile. "Out of everything you could have done. Falling for a beast was not what I thought you'd do."

"She's not a beast!!" San could feel a tear break in his eyes as he watched you weep in pain as the grip on your sensitive horns tightened. Your claws scratch at the man's hands, but he doesn't move as if he wasn't affected by his flesh being ripped by your sharp nails.

"Well, this was all fun and all. But I think we should call it a night. I gotta thank you, though, San. Without you, we would have never caught her." Winlock began reading a page from the book aloud, the enchantment caught your attention, making you do as much as you possibly could to look over at San.

Covered in blood, tears staining his sharp features. Your heart broke as you hiccuped, "I'm sorry, San. I...I love you." It might have been too early to say it, but you didn't know when you'd ever be able to say it again.

"No no no no. Please. I love you." He grabbed his bounds, his hand sizzling against the cursed rope, "Winlock, don't do this. She's not a monster... you can't."

Winlock did stop his incantation as the floor began to shake, and the night started to stir. That's when the man behind Winlock stepped forward with a thick leather band in his hand. The man that held you tilted your head to the side, giving access for the man to click the collar in place. That was when San knew what Winlock was doing to you. He was bounding you.

"I'll find you..." Your name rang in the air as San cried, "I'll find you and break you free."

It was your turn to cry, hearing his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind, nothing but determination and honesty in his words. "I'll wait for you."

The sound of the book being slammed closed reverberated against the walls. Yours and Sans's eyes snapped back to Winlock seeing him pull out a gun, "You should have said that San." His voice was cold, with his eyes empty.

Silence fell as the fire from the gunshot rang in your ears. Blood spilled out of San’s mouth as he choked it all over the altar. You screamed, a noise so loud it would shatter the hearts in a mile radius. The floor beneath you shook, cracking before opening. The last thing you could see before the floor swallowed you whole was your lover, dying on the doorstep of the religion he so desperately trusted.

San laid on his back, the wound in his chest spluttering the crimson liquid into the carpet. He could see the moon above him. Feeling the light raze on his skin. His eyes closed for a moment, taking in the tingling feeling. There was no more pain. Sadness washed away with every drop of blood that fell onto the stairs, and then he whispered out a stutter before taking his last breath.

"Forgive me, lord... I have sinned.”

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aajjks · 7 months ago

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Blurred Lines (m)

synopsis: the lines are blurring- you’re forbidden but he has to have a taste.

paring. soft!yan best friend!jk x Reader

warnings. yändêrê,, flüff, obsèssïvè thöüghts, lôvèsïck jk, DÏRTY thöüghts,, Jungköök is sö nöt pürè LMÁÔ büt wbk.

note. heh. ENJOY AND SEND ASKS FOR HIMMMM ILY GUYS.

DO NOT ROMANTACISE THIS BEHAVIOUR AND I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL AND THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT BTS OR JUNGKOOK AS A PERSON.

You’re the one he loves and maybe he’s too late to realise it, you’re singles, yes. But he just got out of a great relationship and you’d never date your best friend.

An angel that was sent in jungkooks dark, plain life to light it up with its radiatingly angelic existence. before you, it was all dark and smoky around him, the constant chaos, bad relationships and gleaming was starting to taint his entire life but then you were always there…

His savior, his salvation. His best friend, YN LN. yes, his YN, the girl of his dreams. Jungkook loves you so fucking much. His love for you is indescribable. Really, he is so devoted to you, but being your devotee was the least he was doing...you were a goddess, you deserved someone better than him.

A lot better, pure. Jungkook knew that he didn’t deserve you, you are like a forbidden fruit that’s so tempting to taste.

Becoming your best friend was a start...for something more...way more that jungkook craved so much. But… he never dared to cross the line, and then Dakhyung came.

He tried to suppress his emotions and feelings for you, how could he love you, his best friend.

But the truth is..

Jungkook is in love with you, his best friend. he has been loving you. His world revolves around you. the most random things you talk about are so lovely to hear...your voice is so soothing.

It soothes jungkooks inner demon that threats to come out and take over him. the one that’s so into you.

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N and Y/N.

Maybe his interest in you was partly responsible for her cheating on him.. maybe, she didn’t like you.. her loss.

“Kookie!!” Jungkook blinks, Finally pulled back to reality. He tilted his head to look at you, and his mind goes blank.

God, you are so pretty, so fucking beautiful. You are a masterpiece, God’s greatest creation, God’s biggest masterpiece. “KOOKIE!”

“Y-Yes!?” This time a soft smile finds its way to his lips and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “yes YN?” You huff in annoyance. “What are you thinking so deeply about, kook. I’ve been calling you for the last 17 minutes.” If it was even possible, his cheeks felt more heated.

if only you kn- “got a crush or something kook? Or thinking about the bitch?”

You interrupt the trail of his thoughts once again. he looks up at you in surprise, his dark doe eyes wide with his mouth agape.

“Fuck Dakhyung.” He refers to his now ex girlfriend. He hates her, to be fair he never loved her, the relationship was rushed, she wanted to be with him and… he was too scared to ask you out.

Dumb move.

But then she cheated on him, what a whore.

“w-what?!” he stutters, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. “What, What kook. A crush. Perhaps you have a crush since you’re so distracted these days...” on your face was a mischievous smile that made him scared.

But she really did him a favour by freeing him.

what if you knew? did his friend tell you? that fucker— “w-why do you think I-I have a crush? How’d you know... Yn.” Jungkook looked everywhere but at you.

“I just got cheated on yn!”

now, don’t get jungkook wrong. He loves you a lot...like it was probably unhealthy. But he hated just how smart you were.

But then again, it is also so hot.

Jungkook shakes his head at his lewd thoughts. Now was not the time. Jungkook liftes his head up to see you so close to his face.

eeeeekkk!

“Y-Y-Yn!!! W-What are you doing!?” With your face so close to his, jungkooks breath hitches in his throat. you really are Gods most magnificent creation. and...

you smell so fucking good. peachy, his favorite scent. “jungkooooookie is innnn looooveee!~” the way your mouth moves was so attractive, your lips were so plump.

So pink and glossy, his mouth was salivating at the sight. nice lipgloss.

Damn your glossy pretty lips.

what does it taste like? Oh he desperately he wishes he could know. His gaze is set on your lips as he forces his frozen mind to think logically.

No! Jungkook is not a pervert. You are pure. He inhales loudly while scolding himself mentally.

Now. is. not. the. time. jungkook.

He closes his eyes and gulpes. These thoughts are haunting, how would your lips feel against his? your soft skin would be heaven to touch…

Just look at you.

stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop— fuck it.

“Y/N can i kiss you?”

maybe he isn’t as pure as he thought.

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mysteria157 · 24 days ago

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Pairing: Demon! Nanami Kento x Angel Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: grey morality, religious undertones, corruption kink, worship, power dynamics (subtle fem submission), monsterfucking, smut, tongue fingering, pronged tongue, vaginal sex, oral (f! receiving), mild blood/biting. MDNI!

Summary: The thick muscle of your wings press against cold ancient stone as he circles you with wicked, stone-faced intent. Glimmering obsidian fingers trace along your feathers until they quiver--fluttering with touch-starved bliss no angel should ever feel. It's forbidden--this sensation in your belly, this humiliating slick between your legs that be can smell, this overwhelming desire that you've spent eons trying to quell.

But now, trapped before a demon so captivating that you can't help but feel equally terrified and dreadfully aroused, reality burns your skin like the holy water that bubbles whenever it's within your reach.

You're not here to serve a divine purpose--you're an offering. And only Heaven knows if you'll fall to your knees before him, begging for corruption.

Author Notes: Here it is! My submission for @tsukimefuku 's Spookinky event! I had so much fun writing this. Thank you, Fuku, for hosting such an awesome event, and I truly apologize for the filth (I do not apologize). Thank you all for your support, and thank you, @aliasnnmknt, for letting me use your art for my banner and helping me create it. Your art really inspired most of this fic!

Header: art by @aliasnnmknt | Divider: @arcielee @enchanthings | network tag: @pixelcafe-network

JJK Masterlist | Twitter | Ao3

You’ve never set foot in a demon’s realm.

You’ve heard the stories—flames that burn flesh from bone, screams that echo for eternity, demons that feast on corrupted souls. For the many eons that you have been in existence, the pristine light you thrive in tells enough horrid stories to keep you away.

You do what you can to show you are pure in your thoughts and heart and that you will walk the line given to make the one above you proud in His selection of you. You’ve done well. It’s why you’ve been given this task—a pilgrimage to a sacred altar within this dark realm, to find the relic it holds and be promised enlightenment and a deeper connection to your spiritual life. For once, you feel special. You are special.

The relic you search for holds ancient divine text that the Heavens would like to make sure does not fall into the wrong hands. Your ability to decipher that text and other old tongues made you the perfect choice—though you try not to question why that ability exists at all. This mission feels important and they insisted you were the perfect choice. Your gifts would serve the greater good. Serve Him.

Maybe that’s why they sent you alone. A single angel, moving quietly through dark territory, would draw less attention than an entire group.

Finally, after so many years of wary glances and hushed concerns. Your many ‘gifts’ that have set you apart—the way ancient texts rearrange themselves under your touch, how you see patterns in chaos that other angels cringe from, your thirst for knowledge that shouldn’t be explored. Finally, it’s all paid off.

Or…at least that’s what they told you. Even as something in your grace whispers warnings you choose to ignore.

Angels bask in absolutes, in the pure warmth of divine light and the straightforward clarity of purpose. There is certainty in right and wrong, never a grey in between. Your wings should bask in holy breeze, not in this thick air that tastes of dreadful sin.

You expected the realm to smell of death and destruction, to look as if every natural disaster had run through the land so the shadows could roam freely to commit sin. It’s what you’ve been taught at least. This Realm specifically is forbidden and faith has been used as a boundary to keep other angels in line.

The outskirts of this realm is covered in a haze, a thick russet fog that smells of ozone and decaying flowers. It settles on your skin like an uncomfortable garment, scratching the surface and burning your dermis. Your wings curdle in pain, burning to ash and regrowing through your bleeding muscles. Gnarled, skeletal trees reach up like claws, the birds that sit on their branches malnourished and dying. Distantly, you hear the constant drip of water from a faucet, yet there is no water in sight. Whispers of sin and moans of agony carry on the wind.

Your white dress flows like liquid moonlight, now stained with ash and ember burns. The neckline dips lower than most angels would prefer.

“To be comfortable in the vessel He gave you is to honor His creation.”

Is what they had said, their justification now seems like a cruel irony as the fog caresses your exposed cleavage with burning fingers. The bottom of your dress trails on the ground as you walk, the dirt burning with red soil that seeps through the toes of your bare feet. It feels as if you’re walking on hot coals, the heat burning the fabric of your hem in tendrils of smoke.

You knew to expect this pain, but it’s different. There is a calculated precision to it, intentional in how it burns you as if testing if your form is solid, if your soul is worthy of corruption. The bell sleeves of your gown flutter in a nonexistent wind, ash and soot collecting in the folds of fabric that they once praised as divine elegance.

Your eyes burn, tears streaking melanin-soaked skin that cannot absorb the shrouded sun up above. As you navigate blindly through the oppressive haze, the shadows around you morph with the darkness and skitter past you on multiple hands and contorted feet.

An infinitesimal part of your grace shivers in fear. It’s small yes, pushed away and ignored like you have been taught, but it’s there in the quickening of your pulse and the break of sweat on your neck, it’s there as you walk further through the vicious landscape of horror and pain, as you try to ignore the gurgling of what you do not know from all around you.

Your wings curl around your body, a small gesture of protection that you fall into when the fog gets thicker. It slides languidly up your nostrils and down your throat, catching along the corners. You cough, sputtering wildly through ash and decay, your eyes bubbling with more burning tears. That fear flickers again in your chest and wiggles like a worm in search of moist dirt in your rib cage.

You can do this. You have been chosen. Your lips curl and part as you recite your prayer in silence, asking for strength even as your fear climbs higher to the surface of divine worship.

Then—through burning tears, you see it. A path of pure obsidian that cuts through the horror, its surface covered in a thin layer of water that reflects starlight not in the skies above. Your feet pick up in pace, moving before conscious thought, drawn to its dark beauty and vast difference of the world around. The moment your toes dip into the water-slicked stone, the moisture sliding off your skin without wetting it, everything changes.

The burning on your skin and feathers stops. The pungent fog parts like a curtain and dissipates into the air. You pull in a deep breath, savoring the thickness that is no longer there, your throat coated in clean oxygen. Your dress, moments ago stained with ash and fiery burns, returns to its pristine white. Once the tears in your eyes clear, you take in the changed landscape.

Perhaps the realm only transforms if one gets this far, because now there is no destruction but a defiance of what you see. The sky is tinged a permanent grey, overcast even though there’s a warmth to the low hang of the clouds. There are no lakes of fire, and the ground beneath your feet is no longer hot with clay-colored dirt that seeps between your toes. The obsidian path winds before you through tall garden walls of pearly white flowers, the leaves pitch black instead of earthly green.

Above the dark canopy of the garden walls, a monolith looms tall, piercing the grey sky as if demanding to be let into the heavens. It’s built to resemble a vast tree, its surface rippling with starlight, the bright core pulsing like a heartbeat, beckoning you deeper into this realm of misconstrued beauty. The garden path must lead to it. Even the pearly white flowers weaved into the walls all point forward, ushering you on.

Your wings furl closer to your spine as you shuffle to one of the garden walls, hesitantly reaching for the flowers twined in the vines and leaves. It’s a beautiful white, with small petals that curl toward a sage core. They’re littered along the walls, a beautiful landscape against darkness but the closer you get, the more you realize—

Hemlock

A poisonous flower, the symbol of death, betrayal, and sacrifice. It sits in it’s refined beauty, enhancing the black leaves around you, but they are just as dangerous.

You snatch your hands away as if stung, clutching the fabric of your dress like a lifeline. You try not to think about how the hemlock watches you with pale eyes. You try not to think about what they represent. You try not to question why these flowers would point and line a path to the divine relic you seek.

With every step you take, the pulsing from the monolith in the distance vibrates through the ground, the water rippling currents with each beat. The obsidian path narrows, forcing your wings closer to your body, your arms so close to the deadly blooms. The garden walls rise higher, leaves trembling in that same empty breeze.

While the air no longer feels thick, it is heavy with a taste both nonexistent and flavorful. Flavored with the knowledge you seek when others do not look and secrets that make your eyes linger even as your grace warns you against it. The questioning urges of your nature that Heaven always tries to quell stir awake like a beast being poked after centuries of rest.

You should ignore it. You should ask for forgiveness and count the blessings you have been given in this long existence. But your heart leaps at the chance you have also been given, right now.

The monolith’s base reveals itself slowly, the garden walls parting gradually with dark promise. Your breath catches at the sight—this is no crude demon architecture. The structure rises before you like an otherworldly giant, jet black vines weaving within its bright innards.

You’re struck by the beauty of it all, a resplendent sight that you never imagined would bless your eyes. And as you draw closer, the glass obsidian floors open up before you. From the open floor, a column of marble rises, its surface bleached bone and covered in aging vines and greenery.

On that altar, rests the relic you seek. It is no crystal that contains energy to create vasts universes. It is no seed that once planted will wreak destruction with its pollination. It is no amulet capable of manipulating time.

It is a book.

A single book that is thick with words of forbidden knowledge, its cover worn and weathered from eons of hiding in the shadows, its pages yellowing along the edges.

Such a simple relic, but you feel it’s dark power from your spot at the altar.

You’ve been tasked to tuck it away and sneak back to Heaven, to deliver it to your superiors and be given your eternal reward. While simple in theory, your hands hover over it, hesitating with shaky fingers.

Do not open it.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

Do not look inside.

These are your rules—your absolutes. And yet…

Your fingers twitch, reaching and pulling back at the elusive call of the tome, your feathers trembling with a desire you shouldn’t feel. Your eyes burn with tears of veneration as the symbols on the worn leather illuminate and rearrange before your eyes like dancing embers, the translated text reading in your mind like an endless scroll.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

You snatch it up, pressing it to your chest as a means to stop your racing heart. Your soul palpitates with want, a baseless need to curl your fingers under the lips of the book and tilt it open.

It’s temptation, that festering desire that always seems to coil in your belly when the explanations you are given never feel right, when the world around you seems too pristine and you want to know more, when you linger in the mortal realm, watching the humans with a curious eye that is more than what is required of you.

It’s quick and on a whim, you pulling the book from your chest to look down at it, as if by looking it will answer the questions you seek. You trail your fingers along it’s ancient skin, soft and unmarred fingertips feeling along ridges and scars along the cover. It looks as if the relic has gone through it’s own personal Hell, no doubt jerked around from realm to realm over the centuries, pried open and its secrets stolen. There’s a faint beat of sadness that you feel in your chest at the thought of what it must have gone through.

But your fingers still finger beneath the lid, the worn pages jagged on your tips as you worry it up with a slow movement.

Do not open it.

You squeeze the tome, pressing the pages inside more into each other in a silent attempt to seal it and your temptation away forever. Your toes curl into the water beneath you, cold on your skin but still passing over you dry and without moisture.

But once again you catch yourself loosening your grip, your fingers adventurous, your mind begging for more and it’s right here.

In times like these, you find yourself turning to the one manifestation that has never answered you, but exists in your very being.

“Father,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Give me the strength against temptation.” Your wings draw tight, your spine aching from the sudden action, before they expand in a glorious span, feathers opening like extended fingers before they curl around you to shield you from your own curiosity. “Guide me from this darkness, keep my thoughts pure…”

But even as you pray, your body rebels—your fingers part a page and slide along the rough texture of papyrus. There’s a power to the book now, a deep pulse that seems to be in rhythm with the monolith, beckoning you further. The ancient text burns brighter, the translated words whispering in your ears to give in just this once—look inside, soak in your knowledge, seek what others deny.

Your lips quiver, eyes burning with unshed tears at the way your body betrays you. You’re no better than a fallen angel, than a demon or a human who walks the path of darkness—easily tempted and consumed.

You’re not damned, you’re not, you’re not—

“What do we have here?”

The voice slides through your tumultuous thoughts like silk, rich with bored amusement and something darker. Your prayers die in your throat, catching along the edges of your esophagus, your body icing over with a chill of what you try to rebuke as fear.

You’re not alone and you knew the dangers of wandering this realm so freely. You call upon your grace, manifesting a celestial dagger of light and purity, before you whirl around to face the demon who pursues you.

But you’re met with nothing—just the empty garden path you came from.

When you turn back to the altar, your scream catches in your throat.

He stands with casual power and predatory grace. His skin is a pitch lighter than the obsidian paths, but still scattered with constellations. His hair falls in golden-blonde waves, the ends touched with flame that frames sharp features and elegant black horns that curl from the top of his head. His eyes are a burning yellow, studying you with a calculating hunger that makes you shiver.

He stands tall, an inhuman height that makes you feel incredibly small, his wings the color of dark flames spread lazily behind him, their edges flickering with crimson light.

The armor that adorns his upper body is otherworldly and crafted not by divine or mortal hands—navy as dark as night, trimmed with gold that wraps around his shoulders and sides, his chest bare. His hip rests against the altar as if he owns it, expectant like he’s been waiting for you.

He’s beautiful, a manifestation of dark and light, a being that walks his own line not predetermined. As you study him, something tugs at your memory—flashes of encounters that have grown fuzzy over time. In the mortal realm, when you linger in the shadows to observe the humans, a tall figure in navy and tan, warm eyes hidden behind glasses with no arms, hair not tipped with flame but parted clean and tucked behind his ears.

He lingers in the darkness, in damp alleys and abandoned buildings where misery and pain give birth to grotesque figures that terrorize the mortals. You’ve seen him—or you think you have—convinced it was a coincidence and ignored the way your wings would shiver at his distant presence, tilting toward him as if searching for someone lost.

And in your dreams too—dreams of large hands filled with experiences of the world, of whispers in your ear of eternal knowledge. You’d wake with your grace trembling, convinced it was just your mind playing tricks even as the apex of your thighs trembled with the sheen of your sweat and forbidden essence.

Perhaps that’s why your superiors ask for you after these dreams. Perhaps that’s why they press their fingers to your temples and bury the memories deep. So you do not have to worry. So that you can resist temptation. Right?

Yes. All of it is a temptation to test your faith.

But now he stands before you, solid and real, and those ‘coincidences’ suddenly feel intentional. Had he been watching? Waiting for this very moment?

You adjust your grip on your dagger, forcing away those thoughts that never seem to go away. You stagger backwards, your celestial dagger shaking in your hands, your prayer wielded before you like a shield.

“Our Father who art in Heaven,” you whisper, desperate words that feel as if they fall on closed ears, your fear radiating from your bare toes, through the strong muscles of your white wings, and up to the top of your skull. “Hallowed be thy—”

The demon moves towards you now, each step gobbling the distance between your retreating form until your back hits the garden wall, a gasp dying in your throat.

“That name,” he murmurs, sultry low as he cages you with muscular arms, “holds no power here.” His eyes drag down your form, cataloging you bit by bit, lingering on the sight of a shaking chest that is pressed to the tome you clutch.

He leans in close, too close, until you feel the burning heat from his skin. You press your back harder against the garden wall, dark leaves and hemlock brushing along your cheeks and neck as he inhales deeply along the column of your throat.

He smells like the archives you lose yourself in, like the green tea you love to drink in the mortal realm, like a dark concoction of burning honey that would make the noses of other angels crinkle but your nostrils open to inhale more. Your divine senses blur.

This is temptation, you tell yourself as your wings putter against the wall behind you. You’ve practiced for this, you know what you should do. But your body betrays you, your head tilting slightly before you can think about it, offering more of your neck for his inspection.

Horror at your sin, ice cold as it washes over you, makes you act. You press your celestial dagger upward, against his bare chest where one particular constellation burns brighter than the rest.

But the blade dissolves like sugar in the rain the moment it touches him, holy light scattering for a home as it shimmers across his skin to form new constellations.

“How interesting…” The deep voice inquires, hot as it puffs on your neck. “An angel, stealing what does not belong to them. Surely there’s a rule about that, is there not?”

You clutch the tome tighter to your chest, your mouth opening to snap that this is your mission, your divine purpose. But the book vanishes from your grip in black tendrils of smoke, your hand smacking into your breasts from the gap created.

“Give it back!” Panic rises in your throat as you try to meld with the leaves behind you, your fingers wrapping around vines and leaves like a vice.

A sigh, long and drawn out as if mentally exhausted, as if this isn’t the first this has happened, leaves his giant form and travels over your body.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he drawls, pushing off the wall and walking away as if your presence means nothing. He turns to face you at the altar, eyes half-lidded as he rests his forearms on the marble surface and opens the tome that is now manifested in his hands. He’s giving off every impression that the relic you seek will not be going home with you, and he is more than prepared to read it all until you go away.

“W-well, you…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to the open book in his hands. You can’t see the words inside, but you can practically smell the papyrus, a smell that warms you when you trail your fingers along the archives in Heaven. You tighten your grip on the leaves, flexing your wings to extend in a display of dominance, even though it feels as if this demon has read you the moment you stepped into this realm.

The tome sits like an infant in his hands, small and precious as he turns a page, long galaxy shimmered fingers gliding along the text as he reads. That curiosity beckons, a familiar pulse of sin that fires along the nerves in your legs to take a step toward him, to peak over the edge of the book and look inside.

“Demon,” you press, swallowing a lump of your frayed nerves.

His eyes flicker up at you, burning gold irises mildly offended.

“That is not my name.” He turns another page, pulling his gaze away from you, dismissive. “Though, I suspect you already know what it is.”

Why would you know his name? While the sight of him invokes some distant memories, you both have never spoken. The confusion mixes with your flood of panic, your eyes locked on the ancient text in his hands.

“I don’t—I’m here on divine purpose. The Heavens sent me to deliver this relic.”

“They sent you to steal this relic,” he corrects. He slams the tome closed, the sound making you flinch before he walks back to you in casual strides, his form almost gliding on the obsidian floors.

“I would not steal.”

“Coming to a place without invitation and taking the items inside is, indeed, stealing.”

You sink back into the flowers as he draws closer, your heart pumping erratically in your chest, your limbs filling with shame at the logic he draws. But still, you resist.

“I was invited.”

You’ve always been around to see the return of angels from long missions where they are surrounded by darkness and pain. They seem so strong, their chests puffed in pride, their wings shining brighter as a badge of honor. There’s a bravery that you wish you could have right now. But you’re afraid—whether that fear is pure or mixed with something sensual and dangerous—you still don’t know.

“I-I was chosen,” you insist, despite what you feel.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.” His head tilts as he regards you.

The book disappears from his hands before materializing in your own, warm smoke wrapping around your wrists before dissipating. “Take it. Return to your divine purpose.”

You clutch the tome, hoping for relief to fill your wings, but you can only feel disappointment instead. You hesitate, flickering your gaze up to the demon who stands expectantly with arms crossed, like he knows what the outcome will be. Like he knows you will be back.

You turn around and flea down the obsidian path. The garden walls adorned with pearl flowers blur past you until—

The walls part again, the altar and demon coming into view.

“That’s not—” you spin, turning back toward the path and running faster this time, your relic pressed to your body, your lungs burning with the truth that you’re trying to deny.

The hemlock flowers seem to laugh as you pass, their white petals pointing the way with mocking fingers until—

The altar. The demon, an eyebrow raised. Again.

“Stop this!” Your voice breaks as you turn around to try again, sprinting so hard that your wings flap against the wind, your toes touching the top of the thin layer of water below you. You come to the altar a third time, then a fourth, each leading back to his knowing and patient form.

“I’m not doing anything.” His voice holds a gentle pity that pricks at your skin. “But why? Why would they send their most curious angel into a demon’s realm? Why alone? Why you?”

Something in his tone, in the endearment wrapped around seduction makes your grace shiver. You long to have an answer ready on your tongue, and you do, but it’s more practiced, copied, and spit out and resonates in your bones incorrectly.

“The relic requires eyes that can transcribe so I select the right one. My abilities—”

“Your abilities,” he interrupts softly, materializing behind you, “the ones that they’ve tried to suppress. The ones that they’ve feared. Yet suddenly, all of it is for naught, and you’ve been given this divine purpose?”

The towering demon circles you slowly, analyzing you like a predator waiting for his wounded prey to finally submit. You swallow hard, fingers digging into the leather of the book, eyes downcast.

“They finally saw my worth,” you insist, but the words sound hollow even to your ears. “I am pure. Free of sin. I do not stray.”

Warmth by the shell of your ear, the rich smell of him forbidden, an erotic melody that makes your blood long to sing.

“Lies.”

Your wings slash through the air in deep powerful strokes, twitching in their plumage. “I would not lie!”

“Neither would I, little angel. But it seems you have been led here under false pretenses.”

“No.”

“There is no relic.” The tome in your hands disappears, it’s solid form no longer tethered to existence.

“Give it—”

“There is no mission,” he presses on. “There is no divine purpose. There is only you. Cast down here and given to me.”

“To you…”

“An offering, little angel.”

The word makes you chill over in disgust, the very thought of being a sacrificial lamb enough to make you sick to your stomach. You shake your head vehemently, insistently denying as best as you can even though your grace radiates with the truth.

“No. They would never sacrifice someone. They—they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t do that to me.”

The demon clicks his tongue, pity filling his otherworldly features with a slight pout of his lips as he studies you. Before you can take another breath, the realm shifts, reality bending in a plume of smoke. The monolith and altar disappear, the darkness of the garden walls fading to give way to the eternal light you recognize as your home.

The tall pearly gates that surround your kingdom smile down at you, pearlescent clouds that seeps beneath the doors kissing your bare toes. Your wings waft in the air with ease, pumping euphoria through your veins as you smile up at your home. The tome is back now, cradled safely in your arms, reminding you of your mission. With a hope bright in your chest, you rapt your fingers on the doors.

“Father! I’ve retrieved the relic! I’m home!”

But the doors do not open. There is no sound of movement on the other side, no shift in the white clouds around you. It doesn’t even feel as if someone is not home. You can feel your siblings, you’ve always been able to sense them in your grace, but this sensation is reluctant. As if they peak through closed curtains on the other side, watching through a window with their hand on the door to prevent you from coming in.

“H-hello?” you try again, voice shaking as you knock with more fervor, denial warring with growing dread. “I-I said I’ve brought the relic.” Silence. “Hello?!” You smack on the doors now, the holy wood splitting at your skin and healing over again. Surely someone must be home. Maybe they are away? Maybe they are busy and do not hear?

You press your forehead against the door, wings drooping. Through your grace, you feel them there, still watching. Waiting for you to leave. But not to welcome you home.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes stinging. “Will someone—”

“They will not open the doors, little angel,” the demon speaks from behind you.

You jump from his sudden appearance, your body drained of all blood at the sordid thought of what is happening right now. Reality shifts again, the divine light of your home sucking back into darkness, the monolith and marble altar and obsidian floors coming back into view.

Your legs threaten to give as realization washes over you. You shake your head, lip quivering as tears blur the edges of your vision, your fingers curling on the altar. How could they do this to you? You have always struggled in this life, always been so ashamed that you do not think like the others. But to cast you out? To give you these wings and then make you feel as if you are beyond saving?

“Perhaps it is a mistake,” you whisper, your hope crumbling with every word. You feel his large form next to you before you hear any steps. “Why would they do this to me?”

You have no choice but to look up at him, to seek some form of answer in his burning yellow eyes. There’s a flicker of something that crosses his face—amusement? Maybe pity?

“They have offered you to me. A sacrifice to take the darkness from their pristine walls and feed it to the realm it belongs to.”

The words hang in the air, the horrifying truth once again presented to you. Your heart lurches in your chest. You recoil, your wings drooping to brush along the water covered floor.

“They fear you, little angel,” he continues, voice softening. “Your potential, your curiosity, your unwillingness to follow their absolutes.”

You slap your hands on the altar, the sound reverberating through the emptiness around you. “I will not.”

The demon chuckles, a low, sardonic noise that crawls up your dress and wraps around your throat. “Such defiance,” he purrs. “It’s quite…alluring.”

You can’t help the noise of shock and anger that crawls up your throat, shooting him a dark look. “I will not be corrupted by the likes of a demon like you.”

“Like me? So you imply that another demon may have a chance?” His jests fall on rageful ears, your wings flapping in defiance as you gape at him. He leans in close, his breath warm against your lips as he whispers. “You deny it all little angel. But you already are corrupt.”

You try to pull away from him, but a large hand falls to the small of your back, his fingers weaving through your wings in a caress that makes you choke on a whine.

“Come now, my dear.” The tip of his nose trails along your cheek, the touch sending flames of desire down your neck. You curl your fingers into a fist on the altar, your body ramrod straight.

“I can smell it on you,” he continues, his voice a silken caress. “The insatiable curiosity, the yearning for more, the essence that pools between your thighs every night before you sleep.”

The fingers in your plumage massage your skin, your shoulders relaxing into a traitorous sigh before with a swift motion, he plucks a feather from its root. You wince, your hand flying back to bat him away before he holds the feather in front of you, its tip stained a deep, inky black.

“Do you not try to hide it? You sneak to the archives. You let them smother your dreams. You do not tell them that you sneak away to the mortal realm to watch them eat, and bathe, and sin.”

He turns your wing to expose the underside where the feather was plucked, your eyes widening as if you’ve been caught. The skin is marred with a dark scar, the muscle underneath dried with blood and presenting as damning evidence of you plucking those feathers over and over, your cheeks covered in tears as you did your best to hide them away.

“You pluck your true self,” he whispers, voice laced with dry amusement. “But they only grow back stronger, don’t they?”

A breath catches in your throat, his words piercing through your defenses that you have built with weak mortar and brick for eons. Your eyes catch his, your desire reflected in burning gold.

“Even so…I cannot leave?”

He hums in reverence, a pointy finger trailing along your collarbone to brush a lock of hair from your shoulders, exposing more of your scent for him to breathe in.

“You have tried to leave already and you cannot. There is nowhere for you to go. I can let you roam to any realm you choose, but the doors of Heaven will be locked for you forever.”

Your eyes bubble with tears. It’s an unfortunate hand that you have been dealt. A hand always opened to you in promise even as the other held a dagger behind the back of divinity. There’s a deep part of you that would try to find some sort of silver lining in moments of darkness, a silver lining that only benefits you.

“If I stay…what will you give me?” you ask, your voice small and defeated.

The demon sinks to one knee in front of you, his eye level now only a little taller than you, but still more humane than his hovering from before. He offers a slow, predatory smile, his lips parting to reveal sharp pearly white fangs.

“You already think in ways that will benefit yourself, don’t you? Whatever you desire, little angel, I will give it.” The sharp point of his nail trails down your cheek, casting a wave of arousal down your body, your stomach tightening. “Anything at all.”

You cannot deny the promise of whatever you want does not make you perk mildly with curiosity, the same curiosity that was always quelled.

You lick your lips in thought, a nervous habit that your siblings have always discouraged. It’s unbecoming of an angel, they’d say, a physical manifestation of want. But you’ve always like the way your tongue feels against the plump flesh of your lips.

“Anything?”

He inclines his head to you, eyes answering without having to say. You hesitate, your mind racing with possibilities, unleashed with nothing to hold them back.

“I want…” you begin, stopping short at the coil of desire that burns in your body. You’ve never given it a true voice, and now that you’ve been presented with the opportunity, you are unsure of how to proceed.

The demon’s eyes roam over your form before they brighten with understanding. “You wish to read the tome.”

You nod, unable to speak past the dry lump in your throat. He summons it quickly, the worn leather materializing in his enormous hands as he hands it to you like an offering of forbidden fruit.

“Take it,” he urges in a seductive whisper. “It is yours.”

You reach out with trembling fingers, your grace pulsing with desire, it’s feel growing bolder as you snatch it up into your hands and let it flow through you. The leather is cool beneath your fingertips, worn with the promise of centuries of words you’ve always wanted.

When you open the book and let your eyes fall on the faded script, they rearrange themselves like before, translating to you in a seductive dance that makes your toes curl. The knowledge overwhelms you, flooding your senses in a wave of information about this realm—its history and inhabitants and magic. You feel a thrill of excitement, a suppressed sense of liberation as you turn page after page.

From your peripheral, you see the demon offer that same predatory smile. With a snap of his fingers, the world shifts around you again. You are further from the monolith but instead of the altar, you are surrounded by looming bookshelves, all filled to the brim. Ancient tomes and scrolls, dusty relics that have been neglected over the years but kept in condition by this demon who rules this realm.

“This is a taste of what I can offer you. All of it is yours.” He steps closer, the energy that he radiates filling your space with darkness and seduction that terrifies and excites you. “There is so much more I can show you,” he whispers in your ear again. “Would you like that?”

Even though your body and soul buzz with satisfaction from the books around you, the shame is still there, still bubbling beneath the surface next to your dejection.

Sensing your unease, he places tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that you long to fall into before the world morphs again.

He takes you back to where you began, the realm’s outskirts. However there is no russet fog that is thick and smells of decay and misery, this time your vision is clear. The shadows that once hovered around you in your quest to the monolith now reveal themselves as souls—humans that you recognize from your years of observation.

“Do you remember her?” the demon asks, pointing to a small woman tending to a bush of flowers. “The woman from years ago who stole medicine for her dying child because she had no money.”

You do remember watching with tear filled eyes. It was an ancient time where death was a sentence given freely, and this mother had been called to the land of the dead for stealing bread.

“You watched her pray for forgiveness even as she did what was necessary.” His hand rests on your lower back, reassuring in its pressure. “Heaven would have condemned her. I gave her purpose.”

“How do you give purpose if you are a demon?”

The demon huffs, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “It is true that I gain my strength through corruption. But it is corruption through intellectual rebellion and questioning minds. I am strong because no matter how many years may pass, there will always be a soul that questions.”

Each soul that you pass triggers a memory—struggles you watched but could never reach out and help. And in each memory, you gain more clarity—he was always there in the mortal realm, appearing in navy and tan just like you thought.

“You’ve been watching me then,” you inquire, tucking your tome closer to your chest as you cast a sidelong glance to him.

“It is my nature,” he rumbles from next to you. “You understand the beauty in grey areas. The necessity of balance.” His fingers glide along the empty space where you plucked your blackened wings. “Here, you could judge with mercy and justice. Rule in the knowledge they feared.”

Power.

A destructive thing that has elevated so many and torn them down. But the call of it has always been sweet, and now you are the subject of it. The very thought of it makes your knees weaken, your grace fluttering like a leave in the wind. This could be something more honest, not Heaven’s sterile authority.

The soil that is no longer red vibrates beneath you, pulsing up your ankles and calves, around your waist and torso in thick vines that pull you to the monolith miles away.

“Easy, my dear,” he murmurs, a muscular arm sliding around your waist to prevent you from swaying further. “The first taste of true power always overwhelms.” Your grace flickers between divine light and seductive shadow, somehow grounded by his hold.

Every soul’s story calls to you now, complex choices and grey morality making your divine nature pulse with stomped out recognition. You lean into him, falling more into his scent, your wings brushing his back to seek balance.

“I…” you trail off, clutching the relic in your arms, using it to ground you through your thoughts that fight between light and dark.

“What else would you like?” he purrs in your ear, his hand reaching out to the realm beyond that begins to shift again. A vast kitchen filled with warmth and enticing scents. “Earthly pleasures are denied amongst angels.” The pristine counter tops are soon overflown with rich goods and goblets of wine. “Even something as simple as this.”

You’ve never had wine—it’s forbidden—at least for you. But the way it catches the warm fireplace behind it, deep and rich…your mouth waters.

“Freedom to roam where you wish.”

Glimpses of different realms flash by—clouds of different shapes and sizes, landscapes of mountains and water as clear as crystal, beings that take on their own forms as they wander the lands—places you’ve only dreamt of exploring, of asking to see and always been denied.

His voice drops lower, more intimate and hot on your cheek. “Or perhaps…” Another shift. A dark room you remember faintly—through gauzy curtains, you see two figures entwined in candlelight. The brown skin of limbs and curves wrapped around tan that shimmers faintly. You recognize the hips of the woman, the collarbone and hair, and you realize it’s you. You wrapped around this very demon next to you who appears in the mortal realm as a human with carefully parted locks and a height fit for yourself.

Your blood boils beneath your skin as you try to look away. But like every forbidden thing that’s ever called to you, your eyes are drawn back to the scene—to the way your dream-self arches into his touch, the way your neck cranes, the sight of his tongue sliding along the sweat of your brown breast.

He hums from behind you, his demonic form pressing closer as you watch his human glamour worship your other self. That familiar wave of shame wars with the desire in your body, trying its best to smother the arousal that tightens your nipples beneath your white dress. All of it you suffer night after night—your grace singing, skin hot and sweaty—essence coating your thighs.

“I—” you stutter for words, eyes locked on the human form that rolls his hips and swallows a moan that shakes from your other-self. “This is wrong…”

His starlight fingers trace your collarbone, mimicking the tongue of his human form. “Your body remembers what they tried to smother away. How many nights did you wake burning for this? For me?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The realm shifts one final time, the familiar garden walls and monolith appearing before you, the altar pressing into your back. The demon circles you, giving you no time to recover as his prying eyes pick you apart feather by feather.

“Even your grace recognizes where you truly belong.” He reaches out, trailing pointy nails down your spine, your body arching of its own volition. “Here. With me.”

His hands engulf your entire waist, his touch making you gasp as he lifts you up to sit on the altar before him.

“Every dream they tried to bury,” his hands trail up your thighs, “every desire they made you forget…” he steps closer, taking the oxygen from your lungs that you expel, his naked chest a hairsbreadth from your searching fingers. “All of it has lead to this moment. To me.”

“I—” you try to protest, but it dies in your throat as he tilts your chin to face him.

“You were meant for this realm,” he leans in, trailing his nose along your shaking lips. “I will make you mine. As my queen, my consort, my equal.” You press the tome further into your chest like a lifeline as his hand rests on the side of your neck, his nails grazing the lobe of your ear. “You’ve always known it. Even in those dreams where you surrendered to me so sweetly.”

His lips are close enough to kiss you, but they brush your jaw instead, trailing electricity down your throat. “Anything you want,” he breathes against your pulse, smiling at the sight of it’s rapid flutter, “you will have, little angel.” His mouth moves to that sensitive spot behind your ear that you discovered one night centuries ago. “But you must surrender to me. You have been offered and now you must be consumed.”

You clutch the tome tighter, using it as a tether even as your head tilts to give him better access. “I should not…”

“Surrender,” he whispers, lips ghosting your shoulder now, each kiss punctuated with promises that you should deny. “Let me worship you.” A kiss to your collarbone. “You will never be denied again.” His mouth traces back to hover over your lips. “Submit to what you have always wanted.”

The burn in your body makes your skin tingle, your core pulse with forbidden need, your nipples tighten in pleasure. Everything you’ve always wanted, could be given to you right now.

All of your dedication to faith has only led to tears and shame and disappointment. But here, you could be rewarded for your curiosity, exalted for your power to see what others do not, consumed in pleasure without the eyes of disdain looking down on you.

Here, with this beautiful demon, you can have it all.

For as powerful and as dark as he is, despite the patient hunger in his golden eyes, you realize he’s waiting. You must give the final say. A final say to do away with eons of denying, of plucking dark feathers, of letting them bury your dreams…

“Please,” the words shake from your lips before you can stop it, the tome slipping from your defeated grasp.

His eyes flash with satisfaction, mouth twitching with the urge to smile, but he relents. “Say it properly, little angel.” His mouth brushes the corner of your lips in not quite a kiss. “Tell me.”

Your wings spread wider of their own accord, trembling and stretching past invisible threads that have always held them down. “I want…I will to surrender.”

You hardly finish your words before you feel the press of his lips against yours, gentle and almost reverent. It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed, and it’s as euphoric as you’ve always thought. Your toes curl in satisfaction, your body hums with arousal, low and beneath the surface but quickly growing.

The hand on your neck tilts you up so he can feast further, a wet tongue sliding along the seam of your lips in a quiet ask for permission. You let your body guide you, opening your mouth to welcome him with a groan.

He tastes like he smells—green tea and honey, a hint of rich bread that you occasionally try in the mortal realm. It’s intoxicating, dark mingled with your fading sweetness. One that speaks of corruption and surrender.

What started as gentle quickly turns hungry and consuming. Your grace shivers as you catalogue every shift in your body, learning from the lessons of his tongue. Each stroke of him feels like corruption, like freedom, like finally coming home and you arch into him for more.

Your white dress slowly disappears before you, your body revealing to him naked and shivering. You try to cover yourself, an urge ingrained in you since your coming of existence, but the demon’s large hand stops you, gathering both hands in his strong grip and placing them at your sides.

He does not wait a second longer, his mouth trailing in worship down your neck and across your collarbone to pepper the swell of your breasts, your core pounding incessantly as he gets closer to one nipple before he wraps it in his hot mouth.

A moan shakes from your mouth, unexpected and loud into the quiet air of this monolith room. Your hands reach up to card in his golden locks, they’re warm and impossibly silky, the flame colored ends burning more than the rest. You let the pain of it singe your fingertips, basking in the euphoric pleasure pain of your skin growing back and burning all over again.

His hand envelops your other breasts, his sharp nails teasing your nipple before he drags it slowly across your areola. Your fingers tighten in his hair from the pain, your core dripping on the marble altar you sit on.

“You taste wonderful, little angel,” he purrs into the wet skin of your breast, pulling away before he gently nudges you onto your back. Your wings stretch languidly to make you more comfortable against the flat surface. The urge to cover yourself is not as insistent as before, the desire eating you up without reservation. “But I must taste more.”

He leans over the altar you lay on, kissing your lips gently before his tongue slides along the skin of your neck and down your body. It’s longer than a mortal tongue, and when they circle your nipples again, you shake at the pronged tip that flicks your bud.

He worships down your torso to dip in your navel, over the dip in your hips before his hands push your legs up onto his shoulders and he licks your sopping core from bottom to top.

You arch sharply, teeth digging into your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stop the moan from shooting from your throat.

You’ve watched the humans many times in the shadows, transfixed when their mouths worship these parts of their partner, but to experience it yourself? To feel the demons tongue part your folds and circle the bud at the top that makes you cry into your pillows at night. Heaven has hidden away beautiful pleasure.

“Look at how much you give me,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh before you feel his tongue on you again, prodding your entrance that you’ve sunken your fingers into at night.

You bite down on your lip, shivering in pleasure as he prods further and further, your legs widening with each current of pleasure until he sinks his wide tongue inside of you. You taste copper from your bleeding lip that heals over quickly, your bare feet digging into the demon’s broad shoulders as he feasts on your essence.

With every gasp, your wings quiver in anticipation, curling into your body to protect yourself from a euphoria that is growing so quickly in your stomach.

“Please,” you whisper in disbelief, hands twisting his hair with your divine strength. He hums in satisfaction, satisfied with what you give and digging for more.

His tongue strokes inside of you with purpose, caressing something along the roof of your hot walls, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves once, twice, the pleasure enough to make your jaw drop, to make you pant feverishly into the air, to make your back arch until the base of your spine hurts as you come apart by the seams.

Your release makes you cry out into the air, the sound brushing along the monolith, the constant pulsing stopping to take in your pleasure before it resumes its steady pulse.

He rises slowly as you struggle to catch your breath, his golden eyes tracing over your shivering form from head to toe. His grey obsidian hands slide up your trembling thighs as he leans over you.

“Beautiful,” he purrs before he kisses your lips. You swallow your taste—tangy and rich like the divinity that courses through your veins. “But I must have all of you to make this complete.”

All of you?

You look down to find that his pants are gone, starlight shining bright on his hips that seem to point down to the member that hangs between his thighs. Your eyes widen—he’s definitely bigger than mortals, purplish veins that trail along the sides, a tip that is darker than his grey, the skin flickering with those shimmering stars you are growing to love.

He’s beautiful, and without thinking you reach out to touch. He’s impossibly hard but also incredibly soft, and you watch in fascination as his dark flame-colored wings expand and shake in supplication.

He leans his head back to the grey skies, swallowing deeply at your touch and there’s a sense of power you feel. To know that with a single touch you can make this powerful demon fracture just a little.

He wraps his hand around yours to stop you, pulling you up so that he can sit on the altar instead. Even though he’s tall, you’re able to reach up and wrap your arms around his neck.

Your wings stretch and flap behind you, sparse feathers wafting in their air to fall around you both in white, grey, and black. Even though you feel loose from your first release, there is a subtle power that thrums with every flap of your wings.

You look at the monolith again. The pulse has picked up steadily, seeming to match your own heartbeat. Maybe there is a connection to the power inside of it and what might be coursing through you now.

As you tail up the length of it until it disappears into the grey clouds, you think faintly of those who cast you out. The pleasure fractures a little with pain, your eyebrows furrowing in disappointment.

“My angel,” he calls to you, softly, turning your gaze back to him. His golden and flame locks are messy, his horns pulsing with shimmering light, the navy and gold armor gone so that he is as naked as you are. “That pain that you feel will go away with time. I will make sure you will never know it again.”

The promise fills you with hope, and the press of his lips to yours makes the sordid thoughts fall to the wayside, your pleasure humming to life at the base of your spine.

The touch of his fingers to your core makes you whine into his mouth, pulling away with only a gossamer of saliva connecting you both. He strokes your bud, drinking your sighs and moans as your thighs and stomach tighten, your fingers digging into his soft shoulders.

He pulls you up onto your knees, your wet entrance brushing the thick tip of him before he guides you onto him slowly. It’s a stretch, far thicker than your fingers and foreign inside of you.

The initial pain makes you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. It feels as if you’re being split in two from your hips, torn apart with a strength that only makes you shiver and moan.

One hand slides along one wing to soothe you, his lips pressing to your neck. Eventually, the pain gradually melts into pleasure, his hands possessive on your hips as he guides you with careful restraint. You quake at the feel of him inside of you, stretching and molding your muscles in each euphoric stroke.

“Perfect,” he breathes against your shoulder. “Look how well you take me.” His voice resonates deep in your core, a sound that both terrifies and entices you, a forbidden melody that you are slowly learning the notes to.

You whimper in response, relishing in his praise as you begin to move faster on top of him, bouncing with a newfound sense of purpose. Your wings flap with more insistence, stretching and bending with the power that begins to seep out of your skin, white feathers less in abundance with each flap.

The demon’s nails dig into your waist and you sigh into the pain, picking up the pace until you’re not sure where he stops and you begin.

The power takes you higher and higher, your skin breaking into a sheen of sweat, your gasps dying in the air as you pant and moan above him. The pleasure at the base of your spine heats quickly, bubbling with sticky satisfaction as it slides down your vertebrae and into your core.

“That’s it,” he growls, nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks, canting your hips toward him so the tip of his member brushes that spot on your upper walls once again.

You choke on a moan, head thrown back in bliss, nails dragging down the solid muscle of his chest. Your wings curl around you, dark feathers replacing white with each thrust.

“Transform for me completely. Embrace what you truly are.”

“Yes,” you hiss, your mouth falling open as you struggle for breath. Your core tightens around him, the bundle of nerves shaking even untouched, and you’re falling, you’re falling, you’re—

The demon shifts again, his member leaving your hot core and denying you of release, your hands now pressed to the altar as you’re bent over. You whine in annoyance, looking over your darkening wings at his large form as he heaves with breath.

He regards you with a dark look, one that shows just how capable he is of picking you apart, and your mouth fills with saliva at the thought.

He draws one leg up onto the altar before sliding into you once more without pretense. You groan around the stretch of him, marveling at the pinch of pain that bleeds into overwhelming pleasure as he picks up his pace inside of you.

What starts out as reverent and gentle soon turns feverish. His strokes are deeper, his hips snapping against your open legs, a haze of pleasure clouding every crevice of your mind as he kisses spots inside of you that makes you groan, hiss, and whine.

The monolith picks up in speed, pulse matching your heartbeat as you climb higher and higher up a ladder of darkness that has always been denied.

You don’t know why, you don’t know where it comes from, but the last slivers of your salvation slide to the surface, tickling your throat one last time before they leave your soul forever.

“Please, please, Father,” you moan, eyes filling with tears of satisfaction as your body jerks with every harsh thrust of the demon behind you. One of his hands weaves into your locks, curling tight before yanking you back to him, arching until our stomach presses into the altar. “Forgive me.”

“We will have none of that,” he warns, out of breath. “You seek forgiveness to someone who is not listening. You pray to someone who has cast you out. And here you are. Under me. Calling for him as you weep on my cock in pleasure.”

His sharp fingers slide down your hip to circle over your bud of nerves and you cry out, tears streaming down your face, power radiating up your limbs. “Keep moaning, little angel. Keep begging.” He leans over you, pressing his hot chest into your wings, his breath hot on your ear as the tips of his pronged tongue slide along your lobe. “In your eyes you are soiled. Filthy. And my sweet goddess loves it, doesn’t she?”

You shake your head to deny, deny, deny. But a hard thrust, a stroke of his thick cock that kisses your cervix, and you sob in the pain that molds into pleasure. Your nipples brush against the cold marble, each icy touch shockwaves down your spine.

“I’ve watched you, my dove. When you study the humans in their pleasure. I’ve seen the way your pupils dilate. I’ve smelt the essence between your thighs. You dream of this don’t you?”

You try to whisper your Father’s name one last time, to show with your last breath of divinity that you were an angel who worked hard.

“You won’t say his name here anymore. Not in my realm—in our realm. Not in my arms while you cum on my cock. The only name you will moan and beg and plead is mine.”

Your wings flap in reverence, responding to his demands as they stretch around you. No longer are your feathers white, now they are inky black, as dark as midnight, as mysterious as the darkness you peer into.

The monolith quickens, a hummingbird’s wings, the bright core sliding up and down the tree-like structure and bleeding with vibration through the ground and up the altar.

Even as your mind tries to deny what you are becoming, your soul speaks otherwise, your core clenches around him unwilling to let go. The demon behind you grunts with each thrust, low and seductive on the back of your neck, his nose smelling the skin.

“I can’t—” you choke, fingers sliding on the altar from your sweat. “Please.”

“Please what?” he groans.

“More, please more, more, more,” you beg, words and resolve splintering in your throat as he rewards you with deeper thrusts, each one making you see the stars that shimmer along his skin.

“Say my name,” he demands, one hand sliding up your throat. You gasp at the subtle pressure on each side, not enough to do anything, but enough to make a dark current of pleasure pulse inside of you. “Let the skies above hear who you belong to now.”

You don’t know where the name comes from. He’s never given it to you. You’ve never asked. But somewhere, deep down in some ancient place in your soul, you’ve always known all along. Known him.

“Nanami,” it falls from your lips like a broken prayer. “Nanami, please—”

His teeth graze your pulse, sharp fangs dragging along your skin as pleasure builds in your body beyond reason. Your wings spread impossibly wide, your skin hums in arousal, hot and stinging.

The monolith’s pulse quickens with you, its light growing brighter as the power in your body travels through your veins to complete a transformation you can feel in your fallen grace. Even with every harsh pump of his hips, you feel worshiped. Worshipped by his hands. Worshipped on this altar in front of a monolith that watches over you both.

“You were an offering—a gift to me. Molded by the heavens. And now you’re mine. And your Father sent you to me,” he growls against your throat. “My dark goddess.”

His thrusts grow harder, more desperate, each one a brand searing its mark into your very soul. A mix of your essence and his precum pools on the altar where you are joined. The last embers of your angelic resistance crumble completely, replaced by an insatiable hunger that mirrors his own.

“Let go. Surrender to me completely.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

That hot lava at the base of your spine explodes like a volcano of unholy fire as his teeth sink into your neck, marking you as his. Your release bursts from you, your core squeezing his thick member, your muscles seizing as your mouth falls open and your cries echo through the realm as divine light fractures into starry darkness.

All of your abilities that have been repressed swirl within the darkness and mix with the forbidden powers awakening within you. It feels like the very essence of your being is changing, transforming into something wild, a reflection of the demon who guided you with a sultry voice down this path.

You feel a rivulet of your blood trail down the side of your neck from his puncture, blazing with the essence of darkness that now pumps through your veins. He releases his teeth from your neck and turns your head to him with more force than necessary, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you senseless.

You can’t breathe, your body is loose, your grip on the edge of the altar slipping with each relentless thrust but you love it. Every smack of heavy balls against your clit, every slide of sweaty muscles of his chest against your wings and back, every pulse of your cunt around his cock.

Nanami pulls away breathless, the hand around your throat tightening imperceptibly, the sharp tips of his fingernails breaking skin. His pronged tongue slides along your cheeks to collect your fallen tears.

Every noise that leaves your mouth is against everything you hold dear, a sound of sin, debauchery and lust.

“I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips, your breath punching out of you with each desperate thrust. Nanami’s eyebrows furrow and his nose crinkles with a snarl, his wings pulsing with flame as his release climbs up his body as well. “I’m yours, Nanami.”

“Take my essence, little angel,” he demands, biting your lip until you draw blood. You lick up the coppery tang, falling into the prickly grip on your neck as he takes what he needs from you. “One day, when you have ruled with me for centuries to come, when you are one in your skin, perhaps my essence will take root.”

Your eyes widen at the implication, your soul no longer quivering in blasphemy but in satisfaction. How you would love that. One day. With him.

“Yes, Nanami,” you whisper into him, accepting one more kiss as he strokes once, twice, and a final time before he shivers from head to toe and groans with deep pleasure into your mouth.

His darkness seeps into the remnants of your light, a forbidden dance of shadow and flame now made true. He pumps hot semen into you, far too much for comfort and your essence combines with his demonic energy, feeding the power that still ebbs in your veins.

He falls into you, his hold on your throat vanishing to slide down to your naked stomach, pressing to the spot where he is still lodged inside. You reach back, carding your hands through his burning hair, reveling in the shiver he gives you.

He pulls out of you slowly and your cunt clenches around nothing, legs shaking at the feel of his semen dripping from you. He does not entertain the mess but gathers you in his arms, carrying you past the defiled altar and monolith that has fallen into a gentle ebb once more. The obsidian floors open up again, the thin layer of water rising within a large tub of water that steams with inviting heat.

He sinks you both into the steaming water, your new darkened wings flapping at the moisture that touches your plumage. When he dips your head beneath the surface, it feels like baptism in reverse—washing away heaven’s hold rather than blessing you with it. When you emerge, you feel reborn, your shame and disappointment for your former family now washed away.

You sigh at the effect hot water on your muscles, melting into the large expanse of his chest. He does not speak and you do not ask questions, content to watch him manifest a tray of oils and soaps that smell of green tea and burning honey.

He plucks a marble comb from the tray and drags it gently through your curls, each stroke bending with the texture of your hair to guide without tangle, each pass worship and calming.

Once your hair is untangled and silky, he washes your skin with the soap and oils that smell of him. You study him openly now—the way constellations shift across his skin, how his golden eyes hold both demonic power and intelligent precision, the careful way he maintains order even in darkness.

He dresses you in black fabric that flows like liquid shadow, clinging to your curves like his possessive touch. Instead of the starry sky, the black material is adorned by golden accents that match his eyes and armor.

The altar recedes into the floor and in its place, two large thrones emerge. Carved from pure white marble shot through with veins of gold, they’re identical in height and grandeur—a statement of what he promised you—equal rule.

Dark vines curl around their bases, blooming with black roses, while plush velvet cushions in deep navy make them as comfortable as they are magnificent.

He throws you an inquisitive rise of his brow, what was once used to pick you apart upon first meeting him, now make your lips curl in a smile. You pretend to ponder which you will choose, humming noncommittally before you sink into one chair, sighing into the softness around your body and wings.

Nanami bends down, taking a hand in both of his before he kisses your palm. “You look magnificent,” he purrs, your hand still in his while he sits on his throne.

With a snap of his fingers, the garden walls disappear, revealing the vast landscape that was once shrouded in horror and fear when you first arrived.

Now it appears without malice, without misery or shame, but of exotic greenery and souls who have been neglected for only choosing a path that feels wrong even though it is right.

The heavens is but a distant memory now, infinitesimal in the many years you will continue to exist. Now, you bask in the new power in your bones, in the brush of Nanami’s lips to your palm once more.

As the stars on his skin ebb and fade with light, you take in the muscles of his torso, the strength in his movements as he worships you without speaking.

It has taken eons to get to this moment, but some part of you preens with the satisfaction that Nanami has always been watching, waiting for you to come to him.

Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!

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happy74827 · 7 months ago

Text

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley."

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

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alastor-simp · 9 months ago

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Be My Valentine - Alastor x Female Reader

♥️HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! Also I know Alastor is AroAce, but lets just assume in this fic he is not. Enjoy♥️

It was finally Valentine’s Day in Hell, a little holiday that some demons enjoy doing with their partners and others that find it absolutely ridiculous, like a certain deer demon. Alastor didn’t much care for a silly little festivity like this. He found romance a bit ridiculous, but he wouldn’t go as far as to make fun of someone else in a relationship, it wasn’t who he was. He did find Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship adorable, since he saw how happy the two of them were together. The little sparks between Husker and Angel were easy for him to spot, and it led to lot of teasing at the hands of Alastor, which earned him a middle finger from a certain cat on occasions.

Since it was Valentine’s Day, Charlie thought it would be a great idea to decorate the hotel. Heart paper strings were hanging from the ceiling, along with XOXO and heart balloons on the walls. It wouldn’t be Valentine’s Day without some sweets, so Charlie along with Niffty made some chocolate covered strawberries and pretzels for everyone else to enjoy. You were trying to figure out how to help liven the mood. “Music would be nice” you thought. Heading over to the record player, you skimmed for any good songs to play. Frank Sinatra was what you picked, and you decided to play that. The melody began to carry out all throughout the lobby, catching everyone ears, causing them to sway. “Ah! Excellent choice my dear!” You heard Al’s voice call out from behind you. He was sitting on one of the chairs, with a hot cup of coffee in his hand, wearing a pleasing smile. Smiling back, you made your way over to the couch and took a seat, listening to the tunes.

Soon Charlie came running back, “Okay everyone! Ready to start the Valentine gift exchange!” Before the decorations were put up, Charlie suggested that everyone pitch in and do a Valentine gift exchange. The gifts would be exchanged between two individuals: Charlie + Vaggie, Angel Dust + Husk, Niffty + Sir Pentious, and You + Alastor. Everyone got together and presented the gifts. Charlie had given a bottle of perfume and new hair bow for Vaggie. Vaggie gave Charlie a unicorn plushie and T-shirt with their faces on them. Angel got Husk a fancy bottle of Italian wine. Husk gave Angel a popular perfume from the Lust ring plus some mini outfits for Fat Nuggets. Niffty had actually handmade mini plushies of Sir Pentious and his egg bois. Sir Pentious got Niffty some roses plus a new sewing kit.

Now it was time for you and Alastor to exchange gifts. While you did have something for Al, there was something else you wanted to give him, but it was a surprise. Alastor was smiling down at you, hands behind his back, holding a mini box and bouquet. “Here you are my dear!” He handed you the box and flowers. Ahh he remembered how much you loved (your favorite flowers). Thanking Alastor, you opened the box, which contained a beautiful ruby necklace

“W-ow Al! This is beautiful! Thank you.” Holding the necklace up, you looked up at Alastor, face flushed. “You’re welcome, my dear! Allow me!” Grabbing the necklace from your hands, he motioned his body behind you, helping to place the necklace around your neck. Turning back around, you pulled out your gift and presented it to Al, “Happy Valentines Day Al” Grabbing the black box with red ribbon from your hand, he opened it, revealing a new rose tinted monocle. He had broken the one he had before, and didn’t have the time to replace it. “Ah I needed a new monocle. Thank you kindly, y/n!” Smiling you nodded your head and faced back towards the others

Al looked into the box again and saw a little piece of paper that was placed underneath the monocle. Turning away, he took the paper out and read it:

“ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏꜰᴛᴏᴘ ᴀᴛ 8 ᴘᴍ”

Well well, what was this? Another surprise, perhaps? Smile widening on his face, He placed the paper in his suit pocket, before turning back to everyone like nothing happened. The day continued as normal, with everyone chatting about random topics and participating in some bonding activities like board games and watching some random romance movies. It soon gotten late and it was time for everyone to head to bed, or so you thought. The glances you saw between Charlie and Vaggie hinted that they were going to be doing something else. Even Husk and Angel dust, especially since you saw Angel dragging Husk into his bedroom, well good for them, they make a cute couple. Going to head up and finish your plans, your eyes caught Al who had looked right at you. You smiled and walked away.

**8 PM- Alastors POV**

"Hmm I wonder what the little darling has planned for me?” Al thought to himself, as he made his way to the location you told him in the note. Ascending up the stairs, Al arrived at the door that led to the rooftop and opened it slowly. His eye widen at what he saw. In front of him was a small dinner table with chairs, decorated with candles and roses.

He was left stunned by what he saw. Walking closer to where the table is, he admired the little set-up. "Do you like it?" Turning his head around, Al saw you standing there, wearing a flowy black dress, bright smile place on your face. Alastor looked back at the table, then at you, "Was this the little surprise you had planned for me? If you wanted to have dinner with me, all you had to do was ask, my dear." Alastor gave a soft smile, making his way to you, lifting your chin, "You look positively radiant, darling." His words caused you to flush, "T-thank you. Go and take a seat Al. I'll be right back," Alastor smiled and let you go, heading over to the chair to take a seat.

Soon, you came back holding two plates, the aroma wafting off of them was mouth-watering. Placing them down, the smile on Al's face had widen. In front of him was a tender venison steak, his favorite, along with a side of salad and baked potatoes.

After that, you had grabbed a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and poured it into the wine glasses for both you and Al. Once everything was set in place, you slowly took a seat on the other side of the table. "This is my first time cooking venison, so I hope you like it." You fidgeted with your fingers under the table. "This looks spectacular! Thank you my dear!" He grabbed his wine glass and held it up in front of you, "Cheers, my dear!" Smiling, you grabbed your glass, bumping it against Al's, letting out a small clink. The both of you started to eat the meal you prepared, well you were watching Al more than eating, monitoring his reaction. You knew about his diet and what he mainly ate, so last thing you wanted was for him to try the venison you prepared and do a spit-take. The fork in Al's hand, held a piece of steak, and slowly it made its way into his mouth. The whole time you were sitting there, gazing at his reaction to see if he liked it. His expression didn't change, but he went back in for another bite, and another, and another. Heaving a sigh of relief, you were happy that he liked the meal, letting you go back to your meal.

Soon the both of you had finished eating, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Delicious!" Al said, wearing a pleasant smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Are you in the mood for some dessert?" You said as you got up from the table, and made your way over to grab the dessert that was hidden. Walking back, you placed a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries on the table.

"My dear, you know I'm not a fan of sweets." Al said to you, while looking at the bowl with strained face. "I made these myself using dark chocolate, so they won't be as sweet, trust me." Grabbing one of the strawberries, you held it up towards all, "Say ahh." Al raised an eyebrow at that, but he shook his head, amused at your actions, before taking a bite. Looking at him, you were expecting him to spit it out, but surprisingly he swallowed, "Not bad!"

Whew, glad he liked them. Now it was time to tell him what you were thinking/feeling. "Um Al? Can I ask you something?" Alastor looked at you, smiling like the joker. "Of course my dear! What is it?" He leaned in, placing his elbows on the table, lifting his head up with his hands. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy, and your palms were sweating. Your eyes looked down at your hands, until you turned your head back up to look at Al. "W-will you be my valentine?" Alastor eyes widen at that statement, but he continued to gaze at you. Feeling nervous, you looked back down to your hands, "Y-you don't have to answer, I understand you find romance and stuff a hindrance." you said. The two of you were sitting in awkward silence, until you heard his chair scrap across the ground, indicating he had gotten up. You knew it, he was going to leave. You had made him upset.

A hand was placed under your chin, making you look up. Alastor hadn't left, he had only gotten up to get closer to you. "Stand up, my dear." He said to you. Moving slowly, you got up from your chair and stood in front of Al. He continued to look down at you, his eyes flashing crimson. Then he got closer, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. "What an adorable request! I must admit, developing relationships with another is still new to me. However! I wouldn't mind forming one with you, my dear. I accept!" He whispered all of this in your ear, causing goosebumps to form. Your eyes got teary, as you hugged him back. After a while, Alastor moved a bit, placing one hand under your chin, and the around your back. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were soft. "Happy Valentines day, my doe." His head moved closer to yours, causing you to slowly shut your eyes, letting his lips press against yours in a soft kiss.

~END~

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman

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hritika13-tamboli · 8 months ago

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Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 2...

°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°

Series :

Day by day || dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) | single dad au || @hansolmates

Summary : a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together

Aim for the heart || hitman!jk x female reader | hitman au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Bedeviled || demon!jungkook x female reader | demon au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it. Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake.

Animal : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 || Boxer Jungkook x Reader | boxer au || @cutaepatootie

Summary : The girl looked at the man who was in his 60s , lying on the hospital bed fighting for his life, he was trying to talk with her “I don’t want to go without telling something.” The girl frown looking at the old man “What do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” “I don’t want to die without telling someone about her,” he says, his voice softening when he says ‘her’. “I don’t want to disappear without the world knowing about her and what she did for me.” “About her?” the girl frowns. Maybe his daughter? His sister? The man turns his head and faces the girl, a soft, distant smile plastered on his lips. The gesture is nostalgic, sad, almost loving. “Y/N,” he murmurs, the name rolling off his lips softly, just as softly as the waves of the sea roll over the sand. “Her name was Y/N.”

Into the woods || goblin jungkook x reader | goblin au || @junqkook

Summary : getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

The habits of the broken heart || Jungkook x reader | soulmate au || @softykooky

Summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Something in the heir || knight!jungkook x palace woman!reader | non-royalty palace au || @hisunshiine

Summary : The king of your empire will be leaving soon to head off to fight against Soiros, a foreign enemy, and his seven knights of the order of Bangtania will lead the way. One of the seven, Jeon Jungkook, with his dark eyes and easy smile, is someone you long for. Children believe he has slain dragons, and adults think he’s killed over one thousand Soirian soldiers. Everyone thinks he is a heartbreaker, making his way through every unwed wench in the land...but all he wants is you.

Miracle of the season || Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F! reader | angel au | soulmate au || @cybrsan

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.

Amortentia || Jungkook x reader | hogwarts au || @jungkxook

Summary : jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

Black magic || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?

(Un)crushed || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : you’ve liked jungkook for the longest time, but you believe it’s time to cut the cord—literally

What's wrong? || Jungkook x reader | slice of life!au || @oddinary4bts

Summary : Reader overhears Jungkook talk to his friends and mention how she’s always clinging on to him and doesn’t let him breathe sometimes and that she’s annoying because she’s too loud and energetic. When he comes back home she acts the complete opposite and tries to avoid him without letting him know what’s going on, until he realises that he actually prefers her clingy and loud🥺

High demand || Dealer! Jungkook x Reader || @bunnyhugs77

Summary : modern day Romeo and Juliet

Coin toss ||Jungkook x reader detective | agency au || @yoondoze

Summary : you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

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jasmines-library · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do a Winchester sister fic about her having a bad asthma attack and not being able to breathe and the boys get all scared

Breathe

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: First off i want to apologise for taking forever to write this. or anything. but we're back!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Asthma attack.

Honestly not too sure how I feel about this one….but it’s my first time writing in weeks so pls bear with.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Your fist collided with the Demon’s face as you swung around to face her. If the insistent throbbing in your hand wasn’t an indicator of how hard you had hit her, the stream of dark droplets falling from her nose, and the grunt she made as she went careening sideways were. She bounced back quickly though. Much quicker than you would have liked. She scowled, her black eyes narrowing as you swung a fist back in retaliation forcing you to lean back uncomfortably on your heels. You heard a clatter to your left as an array of cutlery went flying across the floor as Sam managed to tackle the demon he was dealing with. The woman in front of you glared at you with malice as she heard her counterpart go down. With a little shrug, and a petty smirk, you continued to dance around her, trying to get a good stab at her with your angel blade.

When you heard Dean breathe out a sigh of relief as he managed to deal with the latter of the ones he had been fighting, you didn’t allow yourself to get distracted and keep your focus on her. Distraction is a hunters number one enemy. But you can feel yourself getting tired. You can feel the burn in your muscles and the ache in your lungs as it grows harder and harder to suck air into them.

But then she made a mistake: She twisted to the side, raising her arm to swing a left hook, but left her right side open. It gave you the perfect opportunity, and you plunged the demon knife into her. She lit up in a spark of yellow before falling to the ground.

It was straight after that that everything sort of…hit you. Now that you weren’t focused on ‘not-dying’, the tightness in your chest was more noticeable. And that made you panic. And of course, that made everything much worse. Clutching one hand to your chest and the other against the wall, you tried to get in another breath, only for it to feel as though it had been cut short. When Sam came through the door, his self-accomplished grin was cut short as he saw you struggling to breathe.

“Hey, Hey.” Sam rushed over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as you looked up at him, wide-eyes and breathing in short, frantic gasps. “Hey. Calm down. You’re fine. Breathe”

You try to listen to Sam. Try to get your lungs to open up and to breathe normally. But they are stubborn and seem to do the exact opposite.

Sam’s heart seems to break a little when you look up at him. “Where’s your inhaler?”

You blink. Your chest heaves. “Car-”

Your older brother curses mentally, and you think that he calls out to Dean, because he’s rounding the corner one second and is hovering above you the next.

“Dean…her inhaler. It’s in the car. Side pocket.” Sam tells his older brother, his tone firm and authoritative. Dean nodding, his hair falling over his eyes as he scrambles back out of the house, swerving around the fallen demons to get to the car as quickly as he can.

Sam’s hands remain on your shoulders. His large hands take up most of your shoulder as they rest on the coloured flannel of your shirt. They’re calloused and rough, but seem to act almost as a safety blanket keeping you grounded. He shifts one of them to your chin, pinching it gently between his thumb and his index finger as he lifts up your chin. His irises seem to shift in the light as he gets you to look at him. Hazel brown, then green and back to hazel again. They’re glossy, concerned, but hold a sense of ease. Protectiveness.

“You’re okay, Kiddo. Just breathe. Dean will be back any second now.” Sam reassures, although he is unsure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself more. He’s panicking. And, he's beginning to grow antsy because Dean has yet to return from the car which he parked so impossibly far away. Damn stealth.

An impossible amount of time later less than a minute Dean comes skidding to a halt, inhaler in hand. Dean has already shaken it and removed the cap, so he fumbles around to get it in your hand. Once your fingers wrap around the plastic your brain goes into autopilot. The plastic is quickly brought to your lips and the medicine pumped into your lungs as you inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long for the medicine to work its magic. You feel the burn in your lungs subside slightly, and a flood of air comes rushing into your lungs as you breathe deeply, leaning against the wall as you collect yourself, taking a moment to yourself.

Dean raises a hand towards you, brushing the hair out of your face. “You okay sweetheart?”

“I……” You take another deep breath. “Yea. sorry.”

“No need to apologise, kid.” Dean says “As long as you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” you say, taking one last puff of the inhaler before replacing the cap and securing it in your pocket.

“You have seriously got to start remembering to bring that with you.” Sam reprimands, always the sensible one.

You sigh. “I know. But it’s so annoying to carry around.”

“We know it is, sweetheart, but you kind of need it”

“I know…..”

“So you’ll bring it with you?”

“No promises.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. He swears you give him more and more grey hairs everyday. You just grin up at him and he can’t help but shake his head affectionately at your stubbornness.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #dean winchester x little sister reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x little sister reader #sam winchester x sister reader

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satanghulu · 2 months ago

Text

Thnks fr th Mmrs

✦ PAIRING: barbatos & reader (no romantic relationship but you can read it as such) ✦ SUMMARY: A collection of photos throughout his life. ✦ WARNING: FLUFF!! Tooth-rotting fluff to be exact; one use of MC instead of Y/N ✦ WC: 1.8K ✦ tagging my fav barbatos stan @romcomeon huehue, hope u enjoy it!! also huge thanks to lupe & kelo who had to sit thru my rambling while i talked abt this fic 🧍‍♂️

| MASTERLIST

══════════════════

For a demon who has been there since the beginning of time, Barbatos has never seen the need to be captured in history – he is not the kind of person who has photos of himself in his D.D.D. He doesn’t see the need to. His gallery is filled with pictures of paperwork, the young master in all sorts of situations, sometimes Lucifer makes an appearance along with the other demon brothers. But regardless, there are hardly any photos of himself.

That is until the exchange program happened.

Lately, his gallery seems to be filling up – he has been taking pictures of his baked goods with Luke smiling proudly in the background, (he keeps this photo close to his heart. In a way, this reminds him of the young demon prince.) and he even has pictures with the other angels when there are events organised in the Demon Lord Castle.

Luke sends him pictures of himself – he saves all of them into a folder on his D.D.D. and sometimes, he pulls them out if he needs a pick-me-up. But most of all, his gallery has been recently populated with pictures of you. Of course, the Demon Prince would be the first in terms of photos in his gallery but following close behind, he has amassed a collection of you.

They’re not even anything special. They are just photos that you have sent over during conversations with him. He categorises them into folders – there is a collection of your selfies, food photos that you send over, photos that reminds him of you, and another one of your daily life.

Maybe it’s the age catching up with him, but he thinks he is becoming softer.

Lucifer tells him so as well.

(“You’ve been smiling at your phone more often nowadays.” Lucifer says. The conversation was unexpected, coming out of nowhere as the two of them were buried deep in paperwork in the Student Council Room.

Barbatos nods, hands paused mid-air in the middle of checking his notifications.

“Luke sent me photos of Simeon, MC, and him going on a picnic.” He replies instead. His hands were busy moving to place the D.D.D. back into his pockets. To be exact, both Luke and you had sent him photos but saying it in front of Lucifer felt like losing, an uncertain feeling in his stomach.

Lucifer stopped and looked up from his document, tired eyes wide open in surprise.

“I see.” He says after a moment of silence, turning back to his stack of paperwork. The grating noise of pen scratching paper fills the air again.

“This expression is a good look on you.”

Barbatos blinks in surprise, mulling the sentence over in his head.)

He has a recent new favourite – it’s a photo of the young master, you, and him in a selfie together. It was taken after an expedition to the human world with you being their guide. (There was honestly no reason for you to be the guide but both the young master and him insisted on your help.)

You’re in the middle, face squished in between his and the young master’s. The three of you are wearing accessories; a huge bow headband in matching colours, squeezed into the small photo booth. The demon prince and you had given him puppy eyes to convince him to wear the headbands and it didn’t take much for him to give in.

You’re also holding a huge teddy bear plushie, bestowed by the young demon prince who had wanted to repay you for your time. The maroon teddy bear had taken up most of the space in the photo and is blocking half of your face, but the genuine happy expression on your face is clear as day.

The picture was adorned with silly doodles, courtesy of both the young prince and you. He places the picture behind his D.D.D – no one knows it’s there, he uses a simple black cover that Luke had gotten him when the little angel had realised he hadn’t changed his case in decades.

The young master has it proudly framed in the office and Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches a little every time he comes into the room. Barbatos finds it funny, really. But he doesn’t comment on it for the sake of the ever-growing stack of paperwork.

The young prince was currently on an excursion with the Avatar of Pride and hadn’t wanted him to tag along. Thus, Barbatos had busied himself with assigning the Little D’s chores and re-training them on the basics. Really, he hasn’t been taking care of them much lately and their skills had deteriorated. It seemed that he would need to be stricter in his future training.

From the corner of his eyes, his D.D.D flashes with a notification. He slowly took his time to walk across the room to check on the message. (The Little D’s would beg to differ. They would say that a gust of wind almost sent them flying when Barbatos got up to check on the notification.)

Surprisingly, it was a message from you and not Lord Diavolo.

[02:14PM] You: barbatos, would u be free right abt now? could you stop by HOL? i need ur help with something :<

[02:20PM] Barbatos: I am free right now, thankfully. I’ll head over to the HOL in a minute.

He’s curious as to what is the issue. It is a given that you have become independent due to the harsh settings of the Devildom and it’s almost unheard of for you to request help, especially from him and not the demon brothers.

The doorbell rang, a long chime of an anime song that rings throughout the house. Levi had installed it a few months after moving in and none of them had figured out how to change the tune.

He patiently waits.

The door swings open. He is greeted by the sight of you, eyes bright and wide open as you huff loudly. It seemed that you had run down from somewhere in the house to not keep him waiting.

“Hello.”

He bows his head slightly as a form of politeness. You stand there, hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. His lips twitched in amusement but he fought to keep it down. Finally, you cleared your throat and straightened up.

“You’re here! Come with me.” You turned on your heels to walk off, leaving Barbatos in your wake. This strange behaviour left him even more puzzled, yet also entertained.

He follows behind you, noting that the house seemed quieter than usual. As far as he knows, only the young prince and the firstborn should be out of the house. But he digresses. It’s not his responsibility to keep track of their schedules.

Lost in his thoughts, he only realised that the final destination was your room. He watches as you knock on the door and then immediately pushes him forward to open the door handle. Bemused, he did exactly as you motioned.

“Happy birthday!”

Multicoloured confetti fluttered in his vision, twirling to land around his feet. He stares at the air for a while, the stark contrast of the rainbow-squared paper against the wall somehow made his throat develop a lump.

A tug on his coat caught his attention. He chances a glance down to see a mess of blonde hair sprinkled with colourful paper, bashfully holding the end of his tailcoat.

“Luke.” He says, hand automatically landing on the top of his head to pick out the confetti.

The small angel pushes a gift into his arm, before quickly scuttling away to Simeon’s side. It was a box of macarons and a limited-edition baking cookbook from the Celestial Realm. It was truly sweet how much the little angel catered to his preference.

“The gifts are from Luke and I.” Simeon chuckles, as he pushes Luke in front of him. He arched an eyebrow towards Barbatos, gloved hands placed on the shoulder of the younger angel.

“Thank you.” He said, hands wrapping around the gifts tightly. “I will prepare something for your birthdays next year as well.” The older angel smiles at him peacefully, gesturing for him to turn around.

You stand there with a beam, a present clutched in your arms. He badly wants to pick off the confetti in your hair but he knows it isn’t appropriate.

“We know it’s earlier than your birthday but we wanted to do something for you too.” You pipe up, offering the vaguely book-shaped present to him.

“Luke and I need to head back to the Celestial Realm on your actual birthday.” Simeon quips in, fingers picking out all the confetti that Barbatos had missed earlier. “And Luke also really wanted to celebrate with you.” Barbatos couldn’t help but find the miniature pout on Luke’s face cute.

“Anyways, open it!” With excitement evident in your voice, you dragged Barbatos to sit on the bed. Dimly, he notes that the teddy bear that the young master had gotten for you was taking up almost half of the bed. (Maybe for the sake of your quality of sleep, he should magic it down.) He carefully tears the wrapping off, and what’s inside makes him let out a soft appreciative noise.

“Do you like it?” You gave him a big toothy grin, eagerly pointing at the book. “I noticed how much you liked the photo we took together during our trip in the human world.”

Barbatos stays silent, staring blankly at the book. The moment everything sinks in, he looks up at you with eyes wide and searching.

“I pulled some strings and went around collecting photos from everyone.” You continued bragging, tugging the book away from him. You flipped through the pages to point at each picture, the two angels crowding around the bed to listen intently.

“I had the most trouble collecting this particular--“

“--Thank you.” He says once. “Thank you all.” He speaks out louder again, feeling like his heart was laid bare for all to see. In retrospect, a photo album and a cooking book are considered nothing in the larger scheme of things but the thoughtfulness behind the gifts makes it feel…different.

Most of his usual composure has been lost due to the embarrassed flush on his cheek but no one in the room points it out. Instead, you smile softly at him as you reach out to tap him on the shoulder once for reassurance.

“Picture?”

Simeon brandishes a camera, a model that Barbatos vaguely recognises from the Celestial Realm. You squeeze up beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist as you push Luke to sit on his other end.

“You can add this photo to the album too.” You whisper into his ears as if you were telling him a top-notch secret. “I left some slots blank so that we can fill it up in the future.”

He ponders your words in his head even as the timer goes off and the resultant flash blinds his vision for a bit.

We, huh?

He supposes that it has a nice ring to it.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ i’m of the agenda that barbatos adopted luke as his nephew/son or whatever but i just know he showers luke in love (as he should) also the photobooth photo is just because im a huge huge sucker for photobooths. I love wearing headbands and taking silly photos <3 also, first barb fic. do not perceive me too much. im struggling. /j ;; also can this be accepted as a very late barbatos birthday post

#can you tell im a sucker for found family trope yet ;;#satangwrites #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me barbatos #barbatos #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x you #barbatos x reader

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thief-of-eggs · 8 months ago

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Thinking about an omegaverse radioapple au (still with asexual Alastor) where Alastor is always on suppressants- he hasn’t had a heat in ages (and when he does, they’re never the most pleasant, seeing as he’d rather die than take a lover to bed, even if it would ease the pain)

But having all the new inhabitants in the hotel messes with things, and then he misses a dose of his suppressants and before he knows it- he can feel a heat coming on.

Lucifer can scent it on him, no matter how much the demon tries to hide it. He picks up the particular sweetness of it one night, after Alastor had been missing all day, and with concern growing in his gut- he follows it.

He follows the scent until he’s at Alastor’s bedroom, and he knows he shouldn’t enter- they’ve been together for a little while, but their relationship is still shaky, and if Alastor chose to go to his own bedroom instead of the one they share, then he must have wanted pace- and Lucifer is just about to turn away, until he hears a pained moan, and he can’t help himself.

He pushes inside, finding Alastor laying in a ball in the corner of his room, curled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, shirts of Lucifer’s in his little nest, little pieces of his favorite person scattered around him- and he looks terrible.

His ears are flat on his head, his whole body is trembling and covered in sweat. He doesn’t even notice Lucifer come in, not until the angel is standing before him-

“Leave,” he spits, even as Lucifer’s calming scent washes over him. His whole body aches, every muscle screaming.

Lucifer pauses, his heart aching to see Alastor so pained. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

And Alastor is about to tell him to go fuck himself, when Lucifer suddenly sinks to his knees, reaching out to brush the hair from Alastor’s face- and the contact eases a bit of the fire in his skin, soothes a bit of the raging in his gut.

He doesn’t push him away. Instead, despite himself, he leans his cheek into Lucifer’s palm. Closing his eyes as he breathes in the familiar scent of his alpha.

He hates everything about the position he’s in. Hates how vulnerable, how exposed, how utterly pathetic he is. But the longer Lucifer stays beside him, his scent filling Alastor’s lungs- the more he finds he cannot bear to drive Lucifer out.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t express what he needs, doesn’t communicate his wants. He just grabs Lucifer’s wrist and pulls him closer, tugging the blonde into his little nest, where he promptly curls up in his arms.

It’s more contact than he usually allows, but for once, his skin is not prickling every place they meet. Instead, his body feels warm from Lucifer’s touch, a pleasant glow filling his whole being.

Perhaps this is how touch often feels for everyone else.

Lucifer stays with him then, until the worst of his heat is over. Fully clothed, they lay in eachother’s embrace, Alastor allowing Lucifer to scent him, allowing him to card his fingers through his hair, allowing him to run his hand up and down his back.

It’s awful. It’s humiliating.

And it’s also the first time one of his heats has ever been bearable.

(edit: i made this a fic!!! read it here!)

#fuck i wanna make this a whole fic now #the concept of asexuality in the omegaverse is something i never considered before but omg??? i kinda like it #appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #omegaverse #lucifer x alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #omega alastor #alpha lucifer #radioapple drabble #asexual alastor

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shanieveh · 1 year ago

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“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.

#neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #neuvillette #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette angst #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette drabbles #genshin angst #genshin imagines

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irishmammonagenda · 9 months ago

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How I Think The Obey Me Boys Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: haha great question Content Warnings: probably just swearing tbh Disclamer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[dateables & co version]

post dividers by @cafekitsune their post dividers r really cool check them out! (also sorry for the tag!!)

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💙LUCIFER💙💙

When Lucifer heard the news from Beel, he was in the student council room, he turnt his D.D.D off and just placed his head in his hands.

Was this some elaborate scheme by Solomon to gain a pact with him?

Lucifer wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

Sighing; he pulled on his coat and traversed to Purgatory Hall where Michael was staying.

"Michael." The Avatar of Pride stood leaning against the kitchen counter, everyone else in Purgatory Hall was at RAD, so the Angel and Demon were alone. "Oh Jesus Christ!" The Angel in question brings a hand to his heart in mock dramatics, "Warn a guy next time Lucikins!" "..." The Silence was palpable. "...Lucikins?" Lucifer gritted out, his eye twitching. "Michael. This is not the time for your games. I am the Avatar of Pride and a Prince of Hell, show me some respect." Michael merely raised an arched eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face as he quickly closed the distance between them, pulling the Avatar of Pride into an ironclad headlock, bringing his other arm over with a clenched fist and messing up Lucifer's hair. "I'm sure you are Lucikins, but you're still my adorable little brother." Lucifer pushes his hands out in an attempt to get away, but even he had to admit, Michael had always been stronger than him. "Michael." The younger protests, "I swear to Lord Diavolo if you do not let me go, I will-" Michael interrupts him, pausing his brotherly tormenting to wipe a tear from his ruby red eyes. "-Ahh! You must've missed me so much, poor Wittle Wucifer! Always so heavy on the teenage angst!" Lucifer growled in a way too similar to Satan when he first fell. Like father, like son. "I don't have teenage angst. Now unhand me you bastard!" "Oh please! The amount of times I caught you in the Celestial Realm listening to My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco on repeat speaks for itself! And the eyeliner! Just because the others were too young to remember doesn't mean I was baby brother! Don't think I don't remember the wolf-cut!" Lucifer's eye twitches so hard he worries for his socket. He cab't even refute it. "You are two minutes older than me! And besides! I came here to talk about the rumours of you dating Solomon!" "The What." Michael immediately ceases all noogie-ing, his grip loose enough for Lucifer to slip through his arm. He scowls, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit and beginning to fix his hair. He moves a safe distance away from his older (estranged) brother. "The rumours of you showing up during a Sorcerers' Society meeting and making out with Solomon on his lap. Ring a bell?" Michael, for the love of him, just looks confused. "But I've never even-" He blinks slowly a few times. "I am going to kill MC." Lucifer, even with the ego bruising he had just endured, laughs, partly out of sheer relief, he doesn't want to imagine what a Solomon Michael duo could be capable of. But of course it was you. It always was.

💛💛MAMMON💛💛

HUH???!!!

This poor man's confusion is so strong.

He doesn't want to think about Michael's lovelife. Or Solomon's for that matter.

He immediately rushes to tell you.

"Oi! MC!" Mammon shoves his way into your room like he was auditioning for the walking dead, as per usual, he wasn't aware of the marvellous invention of knocking yet. You quickly closed you laptop lid, and placed the device down beside you on the bed, lest he saw the Archangel Michael/King Solomon 100k, Slowburn, Angst with a Happy Ending you were writing on HellO3. “Hi Mams!” Mammon scurries onto your bed like the floor is lava, resting his chin on your thigh and looking up at you with his usual puppy eyes. “Yer not gonna believe this MC.” He says seriously. "What's up?" You tilt your head, bringing a one of your hands to ruffle your First Man's hair, he leans into the touch happily before jumping up and acting like he wasn't. "Well, 'pparently Michael's after starting te date Solomon. Can ye believe it?" Mammon makes a face. "Michael...wi' Solomon...I don' wanna believe it...just...its mingin'..." You laugh nervously, "I don't think Michael's dating Solomon, Mams....someone must've uhh..." You hold in a laugh. "It's probably just a succubi or someone looking for chaos." Mammon nods seriously, laying his head back on your lap. "Yer prolly righ' MC." You pet his hair again, "Wanna watch a movie or something, Mams?" "Pffft- Of course ya would wanna watch a movie wi' the Great Mammon...alrigh' huma-...Angel...I'll allow it...!" He says with his usual bravado, it was almost convincing, if he hadn't nuzzled further into your hand, and he wasn't looking at you like you were the one reason his pulse was still going.

🧡🧡LEVIATHAN🧡🧡

He finds out after the first chapter to a certain Archangel Michael/King Solomon fanfic was published. Yes he is subscribed to your HellO3 account, and yes! he has emails turnt on.

What kind of person would he be if he didn't read his Henry's fanfics?!

He throws his phone across the room.

When he finally wills himself to get up and retrieve it, he takes a screenshot and starts texting you frantically.

You're lazing about on your bed dong nothing, you'd just posted the first chapter of THE FORBIDDEN FRUITS: A GAY ROMANCE STORY THAT TRANSCENDS REALMS five minutes previous when your DDD began vibrating at such a speed you almost made a very unfunny sex joke. You pick up your DDD and sure enough, its Levi, heh; so he is subscribed to your HellO3 account! Leviachan <3: MC WHAT IS THIS NDVNRO DID YOU WRIT E FNAFICTION AOBOUT MCIAHEL AND SOLOMOMN You grinned. You: Fnaf fiction? Good idea for an AU! Leviachan <3: VFIBNODNORNGVNO MC IM LOOKING ON FORUMS WDYM THERES A RUMOU R ABORUT SOLOMON AND MICHAEL DATING You: In my defense, it was Solomon's fault. There's no response for 10 minutes, until your DDD pings again. Leviachan <3: Why is the fanfic good Leviachan <3: I MEAN OFC ITD BE GOOD, YOU WROTE IT BUT Leviachan <3: ITS SO Leviachan <3: THE CHARACTERS ARE SO COMPELLING AND THE PLOT IS SO GOOD RJRGNVDON Leviachan <3: AND THE TENSION??!! You grinned, you could always count on your Lord of Shadows to hype up your degenerate fanfics. You: thanks <3 satan's helping me write it, wanna help? Leviachan <3: I don't think I could write as good as you guys, im just a stinky smelly worthless otaku :( You: nuhuh. >:( Leviachan <3: But if you wanted... I could maybe beta-read??? You: OFC YOU CAN LEVI TANK YOU <33333 Leviachan <3: Haha tank LMAO ROFL You: I can never mispell anything around anyone in this house You kicked your feet like a catholic school girl holding hands with a boy for the first time in her life, knowing Levi probably was too.

💚💚SATAN💚💚

This man has a web of connections.

He found out almost as soon as the rumour started.

Like Mammon, he immediately finds you to tell you

Unlike Mammon, he actually knocks

granted he knocks for a second before just opening your door so he could've just not knocked and it would've had the same affect.

"Hello MC" "Mornin' Satie...What time's it?" You rub your eyes tiredly, having just woken up from a nap, you sit up and blink at him slowly with sleepy eyes. Satan can't stop himself from cooing, he movies towards your bed and ruffles your hair like you're a cat, you lean into the touch. "Sorry for waking you, dear..." You yawn. "You're fine Satie...what'd you need?" "Have you heard the rumours that Michael and Solomon are secret lovers-" Suddenly you're wide awake. "Oh no. Oh no no no." Satan raises a brow, "What's wrong, MC?" You grin sheepishly, "I maybe might've accidentally not on purpose started that rumour?..." Satan laughs in your face. Handsome bastard. "It's not funny!" "It is a little funny..." You gasp, eyes lighting up mischievously, "We should write a fanfic!" Satan tilts his head, "And why would we do that?" "Because the world deserves a Slowburn Michael x Solomon fic?" "Nope." "Pleaseee Satan! I'll pay you!" "Nope." "It'll annoy Luci?" "Tempting..." "I'll give you a kiss?" "I'm in. Let's write the best Michael x Solomon the Devildom's ever seen." You shake Satan's hand. Maybe you should've been reincarnated as a demon.

🩷🩷ASMODEUS 🩷🩷

Finds out through one of his gossip circles relatively fast.

He wants to get more details so he can tell you later! <3

By far one of the more supportive brothers

So he finds Solomon, who knows maybe he could give some advice!

Michael was strange, but he was always nice to Asmo growing up in the celestial realm, he might as well make sure one of his best friends is treating his former brother right <3

"Hiya Sol!~" Asmo smiles excitedly, pulling the sorcerer in for a hug, pouting when he pulled away again. "I cant believe you never told me! Ugh~...you must've been scared I wouldn't accept you!~ Poor thing...~" Solomon blinks slowly, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with pure confusion, lost in his own rant, Asmo doesn't notice. "Well! You have my blessing!~" "For what?" "For your relationship with Michael, silly!~" Asmo giggles, Solomon takes a deep breath. "For my what." A pause pauses all sound for a moment, only for a moment, before like all other moments, they begin the cycle of movemnt again. Solomon nods rather calmly, "Maybe I shouldn't have turnt MC into a sheep....or maybe I should do it again as payback...." He says to himself Asmo sighs, so it was just a rumour then....

He does still post a link to your fanfic on his Devilgram story, because he's so supportive! <3

No one tell Michael, or Lucifer pretty please

❤️❤️BEELZEBUB❤️❤️ & 💜💜BELPHEGOR💜💜

Being a member of the Anti-Lucifer League, Satan told Belphie who told Beel after taking a nap.

Beel, being the absolute legend that he is didn't really have any opinions on it. As long as they're happy :)

Belphie sits in on the fanfic plot planning sessions you and Satan host, with Beel sometimes joining and giving surprisingly interesting plot twists.

Belphie cackles when Beel tells Lucifer of the rumours, shortly before the first chapter of Forbidden Fruits is published.

Satan and You stand by the whiteboard in the attic, various spider diagrams and bullet points are written messily upon it, only this time, it's not a plan to 'prank' Lucifer. (Are they really pranks if they never succeed?) The sound of munching can be heard as Beel works away happily on a bag of crisps, offering everyone some as you work. "What if we made Solomon run after Michael in the rain." Belphie drawls out lazily, not even looking up from where he lies beside Beel. You stare at Belphie, "What is with you and the people chasing after people in the rain trope?" Belphie sticks his tongue out at you in response. Beel shakes his head. "That wouldn't be accurate. Michael hates getting his hair wet." Belphie smiles, "Good point Beel." Satan makes a sound of contemplation. "What if...we had Michael chase Solomon in the rain instead? The fact he hates getting his hair wet could show just how much he loves Solomon..." You laugh, imagining the scene in your head. "But why is Michael chasing Solomon?" Belphie smirks, "Because Michael said something bad about humans during a fight, Solomon got upset and ran like a maiden." Beel stops munching on his snacks, looking down approvingly at his twin. "That's really smart Belphie." "Thanks Beel." Belphie grins. "Yeah Belph, your angstiness is really paying off." You tease. "Oh shut up MC." He glares at you, but there's no real weight behind it. "Theyre right you know." Satan smirks. "I heard you blasting Paramore and MCR earlier." "Its good music!"Belphie says definsively. "Besides, it keeps me awake. Goodnight." He mutters, laying his head on his twins lap before closing his eyes. Five minutes of silence later, Beel opens his mouth, "He does wear eyeliner a lot when he's in our room y'know?" "Beel!" You and Satan laugh, Beel just smiles happily at everyone getting along. Belphie devises a plan to make you dream pigeons are going to take over the world tonight as payback.

im on a Lucifer being bullied by Michael spree rn 🧍‍♂️ also you can't convince me that Satan and Belphie aren't soso similar to Lucifer bc at the end of the day they're all just angsty emo teens <3

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cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

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*Shuffles in* HEWWWOO

I GOT ANOTHER (I'm so sorry) Alastor x Chubby!Reader 😔

(This might seem weird and so so strange but I swear it's not perverted and shouldn't be seen as such)

Magic is in hell, yeah??? SOOO what if Alastor tries to his dark voodoo sprinkle magic but IT BACKFIRES or something while he tries to fix that one wall in the show that keeps getting destroyed or helping charlie with something 🤔 and he turns into A KID BUT A HUMAN KID BACK WHEN HE WAS ALIVE and everyone kinda justs bombards him with questions and comments (not Husk in the background smirking because Alastor is an asshole to him so he's planning all the ways he can get his revenge, Charlie freaking out, Angel cooing at his cuteness, vaggie cursing up a storm, niffty sulking because he's no longer a bad boy) and I would imagine that child Alastor is kinda like '🥹who are all these weird creatures, where am I, where's momma' ...😭 chaos ensues, Alastor just wants his momma so he's crying as loud as he can because 'I'm lost' (HES A MOMMAS BOY AND I FEEL AS A KID HE WAS INNOCENT AND SWEET) the hazbin hotel residents immediately try to calm him down but he only gets louder THEN LIKE AN ACTUAL ANGEL here comes reader back from shopping or waking up and is welcomed to all the commotion, and after making her presence known Alastor just sniffles at her, tears streaming down his face 😢 reader immediately going to tiny Alastor to help and tiny Alastor who thinks reader is a fairy? Angel?? Goddess?? Some warm welcoming figure that he's gonna marry (like playground kids sometimes do??) so he's calming when she goes to help him,' he's been kidnapped' looking back at the hazbin gang, more tears coming, reader immediately going into caretaker mode and cares for him throughout the whole ordeal, while Alastor gushes about his momma or talkinging readers ear off about anything and everything (Charlie figures out it only lasts all day somehow) so Alastor sticks with reader and helps her with her duties at the hotel, never leaving her side, at the end of the day before he goes to bed

Angel teases tiny Alastor about reader being his mommy que reader blushing and sputtering from reader only for Alastor to turn to Angel with disgust and determination on his face to proudly announce to Angel that reader is gonna be HIS WIFE INSTEAD only for husk to scoff in the background and says something about Alastor being a smiley freak or something for Alastor to doubt that reader will marry him, that thats never gonna happen, only for reader to kiss Alastor on the forehead and declare that that doesn't change anything because Alastor has always owned her heart, something sweet???? To reassure kid Alastor then reader takes Alastor to his hotel room to sleep, to later on in the night to sneak into readers bed because 'momma cuddles with me till I fall asleep', sleepy cuddles, soothing humming for child Alastor to ask before he falls asleep if reader really will marry him when he's older and Reader half asleep herself and full of love for the man he'll grow to be says yes, but to take her out first or get her flowers ya know???

When reader wakes the next morning to flowers surrounding her bed and her favorite breakfast presented to her with a bashful adult Alastor saying he's kept his side of the deal now its readers turn, readers faces lights up and smiles big enough to hurt her cheeks and they date and get married ☺️😣

(I'm sorry it's a weird request and soooooo fucking long but .....please..)

A/N I literally love you and your requests. Hi. Also I am making her a rabbit again because I feel like that would be something that a kid would not find scary and would be very excited about as a demon form.

Mishap of Magic (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Nothing except that Alastor is a little kid for most of this fic.

Word Count: 3,463

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask.

It wasn't the first time it had happened to Alastor but, it had certainly been a while since the last time he'd had to deal with such an issue. Magic was a fickle thing, obstinate at the best of times. He had found a certain agreement of sorts with the metaphysical but, it still backfired on occasion.

Alastor had been trying to fix the wall -- the fucking wall. Somehow, every time there was an issue with the hotel, this same exterior wall was involved. It was inconceivable and deeply irritating, especially now that it had been the trigger. Alastor could feel the world shifting, feel himself shrinking and then, nothing.

"Uh, what the fuck?" Vaggie broke the silence, stress seeping into her voice.

"Oh my gosh! Vaggie!" Charlie exclaimed, grabbing onto her girlfriend's arm and shaking it violently, a bright smile lighting up her face, "He looks like a little kid!"

"Damn," Angel laughed lightly, "who woulda guessed the strawberry pimp was actually a cute at one point in time."

Alastor looked around in confusion. A tangle of limbs, wild creatures and bright colors. Husk smirked, trying to hold a derisive laugh at bay as he placed a bottle on the shelf of the bar.

"Charlie," Vaggie sighed, turning to her overexcited partner who at the moment was cooing over how small Alastor had become, "you do realize we have to change him back."

All the joy fell from Charlie's face in an instant.

"Hey, uh, little guy?" Pentious began, awkwardly advancing towards Alastor, "You wouldn't happen to know how we can fix this? I-"

"Stay away!"

His voice was small and shrill, panicked as Alastor backed away from Pentious' advancement. Sir Pentious stopped in his tracks and Charlie let go of Vaggie, coming up beside him.

"It's okay, Alastor." she said in a tone of voice that was trying very hard to be everything except for panicked, which is what it actually was, "He's not going to attack you.''

It became evident almost immediately that that had in fact been the wrong thing for Charlie to say. Alastor's eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Where... stay away from me!" he exclaimed, "My momma told me not to talk to strangers."

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a glance and Charlie sighed.

"We're not strangers, we're you're friends. I am Charlie, that is Vaggie, Husk is in the bar, this is Angel, and here is Sir Pentious. Remember?"

"I don't know any of you scary things!" Alastor exclaimed, tears beginning to drip from his wide, wet eyes and roll down his cheeks, "I... I want my mommy. Where is my mommy?"

"Oh! No no no!" Charlie exclaimed, trying to reach a comforting hand out to the child but he backed away again.

"Where is my mama!" he yelled, now absolutely sobbing, "I want... I want..."

He sniffled, trying to catch his breath as he looked frantically around the room. Charlie turned to Vaggie, pulling at her hair.

"What do we do!" she asked her girlfriend who shrugged, as much at a loss of how to handle the situation as her partner was.

"Man, if I 'da known he was this cute and... and frail under that whole persona all along." Angel sighed wistfully, crossing his lower set of arms.

This time Husk really couldn't stop the laugh that left him. Before anyone could ask what was so funny, if he knew anything about what was going on, the doors to the hotel opened and Y/n waltzed in. Her arms were laden with bags and she wore a bright, sunny smile.

"Al!" she called out, closing the door gently behind her, "You'll never guess what I found at the market!"

"Um, Y/n?" Sir Pentious tentatively began, taking a step towards her as she turned to the group.

"Fresh strawberries!"

As her eyes fell on the scene before her, the smile fell from her face, replaced with an expression of alarm. The bags fell from her grasp, spilling groceries across the floor as she rushed to the young Alastor's side. His mouth was slightly open, tears still falling openly from his eyes, as she crouched before him. The white skirt of her dress pooled gently on the floor around her feet as she raised a handkerchief to his face, gently patting his cheeks with its edge.

"What on earth is going on?" she asked softly, her voice laced delicately with concern.

"Well, Alastor was fixing the wall and then he just... poofed? I don't know! We don't know what happened and we don't know how to fix it and he keeps asking for his mom and... and... and..." Charlie trailed off, looking around helplessly at her companions.

Y/n's gentle gaze never once left Alastor's. She smiled softly at him.

"I see, are you lost?"

Alastor nodded weakly, sniffing once.

"And there are all these big scary monsters around!" he told her.

"Ah, I see." Y/n sagely replied, "Am I a big scary monster too?"

She didn't mean it in any way except as an attempt to assess the situation further. Alastor's cheeks flushed slightly pink as he shook his head, looking away bashfully. Y/n smiled softly, turning his face gently back to her.

"Would you like to stay with me until we can figure out what is going on?"

The tears had stopped now and Alastor nodded enthusiastically. Y/n dabbed the last remains of saltwater from his cheeks, slipping the handkerchief into her pocket. In a single, swift and practiced motion, Y/n lifted Alastor up, resting him on her hip. His hands immediately went to one of her floppy ears, running his little hands over it in awe.

"Bunny." he stated and Y/n nodded.

"Yeah, I am just like a bunny, okay?"

Alastor met her eyes.

"You're pretty like a bunny too!" he announced proudly and Y/n felt her cheeks grow slightly warm.

"Ah, what a little charmer." she noted, tapping his nose lightly and Alastor giggled.

"How are you so good with him?" Angel asked and Y/n turned towards him as Alastor continued to fiddle with her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"He just kept crying when we were trying to help."

Y/n shrugged slightly.

"I was the oldest growing up. I always had to take care of my baby cousins and stuff like that. Besides, little kids are the sweetest a this age!"

Angel's eyes flicked between Y/n and her enthusiasm and little Alastor who seemed absolutely awestruck in her arms.

"Yeah." he scoffed, "That is all it is."

"Now, Alastor." Y/n hummed, turning to face the boy who immediately met her gaze, his earnest air only endearing her to him further, "I have some work to get done, I cook here at the hotel. Do you want to come help me?"

"Uh-huh." he nodded vigorously and Y/n smiled.

"Well, that's a relief cause, you know, I could really use your help."

"Really?"

Alastor's eyes lit up at the notion, that she needed him, that it wasn't just an empty offer.

"Yeah I could." Y/n confirmed, "How else am I supposed to know if the fruit is ripe or the meal is good if you don't try it for me first?"

Alastor giggled and Y/n turned, glancing at her bags still splayed out on the floor.

"Pen, can you help me with these?"

Immediately, the snake demon agreed, grabbing the fallen produce and placing it back into the bags before hoisting them onto his shoulders. The trio had made it about halfway across the lobby to the service door that lead to the kitchen when Y/n paused, looking back at Charlie over her shoulder.

"Charls, I'd quiz Husk about this if I were you." she advised gently, "He seems far too pleased at the situation to not know exactly what is going on."

The day sped by in a whirl of something akin to unbound joy. It was a peaceful reminder of the person she had been to take care of Alastor like this. They had always been close, he didn't own her soul or anything but Y/n and Alastor had been friends for years. When he had asked her to come help out at the hotel, she had jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him after so many years.

Despite their closeness, neither knew all too much about the other. There was always an unspoken barrier of sorts in the way. For Y/n, it was a mild attraction to the man. He was a moralist at heart with a strict code completely of his own he always stuck to and Y/n admired him for that. She wasn't sure what the disconnect was on Alastor's side but, in the moment, she didn't care. She had learned more about the man through this strange experience than she had ever hoped to, it was a gift.

It was his capacity for love, she realized as she lead him into the lobby to say his goodnights. Y/n had never realized how deeply Alastor cared about the people in his life or the world around him, he hid it so well as an adult. Child Alastor had no pretenses, he was completely and entirely himself with nothing held back. In a weird way, it almost strengthened the feelings she had for him as an adult, being allowed to experience him like this.

All day, he had trailed after her, doing his absolute best to complete every task she assigned him and talking all the while about how much he loved his home and his mom. It was sweet, it was endearing, it was verging on dangerous. Y/n tried not to think about it as she held his small hand.

The pair came to a stop by the bar where the rest of the hotel's residents were sharing a drink. Charlie had found out earlier from Husk that this change in Alastor should only last a day and Y/n found herself nearly morose at the idea. She loved Alastor as a man, respected him, but he lost that openness he had had as a child, she realized. It was a shame that come sunrise, she wouldn't be able to have such open communication with the man again, a shame that the only open communication she would ever have with him was when he was a child incapable of adult though. Y/n squeezed his hand gently.

"Let's say goodnight, okay?"

Alastor looked doubtfully up at Y/n, still put off by the rest of the gang.

"They're your friends, I promise. Would I lie to you?"

Alastor thought it over before shaking his head slightly. He turned to face the group.

"Good night." he announced, his voice trembling just the slightest bit.

"Good job." Y/n hummed and Alastor smiled in pride.

"Damn, is this how you guys always are?" Angel laughed, taking a sip from his drink, evidently already intoxicated, "I mean, I knew you were friends before you came here, but are you always such a mom to him?"

"No!" Y/n indignantly replied, her cheeks flushing slightly pink, "We're just friends."

"Nah," Angel smirked after a moment, "you're totally his mom."

Y/n opened her mouth to reply when Alastor let go of her hand, stepping in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Y/n is not my mom." he insisted to Angel who raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, then what is she?" the spider demon asked and Y/n glared at him.

"Y/n is the prettiest ever and when I grow up she's gonna be my wife!" Alastor proudly announced, "She is nice and gives the best hugs."

Angel and Husk both broke out into peals of laughter.

"Like you could land a girl like her." Husk scoffed.

"What do you mean?" Alastor asked, his words slurring slightly together from exhaustion.

"Hate to break it to you kid, but when you grow up, your creepy ass could never."

Alastor frowned deeply at this remark. He looked back at Y/n, his eyes bleeding helplessness. She felt her heart crack and crouched down beside him. Tucking his hair behind his ears, Y/n placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Don't listen to Husk." she smiled gently at him, "You have always had a place in my heart."

Alastor's face lit up at this and he turned back to Husk. Taking Y/n's hand back in his, he stuck his tongue out at the cat demon who rolled his eyes in response.

Once up in Alastor's room, Y/n tucked him in to bed and told him a story. Alastor's sleepy eyes struggled to stay open and when she moved to leave, it took some convincing to make him let go of her arm. With promises she would see him first thing in the morning, Y/n let the door close gently behind her and let out a sigh. She had forgotten how much work kids could be, she was exhausted.

She had barley made it back to her room, barley crawled into bed, when there was a soft knock at her door. With a sigh, she threw the covers from her legs and walked to the door, opening it with an irritated expression which softened the moment she saw who stood on the other side.

"What's going on, honey?" she asked, crouching down to Alastor's level and cupping his cheek gently in her soft hand.

"I can't sleep." he bashfully replied, "Momma cuddles me until I fall asleep."

"I see." Y/n hummed, getting to her feet and stepping to the side so he could enter.

Alastor looked up at Y/n in doubt and she gave him a nod of encouragement. It was all he needed to rush into the room and jump up onto her bed, snuggling down into the pile of covers. Y/n watched him for a moment, smiling softly, before closing the door and joining him.

Immediately, Alastor wrapped himself in her arms, snuggling into her chest. Y/n was frozen for a moment in indecision, but tiredness prevailed and in her sleepy state, all that mattered was that it was Alastor. Her oldest friend, the one who had never failed her. She pulled him close, resting her chin on his head.

"You're so comfy." Alastor mumbled through a yawn and Y/n chuckled.

"Its because I know how to enjoy all that life and the afterlife has to offer." she hummed softly in response, her breath tickling the top of his head, "Most men would prefer someone who looks different than me but, luckily I am not existing for men."

The pair fell silent for a moment. Sleep pulled at the edges of Y/n's ears, dragging her eyelids down. She hummed a gentle tune, a lullaby she had long since forgotten the words to but that she could hear her own mother in.

"Well, those men are stupid." Alastor grumpily replied, maneuvering himself around in Y/n's grasp so he faced her, "You look like a fairy."

Y/n cracked her eyes open, ruffling Alastor's hair slightly.

"Why thank you, I do try." she smiled.

"And I meant it."

"Meant what?"

Her eyes were closed again, her voice dreamy.

"When I grow up, I am going to marry you."

"Oh, are you now."

"Yes." Alastor insisted, and in his insistence, through the shrillness of his childlike tone, Y/n could hear him as an adult, as the man she knew, "When I am grown up, I am going to ask you to marry me. Will... you would say yes, right?"

Who would have guessed, the feared and decisive Radio Demon could doubt. Y/n smiled.

"Well, you can't just ask a girl to marry you right off the bat."

"You can't?"

There was a genuine confusion in his voice, Y/n had expected nothing less from a child. Still, she couldn't help but view him through the lens of his adult self in this moment. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the proximity, the dark, how lovely he was when he had nothing to protect himself from, when he did not yet know of the filter he needed in order to conduct himself in the world and not get fucked over by it.

"Nope." Y/n shook her head slightly.

"Why not?"

"Well, you have to court her first."

"Court her?"

"You know, ask her on dates, buy her flowers: woo her."

"Well then I will do that too."

The last thing Y/n remembered before the world gave way to sleep was Alastor asking what her favorite flower was.

"Hyacinths." she had told him, "The purple ones. But don't you dare buy them for me unless you have something to apologize for because they ask for forgiveness. Instead, buy me peonies, they are for new love."

The heat of Hell's false sun was what woke her. Y/n grumbled, rolling over in bed, the course of the day before re-materializing in her head. She smiled softly at the memory, a certain sadness creeping in at the fact that she would probably never be that vulnerable with the man again.

A faint, almost peppery smell reached her nose and Y/n cracked her eyes open. Around her was a world of soft pinks and whites, cascading petals and the most beautiful display of protracted death. She gasped slightly, sitting up in bed. Looking around her small room, she realized it was filled to the brim with peonies in different stages of life. As her eyes traveled to the foot of the bed, she found Alastor standing there, his cheeks flushed and a tray in his hands. On the tray was a stack of pancakes, all cut into the shape of flowers to match. Y/n laughed lightly, smiling up at him from where she sat in bed.

"What's all this?" she asked and his cheeks grew brighter still.

Alastor looked away, clearing his throat.

"I'm keeping my side of the deal."

Y/n searched her mind, looking for any trace of what he could possibly mean.

"The deal... oh!" it suddenly hit her, the sleep riddled conversation they had had the night before.

Her cheeks flushed pink, mirroring his and picking up the colors of the flowers he had surrounded her with. She smiled brightly at Alastor, pulling herself from the bed. The hem of her nightgown rippled gently against her legs as she approached him. With grace, she plucked a strawberry from the plate and popped it in her mouth.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" she grinned coyly up at him.

Alastor rolled his eyes.

"I'm... doing the things so... just..."

"Alastor."

"What?"

His discomfort was palpable, unfamiliar. She reveled in it.

"Do you actually like me?"

"I thought I told you. You know, when-"

"I thought that was just mindless chatter." she interrupted, "Little kids are always saying stuff like that."

"Well, I wasn't."

Y/n laughed and Alastor placed the tray carefully on the edge of the bed, turning back to her.

"Did I misinterpret what you said?"

"Not at all." Y/n said, taking a step closer to him.

"So you will marry me?"

She laughed again, she couldn't help herself. Y/n could tell that if Alastor was able to do anything but smile, he would be scowling at her reaction to his sincere question.

"Ask me out on a date."

"Bu-"

"Ask me out on a date!" she insisted and Alastor sighed.

"Fine. Would you..." he took a deep breath, nerves running wild, "would you like to go out... with me..."

"Oh wow, so confident." Y/n teased.

"Y/n." Alastor warned and her smile widened even further.

"Yes, Al. Yes, Alastor, I would love to go out on a date with you."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, her hands clasped behind her back as she swayed slightly on her feet, "I will."

Before she could register what was happening, Y/n was in Alastor's arms. He lifted her off her feet, spinning her around.

"Wait!" she shrieked, "Alastor, put me down! Aren't I too heavy?"

"Not at all, my dear." he hummed, holding her close now.

"Still, put me down!" she bashfully requested and at last he conceded, her feet finding the cool of the wood once again, "How long have you been... you know."

"That, my dear, is for me to know."

He tapped her nose gently and one of her ears shifted in response. Y/n crossed her arms.

"Not fair." she whined.

"Eat." Alastor commanded, unable to be moved on this point, "Meet me downstairs after. We're going out."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet

@reader3

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