#fallen-imagine-angel series

[levitanias]

thinking about frankenstein's monster again, not anything in particular just kinda brain rotating him like he's the well liked side character of a bad shonen anime

[xhoess]

Falling for the Star

Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader

Summary: You meet actor Nicholas Alexander Chavez at a gala, sparking an intense romance. As passion builds, you navigate the challenges of his fame, facing public scrutiny and personal doubts. Through steamy moments and emotional struggles, you both fight for a love that’s worth the spotlight.

Wc: 10.7 K

Smut, fluff, drammaaaaaa

The moon hung low in the Los Angeles sky, a silver crescent illuminating the sprawling city below. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation as you cautiously approached the entrance of the exclusive charity gala at a luxurious rooftop venue. The invitation had arrived with bright golden lettering, but in truth, you had almost turned it down. The mere thought of mingling with celebrities, the glitterati, and Hollywood’s elite had been overwhelming. Nevertheless, a gentle push from a close friend, coupled with a curiosity that ignited within you, led you to this moment.

As you stepped through the large glass doors, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. The soft notes of a live jazz band floated through the air, a blend of elegance and vibrancy. Lush greenery adorned the venue, with fairy lights twinkling like stars overhead, and champagne glasses clinking gently as laughter erupted around you. You took a moment to appreciate your reflection in the mirrored walls, wearing a stunning emerald green dress that hugged your figure perfectly. It cascaded to just above your knees, with delicate lace details accentuating your collarbone, making you feel both empowered and graceful.

You scanned the room, your heart racing, when your eyes caught sight of him — Nicholas Alexander Chavez. He was standing across the room, effortlessly charming, with an easy smile that lit up the dimly lit space. His attire was flawless, a tailored navy suit that complemented his physique, making him look like he had stepped right off a magazine cover. His dark curls framed his face, and the spark in his eye held an undeniable allure. You felt an involuntary blush creep up your cheeks as your gaze lingered, making you acutely aware of how stunning he truly was.

Just as you thought you might have imagined the connection, Nicholas glanced in your direction. His gaze met yours, and an electric thrill surged through you, igniting a pulse of energy that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to study a nearby artwork, though you could feel his stare still lingering.

With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you decided to get a drink from the bar, hoping to calm the fluttering in your stomach. The bar was swarming with well-dressed attendees, all lost in their own animated conversations. You ordered a glass of sparkling wine, and just as you turned to survey the party, you bumped into a broad shoulder.

“Whoa there,” came a deep voice, smooth as velvet.

You looked up, instantly recognizing the familiar face. Nicholas was standing right in front of you, a playful grin on his lips that made your heart skip a beat. “Looks like you’ve fallen for me already,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You tried to keep your composure, laughing nervously as you brushed your hair back. “Well, I might be a clumsy drinker,” you shot back, a lightness in your tone that surprised even you.

“The drinks aren’t the only thing that sparkles here,” he replied, his gaze simmering with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “I’m Nicholas, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, leaning closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What brings you to this shindig? I’m sure you could have found somewhere more exciting to spend your evening.”

You chuckled, feeling more at ease. “Believe it or not, I was contemplating staying home and binge-watching my favorite series. But the charity cause pulled me in—along with the chance to dress up a little, I suppose.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “And what’s your favorite show?”

Do you really want to know? It’s quite embarrassing,” you replied, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.

“Embarrassing? Nah, I want to hear it,” he insisted, his playful demeanor captivating you further.

The conversation flowed easily from there, a delightful exchange filled with laughter and banter. It was clear that he was down-to-earth, someone who didn’t take himself too seriously despite his rising stardom. He listened intently, leaning against the bar with relaxed confidence that made you feel at ease.

As the night progressed, you found yourselves inching closer, the chemistry undeniable. With every stolen glance and shared laughter, the space between you seemed to shrink. Everything else faded away. Just as you felt the urge to lean in, the crowded bar suddenly erupted into laughter, startling you back to reality.

Nicholas chuckled, his gaze holding yours captive. “Looks like we���re commandeered. How about I steal you away for a moment before we get swallowed by the masses?”

“Lead the way,” you said, your heart racing as he gestured toward a quieter section of the venue.

Working through the sea of guests, you found a reprieve on a balcony that overlooked the stunning LA skyline. The city lights glimmered like a cascade of stars, and for a moment, it felt as if you were both the only two people in the world. The evening breeze danced around you, carrying the sweet scent of blooming jasmine from nearby plants.

Nicholas leaned against the railing beside you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You know," he said softly, the music from inside blending into the background, "I’m glad you came tonight. You have this energy about you, something refreshing."

our heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone leaving a weight on your chest. “And I’m glad I bumped into you. I didn’t expect to meet someone like you tonight.”

Just then, the moment felt charged, his gaze intent as he held you captive. You could sense the potential for something deeper, something more than just a fleeting encounter at a glamorous gala. But before you could react, a friend called out for Nicholas, interrupting the silence that had built around the two of you.

With a reluctant smile, he turned back to you. “I have to go, but I hope we can pick up where we left off.”

Me too,” you replied, biting your lip, hoping it spoke volumes about what you felt.

He flashed that dazzling smile again. “Here’s my number. Call me. Let’s not let the night end like this, okay?”

You took the slip of paper, your fingers brushing against his as you felt a shiver of delight at the contact. “I definitely will,” you promised, watching as he faded back into the crowd, leaving you breathless and craving more.

The gala had been a whirlwind of elegance, laughter, and glittering lights. You had spent the evening swirling through rooms filled with celebrities, each moment feeling like a scene from a movie. But the real magic began when Nicholas Alexander Chavez approached you during the afterparty, his charming smile effortlessly stealing your breath away. Now, you found yourself on the rooftop of a trendy Los Angeles venue, the city sparkling below as the cool night air wrapped around you.

Nicholas's deep voice carried a playful tone as he arched a brow, “So, did you come here to dazzle everyone with your beauty, or is there a hidden talent I should know about?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the railing, your fingers brushing his casually. “Dazzling was the aim, but I didn’t expect to run into anyone like you tonight.”

The atmosphere was charged; the intimacy of the rooftop—complete with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead—set the perfect backdrop for your budding connection. Below, L.A. hummed with life, yet up here it was just you and him, everything else fading away.

“Tell me more. What’s it like being a dazzling star in your own right?” he asked, running a hand through his dark hair, drawing your attention to the way the moonlight caught the angles of his jaw.

What can I say? I’m just a regular person who got lucky,” you replied, trying to infuse some levity into the conversation even though your heart raced in his presence. “By day, I’m probably just a boring desk jockey, but at night…” you trailed off teasingly, “I become the queen of charity events.”

His laugh was warm, infectious. “A queen, huh? I’ve always wanted to meet royalty.” He leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him—invading your senses. Living in a dream, you felt that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t break.

“I’m not sure how much royalty I am,” you said, feeling daring. “But I do know how to throw a fantastic ball.”

“Care to demonstrate sometime?" he winked, but then his smile softened. “I think it’s important for people to see beyond the lights and glitz. That’s what I try to show in my work too. There’s more to me than what’s at surface level.”

You considered his words, your gaze locked on the sincerity reflected in his eyes. “What do you want them to see?”

Nicholas ran a hand along the back of his neck, a habit you found endearing as he looked for the right words. “That I’m just… well, I’m just trying to figure it all out like everyone else. Being in the spotlight can make things so complicated.”

I can only imagine,” you murmured, absorbing the weight of his confession. It felt nice to know he shared this vulnerability, drawing you closer to him. The edges of the conversation had shifted, moving from playful banter to something deeper.

As he spoke, his hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Time slowed as you both lingered over the lightest of touches, an entire world of unspoken words swirling around you.

Do you think the stars are what they seem?” he mused, his voice lowering as he locked eyes with you. “Or just another layer of a persona?”

Sometimes they seem so perfect,” you replied, barely above a whisper. “But underneath, they’re human too.”

Nicholas smiled, and in that moment, the air felt thick with expectation. He leaned closer, and you could almost taste the warmth radiating between you. The moment elongated, both of you dancing around your desire, a symphony of unfulfilled tension hovering just inches apart.

Then, the serene bubble popped with a shout from below; a group of fellow gala attendees had spilled onto the rooftop, laughter spilling and echoing into the night. The connection between you and Nicholas fractured. He stepped back, breaking the moment like glass shattering on concrete.

“Maybe we should join the party,” he suggested, though you could hear the hint of disappointment in his tone.

“Yeah, let’s not keep the others waiting,” you said, your own heart sinking at the missed opportunity.

But as you both made your way back downstairs, the chemistry lingered electric in the air, weaving around you like a warm embrace. Nicholas walked close; he brushed against you, and goosebumps raced down your arms. You caught fleeting whispers from the crowd as you rejoined—words of admiration and intrigue—as if the guests could sense the bubble of tension that encapsulated you both.

Each glance exchanged with Nicholas sparked further anticipation. You could feel his gaze on you, a warmth that made your cheeks flush. As the evening progressed, small moments of contact sent your heart racing. The lightest brush of his fingers on your back as you maneuvered through the crowd made your breath hitch.

Finally, the night reached its peak, and you found yourself standing at the edge of the rooftop once more, feeling slightly more at ease and anxious all at once. “Thank you for tonight; it was… amazing,” you said, leaning against the railing.

Nicholas turned to you, a soft smile curving his lips. “I had a great time too. But I have a feeling this is just the beginning, isn’t it?”

His voice held a promise that sent butterflies dancing in your stomach. “I hope so,” you replied, allowing a shy smile to break through your facade.

“I’d like to take you on a proper adventure,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “How about we escalate this?”

“Esclare? I’m intrigued.” You crossed your arms, wanting to feign nonchalance but failing miserably.

Tomorrow. Just you, me, and no distractions,” he proposed, excitement bubbling within you at the thought. This was more than just flirting; you could sense things moving to another level.

You could hardly find the words. “I’d like that.”

With a grin that lit up his face, he nodded. The tension hanging in the air was undeniable, and you felt it wrap around you like a heavy blanket woven from the threads of your growing connection. As he leaned close, just hovering as if weighing the options, the world faded into nothingness.

And just then, in that brief moment, everything felt just right. Because in this vast city of stars, you had found one that was distinctly Nicholas, and you were ready to explore wherever the night—or your blossoming relationship—might lead you next.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across your room as you stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection. Tonight was more than just another evening. This was a date. A date with Nicholas Alexander Chavez, the charming actor who had stolen your attention—and heart—at the charity gala just days ago. You felt a delicious blend of nerves and excitement bubbling within you, urging you to make the right choice. After rummaging through your closet, you finally settled on a sleek, midnight blue dress. It hugged your curves just right, striking a perfect balance between elegant and alluring. The fabric shimmered slightly under the light, mirroring the glint of anticipation in your eyes.

As you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and a hint of perfume, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of what was to come. Nicholas was not only stunningly handsome but also had a down-to-earth charm that made your heart race. You picked up your phone, your fingers trembling as you checked the time. You were supposed to meet him at a secluded restaurant hidden away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi, a secret oasis in the bustling city.

The short drive to the restaurant was a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. What would you talk about? Would he lean in closer like he did at the gala? Would you have chemistry over dinner? The mere thought made your heart flutter, and you could feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

The restaurant was everything you could have imagined and more. Nestled on a quiet street, adorned with twinkling lights and soft music, it had an intimate atmosphere that instantly set your nerves at ease. As you walked in, you spotted Nicholas seated at a small table in the corner, his dark hair tousled just right, wearing a casual yet stylish outfit that emphasized his toned physique. He looked up and met your gaze, his smile lighting up the space around him, and suddenly, all the anxious thoughts melted away.

“Hey, you look incredible,” he said, standing to pull out the chair for you.

“Thank you! You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, your voice playful, but your heart raced at the closeness of him.

As you settled into your seat, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You spoke about the gala, sharing laughs over the awkwardness of celebrity encounters, and Nicholas shared funny behind-the-scenes stories from the show. There was an undeniable chemistry, a palpable tension that lingered in the air between you. You couldn’t help but lean in a little closer, wanting to soak in every detail of his expressions and the slight huskiness of his voice when he laughed.

The waiter appeared, taking your orders, but your focus remained on Nicholas, who effortlessly carried the conversation. He spoke of his childhood dreams, his journey into acting, and his love for the craft. “I never thought I’d end up here,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and humility. “It’s surreal, to say the least.”

“I can’t imagine how challenging it must be,” you said, genuinely admiring his dedication. “But I’m glad you’re here. You’re incredibly talented.”

The way his eyes softened at your words made your heart skip a beat. “I appreciate that. It means a lot coming from someone like you,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you, making the room seem smaller, just the two of you in your own world.

As dinner progressed, the food became secondary to the moments that were passing between you—slight touches when handing over his plate, the warmth of his gaze locking onto yours. Each shared smile felt like a silent promise, and you found yourself leaning in as if drawn by an invisible string. There was an undercurrent of desire, thick and tangible, yet neither of you was willing to break the spell just yet.

After the main course, you shared a decadent dessert—a rich chocolate lava cake—playfully feeding each other bites as laughter echoed softly around you. The sweet treat punctuated the sweetness blooming between you. The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

Nicholas studied you, his expression serious yet softening the longer he watched. “Can I ask you something?” he said, his tone turning unexpectedly sincere.

“Of course,” you replied, your throat dry with anticipation.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “What do you want in life? Beyond what you do, beyond this moment?”

Your heart raced as you stared into his deep brown eyes, sensing the authenticity of his question. “I want to experience life fully. I crave adventure, connection, and authenticity—like what I feel right now.” You held his gaze, feeling exposed yet free.

“And do you feel that with me?” he asked, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You bit your lip, nodding slightly. The air thickened with unspoken words, and as you opened your mouth to respond, your heart pounded in anticipation of his next move.

Just then, the waiter returned with the check, ruining the moment as you both leaned back, the tension momentarily shattered. After settling the bill, you found yourselves back on the sidewalk, the crisp night air washing over you as you walked under the stars.

Nicholas slowed his pace, walking closely beside you, the hum of the city fading into the background. As you approached your doorstep, the atmosphere became charged with unspoken possibilities. He turned to you, his gaze deep and sincere. “I had an amazing time tonight,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into that smile that made your heart flutter.

“Me too,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement.

With the height of tension building, he stepped closer, your body instinctively responding to his proximity. His hand brushed against your arm, sending tingles through your skin. Time seemed to freeze, and you both leaned in, breaths mingling, hearts racing.

But then, a car passed by, its headlights illuminating the moment, reminding you both of the world outside. He didn’t pull away, but rather hesitated, drawn to you yet respecting the moment. “Can I…?” he began, stepping even closer, leaning in as though daring to close the distance between your lips.

“Please…” you whispered, your heart hammering against your chest, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of his kiss.

But then, he pulled back slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I think I’ll save that for next time,” he said with a smirk, leaving you both breathless and wanting more, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like the sweetest poison.

As you both stood there, the connection cemented, deepened yet oh-so tantalizingly just out of reach. You knew that this was only the beginning of a whirlwind romance that neither of you could resist.

The days after your last date with Nicholas were an intoxicating mix of anxious anticipation and exhilarating daydreams. He had called you the very next day, his voice smooth and inviting, as if the warmth of the previous night had never really faded. You felt the thrill of those moments linger in your veins, and every text he sent only stoked the flames of your imagination. It was with a flutter of nervous excitement that you prepared for this evening—a dinner at his cozy apartment.

Standing in front of your mirror, you ran a hand through your hair, taking in the reflection of your carefully chosen outfit. You had settled on a flowy, olive-green dress that hugged your curves just enough to leave an impression while still retaining an air of elegance. The fabric floated around your legs as you moved, and you decided on a pair of simple yet chic heels that accentuated the subtle tone in your skin. A touch of makeup polished your look, enhancing your features without overshadowing your natural beauty.

As you stepped out of your apartment, the evening sun cast a golden glow over the city. It seemed to mirror the excitement building within you for tonight. Each heartbeat was a reminder of what might lay ahead—a chance to get to know Nicholas in a way that was private and personal.

Nicholas' place was tucked away in a quieter part of Los Angeles, the streets lined with palm trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. When you reached the front door, he opened it with a smile that lit up his whole face, making your heart skip. He was wearing a soft gray sweater that clung to his frame and fitted jeans, effortlessly stylish yet comfortably laid back. “You look stunning,” he said, his eyes dancing over your figure.

“Thanks! You clean up pretty well yourself,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

He ushered you inside, and it was exactly as you had imagined—stylish yet inviting, decorated in a way that felt uniquely him. The living room was warmed by soft lighting, highlighting the modern artwork that adorned the walls. A fluffy beige couch faced a modest kitchen where the smell of garlic sautéing filled the air. Nicholas grinned cheekily. “I hope you like Italian. I may have gone a little overboard with the pasta.”

You laughed, feeling instantly at ease. “I’m not complaining. It smells amazing!”

As he led you into the kitchen, the playful vibe between you flared like a spark. You slipped off your heels, enjoying the coolness of the wooden floor beneath your feet. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” he said, reaching for a bottle of wine.

“Wine first?” you teased.

“Only if you promise to help me cook,” he shot back, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You accepted a glass, savoring the way his fingers brushed against yours as he handed it to you; the simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. As you both prepared dinner together, Nicholas cracked jokes about his culinary skills—claiming he was still trying to impress his mother—and you returned his playful banter, playfully questioning his choice of ingredients.

“Is this how you charm all the ladies?” you asked with a smirk as he accidentally spilled a pinch of salt into the sauce.

“Only the ones who can keep up,” he replied, winking at you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary on your lips.

You could feel the warmth pooling inside you, a thrilling mix of nerves and intrigue. Raising an eyebrow, you leaned closer, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mingling with the aromatic fumes wafting from the stove. “A challenge, huh? I think I’m up for it.”

His hand found its way to your waist as he moved around you, the touch intentional yet innocently casual. The heat radiated from where he held you, and the atmosphere thickened with unspoken desires, tension carved from every shared glance.

Dinner was a success—delicious and slightly chaotic, filled with laughter and lively conversation. Afterward, you both settled on the couch, the remnants of the meal cleared away. A bottle of wine was uncorked, and as the rich liquid flowed into your glasses, so too did the deeper conversations about life, ambition, and art. You shared pieces of yourself, opening up in a way that felt natural and liberating.

Nicholas listened intently, his focus unwavering, his eyes piercing through the dim light in the room. He shared stories from his childhood, the ups and downs of navigating fame, and the pressures that came with it. Each story unveiled another layer of the man you were growing to admire—not just his on-screen charm but the authenticity that lay beneath.

As the night wore on, the conversation took a flirtatious turn, lingering touches transitioning into palpable tension. The air was thick with anticipation, the quiet intensity building like a crescendo in a symphony. You could feel the magnetic pull between you, every brush of his hand against yours awakening a fire deep within.

In a moment that seemed suspended in time, he looked at you intently, a thousand emotions swirling in his gaze. “You have no idea how captivating you are,” he said softly, his voice low and husky.

Your heart raced, and you could barely find your voice. “And you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” you replied, your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest.

Just as the tension reached its peak, it snapped, and before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, urgent and filled with the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve in your body. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you melted into him, shared moment of longing finding its release.

Your heart raced, and you could barely find your voice. "And you have no idea what you’re doing to me," you replied, your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest. Just as the tension reached its peak, it snapped, and before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, urgent and filled with the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve in your body. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you melted into him, every shared moment of longing finding its release.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. You gasped as his teeth gently nipped at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "I love how you react to my touch."

You pulled him closer, your hands exploring the hard muscles of his back. "I want more," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Nicholas smiled, his eyes dark with lust. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt.

He lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes taking in every inch of your body. You stood there, vulnerable and exposed, yet feeling more confident than ever. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, making them harden instantly. You moaned, arching your back to press yourself against him.

Nicholas's mouth found your nipple, his tongue swirling around it before he took it into his mouth, sucking and nipping gently. You cried out, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place. He moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, making you squirm with pleasure.

His hands moved down your body, tracing the curve of your hips before slipping under the waistband of your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it gently through your panties. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "I can't wait to taste you."

He slid your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. You stepped out of them, standing before him completely naked. Nicholas knelt down, his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart. You braced yourself against the wall as his mouth found your pussy, his tongue licking you from your opening to your clit.

You moaned, your hips bucking against his face. Nicholas gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he continued to lick and suck you. His fingers found their way inside you, pumping in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.

You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. "I'm close," you gasped, your hands clutching his hair. Nicholas looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire. "Come for me," he said, his voice commanding. And with that, you did, your body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you.

Nicholas stood up, his lips covered in your juices. You pulled him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "I want you inside me," you whispered against his mouth. He smiled, his cock hard and ready against your stomach. "I want that too," he said, his voice filled with lust.

Taste yourself on him, the taste of your desire and pleasure. He laid down next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

As your bodies cooled down, Nicholas whispered in your ear, "That was incredible." You smiled, your body still humming with pleasure. "It was," you agreed, your voice soft. Nicholas kissed your shoulder, his hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach.

The sun hung in the sky like a lazy star, casting golden rays on the bustling streets of Los Angeles. The city had a certain energy at noon—a buzz of laughter, chatter, and music that thrummed in the background as you and Nicholas made your way to a quaint café. You felt the familiar flutter in your stomach every time you laid eyes on him, this charming man who had flipped your world upside down since that fateful gala.

He was effortlessly stylish in a light denim jacket over a fitted t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled as though he’d just rolled out of bed. You, on the other hand, wore your confidence like your favorite dress; a royal blue sundress that swayed lightly with every step. The perfect dress for a casual afternoon felt like it had a purpose—to catch his eye, and today, it worked.

As you approached the entrance, Nicholas waved to a couple of fans who recognized him. They squealed in delight, their phones snapping pictures. A small smile played on his lips, but you could see the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. This was one of those moments when the reality of celebrity life hit hard.

You exchanged glances, your heart racing irrationally as he opened the door for you. “After you,” he grinned, revealing that perfectly straight line of teeth. Entering the café felt familiar and safe—a hidden gem filled with small wooden tables, rustic decor, and soft background music. As you settled in, the sunlight kissed your foreheads, creating a cozy atmosphere.

“So, are you ready for your first official sighting as my girlfriend?” Nicholas teased, leaning back in his chair, his arms casually resting against the wooden surface of the table.

Your cheeks flushed at that label—girlfriend. It was surreal how quickly everything had escalated since that magical charity gala. "I’m not sure I’m ready for the spotlight yet,” you replied cautiously, stirring your iced coffee with a straw, trying to mask the nervous excitement rising within you.

Nicholas leaned forward, his hair falling slightly into his eyes as he spoke softly, “You don’t have to be. I’ll protect you from the madness, I promise.” His intensity sent a jolt through you, an understanding of why you’d been drawn to this enigmatic man in the first place. There was sincerity in his voice like you were the only two people in the world at that moment.

You suddenly felt exposed in the café filled with fellow patrons, but the air between you shifted as he reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly over your hand, a gesture so innocent yet electrifying. You fought to maintain composure; it was as if the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you drowning in each other’s gaze.

You laughed softly, attempting to lighten the mood. “What happens if we get caught in the act, huh? A scandalous photo of Nicholas Alexander Chavez holding hands with ‘mysterious girl’? That'll definitely pique the tabloids’ interest.”

His laughter echoed your own, bright and genuine. “Right? They’d paint me out to be a heartthrob dating a ‘nobody’—the things they’ll come up with!” He mirrored your playful tone, clearly enjoying the idea.

Just then, the bell above the café door jingled, and a few patrons turned their heads to you. You pressed your lips together, not wanting to draw attention but unable to hide your reaction. You required a steady heartbeat, but somehow, being out with him felt exhilarating, like you were both part of a bit of magical fiction.

After placing your order, you focused on light conversation, sharing stories of your work and traveling. But as you delved deeper, the atmosphere began to shift. You spoke of dreams and ambitions, and he listened with such intent that the heat between you grew palpable. It was as if you were no longer just a fan but two souls connecting, sharing experiences that transcended the celebrity facade.

“So, what’s your greatest dream?” he asked suddenly, his gaze unwavering, making you feel like the center of his universe.

“I suppose I want to create something…” you said hesitantly. “Something that resonates with people, like a book or a novel that could help someone out there feel less alone.” You bit your lip, unsure whether your vulnerability would push him away.

A smile of encouragement spread across Nicholas's features. “I love that. You have such a kind heart, wanting to uplift others. But I have to admit, I always thought your first dream would be to become an actress.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, that’s definitely not my path. I’ll leave the acting to you.”

“But you’d be fantastic—give it a try!” His enthusiasm shifted the conversation’s tone.

At that moment, your eyes locked, and the world around you faded again. His compliment lingered. In a cacophony of noise, it felt serene, amplifying the longing and tenderness brewing in the air.

As you finished lunch, Nicholas paid the bill, but before you could rise, he leaned in closer, whispering, “Want to take a walk? I think we could enjoy this beautiful weather.”

You nodded, heart racing as the waiter smiled knowingly at you both. The walk turned into a leisurely stroll down the picturesque street, but the quiet chatter and laughter from other customers filled the air. As couples passed, holding hands and giggling, doubt crept in. Would you fit into his world? Did you belong in a love story where the media followed every footstep?

Suddenly, someone shouted, “Nicholas!” from behind. You turned to see a group of people snapping photos and shouting questions.

Nicholas held your hand tighter, his protective instincts kicking in as he led you away, heart pounding. “Don’t worry; I won’t let them overwhelm you,” he reassured you, leading you down a quieter alleyway.

“Hiding from the paparazzi already?” you teased, the wild energy of the afternoon igniting a playful spark.

“I think for now, it’s better to avoid the spotlight… but I promise we’ll get used to it together.” He winked, the cheeky grin returning to his face.

Just then, you felt it—his fingers brushing lightly against yours as you navigated the narrow space between two buildings, the electricity crackling and their connections sparking:

His eyes met yours, the air growing thick with unexpressed emotions and unspoken promises. It was a moment that reminded you there was still magic in the world.

As you turned, you collided against him, leaning into his warmth, your pulse racing. “You’ll keep me safe, right?” you murmured, inviting vulnerability.

“Always,” he whispered, leaning ever closer, tantalizingly close yet challenging the rules of what was appropriate.

And in that sanctuary away from prying eyes and flashing cameras, you both indulged in the escalating tension, knowing the path ahead lay somewhere between public dreams and private desires. You were ready to embrace it.

The early morning sun poured through your window, casting a warm glow across your room. The excitement bubbling in your stomach was contagious, filling your thoughts as you prepared for a weekend that promised to be life-changing. Nicholas had invited you to a secluded beach house for a romantic getaway, a break from the intensities of the public eye and the constant buzz of Los Angeles. This was your chance to explore what had been building between you, surrounded by soft sand and the gentle sounds of the waves.

You slipped into a light sundress, the fabric flowing gracefully around your legs as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The vibrant colors highlighted your features, and you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Today wasn’t just another day; it was the beginning of an escape, a chance to relax and truly be yourself around Nicholas.

Arriving at the meeting point, you spotted Nicholas standing by his car, his face lit up with that captivating smile that made your heart race. He wore a casual ensemble: fitted jeans and a simple white T-shirt, yet he looked effortlessly handsome. As you approached, he greeted you with a warm hug, and a rush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach at the contact.

“Ready for the best weekend of your life?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You nodded, unable to form words. Instead, you climbed into the passenger seat, unable to suppress a grin as he slipped into the driver’s seat beside you. The car hummed to life, and with a quick glance your way, he put on a playlist of lighthearted tunes, instantly setting a cheerful tone for the road trip ahead.

As you pulled away from the city, the congested streets gave way to open roads flanked by tall trees and endless skies. You chatted about everything and nothing, laughter spilling easily between you—stories about childhood, your favorite places, dreams you hadn’t shared with anyone before. With each passing mile, your connection deepened, growing from a spark to a flame.

“Do you ever get used to the whole celebrity thing?” you asked, curiosity guiding your question.

Nicholas chuckled softly, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “Honestly? Sometimes it feels like a double life. The lights and glamour, yes, but then there’s just normal me, you know? I love moments like this—away from it all."

His candidness made you smile. “I can only imagine. What do you do to escape?”

He glanced at you, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m a pro at finding cozy little spots. But nothing quite like this weekend—with you, everything feels just right.”

The complimentary exchange of your thoughts flowed effortlessly, a gentle rhythm establishing between you both. Just as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you arrived at the beach house, a charming retreat nestled on the shore. The scents of salt and sea breeze welcomed you as you stepped out of the car.

“Welcome to paradise,” he declared theatrically, throwing his arms wide to encompass the view. The house was stunning, with large windows that framed views of the ocean, its soft roar beckoning you forward.

You took in the surroundings, feeling the magic of the setting. It was everything you’d dreamed of for a special weekend. Inside, the decor was warm and inviting, a mixture of coastal charm and modern amenities. Nicholas stepped over to the kitchen, a place where the evening’s culinary adventure would soon unfold

kitchen, a place where the evening’s culinary adventure would soon unfold.

“Any requests for dinner?” he asked, already pulling out pots and pans as if he had been preparing for this moment.

Your eyes lit up. “Surprise me! Just nothing too spicy—I’m not great with heat in my food,” you replied, good-naturedly teasing.

s he began preparing the meal, the kitchen transformed into a lively atmosphere. You took a content seat on the counter, watching him work. “You’re quite the chef,” you commented, impressed as he expertly diced vegetables, contrasting with the actor persona you had become accustomed to seeing on-screen.

“Oh, I dabble. Cooking is one of my favorite escapes. Want to help?”

He reached out, grabbing your hands and pulling you down to the floor, guiding you to stand beside him. The two of you continued the evening, creating delicious dishes and sharing flirtatious banter, his playful touches igniting electricity between you as he moved in close, his hands often resting on your waist or brushing your arms.

As the aromas of a delightful meal filled the air, the atmosphere gradually shifted. Dinner was served on the terrace, a beautiful candlelit setup overlooking the ocean. The flickering lights danced softly in the evening breeze, creating an intimate sanctuary away from the world.

With each bite, your conversation took on a deeper tone, revealing your hopes, dreams, and fears. Nicholas shared stories about his upbringing, moments that shaped him, and you reciprocated with your own stories, revealing layers of your life you rarely discussed. There was raw honesty in your exchanges, and the chemistry between you both became palpable.

Eventually, you transitioned from the terrace to the cozy living room, still wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. A half-empty bottle of red wine sat on the coffee table, two glasses clinking softly as you filled them. Sparks of laughter and connection intertwined as you prepared to settle down.

Finally, as he leaned back against the couch, he turned toward you, a serious look replacing the lighthearted atmosphere. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You nodded, curious.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. There’s something about you, something that pulls me in.”

Your heart raced, the raw honesty of his admission echoing loudly in the stillness of the room. You shifted closer, his gaze intoxicating.

“Me too, Nicholas,” you whispered back, your pulse quickening.

In that charged moment, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Nicholas leaned in, brushing a stray hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. The tension between you escalated, magnetic and electric.

He paused, searching your eyes for permission. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was no denying the longing that sparked in the air.

Then, in an instant, all the teasing and banter that had built up between you both broke free. His lips met yours in a flurry of passion—soft, sweet, then deepening as he cupped your face in his hands. You melted against him, surrendering yourself to the intoxicating warmth of the moment. Yet, just when things began to escalate, you pulled away, breathless.

Time skip

It was one of those gloomy afternoons when the clouds hung low like a shroud over the bustling city. You had planned to spend the day curled up with a book and a cup of coffee, a comforting escape from the whirlwind of emotions that had become your life since dating Nicholas Alexander Chavez. However, as you scrolled through your phone, your relaxed intentions swiftly turned into a sensation of dread.

Your heart sank as you stumbled across the latest gossip blog, its headline screaming about Nicholas’s alleged romantic involvement with a co-star on set, someone whose name you recognized all too well. The article painted a scandalous picture, dripping with insinuation and wild conjecture. The infamous paparazzi photos were splashed across the screen, showing them laughing together: a moment that seemed innocent enough but was now twisted into a narrative that pricked at your insecurities.

hough you knew better than to believe everything you read, the fear gnawed at you. How could you ignore the whispers that echoed through your social media feed, fueled by both envy and intrigue? Your relationship with Nicholas had come with its share of challenges, but today felt particularly heavy.

You tossed your phone down, feeling the walls of your small apartment closing in. The truth was that the euphoria of dating a celebrity was fading, and the pressures were beginning to take a toll. You felt like a shadow of your former self, scared that the spotlight on him would ultimately burn you both.

Later that evening, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, the scent of spaghetti sauce filling the air, an attempt at normalcy. Just as you were about to plate up dinner, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a call from Nicholas, and your heart quickened.

“Hey,” you managed to say, feigning nonchalance.

“Hey, you! I just wrapped up for the day. How are you?” His voice was warm, inviting, grounding, despite the distance.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to reply with enthusiasm, but the words caught in your throat. Silence stretched between you two as you contemplated how to broach the topic that loomed between you. Nicholas finally broke the silence, concern lacing his tone. “You there?”

“Yeah, just… saw something online.” You could hear the pitiful waver in your voice.

“What did you see?” He sounded wary, the weight of his career pressing down on both of you even over the phone.

You took another deep breath, knowing you had to be honest, yet fearing the repercussions. “The rumors about you and Jade …”

“Jade?” His voice instantly hardened, the warmth vanishing. “What rumors?”

You quickly explained the article, feeling more exposed with each word. You could almost feel him stiffen through the line as he processed the information. “That’s insane. It’s purely professional. We’re acting, Y/N! It’s work!”

“I know that,” you responded, a twinge of frustration creeping into your voice. “But everyone else doesn’t. I can’t— I don’t think I can handle this. All this scrutiny… it’s overwhelming.”

There was a heavy silence before he spoke again, his voice brimming with tension. “So you’re just going to believe what strangers think? I thought you knew me better than that.”

our heart raced as you protested, “It’s not that easy! You’re living in a different universe! I’m just… just trying to figure out if I fit into it.”

Are you saying you don’t want this?” His voice cracked, and you could feel the heat of the confrontation rising.

“I don’t know!” Tears pricked your eyes. “Maybe I’m just scared… scared that this isn’t real, that I’m just a passing thought for you.”

“Y/N, please—don’t say that.” His voice softened as if he could sense the fracture in your heart. “You’re not a passing thought. You’re everything to me. I’m just trying to keep everything balanced.”

“Is that really what this is about?” you asked, barely above a whisper. “Can you even make time for me with your crazy schedule?”

“I’m trying!” he snapped back, frustration spilling into the conversation. “Can’t you see I’m trying?”

The emotional storm swirling around you started to feel unbearable. “You’re not the only one who’s struggling, Nicholas. I love you, but I can’t keep fighting this war of doubts, not when every new headline feels like a dagger to the relationship we’ve built.”

His silence felt as heavy as the dense clouds outside. Finally, he sighed deeply. “I wish you could see how much I want this to work.”

Then show me,” you challenged, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “Show me how much I matter.”

A long pause hung in the air before he said, “I need you to trust me, Y/N. I’m all in—just give me the chance to prove it.”

The tension was palpable, a push and pull of raw emotions crashing in waves against the shore of your relationship. You both wanted to bridge the gap, but scarring doubts lingered like ghostly whispers, refusing to be easily banished.

“Alright,” you finally breathed, torn between belief and fear. “I’ll try.”

Good,” he replied softly, the warmth creeping back into his voice. “Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” With that, you decided to let the conversation end for now. A bittersweet sense of hope flickered within you, but still, the tension lingered, unresolved, heavy between you like a storm waiting to break.

As night fell, you wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing for clarity. Your heart ached with uncertainty, leaving you to wonder if love could be enough to weather the darkest clouds. You just hoped that amidst the chaos, Nicholas would find a way to show you that your place in the storm was secure.

long shadows cast across your living room as you sat curled up on the couch, surrounded by a fortress of pillow cushions. The remnants of a half-eaten tub of your favorite ice cream lay abandoned beside you, and the TV buzzed in the background, but you couldn't concentrate on the screen. Your mind was tangled in knots, replaying everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks since that fateful argument with Nicholas.

He had stormed out after you accused him of being too wrapped up in his fame and his new co-star, Jade. You hadn't meant it to sound so harsh, but doubt had crept in, nurtured by the gossip blogs that twisted every picture of Nicholas and Jade into scandalous narratives. The backlash on social media was relentless, and it had hurt to see the way his fans celebrated every interaction with her. The moment had spiraled out of control, and you hadn’t seen him since.

Part of you had fought to suppress the nagging voice that whispered you were better off without him. But deep down, you knew that was a lie. Your heart ached with longing; the laughter you shared, the way his dark eyes sparkled when he told you stories from the set, and the intensity of the moments when it was just the two of you. It all felt like a dream slipping away and leaving nothing behind but confusion.

As you stared wistfully out of the window, a sudden vibration from your phone nearly startled you, pulling you from your reverie. Your heart raced as you picked it up. The screen lit up with Nicholas’s name, and for a moment, you hesitated. A part of you wanted to ignore it, to keep your distance and maintain the facade of being strong and self-sufficient. But the longing was almost unbearable, and you answered.

“Nicholas,” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

Y/N,” he replied, his voice warm yet laced with an urgency that set you on fire. “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” you whispered, emotions swirling like a tempest inside you. His tone seemed both reassured and uncertain, a blend that made your stomach churn with anxiety. A few moments later, he announced, “I’m on my way.”

You nearly dropped the phone, panic intertwining with excitement in your chest. “Where? How?”

Just… meet me outside?” The call ended abruptly, leaving you both exhilarated and apprehensive. You sprang to your feet, the ice cream forgotten, rushing to compose yourself. You combed your fingers through your hair and replaced your sweatpants with a casual but flattering outfit. The wait felt like an eternity as you hovered near the window, glancing outside between drags of breaths.

Then you saw him, stepping out of an Uber, his familiar silhouette striking against the late afternoon sun. His hair tousled and a hint of stubble adorning his jawbone, he looked as if he had just walked out of a magazine cover—stunningly recognizable yet painfully human all at once. Your pulse quickened, a rush of love and anxiety engulfing you, surfacing just as he approached your door.

When you opened it, he stood there, his face a mixture of determination and vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings. The moment hung heavy between you, neither of you quite ready to bridge the gap that had formed during your time apart.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You nodded, stepping aside to allow him entry, and as you closed the door, a weight settled on your chest. He turned to face you, and in that instant, memories of laughter and shared moments flooded back, heavy with what you both had built amid the chaos of his celebrity life and escalating pressures.

Look,” Nicholas began, running a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognized as one of frustration. “I flew back from shooting just to talk to you. I needed to understand why…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Why I doubted you?” you supplied, your voice catching in your throat. “Why I called out your relationship with Jade as something it wasn’t?”

Exactly.” He drew closer, his intensity drawing you into a whirlpool of emotions. “You have every right to feel insecure, and if I made you feel that way... I’m sorry. But I want you to know it’s always been you for me. The glimpses of my world you saw were never meant to keep you out. It was never just publicity for me. This…” He stepped back slightly, motioning between you two. “This is real.”

Tears stung your eyes at the sincerity of his words. “What about the rumors? People say…”

People say a lot of things. I let the noise drown out our silence. I thought I could handle it, but losing you... it’s the worst part of all this.” His voice smoldered beneath layers of vulnerability. “I’d give up everything if it meant keeping you close.”

You swallowed hard, the echoes of his confession wrapping around your heart. “But can we manage this? Can love withstand all the chaos surrounding you?”

He took a step closer, invading the space with his presence, his warm breath mingling with yours. “We can fight for it. The world can be loud, but I want every moment I can steal with you. The quiet parts. The messy ones. The fights when we disagree. All of it.”

He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and for a moment, everything else faded—the doubts, the scrutiny, the world outside. It felt just like those stolen moments you had experienced before. “What if I can’t handle the spotlight?” you asked, your heart racing as you met his gaze.

Nicholas took your hand gently, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. “Then I’ll ensure you never have to face it alone. I’ll be there, holding your hand through every ordeal, every misunderstanding. We can figure this out together.”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper that made your heart flutter. The intensity between you was palpable, the distance collapsing into closeness until your lips were just inches apart. Your breath mingled with his as the weight of uncertainty melted into a spark of connection.

“I might need some convincing,” you teased lightly, searching for a way to ease the tension that had built. Nicholas grinned, and that boyish charm made your insides tingle.

"Then allow me." He closed the gap, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting everything you had been missing—desire and warmth swept over you like an all-consuming flame, melting away your fears. It was electric, each brush of his lips reminding you why you had fought so hard against doubt.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue teased your lips. You parted them, inviting him deeper, and he accepted the invitation with a hungry groan. His fingers trailed up your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before they tangled in your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss.

You melted into him, your body pressing against his as your hands explored the contours of his chest. The feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips made you ache for more. You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and he trailed soft kisses down your neck, making you shiver.

You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "I could kiss you all night."

And I could let you," you whispered back, your voice barely audible over the music. "But I have a feeling there's more you want to do."

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made you shiver. "You're right, I want to see you," he said, his voice rough with need. "Every inch of you."

You smiled, slowly unbuttoning your blouse as his eyes followed your every move. He reached out, helping you slip it off your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

You're gorgeous," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he traced the line of your bra with his fingertips. "And I want to taste every inch of you."

He leaned down, his lips claiming yours once more as his hands unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. You gasped as his mouth found your nipple, his tongue circling the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth. You arched against him, a moan escaping your lips as he sucked and teased, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip as he made his way down to your waistband. He unbuttoned your jeans, his fingers brushing against your skin as he slid them down your hips. You stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but your panties.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You're amazing," he said, his voice a low growl. "And I want to make you feel amazing."

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down until they joined your jeans on the floor. You stood before him, completely naked, as he took a moment to appreciate every inch of your body.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Absolutely perfect."

He led you to his bed, laying you down gently before joining you. His hands explored your body, his touch gentle yet firm as he traced the line of your thigh, his fingers brushing against your most intimate place. You gasped, your hips arching against his touch as he slipped a finger inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me."

ou nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he added another finger, his pace increasing as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

Come for me," he whispered, his voice a command as his thumb pressed against your clit. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

He kissed you gently, his fingers still inside you as he slowly pulled them out. You could feel the emptiness, the ache for more, and you knew that you wanted him inside you.

e rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, his cock hard and ready against your entrance. You guided him inside, gasping as he filled you completely. You began to move, your hips rising and falling as you found your rhythm.

He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound that filled the room. You could hear your own moans, the sound of your breath as it caught in your throat, the feel of his cock inside you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Faster," you gasped, your body aching for more. "Harder."

He obliged, his hips thrusting upwards as he met your downward strokes, his cock slamming into you with a force that made you cry out. You could feel the pleasure building again, your body tensing as you rode him, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

Yes," you gasped, your body convulsing as another orgasm washed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking. You could feel him inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his own release, his body tensing as he came with a low groan.

You collapsed against him, your body slick with sweat as you struggled to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

"That was amazing," he said, his voice a low murmur as he kissed the top of your head. "Absolutely amazing."

You smiled, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "It certainly Was"

Nicholas drew you closer, kissing you deeper, his hands weaving into your.

“Let’s not let anything come between us again,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

“I want that too,” you replied, the tension of unresolved issues still swirling in the air. But there was something vibrant, something alive in the way his gaze held yours.

Nicholas paused, his expression turning serious once more, “I’ll fight for you, Y/N. Always.”

_________

BYEEE LONGEST FIC EVER.. #needthat

Comments are much appreciate I love it 😋

[astraystayyh]

The prophecy- I.

ꕥ summary: when an angel becomes enthralled by the prospect of emotions, he falls into your world hoping you’d teach him how to be human. little does he know, there's no safety net awaiting him below.

ꕥ pairing: fallen angel!yongbok x fem human!reader.

ꕥ genre: slow burn. heavy themes relating to the complexity of emotions (insecurities, grief, nostalgia, love and sacrifice). angst. comfort. hope and healing. the members are included in the fic as well.

ꕥ warnings: plot installment. mention of alcohol and drinking, description of scars, self-loathing thoughts.

ꕥ word count: 17.8k.

Next. Series Masterlist.

authors note: this fic is my absolute baby. it is heavily inspired by Black Friday by Tom Odell, or rather my interpretation of its lyrics. angel felix is so so special to me, i got the opportunity to be very vulnerable while writing, so i hope you enjoy reading this first part as much as i enjoyed writing it. feedback is highly appreciated <3 this is for @forlix my angel who birthed this fic with me, and for @catboyanon for being my icon 💞 i love you guys 🫶🏻 thank you for reading!!!!!!

the series taglist is open! comment or send me an ask if you wish to be added— @linosssss @agi-ppangx @hwangism143 @httpdwaekki @booksndpoetry @courtnort455 @tonystenk @felixsbakingbud @oyinii @seungzsmin @kayleefriedchicken @freyjhasdesiredreality @babrieeee @nyasstars @lovefool-lix @velvetmoonlght @hash2013 @caticorn61 @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @minhosbitterriver @dorisnumber1fan @goldenmellow @juskz @chanshyunjin @aslou @hhwangsmoon @shinygubbins @msaddictions @abcdefgiwannasendmycodetou @realrintaro @theuntoldlullaby

Act 1. Everything comes with a price.

“So for once in my life, let me get what I want, Lord knows it would be the first time”- Please, please, please, let me get what I want, The Smiths.

Yongbok's existence has been a steady current of nothingness. 

He has known no low, yet simultaneously, no high. Has never stood at the edge of the world nor cradled it within his palm. He is a straight line, knowing no bumps on its road, crafted to stretch forward, and then some more, indefinitely. 

That is until you were assigned to him— his human to keep safe, to protect.

That is when Yongbok then realized that, all along, he had felt nothing— that there was a void overtaking his being, an absence of something, rather than what he had always known to be the norm. 

Yongbok knew the rules, he knew what his existence entailed— that it was one entwined with yours, that once you’d both turn eighteen he’d sense it when you were in danger, each time you were in physical pain. So, he’d protect you, hover above you like a halo, keep you out of harm's way.

He also knew that it would happen unexpectedly. His one friend Seungmin described it as a minor nuisance, a thorn that needs to be plucked out, a bad weed that has overgrown. “You'll help your human and it’ll be back to normal.” 

Yet, for Yongbok it wasn't merely a lone thorn, nor a solitary weed, but rather, a myriad of nuisances falling upon him at once— akin to a deluge of rain pouring as soon as the sky’s gates part. A throbbing so intense it made him falter in his strides, made his golden wings envelop him, as if to cage this unfamiliar feeling, to stop it from seeping from his body and soiling the azure skies. 

It was the first time you had called out to him, it was the first time he would see you in. He imagined you’d be in agonizing pain, skirting the edges of death on a final dance with the devils. But, you were on your bed, curled around yourself the way his wings enfolded his body. Sobs rippled from you, an undulating cascade of waves that almost drowned you in sorrow. 

You weren’t in danger. You weren’t in physical pain. So why was he here? 

Why had he felt it when you simply cried? 

Yongbok hovered near your door, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t in the rules he had learned— guardian angels do not deal with emotions, they do not feel the woes of the heart. “Humans are always hurt. Their heart bruises more than their body would ever endure. It is something we cannot control, nor can we help them with it”— those were the words of Christopher, the sovereign of all guardian angels, ones tattooed in the back of Yongbok’s mind.

“They do not affect us,” he had asserted, his voice maintaining its customary tranquility.

So why was Yongbok feeling the bruising of your heart?

He pondered for a fleeting moment before making a soft breeze ripple through your hair. You looked up from your bed, eyes cast outside the window, as a sunbeam delicately landed on your face. To his surprise, that seemed to halt your tears.  

In that instant, the weight on Yongbok’s heart suddenly dissipated, like a morning fog chased away by the sun. 

“So, this isn’t normal?” he asked Seungmin upon his return, who blinked at him once, then twice. 

“No. It must be part of your anomaly.” 

His anomaly, what explains Seungmin being his only friend. But his loneliness did not bother him, the perk of never feeling.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Yongbok sighed, circling the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “Should I tell… you know.”

“Keep it to yourself.” Seungmin’s voice was stern, biting, leaving no room for Yongbok to object. 

So he did not. 

He kept it to himself, for the past five years, a diligent secret he’s gotten better at hiding. You were surprisingly a good human to guard, you never burned yourself, crossed the road while looking at both sides, and did not frequent shady places at 4 a.m. 

But your heart weighed so much on your soul.

You cried an average of one hundred and sixty-five times per year, sixty of which being heart-wrenching sobs that almost paralyzed him, made the feathers of his wings wither down and scatter on the ground like sakura petals. 

“Is it normal for her to cry this much?” he had asked Seungmin who had simply shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I don’t befriend humans.” he sighed before adding. “Why does she cry?”

“Other people hurt her.” 

“Then she’s stupid for repeating the same process.”

“Isn’t it fascinating, though? She knows the outcome might be the same, and yet–”

“Do you wish to befriend her?” Seungmin had cut him off, eyes narrowing down slightly. There was a hint of warning in his tone, a danger ringing somewhere near. You know where this path will lead you. 

“No,” he replied quickly. He never brought you up again after that. 

But his fascination with you did not die. Though, it wasn’t you, per se, that intrigued him. More so what you were feeling, every emotion that ran freely through your being. It was as if he perched on the precipice of your soul, drinking the droplets of emotions that escaped your being. Feeling through you, an extension of your very existence.

It wasn’t only the throbbing when you hurt, it was also a satisfaction when he made you smile again. Through a sunbeam falling perfectly atop you, a rainbow appearing above your head, a star shining more brightly as your eyes found it. Each time your heart bled dry and you begged for a sign, he was there, conjuring up one of you, smiling as you smiled, inching closer to you as the months went by. 

What if the sign was him? What if he showed you he was there all along? 

Would you smile at him too? 

These were dangerous questions swirling in his head, translating into even more harmful actions. Like getting closer to trespassing the line between your world and his, drawn by that fascination, that thirst to know more, to feel more. 

To talk to you. 

But it was all but wishful thinking, it is all thoughts he buried within himself, his body becoming the graveyard of his life— through which he breathes and through which he dies. 

Until tonight.

Yongbok felt that same familiar throbbing overtaking his being, only this one was much more intense, so much so he couldn’t hide the discomfort on his face, twisted in agony at the pain overriding you. He expected to find the telltales of your sadness draped on your being— teary eyes and shaky hands, pouting lips and the scrunch of your eyebrows that he’s come to memorize. 

But to his surprise, he finds you perched upon an abandoned rooftop overlooking Han River, the moon casting its shimmering reflection above its surface. You weren’t frowning, nor blinking rapidly to dispel your tears. Instead, you sat there, gazing at the river below, legs dangling over the edge, your face as placid as the water before you. However, the burden on your heart was unmistakable, a weight he recognized because he, too, bore it. 

He stops for a second, making a gentle rain graze your skin, light enough to feel like an embrace rather than a nuisance. He knew you loved these light showers as you always chased them, tilting your head to the sky as if thanking it for allowing the rain to visit, even for a fleeting moment. 

But this time, you remain unmoving, eyes still fixated on the water, as if you wished it would rise from its place and carry you with it underneath.

You look like an angel, for you feel nothing, numbness seizing your being and trapping it into its hold, just as it does for him. 

“Sometimes the human’s enemy is itself. They inflict harm upon their souls the most, sometimes even death.” He remembers the somber sayings of Christopher and then the question Jeongin asked, echoing the concerns that gripped everyone’s thoughts.

“Can we still save them from themselves?” 

“Not always. We can be too late.” 

You inch closer to the edge of the building, and Yongbok wonders if you had felt too much there was no other emotion your heart could pump out for you anymore, no life for it to breathe in you. 

Can humanity disintegrate once it pains you too much? Can you turn it off in a desperate bid for survival? Would it still be a life if you do not feel in it? 

“I’m not going to jump if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your cold voice startles him, and he looks around quizzically, wondering who you are talking to. But it is only the both of you atop the roof, and his wings are gone, the golden light that usually contours his being subdued. 

The realization dawns upon him – you can see him, and you are speaking to him. Yongbok feels the stirrings of his heart, a singular beat that resounds in his chest for the very first time.

“I’m not worried,” he replies, after painstakingly long seconds. His voice sounds different, deeper as it floods his ears. I can’t worry, he decides against adding. “Besides,” he clears his throat, walking over to you, his hands resting on the railing. “You can’t die from here. You’ll just break your bones. Get paralyzed, at most.” 

“What are you? A death connoisseur?” you snort, a small life seeping through your voice again as you finally look at him. 

“Something of the sort.”

“This makes you sound like a serial killer,” you sigh, a heavy breath pulled from the depths of his heart. “But you don’t look like one.”

“I don’t?” he questions. 

“No. You look kind.” 

Kind. Yongbok has been draped in a myriad of adjectives since his creation, ones that hang above him like a somber cloud, imprinted on his skin with ink visible to everyone but himself. ‘Abomination’ was the one that came back the most. But you described him as kind. 

What do you see in me? He wants to ask. Tell me so I can look for it when I see myself.

He’s acutely aware that he’s breaking the rules, his wings itching to fledge out and carry him away. But he forcefully keeps them at bay. Not now. Just a little more.

“Are you looking for hope too?” you ask, your voice much quieter than when you last spoke. Yongbok now sees it— the numbness wearing off and leaving place to an agonizing sadness, its essence is poured in your eyes alone, dull under the marvelous city lights. 

“Hope?” he echoes, the word tasting foreign in his mouth. 

“Mm,” you hum, drawing one knee to your chest while letting the other dangle, straddling an invisible line between your two worlds. “I come here and imagine as if the moon shines only for me.”

“That's not true.”

“I know,” you giggle quietly, your laugh swiftly morphing into a pout. “Most of the time it feels as if it’s shining for everyone but me.”

“I don’t think the moon cares enough to single you out.”

“That's somewhat comforting to hear.”

Running a hand through your hair, you speak again. “I don’t usually talk to strangers,” you confess, lifting the nearly empty soju bottle in your left hand. “I’m just a bit drunk, and really sad,” you whisper, as if entrusting him with a secret, an admission that the universe can be cruel in the fates it deals out. He knows that more than most.

“I don't mind,” he inches closer to you, his curious eyes casting over your gloomy figure. “So, you come here looking for hope?”

“It's a bit silly, right?” you smile sheepishly, and he shakes his head. 

“Silly, no. It’s just unrealistic to look for something that is not tangible.”

“Everything that is good in life cannot be grasped with our hands.”

He knows nothing of all these good things you speak of, so he remains silent.

“You know what’s funny? Each time I ask for a sign I find it.”

Each time you call out for him he is there. 

“Is that so?” 

You take a big gulp from your drink, setting it down as your tone grows melancholic with each word. “Yeah. I think I've seen more butterflies in the past five years than the average person does in a lifetime.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” he asks tentatively, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. What if, all along, in his attempts to pull you up he has only been drowning you further? 

“It is. It makes me believe that things will turn out better, in the end,” you share, pausing briefly as if attempting to contain your words. It’s only a moment later that you continue, “I guess I'm just tired of believing things will get better instead of feeling better.”

He was a temporary patch-up, a band-aid made of silk threads destined to wear off with time. Guardian angels cannot help with the woes of the heart. For all their immortality, they fall short before the power of emotions, kneel in surrender at the altar of humanity. 

But on your darkest night— your black Friday where the sky resembles an abyss in which every star has fizzled out, he does not want to leave you without hope. 

“Maybe you just need better signs,” he whispers, as a hoard of butterflies swivels before your eyes, a kaleidoscope of colorful wings fluttering in the hopes of breathing life into you once again. 

“Butterflies don’t show up at night…” you marvel in hushed tones, your eyes darting everywhere to take in the magical scenery. 

“Did you do this?” you’re breathless as you turn to ask but no one’s near anymore. 

The heaviness in your heart has dissolved, not entirely, but enough for Yongbok to dismiss it as a fleeting nuisance, a stubborn weed, a lone thorn that he deftly plucked away.

…

Yongbok has not stopped thinking of your conversation, the steadiness in your voice as you spoke of hope, of good things that elude your gaze but infuse your existence with sweetness. He knew that he broke the rules by speaking to you, that there are but severe cases in which an angel is allowed to address their human. Sadness, no matter how profound, was not one of them. And yet, for all the years he spent abiding by the rules, he had not regretted talking to you, not once. 

He had memorized the cadence of your voice, the sheer glaze in your eyes as they held his, the way you drowned yourself in alcohol, nose scrunching at its bitter taste. Everything about you, he learned, committing it to his memory that was once a blank canvas, for he had never lived something worth remembering, for he had never strayed from the straight path, drawn out eons ago for him. 

Until you. 

It is the following Friday and Yongbok hovers near a bar, his eyes absorbing the sight of the drunk humans mingling in there. Some of them are laughing, clinking half-empty glasses as they cheer loudly, Others, too busy pressing their lips against one another to dare dream of forgetting this moment. And then some sitting alone, their gaze fixated on the liquid within their glass, as if it holds the key to all their unanswered prayers. Foolish behavior, but he is drawn to the mundanity of it, for some odd reason. 

He draws in a deep breath, before concealing his celestial wings and venturing into the dimly lit bar. He sits by a stool, curiously eyeing the array of alcohol on display. “What can I get you?” the bartender asks and he responds with a nonchalant shrug. “Strongest thing you have.” After all, inebriation is an experience beyond his grasp.

The abrupt sound of glass meeting the counter startles him, and he turns to his left. There, he discovers a young man, roughly his age, signaling the bartender for another pour. Ebony hair pulled into a small ponytail, a furrowed brow shaping his lips into a frown, the man’s gaze remains fixed on the scattered droplets of Whiskey across the counter. In the faint light, Yongbok spots a mole by his jaw, then another one underneath his eye. 

“Bad night?” Yongbok inquires, clearing his throat, a thrill coursing through him at the prospect of talking with another human.

“Kinda,” the stranger sighs, turning around to face him. “I’m Hyunjin,” he says, extending his hand with a lopsided smile.

He firmly shakes it, before introducing himself back, “Yongbok.” 

“Yongbok, mm… Feelbok,” Hyunjin slurs, “no, no, Hanbok,”— happiness— Hyunjin giggles at his own words punctuating them with a thumbs-up. “Nice name.”

“Thank you,” Yongbok mirrors his smile, although the gesture happens more naturally than he expected. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, as he watches Hyunjin down yet another glass.

“I should be,” he mumbles, before placing his chin atop his palm, gaze lost somewhere far in the depths of his mind.

Yongbok remains silent as Hyunjin blinks slowly, a sad smile imprinted into his mouth. “I opened my art gallery today. It was acclaimed by all the art critics who visited. They said it was moving, woven with emotions that are translated into every choice I made, from the colors to the blending to the lighting.”

Yongbok frowns, a sudden confusion settling over him as he detects the sorrow dripping from Hyunjin’s tone. He realizes that his expression mirrors the same loneliness he witnessed in you countless times before. Humans, it seems, resemble each other at their most vulnerable.

“But…” he continues, prompted by Yongbok’s silence or the strong alcohol, he doesn’t really know. “All these people came but not the one I painted for.”

Ah, Yongbok now understands what drives Hyunjin’s sadness— love. The irony of humans strikes him; for the one feeling they crave ends up hurting them the most.

“Every painting was about her and she wasn’t there to see it,” Hyunjin confesses as anguished tears suddenly well in his eyes. He cannot conjure hope for Hyunjin, for he is not his human to guard, so Yongbok mimics what he witnessed you do countless times to your friends. He places a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“It will pass,” Yongbok reassures, not with a misplaced sense of optimism, but because it is an undeniable truth. Humans forget as much as they remember, grieve as much as they love, heal as much as they hurt. In their short life, everything they go through passes. It is how they survive the hurts of the heart.

“I don’t want it to. If the pain passes then I won’t have anything to remember her by,” Hyunjin smiles sadly, patting Yongbok’s hand above his own. 

“Don’t you regret loving her?” he asks, perplexed by the breathing contradiction before him. 

“I regret losing her, not loving her. Never loving her.” 

As he stood on the same rooftop you were on nights ago, Yongbok is left with Hyunjin’s sleek business card held between his fingers, and a dull longing in his heart, many, many hours later.

Can a straight line stray from its path? Can his void be replaced with love? 

At what cost can an angel taste humanity? 

“Our kind yongbok.” A calm voice speaks and the wings on Yongbok’s back twitch more intensely than they’ve ever done. The danger Seungmin spoke of was here.

At what cost could he not? 

“Christopher,” Yongbok bows in respect, eyes refusing to meet those of his senior. 

“You had no problem looking at all these humans, no?” Christopher muses and Yongbok takes one step back. Chris knows, he has always known and yet he allowed it. 

Why?

“Fascinating creatures, right? I still fail to understand them. But what I do know for certain is that they are weak,” he pauses, Yongbok’s breath hitches in his throat. “Just like you.” 

Yongbok’s nails dig forcefully into his palms, it does not soothe his nerves the way it does to you. 

“But see, the difference between you and them is that they were crafted to be weak. Then again… everything about you is abnormal, you agree?” Chris speaks assuredly, his tongue telling facts alone. Yongbok remains silent, anticipating his punishment for trespassing into the human realm, for breaking the sacred rule of interacting with them.

Tales of chained angels, of those stripped of their wings, their bloodied feathers plucked out one by one haunt his thoughts. This is the closest Yongbok has gotten to fear. 

In a blink, Chris materializes before him, his hand resting on Yongbok’s shoulder, reminiscent of the comforting gesture he extended to Hyunjin. However, this hold is not reassuring; it bears a weight that spells danger with every squeeze. 

“Do you want to feel what humans do? Go, Yongbok, I won’t punish you. Roam with them, talk to them, and feel.”

Yongbok’s wings scatter with the wind, feathers falling like a curtain of white upon their heads. He falls to his knees, hand brought up to his chest as he suddenly senses everything surrounding him— the bitter wind brushing against his skin and the rush of hot blood coursing within his veins, the loud ringing of cars that morph into hands choking him, and worse of all, the loss of his wings that his spine seems to be weeping for. 

“But remember, everything comes with a price,” Christopher’s polished shoes come into his view— Yongbok does not recognize the distorted reflection staring back. “Even weakness.” 

Act two. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it.

“If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy” - Neptune, Sleeping At Last.

Delicate snowflakes descend upon the earth, intricate crystals forming a pristine blanket that veils the ground, concealing its flaws to the naked eye. The snow doesn’t discriminate, it falls atop every building in Seoul, from towering skyscrapers adorned with luminous billboards to the humblest abodes, nestled in concealed alleys, all bathed in a bluish glow at the heights of the night. 

And in its fall, the snow does not leave Yongbok’s body behind, draping it in a cloak of icy tendrils, ones that seep through bones he did not know were capable of aching before. It mingles with his golden feathers, scattered all over the rooftop, tinged with his spilled blood. The crimson liquid oozes from his back to the ground, and in his first seconds as a human, Yongbok has already tainted the purity of the soil, he is already a nuisance, in this world too.

He is faintly aware of warm hands cradling his cheeks, attempting to infuse life into his pallid face. A kaleidoscope of blurry hues obscures his vision, and he is no longer sure how much time has passed since Christopher abandoned him on the unforgiven ground. It could have been mere minutes or lengthy hours— he is yet to be acquainted with how time passes on humans. 

He also cannot recall you coming into the rooftop, does not remember when you pulled his head onto your lap, nor began combing your fingers soothingly through his golden locks. You are worried, he can still feel the pulsing of your heartbeat ringing in his ears, or maybe it is his own, he still cannot distinguish what is yours and what is his. 

He’s in a haze, standing on the edge of a window, assaulted by biting winds that cut through him. He didn’t expect humanity to crash onto him this hard, for it to force oxygen onto his lungs only to set them ablaze. 

“You’re awake, you’re okay.” Your reassuring words break through the disorienting daze, your hand firmly clasping his, guiding him away from the window’s edge, ushering him back into safety. In the familiarity of your voice, the winds relent, morphing into gentle zephyrs that cool the burning storm within him. He can feel the softness of your hand, your thumb swirling around his palm as if drawing out a soothing spell with your touch. 

“H… hurts,” he stammers, the words escaping between breaths that struggle to find passage. He brings your palm atop his heart, where a myriad of stones seem to have found refuge, crushing his lungs and rendering them a cloud of useless dust, scattered away by the wind. 

“It’s okay. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay,” your voice is calm, though it speaks of frightening things. Would what he felt pass now that you put a name to it? Was it supposed to reassure him to hear that panic, like an uninvited intruder, has seized his being and is attacking it relentlessly? A secret ambush, a Trojan horse infiltrating his body under the guise of humanity. 

“Help me,” his plea echoes weakly, an awkward sound that clashes with the very air particles, imprinting itself onto the oxygen you inhale. Is this what Christopher meant? Were his weaknesses only going to surge forth more now? 

Is the cost of humanity facing the ugliness within you? 

The questions swirl in his head like a relentless tornado, drowning out your voice until it becomes a distant murmur in the backburner of his mind. His body rebels against him, ears amplifying the cacophony of his breaths, shaky hands refusing to be still, lungs constricting to the point of near collapse. He’s back before the window, dangling over its edge with one silky thread, worn out from the countless humans who had clung to it in desperation before.

His hand slips. You seize it before he falls.

“Breathe with me, focus on my voice,” you come to him like a calming tide, pulling him into safe shores. You’re so close your nose almost brushes with his own, your hands enveloping his icy fingers to anchor him back to you. He tries to mimic your slow inhales, tuning out all his tumultuous thoughts to focus solely on you.

Under the starry sky and the unyielding snow, and through the panic that captures his being, his gaze seems to fixate on the most mundane of things— the soft moonlight filtering through the strands of your hair, casting a faint halo around your figure. As you draw in deep breaths, encouraging him to follow suit, the thought crosses his mind – perhaps, you are his guardian angel now.

Time passes in this shared rhythm until, finally, you release his face, falling beside him on the snow. His breaths find a more regular cadence, mirroring yours, yet an ache persists in his chest, as if unseen hands continue to press down on his heart, squeezing it dry of its blood.

You run a hand through your face tiredly, eyes looking up at the expanse before you. “Fuck, I thought you were dying.” 

An apology lingers at the tip of his tongue, vocal cords itching to free the three syllables into the chilly air. But Yongbok has never apologized before, he doesn’t know how the words might crystallize in the cold. He isn’t sure he could bear witnessing their form now. 

“What happened?” he ventures, his voice small and fragile, his face turning slightly toward you. You appear like a crescent moon, soft and gentle even with only half of your face visible to him. 

“I came to the rooftop and I found you on the ground, surrounded by bloodied feathers and shaking from the cold,” you begin to explain only to freeze as if a crucial detail has just resurfaced in your memory. He knows what you’ll ask about before you speak. 

“What are these feathers?” your inquiry hangs in the air, your gaze still directed ahead. He remains silent, unsure of how to explain the inexplicable.  

“Who are you?” you press, and his reply comes in a single word, uttered vulnerably, “Yongbok.”

Please leave it at that. 

Your voice is softer, more resigned when you speak again.  “What are you?” 

He does not need to voice the truth. He could chuckle and say that he’s human, what else do you expect him to be, and his voice might shake from the unrehearsed lie but you would believe him, and then he’ll make sure your paths would never cross again. 

But a small part of him feels as if he does owe the truth to you. Because you cared for his well-being when you did not need to, gave up some of your warmth to infuse his being with it, sacrificed minutes of your time to make sure he’ll have sand left in his hourglass. 

So, he sucks in a deep breath, gathering the courage to unravel the truth. 

“I’m an angel. Your guardian angel. Or maybe was. I still don’t really know, yet.”

An incredulous laugh escapes your lips, gusts of powdery air materializing before him. “An angel?”

“Yes.”

“This is insane,”  you shake your head, your face buried in the same palms that had cradled his cheeks tenderly moments ago— his sail amidst the winds. 

“Is that how you managed to make all those butterflies appear that night?” you question, and he nods, shutting his eyes and releasing a strained exhale.

“So you’ve been guarding me all this time?” 

“Since you turned eighteen.”

He freezes as he wonders what you’ll say next— maybe you’ll ask him to disappear from your life, not one to wish to mingle with angels and their kindred, maybe you’ll leave him be in the snow, lonely as he has always been.

What he doesn’t expect is for your eyes to find his, compassion swimming in your gleaming irises, your voice dripping with concern as you ask him. “What happened to you, Yongbok?” 

There was no way for you to feel what he did, and yet you spoke as if you could— as if you peered into his heart and discovered it butchered and bruised, found thorns entangled around his veins instead of vines. 

“I don’t know,” he chokes out a sob, as sudden tears stream down his cheeks, salty as they infiltrate his mouth, drowning him from within. The tears refuse to cease even after he wipes them, one after the other, a futile gesture akin to pouring water into sand, an attempt to nurture something not meant to grow.

“It’s okay,” you smile, your eyes shimmering like a million fireflies in the night. He shakes his head, as more tears escape him in the guise of words. In all of the times he has seen you cry, he never fathomed he would have sobs racking his body, too. That tears would cascade like an unyielding waterfall, an earthquake shaking the planes of his body, rattling his bones with an intensity beyond what he believed humans could endure.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, cradling his face against the warmth of your neck, his tears seeping through your clothing. He is weeping, though he does not know what for. For nothing yet everything. For the loss of his wings and the birth of his heart. For the harshness of the ground and the softness of your hold. For the Yongbok who perished and the one who came to life. 

…

A fallen angel comes in various forms, some are entirely disgraced while others retain fragments of their celestial countenance. Yongbok, though deprived of his wings, did not lose his powers. He realized this when he instinctively healed the wounds on his back, the torn skin scarring in fleeting seconds. A small mercy bestowed upon him by Christopher, or so it seemed.

He will understand the reasons behind this act much later.

But for now, in his first breaths of humanity, when the echoes of his sobs have at last withdrawn from his being, leaving behind a lingering weariness, he is dealing with less stellar facets of his existence— the more mundane technicalities of it. 

“So, not to rub salt on the wound but I assume you also don’t have a place to stay in,” you ponder, waiting until he regains enough composure to grasp your words, ensuring they wouldn't float beyond his reach.

“No, I didn’t exactly prepare for this,” he winces, his gaze briefly meeting the scattered feathers on the ground. But not for too long, looking at them invited a grand sense of loss into his being, a sentiment too weighty for his fragile state to harbor. 

“You can stay at mine, and tomorrow we can start looking for a house for you?” you suggest, stretching out your tired limbs.

“You don’t… You don’t need to help me.”

Yongbok does need your help, you are the only human he knows and he is unfamiliar with how your kind acquire housing. And yet he finds himself at the crossroads between what his heart wants and what his tongue speaks of— ready to vehemently refuse your proposal to not inconvenience you, as if he’s a towering mountain poised to shoulder burdens when in reality, his being has never been this frail.

“You guarded me for five years,” you smile softly, effortlessly dispelling away his concerns like meaningless specks of dust. “It’s the least I could do.”

Stepping into your home was as familiar as walking into his own. He, unwittingly, memorized each nook and cranny of your place, a consequence of all the times he had lingered near— hovering, more accurately, above. So much so that he instinctively slips off his shoes and places them in your rack, mirroring the countless times he observed you perform the same task.

“So you really are my guardian angel,” you shudder quietly and he hums in questioning, turning to look at you, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you respond, perking up and adorning your lips with a swift smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I’m okay,” he whispers, attempting to shrink as much as possible in the confines of your place. He has never felt this much discomfort in his own body, as though the skin draped on his bones belonged to a stranger. 

“Well, I’m hungry so you’ll eat with me,” you say with a warm smile, putting your hair up in a quick bun before walking into the kitchen. You move seamlessly as if you are hosting a long-time friend rather than an angel you saved from possible hypothermia. 

“Buldak ramen?” you ask, hands resting on the counter.

“Sure,” he nods, settling atop the stool. 

He watches in silence as you bring the water to a boil, before pouring two servings of the instant noodles into it. You pause, thinking it over before adding two more. 

“How are you so nonchalant about this?” he blurts out, finally freeing the question that had been swirling and growing in his mind- an insatiable weed that needed to be plucked before it infested his brain completely.

“About having an angel in my house who was apparently cast away from the skies and has guarded me for the past five years without me knowing, and who somehow knows where my shoe closet is without me needing to share?” you ramble in one breath, the tightness in your chest palpable. “Yeah, I’m totally cool about that.”

“You’re totally not cool about that.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit sheepishly, settling on the stool before him. “I mean I am. A friend of mine met his guardian angel two years ago when he saved him from a horrible car accident. So, your existence does not freak me out, it’s common knowledge for us humans.” 

You bite your lip, averting your gaze from him to the painting adorning the wall above your couch—a bouquet of red roses where the petals seem dripping scarlet, resounding with passion and love, signed by H.

“It’s just… did you do something bad? For you to be left there alone?”

“Not bad,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. It suddenly seemed silly to explain to a human that he envied their humanity, the one thing most of them seem to despise. “I broke the rules by talking to you that night, then to another human, and I was punished for it. I think,” he adds hesitantly.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, redirecting your attention to the pot to turn off the heat. It makes breathing easier for him. “You think?” you echo.

“It’s what I wanted,” he whispers, a bit breathless, now frightened by this newfound reality. He kept his powers and yet he lost his wings— he cannot fly back to his home and yet he can conjure anything his mind wishes for. He is with the one human that sparked his fascination and yet he cannot stop thinking of the price Christopher mentioned. Thinking too much about any of these things brings tears back to his throat— his body yearning to produce a liquid it has never known before.

“So, I assume you’ve never watched Howl’s Moving Castle up there,” you abruptly shift the subject, a radiant smile gracing your face as you pour the ramen into two bowls, generously topping them off with cheese.

“No?” His response carries a hint of uncertainty, and a sudden wave of frustration washes over him for feeling so displaced in his own existence. Yet, you appear oblivious to the awkwardness emanating from him as you gasp enthusiastically, seizing the two bowls and making your way to the couch. 

“Oh, I think you’ll like it,” you beam, patting the spot next to you before taking the remote and queuing up the movie.

The meal tastes better than anything Yongbok has ever eaten in his life, each bite igniting his taste buds in a symphony of flavors, akin to the spark of a popping candy in his mouth. He finds himself engrossed in the movie, in the stunning visuals, the gentle hues, and the paradoxical characters, uncovering reflections of his own existence within them.

He has never understood the need humans felt for art, dedicating hours upon hours to creating something not for their personal gain, but for others to watch, to reach, to touch. A craft not to appease one’s soul but to soothe the spirits of others. Yet, as the movie’s credits come to an end, a subtle shift occurs within him. Perhaps, he thinks with his widely beating heart, he now understands a little more.

“I feel terrible like there is a weight on my chest,” you repeat one of Howl’s concluding lines, stealing a glance at him, a tender smile gracing your face. The one dialogue that felt like a mirror was brought up to Yongbok's face.

“A heart’s a heavy burden,” he completes Sophie’s response to Howl. 

“That’s true. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it,” you speak softly, as one would do to a child taking tentative steps into the world, learning that their first breath starts with grieving the only place you've known for nine months, followed by happiness, then sadness again, akin to the moon’s gradual phases. And maybe, in a way, he is a child lost in the overwhelming flood of these emotions, ones yet to be untangled in his mind but that already lay upon him like stones.

“Not everyone knows they have a heart, Yongbok. Some end up dying before ever feeling, without ever truly living.”  

“I just didn’t imagine it would be this… soul-crushing to bear it,” he admits softly, the words escaping him like a delicate secret. There's a hint of fear that accompanies his confession, an apprehension that Christopher might materialize before him, speaking in that calm, knowing tone—berating him with a simple “I told you so.”

“It’s a little organ facing a big life. It’s normal for it to be overwhelmed, don’t you think?” 

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, placing a trembling palm above his heart. Still as heavy. 

“You had a long night, get some rest, okay? We can start looking for a house tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he nods, as you rise from your place, only to reach for your wrist before fully thinking it through.  “Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

In the cracks of his heart, one seed of gratitude has been planted, a singular ray of light amid a stretch of darkness.

Finding a house turns out to be a strenuous task, and Yongbok feels remarkably disinterested in the discussions with every real estate agent you encounter. You play the role of his assistant, weaving a tale about an important businessman client who abruptly secured a job transfer to Seoul. However, he couldn't care less for the large windows ushering sunlight or the expansive patio offering picturesque views of Seoul. Instead, he focuses on your reactions to each room—the gasps of delight at spacious storage areas and the vacant rooms you dream of adorning in the future, once you're no longer a broke college student, as you explain.

You envision a room dedicated to your books, with a chair nestled in the middle for the long nights you spend reading, and another room designed as a painting studio. The expansive kitchens you visit are perfect for your baking endeavors, and Yongbok, perplexed by your fascination with fridges sporting two doors, finds amusement in your lively antics. Yet, a void persists within him, unfilled by the prospects of a shiny new home.

“Still not the one?” you ask on your third day of apartment hunting, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s okay, we’ll find the perfect one soon,” you reassure, and in that moment, he thinks back to your very first conversation on the rooftop, wonders how you can find hope for everyone surrounding you but yourself. 

“I still can’t believe I befriended a nepo angel,” you giggle, before inching closer to him on the couch, peering at him from beneath your eyelashes. “My air fryer is broken by the way, can you replace it?”

He contemplates for a minute before shaking his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “No.”

“Aren’t you my guardian angel?”

“Right, a guardian angel. Not a bank.” 

“But if my air fryer isn’t replaced soon then I’ll keep using it even though all its electric wires are now exposed and a fire will break out and I’ll end up dying��”

“Fine,” he heaves a resigned sigh, “I’ll replace it.” 

“Can you also get me the Le Creuset kitchen set?” you grin, standing in your kitchen a few minutes later, cradling your brand-new air fryer between your arms.

“I'm not your sugar daddy.”

Your gasp is so comical that it coaxes a little giggle from his lips. “So you know about sugar daddies and not Studio Ghibli movies.”

“Gossip travels in our world too,” he shrugs, and you put the air fryer down, leaning closer to his face. From this proximity, he can discern the delicate curve of your eyelashes and the way they frame your glowing eyes—how can your eyes shine so brightly even under the shittiest kitchen lighting he’s ever seen?

"Hello? Did you hear me?" you wave a hand before his face, and he snaps back to reality, your voice flooding his senses again.

“Hm?”

“Never mind,” you shrug your hand dismissively in the air, “should we celebrate your third day of knowing me?”

“That's cause for celebration?” he frowns, and you playfully hit his arm. “I feed you, I clothe you, I put a roof above your head—” Your words are muffled as he clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Can you hear that?” he wonders.

You shake your head no.

“It's quiet, finally.”

His hand, a feeble barrier, does not manage to muffle your offended gasp, and in that moment, Yongbok laughs for the first time in his existence, a sound that ripples from the roots of his being, washing over his sadness and erasing it for a split second.

His eyes are closed as he tips his head back in laughter, and he misses the way your eyes soften, your retort withering at the tip of your tongue. 

He’s beautiful when he smiles, you think. You hope for all his powers he cannot hear your thoughts. 

…

Yongbok does not know what’s there to celebrate on his third day in this world, for all he had felt so far was excruciating sadness. But he complies with your wishes, rising at dawn to join you on the shore of the nearby ocean. Seated on the sand dampened by morning dewdrops, the remnants of melting snow resemble ink on a page not yet dry. 

He watches as the last threads of the night unfold before his eyes, leaving way to a mesmerizing palette of soft pinks and oranges, the sky blushing from a night spent with the moon.

You brought him to witness the sun rising above the ocean, said that it would help calm down the frenzy of his heart. You are quite right, since the rhythmic dance of the waves acts like a spell, unraveling the knot in his tongue and coaxing him to recount everything that has led him up to this moment, to you. You were the main reason for his journey, he did not see it fitting to conceal the truth from you. He did not know yet how to deceive or lie. 

“So you wanted to feel?” you conclude softly and Yongbok nods, eyes not peeling away from the sky before him. It looks grander from below, a vast ceiling you never fear might collapse on you.

“That’s why it overwhelmed you a lot, every emotion is heightened because it was the first time, I suppose” you muse. 

“Yeah, but does it ever lessen with time? Isn't that why you cry often?” he asks, now free of the bounds that once restricted his curiosity.

“Can you please not bring this up again?” you hide your face, and he tilts his head, a perplexed expression etched on his features.

“Why is that?”

“It's embarrassing that you saw me cry this much,” you mumble, your words nearly drowned out by the crashing waves.

“It's not embarrassing. It's... fascinating,” he asserts. You stare at him incredulously, prompting him to elaborate. “You go down the same path, fully aware of where it leads, and yet, you do it again on the off chance that you'll receive the same kindness you show.”

“I sound stupid,” you giggle, and he mirrors your smile, not to mimic you, but because the corners of his mouth yearn to curve upwards, refusing to leave you alone in your grin.

“No, you sound brave.”

Your eyes soften at his words, the light of the rising sun filtering easily through your irises, causing your pupils to widen with each passing second.

“Thank you.” 

A tranquil quiet settles between you, the soothing sound of the waves filling the silence. The sun hovers directly above the water now, perched on the horizon, the sky much bolder in the colors it showcases.

“I come here when my heart feels too heavy to bear. I suppose that looking at the sea calms me,” you murmur, your cheek pressed against your knee.

“Why is that?”

“For these waves to reach the shore, they go through a lot, you know? Storms and tumultuous roads, and rage fills them, anger, sadness too at being away from home for too long. But then, they always reach the shores at last. And they calm down, and they’re at peace.” 

You turn to look at him, the hues of the sunrise reflecting off your face, dancing with the shadows that mold your features.

You look beautiful, so much so that he almost misses what you say next.

“So it is comforting to know that no matter how grand my worries are, there will come a time when they too will grow tired and rest.”

“It will pass,” he whispers and you nod cheerfully. “See, you’re already getting the gist of it.” 

“No,” he contradicts, “everything I know about humanity is from you.”

The colors of the sky seem to seep through your face at his words, and an unfamiliar warmth spreads through his being at the thought of making you blush.

He licks his lips tentatively, bringing your hand to rest atop his heart, hoping that the pressure will help ease its tension.

It does, ever so slightly.

“It feels like my heart is squeezed between two narrow walls,” he explains and you nod in understanding.

“Like it’s been sucked through a straw that drains you out of life.”

“Yes,” He exhales with contentment at the thought of someone understanding what he means, of what he feels no longer being an anomaly, but the norm for most.

“Will you move in with me?” he suddenly asks, and you startle, your fingers growing limp in his hold. 

“What?” 

“Your apartment is shitty, you hate your landlord and I’m pretty sure there is mold growing on your walls.”

“Okay, no need to attack me,” you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“I’ll buy the apartment you wanted, it technically doesn’t cost me anything and it’s closer to your university too, you no longer have to commute. You can get the library you wanted and the painting space too.” 

“But—”

“I’m a fallen angel tasting humanity for the first time, I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I haven’t looked in a mirror yet because I don’t know who I’ll find there. And I’m so scared, Y/n, so scared,” he confesses, breathless, his hand still pressing your palm against his erratic heart. 

A few seconds of heavy silence pass, Yongbok senses a resolve in you unfold. 

“And in return?” you ask tentatively. 

“I want to be happy,“ he breathes out, eyes flickering over yours like a swaying candlelight, “Could you show me how it’s done?”

Act 3. What’s an angel to a human?

“I want a better body, I want better skin, I wanna be perfect like all your other friends"- Black Friday, Tom Odell.

“So, happiness.” You stand near a blank whiteboard in the middle of your cramped living room, the one you just asked Yongbok to conjure out of thin air. 

You’ve been slightly abusing his ability to make your every wish materialize in a fleeting second, but only for useless things, like a bar of soap that smells specifically of these notes combinations you always thought would pair heavenly together (they did not), or a tube of salted caramel ice cream at 2 a.m. because you were too lazy to walk to the fridge (it was mere two meters away). Or just like now, a huge whiteboard so you’d explain to him, visually, how to achieve happiness. 

You told him that you’d only allow him to buy you a new house if he truly felt happy, for the very first time in his life. When he asked you how he’d know, you said he’d simply do, when the time comes. You shook hands on that promise two days ago. 

“Was this really necessary?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow at you. In response, you place your palms against your hips, eyes squinting at his dubious figure. 

“Do you want to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, shut up.”

“I don’t think violence is the way to go about joy,” he quips and you quickly shut him up with a glare. Yongbok came to find that annoying you brought him a strange sense of satisfaction— he enjoyed seeing you pivot away, trying your best to conceal your amused smirk at his teasing. You always fail, or perhaps his perception of your being is heightened by the bond you share.

“I was saying, happiness is a byproduct of biological reactions.” You draw in a smiley face with utter concentration, and he stifles a giggle at the simplistic representation of the feeling. “There are four main hormones that allow us to feel happiness.” You pause, pointing your pen at him. “Yongbok, do you know which these are?”

“If I did know, why would I be here?” 

“True,” you nod vigorously, looking back at the whiteboard before locking eyes with him once more. “Can you please play along? I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” you smile excitedly, speaking in hushed tones as if it was meant to be a shared secret between you both, far from the reach of the angels and peers that must be looking down at you both right now— you in indifference, him in disdain.

He shudders at the thought. 

“Fine. No, I do not Miss,” his smile is small, it grows when your eyes soften at him playing along. “Care to explain?” 

“So, in theory, we have dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin.” You flip the board, revealing some intricate drawings of what looks like the human brain, different arrows going out of it, filled with many inscriptions that he assumes are definitions of the hormones you just revealed. 

“But all of this is…” you play the drums on the board, leaning forth in suspense. “Useless!” you shout, throwing your marker and eraser in the air. Yongbok claps diligently at your dramatics.

“You know for humans with limited amounts of time on this earth, you sure do love wasting your precious minutes,” he taunts and a fire seems to light in your eyes, flames surging higher each time you poke fun at one another.

“You know for an angel who desperately needs my help, you sure do talk a lot.” 

“Touché,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Please grace me with your special knowledge.” 

“Fine.” You plop down next to him on the couch, your knee bumping against his. A pang of ache flares in his being before disappearing as quickly as it came. It leaves him no time to decipher its cause.

“Happiness is the hardest thing to get in this life. Sometimes you follow all the instructions on how to be happy and yet fail to achieve it.” You speak with a lingering bitterness in your tone as if you’ve spent the best part of your life following defective manuals. 

“Happiness won’t come to you, Yongbok. It doesn’t come knocking on our doors. You’ll have to search for it. Especially on days when everything seems grim and dark, you’ll have to squint your eyes and find it in the small things all around you. And when you do, hold on to them with all your might. Even if your hand bleeds, you hold on just as tightly.”

“What small things?” he asks, turning his entire body towards you. He is almost breathless, waiting for you to spell out the secret to tasting life’s sweetest fruit.

“Things that remain gentle no matter what time does to you. Like looking at flowers, sitting underneath the sun, watching the sea, being kind and helping people, enjoying your favorite hobby… “ you enumerate, your eyes never leaving his. “Do you have a hobby?”

“No?” he replies, though it comes off more as a question. You pick up on his uncertainty, waving a hand quickly through the air.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you find one. I promise.” 

His response comes as easily as an autumn breeze. 

“Okay. I believe you.”

You beam at him, sunlight seemingly pouring into your pores, brightening your face from within. He finds it strange that he suddenly sees the sun in you, a star he has never taken an interest in. But he quickly brushes the thought aside, mirroring your grin.

“I was also thinking,” you add, “you should work with me at my café.” 

“Me?” he points at himself and you giggle, nodding. “Yes, you! Do you want to just sit here all day waiting for me to come home from uni?” 

“What? Who said I don’t want to be your trophy wife?”

You snort, bewildered. “A what?”

“I did a deep dive into Urban Dictionary yesterday.”

You blink once. Then twice. “Crazy words to hear from an angel. And it’s a no, to being my trophy wife.”

“Please?” he pushes, tugging at the outskirts of your sleeve. 

“No,” you sing-song, standing up and heading to the kitchen. “We needed a new barista anyway. And I’ll teach you how to make coffee. Also, I think you’ll enjoy people-watching.”

“That sounds creepy!” he shouts from the couch.  

“Says the guy who told me I cry an average of 160 times per year!”

“It’s 165, actually,” he corrects. 

You peek your head out of the kitchen, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Die.” 

“What happened to live laugh love?” 

“Just how much did you stay on Urban Dictionary?”

“A lot,” he shudders, shaking his head. You burst into uncontainable giggles, and the same satisfaction floods Yongbok’s being. Although this time it is much stronger.

It is a weird thought that suddenly brushes his mind— he thinks that if the sun ever spoke it would be your laugh spilling out of its mouth. 

… 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you grin, spreading your arms wide as you open the door to Haven Café. Yongbok follows closely behind, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black jeans.

“It’s nice,” he says absentmindedly, his eyes sweeping across every surface of the interior.

“Nice? This is my baby. Please be more expressive,” you retort, pointing a finger at him threateningly. He shakes his head, amused.

“This is the most beautiful place my fallen angel eyes have ever seen,” he says with mock reverence.

He isn’t lying, though. Resplendent flower vases adorn every corner, and a warm, inviting atmosphere permeates the space, evident in the comfortable auburn chairs and the books scattered on the sage shelves.

“I was actually wondering… What makes something beautiful?” he suddenly asks. You pause in your tracks, then resume opening the blinds.

“How it makes you feel,” you say simply. “Help me?” you add. Yongbok nods, sidling up to your side to open the remaining windows.

“This place is beautiful to me because it makes me feel at ease. I know that whatever happens, I can always escape here. Between the flower vases, the aroma of coffee, and the large windows, I feel good. At home,” you explain.

“But isn’t home your house?” he asks earnestly, tilting his head to the side. Your smile, warm and comforting, brushes over him like a fleeting sunbeam.

“Home is where you feel most like yourself.”

He does when you’re nearby. 

Does that make you my home? He wants to ask, but something inside stops him. He thinks it is too big of a confession to be uttered at the rise of dawn. 

“When did you start working here?” he asks, watching you refill the ice.

“Seven years ago.”

“Oh,” he gasps softly, suddenly remembering that he hasn’t known you your entire life. He wasn’t there to guard you through your childhood, to watch you stumble off the steps, or swing high to the sky. He realizes how little he knows about you. He suddenly aches to learn more, to know everything.

“The owner was our old neighbor, so when I was sixteen, he got me my first job here. I’m very attached to this place and its memories so I still come here.” 

“Memories,” he repeats to himself slowly, as if tentatively tasting the way the word feels on his tongue.

“What was that?” you ask, as you sweep the counter with a purple rug.

“It’s nice to have memories,” he smiles and you scrunch your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I have no memories. None worth getting attached to anyway because all my life was spent feeling the same way. So, in a way…” he pauses, licking his lips tentatively. “I have never lived anything that shaped me. Except for meeting you.” A few silent beats pass, and you feel as if he has more to say, so you remain quiet. 

Yongbok opens his mouth, only to close it again, deciding against speaking. Yet again, too early.

“It’s your first life, in a way,” you finally say, “there are all these unknown feelings that you are experiencing for the first time. It’s unfair to you if you expect yourself to figure it out from the get-go.” 

Your palm rests upon his back, swiping gently left and right before you move around the corner to filter the coffee. But Yongbok feels as if the clock orchestrating the universe has halted, the seconds freezing the moment your hand touched his back.

It is a heavy, gruesome knowledge that he bears— knowing that beneath your warm, comforting touch lies a map of butchered skin and scars running down his spine. His powers had fallen short of erasing the remnants of his lost wings, leaving behind clots of skin that starkly highlight all his imperfections in one place.

Yongbok had looked at his back only once, a fleeting glance before he vowed never to set eyes on his abomination again, this grotesque reminder clinging to him like skeletons overflowing from his closet.

He felt ugly, and worthless for carrying such a vivid reminder of who he once was. Who he failed to be. No one should ever see his back.

Especially not you.

“There are twenty minutes left until opening. Shall we discover what your favorite drink is?” you ask, snapping Yongbok out of his haze.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat with an inhuman effort. “That sounds nice.”

Yongbok doesn't like coffee—you could tell from the scrunch of his nose and the squint in his eye after one sip of his iced Americano. “Are you bad at making coffee, or does it always taste like this?” he asks, and you throw a dozen napkins at his head in response.

“People ask for me specifically to make their coffee. Know your place,” you squint threateningly. He raises his hands in surrender, biting his tongue cheekily. Your eyes linger a bit too long on his lips, shaped like a cupid’s bow, their arrow striking straight through your heart.

It sometimes astonishes you how pretty your guardian angel is, and how seemingly unaware he is of the beauty he carries within each one of his features, each worthy of paintings and sculptures to immortalize them for eternity to come.

“This is good,” he grins, sipping his caramel Frappuccino happily.

“Because it’s ninety percent sugar,” you smile just as brightly. He puts down the drink slowly, eyeing you curiously.

“Why do I feel as if this is a secret insult?”

“It’s not a secret insult. I’m doing it to your face,” you smile, and he rolls his eyes so much they almost reach the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle quietly as he grabs the vanilla matcha drink. “Wow I can’t believe the sassy men apocalypse affects angels as well,” you sigh.

“I literally have no idea what half of these words are.”

“What happened to Urban Dictionary?”

“Die.”

“Aww, look at you picking up my slang already,” you coo at him. 

It's his turn to fling balled-up napkins at your face. You dodge them perfectly as if in a dance you’ve rehearsed thousands of times before.

“Anyways,” you clap excitedly, “you have five minutes to make me a latte.”

“Me? But I don't know how to.”

You place a recipe book before him, tapping the counter diligently. “I expect the world’s tastiest latte.”

A small smirk draws upon his lips as he shakes his head slightly. The sight of him makes you flustered all of a sudden.

“Anything else, your majesty?”

“No,” you grin. “Have fun!”

You wander through the café, dusting the books on the shelves– your most prized possessions, ones that you bought and others that customers themselves have donated. You return to Yongbok’s side when his voice booms through the place, calling your name.

“Here,” he slings the drink toward you, and your face contorts in shock.

“What the fuck? Since when do you know how to do this?”

“Do what?”

“This intricate latte art?” you point to the foam forming a perfectly drawn white swan.

“Ah, this. One time you were in the kitchen, very frustrated because you couldn’t get this shape right. So, I did it for you.”

“Are all angels as sweet as you?” you grin, taking a sip of the drink and holding his gaze over the rim of the glass. His heart catches in his throat for two reasons—anticipation as he awaits your reaction, and hunger as he aches for you to describe him even more, to dress him in all the adjectives linked to his being so he wouldn’t feel like a stranger, a blank canvas in his own body.

“How is it?” he asks. You remain silent, taking another sip.

“Mm.”

“Mm?” he echoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s opening time!” you sing-song, walking away, and he follows behind you. “Why won’t you tell me? Is it that bad?”

“I don’t want to!” you speed up walking, and so does he. You end up running, skirting around the chairs, your laughter coating the room like golden honey. “Leave me alone!” 

“You have to tell me!” he shouts, chasing after you in an impromptu game of catch. He suddenly manages to grab your arm, spinning you around until your back is against the table, his arms on either side of your body. His eyes are suddenly drawn to the languid rise and fall of your chest, and then to the way your tongue slowly swipes across your lips, wetting them. 

A sudden warmth pools in his lower stomach, and he lets out a shuddered breath, his heart caught in a web of unknown feelings.

“Am I interrupting?” an unknown voice breaks in, and Yongbok quickly takes three hurried steps away from you, his cheeks ablaze as if flames are latching onto them—he doesn’t know if it’s from his embarrassment or from the golden specks he could decipher in your eyes.

“Mr. Kang!” you shout excitedly, skipping over to stand by the man’s side. He’s shorter than you, his back slightly hunched from time’s morphing hands, and his smile is warm as it lands on you. He reaches out to ruffle your hair in greeting before his gaze lands on Yongbok.

“Is this your friend?” he asks, the same smile still etched into his lips. You nod, and Yongbok bows deeply before straightening up.

“Can he make nice coffee?” Mr. Kang asks, and Yongbok stares at you expectantly.

“The best,” you finally grin, and a worried breath dissipates from his chest.

“I think we’ll get more clients too. He’s very handsome!”

“I know, you should see his freckles,” you giggle, pointing to a lightbulb that needs fixing on the other side of the café. Yongbok stays rooted in place, trying his best to steady his breathing. He is sure his face has turned the shade of the sky after a crimson sunset.

…

“This is Chris,” you say, standing by Yongbok’s side two hours later as he diligently wipes the counter. Yongbok follows your gaze to a young man nodding his head to the rhythm of his headphones. He looks serious, eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. His hair is hidden beneath a black cap, but a few strands escape, swooping like a duck’s tail.

“We take a music theory class together. He’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, a true social butterfly. I think the term was coined for him,” you explain. As if summoned by your words, Chris looks up, his eyes finding the two of you. He tilts his head in greeting, clicks a few keys on his laptop, then rises to join you.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins, and you roll your eyes. “When are you going to drop the cheesy nicknames?”

“Never,” he smiles, dimples deepening. They remain as his gaze shifts to Yongbok.

Yongbok isn’t used to smiles that don’t falter when they land on him.

“Hey, mate,” Chris says, extending his hand. Yongbok nods, shaking it.

“I’m Chris.”

“Yongbok.”

“Are you new here?”

“No, we just found him outside and forced him to make coffee,” you tease. Chris bumps your shoulder playfully. “Shut up. Good luck having to stand her for so long.”

“As if you aren’t obsessed with me,” you scoff, turning to Yongbok. “He refuses to drink coffee anywhere else.”

“Because you give me free sweets.”

“In this economy?” Mr. Kang appears suddenly, and the two of you burst into laughter at his timing. “Did your daughter teach you that?” you giggle, and he nods, almost desolate as if forced to acquire this knowledge.

“Anyway, we should hang out at one of my parties, Yongbok. Let’s catch up,” Chris grins before winking at you— “My usual, please, baby.”

You send him a playful middle finger. He blows you a kiss as he returns to his seat.

“We’ve known each other for three years now. He’s very annoying,” you smile, shaking your head. “But he’s a good friend.”

Yongbok feels something chip away in his heart, as his eyes land on Chan’s figure yet again. A slow ache swirls in his stomach like thorny vines. Time seems different for humans. He has known his fellow angels for much longer yet he doesn't think anyone would ever speak of him with this fond of a tone. 

---

“You did well,” you smile, patting Yongbok’s shoulder at the end of the day, the café as empty as it was at 6 a.m.

“Thank you, it was nice,” he replies with a tired, yet genuine smile. You nod, a slight yawn taking over you.

“Will you help me get some flour from the back? Then we can go home.”

Home. A concept that seems less foreign when you are near.

“Sure.”

“It’s there,” you point to a high shelf in the storage room. “We usually use a staircase, but we broke ours last month. I almost fell on my head— “

“But ended up magically walking away unscathed?” he interrupts. “I know.”

You slam a hand over your mouth, staggering back. “How?”

“Y/n... please don’t be surprised when I tell you this,” Yongbok frowns, placing a hand on his heart.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

“When I told you I was your guardian angel, it meant that I actually guarded you from harm’s way.”

“No,” you shake your head.

“I know,” he nods solemnly. “I’ve saved you from many, many clumsy falls.”

“My savior,” you giggle. “Lift me?” you say, and he nods, squatting down until you climb atop his shoulders before rising again.

“Okay, get a bit closer,” you instruct as you grab a packet of flour. “Shit, okay, this is heavy,” you giggle nervously.

“Why are you shaking? I’m the one carrying you,” Yongbok chuckles.

“When have you ever seen me around the vicinity of a gym?”

“Just hang in there, I’ll squat slowly,” he reassures.

Your feet are almost on the ground when the bag slips from your hands, falling with a resounding bang. Clouds of white envelop you both, shrouding your clothes in powder. You freeze, only to erupt into laughter as Yongbok grabs your waist, pulling you down to him.

“My god,” you manage to utter between chuckles, staring at the flour scattered all over the ground. Your laughter intensifies as Yongbok stares at you blankly, his face completely covered in white.

“What should I do?” you giggle, clutching your stomach. Yongbok can’t hold in his laughter much longer at the sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks. His giggles stream through your veins like a cup of hot tea, making your entire being warm up from within.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, your palms settling atop his cheeks, slightly wiping away the powder.

“It’s okay,” he chuckles still, swiping his knuckles across your cheek to remove the flour, as well. Your hands cease their movements as you take in the fully concentrated look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you inquire quietly, and he nods.

“You seemed quiet today,” you note. He stiffens slightly before turning your cheek to the left, wiping the other side of your face. “Or was I wrong?”

“I don’t really know how to talk to other people.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared they’ll be able to tell there is something abnormal about me.”

“Yongbok...” you speak his name softly as if it was molded after your voice alone. “That’s nonsense. There is nothing abnormal about you.”

He avoids your gaze, so you place your hand atop his, tilting your face to catch his eyes. “Hm?”

“Just because my wings aren’t here doesn’t mean my past is erased.”

“Who said it should be? No one’s asking you to be perfect. No human is, Yongbok.” He remains silent, so you sigh softly, inching closer to him.

“If a straight line goes on with its path...” your fingertip drags a straight line across his chest, the white shirt he’s wearing suddenly igniting from the warmth of your touch. “It will remain undisturbed for the rest of its life. But what good is that? If a line doesn’t go down,” you trace a curve down his shirt, then one up again, “how will it ever know how sweet a high is, right?” you smile, before bopping your fingertip across the tip of his nose.

“You have pretty freckles, by the way,” you smile, and he clears his throat, nodding furiously. “Thank you.”

“You know, the guy who ordered the matcha latte, he spent his entire time here observing you,” you grin knowingly, and he frowns. “Really? I didn’t notice.”

“Yes, and when you gave him the change, he did the... what was it called again?” you muse for a few seconds before clapping. “Ah, yes, the triangle method.”

“What’s that?”

“He looked into your left eye, then your right one,” you demonstrate with your gaze gliding across his like a skilled ice skater grazing the surface of ice. “Then... his gaze flickered to your lips,” your eyes follow your words, and his breath suddenly catches in his throat, an unknown feeling swelling in the pits of his stomach. Tender and aching all at once. 

“Did it work? Did I fluster you?” you giggle, leaning to place your ear atop his heart. Yongbok pushes your head away, grateful for the dim lighting that conceals his blushing face. He doesn’t know what emotion will burst into him if your head rests across his chest.

He doesn’t think his heart could handle it.

“No, you didn’t, um—” he’s flustered. He prays with all his might you can’t tell. “Let’s clean this up, I’m hungry.”

“What should we have for dinner?”

“Sushi?”

“No, let’s have kimbap.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

You shrug happily. “I’m giving you the illusion of choice.”

Your words send a chill running down his spine, his hands freezing in place. Is this what Chris has offered him? An illusion of choice. Of a different ending. Of a fate different from what he has always thought would be his.

No, Christopher can’t be that cruel, right? Yongbok shakes his head, cleaning the entire room with an absentminded swipe of his hand.

A fool made to believe he can change a prophecy.

But Yongbok can’t help the small voice growing in his head, feeding off his worries and anxiety, echoing mindlessly within his mind.

But he can.

He can.

He is.

…

Time passes differently on humans than on angels. It now marks Yongbok in different ways, too. 

The hours he spends feeling sad are excruciating, stretching long and long till he starts to question whether the sun does rise at the end of the night. Or if it is a cruel lie recounted by humans to make the sadness less harsh, easier to bear. 

But those same hours he spends happily pass within the blink of an eye, their fragments stitching into Yongbok’s memory, a tapestry woven with threads of your silky voice and glimmering eyes. It is those happy moments he lived for the past month that he wishes to remember. 

Only those. 

He's gotten better at latte art, taking pleasure in drawing different shapes, animals, and even faces into the drinks. It’s less the satisfaction of being good at a task, and more so the smile that blooms on the faces of whichever customer gets their drink. Delighted by something he did, for once.

He’s good at making brownies. And apparently, his brownies are the best you’ve ever had. He’s only ever discovered the joys of baking because you were craving some but were feeling too lazy to make them. It was arguably hard to bake in the dark, as if ashamed of what your reaction would be if you found him struggling with pots and browned butter. 

But all of his embarrassment dissipated when you tasted them first thing in the morning, your eyes lingering longer on his figure when you found the plate. 

Mr. Kang agrees, too, so much that he’s asked him to put up these brownies for sale. Yongbok spends a lot of time with the kitchen staff, where Mrs. Kang, the head chef, teaches him the intricacies of carrot cake and cinnamon rolls. She calls him “son”,  Yongbok doesn’t know why an urge to weep overtakes him each time he hears the nickname.

You took him on picnics across the Han River, bowls of steaming hot ramyeon in your hands as you watched the sunset, sometimes the sunrise too. He reads books lying on the grass field, your shoulder brushing against his own. He doesn’t know why he remembers the swipe of your skin against his, or the specific scent of your perfume as it intermingles with that of the salty river. 

Sometimes it is bike rides across the river. You chasing the sun and him chasing something else— was it your smile, your happiness, a glimpse of your face each time you turned back to look at him? He doesn’t know the exact answer, but he knows that when your gaze met his across your shoulder, the wind swaying your hair as if spelling out lullabies for his soul, something excruciatingly tender bloomed within his soul. 

Sometimes it is day trips to neighboring cities, where you can see the beach once again. Where he swims and floats atop the water. Where he closes his eyes and feels at peace, where the water chases off images of his pain and leaves only images of you. 

He also volunteered at your local food kitchen. The people who eat there have called him kind, too. He feels as if you sat the course of how he would be perceived when you described him as such, the very first night you spoke in. He likes being there. He likes talking to people, he’s gotten better at it, too. 

He met Chan, and his two friends, Han and Changbin. He doesn’t remember how he ended up singing ad-libs for their newest mixtape. But they complimented his voice, said it’s perfect for harmonizing. You had simply grinned as if you already knew that from the moment you had first heard him speak. You spent the rest of the night eating grilled meat and playing video games over at their dorm. Yongbok doesn't think he laughed as much as that day. 

And each time he thinks the heights of his happiness are attained, that this is as joyful as he can get. That sorrow will undoubtedly follow closely, as it lingers just around the corner, waiting for the cup of his happiness to be filled to the brim. You prove him wrong. You make him laugh harder. You broaden his heart for him to receive even more happiness. 

As you are doing now, missing every target to win this pink cat plushie in Lotte World. 

“This is embarrassing, how can you miss all of them?” he sighs amusedly and you turn around, pointing a finger at his face. 

“Because you are staring at me with your…” you stammer, waving your finger in front of his face, “eyes.”

“How am I supposed to look at you then?”

“Just don't. I don’t do well with scrutinizing.”

“Okay, I’m not looking.” he turns around, closing his eyes for a second, waving his hand discreetly through the air. He knows that your delighted scream will follow. 

“Did you get it?” he feigns being surprised as you shake his shoulder, turning him around. “I did!” 

Your smile is as wide as an ocean, as beautiful as the sunsets you take him to witness. He’s lost in thought as he takes in your grin. 

“You look so pretty, Yn,” he says honestly, earnestly, because it is the only way he has ever known to speak to you. “Pretty like the sun.” 

“Oh,” your excitement fizzles out, the plushie growing lump in your hold. “Doesn’t the sun burn the more you look at it?” you giggle nervously, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. They are rebellious, refusing to stay still, so Yongbok steps forward, gently doing it for you.

“Because the sun shines a bit too brightly to make sure everything else in the universe does.” he pauses, running his tongue across the expanse of his lips. “Just like you, with me and everyone else in your life,” he says. My light is a reflection of yours, is what you hear. 

“You are very honest,” you smile softly, bringing a hand to your ablaze cheeks, hoping to cool them down. 

“Is it a bad thing?” he asks. Nervous. You quickly shake your head, despising the thought of a negative emotion trapping his heart.

“No, no. It’s a good one. Truly.” 

“Okay.” 

“Should we go to the ferry wheel?” you suddenly ask, hugging the plushie closely to your body. 

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” he grins. 

Yongbok’s limbs are slightly achy from all the rides you went on today, but nothing seems to deter the smile on his face, even as the line stretches for meters ahead. Nothing, except for the discomfort slowly growing on your face, your thumb tearing at the skin near your nails. 

“What’s wrong?” he questions, trying his best to catch your fleeting gaze. 

“There are too— too many people around, I feel a bit suffocated.” 

Yongbok doesn’t think, he simply grabs your hand and you are suddenly on the top of the ferry wheel, humans morphing into tiny ants to you from high above.

“Better?” he asks worriedly, tucking a strand of your hair behind the cuff of your ear. 

You’re still slightly dazed, but the wind that slams into your body feels like a gulp of cold water. 

“Your hands are shaking,” he notices, entwining your fingers with his, naturally, as if it is second nature for you both. “And they are cold. Are you dying?” he asks and you finally burst into giggles, shaking your head.

“No, I… I sometimes get anxious around people; it usually turns into a panic attack but I think you stopped it.”

“I helped you?” he asks, eyes softening and you nod. “Why are you surprised? you always do.”

Yongbok doesn’t know how to face the gentleness of your tone. It is a much harder opponent than the harshness he was subjected to. 

“Do they happen often?”

“It depends. They come and go like the seasons. I actually… I learned how to help you from my mom. Do you remember? back on the rooftop?”

“Really?” he asks, bringing your interlocked hands to his mouth and blowing warm air onto them. His lips almost graze your knuckles in the process. 

“Yeah. She got them frequently and she taught me how to ground her. And then I used those techniques on myself. Then on you.” you sigh, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. 

“Hers happened because of a past accident. She once got stuck in a mob of people and ended up fainting. it was my dad who pulled her up from the ground, it’s how they met, actually,” you grin slightly, before breathing in slowly.

“You know, I read that you can inherit trauma from your parents, but also from generations past. That  it changes the genetic structure of your mind. I wonder if that’s what triggers me.” 

“That's fascinating to think about. How emotions and experiences can be inherited.” 

“I know,” you smile, “I think it passed.” you gesture to your interlocked hands and he lets go promptly, staring ahead at the twinkling city lights, light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s embarrassed because he enjoyed the feel of your palm against his so much, maybe too much, enough to wish for your line palms to meld into one another. Becoming two indiscernible scriptures to the naked eye. 

“Wait. Does this mean we didn't need to wait all day for the rides?” you suddenly ask and he nods. 

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don't… I don't like using my powers a lot around you.”

“Why is that?” 

“I'm scared that the more I use them the more you'll realize that I'm a fallen angel and that you have no business talking to someone like me.”

“You are very silly, you know that right?” you sigh, placing your cheek atop his shoulder. Yongbok’s world stops spinning right there and then. “I don't feel as lonely anymore now that you’re here. Angel,, human, or something else entirely… None of that matters to me.

To me, you’re just Yongbok.”

the question trickles suddenly into his being, tiptoes inside him gently like a droplet finding its way back to a waterfall— what is the grandest thing the universe has to offer?

To him you’re it. 

“I think I'm happy right now.”

“You think?” 

“I don't know how to describe it… But it feels like I have a little sun in my chest. It glows and it’s warm.” 

You tilt your head back to look at him, a wide smile on your face. He finds his answer in the sunset that filtrates through the strands of your hair, the last sun rays of the day coating your face in a warm glow, as if it was made to make your features shine the most, to make the shadows in your face look like a sculpture. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few silent beats, “I really am happy.”

“Does this mean we are moving?” you giggle, spreading your arms wide as if taking in the entire universe into your chest.

“Yeah, wherever you want us to.” His words are soft, resolute, draped with a gentle discovery— he followed you down to earth, he’d follow you everywhere in it.

…

“I don't know how I'll explain to people how I suddenly afforded this apartment,” you smile, hands on your hips, as you take in your new surroundings. 

Yongbok moves to stand directly behind you, his chest almost brushing against yours. you feel your heart palpitate at his proximity— so close yet so out of reach, simultaneously.

“Just say you moved in with me”

“Mm, I’ll say we are childhood friends and you just moved to the city.”

“Friends? Is that what we are now?” he grins, the light from the tinted windows bathing his features in a kaleidoscope of colors. He’s so beautiful, You you suddenly wish for a change to what you are. you don’t know by what exactly. But something, anything that will allow you to appreciate, venerate his beauty fully.

“Well, we aren’t strangers anymore.”

“I think you are my first real friend,” he says, a bit shyly, pink filling up the spaces between his tan freckles. 

Yongbok always speaks what’s in his mind, with this air of innocence tainting his words as if he doesn’t know that thoughts can be kept to himself. 

You never mind it. Though it churns your insides, makes you experience this particular attachment to him. You want to orbit around him, hear what he thinks of everything, of the colors it seems he experiences for the first time, the food he tastes, and the humans he speaks to.

And most importantly, you. 

You yearn to know everything he thinks of you. You don’t allow yourself to decipher where this need is coming from. You don’t think you’d be able to handle its consequences. 

“You’re lucky I'm like… The best human to ever walk on this earth,” you grin, throwing your hair over your shoulder and onto his face. He squints his eye to chase away strands of your hair.

“The humblest too,” he says, his eyes drifting across the living room. You chose an apartment on the smaller side, as opposed to his unlimited budget. But he likes what you did to the place. He doesn’t quite understand the intricacies of home decor, but he likes the plants everywhere, the flickering candles, and the fragrant flowers bathed in dim lightning. 

And he loves your painting room the most, with a neat library on the side. It feels like taking a walk straight into your heart. 

“Who painted that, by the way?” he suddenly asks, pointing to the painting in the middle of the room, right above the beige couch. 

“Hwang Hyunjin. It took me four paychecks to be able to afford it, three years ago. His pieces are now much more expensive.”

“Hyunjin…” he repeats, tasting the name on his tongue, it is familiar, and the memory suddenly hits him once again. “Oh, I talked to him before.”

“Did you?!” you ask excitedly, grabbing his arm and shaking it slightly. “Where, when, how?”

“At a bar, before I became... half human?” he says, unsure a bit of what he is now. “He actually invited me to his upcoming exposition. When was it again?”

“Today!” you nearly yell and he flinches.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I've been following his news. He's really my favorite artist.”

“Should we go?” 

“Actually?”

“Yeah. you seem to really like him.”

“Oh my god, I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin. oh my god, I need a dress,” you grab his hand, pulling him away. “We need a dress!”

“We?”

“Let’s go shopping, we need to buy…”

Your words fizzle out in his brain, his whole focus on your entwined fingers as you push him through the room. Your palm feels like a soft petal brushing against his bruised skin. 

If he freezes time, just for a bit more, to enjoy the feel of your hand in his, would anyone blame him? 

The earth would understand surely— the desperate need to appreciate softness when all he has known is thorns pricking his skin.

...

“Yongbok!” Hyunjin's boisterous voice echoes through the art gallery, drawing every eye to you and Yongbok as you stride inside. Yongbok barely has a moment to take in the lavish surroundings before Hyunjin walks toward you, his polished shoes clicking rhythmically against the white marble.

“I knew you’d come!” he grins, grabbing Yongbok’s hand between his two large palms, shaking it warmly. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.” 

“Of course I'd remember you,” Hyunjin says, his face darkening for a fleeting second, before his eyes rest on you. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hyunjin,” he smiles, grabbing your hand and shaking it a bit more softly. 

“Yn. I’m a big admirer of your work, truly.”

Yongbok’s eyes soften at your excitement— they don’t leave your figure when he tells Hyunjin that you have a piece of his hanging in the living room.

“Really?” Hyunjin’s face brightens up at the news, “which one?”

“The red roses in the vase. It’s one of my favorites.”

“That was in my beginnings,” Hyunjin muses, a hint of nostalgia tinting his words. “I put a lot of love in it.” 

“I can tell, the colors especially scream of passion.”

“Are you one for passionate love?”

“Is love truly love if it is devoid of passion?” you ask, tilting your head. Hyunjin’s eyes linger on Yongbok for a moment before turning back to you.

“Excellent! Please choose whichever artwork you prefer; it will be my gift.”

“Really?” you beam, brighter than Yongbok has ever seen you before. The sun suddenly perishes within him.

“Of course. The prettiest artwork for the prettiest girl,” Hyunjin winks smoothly, before patting Yongbok’s shoulder. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Yongbok’s voice is withered as it floods his ears— “Please.”

…

Yongbok’s eyes are fixated on the red liquid swirling around his glass. He fears that if his gaze deserts the wine he’s drinking then it would inevitably drift to you and Hyunjin, giggling together, like long-time friends. Or is it lovers? The lines blur so easily for humans.

He had feigned an ache in his legs, telling you that he’d sit down while you go on with the tour. You had placed a hand on his arm, a worried crease in your eyebrows. “Okay?” you asked. Comforting, warm. It is the adjectives that always come to his mind when he thinks of you with him. 

But you aren’t his to describe. His to be kind with. His. 

So, he hummed, a tight smile drawn on his face. 

It’s not that he despised Hyunjin’s artwork. On the contrary, Hyunjin is a skilled artist, he can see why he’s reaping the fruits he sowed years ago. And yet, what disturbs him is something silly, stupid, too feeble for an angel, a human even, to care for.

He doesn’t like how your laugh travels around the gallery, how you fell so easily into conversation with Hyunjin, talking about your shared interest in art. He won’t ever have a passion of years to talk to you about. How could he when his existence merely spans over three months?

Yongbok is shrinking more and more, till he becomes a single dot of paint on the painting in the very far end of the gallery. Forgotten, dim before all the others. How can he dream to compare if he doesn’t know who he is? If his memories of life don’t even contain the four seasons, pausing in winter, barely brushing against spring.

When his torn skin doesn’t bear blemishes from falls years ago, while riding the bicycle, while playing with other kids, proof of a childhood well spent. No, his scars are that of one stripped from his roots, cast into an unknown world, punished, ridiculed. 

He’s unworthy of being an angel, unworthy of being human, unworthy of being in your company. Why are you wasting time with someone like him, who’d only pull you down, someone who needs instructions to understand how to carry his heart? 

The thoughts play out in his head, again and again, on your ride back home. You are happy, radiating even at the thought of a painting delivered by Hyunjin himself, your favorite artist, sitting in your home. His skin ricochets off your happiness, morphs it into anger and bitterness, all directed at himself.

He hates Hyunjin. He doesn't. He hates Hyunjin with you. He wants you to be happy with him alone. Isn’t he horrible for wishing to strip you away from happiness? 

Horrible.

Horrible.

Abomination. 

“Can you help me take off my necklace?” you knock on his bedroom a few minutes after you arrive, walking in to find him sitting on his bed, deep in thought. 

He startles at your presence, backing away even more into the wall. You frown at the tumult you perceive in his eyes. 

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, get out.” 

He can’t bear looking at you. He can’t bear you looking at him. What will you see? Someone poisoned by jealousy, whose insides are collapsing on themselves, whose body rejects his bruised soul, over and over again. 

Where else is he supposed to flee? If he sheds this skin, which one would finally accept him whole? 

“What’s wrong? you’ve been quiet all night, avoiding my gaze. Did something happen that upset you?”

He’s panicking, on the verge of combusting into tears. How would he explain this hatred coursing through his veins at the thought of being perceived? By your kind, beautiful beautiful eyes, nonetheless. 

“I really–“ a pause, “ I really don’t want to see you right now.”

You falter, your hand curling tighter against the doorknob.

“Because each time I do, I– I see you with Hyunjin, and I feel as if flames are burning inside my lungs, choking me.” 

“What?” 

“And I hate- hate how I… look how I exist right now. So please, leave, I don't want you to see me.” 

You hesitate for a few seconds, rooted in place. 

And then you close the door. 

You are inside. 

“Talk to me, what is it you’re feeling?” you speak softly, your voice cautious, none of the things he’s used to. It angers him all of the sudden. 

“This is exactly what I hate. You are wasting your time helping me decipher my feelings, you are pitying me. Can't you see how burdensome I am?”

You shake your head, taking a step forward. 

“I don’t, I like it, I… I love helping you, I love seeing the world through your eyes again. It feels like I'm learning new things every day thanks to you and I—“

“I’m an ABOMINATION,” he yells, the walls seem to shake from the voracity of his voice. “From the moment I was created, I have been nothing but anomalous, I… I don't belong anywhere, who was I kidding by coming here?” he tears at his hair slightly, now pacing back and forth in front of you. “Did I really think that feeling would suddenly fix the void within me? that talking to humans would make me normal–“ 

“Yongbok!” you cut him off, no longer capable of bearing the sound of his shaky voice. “Please you are not listening to me!”

“No, you are not listening to me! Look! Look at how ugly I am, look!” he turns around, taking off his white shirt, exposing his butchered back to you. “Look at everything that haunts me, please look at it, hate me and leave.” 

He pleads, naked and vulnerable before your eyes. He waits for you to deliver the killing blow, to cement the horrible thoughts he bears for his body. 

If it is your voice speaking of how worthless he is then he’d believe it more. 

A pin-drop silence coats the room. Yongbok believes you somewhat vanished from existence. 

And then. Your lips on his back, brushing across the plane of his shoulder in the softest, faintest manner. He almost thinks he’s imagining it, imagining you kissing his scarred skin as if it is a delicate petal, worthy of care. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of love. 

“Is this what you hate about yourself?” you whisper, your knuckles grazing his scars. “Why are you so mean to your body, Yongbok?” your voice shakes. Hot tears pool in his eyes at the sound of it. “ Didn’t it scab its best to keep you alive?”

“You are such an idiot,” you breathe out quietly, your warm palms settling atop his waist. “I won't hate you for this. How could I hate you for this?” 

Yongbok is dizzy, drunk off your voice and the way your touch makes goosebumps ripple across his skin. “How could I hate you when all I see is resilience?” Your lips brush against his back, the faintest kisses peppered down his spine. “When all I see is what kept you alive?” 

Yongbok’s blood has spilled into the first snow of Seoul, what feels like a lifetime ago. But somewhat, it is underneath the caress of your hands that he has felt most exposed.

“So, I am thankful for your scars,” another tender kiss, this time to the nape of his neck. “Otherwise, you would have bled on the snow and I wouldn't have known you. And it’s a horrible horrible thing for me to imagine.” 

Your chin nestles across the plane of his shoulder, your hands wrap delicately around his chest. Can you feel his heart beating wildly? Can you hear it spelling out your name? 

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Yongbok. Haven't you been through enough, already?”

It isn’t the thoughts in Yongbok’s head that finally make him breakdown. It is rather the feeling of your chest pressed to his back, your cheek resting across his shoulder, you hugging him for the very first time in existence, you enclosing him in a cocoon of safety the way his wings used to.  

“I’m here. you can cry all you want,” you reassure, soft and comforting. His grief for his wings suddenly seem too far out of reach, the safety of his feathers paling before the safety of you. 

Yongbok doesn’t think as he spins around, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You respond swiftly, bringing his body even closer to yours, running your hand comfortingly along his spine. 

He doesn’t mind your fingers grazing his scars, he doesn’t chase off your touch. On the contrary, he craves it, his cells calling out your name, thanking you for all the love you’re giving him. He wishes he could glue himself to you, crawl inside your veins, build himself a nest between the web of your nerves. He doesnt think he could ever survive mourning you. 

“Please— please don’t leave me,” he begs, lost in waves of uncertainty, he thinks that if he holds you tightly you won’t ever disappear from his hands, trickling between his fingers like grains of sand. 

“Don't be silly,” tears fall down your eyes too, landing on his back like dripping wax. You attempt to steady your voice but it still shakes like rattling branches. “Where would I go?”

“What if they take you away from me?”

A flash of white clouds Yongbok’s vision, the cold returns to his body tenfold. He blinks repeatedly, and then he finds himself atop an abandoned rooftop. The blood runs cold in his veins, his heart pausing in his chest as he hears heavy footsteps approaching. Did he place a curse atop himself? Did his worst fear come true as soon as he spoke of it? 

Are you gone?

Oh God, are you gone?

“Yongbok,” a familiar voice speaks, and life resumes its course inside his feeble body.

“Seungmin,” he speaks the name in relief, a breathtaking smile blooming on his face. He sees the scrunch in Seungmin’s eyebrows relax ever so slightly, before a placid look drapes across his face again.

“Why did you do it?” Seungmin asks and Yongbok’s grin falters. 

“Did they send you?” he asks, a hint of apprehension filling his words.

“No, I came to bring you back.”

“What?”

“I will fly you back and you will kneel before them and apologize. And you will vow to never speak to humans again, and it will be forgotten.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why are you— “Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “they are humans,” he says the words in disdain, as if looking down at them from atop an unreachable altar. 

“I know they are.” 

“They are weak. Driven by things they cannot touch or see.”

“And I love them for it.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re defending them.” 

“Seungmin,” he sighs tiredly, “why are you doing this?”

“Because I'm trying to help you. This, emotions, feelings, love. It isn't worth the pain they will end up causing you.”

Yongbok scoffs loudly, angrily. “What do you know about love?”

“You think you are special? You think you’re the first angel to go through this? I loved someone too Yongbok!'' Seungmin yells, taking him completely by surprise. “And they had him get in a car accident to punish me for it. I still hear the screeching tires; I still see his skull fracturing against the ground. I had to beg— beg for them to rewind the seconds and bring him back to life. And all for what?” he scoffs, grabbing Yongbok’s shoulders and shaking them. “You are on cloud nine because this is something new for you, you think that those humans would ever accept you? But you are wrong! Tell me, what’s an angel to a human?”

The shout that leaves Yongbok’s throat is a foreign one to his being. “That doesn't matter to me!” he yells, pushing away his hands. “Look me in the eyes, ask me, what’s a human to an angel? I’ll tell you it’s everything. Everything if it’s her.” 

“This will ruin you. They will kill you, Yongbok. She will be your demise.”

“I’d rather die by her hands than live by yours.”

“What if she ends up dying by your hands?” Seungmin speaks calmly, coldly. Yongbok feels the ground give up beneath his feet. “What if in the process of hurting you they end up hurting her, what will you do then?”

“I… they won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don't love her.”

“Who said anything about love?” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. He looks almost desolate, somewhat that terrifies Yongbok even more. “You have your answer, I fear they have theirs too.”

Seungmin walks away, pauses, before turning back once more. He hesitates to speak, and in the seconds of silence that ensue, Yongbok discovers how terribly heavy fear is to bear. 

“I’m sorry, Yongbok.”

His tongue is heavy as it moves to ask— “what for?” 

“For the things yet to come.” 

[holdmytesseract]

Okay so I saw your post asking for an idea with Daryl in season one of his show, so here goes:

Reader is also American, who has been with the nuns for a while. Five years, maybe. She went looking for something (you can decide what!) and ended up stranded in France. Naturally, she picked up French and sort of became a translator for Daryl. One day, maybe when they’re at the school with all the kids and the sick teacher, the kids can see the way Daryl looks at reader, and vice versa, and they’re continuously teasing them about it. Daryl obviously doesn’t understand what they’re saying, but he figures it out by the way reader acts all shy and bashful and suddenly can’t look him in the eye when the kids are around. The ending is totally up to you!

Idk this is a silly idea. You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, ofc. I love and appreciate you regardless 💜

He loves me - he loves me not... 🌼

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When a strange man suddenly stumbles into your life, you didn't think much of it. Until you had to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him - and it didn't stay unrecognised...

Warnings: possible Spin-Off S1 spoiler, usual TWD stuff? fluff, some slight drama... idiots in love?

Set in S1 of the Spin-Off series!

Word Count: 4,2k

a/n: Thank you, @dixons-sunshine , for that wonderful request! 🧡 And a HUGE thanks to @fictive-sl0th , for being my translator and for helping me along with this. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆�� Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"A bunch of bad decisions," was the man's answer to your question.

"How did you end up 'ere?" He threw it immediately back at you. "A bunch of bad decisions, huh? Well... I could say the same." You took a deep breath of the fresh Spring air. "I, uh, travelled to France for my boyfriend. He had a work trip which took him here. Paris, to be exactly. It was meant to be a surprise, but... When I arrived at the hotel he stayed in, I caught him in bed with another woman, so, yeah... Should've stayed at home in LA." He looked at you; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. "'M sorry 'bout that." "Don't be. He was an asshole." You immediately waved him off. "After a few days, I decided to fly back home, but then everything collapsed... The world collapsed. I was forced to stay. That's when I met Isabelle. We both needed help, so she took me with her. That's how I ended up here. Unfortunately, neither me nor the nuns were able to help her sister - but that's a different story." You gave the man a soft smile, which he answered with a nod; once more biting the inside of his bottom lip.

You had shown the stranger - Daryl, around the abbey and were now on your way to the kitchen, in order to get the man Isabelle had so suddenly dragged into your life something to eat. You weren't a nun, but it has been a long time since you had lastly seen other people besides the women who lived here - let alone a man... You felt nervous and awkward, but also a strange kind of happiness and excitement. Perhaps it was normal. Especially in a world like that...

He had followed you in silence then; his eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. However was the silence highly unpleasant - at least for you, so you decided to start another conversation - even though you knew that what you were about to ask him was probably the most stupid way to get him indulged in another chat... "Are your clothes fitting? They alright?" You gazed over at the gruff and visibly marked, yet undeniably handsome fellow American.

You noticed how he began to fumble with the beige suspenders he wore; giving himself a once-over. "Yeah, thank ya. Jus'... Ain't what 'm bein' used to." You could imagine. After all, you saw what he had been wearing when Isabelle had brought him in... Tattered jeans, a washed up black shirt and a more or less damaged and yellowed leather vest with angel wings on it. Oh, and that poncho. You reckoned he went from 'bad boy biker' to 'good boy church-goer' only within a few days. The black slacks, light blue woollen sweater and the suspenders were definitely not his style, and yet it suited him to perfection - that was at least what you thought.

"Sorry about that. It's the only men clothing we got around here. Obviously," you joked; trying to light the mood - and it worked. The man snorted out a small laugh.

That was the first memory you held of Daryl Dixon. You couldn't deny that your eyes had gotten stuck on Daryl that day - and now, a few days, weeks or even months, who knew, later you still hadn't been able to pull them away. Was it love at first sight? You didn't know. All you knew was that the man who had stumbled into your life out of nowhere drew you in like a moth to a flame.

When the abbey fell and only Isabelle, Sylvie, Laurent and you were left, you didn't even think a second about parting ways with Daryl. He certainly was stuck with the four of you now - and vice versa. The mission was clear... Bringing Laurent to the nest; first destination Paris.

Like always proved the way to be more difficult than anticipated; with a lot of stones getting thrown into your path. That was most likely the reason why you ended up imprisoned by a horde of kids and teenagers, who lived inside their old school. Well... 'imprisoned' wasn't the right term anymore after a thorough conversation - and a little white lie. Quite the opposite... You had become guests and even got invited for dinner; no longer being considered a threat. Luckily.

Now you were standing in the former classroom turned into a kitchen to do the dishes. You volunteered for this; wanting to give something in return for the kids' hospitality. To your slight surprise volunteered Daryl as well, what got only smiled at by Isabelle and Sylvie - much to your confusion. You didn't know what was so funny about that... Yet.

"Almost done," you stated with a smile and handed the man beside you one of the last plates needing to be cleaned. The archer took it with a grunt; his hand accidentally brushing yours - and you could've sworn that your stomach did a 360; his touch leaving a sizzle behind on the skin of your hand. It caused you to stop in your movements and lift your head to meet the mysterious man's eyes - blue-greyish pools, in which you got immediately threatened to drown. It took you everything to hold on. All you could see and focus on was him; causing the rational part of your brain to immediately send a distress message to your heart and asking what was going on. Well... Deep down you knew and it wasn't really difficult to figure it out... Falling in love with a man you barely knew. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Could you prevent it from happening? No.

"Madame Y/N, père (father) Daryl!" The voice of a young boy suddenly cut through the air and caused you to fall from cloud nine back down to earth. Blinking, you turned your head - and your attention to the approaching child, whose footsteps could be already heard against the wooden floor. Unbeknownst to you, did it take Daryl a second to get himself together as well; the archer highly confused about what just happened. The foreign feeling coursing through his veins did not fail to scare him a little bit.

"Dans la cuisine! (In the kitchen!)," you called back; leading him to the right destination. The boy appeared in the door frame within a few seconds; a huge smile on his face. "Allez! Nous avons allumé le générateur! (You have to come! We powered up the generator!) " The kid exclaimed happily; a huge smile on his face. "Nous serons avec vous dans une minute. Nous avons presque terminé ici (We'll be with you in a minute. We're almost done here.)," you answered and gave him a smile in return. He nodded, "Bien! (Alright!)" and stormed off again.

You turned back to Daryl; instantly seeing the question marks displayed on his face. He didn't even ask you to translate for him. You just did it. It sort of came naturally to you. By now you literally had become his personal translator - together with Isa. Sylvie was still a little shy around the man and Laurent was improving his English skills.

"He said we have to come. They powered up the generator. Guess it's time to watch some TV," you explained; smiling. "Let's get this done and go." Daryl nodded; the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "A'right."

Once you and Daryl were finished with the task at hand, you made your way through the building and up to the attic; side by side. "Did ya already speak French as you got stranded 'ere?" The archer suddenly spoke up to break the not necessarily unpleasant silence between the both of you. You shook your head. "No, I didn't. I remembered some words I learned back in school. Basic stuff, you know?" "So ya learned to speak French?" You nodded, "Yeah, I did." and shrugged your shoulders. "Had to. I spent now over ten years in France. Had a lot of time to learn the language... Isa was a good teacher, and Laurent the best classmate." The man beside you nodded; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You noticed from the very beginning that he had the tendency to do that. A habit, possibly?

When you reached the attic, everybody was waiting for you and Daryl already. The kids were antsy and bubbly; full of anticipation and impatiently waiting for the big screen to light up.

Daryl sat down on an empty seat beside a young, blond boy. Your plan was to join him, but Laurent waved you over with a smile; silently asking to sit with him. Of course, you couldn't say no to the boy's wish, and sent your fellow American an apologising gaze, which he acknowledged with a jut of his head; telling you it was okay. So, you sat down beside Laurent with a smile and wrapped an arm around him; halfway hugging him. He meant a lot to you. After all, you knew him since the day he was born. He was family - just like Sylvie and Isabelle.

No minute later, the screen lit up and the 'TV programme' started to play - much to all kids' joy and excitement. The series you were watching was one you were familiar with... 'Mork & Mindy'. It was a series you didn't catch when it first got shown on TV, but your dad introduced you to it a few years later. Glancing over to Daryl, you could see on his face that he knew 'Mork & Mindy' as well. The man's lips were curled up in a soft smile. It definitely looked like he was visiting the past in his mind; probably thinking back to his childhood.

It wasn't the only glance you stole at Daryl that evening. Your eyes wandered way more often to him than you actually noticed. You didn't, but quite a few another pairs of eyes did... Familiar and unfamiliar...

It was already quite late when everybody returned from the wonderful 'movie night' and retreated to their rooms. You shared a room, and bed with Isabelle - not for the first time in all those years, so neither of you had a problem with that. Why would you?

The nun had already settled down in bed and watched you join her with a small smirk on her lips. A smirk you knew quite well by now. "What?" She looked at you; still smiling. "The French are very poetic and love poetry, you know."

Why is she telling me this? You asked yourself.

"Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point," the blond woman spoke in her native tongue to quote Blaise Pascal; her smile never faltering. You frowned. "The heart has reasons the mind doesn't know? What's that supposed to mean, Isa? Is there something you want to tell me, or...?" The nun just smiled. "Oh, I think you know what I mean. Well, at least your heart does. I noticed, you know." You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest. "Could you please stop talking in riddles? Noticed what?"

A soft chuckle left Isabelle's lips. You didn't get it. "The way you look at him."

And suddenly, it fell like scales from your eyes, causing your cheeks to turn beet red. "I-I..." You stammered; looking everywhere but at your friend. "You, uh... You see that?" "I dare to say that it's not very subtle, Y/N." You swallowed. "O-Oh..."

Isabelle smiled and patted the free space on the bed beside her. Cautiously, you climbed in and sat down on the old mattress; criss-crossing your legs. "Why are you embarrassed? You don't have to. L‘amour, l‘amour - ça arrive toujours." You smiled softly at her; fumbling with your hands. "I don't know... It's just... I actually barely know him. How can I fall in love with a stranger?" Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, "Your heart knows. Isn't that enough? Don't question it." and placed a hand on your wrist. "Perhaps isn't Laurent and the mission the only reason God sent Daryl to us..." She smiled again, and you couldn't help but widen your smile.

Your friend wasn't the only one who noticed the looks you were giving Daryl - like you found out on the next day. You were supposed to go on a small mission with Lou - the kids' group leader and Daryl, but you headed out on the once intact and most likely beautiful school yard earlier; deciding to get some fresh air. You watched Laurent play with a some of the other kids; smiling. Some were playing tag, some hide & seek and a few others had a huge rope and were skipping. You didn't think much of it at first, but then you listened closer to what the two girls were singing while swinging the rope. Your brain instantly translated the song, since you knew it so very well. You sang it yourself, back in your school days...

"Y/N and Daryl sitting in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage!"

You blinked, had to listen twice to make sure you heard that right... You did. They were singing the kissing song, including your and Daryl's name... "Hey, ya a'right?" The sudden sound of the voice from the man in question urging to your ears ripped you out of your thoughts, but didn't improve your situation. Not even in the slightest. You could still hear the girls singing - now even louder as it seemed; given the fact that Daryl joined you to sit on the small wall by the fence.

Instantly, your cheeks reddened; shocked and even a little embarrassed that also the kids - strange kids noticed that, and of course, because Daryl's presence.

You cleared your throat; quickly nodding. "Yeah, uh, sure. All good." You could tell from the look on your crush's face that he was quite suspicious about your behaviour and answer, but he dropped it and accepted your answer with a nod.

The both of you continued to watch the kids with an unpleasant silence between you, until you noticed a young girl approaching you with a smile. "Y/N?" You gave her a smile. "Oui?" "Tu es américaine? (You are from America, right?)" You nodded. "En fait, je viens de Los Angeles. (Yes, I am from Los Angeles.)" The girl nodded and glanced shortly at the bulky man sitting beside you. "Et père Daryl, il est aussi américain? (And father Daryl is American, too?)" You nodded once more. "Oui, il est. (Yes, he is, too.)"

She smiled and brought out a daisy from behind her back. "Donc, tu connais la comptine 'Je t’aime' ou ça n'existe pas en Amérique? (Do you have the 'He loves me - he loves me not.' game in America as well?)"

You swallowed hard at her words; knowing of course exactly what she meant - or rather what she hinted at. "Je crois que oui, mais je ne l’ai jamais entendu en français. (We do, yeah. But I, uh, don't know how it goes in French.)" The little girl's eyes widened; now shimmering with excitement. "D‘accord! Je te montrerai! (Alright! I show you!)" She started the 'He loves me - he loves me not.' rhyme; all the while plucking petals from the daisy. You listened closely; trying to be attentive.

Meanwhile Daryl was 'just' a silent participant of whatever was going on. The archer didn't understand a single word - besides his name - of what you and the girl had talked about. Until she pulled out the daisy from behind her back...

She finished plucking the daisy until the last petal. A big smile lit up her sweet face as she gazed at you, then Daryl and back at you again. And before you could even say something, she brought out another daisy; now stretching out her hand to you. "C'est ton tour! (Now your turn!)" The excited child in front of you announced.

You would've lied, if you said you didn't see it coming. Of course you did - and that child was a smart girl. She also knew what she did.

Swallowing hard once again, you gently took the daisy from her small hand - a nervous smile on your face. Doing like the girl showed you, you started the rhyme; trying to remember how it went and plucked the petals of the little flower in your hand.

"Je t'aime, un peu, beacoup, tendrement, passionnément, à la folie, pas du tout..." Of course was destiny a lousy traitor and you landed at 'beacoup'- a lot... Now you couldn't prevent the blush from spreading all across your cheeks. You desperately tried to play it cool, given the fact that the man who literally was this all about was sitting right beside you - most likely knowing what was going on. Sure, he may not speak French, but you were quite certain that he knew the game you and the little girl had just played. He knew what was going on. You did not dare to look at Daryl; too afraid of his reaction.

And the little girl? She just giggled and once more looked from you to the archer and back, before she turned on her heels and ran away.

Unpleasant silence lingered between you and Daryl. The man knew the game you had just played - but he was still oblivious of your feelings for him. Yes, the little girl's looks were quite revealing, but why would such a beautiful, stunning creature like you fall in love with a brute, messed-up redneck like him? Impossible. He needed a proof; to test this insane theory.

"Y/N-" Your name leaving his lips was enough to send you into a frenzy - and you panicked. Hastily standing up from the little wall, you fled; quick steps carrying you as far away from the archer as possible.

After the 'incident' in the school yard, you and Daryl didn't talk for days. Only necessary conversations were held. Nothing more. And even during those, you struggled. You couldn't look Daryl in the eyes. Not even for a second. You were sure that the others noticed as well, but just didn't decide to intervene. Your usually extroverted and open self had turned into a shy, bashful woman - as soon as Daryl invaded your space. You were just too afraid of rejection and unrequited feelings - what in your point of view was most likely the case. You may not knew him a long time, but you could tell that he was a lone wolf. He didn't need your or any other company.

You sat on one of the big, wooden tables, close to the edge of the rooftop. A few candles were the only source of light, as you overlooked the once so bright and shiny city of love, which had turned dark, cold and dead. At least at night. The rusting, decaying Eiffel Tower looming above the darkness; only illuminated by the full moon shining from above the sky. It held a strange kind of beauty.

Footsteps and some rustling noises coming undoubtedly from behind you piqued your attention. Nevertheless, you didn't turn to face the approaching person. You didn't have to. You knew by the sounds of the heavy boots connecting with the concrete ground to whom the steps belonged - and it caused your heart immediately to speed up...

Daryl.

Wordlessly, he took a seat beside you; picking nervously at his hands. From the corner of your eye you saw that he was still wearing the black slacks, woollen sweater and suspenders. Did that man ever sleep? Apparently not.

Silence was still lingering between the both of you; spread over your bodies like an invisible blanket - until the archer cleared his throat. "Can't sleep?" You swallowed hard and shook your head; nervosity skyrocketing. "I, uh, needed some fresh air," you answered; still not deigning to look at him. Daryl nodded - rather to himself than to you, and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a moment; contemplating his next words.

"Couldn't sleep 'n was thinkin' the same." You didn't answer; not having the slightest clue what to say.

Daryl kept quiet as well; recognising that what he had on his mind turned out to be way more difficult to say than he anticipated... His brain worked hard to try and figure out a new plan, but not really successfully.

He had to suppress a groan. Why were things like this always so difficult and complicated? He just wished he could just follow an instruction...

After a few minutes and a trillion failed ideas, Daryl just threw wind into caution and went: Fuck it - and go like a bull at a gate.

"Yer avoidin' me."

Three words... Three words shouldn't leave such a sting on your heart, right? And yet they did. You were walking a thin line between being ashamed and nervous. "I-I do?" Daryl snorted out a scoff; crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "Ya ain't shittin' me, woman. I ain't blind or stupid." "W-Well, I... I don't mean to, it's just... complicated...," you stammered; unable to find the right words to explain this to the man. "'S complicated now, but a week ago it wasn't? Why? 'S not makin' sense." And he was right. You knew he was. He had backed you up against the wall. You ran out of arguments and white lies; leaving you no space to escape.

"It... It's because..." You sighed. "You know why. You know what happened in that school yard. You're a smart man, Daryl. Don't tell me you didn't figure it out and count one and one together."

The archer's heart fluttered at your words. He did read the sign correctly - and the realisation made his stomach flip. A sensation he hadn't felt often in his life before. Something he never thought he'd be graced with experiencing.

Daryl could tell how nervous and antsy this conversation made you, so he tried to keep it together. For yours and his sake.

Though, nobody said this was easy... And words weren't exactly his strong suit.

"A'right, listen..." He may have been ineloquent, but he knew how to compensate it. Especially when body language failed him as well.

"There was this man. Jus' a normal guy in this broken world. He went out lookin' for somethin', but... All he found was trouble. 'N tha' trouble brought him to a place so far from home. All across the ocean, 'n... All the man wanted was to go back 's fast 's possible; this bein' the only damn thing on his mind... Gettin' back home; back where he thought he belonged. But then somethin' happened 'n suddenly he saw things with diff'rent eyes..." "What happened?" Your mouth spoke quicker than you brain could think. Daryl shrugged his shoulders; the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. "A woman."

Your eyes widened and you finally dared to turn your head to look at him - directly into his beautiful blue-grey eyes, and it almost left you breathless. "H-He... He fell in love?" You witnessed Daryl chewing on the pad of his thumb, before he gave you a nod. "Yeah, 's what people do, right?" He slid cautiously closer to you, until his hand brushed the back of your hand. "Fallin' in love..." Daryl whispered in his deep, raspy voice, and slowly took your smaller hand in his big, clammy hand; loosely intertwining your fingers.

Your heart almost stopped; a gasp leaving your lips as the final realisation kicked in... He reciprocated your feelings. They weren't unrequited. The love was mutual - and it caused a firework of emotions to explode within you; blowing away all the negativity. The shyness, the embarrassment, the shame.

A smile spread over your whole face - so bright it could light up the whole world. Daryl was sure of it. Throwing caution to the wind - driven by the love coursing through your veins, you quickly leaned over and pressed your lips against Daryl's. You could tell that he was slightly taken by surprise - but he did not pull away. The archer could never reject you. Quite the opposite...

He lifted his free hand and gently cupped your cheek in his palm; feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips and locking your lips to his. The kiss was clumsy and slightly chaotic; given the fact that he hadn't kissed somebody in a very long time. Not that you minded. You weren't better. In your eyes the kiss was perfect. Daryl-like.

You smiled; still with your eyes closed, before you slid closer to the archer as well. You rested your head against his shoulder; feeling the fabric of his woollen sweater slightly scratch your cheek.

"Yer comin' with me back home, right?" You nodded instantly. "I'd love to." Daryl smiled and squeezed your hand. "Yer gonna love Alexandria... The Commonwealth, n' all the people livin' there. I jus' know it."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @dixons-sunshine @loz-3 @making-the-most-0f-it @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @whore4romance @mikaela-granger @sweetz19 @marvelcasey05 @mischief-dream @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @secretsicanthideanymore @stiveroon @mayday2007 @cakesandtom

If you want to be added or removed, please let me know.

[fashionteahouse]

ultimate master list vol. 2

started: 10/12/2024

updated: 12/18/2024

~ heyy beautiful people, I didn’t know there was a 100 link post limit sooo u can still click the master list link to view the 1st one. I have decided to create this •master list• to make my page more easier to navigate and enjoy :) i take requests so feel free to drop whatever you want because I write everyday! the wolfpack is my preference but I will write for any other twilight characters as well :> however, I wont write about jacob black x renesmee and quil x claire xoxo (plagiarism of my writing is NOT allowed)

Twilight Saga

moodboards

alice cullen

rosalie hale

alec volturi

caius volturi

victoria

paul x reader home

edward cullen

la push, washington

jasper hale

wolfpack imagines

paul lahote

still sane

biting down

feel good

i think

guilty conscious

xo

just for now

hit me where it hurts

melting

infatuation

fallen alien

super freak

no problems

an angel cried

sweet insomnia

taking responsibility

bb

now or never

my sister says the saddest things

come on let’s go

door

hit me where it hurts part 2

where do we go

door part 2

it’s nice to have a friend

all for us

hold no grudge

so hot you’re hurting my feelings

sticky

how to disappear

embry call

forget it

know the way

cross you out

which way

freedun

which way part 2

l$d

coming back

lonely star

l$d part 2

take it back

the man with the axe

jacob black

rumors

sam uley

plastic doll

sour candy part 2

jared cameron

love scars

seth clearwater

billions

robbers

you’re not the one

judge judy

supernova pt 2

save me

on earth

kiss me more

disease

quil ateara

eventually

leah clearwater

kill v maim

what a girl wants

official

out of the woods

never be the same

reader x paul x embry x seth

wanted u

wanted u part 2

wolfpack smut

paul lahote

pretty

nsfw alphabet hcs

sfw alphabet hcs

quil x embry x reader

groupie love

wolfpack series

out of your league part 12

out of your league part 13

out of your league part 14

out of your league part 15

out of your league part 16

out of your league part 17

out of your league scenario (paul’s version)

out of your league part 18

out of your league part 19

out of your league part 20

out of your league part 21

out of your league part 22

wolfpack blurbs

pack x reader

444+222

sundress

tongues

heat

ideal

vampire imagines

alec volturi

ghostride

caius volturi

don’t forget

plans

twilight imagines

victoria

life in the vivid dream

trans!jacob black x alice cullen

snow on the beach

[writteninlunarlight-years]

(Hazbin Hotel) I got a (hopefully fun) challenge for you! How about a little scenario, headcannons, or heck, just a series of funny interactions with the following idea- Its about a shy!reader who gets super bubbly and fun when they are around people they know, but gets really quiet and introverted around people they don't. You know, the type of person where they take awhile to get out of their shell but once they do they are a HOOT. Anyway, the reader is friends with Charlie who ADORES them and loves hanging out with them. When Lucifer moves into the hotel, he quickly gets enamored with the reader, seeing them interact with his daughter and how fun they seem to be... the problem is, whenever Lucifer goes to talk/interact with them, the reader's shyness kicks in and they immediately clam up and start practically hiding behind Charlie.

I thought this would be a funny idea to play around with because Lucifer already has trouble talking to people as it is and now you have TWO losers who cant talk to anyone! :D

Someone New~

(Okay, so these are little scenarios based on the first meetings; they all lead up to Lucifer at the end, though. Plus, a little happy ending blurb)

Charlie: You were really quiet when you first met Charlie. You wanted to give friendship with her a shot, though, seeing as she could be the path to redemption. However, the fear of being perceived and messing up was sometimes too much. However, Charlie worked hard to help you come out of your shell. Starting with just using herself, she got you to warm up to her gently. Soon, she was your favorite person to talk to, and you couldn’t help but laugh and have a good time. As she added more people to your crew of Sinners, you trusted her judgment and let her help you open up. 

Whenever her father called to check on her, though, you would immediately clam up. You figured that with how nice and sweet Charlie was, her father had to be the same, but he was also the big boss of hell. Anytime Charlie handed the phone to you so you could say something, you would just squeak and run away from it. You didn’t mean to come off as rude; you just couldn’t imagine having a conversation on any level with the Lucifer King of Hell.

Vaggie: When Charlie found Vaggie and introduced you two, it was awkward, to say the least. Vaggie was entirely reserved, and you hid behind Charlie like a puppy would. As time passed and you overheard more conversations between Vaggie and Charlie, you grew more used to the girl. You were the first person informed about their relationship, which made you so happy for them. As you got used to having Vaggie around, she taught you how to fight in case you were ever caught up in another extermination or even on the streets of hell. Something you would always be very grateful for, especially when Adam came down.

The only time you couldn't be around Vaggie was when she was discussing plans with Lucifer about the hotel. Anytime Vaggie calls, texts, or speaks to him in person, you would be right back glued to Charlie's side or whoever was the farthest away. You had no vendetta against the Fallen Angel. He was just so powerful and imposing. You didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him.

Angel: You grew close to Angel the fastest. Something about his attitude and fluid personality was so calming and yet also chaotic. You needed your time to process his flirtatious jokes and advances. That was one thing you were never fully prepared for. However, Angel was really kind and knew that when it was just you two alone, he didn’t need to go all that far with you. You were just a shy, innocent one, and he could respect your boundary as long as he could be his masked self in front of the others. Angel was also the first person to bring up your fear of Lucifer. Any time Angel decided to talk about Lucifer, you would close off and retreat in yourself again. Angel would go on and on about how it was because you respected and loved the demon. You had to disagree, though, because you didn’t even know what love was, especially since you had a rough life around romance before your death. Angel was adamant that you were smitten with the big king of hell. Even went as far as trying to trip you into him on occasion.

Alastor: Alastor was the hardest one to get used to next to Lucifer. Whereas the king of hell thought you disliked him and gave you space, Alastor was the opposite. See, Alastor knew you hated people in your bubble, especially people you were not close to. He relished in making you uncomfortable and just always appeared just right there. Like all things, though, the more he did this, the more used to it you got till you were at the point you actually would seek Alastor out. Eventually, your distaste for one another turned into a friendship and a quite close one at that.

However, things took a turn for the worse when Alastor suddenly decided that Lucifer liked you. See, when he had this idea, he made it very difficult for the king of hell to be around you. He not only enjoyed watching you squirm when Lucifer was nearby but also liked watching Lucifer rage at his closeness to you. Alastor never understood something as fickle as love, but he knew it made people do crazy and amusing things.

Husk: Being the grumpy barkeep he was, it wasn’t until Angel forced you to sit at the bar that you two actually met. You stayed quiet and oddly close to Angel, but Husk chalked it up to you being another unfortunate soul who made one wrong move and ended up rotting in hell. Many nights were spent with you, listening to Husk and Angel talk and bicker with one another. After the first time, you opened up and laughed, Husk let out a genuine smile. Angel and he made it a game after that to see who could get you to crack first. This odd friendship eventually bloomed into you sitting at the bar and talking with Husk alone. This also led to you drunkenly admitting how attractive and breathtaking the King of Hell was.

Husk kept your affections and attraction to himself. Each night, when you would drunkenly confess more and more to him, it was amusing. It became even more entertaining when the King would show up at his bar just as drunk and admit his feelings for you. Yet you two would never remember due to the alcohol, leaving the only one to know about any of this himself. He was just a lowly barkeep, though he did not need to get involved.

Nifty: She was an odd duck, but like Angel, she grew on you quickly. Honestly, Niffty wasn’t around you much, but when she was, she was a riot. She was chaos in a small body, and it was hilarious. She was also good to just vent, too, as long as you gave her some super glue and bugs you found. Like Alastor, though, she loved causing trouble, so when she saw how the King of all Bad Boys looked at you, she was set on making something happen.

Nifty's pranks on getting you and Lucifer alone together were the worst. She wasn't doing it cause she saw the apparent pining between you two. She was just doing it cause hearing your squeak and Lucifer's stutters were funny. Eventually, she joined in with helping Alastor by making Lucifer walk in every time Alastor was all over you so they could debate how red his face got.

Lucifer: He had no idea why you hated him so much. From the moment Charlie formally introduced him to you, he was smitten. You were adorable and, quite honestly, as cute as a duck. He wanted nothing more than to get to know you and hear his name from your lips. However, you never stayed long when he was present. He could barely get a word in before you were gone or hiding behind Charlie. 

Defeat slowly crept in that he would never grow close to his little duckling. However, time would only tell as the hotel banded together in their own ways to get you two together. From Alastors jabs at Jealousy to Husk's knowing looks, even Charlie and Vaggie pushing you two around each other more and more, there was bound to be a breakthrough. You two obviously longed for one another from afar; you needed some excellent ol' communication.

With that said, when Charlie finally forced you two to be alone together, it was the most awkward moment of both of your lives. Lucifer couldn’t talk cause he was stuttering, and you were mute due to your fear of new people. However, you also saw this as your one chance not to fuck this up, and surprisingly Lucifer seemed to have the same ideas. As you both turned back to each other to say something, you collided, causing you to stumble and Lucifer to catch you. If you could be any more in love right now, then you would be. As if in a movie, all the pieces fell into place, and suddenly, it wasn’t scary talking to him anymore.

It still took a few tries before you were your bubbly self with him like you were with everyone else. Lucifer took pride in being the only one to bring out an even better new side of you. The loving and caring side that extended far beyond friendship.

Who knew that you could grow to love someone new~

[hauntedwitch04]

Fallen angel

Priest!Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 1.8k words

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, swearing, kinda voyeurism, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 14: Innocence

Remus knows it is wrong, but sinning has never been sweeter.

You came for Mass as you did every Sunday, together with your family. Remus always took a few minutes to look at you as you sat in the front row, in your usual cream and powder-pink dress, your little white shoes and the pink headband in your hair. If he hadn't known better, the young priest would certainly have thought you were an angel.

Throughout the mass he tried never to look at you, knowing that he would then have to hide a very obvious erection that would be very difficult to explain.

You are his forbidden dream and his most terrible perversion.You, with your air so graceful and your soul so good, were the one who would make even a saint sin, and Remus is convinced of this. There is no mortal soul according to him who would not think of your lips, your breasts, your legs in a sinful way.

Once the sacred service was over and the faithful were greeted, Remus headed for the confessional, knowing that a couple of people would be coming in seeking absolution. Usually he was not the one to hear confessions, but Father James, who, however, due to commitments could not do so today, so he had asked Remus to do so. At that thought he could not help but smile, thinking how he could ever grant absolution, when at night she often dreamed of you, as he fucked you, as you lay naked on top of the church altar.

Remus has been sitting in the confessional for a while, listening to people's sins and assuring them that God would forgive them if they showed a willingness to absolve themselves, when he decides to leave since there are other things to do and it has been several minutes since anyone came in after the last one who had come in, a man who had cheated on his wife with his sister.

The moment he is about to leave that cramped space, however, he hears your voice caressing the air.

"Father James, I should confess." You say in a voice slightly louder than a whisper.

Remus knows it is wrong the shiver that runs down his spine as he feels the sensation of desire growing inside him. He sits back as he wonders whether to tell the truth or to lie and pretend to be his friend, knowing that this would only be the beginning of the series of sins he would be thinking and doing, moments from now, imagining you kneeling beside him.

"Go ahead my child." Whispers the young priest as he imitates his colleague's voice.

"Father, I have sinned. The devil has taken me by the hand and led me down an evil road." You comment as you wring your hands.

"What have you ever done that is so terrible? You are an angel on earth, you cannot disappoint the Lord." Remus comments, as he feels his pants getting tighter and tighter, in imagining your lips inches away from his lap, separated only by a thin perforated wooden panel.

"I've been thinking about so many wrong things." You pause for a moment and then ask a question. "Father, if I tell you, you will never tell anyone right?"

"Of course angel, no one but me, you and Our Lord will ever know what you are going to tell me." Remus says, trying to reassure you; you nod and go on.

"Father, the other night I had a dream-a sex dream. I was-I was with this boy and he was touching my whole body, then his hands stopped...right there." You say, and Remus immediately closes his eyes, throwing his head back, praying himself not to come at that same moment in his pants.

"It was probably all because of that movie my friend showed me where there's a sex scene, since I've never been intimately with any man, but here's that's not the worst part."

"Oh no?" Remus asks, instinctively, as he feels his self-control slipping through his fingers as he puts his hand on the button that fastens his pants.

"No, because then when I woke up...here I didn't really know what I was doing, but I felt that I was very wet in my underwear and I didn't understand why."

"God child, what have you done?" Remus comments under his breath, not thinking you could hear him as he pulls his cock out of his pants and begins to massage it, since by now the erection was becoming too painful.

"Yes father, I know I sinned a lot, I know because then I did something I'm very ashamed of. I touched myself down there, and-and I think I gave myself pleasure." You confess, your voice almost on the verge of tears. Remus tightens his hand around your cock as he takes a deep breath and stops his movements, knowing that if he continued he would come in seconds.

"What exactly did you do my dear? How did you touch yourself?" Remus asks in a rough voice as he hears you fidgeting on the other side of the grate.

"But Father, I would sin one more time if I repeated it out loud." You comment frightened, as you feel your white panties getting wet again, under the pink skirt you wear.

"No my child. God, and I, need to know what exactly you have done, to absolve your sins, of course." You try to explain Remus convincingly. A few seconds of stalemate pass before you respond.

"You are right Father, I am so foolish. I'll tell you what I did then." You say, in a tone of conviction, before being interrupted again by the young priest.

"I think though if you just told it you might forget some things, and we definitely don't want something like that to happen right?"

"No Father, absolutely not. What do you recommend I do then?" You ask eager to please the priest.

"Why don't you try to do again what you did that night, too. Try touching yourself the same way you gave yourself pleasure as you tell me about it, try thinking about who you were thinking about that night as you came on your fingers." Remus says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as hesitantly a hand immediately goes to the hem of your skirt. You spend a few seconds assessing the situation and then decide to do as Father advises, so you bring your right hand inside your white panties, and with one finger you brush your pussy, feeling how wet it is. This slight gesture of yours makes you moan, and Remus can't help but imagine you under him as you make all those lovely sounds.

"That's right, keep touching yourself while you tell me how you sinned bimbo." Remus says, taking his erection back in his right hand as some pre-cum slides from the tip to the base. The sensitive tip of his cock feels the drafts of air coming in through the small door in front of him, and he can't help but think those are the correspondence of your labored breathing.

"I put my hand in my panties, and with my middle finger I began to caress my..."

"Say it my child, don't be ashamed, it's more than natural."

"About my pussy. Slowly I started to move my finger around, to see if it really feels as much pleasure as it said in the movie, and that's how I found out that it does, but it takes time. Then after a few minutes of touching her, I tried to stick a finger inside."

"Did you like it?"

"Not so much at first, then after a few times I was going back and forth, like he did in the movie, I started to like him a lot, however I couldn't get to the pleasure." You continue, while touching yourself in the same way you are telling it, however the pleasure this time comes much faster than the first time, as you already feel on the verge of orgasm.

"And how did you get to orgasm baby?" Remus asks, as he knows he too is getting closer and closer to reaching the pinnacle of pleasure.

"I imagined it was someone else doing those things on me." You confess shyly between moans. Your hand is completely wet, and your fingers are also cramping, but you don't care.

"And who were you thinking of?"

"To Father Remus. "You whisper in a low voice as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. "Father James please absolve me, please remove this stain from my soul, I cannot live knowing I will end up in the clutches of Mephistopheles." You pray as your fingers quicken.

"Cum. And I will absolve you my child, come now my little fallen angel." Remus says, before coming himself with powerful spurts, in his own hand, as he imagines you convulsing after your orgasm, your plump lips wide open as you moan and your sinful chest poking out of your dress.

At the same time you come around your fingers, moaning and rolling your eyes in pleasure as you feel every muscle in your body contract and relax without you having control over anything.

"Father am I absolved?" You ask with bated breath, as you adjust your skirt, and try to make yourself presentable again. Remus struggles to catch his breath too, especially as he thinks back to the final confession you made: you think of him when you have to give yourself pleasure.

Part of him would like to console you by saying that he is not just thinking about the other person to get to orgasm, but knowing that this is not the case, he decides to adopt another technique.

"Of course my dear, no sin stains your candid soul anymore, just a piece of advice. Just the next one I advise you to go and report these kinds of sins and problems directly to Father Remus, he is a very open-minded man who specializes in the kind of problem you have child."

"What is my problem, Father?" You ask fearfully.

"I think it's really a sex demon, angel." At Remus's words you wince, but he immediately heartens you. "Don't worry baby, he's very good and will know how to help you, but it's important that you don't tell anyone about your condition, okay?"

"Of course Father James, thank you for the advice, I will go right away and talk to Father Remus tomorrow."

"Good, very good my sweet fallen angel." He says, before saying goodbye and hearing you leave.

TAGLIST

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[worldlxvlys]

one choice

part 6 of the CRUSH series

bsf! matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of sex, cursing

a/n -> hope u like <33

read the previous part for context !!

MATT’S POV

when my eyes fluttered open, i was immediately met with a pillow that wasn’t mine. i knew this pillow though, and those sheets.

i had forgotten where i was momentarily, until i looked over and saw her. her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly while she slept peacefully.

she looked angelic, the soft rays of the sun seeming to make her glow. she moved around in her sleep last night, leaving her barely covered by her blanket.

i couldn’t help but let my eyes wander her body, taking in every feature. her smooth skin was littered with dark marks all over, and the blanket left little to the imagination. before i knew it, i was hard again.

it took everything in me to fight the urge i had to take care of it right there next to her. what would she think if she woke up to me jerking myself off to her sleeping form?

oh my god, what was gonna happen when she woke up? she would want to talk about what this meant for us, but i couldn’t handle that.

what if this was a one time thing? what if she wanted nothing to do with me after this ? did i fuck up our friendship? i had to get out of there.

i got up quickly and quietly, careful not to make any noise while i got dressed. when i was done, i pulled her blanket over her so she was fully covered. i looked around for a pen and paper to leave her a note, as i didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

ok, she has nothing to write a note with. i’ll just leave her a text.

well i could have done that, if i had realized i completely forgot my phone in her room before i left. i didn’t make this realization, however, until i had gotten back home.

so not only did she think i was the type of guy to fuck and dip, but i also couldn’t avoid the conversation that i was running from in the first place.

it’s not that i never wanted to talk about it, i just wasn’t ready for our friendship to change yet.

was running away the best way to handle the situation? definitely not, but i only had so much time to decide what to do before she woke up.

so basically, my overthinking ended up screwing me over. doesn’t it always ?

what was wrong with me? this was the girl who made me feel safe and loved, and now i couldn’t even talk to her. how did i manage to fuck up this badly?

one choice. one choice stemming from my fantasy-filled thoughts is all it took. and the decision i made last night led to more poorly made choices. choices that i wouldn’t have made had my brain not been corrupted by her.

her face, her smell, those perfect little moans that fell off her lips, she had a way of making me ignore every logical thought that my brain produced. i was so desperate to finally have her in the way i’d only dreamed about for years.

now if i didn’t fix this, i wouldn’t have her in any way.

———

READER’S POV

when i woke up, matt was gone. the spot where he had slept next to me was cold, meaning he hadn’t been there for a while.

for a second, i questioned whether last night was even real. had i really fallen so deep into my delusions that i started to believe them? i found the thought to be worrisome, but i tried not to dwell on it as i got up and made my way to the bathroom.

when i caught a glimpse of the hickeys decorating my skin i felt relief wash over me. i wasn’t going crazy. just as quickly as it came, the relief was replaced with a new feeling; embarrassment.

i seriously let myself think that he would want something more. hell, he marked me like he did. but he didn’t treat me like i was his best friend, he treated me like i was a one night stand.

maybe he had a valid reason for leaving. i tried to talk myself out of the rabbit hole of assumptions i was about to go down, and picked up my phone.

once a few hours had passed without him returning my texts or calls, i knew. he was done with me, he had to be. why else would he just leave without warning and ghost me?

i should’ve know this was going to happen, people always leave me in the end. it just never occurred to me that matt could be just like everyone else.

——

MATT’S POV

when i got to her house, i let myself in using the key she had given me. “y/n?” i called her name, not receiving an answer.

i pulled out the ice cream i had bought her on the way to her place, putting it in the freezer for her.

when i got to her room, she happened to be fresh out of the shower. she wore nothing but a towel, her eyes widening when she saw me.

“matt?” she asked before rushing over to me, pulling me into a tight hug. the water droplets that coated her skin soaked into my t-shirt, but all i could focus on was the fact that she was in my arms.

i inhaled the scent of her fruity body wash, eyes falling shut as i rubbed her back soothingly.

she then pulled away, smacking me upside the head with her heavy hand. “don’t do that again matt, i thought i scared you off. i thought you hated me- i thought i lost my best friend”

i cupped her cheek gently, “i could never hate you, and i’m not going anywhere. i was just overwhelmed, but i shouldn’t have just left life that. i’m sorry, i was gonna leave a note, but then i couldn’t find anything to write with. and i was gonna text you but i left my phone here and-”

“matt, it’s ok. i’m just glad that you’re here now” she whispered. “but there’s nothing to be scared of, i mean- last night was just the heat of the moment, right? i mean, it had to be, why else would you leave like that” she whispered the last part to herself.

shit. this was the problem, i didn’t know what the night before was.

i didn’t know what i wanted, and i didn’t want to hurt her in the process of figuring it out. what i did know, was i wasn’t going to lose her because i got greedy. so, i decided i would figure it out later, but for now: “yeah, that’s all it was”

“so, we’re good?” she asked. “we’re good” i confirmed.

“good. then i’m gonna get dressed and then we can watch something?” she posed the last part of the sentence as a question.

“yeah, and i brought you ice cream” i told her, watching her face light up at the news. “wow, you thought you really messed up, huh?” she asked as she grabbed her clothes to change into.

“i did really mess up, but i won’t do anything like that again” i told her. she just smiled at that letting out a quick, “i know” before moving to go back into her bathroom.

“wait, you’re seriously going into another room to get changed? did you forget how we spent last night together?” i joked. admittedly, it was probably a little too soon to crack jokes like that.

“last night never happened” she spoke before closing the door.

shit, why did that sting a little?

masterlist

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[procyonloser]

Adam wasn't certain when it happened, if it came from growing up in a devout family or not, or if something else sparked his imagination as a young boy, but from early on, he'd been obsessed with the idea of the biblical Adam. Of course other biblical figures stood out more, and most people viewed Adam and Eve as simply a cautionary tale, a Just So story - but not Adam.

He saw a wide world of untold stories, of suffering and hardship, of tests of faith, of love and loss, all in a world that had no other people to speak of. Adam was captivated by the concept, and maybe it was because of his namesake, but he felt a sort of kinship with the Adam figure. Responsibility and loneliness, but duty over all else, Adam sympathized with that.

He'd started drawing, just little doodles at first, that turned into comics. At first it just rehashed the story of Adam and Eve, but he started to embellish it, to bring more life to them, and eventually to imagine what their lives must have been like. It'd been a big hit at his private Christian highschool, but Adam didn't expect to make a living off of it. Still, he kept drawing into college, turning it into an episodic comic about the life of Adam.

He wasn't expecting a major Christian publisher to contact him when he was only 21.

Over the years, First Man grew in popularity, he'd even gained a good amount of followers from other religions and backgrounds. Adam of the comic was essentially an action hero, but with more heart - dealing with his flawed but devoted wife, the loss of his first two children, and surviving a world before the flood. It gave Adam the freedom to think up all sorts of demons and fallen angels for comic Adam to face. Comic Adam was tall, handsome, ripped, talented, perfect.

Adam stared into the cramped airplane mirror, scratching at the stubble on his chin. Adam was tall, sure, but he didn't think he was exactly handsome, more average in the face; he wasn't ripped, and didn't even think he had muscles under his stomach anymore, not after years of sitting at a desk drawing and doing nothing else.

He was far from perfect, and the stories were beginning to weigh on him. He'd just completed the most major arc in his entire comic, after over 7 years of writing, comic Adam had died an old man. While some thought that was the end of the series, Adam had a sequel planned, of Adam in heaven, an agent of God with the original angels.

But Adam needed a fucking break, he needed a vacation. It was tearing him up inside, he hadn't even believed in God in about 3 years, but fuck knows he hadn't told his publishers that. The longer he drew Adam, Adam began to feel less and less... Himself. It felt wrong, it wasn't just that he'd sacrificed his social life or chances at any relationships, it just felt more and more fake.

Adam dragged a hand down his face, before exiting the bathroom.

He dropped down into his aisle seat next to a mildly annoyed looking British women, that eyed him up and down. The bags under his eyes, his unkempt hair, the fact he was in sweatpants and flip-flops on a plane.

"You're flying into Ankara?" The woman asked after a long few minutes and Adam gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Then to Adiyaman." Adam said simply, knowing it would be quite the trek across Turkey.

"You may want to... at the very least, put on a proper pair of shoes." She said, and Adam rolled his eyes. It wasn't his first time here, though he'd never been outside of Istanbul before, but no one gave a shit what was on his feet. They were usually more astonished he was over 6'5 than anything.

"Eat a bag of dicks," Adam grumbled, before popping on his headphones, only briefly remembering the good Christian boy he'd been when he'd started his comic.

But it was at the heart of why he'd come here. To Turkey, to the Euphrates River in Adiyaman. Adam's fascination with biblical Adam, with Genesis, with Eden, never really went away, even as he grew more nihilistic and angry at the world. He'd dreamed about visiting here for years, because Adam, deep down, knew that this area was Eden. The whole of the area, from where the Euphrates began and ended in the ocean. The garden was only a piece of the much larger area of Eden, and he'd been waiting years to come here, to see it with his own eyes. To feel the history dripping out of every rock face and curve of the river.

This was where humanity began.

Adam handed his bags over to the clerk in the Ramada he was staying in, because of course they still had a Ramada in the middle of Turkey. Adiyaman so far was... It wasn't exactly small, but half of town seemed like it was in the process of being built, and the streets were lined with cars that looked old to Adam. But, it didn't matter, he wasn't there for that.

Adam sighed loudly, wanting to get up to his room to pass out in bed for maybe the next day. He'd pressed the elevator door close button, but at the last minute, pale fingers curled around the metal, and the doors slid back open, revealing a rather short man. He was wearing an interesting suit, and was at least a head shorter than Adam, but there was something about how he used the space around him that made Adam look him over cautiously.

"Going up?" The man said, with a half smile.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "... You American? Canadian?"

The man shrugged a shoulder, "something like that."

Adam had no idea what the fuck that meant. Why be cagey about that kind of question. It was a simple answer.

"What brings you back here, Adam?" The man askedv pleasantly enough, changing the subject.

"The Euphrates, the archaeology in general. It's a tax write off vacation for my work." Adam answered, not understanding why he was bothering to tell the guy all that.

It didn't sink in until after he got off on his floor, that the man knew his name.

And Adam had never been to Adiyaman before.

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

JJK FF/ ROYAL GUARD

CHAPTER ELEVEN | SERIES

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Ch. 9

Ch. 10

Ch. 11

When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook!fallen angel!royal guard! × fem!reader!virgin!princess 

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ smut

Genre + warnings: Fluff, smut, dirty talk, crying, tears of happiness, lap straddling, a lot of pussy fingering, biting, nipple play, Jungkook groans a lot, full nakedness, big dick!jk, a little bit of rough French, neck kissing, hard orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys :D) - she probably pregnant by the time he is done with her - upss - also mentions of marriage, paranormal romance, historical fanfiction, Kook being cold and mysterious, being his sexy self. Caring and possessive!jk! Really horny towards his princess, being a big seductive tease. A lot of swearing, cursing and a little bit of crying. The story isn’t real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

Still waiting in Jungkook’s chambers, you nervously fidgeted, your fingers picking up stray pieces of your dress whenever your leg bounced up and down, unable to calm yourself.

This couldn’t keep happening!

Everytime you think about what happened in the forest, it makes you tremble with fear. Your palms feel sweaty and your heart is beating loudly.

What if something happened to him?!

What if they caught him?! If anything were to happen to him...

You shook your head violently.

Stop thinking like this!

Taking a deep breath, you sat straight in the chair, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your lap, trying your best to control your breathing.

Just then, the door opened revealing a servant, the lovely octopus Moe, bringing in another tray of food.

“My lady, you need to eat something. You can’t go on like this,” he said softly, afraid that he overstepped his boundaries,” The king will be back soon, don’t worry.”

You smiled at him, “ Thanks but I’m not hungry,” trying to convince him otherwise, your stomach decided to complain with a grumbling sound loud enough for him to hear and you blush with embarrassment, not believing yourself for making those kind of sounds.

He tries to hide his surprise with a polite bow and leaves the room when he finishes setting up your late dinner since it was really late, the darkness outside having already started to cover the entire castle.

A couple minutes pass by when suddenly, the door opens with a bang which caused you to jump in your seat. A familiar man enters the room.

His whole armor was covered in blood, his wings torn in some places with dried blood on them. The sight makes you gasp when he steps into the room, the door closing behind him with a bang in the same way how it was opened.

Throwing the sword on the carpet, he doesn’t even notice you sitting there by the window when he removes his face mask, revealing his beautiful face full of bruises and wounds, the right eye already forming a blue bruise on his left cheek.

A sob escapes your mouth, tears streaming down your face as you stand from your seat and hurry to him.

Grabbing his wrist, you run your fingers lightly along the purple mark that now appeared on his skin.

“Why are you here so late? Did you get attacked? Who did that?!” You asked frantically, not knowing how he even got injured like this.

Do magic beings even heal faster like from the myths?

Jungkook looks at you in surprise for a second before his expression melts into concern when he notices your teary eyes.

“Darling, please don’t cry. Everything is fine.” He says reassuringly.

Relieved, you put both of your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, not caring whether or not you dirty your dress with his blood.

“I need to shower . You know I can’t stay with you smelling like blood,” he whispers, his warm breath hitting the side of your cheek as his chin rests on top of your head.

You nod, tightening your hold on him.

“Okay. But make sure to be careful. You can slip in there if it’s too slippery,” you warn him seriously and your words makes him smile at you, looking at you like you’re some wonder of the world.

“I will be extra careful and If I slip, I will call you,” he smirks with a teasing note in his promise to which you laugh and hit him gently.

“Stop making fun of me. I was worried about you when you went to fight vampires again. I thought that I will never see you again,” You said truthfully.

The corner of his eyes crinkled slightly in response, showing that he understood your meaning.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” He says, caressing your cheeks with the tips of his fingers.

Then without saying another word, he walks to the wardrobe and takes out his clothes before leaving again.

Since he went to shower, you decided to clean yourself too since your dress had bloodstains. Taking the change of clothes, you went to the other bathroom , washing yourself as fast as possible.

Once you were done, you quickly dressed in your nightgown and walked to the bed where you lay down, staring into space, your thoughts still filled with worry.

The image of him fighting in the battlefield flashed through your mind again making you shiver uncontrollably. Why did you insist on going outside the castle if there’s danger?

With a tired sigh, you feel hot inside. Fanning yourself, you go to the big window with the balcony doors and open them wide, letting the fresh air enter the room, allowing your mind to be free of any doubts.

Trying to relax, you closed your eyes, trying to clear your mind. The last thing you wanted was to dwell on what happened earlier in the day.

After a while, you hear the bathroom door open and close softly. Not opening your eyes, your heart rate started to rise when you heard his footsteps approaching you.

He moved like a silent panther with soundless steps as it wasn’t him moving at all.

Feeling him behind you, Jungkook wraps his arms around you to nuzzle your neck.

“I missed you, princess,” he purrs, nuzzling your neck affectionately, pressing kisses against the spot between your shoulder and neck.

You hum softly in return, letting your eyes flutter shut and leaning into his embrace, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body and the smell of his cologne and fresh scent enveloping you.

“I heard that you were a bad girl for me while I was away,” he murmurs, nosing the shell of your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His breath sends chills down your spine but he didn’t seem to mind at all as his lips brushed against your earlobe gently.

"It's my duty as your future husband and your king to punish my princess whenever she does something wrong," he adds huskily.

You feel confused,” What are you talking about?”

You feel him smiling against your neck,” You didn’t eat anything , so your body needs time to recuperate. I ordered Moe to bring you some food and a glass of wine and you haven't touched it,” he explains softly, rubbing circles on your back with one hand, the other hand resting gently on your hip.

You flush in embarrassment as you realize that he caught you. "I'm sorry."

"Don’t apologise. It’s perfectly normal to miss someone while you’re away,” he replies, his thumb brushing across the curve of your waist.

Your eyes widen as you turn around in his arms, your face only inches from his.

His eyes are blazing when he looks at you and the longer he holds eye contact, the faster you let your own drop down at your feet, too shy to see his intense stare directed at you.

“Now,now. Don’t be shy now, darling. I don’t bite,” he coos softly.

There is irony in those words because you both know that you have been bitten by him before so this sentence was necessary.

When you look up again, you lock your gaze on his black eyes, seeing his pupils dilate and his eyebrows drawn together with a sexy smirk on his lips.

Suddenly, his hands are grabbing yours, pulling you closer, his hot breathe tickling your face, forcing you to tilt your head upwards so he could kiss you more deeply.

Your hands automatically move up to his hair, holding onto him securely as he deepens the kiss; his tongue slipping past your parted lips and exploring the inside of your mouth.

Suddenly, he breaks off the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, still not breaking your stare.

“Are you still sore?” he mumbles quietly and you shake your head, trying not to giggle at his question, you were more than eager to feel him in you again.

Your hands roam through the soft locks of hair on the back of his head, slowly pulling him down until he connects his lips with yours again, kissing you passionately, his tongue invading your senses. His hands roam the rest of your body, leaving heated trails everywhere they touch.

His lips trail down to your jawline, grazing his tongue over it teasingly before biting the delicate flesh there. Making you moan in pleasure, you grab handfuls of his hair, tugging playfully.

His mouth moves from your jaw to your collarbone, sucking hard as he bites your skin once again, licking the area tenderly before moving his mouth further, finding the perfect place to leave a wet hickey under your collarbone.

Panting, he lifts himself from your body, giving you no choice but to open your eyes to look at his beautiful face as your eyes traveled down to his bare chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers with a sad little smile as he looks straight into your eyes.

Your heart clenches painfully as you take in his state.

“What do you mean?” You ask confused.

He shakes his head,” I have blood on my hands and you still let me touch you. If I wouldn’t be the king or your guardian angel, we would never be this close. You would never have been mine in the first place,” He says brokenly.

Your eyes welled up with tears at his confession as you couldn’t believe what you just heard. You knew how he feels towards you and it kills you to see him like this because you love him.

Tears roll down from your cheeks as you wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes locked with his.

“But you are my king, my guardian angel, my guard, my everything. And as long as I have you, nothing else matters. That includes blood and death and being forced to watch you kill anybody who threatens us or our family. We need to protect them and knowing that you try to protect me despite facing danger, that’s enough reason to marry you,” you confess with a small sob, burying your face into his neck.

He lets out a chuckle in disbelief, pulling you even closer to him.

“I’m glad you see it that way because I can’t wait to make you mine and you to finally be mine forever,” he replies happily as he pulls your face back to look at him.

Lifting a finger to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks with such tender care, you smile at him.

“It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. You’re perfect man to be my husband,” you say lovingly.

Jungkook’s expression from warm to serious,” You make me do things to you if you keep saying these kind of sweet words , Y/N. How am I supposed to resist you now?”

You laugh at that and lean forward to press your lips to his as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

Before you can stop him, his hands lift you by the waist and he carries you onto the mattress, settling you in his lap, one of his hands traveling down to your leg while the other is holding you firmly around your waist.

Your eyes open wide in surprise at the sudden move and you feel him grinning at you wickedly before placing his lips against your neck again.

Your legs automatically wrapped themselves around his torso, pulling him closer to you.

Your eyes fall shut tightly, overwhelmed by his loving touches and his soft kisses on your skin. You couldn’t help but melt under his ministrations.

“My queen, look at me,” he says quietly as he kisses your neck again.

Slowly opening your eyes, you find him gazing right at you with love filled eyes,” Look at me when I speak to you. You belong only to me and nobody else. Only me,” he declares.

Tears form in your eyes as you blink at him, feeling overwhelmed by his passionate declaration. You nod silently with tears filling your eyes.

His lips brush against your cheek softly as he brushes his thumbs on your tears, “I’ll shower you with affection everyday if it means that you don’t cry anymore.”

You let out a small laugh,” It’s tears of joy that will make me cry. I won’t stop crying. Because I’ve already cried enough times tonight alone,” you tease him slightly.

“No. No more tears. Not after tonight. You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he states, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Leaning down, your gown’s right strap falls of your shoulder to reveal your pale flesh and even further when your breast is revealed completely. Your blush darkens and you bury your face in his neck.

His sharp breath makes you moan when he gets a clear sight of your bare nipple. Kissing your neck, his tongue hits your sensitive spot as he sucks your hardened tip lightly, making your knees weak and hands clutching on his hair.

You whimper softly, letting out small noises of pleasure as his lips travel lower down your body.

‘God, what is he doing?’ you think to yourself, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second.

Before you can question him, he slides your gown up your thighs till your bare pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

“Jungkook-!” you exclaim breathlessly, your whole body tensing up with nerves and anticipation, anticipating his next move.

“Shhh, don’t talk. I haven't stopped looking at you,” he murmurs huskily before lowering his face towards you.

Kissing you on the lips, he traces a path with his finger to your entrance. You let out a gasp and he immediately takes control, thrusting in two fingers. The burning sensation shoots straight to your clit making you arch your body upward, making him groan loudly against your ear.

“Breathe. Just breathe for me baby girl,” he breathes out harshly as he continues to finger fuck you slowly but steadily.

You can’t help but to whimper as his fingers are moving slowly inside of you, driving you crazy.

His tongue then slips inside your mouth, his fingers still moving inside you, causing you to let out another low moan as his mouth covers yours aggressively, thrusting inside of you relentlessly.

Bucking your hips against his lap, you felt his erection pulsing under your ass beneath that towel. Since he was in the shower, he didn’t put on any clothes on.

Moaning from the pleasure, you could only hold on, almost to the point of pain, not knowing how long will you last.

“Jungkook, Oh, Jungkook,” you pant against his lips and then your guard lost it, seeing you so close to orgasm.

Ripping the towel off his body, there was a second of silence, only your harsh breathing was heard in the room when he

enters you roughly. Your eyes flutter closed in shock before opening back up when you realize how deep he was.

The sound of air hitting your ears was the only thing you could hear as he began thrusting slowly into you, stretching you in all ways possible. The feeling of his thick muscles squeezing around your insides sent waves of arousal shooting through you and soon you were moaning into his lips as his thrusts became harder and harder.

You were coming apart at his touch. Your toes curled in pleasure as your body shook in his hold, your nails digging in to his shoulders as you came undone.

Jungkook moans loudly as he watched you come undone in front of him. His own orgasm was approaching quickly too.

Enveloping you with his wings, you see only darkness with his eyes glowing white,” Oh, my God! Oh, god, oh, god..! Yes! Fuck!” You scream out loud, feeling his hard cock hit the spot in you where you needed him most. As you start to tremble with pleasure once again, your eyes widen realizing that you couldn’t take a break,” Oh, yes, yes…” you don’t know how you even lived without this feeling before but you can’t stop thinking about him being here, now, with you, giving you pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced before.

Jungkook was beyond thrilled at the sight of you. Every time you came undone at him it was the best feeling in the world.

Taking your throat, he hits the spot deeper when your eyes roll back and you almost pass out.

“Fuck!” He growls, not even stopping when he finds his own realise.

There’s so much seed that you feel it spilling on both of you which causes your vision to blur for a moment. A small gasp escapes your throat as you come undone yet again, making you moan in pleasure.

After you finally finish your climax and your walls start feel sore, you slowly sit up on his lap, your hand on his chest.

Jungkook watches you intently, his gaze so hazy with lust and love, it’s almost scary to see him looking at you like that.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest.

“I will arrange a priest to come to the castle tomorrow,” he murmurs against your ear.

“For what?” you ask, not understanding his purpose.

“To marry you, of course. I want you to be mine forever,” he answers and his voice sounds rough and strained, like he has been running for miles.

From his words, your walls clench around his cock and he groans, burying his head in your neck,” You like that, baby? Knowing that you will be my wife,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin.

Licking your wet skin, he lets his teeth nip softly at your exposed shoulder and you let out a soft moan as goosebumps cover your entire body.

“Yes.” You whisper in return, tightening your grip on his muscular shoulders and pressing yourself to him,” I would like that very much.”

“Then it's settled. We shall get married as soon as possible,” he mutters into your ear.

You smile happily before leaning closer and placing a quick kiss on his jaw,” Okay, husband.” But not before you bumped your nose against his.

Your guardian angel only smirked," We really need to stop bumping into each other."

Be continued…

p.s. All images and gifs are not mine, some of the edits are mine edited but not every picture. All the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER’S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the next chapters :)

🅒 All rights reserved

[buckets-and-trees]

We're having full moon. A bloody full moon. Is it a night for the brutal Alpha warrior Steve to snatch you? Or perhaps a night when the fallen angel James binds your soul to his?

Eva, you left this ask for me on October 28, 2023. At the time, it stumped me but intrigued me. Every month when we got to the full moon, it'd pop back up onto my radar, and I wanted to do something really worthy of the prompt - it just compelled me, but I kept waiting patiently for something to ignite my imagination. The idea finally revealed itself to me near the end of the summer, and I let it start to build. Then, when I actually started writing it, I got so immersed in building up everything, I realized it was a much bigger epic than I anticipated, and so I got more diligent on my plotting and planning, and so HERE WE ARE with the reveal ON a full moon - and a super moon to real seal the fate of this story/this reader! I have been dying keeping this surprise from you for months!

Chosen, Part 8: Binding

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Consecrated and deemed worthy, the ritual will begin.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements - human offering for a ritual, blood bond via dagger; explicit smut: blood play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, vaginal intercourse, consent is still mildly dubious; exhibitionism; supernatural binding; terato/monster fucking

Notes: To anyone who has not read from the beginning, I have determined that one could reasonably start with Part 7: Offering and just read these two parts.

Previous: Offering | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You gasp, jaw dropping, and eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. You’re overcome with awe and wonder, and maybe just an element of fear.

James stands before you as more than a man. Arms outstretched, he has also unfurled a set of enormous, feathered wings - one white, gleaming as brightly under the light of the full moon and matching its glow and aura. Extending from his left shoulder is another massive wing, jet black with an iridescent blue sheen in the moonlight. It’s the flash of black that had caught your eye over his shoulder when you first laid eyes on him. You realize now he’d masterfully hidden both wings behind his back, only ever circling you until this moment when he revealed himself in all his glory.

A literal angel, mighty and fearsome, in the flesh.

Your mind reels. Angels were the stuff of religious tradition or fantasy or folklore. Yet here was this man - more than a mere human - before your very eyes. As you’ve been shocked and surprised numerous times over today, this revelation - though unexpected - does not jar you the way it would have… maybe even the way it still should.

In no way are your myriad of questions answered, but some threads and pieces start to weave a picture together. Much of the imagery in the tapestries and paintings, some of the research avenues you learned about, The Winged Heritage Foundation name itself, and even the mere organization of a cult.

It’s all surreal, but given the context suddenly makes sense.

The rest of the followers fall to their knees in reverence as James spreads his wings wide, filling the clearing with an otherworldly presence. The energy shifts around you, crackling with pure power that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

"This is my true form," James says, his voice echoing around you. "I am not like any being you have encountered before."

You can only nod wordlessly in response.

"But do not be afraid," he continues, lowering his arms and folding his wings back against his back. "I have no wish to harm or frighten you."

You feel a sense of calm wash over you at his words despite everything that has happened so far tonight. There is something about him that makes it difficult for you to be afraid or angry at him. Is it a supernatural power? His words? Or some intuitive sense you seem to have to want to trust him?

"As I said before," James continues. "You have been chosen for a special purpose."

He takes a step towards you, his eyes locking onto yours and holding your gaze yet again.

As James approaches, his wings rustle softly behind him. The moonlight catches on his feathers, creating an ethereal glow that surrounds him. Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches out to cup your face in his hands.

"You are destined for greatness," he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, meant only for you. "Through our union, you will ascend beyond the limitations of mortality."

His thumbs stroke your cheeks gently, and you feel a warmth spreading through your body from his touch. It's as if his very essence is seeping into you, igniting something deep within your core.

"Shall we begin?" he asks, this time loud enough for those assembled to hear, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, unable to form words. The energy between you is palpable, electric. James leans in, his lips hovering just above yours. His thumb traces your lower lip, and you part them slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"The ritual will bind us together," James continues. "Your essence will become intertwined with mine. You will gain strength and longevity - strength to endure my needs, longevity to align with my own preternatural lifespan.”

Without warning, he reaches out and grasps the fabric of your chemise, tearing it down the middle with a swift, powerful motion. The sound of ripping silk echoes in the clearing, and you gasp as the cool night air hits your exposed skin.

James' eyes roam over your body, drinking in every curve and dip. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but also strangely empowered under his appreciative gaze. After all, you’re naked and exposed with him, no one else chosen to be on this altar with an angel.

"Perfect," he breathes, and you feel a flush of heat spread across your cheeks and down your neck.

“Are you ready to embrace the destiny chosen for you? Deemed worthy by the witnesses, by me?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding again, and willing yourself to utter an unmistakable, “Yes.”

You have no idea what this destiny entails, but something inside of you is urging you forward - the ever-evolving curiosity, the inexplicable pull towards this strange ritual, to the soul of this inhuman man.

His hand reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch both gentle and electric, a momentary reassurance.

“Steve,” he calls out, “bring the knife.”

Your heart pounds as Steve approaches with a gleaming ceremonial dagger. The blade catches the moonlight, its surface is etched intricate symbols you don’t recognize, and the edge of the blade wickedly sharp. James takes the knife, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Remember, I will never harm you. This part may hurt," he warns softly, "but it is necessary for the binding."

You tense instinctively, but force yourself to remain still as James brings the blade to your palm. With swift precision, he makes a shallow cut across your skin. You hiss at the sting, watching as crimson beads well up along the line.

James then turns the knife on himself, slicing his own palm without hesitation. His blood is darker than yours, almost black in the moonlight.

"With this mingling of our blood," he intones, "we begin the joining of our essences."

He presses his bleeding palm to yours, entwining your fingers. The contact initiates something you’ve never experienced in your life. As your blood mingles with James', a strange tingling sensation spreads from your joined hands. It's as if lightning is coursing through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in your body, rewriting each one. The sensation grows stronger, more intense, until it feels like your very cells are vibrating with energy.

James' eyes lock onto yours, his gaze so intense it's almost painful to maintain. "Do you feel the power of our union beginning to take hold?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You can only nod, words escaping you as the sensations overwhelm you. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving only you and James in this moment of profound connection.

Without breaking eye contact or releasing your hand, James moves closer. His free hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. When his lips finally meet yours, it's like a supernova exploding.

The kiss is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if James is pouring his very essence into you through the connection of your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, electric, and intoxicating all at once. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding with a hunger you've never known before.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them willingly. As your tongues meet, the tingling sensation that started in your joined hands intensifies, spreading through your entire body. It's as if every nerve ending is infused with something ancient and powerful.

James' free hand roams your body, caressing your curves with reverence. His touch leaves trails of heat on your skin, igniting a desperate need within you. You arch into him, craving more contact, more of this intoxicating sensation. Your joined hands remain pressed together, the mingling of your blood creating a bond that feels unbreakable. He gently pulls you closer, guiding you to lie back on the altar.

As James lowers you onto the altar, his wings unfurl behind him. The sight of them spreading wide, one pure white and one midnight black, takes your breath away. Moonlight filters through the feathers, casting an otherworldly glow over your joined bodies. The stone is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from James' body as he leans over you.

James lowers his head to your neck, his lips brushing against your pulse point. You gasp as he nips at the sensitive skin, then soothes it with his tongue.

"So responsive," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "You were truly made for this, for me."

His hand, the one not still joined with yours in the blood bond, traces down your body. He cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch into his touch, craving more.

James' hand continues its journey downward, tracing the curves of your body with reverent touches. His fingers skim over your stomach, making the muscles there quiver in anticipation.

"Open for me," he commands softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire being.

You comply without hesitation, parting your thighs for him. The cool night air hits your most intimate parts, making you acutely aware of how exposed you are - not just to James, but to all those gathered around the altar. Yet, strangely, you feel no shame, only a burning desire for more. The cool night air hits your most intimate parts, making you shiver.

James' fingers finally reach the apex of your thighs, and you gasp as he runs them through your folds. You're wetter than you've ever been in your life, your arousal weeping out of your cunt, you feel the drip.

Without warning, James plunges two fingers deep inside you. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the altar. The pleasure is intense, almost overwhelming, as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace.

James' fingers move within you with expert precision, curling and stroking in a way that has you seeing stars as you’re bathed in the moonlight. Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more of that exquisite pleasure. With each thrust of his fingers, you feel yourself climbing higher and higher towards some unknown peak.

"That's it," James murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel everything. Open yourself to me completely."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive bud in time with the thrusts of his fingers. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. You writhe beneath him, gasping and moaning, lost in the sea of sensations he's creating within you.

All the while, your hands remain joined, the blood bond pulsing with energy. You can feel James' essence flowing into you through this connection, intertwining with your own.

The pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity as James works your body with expert precision. Your hips rock against his hand, chasing the exquisite sensations. The dual stimulation of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit has you climbing higher and higher towards release.

"Let go," James commands softly. "Surrender yourself to me completely."

His words seem to unlock something deep within you. With a cry that echoes through the clearing, you shatter. Waves of ecstasy crash over you, more intense than anything you've ever experienced. Your body arches off the altar, trembling uncontrollably as the orgasm washes through you.

But James doesn't stop. He continues his ministrations, drawing out your pleasure until you're gasping and writhing beneath him. Just when you think you can't take anymore, a second orgasm hits you, even more powerful than the first, and there’s a flash of light.

As the waves of your second orgasm crash over you, you realize the flash of light you saw isn't just in your mind - it was a visible pulse of energy emanating from your body. The assembled crowd gasps in awe.

James' eyes lock onto yours, blazing with an otherworldly intensity. "Yes," he growls, his voice deep and primal. "It’s working."

In one fluid motion, he positions himself between your thighs. You feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and your body quivers in anticipation. Despite your recent orgasms, you find yourself craving more, needing to feel him inside you.

"This is the moment of true union," James calls out, his voice carrying clearly through the clearing.

You’re eager, aching, but he moves your joined hands, letting go to press your bloody palm to his chest over your heart, and he does the same with his own, smearing his blood across your chest. You feel the wet warmth on your skin, but you also feel it seem to seep below the surface.

Then he positions the blunt head of a truly enormous cock at the dripping entrance of your pussy.

"As I enter her body,” he announces, “our essences will fully merge."

With that, he begins to push into you, slowly but steadily. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, as your body struggles to accommodate his considerable girth. Without the stretching Steve had given to you earlier, you would be in true pain now. Even so, you mewl softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continues to fill you.

"Breathe," James murmurs, his voice soothing despite the strain evident in his tone. "Let your body open for me."

You force yourself to take deep breaths, willing your muscles to relax. As you do, you feel a strange warmth spreading from where your hands are pressed to each other's chests. It's as if the blood is sinking into your skin, carrying with it a surge of energy that courses through your veins.

Inch by inch, James sinks deeper into you until he's fully sheathed. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming, like nothing you've ever experienced before. For a moment, both of you are still, and you can feel the way the air moves through your lungs, more aware of your body than you’ve ever been, and everything but him falling away.

He begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you seeing stars. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The blood bond between you pulses with energy, intensifying every sensation.

James' wings unfurl fully, creating a canopy over you both. Feathers brush against your skin, soft as silk yet crackling with power. The dual sensations of his thrusts and the ethereal touch of his wings overwhelm your senses.

He reaches for your hand again, pressing your bloody palms back together. He licks up some of the blood, and then he captures your mouth in another mighty kiss. The tang of blood is shared from his tongue to yours, and your primal urges surge even more.

James' wings unfurl fully, creating a canopy over you both. Feathers brush against your skin, soft as silk yet crackling with power. The dual sensations of his thrusts and the ethereal touch of his wings overwhelm your senses.

As James continues to move within you, the energy between you intensifies. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building towards something greater than a mere physical climax. The blood bond pulses with power, and you can feel James' essence merging with your own.

James' pace increases, his thrusts becoming more forceful. You match his rhythm, your hips rising to meet each powerful drive. The pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of something monumental.

"Let go," James commands, his voice a low growl. "Surrender yourself to me completely."

With those words, you shatter once more. Your back arches off the altar as waves of ecstasy crash over you. But this orgasm is different from any you've experienced before. As the pleasure courses through your body, you feel a surge of energy exploding from your core. It's as if your very essence is expanding, reaching out to intertwine with James's.

James throws his head back with a primal roar, and his wings spreading wide. You feel him pulse inside you as he reaches his own climax. As he does, another burst of energy emanates from him, and he declares, “Mine!” in triumph.

As James roars his claim, a blinding light erupts between your joined bodies. The energy that has been building explodes outward in a shockwave, rippling through the clearing.

Through the haze of pleasure and transformation, you're dimly aware of the cries of awe and wonder from the assembled crowd. But your focus remains entirely on James, on the incredible sensations coursing through you as your bond is sealed.

The light slowly fades, leaving you panting and trembling beneath James. His wings fold around you both, creating a cocoon of soft feathers. You feel different, changed in ways you can't fully comprehend yet.

“Mine,” he says again, but this time softly into your ear.

Then James scoops you up in his arms, and there’s a collective gasp as the two of you rise from the altar, James’ wings flapping powerfully, and taking you both away from the clearing. You’re sure seeing the central figure, the leader, the reason for the Winged Heritage Foundation in flight must be a true marvel to behold.

“What comes next for you, my elim, is not for the eyes of anyone but me. There is more yet for your transformation,” he proclaims.

FINAL PART: TRANSFORMATION

One more part, lovelies!

Elim, by the way, is a term I found amongst a lot of research I did on the religious and folklore traditions around the ideas and concepts of angels. There are vast similarities and differences across the many worldviews out there, and so elim is NOT used in every tradition/hierarchy, but is one of many that I found.

For inquiring minds: I did not at any point intend to utilize any concrete concept of angels shown or documented in religion, folklore, or fiction, only to borrow from the pantheon of ideas in general.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[aziraphales-library]

Do you have any nonverbal Aziraphale fics? Particularly with Crowley being super caring and patient with him? Thank you! I love what you guys do with this blog <3

We have an #autistic aziraphale tag, which you may be interested in. Here are some fics where he is nonverbal at some point...

you can hear it in the silence by legere_et_scribere_amo (G)

With one heaving breath, without fully realizing what he was doing, Aziraphale let out a yell, subconsciously miracling everyone out of the shop. And then, finally— Quiet. or, Aziraphale gets overstimulated by the noise in the bookshop, and Crowley is there to comfort him in the aftermath

In Silence Born by wyrmy (E)

Just because Aziraphale isn't in the mood for speaking doesn't mean he isn't in the mood for sex.

A Home Together by Sir_Bear (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley are moving to the South Downs together, while dealing with neuro divergence. Chaos and fluff ensue. The path ahead may be bumpy, but they will support each other through the challenges. - Crowley had pictured asking Aziraphale to move in together many times over the centuries. He had talked through in his head how he would persuade the angel, plotting out clever arguments and tempting offers. He had imagined so many aspects of their eventual relationship before they actually got together. But, as ever, when the conversation actually happened, it did not go as Crowley had meticulously planned. It wasn't smooth at all.

No Feelings So In Unison by AVoiceBehindTheStars (G)

Overwhelmed by the all-encompassing brightness and endless vastness, Aziraphale manages to sneak out of heaven.

I’ll Be There by retiredseraph (G)

The angel’s face was entirely expressionless except for a very small, almost imperceptible pulling together of his brows. He wasn’t looking at Crowley, just forwards and towards the ground, focused on nothing in particular.  “Oh, angel…” Crowley said softly, slightly sadly While sorting through old letters from, Aziraphale stumbled upon some old assignment letters from Heaven, which reminds him of all the times he’s fallen short. The reaction this leads to is unexpected, but Crowley takes care of him until it passes.

Like a Lead Balloon by GlitterSkullFairy (G)

There were certain things that Aziraphale always seemed to find more difficult than other people. There were always things about himself that he knew were a little peculiar. He was fine with that, but it was something that he tended to keep private. Until he finds the events of the near-Apocalypse catching up with him, and Crowley notices that something is troubling him. A series of not-very-plotty experiences in which Aziraphale becomes more open and shares his autistic side with the one person who accepts him no matter what.

- Mod D

[i-think-he-is-adorable-too]

In your dreams

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: You had just gone to sleep, only to find him in your dreams. Could he be real or is he just a figment of your imagination.

A/N: Hello! I have this idea for a series, let me know if you would like to read it and I will keep writing it. I promise! If you like it I will stablish a calendar and post regularly. What do you think? Should I do it? Let me know!

It almost felt like it started out of nowhere, but if you were to really think about it, you would remember how much your soul yearned for it, specially that night.

You had fallen asleep crying into your pillow, muffling the sounds to not wake up anyone. Next thing you know you were standing in a simple motel room with two double beds and a tv. The man sitting on the bed was mumbling to himself while trying to fix the remote control. The moment you set your eyes on him, even from behind, you recognized him. You could have thought about the actor who played him, but somehow you knew. Ultimately it was your dream.

 “Dean?” you wondered out loud. He stood up and turned to face you quickly. “Who are you? What are you doing in my dreams?” He asked. You stared at him confused, “What do you mean? This is my dream.” You clarified. “No, no, sweetheart. This is my dream, I’m really sure about it.” He argued. “Well, we can agree to disagree. Because I’m certain it´s my dream. After all you are fictional.” You responded.

“Woah, whoa. Stop right there. What do you mean fictional?” He demanded. “You are not real, you Dean Winchester are a fictional character from Supernatural, and you are played by Jensen Ackles.” You said exasperated. You had thought this dream would be good, it wasn’t every night you dreamt of your favorite fictional boyfriend, but the conversation was getting ridiculous. You have had crazy dreams, but here you were, explaining to a tv character that he wasn’t real.

He threw his head into his hands and said “Not this again. Are you an angel? Have I been sent into that weird world again where Sam is married to Ruby?”

“What? No, that was just an episode. And that’s actually similar to my world, but you haven’t been sent anywhere, because you are just a figment of my imagination.” You explained. “But that’s just the thing sweetheart, I’m real. You however, I have my doubts, I probably saw you somewhere on the street and my mind is toying with me.” He finished thoughtful. “And anyway, even if you were real, and I was fictional, why would you be dreaming of me?” He asked teasingly.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and you stopped making eye contact. Great, now your subconscious was embarrassing you. “No reason, you know how dreams can be.” You said downplaying it. He walked towards you. “Sorry to disappoint sweetheart but it won’t be that kind of dream… unless you really want it to be.” He winked, looked at the bed and laughed. “Stop it” You said, blushing.

“So… now that we have stablished that neither of us believes the other one is real, and if you were, you would probably be in love with me. I’d like to know your name.” He expressed. You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. “Y/N” You said. “My name is Y/N”

“Y/N” he tested your name “I like it. It fits you.” He continued while watching you intensely. You felt a little dizzy, probably because you were holding your breath. It felt as if his eyes were really pulling you in. He took another step towards you, and before you could say anything else, you heard your alarm ring and opened your eyes to find yourself back in your bed.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Oooo part 2 of Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) was interesting

Loved it a lot 😭

Just imagining how reader would meet Lucifer (yes I'mma add some short king love) for the first time, whether this the ep where everyone meets him for the first time or he's just visiting is undecided.

Anyways she's a smart gal, she creates viruses, diseases, etc.. in order to destroy the human race (now demon and angel race), so she tries to befriend Lucifer

He's powerful, he could be her ticket out of the deal she was tricked into. Plus Alastor hates him so even better.

Whether the wife collector is befriending her from his hatred for Alastor (aka trying to steal his ex wife) or because he actually likes her or not is also undecided

But they become buddies, keeping her little secret while playing Alastor as this horrid creature that coerced her into a deal

She might not understand how deals function, but just like Alastor she'll find a way out of it. She won't let him interrupt her work for years again.

Another bonus of befriending Lucifer is she can try and coerce him into giving her some samples (blood, hair, skin, etc..) It'll help with the virus she's creating, along with seeing if there's any cell differences between fallen angels and normal ones.

A/N I literally love this idea. It is so on brand for her if she was tuned in with the world around her enough to realize her hanging with Lucifer even made Alastor mad. Also, not you calling Lucifer 'the wife collector,' that made me cackle.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 3 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader x maybe also Lucifer a little bit if you squint

Previous Parts:

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

Warnings: I am not a woman nor am I in stem (but an enby in history) so pls be kind about the fact that I don't understand science. Angst, abusive/unhealthy relationship, possessive Alastor. It's not love but its certainly something.

Word Count: 2,176

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

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

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went?

It had been a month since that fateful day Y/n had struck a deal with Alastor, tying her to his side once again. She railed against it, fought valiantly, but there was no escaping the constraints of the contract. Never allowed a moment to herself, Y/n's life became a series of involvement in group activities she hated and chastisements from Alastor. She sat at his feet, the collar hanging heavy around her neck as a sort of twisted crown in his eyes. The Radio Demon and his wife, his queen, his prisoner.

She was never allowed out of his sight, Alastor even forcing her to stay in the same room as him, to sleep in the same bed. It was nothing Y/n had any sort of frame of reference for. He had never been like this in life, she had never experienced this sort of metaphorical suffocation. Y/n was adrift, the world a confusing blur around her. Every time she tried to make sense of it, thought she had figured out some small aspect, he changed it all again and left her in a lurch that sent her mind spiraling into unformed chaos.

Even when she managed somehow to stole a spare moment, was able to sneak away to her lab of a room, Alastor found her and dragged her out again. Y/n's continual protests and pleas to be allowed to continue her work, for him to hold up his end of the bargain and deliver her an angel, fell on deaf ears or were merely met with a solitary, fragile 'soon.' For all this time, Y/n had thought Hell to be misrepresented. She had found a true Heaven in Pentagram City, a safe haven, a salve. Now, she knew the true meaning of suffering.

It was different than she had expected. To suffer had always been something physical in her eyes. It had been her victims writhing in pain, it had been the sharp oppression of a world filled with human life. Never had she thought being trapped in her own mind like this could be a curse, rather than a blessed moment of reprieve.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went? Y/n's hands were most certainly idle, all she needed was the devil to play with them.

It was just her luck when Lucifer showed up at the hotel, intent on visiting his daughter. Y/n was never the most observant but, since being tricked into selling her soul to Alastor, had become quite wary and watchful of him. It did not escape her notice the way his stance tightened and his eye twitched the minute the King of Hell threw himself through the hotel's double doors and into Charlie's arms.

Y/n watched the interaction carefully from where she sat lazily on the table beside Angel Dust and Sir Pentious. There were exactly three thoughts in her mind. The first was that it was useful to know Alastor hated the man. The second was that Lucifer was standing right before her eyes. He was powerful, maybe powerful enough to get her out of the sticky situation she currently found herself to be in. Not only that, but he was once an angel. This was the most important of the three thoughts, completely eclipsing the other two as soon as they reared their heads. Not quite the real deal but, potentially useful none the less. Getting close to him could mean getting one step closer to her goals. Silently, she slipped down from the table and began to approach the grouping of demons.

With a carful step, she sidled up behind them. Softly, she raised a hand to the back of Lucifer's head, to where his hair peaked out from beneath the edges of his hat. The excitement that rose in her chest was quickly stifled as Lucifer spun around.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed, "Why don't you introduce me to some of your other fr- oh!"

Y/n froze, her hand still raised. She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat once she caught the glare Alastor was sending her way. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Y/n's hands fell to her sides, clasping behind her back.

"Uh..." Lucifer turned to his daughter, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, don't mind Y/n," Charlie awkwardly tittered, stepping forward, "she is always a bit... odd but, she is actually our newest guest!"

"Uh-huh." Lucifer nodded, his eyes moving back to Y/n and examining her features carefully, "Well, it is nice to be meeting you."

Lucifer stuck out his hand for Y/n to shake but the demon just eyed it warily. The furtive glance she shot Alastor behind his back, and the subtle nod he gave in return, did not escape Lucifer's notice. With another distasteful glance towards his hand, Y/n raised part of her hair up and took it, shaking it firmly.

Lucifer's confusion only seemed to grow as he looked down towards the point of connection.

"Um... okay, then." he hummed in thought as she released his hand.

It was when Alastor went out to solve the problem Mimzy had caused that Lucifer took his chance. All the while, as Mimzy had blathered on to Y/n about the 'good old days' and the shared aspects of their pasts, as soon as the tour of the hotel had ended, she had watched him. Observance was not, however, in her nature. It completely had escaped her notice that, all the while, Lucifer had been watching her as well.

The demon herself was nothing of import. She was strange and unrefined and, to be honest, deeply disconcerting to him in a number of ways. It was the thing lurking beneath it all that caught his attention. There was something going on between that girl and the Radio Demon and Lucifer didn't trust either of them. He may have thought Charlie's dreams to be in vain, known from his own experience how fruitless her project would turn out to be, but that didn't stop him from doing what it took to keep his little girl safe.

Lucifer sidled up beside the girl where she stood, watching the carnage Alastor wreaked with a vague sense of disinterest.

"So, you have a deal with the Radio Demon."

It was a statement, not a question. It was an accusation. Y/n shot into the air in surprise, not having noticed his presence beside her. With wide, analytical eyes, she turned to face him.

"With Alastor?"

"Yep."

"How could you tell?" she asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"What are you two planning."

Another subtle command that went right over Y/n's head. She sighed, crossing her arms.

"I'm planning world destruction. He wants me to be his wife again and tricked me into this whole..." she waved her hands wildly through the air, "situation."

Lucifer didn't know whether to laugh or to take her out right there. Instead, he shook his head, opting to state in mild shock:

"Married? Again?"

"Yeah. I forced him to when we were alive so people would leave me alone and I'd have some human test subjects for my work. Let me tell you: not my favorite experiment I have ever conducted."

"I..." Lucifer was flabbergasted, struck into silence.

"So he tricked me into a deal. I was hiding from him for decades down here. One little slip up was all it took." she playfully used her hair to hit the side of her head, "Stupid Y/n."

"Where does the again part fit in?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"Really? Why is that the part I have to explain to everyone. I mean, logically, it just doesn't make sense. That should be the question on the bottom of someones list. It shouldn't even be a question."

"Did you get a divorce?"

"In 1930? No. Even I knew that wasn't really an option. I married him to stop people talking, not start it. Besides, he wasn't this much of a bother when we were alive."

"So..." Lucifer prompted after a moment.

"Till death do us part?"

"Ah."

He really did laugh now. Just a light chuckle. Y/n smiled in appreciation.

"There you go. Now, how did you know? About the deal, I mean. Also, why do you guys hate each other so much? I thought you had never met before? And oh! Ohohoh! Also, can I have some of your hair."

Lucifer scoffed, his arms falling loosely from where he had crossed them over his chest to his sides. Charlie had been right, Y/n certainly was odd.

"My hair?"

Y/n nodded her head eagerly. When he gave no response, a concentrated and slightly confused expression flitted across her face. As if struck by a sudden inspiration, she regained her composure once again.

"Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to say 'please' when I ask for stuff. Al always said it was proper manners but I think its just a waste of time to be perfectly honest. It's still the same request, the same outcome. Doesn't really change anything. Why would one word make someone give a totally different answer? I mean, it's just foolish really. Anyway," she cleared her throat, "can I please have some of your hair?"

"I..." Lucifer raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples, "why?"

"Because you're a fallen angel?" Y/n replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "And I want to see what that means?"

Before Lucifer could reply, Alastor stepped back into the lobby, straightening his jacket.

"What a show!" Angel exclaimed, applauding dramatically.

Alastor tipped his head to the side in recognition, his eyes surveying the room. When they fell on Lucifer and Y/n in the corner, his gaze hardened. Y/n payed the commotion no mind. Lucifer, on the other hand, grinned.

"I have a proposal." he hummed, turning back to Y/n.

She narrowed her eyes in sudden doubt.

"You don't like Alastor very much, do you?"

"No...? Of course I don't!" Y/n replied in exasperation, "All he does is keep me from doing my work and drag me around by that stupid chain like a dog. It hurts my neck and..." her voice grew softer and she looked away, fixing her eyes on her interlaced fingers, "and I feel like he's trying to force me into the shape of something I'm not. It's... it's like wearing shoes that are four sizes two small on a twenty mile hike."

Lucifer laughed.

"Well, that certainly is... descriptive. How about we make a deal?"

Her head shot up, her narrowed eyes meeting his once again.

"You're not going to just take my soul like he did, are you?"

"No, of course not my dear. Only lesser demons like him need to do that in order to feel strong, to maintain some sort of power, to get what they want." Lucfier enunciated the last four words sharply, the syllables like needles, "I'm simply offering an exchange."

"That's what he said too."

Lucifer raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

"Look, we don't even have to shake on it. I will give you some of... some of my hair or... whatever... and you will help me get on his nerves, take him down a notch. Who the Hell knows, that might even help you too."

Y/n was silent in thought for a moment. She did want the hair and messing with Alastor seemed all too appealing. Still, there was something eating away at her.

"Would you..." she lifted herself up to Lucifer's eye level with her hair.

Y/n wasn't that much shorter than the king of Hell, just a couple inches. Those couple inches certainly made a difference. Lucifer could have sworn there was a literally electrical spark in the darkness of her eyes.

"You're powerful, yes? King of Hell and all?"

Lucifer nodded.

"Would you be able to help me figure out a way out of this mess?"

It was Lucifer's turn to think now as he mulled the idea over in his mind. Sure, theoretically he probably could but, he had never tried to break another demon's deal and even past that, he didn't know if he wanted to. Y/n was disarming, strange, had mentioned wanting to destroy the world. Lucifer didn't know her well enough to gage if there was any real risk and Alastor seemed to have her on more than a metaphorical leash.

"Maybe." he admitted, deciding on the path of least resistance, the one where he could try and succeed or pretend it was an unknown impossibility all along, "I don't know."

In some strange way, there was something stable about the man before her. Alastor was unpredictable, had sent her life spinning. Lucifer felt safe.

"Good enough for me!" Y/n smiled brightly, "I look forward to working with you."

---

Writing this made me really want to do a Lucifer fic with the idle hands thing.

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot @clarakainda @ladyscorpion19 @dasimp777 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever

[blueberrylixie]

yes, professor

part one of the yes series

to read part two, yes, sir, click here !

professor changbin x fem! student reader 

word count: 9,903

content warnings: oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal penetration, pussy job, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie (use protection kids!), professor kink, pet names (princess, angel, baby), light degradation (bin calls her a slut mostly), spanking with hand and a ruler, classroom sex.

let me know if i missed anything in this one-shot bc i tend to miss stuff! if you want to skip to the smut, scroll to the white heart divider!

Your first day of your last year of college was already off to a bad start. 

Not only was it already eighty-eight degrees out at only ten in the morning, but you had tripped and fallen on your way out of your dorm, and skinned your knee. The cut still hurt like a bitch, even as you traipsed the fifteen minutes to your first class of the day. 

And that was really the cherry on top of this miserable summer day. You had to attend your first and only college math class. And you were absolute shit at math.

If you had your way, you wouldn’t be taking this course at all. Not only were you bad at the subject, but you hated it. You wanted to become a technical writer, which 90% of the time didn’t actually require you to know any math. Writing? Love. Science? Fine. Even history was passable, Cs get degrees and all that. But math, for lack of better words, was the bane of your existence. You even struggled to pass back in high school. 

So no one could blame you for putting off this class until practically the last second. You didn’t want this to be your very last course before graduation, because that would be absolute torture. So you buckled in to take it your fall semester instead.

And oh how you were regretting it. 

Now, you stood outside the classroom. The little window on the door was covered with white paper, so you couldn’t see inside. If you could, you would probably have run away. 

Instead, you steeled yourself, straightened your shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. 

You had arrived a few minutes early, a little later than you usually were to other classes. You had admittedly stalled back at your dorm for as long as possible, knowing what was in store. 

You took a seat in the second row, a few seats away from a quiet-looking guy with dark hair. You pulled a notebook and pencil out of your backpack, before looking up at the front of the room.

And that was when you saw him.

He was standing facing away from you, writing something on the chalkboard. He wasn’t very tall, but he was incredibly built. His broad shoulders flexed in that navy blue button-up as he wrote, and you couldn’t help but check him out. His movements were confident and sure, like he knew he belonged up there. 

You’d never had a hot professor before. Maybe that was about to change.

Of course, he could have an unattractive face, you reminded yourself. Or even worse, a shitty personality. Just because he was ripped didn’t mean he was hot.

Then, he turned around.

Dear God. Your heart rate picked up immediately, your chest contracting as you gazed upon him rapturously. You didn't want to look behind you to see if anyone else felt the same way. There was no way they didn't. 

His dark hair was styled casually, wavy bangs sweeping across his forehead. He had kind, intelligent, yet humorous eyes, adorned with thick-framed black glasses, and small but full lips. Your eyes kept zeroing in on them, and you found yourself wondering what they would feel like against yours.

You shook your head, instantly clearing that thought from your mind. You could not be imagining your professor in that way. Even if he was young, maybe five years older than you at the most. You could not think about him like that. You were terrible enough at math as it was, and you couldn't afford to get distracted.

But when he smiled at the class, your mind went blank, forgetting your little pep talk. God, how could a man look so fine by simply existing?

“Good morning, class,” he said, pointing up at the board. My name is-“

Seo Changbin. 

You read the two words, written in a rushed, messy scrawl. You almost mouthed his name, wanting to feel what it was like to say it. But you kept your mouth shut. 

“My name is Seo Changbin, and I’m your professor this semester,” he continued. “This is a mid-level calculus class, so if that’s not what you’re here for, then you should probably leave now.”

You inwardly sighed. Taking a mid-level math class when you hadn’t taken math in four years seemed dangerous. And honestly, in any other situation, you might have hopped up and left, off to find the easiest possible course the school offered.

But how could you pass up the chance to be around this absolute specimen of a man for an entire semester?

So you stayed put.

“Good.” Changbin moved his hair out of his face, and you watched with a fervor you never thought possible. If your friends could see you, they would call you a simp. For this man, hell yes you were. 

“Now, I’ll be coming around with the syllabus.” He held up a stack of papers. “We’ll go over it, and then jump into the first lesson. Don’t worry, it’s nothing crazy. Yet.” He smirked, and your breath stuttered in your throat. Every time you assumed he couldn’t get any hotter, he inevitably did.

He started making his way up and down the rows of students, handing them the small syllabus. He greeted a few who he must have known from a previous course, asking them how their summer was. 

So he was an attentive teacher, too. Dammit.

Finally, he reached you. When your eyes met, just the hint of a smile graced those perfect lips. You held his gaze, unable to look away. Your entire body was on fire, and you crossed your legs in what you hoped was a casual manner. 

For a split second, you could have sworn his eyes flicked up and down your body, once, checking you out. But it was so fast, you couldn’t tell. Your face was so hot, you couldn’t think straight.

“And what’s your name?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of you. 

As you introduced yourself, he took a step nearer, leaning down. He wasn’t even that close, but you instantly felt the need to pull him to you. You weren’t sure if he felt it too, but the energy between you was magnetic. 

“Are you new here?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never seen you in my class before.”

“No, I don’t usually take math classes,” you responded. “This is my first and only one, actually. I’m an English major, but it was required.”

“So you’re a senior?” he chuckled. “Waited till the last possible minute to join us, did you?”

You shrugged, embarrassment threatening to overwhelm you. But you didn’t let it show, simply shrugging and smiling at him. “Math isn’t my thing.”

“Well, hopefully I can change that,” he grinned, handing you a syllabus. “Welcome.”

As he started class, you became enthralled with how knowledgeable he was. While most everything went over your head, you found yourself wanting to understand what he was saying. You wanted to impress him, wanted him to be proud of you. So while you would usually space out and succumb to boredom, you actually read the syllabus in its entirety, and took vigorous notes. Even if it was boring, you wanted to hear every word that came out of Changbin’s mouth.

When class was over, and you were packing up, Changbin walked over to the desks, saying goodbye to some of the students. You ignored him, not wanting to come off as too eager.

“It was nice to meet you, Miss English Major,” Changbin said, and you looked up, shocked that he remembered anything about you.

You glowered at him, rolling your eyes playfully. “Is that all you’re going to refer to me as from now on?” you teased.

He shrugged, straightening his shirt and smiling. “Once I get to know you, I’m sure I’ll refer to you as something else. For now, have a good day, Miss English Major.”

——————————

Two weeks passed uneventfully. 

Changbin’s calculus class had started ramping up, and you were barely surviving. Everything was very confusing, and you found yourself blacking out for most of class just staring at your hot professor, instead of learning. All your other courses were a breeze, which left you tons of time to focus on failing to understand basic math. 

You and Changbin had continued to talk, a little bit every day after class. He would ask you about your other courses, mostly about writing and all kinds of grammar. He seemed genuinely interested in you and your life, which was so opposite from any other teacher. He even wanted to know about your personal life, like your family and friends. You told him everything. Except the fact that your friends were dying to meet your aforementioned “hot professor”. It felt nice knowing that he supported you, even if you were inevitably going to fail his class.

You fell into a nice groove, of sorts. You would act cool, funny, even effortless, to his face, and when you got back to your dorm, when none of your roommates were back yet, you would touch yourself to the thought of him. Fantasizing about his rough, strong hands holding your thighs open as he ate you out, or him caging you in between his huge arms as he pounded into you from behind. You couldn’t help it, you were infatuated by him. You wanted him, no matter how terrible you were doing in his class.

All that changed on the Monday of your third week.

“Next week, we’re having our first test,” Changbin announced as he stood at the front of the room. He turned on the projector to display a PowerPoint presentation with information about the test.

It would be thirty percent of your overall grade. One test?? Thirty percent??

You felt your mouth hanging open as you stared up at the screen, then down at Changbin. How could such a kind, handsome man do this to you? Was he trying to make you fail?

Changbin met your eyes, and a smile graced his lips. You snapped your mouth shut, feeling your face warm. He definitely just saw you gaping at him like a fish. Totally smooth.

“I know some of you may be worried, and some of you may not,” he said. “And if you’re one of the former, I would love for you to stay after class and talk to me about it. I know you all have the ability to pass this test. Every answer to every question is in your notes. Study those as hard as you can, and you’ll be more than fine.”

You could feel your heart rate picking up as you thought back on the dozens of pages of notes you’d taken over the past four classes. You couldn’t think  of anything that made sense. How were you supposed to take a test and pass? Let alone one that was worth so much of your grade?

For the rest of the lecture, you could scarcely pay attention as you continued to spiral. Clearly, you should have just taken a different class, hot teacher be damned. To be fair, you hadn’t expected the class to be this hard. 

As the class ended, you started packing up in a daze. You had a morphology course - one of your favorites - next, but you were thinking about skipping it so you could study for this test instead. Even a week straight of studying probably wouldn’t be enough for you to pass, so you needed all the time you could get.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone calling your name, over and over again.

“Miss English Major! Miss!” Changbin finally called, and your head whipped around to face him, your cheeks warming at the nickname.

“I-sorry, what’s up?” You stumbled over your words, trying not to look completely flustered. From his look of understanding, you knew you had failed.

“Would you like to study with me tonight?” he asked gently, approaching your desk. 

“Ah, why would you think I need extra studying?” you asked quickly.

“I have eyes,” he said with a quiet laugh. “And you look like you’re about to pass out. Really, the test isn’t going to be hard. But like I said earlier, I’m more than willing to tutor any student who needs help. I have the time.”

You sighed. “Am I really that obvious? Or do I just look like an idiot?”

Changbin shrugged, moving so he stood in front of you. “I can tell you’re really smart. You just don’t believe in yourself. So… I’ll see you at six tonight? I’ll bring donuts?”

You relented, grinning. “If you bring glazed donuts, I’m in.”

“Are there any other kinds?” he winked. “See you tonight.”

Oh, you were so done for.

——————————

You arrived at 5:55pm, terrified of being late, or wasting Changbin’s time. You assumed he was so busy already, and you didn’t want him waiting on you.

Seeing as he wasn’t there yet, you just stood awkwardly at the side of the room, unsure if you should pull up a seat by his desk, or just wait for him.

He arrived a few minutes later, carrying a cardboard box from the campus donut shop. Your heart leaped when you saw him, dressed in a casual black t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. He would have fit right in as a student. 

“Oh, you’re already here.” Changbin grinned at you, and your face heated. He was so hot when he smiled. 

“I’m always on time,” you pointed out.

“You’re always late to my class,” Changbin chuckled, shaking his head.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t like your class,” you countered.

“Ouch.” He came to sit at his desk. “Here, sit with me.” He motioned to the chair next to his. 

“So, what would you like more help with?” He asked when you got settled.

You sighed. “What don’t I need help with?”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Am I really that bad of a teacher?”

“No!” you said hurriedly. “Math just really isn’t my thing. I probably made a mistake taking a mid-level class. Everything is just really over my head. It’s not your fault.”

“Well, we can start from the beginning,” Changbin conceded. He glanced down at your notebook, which was covered in your neat but hurried scrawl, and even a few shitty doodles at the top of each page. “May I?” he asked, pointing at them.

You nodded, pushing them towards him. 

He took it, and flipped back to the beginning. “You’ve taken really thorough notes,” he complimented, and you blushed. At least you were doing something right.

“I’m trying to pay attention to you.” You smiled weakly.

Changbin started pointing at things in your notes, trying to explain them as thoroughly as possible. You had to admit, he was very good at dumbing down every concept, and even gave you examples of when they might be used in the real world. That tended to be your struggle with math. None of it made any practical sense, it was so abstract. At least with words, they always correlated to a real-world thing, or concept. Math was filled with what-ifs, and you hated that.

As he pointed at your notes, he moved closer and closer to you, his arm brushing yours. Your skin tingled from the touch, almost desperate to feel more of him. His arms were so firm, entirely made of muscle. Of course, you had known that from hours of staring at him. But being this close to him, getting to touch him, was intoxicating, making your mouth water. If only you could reach out and-

“Are you even listening to me?” Changbin’s voice snapped you out of your lusting. 

“Yes! I was just uhh…” you paused, unsure what to say.

He raised an eyebrow at you, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. 

“Ah, no I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” You ducked your head, unable to meet his gaze.

He turned his chair to face yours. “I’m sorry, this is all probably way too much all at once. I should have realized that,” he apologized. “Maybe we should take a five? Then we’ll get back into it.”

You brightened, nodding quickly. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You’re nothing like my usual math students, you know.”

You raised your brows at him. “That sounds like a badly veiled insult, Professor Seo.”

His eyes darkened for a moment at the way you said his name, but he seemed to shake it off immediately. “No, it’s just an observation. You’re very different.”

“How?” Your eyes drifted over to the box of donuts, which sat untouched next to you.

He shook his head at you. “Because of stuff like that. You’re very easily distracted. Just have one, or I’ll never get your attention back.”

You smiled apologetically, before tearing the box open and grabbing a glazed donut. “I can’t believe you actually brought these for me.”

“For you??” Changbin exclaimed. “Nah, I wanted them. You were just an excuse. Pass one here.”

You glared, taking a bite. “Okay that’s rude. I would think you cared more about your struggling student.” You handed him a donut.

He laughed at that before taking a bite too. “Of course I care about you.”

You gazed into his eyes, watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Your eyes flickered back up to his, wondering if there might, just might, be a hidden meaning behind that. 

Before you could stop yourself, or fully process what you were doing, you felt yourself moving imperceptibly closer to him, like there was an invisible force pulling you. 

Your face was a mere foot away from his, your eyes remaining locked with his. “How else am I different from the others, Professor?”

He groaned, a low sound deep in his throat, and you saw a flame flicker to life in his eyes. A flame of desire, you wondered? Did he want you just as badly as you wanted him? Had he thought about you in the same way you thought about him? Your stomach twisted with desire, hot and potent. 

Your hand reached out to grip his thigh, desperate to touch him. But before you could make contact, his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“What-“ you began.

“We can’t do this,” he said. His voice was quiet, but firm. 

“What are you…?” you trailed off, your heart thudding so hard your head hurt. Was he rejecting you right now? After that almost animalistic noise came from him, just by making eye contact?  A noise that would most definitely be used to fuel your nightly desires? “But you were just flirting with me!”

“I was,” he paused, licking his lips. You wanted to know what that tongue tasted like. “But I can’t. You’re my student, and it was incredibly unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled your hand from his grip, moving your chair away from him, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s continue studying.”

“Okay.” Changbin nodded, picking up your notebook again. “Onto lesson two.”

You continued the study session for another hour, before bidding him farewell. He promised that he would continue to help you study for two hours every night, and you agreed. He also demanded that you take the rest of the donuts home, but you refused. It felt wrong, somehow, to take something from him. 

You walked back to your dorm, body burning with shame.

——————————

For the rest of the week, you dutifully attended each study session with Changbin, carefully avoiding any kind of physical closeness with him. You knew that if you got near him again, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. 

Your thoughts were plagued by images of him. The way he smirked playfully at you when you got a question wrong, the glimmer of pride in his eyes when you got one right. His strong arms as he leaned over your notes, and his tight ass and muscular legs when he stood in front of the chalkboard to write every morning, or give lectures. 

No matter how hard you tried to ignore your growing feelings for him, you couldn’t help it. Every night, you found yourself desperately touching yourself to the thought of him doing unspeakable things to you, imagining it was him ravaging you instead of your vibrator. Him straddling you from above as he pounded into you with that thick cock, instead of your fingers. At this point, you knew it would never happen, but the forbidden, risky aspect turned you on even more.

Finally, the day of the test had arrived. Your heart had been racing with adrenaline. The night before, you had left this very classroom, saying goodnight to Changbin before cramming even more. 

“Good luck, Miss.” He’d smiled at you on your way out.

“Thanks, I’m really gonna need it,” you had replied.

“No you don’t,” Changbin said as you left.

The test had been shockingly easy. You weren’t sure if it was because Changbin purposely made the questions simpler than usual, or if his study sessions really had helped. But you whizzed through that test like never before. It gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t absolute shit at math after all.

Now, Changbin was passing out the test results. You hoped your gut instinct that you’d done well was right.

He placed the test on your desk, shooting you a faint smile.

“Well done, Miss English Major,” he whispered, so quiet you could barely hear him.

You peeked at the top right corner, almost afraid of what it said. 

92%.

Your head whipped around to face Changbin, who was now a couple of desks down. 

Holy shit. Not only had you passed, but you passed with an A! How was that possible??

You wanted to run over to him and leap into his arms, but you had to hold yourself back. No one, including Changbin, wanted that.

You would wait until the end of class to celebrate.

As you packed up your bags, Changbin cleared his throat. 

You looked up to see him motioning you towards him. Of course, you couldn’t help but obey.

After the other students had left, you approached him, a huge smile plastered across your face.

“I passed!” you exclaimed, suddenly breathless. “I-I can’t believe it! Thank you.”

He shook his head, unable to hide his smile. “It was all you. You studied harder than I’ve ever seen any student do before. You earned it.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his midsection and hugged him.

“Seriously, thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ve never gotten an A on a math test, ever.”

Changbin laughed, and for a split second you thought he was going to hug you back. His arms raised to grab your waist, and your heart thudded in anticipation. You had thought about what it would feel like to be in Changbin’s arms countless times.

But instead, he pushed you away. His movements were gentle, respectful even, like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

It did quite the opposite. It stung more to know that he wasn’t an asshole who just wanted a girl's attention, but he thought he was doing the right thing in rejecting you for a second time.

“Well… thanks again,” you said lamely, moving away from him. “I’ll see you next week.”

You practically ran out of the room, tears stinging your eyes. You wouldn’t let yourself get hurt again.

——————————

Changbin stood at the front of his classroom, preparing for that day’s lesson. It was two months into the semester, and about time for another test. The last one had been almost a month and a half ago, and his students were beginning to get complacent. It was his job to make sure they didn’t get too comfortable.

It had also been about a month and a half since he’d properly talked to you. Ever since you had thanked him for all his help on that first math test, you had avoided him. 

He wished you wouldn’t. But you were right to. He would have done the same thing if roles were reversed.

He had rejected you, twice. Those glorious five days tutoring you were some of the best times he’d had in his entire three years as a professor. He’d never met someone half as bright, witty, or funny as you. 

Or as beautiful. 

Let’s be real, fucking sexy.

That first day of class, when he’d turned around and met your gaze, still stuck with him. Those curious yet guarded eyes of yours instantly drew him in, and he’d had to inwardly slap himself just to focus on his job. He’d never let anyone distract him from work before, let alone one of his students. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and ever since he got the job, he’d made a promise to himself never to date a student. From watching his colleagues, it never ended well.

And no one had ever made him question that promise. Until you.

Everything about you intoxicated him. The way you rolled your eyes at his cringey jokes, that little crease in your left eyebrow when you were focusing extra hard, the dimple on your left cheek when you smiled. Your determination to be good at whatever you put your mind to. And something he hadn’t expected: your desire to please him. 

In a strictly professional sense, of course. Or so he convinced himself. Until you two had almost kissed. And he’d told you no. That had to be in the top five of his stupidest moments, and he had a lot of those.

For that whole week, he’d found himself wishing that you would try again. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he went home to his empty apartment, he found solace in his hand, thoughts solely on you. About the way it would feel if it was your hand instead of his, gripping his shaft as you stroked him up and down, those nimble fingers knowing exactly where to place more pressure, where to be gentle. That pretty mouth of yours wrapped around him, taking his thick cock to the hilt. And he would cum to the thought of you, knowing that he couldn’t have you.

Even when you hugged him after the test, he still rebuffed your advances. Why? What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted you, you wanted him. It was legal, you were both adults. And yet, he had still rejected you. 

He still thought about you, obsessively so. The more he came to the fantasy of you, the more he became reliant on your presence, craved it, really. He looked forward to seeing you everyday in class, even if you didn’t speak a word to, or barely looked at him. But your beautiful self walking to his class by yourself, gave him a sense of security.

Today, he arrived at class, eagerly awaiting your presence. When he turned around to face the door, slightly concerned because even two minutes into class, you hadn’t arrived, his stomach quite literally dropped.

Because you weren’t alone. 

——————————

Hwang Hyunjin was the smoothest man alive.

You’d noticed him sitting a few seats away from you since the first day of class. He was incredibly smart, but tended to keep his mouth shut. He was always busy writing or drawing something on his notes instead of paying attention, and when you weren’t busy staring at Changbin, you found yourself watching him instead.

The two of you had been paired up for a class discussion, and he mentioned that he loved art. Being the creative that you were, you asked him what he liked to draw, and he showed you some of the doodles he did during class. They were good, really good. 

When he asked you out for coffee a month into the semester, you’d had no choice but to say yes. And you had a great time. 

It was clear that Changbin had no interest in you, so who could blame you for wanting to spend time with another hot guy? Who cared if you still thought about him in the privacy of your dorm, late at night? That was just a phase. Every college girl had a crush on her professor at some point, right? 

You and Hyunjin weren’t really seeing each other, it was casual. So you had never come to class together, or showed any sign that you were interested in each other.

Until today. 

Hyunjin had walked you to class, after treating you to coffee. You were even later than usual, but you found that you didn’t mind.

But when you walked into the classroom, and Hyunjin suddenly grabbed your hand, it was clear that someone minded. They minded a hell of a lot.

Changbin’s eyes seared into the two of you, his gaze roaming over both your and Hyunjin’s faces, before landing on your connected hands. His jaw clenched and unclenched, a vein ticking in his forehead, but he stayed quiet. His fists were pulled tight at his sides, those huge arms flexing in a most mesmerizing way. You couldn’t help but stare. Was there the potential that he was… jealous? 

Of you. Being with another guy.

Before you could think about it further, Changbin cleared his throat, and Hyunjin sat next to you for the first time that semester. 

You should feel giddy that this gorgeous man was sitting with you, but you couldn’t pay attention to anything, except your stud of a professor glaring at Hyunjin like he wanted him to disappear. 

“Today, we’re going to be discussing next week’s test,” Changbin ground out, his teeth gritted so hard you could hear them scraping against one another. “Mister Hwang, do you remember what our first unit after last month’s test was?”

Hyunjin paused next to you, brows furrowed. How was he supposed to remember what you’d learned over a month ago, off the top of his head?

“No Professor, I don’t,” he said evenly. “If I could just check my notes-“

“No, you may not,” Changbin snarled, his eyes narrowed as he stared Hyunjin down. “Clearly, you weren’t paying close enough attention.”

“Professor!” you exclaimed, blood pounding. Why was he targeting Hyunjin all of a sudden? You thought he liked Hyunjin.

“What?” Changbin sneered. “Trying to protect your boyfriend?”

“Just don’t.” You rolled your eyes, looking away from him. 

For the rest of the class, Changbin continued to pick on Hyunjin, calling on him for the hardest review questions, and actually laughing at him when he couldn’t remember.

Finally, when class was over, the two of you made to leave. 

“Miss, please stay behind,” Changbin practically growled, gaze hot on your back.

“Will you be okay?” Hyunjin asked, glancing between the two of you.

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you later.”

Hyunjin followed the rest of the class out, casting one last look back at you.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You stood behind your desk, staring at Changbin. He stared back at you, expression unreadable. Was he upset? Of course he was. He wasn’t very good at hiding that during class. 

He walked to the door and slammed it shut, the force startling you. But when he clicked the lock in place, your chest seized up. What was he doing? 

“Come here.” His voice was soft, yet you could hear him clearly. His face looked calm, but you could see the fire in his eyes as he gazed at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you wordlessly obeyed, coming to stand in front of him.

Was this really going to happen? Was he-

Before you could formulate a proper prediction, his lips were on yours. His hands fumbled at your waist with a desperation you didn’t expect, even in your dirtiest fantasies. He picked you up, grabbing your ass roughly as his plush lips forced your mouth open, sucking and biting with enough pressure that would leave marks in the morning. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Changbin growled against you between kisses. Your hands slid into his hair, clinging to him as you kissed him back with equal strength. 

“What took you so damn long?” you gasped, pressing your tongue into his mouth and rolling your hips against him.

He groaned, the sound low and guttural, before setting you on his desk as gently as he could. He slid a finger under your tank top strap, pushing it down slowly, his gaze devouring your skin rapturously.

“I’ve been so good, so in control,” he breathed as if you were torturing him, his mouth coming to land against the shell of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Until today, when you decided to bring that poor Hwang boy along with you. What are you, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

You shook your head quickly. “N-no, it’s casual,” your voice shook despite yourself. “We’ve just been hanging out.”

“You like that he’s willing to give you attention when I wouldn’t?” He leaned down, nipping at your shoulder and collarbone. “Has he fucked you?”

You moaned softly, closing your eyes. “No, of course not,” you whispered. “And even if he had, why would you give a shit? I made a move on you, and you fucking rejected me, twice!”

Changbin let go of you, stepping back. For the first time, he looked embarrassed. Good, as he should. 

“I'm sorry, Princess.” He slid a hand down your arm, skating his fingers across your skin. “I thought I was making the right decision. But… I want you all to myself. Is that so bad?”

You glared at him. But no matter how long you tried to play hard to get, you knew damn well how this was going to end. You needed him too badly.

“Well, you better prove how much you want me, then.”

His mouth curled into a smirk, and your core dampened at the sight. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pushed you back against his desk, shoving your legs apart, before tugging your denim shorts down your legs and ripping your panties clean in half.

“Changbin!” you gasped. Those were your nice panties, too.

“What? You won’t be needing them,” he smirked, holding them to his nose and inhaling a hungry breath, before tossing them away. “And from now on, you will call me Professor, not Changbin.”

You gaped at him for a moment, before you realized he was watching you expectantly.

“Y-yes… Professor,” you said weakly.

He smiled, kissing your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender way. “That’s my good girl. Now I’ll make you feel the best you’ve ever felt.”

He traveled down the length of your body, pressing kisses to your bare thighs as he went, admiring every inch of you. Your breaths came in short gasps as you laid in anticipation. You didn’t know much, but you were sure that Changbin was experienced when it came to sex.

As he gazed in appreciation at your soaked cunt, he tore his glasses off and set them on the desk, licking his lips. “Gonna need to get close and personal, huh Princess?”

Oh yeah, he was most definitely experienced. 

But nothing could prepare you for the sensation of Changbin’s tongue against your center. He pressed his mouth flat against your clit, swiping his tongue up and down in broad strokes. He covered your entire pussy with his warm, wet mouth before sucking and licking in earnest. 

“Holy shit, yes,” you gasped, your eyes widening as your hips jerked up against his movements.

He grabbed your waist to stop you, his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt as his lips pressed against the sensitive nerves above it. You moaned, your hand finding purchase in his hair as your vision sparked in and out, stars flashing before your eyes.

“Fuck, faster, please,” you begged, tugging his hair as you tried to pull him closer.

“What’s my name again, Princess?” he rasped against your core, his voice interrupted by his continued slurping. 

“P-professor, please,” you whimpered, gazing at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Fuck, how could I say no to you, Princess,” he snarled against you, yanking your legs open even further as his tongue moved impossibly faster, two of his fingers sliding into your pussy, adding even more squelching sounds to the mix.

The addition of his fingers nearly sent you spinning over the edge, your free hand gripping the side of his desk as your legs shook, your thighs trying to squeeze his head.

“Stay nice and spread for me, Angel,” he sucked hard on your clit, and you sobbed his name over and over, clutching at him like your life depended on it, your entire body vibrating.

“Professor, I-I’m gonna cum, please let me cum!” you begged, squeezing your eyes shut as you ground your hips up against him, this time Changbin allowing you.

“Cum for me, Princess, let me hear you,” Changbin ordered, pressing his tongue in just the right way against your throbbing pussy.

With a strangled cry, you rode out your orgasm against his mouth and fingers as he thrusted them in harder and harder, working you through your release as you crested the peak and came tumbling over, your whole body falling onto the desk in a trembling, sobbing mess.

“Was that good enough for you, Princess?” Changbin licked his lips as he gazed at you smugly, coming to his feet and gazing down at you.

You rolled your eyes, standing up to meet his eyes properly. “It was amazing, Professor,” you murmured against his lips, before kissing him forcefully. The taste of you lingered on his lips.

He kissed you back hungrily, his fingers traveling back between your legs to rub your clit gently, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You licked his bottom lip, grinding against his fingers as you moaned into him. 

“Let me return the favor,” you whispered, pushing him against the desk this time, before kneeling in front of him.

“Let’s just hope you’re better with your mouth than you are at math,” Changbin teased. But you could see the desire flaming in his gaze as he caressed your hair with a rough hand, fully pushing you down onto the floor.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Professor,” you said sweetly, and he groaned, eyes flickering shut.

“No more dawdling Angel, open up.”

You unzipped his black work pants, tugging them down to his knees. Even with his dark gray boxers on, you could tell he was huge, and already hard. Pulling his underwear off, his cock sprang free, angry and red, leaking precum.

Your eyes widened, and Changbin kicked his pants to the side, smirking down at you. 

“Big enough for you, Princess?”

“Perfect, Professor,” you breathed, gripping the base with one hand.

“Ah shit,” Changbin gritted his teeth, his hand already tangled in your hair. “Don’t make me wait too long, Princess. I’ve already been waiting for months.”

You giggled softly, sticking your tongue out and kitten licking the pretty pink tip. He was quite thick, so thick that your hand could barely fit around him. He was about seven inches long, with a pretty vein running along the right side. Your core throbbed at the sight, imagining how well he would fill you up. 

“Fuck,” he snarled, thrusting into your hand impatiently, a bead of precum dribbling onto your skin. “Are you asking me to punish you, Princess?”

You felt your core clench at his words, and you almost hoped he would just flip you over and spank you for disobeying him.

But that could happen later. Instead, you slid his entire length into your mouth, taking him so deep your nose hit his hips. Coarse brown hair tickled your face, and you shut your eyes. 

“Holy-“ Changbin choked out as you began sucking hard and fast, using your hand to rub the base where your mouth couldn’t reach. Your saliva instantly became sloppy, running down his cock and onto his waist.

“Oh fuck yeah, just like that,” he grunted, tugging your hair roughly as he thrust his hips against you, driving his cock further into your mouth. “I bet you just love being my little cockslut, don’t you Princess? You like me using you like this.”

“Mm,” you moaned, sending vibrations up his cock. He shuddered at the sensation, his huge, muscular legs flexing next to you. One of your hands gripped his thigh, the other squeezing his taut ass as you fucked your mouth up and down on him so he didn’t even have to move.

“Oh shit, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you, Slut?” He ran his hand through your hair, and you felt a tinge of pride shoot through you. A thin line of tears dotted your lash line and your jaw hurt, but you didn’t care. He was impressed with you, and that was all that mattered. 

“Only for you, Professor,” you gasped as you took a quick breath, before sliding him back into your mouth. Your hands moved to cup his balls, and he growled, loud and animalistic, against you.

“Fuck Angel, you’re such a good girl for your professor, aren’t you?” he moaned, pulling your hair into two makeshift ponytails as he started fucking against you in earnest.

You started to choke on his harsh ministrations, but you didn’t want him to stop. Your core was so wet, arousal was dripping onto the ground. 

“I’m gonna cum, Princess,” Changbin growled, as his hips stilled. “But I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I want to breed that little pussy of yours. How does that sound?”

“I-it sounds amazing, Professor,” you breathed as you pulled his rock-hard cock out of your mouth.

He grinned, yanking you into another bruising kiss. “That’s my good little Cockslut,” he murmured, picking you up and setting you back on the desk. “This is exactly how I imagined fucking you for the first time. You look so beautiful lying there, all wet and ready for me.”

You whimpered softly, shooting a seductively innocent look at him.

“Fuck, do you know what you do to me, Angel?” He closed his eyes, his body trembling at the sight before him. “Even better than my imagination.”

“You’ve thought about me, Professor?” you said faux-shyly, grabbing his hand and placing it against your core.

“Of course I have, Princess,” Changbin chuckled, opening his eyes again as his fingers roamed over your clit gently. You shivered at his touch. “Who wouldn’t think about ruining a perfect girl like you?”

“I'm not a virgin, Professor,” you pointed out. 

“I know, but you’re perfect,” he responded, stepping closer. “Just look at you.”

“Professor?” you asked softly, gazing at him. “Can I ask just one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Can you take your shirt off?”

Changbin’s eyes flickered in amusement. “Do you like my body, Princess?”

You nodded vigorously. “I love your body. I think about it all the time.”

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning over and pressing harsh kisses against your neck. “What do you think about?”

“Fuck me, then I’ll tell you,” you breathed against him, starting to undo his shirt buttons.

He tugged the shirt over his head hurriedly, before coming to hover over you again, those perfect, muscular arms of your dreams caging you in. You whimpered at the sensation alone, pulling him closer to you so you could grab his cock, stroking him a few times.

“Fuck yes, Princess,” Changbin choked out, before lining himself up outside of your core. “I need to be inside you right now.”

“I need you inside me too, Professor,” you begged, moving your hips back and forth against his hard cock, wet squelching sounds ensuing as his cock rubbed through your slit. You threw your head back at the overwhelming sensation, moaning into his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he pulled your face up and kissed you once. Then, screwing up his eyes, he slid his entire cock into you in one harsh thrust.

“O-oh shit!” you cried, eyes widening and hands coming to grab his broad shoulders. He filled you perfectly, his girth stretching you deliciously, that vein rubbing against your walls just right. “Fuck Professor, you feel so good inside me.”

“God, you feel heavenly Princess,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Can I move? Please, tell me I can move.”

“Please move, now,” you gasped, fingernails digging into his back. “Don't be gentle with me, Professor. I can take it.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that, Angel.” Before you could say anything else, he pulled all the way out, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, before thrusting back in with all his strength. 

You squealed, fingers scrambling for purchase against him, as he pounded in and out of your tight, wet pussy over and over, filthy noises filling the classroom. 

You whimpered against his neck, pressing harsh kisses against him as he thrusted in and out, balls slapping your pussy as he went harder and faster. His cock slammed against the spongy part inside of you, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“Ah shit, Princess, ease up a bit!” he grunted, nipping your neck as his hips stuttered against yours.

“Y-you just feel so good,” you sobbed. “Please fuck me harder, don’t stop, please, Professor.”

Changbin listened, continuing to hit that sensitive spot over and over again until you were a babbling mess, unable to say anything except “Professor”.

“Fuck baby, can you stand?” Changbin demanded into your ear.

“Y-yes Professor,” you breathed, and before you could stop him, he was carrying you over to the chalkboard, and setting you down, so your face was towards the board, ass presented to him.

“Well shit, don't you look like a treat,” he whispered, slapping your ass with a calloused hand, before trapping you between his arms once more, his mouth against your neck. 

You gasped at the stinging sensation of his hand against your skin, but it wasn't fully because of the pain. Him slapping you felt good. What did you have to do for him to do it again?

His fingers traveled between your legs again, feeling the dripping wetness that gathered there. You felt him smirk against you.

“Did my Princess like it when I spanked her? Does she like it when she gets punished?”

You nodded vigorously, closing your eyes. Was he going to think you were disgusting for liking something so violent? 

Changbin started chuckling, and you glanced back at him. Did he find this funny?

“I might have underestimated you, Sweetheart,” his hands traveled up to your breasts and squeezed, making you squeal. “I guess you were right. You’re more of a whore than I thought.”

“N-no Professor, I’m a good girl,” you gasped, rubbing your ass against him as you begged for him to hit you again. “I just need you so bad, please.”

“You want me to hit you again?” Changbin snickered. “Okay, I can hit you again. Anything for my princess.”

He stepped away from you, leaving your skin cold. You missed his hulking presence warming you, his huge arms caging your body. 

You watched with wide eyes as he stepped back to his desk and picked something up. What was he doing? He couldn’t leave you hanging like this.

But when you saw what he had in his hand, you knew he very much was not leaving you hanging. He was just getting started.

“A ruler?” you said softly, staring at the wood strip in his hand. Your core pulsed at the sight, causing more arousal to slide down your thigh. Fuck, you wanted it.

“You said you wanted to get slapped, didn’t you, Princess?” he challenged.

You nodded, trying to hide your desire. If Changbin saw how much you needed this, he might deny you.

“Yes, Professor,” you responded, not moving from your position at the chalkboard.

“Good, Angel,” he approached you with a satisfied grin on his face. “So, are you ready for your test?”

“Test?!” you squeaked. You hadn’t expected that. You’d hoped he would just slap you with the ruler a few times, then fuck you silly.

“You’re going to have a math test in a few weeks, aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want me to tutor you still?”

You nodded furiously. You would fail without him.

“Well, consider this our first session.” He came to stand behind you, running the ruler up and down your thigh a few times. 

You shivered despite yourself. You would do anything he wanted at this point.

“So, answer this problem, Princess. The axes of two right circular cylinders of radius A intersect at a right angle. Find the volume of the solid of intersection of the cylinders.”

You gasped at him, speechless. You had no idea what any of that meant. Solid of intersection? You were an English major, for god’s sake!

“I-I don’t know Professor!” you whispered, body quivering as you waited for his response.

Changbin tutted quietly, pacing back and forth behind you. You tried to watch him, but he kept going in and out of your line of sight.

“What a shame.” His voice was dangerously low. 

Suddenly, the ruler came slashing through the air, landing across the center of your ass. You let out a loud gasp, covering your mouth before you could curse or yell. 

“Chang- Professor, what the hell?” you exclaimed, whipping around to face him.

“Did that stir up any potential answers?” Changbin said smoothly, ignoring your protest. “Please turn back around, Angel. We're not done yet.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but you caught that steely look in his eyes, and obeyed. 

“Well?” he prompted. “Anything?”

“N-no, Professor,” you said meekly. “We haven’t learned anything half that difficult yet.”

This time, as the ruler made contact with your ass again, you were prepared. You bit your lip so hard it almost drew blood, but you had to admit, it felt… nice. The stinging sensation it left after the pain was gone was incredible. 

“Fine, if you can't come up with even a guess, how about this. What is the mathematical perception of the gradient said to be?”

You paused, thinking the question over. You knew Changbin had talked about this in a lesson at some point, but it had been a while ago…

“Is it tangent?” you said with a little smile. You knew the answer was wrong but… you also didn't mind.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Changbin grinned, and the stinging pain of the ruler raced across your skin.

You let out a stifled moan, squeezing your eyes shut as hard as you could. Oh god, did Changbin hear that? He was going to think you were such a whore.

Changbin set the ruler down on his desk and slid a hand around your waist, breaths coming hard and fast against your neck. You whimpered softly, unable to look back at him. 

“I knew you liked that, you little Pain Slut,” he snarled into your ear, nipping the lobe. “You're my little Pain Slut, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, only yours!” you exclaimed. “P-please Professor, fuck me again.”

“Mm, you're just insatiable aren’t you?” he snickered, his hand coming down onto your ass cheek, sharp and hard. “Now say thank you, Professor.”

You cried out, your core soaking wet. “Th-thank you Professor!” You forced out through the blinding pleasure.

His hand came down on your other cheek. “Again.”

“Thank you, Professor!” you moaned, turning your face to him and pressing your lips against his. 

He didn't pull away, as the hand he used to spank you wound around your leg, lifting it up so your body was still facing the chalkboard, but your lips were attached to his. 

“I’m gonna fuck you like this now, Angel, down and dirty. I’ll bet you like it like this, don't you? Seducing your poor professor, and letting him have his way with you in his classroom. That's exactly what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“No, I didn't mean to seduce you,” you mumbled against his mouth, as he positioned his hard, heavy cock outside your entrance. “You're just so hot and smart, and I wanted you so bad. But you kept rejecting me so I gave up, remember?”

“How do I know that little boyfriend wasn't just part of your plan to get me to change my mind?” Changbin challenged, finally breaking the kiss. 

“Well, if it was, it worked, didn't it?” You teased him. “Now are you going to fuck me or not?”

Changbin growled deep in his throat, thrusting his hips slowly against you, running his cock through your wet folds. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready to fuck you, Princess. Not sure you deserve it, with all the stunts you’ve pulled. And you didn't even get that easy math problem right.”

You giggled softly. “If I get it right, will you fuck me properly? Nice and rough?”

He paused, like he was pondering the question. “Sure, Angel. What’s the right answer?”

You turned around, pressing your lips against his ear gently. You watched in satisfaction as he shivered. Thank god he was holding your leg up, or you would be numb by now. “It’s the slope,” you whispered to him, lips curling in a smile. You knew you were right.

“Mm, you knew the right answer the whole time, didnt you, Slut?” Changbin shook his head at you, a hungry glint in his eyes. “But you were a good girl, listening to your Professor so well. So I guess you get a reward.”

“Yes please, Professor.” You immediately started begging at the prospect of his cock inside of you. “Please fuck me now.”

“It takes a lot of self control to stay away from you,” Changbin groaned. “Self control that I clearly do not have.” 

This time, he thrusted into you nice and slow, one inch at a time. You gasped loudly as he shoved you up against the chalkboard, still holding your leg up, as he began pounding in and out of you mercilessly. 

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me, Angel,” he hissed into your hair, breathing deeply as he did so. “So tight and wet, squeezing me perfectly. You hear that? This pussy is all mine.”

“Yes, it’s all yours,” you wailed, fucking your hips back against his, forcing his cock to impale you to the hilt. “You feel so good inside of me, Professor.”

“Mm, hell yeah I do baby.” His huge arm wrapped all the way around your waist, trapping you entirely as he hammered in and out, the lewd sounds of his length thrusting turning you on even more.

“Fuck, Professor please touch me!” you begged, grabbing his arm that was holding your leg up and sliding it towards your clit. 

“You’re such a greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he sneered, pressing rough kisses up and down your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises along your soft skin. “I can’t deny you though, can I?”

His fingers slid over your sensitive nerves and rubbed in rushed, frantic circles as his hips pounded against yours, causing the entire chalkboard to shake and rattle. 

“O-oh yes Professor just like that,” you panted, your legs nearly failing as he turned your entire body to jelly. 

“Don't give up on me now, Princess,” Changbin warned as he spun you around and picked you up, not removing his cock from your throbbing pussy. “You don’t cum until I do, you hear?”

“Of course, Professor,” you whimpered helplessly, the new position hitting spots inside of you you hadn’t known even existed. “Please go harder!”

“Just for you, baby,” Changbin ground out, and he started bouncing you up and down on his huge length.

The vein on his cock slid against your nerves addictively as you wrapped your shaking legs around his waist, clinging to his beefy arms desperately. Your core throbbed as you tried to be a good girl and hold your orgasm back, but it was coming.

“Please Professor, let me cum!” you pleaded, pressing kisses up and down his huge pecs, sobbing into his chest. “I’m so close, I’ve been so good!”

Changbin grunted against you as he bullied his cock deeper and deeper into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over while you pleaded incoherently to please, please let you cum.

“Shit, okay, cum for me baby,” he hissed.

You didn't need to be asked twice. Your hips shook against him so violently you thought you were going to pass out. Stars blinked in and out of your vision as you cried, “Professor, please!” once, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, as he pounded his cock infinitely faster. His fingers pressed against your clit, and you were done for. You exploded around him in a puddle of whimpers and moans, clutching onto him for dear life.

“Holy shit baby, you’re so fucking hot,” Changbin panted, squeezing his eyes shut, his thrusts becoming more jerky and unstable. “I’m so fuckin’ close, Princess, gonna cum inside that slutty little pussy of yours, yeah?”

“Oh fuck, please give me your cum Professor!” you begged, moving your hips in time with his. “Want you to breed me like the good girl I am!”

“Fuck Angel, you really want it?” Changbin hissed, his hips stuttering as his lips smashed up against yours again. “You wanna feel my hot cum inside you?”

“Yes Professor, please, I need it,” you breathed against his mouth, biting his bottom lip and sucking it into your mouth. 

Changbin thrusted sloppily in and out a few more times, his breaths stilted and hoarse, before halting entirely inside of you. You felt his warm cum fill your pussy, ropes and ropes of hot, sticky liquid, and you let out a shaky moan, closing your eyes at the sensation.

As he was about to put you down and pull out, you shook your head, gripping his arms.

“P-please, stay inside.” Your legs tightened around his waist. His softening cock felt so good, keeping his warm cum inside you. You didn’t want him to let go, not yet.

“You like me cockwarming you, Princess?” Changbin’s cock stiffened at your actions, and you nodded.

“You feel so good inside of me,” you sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I bet I do,” he said cockily, and you slapped his arm.

“Way to ruin the moment, Changbin,” you glared.

He laughed, finally letting go of you and setting you back on the ground. 

“I'm kidding, baby.” He pressed his lips against yours, much more tender this time. You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. 

“I like the confidence.” You giggled against his lips, before breaking apart. “I should probably go. I've got another class in an hour, and I don’t want to walk in looking like this.”

“I wouldn't want that either,” Changbin observed. “You might get dress-coded. Or arrested.”

When you were both dressed and semi-cleaned up, you waved goodbye to Changbin.

Changbin waved back, a little smirk on that handsome face of his. 

“So, we on for another study session tonight?”

You smirked, biting your bottom lip before replying: “Yes, Professor.”

laska's note — wow, this one shot took me forever to finally finish! but i wanted it to be perfect you y'all, so i spent a long time figuring out the plot and exactly how i wanted everything to go. i really hope you enjoyed it, because i'm kinda proud of how this turned out. i'm sorry for the slow ass updates, but again it's just supposed to be for fun! hopefully i'll get some more content out soon. leave any comments about what you liked, i love reading them! until next time... 😏💋

[digi-lov]

LadyDevimon EX1-060 Alternative Art by Kariki Hajime from the Digimon Illustration Competition 2023 Pack

「Blood moon」 by Kariki Hajime

Winners' comments Digimon is a very special anime series and many of its monsters have left unique impressions on me. I wanted to share the appeal of Digimon with everyone through my artwork, so LadyDevimon Under a Scarlet Full Moon was born.I'm grateful that my work has been well received and feel honored to have participated in the competition with other artists. I will keep working in the future!

Judge's comment This is an amazing work that stood out in terms of color balance, personal touches, and composition. Congratulations on winning the Grand Prix!! - Mr. Kenji Watanabe

With so many great works of LadyDevimon, this one really charmed us with the unique composition and characteristic use of colors. Looking at the fallen angel standing tall against the blood moon, what does her facial expression tell? - Mr. Masashi Harada

Congratulations on winning the Grand Prize. It's so stylish. The handling of the lighting is wonderful and there's what's flowing down from the moon, blood is it? It might look like that because of how her hair blows in the wind from the gorge. It might be that we came across her at a moment that we aren't meant to see. This work has a strange charm that sets off the imagination despite its simplicity, rousing that kind of feeling. - Mr. Shinsuke Kojima

The character's pose and the layout of her expression and the screen are extremely stylish. I rate this highly for the high level of pure drawing ability as well as the flavor of the illustration and the taste of color in the background. - Digimon Card Game R&D Team

I was overwhelmingly captivated by this picture even during the first judging and that didn't change until the end. It's an illustration with amazing colors and composition. - Ms. Hiromi Seki

I love the composition where LadyDevimon seems to look down on both the Digiworld and the real world, while the red moon in the background matches the character's attributes, contributing to an overall great color tone. What is it that she is gazing at? It's an impressive illustration that promises to tell a narrative. - Digimon Ghost Game Production Staff

[from the website]