#peristyle’sposts

[peristylee]

TONGUE TIED

Angel Devil x GN!reader

IN SUMMARY: When Angel Devil wasn't being forced to partake in exterminating devils, he often found himself lounging around on the couch of his own apartment, either sleeping or perhaps watching a movie. His options in cassette tapes were very limited, so he usually rewatches the same films, with the exception of one.

CONTENT INCLUDES: SFW, second person POV, angst to fluff, mentions of death + blood, might be ooc

WORD COUNT: 1777 (On average: about 5.9 to 8.9 minutes of reading time)

The warmth of skin-to-skin contact, the feeling of intertwining hands together, that intimate touch between two individuals; it was Angel’s dream. The dream of being able to hold someone and familiarize himself with them only by blind touch. 

It was a foolish dream; a dream that he had abandoned a long time ago.

The blood of his familiars had splattered on his hands the moment they brushed fingers, seeping into his skin. Despite his palms appearing clean, the deep crimson stain lingered, etched into his soul, a permanent mark of his existence.

How he yearned for the sweet release of oblivion, so he can forget those memories that seem to torment him with every blink. Perhaps in death he could go to heaven and be a real angel.

But what a naive thought. He’s well aware that the wings on his back will never allow him to fly up to the heavens. Under God’s judgment, they would instead burn when faced with the sun, and he will be casted down to hell once more.

For he was a devil, tainted and damned.

.

.

.

Those were the thoughts that surged through his mind as his eyes remained fixated on the television screen in front of him. The soft glow illuminated his delicate features, casting a gentle light on his face.

The tender music playing in the background seemed to echo the emotions of the characters on screen, their words and actions stirring something deep within him, "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

The screen's glow reflected in his pupils as he watched, his eyebrows furrowing as the actors shared another kiss.

Normally, he never bothered with romantic films, figuring that he would never understand human relationships, but after rewatching the same horror films over and over again, he eventually caved.

Although, he began to wonder if that unfamiliar feeling in his chest was annoyance or perhaps envy.

Reluctantly, he stood up, the ache in his heart growing as he turned off the TV. The scene of the two actors faded, replaced by a blank, black screen. His reflection stared back at him, a stark contrast to the lively emotions he had just witnessed.

Touch, kissing, cuddling, love; it was all such a foreign concept to him.

The silence of the room seemed to amplify the emptiness he felt inside, a poignant reminder of the loneliness that clung to him like his own shadow. The weight of his past actions and the unattainable dreams he harbored pressed down on him, leaving him feeling more isolated than ever.

As he made his way back to the empty couch, too lazy to go to his bedroom, the haunting memories of the lives he had taken flickered through his mind, blending with the scenes of love and tenderness he had just witnessed. It was a cruel juxtaposition, one that left him questioning if he would ever find peace.

Lost in thought, the world outside seemed distant up until a series of knocks echoed throughout the quiet apartment. The sound reverberated off the bare walls, pulling him back into the present.

"Angel!" a slightly muffled voice called from the other side of the door, the urgency barely contained in their tone. "Come on out! It's time to patrol!" The knocking resumed, this time with a desperate edge, “Aki is going to get pissed with both of us if you don’t hurry up! We’re already late-!”

Angel didn’t move though, only turning his head slightly, his gaze drifting to the small slivers of sunlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains. The noise outside felt distant, muffled by the weight of his own thoughts.

The knocks on his door soon moved to relentless spamming on his doorbell with high-pitched ‘dings’, making him sigh and shove his head into the couch cushion, a poor attempt to drown out the insistent noise. He let out a sigh through his nose, the realization taunting him as he knew that his peace from work was now gone. Time for another day of depriving labor…

He was nearly halfway off the couch when the door to his apartment flung open, startling him. He jerked upright, eyes blinking in surprise.

Peeking around the corner was your head, a pair of keys jingling as you moved. "Ah! There you are," you said, your eyes scanning his angelic appearance. 

Even though you were his work partner and saw him regularly, his gentle features and those soft, pearly white wings always captivated you. If you didn’t know he was a devil, you might have mistaken him for a real angel, meticulously crafted and sent down from heaven itself.

"There… I am..." Angel sighed, the disappointment in his voice palpable as he rose to his feet. He stretched, his wings spreading wide and his back producing a satisfying ‘pop.’ It was a rare sight to see his wings fully extended, their pristine feathers catching the light, creating a brief, almost ethereal glow in the dim room before settling in their original position on his back.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a mix of exasperation and fondness in your expression. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing these,” you murmured, lightly, stepping further into the room, your eyes darting to the keys clutched in your hand.

You held the keys in front of him, your gaze wandering around his cluttered living space to avoid eye contact. It landed on the coffee table next the couch, where a half-opened cassette tape was conspicuously placed amongst the mess. The cover was adorned with an overly dramatic image of a couple in an embrace, the title printed in bold letters. 

“The Princess Bride…” you muttered, glancing back at Angel, “I didn’t know you were into romance- “

“I’m not,” he interrupted, his gaze narrowing slightly. His tone was defensive, as if the topic was more uncomfortable than you realized.

The atmosphere grew awkward in an instant. You felt beads of sweat forming on your temple as you watched Angel snatch the keys from your hand and toss them behind him carelessly, showing little regard for where they landed.

“Is that so…” you mumbled. The room suddenly felt colder.

Despite his celestial appearance, his suit was in disarray. He hadn’t bothered to change out of it last night, and now it hung on him, wrinkled and loose. His hair was a tousled mess, clear evidence of his restless sleep. He ran a hand through it, but the effort was half-hearted at best, and the wild strands remained stubbornly in place.

“You should really take better care of yourself,” you said, your voice steady despite the tension.

Angel shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “What’s the point?” he muttered flatly, “It’s not like it changes anything.”

You frowned at his blunt response. “Don’t move.”

“Huh?” he responded, caught off guard as you stepped closer. Without waiting for his reaction, your hands deftly moved to the messy tie around his neck. With focused determination, you worked to straighten and retie it, your fingers moving with precision.

Angel stiffened at the proximity, his wings ruffling slightly, reacting to the unexpected closeness. He could feel the warmth from your fingers on his collarbone through the thin fabric of his shirt, sending shivers through his spine.

What you were doing was bold, maybe even reckless. He was a devil capable of causing harm with a mere touch—what were you thinking?

As you finished and stepped back, satisfied with your work, you offered a sheepish smile. “Devil hunters have a reputation to uphold, so… try to at least maintain it,” you said. “Well, that’s what Miss Makima says anyways.”

Angel stood there, stunned into silence. He glanced down at his now neatly tied tie, a small frown of confusion on his face. It was such a simple act, yet it felt surprisingly intimate. He had never considered how something as mundane as adjusting a tie could stir such strange emotions.

“Uh… thanks,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. He avoided meeting your eyes, his lips twitched slightly, not into a smile, but just twitched, as if in amusement.

"Well, Aki’s going to lose it if we don’t get moving," you said, trying to inject some urgency into your voice. "He’s already on edge, and we don’t need to make things worse." By this point, you were already standing next the entrance again, leaving Angel standing.

“…okay…” he would’ve said more; he would’ve asked more, such as ‘why would you do that??’ But his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat, just barely allowing him to get one word out.

You waited patiently near the door, your gaze softening as you watched him. Despite his apathy, there was something undeniably graceful about the way he moved, a lingering elegance that even his exhaustion couldn’t entirely hide.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The patrol was uneventful, the streets quieter than usual. As you and Angel walked side by side, the weight of the earlier tension seemed to lift, replaced by a comfortable silence. The night air was cool, and the city lights cast a soft glow on the pavement.

After hours of patrolling, you both returned to the office, the day's work finally behind you. As you gathered your things to leave, Angel stood by the door, his tie once again just barely hanging around his neck.

"Hey..." Angel called out to you quietly, just barely audible for your ears to hear.

You paused what you were doing, turning your head to face him with a small hum of acknowledgment. His voice had been so soft, so uncharacteristically hesitant, that it made your heart ache just a little.

"Can you..." the angelic devil wasn't sure what to say at this point, his wings slightly wrapped around him as he stared at his feet. "...Can you do that thing again?"

You stared for a moment, the gears in your head turning as you tried to understand what he wanted. Fortunately, you figured it out quickly, glancing at his wrinkled tie. The sight of him, so vulnerable and unsure, stirred a deep empathy within you.

"But work is over," you responded, turning your whole body to face him. Your voice was gentle, almost coaxing, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

Angel shrugged, still staring at his feet. His wings wrapped tighter around him, a protective gesture, as if he were shielding himself from some unseen threat. The vulnerability in his posture was striking, a stark contrast to the usually aloof and indifferent demeanor he wore like armor.

.

.

.

"Alright, come here."

AN: ANGEL DEVIL! MY LOVE!