#fallen angel reader

[milkfrozencookie]

. An angel for my God .

Shadow milk x ¡Fallen Angel!You

“ . A god without flightneeds a sleepless sight.From six regions or more,so he won't trip or soar. But if the angel's brief,the sky becomes a thief.And the god, with no stair,just stays in prayer . ”

.

Once upon a time, in the skies above the world of cookies, there was a legion of messenger angels created to serve the Witches. They were beings of pure light, with wings of white and golden feathers, and their sole purpose was to transmit the will of their Divine Creators to mortal cookies.

You were one of them.

From your creation, you believed in the Witches with absolute devotion. You saw them as benevolent goddesses, as mothers who watched over all the cookies of the world. You prayed every night, your hands clasped and your wings folded, begging the Witches to heed the lamentations of the cookies. You believed that Dark Enchantress Cookie, with her chaos and destruction, was merely a test that the Witches allowed to strengthen the cookies, and that when danger was truly imminent, they would descend from the heavens to save everyone.

"The Witches will come," you told yourself. "We only need to have faith. They see everything. They know when the right time to intervene is."

But the moment never came.You witnessed wars. You witnessed suffering. You saw innocent cookies crushed by the tyranny of Dark Enchantress Cookie, by the fury of Burning Spice Cookie, by the indifference of the Beasts. And on every occasion, you looked up to the sky, hoping to see the Witches descend with their divine power to put an end to the chaos.They never came down.The Witches remained silent. They watched from their distant realm, indifferent to the suffering they themselves had created. They did not answer your prayers, they did not heed the cries of the cookies, they did not lift a single finger to stop the pain.Your faith cracked. Then it fractured. And finally, it shattered into pieces.The decisive moment came during the last great battle against Dark Enchantress Cookie. Chaos spread throughout the kingdom. Cookies died by the thousands. Darkness engulfed everything.And you, from the heights of the skies, watched with a broken heart, waiting, pleading, begging for the Witches to appear.

They did not.

Dark Enchantress Cookie was defeated... by mortal heroes, not by divinities. The cookies, with their own strength, courage, and determination, had achieved what the angels had begged the Witches for centuries.It was then that the truth struck you like lightning:The Witches were never going to come. They never cared. They only created us as an experiment, as a game. And when the game became boring, they abandoned us.Bitterness surged into your heart like poison. Your wings, once white as snow, began to turn gray. The light in your eyes faded, replaced by a deep sadness and a contained rage.

"Why?" you whispered in the solitude of the skies.

"Why did they create us to suffer? Why didn't they heed us?"

No answer came.And then, in the midst of your despair, you heard a voice.It was not the voice of a Witch. It was much more... theatrical. Much more interesting.

The void was his kingdom now.Not the cold, empty void of before, but a malleable space that bent to his will. An infinite theater where he was the sole actor, director, and spectator.

A blank canvas upon which he would paint his new reality.

Shadow Milk Cookie let himself fall onto the throne he had created from nothing. It was a grotesque and beautiful structure.His hair now swayed from side to side, alongside new eyes from the beasts he had consumed, and a heart that pulsed with voices.

"Ugh," he exhaled, stretching his new arms above his head in a theatrical gesture. "Now this is comfortable. So long levitating that I forgot what it felt like to have a solid seat under my... what do I have? My rear? My dough? My divine essence?" He laughed to himself, a sharp, lilting sound that echoed in the void. "What a trivial question! But when you're a god, even trivialities deserve attention."

He settled into the throne, crossing one leg over the other with studied elegance. His hands now had fingers, claws, and each arm seemed to be light and darkness itself. Those fingers began to tap repeatedly on the arm of the throne, staring fixedly at his only companion.

You.

Standing a few steps away, your wings now completely gray. Your eyes, once full of blind faith in the Witches, now reflected something more complex: devotion, fear, and a hint of shared madness.

"Kneel," said Shadow Milk, without raising his voice, but in a tone that brooked no argument.The command fell upon you like a tangible weight.

And you knelt. Not out of fear of punishment, but because, deep down, it was what you had always wanted to do. You had spent so long serving goddesses who never answered, praying to creators who never came.You had witnessed the chaos of Dark Enchantress Cookie unleashed, waiting for the Witches to descend and restore order.

But they never arrived. You stayed there, with your angelic brethren, watching the world crumble while your goddesses remained silent.And then he arrived.Not with heavenly trumpets or divine light. He arrived with a mocking smile and a staff that seemed to laugh at everything you considered sacred.

He arrived and showed you the truth: that the Witches never cared about you, that they never would, that you were as dispensable as any ordinary cookie.And instead of crumbling, you found something new to cling to.

"Ah, what a lovely sight," Shadow Milk murmured, leaning slightly forward to get a better look at you. His heterochromatic eyes, now with many extras of the same eye color as his former Beast companions, gleamed with a dangerous glint

. "A fallen angel, kneeling before the god of lies. Isn't that poetic? Your old heaven abandoned you, and here you are, worshiping the one who showed you hell."

"It's not hell," you replied, your voice firm despite your posture.

"It's freedom."Shadow Milk let out a cackle, a sharp, raspy sound that echoed in the void.

«¡Libertad! ¡Oh, me encanta!». Se levantó del trono con un movimiento ágil y caminó hacia ti con pasos lentos y decididos. Aquella nueva capa, blanca y dorada por un lado y negra por el otro, se movía como si tuviera vida propia tras él.

"Tell me, little angel, what freedom did you find? The freedom of knowing your goddesses didn't love you? The freedom of accepting that the universe is meaningless chaos?"

He stopped in front of you, bending down to be at your level. His face was so close you could see the small details: the sly smile, the mark under his eye that now seemed to move like water on his face, his completely blue eye with strange figures within it, and that spark of madness in his gaze.

"Or perhaps," he whispered, "you found the freedom to choose whom to worship."

"You," you answered without hesitation.Shadow Milk straightened up, laughing again.

"Excellent! Magnificent! A performance worthy of my best audience!" He paced around you, like a director observing his favorite actor.He stopped behind you, and you felt his fingers brush against one of your wings. His touch was cold, but not unpleasant.

"These wings," he murmured, "used to be symbols of submission to goddesses who didn't deserve your devotion. Now they are... what are they now?"

"They are yours," you replied. "As is everything I am."Shadow Milk let out a theatrical sigh.

"Oh, you're so adorable when you say things like that." He turned and returned to his throne, sitting down with exaggerated elegance.

"But don't think this means you're special. You're entertaining, that's all. A pleasant distraction while I wait for my new reality to take shape."

"I know," you replied, unfazed.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise (which he wasn't).

"You know? Well, well. Maybe you did learn something from me." He smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"So tell me, my little fallen angel, what do you think I'll do with you once my world is ready? Will I turn you into a puppet? Will I leave you floating in the void? Or will I place you in my new world as a reminder of what you abandoned to follow me?"

"Whatever you want," you replied calmly. "I've served goddesses who didn't listen to me. I'd rather serve a god who at least looks at me."

Shadow Milk fell silent for a moment. Then his smile widened, showing too many teeth, as sharp as a shark's teeth eager for dinner tonight.

"You know, I almost like you." He rested his cheek on his hand, observing you with interest.

"But don't be mistaken. I'm not a benevolent god. There will be no rewards for your devotion. There will be no paradise at the end of this path. Only... more lies. More spectacle. More chaos."

"I know," you repeated.And in your voice, there was no doubt or fear. Only the certainty of someone who had already lost everything that mattered and had found something new to cling to—the desperation of having someone to pray to was palpable.

Shadow Milk Cookie laughed, and his laughter filled the void like an off-key but hypnotic song.

"Welcome to the world of lies, my little angel. Where lies rule."

[daughter0fthewitch]

fallen. . .‧˚꒰🪽꒱༘‧

from heaven to earth to hell pairing: hannibal lecter x fallen!angel!reader genre: horror • angst notes: winner of my recent poll!, you are an angel that was just kicked from heaven, in the middle of the night you make your way aimlessly around until you are found by hannibal, who invites you in; you are just losing your divine powers, experiencing being human for the first time... as an angel you see the good in human, or were taught to, and gaining your trust is easy for hannibal... warning: Dead dove don't eat!!!; dark fic, descriptive violence, blood, injury MINORS DNI!! masterlist join my taglist ─── ꒰ 🩵 ꒱ ───

part 1

Snow had already begun to swallow the sound of the world when you fell.

The impact had not been graceful.

Angels were not meant to fall.

Your body struck the frozen earth like something that had been violently torn from the sky. Bone shuddered beneath your skin. Your wings collapsed beneath you in a tangle of white and darkened feathers.

For a long moment, you could not breathe.

Then sensation returned.

Cold like knives sliding beneath your skin.

Pain followed, sharp, invasive, everywhere at once. Every nerve that Heaven had once quieted awakened with brutal enthusiasm.

Your lungs burned with the effort of air.

Your heart pounded wildly.

You had never felt your own body like this before.

You lay in the snow beneath towering fir trees. The clouds swallowed the stars above you. The forest seemed endless.

For the first time since your creation…

You were alone.

Your fingers twitched against the frozen ground.

Slowly, painfully, you forced yourself upright.

Your wings dragged heavily behind you as you staggered forward. They were enormous, nearly three meters from root to tip, but now they felt wrong on your body, like broken limbs that refused to obey you. Feathers scraped against ice and mud, leaving trails in the snow behind you.

Your halo no longer floated above your head.

It sat in your hands.

Cracked. Dim.

You walked.

You did not know how long.

Time felt different now. Hours passed or perhaps only minutes. The forest eventually thinned until the dark line of a road appeared beneath your bare feet.

Streetlamps flickered weakly through falling snow. Your wings scraped along the pavement. Your skin trembled violently with cold. Your breath came in small, ragged clouds.

Your gaze lifted.

And you saw a house.

Two stories of dark brick. Every window glowed softly from within.

It stood apart from the other homes.

Beautiful.

Wrong.

The moment you looked at it, something deep inside your ruined grace stirred.

You walked toward it anyway.

Like a wounded bird returning to an unfamiliar nest.

By the time you reached the garden, your legs trembled so violently you nearly collapsed. Your wings dragged through the snow behind you, feathers dirty and heavy.

You stopped beneath one of the windows.

Inside, warm golden light flickered.

You should have left.

You knew you should have left.

But instead, you stood there in the darkness, staring through the glass.

A man moved within the room.

Tall.

Precise.

Composed in a way that made your chest tighten with something unfamiliar. He poured himself a glass of deep red wine.

Your breath fogged against the glass.

You couldn't look away.

Then…

His head lifted.

Slowly.

As if he had heard something that did not exist.

His eyes found yours through the frost-covered window.

And he did not flinch.

Your fingers tightened around your broken halo.

Inside the house, the man placed his glass down. His movements were unhurried, almost graceful as he approached the window.

When he stood before you, the light revealed his face clearly.

Calm. Thoughtful. And something darker, buried very deep behind his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact he opened the window.

Cold air slipped between you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

You felt your heart hammering painfully inside your chest. The sound alone felt overwhelming. Angels were not meant to hear their own hearts.

Then, quietly, you spoke.

“Hannibal… Lecter.”

The name left your mouth like instinct.

Angels knew such things, and even if divinity was slipping from you, it stuck out to you.

His soul was…

Rotten.

Beautifully rotten.

A slow blink passed over his dark eyes.

He studied you with unsettling patience.

You watched him.

“You speak my name,” he said softly.

His voice was velvet, soft soothing against your trembling form.

“And yet… we have never met.”

His gaze drifted down your wings, massive things now dragged through dirt and blood-streaked snow.

“Are you lost?”

You nodded slowly.

The movement felt heavy.

“I am.”

Your voice sounded smaller than you remembered it ever being.

Your fingers tightened unconsciously around the halo.

“I cannot go home.”

The words felt like glass inside your throat. A faint crack echoed through the halo in your hands.

You gasped softly.

Another fracture had split across the halo’s surface.

You held it closer to your chest immediately, as if your pure warmth might heal it.

“I am far from it.”

For a moment, Hannibal said nothing.

His gaze lowered to the broken ring.

Then his eyes returned to you, curious in a way.

“You fell from Heaven?”

Your answer came instantly.

“No.”

Too quickly. Too defensive.

You turned away from him before he could ask anything more.

Your legs finally gave out beneath you as you stepped further into the garden. The cold grass bit through your skin as you collapsed into the snow.

Your wings shifted weakly.

One of them unfolded partially, feathers scattering into the white ground beneath you. Some were stained with blood from the violence of your fall.

With a tired motion, you pulled the wing over your body like a blanket.

Your breathing slowed.

Below you, the snow welcomed you into its cold embrace.

Above you, the night continued to fall.

Hannibal stood at the window watching.

For several seconds, he did not move.

An angel.

Collapsed in his garden like a dying bird.

He felt no pity.

But fascination.

That bloomed immediately.

The surgeon in him saw injury.

The artist saw ruin.

And something darker wondered what an angel might taste like.

He left the window.

Moments later, the back door opened.

Cold air rushed inside as Hannibal stepped out into the snow, coat hastily thrown over his shoulders. His footsteps were quiet as he approached you.

His voice was soft.

Almost gentle. As he towered above you.

“You’re freezing.”

Your eyes peeked over the edge of your wing.

The feathers trembled slightly with every shallow breath you take.

You watched him.

“No,” you whispered again.

Your voice was weaker now. Thinner. As if the cold is slowly stealing pieces of it.

Angels were never meant to shiver.

Angels were never meant to feel the cold gnawing into bone.

But your body trembled anyway as your divinity left you, too far from home.

With a quiet, pained gasp, you dragged your wing fully over yourself again, burying your body beneath the damaged feathers like a wounded creature hiding in its own plumage.

Your breath stuttered.

The torn flesh in your wing stretched and sent pain right through you.

Hannibal saw it now.

The rip.

A thin but unmistakable tear through the soft layers of feathers.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Fascinating.

You claim not to feel the cold.

Yet pain…

Pain speaks a language every creature understands.

Without asking, he reached toward you.

Slowly.

Two long fingers hovered beside the wound, careful not to touch the torn skin just yet. He pressed gently into the surrounding feathers instead.

You flinched instantly.

Your wing snapped close with a rustle of feathers, hiding the wound.

“Don’t– touch me.” you hissed.

A wounded animal’s warning.

Hannibal withdrew his hand at once.

Not offended or irritated.

Only… observing.

Interesting.

“The wound requires cleaning.”

His gaze flicks briefly toward the warm glow of the house behind him before returning to your dark, wary eyes.

You shake your head immediately.

“It doesn’t…”

Your voice cracked slightly as you clung to the last bit of hope that your divinity was not lost.

Angels healed.

You always healed.

Before Heaven took everything from you.

Your body curled tighter against itself as another wave of pain rolled through you. With every passing second, the strange heaviness of your human flesh became more apparent.

Your heart was too loud.

Your lungs burned.

Your muscles ached.

Pain was no longer something you merely understood.

Now it lived inside you.

You gasped softly.

A small whimper escaped your throat before you could stop it.

You tried so desperately to push yourself upright, but your arms trembled violently beneath your weight. Your wings twitched uselessly behind you. Nothing about this body obeyed you the way it should.

Hannibal saw it.

The failed movement.

The awkward struggle.

Angels, he had always imagined, would move like poetry.

You moved like something broken.

Something that had forgotten how its own body works.

A living thing whose flesh was betraying it.

He made a decision.

Before you coil protest again, he slid one arm carefully beneath your shoulders and another behind your knees.

Then he lifted you, almost effortlessly.

If it weren’t for the wings.

They were heavy.

Shockingly heavy. The weight nearly equal to your own body.

You did not fight him this time.

Fear flickered in your chest, but something else rose beside it.

Something strange.

Something almost familiar.

Your halo pulsed faintly in your trembling hands.

The light was weaker now.

Dim.

Fading.

You clutched it tighter against your feather-covered chest as a small sob caught in your throat.

“Please… no…”

Hannibal paused, not because you resisted him.

Because of that.

The plea.

His eyes lowered to the object you cradled so desperately.

The halo.

Its glow flickering like a dying star.

He studied your face.

Tears clinging to your lashes.

Your lips trembled.

Angels cry.

Apparently.

“What is happening to it?”

You pressed the ring harder against yourself. As if you could push it back into your soul.

“I’m dying,” you whispered, even if it wasn’t entirely true.

But it is the closest word your mind could find.

Angels were not meant to feel like this.

The pounding heart.

The aching muscles.

The unbearable weight of sensation flooding every nerve.

You had once felt human pain only through empathy.

Now it belonged to you.

And it was unbearable.

Hannibal exhaled softly.

You were not dying.

Not yet.

He carried you through the open door of the house.

The heat from the fireplace made your body shudder harder due to the sudden contrast.

Carefully, almost delicately, Hannibal lowered you onto a plush couch near the fire.

Your wings spilled across the cushions, feathers scattered softly across the dark fabric.

For a moment he simply stands there.

Watching.

Assessing.

The wound.

Your trembling body.

The failing halo clutched in your hands.

[solesurvivorjen]

Fallen Secrets

A Alastor x Fallen Angel Reader

A Request from Discord

Heaven was a beautiful and bright place filled with happiness and all of the food you could eat if you wanted to. You never craved or hungered for anything but it was nice to get your fill of a sweet treat once in a while.

You were with friends, hanging out and flying through the cotton candy clouds. Racing them but losing as you hit a giant cloud and feeling your wings and dress against the puffs of colorful fluff.  

You brush yourself off; laughing as your friends descend down from the sky and ask if you want to go hit the new bakery that just opened up. You were down for it and started walking with them through town. Only then did you see Adam and Lute walking in the opposite direction from your group. That’s when you remember that you have to give something to Emily that you made for her and you gasp.

“Oh my heavens! I forgot all about that. You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up later!” You fly off giving them a wave goodbye. Not knowing that this will be the last time you will ever see them again.

Emily has helped you process some of your trauma that had happened to you during your life on Earth and it was very enlightening and healing for you. You were so grateful to her that you made her something special. A drawing of her, you loved art. It was one of your passions that got you through some of the hardest days in your life and you brought joy to others with your art despite your pain. You thought Emily was a beautiful Seraphim and wanted to encapsulate her in your style as thanks for all her help.

You arrive at the main citadel looking for Emily, hoping that you will run into her. Holding the drawing to your chest as you walk the halls looking for your kind friend. Then you hear hushed voices behind an open door. 

“The denizens of heaven can never know what really goes on yearly. If they find out; I’m not sure what will happen.”

You hear the older Seraphim named Sera from behind the door, as you tilt your head wanting to know what you were over hearing.

“We can still keep it a secret. I just want to annihilate those assholes down in Hell every six months!”

“More things have to happen before we increase the numbers, Adam, you know that. We have to have a reason to increase the number of exterminations every six months. Right now we will continue doing this annually until further notice. No exceptions. Understand?”

You gasp covering your mouth as you back away from the door and look for a hiding place.

“Fine.” Adam says begrudgingly.

You look for a place to hide and you hide behind the pillars watching Sera and Adam walk out of the room together. You knew you had to tell your friends, the others. That this isn’t right. Why would they be exterminating sinners like this? You turn around to leave when you hear a voice from behind you.

“Going somewhere?”

You turn around and see a woman with a horned mask who sounds like Lute. She lunges for you, taking you by the hair and knocking you against a pillar, knocking you out cold.

You come to as your blurry vision makes out the outlines of Adam and Lute both standing over you. 

“Rise and shine! I have some questions for you.” Adam smirks as you sit up and look around at your surroundings. You notice you are outside of the gates and behind you is the edge of heaven that you were sitting dangerously close to. Turning your head you face both the first man and his number one commander. 

Adam glides over and bends down to your level as he tilts your head up with one finger under your chin. 

“How much of that conversation did you overhear?” He asks you, squeezing your chin with his forefinger and thumb. “You better be honest.” Adam says, his voice threatening.

You start stammering, “I-I don’t know what exactly I heard. Something about exterminations in Hell? How come no one knows about this?”

“We are the ones asking questions here!” Adam squeezes your chin more in a painful grip and you wince.

“Sir it seems like she knows too much.” Lute states.

Your eyes widen as you see her draw out her spear. She isn’t going to kill you is she? Can Angels even be killed? You ask yourself these questions as Adam's number 1 approaches you.

“It seems like it can’t be helped.” Adam sighs as he makes you stand with him and turns your back towards Lute. You try to escape but Adam is quick enough to hold your arms in a tight grip.

“Do your thing, Lute.” He commands.

You hear the sound or mettle meeting bone as you feel a sharp pain spread across your back letting out a scream of despair and pain as you thrash in Adams grip. You feel warm liquid trickle down your back wanting the first man to let you go so you can grip your back. You watch as Lute takes your wings and throws them off the edge of the clouds.

“NO! YOU MONSTERS!” You scream in pain. 

Adam grabs you by the throat and dangles you off of the edge of the clouds. You thrash around trying to get him to let go hoping that you can somehow manage to catch yourself.

“Too bad you had to find out like this, now we just need to make sure you can never talk.” He says, taking off your halo and throws you off the side of the cloud. As you fall you see the blood from your back drip up while you fall further and further, eventually being engulfed in darkness. Adam looks down at the halo in his hands and shrugs tossing it off the side like a frisbee. 

After your fall you landed hard in the pride ring in pentagram city. At first you were attacked by a demon who wanted to do unspeakable things to you and just as fast as he was trying to pounce on you he was stabbed by a spear. A woman with white hair and an ex over her eye had just saved you from sexual assault. Behind her was a blond haired girl dressed in a red suit looking at you with concern and that’s when everything went black.

Charlie the Princess of hell, and her girlfriend Vaggie, took you into their hotel and patched you up. At the time it was called the Happy Hotel and it was a place where sinners go to be redeemed. That’s what it was built for but it was still a work in progress.. You didn’t give much details as to how or why you fell as you didn’t want to relive the trauma of what happened. Charlie was very patient with you as she consoles your shaken form from what happened. 

Your secret was safe with Charlie and Vaggie about you being a fallen angel and they told no one as the hotel started to gain popularity. Charlie made it her secret special project to redeem you. Well not really redeem you as you haven’t done anything wrong but she wants to try to get you back up to heaven where you belong.

The first to enter the hotel after you was Angel Dust. You have heard that sinners were despicable demons that could not be trusted. It took you a while to warm up to Angel and to gain his trust. When you started to trust him it was because you were having a bad day and down in the dumps. Remembering what life was like before you fell. Angle notices this and takes the time to make you a plate of a penne pasta dish and he brought fat nuggets along to have you pet him. When he knocked on your door you answered by cracking the door open you see Angel holding the bowl in one arm and his pet pig in another arm.

“Heya, I noticed you were a little down in the dumps so I made you some pasta and brought fat nuggs. Can I come in?”

You wipe a tear falling down your cheek as you smell the spice of italian sausage and pasta sauce invading your nostrils. 

“That’s really nice of you, Angel. It’s just my room is a mess right now and I can’t really have anyone come into it right now.”  You lie, closing the door quickly to your room so he won’t see the angel wings hanging up on the wall.

“Ohhhkaaay…how about my room?”

“Yeah we can do that.”

You two end up hanging out in his room as you enjoy the pasta and pet on the demon pig as he talks to you about why he is staying at the hotel and that he wasn’t really there for redemption. He just wanted a free place to crash at and how crack was expensive. You say nothing and listen as he talks while you pet the pig and it helps ground you from your anguished state.

It was only a matter of time until he showed up to the hotel. Charlie and Vaggie had gone out to promote the hotel on a news station while Angel went out to do his thing. When they came back you were hanging out in the lobby as you watched Vaggie’s exasperated form collapse in a chair and groan. After making a phone call Charlie comes in leaning her body against the double doors.

Then you hear the knock and Charlie opens the door to a demon dressed in red, an eternal smile on his face as he introduces himself as Alastor and walks in like he owned the place. You noticed his voice sounding like it was coming from a radio as you looked on in wonder at this new demon. 

You watched as Alastor asked Angel what he could do, and Angel offered to suck his dick. You almost lose your composure as you see his reaction and that’s when he noticed your presence. 

“Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure sweet heart.” he holds his hand out as you feel the static prickle upon your neck. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” You say politely. 

“Well, someone with manners in this cesspool you don’t get that very often down here.”

He looks down at you one last time before walking away and working his magic on the hotel. From that day forward the hotel was known as the Hazbin Hotel.

You wake up in your bed panting and drenched in a cold sweat. Feeling your back, wanting your wings there but they are not connected to you. They haven’t been connected to you for quite some time. Your wings are currently pinned up on the wall of your room, as a reminder of what you lost and a promise of what you need to get back. You sigh to yourself, covering your face as you try to press the memories back down into your soul so you can function.

It was only a dream.

You look over to your calendar and see the circle on today’s date. It’s the anniversary of your fall. 

Sighing to yourself you go to make coffee from your keurig and try to decide on how it would be best to survive this day without too many of the patrons getting concerned. You knew Angel would want to spend some time with you and try to get you to pet his pet pig for emotional support. Charlie probably needs you to help her with trust exercises or some kind of game to help the patrons get to heaven.

Looking down at your phone you see a text from Charlie.

“Hey, hun. Are you coming down for breakfast? Alastor made this delicious hell crab omelet dish that you need to try.”

You smile down at the message wishing that you could join them, but feel it would be best to be alone for the day. Picking up the phone, you open the message app and start to text back.

“Thank you, but I think I’m going to pass on breakfast. Today isn’t a good day for me. I’ll eat later. Thanks.”

You hit send and lay back down in bed. A few seconds later your phone lights up from a text back from the princess and you see the message.

“I’m sorry I forgot it’s today. I’ll have razzle come up with breakfast soon. Please try to take care of yourself.”

You smile at Charlie’s caring nature as you close your eyes to catch up on more sleep. Not caring if you sleep through the morning.

Charlie and the others help with the breakfast clean up after they finish up with their meal. Alastor is quite curious about your current state and why you weren’t down for this morning's meal. As he finishes up with the clean up he watches razzle start to take your dish up to your room. He quickly stops him smiling down at the goat creature. 

“I’ll go ahead and take it. I believe Princess Morningstar needs your assistance with the pantry.” He smirks as Razzle leaves the plate with the Radio Demon. 

Alastor turns into a shadow and sinks into the ground to teleport himself to your door. He stands there with the plate in hand before going into your room. It was a known fact amongst the residents that no one, except for Charlie and her girlfriend, were allowed in your room. It simply piqued his curiosity as to why your room is off limits to everyone else. 

Alastor quietly lets himself in without making a sound into your dark room. He observes your sleeping form curled up under the covers lightly breathing and oblivious to the radio demon in your room. Alastor gently sits the plate down on your bedside table and he looks down at your face half covered up by your blankets as you try to hide from the world. A single tear falling from your eye and down your cheek. He quickly catches it with the tip of his claw careful not to wake you as he wipes it away. 

Alastor turns away from you viewing the display of your wings on your wall. He puts two and two together, realizing why Charlie and Vaggie were so hush hush about who you really are. How you wouldn’t let him into your room when he would try to come up and visit just to chit chat with you out of boredom. He had always found you interesting and charming with your polite personality. How adorable it was with how shy you are around others you barely knew. Alastor wanted to get to know you more and to sink his claws into your innocent form but you built up walls to keep him out. Now that he knows about your past those walls have been taken down and he saves this knowledge for later use. 

Alastor leaves your sleeping form and closes the door behind him as he heads up to his radio tower to start on today’s radio broadcast.

After spending the day in your room and taking care of yourself, you find yourself being lured to the kitchen by the smell of something sweet. You find Alastor in an apron flipping pancakes for the rest of the crew. 

“Good morning, Alastor. I came down to thank you for the wonderful breakfast yesterday morning. The dish was delicious.” You smile up at him then look down at the stack of mouth watering pancakes.

“I’m happy you enjoyed them as much, my dear angel.” He says never looking down at you as he flips the flat cake in the air. 

You freeze, letting his words register in your mind. “What was that?”

Alastor slides the pancake on top of another finishing the dish. He then turns and hands the plate to you as he ignores your question. 

“For you, dear. I hope they are to your liking.” 

You look back up at him then down at your plate and back to him observing the eternal smile plastering his face as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes.

“Is something troubling you?” He asks static in his voice as he asks. “Is there something you would like to share?”

You back away as you hold the plate in your hand. “I think I should get going. Thank you for the pancakes...” 

He didn’t just call me an angel did he? How could he have known? Maybe it’s just a coincidence?

You walk out of the kitchen fast as if the devil himself is nipping at your heels. You take the pancakes up to your room choosing to eat them in the silence. Hoping that the others will come to the conclusion that you still aren’t feeling your best. You look down realizing you forgot the syrup and you get up to take another trip down to the kitchen. Opening the door you see Alastor tall and menacing staring down at you with a bottle of syrup in his hand.

You close the door quickly hoping that he would just go away and leave the bottle at the door but that is not the case. He uses his shadow to teleport himself under the crack of your door and into your room. 

“Oh my, no need to be rude. I was only trying to save you a trip.”

“You need to leave, please.”

Alastor lets out a low chuckle as he leaves the syrup by your breakfast plate. “Why so secretive? I already knew about your origins. Such a beautiful display of broken wings. Why do you torture yourself so? Isn’t it enough that you belong down here with a bunch of misfits? Don’t you feel like you fit right in?”

“That’s enough, please go…” you beg; not looking at Alastor. You feel a clawed finger take your chin forcing you to look up at the radio demon in front of you. Tears start to fall down your cheek as you wear a look of torture and dispair. 

“You know you aren’t the only fallen one down here, my dear. You can rest assured that I will not reveal your secret.” You feel his thumbs wipe away your tears falling. “Although I must admit this is not surprising considering how kind and polite you are, unlike the other misfits down here. Tell me…who hurt you?” His smile widens as you can read the malice all over his face as darkness starts to fill the room with what sounds like hushed whispers.

“I’d rather not talk about it. Please…I don’t feel like reliving that right now…”

You hear something akin to a record scratch as the light in the room shifts. 

“That is alright my dear I won’t press any further.”

Despite your secret getting out to the one demon you didn’t want finding out you felt yourself comforted by his presence. 

“You should eat. We wouldn’t want your food getting cold now would we?”

You nod, taking your place on the bed and starting to fill your plate with syrup. “Didn’t you make yourself some?”

“I already ate my fill earlier this morning and I don’t care for sweets. Princess Morningstar was simply craving this dish so I decided to take it upon myself to make it just for you all.”

“Interesting, you do a good job even though you don’t like sweets.” You say taking another bite.

Alastor stays silent as his eyes fixate on you with his hands behind his back. “Would you like to indulge me?” he asks

You stop on the last bite as syrup dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. He chuckles, taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabs the corner of your mouth. 

“What do you mean by indulge you?” You ask

“It’s simple really. I’ll keep your secret and you will give me your company.” He looks down at you smiling widely.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to make a deal with you.”

He rolls his eyes and waves his hand in your direction. “Oh darling, this is not a deal for your soul. It’s a deal among friends.” He hugs you close to him, invading your personal space.

You look down as if thinking about this being a bad idea. At the same time it is nice that you have someone that can understand you aside from Charlie. It felt lonely hiding yourself for this long.

“I accept. As long as there’s no conditions.”

“Not in the slightest my dear.” Alastor says as he takes her hand and places a kiss upon her knuckles. “It’s a deal then, my angel.”

Sorry this took so long to upload. I had a great battle with Depression and came out on top.

I have 5 Requests to get through. Up next is the Peter Parker x FTM Reader Request then after that the Dark Kairi Request.

[ducklinglucifer]

hiiii a new anon here :3

I’m requesting Lucifer x Fallen love angel reader who is super hyper >_<

Lucifer x Fallen Love Angel!GN!Reader

I don't know what you mean by Love Angel? I'm guess the Reader used to spread Love to the Winners in Heaven before they fell? But, welcome new anon. :) I'll do headcanons + a little drabble.

Lucifer's daughter, Charlie, introduced him to many of the staff of her lovely Hotel until he stopped in front of you and blinked his eyes when he remembered who you were. "Y/N?" "Luci!" You were so happy to see your old friend again after all these years. Charlie was in disbelief when seeing her father knew this person. You were a Fallen Angel, the Love Angel in Heaven.

Lucifer wasn't excepted to see his old friend from many years ago to be in Hell? Why would someone as hyper and sweet as you, be in this Hellish hole?

"Oh! I just started to question things and before I knew it, I fell down in front of this lovely hotel!" You had no sad look, just a bright and happy smile.

Lucifer was glad you were found and safe in the arms of Charlie, his daughter.

You were always bring love and joy to the Winners in Heaven, never a dull moment when you were around, but why would Heaven allow you to just fall?

Lucifer knew Heaven never listens so he's happy to have you in a good place, even if it is Hell.

You never let Lucifer be alone again as you could sense his energy that is was all sad and gloomy even if he hid it.

Lucifer, now that you are here, has felt a little more joy in his life and a certain feeling in his heart when you are around him.

Is he in love?

Is this your power? Are you doing this to him? Lucifer felt nervous, more than he was normally, you must still have your love powers.

You, on the other hand, didn't know what Lucifer was talking about, you lost your power once you fell.

Well, shit, that explains everything, Lucifer fuckin' loves you, like really loves you!

If you two enter a relationship, with your super hyper attitude, Lucifer won't have a day to rest when he's around you!

He'd gladly give in and allow you to drag him around to different places, I mean, no one would dare harm the King of Hell and his partner, now would they?

Though, you do have moments were you are calm and some days, you and Lucifer go flying up into the skies of Hell, having a joyful and relaxing evening, just the two of you.

[acecardexe]

WEEP FOR ME | EJ X FALLEN ANGEL! READER | 3

<<Part 2.5 - Part 3 - Part 4>>

Summery: The morning after Rs string of mistakes, Jack watches her move through the house, notes her efforts, and struggles to understand why he hasn’t kicked her out, or worse. Something about her isn’t normal, and he intends to figure out what.

Discontinued

JACKS POV

The house is quiet when Jack wakes, too quiet for someone as clumsy as the creature he let live under his roof.

He sits up slowly, the mattress creaking beneath his weight. His head throbs with the dull ache he’s gotten used to,

something between hunger and annoyance. He can still hear it: her voice from the night before, that cracked little apology, barely held together. It echoes in his mind like a whisper pressed against bone.

“S-sorry…”

Pathetic.

But something about it lingers, sticks to him like a burr he can’t quite peel off.

Jack stands, stretching, bones popping. He moves through the hallway silently, stalking more than walking. He doesn’t have to try; silence comes naturally to him now. The floorboards don’t dare complain beneath his feet.

Halfway down the stairs, he hears her.

Soft footsteps. Hesitant. Pausing often, as if she’s checking for traps.

She’s in the kitchen.

He reaches the bottom step and watches without announcing himself. She’s standing over the counter, shoulders rounded, She’s moving slowly, carefully… like she thinks the air might shatter if she breathes wrong.

There’s a rag in her hand. She’s wiping the same spot for the fourth time.

Jack leans against the wall, arms crossed. The smell of her, soft cuts through the normal kitchen scent. He studies her back, the way her fingers tremble. The way she keeps glancing sideways like a hunted animal.

He knows fear when he sees it. Knows it better than most.

But this,

This isn’t just fear.

It’s devotion twisted with terror, like she’s trying to please someone she thinks will kill her if she fails.

He frowns.

He never told her she’d die if she made a mistake. She just… assumed.

He watches her drop the rag. It slips from her fingers like she’s already expecting punishment for the gravity doing its job.

She freezes.

Jack stays where he is, silent, unmoving, just to see what she’ll do.

She bends quickly, snatching it up, whispering some broken apology to no one. To the air. To herself. He doesn’t know.

He tilts his head.

She wasn’t like this on the first day. Shaken, yes. Nervous, obviously. But this fragile? This brittle?

Something happened.

Something in her past that he’s only seeing the shape of now.

He steps forward.

She doesn’t hear him until he’s already behind her, and when she does,

She startles so violently the rag slips again. Her wings flare wide in panic before snapping shut. She whips around, eyes wide, breathing sharp and shallow.

Like she’s expecting him to hurt her.

He looks down at her. She can’t hold eye contact for more than a heartbeat before dropping her gaze to the floor, shoulders folding inward.

Pathetic.

Fragile.

Terrified.

And somehow… impossible to ignore.

He reaches past her without a word, taking the knife she’d left too close to the edge of the counter. Her breath halts when his arm passes her face. He sets the knife back where it belongs, somewhere it won’t fall and stab a foot, or her. Why does he even bother thinking about that?

He steps back, expression unreadable behind the mask.

“You’re loud in the mornings,” he says. His voice comes out rough but neutral.

She nods immediately, like she’s accepting a punishment. “I-I’ll be quieter.”

He didn’t ask her to be quieter. But she offers it anyway, desperate to please. Trying to earn her right to breathe his air.

It bothers him.

Not in a way he understands.

Not in a way he knows how to get rid of.

Jack turns away, heading for the stairs. “Just… don’t break anything today.”

He doesn’t wait for her response.

But he hears it anyway,

A soft exhale, shaky with relief.

He pauses at the top step, hidden from view, listening.

She picks up the rag again. Moves slower. Softer. Trying her best. Trying for him.

Jack presses his tongue against the back of his teeth. Annoyance curls in his chest. Confusion knots with it.

Why does he care whether she tries at all?

Why hasn’t he thrown her out?

Why didn’t he snap her neck the first time she flinched at him?

His fingers curl.

There’s something wrong about her. Something he can’t name. Something that makes him restless.

He’ll figure it out.

He always does.

--------------------------------

Jack spends most of the day pretending he isn’t keeping track of her.

He sharpens his knives. Cleans the surgical tools he hasn't used in a while. But every time he passes the doorway, he glances into whatever room she’s in, quick, subtle flicks of attention he tells himself are precaution, not interest.

The girl keeps herself small.

She moves from chore to chore like she’s following a script, touching objects lightly, placing things down even lighter. She cleans the table twice. Reorganizes a shelf he didn’t ask her to touch. Quietly repairs a crooked strap on his backpack with shaking fingers.

She doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t meet his eyes.

Jack hates how much he notices the details.

Hates the way she jumps when he breathes too loud.

She shouldn’t still be here.

He should’ve dragged her out after their first meeting. Should’ve bled her dry and dumped the remains with the others who crossed his threshold.

But she’s still here.

And he doesn’t know if it’s her fault… or his.

Twilight creeps through the windows, turning the house dim and blue. Jack finally steps into the room where she’s hovering over a bucket of water, shoulders hunched.

“You missed a spot.”

The effect is immediate.

She freezes, like prey hearing a snapped twig. Slowly, she kneels down and scrubs the corner he’s gesturing to. Her hand shakes. The water ripples.

Jack waits until she finishes.

Waits until she sits back on her heels.

Then he crouches beside her.

He doesn’t touch her.

He doesn’t need to.

She stiffens like he’s already wrapped a hand around her throat.

Her breath stops.

“You’re hiding something. And I don’t like surprises.”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

Jack narrows his eyes.

She’s not human..He knew that by her only sharpen wound on her back.He knew that when he first found her half-conscious and glowing faintly like something celestial gone wrong. But he assumed the light would fade,

It hasn’t.

“Look at me,” he says.

She does,

but only because she physically can’t disobey the command. Her gaze lifts, slow, reluctant, terrified.

Her eyes,

For a moment,

just a moment,

change.

The irises flicker, shifting to something bright and unearthly. Something ancient. Something that shouldn’t exist in a mortal home, scrubbing floors and flinching at footsteps.

Jack leans closer.

There’s no fear in him. Only a cold, sharpening interest.

“What are you,” he murmurs, “really?”

She trembles so violently the bucket tips, water splashing across the floor. She flinches at the mess like she expects him to snap her spine for it.

Jack doesn’t move.

He watches her.

Watches the glow recede as fast as it appeared.

He tilts his head, mask angled.

She looks away, shame dripping off her like the spilled water

Pitiful

And undeniably impossible to ignore.

Jack stands slowly.

“You’ll tell me someday,” he says. “One way or another.”

Or he would find out himself.

He turns and walks away.

Behind him, he hears her fist clench in the wet rag… and something inside the house shifts, subtle and cold, like her presence bends the air just slightly out of alignment.

Jack doesn’t look back.

But he knows now:

She’s a problem.

A mystery.

A creature he should’ve killed on day one…

And for some reason he still hasn’t.

That bothers him more than anything.

[cricky-butspicy]

How does demon atlas help deal with the damage that the heavens did to his angels

A lot of showing and then having them follow.

Example. Fallen Soleil is scared he’ll be smited if he asks for physical attention. Atlas asks for physical attention instead like a hug. Soleil gives him the attention thinking Atlas is in need and pulls away to make sure Atlas is ok. Atlas says he wasn’t smited for helping and giving him physical attention instead, so surely if he asked for physical attention, nothing will happen. Soleil asks for physical attention. Atlas gives it and proves nothing happens.

It’s a lot of things like that. Some small trickery on Atlas’s part just so he can show if he does something and his angels help out with no consequences, they can do the same and all will be well.

Atlas often has to get creative. His angels’ warped minds can be tricky to work with, but he finds ways. Even if what they need or want really is a sin, he shows that not all sins are created equal. A little taste of a sin here and there doesn’t make you a devil, it makes you neutral, which is just fine. No one said being neutral was some horrible thing. He proves of that often.

Reteaching is not an easy thing, but Atlas finds himself a semi-good teacher for some reason despite being a 7th level demon who has never done this before Soleil. He’s actually pretty sure he would have crushed the two before Angel Soleil showed him the kindness he did of letting a power drained Demon Atlas run away with no consequences.

[suenodemuerte]

Observing Eyes

✽ Pairing: Alastor x Grigori!Reader

★ Summary: The Watcher’s were made to observe over humanity. They failed. They became the fallen before the Flood, some ancient writings even say why it may have happened. You are one of the 200 angels that fell to Earth many eons ago; watching your siblings copulate with humans, the destruction of the Nephilim, the deaths that followed with the rampant spread of sin. You were specifically made from the hands of God to watch. Just because you were fallen did not mean you stopped. You would occasionally take breaks from Watching - a little nap every now and again didn't hurt anyone. Nonetheless, this time, you come back to the mess of Heaven and Hell’s feud, Charlie’s creation of the hotel for redemption and a sinister deer demon that seems very interested in what you can provide.

✽ CW: Plus-Size Reader, Fallen Angel Reader, Grigori Reader, Alastor will be weird in upcoming chapter, Reader will be adapting to modern lingo, Reader referred to as Vahariel, not beta read, more tags to come.

✽ A/N: Will be androgynous in descriptions though will have a female leaning body. Will be emphasizing plus-size qualities. If you want to know more about The Watcher's, they're from the Book of Enoch. That's a whole rabbit hole.

Epilogue:

A light touch, a mere poke, brushed over your wings. Instantly, the many eyes littered across them, varied in size and color—shot open. You lay within a crevice carved out eons ago, your wings enveloping you like an onyx, heat-resistant shroud.

Peering through the folds, you easily discerned a nervous face, rosy cheeks, and golden hair most familiar. Charlie.

You had not expected to be disturbed, yet you harbored great affection for her. She was the only child born of demon and human to have survived, owing solely to Lilith’s transformation before consummation. And, unlike so many in Hell, she radiated all the good traits of humanity. As you recalled, she had always been the kindliest of children.

Some of your eyes flicked toward the figure behind Charlie—a girl with long, grayish-white hair, an ‘X’ in place of her left eye. Pale as the moon, she looked near stricken at the sight of you though you paid it no mind.

“Hey, Vahariel! Sorry to wake you, sleepyhead!” Charlie chirped, leaning over the crevice you had nestled into. “I, uh… I was just told by my dad to wake you up, so…” She laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. The dim glow of magma reflected upon her fair skin, casting shifting shadows around her.

A yawn escaped you as your wings unfurled, shifting just enough to allow you to slide from the earthen hollow. At a mere five feet and five inches in height, you had long since taken a smaller form, having grown fond of blending in. When roaming the streets of Hell, it proved far more convenient as well. Your natural stature, towering at nine feet, three inches, was too much of a hassle, and you hardly needed to loom over the damned to observe their chaos.

Settling into place, your short, plump frame stretched as two great wings extended behind you, their silken feathers parting slightly to reveal countless watchful eyes. They surveyed all angles, some peering from the front, others from behind. A mere glimpse of your truest form was offered of wings inscribed with glowing symbols, shifting hues of deep blues, blacks, and gold.

Beneath your cloak of feathers, you wore a layered vestment, its design reminiscent of the garb once worn by Greek priests. A fitted tunic, black and gold, adorned with celestial embroidery, fell over your frame. Paired with it was a draped, skirt-like garment, belted with black leather and wrapped in sheer sashes of purple and black, their fabric bearing symbols long lost to time and space.

Adjusting your vestment, you let your wings close around you once more, though you made no effort to smooth your hair, well aware of its unkempt state.

Upon the back of your wings, two great eyes remained open, bearing witness to all behind you, while two smaller ones sat on your chest and upon each shoulder. You had been cast from your station as a Watcher, yet still, you watched. It was your purpose. It was how you had been created.

A slow smile curved upon your lips as your gaze settled upon the princess.

“My dearest niece, how dost thou fare, Charlie? To be sent upon a fool’s errand by thy father! Verily, he knows no shame.” A soft chuckle rumbled in your throat, a pair of golden eyes blinking open above your main ones. “He is knowledgeable in such matters, yet where is he, pray tell, when he ought to be here himself? How else am I to be affront to him?”

Charlie giggled, though the girl beside her, Vaggie stiffened slightly under your gaze.

“Pray, who is this?” you mused, tilting your head slightly. “We are not acquainted, I daresay.”

Charlie, grinning, grasped the girl’s wrist and pulled her closer. “This is Vaggie! I’m excited to show you what’s been happening in Hell and the hotel I’ve created! But, we should hurry back. Dad said this portal won’t hold out for more than thirty minutes for us.” She huffed, though she did not seem particularly troubled by the notion.

She motioned for you to follow, she and Vaggie taking the lead toward a shimmering portal of gold. Silently, you moved behind them, stretching beneath the folds of your wings, musing upon what in the vast cosmos she could possibly mean.

[yandereunsolved]

In Death & Life

pairing: James Patrick March x fallen angel! gender neutral! reader summary: You preform a necromancy ritual on your fiancé to bring him back from death. The both of you reminisce and connect with each other on the mortal plane. content warning(s): none word count: 675

author's note: Just a short little thing. I lost determination to write it all the way so I gave it a satisfying end.

Ceremonial crimson candles cast an ominous shadow amongst the room that hides the secrets of a killer. The wicks slowly burn towards their inevitable end, the ritual already underway. Room sixty-four lies bare of any of its previous furnishings. A salt ring lies in the middle. Nothing lies within the ring; not even the light from the candles dares to touch it. For it is crowded with the souls of the damned. The demonic entities are praising the one that helps their master rise from his grave.

A bowl of rose water lies right outside the ring. A figure clad in cloth blacker than the hearts of men. A veil covers their face as they mutter ancient incantations only known by a chosen few. They mutter them fervently, almost obsessively. Again and again in a seemingly never-ending loop.

Their knees ache from kneeling for so many hours. Their heart aches more—your heart aches more. Your heart beats for the man you are resurrecting: James Patrick March. Your JPM. Your beloved fiancé. The one you saved from that wretched woman. The Countess may have felt nothing for the darkness, but you feel everything. You slit her neck, and her tower of power crumbled beneath your feet. You filled the hole in his soon-beating chest.

You coat your numbed hands in the rosewater. One of the final steps in his resurrection. Having an affinity for death and necromancy since childhood finally came to fruition. Without his original body, you had to haggle a few souls in the Cortez for a demon to create a new one for him. In that moment, it was all worth it.

You stand as your hand reaches into the salt circle. The shadows receded as the flames of the candles cast them away. The dance between the devils and the darkness intertwined into both of your souls. He calls out to you like a spellbinding siren's song. From the depths of the shadows comes your true love.

His body was exactly that while in his ghost form. His ravenette strands still ever slicked back. The trimmed mustache of his sitting proudly above his top lip. His toned body was proudly suited to those three pieces. His neck slit is now healed, but the scar is apparent.That charming smile, goddesses, it looks even better now. 

"You are reborn as a warlock, my love. Immortal. Alive." Your words are hoarse and barely escape your cracked lips.

Your shaking hands are struggling to listen to the commands that your mind is giving them. Your left thumb barely touches his cheek before he has dragged you across the circle, separating the salt circle and making it incomplete. You couldn't even begin to care, as the ritual is complete. You are held in his deathly, loving grip once again.

"Indeed, darling. I am now the most famous serial killer, both alive and dead." He whispers fervently as he places feather-light kisses on each of your knuckles. "We shall wed in a few days time. Our consummation will finally be with the both of us living."

Your frayed wings and broken halo appear for a single moment. After all, you cannot risk using your abilities too often. Lest the angels hunt you or the devils wish to make deals for your power. Once a mighty angelic being is now only the shell of one. Your wings are nothing more than bone, and your halo floats above your head in pieces. More fragments of your once-heavenly halo chip off and fall every day. Further tethering you to the mortal realm. 

You wrap the bones around his body as tears fall from your otherworldly eyes. His oddly tender hands wipe the tears away. He brings each finger up to his mouth as he tastes your sadness. A pleased smirk appears on his features as he places a teasing kiss on your delicate temple.

"You taste absolutely divine." He purrs gently as he tugs your waist closer towards him. "I cannot wait to taste you even more after our dinner tonight."