The Angel of Death Victorious
The Angel of Death Victorious
kris/chanyeol
2.5k words; nc-17
warning: depictions of gore, blood, religious context, literal blasphemy
so this is uh... a very old fic. like, 2012-era old. debut era. never quite liked this fic, but it's been so long, and it's technically been finished and beta'd (by myself lolol), so why not. heed the warnings.
H a s e r o t A n g e l ; T h e A n g e l o f D e a t h V i c t o r i o u s
I thought of angels
Choking on their halos
Get them drunk on rose water
See how dirty I can get them
Pulling out their fragile teeth
And clip their tiny wings
Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy
Serpent
Like a time bomb, Yifan was made to be destroyed.
It is raining today, like most days are, and Yifan does what he does on most rainy days - sits in the bookstore slash cafe by the church he looks over and watches. Today is a day like most others, where the sky is a dark grey that matches the dark grey concrete of the ground, and the steam from his cup of coffee is just as interesting as the passerbys.
Most people start to leave the church noon session around three o’clock, and as Yifan looks at the clock on the cafe wall, the sigh he lets out mixes in with the cold air. Half an hour left.
He’s not allowed in the church during mass, because he retains his angel form when inside holy walls, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.
Yifan watches a group of businessmen pass by, suitcases clutched tightly in their hands. One of them talks about the end of the world. December 12, did you hear?
Agape
“You ruined me,” Chanyeol gasps in between sobs. “You took my holiness. You stole it.”
“I didn’t,” Yifan whispers, taking his hand. “I swear I didn’t, I love you, I loved you before and I love you now, you asked me, I swear, I’d never wish this on you.”
“They’re going to take me away,” he gasps.
“I’ll find you,” Yifan says. “I’ll burn the world down until I find you. Do you love me?”
Chanyeol nods.
He regrets nodding.
Eve
Chanyeol hates the rain. It's cold and wet and usually messes with his plans to go play baseball. The rain pours today, and Chanyeol's light blue umbrella almost blows in as he runs from the gates of his college campus to the cathedral a few blocks away.
Surprisingly enough, Chanyeol is a devout Catholic who attends church every Sunday. Today happens to be Sunday morning, and normally Chanyeol would be there by now, sitting somewhere in the fourth or fifth row, but always behind Yixing and Baekhyun, because who else is going to poke the back of Yixing’s neck and watch him squirm during the priest’s Opening Rites?
This is all Kyungsoo’s fault. And the weather, but mainly Kyungsoo. Sure, they have a project due tomorrow, and they’re probably going to pull an allnighter finishing it, but if they’re still going to pull an all nighter to finish it, he might as well have left early and gotten to church on time.
He almost gets run over twice, and nearly knocks down a toddler off her feet, but he gets to the church right before the doors close and he slips in as quietly as he can (which, considering Chanyeol, is not very quiet).
Baekhyun rolls his eyes at him as he slides in behind them, but grabs Chanyeol’s outstretched hand anyway and gives him a welcoming squeeze. He makes sure to blow on the back of Yixing’s neck as much as he can while pretending to talk about Baekhyun about Extremely Important Things that need to be said during the sermon.
It’s half way through the sermon when Chanyeol starts to drift off, mind still hazy from the lack of sleep the night before, and he slumps down, leaning his head back against the bench.
“Hey,” Yixing says from the front, “don’t fall asleep.”
“I’m not,” Chanyeol mumbles, eyes flitting upwards. “I’m no--”
Something bright and white catches his attention, upstairs, hiding behind the pillar. Or, he thinks it’s hiding. There’s feathers, and he blinks, and then there isn’t. “Chanyeol?” Yixing asks.
“Did you see that?” Chanyeol asks, sitting up again. He points, and Baekhyun smacks his hand down.
“Don’t point you dumbass, and what are we seeing?”
The lady next to them shushes them, and they all guilty look at the floor. Chanyeol looks up again and swears he sees a feather fall.
Gnosis
"God is angry," an ominous voice says, and Yifan watches in muted horror as the robed figure turns around, and there is a skull for a face. "God is dead," the skull continues, in Chanyeol's voice. "Run."
And then the bony hand reaches for his face, and a long, desperate scream tears apart the air as Yifan feels his skin peeling away, along with his wings, and his halo splatters blood as it's ripped from his head.
Apokalypsis
“Are you a fallen angel?” Chanyeol asks, thumbing the rim of his glass.
Yifan hums. “No. Well, sort of. An outcast angel, in a way. They say I’m broken.”
Chanyeol feels the burn of whiskey as it goes down his throat. “They?”
“The other angels,” Yifan elaborates. “They say I wasn’t created properly. Something went wrong. But that can’t be true, right? God makes no mistakes.”
“Right,” Chanyeol says, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. “He just has something different planned for you. You’re special in that way.”
“Special,” Yifan says, staring at the bottle of Whiskey. “I like that.”
Truth
Chanyeol sees, and he sees red.
He sees Yifan, skin peeling off his face, digging into someone’s grave. He sees boney white fingers clawing at the dirt.
He sees black tears falling onto the ground, and neat hangul that spells out, “Here lies Park Chanyeol; Guardian Angel over St Acius Church.”
Yifan is not an angel.
Yifan’s wings burn, black charcoal stinging the air, and Chanyeol thinks he’s going to choke and die. He wants Yifan to leave his body alone, doesn’t know why Yifan’s digging up his body, doesn’t know when or where this is and why Yifan has black eyes and black tears and bloody gashes all over his body.
Rapture
Chanyeol tastes like spearmint and two thousand years of separation, and Yifan wants to spend all of his time licking his way into Chanyeol’s mouth, kissing him until two thousand years becomes one thousand nine hundred and ninety nine, one thousand nine hundred and ninety eight, one thousand nine hundred and ninety seven.
He wants to break down time and reconstruct it until nothing else matters but the way Chanyeol holds onto him, unsteady on his own feet and entirely reliant on Yifan.
Depravity
“Why do you have to talk to the pastor?” Baekhyun asks, after the sermon.
Chanyeol tosses his backpack onto the bench. “You don’t think anyone is gonna steal this, right? This is a church. And he wanted me to be one of the counselors for the summer camp, but I’m taking summer courses.”
Baekhyun snorts. “You’d get lost first and never find your way back here.”
He grins. “It’s great, I’m going to explore and gain inspiration for my Gothic and Medieval design class.”
“This church isn’t that old.”
“It’s a cathedral,” Chanyeol retorts, “and its structure is basically a smaller version of the Milan Cathedral.”
“Much smaller.”
“Whatever,” Chanyeol says. “Big enough to get lost. And I intend to get lost.”
Culpability
"Please," Chanyeol sobs from where he's kneeling down in front of the statue of Virgin Mary, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles are a bone-white color, "don't let them take me. Don't let them take me away."
She cries, and she cries blood.
Volition
The skies are surprisingly clear after all the rain, and Chanyeol thanks the moonlight floating in through the many windows, because all the lights inside the church are off.
Technically, this is probably considered trespassing, but Chanyeol knows the priest well enough to explain why he’s here.
The easel’s set up in the main room, but Chanyeol’s got his DSLR and curiosity to guide him through the rest of the building.
It isn’t until he doesn’t know where he is when he starts to feel like someone’s watching him.
He walks a little faster, looks into the corners of the room a little more, until he’s running, hollow footsteps echoing through the empty corridor.
He doesn’t know what he’s running from, doesn’t want to know.
The hallway ends, and he slows down to a stop, trying to calm his body down. He can feel his heart beating erratically against his ribcage, and the air squeezes out from his lungs when he realizes the only exit is the way he came from.
“Who’s there?” he asks.
The room is deafeningly silent, the world slightly skewed in limbo, and Chanyeol thinks he’s going to collapse in relief, but then he sees something at the edge of his vision.
A feather falls to the ground, and he looks up. And he screams.
Pandora’s Box
Yifan rocks into Chanyeol, relishing in the low groan Chanyeol lets out. Chanyeol feels so good around him, so tight and warm and perfect -- Yifan wants to lock Chanyeol up and steal him away from the prying eyes of the world, hide him until the Statue of Catherine’s tears turn into blood and run dry and the world stops spinning and falls into the sky and crashes and burns, until nothing is left, not even time, except for Yifan and Chanyeol and--
“Yifan,” Chanyeol moans deliriously, “Yifan, Yifan, please, I--”
He hadn’t realized how hard he was fucking Chanyeol - fast, tortuous thrusts, hard enough that Chanyeol’s head is pressed into the pillow, eyes glazed over as drool runs down his chin. His hands are fisted in the sheets as he lets Yifan worship his body, sucking dark bruises onto unmarred skin.
Chanyeol lets out a long, breathy whine when Yifan slows considerably, and he leans down to whisper in Chanyeol's ear, "C'mon, head up, I want to see you."
He receives another pained whine, but Chanyeol shifts so that so he's leaning on his forearms, and Yifan takes a hand and entwines their fingers together. He grins into Chanyeol's ear and says, "See that? Our fingers fit together perfectly."
Chanyeol manages to crack a grin. "Like we were made for each other."
"We are made for each other," Yifan snaps, and Chanyeol's smile leaves as quickly as it comes when Yifan hits that spot that makes Chanyeol keen, high pitched, and clench around Yifan.
"Oh god, Yifan," Chanyeol pleads, "There, there, again--"
"Yeah?" Yifan asks, lips tracing the curve of Chanyeol's ear, "You like that?" Prompted by Chanyeol's nod, he continues, "I like the way you fit so well underneath me. I like the way you say my name. But best of all? I like the way you beg."
He emphasizes the last syllable with a particularly hard thrust that has Chanyeol yelling Yifan’s name, body shaking, and Yifan has to hold him up with an arm around his waist.
"Yifan," he whimpers as Yifan pinches his nipple, "let me come, please. I need to come."
Another shout escapes his throat when Yifan sits up on his knees, dragging Chanyeol with him and fucking him hard in completely new angle. Chanyeol is loud now, and Yifan pulls at his hair with the hand not holding his body up until it rests against his shoulder. "You want to come?" he asks, and Chanyeol nods, tears running down his face. "You come when I tell you to, untouched. Okay?"
"I can't do it," Chanyeol sobs. "I'm so close."
"Shh," Yifan hushes him. "You're doing so well right now, just a little bit more, okay?"
Chanyeol nods, squeezing his eyes shut as Yifan pounds into him relentlessly, dragging his hips out and then slamming back in so that Chanyeol can feel his heart racketing in his ribcage.
It only takes a few more thrusts before Yifan whispers a harsh "Come," and bites down on Chanyeol's shoulder so hard he draws blood.
That's all Chanyeol needs before he's screaming Yifan's name and orgasming, long and hard all over his abdomen. His ears ring and his vision goes white, raw pleasure shooting through his veins like firecrackers before he slumps down and everything goes black.
Purgatory
“I’ve been watching you,” Yifan says quietly, and looks up at Chanyeol with something akin to innocence, wings slightly folding over him.
“Me?” Chanyeol asks. “That’s... is that good? Am I going to be the next virgin sacrifice?”
Yifan laughs, and Chanyeol can’t help but awe over how handsome he is.
“No,” he says, “I just... I like you, I guess. You’re very interesting to watch. You and your friends, in general. But mainly you.”
Chanyeol feels weird. Like he’s talking to someone he’s not supposed to, or shouldn’t be talking to. He should probably leave. Now. “Do you... live here?” he asks, instead.
“Well,” Yifan says thoughtfully, “I guess you could say that. There’s an angel in every church. This one is mine. Usually angels watch from above, but I stay down here.”
Chanyeol should really leave. “I feel like I’m going to be punked,” he says. “I can’t be meeting a real angel. Can I touch your wings?”
“No,” Yifan hisses, stepping back. “No, I. I look like a human for a reason. The wings just don’t go, and for reasons. So, no.”
“O...kay,” Chanyeol mumbles. “Well, um, I should actually be getting back to my dorm. My roommate Zitao probably thinks I’m dead somewhere.”
“You just got here,” Yifan says.
Atonement
This is all Yifan’s fault.
Time scratches at his skin, peeling it away, until the white bone of his ribcage cracks and splits open.
Never leave your heart exposed.
Via Dolorosa
“I love him,” Yifan weeps, “I love him, I love him so much, I love him so much I dug up his body from the grave, I made him again, I love him, please, please.”
The statue of Virgin Mary cries, but says nothing.
The cathedral is silent.
kris/chanyeol
2.5k words; nc-17
warning: depictions of gore, blood, religious context, literal blasphemy
so this is uh... a very old fic. like, 2012-era old. debut era. never quite liked this fic, but it's been so long, and it's technically been finished and beta'd (by myself lolol), so why not. heed the warnings.
H a s e r o t A n g e l ; T h e A n g e l o f D e a t h V i c t o r i o u s
I thought of angels
Choking on their halos
Get them drunk on rose water
See how dirty I can get them
Pulling out their fragile teeth
And clip their tiny wings
Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy
Serpent
Like a time bomb, Yifan was made to be destroyed.
It is raining today, like most days are, and Yifan does what he does on most rainy days - sits in the bookstore slash cafe by the church he looks over and watches. Today is a day like most others, where the sky is a dark grey that matches the dark grey concrete of the ground, and the steam from his cup of coffee is just as interesting as the passerbys.
Most people start to leave the church noon session around three o’clock, and as Yifan looks at the clock on the cafe wall, the sigh he lets out mixes in with the cold air. Half an hour left.
He’s not allowed in the church during mass, because he retains his angel form when inside holy walls, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.
Yifan watches a group of businessmen pass by, suitcases clutched tightly in their hands. One of them talks about the end of the world. December 12, did you hear?
Agape
“You ruined me,” Chanyeol gasps in between sobs. “You took my holiness. You stole it.”
“I didn’t,” Yifan whispers, taking his hand. “I swear I didn’t, I love you, I loved you before and I love you now, you asked me, I swear, I’d never wish this on you.”
“They’re going to take me away,” he gasps.
“I’ll find you,” Yifan says. “I’ll burn the world down until I find you. Do you love me?”
Chanyeol nods.
He regrets nodding.
Eve
Chanyeol hates the rain. It's cold and wet and usually messes with his plans to go play baseball. The rain pours today, and Chanyeol's light blue umbrella almost blows in as he runs from the gates of his college campus to the cathedral a few blocks away.
Surprisingly enough, Chanyeol is a devout Catholic who attends church every Sunday. Today happens to be Sunday morning, and normally Chanyeol would be there by now, sitting somewhere in the fourth or fifth row, but always behind Yixing and Baekhyun, because who else is going to poke the back of Yixing’s neck and watch him squirm during the priest’s Opening Rites?
This is all Kyungsoo’s fault. And the weather, but mainly Kyungsoo. Sure, they have a project due tomorrow, and they’re probably going to pull an allnighter finishing it, but if they’re still going to pull an all nighter to finish it, he might as well have left early and gotten to church on time.
He almost gets run over twice, and nearly knocks down a toddler off her feet, but he gets to the church right before the doors close and he slips in as quietly as he can (which, considering Chanyeol, is not very quiet).
Baekhyun rolls his eyes at him as he slides in behind them, but grabs Chanyeol’s outstretched hand anyway and gives him a welcoming squeeze. He makes sure to blow on the back of Yixing’s neck as much as he can while pretending to talk about Baekhyun about Extremely Important Things that need to be said during the sermon.
It’s half way through the sermon when Chanyeol starts to drift off, mind still hazy from the lack of sleep the night before, and he slumps down, leaning his head back against the bench.
“Hey,” Yixing says from the front, “don’t fall asleep.”
“I’m not,” Chanyeol mumbles, eyes flitting upwards. “I’m no--”
Something bright and white catches his attention, upstairs, hiding behind the pillar. Or, he thinks it’s hiding. There’s feathers, and he blinks, and then there isn’t. “Chanyeol?” Yixing asks.
“Did you see that?” Chanyeol asks, sitting up again. He points, and Baekhyun smacks his hand down.
“Don’t point you dumbass, and what are we seeing?”
The lady next to them shushes them, and they all guilty look at the floor. Chanyeol looks up again and swears he sees a feather fall.
Gnosis
"God is angry," an ominous voice says, and Yifan watches in muted horror as the robed figure turns around, and there is a skull for a face. "God is dead," the skull continues, in Chanyeol's voice. "Run."
And then the bony hand reaches for his face, and a long, desperate scream tears apart the air as Yifan feels his skin peeling away, along with his wings, and his halo splatters blood as it's ripped from his head.
Apokalypsis
“Are you a fallen angel?” Chanyeol asks, thumbing the rim of his glass.
Yifan hums. “No. Well, sort of. An outcast angel, in a way. They say I’m broken.”
Chanyeol feels the burn of whiskey as it goes down his throat. “They?”
“The other angels,” Yifan elaborates. “They say I wasn’t created properly. Something went wrong. But that can’t be true, right? God makes no mistakes.”
“Right,” Chanyeol says, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. “He just has something different planned for you. You’re special in that way.”
“Special,” Yifan says, staring at the bottle of Whiskey. “I like that.”
Truth
Chanyeol sees, and he sees red.
He sees Yifan, skin peeling off his face, digging into someone’s grave. He sees boney white fingers clawing at the dirt.
He sees black tears falling onto the ground, and neat hangul that spells out, “Here lies Park Chanyeol; Guardian Angel over St Acius Church.”
Yifan is not an angel.
Yifan’s wings burn, black charcoal stinging the air, and Chanyeol thinks he’s going to choke and die. He wants Yifan to leave his body alone, doesn’t know why Yifan’s digging up his body, doesn’t know when or where this is and why Yifan has black eyes and black tears and bloody gashes all over his body.
Rapture
Chanyeol tastes like spearmint and two thousand years of separation, and Yifan wants to spend all of his time licking his way into Chanyeol’s mouth, kissing him until two thousand years becomes one thousand nine hundred and ninety nine, one thousand nine hundred and ninety eight, one thousand nine hundred and ninety seven.
He wants to break down time and reconstruct it until nothing else matters but the way Chanyeol holds onto him, unsteady on his own feet and entirely reliant on Yifan.
Depravity
“Why do you have to talk to the pastor?” Baekhyun asks, after the sermon.
Chanyeol tosses his backpack onto the bench. “You don’t think anyone is gonna steal this, right? This is a church. And he wanted me to be one of the counselors for the summer camp, but I’m taking summer courses.”
Baekhyun snorts. “You’d get lost first and never find your way back here.”
He grins. “It’s great, I’m going to explore and gain inspiration for my Gothic and Medieval design class.”
“This church isn’t that old.”
“It’s a cathedral,” Chanyeol retorts, “and its structure is basically a smaller version of the Milan Cathedral.”
“Much smaller.”
“Whatever,” Chanyeol says. “Big enough to get lost. And I intend to get lost.”
Culpability
"Please," Chanyeol sobs from where he's kneeling down in front of the statue of Virgin Mary, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles are a bone-white color, "don't let them take me. Don't let them take me away."
She cries, and she cries blood.
Volition
The skies are surprisingly clear after all the rain, and Chanyeol thanks the moonlight floating in through the many windows, because all the lights inside the church are off.
Technically, this is probably considered trespassing, but Chanyeol knows the priest well enough to explain why he’s here.
The easel’s set up in the main room, but Chanyeol’s got his DSLR and curiosity to guide him through the rest of the building.
It isn’t until he doesn’t know where he is when he starts to feel like someone’s watching him.
He walks a little faster, looks into the corners of the room a little more, until he’s running, hollow footsteps echoing through the empty corridor.
He doesn’t know what he’s running from, doesn’t want to know.
The hallway ends, and he slows down to a stop, trying to calm his body down. He can feel his heart beating erratically against his ribcage, and the air squeezes out from his lungs when he realizes the only exit is the way he came from.
“Who’s there?” he asks.
The room is deafeningly silent, the world slightly skewed in limbo, and Chanyeol thinks he’s going to collapse in relief, but then he sees something at the edge of his vision.
A feather falls to the ground, and he looks up. And he screams.
Pandora’s Box
Yifan rocks into Chanyeol, relishing in the low groan Chanyeol lets out. Chanyeol feels so good around him, so tight and warm and perfect -- Yifan wants to lock Chanyeol up and steal him away from the prying eyes of the world, hide him until the Statue of Catherine’s tears turn into blood and run dry and the world stops spinning and falls into the sky and crashes and burns, until nothing is left, not even time, except for Yifan and Chanyeol and--
“Yifan,” Chanyeol moans deliriously, “Yifan, Yifan, please, I--”
He hadn’t realized how hard he was fucking Chanyeol - fast, tortuous thrusts, hard enough that Chanyeol’s head is pressed into the pillow, eyes glazed over as drool runs down his chin. His hands are fisted in the sheets as he lets Yifan worship his body, sucking dark bruises onto unmarred skin.
Chanyeol lets out a long, breathy whine when Yifan slows considerably, and he leans down to whisper in Chanyeol's ear, "C'mon, head up, I want to see you."
He receives another pained whine, but Chanyeol shifts so that so he's leaning on his forearms, and Yifan takes a hand and entwines their fingers together. He grins into Chanyeol's ear and says, "See that? Our fingers fit together perfectly."
Chanyeol manages to crack a grin. "Like we were made for each other."
"We are made for each other," Yifan snaps, and Chanyeol's smile leaves as quickly as it comes when Yifan hits that spot that makes Chanyeol keen, high pitched, and clench around Yifan.
"Oh god, Yifan," Chanyeol pleads, "There, there, again--"
"Yeah?" Yifan asks, lips tracing the curve of Chanyeol's ear, "You like that?" Prompted by Chanyeol's nod, he continues, "I like the way you fit so well underneath me. I like the way you say my name. But best of all? I like the way you beg."
He emphasizes the last syllable with a particularly hard thrust that has Chanyeol yelling Yifan’s name, body shaking, and Yifan has to hold him up with an arm around his waist.
"Yifan," he whimpers as Yifan pinches his nipple, "let me come, please. I need to come."
Another shout escapes his throat when Yifan sits up on his knees, dragging Chanyeol with him and fucking him hard in completely new angle. Chanyeol is loud now, and Yifan pulls at his hair with the hand not holding his body up until it rests against his shoulder. "You want to come?" he asks, and Chanyeol nods, tears running down his face. "You come when I tell you to, untouched. Okay?"
"I can't do it," Chanyeol sobs. "I'm so close."
"Shh," Yifan hushes him. "You're doing so well right now, just a little bit more, okay?"
Chanyeol nods, squeezing his eyes shut as Yifan pounds into him relentlessly, dragging his hips out and then slamming back in so that Chanyeol can feel his heart racketing in his ribcage.
It only takes a few more thrusts before Yifan whispers a harsh "Come," and bites down on Chanyeol's shoulder so hard he draws blood.
That's all Chanyeol needs before he's screaming Yifan's name and orgasming, long and hard all over his abdomen. His ears ring and his vision goes white, raw pleasure shooting through his veins like firecrackers before he slumps down and everything goes black.
Purgatory
“I’ve been watching you,” Yifan says quietly, and looks up at Chanyeol with something akin to innocence, wings slightly folding over him.
“Me?” Chanyeol asks. “That’s... is that good? Am I going to be the next virgin sacrifice?”
Yifan laughs, and Chanyeol can’t help but awe over how handsome he is.
“No,” he says, “I just... I like you, I guess. You’re very interesting to watch. You and your friends, in general. But mainly you.”
Chanyeol feels weird. Like he’s talking to someone he’s not supposed to, or shouldn’t be talking to. He should probably leave. Now. “Do you... live here?” he asks, instead.
“Well,” Yifan says thoughtfully, “I guess you could say that. There’s an angel in every church. This one is mine. Usually angels watch from above, but I stay down here.”
Chanyeol should really leave. “I feel like I’m going to be punked,” he says. “I can’t be meeting a real angel. Can I touch your wings?”
“No,” Yifan hisses, stepping back. “No, I. I look like a human for a reason. The wings just don’t go, and for reasons. So, no.”
“O...kay,” Chanyeol mumbles. “Well, um, I should actually be getting back to my dorm. My roommate Zitao probably thinks I’m dead somewhere.”
“You just got here,” Yifan says.
Atonement
This is all Yifan’s fault.
Time scratches at his skin, peeling it away, until the white bone of his ribcage cracks and splits open.
Never leave your heart exposed.
Via Dolorosa
“I love him,” Yifan weeps, “I love him, I love him so much, I love him so much I dug up his body from the grave, I made him again, I love him, please, please.”
The statue of Virgin Mary cries, but says nothing.
The cathedral is silent.