Archive of Our Own

Minho was falling. 

Down, down, down from the clouds, descending closer and closer to the surface of the Earth. He closed his eyes, wondering how it got to this. Was it really such a huge deal, going against orders? Surely, his decision was for the greater good? I mean really, was it such a huge deal that refusing to take a life would get him kicked out of Heaven?? Michael really needed to get that stick out of his ass.

But Minho was powerless now, as he continued to plummet to the ground. Would the impact kill him? Sure, he was an immortal being, but Heaven was thousands of kilometers in the sky, his body could very well get crushed in the collision. 

Minho opened his eyes. The ground was getting closer and closer. He closed them again, and braced himself.

He hit the ground with intense force, and was immediately knocked unconscious.

When he woke again, the first thing Minho could register was pain . Intense pain, spreading all across his body.

It was fine, he’d dealt with worse. He battled demons all the time, and if anyone knew how to inflict pain- it was demons. Slowly, Minho pushed himself up, getting ready to fly back up again. 

This whole thing was ridiculous. He just needed to debate his case, get Michael to understand that the small lives of kittens was not worth getting knocked out of the sky for. To hell with “God’s will”, how could anyone look into the faces of a newborn litter and shepherd their souls to the next life? To let them die? Anyone would disobey orders if they were faced with such a task! It wasn’t fair!

Minho stood up carefully and began to stretch out his wings, preparing for flight again. He extended them and- ow owowowowow oh that hurt!

A sharp jolt of pain shot through both wings, a pain so overwhelming, that Minho lost consciousness again, collapsing to the ground.

When Minho awoke again, he had no clue where he was.

He appeared to be in...a house of sorts. How...how on Earth did he get here? He certainly didn’t walk, that’s for sure. And he absolutely didn’t fly either.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

Minho jumped slightly, looking around to see who had just spoke. 

A young man was standing in a doorway on the other side of the room. He appeared to be human. 

“W-who are you? Where am I?” Minho asked.

“My name is Bang Chan,” the man replied, “you’re in my house. I found you passed out in the woods and brought you back here. You...wouldn’t happen to be related to the shooting star that also landed in the woods, would you?”

“Wait, how are you able to see me? Humans can’t see angels,” Minho said, confused.

“Well I’m not human. Or- I’m half-human. I’m a nephilim.”

“A nephilim? Really? Who’s your angelic parent?” 

Minho hadn’t heard of a nephilim being born in centuries- angels were forbidden from taking human lovers a long time ago, because their offspring were too powerful.

Chan cleared his throat and looked off to the side, mumbling something that Minho couldn’t quite catch.

“Come again?” he asked.

“It’s Lucifer.”

Minho was silent. What. What did he mean by- he couldn’t mean the Lucifer, there was no way-

“Lucifer...as in the devil Lucifer?” Minho clarified.

Chan nodded. “Yup.”

“The ruler of Hell?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The one that was God’s favorite but then fell out of His favor and became the king of sin?”

“That’s the one.”

Minho just gaped at Chan. “And you’re helping me?”

“Hey!” Chan exclaimed, looking offended, “don’t sound so shocked, I only inherited some of Dad’s abilities, I still have a human mom, I’ve got morals and shit, I’m an empathetic person! Well...somewhat at least.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to insult you. My name is Minho. Thank you, for bringing me here,” Minho said, “I should probably get back to Heaven though.”

“In that condition?” Chan asked skeptically, raising his eyebrows, “both of your wings look broken, and you’re covered in scrapes and bruises.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, I’ve had way worse.”

“....that doesn’t mean you’re okay to fly? Just stay put for a while, I’ll help you feel better.”

“I’ll be perfectly okay. I have to get back...and deal with Michael.”

“The archangel dude?”

“Yeah, him. Although he probably thinks I’m dead and if I show up again he may just finish the job…”

Now Chan looked confused, and a bit alarmed. “The hell? Why would he do that?”

Minho sighed, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“Alright then,” Chan replied with a shrug, “I made lunch, let me go get you a serving.”

“I don’t need to eat,” Minho said.

“You’re injured, yes you do.”

“I said I’m fine! I don’t need help from a mere mortal!”

“I’m not entirely mortal though, weren’t you listening?” Chan countered, eyebrows raised again.

Chan walked across the room and through another doorway, into what looked like a kitchen. A few minutes later he walked back into the living room, holding a bowl filled with soup. 

He placed it on the small table next to Minho. Minho didn’t take it. Chan sighed and pushed it closer.

“C’mon, eat,” he urged.

Minho turned his face away. Chan sighed again and got up, leaving the soup on the table.

“I have to go into town, get some groceries. Please, eat while I’m gone, okay?” Chan said, pulling on a hoodie and tugging the hood forward so his face was mostly hidden. He walked out of the house, and Minho waited about 5 minutes before getting up out of the pull-out sofa bed and walking outside. He couldn’t stay here, he didn’t belong here! So he headed out to try and get back to his real home.

He tried to spread his wings out, flinching at the pain- he just needed to bear with it, just for a little while. Minho wouldn’t be able to take off from the ground; his wings were too hurt for that. So Minho started looking around for a tree to use for a takeoff point. Eventually, he spotted a very tall pine that looked fairly easy to climb up, and started to climb. 

Minho got about halfway up, when his foot slipped, and he fell back down, hitting numerous branches with his wings on the way down and landing on his back. It was even worse now then when he initially fell; Minho was in so much pain . He can’t help but let out a yell, trying not to pass out for the third time in 24 hours, eyes stinging as tears start to form because it just hurts so intensely.

And then he heard someone calling out his name. Moments later, Chan’s face appeared in his vision.

“Oh thank fuck, I was so worried,” Chan said, “what the hell are you doing out here? I told you to stay inside and rest.”

“But I- I need to get back home-” Minho replied, his voice a quiet whimper.

“You can't expect your wings to heal if you keep using them,” Chan argued, “they’re broken . Quite badly.”

Chan squatted down and gestured for Minho to climb onto his back.

“I can walk by my-” Minho started, but Chan cut him off.

“Just get on,” he said.

Minho said nothing else, but climbed onto Chan’s back, and Chan stood back up and headed back to his house, walking gently and slowly- probably so he didn’t jostle Minho around as he carried him.

Eventually they got back inside, and Chan carefully set Minho back down on the pull-out sofa bed.

“So while I was out, I got some of those roll-up bandages, so we can make splints,” Chan said.

“Splints? Like, for my wings?” Minho questioned.

“No, for your ankles,” Chan answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “ yes, for your wings. Try and spread them out if you can. Go slowly, be careful.”

“I know how to deal with injured wings,” Minho snapped back.

“I’m sure you do, but you’ve been showing reckless behavior, so forgive me for being a little concerned,” Chan said, unfazed by Minho’s snippy tone.

Minho scowled, but slowly stretched his wings out slightly. He flinched every time they jolted with pain. Chan gently holds them up, taking the bandage rolls and carefully wrapping them around the first wing, then the second.

“Okay good,” Chan said once he was finished, “that should help ease the pain a bit.”

“How am I supposed to groom them like this? Do I just take the bandages off?” Minho asked.

“You….don’t?”

Minho stared at Chan. “Don’t groom my wings? Are you insane? Just because I’m an angel doesn’t mean I don’t get dirty.”

“Okay then I could clean them?” Chan offered.

Oh heavens no. No way. Strangers did not get to just touch his wings willy nilly, especially not the inner covert feathers! Those were very sensitive and allowing someone else to groom and clean them was considered a very intimate act.

“No! No definitely not. I just….won’t wash them then,” Minho said, grimacing at how gross they were going to get after weeks of no grooming. Oh well, he’d have a nice long bath and deep clean them the moment they were healed enough. 

“I might have to help you bathe though,” Chan continued.

“That’s fine,” Minho replied.

“...really? Cleaning your wings is a no-no but you’re okay with me cleaning your body?”

“Everyone has a body. It means nothing to show it. But wings are very important to an angel.”

Chan must not have wanted to question it any further, because he just shrugged and dropped the subject entirely, heading over to some paper bags on the floor and pulling things out of them.

Minho glanced over to the side, where the bowl of soup was still sitting there.

He picked up the bowl and started eating.

Minho did not try to escape a second time. He let Chan feed him, give him painkillers (about four times the usual dose a human would need), bathe him, and overall take care of him as he healed. Usually a broken wing would only take a week to heal, but with them already being injured when he fell, and then the crash, and then his haste to get back that led to him falling out of a tree, Minho’s wings were pretty messed up. So it would take several weeks to fully heal and be able to fly again. It bugged him, not being able to clean his wings, but he could be patient.

His angelic robes were ruined by the dirt, but he couldn't wear normal shirts with the wings. So he borrowed a pair of Chan’s pants, and Chan bought a few halter tops while in town. It looked a little bizarre, but it was comfortable.

As he hung around, he learned quite a lot about his nephilim caretaker, Chan.

For starters, he lived mostly off of the land. He hunted, had a vegetable garden, and there were solar panels on his roof that powered the home. He did go into town on occasion, to get certain things he couldn’t get from nature or make. He had a job, he worked online and created music soundtracks for various video games.

Chan was a loner, but seemed to crave affection- Minho would often see him hugging a pillow tightly in his sleep. It was odd. Why would someone so clearly touch starved not have a roommate? Or at least invite a friend over? All of Chan’s friends were online, and he never mentioned going to meet up with them. Ever.

He had dimples and his hair was curly. It was cute. Objectively. And he had a nice smile. Objectively.

As a nephilim, Chan definitely had power. But Minho never saw him use it. It was as if he actively suppressed it. Minho had no clue why, it was so mysterious. He was the son of a powerful archangel, surely he had immense abilities as well? Why hide them?

He was an adult which was why he lived alone, but he called his mother every day. He also had a half-brother and half-sister, apparently. He seemed to be very fond of them, if the smile that appeared on his face when he talked to them was any indication.

Overall, Chan was fascinating. Mysterious. Minho couldn’t really read him, he had no idea what to expect from him.

Minho also found, as the weeks went by, that he was growing...rather fond of Chan. 

He looked forward to seeing Chan’s face every time he woke up, found himself smiling back when Chan smiled at him, liked hearing him talk about himself and his family or tell stories, liked hearing him talk in general, liked...him. Minho liked him.

Minho started noticing more details about Chan; his hands and how veiny they were, his arms and how muscular they were, his face and how soft it looked, his mouth and how...kissable it was.

It was kind of a bad thing, falling for a human like this. Er, well, half human. Close enough. But Minho figured that when he went back to heaven he’d get over it and move on. Chan would likely forget about him anyways.

So Minho didn’t worry about it.

He ended up staying for over a month, the time seemed to fly by before he even realized it. Every day just seemed to blur into the next one.

But eventually Chan said, “alright I think we can keep the splint off now.”

“Oh thank goodness ,” Minho said, sighing in relief.

“But I wouldn’t start using your wings yet,” Chan added.

“No duh, idiot,” Minho said, rolling his eyes, “I haven’t used them in five weeks, they’re going to be weak and sore.”

Chan carefully took off the bandages, and Minho slowly stretched each wing out. He almost knocked a floor lamp over, but it felt so nice to open them up completely.

“Wow, y’know I never got a chance to really look at them,” Chan said, “your wings are beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you,” Minho replied, cheeks going warm.

“May I..?” Chan asked, holding a hand out towards the left wing.

“Uh, I guess so,” Minho said. It wouldn’t be a huge deal as long as Chan didn’t touch the inner feathers.

Chan reached out and tenderly touched the top of one of the wings. Then he dragged his fingers across the wing bone, across the long primary flight feathers. Next, he pet the back of the secondaries. So far so good.

And then Chan slipped his fingers between the feathers and combed through them. Okay. So that was a bit more than Minho expected. But it was fine, it still wasn’t the most intimate area; even though Chan was technically grooming Minho’s wings, which was something only romantic partners did (or maybe very close friends if they had those sort of boundaries).

“Your feathers are very soft,” Chan said quietly.

“Th-thank you,” Minho stammered, “they’re much softer when they’re clean though. Once I can take a bath I’ll let you touch them again.”

“Oh right, I’m sure they feel really grimy! I’ll let you go do that. Holler if you need any help, okay?”

Minho nodded, stood up and headed towards the door. Chan gave him a confused look, silently asking “what are you doing?”

“I’m going to find a lake. You can’t expect me to be able to properly clean my wing in that tiny bathtub, can you?” he explained.

“Oh. Fair point,” Chan replied, “there’s a decent-sized river east of here, I can take you to it.  Let me grab you a pair of swim trunks so you don’t have to get entirely naked. The fish like to bite.”

Chan tugged Minho into his room, grabbed one of his swimsuits and tossed it to Minho, then grabbed another pair for himself, that he changed into in the bathroom.

It was Minho’s turn to have a confused look, to which Chan explained “might as well come along and do some fishing. We can have carp for dinner!”

So off they headed, Chan leading the way towards a fairly large river that seemed to cut through the whole forest. The water was nice and clear, and it was deep enough that Minho could bathe his wings pretty easily.

It was here that Minho discovered two new things about Chan:

First, he was very buff. Arms, pecs, abs, the whole package. Minho was surprised that he’d never noticed how fit Chan was, but at the same time Chan tended to wear pretty baggy clothing.

And second, he had markings on his back that looked like a pair of wings. A tattoo, maybe?

Minho asked about the back markings, and Chan set his fishing pole down for a moment.

“My mom says they’re some kind of birthmark,” he explained, “like, a mark of my dad being an angel, or something.

“Fascinating...” Minho said quietly, and turned his focus back to his wings.

He sank down to his knees and dipped the feathers under the water, letting the current run over them. It felt so nice…

As Minho continued to clean his wings, Chan sat further upstream as he fished. It was quiet, they were enjoying each other’s presence.

The afternoon passed like this; after a couple hours Chan had caught a satisfactory number of fish, keeping them in a bucket he had brought along with him. Minho suddenly felt like being crafty, and used the tip of his wing to splash some water in Chan’s face.

“Did- did you just-?” Chan asked, still spluttering.

“I don’t know,” Minho replied, grinning slyly, “did I do what?”

Chan shook his head, a competitive glint in his eyes. “Oh it is so on. ”

Chan splashed back, and it turned into a big water fight. They were both laughing the whole time, and Minho easily won, having the advantage of literal wings that he could almost use like extra limbs. 

They both ended up soaking wet of course, and when Chan started noticeably shivering Minho called a truce, and they headed back to Chan’s house and dry off. Chan dried his and Minho’s hair with a towel, and Minho shook the excess water off of his wings, before pulling them in to rake his fingers through the inner covert feathers. Oh it was so nice to groom his wings again, so nice.

“Can I, uh, pet the feathers again?” Chan questioned timidly.

“Sure,” Minho replied, “be careful, I didn’t mention it before but the coverts are off limits.”

Chan tilted his head slightly. “Co-whats?”

Minho gestured to the region of the softer feathers on the inside of the wing. “The coverts. They’re very sensitive. Having someone else tough them...it’s not taken lightly.”

“As in…?”

“It’s intimate. Only partners can do it.”

Chan noticeably blushed at that. “Do you...have...a partner? Back, uh, up in heaven? Out of- out of curiosity.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh okay, cool cool...that’s cool…”

Chan cleared his throat, ears a bright pink, and shifted his focus back to Minho’s wings. He reached out and gently stroked the outer feathers, lightly dragging his fingers across the largest ones.

“Hey you’re right, they are softer when they’re clean,” he noted.

“I told you so!”

Chan pulled his hand away, and continued on towards the kitchen to start preparing the fish he had caught for dinner.

And a thought ran through Minho’s head; maybe...it wouldn’t be so bad if Chan did groom the inner feathers…

After another week, Minho decided he was strong enough to take flight again. He’d been gently flapping them, gliding a bit from lower tree branches, it was time for a full-on test flight. As Minho headed outside to take off, Chan followed, standing at the edge of the porch. 

Minho had a sudden idea.

“Hey Chan, have you ever flown before?” he asked.

“Well sure,” Chan answered, “I’ve been on an airplane a few times.”

Minho shook his head. “Not that kind of flying.”

“Uh...then no.”

“Would you like to?”

“...sure?”

“Great! C’mere.”

Chan walked over to stand next to Minho, and Minho swiftly swept him up into a princess carry. Then he started to run forward, wings flapping as he took off into the air. As they soared up high Chan let out a loud scream and clung tightly to Minho, tucking his face against Minho’s shoulder. Fortunately, it only took a couple minutes for him to relax, and soon he had pulled his head away and was looking around. 

Flying felt amazing after being stuck on the ground for so long. Minho did a barrel roll, and felt Chan’s grip tighten again which made him grin. He was already happy from being able to fly again, but also Chan was being so cute right now! Minho did another spin, letting out a laugh because he was having the grandest time. Then he slowed down and paused, still flapping his wings to keep them afloat, and glanced down at Chan who was hiding against Minho’s shoulder again, eyes screwed shut.

“Chan. look around,” he said quietly, “the view is amazing up here.”

Chan pulled back and opened his eyes tentatively, one after the other.

“Holy shit…” he said, “it’s incredible.”

“I’ve always loved flying through the sky here. It’s my favorite part about coming to Earth.”

Chan shivered. “It’s so cold up here though…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” Minho giggled, “just hold on tight.”

Chan’s face was a little pink, as he just said a quiet, “okay.”

Minho’s wings were getting tired, so he decided to call it a day and head back to the ground. He slowly flew back down, landing gently in front of Chan’s house. He then set Chan back down and asked “wasn’t that fun?”

“Y-yeah,” Chan said, looking pretty flustered, “but maybe a bit more warning next time?”

Minho was able to fly again, which meant he could easily go back to Heaven now.

So.

Why didn’t he? 

He just kept putting it off, telling himself he’d leave the next day, because he needed to do this or that first. 

Honestly, Minho knew the answer, but he didn’t want to put it into words. 

Maybe...it was for the best that he didn’t go back. It was pretty nice here, and he didn’t have to follow any super strict rules. Everyone back up above likely thought he was dead anyways, so there wouldn’t be anyone looking for him.

He wondered if Chan had noticed his hesitation to leave. Would it make a difference if he did leave? Minho figured Chan would just forget him and move on, but...now he wasn’t so sure.

Minho was on the couch, grooming his feathers with his fingers, when Chan plopped down beside him.

“So,” Chan said, “you can fly again.”

“...yes, this has been established for a week, Chan,” Minho responded.

“Right. So...are you gonna go back to Heaven? I mean, you’re all healed, there’s nothing else keeping you here…”

“Oh. Do you want me to go back?”

“I-I didn’t say that,” Chan stammered, face turning pink, “don’t put words in my mouth, I was just asking!”

“I see. Well...I‘m not sure actually. Would you like me to stay?” Minho asked.

Chan took a moment, twiddling his thumbs before he eventually responded.

“Um...kinda, yeah. I don't think I realized how lonely I was out here, until you came along. And I...don't really want to be alone again.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

“Oh, but don’t do it on my account! It’s your choice in the-”

Minho pressed a finger against Chan’s lips to make him stop talking.

“I want to stay,” Minho said, “I don’t there’s anything for me to return to anyways, they all think I’m dead.”

“Oh, ok,” Chan replied, slightly muffled as he spoke around Minho’s finger.

Minho pulled his finger away, and his mind suddenly decided to take note of how soft those lips felt, and oh no now he’s looking at them. He quickly looked back up into Chan’s eyes, and saw something unreadable in them.

“I’m…” Chan began to speak quietly, scooting a little closer.

“What?”

“Hm, nothing...it’s nothing.”

Chan’s hand moved forward slightly.

“No, what is it?” Minho asked.

“I’m just glad,” Chan said, “that you are staying. I really like having you around.”

His hand moved forward even further, gently resting on top of Minho’s.

“I like being around,” Minho replied, “maybe I’ll stay forever.”

“I’d like that.”

Ever so slowly, they kept leaning closer to each other, centimeter by centimeter. Now, it was Chan who was looking down at Minho’s mouth before glancing back up to his eyes, and Minho wanted to kiss him so so badly. He was starting to think this was his chance, and that he should take it.

So, he took it.

Chan leaned further even more and then paused, probably waiting for Minho to pull away or close the gap. 

Minho closed the gap, pressing his lips against Chan’s in a gentle kiss.

As they kissed, Minho could feel so many things all at once. His hands cradled both sides of Chan’s face as he pulled him in closer. He ended up pulling a little too strongly, and fell over onto his back, tugging Chan with him. Chan’s hands flew out to catch his fall, and one of them ended up landing on Minho’s feathers- right in the region of the soft and sensitive coverts. The tingly feeling of them being touched...Minho couldn’t help but let out a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh sorry,” Chan said, quickly pulling his hand away, “I didn’t mean to.”

Minho shook his head. “It’s okay, you can...I don’t mind.”

Chan gently placed his hand back down, this time combing his fingers through the feathers, and Minho let out a gasp. Chan did it again and again, until Minho was pretty worked up from that dizzying tingling feeling. Then Chan leaned down, and they were kissing some more.

Minho took hold of the hem of Chan’s shirt, pulling it up and then off. Following that, Chan tried to pull off Minho’s shirt, but even with it being a halter top, his wings got in the way of the base. So Chan just untied the bag and tugged it down, kissing across Minho’s chest. There’s a rush of desire that surges through Minho’s being, something he hasn’t felt in a very very long time.

It of course was not impossible for angels to feel sexual desire- but it was pretty rare. Still, they could take lovers, most often with other angels. 

Right now, Minho’s desire was all directed towards this nephilim. He wanted Chan. So badly. He wanted everything about Chan.

“I want you…” he whispered, “want you so much”

“I want you too,” Chan whispered back, “bedroom?”

Minho nodded, and Chan tugged them off the couch and into his room, the rest of their clothes coming off along the way before they fell down onto the bed. 

Minho crawled over on top of Chan, kissing his mouth, kissing his jaw, kissing down his neck, kissing down his body. He reached the hem of Chan's underwear, and swiftly tugged them down and out of the way, taking hold of the shaft of Chan's dick and putting it in his mouth. He started to lick and suck enthusiastically, pulling out loud moans from Chan's mouth. One of Chan's hands reached down to grip Minho's hair, while the other tightly gripped onto the sheets. It wasn't very long before Chan was coming, spilling down Minho's throat. Minho pulled away, wiping off any cum that spilled out of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Chan then flipped them over, reaching to grab lube from his bedside table, and asked, “how do you want this?”

Minho took a few moments to think it over, and then he replied, “I want to ride you.”

“Alright then,” Chan replied, and poured the lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together and then pushing the first finger past Minho’s rim. He was quite efficient at opening Minho up, finding his sweet spot quite easily and quickly turning Minho into a moaning mess.

“I’m ready, please Chan I need- haa~ ” he whined, as Chan rubbed over his prostate once again.

Chan pulled his fingers out and reached over to the bedside table again, this time bringing back a condom. He opened it, rolled it on, added some extra lube to his dick, and then Minho pushed him over onto his back, climbed over him, lined himself up, and sank down.

He stretched his wings out as he moved, rocking back and forth, bouncing up and down, angling himself so that Chan went as deep as possible and hit him in the sweet spot. Which he did, he found an angle that dragged over it with each thrust and it just felt so amazing.

 This pleasure was just divine. Heavenly. Devilishly good.

Chan reached forward and took hold of Minho's hands, tugging them towards his face and gently kissing the knuckles. Because even when Minho was bouncing on his dick, Chan was still sappy.

"You look so beautiful," Chan said, tightening his grip, "you feel so amazing…"

 "You do too, you're so big , I love it," Minho replied, letting out another moan as he grinded down again.

 And Chan was big, he was filling Minho up and it was just amazing.

Minho kept going, his pace getting faster as he enthusiastically grinded down on Chans dick.

He was getting close, and Chan pushed himself up slightly with his hand, his other hand coming up to tug Minho down into a kiss.

Minho slammed down harder, chasing after the feeling that had been building up. The hand that Chan used to bring Minho in to kiss him shifted down to card through his feathers again, and Minho whined loudly as that tingly feeling rushed through him, the warmth in his abdomen building.

"I'm getting close," Minho gasped.

Chan nodded. "Yeah, me too."

Minho kept moving, increasing his intensity with each thrust, until he hit his climax and came undone, spilling all over Chan's torso. He felt his wings shake and he let out a loud cry, eyes clenched shut while pleasure surged through him.

 Chan seemed to hit his second orgasm right after, nails digging into Minho's skin so deep it almost hurt. It might have hurt, if he was human.

Minho flopped forward, panting heavily, holding himself up enough to gently rest his forehead against Chan's; wanting to keep being in his warm hold, his embrace.

"That was amazing," Chan murmured.

"It was," Minho agreed.

 "I've never slept with an angel before. I think you ruined humans for me."

Minho let out a laugh. 

"Good. I won't have to get jealous," he said, lightly dragging a finger down Chan's nose and booping the end of it. 

Chan had this ridiculously wide grin on his face; it was adorable.  

 "If anyone is going to be jealous, it's going to be everyone else," Chan countered, "jealous of me, for having the most beautiful partner in all of existence."

Minho laughed even more; "now you're just saying that."

"You're literally an angel Min. Of course you're inhumanly beautiful."

 Minho gave Chan a kiss in lieu of an answer. Kissing Chan felt so nice. So nice.

"I'm curious, have you slept with a human before?" Chan asked.

“I have, a few times in the past,” Minho answered.

“Another angel?”

Minho nodded.

“How about a nephilim then?” 

Minho giggled and shook his head. “You’re definitely my first in that regard.”

“I somehow feel a lot of pride in that statement,” Chan said.

Minho laughed even more, pulling off of Chan and rolling over to hug him from the side, tucking his wings against his back and out of the way.

There was a big mess of his cum on Chan’s body, and Minho just snapped his fingers, making it disappear. The used condom disappeared too.

“So now what?” Minho questioned.

“I guess….we’re together now? If that’s okay with you,” Chan answered.

“That is more than okay with me.”

Chan let out a yawn. “Okay cool. I’m beat, it’s sleepy time for Channie.”

“Well then goodnight Channie,” Minho said, pressing a kiss to the side of Chan’s head, “sweet dreams.”

He shifted to get up and go back to sleep on the sofa bed, but Chan wrapped his arms around Minho’s body and held him back.

“Stay, wanna sleep next to you,” Chan said softly.

“Oh, okay then,” Minho replied, face warm as he snuggled up against Chan again.

“While we’re here,” Chan mumbled, voice heavy with sleep, “might as well admit I’m in love with you.”

“I feel the same, I've completely fallen for you. Pun entirely intended.”

Chan let out a snort. “You’re adorable…”

Minho smiled, nuzzling his face against Chan’s chest, listening to the other drift off into the land of dreams.

“You have powers, right?” Minho asked one morning, “you’re half angel, surely you inherited some abilities?”

Chan looked over from where he was standing in front of the sink, washing dishes.

“I mean...yeah,” he answered, eyes darting off to the side, “I don’t use them though.”

“What can you do? If you’re alright showing me.”

Chan paused, hand hovering over a plate with a soapy sponge.

“Let’s go outside,” he said, “I can show you there. Away from anyone else.”

He finished cleaning the dish, rinsed it off and put it on the drying rack, dried off his hands, and walked over to the front door to put his shoes on. Minho followed him, going outside and walking through the woods until the house couldn’t be seen anymore.

“So um…” Chan began, after he stopped walking, “as far as I know, I’ve got higher levels of strength, I can kinda move things with my mind, and I can put people to sleep.”

“Pretty basic angel powers then,” Minho said, “so why don’t you use them?”

“Because they made me a social pariah. It’s why I live alone, and I rarely go into town, and when I do I always have something on my head to hide my face. My...my mom always told me that I’m special; and she’s right, in a way. But I guess...it’s the kind of special no one else wants anything to do with.”

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that…” Minho said sadly.

“I mean, I was kinda always the weird kid, people tended to avoid me,” Chan continued, “and it got worse when I accidentally bumped into one of the school bullies. He tried to beat me up, and apparently my eyes started glowing and I knocked him out with one touch. I was just trying to defend myself, I didn’t mean to do anything. After that the other kids stopped avoiding me and started picking on me. I got shoved into lockers, had my stuff stolen, rocks thrown at me, I’ve been called ‘freak’ and ‘demon’ so many times I’d lost count by the time I was nine years old. I never fought back, because I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else. I didn’t want to make it even worse for myself. 

“It’s...actually really nice meeting a full angel like you. Because now I don’t feel like this...monster, anymore. Because whatever power I have, you have even more of it.”

“Actually,” Minho said, “nephilim can be twice as powerful as their angelic parent. And an offspring of an archangel...there’s probably abilities you aren't even aware of.”

“To be honest...I’d rather not find out. I just….want to be normal.”

Minho reached out to gently take hold of Chan’s hands, and gave him a kiss of reassurance. “If that is what you wish.”

“What about you?” Chan asked, “you never told me the reason that you got bototed from Heaven.”

“Ah...right...that,” Minho responded, “well….where do I even begin? Okay; so as an angel, it is our job to help with carrying out God’s will. We assist reapers, usually, or at least that was my job. If someone or something was fated to die, I had to make sure it happened. No matter what age, no matter the circumstance. My jobs weren’t too bad, I usually took care of humans and animals that were already very old and had lived a good life, and were ready to pass on. But one day I was ordered...to deliver a litter of kittens. Newborns. They hadn’t even opened their eyes yet. They’d been abandoned, and were supposed to freeze to death. And I followed through...until I got down to Earth and saw them. They were so small and innocent, it seemed incredibly unfair to me to take their lives away so soon. So I disobeyed. I got a human’s attention, and they found the litter and took them to a shelter. Those kittens all got adopted and are living very comfortable lives, as much as I’m aware. I thought it would all be fine….but then Michael found out.”

“The bitchy archangel guy.”

“Yeah, him. Michael is very, very strict about our Father’s orders being followed. S he was incredibly angry with me. And thus I was kicked out, knocked down to Earth to fall to my death.”

“Wait wait wait. So you’re telling me...that he tried to kill you...for letting a litter of kittens survive?”

“I disobeyed, and disobedient angels are a danger to-”

“That’s so fucking stupid!”

“....well I suppose it is a bit excessive…”

“A bit ? That's literally the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Kittens. Who the fuck cares that the kittens lived on? Humans love cats! They're soft and lovable creatures, and honestly you did the right thing helping them! Taking them away so early, before they even had a chance to live their life…that's much more cruel. What a fucked up reason to throw you down to Earth, jesus christ,” Chan ranted.

“Well...tell Michael that,” Minho countered.

“If he ever comes down here, I will .”

“Chan, he’ll smite you before you can even get the words out.”

“Then I'll tie up his hands first, I don't know! But he's gonna get a piece of my mind if I ever see that jerk.”

Minho smiled gently. “Thanks Channie. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Of course I am,” Chan replied, “I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Chan pulled Minho toward him, and they shared a soft kiss under the gentle sunlight that danced down through the trees.

The longer Minho stayed, the happier Chan looked. It must have been so good for him, finally having company. Having someone to embrace, to smile with, to walk around with; the loneliness that used to linger in his eyes was completely gone now. And Minho was so happy being with him. Who needed Heaven anyways? Earth was so much nicer. And Chan’s hugs were the warmest thing Minho had ever felt in his entire existence. And he was over 10,000 years old, so that was saying something!

But something he had also learned in his existence, is that good things never lasted forever.

Minho was working in the vegetable garden; Chan always asked him to pull the weeds because even Chan’s increased strength wasn’t enough for some of those pesky deep-reaching roots. But Minho’s completely inhuman strength did the trick every time.

He was tugging on a large thistle plant when he heard a chillingly familiar voice.

“So you are still alive after all. I guess kicking you out of the clouds wasn’t enough to eliminate you.”

Minho froze, slowly dropping the weed and turning around to look into the eyes of Michael.

“How- how did you find me?” Minho asked, voice shaky.

“One of the scouts saw you while you were flying around.”

Fuck. He should’ve stayed closer to the ground, what a fool he was.

“So what, you told them to be on the lookout for me?” he asked, trying to sound braver than he currently felt.

“I didn't need to, everyone in heaven knows of your disobedience.”

“It was kittens Michael, surely it isn't a huge deal to let a few cats survive?”

“An order is an order.”

“But cats bring humans happiness. And we love the humans.”

“Father loves the humans. We follow what He says. I could not really care less about the weak little pests. I care about carrying out Father's orders and dealing with the troublemakers.”

“I never caused any trouble-”

“You had a direct order and you couldn't even follow it.”

“Because it was a ridiculous order! I could not in good conscience carry it out!” Minho exclaimed, standing up to face Michael fully.

“An order is an order,” Michale repeated, “and it seems your punishment wasn't enough, so I'm here to finish the job.”

Minho felt his blood run cold. Michael was here to kill him. He needed to get away from the cabin, needed to keep Chan out of this.

“If you want to kill me, then fine,” Minho said, “but let's do this out of sight of the humans."

“What does it matter? The humans can't see us”

Crap. Minho just really wanted to make sure Chan didn't see. He might do something stupid, like try to save Minho. There was no saving Minho. Still, Minho stepped away from the garden.

“But we can still damage property. It's only respectful to them,” he tried to reason.

“And why should I listen to a worthless fallen?” Michael spat.

“Please, just let me have this as my last request,” begged Minho.

“No.”

And Michael pulled out his long blade and swung, and Minho jumped out of the way, further away from the garden, rolling across the ground. Michael turned to him again to take another swing, and slowly as he kept dodging Minho continued moving back more and more, away from the cabin.

“Quit running away and accept your punishment!” Michael yelled.

Minho said nothing, just kept dodging. Michael then caught up and landed a strike on Minho, making him fall to the ground and cry out in pain. Crap. He wasn’t far enough away. At least Chan was out in town right now. Who knew what Michael would do if he saw Chan. Smite him? Make him watch as he killed Minho? Both? He didn’t want to find out. Better for Chan if he just...disappeared. 

Another slash of Michael’s sword cut into one of Minho’s wings, and he screamed out in pain again. And he heard a voice call out to him.

“Minho? Are you okay what happened?”

No. No no Chan was home already? Not good, very very bad, Minho had to move further away.

But hearing his partner’s voice momentarily distracted him, and Michael used that opening to slash across his other wing, and Minho bit down on his lip trying to quiet his next scream. 

Chan called out for Minho again, sounding much more worried now, and sounding closer too.

Minho had to not get distracted and injured again. But it was very hard because instead of just getting away from the cabin and Michael; he had to get away from Michael, and the cabin, and be quiet about it.

But Michael landed another hit, knocking Minho back down to the ground. Minho tried to crawl away, but he wasn’t fast enough and Michael hit him with strike after strike after strike; Minho’s bottom lip was bleeding from how hard he was biting down to keep himself from screaming again.

“Why are you so determined to not let anyone hear you? ANd by anyone, I mean hat human that seems to know your name?” Michael asked.

“N-no reason,” Minho lied.

But Michael saw right through him.

“Oh, I see,” the archangel said, “you fell even further did you? Fell for a human. You were just created to disobey, weren't you?"

“He’s not a human,” Minho responded, “he’s a nephilim.”

“So the fallen falls for the offspring of his own kind. How fitting.”

“Please,” Minho begged,“leave him out of this. He’s not part of this.”

“Fine. So long as he stays out of the way.”

And then Michael kicked Minho on the side, sending him flying until his back hit the trunk of a tree.

Minho could still hear Chan calling out for him, sounding more and more panicked. It hurt, keeping himself hidden; he just wanted to run into Chan’s arms and be reassured that everything would be okay. But he broke the rules, and this was his fate.

Michael kept kicking Minho around, not even giving him the mercy of a quick death. It was almost like he was enjoying causing Minho as much pain as possible. He took hold of one of Minho’s wings and snapped the bone, and Minho couldn’t hold back the scream that tore out from his mouth.

This scream was enough for Chan to locate him, apparently, because Minho heard approaching footsteps, and as he opened his eyes slightly he saw a terrified looking Chan looking at the scene before him- Michael holding Minho’s broken wing in his hands, Minho beaten and bloody on the ground.

“Oh my god- get the fuck away from him!” Chan shouted, the expression on his face shifting from fear to anger.

He tried to run over to Minho but Michael waved his hand and knocked Chan over to the ground.

“Stay out of this, mortal,” Michael said coldly, “this is none of your concern.”

“Chan, just get away from here, save yourself please I’m not worth it-” Minho pleaded, tears starting to build in his eyes, but his sentence was cut off at Michael’s foot pressed down on his neck, choking him.

“No, stop it!” Chan cried out, “stop hurting him, he doesn’t deserve this!”

“Yes, he does,” Michael said, and he held up his blade, over Minho’s heart, about to strike.

The blade moved down, and Minho heard Chan scream out “ NO! ” and then there was an explosion of light and energy.

Michael pulled his blade away, reflexively holding it out in front of him in defense.

When the dust settled, Chan looked...different.

His eyes, which were normally a warm chocolate brown, were glowing a bright gold. In fact his entire body seemed to be subtly glowing, in a way.

And there were wings- large, jet black wings- sprouting out of his back. They had torn through his shirt, that dangled in tatters over his torso. Small rocks and sticks were hovering around him, a few inches off of the ground.

Chan advanced forwards, almost as if in a trance, the floating objects following him. He waved his hand in front of him, sending the rocks and twigs flying at Michael, striking him with a pinpoint accuracy. Michael was pushed back, stepping away from Minho and allowing him to move again- which he did, quickly crawling backwards out of Chan’s way. The sheer power he could feel emanating from the man….Minho knew nephilims were powerful but he didn’t know it could be this intense.

And he just watched, as a simple half-angel went up against an all powerful archangel. Who looked utterly shocked to see Chan.

“You...his...that’s not possible,” he said, eyes wide, “how did my brother’s offspring survive? I thought we destroyed all of them.”

Chan didn't say anything in response, Instead, he rushed forward and appeared right in front of Michael in the blink of an eye, throwing a punch at Michael’s face. Michael blocked the hit, but he left his middle open and Chan kicked him in the gut, sending him flying back. He kept moving forward and pushing Michael back, slowly moving him away from Minho. Chan made more rocks float into the air, sending them flying to Michale again while letting out a cry of rage as he ran in close again and actually landed a punch to Micahel’s face. Michael was knocked back again, and when he regained his bearing Minho saw that his nose was bleeding.

“You may be the son of my dear brother,” Micahel said, rubbing the blood away from his face, “but I was always stronger than Lucifer.”

“I don’t fucking care about my dad and how strong you are compared to him,” Chan spat, “all i care about is protecting Minho.”

“Those who disobey need to be punished.”

“You’re full of shit. Minho did nothing wrong. Your rules are stupid, and so are you!”

Michael sneered. “Insolent little rat.”

His blade appeared again, dropping down from his sleeve, and he lunged towards Chan. Chan picked up a large branch and used it to block the attack, struggling a bit to keep Michael’s arm away, but holding out nonetheless. Eventually he pushed Michael’s arm back, and headbutted him, knocking him away completely. It was now blade against tree branch. Chan was blocking the attempts that Michael made to stab him, and after a while he managed to knock the bald out of Michael’s hand completely. He twacked Michael across the face with the branch, and then rushed over to grab the blade before Michael could get to it again. Michael ran forward, trying to take it back, and there were several hand to hand blows between the two. The moment Chan found an opening, he took it and dug the blade deep into Michael’s leg. The archangel let out a roar of pain, and Chan pulled the blade back out again so Michael couldn't take it from the wound.

Chan then swung the blade again, slashing a large cut across Michael’s face. Michael blindly swiped with his hands at Chan, trying to get back his blade, but Chan avoided it, jumping back out of the way.

Michael was bleeding fairly heavily, while Chan barely had a scratch on him. It wasn’t difficult to tell who had the upper hand. Michael knew this, and with a deadly glower, he turned around and took off into the air.

“Coward! Get back here!” Chan screamed up at him, his wings stretching out as if he was about to fly up after him.

But Chan had already won. Minho didn’t want him to risk his life any further.

Minho called out to Chan, who immediately whipped around, and rushed over to Minho’s side.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?” Chan asked frantically, cradling the sides of Minho’s head with his hands.

“I'll be fine, it...it doesn't hurt that much,” Minho responded.

Chan got the same trane-like look in his eyes from earlier, and held up two fingers. He lightly touched Minho’s forehead, gently stroking across the skin. In an instant, Minho's pain disappeared. 

Did he just-?

“Chan, you can heal? You can heal angels?” Minho questioned in disbelief,

“I...guess so? I didn't know...until now. I didn't know about any of this until now,” Chan answered, looking back at the aftermath of his fight against Michael. There wasn’t much destruction, but there still was some disarray.

"I did say nephilim can be much more powerful than full fledged angels. And you are the son of an archangel, which makes you four times as powerful,” Minho said with a light chuckle.

“I guess you were right,” Chan replied, smiling back at him.

“And your wings...they’re beautiful. Like glistening charcoal.”

“Oh shit, right, I have wings now apparently.”

“Must have been the birthmark. They were laying dormant until you needed them to manifest.”

“Y'know as crazy as that sounds...it oddly makes sense. Feels weird though, having something on my back.”

“You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. Now we can fly together!” Minho exclaimed happily.

“That’s true, we can!” Chan responded, “do you think that jerkface is gonna come back?”

“He might. Who’s to say?”

“I hope he does. I'll wipe that stupid holier-than-thou grin off his face for good. Stuck up bastard.”

“Or, or, ” Minho countered, “we hope the problem doesn't exist anymore, and live a happy life together.”

Chan let out a small hum, “okay yeah, you're right. That’s a better idea.”

Minho threw his arms around Chan and pulled him into a deep kiss. He was so thankful right now...he had been so sure earlier that he would never be able to feel Chan against him ever again. But it turned out Minho had a super badass for a boyfriend.

“I love you so much,” Minho said after he pulled away.

“I love you too,” Chan said immediately, leaning back in to kiss Minho again.

After Michael flew off with his tail between his wings, things settled back down again. It took Chan a good while to get used to having feathery appendages sprouting from him back; they kept having to buy new cups and vases, because Chan would forget how much space he took up now and knocked things over all the time. (They were also just as sensitive as Minho’s, and when Minho groomed them for the first time Chan pounced on him and fucked him right then and there before Minho could even finish combing through them.)

Minho did teach him how to fly, and Chan was very excited to now have a new way to travel that was so much faster than anything else. What was normally a 20 minute walk was now only 5 minutes by flight. And humans couldn’t see them, so Chan didn’t have to worry about explaining why he suddenly looked like a bird man.

Michael did not return. For years Minho had a subtle worry constantly lingering that he would come down again; but after years, and then decades, and then half a century went by, his nerves completely settled down. 

Minho felt nothing but content, thankful for this new life of peace and happiness that Chan gave to him.