A/N: This came out way more religion-y than I hoped. I just want to warn you how agnostic I am and this is in no way some sort of statement. I was just reading a fic about how Blair was a fallen angel and Chuck is always compared to the devil so I just made a little short thing that I just wrote. It came out way differently than I originally thought it would and I've been writting bizarre fics lately so here it is. There's also some othe references in here that would be cool of you could get. I also delve way too deep into awkward and cliche sybolism as I have been known to do as well
Summary: He reached out his hand to hers, helping her down the stairs as her pale legs brushed against each other. He felt the bloody lust that was turning into something else altogether. He had to claim her like he was known for. But not because he had to. Because he wanted to.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
She is surrounded by an aura of blinding white light. That's the way things have always been. How they always will be. All people see when they look at her are the snide remarks and cruel smirks. One that so just damn perfectly match his beat for beat. They don't see her doning white of an angel with her halo lopsided.
Because he was made to corrupt that angel. Her white dress becomes streaked with black blood and she hurls her halo at his feet, demanding that he do whatever it was that he meant to. He was meant to corrupt and violate her.
Mirrors cracked when he passed them.
Because he was the devil.
He was born in darkness.
She wasn't necessarily born in virginal light.
But to him, she was.
He remembered the first time he saw her. She didn't look like the others that flew around her, flaunting their goodness and wealth. She had downcast dark eyes and not serene blue pools. Even so, she was treasured. She was treasured because she had a mind that everyone was sure did not exist.
At least, not on that higher plane. In the deep bowels of hell existed a man with a mind that could read so well and twist so graciously.
He wasn't so much of a man as the demon with an angelic face. It was how he fit in the throng of angels. Everyone knew truly what he was.
Chuck Bass. You're like the devil.
Finally some truth in advertising.
That's all it took.
But he fit in with the rest of them because of his witty repertoire and the very fact that even though he didn't have goodness to flaunt, he did have the wealth.
So did she.
He recognized her the moment he saw her. She was masquerading like one of them but she was not one of them. She didn't have blonde hair that danced to her waist or such innocence that couldn't comprehend how simple pomegranate seeds could lure pretty little things to the underworld.
But it happened.
He knew this for certain, even if he hadn't experienced firsthand for himself.
But he would.
The moment his dark eyes that reflected a glint of red caught darker ones that had just a trace of white, he knew. She wasn't like the rest of them.
She pretended to be pure and virginal but the darkness that corrupted him would recognize one just like him even if the rest of them couldn't understand.
She averted her pretty eyes at his demonizing smirk that he knew made females squirm. He would corrupt them all. It was what he was sent to do. It wasn't to gaze on the faces of angels and philosophize. He was meant to turn the world dirty with girls that wouldn't be able to wear white to begin with.
But this angel was different from all the rest. Because she could pull it off. She could manipulate and twist innocent minds into believing she was just as innocent as them. Even if she wanted to be, he knew it wasn't for long.
He knew for sure.
Blood dripped from his lips and he was blinded by light. He couldn't look at her fully. Her perfection blinded him as he wiped death and decay from himself. Her white dress flashed silver and he wondered how she could be so shiny with heels that didn't match at all.
Her red lips that matched his blood turned down in the most precious frown he had ever seen.
"Haven't you had enough?" she asked.
Her voice was just as jarring to the soul he was sure he didn't have as he had imagined. It had all the screams of stomps of perfect chaos while she shone with a beauty that he knew no one else could appreciate.
"Have you come to stop me?" he taunted, rising from the corpses that surrounded him.
"Angels don't fight," she chastised him gently.
"Have you come to stop me?" he asked again. Her light dimmed but he still wanted it to come back. He wanted to be blinded by her so he didn't have a chance to take her with him.
Like he knew he must do.
"I don't understand what you want with me," she answered, his scalding hand grasping over her cold one.
"They don't see you the way they should," he answered simply. Heat was searing through her body under his undeniable eyes that searched her impolitely. She knew what was in that mind of his.
Because it was in hers as well. The mind that she had to hide.
"I don't belong above or below," she answered.
"Then maybe you can just follow me," he suggested.
"You're evil," she snapped, pulling out of his grasp. He suddenly felt cold and he realized she had stolen all of his heat away. Her halo was dimming while the veins in her wings began to darken. "What have you done to me?"
"I should ask you the same question," he answered, looking into his reflection. He could never see himself clearly, trusting when people said what they said.
Looks like an angel.
Talks like and angel.
But a devil in disguise.
He realized as the cracks in the mirror began to mend that he truly was beautiful.
Because she was by his side, looking at him curiously, though venom spat through her perfect teeth.
They really weren't so different. In fact, they were the same. They were just raised differently.
"How do you know me?" she asked softly.
"I just do," he answered. He noticed that the red glint was gone from his eyes. As much as the white was fading from her appearance.
"What is it like to be heartless?" she asked carefully. "I've always wondered."
"Wouldn't it be easier?" she questioned.
"I honestly cannot tell you," he answered. He reached for her hand again and heat flooded through him again.
"What do you think they will do to me when they find out?" shed asked quietly.
"I am not as I seem."
"Neither am I," he said soundly, "as it seems." He looked at her, finding that his dark eyes were able to adjust to her brilliant light. "What is it like to have a soul?"
"I don't go around ripping the hearts from children," she answered.
"I don't have to lie to the faces of good," he reminded her.
"You fool them," she answered.
"Only the corruptible ones."
"Am I?" she asked. "Corruptible?"
"I think you are the most ethereal thing I have ever seen."
"Then why can you touch me without sizzling?" she asked in fascination, stroking skin that was pale as hers though he vacationed where it could get no hotter.
"I think it has something to do with the fact that we are both not what we seem," he answered.
Her halo wasn't glowing anymore.
But it wasn't black either, like the ones that were cast out.
Her hand was still clamped to his and he knew she wasn't breaking away.
"This is nice," she commented, still looking at their hands interlocked.
"I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't do what I have to do right now," he informed her.
"Give it your best shot."
Her smile wasn't perfectly white but perfectly disarming. It was beautiful. Like her.
"I think it's done," he murmured, not wanting to let go of her.
"You can't corrupt me," she answered. "It's too late."
"You don't have a halo anymore," he answered, watching it fall to both of their feet. "But it isn't like I don't think I don't have a conscience either."
"Oh?" she asked.
"We both don't belong in either world."
"Give it your best shot," she told him again.
So he corrupted her.
Only because she asked so nicely.
She was white when he met her.
She still was. She blended in with the rest without her glowing crown yet stood out because of her brilliant light.
Sometimes he would look into the mended mirrors and see that glint again. But it would disappear as soon as it came. Because it was never really there to begin with.
"Have you corrupted the ladies of society?" she asked in the corner of the gathering. He gazed down at the virginal gown that was streaked with his own blood. His vest matched with the silken scarlet.
"Not quite," he grinned. "I still have you to attest for."
"I think people are starting to notice," she murmured.
"What?" he asked.
"That we're neither good or evil."
He gazed at her, blood flashing across her dress until it was pure white again. He was dressed in sheer black so they contrasted as she took the stage in a way she shouldn't.
Her hips swayed sensually in a way that angels weren't supposed to have the knowledge to do so. She bit the apple with tangy flavor he could taste in her mouth and she knew everything that he did.
Her delicate hands skimmed her sides as she reached up to her midnight hair. She lifted her flickering halo and flung it into the audience where it remained useless and forgotten.
Her dress was around her ankles. Beneath was silver, shimmering at him that made him know that she wasn't quite corrupted. She wasn't in a category. Like him.
He rose to his feet, calculating which move to make next. He had to violate her. It was the way things were. Corrupting angels was the highest honor. But he had already done that. He had corrupted her the moment their flesh touched and he didn't sizzle with incompatibility.
He reached out his hand to hers, helping her down the stairs as her pale legs brushed against each other. He felt the bloody lust that was turning into something else altogether. He had to claim her like he was known for. But not because he had to. Because he wanted to.
Because he wanted her.
Her dark hair spread across across the leather interior as she stained her lips with the red color of the pomegranate seeds that she accepted from him. His flesh didn't sizzle when it came in contact with her but they both did when they sank beneath each other and cried out in pure ecstasy the only way that they could.
She ate his seeds and he did something that didn't involve violation but the heart he realized he had yet to be void of. He touched her again and again without fault because this was the way it was supposed to be.
This was the way.
It was the fallen angel that loved the devil within him.
They reigned in earth together. She fell against gravel and stone, skinning her perfect flesh so he could right it with his wicked tongue. He stumbled up the steps to greet her so they could meet in the middle.
The fallen angel fell in love with the devil.
And he loved her right back.
For all eternity.