Chapter Text
“Eomma, why are people bad or good?” The woman stopped in the door of her daughter’s bedroom, hand already hovering over the light switch to put her child to rest. At the sound of the small voice, however, she paused, turning back around to gaze at her pup cocooned in her blanket, teddy bear clamped under one arm.
She smiled, taking another step back into the room, choosing to sit down on the edge of her bed, one hand smoothing out the wrinkles in the pink comforter covering her daughter’s body.
“That’s a great question, sweetheart,” she hummed, smiling softly at the child. “But you know, not every person is either good or bad. We all have a bit of both.”
The small pup frowned, staring at her teddy bear as she processed that information. “I don’t understand, eomma,” she whispered after a few seconds of musing over the information, looking back up at her mother for an explanation.
The woman chuckled softly, smoothing her hands over her daughter’s unruly hair, which was fanned out on the pillow.
“Let me tell you a story,” she started with a soft voice, “about angels and demons who were at war with each other.”
The pup listened with rapt attention, shaking off the heavy tentacles of sleep to listen to the woman’s story instead. She had always been so curious, sometimes too curious for her own good. This time, the woman had no complaint about her curiosity as it wouldn’t get her hurt, but instead teach her an important lesson.
“Once upon a time, there were guardian angels, and chaos demons, who came to earth to help their assigned humans. The angels would influence them to be nice, diligent, and selfless, bringing out the best of the people they were watching over. The demons, however, made their humans selfish, mean, and violent, toying with their humans for entertainment. So at that time, humans were always either good or bad, depending on who watched over them.”
“The angels and the demons were at war with each other for many many years, because they didn’t want the other to be able to influence the humans but wanted to rule alone. Until one time, an angel and a demon fell in love, proving through their affections that working together was possible and better for both races in the end. Together with their children, they started a new era of demons and angels working together to make well-balanced humans who were kind when they wanted to, and selfish when they needed to. That could only be achieved if both parties worked together. So now every human has a little angel and a little demon watching over them, taking care of them in the best way they can.” By the time the woman finished the story, her little pup was already fast asleep, and she kissed her forehead with a smile, leaving the room to let her rest.
Now, my lovely readers, every fairytale has a little grain of truth in it, and this one is no exception. Some of the details of Jungkook’s and Jimin’s love story, which I will tell you many of, however, are not fit for the ears of a pup and have to be toned down for the ears of the younger generations. I will not spare you the heartbreak, the despair, the violence, or the passion. After all, my precious audience, without the juicy details, there would be no fun to their corruption.
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Jimin stared at his own reflection in the mirror. His almond-shaped blue eyes, the soft locks of blond hair falling into his face. He really allowed himself to study his appearance, although it felt uncomfortable to do so. His own face was foreign to him and he never thought that he would ever really get acquainted with it.
Vanity was a sin, so naturally, Jimin’s family only had one permanently veiled mirror in their whole home. Angels didn’t sin, after all. There was only one time - that Jimin knew of- when his parents had used that mirror, and that was on their wedding day.
The only other time the mirror had ever been unveiled since then and before today, was when Jimin had found it as a child and tugged the white cloth off of it; he was barely four at the time. He had screamed in horror after finding his own eyes staring back at him, tumbling back into his parents’ dresser and knocking his head against the brass handles of the furniture piece. They had come running immediately, worried shouts of his name reaching him before they even came into view. Jimin had sat there crying, wide eyes staring at the stranger in the weird portal he didn’t even know the name of; blood running down his temple and soaking into his tiny wings and shoulders. His first encounter with his own self was quite a traumatic one.
Jimin looked a lot different now than when he was four years old. Sixteen years had changed a lot not only in his face but his body as well. He had grown into his big eyes and pouty lips more, his cheeks not quite as chubby on his face. His shoulders were narrow, collar bones sticking out clearly, but the rest of his body was all soft curves as all angels were prone to possess. He kept his wings hidden mostly, as it was simply more practical to do, but they also had grown from the sparsely feathered ‘plucked chicken’ look, into pristine swan-like wings every angel would have envied him for if envy wasn’t a sin.
Jimin didn’t dare pass any judgment on how he looked, terrified of being called vain and committing more sins than he was already subjecting his soul to. Besides he didn't even know what to judge; what was considered beautiful.
Never mind that where he was going sins wouldn’t matter anyway.
Jimin had heard the prophecy when he was barely ten years old, but it stayed engraved in his mind every single day since then. God only spoke to His angels on their birthdays, telling them only what He deemed necessary for them to know.
For his parents, when they were twenty-five, He foretold them that they would have Jimin in two years. For Jimin, He had much grimmer news and told him much sooner than Jimin wished to know.
On his 21st birthday, Satan would claim him as a child of his. Or rather for a child of his.
A ten-year-old couldn’t understand the implications of such words, but over the years since then, Jimin had a lot of time to reflect on his future and to think over why God, his creator, would give up one of his angels to Satan just like that. God never elaborated, even on the coming birthdays. Even when Jimin would lie in his bed, curled on his side, begging and pleading to get an answer as to why He had forsaken him. Why him? Why not somebody else?
When Jimin got his first job as a guardian angel and clashed with some chaos demons on his first day on earth, his fate seemed even more dreadful. Even though their domains couldn’t be farther apart, angels and demons still had to share one common workspace, but very different goals. So Jimin had a first-row seat to their daily cruelty. Seeing said cruelty projected onto the humans. Seeing lies, infidelity, deceit. It felt like a glimpse into Jimin’s future.
“He always has a reason for why He does things” his mother would always say when Jimin’s woes overwhelmed him and he sought her out for comfort. “You might not see it now, but soon you will understand.”
“But it feels like He will abandon me. Have I not been a faithful servant? Have I not taken care of his humans well?” the young angel would cry, withering into himself like a wilted flower at the first snow. Jimin felt like he was suffocating under a heavy blanket of snow.
“He would never abandon you, my sweet.”
Jimin didn’t feel like that was true then, but even less true five days from his 21st birthday.
He had long since stopped going to his mother when he struggled with his situation. He loathed making her sad and showing her her own son so faithless and broken, so he opted for dealing with his grief silently, praying to his creator every night to get just a few answers. Just anything. But He stayed silent and Jimin never felt more alone in his life. Like a dog sitting on an icy porch, wondering why their owner abandoned him in the cold.
The days leading up to his- what? Excommunication?- Jimin was relieved of his guardian angel duties. Something that hurt him to no end to give up. He didn’t know if he would be allowed to continue doing what he loved - what made him feel useful - when he would be given over to his demon husband, or if he might have to continue serving as a chaos demon now. He didn’t know if he ever could pull a poor soul into a life of sin like the demons seemed to enjoy doing to no end.
The night of his 21st birthday, Jimin couldn’t sleep a single wink. He was terrified out of his mind about what would happen when he awakens. Would they take his wings? Jimin rarely used them, but they still meant so much to him, the implications of having them taken from him were devastating. The hole they would leave inside him bottomless.
Would he ever be able to see his parents again? Would He still talk to him tomorrow, or would he be deserted completely by his creator? What would his betrothed be like? Would he force him into an existence full of sin?
The bloodred wedding dress - his betrothed insisted on the color and style - was like a thorn in his eyes, something he couldn’t ignore. Jimin had never worn anything but neutral tones before.
He always hoped for a husband as loving as his father was towards his mother, but it seemed like he had to come to terms with his situation now once and for all, mere hours from the wedding.
“You will always be our darling boy. No matter what happens tomorrow, you are still our own and we will love you. He makes no mistakes, Jimin and He chose you for us.”
His father’s encouraging words before he left his bedroom that night, did nothing to put Jimin at ease. So as Jimin laid awake at night, crying to himself silently, he started to doubt God’s plan for the first time. His lack of faith in Him almost hurt as much as having to say goodbye to everything he knew in the morning.
The next morning, Jimin didn’t instantly go to hell accompanied by flames as he expected. Nothing happened at all actually. God didn’t manifest in front of him and disown him under screams. He stayed completely silent. The silence was deafening, roaring in his ears so prominently that Jimin felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything but the nothingness. Like cotton plugging his ears.
It wasn’t what he expected or dreaded, but somehow it was even worse. Jimin felt a desperate scream bubble up his throat, just so he could shatter this deafening, mind-numbing silence that had engulfed the whole room, but he swallowed it down. For the sake of his parents who were probably still sleeping. And for his own dignity, since he wanted to enter this new chapter of his life as gracefully as possible.
“Happy birthday to me” he whispered softly, the sound leaving him in an almost painful wheeze in place of the scream that wanted to emerge. His voice sounded foreign and strained. After another few heavy exhales, Jimin swung his legs over the side of the bed, his naked toes making contact with the chilly hardwood floor.
The angel hissed in discomfort, feet quickly retracting back under the warm blanket he was lying under, toes rubbing against his bedsheets, trying to warm them up again.
Sitting there like that, Jimin’s eyes once again found the red dress hanging on his wardrobe. The blood-red gown was downright sacrilegious, the see-through but shimmering material leaving little to the imagination.
Jimin was blushing with mortification just at the idea of wearing it in front of his parents and the other angels. To his fiancé, this must not be an issue. Jimin wondered what he would be wearing if that was what he had chosen for his bride.
It’s unsure how long he was sitting there, covered with blankets and staring at the red dress unblinkingly, until tears were starting to flow down his face from the irritation, and he was forced to close them for a second.
When he started to hear movement from his parent's bedroom, Jimin decided it was time to put his brave façade on and begin his day as well. He made his way to the bathroom sluggishly, avoiding his mother’s eyes as she greeted him softly from the doorway. He brushed his teeth a little more aggressively than usual, blood mixing in with the foam when he spit it into the sink.
Jimin stared at the pinkish foam until it was swallowed down by the drain, only then finishing up his morning routine and facing the red gown once again in the solitude of his own room. It was just as intimidating in daylight as it was in the insomniac mood of the moonlight. More vibrant too.
“Honey” his mother’s hesitant voice sounded from the cracked open door, Jimin’s head whipping around quickly. He quickly plastered a small smile on his face that took way too much energy to uphold.
“Do you want me to help you get ready?” she asked softly, voice trailing off unsurely at the end, betraying how unsure she felt as well. This day wasn't difficult for just Jimin.
“Okay” Jimin whispered back equally as quietly, taking and squeezing his mother’s hand when she reached out.
“Are you excited to meet your new husband?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound as lively as possible, but it still fell flat.
Jimin shrugged, staring down at his toes. “Should I be? It doesn’t really feel joyful, knowing that my new husband is a demon who I’ve never even met,” Jimin whispered, feeling ashamed of his own words. He shouldn’t badmouth his new partner, even if he was indeed a demon.
“Maybe he isn’t quite so different from us after all” his mother mumbled, but even Jimin could hear the skepticism in her voice. He appreciated that she was trying though.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He still indulged her words half-heartedly. Their conversation trailed off after that, both of them too far in their own mind to lie to the other. Jimin briefly wondered where his father was, as his mother helped him slip into the dress, but then decided it would be better he wasn’t there if he was struggling with the situation.
Jimin wanted to see neither disgust nor sorrow on his father’s face if it could be prevented.
The material of the gown felt foreign on his skin. Like water on his skin. Cold, somehow. It made goosebumps erupt on his skin. Jimin couldn’t see himself fully in the mirror, but even looking down his body he could tell that the dress was a lot more revealing than what he usually wore. The back was so low even that Jimin could’ve revealed his wings without any problems. He pondered the idea for a split second, before deciding that his wings were too personal to show to his new husband.
“How do I look?” Jimin whispered with a half-hearted chuckle, turning to face his mother who had gone very quiet. Her eyes were glossy as she looked at her son with an unreadable expression.
“You will always be God’s most beautiful angel to me” she whispered softly, giving Jimin a watery smile. “Can I-“ she started, trailing off quickly, as if ashamed of her thoughts. Jimin looked at her curiously, waiting for her to continue her question.
“On my wedding day, my mother gifted me some makeup to wear for the occasion. I kept it all this time in case you wanted to wear it as well on your big day. Can I put some on you?”
It felt a little strange to consider, since Jimin already was wearing the most sacrilegious clothing, and adding on to it seemed just too vain, but seeing his mother’s eyes light up with hope and something close to excitement, made it impossible for Jimin to refuse.
“Okay,” he acquiesced, gifting his mother a small smile. The smile he got in return made it worth it, his mother quickly running from the room to get the aforementioned makeup kit.
Jimin felt a little stranded in the middle of his room. He was unsure if it was okay to sit down in this fabric, so he just kept standing in the middle of his room, like some weird centerpiece. Like a statue titled "the fallen angel", or "a fall from grace".
He didn’t have to wait for long, however, as he could hear his mother’s approaching footsteps again mere seconds later. She ushered him to sit down on his bed again, careful not to crumple the fabric as she took a seat next to him. Hovering unsurely for just a second before getting to work.
Jimin watched her dump a very limited selection of pencils, brushes, powders, and tubes on the bed, picking up a little peachy powder case. She picked one of the fluffier brushes, then started to apply the peachy powder on his cheeks.
Jimin didn’t know what she was doing, but he enjoyed watching his mother so concentrated as she worked on his face. The black pencil she used around his eyes made his eyes water, but he quickly blinked the tears away when his mother warned him it’ll ruin her work. Her stern warning even made him giggle briefly.
As a finishing touch, she put some color on his lips, the waxy feeling on his lips foreign to Jimin. He rubbed them together a few times, slowly getting used to the coating on his lips.
“Would you like to see how you look?” his mother asked him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she smiled at him. The question temporarily startled Jimin. He felt like the right thing to answer would be ‘no’, since vanity was a sin, but he figured that if his mother asked, it would probably be okay to agree this once. Besides he was quite curious as to what he would look like with all this foreign stuff on him. Dress and makeup.
“We can put your veil on afterwards” his mother grinned, then she got up to find the only mirror they had in the whole house. The one Jimin was looking into not too long ago.
The veil was of the same color as his dress, and when pulled over his face, tinged his surroundings a soft pinkish hue. It was a little strange to look through the thinly woven strands of red which made up the headpiece, but still he walked up to his mother, who was holding up the mirror for Jimin to peer into after she had fixed the veil on his head.
Jimin was shaking, his heart gripped with nervousness. On the one hand, he was quite curious to see himself all made up for his wedding. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure if he would like what he would see in the mirror, so he was a little apprehensive to shatter his crumbling hope of a dream wedding.
But when he looked at himself in the mirror, pulling the veil back to peer at his face as well, Jimin was stunned by what he saw. The maroon of the dress and veil complimented his pale skin tone well, his blue eyes standing out like sapphires in a pool of blood. The black around his eyes- his mother’s doing- accentuated them even further.
“I- This is me?” he gasped out softly, finding his mother’s eyes over the rim of the mirror she was holding. He couldn’t see her mouth, but by the way her eyes turned into crescents, Jimin could tell that she was smiling.
The next few hours before the event, happened in the blink of an eye, as all things you dread tend to do. Standing in front of the church, Jimin’s heart fell through his stomach and landed at his feet, beneath the skirt of his dress. Metaphorically.
“Are you ready, honey?” his mother pulled him out of his silent panic-induced stupor, his head whipping around to face her so quickly it almost hurt his neck. He was shaking his head before he could push down his panic.
“No, I’m not” he whispered, but tragically, too late, because at that moment, the music set in, sealing Jimin’s fate.
His mother smiled at him uncomfortably, squeezing his hand one last time, before walking up the aisle, taking her designated seat in the first row. She couldn’t help him anyway, no matter how much she wanted to. It was God's will. Not even the love of a mother could change that.
Jimin took one hesitant step inside the church. He slowly, with one last shaky exhale, raised his head, finding most of the pews empty, except for a few rows right at the front. The angel could somehow breathe more easily with fewer eyes on him. Although most of the eyes he did find gazing at him, were unfamiliar. He wasn't surprised that none of his fellow angels showed up.
As he was making his way down the aisle on shaky legs, his eyes finally found his groom, standing by the altar. Another demon was talking to him in hushed whispers, while his husband-to-be was fixing his cufflinks, his suit black and fitted, dress shirt the same color as Jimin’s dress. He didn’t wear a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned a bit too much to be considered appropriate for a church.
He was turned slightly away from the aisle, still unaware of Jimin’s presence until his companion’s gaze found the young angel, eyes lighting up with an emotion Jimin couldn’t decipher. It wasn't an inherently evil expression, which surprised Jimin as he thought evil was the only emotion demons would be capable of.
The demon nudged the groom then, muttering something with a small smile, that made his groom finally turn around and look at Jimin.
He was handsome, extremely so. At least Jimin thought so when he finally got a look at his face. His skin was the color of honey, jawline sharp, nose bridge strong and eyes dark and expressive. His hair was styled back, with a few wavy strands falling into his face as if he had run his hands through it a few too many times. Jimin stopped breathing with his groom's intense attention suddenly trained on him.
Jimin watched as his groom started grinning, a look of pure satisfaction he had never seen on another being so strongly before, crossing his features. It made Jimin blush involuntarily as he finally assumed his position next to the man. He tried his best to seem calm and collected, unfazed, but as soon as his groom's scent hit his nose, Jimin’s knees buckled under him.
Jimin was used to the light and airy scents of his parents which all the angels seemed to share, but this scent was something he had never experienced before. The only way he could describe it was pure sin, wrapping around his throat and coaxing him closer, dark, heady, and irresistible.
The demon’s arm quickly wrapped around Jimin’s waist, pulling him to his chest to steady him as his legs gave out. Jimin entirely forgot how to breathe, staring into the demon’s eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Jimin could feel the demon's chuckle reverberate through his own chest. “Careful, little dove. Swooning in a church is pretty unbecoming for an angel,” he whispered into Jimin’s ear.
The soft puffs of warm air against the side of his neck made Jimin shiver, his stomach clenching at the unfamiliar sensation. He had never reacted to another man’s presence like this before. Strongly. Physically. Viscerally. It was scary.
It was as if his groom could read the confusion in Jimin’s gaze, or maybe he could just look into his soul. The smirk stayed on his lips, if not widening even further. “You’ll get used to it, sweetheart. There’s a lot your creator leaves dormant inside you.”
Dormant?
Jimin frowned.
“Jungkook,” the demon from before spoke up, making his groom pull away from Jimin, albeit reluctantly, “we are still in a church, at least feign some respect.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes but did step away fully, keeping his hands on his sides. With the added distance, Jimin could breathe a little easier, sense other things that weren’t just the man in front of him. He kept his head down, however, embarrassed by his bout of weakness. He didn’t want to see what the few angels that had come to ‘celebrate’ his union thought. Even less so his parents.
Had his corruption already begun?
Jungkook stayed as respectful as he possibly could, while still being a demon, throughout the whole ceremony. It was more than Jimin thought possible, but his new husband surprised him even further. The angel was gaping openly when he pulled out a little piece of paper during their vows.
“I, Jeon Jungkook, arch demon under my master’s guiding hand, take you, Park Jimin, to be my faithfully wedded husband. I swear to cherish you and respect you even through our differences. I promise to listen and be your anchor through turbulences. I swear to always try to be a demon deserving of an angel's devotion. Until fate do us part.”
Complete silence followed his vows, not only from Jimin, who was too baffled to speak, but also from all the guests, until Jungkook, fed up by the silence, turned one challenging glare to the archangel officiating their union, who stumbled over his words to quickly continue the ceremony.
Jimin was still reeling from the thoughtful vows, so far in his own head that the priest’s words were muffled background noise to his inner turmoil.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Jimin zoned back in instantly, eyes widening as Jungkook cupped his jaw, looking at him with a calm intensity in his dark eyes. They reminded Jimin of a frozen lake, dangerous and black, calm but treacherous.
Jimin went completely rigid as the demon leaned in.
“Keep it chaste,” Jungkook’s best man reminded him quietly, making Jungkook roll his eyes once again, centimeters from Jimin’s face.
“Relax, Namjoon,” he groaned, lips almost brushing Jimin’s as he spoke.
“I haven’t kissed anyone before,” the angel blurted out suddenly, wide, terrified eyes meeting Jungkook’s. He paused, a soft chuckle leaving his lips, the breath of it gently caressing Jimin’s face. Jimin's heart sped up.
“I know. I got you, little dove. Just close your eyes.”
Jimin did as he was told before he even finished his sentence. Eyes screwing shut so hard that he saw static behind his eyelids. They flew back open, however, as soon as he felt soft, warm lips touch his own.
Jungkook was kissing him gently, lips barely moving, leaving it to Jimin to respond. It felt foreign and overwhelming. The hand on his jaw, pulling him closer ever so gently. Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed again, a soft gasp leaving his lips, opening up like flower petals. His knees buckled again, but once again Jungkook was there to catch him. His lips softly enveloped Jimin’s bottom one, pressing a peck that left Jimin whimpering. Suckling on it for a split second.
They pulled apart then. Jimin blushing with embarrassment for how he reacted to being kissed, Jungkook once again smirking, amused and pleased.
And that was it. They were bonded in the eyes of God. His fate was sealed.
Jungkook let him go to hug his parents, Jimin blinking back tears as he was cradled to his father’s chest, holding his head like he did when Jimin was still a little cherub-y baby. A hug that used to make all hurts okay in a second.
“We love you, always,” he had whispered into Jimin’s ear and Jimin realized that it wasn’t his father’s shame and disappointment in him that kept him away this morning, but the overwhelming grief of having to let his little boy go.
It was difficult to detach himself from his family. Even more to not burst into tears like a terrified child. He wasn’t ready to live without their gentle guidance, love, and affection.
But when Jungkook held out his hand wordlessly, Jimin took it. He let the darkness envelop him, as his husband whisked him away.