Ballad of the Fallen Angel

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/26665939.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V
Character: Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Namjoon | RM
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Fallen Angels, Demon Kim
Taehyung | V, Angel Jeon Jungkook, Alternate Universe -
Reincarnation, Angst, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sexual
Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, Top Kim
Taehyung | V, Bottom Jeon Jungkook
Collections: The Best of The Best
Stats: Published: 2020-09-26 Words: 35512

Ballad of the Fallen Angel

by Always_Somewhere

Summary

Truly, Jungkook would always be his sweetest sin.

Notes

Hello! This fic was a commission that slightly got out of hand for a lovely friend, what was
supposed to be a pwp grew a plot, and here we are with a 35k fic full of emo feelings. I just
wanted to give a shoutout to my lovely commissioner for being so kind and patient with
me, I really hope you like this!!

I also wanted to give another shoutout to sailorkook for helping me with the beta, and to
Awalk66, haru, and porridgemilk for listening to all my woes as I wrote, yall are the real
mvps!!!

See the end of the work for more notes

There’s only one way to become an angel, three ways to become a demon.

To become an angel, one must have been good and just in their mortal life, living life by the book
and spreading good. When they die, as one of God’s favorites, they ascend as angels. Those angels
wear too much white because God forbid any color clash with their large white wings, they’re
often straitlaced and deem themselves superior to demons, mortals too. Apparently, ego is the only
sin that they’re exempt of, Taehyung thinks wryly.

Demons, on the flip side of the coin, are born in three different ways. First, opposite to angels,
they’re mortals who strayed from the right path during their few years of life. People who sinned,
who hurt others and relished in the pain they caused, people who are no longer considered eligible
for the bliss and comfort that Heaven has to offer. The second way simply entailed demons born as
offspring and minions of older demons, created simply to carry out their evil bidding. They didn’t
have much higher thinking, were deformed to fit the grotesque landscape of Hell, and just liked to
cackle at pretty much everything.

The third method, whilst much rarer than the first two, does happen once every few centuries.

An angel who has fallen from grace, corrupted and committed sins that can’t be redeemed, falling
from the Heavens down to Hell with their wings burning as they fall. It’s a pain like no other, that
searing pain as fire licks at the white wings once cherished, reaching all the way to their back until
there’s nothing but two scars left in their place. It indicates the beginning of their transformation,
into one of Hell’s underlings, into something inherently evil and no longer capable of love, just
ruin.

Taehyung falls into that latter category. Born mortal, was good and just, and then reborn as an
angel. However, he sinned, and fell from grace and had has wings taken from him as repentance
and was transformed into a demon. He became that thing he was always taught to fear, to hate, to
look down upon. The horrible pain eventually faded, but the memory of it never did, still felt that
phantom pain from time to time reverberating through the core of his body.

Or perhaps, it was the pain of heart break, he wouldn’t know.

It’s not until several centuries later, when Taehyung meets a certain angel, that his pain starts to
fade, and his once frozen heart starts to beat once more.

Taehyung’s sin was that he fell in love with a mortal.

A mortal with a face he no longer remembered, a name he couldn’t place. He didn’t remember the
mortal anymore, not even the memory of the love he held for him. All he remembers is that he fell
in love once and paid a heavy price for his sin.

He lost himself, gained nothing in return but hurt.

And so he wandered alone for centuries, fueled with bitterness, regret, and the remnants of heart
break that never quite faded even if the love dissipated long ago.

Taehyung shoves his hands into the pockets of his pinstriped slacks, casting a lazy look at the
flames dancing before his eyes, a burning cigarette inserted between his lips. Ash falls to the
ground as the cigarette burns in small orange embers, the scent of nicotine eclipsed by the more
pungent smell of carbon and asphalt burning. A scent originating from the burning building ahead
of them. The otherwise peaceful evening air is pierced by the screams of mortals as they run and
fight in futility to save their fleeting lives and the cackling of his minions who initiated said fire.

He doesn’t find it amusing, but it is fascinating to watch, enjoys watching the shapes the fire takes
as a building burns and the faces mortals make as they try to escape. In situations like these, it’s
always intriguing how easily it is to distinguish between the pure mortals and the corrupted ones.
There are mortals who scream for their child, running back into the building to save their
significant other; others who just want to escape with their tails between their legs, not caring what
or who they left behind to burn in the flames.

Just a study in morality, humanity, what makes these moral compasses tick, he supposes.

He knows that nobody will get hurt anyway. An angel will be here soon to save the day, Taehyung
made sure to leave an opening for people to escape from too. He’s not here to kill today, killing is
quite dull after living a long life as he had because mortals die too easily. Not many reactions to
glean either, well aside from the despair their close friends and family feel, but the blissful release
of death and its aftermath isn’t one that Taehyung can relate to. Rather, it’s the thrill he’s looking
for, one that comes from the heady sounds’ mortals can only make when they believe their lives
are at stake.

Taehyung dangles his legs over the ledge of the building adjacent to the burning one, cocking his
head back as he lets out a puff of smoke, dissipating in the wind before it can take on a clear shape.
Tsking, he tosses his cigarette that’s more ash than cigarette now over the ledge, a small stick of
orange embers turning to ash that quickly disappears in the fire below.

Cheap thrills are all nights like this can provide him, they do little to move his frozen heart, and
Taehyung is always quick to find himself bored. There’s little else for a demon to do, however,
when life is forever and the void in his chest – reminiscent to a black hole – is one that can’t be
filled no matter what he tries to fill it with. Wreak havoc, terrorize humans, and annoy angels; it
gets awfully repetitive as well, but c’est la vie.

Taehyung senses a shift in the air around him, implying the arrival of a guest, probably an angel.
None of his minions seem to have noticed, Taehyung’s keener senses are something he only
managed to pick up on after three hundred years of immortality, humming as he ignores the new
presence and pulls out his left hand from his pocket. In his hand, there’s a silver case where he
keeps his cigarettes, pulling out one as he dangles his feet – loafers threatening to fall into the pull
of gravity. He lights the cigarette, not with a lighter like mortals do, but seemingly spontaneously.

What Taehyung wills into existence will be, demons are creatures of greed and self-indulgence, so
it makes sense that their abilities would reflect their nature.

“Demon Taehyung, Seoul District, aren’t you not?” a voice sounds from behind him. The voice is
haughty, tinged with a hint of hesitation, foreign to him but also not. Something tugs at his chest,
another foreign sensation. “This is your fifth time committing arson this month.”

Taehyung nods without turning around, blowing out a whiff of smoke that disappears in the cold
night air. He’s forgotten what cold feels like, not a sensation he’s equipped to feel anymore, too
mortal for a demon. He’s committed five acts of arson this month because he likes to be
methodical like that, each month committing to one sin or atrocity to see how it makes him feel
before he crosses it off, tries to see if it’s capable of moving his heart or not. He’s tried everything
ranging from arson to murder, not much of it has helped, still feels like an empty vessel on the
inside.
“Did Hoseok fall from grace? I quite liked him,” Taehyung asks, holding his lit cigarette in one
hand. Hoseok is the angel who’s usually sent to deal with the chaos that Taehyung is prone to
initiating, jovial and friendly for the most part, lovely heart smile too. They aren’t friends, he
doesn’t think any angel and demon could be friends, but he didn’t hate him either. He considers his
hypothesis for a moment. “Well, if he did, I guess I’ll be seeing more of him around Hell so it’s not
all bad.”

Footsteps resounds behind him, irritated and hasty, the new angel coming into focus as his wings
keep him afloat before Taehyung. Neatly cropped black hair, large dark eyes, pursed lips, and
crossed arms. Majestic white wings flare behind him, large and beautiful, matching the white
ensemble the angel has on of loose white pants and a white sweater to match it. Pretty, very much
so, even if the disdain radiates off him in waves.

Taehyung’s voice catches in his throat, fingers twitching as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.
While his voice was mostly still foreign to him, his face was not, a memory of a lifetime past that
Taehyung can’t place. He can’t tell if it’s just misplaced Deja vu, something that happens often
enough when he’s lived for so long, or something more insidious.

Natural, Taehyung needs to act natural.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no, Hoseok just got promoted,” the angel says, nose turned up to
him. He makes sure to keep himself elevated by his wings just a few more inches above Taehyung
to give himself the height advantage, so inherently petty, something Taehyung can’t help but be
amused by. “He has better to do than deal with a lowly demon like you.”

“Hmm, so they shuffled his work onto you then? Because this is the best you currently can do as a
newbie?” Taehyung muses, lips curling into a smile. “Pity for you.”

“I – no – it’s not like that,” the angel flushes, clearly not ready for that comeback. This new angel
should know better than to rile up a demon if he can’t take it, but Taehyung figures he must be
new, so he has a lot to learn. Taehyung wouldn’t mind being the one to teach him. “Just doing my
job, I’m here to clean up your mess.”

Of course he is, Taehyung knows how bureaucratic the angel system is, one that’s ran on strict
rules and guidelines. Every angel is assigned a duty and a post, either it be maintaining peace in the
mortal realm, guiding a mortal back on the right path like a fairy god mother, or nagging demons to
stop acting like demons. Naturally, the last one is considered the worst because demons never
listen and just annoy the fuck out of angels for the hell of it until the angel just accepts it or asks
for another duty once they’ve reached wits end.

Contrarily, in Hell, everything goes. Nothing is considered too evil by their standards, so they’re
allowed free reign and creative freedom on how they decide to spread their chaos and corruption,
as per Seokjin’s jurisdiction to just ‘Go nuts! I don’t give a fuck.’ as he so eloquently put it. That
involves corruption of the innocent too, right? Hmm.

“You’re doing a terrific job of it so far, the building is still burning, you know,” Taehyung drawls,
pointing at the building, smiling in amusement as horror paints the angel’s face. Definitely new.

The angel glares at him but turns away from him to cast a water spell on the building, putting it out
in increments. Taehyung lets out a whistle, because that’s quite impressive for a newbie, that kind
of elemental magic isn’t something angels are able to get a grasp of until a few hundred years after
their ascension. Nobody has died, he knows this, but Taehyung doesn’t care anymore, thinks he
can get a much better thrill out of messing with this angel in front of him for a bit.
The angel takes a few minutes, Taehyung’s minions making no move to hide their sniggering, and
Taehyung glares at them and they scatter. The angel comes back, soot covering his pretty face,
throwing an angry glare his way and Taehyung finds it adorable.

“You’re lucky nobody died, or you’d be in deep shit right now,” the angel sneers.

“Hmm, I guess I would be,” Taehyung shrugs, noncommittally. His threats have no effect on him,
he’s too much of a big shot in Hell now, and Heaven has already stripped him of anything valuable
that he possessed, doesn’t think there’s much else they could do to hurt him. He cocks his head
back, regarding him under his lashes. “Your name, lovely?”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Jungkook,” he introduces himself, flying back cautiously. “I’m
here to clean up your mess.”

The name evokes something from him, a tug in his chest, much more than anything those fires
could have elicited. He can’t put his finger to it yet, something close but too far away for Taehyung
to identify, he’s lived too long after all. It makes him curious though, wonders what kind of spark
Jungkook can elicit in him if given the chance and time to do so.

“And now? What are you here for?” Taehyung prompts, throwing his cigarette to the ground by
Jungkook’s feet. “Going to scold me? Tell me to be good? Punish me, maybe?”

“I am not here to do that actually,” Jungkook replies, chin raised high but the red flush high on his
cheeks shows he’s not quite unaffected. “Nobody has been too hurt yet in your escapades, but I’ve
been sent to warn you of Heaven’s intervention if you overstep your boundaries again.”

“Are you worried about me? How kind of you,” Taehyung replies, batting his lashes. “I’m touched,
truly.”

Slowly, he stands up on the ledge, approximating the distance between them, finds himself close to
Jungkook’s height even if he tries to make himself taller. He brushes his finger under his chin,
noting how his skin is smooth to the touch. Taehyung closes his eyes for a moment, imagining just
how soft the rest of him would be. How soft those majestic wings would be too, if he were to run
his fingers through those pure white feathers, would they be as soft as his wings used to be? He
wonders if Jungkook would be sensitive to the touch, if he’d shudder as Taehyung touched and
caressed his feathers, ruffling them up just a bit. He has a feeling that he would be.

“Not worried, just doing my job,” Jungkook replies, batting Taehyung’s hand away.

“Yes, yes, you keep on saying that,” Taehyung sighs. He rests his chin on his palm, quirking his
lips. “When will I see you again, pretty?”

“Hopefully never. I have a name by the way,” Jungkook grits out. His hands curl into fists by his
sides, glaring at Taehyung with a delicious mixture of irritation and haughtiness. So endearing,
makes Taehyung want to push his boundaries further, see how much he can push until he’s looking
at Taehyung in an entirely different way. “Please use it, we’re not friends.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, enjoying the way the name rolls off his tongue. It makes his chest
tighten again in a not entirely awful way. “Does that mean you’ll let me call you pretty when we
become friends?”

“No, because we won’t become friends. I’d never be friends with a demon like you,” Jungkook
replies coolly, the effect slightly diminished by the soot on his cheek and staining his shirt.

Still, Taehyung feels the lazy smile on his face stiffen ever so slightly. The words cut a bit too
deep even if the insult is quite petty and immature in nature, but he doesn’t let his smile drop any.

“Shame, but I do think you’ll be seeing more of me in the future. You’ll grow to appreciate my
company with time and then we will become great friends,” Taehyung promises, already having
the tendrils of some questionable ideas unfurling in his head. Chaos is second nature to him at this
point, knows how to draw out an angel if need be. “Until next time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to reply before Taehyung disappears in a burst of flames, having his
fill with this conversation. August is drawing to a close, September dawning upon them soon with
its colder weather and warm autumnal colors, and Taehyung already has a plan for the kind of
chaos he will be committing next month. Something subtler in nature but covered up with
something dramatic to fit his brand, licks his bottom lip in excitement.

Lust and seduction are fields he hasn’t cared to venture much into in the past, but he’s interested to
see what results his experiments will yield this time.

That night, Taehyung dreams of a lifetime ago, when he used to wear white and have wings so
regal and elegant that even other angels would stop and stare to take in their beauty. He was a good
angel, yes, very devout and followed rules by the book but even he wasn’t exempt from that touch
of pride and ego he felt, that superiority. He had only been an angel for a handful of years at that
point but he was content, regardless. Spending his days performing the duties delivered to him,
then soaring through the skies by night as he reveled in the freedom that only flight could offer.

Everything changed when he was drifting through the mortal realm, listless and invisible to all the
mortals who inhabited the land but was still fascinated by those mortals and their habits. What
made them tick. Mortals always seemed to be doing something; working, studying, laughing,
crying – there was such an interesting spectrum to their emotions – that Taehyung couldn’t help but
be fascinated by. Angels don’t remember anything from their mortal lives, Taehyung included, but
he still felt that draw towards them. He liked to watch them, study them, but never got too close to
any of them.

It would be pointless to get too close, they couldn’t see him, and mortals had a habit of destroying
anything they touched just like demons did.

That was an ideal he stuck to until he came across a mortal with large dark eyes, a pretty face, and a
voice so captivating that kept Taehyung rooted to place. He should have left then, remembered his
own words, and continued drifting. He didn’t leave, however, stayed to watch this beautiful mortal.
To listen to the words that fell from his lips, so bittersweet and full of heart ache. The mortal sang
with his eyes open, hooded and voice dipped with emotion, he didn’t see Taehyung but that didn’t
matter in the moment.

For the first time, it wasn’t about him at all. Everything else in the world faded away, the sounds
around him muting into white noise, just him frozen in place as he listened to this mortal and his
sad song.

Taehyung should have left, that was his first mistake, the beginning of his fall and the loss of his
innocence.
A few nights later finds Taehyung standing on a ledge again, wind ruffling his dark hair, enjoying
the gentle night breeze. There’s a cacophony of screams sounding from down below, carried away
in the wind, and Taehyung enjoys listening to them as he watches the chaos unfold. It makes him
feel like a maestro, swinging his hand this way and that with his invisible baton, as if
choreographing the screams below into a beautiful orchestral symphony.

Tonight, he induced an earthquake, watches as people flee and run out in the streets in a frenzy to
save their lives. Nobody will die tonight, that’s not Taehyung’s will after all, but he still enjoys the
fear he evokes in them. Or well, he’s enjoying the anticipation, because this isn’t the real reason he
came out tonight. He retrieves the silver case from his slacks, pulls out a cigarette, and waits
patiently.

He doesn’t have to wait too long, feels that phantom tug in his chest again when the air shifts
around him. The earthquake comes to a stop seconds after, from Taehyung’s lapse in concentration
or Jungkook effectively stopping it, he’s not sure. The sounds of confusion resound from below,
but Taehyung’s attention is no longer on the mortals.

“How many earthquakes are you going to create around the city, huh?” Jungkook asks as soon as
he appears. Already angry, on edge, and Taehyung thrives on it. He grabs Taehyung by the
shoulder, forcing him down from his ledge, turning him around to glare at him with those lovely
large eyes. “I’m beginning to think you’re being obnoxious on purpose to draw me out.”

His touch is searing hot on his shoulder through the fabric of his turtleneck shirt for that moment
he holds him before letting go, makes him shiver in delight, imagining a red mark where Jungkook
touched him. Taehyung likes to imagine what those glaring pretty eyes will look like filled with
tears, with want and desire for Taehyung to corrupt and consume him.

“Quite slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” Taehyung asks, flicking the soft skin under Jungkook’s
chin. He hates it and Taehyung loves to rile him up. This time, however, Jungkook doesn’t
immediately bat Taehyung’s hand away, eyes growing wider.

“You…induced seven earthquakes just to draw me out?” Jungkook questions incredulously.

“Naturally. I want to be your friend,” Taehyung smiles, quirking his lips.

A lie obviously, Taehyung has no platonic intentions with Jungkook, wants nothing more than to
seduce and corrupt. There’s also the way that Jungkook piques his interest, stirs up a strange
emotion in his chest, makes him dream of memories he thought were sealed away and long gone,
but have been resurfacing lately. He’s not as fond of that part, but he’s intrigued. He wants to know
where those memories will lead and how they connect to Jungkook, if there’s any connection at all
or if his heart is just trying to find an anchor to cling to in the fogginess of his mind that’s not even
there.

“So you can call me pretty?” Jungkook asks, tone condescending.

“Of course, among other names,” Taehyung hums, blowing out a puff of smoke from his lips. It
forms a small gray cloud, formless, and Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he accidentally inhales some of
it. He doesn’t cough, but Taehyung can tell from the pinch of his face that the taste of ash on his
tongue isn’t as pleasant to him. “Would you like to hear some of them?”

He purses his lips, exposing a tiny mole under his bottom lip. Enticing. Taehyung wants to bite
those lips, lick his tongue over the mole.

“Not particularly, no,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“That means part of you wants to hear them, though, no? The curious part.” Taehyung pulls out the
cigarette from between his lips so he can grin at Jungkook. A small piece of ash falls to the ground
between their shoes from his slender fingers, Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement. “How do you
feel about sweetheart? Darling? Baby?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook replies, face flushing warm. “You’re so annoying.”

Taehyung’s grin widens, turning into more of a smirk as he feels that spark he was searching for.
That spark of guilty pleasure and desire, one of those pet names actually did it for him. Interesting
angel, Taehyung muses.

“Aww, baby, don’t be like that,” Taehyung tries, testing the waters.

Jungkook’s eyes fall closed for only a fraction of a second, a shudder coursing through his body
that Taehyung is only privy to because demons feel everyone’s darkest hidden desires. Even
without that sixth sense for the darkness within, the red tint blooming on his cheeks speaks loud
enough volumes. The reaction makes Taehyung feel heady at his interesting discovery, a more
insistent tug in his chest.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook warns, eyes flashing. Conflict reflecting in them. “We’re not
friends.”

“As you wish,” Taehyung hums, bowing dramatically for him.

“I warned you to not cause more chaos in the mortal realm,” Jungkook tells him, taking a few steps
back from Taehyung where it’s presumably safe. “Yet you keep on causing more chaos.”

“None of the mortals died though, did they?” Taehyung replies, bringing the cigarette back to his
lips. He pauses to regard Jungkook with hooded eyes, full of suggestion and promise. “That’s why
you haven’t punished me yet.”

He’s layering the flirting on thick, he knows this, thinks Jungkook should know this too by now.
Angels are stupidly innocent and dense though, flirting and romance is so far off their radar, they
often wouldn’t notice they’re being flirted with even if they were hit in the face with it. If he
knows or not is anyone’s guess. Still, he likes to press Jungkook’s buttons, see the cracks in his
walls propagate and widen. He wants to be the one to tear those walls down altogether.

“So it’s intentional that you don’t kill anyone?” Jungkook asks, wings furrowing behind him to
reflect his confusion. “I looked into your previous felonies under Hoseok, and they all had a zero-
death count. I don’t get it.”

“Death isn’t the worst thing life has to offer, you know,” Taehyung replies honestly, blowing out a
wisp of smoke. “Not by a longshot.”

Looking down below; the earthquake has stopped a while ago, deep cracks forming craters in the
asphalt, cars destroyed beyond hope of use, buildings that look oddly slanted and are probably only
standing still thanks to Jungkook’s intervention. Still, the signs of destruction are evident and
Taehyung hums as he appreciates the scenery with a hint of pride. This is his mark, his design.
The streets are oddly quiet now, but the city is still filled with a thousand blinding lights, the rest of
the city still going about their day despite the catastrophe that happened here. The lights feel like
they are here to replace the hardly visible stars in the sky, far away and forming small orbs in the
sky, making him feel small and rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It makes him
think about a time where he would have preferred death to the life he’s led, how he often still
thinks that way, a blissful way out to all the misery and emptiness he lives with.

Demons don’t die though, that’s not a luxury they’re allowed to have, so he trudges on day by day.

“Yeah, I know, but I still don’t get the point of causing catastrophes without hurting anyone,”
Jungkook insists. “Isn’t that supposed to be the demon thing? You create chaos, hurt and possess
mortals for fun, spreading evil – that kind of thing?”

His eyes are wide as he regards Taehyung with curiosity, dark and doe eyed, reflecting the
beautiful city lights making it look like there’s a whole constellation of stars in those beautiful
eyes. The eyes pull at his memories again, elicits a pang in his chest.

“You’ll do well to know that I don’t like to abide by stereotypes,” Taehyung smiles at him lazily.
He sits down on the ledge, patting the spot next to him for Jungkook to sit down too. “This is all
for you, baby. There’s no deeper reason than that.”

Those stereotypes may have been applicable to him centuries past, but he’s long since moved on
from them, just searching for that something that will wake up his long since dormant heart.

Jungkook slowly sits down, taking extra care to tuck in his wings behind him, brushing against
Taehyung’s shoulder for only a moment. So soft to the touch, just like he thought they would be,
eliciting a jolt of envy and loss.

“Well you shouldn’t cause so much destruction,” Jungkook says softly, resting his hands on the
ledge as he too joins Taehyung in admiring the evening sky. “It’s not necessary.”

“What if I want to anyway?” Taehyung prompts, turning to look at Jungkook. “What if I want to do
just that if it means seeing you again and again instead of never?”

“You’re quite the soft demon, aren’t you?” Jungkook muses, tilting his lips ever so slightly.

Nothing more than a ghost of a smile, but it’s the closest Taehyung has seen to a smile gracing
Jungkook’s features. It lights his face up, makes Taehyung wonder what he’ll look like with a real
smile on his face, finds himself making new plans to find out someday soon.

“Maybe so,” Taehyung replies, a boxy grin forming on his face. “Does that mean you’ll see me
again?”

“I don’t think you’ll leave me much choice,” Jungkook shrugs. He stands up, flaring his wings so
they extend on both sides of him dramatically. Taehyung thinks he’s trying to flex on him or
impress him, notable by the subtle smirk on his face. It works. “Farewell, Taehyung.”

And this time, Jungkook leaves Taehyung behind first in a rush of wind and feathers, Taehyung
just managing to catch one white feather before it falls to the earth. So beautiful and soft, the
feather is, poking the sharper end with his pointer finger and marveling at the drop of blood that
spills out. It only takes a moment after that for the feather to be stained with black, spreading like
ink in water, until the whole feather is a tarry dark color.

Tainted, no longer pure, but still beautiful.

He hooks the feather on the hoop of his earring, conjuring a mirror to see how he looks, decides
that it suits him. He’s always looked good in dangly earrings after all, and it also functions as a
keepsake, ever the sentimental sort he is.

The phrase that Jungkook used to describe him reverberates in his mind as he regards his reflection,
‘a soft demon’, a small smile forming on his face at the interesting phrasing. Taehyung thinks that
Jungkook is mistaken, he’s by no means ‘soft’, thinks that the soft one here is most definitely
Jungkook for trying to see any kind of good in him.

Instead of immediately leaving the mortal realm when his eyes laid on the pretty singer, Taehyung
decided to linger for a bit.

This singer sang in a bar; oil lamps dimly lighting the humble establishment, small and rickety
tables decorating the bar that was frequented by fishermen and merchants who passed through
Busan and wanted a good drink before they wandered out to sea again. The crowd rarely paid any
attention to the singer, not quite caring for the gentle crooning coming from the stage, but the
singer didn’t seem to care that much either for that matter. It felt like he was singing more for
himself than the crowd, eyes falling closed, words dedicated to nobody in particular or maybe to
someone who wasn’t there.

These were all little things Taehyung noticed when he stuck around to listen to the setlist of songs
the singer had to offer, all sung in a gentle and sweet tone about love and heartache, things that
were all very foreign to Taehyung. Angels weren’t supposed to love, not romantically anyway,
because it was a sin. It was a sin, but mortals seemed to care a lot for it, regardless. This mortal
especially, sang with what Taehyung could only describe as tender yearning reflected in those dark
eyes, made his heart shift uncomfortably in his chest.

Nobody else seemed to notice, just two or three of the merchants casually offering him an ovation
or raising their glasses his way when he was done, then the mortal would smile gratefully and bow.
Taehyung didn’t understand why he was the only one who felt so moved by the words of song, but
he found himself coming back every night to listen to the same songs, found himself sitting closer
to the singer each night even if he couldn’t ever see him.

Each night, Taehyung felt the tug in his chest grow stronger, harder to resist seeking out that singer
even if he didn’t know his name.

Each night, the singer would take a seat by the bar after he finished, order a drink and nurse it
between tattooed hands without touching it. He always looked sad for some reason, whatever spark
that lit his eyes while he sang left him empty afterwards. No, sad isn’t the right word, he always
looked lonely. Forlorn, the singer would sip at his beer pint because he didn’t have anything better
to do, none of the other occupants of the bar caring to approach him.

It almost felt like he was invisible too and in that, Taehyung felt a sense of solace within him,
another kindred soul like him in a way.

Maybe it was because of that, that Taehyung would often sit next to him on one of the stools and
watch him. He would tuck his wings in, lean his cheek on his palm as he watched the singer, who
up close looked so tired with dark shades of gray lining his sad eyes that he rubbed at frequently.
Sitting there, Taehyung wished there was anything he could do to make the sad go away. There
wasn’t anything though, he was just an invisible angel to this mortal, but he hoped that just by
sitting next to him like this, he could somehow attempt to assuage the loneliness that seemed to
consume him.

Sometimes, he talked to him, even if the singer couldn’t hear him. He would tell him about his
days as an angel, about how pretty the skies were when his wings were spread as he soared through
the clouds, about the mortals and demons he had met. Other times, he would tell him about how he
loved a certain song, ask him if he had a muse for all these sad love songs. The singer never
replied, just sipped at his beer, but it helped Taehyung pretend that they were having a two-way
conversation.

Each night that he did this, Taehyung felt his heart grow heavier, partially because he felt sad for
this mortal that he couldn’t help. Mostly, he knew it was because he was growing attached to him,
and that didn’t spell anything good for him.

True to Jungkook’s warnings, there was indeed consequences for his actions, and he eventually
found himself standing in the middle of a ridiculously lavish court room situated in the mortal
realm. A neutral zone between Heaven and Hell, seeing as a demon wouldn’t be allowed to set foot
in Heaven and the opposite was also true, lest they burn up and die. This court room was unlike
mortal court rooms, however, Taehyung standing in the middle of an atrium painted in gold with a
lavish dome ceiling that had angels painted over it. Showoffs, Taehyung rolls his eyes. He stands
out like a sore thumb, standing alone on the atrium floor and decked in a pressed three-piece black
suit, all the angels gathering in a sea of white on the story above him. Probably so they can glare at
him from above more precociously.

And they say demons are proud.

Taehyung was tempted to not come out today at all, he’s a notorious rule breaker after all, but as
soon as a letter came in with Heaven’s seal on it, he knew there would be no way out of this one.
As soon as he touched the paper, he found his hand branded with their annoying seal, a pair of
wings on his hand. A seal that wouldn’t disappear and would send a thrumming sensation of pain
through his hand all the way to his heart in jolts until he attended this inane trial.

He’s quite positive he could have removed the seal with his demon magic if he wanted to, it tests
his benevolence how much authority Heaven gives themselves over Hell, and he’s always
interested to try out new and creative methods to stir up some mischief. As his eyes wander over
Jungkook who is resolutely not looking at him, however, he thinks he can deal with some annoying
angels for a little bit. Clearly, Jungkook must be ashamed to be associated with Taehyung in any
way in this moment of time, this trial probably doesn’t make him look all that great since it implies
that Jungkook failed to reign him in. He’d do well to learn it isn’t personal, that most demons thrive
on showing their angels hell, but seeing Jungkook’s disgruntled face is what makes it all more
entertaining.

Obnoxiously, he keeps his eyes trained on Jungkook until their eyes meet, as he mouths a ‘hey,
baby’ at him.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, just gives him a subtle middle finger, which is very un-holy of him. He
stifles a laugh behind his hand, enjoying the red on Jungkook’s ears. Making Jungkook blush is
one of Taehyung’s favorite pastimes now.

Especially when said blushing is accompanied with a tight coil of guilt and desire forming in the
base of Jungkook’s stomach, something he’s just starting to grow attuned to sensing.

“Taehyung, a demon of the Seoul District, this is your 127th time on trial for wreaking havoc in the
mortal realm,” speaks one of the archangels, unfortunately reminding him that he has another
primary purpose in coming here. Directly above him, sits three archangels who rule over the rest.
Namjoon is the one speaking, he’s the only one Taehyung remembers from his time as an angel,
looks more straitlaced and uptight than ever. His eyes are as cold as ice as he regards him with
nothing but contempt, completely devoid of any familiarity. “Many warnings were given but no
action was taken to change your misconduct.”

“Just having a little fun, Joonie,” Taehyung shrugs, a wicked grin forming on his face. The
nickname was very much intentional, a jibe to push all Namjoon’s wrong buttons, all the angels
gasping at the way he chose to address him. “No harm in that.”

Namjoon shows no reaction, his face a cold poker face, but Taehyung will take it as a challenge
upon himself to see that façade crack by the end of this trial.

“I see you’re still just as insolent after all these years,” Namjoon replies coolly. “Unfortunate to see
you’ve hardly changed.”

“I agree. I too find it rather unfortunate to see how boring you’ve become,” Taehyung drawls,
morphing his face into one of fake sympathy. “Can’t blame you though, considering how boring
Heaven is. Must admit Hell is much more fun.”

‘So insolent for a formerly fallen angel.’

‘Someone should put him in his place.’

‘He needs to be punished.’

These whispers fill the atrium, angels filled with self-righteous outrage at Taehyung’s attitude,
angels who love to gossip, angels who deign themselves superior to him without ever knowing
him. He doesn’t mind their whispers, has been surrounded by venomous words like these for as
long as he could remember, because everyone loves to pass judgement and pat themselves on the
back for being better than someone else. Taehyung lets them indulge in it, plots his revenge later,
to hit them with it when they least expect it so it can taste sweeter.

His eyes flicker to Jungkook, who isn’t laughing or mocking him with the other angels like he
partly expected him to. No, his eyes are wide with shock as he listens to the loud gossip
surrounding him, leading him to assume that Jungkook hadn’t been briefed on his past. He doesn’t
mind, honestly, his past doesn’t define who he is today – someone so entrenched in evil and heart
stained black – that being an angel once upon a time hardly affected his demonic status. Still, he
wonders what Jungkook is thinking.

Namjoon raises his hand, belatedly, after getting his full hearing all the angels drag Taehyung’s
name through the mud. “It’s clear he doesn’t show any signs of remorse. Rather than wasting our
time, we should decide on a punishment.”

“I personally don’t think that’s necessary,” Taehyung replies smoothly.

“I personally don’t think your opinion is necessary either,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung is acutely aware of the hatred Namjoon harbors for him. Once upon a time, they used to
be friends. He used to be the one Namjoon could confide his deepest and darkest doubts to,
Taehyung always being the most understanding one around. They were likeminded, friends, had a
bond solidified by the years they knew each other.

And then Taehyung fell, the utmost betrayal and humiliation in Namjoon’s eyes, causing him to
turn his back on him. Taehyung, expecting some sort of support from Namjoon, felt betrayed when
he received nothing but scorn and disgust. Between them, there lies a chasm of broken trust so wide
and fragmented, it would never be able to be pieced back together.

“Oh? But it concerns me, so I think my opinion ought to matter the most,” Taehyung says, tapping
his chin thoughtfully. He schools his expression into a somber one. “You won’t even hear me out,
Joonie, I’m hurt.”

“There’s nothing left to say,” Namjoon says. “Everything is crystal clear.”

“And there’s nothing you have left to hurt me with, you already took my wings and my memory,”
Taehyung smiles amicably, deciding to abandon all polite pretenses. “You don’t want to make an
enemy of me, Joonie.”

He reaches into the pocket of his slacks, all the angels waiting with bated breath as if Taehyung
was about to cast a crazy enchantment on them all, but instead he takes out the silver container,
pulling out a cigarette. He lights it in the middle of the court, blowing out a whiff of smoke,
snickering at how appalled all the angels are.

The whispers start up again, disapproval and outrage echoing around the courtroom, and Taehyung
thrives on it.

Angels are so much fun to tease, Taehyung muses, inhaling that scent of smoke.

“Are you threatening me –” Namjoon starts, but he’s interrupted by a hand going up.

“If I could intervene, please,” Jungkook mumbles, face red as all the eyes in the room turn to him.
Taehyung watches him intently, because now that is a surprise. Jungkook keeps his eyes trained on
Namjoon and resolutely away from him. “I – uh – I just thought I should say that Taehyung has
never – um – he’s never hurt anyone.”

Taehyung smiles, even as the room erupts with more loud whispers about how an angel could
possibly defend a demon, feeling oddly grateful to Jungkook’s intervention even if he’d be fine
without it. The sentiment behind it is incredibly kind, Jungkook feeling the need to defend
Taehyung while everyone else here is ready to throw him to the deepest ring of Hell.

It gives him the extra push of confidence he didn’t know he needed.

“Thank you for your contribution, Jungkook. He’s still creating chaos that he should be held
accountable for,” Namjoon replies, smiling stiffly at him before he turns his cold gaze back to
Taehyung.

“But –” Jungkook tries again, Namjoon raising his hand to show that he’s heard enough.

“I won’t be punished today, though I would love to see you try,” Taehyung sneers, blowing out
another wisp of smoke. “Seokjin has always wanted to wage a war against Heaven after all, settle
the age-old debate of who’s stronger.”
The court adjourns not long after that, all the angels rather pale faced as they rush out of the room,
much to Taehyung’s utmost entertainment. Seokjin’s name often has that effect on angels, the oh
so fearsome calamity of Hell, who committed atrocities so unspeakable that he’s become a fable
whom angels only mention in hushed tones with a censored name lest he appear before them. It’s
quite funny to him, considering the Seokjin he knows is quite the diva with an odd penchant for
collecting porcelain angels from the mortal realm, and likes to talk to them as if he rules over them
too.

He leaves the atrium languidly, taking his time, as all the angels take extra care to avoid coming
within a five-meter radius to him.

All except one angel.

“What the hell was that?” Jungkook demands, grabbing him by his shoulder as soon as they set
foot outside and well out of earshot from any other nosy angels. “Why were you being such an
ass?”

“Such crass language for an angel, baby,” Taehyung replies, smiling lazily. “They wanted me to
come to a trial and so I did. They should have known better than to mess with me in the first
place.”

“You made fun of an archangel,” Jungkook whispers, looking scandalized. He rubs a hand over
his face, groaning in frustration. “I’m gonna get into so much shit for this. What if I get demoted?”

“Don’t worry, baby, this happens all the time and Namjoon is used to taking my bullshit,”
Taehyung reassures him, patting his head lightly. His hair is soft, makes him want to run his
fingers through the silky strands. “You won’t get into trouble. Probably.”

“Are you a bigshot demon or something?” Jungkook asks warily, losing his steam, too confused to
hold onto his anger and embarrassment. He doesn’t miss how Jungkook doesn’t curse him this time
for calling him baby, thinks they might be making some progress. “Is that why you’re such an
asshole?”

“Or something,” Taehyung laughs. “And yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Taehyung isn’t quite a bigshot in that sense, but he is very old, so he’s become quite powerful in
his immortality. He’s also good friends with some of the great calamities like Seokjin and Jimin, so
he has the right backup whenever he needs it.

“Did you know Namjoon?” Jungkook asks. He bits his lip, gnawing at it until it has become a
shade of strawberry red, that Taehyung wishes he could lean in and replace Jungkook’s teeth with
his own. “You know, like, back then?”

Obviously, Jungkook is the tactful type, doesn’t know how to bring up the big elephant in the
room. Granted, it is quite the awkward conversation, one he doesn’t mind having because he loves
making other people uncomfortable but still not one he wants to have right now. Today has already
been exhausting enough.

“Yes,” Taehyung nods. This conversation is quite dreary for him, so he swerves gears, taking a
step closer to put his hands on Jungkook’s waist. He can’t help but marvel at how small his waist
is under that loose white shirt, thinks about how nice it would be to pin him down while he fucks
him too. He lowers his tone, “Thank you for standing up for me earlier, baby.”

He waits for Jungkook to push him away, but instead, he feels a strong wave of desire wash over
him. So strong and sweet, Taehyung can practically taste it on his tongue, makes him feel heady as
Jungkook’s eyes flutter ever so slightly.

Taehyung takes it a step further by dipping his thumb under the hem of his shirt, feeling the soft
skin underneath.

“I was just saying the truth,” Jungkook mumbles, face as red as a flower in bloom.

“Still very brave of you,” Taehyung says, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the small patch of
skin. He relishes how that small minute action makes Jungkook’s arousal amplify ten folds. “And
sweet too.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook replies, eyes hooded.

Truly, it was the right decision to come out today, if just to have this moment with Jungkook.

“You’re supposed to say, ‘you’re welcome’, sweetheart,” Taehyung corrects him gently. “Still, I
will accept your gratitude.”

He moves one hand away from his waist, leaning in to touch Jungkook’s left wing, marveling at
how soft it is to the touch. He clearly takes good care of his wings to keep them this fluffy,
Jungkook shuddering as Taehyung touches him, but still makes no motion to stop him. Taehyung
then plucks one feather near the base of his wing, and steps away entirely. He lets his hands linger
for just a moment before he shoves them into the pockets of his slacks. Both hands searing hot
from the touch, from how soft both his skin and wings were to the touch, yet it still didn’t feel like
long enough.

Taehyung knows that if he wanted, he could probably invade Jungkook’s space, kiss him and then
fuck him. Corrupt him. Turn him into something like him. He will do that, but in due time, when
the time is right and Taehyung is all Jungkook wants. He clenches his hand around the feather, the
blade of it cutting into the palm of his hand, grounding him to the moment and reminding him of
the importance of patience.

Jungkook’s eyes open, blinking in surprise, as if a spell was broken.

“You – you took one of my feathers,” Jungkook states breathily, that need boiling over within him.
It’s making even Taehyung dizzy with the force of how much Jungkook is feeling.

“I did. As a keepsake if you will,” Taehyung says, tilting his head to the side. He retrieves the
feather from his pocket, stained black now from his blood, brandishing it before Jungkook. “Your
wings are so beautiful, after all.”

“Really?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, truly magnificent,” Taehyung says, pressing the blunt end of the feather against his bottom
lip. “Just like you, baby.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement with hooded eyes that fail to mask his desire, his pleasure
that Taehyung is keeping a feather from him, and it’s such a delightful switch from the normally
uptight angel he’s grown to know. He hitches the feather on his earring, next to the first one,
smiling as he tilts his head to show Jungkook.

“What do you think? Pretty, right?” Taehyung asks.

“No. You look dumb,” Jungkook scoffs.

Clearly a lie, because Jungkook can try as he might, but the red blooming on his face and the
corners of his lips that he fights to keep in a straight line tell another story altogether. He’s pleased.
His eyes wander to Taehyung’s earring despite himself, his lips tugging into a small smile.

“I’m sure I do,” Taehyung concedes, deciding not to call Jungkook out on his lie now. He hums,
touching the earring lightly with a smile. “But I like it anyway.”

Jungkook’s lips spread into a bashful grin, one that makes his eyes crinkle, nose scrunching up as
he seems to light up with the force of a thousand splendid suns. It takes Taehyung aback,
momentarily finding himself at a loss for words in the face of Jungkook’s gentle radiance. Truly, in
this moment as Taehyung’s chest tightens and feels that phantom tugging sensation once more,
he’s the loser today.

Every night, Taehyung came back to the bar, listened to the singer croon about love, then sit next
to him as he drank his sorrows away.

It was fine like that at first.

But then Taehyung started to wish he could be seen; started talking to the singer more, brushing a
hand against his shoulder. None of it mattered though, he was still just as invisible as ever, the
mortal couldn’t see him at all. Still, Taehyung stuck to him. Listened to him, watched him, ached
for him.

He didn’t have a label for the feeling that was festering in his chest, that tugging feeling, the
tightness in his chest he felt around this pretty singer. Or no, that was a lie, Taehyung did have a
name for it. Something the singer sang about every night, but he didn’t want to put a name to it.
Putting a name to it would make it realer, would make it a sin, and Taehyung wasn’t yet aware
what the consequences of such sins would be.

People demanded things from the mortal, always demanding he meet them out back, throwing
bronze coins at him as they did. Asking him to sing this song or that, to carry heavy weights to the
back of the bar, to clean the stables out back. He was like a glorified servant of sorts, and each time
he was ordered to do something, he would nod with a small sigh. With each sigh he let out,
Taehyung could swear he could see the light leave his pretty dark eyes, and it filled him with
sadness.

Every now and again, while the singer was alone, he would pray. He would pray to anyone who
would listen to get him out of this plight, to let him be free, to take away the suffocating loneliness
that plagued his heart ever since he lost his lover. Thinking that his prayer had once again gone
unheard, the singer would sigh, drowning himself in more alcohol to distract himself from the pain
in his heart. Most often, Taehyung was the only one there to listen, but loneliness and heart ache
wasn’t something he could cure.

He would know that better than anyone.

Jungkook didn’t ask the question that was hanging on the tip of his tongue that day. Taehyung
chalks it up to Jungkook being too distracted by his seductive advances or perhaps a desire to be
tactful. Still, Taehyung would catch Jungkook’s lingering gaze on him that lasted for moments too
long, words seemingly caught in his throat, but the question does indeed come a few weeks later.

“Is it true?” Jungkook asks him. His voice is so soft, as if he knows how delicate this topic is,
treads on it lightly lest he break something. “That you used to be an angel?”

Taehyung expected this question since that day at court, but it still manages to catch him by
surprise, fingers twitching to grab the cigarettes from his pocket. It’s silly, mortal substances
shouldn’t have any addictive properties on him, but Taehyung has still managed to make a crutch
out of these tobacco sticks. It’s silly that a demon like him should need a crutch at all, especially
around a newbie angel, but he’s entirely the reason why he needs a crutch at all.

Jungkook makes Taehyung feel oddly vulnerable and exposed in many ways he’s not accustomed
to.

“Yes.”

“Do you – do you remember your sin?” Jungkook questions, wings fluttering behind him as he
floats a few inches subconsciously. “You said your memory was taken away.”

His memory has been coming back to him in bits and pieces whenever he sleeps. It always leaves
him waking up breathless, like he just emerged from an abyss of dark water, air rushing to fill his
lungs and heart jackhammering in his chest. It’s always jarring too, because he awakes in his true
demon form, fangs cutting his bottom lip, drawing blood that drips down his chin, and sharp claws
reaching out aimlessly for a memory too far away to grasp. He always tries to hold onto the
dreams, latch onto the face that his past self was so enamored with, but it always fades right
between his fingertips like quicksand.

“I remember enough,” Taehyung replies simply.

The more time he spends with Jungkook, the more he remembers, and that’s the most worrisome
part.

“What was your sin then?” Jungkook asks.

That he was a fool who fell in love with a mortal.

“You calling me a sinner?” Taehyung muses, quirking his lips playfully.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you are,” Jungkook glares at him, but it lacks any heat.

“Nothing wrong with that, sin always tastes so sweet,” Taehyung replies, brushing his fingers
under Jungkook’s chin. He’s noticed that Jungkook doesn’t bat his hand away anymore, just leans
into it instead.

“Of course you’d say that,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, exasperated. He tries again, imploring him
with his large eyes. “You won’t tell me what your sin was?”

Taehyung is tempted, it’s something he doesn’t like to talk about to anyone, but part of him wants
to share one of his deepest and darkest secrets with Jungkook. Oddly enough, he trusts him enough
to consider it.
Just not enough to trust that Jungkook would still look at him the same if he found out, that he
would still want to stay after that.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung replies. He looks at Jungkook, the sun sinking in the sky
behind him, painting him in beautiful hues of pink, gold, and purple. “But one day I’ll tell you.
When the time is right.”

He’s not sure if that’s a truth or another lie because he’s not sure if that day will ever come. Part of
him wants to keep Jungkook around for a long time, to keep him in the dark to achieve that, but
Taehyung also knows this isn’t something he’s allowed to have forever. That he’s a demon and he
will eventually corrupt Jungkook sooner or later. If he corrupts Jungkook or if he tells him, either
way, it will end up with Taehyung losing Jungkook in one way or another.

Maybe he’ll tell him when their time together has reached its end.

“Okay,” Jungkook concedes. He hesitates, eyes flickering to Taehyung and then back to the sky.
“Did it…did it hurt when you fell?”

“No,” Taehyung lies. “Not really.”

The truth is that falling was the most painful experience of his life, the burning of his wings, the
memory of the mortal he so cherished taken away from him. A pain he will never forget in all his
years of forever, etched onto his soul and his back where two twin scars reside. A persistent
reminder in the form of the hollow emptiness he feels in his chest and the lonely life he’s led thus
far.

“Do you ever miss it?” Jungkook asks, softly.

“So many questions today,” Taehyung hums. He gives Jungkook a teasing glance. “I didn’t know
you were so fascinated by me.”

“Just a bit. You’re something of an enigma,” Jungkook smiles.

“You flatter me,” Taehyung smiles. He casts his eyes back to the horizon, the sun having sunk in
the sky, the moon replacing her to illuminate the night sky. Taehyung’s favorite time of day, these
scarce moments in limbo between day and night, when the colors bleed together to form hues of
blue and purple. “The only thing I miss are my wings, they were quite magnificent.”

Jungkook flares his wings a bit behind him, nodding eagerly. “I love my wings too.”

“Hmm, they are indeed nice,” Taehyung replies, nodding in appreciation.

It almost makes Taehyung feel guilty about his ulterior motives, his intentions to corrupt and take,
that desire to make Jungkook just like him. He never quite gets there, however. Guilt isn’t an
emotion he’s capable of computing anymore, just acts on his whims, no thought or care to the
consequences he causes to others.

He has an instinctual feeling that Jungkook is the remedy to the emptiness that plagues him.

Regardless, he hopes that Jungkook doesn’t hate him too much for it in the end.
Taehyung got his first and only warning from his then closest friend, Namjoon.

“You’ve been coming here every night,” Namjoon told him, sitting next to Taehyung while the
singer delivered his number. “I can wager a guess as to why.”

Somehow, Taehyung had known this day would come eventually, but he felt a touch of ease
knowing it was just Namjoon and not an official angel here to interrogate him. He wasn’t
archangel yet in this point in time, but he was well on his way to it, a devout angel who played by
the rule book and was both liked and revered by others.

It was naïve of him to trust him, but Taehyung had been a fool through and through.

“I just want to know his name,” Taehyung sighed, exasperated.

“Why?” Namjoon asked, the cold glint in his eyes told him he knew exactly why. He just wanted
Taehyung to spell it out for him. “Why do you need to know a mortal’s name?”

“Because. I’m looking out for him,” Taehyung replied. It wasn’t too outlandish to say that; a lot of
angels were tasked with guiding mortals who have strayed back into the right path.

“Angels shouldn’t lie.” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, immediately calling him out on
his lie. He glared at him in disapproval, a withering glare, but Taehyung easily brushed it off
because he was more than used to Namjoon’s motherly antics. “It’s unseemly.”

“Angels aren’t allowed to do much,” Taehyung shrugged, eyes wandering back to the singer. He
looked beautiful tonight, long black hair tucked behind his ear, eyes sparkling as they only did
while he was singing.

“Taehyung.”

“Why are you here, Joonie?” Taehyung asked, turning the question on him.

“Because I’m worried. You’re getting too close, Taehyung,” Namjoon replied, sincere concern
bleeding into his voice. “You’re going to get hurt. It’s not worth it.”

Taehyung didn’t care, was too far gone to care at this point.

“It’ll be fine, Joonie. Trust me,” Taehyung smiled, patting his hand lightly.

The singer was singing another sad love song, eyes occasionally searching out in the crowd,
disappointment filling his eyes when he didn’t find the face he was looking for. Taehyung often
felt disgruntled, a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of all these songs being written for an
unknown object of his affections who obviously didn’t care enough to come and listen, when
Taehyung was the one who came to listen to him every night. He wanted it to be reciprocated. To
be noticed, seen, just as how he saw the singer because watching him like this so one-sidedly made
his heart weigh heavily in his chest.

It made him feel lonely.

“You’re going to lose everything for a mortal at this rate,” Namjoon said, squeezing Taehyung’s
shoulder as he stood up to leave. Taehyung didn’t turn to look at him, too entranced by the mortal’s
song, until Namjoon spoke again. “His name is Jungkook by the way. Jeon Jungkook.”
“Jungkook,” Taehyung whispered, rolling the name off his tongue. His chest tightened, felt his
heart race as he took in the singer in front of him in an entirely different light now that he had a
name to go with the face, the voice he had become so attached to. “Fitting. Pretty too.”

“I hope you make the right decision, Taehyung. Before it’s too late, I really do,” Namjoon said as
he left.

Taehyung paid him no mind, because really, it was already too late at that point.

The next time Taehyung meets Jungkook, it’s during the day, in a bar. Taehyung has his dark hair
falling in loose curls, sunglasses perched on his nose, and is wearing a chiffon black button-down
shirt tucked into loose pants, the feather earring a permanent accessory in his ear now. A glass of
red wine that’s filled to the brim is held precariously between his fingers, not something he bought
because none of the mortals can see him here anyway, but rather because he feels like a drink
could do him well now.

Alcohol doesn’t get him drunk, nor do cigarettes calm him, but they are mortal vices that he likes
to partake in, regardless. For the aesthetic, or maybe he’s still chasing that edge.

“Could it really be him?” Taehyung whispers to himself even if nobody can hear him, eyes closing.
Every time his eyes close, he sees Jungkook standing on a stage as he delivers his song, feels his
chest tighten as a result. “Is it illusion or is it reality? Dare I wish for it?”

Jungkook appears before him then as if punctuating his thought, seated in the chair opposite him
that was once vacant, mildly surprising Taehyung. Today isn’t a day he expected to see him, he
wasn’t planning anything to summon him out, but he’s happy to see him, happier that Jungkook
sought him out himself. He’s glaring at Taehyung, hair messy and the feathers on his wings are
ruffled, showing that he came here in a rush.

“Jungkook, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Taehyung asks, sipping on his wine.

Taehyung notes that this is the first time he’s seeing Jungkook in the morning like this, thinks he
looks pretty with the morning sun shining down on his dark hair like a halo. His skin looks like its
positively glowing, his wings radiant, and Taehyung feels fortunate for his sunglasses. Pushes them
further up the bridge of his nose.

“I had a feeling you were about to do something bad,” Jungkook frowns, crossing his arms. “So I
came to stop you before you did.”

“You’re so very aware of me now,” Taehyung grins. He conjures a glass, pouring wine for
Jungkook in it, pushing it toward him. “I’m flattered.”

Jungkook doesn’t touch the glass. “Don’t be, I’m just saving myself a headache.”

“You say a lot of things that seem to contradict with what you mean, I’ve noticed,” Taehyung
muses. He taps the table with his fingers in a steady rhythm, hoping he doesn’t betray how antsy
he’s feeling today.

“Look who’s talking, you love to speak in riddles and undertones, there’s always a double entendre
to everything you say,” Jungkook scoffs, his eyes wandering to Taehyung’s fingers. Narrowing
ever so slightly, but Taehyung doesn’t cease the rhythm.

“That’s hardly the case, I only speak in truths, you’re the one who attempts to find deceit in those
words,” Taehyung shrugs.

Mostly truth, but a truth riddled with lies.

“Will you tell me what you’re plotting today then if you’re so truthful?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m not,” Taehyung replies. “I came here because I felt a pull.”

“To a bar?” Jungkook deadpans.

‘No, to you, or to who you used to be,’ Taehyung doesn’t voice aloud.

“Yes.”

Taehyung has been having fitful sleep in these past weeks, filled with fragmented dreams that he
believes to be more than just that. Demons don’t need to sleep, but sloth being one of the sins,
makes it so that most do. Eternity would feel too long without sleep anyway. Still, Taehyung
hardly ever dreamed, but as of late, his sleep has been tormented by these dreams. The main reason
why he’s wearing these sunglasses in the first place, to hide away the signs of his stress.

He thinks his subconscious is trying to tell him something that can only be pieced together while
lucid, or perhaps they’re memories of his sealed away past coming back to the surface. He should
have lost those permanently, but they’re coming back, and Taehyung couldn’t deny the draw he’s
been feeling towards Jungkook ever since he met him. Towards this small hidden away bar in
Busan where he apparently used to come every night for months to watch a mortal sing about
matters of the heart that Taehyung should never understand. This bar is completely modernized
now, nothing like the pub from those olden times with the overhanging lights and rambunctious
drunks who just wanted to have a nice night before they set out to sea once more.

The worst part is that every time he wakes up, he immediately forgets what that mortal looked like,
tries to latch onto the image and etch it to his being but it’s already slipped away between his
fingers like water.

Now, however, he has a name. A name that throws Taehyung for a loop, making him doubt
everything he knows. Who knew that one day he would wake up feeling so different? Feeling more
instead of the less he’s always lived with.

“Well…did you find what you were looking for then?” Jungkook asks, surprising Taehyung with
the sincerity laced in his voice.

“No, I’m not sure if I ever will,” Taehyung answers, sighing. He takes another sip of his wine,
wishing that he could actually get drunk to take the edge off.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, looking at a loss for words. He opens and closes his mouth a
few times, as if struggling to piece the words together before he continues. “I kinda get it though, I
– uh – I like to come to Busan a lot for some reason. There isn’t even much to do here as an angel,
but I feel at peace when I’m here.”

Taehyung hums, nodding. He doesn’t tell Jungkook he’s probably drawn to here because this is
probably where he lived as a mortal, angels get weirdly touchy when their mortal lives are
mentioned, even if they don’t remember them anymore.
“Why didn’t you take your drink?” he asks instead.

“Angels shouldn’t drink, silly,” Jungkook teases, a slight quirk to his lips. He taps the glass,
Taehyung noting with a hint of disappointment that there’s no tattoos on his hand. “Besides, I think
I’d be more of a beer person if I had to choose.”

This makes Taehyung pause for a moment, glancing at Jungkook for a few beats too long.

“What’s that?” Jungkook asks when the silence lasts too long. He points at Taehyung’s fingers.
“You’ve been tapping up a rhythm.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Taehyung replies, immediately splaying his fingers flat against the
wooden table.

“Yeah, something like this,” Jungkook replies, humming it back to him. A pretty tune,
mesmerizing and captivating even if there are no words to accompany it, strongly reminiscent to
the tune that’s been haunting him every night in his dreams.

Taehyung feels something in his chest shift.

“Do you know the words?” Taehyung asks, mouth oddly dry despite going through two full bottles
of wine.

“No, but I imagine if it did have any words, it would be a song about heartbreak,” Jungkook muses,
resting his chin on his palm with a forlorn expression. His eyes seem to linger on the podium at the
front of the bar, where another person is singing, their voice much less appealing than the one in
his dreams.

“It was,” Taehyung replies softly. “Maybe someday I’ll try to collect the lyrics for you to sing it.”

“Hmm, alright. Haven’t tried to sing much, but I wouldn’t mind trying,” Jungkook smiles,
reclining in his chair. His expression turns more serious after a moment, almost concerned. “You
seem kind of off today.”

He is.

“Would you prefer if I wreak some havoc?” Taehyung teases.

“No, I’m just saying you’re acting different,” Jungkook replies, waving his hands around. “Less, I
don’t know, insufferable and more mellow I guess.”

“Do you want to cheer me up?” Taehyung asks, resting his chin on his propped-up elbows.

“Maybe,” Jungkook shrugs, nonchalantly, despite how much he’s visibly squirming in his seat and
his averted eyes. “Not because I care or anything, just y’know, it’s easier to deal with you when
you’re annoying.”

Taehyung feels his chest tighten, because truly, Jungkook is too soft hearted. This feeling is one
that’s becoming more and more familiar to him the more time he spends with Jungkook, the more
he dreams, and he’s concerned about the possible implications of that.

Especially since he’s felt this way before, has been feeling similarly for the past few weeks, is
starting to understand what this might mean.

“And how would you go about that?” Taehyung implores.

“I have an idea or two,” Jungkook replies, eyes twinkling. “Come with me.”

It distantly occurs to Taehyung as he follows Jungkook out of the bar, that he would probably
follow him into the deepest circle of Hell if asked in that moment.

It turns out that Jungkook’s idea is the coastline, devoid of people because it’s winter and the water
is too cold for swimming, but the scenery is beautiful, nonetheless. With the sun hanging
overhead, the crystal-clear blue waves crashing against the coast, and even the feeling of sand
filling his loafers is a welcome one. He takes a deep breath, inhaling that fresh scent that only the
sea can provide, and feels a sense of calm that his cigarettes are rarely capable of providing.

He thinks it has little to do with the sea, more to do with his company.

“This is where I like to come when I feel sad,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence. “Makes me
feel peaceful, I don’t know.”

He’s standing close to Taehyung, closer than he usually ever lets himself get, his arm and wing
brushing against Taehyung’s frame. He’s close enough that Taehyung could interlace his fingers
with his if he wanted to, a strangely wholesome thought because Taehyung has never wanted to
hold someone’s hand before, but his fingers twitching by his side tell another story.

“Do you think I’m sad?” Taehyung asks, shoving his treacherous hand into his pocket. “I thought
demons don’t feel things like that.”

“I thought you said stereotypes don’t apply to you,” Jungkook laughs, throwing his own words
back at him. “It’s okay if you feel sad, or if you don’t, we all have off days. I’m sure even demons
feel that way too sometimes.”

Jungkook treats Taehyung with a kind of tenderness that he’s not used to, that nobody has ever
treated him with before, and he nods. He treats him like a normal person, not a demon, like he’s
someone with a heart and an array of emotions to feel and express. Jungkook sees an innate
kindness in him that he’s sure that he doesn’t possess, but it makes his chest constrict knowing that
one person assumes the best of him, even if Taehyung rarely delivers anything but the worst.

“I’ll be back to normal soon,” Taehyung promises, swallowing.

“Take all the time you need,” Jungkook replies. He gives Taehyung a sidelong glance before he
nudges him. “No more special treatment after that.”

“I’ll be sure to take advantage of the moment then,” Taehyung smiles, feeling that tugging
sensation grow in intensity whenever Jungkook touches him. “Demons don’t deserve special
treatment though regardless of their moods, no?”

“Only the soft demons do,” Jungkook says lightly. To Taehyung’s bewilderment, he bends down to
take off his shoes before proffering his open hand to Taehyung. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, Taehyung nods, slipping his feet out of his loafers and slipping his hand into
Jungkook’s. He waits for Jungkook to look at him in disgust, to bat his hand away because he
wouldn’t want to hold the hand of a tainted demon, a hand that’s committed atrocities and
unspeakable sins. He doesn’t do either, however. Instead, he smiles at Taehyung softly as he
interlaces his fingers with Taehyung’s.

He wonders if just as Taehyung can sense people’s guilty pleasures and darkest desires, Jungkook
has an affinity for sensing the ones that are too pure for a heart that should be too frozen to feel that
way.
Following Jungkook into the water, they only stand till their ankles, the cold water washing over
their bare feet. The chill of the water doesn’t faze him, but the warmth of Jungkook’s hand against
his does, the wide smile he gives him makes his chest constrict. The melodious laugh Jungkook
doesn’t manage to stifle when Taehyung stumbles after a particularly strong wave hits his calves,
how he squeezes his hand as he does, making his heart beat out of rhythm.

In this moment, he feels more alive than he’s felt in centuries, since that moment when he fell from
grace and became a demon.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” Taehyung whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook replies.

At this point, Taehyung is positive that this Jungkook is the same Jungkook from his dreams, if the
tight feeling in his chest is any indication. As a mortal, he could never speak to him like this, but as
an angel – Taehyung even gets to hold his hand – which is even more unbelievable. A Jungkook he
didn’t think he would ever meet again, eliciting emotions in his chest he thought he wasn’t capable
of feeling anymore, and yet here he is doing just that.

Fate, that’s all this could be.

There’s something very wicked about fate, that it would throw the same Jungkook in his way
twice, make him fall in love with him two times over, when he knows that hurt is all that awaits
him on both accounts.

Once Taehyung had a name to give the beautiful singer – Jeon Jungkook, a name he liked to repeat
to himself as a mantra to the beat of his heart – he felt his infatuation with him grow in magnitude.
Every word Jungkook sung about love was a word Taehyung held onto, committed to memory,
etched on his heart.

It wasn’t until Jungkook sung a new song, one he called ‘Still With You’, the words so evocative
that Taehyung felt himself become overwhelmed with an emotion he couldn’t deny anymore.

Now, Taehyung understood why some mortals would dedicate their whole lives to writing poems
about love, singing about it, went to war for it. Love was a powerful emotion, one that moved his
heart, filled him with a kind of rush he hadn’t felt before in all his years as an angel. It filled him
with euphoria whenever he saw Jungkook smile, with sadness whenever he felt his anguish, with
yearning to be loved the same way too even if he knew it could never be.

This was a slow growing emotion, starting with a small bud that was planted in his heart when he
stumbled across this bar so many weeks ago, nurtured and growing each time Taehyung visited the
bar, until it reached full bloom tonight.

As fate would have it, Taehyung fell in love with a mortal, and he knew the implications of that.
That he would lose his wings, become something less than an angel, something stained black with
evil. It was too late for him now to turn back, to repent, because he had already sinned, and that sin
wouldn’t be wiped until he paid the price first.

After coming to terms with his sin, Taehyung knew this would probably be the last time he would
see Jungkook, wanted to wish him farewell even if his presence wasn’t one that would ever be
missed.

Jungkook finished his number, eyes opening as he slowly stepped off a stage to no ovation, hardly
anyone caring nor noticing Jungkook’s new song. He carried his sadness on his shoulders, eyes
downcast with a disappointment he couldn’t hide, as he downed his first pint of the night faster
than he should. Jungkook’s song was so lonely that Taehyung regretted the fact that even after all
this time, he never managed to alleviate the loneliness that haunted Jungkook, felt like a crappy
angel for not being able to do something so seemingly simple for the one he loves. He didn’t say
anything, and Taehyung tried to pretend he couldn’t feel his heart crack in his chest as he got his
goodbyes ready.

How ironic was it that once Taehyung realized he was in love, he also had to experience heart
break in that same breath?

Try as he might, Taehyung couldn’t muster up the courage to say his final words, couldn’t find any
words at all. As Jungkook drank pint after pint, Taehyung opened his mouth and closed it several
times, but he the words failed him. He swallowed, feeling like he was pushing a rock down his
throat, because this was the last thing he wanted to do. Whatever time he got to spend with
Jungkook, as one-sided as it was, it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

It was only until the bar was mostly empty, Jungkook passed out in a drunken stupor of sadness,
that Taehyung finally managed to say the words.

“I love you,” Taehyung found himself saying instead, the words gratifying as they slipped from his
lips. He clasped his hands together in front of him, eyes glassy as he resisted the temptation to
blink, lest any tears fall. “I wish – I wish things worked out differently.”

Jungkook didn’t reply, Taehyung didn’t expect him to, but part of him still throbbed with the pain
of silent rejection. He closed his eyes in the silence that follows, heavy only for him, and the first
tear drop fell.

He turned to look at Jungkook, dozing away peacefully on the bar counter, glass loosely held in his
grip. His dark fringe falling into his eyes, brushing against his lashes, nose scrunching as he slept in
disgruntlement. Endeared, Taehyung reached over with a small smile, brushing his hair back
behind his ear. Jungkook’s face calmed into something more serene, pretty, as if he had found that
semblance of peace he always searched for while he was awake. He looked younger like this, freer,
and Taehyung couldn’t help but brush his hand against his cheek. This was his first time touching
Jungkook like this, he couldn’t help but marvel at how soft his skin was, at the silkiness of his hair
that slipped between his slender fingers.

Jungkook’s breathing evened out, small puffs of warm air against Taehyung’s wrist, and Taehyung
couldn’t help but think about how soft and pink his lips looked too. His finger grazed against
Jungkook’s bottom lip, against the small mole underneath that he had never noticed before,
humming because it really was as soft as he thought it would be.

Taehyung felt his heart throb again in his chest, eyes fluttering, because he wanted so much. All
this greed and yearning was unbecoming of an angel, but he already knew that his time as an angel
was coming to an end, so maybe it was okay to indulge. Just this once.

And so, Taehyung replaced his finger with his lips, a gentle yet chaste kiss. It was brief, hardly
anything more than a press of lips against each other, but with that kiss, Taehyung parted his love,
his blessing as an angel, and a small piece of himself with the hope that Jungkook could find
happiness and inner peace someday. Even if Taehyung wouldn’t be around to witness it.
A kiss of true love, even as his heart cracked as he pulled away.

Taehyung pulled away, wiping his tears that fell in earnest, whispering. “Goodbye, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered open, eyes looking drowsily left and right, fingers brushing against his
lips. Taehyung wondered if his lips were tingling like his, if in some way, even as it all came to an
end – Jungkook finally felt him. Or at least felt the love he held for him.

That was an answer Taehyung never got to find the answer to, left the bar shortly after, never to see
mortal Jungkook again.

Taehyung is in the middle of cloud gazing, creating amorphous smoke clouds to mimic the shapes
in the sky. He likes watching the clouds, makes him feel introspective, think about life and how he
fits in it. He watches the clouds edge on by ever so slowly. They move ever so slowly, but once he
looks back after a few moments’ distraction; he notices how far they’ve moved, their shapes have
changed and distorted during that short lapse of time. It serves as a reminder of what life as an
immortal feels like – days that turn into months and even years, all of it blending in together into
something incoherent – but change that creeps in on him ever so slowly without him noticing.

That change being Jungkook, how he makes him feel, how he makes him want to act.

The desire to corrupt and monopolize wars with the desire to keep and cherish, so conflicting, yet
deceptively similar enough that the line fades and his desires bleed into each other until they
become one inseparable entity.

Almost as if summoned, Taehyung feels that familiar shift, indicating that Jungkook is here. This is
becoming a regular occurrence, especially since that moment of vulnerability he showed Jungkook
in Busan, thinks there’s a possibility that he’s being fussed over. He doesn’t mind though, likes
feeling cared for, especially since Jungkook does quite the terrible job of hiding his intentions.

“You’ve been stalking me a lot lately,” Taehyung says.

“Not stalking you, just watching you,” Jungkook replies, sitting down cross legged next to
Taehyung. He’s lying down on a grassy field so he gets a full view of Jungkook’s wings, looking
all that much bigger and regal from up close. “You haven’t gotten into trouble recently and I’m
worried this is the calm before the storm.”

This is the excuse Jungkook offers every time, has said it enough times that his voice has stopped
wavering when he says it, is able to keep eye contact with Taehyung as he repeats the words. It still
sounds like a lie to Taehyung, a coverup, but he doesn’t press him.

“Just playing good for now, the trial passed but I’m not in the clear yet,” Taehyung explains,
puffing out a cloud of smoke in the shape of a bunny. It kind of looks like Jungkook, he muses, the
cloud dissipating as he reaches out for it. “Namjoon is waiting for me to stumble so he can strike,
probably wants to see me fall twice.”

“Can he do that?” Jungkook asks, biting his lip nervously.

“Worried about me?” Taehyung smirks.

“No. Stop being annoying,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the furrow in his brow doesn’t disappear.
“I’m leaving.”

Always speaking in contradictions, Taehyung can’t help but stifle a laugh behind the palm of his
hand, making Jungkook glower at him. There’s no reason for Jungkook to stay now that he knows
that Taehyung won’t do anything, no reason for him to have come at all, but they both know he
won’t actually leave.

“Don’t be like that. Just lie down and enjoy the weather.” Taehyung pats the patch of grass next to
him.

“It’s winter,” Jungkook points out.

“We can’t feel the cold,” Taehyung parries back.

“What if it snows on us?” Jungkook asks, as he shifts to lie down anyway. On his side so his wings
don’t get squished, resting his head on his arm, hair splaying out behind him.

“I’ll keep you warm if you want,” Taehyung suggests, turning so he’s on his side facing Jungkook
too. He places a hand on Jungkook’s tiny waist, reveling in the small gasp he lets out. “I run hot.”

“I – I can see that,” Jungkook says, warmth spreading to his cheeks. “You can let go now.”

“Why would I do that, baby?” Taehyung asks, leaning in closer. “I thought you were cold.”

A surge of desire ripples through Jungkook’s core, seemingly crippling him from moving at all,
and Taehyung just loves inducing this lust within such a sweet angel. It’s so easy too, Jungkook is
so evidently touch starved, that just the smallest of touches has him melting under Taehyung’s
hands.

He can only imagine once he has his mouth on him too.

“’m not cold,” Jungkook mumbles.

Taehyung closes the small distance between them, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s, and
hums. The hand on Jungkook’s waist grips him tighter, closer, hardly any space between them.
With each small piece of space closed, Taehyung feels Jungkook’s lust exacerbate accordingly, as
does Taehyung’s if he’s being honest.

“You really aren’t, you’re burning hot actually,” Taehyung muses, looking into Jungkook’s eyes.
“Are you feeling shy?”

“No,” Jungkook denies.

“Right. What if I told you something that would really make you shy?” Taehyung tells him,
propping himself up ever so slightly on his elbow so he can look down at Jungkook.

“You could try,” Jungkook challenges.

Taehyung nods, moving his hand away from Jungkook’s waist, trailing it up slowly to the center of
his chest. He splays his hand right over Jungkook’s heart, that’s jackhammering in his chest,
despite his best intentions to appear neutral in front of him. He swallows, because he knows it
mimics his own heart, refuses to think too deeply about the implications of that right now.

He then moves his hand up to trail over that hint of exposed skin near his collarbones, scraping his
nail in the dip between them, eliciting a gasp from Jungkook.

And yet, he still waits, doesn’t stop him once. So docile, so good for him.

“What if I told you that I want to kiss you?” Taehyung says, flickering his eyes towards
Jungkook’s pink lips. “That I’ve wanted to since we first met.”

It’s an admission he wasn’t sure he should make because it reveals too much, but this has been on
his mind since he woke up one night, breathless with tingling lips from a phantom kiss from
centuries past. It wasn’t anywhere near enough, touching his gnarled fingers to his bottom lip,
yearning for one kiss, just one taste.

Not to say he hasn’t thought about it before, but the context of his memories, the overwhelming
love he felt in them makes him want for it so much more. The need to love, to be able to express
that love.

Jungkook sucks in a breath of air, as if genuinely shocked, but he doesn’t move a single inch. He
just stares at him, and Taehyung wonders for the life of him what he sees etched on his face, if he
sees the lust or perhaps how infatuated Taehyung is with him. For once, Taehyung can’t get a read
on Jungkook, or perhaps he’s scared what he’s seeing is nothing more than a figment of his
imagination.

Because he thinks whatever infatuation written on his face is currently mirrored onto Jungkook’s.

“Angels shouldn’t kiss demons,” Jungkook breathes, several beats too late.

“As long as you’re not in love with me, it’ll be okay,” Taehyung tells him, heart aching as he says
so.

Jungkook chews on his lip for a moment, thinking about it before he nods, eyes falling closed.
“Just one kiss would be fine.”

Jungkook doesn’t love him, Taehyung somehow anticipated that, but he also understands that it’s
only a matter of time until he does.

“Okay,” Taehyung agrees.

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to bend down, pressing his lips against Jungkook’s in what could only
be called a tender kiss. Demons don’t kiss like this, this isn’t how Taehyung visualized kissing
Jungkook at all, but he appreciates the perfect way Jungkook’s soft lips slot against his. He tastes
sweet like cherries, just how Taehyung always thought he’d taste. He leans in to kiss deeper, taste
more.

Taste what he’s always wanted to taste, even when he was just an angel and Jungkook was a mere
mortal, but never got the chance to.

He bites his bottom lip, right over that mole he could never get enough of staring at, swallowing
the gasp Jungkook lets out as he lets his tongue in. Jungkook tastes so sweet, tongue roaming over
his, Jungkook’s hand clutching onto the front of his shirt tightly almost as if he’s looking for an
anchor. Taehyung lets him, pushes him down as their lips break apart, only to steal another kiss –
effectively breaking the promise he made to him.

Jungkook doesn’t stop him, just lets Taehyung consume him, take what he has to offer.

Taehyung’s hand curls into Jungkook’s soft hair, tangling his fingers within the strands, tugging to
elicit another delicious gasp and a jolt of arousal that makes Taehyung heady. With the fourth kiss,
he lets his fingers roam to his wings, touching his feathers, makes sure not to pull. Gentle with each
caress, Jungkook keens into his mouth and Taehyung thrives on each small sound Jungkook
makes. Jungkook doesn’t make any move to hide how affected he is, hand bringing Taehyung
closer as he kisses him back with barely concealed want, fingers playing with the feathers hanging
from his earring.

Breaking away, Taehyung leans into Jungkook, taking in the deep flush coloring his cheeks and his
blown-out eyes – so dark, he can hardly see the brown anymore.

He wants to fuck him so badly, but not yet. Patience is the only virtue Taehyung praises himself
for.

“I – I said one kiss,” Jungkook whines, breathless.

“I’m a demon, we don’t uphold our promises unless they’re written in blood,” Taehyung laughs,
pressing another chaste kiss to Jungkook’s lips to punctuate his point.

“I hate you,” Jungkook says, voice muffled against Taehyung’s kisses.

“You don’t,” Taehyung replies. “I’m too charming.”

“Fuck you. Gonna make you really shy right back in a moment,” Jungkook says, glares playfully.
“Consider it revenge for breaking your promise.”

“But you liked me kissing you,” Taehyung says, playing idly with one of Jungkook’s feathers.
“Still, I don’t embarrass much, if at all. Would like to see your attempt at it though.”

“Anyway. You asked me earlier if I was stalking you, yeah?” Jungkook prompts, eyes fluttering
shut as Taehyung strokes one of his feathers in a way that must have been just right.

“So you weren’t stalking me then? What is it?” Taehyung implores, genuinely curious.

“Was missing you, s’all.” Jungkook scrunches his nose, another blush blooming on his cheeks. “I
guess I like seeing your insufferable face every now and then.”

Taehyung feels his eyes widen, chest constricting, as his heart races too fast for a muscle that was
frozen for so many centuries. He feels his heart expand in size, making room for all the love his
demon heart is able to muster.

Part of him can’t believe this is happening, as he pulls Jungkook in closer to him, wondering if
maybe this is too good to be true. If Jungkook is too good to be true because it often feels that way.

“Did it work? Are you shy now? I hope it did because I feel shy right now,” Jungkook says, lifting
his hand to cup Taehyung’s cheek. He tilts Taehyung’s chin ever so slightly, so their eyes are
locked, letting out a small gasp. “Aww, you are shy, aren’t you?”

Taehyung shakes his head, because it’s true, he isn’t shy. He’s just feeling too much, too many
emotions he’s not used to, nor does he know what to do with them.

“It’s okay. I won’t judge you,” Jungkook wraps his arms around him in an embrace. “Too much
anyway.”

And that’s how Jungkook finds himself being pinned to the ground as Taehyung kisses him
senseless, eyes shut as he laughs against his lips, too wrapped up in each other to notice the first
snow of the year.

The last piece of the puzzle comes to Taehyung finally, but this is the only memory he already
possessed, but it still felt like a stab to the chest reliving it with all the context.

He hadn’t looked back after he bid Jungkook his farewell, left the bar in a rush of scattered feathers
and tingling lips. He had thought it would be too painful, didn’t think he would ever be able to
leave if he did.

Part of him ached acutely that Jungkook wouldn’t ever know of him or the love he held for him,
another part of him feared what would happen next, but for the most part he was relieved. Relieved
that he was able to have this chance, to fall in love, even if it was with a mortal who could never
reciprocate.

And then he fell.

It wasn’t anything dramatic like it was always depicted in the horrifically realistic paintings and
sculptures that decorated Heaven; an angel falling from the heavens, an arrow striking their chest,
or even an angel burning in writhing agony. Rather, it was quite anticlimactic, just a jolt in his
chest of searing pain. Pain that spread from his heart to his back, a pain so acute that he fell to his
knees like a stone, curling up as he felt his wings literally burn. Orange embers filled the night sky,
smoke forming clouds around him, suffocating him as he writhed on the ground. It was a pain like
no other that Taehyung found himself praying, tears streaking down his cheeks as he remained
invisible to all the mortals passing by for any reprieve.

At that moment, he would have accepted any reprieve from the agony that consumed him, even if it
would entail death.

He waited for it, waited for the pain to become too much and for the world to go dark, for him to
go out like a tragic hero who fell in love in a truly Shakespearean fashion. He didn’t die though, but
he did feel his heart get stained with something sinister, a tinge of black that would permeate and
corrupt him until his transition into a demon was complete.

Amid all his pain, he didn’t feel the shift in the air around him, but he did notice when someone
crouched by his side to watch him endure Heaven’s punishment for falling in love. Through hazy
eyes, Taehyung could faintly make out Namjoon’s outline, felt an ounce of misplaced relief.

“I warned you,” Namjoon simply said, voice injected with regret. “I warned you that you would
regret this, Taehyung. That you would lose everything.”

“Joonie, help me,” Taehyung sobbed, unable to register his words through all the pain. “Please.”

“I can’t do that,” Namjoon replied, tilting his head. “You brought this onto yourself, like Icarus,
you flew too close to the sun and you lost your wings.”

A popular saying between angels, one they always use for angels who have sinned, Taehyung
never thought the day would come where those words would be used on him. Even as he got more
and more entrenched in Jungkook, in his feelings for him, he never imagined this would be him. Or
maybe he did, he just hadn’t cared at the moment, thought that his love was worth the sacrifice he
would be making.

He wanted to tell himself that it was, but everything hurt so much that he couldn’t be sure anymore.

“Just make the pain stop, I’ll do anything,” Taehyung pleaded.

“I can make you forget,” Namjoon offered, placing a hand on Taehyung’s chest. Right over his
heart that still bled love for Jungkook with each heartbeat. “You could forget all about that mortal
and the heartbreak he caused you, finally let him go before you ruin him with your corruption.”

“I won’t do that,” Taehyung shook his head, trying to back away from Namjoon. He couldn’t
though, backed up against a wall, with nowhere to go. Namjoon loomed over him in all white, his
wings overarching and magnificent behind him, made Taehyung feel like he was seeing a herald of
death albeit more ominous. “I love him.”

“Demons don’t know how to love, Taehyung, they just ruin,” Namjoon said, looking genuinely
regretful. “That’s what you are now.”

Taehyung tried his best to resist, kicked and screamed, but he no longer had any wings to escape
with. He tried to hold onto his memories, tether himself to the moment by remembering the fleeting
softness of Jungkook’s lips against his or his pretty voice that was sweet as honey, but to no avail.
As Namjoon forced Taehyung’s eyes on him, he felt the memories trickle away, like water seeking
out of a cracked glass with no way for him to stem the flow with just his hands. Memories of
Jungkook’s smile, his voice, his lonely eyes, his face, and his name started to fade from his mind,
slipping away too quickly for Taehyung to latch onto them.

Lastly, the love he felt for him faded as well, leaving Taehyung as an empty vessel on the floor.
The only thing he could remember was that he had been an angel, an angel who fell from grace
because he fell in love with a mortal, a mortal he could no longer remember and emotions he failed
to connect with.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” Namjoon told him once he finished, hand slipping away from him. “But
this is for the best, for both of you.”

“I hate you,” Taehyung whispered.

“I can live with that,” Namjoon nodded, leaving not long after.

Taehyung sat alone in an abandoned alleyway, in a mess of charred feathers that were once
beautiful, and a hole in his chest that would never be filled – a reminder that he truly had lost
everything.

At this point, Taehyung's memory has returned in full, and while he tried to detach himself from
the Taehyung he used to be, he can't. He's no longer the same pure hearted fool who fell in love
with a mortal, that's true, but he's still a fool who fell in love again with the same person,
nonetheless. He supposes it makes sense, he’s still the one and the same person, all the centuries
he’s lived doing little to wise him up.

He's not sure he likes the way this love makes him feel; on one hand, he feels more alive than he's
ever felt in ages. For the longest time, it felt like he had a gaping hole ripped into his chest, one that
only Jungkook could fill, and now, he finally felt complete. That missing puzzle piece he had spent
most of his life searching for. And yet, he hates the vulnerability that it offers him, the concept that
another person has power over him. The power to take from him, the power that could lead to both
of their ruin. For Taehyung, that love has already led to his ruin once before, doesn't know if he
wants to give it a chance to ruin him again.

Things are different now, however. He's a demon now. He’s the one who brings ruin and
corruption upon others, not vice versa.

Taehyung knows what he should do even if he doesn't want to do it, decides to rip off the band-aid,
because the more days that pass by makes this even more difficult. It should be fairly simple and
straightforward, even if it will hurt quite a bit at first. He's no stranger to pain, however, so he
knows he'll get past this.

He did once before after all, even if that one time was enough to break him permanently, but he did
move past it. He lived, lived a long life without Jungkook in it. Meeting him again doesn’t change
anything, loving him again just puts things into perspective.

“Demons don’t know how to love, Taehyung, they just ruin,” Namjoon said, looking genuinely
regretful. “That’s what you are now.”

Taehyung thinks about how all he’s wanted from Jungkook, since the moment he’s met him, is to
corrupt him. To ruin him. Even as Jungkook made his heart start beating once more, he still can’t
ignore his roots, the innate desire to consume everything and taint Jungkook’s innocence until he
becomes something more akin to himself. He fell in love with Jungkook’s kindness, his soft heart,
his beautiful wings and yet Taehyung couldn’t help but want to bring out that underlying darkness
he knows exists underneath. Couldn’t help that selfish desire to monopolize, to keep Jungkook with
him forever, just to fill that void in his chest so he doesn’t go back to the lonely life he led before.

Namjoon is right, he really doesn’t know how to do anything but ruin everything around him.

Crossing his fingers over his heart, Taehyung whispers, “Jungkook, I need you.”

A whisper lost in the wind, barely audible over the whistling of a cold winter night, but it carries
its weight. A simple summoning, no chaos to be wrought, just Taehyung calling for Jungkook from
the deepest part of his heart that says his name with every beat. The only reason why this
summoning would even work at all.

Taehyung need only wait for a moment before Jungkook appears in front of him. A mess of ruffled
wings, windblown hair, and wide eyes as he clutches at his own heart.

“Did you call for me?” Jungkook asks, face pale. He takes a step closer to him. “I could swear I
felt your voice – I’m not kissing you again – Taehyung? Are you alright?”

Another step closer, frantic hands reach for his cheeks, cupping them as Jungkook tries to get a
good look at Taehyung’s expression in the darkness. The only light they have is the moonlight,
barely illuminating this abandoned building in its shimmery light, and yet Jungkook’s eyes
glimmer in the moonlight. A constellation of a thousand stars reflected in his eyes, prettier than any
starry night Taehyung has ever seen. Taehyung smiles, leaning into the warmth of his hands – so
warm against his cool cheeks – tries to savor this moment for as long as it will last.

“I'm quite alright, Jungkook,” Taehyung smiles. He places his own hand atop Jungkook’s, slightly
smaller than his, paler too. “I wanted to tell you something.”
“Jungkook? You never call me that,” Jungkook says, lips tugging down into a frown.

“We never did manage to become friends, did we?” Taehyung smiles wryly, referencing their first
meeting.

“That never stopped you before. You said we would eventually," Jungkook replies, voice small.
He looks genuinely hurt by Taehyung’s words, eyes downcast, and while Taehyung doesn’t feel
guilty about it, he still wants to take his pain away. “I don’t understand why this matters now
anyway; you've been calling me baby all the time anyway.”

“Did you get attached to the pet name?” Taehyung teases, brushing his fingers under Jungkook’s
chin. A sign of affection he only learned to show Jungkook, one Jungkook grew to accept from
him. Little things Taehyung is starting to notice now that he’s getting his goodbyes ready again.

“Just a little,” Jungkook admits, jutting out his lip.

It takes Taehyung aback, had grown used to Jungkook’s conflicting words, but when faced with the
truths that Jungkook is freely giving him – he doesn’t know how to react to them.

“I'm sorry, baby,” Taehyung says, indulging him.

Jungkook’s face brightens up visibly, eyes crinkling as he grins, making Taehyung’s chest
constrict uncomfortably as his heart sinks in his chest under its heavy weight. Taehyung swallows,
this is getting more difficult.

“So what did you want to tell me?” Jungkook prompts, finally letting his hand drop. Taehyung
already misses the warmth it provided, an anchor of sorts, one he needed.

“I wanted to tell you about how I fell,” Taehyung says, his eye contact with Jungkook not wavering
for a second. Something he praises himself for because right now he doesn’t feel like an oh so
powerful demon, no, now he feels weak like a mortal as he lays himself bare in front of Jungkook.
“About my original sin.”

Jungkook’s face falls, a flicker of fear passing over his features. He laughs awkwardly, rubbing a
hand over the nape of his neck, a sound that grates against Taehyung’s ears. So forced and
unnatural, Taehyung can feel Jungkook’s discomfort wash over him. Taehyung admires how apt
Jungkook is at reading him now, how he instinctually understands that Taehyung didn’t summon
him here for anything good, is trying to avoid the damage he’s about to cause.

“Kinda random, isn’t it?” Jungkook asks, averting his gaze from Taehyung first. “You just
summoned me for that?”

“Not that random. You wanted to know,” Taehyung replies, cocking his head. He tilts Jungkook’s
chin so he’s forced to look at him. “So now I’ll tell you.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “You don't have to do that.”

“Why not?” Taehyung asks, endeared.

“Because you're being all ominous about it. As if this is gonna change things between us and I
don't want it to.” Jungkook bats his hand away from him, taking a step back from him. “It's fine as
it is, I don't want to hear it. I won't.”

“Interesting how you’re implying that there’s an ‘us’ in this equation,” Taehyung can’t help but
press, taking a step forward. He’s hurting right now and that sinister part of himself wants to make
Jungkook hurt too. “Presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

The result is instantaneous, Jungkook flinching as he takes a step back, wings receding in on
themselves. He can’t look at Taehyung at all, the hurt is wafting off him in waves. Taehyung’s
mouth twists, because it’s nowhere near as satisfying as Taehyung thought it would be, rather it
makes him feel worse.

“You kissed me,” Jungkook whispers.

“It didn’t have to mean anything,” Taehyung lies smoothly.

They truly are like night and day. Jungkook standing out starkly in the night in all white, majestic
white wings behind him reflecting the moonlight. Taehyung on the other hand, blends in the
darkness, wearing a form fitting black button-down shirt tucked into black slacks, with a matching
black leather jacket to complete his ensemble.

Fitting because Jungkook shines like a star in the night, that light at the end of the tunnel Taehyung
was searching for, while Taehyung is the darkness that snuffs it out. Or perhaps Jungkook’s light is
what will burn him. It’s probably a bit of both.

“Don’t say that, stop lying,” Jungkook says, voice shaky. His hands clench into fists by his sides,
trembling visibly, gritting his jaw. “This isn’t you; you’re trying to be an asshole on purpose, and
it’s annoying. Just stop.”

Taehyung is stricken with how embarrassingly transparent he must have been to Jungkook, feels
like a bucket of ice-cold water has been dropped on his head, because when had they become close
enough for that to happen? Was it when they kissed? Before then when Jungkook held his hand?
He doesn’t know anymore, just notes how this is going in a completely different direction than it
should. He wants a clean cut, similar to the one from his memories, but he’s beginning to realize
that the lines between them blurred a long time ago.

Once again, he closes the distance between them, cupping Jungkook’s cheeks in his hands like
Jungkook did to him earlier. His skin is cool to the touch, Jungkook doesn’t resist him this time,
doesn’t bat his hands away, but Taehyung doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. Hurt is written in
Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, glassy with unshed tears, too upset to even muster one of his iconic
glares to throw his way.

Jungkook’s hurt makes Taehyung feel uncomfortable, the fact that he’s the one who caused it feels
like a stab to the chest.

“Did the kisses mean something to you?” Taehyung asks gently. He’s realizing belatedly that he
never asked what they meant to him, even after he stole so many kisses from him that day in the
snow until Jungkook’s lips were swollen, until he had committed his taste and touch to memory.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook replies, the words devoid of any bite.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says. “Please just answer me honestly.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few moments, moments that stretched so long, they felt like
an eternity. His eyes darted left and right, then down, eyes fluttering as he tried hard not to blink
lest his tears fall. He failed, however, the first tear falling down his cheek with a shaky breath.

“Yes. It meant something to me,” Jungkook eventually answers, closing his eyes. The next tear
falls down his cheek, glistening in the moonlight, but he makes no move to wipe it away. “It meant
everything to me so fuck you for saying it didn’t mean anything at all.”
The words aren’t entirely surprising in themselves, Jungkook possesses too much kindness, heart
bursting with it. Taehyung hardly doubted he’d kiss anyone without it meaning something to him,
didn’t think he would have even let anyone kiss him unless they meant something to him.
Regardless, hearing that it meant everything to him still affects Taehyung in a way that he didn’t
expect. His heart races in his chest, throbbing with each beat, because he loves Jungkook too much.

“I lied,” Taehyung says, wiping away the stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “Forgive me, baby.”

“I know you were, you were being an asshole,” Jungkook glares at him with bloodshot eyes,
scrunching his nose in distaste. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Right, because Jungkook thinks he’s a soft demon, such a deluded misconception that Taehyung
never took the time to correct. He liked it, he thinks, that one person wanted to see the good in him
even if there was nothing good that remained within him to be seen.

“Will you let me tell you then?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t want to know; I don’t want things to change.”

“Things will change anyway,” Taehyung points out softly.

“It doesn't have to,” Jungkook replies stubbornly.

Taehyung wishes he could hold onto Jungkook’s optimism, used to be an optimistic angel himself,
but he knows that it won’t work out that way. That things will change between them, for better or
worse, he doesn’t know yet.

He already knows that Jungkook won’t want to stay after Taehyung has said his piece, that once he
knows the truth, his warped and naïve perception of Taehyung will change. It will change and he
will leave, there final farewell, and Taehyung will learn how to pick up the shards of his broken
heart once more.

“Let me tell you,” Taehyung tells him.

“No,” Jungkook refuses.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung tries, exasperated.

"No."

“Baby,” Taehyung whispers.

He leans in to press a kiss against his lips. It’s low, but he relishes in the way Jungkook’s lips melt
against his anyway, like he can’t help himself. Like kissing Taehyung is natural, what he needs to
breathe, allows him to forget for a moment. Taehyung licks into his mouth, swallowing Jungkook’s
gasp, learns his taste anew.

Part of him wonders if this will be their last kiss.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook glares at him weakly when Taehyung pulls back, face flushed red.

“Don't be like this,” Taehyung’s eyes flash.

“Fine, just spit it out,” Jungkook says, taking a step back from him leaving Taehyung cold in a way
that has nothing to do with the weather. As if creating a boundary to protect himself from any
kisses Taehyung might use to distract him. Or rather, to protect himself from the hurt Taehyung
will inflict, has already inflicted. “Enlighten me, Taehyung. What did you do? Kill someone?
Steal?”

“Love. I fell in love, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, stuffing his hands in his pockets not knowing
what to do with them. He wants to take a smoke right now, but his hands feel too shaky, doesn’t
think he could conjure a flame right now. “I fell in love with a mortal.”

It will hurt like a bitch, but Taehyung consoles himself that even after everything is said and done,
he will at least have his memories and the time he spent with Jungkook to cherish this time.

“Oh.”

A simple word, yet it held so much weight. Jungkook’s face is inscrutable in the darkness, but his
wide eyes tell Taehyung enough. Sees that mixture of fear and sadness in them, a hint of something
else.

“Yes, oh,” Taehyung smiles wryly. “I guess you can call me a sinner.”

“Do you remember anything about it?” Jungkook asks softly, repeating the same question from
before.

“I do now,” Taehyung replies. He looks at Jungkook, taking his hand in his, loosely without
entwining their fingers even though he wishes he could. “Which brings me to why I’m telling you
this. I think – I think – we should end this, Jungkook.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks, the question dripping with hurt so palpable that Taehyung winces.

What is it that the mortals say about love? That if you love someone, you’ll let them go? Taehyung
didn’t want to let Jungkook go, every greedy part of him wanted to keep Jungkook to himself,
corrupt him and make him his. The selfish part of him that led centuries in solitude, that searched
for meaning in the chaos yet never found it, only to find that sense of completion in a kind angel
wants to keep him forever.

The love he holds for him, however, the only pure part of him left, tells him that he should make
this sacrifice. It speaks louder than his selfish desires, drives him to do him right, doesn’t think he
would be able to live with himself if he didn’t.

“So you don’t end up like me,” Taehyung explains, smiling sadly. “I’m giving you an out before
you fall in love, before I corrupt you.”

Jungkook lifts his palms to his eyes, wiping away the remaining wetness that remained there,
nodding imperceptibly as he looks at Taehyung with a look that could only be considered fond. It
confuses him, doesn’t understand this reaction, wasn’t one of the several he readied himself for.

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Jungkook replies, nodding as he bites his lip. He looks at his hands,
pale and clean, but it seems like Jungkook sees something on them that Taehyung can’t. “I’ve
already sinned. I’m the fool who fell in love with a demon.”

Taehyung feels like his heart slowed to a still, eyes widening as he slowly absorbs the words
Jungkook just uttered before his heart starts to beat again in overdrive.

“What?” Taehyung asks, voice faint.

“I expected to lose my wings in a day or two,” Jungkook shrugs, smiling shakily. He touches his
wings, eyes forlorn as he smooths his fingers over the feathers. “I hope you weren’t lying when you
said it doesn’t hurt that much.”

None of this makes sense to him, he’s genuinely so lost right now. The idea that Jungkook could
be in love with him is unfathomable, one that Taehyung never truly let himself entertain, not as an
angel nor as a demon falling in love again. This love wasn’t something he was allowed to have, it
was supposed to be something unattainable that he yearned for from afar, ruing the shitty hand he
was dealt by fate.

How could Jungkook, the perfect and sweet angel that he is, fall for a depraved demon like him?

And yet, Jungkook speaks with so much certainty, with so much sincerity that Taehyung couldn’t
doubt him. He holds Taehyung’s hands in his and it feels so intimate, like Jungkook is giving him
his heart, allowing him free reign to do whatever he pleases with it.

“Jungkook, I want to corrupt you,” Taehyung says, gripping his arms. He’s trying to convey how
horrible he is to him, how unworthy he is of his love. “I’m a demon. You can’t love me.”

“I know that,” Jungkook smiles, pressing his finger against the furrow of Taehyung’s brows. His
wings flutter a bit to lift him up just enough to press a kiss against Taehyung’s temple, fleeting and
sweet before he steps down again. “I know that you want to corrupt me, but I still think you’re
kind, and I love you anyway.”

“But –”

“You tried to give me an out because you love me too, right?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head.
“You’re a demon, yes, but you’re a soft one. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

He understands his logic, but he refuses to believe it, shaking his head.

“I’m not worth it,” Taehyung argues, his insecurities bubbling to the surface. “This isn’t worth it,
you’ll regret it –”

“I think that’s for me to decide, no?” Jungkook shrugs, smiling softly.

“I wanted to fuck you,” Taehyung blurts out. He’s such an idiot, it’s as if he’s trying to sabotage
himself, but he just has to get this off his chest. “I wanted to corrupt you, fuck you, take your
innocence. I fantasized about it a lot.”

“You’re so crass,” Jungkook says, blushing, nose scrunching like a bunny. He shrugs, averting his
gaze. “I mean, I kinda knew that and some of the other angels warned me about that too. I think
that’s okay though because I fantasized about it too sometimes, more after you kissed me.”

Taehyung groans because that’s so hot, imagining a cute innocent angel thinking about getting
fucked by a demon, by him. He leans in to crash his lips against Jungkook, reveling in how right
this kiss feels, so much better than the other one he used to placate him earlier. Jungkook moans,
wrapping his arms around Taehyung, immediately opening his mouth to give Taehyung access.
Taehyung’s tongue slides over Jungkook’s, pulling away after he pauses to bite Jungkook’s bottom
lip, relishing in Jungkook’s spike in lust.

Fuck, he’s so hot, Taehyung loves him. He wants him too. Feels the last threads of his patience
fraying by the ends, everything that was holding him back previously has suddenly disappeared.

“Tell me what you fantasized about, baby,” Taehyung says, brushing his hands against his wings,
watching Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed. “Let’s see what I can make a reality.”
“I won’t tell you obviously,” Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head.

“Tell me,” Taehyung repeats.

He moves his hand to the apex of his wing, squeezing it, knowing from experience just how
sensitive that area is. Jungkook keens, arousal pooling in his stomach, knees dropping as Taehyung
holds him by his waist to keep him upright. Jungkook glares at him and Taehyung sneers.

“Thought ‘bout you opening me up on your bed with your fingers, maybe you using your mouth on
me,” Jungkook mumbles, his voice barely decipherable.

“Oh, how naughty of you,” Taehyung smirks, brushing his fingers under Jungkook’s chin. “Did I
call you baby in your fantasy too?”

“I hate you,” Jungkook whines.

“You don’t,” Taehyung grins wickedly. He pulls Jungkook into him by his waist, Taehyung is only
a few centimeters taller than him, but in this moment, he feels like he’s towering over him. He likes
the power rush it gives him. “I want to fuck you, will you let me, baby? Corrupt you with a bang?
I’ll take care of you, promise.”

He expects Jungkook to say no, to say it’s too soon, to shake his head or push Taehyung away with
a scoff. But again, Jungkook surprises him when he nods with flaming red cheeks, warmth
spreading all the way to the tip of his ears.

“Yes,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “I want it. Please. Take me, make me yours.”

Taehyung swallows, heart tugging in his chest with all the love he feels, as he nods.

“Your wish is my command, baby,” Taehyung replies. He smiles, brushing Jungkook’s hair back,
so silky smooth between his fingers just like when he was a mortal. “You’d better not regret it, this
or what’s to come after.”

Jungkook leans in, pressing his lips against Taehyung, the first kiss he’s initiated with him thus far.
It’s a sweet kiss, chaste, yet it conveys all the love Jungkook feels for him in it and Taehyung feels
his heart soften as he receives it. A love he thought he’d never have, a love he’s not sure he’s
worthy to have, but feels grateful to accept after so many centuries without it.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t regret you,” Jungkook replies, breathless, resting his forehead against
Taehyung’s.

Taehyung tries his best to believe him.

Taehyung takes Jungkook to one of his homes in Seoul, lavish and spacious by a mortal’s
standards, but nothing compared to the overarching mansion he owns in Hell. There, he has a large
plot of land decorated in hues of black and red, pillars of fine black marble, and a garden made of
beautiful thorny red roses. Dramatic paintings of himself in his original demonic form line the
walls, ever the narcissist, but loving himself is something he considers a virtue. His minions tended
to the mansion while he’s gone, probably created some chaos too, but he didn't care. He wishes he
could have taken Jungkook there first as he deflowers him, corrupts him, wants to treat him the
way he would a king.

He can't take Jungkook to Hell yet, doesn't want to risk it, but he'll be damned if he doesn't pamper
him anyway because Jungkook deserves nothing less. For himself too because this moment, as he
leads Jungkook to the master bedroom with intertwined fingers, is the culmination of centuries of
his desire and yearning.

Taehyung has had sex more than a handful of times, yes, he's a demon so lust is one of the sins he's
indulged in. This time, however, is the only time Taehyung can recall himself caring about his
partner's pleasure more than his own.

Taehyung snaps his fingers once they reach the master bedroom, immediately illuminating the
room as flames light the candles he likes to collect because their scents attract him, casting the
room in a dim golden hue with dancing shadows on the walls as the flames cackle. The light
exposes the cluttered mess that is this room despite him spending little time here; dresser scattered
with makeup and beauty products atop it that Taehyung collects but doesn't need, a wardrobe filled
with attires of mostly black to fit his aesthetic, designer clothes scattered carelessly around the
wooden floor. The center piece of the room would be the four-poster bed with black satin sheets
and curtains. Humble, but he likes it, often finds himself crashing here when his minions in Hell
get too annoying, which is more frequent than he'd like.

“Oh, wow,” Jungkook breathes, hand squeezing his. “This place looks...nice.”

“Too much black for you?” Taehyung quirks his brow. He's rubbing circles on Jungkook’s waist,
under his shirt, can't wait to strip him of his loose clothes and take in the sight underneath. “I like to
commit to my aesthetic.”

“No, I uh like black, but it always clashed too much with the wings. You'd definitely get a lot of
weird looks in Heaven if you wore anything but white," Jungkook replies, voice increasing
gradually in pitch as Taehyung stands behind him, chest flush to his back in a loose embrace. “Um,
are we gonna do this by candlelight?”

“Of course, baby, I want to see all of you,” Taehyung replies, brushing his nose against the nape of
his neck. “Wanna see how red you can get, so pretty when you blush.”

Jungkook stiffens ever so slightly under his touch, but he knows he will have him pliant and loose
before long.

“Shut up,” Jungkook mumbles, but fiery hot warmth climbs up the collar of his shirt to stain his
neck red.

It entices him to press a kiss to his nape, open mouthed, relishing the way Jungkook’s breath
hitches. One hand snakes around his waist to tease over his stomach, the other moving to the arch
of his wing, rubbing his fingers against it. Jungkook lets out a small 'Oh', so sensitive to
Taehyung’s touch, squirming as Taehyung bares his teeth when he kisses down his neck.

He knows his teeth are sharp, not as sharp as they are when his fangs come out when he sheds his
mortal appearance, but enough to break skin. He doesn't feel particularly bad when he grazes them
against the nook of Jungkook’s throat, searing hot arousal coursing through Jungkook’s body as he
melts under his touch, giving Taehyung more access.

“I will show you a very good time tonight, baby,” Taehyung whispers in his ear, holding him tight
by his hips so Jungkook can feel his own arousal. “You won’t regret it.”
“I don't. I won’t,” Jungkook shakes his head, but Taehyung isn't listening.

Jungkook can say whatever he wants but Taehyung is aware of the magnitude of this sacrifice, the
biggest sacrifice he will ever make even if Jungkook isn't fully oriented to it yet, and he’s making it
for him. It’s almost naive, Taehyung sees flickers of who he used to be in Jungkook, another fool
who did the same for love. Taehyung lost his wings, his innocence, even his love just because he
committed one sin, a cost that seemed too great especially with his memory wiped. A decision that
filled him with regret for hundreds of years as he searched aimlessly for something to give him
meaning.

Jungkook is about to willingly do the same for him, and Taehyung isn’t quite sure what he will do
if Jungkook realizes too late that this love wasn’t worth it, starts to resent him for it.

Moving him forward, he pushes Jungkook unceremoniously onto the bed. Taehyung hums, taking
great joy in the visual of Jungkook in all white with his white wings splayed out beneath him,
contrasting against the black satin of his bed sheets. Jungkook watches him with wide eyes, cheeks
tinted red, and waits for Taehyung to make his move with bated breath. So innocent and pure, yet
eager to please, all his to corrupt and ruin.

Seeing Jungkook like this makes him feel like maybe it was worth it, that he doesn’t regret it so
much anymore. He loves Jungkook for wanting to make the same foolish decision, wants to spend
the rest of his forever showing him his gratitude, show him through actions rather than words that
this sacrifice was worth it. That he is worth it.

That's Taehyung's preferred method anyway, considering his words are often riddled with lies, so
he conveys truth through his actions instead.

“So pretty, baby,” Taehyung tells him, not missing the way Jungkook’s eyes flutter at the praise.
He crawls onto the bed, straddling Jungkook, using one hand to pin his two wrists above his head.
“Want to run away yet?”

“No,” Jungkook whispers, soft yet firm. “I want you.”

Taehyung’s eyes roll back as he feels the remnants of his self-control begin to snap, groaning as he
crashes his lips against Jungkook’s in a bruising kiss, nothing sweet to be had here. He’s a demon,
he isn’t soft nor is he sweet, and he’s so consumed with lust and need that little else matters to him
right now. Jungkook whimpers against his lips, small sounds that are barely audible, but Taehyung
swallows them eagerly as he explores his mouth freely.

A taste of sin so sweet, he’s almost memorized it by now, but it’s still not enough. He hardly
doubts it ever will be, Jungkook’s taste is one he will never get tired of having on his tongue, so
tantalizing that it makes him feel heady.

Taehyung breaks away, a string of saliva connecting their lips that Jungkook chases after, but he
pushes him back down against the bed. Jungkook huffs but concedes as Taehyung’s kisses move
down his chin, to the line of his throat, exploring his skin to find where he’s most sensitive. It’s not
just kisses that Taehyung leaves, but bruises as well, sinks his sharp teeth into each piece of skin as
if leaving a constellation of stars on him. A smirk splays across Taehyung’s lips when his teeth
sink over that small mole on his neck, feeling a spike of arousal in Jungkook, body arching
underneath Taehyung.

“Hnn – Taehyung – please,” Jungkook mumbles, confirming Taehyung’s suspicions.

Taehyung thinks he will have a lot of fun exploring Jungkook, figuring out what makes him tick,
finding which parts makes him positively fall apart.

“Please, what, baby?” Taehyung asks, his hand creeping under his shirt.

This isn’t the first time he’s copped a feel under his shirt, but he usually only limited his touches to
his hip, but he marvels at how soft and smooth Jungkook’s skin is under his burning touch. He
moves his hand up further, lifting the loose shirt, and letting out a small grunt of appreciation when
he takes in the sight before him. Jungkook’s body looks like one sculpted by the gods, pun
intended, with his tiny waist, defined abs, and perky nipples. It’s unfair how Jungkook could have
such a pretty face and such a sinful body that’s hidden under the baggy white clothes.

Taehyung licks his bottom lip, reminding himself to take his time, to not just fuck Jungkook right
here and now without any preamble. He has to make this enjoyable for both of them. The reason as
to why is getting a bit hazy as he starts to lose himself in his own lust and desire, but he perseveres.

“Do all angels look this sexy or are you just special?” Taehyung asks, smoothing his hand over his
abdomen. “Because I don’t recall looking this good when I was an angel.”

“I – I don’t know, I just liked to fly around, stay in shape,” Jungkook replies, biting his lip. He
locks eyes with Taehyung, as if considering him. “I hardly doubt there was ever a time where you
didn’t look good.”

Taehyung laughs, both at the visual of Jungkook working out like some mortal, lifting weights or
whatever they did to get muscles, because he has that angel’s ego. That and at Jungkook’s
unintentional compliment. Endearing how honest Jungkook can sometimes be, even if he’s aware
those words weren’t meant to be praise.

“I don’t think I’d say I looked attractive much as an angel. White was never my color,” Taehyung
hums.

He retrieves his other hand to sharpen his fingers back into their original form. Inky black with
razor-sharp nails, claws, jagged and grotesque. He doesn’t often like to appear in his true demonic
form, likes this form more because it’s more attractive, but desperate times call for desperate
measures. He uses his fingers to cut through Jungkook’s shirt because he can’t be assed to take it
off him manually, before reverting them back to their normal slender and honey toned appearance.

If Jungkook is taken aback by the momentary transformation, he doesn’t show it, but then again,
he probably isn’t in the state of mind to care. Not with Taehyung’s hooded eyes on him or his
fingers trailing lightly against the divots in his stomach. He does let out a gasp, however, when his
shirt falls apart as he tries to bring the shirt back together to cover his body, but Taehyung burns it
before he can.

“There, much better,” Taehyung says. His eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s face, which is now a
deep shade of red, eyes wide with embarrassment, but he still doesn’t shy from Taehyung despite
whatever mortification that must be consuming him. “Will you tell me what your kinky fantasy
entailed? Where did I touch you, baby?”

He's referring to Jungkook’s previous comment, didn’t want Jungkook to think he would let go of
that so easily, plans to squeeze out all the gritty details from him.

Jungkook shakes his head, “No.”

Taehyung expected that, thinks he could probably force an answer out of him if he wanted to, but
he doesn’t particularly want to either. There’s an element of fun in figuring it out himself, by
discovering Jungkook’s body, mapping his body with kisses, bites, and searing hot touches while
feeling his arousal spike when he does something that feels particularly good.

Regardless, he wants to tease Jungkook a little bit.

“Did you touch yourself when you thought about it?” Taehyung asks, lips tilting upwards. His
hand moves upwards towards one of his nipples, pinching it lightly between two fingers. “Are
angels even allowed to touch themselves? Did you know how to?”

Jungkook arches to lean up into his touch, Taehyung feeling the first brush of his hardness against
his thigh, but he ignores it for now. He wants to see all of him, but he’s too busy now relishing how
turned on Jungkook is for him, how he’s losing grasp of his pride and control when he’s hardly
done anything yet, surrendering it to Taehyung so he can be good for him. So Taehyung can make
him feel good.

He’s also not oblivious to the amount of trust Jungkook must be putting into him right now to take
care of him, to not use him in a way he wouldn’t want. Taehyung feels an odd pressure to make
sure he doesn’t break that trust.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whimpers when Taehyung tugs his nipple. He tries to squirm, his wings
quivering underneath him, but he’s literally trapped underneath Taehyung with nowhere to escape.
“’s too much.”

“So sensitive, baby,” Taehyung says, leaning down to replace his fingers with his mouth. “You
didn’t answer my question. Focus.”

He places a wet kiss to his nipple, laving his tongue on Jungkook’s areola, sucking on the nipple
itself and nipping it with his sharp teeth. With his other hand, he plays with Jungkook’s other
nipple, making sure he’s stimulated. He’s thriving on the muffled moans that are falling from
Jungkook’s cherry red bitten lips and the constant thrum of arousal beneath his skin, pooling over
to Taehyung, and consuming him with its intensity. Jungkook’s cock brushes against Taehyung’s
thigh again, this time with intent, clearly seeking out those small jolts of pleasure he gets by
rubbing against him.

Taehyung moves his thigh away again, refuses to give him those cheap thrills right now, not when
he has so much better in store.

“I – I didn’t touch myself,” Jungkook finally replies, several beats too late. A spike of guilt follows
the admission, indicating that it was clearly a lie.

Interesting. Taehyung grazes his teeth against Jungkook’s nipple, eliciting a winded gasp from him.

“Don’t lie, baby.” Taehyung pulls away from his chest to glare at him. “I don’t like liars.”

Jungkook turns his head against the pillow, hair fanning out behind him, as he tries to hide his
disgruntled expression from him. Or perhaps his embarrassment. Either way, Taehyung finds it
cute, makes him want to be mean and push his buttons further.

“Okay, fine, I – uh – I touched myself once,” Jungkook admits, his guilt exacerbating as he avoids
Taehyung’s eyes. “I didn’t – well, you know, come – or anything like that because I was worried
that would be a sin or something. I just, I don’t know, got really hard and touched myself a bit.
Happy now?”

Taehyung’s grin turns wicked, the scene playing out in his head, growing more vivid as Jungkook
supplies him with more details. Jungkook, alone in his room at one of Heaven’s pretty manors, face
flushed and arousal difficult to ignore. The need to touch himself overpowering his guilt that he
feels over the lust he feels over a demon.

When he thinks of Jungkook’s face as his fingers graze against his cock, hesitant and unsure,
Taehyung feels his own arousal lick against the base of his stomach like an inferno.

“Did you imagine me with you? My hand touching you or maybe my mouth on you right here?”
Taehyung prompts, moving his hand down his abdomen slowly to Jungkook’s hard cock. He takes
ahold of it in his hand, marveling at how hard and hot Jungkook is when all he’s done is kiss and
tease him, already staining a wet patch in those atrocious white pants. He wants to make fun of him
for it, tease him until he’s teary and his face turns that beautiful shade of crimson, but Jungkook
isn’t ready for that yet. “Will you tell me?”

“Hand,” Jungkook lies again.

“So my mouth then,” Taehyung smirks wickedly. Removing his hand from Jungkook’s crotch, he
revels in Jungkook’s despaired whine. “You’ll do well to remember that you can’t lie to a demon,
we’re natural liars so sensing other liars is a sixth sense for us.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jungkook complains, hiding his face with his hands.

“Baby, there’s nothing embarrassing about me pleasuring you and taking you apart,” Taehyung
replies slowly, leaning forward as he presses his chest against Jungkook’s, feeling his racing heart
in his chest. He withdraws Jungkook’s hands from his face, smiling at the warmth that colors his
cheeks before he presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good that you
don’t feel shy, until you’re begging for my touch instead.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders, digging his fingers into his hair, tugging
when Taehyung tries to pull away so he can lead him into another kiss. Proactive, Taehyung likes
it, gives Jungkook the free reign to kiss him how he wants. It’s a needy kiss, like Jungkook while
being mortified of what’s happening, is also depending on Taehyung to be his anchor to tide him
through this.

It’s sweet, and so very Jungkook, and it makes Taehyung’s heart melt just a little bit.

“Okay,” Jungkook breathes when they break apart, eyes hooded, long lashes casting shadows on
his cheeks. Wings fluttering underneath him, the look he gives Taehyung is unsettling, full of so
much adoration and fondness that it takes Taehyung aback. “Show me.”

Taehyung swallows, nodding, moves down as he grazes his fingers against his nipples again and
dips his tongue in the divot of abs, Jungkook’s skin is hot to the touch but also his defined stomach
makes Taehyung want to get lost in him as he maps out the crevices of his body. He doesn’t give
himself that luxury, however, trailing his tongue down to Jungkook’s navel – nipping at the
smooth skin there – before his lips meet the waistband of his pants. His eyes dart back to
Jungkook, a silent inquisition for permission, which Jungkook eagerly gives him as he nods his
head hastily.

Hooking his fingers in the waistband, Taehyung swiftly rids Jungkook of his pants and underwear
in one go, leaving him bare for his eyes to greedily take him in. Nude like this, Jungkook looks
absolutely devastating; thick and well-defined thighs, smooth and unmarked, cock red and hard,
dripping precome. He’s this hard, this edged, just from a few kisses and that blows Taehyung’s
mind. Taehyung almost feels bad touching, tainting him like this, but he looks so delicious that he
knows he won’t be able to resist.
Jungkook is watching him with bated breath, nervous, as if he’s waiting for Taehyung’s verdict.
For his praise that he looks good or the cruel humiliation Taehyung would inflict upon him by
saying anything otherwise. Words that would either bring him up or tear him down. Taehyung
wouldn’t dream of it in a million years, while he loves to tease and to hurt, there’s no way he could
lie about how pretty Jungkook is. How good, how perfect he is for him.

The only words of truth Taehyung is willing to offer him in this moment of time.

“So beautiful, can’t believe you were hiding such a gorgeous body under those awful clothes,”
Taehyung praises. He spreads Jungkook’s legs open so nothing could be hidden, so his eyes can
scan over every nook and cranny of his body, humming because he loves what he sees. “Want to
worship your body, take care of you, fuck you.”

As he says the words, it sounds a lot like ‘making love’, a very mortal term that Taehyung never
thought he would identify with. It’s a cheesy term, one that mortals coined as a fancy term to
describe their fucking. Fucking with love basically, is the gist that Taehyung got as he studied the
mortals and their odd habits and gimmicks over the years.

Is this what he’s doing with Jungkook? Making love to him? He thinks of that look of adoration
that Jungkook gave him, his heart that he placed in his hands, the love and sacrifice he’s
committing for his sake. It’s the only term that would fit what they’re doing, fucking doesn’t seem
quite right if he’s being honest, even if he would die before he ever admitted that out loud.

“Please do,” Jungkook whispers, pliant under his touch.

Taehyung nods, pressing wet and sharp kisses to Jungkook’s thighs, leaving red bruises in his wake
in the form of a small constellation. His thighs feel so thick under his hands, quivering as his nails
sink into his skin, marking him as his with red crescent moons to match the bruises he’s leaving.
When he reaches his inner thighs, close to where Jungkook needs him most, Taehyung feels the
thrum of arousal increase in intensity with the cacophony of barely stifled moans increasing in
volume.

Pressing his nose against his cock, Taehyung revels in the strangled “Taehyung” that Jungkook
lets out, his thighs flexing in his grasp. Such delicious sounds that Jungkook is letting out,
Taehyung muses. It makes sense, considering he was a singer in his past life after all, with a voice
as prettier than a siren’s that it made even an angel fall.

He inhales, appreciating the heady scent of Jungkook, leaving wet kisses against the length of his
cock. Sometimes he would graze his teeth against the skin on purpose, enjoying the way
Jungkook’s breath would hitch and his thighs would twitch, his tongue lapping up the stray beads
of precome. He tastes sweet, enticing him to wrap his lips around the head of his cock. He groans
around Jungkook’s cock, dipping his tongue in the slit, loving the sweet taste of sin on his tongue.

“Feels s’good,” Jungkook slurs, fingers tangling in Taehyung’s hair.

He doesn’t move his head, just runs his fingers through his hair, as if that touch is what he needs to
tether him. Taehyung looks up, sees that Jungkook is leaning on his elbows, hooded eyes and rosy
cheeks as he watches Taehyung take his cock in his mouth. Taehyung hums around the head of his
cock, sinking down as he takes in more, fingers moving to fondle his balls for only a moment
before moving down to his perineum and then his hole.

As soon as his fingers graze over there, Jungkook jolts like a hot wire in Taehyung’s mouth, but
Taehyung remains mostly unfazed, sucking at the head until Jungkook’s moans get breathier and
his arousal exacerbating as signs of his impending orgasm. He ignores Jungkook’s disgruntled
whining, sneering at him instead as he places insistent pressure on his rim.

“Looks like I found one of your sensitive spots, baby,” Taehyung says, bending Jungkook’s knee
so he can crowd his personal space. Placing more pressure on his rim as he does so, Jungkook’s
head falls back at the onslaught of arousal, endearing since he has yet to truly see any of the
pleasure Taehyung is planning for him. “Is this one of the places you played with when you
thought about me?”

Jungkook shakes his head, keening when Taehyung buries his face in the crook of his neck,
placing more bites up the line of his neck and leaving wet kisses over the bruises he’s already left.
His fingers tease at his rim, placing insistent pressure on his entrance with his thumb rubbing over
his perineum, just barely breaking the entrance but nothing further than that. Jungkook’s hands
feebly hold onto the fabric of his black shirt, back arching underneath him, and his wings almost
enveloping Taehyung in his embrace as he pulls him closer.

Taehyung’s own arousal makes it hard for him to think coherently, makes him lose grasp of his
control, which is somewhat concerning. He doesn’t want to expose his true form here, but his fangs
still threaten to break through the gums, horns protruding from his head. He reigns it in, digging
his nails into his palm until he draws blood, because he really shouldn’t let himself go right now.

“I – I thought about it, but didn’t do it,” Jungkook shakes his head, arching his neck to give
Taehyung more access. Taehyung obliges him, sinking his teeth where Jungkook is most sensitive,
pushing one finger in to the first knuckle. “Fuck – I – hah – got embarrassed. Scared.”

“What an innocent angel you are,” Taehyung teases, pulling away from the warmth of Jungkook’s
addictive embrace. He licks his lips, enjoying how debauched Jungkook already looks. “You won’t
be anymore after I’m through with you.”

Taehyung means that in more ways than one, knows that he’s corrupting Jungkook with each touch
and kiss he leaves on his body. Jungkook, however, either seems to genuinely not care that he’s
slowly transforming, or if he’s just so caught up in his first real taste of lust, that he can’t pay
attention to anything else.

A bit of a pity that is their first and last time together like this. Especially since Taehyung doesn’t
know what to expect from the demonic version of Jungkook, but he’s sure he will love him all the
same. Across every lifetime, Taehyung will always be drawn towards Jungkook in one way or
another regardless of his form, and he’s sure that will extend to his demonic form too.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Icarus flying towards the sun, Taehyung will always find Jungkook
and fall in love with him time and time again.

Fuck, he’s feeling too many emotions for sex, for a demon to have in any capacity.

Without giving Jungkook a chance to respond, Taehyung flips Jungkook around so that he’s on his
stomach, gasping as he flails to support his weight. His wings flutter behind him uselessly,
beautiful in all their glory, white feathers stemming from his back to form the magnificent
overarching wings that Taehyung has grown so used to seeing in these past few months. They seem
to shimmer in the candlelight, so much lighter than Jungkook’s skin tone, and Taehyung feels a jolt
of nostalgia consume him as he remembers his own wings. He hasn’t had wings for centuries now,
just two twin scars that line his back, they don’t hurt anymore but Taehyung swears that he can feel
a phantom throbbing of pain as he takes in Jungkook’s beautiful wings.

Envy.
“Did I ever tell you before that you have beautiful wings?” Taehyung asks Jungkook, splaying out
his hand in the intersection between them. “Very mesmerizing.”

“Maybe once or twice.” Jungkook turns his face on the side of his pillow to grin at Taehyung,
wagging his eyebrows at him. “Enamored with me yet?”

“You have no idea,” Taehyung replies in favor of giving him a real answer that would be too
transparent.

Taehyung runs his fingers over the base of his wings and through the feathers that line it. Jungkook
moans, a guttural sound that betrays just how sensitive he is here, and Taehyung takes a mental
note to explore this further. That pang of envy resounds again in the base of his stomach, but fades
away before he can latch onto it, maybe because Jungkook’s wings are too beautiful for Taehyung
to begrudge him for them. Or maybe because he knows Jungkook will be like him by morning,
sitting in a pile of charred feathers and ash, which surprisingly makes Taehyung feel forlorn rather
than any form of satisfaction. He’s grown so used to seeing Jungkook with his white wings, those
wings Jungkook loved and cherished so much, thinks that it will be wrong to have him without
those wings.

Interesting how love makes Taehyung let go of his negative feelings, the sins he usually indulged
in freely, in favor of wanting what’s best for Jungkook instead. Truly, it’s such a foreign emotion
for him to experience.

Even more interesting is how Taehyung flipped Jungkook over because seeing his face made him
feel too much, but even like this, he still feels too much. It would seem that there’s no escape from
these emotions, something he shouldn’t be mad about because he spent centuries looking for
something to fill the void, just needs to learn how to adapt to feeling all too much at once.

Maybe he really is a soft demon.

Taehyung makes his way down Jungkook’s back, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake, using
his hands to play with his wings as he moves down. Jungkook arches into his touch, burying his
moans into the pillow, until he reaches the curve of his ass. Grabbing both cheeks between his
hands, Taehyung kneads at them, rubbing the pads of his fingers in Jungkook’s creamy smooth
skin before parting his ass. Taehyung regards his hole, twitching in invitation for Taehyung to bury
his face in Jungkook’s ass while he eats him out and makes him see stars.

That’s exactly what Taehyung does, a demon who is very much in tune with his wants and desires,
never hesitating to act upon them. At least not anymore, he doesn’t have any reason to be patient
any longer, has everything he wanted right between his fingertips.

Leaning forward, Taehyung licks a stripe over Jungkook’s hole, only slightly stretched out from
when he played with it before. Jungkook jolts, stiffening under his touch. “Taehyung, what are you
doing?” he asks, to which he’s left ignored. Taehyung is too busy mouthing at his hole, making
Jungkook shudder so much that he collapses into the bed, his muscular arms no longer capable of
supporting his weight. “Fuck.”

Fuck indeed, Taehyung smirks, dipping his tongue in Jungkook’s hole as he tastes him. On his
fingers, he creates a smooth lubricant, inserting one finger alongside his tongue to give him more
room as he consumes Jungkook. The second finger goes in, scissoring him open to allow more
access for his tongue, his ring scraping against Jungkook’s rim with each movement. Steadily,
Taehyung can hear Jungkook’s precome drip to the black satin of the bedsheet, staining it in a pool
of white.
The third finger goes in, scraping his fingers against his walls, searching for that magic spot that
will show Jungkook just how sweet this sin tastes, thinks he’s just got it when Jungkook’s body
stiffens under his ministrations. He rubs against that bundle of nerves in small circles, scraping his
nails against it, whilst laving his rim. Jungkook is no longer coherent in any form, just a mess of
moans and arousal that’s so overwhelming that Taehyung can no longer distinguish it from his
own.

What they’re doing to Jungkook is the definition of depravity, but it tastes so sweet, that Taehyung
can’t bring himself to give a fuck. Truly, Jungkook is his sweetest sin.

“Taehyung, ‘m gonna come,” Jungkook tells him, voice hoarse and fucked out. “Please let me
come.”

Taehyung hums, decides to let him come, because his fun with him is nowhere near done anyway.
Making Jungkook come under his touch multiple times until he’s a teary mess that can’t
comprehend pride or embarrassment, just pleasure and the desire to please him, is his goal for the
night. A ruined version of Jungkook, so debauched and sexy, he’s almost there already.

Quickening his fingers, Taehyung fingers him more insistently, doesn’t stop Jungkook when he
gets a hand around his cock – jacking himself in tandem to Taehyung’s thrusts. It doesn’t take
Jungkook long, just three short tugs, and Taehyung feels that tremendous aura of arousal snap as
his orgasm crashes through him with a small muffled moan. Refusing to let up any, Taehyung
fingers Jungkook through his orgasm as he ignores his own pressing arousal, doesn’t remove his
fingers as he massages Jungkook’s prostate as wave after wave of pleasure hits him.

This is probably Jungkook’s first orgasm in his life as an angel, he’s shuddering from the intensity
of it, whining as Taehyung pushes him into oversensitivity. Part of him regrets doing this from
behind because he didn’t get to see his face as he came, but he figures it doesn’t matter too much,
since this will just be the first of many more to come. Jungkook’s wings flutter weakly, moving
his hand back to push Taehyung’s head away from his ass, which he does with a laugh. Without
Taehyung’s hands to support him, Jungkook collapses into a heap on Taehyung’s bed, grunting
tiredly.

Taehyung crawls up the bed to lie down next to Jungkook, grinning at the tired glare he shoots his
way. He caresses his back consolingly, right over his wings, brushing his fingers over the feathers.
Jungkook shivers under the touch, but doesn’t move, lets Taehyung touch him the way he wants.

“How was your first taste of sin?” Taehyung asks, wagging his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t say it’s my first,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “But it was alright.”

It’s obvious what he’s alluding to, that his first sin is falling in love with a demon, the words left
unsaid resonate loudly in this master bedroom. Neither of them have actually said the words
plainly, but it still hangs heavily over their heads, the reason why they’re consummating their
passion like this in the first place. Taehyung knows now that there would be no way for him to
land Jungkook in his bed willingly otherwise, would have had to resort to dirtier tactics otherwise,
which he wouldn’t have done anyway.

“Just alright?” Taehyung reiterates instead, ignoring the uncomfortable shift in his heart. “You sure
about that, baby?”

Jungkook moves to turn on his side to level him a look, and Taehyung takes in the bruises that
mark his skin, nothing like the tattoos that decorated mortal Jungkook’s skin, but just as beautiful.
Signs that Jungkook is his. Unfortunately, not as permanent as a tattoo, however.
“Well it was a step up from my fantasies,” Jungkook admits, cheeks coloring as he does so. He
leans in closer to Taehyung to grin at him mischievously in a way that doesn’t look very angelic. “I
assume that’s not all you have to show me though, right?”

Looks like he has a little lust demon forming on his hands, not that Taehyung minds.

“Not at all, baby,” Taehyung promises, brushing his fingers over the bruises he left earlier on the
line of his neck. “’m still gonna fuck you properly next.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut for only a moment before he takes in Taehyung with hooded eyes,
hand splaying over his clothed chest. “You’re still dressed.”

“Yes, I am,” Taehyung agrees.

He lost the jacket a while ago, but he’s still dressed in a black button-down shirt, tucked into
matching black slacks. It’s a bit suffocating, but he thinks he looks rather good, especially when
the black curls fall in his eyes. His minions said it makes him look dreamy.

“Why?” Jungkook prompts, lips tugging into a frown. “I want to see you too.”

“You won’t like what’s underneath,” Taehyung tells him, moving Jungkook’s hand away from
him. He smiles at him somberly, brushing a stray strand of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear. “Trust
me.”

“You think you’re ugly or something?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“I don’t think, I know,” Taehyung replies simply without a shred of self-pity.

“Well even if you’re ugly underneath, I don’t care.” Jungkook tugs at his shirt with a frown. He
moves to straddle Taehyung, an erotic visual that doesn’t do Taehyung any favors when he’s still
so hard, and Jungkook is completely naked and covered in the bruises Taehyung left on him. “I
want to see you too.”

Taehyung covers Jungkook’s wrists with his own, ceasing his movements, causing Jungkook to
look up at him.

“I don’t want to ruin this moment with my, well,” Taehyung tells him, shrugging as he points at
himself with a mirthless smile.

“Taehyung, I’d never think you’re ugly,” Jungkook replies, leaning over Taehyung to cup his
cheeks. “Show me, show me all of you, even the parts of yourself that you aren’t so proud of and I
promise I will love them all.”

Taehyung’s heart expands in size, caught in his throat, makes it difficult to form any coherent
argument or to summon the strength to push Jungkook off of him. His words are sweet as honey,
coating over his ears and his reasoning, makes him want to listen. Makes him want to open up to
Jungkook too, be vulnerable, let him into the deepest parts of himself.

He moves his lips, mouth oddly dry.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re in love with me,” Taehyung tries to tease, the worst
words he could have possibly said in this moment of time.

“I am, silly,” Jungkook laughs, without any hesitation. He leans into Taehyung, slotting his lips
against his in a kiss that speaks even louder volumes of love and adoration than any words could
ever manage. Taehyung can only reciprocate, hating how stupidly emotional he is when he’s
supposed to be just horny. He pulls away to brush his fingers underneath Taehyung’s chin the way
he always does to him, with all the love and adoration Taehyung isn’t quite sure he deserves. “I
thought that was obvious by now.”

Falling in love is an emotion that Taehyung has familiarized himself with by now, has also grown
used to the hurt that comes along with it, the loss that inevitably follows.

To be loved, however, is a completely foreign emotion to Taehyung. One he’s not sure how to
compute, especially when Jungkook doesn’t seem like he wants to leave any time soon, just accepts
everything that Taehyung is giving him. Wants to give up being an angel, will let himself be
tainted and corrupted, just to spend his forever with Taehyung.

He realizes that he doesn’t actually have to prove anything to him because Jungkook has already
made up his mind that Taehyung is worth it, with or without his input.

He swallows, but finds it hard to do so, not when his heart is stuck in his throat.

“Okay, I’ll show you,” Taehyung concedes, not acknowledging Jungkook’s confession yet.

He hasn’t acknowledged Jungkook’s confession yet. Too afraid to say the words out loud, but he
thinks Jungkook understands when he nods, moving his hands back to the buckle of his belt. His
fingers fumble over the buckle, ridiculously tight and his boner isn’t doing Jungkook any favors,
only serves to further fluster him. When the belt is finally loosened, button popped open, Taehyung
lets out a sigh of relief that’s short lived because Jungkook is already pulling at his shirt.

Jungkook’s hands tremble as he unbuttons each button, fingers skimming over his skin as it gets
exposed, each patch of revealed skin makes Taehyung’s heart beat harder in his chest. Unlike
Taehyung who was impatient and turned Jungkook’s shirt to ash because he couldn’t be assed to
deal with the extra time it would take to get it off his arms and wings, Jungkook only lets his
fingers linger over his skin for a moment, motions silently for Taehyung to sit up. Carefully, with
measured movements, he pushes out each button from its hole, as if worried it would get wrinkled.

With his chest completely revealed like this, a smooth expanse of skin with no marks, tattoos, or
scars – he can see Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion as he doesn’t find anything glaringly
amiss. More amusing would be the small ripple of arousal that rips through Jungkook, not immune
to his worldly desires even during a moment that’s supposed to be intimate. It makes Taehyung
laugh, losing a bit of the tension in his shoulders, regaining a few tendrils of his confidence.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung asks, his lips quirking upwards.

“Well you’re certainly not as ugly as painted yourself to be,” Jungkook replies, trailing his hands
over his chest. His hands are paler than his honey toned skin, but they feel searing hot against his
skin, he’s almost surprised that he doesn’t see any traces of his touch after it’s gone. “Were you
just trying to be dramatic to get more bonus points with me?”

“I wish,” Taehyung laughs mirthlessly.

He nudges Jungkook off his lap, heaves a sigh, turning around with downcast eyes as he lets the
shirt pool around his waist to reveal his back. Jungkook’s breath hitches, Taehyung’s eyes fall
closed, his heart aching to match the phantom throb of pain ebbing from his back. This is what he
didn’t want Jungkook to see, at least not yet.

Two twin scars mar the expanse of his back, grotesque in how they form deep black cracks
permeating from the wounds that have long since scabbed over. A permanent reminder of when he
got burned and lost everything is still present till this day. For years, Taehyung writhed alone in
agony from the pain of his lost wings, refused to use any magic to soothe that pain. He had lost his
love and all the memories that related to it, this pain was the only thing that had left him tethered to
his reality, to the somber reality of his loneliness and demonic immortality. In fact, the agonizing
pain is what distracted him from the more pressing pain of his loss and the emptiness in his chest,
because the memories of the mortal he loved so much remained forever elusive because
Namjoon’s curse was just that strong.

Taehyung is normally a confident person, bordering on narcissism even, knows that he’s attractive.
He’s had many demons lust for him, has even had Jungkook lusts for him too. His scars, however,
are the least attractive part about him. The scars on his back are a reminder of his sin that he’s
lived with for an eternity, the mark of a fallen angel turned demon, and he didn’t want Jungkook to
see this. To see how ugly Taehyung looks without his wings, to pity him for it. Worse, and more
likely, he’d know that’s how he too will look, and regret.

“Beautiful, right?” Taehyung laughs sardonically, pulling his shirt back up when Jungkook remains
silent.

Jungkook traces his fingers over the edge of one of his scars, where the skin is disfigured with dark
cracks under his skin, where the blood in his veins turned black. They’re reminiscent of all the
earthquakes he made a few months ago to get Jungkook’s attention, the only thing he’s not able to
camouflage or hide with his enchantments. His touch is feather light, as if afraid to touch, either
from disgust or a fear of hurting him, Taehyung wouldn’t know.

“It looks like it hurt,” Jungkook finally says after a few beats of tense silence.

“It did,” Taehyung agrees.

“You said that it didn’t before,” Jungkook points out.

“I lied,” Taehyung admits, finds it difficult to lie to Jungkook tonight. “Scared yet?”

“No,” Jungkook replies, voice barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of a lie in his voice,
however, much to Taehyung’s surprise. His hand splays across the middle of his back, right
between the two ugly scars, where the cracks traverse and meet. “Pain doesn’t scare me. You don’t
scare me either by the way.”

“Then what scares you?” Taehyung asks, staring at his hands.

“Being alone forever, letting love pass me by, regretting it,” Jungkook replies simply.

The words are so innocent, so loving. They’re reminiscent of the Taehyung he used to be, the fool
in love that he thought he completely grew out of, but even now he still feels the same way.

He presses a kiss to his back, so sweet and full in love, that it punches the air out of his chest.
Taehyung’s heart tugs again, so full of emotion, clenches his fingers into a fist because he doesn’t
know what to do with the intensity of emotion he’s feeling inside. For the first time since he fell, he
feels his eyes sting, wants so badly to cry but he resists the urge.

“Don’t you think I’m ugly?” Taehyung can’t help but ask.

Jungkook wraps his built arms around his waist, resting his head against his back. This is an
embrace, Taehyung realizes belatedly, doesn’t ever remember being held like this at any point in
his life. This warmth that envelops him, Jungkook’s head resting against the ugly scars that mar his
back, not caring about them at all. Just gives Taehyung his love instead.

Taehyung waits with bated breath for Jungkook to respond, not quite ready when the words finally
fall from his lips.

“No, I think you’re still beautiful,” Jungkook says, the words reverberating against his back.
“Inside and out. Your scars just add to that.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, hands squeezing Jungkook’s as his chest tightens so much that it becomes
difficult to breathe. He doesn’t want Jungkook to know just how affected he is. It’s probably too
late for that, Jungkook seems to know him just as well as Taehyung does him, but Jungkook
doesn’t judge him for it. He just nuzzles his head against his back, tightens his arms around him,
encasing Taehyung with all the love and acceptance he never knew he needed until this moment.

And to think, he tried to voluntarily push Jungkook away, depriving himself from this. Once a fool,
always a fool, Taehyung thinks.

“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles. He entangles his hand in Jungkook’s, interlocking their fingers
together. “You’re too good for me.”

“I think I’m good enough,” Jungkook laughs.

“This isn’t the best mood for sex,” Taehyung points out.

“Hey, I’m sure I could make you get it up whenever I wanted.” Reaching down, he grabs
Taehyung’s cock through his slacks. He’s mostly soft now from all the feelings he just
experienced, but Jungkook’s hand on him makes him gasp. “See? Easy.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Taehyung rolls his eyes.

Moving Jungkook’s hands away from around him, he turns around to push Jungkook against the
bed again. He kisses the smug grin off Jungkook’s face, swallowing the small giggles he lets out, a
silent thank you for Jungkook being himself. He doesn’t know if his message gets across, but he
doesn’t mind when Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung to bring him closer, any small
barriers that were left between them have just been shattered by the vulnerability that Taehyung
just shared with him, his heart oddly full at how soft this moment is.

God, Taehyung loves him so much, will probably love him across every lifetime they share
together.

The kiss doesn’t stay sweet for long though, it’s hard when Jungkook is naked underneath him, and
grabbing at Taehyung with so much need. His hands touch him with greed, roaming over his chest
and his abdomen, even if he’s admittedly much softer than Jungkook is. His shirt is shucked off in
a moment, their bare chests pressed against each other, hands roaming over each other, touching
each other as if they’ve been deprived. In Taehyung’s case, he really has been deprived for
centuries of Jungkook’s touch.

Jungkook’s giggles turn from mirthful to breathless against his lips when Taehyung’s fingers linger
over his wings, his hardened nipples, and all the pretty bruises. His thigh presses against his cock,
already hard again, and Taehyung almost rues the fact that he won’t be able to tease Jungkook for
much longer.

When Jungkook breaks away from him to reach at his pants though, struggling to get them off,
Taehyung figures maybe it’s not that bad. He’s also on edge himself, the culmination of all the
emotions he’s been harboring for Jungkook for months and even his past life coming to its peak.
All the emotions coursing through them both now, is pushing him off that edge and into the deep
end full of tidal waves of love and lust.

“Will you help me or are you just good at burning off my clothes?” Jungkook quips, clearly still
miffed about him burning his shirt.

“Baby, you won’t be wearing white after tonight anyway,” Taehyung tells him, smirking. He lets
his eyes roam over him slowly from top to bottom. “I think black will suit you better anyway, got
the perfect fit for you to try on later.”

Taehyung is thinking about the black shirt in his closet, the form fitting slacks, and the matching
corset. It hadn’t looked too good on Taehyung because he was too slim for it, but he can imagine
that on Jungkook and his impeccable figure, he won’t be able to keep his hands off him. A blessing
and a curse.

“Whatever,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his rosy cheeks tell another story altogether. “Just make
yourself useful now.”

Taehyung laughs, nodding as he helps Jungkook shimmy his pants off him, taking off his own
boxer briefs, sighing in relief that he’s no longer confined. Jungkook’s eyes widen comically as he
marvels at him, touching his dick for just a moment before he withdraws his hand again, as if
burned. Shy. He’s sure he will grow out of it soon enough though.

“You look happy now,” Taehyung remarks, flicking under his chin.

“Oh, shut u–” Jungkook starts, but is cut off when Taehyung quickly thrusts his fingers back in his
hole without any preamble.

He’s already all nice and stretched out from earlier, but his fingers are coated with a lubricant that
he conjured, pointedly avoiding his prostate now that he knows where it is. He fingers him a few
more times, until Jungkook is moaning again and forgets all the curse words that seem to always be
hanging on the tip of his tongue, humming in satisfaction. It's not easy to get Jungkook to stop
swearing, has such a sailor's mouth on him.

Probably that past life in Busan being brought out in him even now, makes Taehyung smile, that
even as the memories fade - fundamental parts of his personality will always stay the same.

“Taehyung, can you please just fuck me?” Jungkook asks, teary eyed.

“So demanding,” Taehyung muses. Still, he obliges him, pulling his fingers out to wipe them on his
hip much to Jungkook’s disgruntlement.

The whines settle down once Taehyung lines up his cock, hands gripping his tiny waist in a firm
grip, rings indenting his skin. Jungkook bites his lip as he watches with avid fascination, Taehyung
breaching his hole slowly, inch by inch until he finally bottoms out. His face scrunches up into one
of discomfort so Taehyung stays still for a moment, ever the considerate lover he is, until he
loosens up. If he gyrates his hips ever so slightly against Jungkook whilst rubbing small circles
into his waist, twitching inside of him as he hastens him to loosen up, that's only for him to know.
Jungkook is already too fucked out to even notice probably, aside from his teeth digging into his
bottom lip harder, whitening where he's applied pressure to it.

To be fair, it's been decades since Taehyung has fucked anyone at all, and Jungkook is so
deliciously tight around him that he makes him forget all the insignificant faces he's fucked in the
past. Well, that and the fact that he actually cares about him, and everyone else was just a nobody,
hardly impacting his life in any way at all.

Slowly, Jungkook wraps an arm around Taehyung's shoulders, making sure to avoid brushing
against his scars even if they don't hurt anymore. Letting go of his bottom lip as he stares
imploringly at Taehyung, hair splayed out underneath him like an angel's halo, eyes so full of trust
and love that Taehyung feels himself falter under its weight.

"I'm - hah - I'm ready. You can move now," Jungkook tells him, so breathless.

Taehyung nods, doesn't reply as he fucks into Jungkook in earnest. His movements are shallow at
first, but the more he gets into it, the faster and deeper his thrusts become. It's hard for him to
control himself in this state, when he's literally becoming one with Jungkook, with the person he's
yearned for across an eternity even if those emotions were locked away for the longest time.
Jungkook's entire essence is encasing him, he's drowning in his arms and his sweet scent, in the
feelings he holds for him and the arousal that's spilling over him like a flood.

He hears Jungkook gasp, and Taehyung removes his hand from his waist to realize he's drawn
blood there, his fingers reverting into claws. Jungkook looks at Taehyung with interest, and
Taehyung doesn't need a mirror to know that there are probably horns sprouting of his hair, his
teeth sharpening into fangs, the black ripples under his skin originating from his back spreading to
his chest and face like wild fire. He's reverting into his true demon form, unable to stop himself,
and he knows that he's ugly in this form. A monster, a beast, something unseemly to be looked at,
the creatures mothers tell their mortal children about as a cautionary tale to be good and avoid sin.

If his back was ugly, he can imagine this form is even more jarring for Jungkook to see, so
grotesque in its nature to reflect his true nature. Jungkook said he wasn’t scared of him before, he
doesn’t want to give him that opportunity to feel that fear and repulsion.

Although, it might be too late for that now.

“Don't look at me. You weren't supposed to see this side of me,” Taehyung rasps, ashamed of his
appearance. “It’s unseemly.”

Jungkook's eyes soften, hand cupping his cheek with so much tenderness, that Taehyung falters his
movements.

“Just like your scars, every side of you is beautiful, Taehyung,” Jungkook tells him. He reaches up,
brushing his fingers against his horns, causing Taehyung to shudder from how sensitive they are.
“Besides, it's kinda hot if I'm being honest.”

Taehyung begrudges Jungkook for how perfect he is, for always knowing the right thing to say, for
always wanting to treat Taehyung like he's his lover whom he cares for rather than the dirty demon
that he is.

"You're such a heathen," Taehyung laughs. When he laughs, all of his sharp canines glinting on
display in a boxy smile that would strike a current of fear in anyone except Jungkook, as he pulls
one of his legs over his shoulder to gain more access to fuck him properly. "But I like that about
you."

"You - hnn - like everything about me," Jungkook replies, a smarmy grin painting his face despite
how breathless he is.

He's not wrong about that, Taehyung concedes.

Seeing as Jungkook doesn't mind his demonic form, Taehyung fucks Jungkook deeper, relishes the
groans that fall from Jungkook's lips each time he hits his prostate. Again and again, he pushes at
that spot, feeling Jungkook's arousal exacerbate ten folds each time. He feels so good around him
too, his walls clenching around him in a vice grip with each time Taehyung bottoms out, as if he
wants to keep Taehyung bound to him in every sense of the word.

He can sense that Jungkook's orgasm is approaching that way as well, prompting Jungkook to wrap
a hand around himself, to fuck himself in tandem with Taehyung's thrusts. One day, he will get
Jungkook to come untouched, but it's too soon for that tonight.

"Taehyung, please," Jungkook begs, the words going straight to his dick.

Four more thrusts are all it takes for Jungkook to spill over his hand, his orgasm hitting him so
deeply that it seems to shake his core, arching into Taehyung's touch and eyes glassy. He doesn't
even make any loud noises either as he comes, just whispers his name repeatedly like it's a prayer
falling from his lips, and Taehyung fucks him through it until Jungkook is twitching in over
sensitivity.

The face that Jungkook makes when he comes, Taehyung realizes, is exquisite. So lost in his own
pleasure, pleasure that Taehyung gave him, the only coherent thought on his mind being Taehyung
himself. He loves it.

Letting go of Jungkook's thigh, he dips his fingers into the mess of come that stains his abdomen,
to wrap his lips around it. He makes a show out of it, knows Jungkook is watching him with those
glassy eyes, wrapping his lips around his fingers and laving his tongue over them. It's erotic,
probably not that sexy because of his grotesque form, but Jungkook seems to enjoy it.

“The taste of your sin is so lovely, I think I'll get addicted,” Taehyung muses. He cups Jungkook's
cheeks in his hand, claws sinking into his cheeks but not enough to break skin. His cheeks are so
soft and squishy under his hand, lips forming a pout, and it's fucked up how cute he looks right
now. Fighting to regain his composure, he continues, “What will you do about that, baby?”

“That sounds like a you problem, doesn't it?” Jungkook challenges.

“You're not cute at all,” Taehyung sighs, another lie. Jungkook is the cutest, he can attest to this
since he's dealt with an array of angels, demons, and mortals alike over the span of his immortality.
None of them can even come close. “That's not how sex talk goes, darling.”

“Okay, well I think it's a good time to point out that you're still inside of me,” Jungkook says,
wriggling a bit underneath him. “And you're still hard.”

“Is that bothering you?” Taehyung asks, lips quirking upwards.

“Just an observation,” Jungkook states coolly, even though there's a bead of sweat forming at his
brow and his skin is quite flushed.

Taehyung thrusts into him lazily, enjoying the muffled keen Jungkook gives him, surprised at the
movement. He does it again, Jungkook stiffening underneath him as the overstimulation hits him,
that composed poker face he was sporting before melting into one of greed and want.

"Are you gonna do something about that?" Taehyung prompts, moving back without pulling out, so
that Jungkook is seated on his lap, his white wings towering over them both. Playing with the
feathers, Taehyung looks up at Jungkook who now has a few centimeters on him, although he
could argue that his horns make up for the small height difference. “Kinda unfair that you came
twice, and I have yet to come once, no?”
"How generous of you," Jungkook drawls, but he does look genuinely torn as he considers
Taehyung under his lashes. He places his hands on Taehyung's shoulders. "I guess something
should be done about that."

"Like what? Please do elaborate," Taehyung cocks his head to the side innocently. As he says so,
he thrusts up into Jungkook again, more purposeful this time, brushing against his prostate.

He also hasn't missed how Jungkook is now half hard, twitching against his stomach every time
Taehyung jostles him in his lap or moves inside him. He is slightly surprised, however, when
Jungkook leans into him, brushing his nose against his neck and breathing hotly against his ear.

“Do your worst to me, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispers, trailing his tongue against the pointed shell
of his ear. He moves in his lap, almost pulling off his cock till the tip snags on his rim, then
bottoming out. “Fuck me, ruin me, destroy me – I know that's what you want to do – so do it, I
want it.”

Taehyung sinks his fangs into Jungkook's neck, over an older bruise because he's already marked
up most of his skin at this point, a means to bury the unseemly groan that threatens to spill from his
lips. His fangs cut into skin, drawing blood, but Jungkook only keens as his arousal exacerbates
ten-folds at the pain the bite gave him.

Interesting.

He fucks up into Jungkook in earnest now, no longer wanting to tease, but rather chasing that
orgasm that has been alluding him all night. It's insane just how hot that was, feels his own arousal
consuming him, licking him from the insides like an inferno.

"I feel like I've already corrupted you," Taehyung says, grabbing a fistful of feathers, but only
plucks two which are instantly stained black in his hand. Jungkook keens, probably enjoying the
mixture of pleasure and pain that comes with it, and Taehyung holds him as he soothes his hand
over his soft feathers as a consolation.

"I've been corrupted since the day I met you," Jungkook says sardonically.

"How poetic of you," Taehyung hums.

"I'm an angel, we believe in fate. I think we were fate, so that's why I'm not fighting it," Jungkook
admits.

Fate, huh? It's a word that Taehyung has long since discarded from his vocabulary when he fell
from grace, has been cropping up more frequently in the past few months he spent with Jungkook,
his memories slowly trickling back. As an angel, Taehyung fell in love with Jungkook as a mortal
and fell from grace for that love, and as a demon he fell in love with Jungkook again. That alone
reeked of fate, Jungkook choosing to make the same foolish decision that he made spells
something stronger, however.

Destiny.

Taehyung elects not to reply, instead fucking up into Jungkook with more vigor, hitting his prostate
again and again. He kisses Jungkook again, because it really has been too long since the last time
he's kissed him, most likely just minutes, but it feels like eternity. It doesn't even really feel like
kissing if he's being honest, just lips pressing against each other as their teeth clack, messy and raw,
but he doesn't particularly mind either. Especially when kissing Jungkook feels like it's the air he
needs, Jungkook breathing his love into him, jump starting and warming up his heart that was
frozen for so many years.

Jungkook's cock is beading a few droplets of precome between them, not much left to expend after
coming twice already, but that also makes Jungkook that more sensitive to every one of Taehyung's
movements. To the way his cock brushes against his prostate, to Taehyung's hands on his nipples,
so listless as he lets Taehyung handle his body and fuck into him the way he pleases. He never
complains either, just holds Taehyung close to him, small whimpers falling from his lips
occasionally whenever Taehyung jostles him.

Wanton moans fall from his lips, tries to stem them by pushing two fingers into his mouth,
wrapping his lips around them. It doesn’t do much to stem the noises Jungkook is making, but if
anything, it just serves for a more erotic image. One that Taehyung has branded to memory,
watching the way Jungkook sucks on his own fingers with spit dripping down his chin, eyes blown
out and face flushed as he loses that reign on his pride and composure. He imagines something else
in his mouth, promises himself that he will teach Jungkook how to deep throat soon.

He's close again, Taehyung knows it without Jungkook needing to say anything, but the ripple of
his arousal is telling enough and the incoherent silence he's fallen into. It's okay because Taehyung
is close too, thrusts more erratic each time he bottoms out, panting as he chases his own orgasm.

And when it does, fuck does it hit hard, Taehyung coming inside of Jungkook in a copious mess
which makes Jungkook moan weakly as he stiffens in Taehyung's arms. Taehyung is too lost in the
throes of his own pleasure to notice when Jungkook comes silently against him, untouched, but he
does when he pulls Jungkook off of his body from where he's plastered himself to take care of him
when he sees a mess on his stomach and eyes glazed over with tears.

He looks spent. The third orgasm ripping through all his composure, no longer shy as Taehyung
pulls out of him gently, just tired. He pops his fingers out of his mouth, little bite marks lining them
from where he sunk his teeth into the skin, smiling at Taehyung lazily. There’s no hint of regret
written on his features, just the kind of contentment that comes from a good fuck. Maybe a hint of
fondness too because this was more than just a good fuck for them both, Taehyung knows, that
term of 'making love' flitting across his mind again.

“So how was that?” Taehyung asks, moving to lie down next to him. He touches a palm to
Jungkook’s chest, cleans up the mess of come that stained his stomach, even if a bath will still be
in order later. “Hopefully better than alright?”

“Just a little bit,” Jungkook grins. His eyes droop ever so slightly, yawning as he regards Taehyung.
“I’d give it a seven out of ten.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” Taehyung laughs, he points at his horns. “You said you
found this hot.”

Jungkook’s eyes wander to Taehyung’s obsidian horns, thick and twist into a spiral near the tips,
sharp and intimidating. He considers them for a moment, raising his hand to touch the base,
Taehyung humming in contentment at the soft touch. If anyone else were to touch his horns, he
would probably end their existence, but Jungkook’s touch is nice and very much welcome.

“Maybe I did,” Jungkook replies coyly. He rests his cheek on his other palm that isn’t presently
preoccupied playing with Taehyung’s horns. “Am I gonna get badass horns too when I transform?”

“Yes,” Taehyung replies. Eyes fluttering shut, he leans into Jungkook’s touch. “Not immediately,
but the more demonic features grow within a few weeks. I can teach you how to camouflage
them.”
He finds it strange, talking about Jungkook’s transformation so casually with him like this, but he
supposes there’s no point in pretending that it’s not an inevitability at this point.

“Why would I want to hide them?” Jungkook snorts. His fingers move to play with Taehyung’s
hair, ruffling his curls, raking his fingers through the strands. The scrape of his nails against his
scalp is soothing, relaxing, and Taehyung thinks he could get used to this. “Wanna look cool.”

Taehyung hums. He somewhat agrees, wears his natural form in Hell most of the time, reserving
his toned-down version for the mortal realm and Jungkook. It would seem that Jungkook doesn’t
care about his demonic form, however, so he’ll consider himself lucky.

“Well did you like it?” Jungkook asks, tone inflicted with a hint of hesitation.

Taehyung cracks an eye open, regarding Jungkook’s unsure face, biting his lip once again. He
smiles, nodding. “Very much so.”

“You made me come three times,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose in disgruntlement. He shoots
Taehyung a glare, tugging on his horns, making Taehyung gasp. “I thought I was gonna die on that
last one.”

“It would have been a good way to go out, though, right?” Taehyung wags his eyebrows.

“Insufferable,” Jungkook replies, shaking his head in exasperation. His eyes are fond, however.

“Always am,” Taehyung smirks.

Quiet befalls them after that as the moments tick on by, Jungkook playing with Taehyung’s horns,
and Taehyung letting himself be taken care of. Tentatively, Taehyung wraps his arm around
Jungkook, bringing him close to his chest. Jungkook’s head is pressed against his heart, can
probably hear, or at least feel the jackhammering motion in his chest that happens whenever he’s
near. His hand plays gently with his wings – not with the intention to arouse, but to provide
comfort – for them both.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks softly, tugging lightly at Taehyung’s feather earring.

“Like what?” Taehyung prompts.

Jungkook pulls away from Taehyung’s embrace slightly, so he can look at him properly. His eyes
are wide and inquisitive, lips cherry red and raw from all the kissing they’ve done tonight, and
bruises are smattered all over his body. Taehyung would almost want to go for another round, but
the worry on Jungkook’s face tells him that this is important.

“Tell me about the mortal you fell in love with,” Jungkook whispers. “You never talk about them.”

Taehyung feels his heart plummet to his stomach like a stone, the smile on his face freezing as he
struggles with the left field question. He supposes it’s not a surprise that Jungkook would ask him
this question eventually, but he also didn’t anticipate that he’d get this far in his vulnerability with
Jungkook. He didn’t think his past with him is something that should be shared, his sin was
something he always held close to his chest, nobody but Namjoon and him were aware of the
intricacies surrounding it. Especially when all those intricacies revolve around Jungkook.

In this moment of time, where he’s stuck at a crossroad of should he or should he not, Taehyung
feels lost once again.

“You just found out about my sin tonight,” Taehyung laughs. The sound comes out stiff, unnatural,
grating even to his own ears. “There isn’t much to say, it happened so many centuries ago.”

“I think you’re lying,” Jungkook replies.

“Calling out a demon on his lies?” Taehyung challenges.

“I know you well enough now to know that your tone fluctuates when you lie,” Jungkook smiles.
He pokes Taehyung’s chest, resting his head on Taehyung’s outstretched arm.

“That can’t be true,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. He’s long since perfected the art of lying without
leaving behind any tells, lies so fluently, that most people believe his words to be truth when they
are rarely anything but. “I call bullshit.”

“Okay, you’re right, but trust me. I can tell somehow,” Jungkook replies, eyes twinkling
mischievously.

“You’re a menace,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Most people back off when they sense someone
doesn’t wanna divulge their darkest secrets.”

“And what’s dark about love, Taehyung?” Jungkook implores.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung answers truthfully. “I really don’t.”

It’s a loaded question Taehyung has always struggled to find the answer to because for angels,
falling in love is considered one of the greatest sins. He remembers when he was an angel and all
the archangels, Namjoon included, would preach about how they had to avoid the seven sins
because they led to ruin, to corruption, that they would fall and become something inherently evil
if they did. To them, love was considered the conglomerate of all those sins – love elicited
emotions like greed, envy, and lust. They said love is an emotion that was a gateway to chaos, to
misery and loss when it disappeared, leaving them as an empty vessel when it was gone.

Whenever angels spoke about love, it sounded awful, an emotion to be feared and avoided.

In some ways, it made sense, because these are all horrible emotions that he’s experienced once
before. And yet, all the love Taehyung has ever felt was always inherently pure in nature. Even as
a demon, his evil tainting everything he touches and rotting it to its core with his corruption, the
love he felt for Jungkook was still purer than anything else he’s ever felt. A flame he always
expected to burn him, and maybe it did in the past, but now when he touches it – all he feels is a
gentle warmth spreading warmth over his hands. This wasn’t a feeling that made him want to
destroy or wreak havoc, love made him feel the desire to cherish and protect. To be selfless, put
someone else ahead of himself, rather than selfish and vain for the first time in a long time.

He wonders if Jungkook has been having the same thought process in the last few weeks, if he’s
come to similar conclusions, thinks that he probably has.

Taehyung licks his lips, because Jungkook is watching him, gaze penetrating right through his
soul.

“Well he was a singer,” Taehyung says slowly. He draws a small circle on Jungkook’s arm,
struggling to find the right words to explain because this isn’t a part of him he’s ever divulged to
anyone, much less to the object of his affections. “He sang at a bar, every night I would go listen to
him, he had a beautiful voice. Kept me coming back every night.”

Looking at Jungkook who is watching him attentively, hanging onto every word, he can almost see
the mortal version of Jungkook overlap with the current version in an odd form of deja vu that
makes his heart ache. They look almost identical too; perhaps the only difference between them
was the tattoos that lined the mortal version’s arms, the longer wavy hair, and most notably, the
sad look in his dark eyes.

He’s satisfied to see that this Jungkook, the one he’s allowed to hold in his arms like this, is a
happier one. One who isn’t burdened by all of life’s sadness with music as his only outlet, rather he
has a spark in his eyes and a smile that lights up into a beautiful starry night.

“What did he sing about?” Jungkook implores.

“About love,” Taehyung replies. His fingers trace the base of Jungkook’s wings, feeling the
feathers under his touch. “About love and heartache. He always looked so lonely, so heart broken.”

Taehyung expects more questions, for Jungkook to press and be his nosy self, but he doesn’t. He
just hums in understanding, looking down as he takes Taehyung’s hand in his, entwines his fingers
with his.

“Did you regret falling for him?” Jungkook asks.

“I did. For a time,” Taehyung says, squeezing his hand. “Not anymore though.”

“What changed?” Jungkook whispers.

Taehyung contemplates his next answer, torn between truth or more deceit. Lies are always his
default, it’s what he does best, but part of him wants to be vulnerable with Jungkook. Thinks he
deserves it after Jungkook has laid himself completely bare before him and gave him his
everything.

“You did,” Taehyung says, a few beats too late. He looks down, averting his gaze from Jungkook
to look at their interlocked hands, feeling rather unconfident for the first time in his life but he still
hears the way Jungkook’s breath hitches, regardless. His eyes squeeze shut. “You were the mortal
I fell in love with, falling in love with you again was even easier.”

Jungkook’s hand cups his cheek, forcing Taehyung to open his eyes and look at him. There isn’t
any sign of surprise or betrayal written across his face, just content happiness and love. The same
look he’s been giving him all night, even after Taehyung summoned him with the intention to end
things with him.

“You finally said you love me,” Jungkook breathes.

Taehyung startles at that, realizing that he just implied as much, the words he kept caged to his
chest for so long slipping out unaware. It’s alarming how Jungkook manages to loosen his lips so
easily, needling out his deepest secrets and taking all of them in stride because nothing ever truly
surprises him.

“I guess I did,” Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “Forgive me, I was just scared.”

“It’s okay. That’s some crazy fate, huh?” Jungkook says, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just
sad that I don’t remember anything, even though I guess I never got to know you back then.”

“I talked your ears off long enough even if you never heard me,” Taehyung laughs.

Somehow, talking about it like this feels freeing, a weight he never noticed that he’s been lugging
around all these years finally being lifted off his back. Perhaps it’s the weight of his sin or maybe
his guilt that has been unshackled from his neck, or maybe it’s just the lightness that comes with
finally speaking the truth and being with the one he loves. It might be a mix of all the above, but he
supposes it doesn’t matter anyway.

“I’m – I – I’m glad you don’t regret me anymore,” Jungkook says. He leans in, nose brushing
against his, lips brushing against his in a gentle kiss. “I’m happy that I found you, that we found
each other again.”

“The only thing I regret is that I never found out what happened to you after I fell. Never found out
if you ever found happiness or peace. I hope you did,” Taehyung admits.

Taehyung often wondered about what happened to mortal Jungkook, after he left him in that bar, he
never saw him again. He wonders if he still sang at that bar; if his songs were always sad or if he
ever found enough happiness to sing about more uplifting things. If Jungkook ever found someone
to take away the loneliness that plagued him, someone to love him because Taehyung couldn’t
anymore, even if the thought of Jungkook falling in love and growing old with that someone else in
itself made him somewhat sad.

He hopes that the angel’s blessing that he parted him with was enough – looking at how much
happier, jovial, and loving this Jungkook is – he thinks maybe it was.

“I think what matters is that I have it now,” Jungkook shrugs. A downwards tilt in his lips, torn for
just a moment as melancholy flickers over his features. "I'm sorry that I made you wait so long."

The candlelight flickers, dipping them in darkness momentarily, but Jungkook’s wings are enough
to illuminate the room for that moment. Taehyung thinks about all those centuries he lived without
Jungkook by his side, never even knowing what he had missed - something that functioned as both
a blessing and a curse - he felt so lonely without him in them.

"It's okay," Taehyung whispers, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Smiling, he reiterates the words
Jungkook just said. "The past doesn't matter anymore, just the present and the days to come."

Perhaps all his pain was worth it, is something he's allowed the luxury to consider now, because
now he knows how to cherish Jungkook properly since he has him by his side now for all their
remaining days to come.

“My turn to ask a question,” he says.

“I didn’t know this was a give and take,” Jungkook quirks his brow.

“Jungkook.”

“Fine, fine, ask. You’re no fun at all,” Jungkook pouts, eliciting a laugh out of Taehyung as he
brushes his hand over his arm apologetically.

“What made you think that a demon like me is worth loving?” Taehyung asks. It’s the question
that has been nagging at him all night. “Worth falling and losing everything for?”

“A lot of things,” Jungkook answers smoothly, smiling softly. “You’re a demon, yes, but you’re
also a person who has kindness within you. You felt sad sometimes, happy in others. You cared
about me and kissed me with care and even tried to break my heart to protect me. Not cool by the
way, don’t do that again. But probably what sealed the deal, was because I heard your silent prayer
once. A desperate and silent prayer to fill the void in your chest so you’d feel a little less lonely.
You’re not as evil as you want people to think, at least not to me.”

Taehyung’s heart aches with love, because that void is something he’s lived with for so long now,
but he feels so much now. At any point in his life, he never thought he could have this, a partner to
love and be loved by. Especially not Jungkook, the beautiful mortal who sang about love to a
crowd who didn’t listen and would never understand those words, yet he managed to capture the
heart of the one invisible person in the audience unbeknownst to him.

Now he has this despite all the sins he’s committed since he’s fallen. He has Jungkook who is the
only person who’s taken a moment of time to understand him instead of writing him off as
something depraved and beneath loving. He’s blessed, truly.

“I love you,” Taehyung says, directly without any hint of deceit. “I think I’ll love you across every
lifetime.”

“Good, because you’re saddled with me for the long haul,” Jungkook grins.

Taehyung can’t think of a better way to spend his eternity than with Jungkook by his side, so he
doesn’t mind.

The transition happens a few hours later.

They’re both clean now, dressed in Taehyung’s silky night clothes – Jungkook shirtless because of
his wings getting in the way – and Taehyung had already put Jungkook to sleep with a touch to his
forehead that knocks him right out. He felt bad doing it, but he knew that after having sex, it was
only a matter of time before Jungkook’s sins started to catch up with him. Jungkook didn’t really
need to be awake for the part that would happen next.

So Taehyung waited, he read a book by candlelight, but his eyes weren’t quite seeing the words
nor was his mind processing them in any capacity. If asked, he wouldn’t even be able to provide
the title of the book, but to be fair, his mind wasn’t really on the book. Rather, he’s waiting, eyes
often straying to Jungkook’s resting figure. Jungkook is a pretty sleeper, cheek squishing against
the pillow and wings twitching subtly with his steady breathing, often eliciting Taehyung to play
with his soft hair. The shadows the candlelight casts on him danced and crackled, inherently
harmless yet it bodes as something ominous with each tick of the grandfather clock.

When the clock struck 3AM, the grandfather clock groaning as the bell resounded through the
mansion, Taehyung felt Jungkook shift.

Putting the book aside on the messy bedside table, Taehyung sits up to watch him attentively.
Jungkook’s face is scrunched up in discomfort as he curls into himself, brows furrowing, a
whimper falling from his lips. This isn’t anything like the needy whimpers from before, these are
pained and winded, sweat beading down his forehead. Only two candles light up the room now,
but they’re put out, a heavy gust of wind blowing out their light and engulfing the room in
darkness.

Only temporary darkness that lasted moments, however. Taehyung’s eyes caught on the orange
flame that latched onto Jungkook’s wings, the first feather disintegrating slowly into orange
embers and ash, akin to the way his cigarettes lit up and turned to ash on a cold winter night.

And that’s when Taehyung knew the transition was happening, Jungkook was falling, and the next
time he would awake, he’d be a demon.
There was something mesmerizing about watching the feathers burn, fire catching on each one
seemingly spontaneously, the once beautiful white wings turning into a charred mess of black and
orange embers on his bed. This is the first time he’s seeing it happen to someone else, so while yes,
it’s mesmerizing – it also feels like his heart is shattering in his chest. Jungkook whimpers again in
pain, eyes fluttering underneath closed eyelids, and Taehyung hates how unfair it all is. The price
of falling in love shouldn’t be so high, not when Jungkook is so pure, inside and out, still pure
despite Taehyung trying his best to corrupt him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Taehyung whispers, brushing Jungkook’s sweaty strands away from his
forehead. Pain is etched over his pretty features and Taehyung has already steeled himself for what
needs to be done. He leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m gonna make it better, okay?”

Taehyung places his palm on Jungkook’s chest, right over his heart that bleeds love with each beat,
because he knows from experience that’s where it hurts most. He closes his eyes, whispering an
enchantment, taking away Jungkook’s pain and shouldering it onto himself. Fangs sink into his lip
until he bleeds, Taehyung feeling every ounce of pain that’s being inflicted onto Jungkook as he
loses his wings and turns into something dark being passed onto himself. That phantom pain he
often had nightmares, the same pain he’d been experiencing more often lately as he started to
remember, hits him like a tidal wave.

He didn’t think at any point in his life he would willingly inflict this pain on himself again, not
when the pain of his falling was more excruciating than any other kind of pain he had to go
through in his life. He’s truly a fool, a fool in love, always has been apparently.

He holds Jungkook through it, to soften Jungkook’s agony and to anchor him through his own,
letting his demon form come out to help him withstand the wave of pain. It feels like it never ends,
like someone is stabbing his back repeatedly, right over his old scars which makes the pain
exacerbate ten folds. His heart aches too, but it’s not as horrible as the first time, even as the pain
makes his vision form black spots by the edges as he desperately holds onto the threads of his
consciousness.

It’s not as bad because he’s holding Jungkook this time, he’s not losing him, just gaining a new
part of him. The knowledge that this pain won’t last forever, that whatever happens, they will be
there for each other helps tide him through the pain until it fades.

This isn’t the end of their story, just the beginning of a new chapter; something Taehyung has to
keep on chanting to himself as he tries his best to withstand this unbearable pain. Love hurts,
Taehyung knows this, and so this pain is more than worth it.

When Taehyung comes to again, the pain receding enough for Taehyung to blearily open his eyes
through the tears that have fallen unbeknownst to him, his eyes land on Jungkook again. Just like
his heart, his eyes always look for Jungkook first. He lights up the candles once more, casting light
over Jungkook, Taehyung’s hands immediately grabbing his face to make sure he’s alright. While
Jungkook’s face is relaxed, no more signs of pain to mar his features, it’s still jarring to see him
without his wings.

The wings Jungkook loved so much, prided himself on, liked to use to fly around everywhere even
when he could walk just fine. They added so much to Jungkook’s beauty, made him glow in his
confidence, fluttering behind him whenever he smiled. Now, all that’s left is just a charred mess of
orange embers that have yet to be put out, two twin scars on his back similar to his own. They look
painful though, bloody red with fresh burn marks stretching around their circumference where his
wings once were. Soon, even his wounds would be stained black, the last shreds of his innocence
lost too.
A very visual sign of the effect of Taehyung’s corruption on him, evidence that all he ever does is
ruin whatever he touches, feeling his stomach twist in what could only be guilt. He took away
Jungkook’s pain, took it onto himself because he’s to blame, but he doesn’t know if he can atone
for this. Some things just can’t be fixed, no matter how much he wishes he could.

He will try though.

As he did several centuries ago, when Taehyung fell in love with a mortal, he leans into Jungkook
and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s a kiss that holds all the love he, as a demon, holds for
Jungkook now.

As an angel, he gave Jungkook his angel’s blessing before he left, a blessing for him to find love
and happiness one day in his life. Something to fill that loneliness that consumed him.

As a demon, he’s not sure if he has any blessings to give, but he musters up all the pure feelings he
has inside of him. All the love, the caring, the selflessness he possesses for Jungkook, and imparts
him with it. While his love is tainted as well, like the rest of him, it still shines much stronger than
the love he held for Jungkook when he was an angel. He doesn’t know if it’ll work, never tried
anything like this before, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Jungkook’s eyes flutter open in front of him, same as he did in the
past. Rather than confusion, however, he just looks at Taehyung with so much love and gratitude
as if Taehyung hung all the stars in the sky for him. He doesn’t look like a demon at all, just the
same pure and sweet angel that Taehyung fell for again all those months ago.

And behind him, Taehyung sees two magnificent and arching obsidian wings ruffling behind
Jungkook’s back, Taehyung’s demonic blessing bestowed upon him.

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispers. Punctuating his statement with a kiss, he smiles against
Taehyung’s lips, this part however, where Taehyung’s love is reciprocated goes off Taehyung’s
script from the past. He supposes that now, the past he led won’t matter so much anymore, his
future with Jungkook defining the next steps for him instead. “For everything.”

There’s so much sincerity laced in the words that for the first time in his long, lonely life as an
immortal, Taehyung thinks that maybe he can also bring good to the people he cares about too.

Taehyung’s sin is that he fell in love with a mortal.

He paid a high price for his sin, losing his wings and the memories of his love, leaving him as an
empty vessel without them. For centuries, he searched high and low for meaning, something to fill
the void in his chest. As a demon, he was filled with bitter regret for the foolish naivety he held as
an angel. He was embarrassed to admit that he was lonely. More ashamed to admit that he missed a
mortal he couldn’t remember the name or face of. He searched for that mortal, for anyone with a
face that would spark his memory to return, but to no avail. Nobody ever stood out to him, he led
an empty life for centuries, empty inside where the gaping hole in his chest never got filled.

Eventually, he stopped looking for that mortal and stopped caring about the memories he lost,
instead searched for other ways to fill the void within him.
 He lived hedonistically; he killed until that left a bad taste in his mouth and stopped, instigated the
fall of grand empires, lit fires, fucked people, and spread his corruption and chaos everywhere he
went. He never felt any more fulfilled for it, just emptier, and for centuries – he didn’t know what
the point of immortality was if only to be a torturous and lonely existence.

As fate would have it, an angel with large dark eyes and the sweetest smile so reminiscent of the
mortal he once loved, crash landed into his life. The only angel who heard his lonely prayer,
treated him with kindness and care that he wasn’t used to, fell in love with a demon. Like that,
Taehyung was finally able to relinquish his hold on his regret, no longer feeling so alone in this
long life he’d led.

And so, Taehyung fell once again, but this time it wasn’t a sin.

It was a blessing.

End Notes

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