(Jin) The Astronaut Jacket Shoot Sketch

진 (Jin) ’The Astronaut’ Jacket Shoot Sketch

namjoon being too shy to make a heart 🫶

---

dear ryen, i am once again bawling my eyes out bcs of 3tan 😞 IM SO SAD RN !!

it’s always exciting when we get yoongi’s pov in the odd numbered chapters, but omg almost 10k of his thoughts only was sooo intriguing to read!! i feel like he has such an insightful perspective of the world around him 🥺 but baby yoonie is clearly going through A LOT :(( my heart truly breaks for him. the way he thinks about reader?? i’m gonna melt 😖 it’s the little instances like “Just this once. Let him be the only one that worries.” 😭 he clearly loves (yes im using the l word) her dearly and the way he cares for her is enough proof 😖 i just want to hold his adorable cheeks and tell him he deserves to be happy, because it’s the absolute truth!! this was phenomenal as always ryen 🥹🥹 i loved reading this interlude, it made me feel so much closer to yoongi and 3tan in general. i appreciate you and your stories so so much!! thank you sm for writing 🤍

yoongi’s interlude: dal segno (m) (3tan) | myg

title: yoongi’s interlude: dal segno pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst, fluff, implied smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: dal segno—used as a direction in music to return to the sign that marks the beginning of a repeat. note: it is here! a little later than planned but hey, let’s go!! thank y’all for waiting and thank you for being so supportive throughout this whole process. let this be a little gift from me before 3tan9 drops, which will be an even bigger present when it’s done<33 note 2: if you haven’t read the three tangerines series yet, read that first (specifically basketball, stay, sidewalk talk, friends, and dalo.) this will be easier to read after that!  warnings: multiple time switches due to flashbacks, cursing, yoongi pov, tense situations, penetrative sex, implied sex, minor scuffle, mentions of blood, threats, punches, angst, yoongi has a lot going on in his mind :((, jimin is a real one, actually everyone in here is<3 drop date: september 23rd, 10:50pm est word count: 9.7k 

-

-

Another breath.

Another day. 

Filled with the same plaguing thoughts as the last.

Keep reading

---

SUGA ; TIDES (2023) ⤷ CONCEPT | twt ; ig

---

this look!!! 💎

---

THIS CHAPTER oh my god i’m in awe!! i felt like i was on the edge of my seat while reading, especially when oc was being tortured. and oc letting jungkook into her mind and trapping him inside it ??? that was so cool omg she’s amazing 😭😭 their dynamic is very interesting and i can’t wait to see how it will develop. also, we’re starting to get some answers about jungkook and i’m trying to connect the dots in my head but it’s still a little messy 😭😭 and that cliffhanger omg, i’m so excited to know what happens next!!! i’d love to be added to the taglist 😖 thank you for writing 🫶🫶

Carved | Three | jjk (m)

→ Summary: Hundreds of years after the Underworld wins the war, Vaesen - demon kind - rule the Realms. The Vanir - creatures of light and the Heavens - are hunted and enslaved by Vaesen. When the demon prince Jungkook is given one of the Carved - angels who have been stripped of their wings - he has no idea what to do with you. You, however, have plans you are determined to see through. Even if it means death in the end.

→ Pairing: demon!Jungkook x angel!female reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Type: Series

→ Genre: dystopian, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, angst

→ Series Warnings: This series will feature multiple religious themes under the guise that there are multiple heavens, hells, and all religions are real. This is also a dark series - reader is enslaved and there will be graphic depictions of mistreatment. While some characters have good intentions in this series, everyone is ultimately selfish and very morally grey. Please do not read if you cannot take morally ambiguous characters. Dead dove do not eat.

→ Warnings: Graphic depiction of torture in numerous manners (cutting open, gutting, burning, use of a bug creature that goes down the mouth, breaking bones), graphic depictions of blood and gore, mental manipulation, references to past abuse and torture, explicit language, toxic family dynamics, sexual innuendos and implications, mention of scars and old injuries, unsettling descriptions of people used as inanimate objects, Taehyung being Taehyung (yes this is a warning), and non-consented touching (reader does not verbally consent to people touching her like they are at a petting zoo, it's not sexual)

♦ Main Masterlist: here

♦ Series Masterlist: here

♦ faq |taglist request |

A/N: Another fic where Hali has gone absolutely off the rails from the outline and I will now have to adjust wildly. This chapter totally did not go where I originally planned, but I think that's okay. I have to be honest with you: I have really been struggling to write and I apologize how much that shows in a lot of these scenes. It has nothing to do with the story - it's just really bad writers block where I am having trouble writing scenes and imagery and I am absolutely stumbling in my creative flow. I hope it doesn't feel as stilted to readers as it does to me. This chapter finally has some background information on why Jungkook is Mr. Cool and Calm all the time, and it really highlights readers personality aka she is not very nice. This story will not have an update until September, as all of my non-Yoongi works will be on hiatus for Hali's Happy Agust writing event! I hope you like this chapter but I understand if you don't, I'm going to find some windex to drink as soon as I post this :)

©2022 haliiimede. all rights reserved. Reposting and/or translating is not allowed, even if you credit the story. Works are only crossposted on AO3. Find my AO3 here.

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgement or representation of real life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. BTS is not BTS culturally, intellectually, physically or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER /

Jungkook remembers the day he discovered what his mother looked like on the inside.

Sariel had beautiful, black hair and eyes like a burning sun. Jungkook remembers the warm gold of her skin, the dusky rose of her lips. Her eyes were round and soft like her face.

Jungkook has never asked Belial why out of all the angels he slaughtered he kept Sariel. He knows that it wasn’t love, and he knows that it wasn’t anything akin to affection. Jungkook fancies that before Sariel was Carved, she was a vicious angel who fought Belial every step of the way.

He looks at you and thinks that perhaps, history is repeating itself.

You say nothing as you’re pulled into the room by the back of the neck, Namjoon’s grip firm. You look at Jungkook once and there is a flare of violence so raw that Jungkook pushes off the wall, blinking in surprise.

Something ancient and angry slithers into the room and Namjoon pauses for a moment, grip on you loosening. It's just the three of you in the room. Jungkook feels himself hesitate, feels the way the presence presses against him as though Belial himself had entered the room. The Hellhound looks at Jungkook, who ignores him, eyes only for you.

You blink and it’s gone as quickly as the feeling arrived. You’re the listless Carved angel that you’re supposed to be.

"What the fuck was that?" Namjoon asks, looking at Jungkook.

"Never mind that, put her on the table before Belial comes down here and sees us fucking about."

But Jungkook knows – he knows something is wrong about you. You’re not what you’re supposed to be and no matter how much pain it will cause you, Jungkook needs to know. Needs to understand. And while he knows what it feels like to have someone he is connected to tortured, he thinks he can withstand it.

Withstand you.

Namjoon straps you to the table, the chains the only sound in the room. You offer your wrists freely, eyes starting up and the ceiling of the torture chamber.  

Jungkook thinks of the way his mom looked on the table, just as defeated and limp, glassy eyes staring into nothing. The Flayer – an unassuming demon by the name of Alastor – had opened her up layer by layer. Jungkook had watched, eye-wide and mouth open as the gold of her skin turned to pink skin. Then muscle and tendons. Then to stick bones.

Her stomach had spilled next. The inside of Sariel was just like everyone else, with organs made to function, though a bit differently from humans. Her blood was red with threads of gold. Jungkook had been hypnotized by the color of the ichor, watching it drip down the drain as the Flayer cracked her ribcage.

Seeing his mother turned inside out had changed Jungkook. Not only in the way one is changed after watching someone they love brutally torn apart and examined but much worse.

You will always be connected to me, Sariel had whispered to Jungkook one night when she found him crying in the wine cellar with nothing but the spiders for comfort. Do you feel that thread? That’s special – it is just for us. No one else can hear us when you call for me on this. It’s our secret.

Later, Jungkook learned that being able to connect to his mother’s mind was not something common. She was not always present – most of the time as a Carved angel, she moved throughout the house like a ghost. But there were moments of clarity when her mind flashed, sharp as a razor and Jungkook would wake up in the middle of the night feeling her rage and fury as Belial fucked her into the mattress. 

Alastor enters the room and Jungkook wonders if the demon is going to make you spill just like his mother. Alastor looks human enough at first. He’s shorter than most, with oily black hair and an unremarkable face. It’s his eyes that are different: blood red irises threaded with black.

For as long as Jungkook can remember, Alastor has been the Flayer for Belial and his family. Jungkook watches Alastor move silent through his torture chamber, found in a deep basement beneath the estate.

The room is cold. It has high ceilings despite being a basement. Metal beams run across, and a sprinkler system is hardwired to help wash the blood and gore from the ground. Some beams have pulleys affixed with chains, made for dangling victims.

White floors made of bone mixed with cement spread beneath Jungkook’s boots. It had taken Belial several attempts to find the right texture for the floor. Marble, though elegant, became too slippery and was causing accidents as the Flayer slid on a filmy piece of lung. Concrete was too porous, the blood seeping in and refusing to come out until Belial hired a witch to spell the stain from the ground.

Bone, though? Bone was a good element to mix in, giving the cement a smooth finish that doesn’t create slippage when painted with bodily fluids but isn’t so texture that the blood and bits of flesh cling to the ground.

Metal cabinets reflect the fluorescent light of the room. Jungkook can make out his distorted reflection from where he leans on the wall, arms crossed over his chest and one ankle draped over the other. You’re strapped to a medical table, steel manacles forged with brimstone locked to your wrists and ankles.

You stare at the ceiling. Namjoon comes to lean on the wall against Jungkook, a question in his eyes. Jungkook gives a barely perceptible shake of his head – they will discuss the feeling from a few minutes ago later.

Belial enters the room as Alastor slides black gloves on. Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of demon the Flayer is, he just knows that for whatever reason, some Vanir blood burns him. Jungkook recalls the sizzle of flesh as his mother dripped dripped dripped on the ground and Alastor’s wrist.

“Thank you for coming, Alastor.” Belial’s voice is reserved, but polite. Jungkook feels the weight of his father’s presence like a weighted blanket, pushing on his shoulders, his body, his mind. “I’d like to ask the seraph some questions.”

“Ah,” Alastor speaks. His voice is soft as a whisper, Jungkook’s skin tingling. “So it is one of the seraphim.” He clicks his teeth, linking his hands behind his back and leaning over you. “Exquisite. Quite beautiful, this Carved. It is yours?”

“It’s the boy’s.”

Alastor turns to look at Jungkook, a smile splitting his face. It’s rare to see such a delighted expression on the Flayer’s face. “How wonderful. Where did you get it?”

Jungkook recounts Taehyung buying you for him. He goes over the details from the purchase, having memorized your data and limited history. If you’re bothered about being spoken to like you aren’t there, you don’t show it. Gone is that ancient flickering of anger, replaced by void staring.

“Does the Carved not answer questions, Lord?” Alastor asks, slithering to a rolling medical cart with towels and an array of tools: scissors, knives, scalpels, things that look like corkscrews, pliers, and other torture devices.

“You know as well as I do that once Carved, these creatures become stupid. It will not remember anything of what it is unless we make it.” Belial looks at Alastor. “You’ll remember the answers we received the last time we did this.”

Alastor grunts. “Sariel’s recollection through trauma was most enlightening. Pity.” He leans over you. Jungkook feels a flicker – something like impatience from you. He cocks his head to the side and reaches toward the feeling, but it’s already gone. “Daughter of Michael though,” Alastor notes. “That is something.”

Jungkook cannot wrap his head around that. Daughter of Michael. Perhaps that is where you get the fire to fight the Carving. Jungkook knows you’re fighting it – can feel it in the way you lock him out of your mind, in the way that rage of yours spills over like hot liquid. He knows something is wrong with you and he doesn’t know what.

So he keeps his mouth shut as Alastor takes a small scalpel, brandishing it in the light. Belial stands next to the Flayer, hands behind his back as they look down at you. Jungkook watches with rapt attention as the blade slices through a thin layer of skin, red blood laced with gold rushing to the surface of your forearm where he makes the slice.

You don’t react. Jungkook reaches for that mental tether between the two of you, but it’s stronger than ever. He is unsure how you do that, how you lock him out. His mother was never able to do that, had never taught Jungkook how.

Blood tricks down your arm as Alastor hums. He has peeled the thinnest layer of skin off your arm. He tosses the layer of flesh behind him. Jungkook’s sensitive ears pick up on the wet slap of it on the floor just as Alastor touches the scalpel to your arm again, this time giving a deeper cut.

You still do not react. Jungkook can feel nothing behind your mental wall, no matter how he presses at it. As the Flayer works on testing your pain tolerance, you remain the empty shell you’re supposed to be.

No one speaks. The air conditioning hums and Jungkook watches as the Flayer digs his blade deeper. Your arm becomes redder. He can smell your blood – sweet and citrusy like orange blossom. Blood drips onto the floor, slowly inching toward the drain in the middle of the room. It is not much, but it makes Jungkook shift slightly.

You smell wonderful. It makes his stomach curl, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he takes a deep breath in and then out before he can lose control over something so little. Namjoon casts a glance at Jungkook, but he ignores the Hellhound in favor of watching Alastor put down the scalpel.

“She’s a glaedia,” the Flayer observes. “I believe her pain tolerance is going to be higher than most, and she is Carved. You recall Sariel’s tolerance?” Belial makes an unimpressed hum. “May I skip to more severe limit tests?”

“You may.”

Carefully, Alastor picks up a small torch affixed to a propane tank. Jungkook feels a flicker on the other side of your mental walls. He reaches out but you are still unavailable to him. He senses you there, though, on the other side of your barrier, prowling as your eyes register the blue flame as the Flayer ignites it.

“Hm,” Belial hums, leaning over you slightly. “It recognizes the danger of being burned. Carry on.”

Without hesitation, Alastor holds the flame to the flesh of your bicep. You pull in the restraints, a sound grunting out between clenched teeth. The blue flame melts at your flesh, the smell of charred skin entering the room. It smells like any other cooking meat, intensified by your orange blossom notes.

You whine behind a mouth pressed shut, pulling your arm from the flame. Jungkook can sense the rage rolling behind your mental barriers, white caps slamming against a cliff. He pushes at your thoughts again, hoping that he can find a weakness.

There are no gaps.

Alastor removes the flame from your arm and you shiver. The skin of your arm is ruined – blackened on the edges as though the skin has rotted away. Red blisters bubble immediately and Jungkook can see the fat of your arm, slick and melted. In just a few seconds, Alastor has given you third-degree burns, verging on fourth.

Belial leans over you again, imperious eyes looking down. “Are you a part of Libram?” You shake your head against the table. “Again, Alastor. New flesh, please.”

The Flayer complies. Again, Jungkook can feel your suffering. He pushes on that mental barrier again, desperate to use your pain as a distraction to sift through your thoughts and memories. Jungkook remembers the way he could look through his mother’s mind, unguarded and open for the taking. Her mind had been cluttered and unorganized after her Carving, but every once in a while, Jungkook had stumbled on something interesting. Something new.

You still don’t give. He pushes harder and you snap back at him, an electric barb zapping at Jungkook. He recoils. Namjoon puts an arm on Jungkook, checking to see if he is okay but Jungkook shakes him off, nose flaring.

A Carved should not be able to fight back. Jungkook knows this. He knows you know this. And yet you keep him out, and you manage to keep your mouth shut as Alastor flicks the flame off again and Belial asks you the question once more. Are you a part of Libram?

It’s a risk you’re taking by shutting Jungkook out. Jungkook is sure of it. By not letting him in, you expose the loopholes in your Carving and reveal that something is wrong with you.

Jungkook considers telling Belial. He looks at his father, who sighs in annoyance when you shake your head to his question again. He weighs the pros and cons of exposing you: It will likely gain favor with his father. Belial is always particularly fond when Jungkook can provide observations. He is also thousands of years old – he must know of some cases of the Carved being broken.

But for Jungkook to tell his father means that Belial will most likely take you from him. It means that you will no longer be his, no matter what Jungkook says. And worst of all, it will expose to Belial that Jungkook can communicate with the seraphim, something he has hidden for years.

For Jungkook to admit his connection to you is to sign off on his death. It doesn’t matter that Belial might find Jungkook a useful tool to hunt down other seraphim or to kill his son altogether for being more angel than he originally believed.

So Jungkook decides against it. Instead, he settles on the wall again, watching Alastor put away the torch.

“Are you a member of Libram?” Belial asks.

“I do not know what Libram is, dominus.”

The Flayer walks to a metal cabinet, pulling open one of the doors. Jungkook can see an array of glasses with things inside of them, but the door is in the way. The Flayer removes a jar and closes the door behind him with a soft click before turning around.

A creature with a thin, black body and many legs writhes in the jar. Jungkook recognizes the burrower demon, with little pinchers for mouths and no eyes to dick into a host’s body and burrow through flesh, eating and churning.  

He sets the jar on the table. The burrower demon skitters on the glass, legs tap tap tapping as it waits to be released. Your eyes settle on the jaw and your nose flares, chest rising and falling as you begin to pant. Your eyes flickered up to Belial.

“Do you know what this is, Carved?” You swallow and nod once. “Hm. How old are you?”

“I don’t know, dominus.”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken, voice ragged and laced with pain. Belial scoffs. “What is the name of this creature, Carved?”

Your eyes flicker to the black insect in the jar. “A yomi worm, dominus.”

“The very demons who were created from Izanami’s body and devour the souls in Yomi. The Flayer is going to put this demon in you, Carved, and I’m going to watch it burrow and make a nest in your stomach unless you can remember who and what you are. Do you know where Uriel lies?”

“I do not know the name Uriel.”

“Do it,” Belial orders.

Alastor unscrews the jar carefully. With a pair of tongs, he removes the yomi worm. It thrashes, seeking heat and flesh, its legs undulating. Instead of pulling at the restraints, Jungkook is surprised to see you turn your head toward the ceiling and open your mouth.

It’s a tiny moment of defiance hidden as obedience. Jungkook can see the way you stick out your pink tongue, staring straight again, brows creased as Alastor drops the creature right between your open lips. Jungkook winces as you immediately choke, the creature crawling down your throat.

You sputter on the table. Jungkook sees the bulge as the demon burros down your throat. Spit and blood leaked out the side of your lips and for the first time that day, you reward Belial and Alastor with a scream. It splits the air, deep and guttural, blood spraying as you do it.

Jungkook reaches his mind out to yours and finds that your barriers are up, but weak. He presses on them again, determined to get through. It’s more like finding a hole in the wall now as he pushes up against you. He can feel you fighting him, but you’re busy fighting the demon eating its way through your chest.

The mental wall collapses. A rush of air sweeps into Jungkook’s lungs in victory, his lips curling upward into a smirk.

Pain slams into him. He goes rigid on the wall, fingers digging into his sides to steady himself. His intake of air is sharp enough that Namjoon bends over, murmuring a question. Jungkook can’t hear him, but he pushes Namjoon away, trying to keep a hold on his composure as his father watches you scream on the table, too distracted to realize Jungkook is having a fit.

It feels like he is pulled into a vortex of color and feeling. Jungkook is trapped, trying to find his way out of your head. He sees snatches of red and gold, white wings falling from the sky, blood spraying the field, the hall of champions of a Titan Match. He hears screams and crying, hears the ring swords, hears chanting that he vaguely thinks is the seraphim legion.

Heat licks at him. Jungkook does not remember feeling anything as hot as this. White lights explode across his vision as he grits his teeth and tries to gain control.

“You wanted in,” a voice growls, divine rage behind every word. “So I let you in, Lord Jungkook. Welcome.”

Jungkook is no longer in the present. He’s standing on a killing field turned black. Ash drifts around him and settles on his face. He looks up – the sky is red, as though the sun has cracked open and spilled crimson yolk across the world.

Something else falls from the sky. He reaches out a hand and catches a white feather, singed on the edges. He realizes that the feathers belong to angel wings. He watches as it disintegrates in his hand, dust in the wind.

“What is this place?” Jungkook asks into the dead air.

“It is the after,” your voice answers. It is still a growl, hot and angry. “This is not where I want you.”

The scenery changes. Jungkook stands in the Flayer’s torture chamber. Except it is no longer you on the table – it is his mother. Something twists in his chest as Alastor cracks his mother’s chest cavity open. He feels what she feels, he sees what she sees.

His mother’s mind is broken and frantic. She reaches out to him and latches on, all claws and teeth as she sinks into his thoughts, his soul, his being and holds on for dear life. Jungkook cannot shake her off – bends over at the waist and gasps in pain. He feigns being sick, even though he knows Belial will beat him for it later.

Jungkook skitters into the hall, gasping for air and feverish. His mother’s screams paint the walls of his mind and her pain is in every corner.

“You felt her die.” Jungkook looks up as you stand above him, eyes shadowed. You’re in his mind, in his thoughts. He feels you pressing down on him. “You watched him cut her open and throw her guts on the ground, digging around for secrets.”

“How are you here?” Jungkook thinks – he demands. “What are you?”

“I am Carved.”

He glances up at you. Feels sweat on his face. “You’ve invaded my mind.”

“No,” you disagree. “You have invaded mine. Here is your first lesson on entering the mind of a seraph: the connection goes both ways. Once in, you cannot hide.” Sariel screams in the other room and Jungkook shivers. It feels as though his mother is alive again, as though her blood is slicking his boots and staining the room with her scent. “Why did he torture Sariel?”

He looks up. “How do you know my mother’s name?”

“I was legion. She was legion.”

“You told Belial you were not legion.”

“You told Belial you didn’t know I was.”

He frowns. You state at him, beautiful. Enchanting. Fierce. “You said ‘was’, not ‘is’.”

“Was,” you agree. “If there were enough seraphim to make a legion, you would know. Sariel was second in command to Uriel in the 7th.” Your eyes slide to him as Jungkook pants through searing pain that bleeds deep into him. He feels it in his stomach, his pelvis, his back – it blooms and bleeds and spreads. “Belial was looking for lilins.”

“Why would my mother know where lilin’s are?”

“Lilith kidnapped and raped Uriel for years and whelped the lilins that won you the war.” You tilt your head, eyes studying him. “Your mother led the 7th after Uriel’s capture. You do not know this?”

“No,” he grits out. “Because my mother was Carved she didn’t remember who or what she was for the most part.” A high-pitched scream interrupts him. It does belong to his mother. Jungkook turns and looks at the door that leads to the torture chamber. “Is that you screaming?”

“It is. Realistic, isn’t it?”

“How can you be here and there at once?”

“How can you?”

He grunts in annoyance. “Tell Belial what you are and he’ll stop. He'll probably kill you, but at least your suffering will be over.”

“There is nothing to tell. If you think this is suffering, you know nothing of being Carved.”

“You were Carved wrong.”

“And you are not endarkened.” Jungkook pauses. Your lip curls with satisfaction, knowing you hit a nerve. “I know an enlightened when I see one. When I first saw you, I didn’t see it. You hide it well. You parade around pretending that your demon blood is dominant so he’ll keep you, but it’s not.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

“I’m offering you silence for silence.”

“You are my slave.”

You move so fast that Jungkook doesn’t see what happens. All he knows is that he is on the floor, your nails digging into his throat. He can’t feel his limbs to fight you, all he can feel is something burning so hot that he screams and screams and screams.

Jungkook tastes blood. His ears begin to ring. His vision pulses red on the edges and he thinks he’s going to die. He sees his mother’s face. Empty and blank. He sees her body, ribs free of muscle and flesh, painted red and empty as Alastor walks away from her.

“You are beneath me in ways you cannot fathom,” you growl to him. Again, he feels that ancient anger roll through you.

It occurs to Jungkook that you are too calm for the situation. You have too much control. He thinks about the way you let Namjoon lead you to the room and strap you to the table. The way that you cut down the malakim with just summoning concentrated air. How now, you hold him prisoner in his own mind while being tortured?

The heat is so prominent and stifling that Jungkook struggles to string together thoughts. Words and emotions become a tangled mess. The blue flame flickers in your endless eyes and he feels like every second he spends putting the pieces together is another moment he is about to turn to ash.

“You let Belial torture you to appear innocent and you let me in your mind when the pain was enough to trap me,” Jungkook says. The words are like lava in his mouth. It isn’t a question. He can feel the satisfaction hum through you, though his vision is still pulsing. He thinks he might pass out. “What do you want from me?”

 “Do we have a deal or not? My silence for yours, seraph.”

“I am not a seraph.”

“You are seraph dominant. Do we have a deal? You will not make it out of this room without me.”

Jungkook thinks about the night on his balcony. The mist on his skin, the ebbing darkness, and the curiosity of stepping off into the shadows and letting the fall swallow him hole. He feels that same pull now, but instead of stepping off a building, Jungkook is drawn to you. Is interested in you.

So much of his life has been boring. So much of his life has been spent alone. Now you exist, a strange angel who is Carved but Not Carved, and who lures even the greatest of demons into traps to do your bidding.

He wonders what would happen if you kill him now. Surely you would make it past Alastor and Namjoon. But would you make it past Belial? The seraphim are not the only creatures who can rival the likes of the Triumvirate, but there aren’t so many of those left.

But maybe – just maybe you can help him figure out this existence of his. So against his judgment, Jungkook relaxes under your fiery grip. Comes to his conclusion.

You hum, as though you have made a decision. Heat flares, and just as Jungkook thinks he will burn to nothing, he concedes. “Deal.”

The connection severs. The searing heat threatening to melt his existence vanishes. The world swims into view and Jungkook blinks a few times to gather his bearings. He is still leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Namjoon gives Jungkook a side eye that Jungkook continues to ignore as he takes a deep breath.

He feels his hands shaking as he stares at you. You’re bloodier than he remembers you being. The yomi worm is back in its jar, slick with red fluid. Belial turns on his heel, walking over to Jungkook, who straightens.

“This Carved is useless,” Belial tells Jungkook gruffly. “Its mind is too broken. Only you could find a Carved seraph that is truly of no use to me. Regardless, bring it to the party tonight. I’m sure the others would love to see your new toy.”

Without another word, Belial leaves the room. Jungkook doesn’t know what they asked you. Doesn’t know how much time is passed. You’re barely breathing on the table, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jungkook strides forward as Alastor begins to peel his gloves off, covered in slick blood. The drain drips as the flow of fluid slowly slides down.

Your eyes are fluttering up at the ceiling. You’re covered in red stains. Some are dry and flaking, others are wet and sticky. There is a massive hole in your chest and Jungkook can see that the bleeding has already stopped. Your tissue is pulling back together as you heal yourself.

Suddenly it’s not you that Jungkook is looking at. It’s his mother. He sees the tears slide down her face as the light fades. He sees that she is not healing. Her insides are empty, scooped out like the pit of a cherry. Not once did he stop them. Not once did he ask them to spare her.

Jungkook had stood and watched the Flayer pick at his mother’s bones and insides for secrets.

Belial was looking for lilins.

Your words come back to him. How could Belial think Sariel, broken and fragile could know anything? How had Jungkook not known that his mother led a legion of heaven in the war? There are so many questions spinning in his mind as he looks down at you.

Carved, but Not Carved. Bound to him, but disobedient.

You’re the answer to questions he has always had and those he has never thought to ask.

With a grimace, Jungkook reaches for that mental tether. There is no wall, but you are wary of him. Your mind isn’t all heat and fire and pain this time – it is watery and dark, like the mist off of Jungkook’s balcony that night of his birthday.

Are you okay? He asks the question to you before he knows what he is doing – the words just appear in his mind.

Life flickers in your eyes. Your pupils shrink as you focus on him, razor-sharp and present.

 Pain is inevitable, your mind answers. Your skin is stitching together, drawing Jungkook’s gaze from your eyes to where he watching the crawling fibers of flesh writhe and twist until you are whole.

Pain is constant. You sit up, swaying a bit. Neither Namjoon nor Jungkook reaches out to help as you struggle to sit up. You grimace, but otherwise remain sitting and painting. Your eyes find his again when your mind whispers, Pain is power.

-

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you on the ride home. You watch the neon city blur by you. As the car stops in traffic, you look up at the purple and pink glow of twisted shapes and holograms. Your face is painted blue through the tinted window as a holographic nymph with lush curves bends over, puckering her lips and blowing a kiss into the rain-slicked streets outside.

The car moves again and the advertisement is gone.

Black and clear umbrellas thrumming with lights pop open and move along the street like beetles. The sidewalk is crushed with Vaesen coming and going. It’s the weekend, you realize, and there are long lines to get into glittery clubs. Vanir stand in the rain loyally next to Vaesen masters.

People and the crush of bodies fade as you’re driven to the nicer part of town. You’re wrapped in a towel to not get blood in the car. You’re thankful that you did not have to walk barefoot out of the manor district to a doctor, but you’re on edge.

Your insides churn as though you could feel the yomi worm still squirming inside of you. It had been unpleasant, feeling a living thing that was not a part of you chew its way through your insides. It had been more horrific to feel it than the pain had been.

Pain is inevitable, and little truly hurt you anymore.

Jungkook had been a good distraction. You wondered each time he pressed up against your mind if he would give up the next time. You want to see how hard he would push. What he knew. Your suspicions that he knew absolutely nothing about his seraph heritage were right.  

The moment you weakened your barrier and let him in, you saw. You had no idea that Sariel had been taken by Belial all of those years. You wanted to pick through Jungkook’s memories. To see what he knew about her, to see how she had been. The last time you had seen Sariel was before the war had been decided when she was leading the 7th in Uriel’s stead.

 Looking at Jungkook now, you see it. He has her round eyes and soft nose, her tiny beauty marks, and soft lips. But the cheekbones and structure of his face are Belial, and so is the shadow that looms over him. Though Jungkook is angel dominant, you can feel that dark thread of power he gets from his father.

Ari is nowhere to be found when you entire the apartment. Jungkook dismisses Namjoon entirely. The hellhound raises his brow, eyes flickering between you and Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook snaps, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Problem, Namjoon?”

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon’s eyes are narrowed at you. “You kept fidgeting at the beginning of the questioning and then you just… it was like no one was home for the next three hours.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. You stand mutely, looking at the floor and wondering how long you’ll have to wait for Namjoon to leave. You want a shower. You want to think. You want to plan. But you can do none of those things with the keen eyes of the dog looking at you.

“Nothing happened,” Jungkook sighs, looking up at Namjoon. His shirt is open down the middle now, revealing tan, tone skin. Your eyes flicker along the muscle, smooth and flat. He either doesn’t notice you staring at him or doesn’t care. “As Belial said, I have a useless Carved.”

Namjoon grunts. “Yeah.” He jams his finger on the elevator button and steps into it when the doors open. “Useless.”

The doors shut and the elevator whirs as it takes Namjoon down to the ground floor. Without him in the room, you drop your act and look at Jungkook directly in the face. He’s already staring at you, eyes unreadable, brow pinched.

“So can I shower?”

“So you’re not going to even pretend to be submissive now?”

“I asked permission for a shower.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m just a dumb Carved, dominus. I don’t know anything.”

Jungkook growls and you grin. He’s on edge. You can feel the coiled muscles, feel the way his stress is mounting. The cool exterior he kept on the car ride to the estate had frayed after your encounter in your minds, and it was fraying more now that you weren’t pretending.

“You know your demon side is pretty close to frenzying, right?” Surprise flickers briefly in his eyes. Otherwise, he remains silent. “It’s why you were so easy to lure in. You weren’t even thinking about the consequences of invading my mind. You went head first, never considering it could have been a trap.”

“You’ve made your point. You’re smart, I’m not.”

You laugh. It’s sharp and loud, surprising you both as you snap your mouth shut. “Please,” you scoff. “Now is not the time to be humble. You’re not unintelligent. You’ve lived – how long, now? Pretending to be endarkened?”

“A long time.”

You smirk. “Your stupidity is coming from your demonic need to lose control. I suggest finding an outlet and doing just that, dominus.”

Turning on your heel, you head to your assigned room where there is an en suite bathroom. Jungkook growls and appears in front of you, quick and angry. You stop, leveling a stare at him. He glares at you and his fists are clenched. He’s probably never been defied before you. That alone sends a little thrill through you.

“We need to establish some ground rules,” he grits out. “First, you are Vanir. You will not disrespect me in my own house. I should just be fucking rid of you-“

“Then do it.” Jungkook stops short. You shrug. “You have questions. You think I have answers. I could say the same for you. But if it will make you feel better, I will treat you as an equal if you return the favor.”

Jungkook hesitates. You wait. You have all of the time in the world. You’re extending him a courtesy – at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You try to convince yourself that you let him in to use him. Because Jungkook is an asset. You know that to be true, but you also know it’s not the only reason you’re in front of him, dropping the submissive façade.

It’s a risk you calculated after being led down to be torture. Every victory must come at a loss, and though you already miss the shadow that the submissive, Carved slave provided you, something like an instinct is telling you that you need Jungkook.

So you let him in. Just a little. Just enough to know that he can’t push you around the way he thought he can. If he can’t consider you an equal, you need him to consider you a threat. You need him afraid enough of exposing his secret to keep yours.

“That won’t work,” he sighs. “You cannot be my equal.”

“Behind closed doors,” you amend. “In front of your friends and family, I will be the docile Carved you need. But here, when it’s just us, free me from the burned of this bond. Respect earned is respect given.”

“This shouldn’t even be possible.”

“Like you said. I was Carved wrong.”

His brows pinch. “How?”

“Do we have an agreement or not? My silence in exchange for yours. My respect in exchange for yours with limitations.”

“What is it you want? Why let me know that you’re not obedient at all?”

“Freedom,” you murmur. “I want freedom. And because you’re seraphim. It has to mean something.”

There’s a stretch of silence. You’re itchy, the dried blood on your skin flaking off and beginning to peel. You also feel uncomfortable, the nerve endings still healing from having been split open. The phantom feeling of the yomi worm.

“One fuck up from you and I’ll kill you,” Jungkook decides. There’s a storm in his gaze that tells you he means it. He’ll try to kill you, whether he thinks he can win or not. “But you will do what I say in public. And in private, you will answer my questions. I want to know about Sariel.”

You bow your head once. “Of course, dominus.”

Jungkook lets you pass. You strip down in the bathroom, throwing your clothes in the sink. They reek of blood and fear. Because you had been afraid, at one point. Afraid that you would lose your grip on yourself when trying to force Jungkook into submission. Afraid you would mess up the performance while you screamed into the ceiling of the torture room.

What Alastor had done hurt. You ached and as you turned the shower on, the rushing water could not drown out remembering the sound of your snapping bones. As the water burned your skin and turned the tile scarlet, you could not stop thinking about choking the yomi worm down.

It has not been easy. You had not had to split your focus like that in a long time, to be in the present and doing one thing while being in your mind and doing another. It was a skill that all seraphs learned. To retreat into the mind and be able to communicate. It was necessary during the war.

You can feel Jungkook moving around the house. Now that you know the shape of his mind, he is more familiar to you. His mind feels like perfumed smoke, the smell of cedarwood with a hint of fire and brimstone.

Overpowering him had been so easy. Even now as you squeeze the red from your hair, you can sense the edge in him. Though his mother’s blood is dominant, there is a thread of untethered rage in him. You felt it when you connected, felt it when you had pinned him down. You wonder how long he has been keeping the beast at bay, how long he has tried to control himself.

Out of the shower and in front of the fogged mirror, you wipe your hand back and forth to see yourself. Your nakedness doesn’t offend you anymore. Your body doesn’t change much with time, except how fed you appear.

Now, you look at the pink scar on your chest. While you had been struggling to paint pictures and wrestle Jungkook to submission, the yomi worm had done work on you. As an angel, you could recover from most injuries. The only exceptions were weapons made of demon stone or adamas, hellfire or heavenly fire, and occasionally being blown apart by other creatures of the world.

You’ve avoided death thus far. The Flayer hadn’t even been close.

In fresh clothes, you lurk in the kitchen in search of water. Jungkook enters, also freshly washed and looking at you warily. You slide him a glass of water tentatively. He doesn’t thank you.

Damp hair hands into his eyes. His short sleeves allow you to see the winding dragon tattoos that he has on both of his arms, the rest of the artwork vanishing in his sleeve. Jungkook is beautiful. That much is obvious. But you had the way you want to seek out and brush your thoughts against his.

Feeling someone else in the world is an old memory. You remember the last time you felt the presence of the seraphim – it had been before you were Carved. And that seraph was long turned to dust, her name forgotten. But not by you.

“You remember things from before you were Carved.” Jungkook’s voice is soft. It’s not a question. He sips his water and rounds the counter, putting it between you like a buffer. “How?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t remember everything. I am still Carved. If you order me to do something, I feel that command.”

“Set the glass of water down.”

Your hand reacts immediately. You lean to put it on the counter, but you stop the motion. You make the decision. The interaction is overridden, and you bring the glass back to do. “I can decide to not obey, but it will be my first instinct.”

“That’s… confusing. What about when you’re choked?”

“Chokes are about flow of energy and power. Does not seem to be linked.”

“You don’t know why you’re like this?”

“No,” you lie. You are the best liar. Jungkook doesn’t seem to sense it, so you continue, “I don’t know everything from before and it is often confusing. When I was Carved, it was like waking up from a dream. I don’t know what was real and what was not, but I’ve gotten better at being able to tell.”

“You met Sariel?”

“I think so.”

“You think so or you know so?”

You bristle at his tone. “I think so. I remember her face. You have the same eyes, though yours are black like Belials.”

“You’ve never met Belial before?”

“No.” He hums. You finish your water, setting the empty glass on the table. “What was growing up with Sariel like?”

“What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes. “I mean what I said. What was it like having a Carved for a mother.”

Jungkook shrugs. “She wasn’t very present. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He looks at his phone. “Get dressed,” he sighs. “We have a party to go to tonight. It’s my brother’s birthday.”

“Why do I have to go?”

Jungkook gives you a grin like the cat who ate the canary. “I get to show you off, Reaper.”

-

“This dress is ridiculous,” you deadpan, looking at the gauzy, see-through material. You rub the fabric between your fingers. It’s softer than anything you’ve felt in a long time. You think perhaps that it’s fae spider silk, but you’re not sure. “This is what you want me to wear?”

“It was sent by Taehyung as a gift. And as I haven’t purchased a dress for you, it’s the only option I have.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“I thought we agreed with compliance?”

You give him round eyes. “No one else is around.”

Jungkook does not look amused. Ari has helped you apply a sheen of gold to your skin. When you move, it catches the light, making it look like you are glowing and divine. Ari has also made sure that none of your hair covers the twisted scars on your back, proving that you are Carved.

Dressed head-to-toe in black, Jungkook looks good enough that your stomach had flipped when he walked into the room. Tight, black slacks with polished shoes, a black button-up that is just as sheer as your dress tucked into his pants, showing off his tiny waist, paired with a black suit jacket threaded with glittering gold.

Kohl lines his eyes lightly enough that their roundness is intensified. You see a dusting of glitter on his cheeks, making him look so beautiful that you have refused to look at him since he walked into the room. Letting him in on your scheming was bad enough. Feeling that flippant attraction because he is physically appealing is worse.

“Why is Taehyung sending me gifts?”

He snorts. “I promise it’s not for you.”

“Oh? Are you meant to wear it?”

“Funny.” Jungkook’s tone suggests that he does not, in fact, find your joke funny. “Wear it or go naked. Vanir go naked all the time.”

“I’ll be naked regardless,” you grunt. It’s not the nakedness that bothers you. You’ve been put on display and posed for nudity and shoved to your hands and knees and fucked in public. Fucked any time people wanted. Groped, fondled, tongued. “It’s just a shitty dress.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches upward but he says nothing, drifting out of the room.

You slide the material over your body. It has no back, but is snug on your frame. It has long sleeves, stoned with tiny gold pieces that make you look like the night sky when you move. The material does nothing to hide your body, breasts visible and held firm by the fabric. You’re glad that at least the skirt is well-blended and doesn’t show the rest of you, though it is short and you suspect that one wrong move will show your ass.

There are two, thin straps that dandle down the back like ornaments. They’re silver, lariat-style chains that hang backward down your spine, flanking either shoulder blade. The two dangling ends are tipped with a little wing. You look in the mirror and grit your teeth, seeing the delicate jeweled wings glint in the night.

Funny.

You slide on heels before you leave the room. The stiletto is razor thin and uncomfortable. It takes you a moment to find your stride as you enter the living room where Jungkook is thanking someone at the elevator door, box in hand. He turns as you enter the room, brows shooting up to his hairline as you stand awkwardly in the living area.

Your eyes drop to the flat, square box in his hand.

“What’s that?”

Jungkook wordlessly walks over to you, shoes clicking on the title. You hold your breath as his scent wraps itself around you. You focus on his fingers as he opens the lid, trying not to think about the way his shadowy mind lingers just on the outside of yours. The thread between you is distant, but there. At a safe distance, where it hums softly, linking you.

A black, velvet collar is nestled in the box. A large, light blue diamond winks in the light of the kitchen. The exquisite squared cut is larger than a grape and looks heavy. “You have to wear it.”

“I know.” You glance up at him. “It is impersonalized, how will people know its for you?”

“Everyone will know what it is,” he affirms. “Turn around.”

You objey on instint, showing him your back. It’s silence between the two of you as Jungkook reaches his arms around you, fingers brushing your skin. His warm where he touches you, a tingle going through your skin. Your eyes flutter shut as he clasps the collar around your throat, snug and perfect.

Heat rolls off of Jungkook. He smells heady and wonderful, making your head swim. His hands leave the choker and his fingers brush near your shoulder blades, stopping before he gets to the scars.

“Nice touch with the wings,” Jungkook grunts. “Taehyung has an interesting sense of humor.”

“I am Vanir. I will always be the butt of the joke.” When Jungkook says nothing, you step away and face him, gesturing vaguely to your throat. “Why will everyone recognize this?”

“It was my mother.”

“That’s… weird.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I haven’t commissioned you one yet. Deal with it or I can find you a spare shoelace to wear instead.”

Namjoon is standing next to the car with the door open when you exit the building. He glares at you but you cast your eyes down to the floor, pulling on the persona that you promise Jungkook you would wear for the evening.

The interior of the car is cool and tense as Namjoon slides in next to Jungkook. You blink lazily, gazing out the window as the driver pulls into the road and rolls up the privacy window after Namjoon rattles off the address.

“Why is it dressed so nicely?”

You fight the urge to give him a sour expression and to tell him that jealousy is a disease. Instead, you continue to stare dully out the window, the world a kaleidoscope of colors. It seems like your torture was days ago and not hours ago.

Losing yourself in your thoughts is easy. You don’t hear Namjoon and Jungkook, although you know that they’re talking. You lose a sense of yourself as you think back to Belial’s venomous voice asking you his questions. Who are you? Are you connected to Libram? What is your association with the legion? What do you remember? Do you know where the last of the lilins are?

A waste of questions. You were not involved with Libram, which was sure to be disappointing. You had no desire to meddle in the little rebellion they were putting on.

There is no association with the legion because there is no legion – your old association is nothing. It’s bone and dust and faded from the world.

Your memories are scattered and a cacophony of noises and images that are often hard to make out, no matter how many times Belial tried to trigger some sort of trauma response from you to remember like he kept asking you.

And as for the lilins? The most worthless question of them all. The lilins were gone. Belial’s obsession with hunting them down and Lilith’s vow to never breed with the seraphim ever again had secured the creature’s fate. You hadn’t heard of someone even mentioning lilins in years.

Though Belial had not gotten what he wanted out of you, he had stirred up memories you didn’t want to remember.

Angels falling from the sky. A blue whip flaying you open. Blood spattered promises. Tears as you let go of Haniel’s hand. The knife of your first carving. Cat-like eyes leering at you in the dark. Driving the knife through your first seraph. Blue fire, hot and blinding.

You flinch when Jungkook puts his hand on you. Namjoon is standing outside of the car. You realize you’re at your destination, and Jungkook is looking at you with pursed lips and a cock to his head. “You all right?” he murmurs.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugs. “No, but I was being polite.”

The demon slides from the limo, leaving you to scramble after him. As expected, the hem of your dress slides up, the curve of your ass sneaking out. Flashing cameras are there to capture the image. You keep your eyes cast down, gritting your teeth.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook reaches down and yanks the hemline of the dress back over your ass. You don’t dare lift your eyes, but you freeze under the movement.

“Try not to flash your ass unless I ask you to.”

Your nose flares. “Yes, dominus.”

Again, you fall silent as you enter the luxurious hotel and take the elevator to the party. You’re still dizzy from the flashes of cameras, but it fades as the elevator doors open and unveils the world beyond.

So we’ll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies….

The quote comes from a memory or a dream. You’re not entirely sure of the origin or the meaning. But the words haunt your mind as you step into the room, taking one sweeping glance at the gilded crowd.

Creatures of all manners cluster together in the gold-ceiling ballroom. High ceilings painted gold with images of the war look down on you. There are ornate cages of Vanir suspended in the room, all winged and painted beautifully. They pose for the crowd who look up at them, pointing at the variety: erelim, valkyrie, pixies, drakon, and other various fae.

Round tables with living centerpieces are scattered in the room. Androgynous figures painted entirely in gold stand straight, hands held up in front of them with a display of asphodel and ghost orchids. A band of vilas plays string instruments in the corner of the room.

Collared Vanir with serving trays bow and offer flutes of champagne to Jungkook and Namjoon. Both Vaesen takes a drink, ignoring you as they step into the room. You’re unsure if it’s you or Jungkook, but as you walk down the steps, careful to keep your eyes down and close behind Jungkook, you sense the turn in the room.

Voices grow quieter. The weight of eyes and shifting magic stirs. Jungkook walks into the party, shoes clicking on the marble floor as though he doesn’t notice. You know he does, but he has that calm exterior on again. The mask that he wears.

Jungkook greets people he knows politely. Namjoon has long since parted, spotting other people he knows. Other Vaesen bow deeply and their Vanir deeper still. The first few Vaesen he greets don’t ask about you, but you feel the weight of their gazes. Jungkook ignores you, not sparing you a second glance or a command as he moves around the room.

You can hear whispers as he walks by. People who mutter insults under their breaths. People sigh in delight as he walks by them. People who are inquisitive about you. Jungkook has to hear them, but he ignores them anyway, shaking hands with a member of some board that works under his family.

“My Lord, you have got quite the collared. Is she Carved?” The oni asks.

“She is. She was a gift from Kim Taehyung.”

The next hour goes like that. Vaesen fawn over you. They ask Jungkook to touch you. He lets them. Most of the touches are shy and innocent. A brush across your cheek. Hovered hands over your arms. A prod to the shoulder. It’s rude to fondle a master’s Vaesen without permission, and no one asks Jungkook for more than that.

Still, it irks you. Every brush of contact leaves a shadow of a print. Every caress chips away at your patience.

Guiding you toward a large table at the head of the room, Jungkook’s persona changes. His shoulders are less tense and you feel a bubble of happiness slide from him at the family you’re approaching.

A woman so beautiful it makes you cease moving is sitting at the table. She isn’t looking at you, but hissing at the child next to her to behave. The woman’s hair is long and black, looking soft like silk. Her round face and almond eyes give her an innocent look, a natural blush to her lips and cheeks. She is slight, but you can feel the malevolence from her, especially as she smacks the hand of the child and says something harshly to the little girl, who cries.

The woman looks up at Jungkook’s arrival, her eyes flickering different shades of blue, silver, and grey. You realize she’s a huli jing, her fox spirit crackling inside of her gaze.

Sweeping around the table and toward the pair, Jungkook greets the little girl warmly. He gives a stiff nod to the woman briefly before he bends down to talk to the little girl, wiping the tears from her eyes. You realize that the little girl looks startling like him – same round eyes and pink pout.

The man who appears on the other side of her must be Jungkook’s brother. They look incredibly similar, though Jungkook’s brother is taller and broader. His hair is also snow white. He has the same round eyes as Jungkook, which are wholly black and fathomless like Belial.

“Don’t spoil her,” he chides. “You always spoil her.”

“She’s my only niece, Jihoon. Let me do what I wish.”

Jihoon’s lip twitches as Jungkook kisses his niece – Kita – on the forehead and stands.

You stand and watch as he interacts with his family. He completely ignores you. None of them turn to look at you either, at first. It’s the little girl, who is sneaking chocolate-covered cherries when her mother isn’t looking that asks about you.

“Is that an angel?” her voice is soft, but carries.

Jihoon looks in your direction for the first time since starting the conversation. His expression is unreadable. “It is,” he says slowly. “Keen eye, Kita.  Daiyu, take your daughter to clean the chocolate from her hands.”

The fox shifter – Daiyu – snarls at her daughter. “I told you to stop eating those!”

Daiyu grabs her daughter by the hand, yanking her from the table. They get lost in the crowd, but you can see the little chocolate handprints Kita left on the white linen tablecloths.

“Why do you have a Carved?” Jihoon’s tone is even, but you can swear there is animosity as he regards you from the corner of his eye. “I don’t like Carved.”

“Taehyung bought her for me as a gift.”

“Give her to him, then. You don’t even like owning slaves.”

Jungkook sighs. “I just came to tell you happy birthday.”

Jihoon huffs. “I’m serious. Consider giving it away. Strange things happen to those who own Carved angels.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but gives his older brother a clap on the shoulder before he steers you to a mostly empty bar in another room of the party. The sweet scent of tobacco cloys the air. Most of the Vaesen in the room sit on leather couches, feet kicked up on their Vanir who kneel for them or who have their hand wrapped in the leash of the Vanir at their side.

“Wait here,” Jungkook orders you. You’re standing next to an empty seat in the corner of the room. You bow your head to let him know you’ve heard him, but you don’t use the honorific, irritated. His jaw flexes and he heads to the bar.

You study the intricate marble of the floor beneath your feet. Little veins of black and gold shoot through the white stone. It looks like a river delta, with offshoot rivers of gold and black threading through the world.

Hair tingles on the nape of your neck and something trickle down your spine. You glance out of the corner of your eye to see Kim Taehyung enter the room with a shorter man at his side. Taehyung is dressed in all white. His white, paneled shirt is tucked into wide-leg pants of the same material. A loose-fitted suit jacket finishes the ensemble. He looks ethereal and otherworldly, a single white feather dangles in one of his ears.

Taehyung spots you, drifting toward you. Though you don’t look at him directly, you can see that something shimmers on his skin. Making him look angelic, bringing out the tawny hues of his complexion.

“I knew that dress would be perfect for you,” Taehyung purrs as a way of greeting. He smells like lavender and something darker than you can’t pinpoint. “Such a pretty little thing. I should have kept you for myself.”

“Thank you for the dress, dominus.” You make your voice robotic.

Taehyung does not introduce the man at his elbow. You can make out his image in your peripheral: dark black hair swept back off of his forehead. Dressed in all black, though his outfit is understated. Earrings glitter in his ears, and there is a glowing aura when he moves.

Kitsune.

You know it without having to look. He feels ancient and powerful, a familiar feeling.

Instead of acknowledging the Vaesen, you’re focused on keeping your breath even as Taehyung invades your space. His breath is warm and heady against your forehead. You stare at his shows as his fingers dance up your arm, brushing goosebumps into your skin until he reaches your throat, tapping on the diamond.

“He gave you his mother’s? Really?” You say nothing. Do nothing. Something greasy and ugly twists in your stomach as Taehyung lowers his voice and his head. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the faint lavender, and… Japanese blossom, you think. “I’m going to have to ask Jungkookie to borrow you some time. Just need a little taste.”

“I would be honored, dominus?”

“Yeah? My other Carved loves to suck cock. Think you could take me in that cute little mouth of yours? Wanna see you drooling and choking on it.”

“I would be honored, dominus.”

Taehyung grits his teeth and his fingers grip the jewel at your throat. “You are not a fucking robot. I saw you on that killing field. Where is that personality now, hmm?”

“I apologize, dominus.”

He growls and pulls at the diamond. You growl in return, the sound so brief that you hope perhaps he doesn’t hear it. He grips your throat and you know he had. “There you are. Do I have to poke and prod you to come out and play?”

“Hello, Taehyung.” Jungkook’s voice cuts through Taehyung’s timbre. You feel the most surprising emotion at his arrival – relief. Taehyung makes your skin crawl, the oil of his words slipping down into the deepest parts of you. The kitsune is at Jungkook’s back, keen eyes pinning into you. You ignore him, though you realize he had retrieved Jungkook.

“Thank you for sending the dress. I’m incredibly grateful.”

“You should take better care of it,” Taehyung greets, but doesn’t move away. His nimble fingers are wrapped around your throat. You realize that the other Vaesen has left the room. “All my hard-earned money and she doesn’t even look like you’ve used her.”

“I can use her how I want, Tae.”

“Meh,” Taehyung sighs, letting you go with a little shove. “I want to borrow her.”

“Another time.”

“Hmm. I’ll hold you to that. What did your father think of her?”

Just like that, Taehyung’s interest in you fades. You steal a glance at the kitsune, but he isn’t looking at you. He has moved away from the three of you toward the bar, uninterested in the conversation. There is nothing for you to do but stare at your shoes and burn in the growing hatred for Kim Taehyung.

If Jungkook is bothered by Taehyung’s rugged handling of you, he shows no sign. For some reason, it bothers you more. As your master, he is supposed to take more pride in owning a Carved. But so far tonight, he has shown little interest in treating you like a prize or something to be proud of.

You almost think that he’s trying to give you space and shed as little light on you as possible, which won’t do.

“You want her to fight in a Vaesen pit?” Jungkook asks, voice skeptical. That catches your attention. “Why would I send a Carved angel to that cesspool? They won’t even let her in. She’d destroy the creatures that fight there.”

“There’s an elite Vaesen pit now. They fight outside the rules of the Titan Leagues but they’re made of better shit than the Vasen pits. And they allow synth moderated creatures to fight.”

“Sounds illegal.”

“Sounds fun.”

Jungkook hums. “Let me know when you need her.” He checks his watch. “Preferably not this weekend, please.”

Taehyung laughs and claps Jungkook on the back. You go red with rage. You agreed that you served Jungkook in the public, but fighting in the seedy, unregulated rings of Vanir and Vaesen for Taehyung was not a part of that agreement.

Jungkook glances at you. Senses the ill-managed temper. He sighs and turns to Taehyung, perhaps to take back his offer to lend you. You’re unsure, and Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say anything.

Screams interrupt the conversation. You turn to look in the direction you’re coming from. People are running and the sound of chaos and snarls comes from somewhere in the main room. You smell blood and smoke and then it hits you.

You smell the honey-scent of the seraphim.

-

D E F I N I T I O N S

Carved – angels who have had their wings surgically removed and sold for ownership. The possession of an angel’s wings gives the owner power over the angel’s grace, thereby giving them power over the angel.

Chokes – electronic cuffs with micro-needles that send signals to the nerves and nervous system to block channeling magic – most often used on glaedia

Collared – a Vanir who is owned as a slave. They are often identifiable by the custom collars their masters put on their necks.

Dominus – term used by a slave to their male identifying master

Erelim - class of angel referenced in the book of Isaiah

Endarkened - the offspring of demons and angel unions with demon-dominant blood; considered Vaesen

Enlightened - the offspring of demons and angel unions with angel-dominant blood; considered Vanir

Huli jing - Chinese fox spirit; similar to the Kitsune

Lares - spiritual guardians in Roman mythology

Lilins - the offspring of the First Demon, Lilith, an the seraphim, most notably with the angels Uriel and Raphael. They are the perfect balance of Vanir and Vaesen and were used as spies during the war.

Malakim – refers to the angels associated with Shamayim (Judaism)

Malaikah – refers to angels associated with Jannah (Islam)

Nephilim – those who are half-angel, half-human

Seraph - a single angel, one of the seraphim

Seraphim - species of angels associated with Christian heaven, soldiers of God

Triumvirate – the three Lords who rule the Realms – figures of the Underworld

Vaesen – creatures associated with Underworld Realms such as demons, daevas, sorcerers, vampires, wraiths, and monster-like creatures

Vanir – creatures associated with Heaven Realms such as angels, faeries, witches, dragons, demigods and any heavenly-like being

Yomi Worm - came from my brain but fashioned from the story of maggots growing out of Izanami's body in the underworld Yomi after she died

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST: 

@purest-expressionofgrief @pshychives @gaea23 @gimmethatagustd @here4btsfics @rae-sparda @jakiki94 @helenazbmrskai @autumnbear @jjkeverlast @borareadsfics @lilacdreams-00 @tetesland @saweetspoiled @liz3056 @mashedpotittiess @sugarwithtea @sevenpersona @thehuntresswolf @zae007live

OTHER TAGS:

@witchfqllen @happy @gamerrose123 @luvchim @softbbyg0rl @sweetieguk @athenakyle @kotl-b @drinkingbloodinthe-darkness @whotfismolly

If you do not see your tag here, your tagging is not working, or you have been removed due to no interaction on a tagged post for longer than three weeks. To remove yourself from a tag list, click here. To add yourself to a tag list, click here. PLEASE CHECK YOUR TAG SETTINGS. Some of you do not have tagging avail. and will not be notified.

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER /

---