Genre: AU, supernatural
Prompt: Adopted the prompt by kpopbee and written with her permission.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the story. I wish I had YunJae and if I had my way, they'd move to New Zealand so they can be civil-unionised here :P
Summary: There is a war brewing for control of Hell and the result hangs on the slim, pale shoulders of a young human. As pure and white as snow, yet the mark of the devil is on him, Jaejoong is destined to be the forsaken one. The bride of the Lucifer himself, his destiny was written from the day he was born on the 6th day of the 6th month of the 6th year of the new millennium. He may be the pawn of Destiny, his future supposedly damned, but a demonic prophecy throws chaos into the mix and nothing is certain anymore.
AN: Boy meets Devil… And the world explodes… THE END! :P
Every single night since his 18th birthday it’s been the same. He wonders if there’s something wrong with his body. He still has those dreams, and in fact they are more vivid than ever. However it is always in that darkened room, and the face of his lover is known to him. A face so beautiful it almost hurts him to remember it, and it makes him sick to know that they may never meet, that it is all a dream.
But is it really?
Jaejoong is starting to wonder, because what characterised two years of dreams is the fact that he wakes up covered in his own cum. Since his 18th birthday though, the dreams have become more vivid and brutal, but they are characterised by an increasingly weakening and aching body, and the innate longing to sleep forever. There is no cum even though he knows he comes every single night. He knows it like he knows the back of his own hand. It has been a month since his birthday and he can feel the changes in him, and he cannot begin to care. It is as if he is no longer interested in the world, and his surroundings. His grades are slipping, and he is losing friends by the day, but it is not about anything he does. It is about what he doesn’t do. Jaejoong is indifferent, and that cold indifference is very palpable. It surrounds him almost like a force field, repelling anyone who comes close. All he has to do is level a steady gaze, his doe eyes are piercing in their intensity, and whoever approaches usually thinks twice, before turning and walking away.
First animals, then plants and now people.
But he doesn’t notice the change in his outward behaviour. He is too focused on his daydreams of the man who pleasures him so thoroughly each night. While he used to feel a little embarrassed about it, going around with a semi-permanent boner is not unheard of in the last month, and he shrugs it off as a natural state. He goes through the drudgery of his day on automaton, living for the night when he is once again in the brutal embrace of the sinfully handsome man with the voice like liquid sex, who works over his body, seemingly knowing exactly what he wants without being asked. Each touch is like fire to his skin, lighting his body, and instead of shying away from the flame, he wants to burn even more. He will willingly walk through the pits of Hell to get to the man, not knowing that the man is essentially Hell itself.
He sits and stares at the empty desk in front of him, wondering whether he will meet his lover in his dreams if he dozes off during the day. He has tried taking sleeping pills, but they don’t seem to work, his body rejecting them almost immediately. Actually, most medication ends up like that. He has tried taking supplements and tonics and painkillers, to counter his aching body but he throws them all back up. He feels an increasing hunger for red meat, the bloodier the better, much to the disgust of his mother. It is a good thing he knows how to cook, and so he does, searing the meat for a few seconds on each side before digging in. He eats before anyone gets home, and is in bed and well on his way into the arms of the mysterious man of his dreams before anyone even gets home. In the month since his 18th birthday, Jaejoong is in bed by six, and doesn’t stir till seven the next morning.
He doesn’t find this odd at all. His innocence is so absolute, his mind blocking out the obvious, that he cannot even see the corruption within his own body and soul.
His physical appearance deteriorates as well in that time. He becomes thinner, his face gaunt, dark rings under his eyes as if he never sleeps, leading one of his sisters to comment that he looks like Death itself. He smiles at the comparison, oddly uninsulted. Jaejoong is still beautiful, because even as his body thins, and his cheekbones stick out in sharp relief on his face that they could probably cut glass, there is an almost ethereal glow about him. He becomes paler each day, his jet black hair a stark contrast to the incandescence that his skin is becoming. It is unreal. It is unnatural. But nobody comments. Every time they try, something stops them. And that something is the look in Jaejoong’s eyes, as if he knows something you don’t, and the implication of that gaze is that you really don’t want to know the truth.
Jaejoong himself is still in the dark. His intellect is not yet aware of, or doesn’t want to be made aware of, what his soul already knows. He is damned. Damned as the bride of the Devil, damned to carry his bloodline, damned to an eternity as the lover of Lucifer, unable to touch the grace of heaven or its sanctity. But is he really damned? Two prophecies float around, the first one fulfilled. And in the fulfillment of the first lays the path to fulfillment of the second and upon the manifestation of the second prophecy, will a third prophecy be revealed. A prophecy that will only eventuate through the strength of Jaejoong alone.
However, all this is vague and obscure to both human and demon soothsayers alike. The weight they give to the first prophecy is greatly unbalanced compared to its importance because of how grand it sounds. Their focus on that prophecy will be their undoing, as the second prophecy slowly comes to pass, deep within the beautiful teenager. The teenager touched by Satan himself, and the pawn of Destiny. His true mortality leaves him the night of his 18th birthday, the second he answers to the call of the Devil. He hasn’t died in the traditional sense of the word, but in fulfillment of the first prophecy, he has ceased to be mortal.
The Universe is his for the taking, if only the teenager knew.
But even the Devil doesn’t know this, too arrogant in believing that it is he who is the subject of the prophecy, never imagining for even an instance that it is actually his bride. There are clues though, that he should have taken note of but in his immense self-importance and disdain for the mortal world, he doesn’t notice that his bride’s physical strength rivals his in their bedroom, that what his bride wants, the Devil is unable to say no to. Perhaps it is not really the Dark Prince’s fault though, since the only thing Jaejoong wants is Yunho.
His demon minder has become increasingly perplexed over the last month, not daring to report back the strange happenings to his Lord and Master. The teenager looks physically weaker, but even he can sense the change in his aura. The boy no longer casts a shadow on the ground. It is as if he absorbs the light and becomes it. No one else seems to notice this odd occurrence, and that is perhaps because the sun barely shines anymore. A cloud follows the boy, as if protecting him from the light, and Yoochun has actually witnessed clouds detaching on a still day to shelter the teenager. It is highly unnatural, and he knows it is not his own doing, nor is it his Overlord’s because the taste of the supernatural occurrence is not the same. It is something he has never encountered before and he would rather watch and wait, since the boy isn’t in any immediate danger.
It is not just that though, the force field around the boy repels everyone. Yoochun knows the humans are chased off by his cold gaze, but it is more than that. The realm of the djinn and ghosts are also affected. He has never seen a human be able to affect that other world the way Jaejoong does. Even in the last two years, when Jaejoong’s mark as the bride of Satan is clear, it has never stopped all manner of foul creature to try and get close to the beautiful boy. Despite the warning of the Devil, Yoochun has had to dispose of several rather unfortunate creatures who dare to cross paths with the teenager. However, now he feels like he is not earning his keep. Those very same creatures steer clear of Jaejoong, and Yoochun is practically out of a job. Sometimes he wonders if the boy can see into the other world, as he stares blankly out into space. Anything his eyes land on, turns tail and runs.
Just last week, some of Jiyong minions had tried to attack the boy, and Yoochun simply watched in awe as a storm raged down on the school, concentrated on the football field where Jaejoong lay on his back staring up at the dark sky. The unnatural storm was brought by those demons seeking retribution for their master, but nothing touches Jaejoong. It is almost comical the way he disposes of each demon. To any human watching, the boy is just lying in the field, soaking up the rain, enjoying being battered by the elements as he snaps his fingers to a song only he can hear in his head.
With each snap, a demon vaporises.
Yoochun stays a safe distance away, not too keen on being vaporised himself, but it is as if Jaejoong acknowledges that he means no harm. Once all the demons are gone, and the storm subsides, the boy sits up, soaking wet, blinking as if he’s been asleep. He turns in Yoochun’s direction, and smiles at him before getting up and walking away.
He really has no idea what to tell the Master of the Underworld. Oh hello, by the way, your mortal bride is stronger than most demons. You know how you set me the task of making sure no one touches him? He’s doing a far better job of it than I ever could. Yoochun shudders, hoping that his judgment is sound in not saying anything to the Devil just yet.
Jaejoong is currently sitting in the Principal’s office, called there because for the umpteenth time that month, he hasn’t turned in his homework. Giving him detention or more study hall is of no use because he just sits there and stares out the window. His teachers are becoming increasingly worried, and his closer friends are trying to shake off the chill they feel in his presence in order to get him to talk. But all they get is a cold, empty smile for their troubles. Jaejoong’s countenance simply doesn’t invite interaction.
He amuses himself, if amuse is the right word, killing plants as he waits. The waiting area is a veritable indoor jungle as their Principal is an avid horticulturalist. His presence alone, in that room of greenery, has the plants drawing back, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Had the Principal’s secretary looked in, she might have seen the plants leaning outwards, away from Jaejoong, as if he is ground zero of a bomb site and the plants indicate the blast radius. If plants could walk, they would probably be heading out the door. But they cannot. While this formerly made him sad, Jaejoong is now blind to what his presence does and the results of his seemingly mindless actions. That part of his brain that shuts off whenever something bad occurs around him, making him unable to see bad in anything, works in his favour as well. He can no longer see what he does. He starts walking around the room in an anti-clockwise direction, eyes blind to anything as his mind replays his lover playing his body like an instrument. His palm is out, and as he approaches each living thing, they shy away, turning brown, before shriveling up completely and dying.
The destruction is absolute.
By the time he is done with his short walk, eyes unfocused as he stares out ahead of him, unaware of what he has done, the room is a mess of decay. Nothing lives within it, not anymore. And it is to this horror that his Principal walks into.
Jaejoong’s parents are called and he is whisked home, suspended from school for the rest of the week. His mother berates him as they drive, his father is silent. Neither can understand the change that has come over their only son. Their perfect child that has turned into someone unrecognisable since his 18th birthday. When his father finally speaks, his voice is firm and resolute.
“You are going to the hospital.”
Jaejoong turns from looking out the window, lifting his head to meet his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His stare is not toned down simply because this is his father. To Jaejoong though, he is simply looking at his father. To his father, his son looks as if he is plotting his demise. The teenager is still innocent in that regard. He doesn’t ever mean anything he does. It just happens, and he is blissfully oblivious, too wrapped up in his dreams. The power he wields manifests itself without him actually consciously realising or recognising it. However his soul knows who he is, and it reacts to protect him from harm, even if no harm is truly meant.
His father shivers at the baleful glance his son is giving him, but he pushes on, ignoring the warning bells in his head that he really shouldn’t. That he should just live and let lie. That making his son do anything against his will is not worth the pain that will follow. That glance promises pain. How did someone so pure become so corrupt? Has he failed as a father, to protect his only son from the evils of the world? Has something happened to change the smiling child, so full of life and verve, loved by everyone, into this hollow shell? A shell that is still outwardly, inhumanly beautiful, but behind his eyes lie a darkness that seems to have come up out of nowhere.
Jaejoong is unaware of all this. Blissfully so. He doesn’t believe he has changed much. He just doesn’t care about things anymore. He lives to sleep and he eats because his body craves it. But other than that, he simply exists. If he takes but a moment to examine himself, he might catch a glimpse the power he wields, for there is none more powerful than he that walks the earth. He draws his strength from the Destiny that awaits him, for each day, the second prophecy is closer and closer to manifestation. His mortal body grows weak, dying, unable to cope with the weight of his demonic offspring currently growing within him, but his soul strengthens with each passing second.
They draw to a stop in front of a private hospital, and Jaejoong can see several men and women waiting at the front entrance. They are talking, but they fall silent when his parents get out of the car. Jaejoong however stays seated. He doesn’t care to go into the hospital, and so he doesn’t move.
“Jaejoong, get out.”
He turns, blinking in the sunlight, frowning as it hurts his eyes, trying to make out the features of his father standing outside his open door.
His belly clenches.
Clouds gather, and in mere seconds, the sun is hidden behind a thick wall of angry dark clouds.
Thunder crashes overhead, and the wind picks up.
Father and son stare at each other. Mr. Kim shivers as the chill emanating from his son seems to spread and permeate their very surroundings. He believes it fanciful imaginings on his part, but there is truth in it. The sudden change in weather is not natural.
Jaejoong is built to protect. That is why he is the destined one. His angelic countenance is coupled with a will of iron, and a strength of soul that was predetermined before he was even born. Jaejoong will protect at all costs. His soul recognises this, and once his mind connects the dots, nothing will survive in the face of his need to protect those dear to him. His mortal parents are of no consequence anymore, for he is here to protect what is growing within him at that very moment. To protect the ultimate manifestation of the prophecy.
The Universe is crying at the imbalance within it. The Devil is far too strong, and it cannot remain thus. Balance must be restored, and it is upon Jaejoong to protect the future, and there will be no future for all four worlds if the second prophecy is not allowed to come to pass. Nobody knows this. Not human nor demon, nor any other creature in between. They are all comfortable in the status quo, and they fear the coupling of the Devil and his bride for all the wrong reasons. All they see is chaos, the upset of their worlds as they know it, not realising that they are all doomed anyway.
Doomed till Jaejoong was brought into this world, the child of Destiny itself. The forsaken one. He needs to protect the future.
Jaejoong blinks, and lightning strikes not two feet away from the car.
“Jaejoong, I’m not having anymore of this. Get out of the car.”
His father is starting to despair as rain begins to come down heavily, lightning strikes again, a little closer this time and he can practically feel the electricity crackling in the air. The desperation is clear in his voice as he worries for his only son.
“Jaejoong, please. I don’t want the storm to hurt you.”
The teenager reacts to the genuine plea, because in that instance, his mortal father wants nothing more than to save his son from the raging weather. His soul recognises this, and Jaejoong acquiesces, stepping out of the car. As he walks the short distance to the entrance, not hurrying despite the howling wind and driving rain, he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns, and the face that he sees almost sends him to his knees. He watches as the tall man clad in black simply stands there, looking him up and down. As their eyes meet, Jaejoong’s world blacks out.
Jaejoong bolts upright, shaking and gasping, clutching at the sheets, his right hand clamouring, as if searching for something. And he finds that something, as it comes in contact with a warm body. He turns in shock, finding his hand upon the nude side of a man turned away from him. He draws his hand back sharply, trying to stifle his terrified panting breaths, his eyes darting around the room as his head turns from side to side, trying to determine his location. A room that isn’t his own, yet strangely familiar to him. Pitch black darkness colours three of the walls, but the fourth is lit by a row of flames. He cannot see through the flames, and even as he squints, he decides he really doesn’t want to know what lies on the other side of that wall of fire.
He can feel his heart racing in his chest, practically jumping and clamouring at his throat, and he fights to calm down. He has never woken anywhere but in his own room, and as his gaze travels around the vast space, empty apart from the large bed he is sitting in with an occupant he knows not, he realises where he is.
“Am I dreaming?”
At his words, his bedmate stirs, turning, not bothering to cover himself as the sheets slip off his naked torso, exposing him to Jaejoong’s eyes, causing the boy to blush ferociously, even as he stares.
“Do you think you’re dreaming?”
He knows that voice.
Jaejoong drags his eyes up, drinking in every dip and and curve of the man’s musculature, as his slowly heating gaze travels up over his belly and chest. He can feel his body responding to the sight alone, and he almost moans out loud. His eyes travel over those perfect cupid bow lips he knows so well, over that nose, till he is looking into black glittering almond eyes. The man has no pupils, and this should terrify him, but it doesn’t.
He knows this man.
“Are you real?”
Instead of answering the man smirks, lifting himself up so he is resting on his elbows. He cocks an eyebrow, as if in invitation and Jaejoong takes it as one, his body yearning to be close to this man, as he turns and leans down to steal a kiss, as if that will ascertain his reality.
In the instance their lips meet, he is suddenly flipped onto his back, the man looming over him, a wicked smile playing about his lips as he drops his head to capture Jaejoong’s parted lips, even as he settles between his thighs. This is more than familiar to him, as he reacts instinctively, tilting his hips upwards to meet the man’s hardness, wrapping his legs around his torso as they kiss. It is a kiss of possession, of ownership, as the man practically pushes him into the bed, devouring his mouth and not allowing Jaejoong any kind of choice in how he responds.
When their mouths finally part, Jaejoong panting harshly, the man not even winded, smirking wickedly down at him, he trails light fingers up the man’s torso. Lightly dancing over solid muscle, till he reaches his chest, and he swirls his finger around a nipple. And even as he does, a thought enters his mind, and he smiles.
He starts drawing a pattern on that hot skin. He draws over and over and over, the same words. He keeps drawing them, concentrating hard, and he hears the man gasp over him, trying to move away from his fingers, but Jaejoong’s ankles are locked in the small of his back and no matter how hard he struggles, he cannot escape the hold.
Yunho feels like his body is on fire, as he stares down in complete incredulity at his weak mortal bride. The teenager is smiling to himself, the glow on his face almost incandescent. He feels his touch on his chest, that started off as nothing but a caress, but turns into something more, so much more. Yunho has known pain only once, and that was when he was cast out of Heaven, a lowly wretched being forced to fight for his survival and fight he does. He will never allow anything to hurt him in that manner again. And yet, here he is, his skin feels as if a red hot blade is penetrating his chest, carving into him. It is a pain he should not have been able to feel.
He watches mutely, unable to utter a word, as a glow emanates from his bride’s finger. The pain sears through him, but he is unable to vocalise it, refuses to vocalise it. And then the white light intensifies, lighting up the face of his bride, a face so inhumanly beautiful that Yunho is suddenly struck by the awareness that he has somehow gotten this so very wrong. He stares down at his bride, stunned when the teenager’s eyes suddenly flare red, before dulling back to the glittering ebony jewels they always are in this room. The pain in his chest is at critical point at the flare, and then suddenly it vanishes. The light is gone, and Yunho almost gasps at the sudden sweetness of relief.
Jaejoong turns up towards him, an angelic smile upon his face.
Yunho frowns at the word, looking down his body and this time, he is unable to stop the gasp that escapes his lips. Branded upon his chest, just over his left nipple, the darkest black you can imagine against his skin are two characters.
What Jaejoong wants, Jaejoong gets.
AN: Lol whoever read my AN up top and panicked. Sorry ;-) I was feeling random. Real life suddenly got extra insane, I found myself babysitting four kids aged between 13 months (my Jiyool inspiration) and 8yrs old last night. I’m still babysitting actually. I suddenly find myself with the patience of a saint OTL It’s a miracle this even got posted today.