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sexygrass · 4 months

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Sweet But Psycho| J.JH

"If we can fuck louder than the voices in my head this might work out"

Pairing: cheater!jaehyun x fem!reader x cop!doyoung x bff! johnny

Genre: infidelity au/ psychopath au (is this even a thing?) Thriller, fluff, and humor if you squint

Summery: link

Warning: Smut, fingerings (f receiving), oral (f receiving), public sex, voyeurism, somnophilia, body worship, praising, love making, crying, unprotected sex (don't be dumb), reader is a manipulator, gaslighting, mention of past trauma and killing a family member, self-harm, jealousy, Graphic Description of Violence, Graphic description of murder, drugging (reader uses poison), reader is lowkey a psycho, doyoung is lowkey a yandere with psychopath tendencies, he's a little bit tiny minny obsessed with reader, implying that doyoung killed reader's ex lovers, stalker!doyoung, best boy! johnny, death of some characters, implying of blackmailing. Jeno, jungwoo, and jisung mentioned.

Word Count: 20k ~ 30k give or take :) I didn't count :)

A/N: Well...it had been a ride, honestly. Like, it's here finally, so please take it. I had literally many breakdowns finishing it. Writing psychopath characters was indeed challenging, and I hope I did well. Merry Christmas for those who celebrate it, I don't, but like happy holidays!

●Play List:

"Sweet But Psycho" Ava Max / "Control" Husley / "save me" BTS / "So Am I" Ava Max / "Copycat" Bellie Eilish / "Cradles" Sub Urban / "Teeth" 5 S.O.F

"From the very beginning, I realized I saw the world differently than everyone else. That didn't sit well with some people. But I wasn't for everyone....I guess they were all scared...that I'd be...a psycho."

— Cruella de Vil

Enjoy~

Before him, your days were filled with the hum of the traffic outside your apartment window and voices of the bristling life down the road where people actually lived their life. Their chatter was all you heard as you sat near your window, watching them while sipping some wine as you drifted deep in your demented thoughts.

behind your mask of civility, the demons within you were clawing to be set free. Behind your smiles was a deranged person with a craving for pain, yet to people standing around you, you always were calm and collected and charming woman. No one knew about the whispering. No one knew about the shadowy figures you were catching glimpses of occasionally. No one knew about the conversations in your head about a desire to kill everyone around you and walking out.

There was no color in your life, no warmth, no vitality - just a constant gray, meaningless existence, and loneliness. You always were at the center of the gatherings. You always had someone keeping your ear bleeding, but you were always lonely in crowded rooms.

Your sole motivation in life was working to have enough money to live peacefully and luxuriously, so you won't need anyone's help.

Before him, your life had been a cycle of working and sleeping, avoiding any human interactions if possible. You always found it hard to understand the people around you. It was as if they were speaking a language you can't understand, expressing emotions you can't understand, doing things that seemed meaningless to you.

But after years of learning how to mimic emotions, you finally learned how to blend in. You discovered you were an amazing charmer and a smooth talker, and you learned how to use it to your benefit. manipulation, yes—but to you, it was a means in gaining a position in society which came many perks with it such as having many influential people at your disposal to use for your own personal gains.

You got a taste of what the world could offer from sweets, but you knew all those men you toyed with and messed with liked you for your looks and your fake facade, and that eventually bore you. It wasn't what you wanted. What you needed was to stop feeling lonely and dissatisfied with your dul life, not some men to waste your precious time at.

The thing is, you had never experienced anything like that genuine love or attention you saw in movies and read about in books from anyone. The type of love that can mend a broken soul but you knew even if you had it, you wont understand it or know what to do with it but that didn't stop you from craving it, because deep down in yourself, you craved to be loved and to be cared for.

You had always been curious about how all that worked; falling in love or having someone love you back because not even your own family cared about you.

they gave you nothing but trauma and distorted childhood that aided in making you stand out from society and to be detached from reality. Your childhood killed everything good in your heart, leaving nothing but void.

Over the years, you started to notice people easily open up to you and share their secrets with you. Saw a friend in you, a comrade, an opportunity. They liked your overall charisma and your (fake) easy going personality, and to your surprise, you found yourself attending more different social gatherings where you had met many powerful figures that showed interest in you not for just your beauty and look but for your wit and smart talk.

With all these new emotions swarming you, it felt foreign yet overwhelming, and you enjoyed the attention and loved being in the center of the attention for a different reason, something you had always seeked, but yet something was missing.

It was indeed overwhelming and amazing at first, but again, you got bored very quickly. It was always the same type of men with the same personality traits who used to be your source of entertainment, but now, you dreaded them.

It didn't bring you genuine joy or fulfillment like you thought. Even the satisfaction of ruining those rich men and draining them of their wealth faded, now it brought you no joy.

Using people around you started getting easier and brought no entertainment to you. You were master at manipulation, and that earned you everywhere you wanted, but that was boring. Something was missing.

You lived day by day, feeling like a cog in a machine, going through the motions without any real meaning. Something was missing.

You know you were different, unable to function like normal people do — either the lack of exhibiting sympathy or any empathic intelligent— you just know you were unable to experience the same emotions like them, but that didn't stop you from wishing, hoping that one day you'll be find the thing you're missing.

Till a party occurred and you found your missing piece.

While deep in a conventional with the host of the party, your eyes caught a face among the crowd for a split second then you looked back at the woman but when you registered what you had seen—the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on—you looked back only to see him already looking at you.

With a small smirk, you looked down before looking back at the woman who was busy gushing to you how much she spent on the party. You could feel you were still smirking. You were so excited to have this one. You didn't hear a word of what dahyun said.

"Are you with me?" She snapped her fingers in front of you, "who's that guy?" You ignored her question and pointed your glass in the man's direction across the room, "the one with dimple smile." You added.

Furrownig her brows, dahyun look where you ushered and her brows lifted, an exclaimed sound leaving her. "That's Jung Jaehyun! I didn't know he's back from the States. I heard he's the ceo of their family's company. It's like a million dollar company."

Humming, you saw him lifting his glass in your side with a small grin before chugging it, making you smile and look away and back at the beautiful woman in front of you.

Flirting with him was way too easy. few compliments on his suit, handsomeness, and success to boost his ego were a good start because in today's society, men do not get heard or seen for who they are. So, to see the masculine in him, compliment him on his efforts and success, to make him feel special and unique, and competent would certainly flick something in him. admire him for his true qualities and validate the things that he does well made him admire you, because you made him seen and you my girl, my woman, were quite the expert in manipulation.

At first, you couldn't believe that a man as charming and handsome as him could be idiot enough to fall for a woman like you. He willingly dropped in your hand, and you had no plans to let him leave.

But then he slowly became a part of your life, and everything changed. He was like a ray of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope that showed you that there was more to life than just surviving your demons.

With the trauma you had endured in the past, you were wary of anyone being overly nice to you but by time, you found yourself doing somewhat new—feeling something new—you began staying up late on the phone and FaceTime just to spend more time with him, and you found that you were smiling more and more and for the first time in a long time.

After him, everything changed. He made you feel seen, heard for who you are (was) because your current self wasn't accepted, you're aware of that so you acted the way you used to before everthing went off the rail.

He made you feel as if your opinions and ideas mattered. Made you feel valued in a way that no one had ever done before. For the first time, you felt appreciated for who you truly are, felt alive, like there was a reason to wake up in the morning and face the day.

He was the lost piece.

Your new sweetest obsession.

you felt a spark of excitement in your chest, a feeling you had thought was lost forever.

As you spent more time with him, you realized you were slowly falling for him despite your reservations about trusting him.

You knew you were taking a risk, but the feeling of being in love was too strong to ignore. You felt alive again, like your life had meaning, and you were finally experiencing something other than fear and lost — you loved the feeling of experiencing the type of love you craved for the first time.

Against your better judgment, you let down your guard and began to fall for him.

On one hand, you were terrified that he would inevitably betray you like everyone else in your life, But on the other hand, the thought of being loved by someone as charming as him was intoxicating. You knew it could go either way, but you were ready to face whatever the future held.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle anything."

Jaehyun was a handsome, rich, and successful businessman that every woman wanted him for his looks or his wealth or both and was used to getting whatever he wanted But when he met you, the mysterious pretty woman, everything changed.

Your beauty stole his breath away, so he did what he usual do; smoothing his words on you in hopes to win you over because despite your cold and aloof demeanor, he was able to sense that there was far more below the surface

To Jaehyun, you were an enigma. A strong, independent, and determined woman he can see on his side. And that appealed to him. A mysterious woman that he at first thought is mere pretty designer because he was used to women falling at his feet, but this time he found one who's different. He didn't understand why you didn't care for his wealth or his looks, but he loved that you appreciated him for who he was, not for what he had become.

You brushed off all his attempts of flirts and boyish grins he sent you across the room. Rolling your eyes, a long sigh escaping you whenever he cracks a joke. You laughed, but not because of his jokes. It was his laugh what made you laugh, "she laughs!" He cooed by your ear, leaning down a bit to get in your face, making you startle and step back. A blush creeping on your face.

"She looks even cuter when flustered," he sighed, "I'll do all I can to get you all flustered then," With a lopsided grin, he winked at you.

He could tell you were the type of woman who had been through a lot. It wasn't hard to see that you were suspicious because in your defense, he was a stranger—one who seemed too good to be true.

You've dealt with men like him, and his smooth talking didn't fool you. But instead of being discouraged, he was intrigued. He saw you as a challenge, a puzzle to be solved.

He continued to pursue you, going to great lengths to win over your trust. He showed you that he was different from other men, that he was patient and understanding, and that he cared about you, and that made your resolve slowly falling apart but not entirely.

At first, you were shallow about him, doing what you know best— using him to amuse yourself. But over time, you found yourself opening up to him, trusting him more and more.

As he got to know you, he realized that you were more than just a beautiful face; you had an interesting persona and a unique thinking with a strong will. And that's what he fell in love with.

Despite your flawed personality, you were a force to be reckoned with, and he couldn't help but admire and respect you. You simply were the woman he had been searching for, and he knew he had found her at last. And he knew losing you was not an option.

You knew you were starting to fall for him when you started constantly checking your phone for his texts after you gave him your number. You smiling whenever his name pops on the screen was an indication that you started getting used to his presence in your life or how you smile to yourself when you see him waiting for you in front of your studio in the morning to have breakfast together.

You told him you were still new to the city, and you moved only recently in search of a new start, making him desire to be the one showing you around. A damsel in distress who's ready to be taken care of by a man. A man who's him.

"Let me welcome you then. tonight, a diner, me and you, just talking and getting to know each other. I'm more than just a handsome face, you know," he'd shrug with a small grin.

"Say yes," seeing his smile with those deep dimples deep in his soft cheeks, you finlay broke down and agreed. "Okay, I'll text you my address."

You liked how he never asked anything about your past or made you uncomfortable. He was so charming and relaxed, which made you extra cautious because you knew better than to trust a charming man. Your father's an example.

You started to change. It was weird and confusing learning how to function normally, but you tried. You felt better. You think you're better.

Two Years Later...

Somehow, your innocent shopping trip went wrong. You don't know how, but you may have an inkling idea on which point. You knew any spontaneous trip with Jaehyun somehow ends up in a very questionable way. Either you get lost in Ikea, in the woods for when you take a walk after a picnic, or take the wrong way during road trips. Anything could happen, and you adapted to the idea. But god, if you were ready for this time's event.

"Jae..." You whimpered, a gasp following you when he hit that spot that had you seeing stars. Burrying your head in his neck, you held onto his shoulders for dear life.

"Gotta be quiet, doll, or they'll hear us—fuck," a breathy chuckle left his abused lips when you clenched around his swelling cock.

"Oh, you love this, don't you? You're not as reserved as you pretend to be. Love that, love that a lot," he bit your shoulder blade to muffle his moans.

"Please, jae–" your high-pitched whine is cut off by his mouth on your swollon and puffy ones with so much fervor to muffle your noises

Your legs tightened around his hips as you arched your back against the wall behind you. Your knot at verge of snapped with the tip constantly brushing your sweet spot, kissing at your cervix.

"God, that's it, princess," Jaehyun groans, nose wrinckled as he watched where you were connected, "so good for me. Taking me full like a good girl." An unfiltered moan slipped you at the pet name, and jaehyun was quick to swallow it.

What first was supposed to be an innocent shopping trip for clothes due to the season changing as the weather started getting cooler, you found yourself in the lingerie shop.

You wanted to buy new sets because yours always accidentally and spontaneously get ripped off and torn by a specific goofy boyfriend behind the excuse of 'I can buy you new ones', leaving you in need to buy new ones. You plan to buy and leave for your cozy home and cook a warm, tasty dinner for your man.

But when he spotted a deep blue lace set, he couldn't stop help but imagine how you'd look wrapped up with the beautiful piece, so he asked you to wear it for him while waiting outside your dressing room with raging hormones as if he was 16 all over again.

When you poked your head from behind the curtain and told him it's on, he wasted no time and bolted inside with you and boy if he lost his mind.

He lost count on how many times you managed to strike him with how gorgeous you look. Everything you wear always looks nice on you. Your curves and edges were so tempting. It made keeping his hands off of you the hardest task.

"Oh my fucking God, doll...you'll be the death of me one day, swear to God..." he'll mumbled whenever he sees you wearing any new dress or lingerie, just like you were at that moment.

Feeling hot under his stronge gaze, you stepped back till your bare back hit the wall, "I think I like this one. Can we buy it?" You batted your pretty lashes, playing with your hair as your legs crossed, seeking a brief relief.

You were turned on. No shock. Ever since you started dating jaehyun, there was no dull moment with him. Always sexually active, and now you were also feeling all like a teenager, too, again.

"Can we take it?" He arched a brow slowly, taking his suit jacket off, and your eyes glimmered with anticipation. "I think i won't be able to restrain myself knowing my girl be looking like this, and all for me," In a second, he pinned your wrists above your head and his mouth was on yours, your muffled gasp dying on his lips.

your lips wetly smacking on one anothers, breathing each other's air.. in this moment, it feels as though the world has completely stopped spinning—just the two of you moving.

your head tilts back, body helplessly grinding down to meet his in search of friction, thinking you were subtle but when he chuckled at how desperate you were, you whined. He ruined you, and he loved every moment of that.

Feeling his hands kneading the flesh of your sides, you panted against his mouth when he broke the kiss to bite at your neck.

"Jae, we're in public!" You moaned out but tilted your head to the side anyway to give him more access to kiss your neck, making him grin against your skin.

Feeling your legs buckle when he started sucking bruises against your collarbone, you tugged at his hair roots, and his grunt made you tug harsher.

With one hand in your hair and the other, keeping a tight grip on your hip as he guides you back onto his dick, his name fell like a mantra, your orgasm building up with every harsh thrust againt your g-spot.

His hand sneaks between your legs, finding place on your sensitive clit as he rubs it urgently.

"Holy shit–jae, wait!..I–"

"I'm not far behind you, doll. Go ahead, cum,"

With a raspy moan, you release on his cock, pussy clenching impossibly tight as you do so. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you continue to clench around him.

Jaehyun rodes you out through your high with slow and deep thrusts, "now...be good and help daddy cum" gripping his shoulders, your nails dug into his flush as picked up a brutal and ruthless pace and you indulge him, just as much as he indulges in you.

he knows you love a little bit of pain, so when je wrapped his hand around yoir neck, choking you, your eyes rolled back as your another wave of pleasurable crescendo coursed through your body resulting in a cry of his name and tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. with a groan, Jaehyun finishes inside of you, white seed painting your tight walls.

"Oh my god, Jae," you whimper, legs on the verge of giving out. Holding in his arms, hr kept on whispering how good you were for him amongst other praises to ground you after thr mind-blowing sex. "So fucking good." is all you can manage, completely drained.

"Baby, look at what you did to me," he grunt as he he checked the mess you made of him.

With a breathy chuckle, jaehyun gripped your thighs and hips like putty, hard enough to leave a bruise, and you yelped, "jae–wait–"

he rocks into you, urging you to keep moving as he pumps his cum inside your spent hole until you're so overstimulated that your juices are dripping down, coating your thighs and wetting the floor.

Both of you were sensetive as you held to each others sweaty bodies, low panting filling the room. With his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm tongue attaches itself to your skin, swiping along the expanse of your collarbone and chest.

Laying you gently on the L shaped couch, he put his clothes back before bringing some tissue from your purse, "at least one of us is prepared, huh," he chuckled and you pushed at his shoulder with your feet when he kneeled in front of you to clean you, "I can't believe we fucked in a lingerie shop," you sighed, pinching your nose.

"Won't be the worst thing we did," he shrugged, helping you back into your clothes before pulling you back on your feet.

Fixing you hair, he smiled goofingly at you before pecking your nose, "you look so fucked up—" punching his chest, he hissed, caressing the area as he followed you out of the changing room with your purse in his hand.

Once you stepped out, you realized the eyes of the staff on you, making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

going to pay for the stuff you picked, jaehyun stood behind you and swapped his credit card before you managed to read the price, making you side-eying him.

"You paid last time???" You glared at him, but he just winked at you before placing the ripped pantie on the counter, making your eyes widen.

"we're also taking the blue lingerie set," the cashier blushed, fumbling with the clothes before handing the bags for jaehyun to hold before thanking her. With an arched brow, you watched her beam with rosy cheeks. What a sight! You tilted your head at her with a dark expression and eyes void of any emotion.

Sensing the change in your aura, she looked away from jaehyun, who was focused on his phone, at you. Seeing the way you were eying her, she flinched, making you step closer to her without blinking and she coward away.

With shaky hand, she gave him his credit card back, but you quickly snatched it from her hand, making her yelp at the force.

Feeling your hand getting engulfed in jaehyuns cold hands, you snapped out of the appelling thoughts swarming your head. "Thanks, sweetie," you gave her a sinister smile that made her shiver before letting jaehyun drag you out with him.

Hearing jaehyun laughing, he drapping his arm around your shoulders, cooing at how you were glaring the whole time you left the shop. "Where you jealous, doll?" He smirked at you, "i had my dick in you just minutes ago, and I'm pretty sure they heard your pretty screams of my name. So there's no need to be jealous."

A scoff left your lips as you tried to hide your blushing face but jaehyun quickly halted, bags sliding down his wrists as his hands squished you cheeks to kiss your pouty lips, "love it when you get jealous. It's so sexy."

"That caus you're mine and hate it when they look at you." You flatly stated. Your voice naked of any emotion, just like your face as you looked him dead in the eyes. If anything, anyone can pick from your tone, It'd be possessiveness.

Jaehyun was startled for a second before giving you a dopey smile. "Yours alone. Always." Only then, slowly, a small smile curled on your lips, satisfied with his answer.

—

Pulling by the curb in front of your house, you unfastened your seat belt and looked at him when he stayed seated. "You're not coming?"

Hearing him sigh, your brows knitted, "Honey," you placed your hand on his forearm, "it's the fourth time this month. Why are you overworking yourself like this?" You calmly asked.

"I know, I know," jaehyun sighed, taking your hand that was caressing his arm and brought it to his mouth to kiss your palm; a habit he does to sooth you whenever he feels you're nervous or stressed or sad.

"Promise I won't take long this time, honey," Seeing the heavy pout on your lips, he leaned in and kissed you repeatedly till you giggled and pushed him away gently.

"Please don't be sad," he cupped your cheeks in his hands, giving you a dimple smile, "I'm not sad.. I just miss spending time with you.." You mumbled. "Plus, I hate staying alone... you know why."

An emotion flashed in his eyes, something akin to distress and guilt, but he quickly shook his head when his phone vibrated in his pocket. A bitter reminder.

Stepping out of the car, he was quick to open your car door for you before you getting the chance to grab the handle. Smiling at the gester, he drapped his arm around your waist as he walked you to your house porch.

"You sure you can't stay for dinner?" Jaehyun smiled, "oh I'm not falling for this," he booped you nose and you playfully rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat.

"Last time you said that, I didn't leave the house for two days."

"You didn't seem bothered. You even begged me to stay with you." You grinned at him, and he let out a deep sounded laugh, his nose crinckling. Gazing softly at him, you felt wild butterflies dance in your tummy at the sight.

Kissing you deeply, he looked you deep in the eyes, "I love you. Go get some sleep. Promis you'll see me first in the morning." He murmured.

Fluttering your eyes open, you leaned back on the door behind you, a grin on your lips, "Look at him. My man." You grinned before cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting back, "i love you too!" Chuckling, he reminded you to be quiet before the neighbors complain again.

Striding to his car, a motorcycle engine cut through the tranquility of the evening, making you look to you left to see your neighbor and childhood friend.

Taking his helmet off, a smile slowly curled on your face when his eyes snapped to yours with a sparkle of glimmere in them.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey, John."

As if a switch fliped on, Jaehyun's face morphed from a happy one to a sullen one as his hand curled into a fist above the hood of the car, a flare of jealousy ignited in his core at the way the man was eying you. He knows that look because it's the same one you give him every day. Your best friend had feelings for you.

Jaehyun hated how relaxed you looked around the tall, handsome model. He loathed it.

You only felt safe and comfortable around jaehyun and never opened or talked with anyone but him, so seeing you interact with another man made him self cautious and warry of the male.

Gripping the door handle, jaehyun glared at the man intensity, a tic going in his clenched jaw, "I'll be back soon, my girl. Be a good girl for me."

You waved back at him, smiling before nodding. "Another business trip?"

You sighed, fumbling with your key to open the door, "No, I don't think so. I think just something came up in the office. How about you, johnny?"

Johnny smile widened when you looked back at him, his fatigue suddenly diminishing with one simple smile from you, "just finished another photoshoots. Nothing interesting." You nodded, opening your door but halted once you heard him call your name.

"You know, I was wondering...it's been a while since we hung out together... How about some pizza and a movie?" He leaned on the fence as his hands stabilized him, making his arms flex under his hoodie. Smiling, you shrugged. "Why not? Your house or mine?"

Seeing him jump over the fence, you chuckled, opening the door. "Giod thing that I already ordered some food then." He mumbled as he walked behind you before closing it back.

—

Down the road, inside the police car that was parked in the dark under the trees' shadows, doyoung pulled his Wireless device, eyes focused on jaehyun figure. when he leaned to kiss you, doyoung felt a burning feeling spread in his chest.

Gripping the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white, he felt his jaw ache from how hard he was gritting his teeth as he kept gazing at him.

When jaehyun stepped away from you, doyoung felt he could breathe normally again. Jealousy was indeed a disease, and doyoung was extremely ill. He wanted you. Desired you for a very long time. He wanted you, and he will have you. He just needs to get rid of every man around you. Why did you have to have many suitors around you?

He had no problem with killing those who dared to strike a conversation with you. He enjoyed it, actually. Immensely and would be his pleasure to kill the rich snob who had the luxury of being yours for the longest time.

Doyoung couldn't kill him—he can, but can't at same time—Jaehyun was an important individual. Famous and rich and prominent figures in the society but that didn't stop him before, it's you having feelings for him that made it complicated.

Doyoung knows you better than you know yourself. He knows what you had been through, and he knows you dating jaehyun ain't a play. He saw the way you looked at him, he wasn't dumb, quite the opposite, he was very clever, too clever for his own good and he can't bring himself to bring you harm so he will make jaehyun destroy himself for him. That was his plan. A simp effective plan.

Once the black Mercedes left the curb, doyoung set the car engine to life while glaring daggers at the model who was now chatting with you, "1 down and one to go," he mumbled under his breath and when he saw johnny walking inside your house, he felt his skin burn.

Rubbing his hand down on his face, a laugh bubbled in his throat, "Count your days." He laughed menacingly. Grabbing the wireless device, he started driving discreetly, following jaehyun.

"Jeno, He's coming. Everything should be perfect."

"Gotchu."

"Oh, and jisung,"

"Yes, sergeant!" Another voice blurted.

"Send me Johnny Suh entire profile. His family. His friends. His foot size. His blood type. Everything there to know."

With a grin, he put his focus back on the road, "Time to pull the curtains off."

—

The clicking of the camera was the only thing that jisung kept hearing for the past 30 minutes while he was busy checking the cameras they installed in the house. "Are you done yet? He said some pictures, not a full photo album!" Jisung, the younger patrol officer, hissed into the earpiece.

"Well, he also said 'Get me clear picture', and I'm checking all the angles!" Hissed jeno back, taking another picture, "and beside, she's wearing that red lingerie. Be quite."

Rolling his eyes, the younger kept checking the cameras they installed in the house. He felt wrong for doing this. He knows it's his job to investigate, but this felt wrong and unethical and made zero sense.

"I still don't understand why we're following him. Is this really irrelevant to the case? I mean, yes, he's suspected of embezzlement and all but why we're following him around and snapping pictures of him with this woman—? Wait...are we investigating his infidelity? Cause we know he has another girlfriend.."

Jisung's eyes went wide at his own discovery, and before jeno could respond to his nonsense, doyoung's voice blared through their wireless device, making both officers hyper focused on any new command.

"Jeno, He's coming. Everything should be perfect."

Jeno nodded even though he couldn't see him before running discreetly to their car and getting in the driver seat next to jisung, who was monitoring the cameras and checking the quality of the audio.

"Oh, and jisung,"

The younger nods to his commander's order and starts profiling the name given to him before hearing the line cutting.

"Johnny suh..isn't he jaehyun's girlfriend's best friend?" Jeno hummed. "This what I meant! This whole thing feels weird.. Don't you think that sergeant Kim is hiding something from us?"

Checking his gun, jeno sighed, "I don't know. We were given a mission. We do the mission with no questions asked."

Hearing the engine of the black Maserati, jeno snapped many pictures till jaehyun got inside the apartment. "Okay, we're done for tonight. Let's go."

Swirling your wine, you focused on the movie playing on the TV, slowly chewing on the pizza as the killer chased the girl down the dark corridor.

"This seems fun," you blurted, making johnny hum before titling his head at you, "what?" He asked.

"The idea of chasing someone down to kill them. Look at how happy he looks with blood on his face. It's turning me on."

"Darling... they're acting," Johnny carefully explained. Shrugging, you sipped a little before licking at your lips as you leaned your back against the armrest, now facing the blond.

"And I'm clearly talking about the real-life experience," you pierced your eyes through his skull with an expressionless face. The room was dark, only the light of the TV providing a source of light.

The dim lighting made you look both creepy and attractive as you sipped your wine without breaking eye contact. He has always had a crush on you ever since you both of you used to live in Chicago back in the past when you were teens before the accident that made you suddenly disappear.

Till a year later, the house next to him was bought and he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you. You changed. you weren't the same fragile girl he was familiar with.

Seeing the strong sexy woman you had become, Johnny felt nineteen all over again. He recalled his heart jumping in his chest when you looked at him before taking your shades off and giving him a friendly smile.

But seeing the way you eyed him made his smile falter, and his shoulders sag. You didn't recognize him because you looked at him the way he looked at every stranger he met in the streets.

He took a step towards you, ready to jiggle your memory so you'd remember him but when he heard your shriek when a man dressed in a fancy suit and tinted shades hugged you from behind and lifted you off the ground, his heart sank down.

You didn't just forget him but were taken, and from the way you were smiling? You were so in love. It was too obvious, it ached him.

Weeks passed, and he couldn't help it. Yes, it's normal to forget the faces of people you met in the past, but he was your childhood friend for God's sake! And was your only friend. So why didn't you recognize him?

You didn't recognize Johnny because he did actually change over the years. A lot. He was no longer the same scrawny guy with terrible haircut and acne but a man tall grown man with broad shoulders and strong toned arms.

Your neighbor was nothing less but a god with muscles for days and a defined face structure. He was handsome, attractive, and with an amazing sense of fashion–you could tell.

When you caught sight of a tattoo stretching on his bicep, you quickly averted your eyes back to his face to find his piercing eyes looking at you.

Holding your glasses in your hand, you pushed your hair off your face and eyed him back. It was a laid challenge to see who would break the eye contact first and god forbid you lose. Studying his face and body, you couldn't point out why there was a sense of familiarity.

When you bought the house, you were told not many inhibited the neighborhood for its expensive price, and that appealed to your desire for privacy, so you guessed the blond hot man was rich to afford living in such area.

"Why you're looking at me like that?" You smiled cunningly behind your glass. You know he has a crush on you. You knew all along.

Letting out a deep sigh, Johnny shook his head a little with a small smile on his lips, "You have no idea." Your smile turned smug, and you slowly placed your glass down on the coffee table beside you before slowly crawling to the other end of the couch.

Watching you, Johnny was alert, placing his glass down and flexing his back against the couch to straighten up. Feeling your soft thighs around his hips, his wide eyes shot back into yours. A loud gulp resonated when he caught the way you were eying him; like a prey.

With a happy expression, you found comfort on his lap, your hands going back behind his head, playing with the long blond strands.

"After all these years—" you started, your right hand going from his hair to run your fingers on his jaw before gripping it, making the man in your grasp shocked at your strength, his hands clutching your waist.

"—You still the same, right, Johnny? So devoted to me." You spoke in a hushed note, eying him down with a tilted head and a soft eery smile, making his heart beat loud in his ribcage, johnny knew about you, your past, your family, your history. He had a hunch you were off the rail, but that only made him desire you more. Something about playing with fire despite knowing it might burn him that gave him a thrill, because it was you, and he wanted your everything. Both your pain and love. but deep down, he was also scared of getting burned. He was scared.

"Even after everything I did. Everything I had become. You still like me," you grinned, the light of the TV reflecting on your face, and johnny felt his body run cold. You looked so bare, so real, with no fake smiles and naked of any masks. That was the real you. The one that no one saw, and you only showed it to johnny, and that made him feel special.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but..." You trailed, your hands resting around his neck while looking him in his eyes. Everyone loved little secrets, and you saw how he leaned in, ready to hear yours. You wanted to laugh at how easily it was to play with him.

You loved that he was into you. And that's all. You can't reciprocate them or understand why he likes someone like you despite him knowing what you are. Unlike jaehyun, who's seeing what you want him to see, Johnny is seeing what you need everyone to see.

People who have experienced toxic love in their childhood will often find search for the same later on in life because it's the only type of love they know. Because a person who's been traumatized wants nothing more than to be loved but because it's so unfamiliar to them, when they get it, they're suspicious of it. And they reject it and test it, and they...punish the person who trying to love them unless they meet somebody who's bad for them.

When they meet somebody who's bad for them and is also toxic, manipulative, and neglectful, or simply is the same as them — toxic like them — this feels familiar. They would be like: "I know how to navigate this person. I'm gonna love you with all my heart."

But somebody who's consistent and honest about their intentions and is genuinely into them in a good way, caring and loving they'll be asking: "What's wrong with you? Why are you loving me? This can't be real. Let me test you. Let me push you away. Let me hurt you. Let me use you."

But the abusive, toxic one is exactly what the doctor ordered, I know exactly what to do with you, so imma love you endlessly.

You're no different, so johnny having feelings for you made zero sense to you. You can understand what he's feeling but can not understand why.

"I'm not as I seem to be. The successful, charming, and joyful designer. Dating one of the country's most eligible bachelors and having the perfect life with perfect job and partner. You see, Johnny, I do like this, this life, because both you and I know full well the life of the poor and the mistreatment. We went through with it and have seen things others won't have survived, unlike you.. You survived and well... I didn't"

"You mean," Johnny leaned his head back because you were getting too close, and he wasn't sure if he could hold himself, "your mother? The ten years ago incident?" He carefully added.

Examining your face, Johnny slowly placed you down on the couch next to him when you suddenly disconnected from the world. Your eyes were focused on a spot on the wall as you let his words sink in. Your mother.

Staring blankly at the TV, slowly, a smile curled on your lips, portraying the exact same killer you just saw in the movie.

"Oh...my sweet, sweet mother. May she rest in peace." You looked down at you socks-clad feet, a chuckle living your lips, "the author of everything I am." You finished.

Feeling a hand rubbibg your back, you looked at your left to see johnny looking at you with a neutral expression. "You see, Johnny. I have no empathy. I realized I had none after not feeling any remorse or sadness or even..any ounce of care... you know...for what have happened to my mother."

You leaned back your head against the backrest, staring at the ceiling, "I remember vividly her laying in a pool of her own blood. I remember how she looked at me with pleading eyes to help her—to do something, but I did nothing but stare.

Dad stabbed her with scissors in a fit of rage. He was drunk, and they got in a fight —That's all they had been doing for years — argue.

Father clearly got fed up with all her nagging and ranting, and the scissors were there... laying next to him on the table, and yeah... he stabbed her... right in the chest. " You pursed your lips, recalling the story.

"When a gasped left her lips and soon blood, only then it sank up in him, and suddenly he's sobered. He stabbed his wife, whom he loved and married. Obviously, he freaked out and ran out of the house like a coward." You scoffed.

"And you? How about you?"

Looking at him from the corner of your eyes, you looked back at the high ceiling. "Me? Oh, I was there. Standing by the living room doorway, watching how my mother fell to her knees before collapsing in a pool of her blood.

I was fifteen, and I know a dying person when I see one. When she looked up at me, I saw her lips move, but there was no noise escaping her, but panting and gurgling noises as she was choking on her blood.

I stood by and watched till she stopped moving before I walked to her and stood above her dead corpse. I leaned and placed my palm on her cheek before sighing. I grabbed a bag, filled it with my clothes, and my father's saved money and left.

Leaving all that behind me was the best thing I did. A person with no past, no family, no name. Isn't that what freedom is?" You smiled at your friend.

"No family? Wait," Johnny blurted, "how about your dad?? Isn't he still alive?" Seeing your smirk, he arched a brow at you, "what did you do to him?"

"Oh, him? Nothing," a grin curled on your lips. "Nothing he didn't deserve." You winked. Running your fingers up and down your throat, you toyed with your earrings.

"Actually, a year ago, I actually found him! Can you believe that? I was driving back home from jaehyun's house, and I saw him crossing the road. I checked for any cameras and witness before pressing on gas and voila! I unalived him." You shrugged, "it was the easiest murder. Felt no thrill...well, that's a lie. I did feel something when I crushed him. Satisfaction."

Running his hands over his face, Johnny leaned his head on his hands and mumbled something you didn't hear. Looking at the clock, you realized it was already past midnight, "I think it's time for you to leave."

Looking at you, Johnny pouted, "No, i wanna stay~~" A sudden gasp left him, "Are you...by any chance expecting someone else?" He eyed with a faked shocked face, "I kept telling you he's not good enough for you and you're wasting your time and energy while I'm right here," he tsked, "what a waste of good looks and charm."

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him off. It wasn't the first time he had joked about this. He always brings up the topic of how you should drop your boyfriend and date him instead, your best friend who knows you better than anyone. You always answer him the same, "Good night, johnny."

Sighing, he grabbed his jacket and let you push him. Reaching the door, he grabbed your shoulder to make you face him. You arched a brow at him as he kept staring in your eyes and back at your lips, making you subconsciously lick your lips.

Feeling his hand slid up to cup your cheek, his other hand ran through your hair before dropping at the back of your neck. You could feel him lightly squeezing your neck, making a shiver run down your spine. "I really shouldn't do this, but forgive me, i can't hold myself," he whispered before leaning down

leaning making you stand on your toes and kissed you, a shocked gasp left you throat at the gentle carass of his lips on yours. Pulling away, Johnny brushed your hair and smiled softly at you. cupping your cheeks in his warm hands, he made you focus on what he has to say because he felt of he don't tell you how ur feels, he may die.

"This may seem selfish but...i think i love you and i think I've always did. I just didn't realize sooner," taking a deep breath, he felt his heart about to burst and you eying him with your pretty eyes, wordlessly, made his hand sweat against your cheek.

Your brows furrowed. Love? You knew he liked you, not loved you...you felt mad. How dare he?? You questioned in your head. I thought he was my friend, how could he?!

Seeing your face expressions morphine into a frown, he quickly added, "When I say, love you, it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your past self and I've seen your kindness that no onr saw."

You felt your chest tighten. This feels wrong. This is wrong. This is bad. No, no, no!!! Despite your internal voices screaming at you to silence him, he clearly didn't pick at the shift in the mood as he kept talking and with his calm voice spilling warm words, it burned your heart, made your body shake with rage. You can't understand what he's feeling.

"—I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. No matter what you did in the past. No matter what you do in your present. Know that I'll always love you and would never turn my back on you. Have sweet dreams, my sweet psycho." Feeling him pecking your forehead, a breath left you as he stepped back, Winking at you before opening the door and leaving.

you knew you won't sleep. The voices were screaming at you to kill him as well but you didn't want to but you also knew you won't rest with the blaring voices in your head.

Stumbling to your room, you hysterically searched for your pills in the barhroom's cabinet that you stored for situations like this.

Ever since you met Jaehyun, you stopped taking them because with him, you be at peace and can sleep with no nightmares when he's by your side, but now he isn't with you. You're alone. You're alone and you want them to shut up.

Grapping a handful of pills, you shoved them in your moth before chugging a full glass of water.

Taking fast and shallow breaths, you lifted your head, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You hated her. This version of you. You can't stand her. And you couldn't recognize her.

grabbing the marble soap dish, you clutched it in your hand before crashing it in the mirror, making endless shattered pieces fly around, but none hit you.

"I can't stand my reflection..." Looking at the mess you made, you dropped to pick the broken glass as fast as you can before you get any new idea and end up hurting yourself.

Parking his car, jaehyun stepped out and used his spare key to open the door. The house was dark and quiet; a sense of safety settled in him. He was tired as he dragged his body down the corridor with a pale and expressionless face. There was just so much weight on his shoulder, so heavy it almost brought him down to his knees.

Rubbing his eyes, he maneuvered around your house in the darkness, trying not to stumble on your many decorations and art pieces.

Reaching your bedroom, he pushed the door carefully to not make any creak noises that might disturb you.

Once entering the darkness of your bedroom and getting wrapped by your scent, he felt his tense body relax and his muscles to unwind. Taking a deep breath, he let a soft sigh as he leaned on the door with closed eyes. The room smelled just like. cozy as he took his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt.

Taking his clothes off, He silently moved towards the bed before sitting down next to your feet, a broken smile on his lips. "She'll never be you," he whispered, hand stroking your thigh, "would never be as perfect as you," he laid beside you before bringing your warm and soft body closer to his and kissing your shoulder, "would never make me feel the way you do." Wrapping his arms around your stomech, he nuzzled into your nape, inhaling your calming scent before releasing a staggered breath, a choked sob bubbled in his throat but he quickly pressed his lips shut to your skin to not wake you up.

Steering in your sleep, jaehyun quickly kissed your cheek, "I'm here, I'm here," he whispered, voice airy.

It was the guilt. The guilt was eating him whole. He felt dirty for what he did. He felt unworthy of you for what he did. For what he had been doing. Holding you tight, he feared your leaving. The thought of you leaving him made his heart clench in his chest.

Imagine walking on thin ice. It's slippery and unsteady, and with every step you take, you can't be sure if it will hold your weight. Every moment, you're aware that the ice could crack at any moment, and you could fall and freeze in the frozen water below.

That's how jaehyun was feeling for a while; the thought of losing someone you love so much, losing you scared him a lot. Every interaction with you is like a needle sinking deep into his heart.

Every wrong word or gesture can cause him to lose you forever. The constant pressure of feeling like he's on the edge of disaster made it hard to focus on anything else.

Hovering above you, he admired your serene face and soft breaths. Stroking your cheek, he smiled down at you, "I'm so so sorry." He mumbled, his chest felt heavy. His heart hurts in his chest. He barely managed to get his words out as his throat logged up with a thick lump. feeling his lashed to clamp together with unshed tears, he rubbed his eyes and blinked to get to see you clearly. "I'm really sorry."

You had turned to on your side and almost still fully covered with the blanket, but he still took his time studying you. Your features were so soft, all your muscles relaxed, and your heartbeat is steady and serene.

Taking his shorts off, He pulled his semi-hard cock and started stroking himself slowly, hissing at the touch, while he reached for the covers with his free hand and with a gentle pull, jaehyun revealed your bare skin inch by inch.

You had made it easy for him, going to bed naked and wet.

Seeing the clear skin of your neck made him want to leave dark bruises all over it.

He ran his cold fingers over it. Going down to your right breast. He grasped it in His hands, squeezing it a little. Thinking about licking and biting it at the bud. You are still deep asleep. Your meds knocked you out cold.

"Oh, doll... you're gonna be the death of me,"

One knee on both sides of your thighs, he lowered himself, the tip of his tongue grazed over the length of your inner thigh, making you stir a little. A breath leaving your lips.

"I know, it's cold," he said, licking his lips relishing in your taste for a moment before he pushed himself up to your ear.

"Can't never get enough of you...making me always come back...so addicted to you," feeling his lips kissing along the column of your neck, you turned your head to the side to give him more space, it was a subconscious move and that made him grin, "that's my girl."

Sitting back on his calves, he smoothed one hand over the curve of your hip, enjoying the warmth of your bed-warm skin against his.

When his eager hands reached the meat of your ass, he stilled to gently squeeze you, coaxing a soft, low noise from your lips, making his cock twitch angrily. He wrapped a warmed hand around it and squeezed, oh so desperate to be engulfed in you.

"Damn,"he moaned. "Always so good.."

he couldn't bite back the growl rising in his throat when he finally sat between your thighs.

"Beautiful," he muttered. "So fucking beautiful."

He lowered himself to his stomach. jaehyun ached to taste you and make you feel good, but his tongue was still too cold, but his fingers weren't.

Averting his face from your pussy, he pressed his open mouth to your thigh. hot skin against his mouth as he licked and sucked and kissed your legs while his thumb found your clit and drew soft circles around it.

You sighed, hips stuttering, and jaehyun wasted no time as he made a few circles around your clit with his tongue, earning moans from you, before slipping a finger in.

You were so wet for him, His head whirled, making his cock twitch against his thigh.

He moaned, and you mewled when he finally sucked one of your swollen lips into his mouth, your hips bucked involuntarily.

"You taste so fucking good," he almost whined and exchanged his fingers with his tongue. "All of you, just all of you... so fucking sweet and all mine," he mumbled into your folds, curling and pumping his two fingers inside you where your pulse beat fast against the pads of his fingers. He could feel you tense around them as he curled them and hit the spot you love oh so much.

"J-jaehyun..?" You moaned, slowly waking up, eyes still closed as your chest heaved. "Shh, shh baby, let me take care of you, my doll. Let me show you how much I missed you."

He moved them faster and faster, holding your thigh down with the hand not in use. He slurped and groaned into your pussy desperately, a vibration of pleasure traveling through your body making you gasp.

Feeling you tug at his hair and grinding down on his face, his moaned muffled against your clit. He was so desperate to make you cum, he needed it so badly.

"J-jae..I—" you felt disoriented at first before succumbing to him.

A hard suck to your clit has you moaning out loudly, back arching off in pleasure. Jaehyun wraps his hands around your thighs to keep you still while he continues his ruthless ministrations on your pussy.

Jaehyun gazes up at you through hooded eyes between your thighs. you can feel him smirk against your cunt as he devours you, listening to your pleas. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, still pulling at his locks roughly.

he's more than practiced at making you fall apart and making you cry and scream his name, "baby, you're so good for me, so damn good. Waking me up like this, i—" You gasped, "i—shit."

his wet lips closes around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly as his eyes focuses on the expressions you are making, taking in each of. them in and memorising what makes you feel good.

He pushed his face deeper against your pussy, desperate to taste you. He needed that so bad.

"i need to taste you so bad, doll— fuck," The longer he fingered you, the more frantic he became, fingers disappearing in and out of you hurriedly. You can tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were with his heavy breathing and the way he slightly grinds against the mattress beneath him to relieve himself.

Fucking his tongue inside of you with three fingers stretching you out, hitting your G-spot repeatedly, you can't help but scream his name and arch your back for more.

you bite your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately hump jaehyun's fingers, his wet tongue, and his pretty face; searching for your release.

with every breath you take, soft whimpers, and 'oh my god's' leave your lips, jaehyun whimpered.

"You gonna come for me, doll?"

you nod vigorously, lust practically plastered in your eyes as his fingers and tongue begin to match the pace of your rocking hips.

"J-jae.." You whimper as you twitch, moaning as he leaves bite marks alongside your inner thighs. "god, i'm gonna—fuck!"

you sob when you feel his breath against your core again, "let it go, baby," he growls as he sucks and licks your clit with a moderate amount of pressure. "cum for me. my girl, you've been so good for me,"

You cried out, thighs going to shut around him head, but he used his elbows to keep them wide open.

he smirks when he sees tears sliding down your cheeks, "You're so so so beautiful when you cry for me, baby..."

With a final suck on your clit and pump of his slim fingers you were gone. Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. Your back arched with pleasure, hips stuttering as you came on jaehyun's tongues.

Jaehyun groans when he finally gets an actual taste and with one taste, he's hooked, tongue going from kitten licks to sinking his tongue deep inside your swollen cunt, a hand grasping your thigh open while his other hand makes its way to your sweet bundle of nerves, rotating your clit in slow circles, sending shocks down where Jaehyun's situated, drenching his mouth with your sweet juices, dripping down his chin, and the sounds you make, calling out to his name with that airy high pitched tone that only he gets to hear.

he laps up your spill of juices dutifully, cleaning up every last drop as you come down from your high. "Sweetest thing I've tasted... can live on this alone."

"Oh? you thought i was done?" You chuckled, "No, no, baby, you can take one more for me, right?"

"Let me catch my breath first, lover boy."

—

"That's it..."

Jaehyun hissed as he fucked into you slowly, letting you feeling every inch of him as he stretched you, praising you at how good you're taking him. The soft sunshine shyly seeped through the clouded sky and poured into the bedroom, bathing your flushed and sweaty skin as you held the headboard for dear God, your legs slowly giving up on you.

Your lover's strong arm draped on your waist, pulling you in closer, taking him deeper than before, making you feel how desperate he was for you. Sex was always important for both of you, and jaehyun loved how you matched his high drive, but in days like this, where he's not fucking you hard and fast and basically fucking the light out of you till your kicking him away, it gives you an idea on his mood.

He's stressed. Something is bothering him, and he won't tell you despite your insistence.

Taking everything so slow with no rush to reach your orgasm. Basking in each other's scent. Lazy kisses. Whispered praises fell off his tongue like it was a song only he knew the words to.

Brushing his lips against the warm skin of your neck as he rocks into you faster. Moans were bouncing off of the room walls. Feeling the orgasm you ached for so bad aprouching, you arched your back, face falling into the silky pillows, muffling your moans as you gripped the sheets beside you as you were left breathless laying there basking in pleasure, taking whatever he gave you.

In the mornings like this, Jaehyun never lets you do any of the work. You are his queen, his one and only. He knew you were close from the begs and pleads, even the way your legs were shaking.

Flipping you on your back, his mouth quickly was on yours in a gentle kiss, made your head hazy at how gentle he was with you. Dragging his lips up your neck to your ear, he groaned, "I'll always have you, baby. Cum for me."

Helping you ride your high, a few sloppy strokes before you felt his hot load paint your walls white.

Pulling out slowly, both of you hissed at the emptiness. Seeing you pouting at the, he chuckled before cleaning you up. Running his fingers on your face, he smiled down at you, "I love you."

Jaehyun took it upon himself to always remind you that he's in love with you, but this time, his words carried a vulnerability that stirred the same swirl of emotions he was feeling within you. You didn't even need to say it back. The look in your eyes was all he needed for reassurance.

The next thing you knew, his lips were meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The connection between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you closer to each other. Giggling into the kiss, a stupid grin split his face in half, his nose wrinkling.

After silent minutes, you pushed him gently off of you to go shower. "You don't have any work today, right? Let me spoil you," he murmured, trailing behind you like a lost puppy to the bathroom.

"Oh, Jung Jaehyun, you know I'm a busy woman," his whine suddenly went quiet, and you had a guess why. Looking over your shoulder, you saw him feel the cracks in the mirror.

"What happened?" He asked, worried, making you mumble something under your breath. "Nothing happened. It was an accident. I already asked someone to come fix it, and yes, I'm fine, so don't worry."

Seeing him eying the bathroom floor and inspecting for any other damages, you rolled your eyes. Always so persisting.

"My schedule for today is clear. As far as what jungwoo told me," You changed the subject, and you saw him turning away from the sink.

"Hm..jungwoo...your secretary, right?"

Smiling, you dibbed in the water, sighing as the warm water engulfed your sore muscles. "Go do some papers, jae," you waved at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"I do have some papers to finish, actually. You rest and I'll prepare your breakfast."

Ascending the stairs, you slowly padded to the kitchen when you saw your boyfriend's bare back with red scratches, making a smirk curl slowly on your face.

Walking towards him, he smiled when you wrapped your arms around his waist. "You're up," you hummed, nuzzling into his back, "it's mid-day...why didn't you wake me up? I overslept..."

"You looked so peaceful, so I let you." Looking over his shoulder to see what he's doing, you arched a brow.

"Why are you cutting... fruits?"

"...uh for your breakfast?"

"Honey, it's 12:27 in the morning. I think we're past breakfast time," Taking a glass, he poured you some wine, "have some wine, honey," grabbing the glass frol his hand, you laughed as he carried the last bowl to place on the table and held your other hand with his free one before dragging towards the round table near the window that overlooks the back garden.

Sipping his coffee, jaehyun eyed you with tight lips, "why there was 2 dirty glasses when I came home this morning? Did you hang out with your friends or something last njght?"

Munching on a peach, you sipped your wine, "no one was here last night. I was all alone." You lied through your teeth, face calm of any reactions, "plus, you know I sometimes use 2 glasses, I mean, you once found me eating from 2 plates." You shrugged, "I think you were really tired you forgot."

Jaehyun hummed, "Yeah, I think you're right." You smiled. "By the way, I just got a text saying there's some work I need to check in the studio. Would you be here when I come back?"

A loud whine had you giggling, "You said you'll be mine all day," Taking a deep chug, you stood up and walked to your pouty boyfriend, "I did, but! It won't take long," you kissed his cheek and dimple before you kissed his wine-stained lips, humming at the wine you tasted.

"Can I drive you there?" He shouted as you headed upstairs, "No, you rest here. I won't take long."

Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you enjoyed the song playing on the radio. You were in a good mood. You woke up in an amazing way, the memory making you smile coyly.

Hearing your phone ring, you checked the ID, and your mood changed. Tossing the phone to the passenger seat, you rolled your eyes. Minutes later, he called again and again and again, and you had it with him.

Hearing your phone chimes with a notification, you checked, knowing he has texted you.

Johnny: please don't do this.

Johnny: I really do regret what I did, and I'm sorry, but let me talk with you. Don't do this.

Johnny: I came to your house but no one was there.

Delivered

Leaning your elbow on the car door handle, you sighed after turning your phone off and mindlessly played with your hair. Hearing the police siren, you looked at your side mirror before pulling over as instructed.

Rolling your window down, you waited for the officer to appear by your side. You didn't rush and do anything wrong. You're sure your lights were fine and you had your seat belt on, do why you're getting pulled over?

When the officer stood next to your door, you took your shades off, "how can I help you officer....?"

Studying his face, you felt a sense of Deja vu. You know him. You saw him many times in many places. Ah,... interesting. He's stalking me. How adorable. You had a hunch you knew him from somewhere, not from your recent encounters but from way back then. Like johnny? You wondered.

"Miss?" Doyoung called again and you snapped your eyes at him, "yes?"

"I was saying we need your attendance in the police station. We'd like to ask you few questions."

Pursing your lips, you squinted your eyes at him. Where did you see him before? You can't remember half your childhood due to your many traumas. Everything was a blur mess, and whenever you try to think back to your past, you get nothing but a terrible headache. As if your brain was telling you you're looking for something that doesn't exist. A memory that never happened, but you're sure you knew him from somewhere.

Nodding, you followed him to the police station.

Doyoung felt his heart about the jump out of his chest. This was the closest he ever got to you, and he couldn't believe your beauty. She's prettier than a person. Those pictures did her no justice. Of course, such beauty couldn't be captured by cameras. Biting his lip to suppress his grin, he couldn't wait to have you.

—

Crossing your legs, you leaned in the chair in his office, your nails drumming on the wooden desk as you waited for him to speak.

"I'm tad busy, officer. Td be glad if you went straight to the point," you forced a smile.

Anyone with eyes would notice how doyoung was eying with heart-shaped eyes. He didn't stop smiling ever since you entered with him.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, "we want you to answer a few questions about your boyfriend, Jung Jaehyun."

Hearing the name of your lover, you leaned in, intrigued, and slightly worried. Seeing the way your chest was pressed near the edge of the desk, nearly spilling from your dress low cut, doyoung slammed his knee on the edge of the desk to distract himself from you and focus.

"You okay?" You asked when you heard the thud, "I'm fine." Gulping down the drool in his mouth, he sat straight, fixing his light blue uniform.

"We think he's embezzling money from the company. We can't share any further information as it's an ongoing investigation."

Arching a brow, a scoffed laugh resonated. "Really? Embezzlement? Really?" Running your hand through your hair, you scoffed.

Grining, doyoung leaned on his elbows on the desk, a faint smirk on his lips behind his interwinded fingers, "Didn't he spend any extravagant sums lately with no apparent reason?" He tilted his head, watching your face as you thought about his question. Doyoung knew he could watch you all his life and won't get bored. Doing nothing but catching his attention. It was bad for him.

"Well," you started, a playful smile on your lips that had doyoung's cock to twitch, "l don't know about your salary or your view on extravagant sums but he spent the regular; bout 2 house in London and 3 racing care and that's not above the budget," shrugging your shoulders, you smirked at him.

" i see.." she doesn't know about his spending. Thought she'd be in control of the Financials.

"If this is everything, I guess I'm leaving," Standing up, you put your coat on your shoulders. Putting your shades on, you gave him one last forced smile before leaving.

Letting out a breath, doyoung checked his pants to see an obvious bulge. Laughing, he leaned in his chair and threw his head back. Facing the ceiling, he smiled dreamingly, "I'm madly in love with you."

Sighing, he pulled an envelope from his drawer, "Time to play my cards." Grabbing w paper and his phone call, he called a flower shop.

—

Groaning, you felt your hand burn from the number of sketches you did, and with jungwoo talking your ear off about some last-minute adjustments, you felt your head about to explode.

Finishing your renderings and graphics to showcase to your designs for the upcoming meeting, you sighed, stretching your back.

"What do I have next?" You asked jungwoo, checking your wristwatch, "3 pm..hmm,"

"Well," he checked his tablet, a small pout on his lips, " all you have left is to coordinate with vendors and suppliers to ensure that materials and products needed for your designs will be delivered on time and of high quality."

"Can't you do that? I wanna go home," you whined, dropping your head on your desk among the many sheets and fabric materials.

"Pass," he rejected you casually and calmly, which made you laugh, the sound muffled by the papers around your face, "Oh, I remembered! You got a delivery, someone sent you flowers!"

Lifting your head, you eyed him with a puzzled look, "i did?"

Seeing him walk back inside your office with a colorful bouquet, you gently grabbed it from his hands,"Did it come with a letter?" You asked, inspecting the choice of flowers.

"Yes and an envelope." Jungwoo handed them to you, "Okay, you may leave now."

Inhaling their scent, you smiled a little. You loved flowers, but you didn't love this specific rearrangement. The sender clearly had an idea of the symbols of flowers.

"White, yellow, orange and red flowers..whute Liles and gardenia: beauty and love," you recalled the meaning of the flowers in your hand as you delicatly touched the white petals.

"and then they sent yellow daffodils and orange marigolds. unrivaled love and jealousy?" You arched a brow, intrigued.

Two flowers left. 4 yellows flowers 3 red flowers."' An unsettling feeling churned in your stomech, "yellow rose infidelity. geranium..stupidity." Your brows furrowed. Your tongue prodding at your cheek, "this is stupid. Where's the letter?!"

With a scowl, you unfolded the letter, and you were met with neat handwriting.

"I know I don't need to explain what these flowers mean, but when I saw the lilies, I couldn't help but think of you, thus, the gardenia and daffodils. Daffodils might seem exaggerated, but their not. Trust me on that and those small marigolds? Wish jealous was as pretty and delicate, but we both know it's not. Jealousy is a burning rage, just like those orange petals. But as beautiful as you are, my love, you don't know everything, hence, the geraniums. Love makes us stupid. I know. Now, you might not understand why i sent the yellow roses, but I hope what's in the envelope enlighten you. Your rich boyfriend isn't naive as you perceive him. Maybe beside the 2 houses and yacht, he spent his money on another girlfriend? I don't know, I' let you decide.

K.DY."

Tearing the letter, you hastily opened the envelope. Tearing the envelope with hard and fast motion, you lifted a brow, ready to see what's inside.

As you opened the envelope, your mind took long three seconds to register the sight. Photos. Clear HD photos of jaehyun holding and kissing a woman that's not you.

You felt your heart sink as you eyed the pictures in your hand. Some slipped down as your grasp around them weakened.

You were so shocked you started laughing checking all their images captured on film, "oh wow," you whispered. "This wasn't a one-time thing.. Oh wow." A flash of anger and hurt shot through you as the realization of your beloved's betrayal hit you.

You let out a loud, bitter laugh, holding the images tightly in you grasp, before throwing them to the ground and crushing them with your heel as you stood up.

Looking down at the flowers, you tore them apart before slamming them against the wall, still laughing.

Throwing your head back, your hand went through your hair, "I'm gonna kill him," you raved, grining ear to ear.

When jungwoo heard many crashing noises in your office, he rushed inside to check on you but got pushed by your beeline figure. He grunted as his back hit the wall behind before he could catch you. He saw your car race down the road.

Pressing on the gas pedal, the car sped down the road, taking turns with aggressive motions.

Recalling the photos, you felt your eyes sting with unshed tears and you quickly and aggressively rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, smudging your makeup in your wake, "i won't cry because of him."

Pressing more on the gas pedal, the sound of the car's engine seemed to grow louder in response to your frustration. Your hands were firmly gripping the steering wheel.

Seeing a car suddenly halt in the middle of the road ahead of you, you cussed at you pressed breaks, pulling the steering wheel. The tires squealed against the pavement, leaving black, smoking marks on the asphalt.

When the car continued to drift, you desperately tried to regain control of the vehicle before hitting the stopped car. Your hands clenched the steering wheel, and your knuckles grew white with the force of their grip. The sound of the tires skidding on the pavement was deafening, and the smoke from the tires filled the air.

When the car finally stopped, you let out the breath you were holding. Scratch that. You were panting as you leaned back in your seat with closed eyes, resting your head at the head rest, trying to catch your breath and stabilize your heartbeats.

Hearing someone knocking on your window, you opened your eyes and peeked at your side. Seeing his face, you pushed your door open, not caring if you hit him.

"You're fucking crazy, you know that!? Like why would you do that!? Huh?! Why?!" Punching and pushing at his chest, doyoung kept giving you his dopey smile, which infuriated you. You hated his stupid gummy smile.

Grabbing your hand, he sighed, "You were racing, and I didn't know how to stop you." He brought your hand and put it on his heart. You could feel how loud and fast his heart was beating against your hand.

"I was so damn scared something might happen to you because of me. I was terrified." Feeling him kiss your palm, you yanked your hand away, a loud scoff leaving you.

"God... You were beautiful in the photos I took, but you're absolutely fucking perfect in my arms like this." Doyoung mumbled, tucking your hair behind your ear making you shudder but you didn't stop him.

"How delusional can you get? First, a stalker, now this?" You grabbed his wrist and pushed his arm away, but he didn't budge. Instead, he grabbed at your wrist instead with iron grip.

"Stalking" is such a strong word I prefer "Intense Research of an Individual" with smooth voice, he said, eying you with raw adoration, "plus, it's my job. To investigate." He winked at you, "you're running out of milk by the way,"

"This is a waste of my time. Move away!" You pushed him off, frustrated that he was making you feel things, "Why did you send me those photos?" Pushing his hand that lingered on your cheek, you glared at him.

As if something clicked in him, his smile dropped, and his face locked in dark gaze. With a fast move, he garbed both your arms and slammed you against your car. His whole demeanor changed, which made you secretly smile, "i did this out of love, I'm doing this out of love!! If anything ever happens to you, I'll fucking kill myself, you hear me?!"

Hearing that, you smiled before scoffing a laugh, "Do you really think I'll fall for such words? Anyone can die for anyone. Why on earth would your death phaze me? Id see you shoot yourself here, right now, and i won't give a damn. I think you flattered yourself a bit too much." You smirkrd, caressing his face before harshly gripping his jaw and bringing his face closer to yours, "For all I know, those pictures you sent me may be fake. You want me so bad, you'll do anything to get me, won't you?" You whispered, looking at his eyes and lips, trying to read his face but his eyes looked dead, nothing in them.

He made no reaction to you holding his face or tried to prey your hand off, He just tilted his head in your hold. you couldn't understand his expressions. You couldn't read him or know what he's thinking or what he'll do next. He was unpredictable, and you loved that. You enjoyed him keeping you at your toes. You were so entertained, you nearly forgot why you were mad.

Grabbing his phone, he shoved it in your face, a map with red dot sparkling. "See this?? It's your fucking boyfriend at his slut's house. I put a GPS tracker in his car. When you left the house at 12:51, at 15:38, he got a text and went to her. Now it's 15:45. If we hurry, we'd catch them. Get in the car," he grabbed your hand off of his face and dragged you towards his car before making get inside and started the engine, "how about my car?" You asked flatly, "I'll make someone take it to your house, don't worry."

Leaning towards you, he fasted your seat belt. "My purse," you muttered, and he smiled before going back to your car to get it, bringing your coat as well.

The whole ride felt suffocating and awkward, and you felt it dragged for an hour when, in fact, it was only 4 minutes.

He kept ahold of your hand in his while driving with the other. When you tried to pull it away, he heavily pouted, "Please let me hold it. promise I won't do anything else but to hold your hand."

Sighing, you ignored the way his face lit up when you muttered a faint 'fine' and chose to look out of the window instead fir the rest of the ride.

After defeating silence, you turned your head to look at him to find him already looking at you, which, for reasons you didn't know, your heart fluttered in your chest making you eye him with furrowed brows before shaking your head and ignoring it.

He hummed, waiting for you to speak, "so..uh..how to ask this... how did this...infatuation of yours with me start?"

Taking a turn, you recognized the neighborhood. You went with him there to buy a house. He told you it was for business. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. No longer fuming with rage but disappointed.

"You really don't recognize me? I think I changed a little but not like johnny. No?" Tilting your head, you squinted your eyes at him, "why I'm not shocked you know him too. But no, I do remember your face, but I can't remember from where. I can't remember half my childhood if you knew me from that way back." You shrugging, watching the many houses lining up in the back.

"We used to live in the same neighborhood. You were thirteen when you stood up for me. A boy was bullying me, and you pushed him to the road. A truck hit him, and he died right there. The truck didn't stop and ran away, and I remember you telling me to dispose of him in the river. We made a pinky promis to never tell anyone about our little secret." Hooking his pinky finger with yours, he brought his other hands to make a shush motion, making you chuckle.

Looking down at your interlocked fingers, a small smile curled on your lips, your brows pulled together in astonishment. You remembered him when he pulled that car stunt, but you're not going to tell him. You still couldn't remember the incident clearly, but that sounded like a thing you did. "Thirteen you said?... I remember I moved a lot by that age."

"Yeah, next morning I didn't find you. Years later, I found you, but the cops were around your house. I felt happy; happy that you didn't change. Blood and death surrounding you wherever you go. I wanted to reach out to you when I found you three years ago, but you looked happy with your newfound freedom. You looked the happiest freed from your past, so I let you. Until you killed your father and I had to interfere. You must stop killing people and leaving them by the sidewalks. That's irresponsible."

Hearing him, you couldn't help but laugh at his scolding. "I never thought I'd be getting such advice from a cop. Don't worry, sir. Next time, I'll do it right."

"We're here." Parking by the corner, you stepped out of the car with an umbrella to shield you from the rain. Doyoung stayed in the car per your request. It was a thing you had to face alone, but he made sure you knew that he'd jump in if he saw it necessary.

Taking steady strides, you stopped by a tree before putting your shades back on to hide your face, your umbrella shielding half your face as well, but you put your glasses on for good measures.

Seeing his car park by a nearby gate, you saw a door pulled open, and a girl with a white shirt and basketball shorts stride towards him before throwing herself in his arms.

You didn't know what you expected. For him to push her back? For this to be fake? For doyoung to be wrong? For this to be a huge misunderstanding? You expected many things, but none of them were your beloved catching her in his arms and kissing her out in public.

Something died in you. Seeing that with your own eyes, a big crake tore your heart in two. You never felt such pain before. It was overwhelming. You felt a deep pang of pain and hurt as you witnessed the sight of your so called your man with another woman.

The pain was so intense, so gut-wrenching, that it took yout breath away. It left you feeling like you're falling apart, like you were crumbling from the inside out. Seeing them walk inside, laughing and chatting, you looked down at your heels, smiling, before lifting your head and looking at the house memorizing it.

Turning on your heel, your grip around the umbrella loosened. You felt hollow. The whole world felt quiet, but it was you so cut out of the world. All sounds were muted. Only you, your thumbing heart, and your voices.

Oh, the voices... they were mocking you for falling in love with a man like jaehyun. A man you knew was too good for you and was prone to leave you for someone younger and prettier.

The voices chanted one word. Kept on screaming it in your head. Tone was getting more aggressive and intense, but your facial expression remains neutral, no sign that there was a war in your head.

Walking to the car, you didn't hear the squelches of your shoe against the wet pavement, only what your demons desired, only what they were begging you to do. Only there whispers in your ears. Only their shouts in your mind.

To kill your cheating ex.

Doyoung stood by the car waiting for you. He watched you silently. He knew you'd want no one to talk with you, so he kept quiet the whole way back to your house. It pained him.

"I will take all the pain if it means you'll smile."

He wanted to tell you that, but didn't, he wanted to say many things but he didn't. He hated it. He hated jaehyun for what he did to you. He hated him to his guts. He wanted him gone for a long time, and now was the perfect chance, but he knew it wasn't his for the taking. It was yours.

"That...girl. you want her dead?" Doyoung softly whispered, "I can get rid of her for you if you want."

Grabbing your purse from the backseat, you glanced at him. He was giving you his best puppy eyes, but yours were dead. You were numb. "I can manage myself." You replied flatly. "Plus, it's not your problem, it's mine."

"Baby, killing for you is my favorite hobby." Grabbing your hand, he kissed your knuckles one by one, "if you need my help, just call me. I have your number, I'll text you mine."

Nodding your head, you left. There was no emotion left within you. You're back at the age of fifteen. Void of any life. Back at square one.

Throwing your coat at the coach, you halted by the way to the kitchen when you saw a red rose next to the pancakes he made you for breakfast.

Striding towards the table, you grabbed the plate and smashed it to the wall before grabbing your phone.

I'm back home, where are you?

Jae: oh, a sudden meeting. I'll be back before dinner ;)

Jae: I love you!

Delivered

Putting your phone down, you went to your bedroom. The closet. The vanity. The bed. The photo frames. The corners of the room. His clothes. His perfumes. His watches. His rings. Everything reminded you of him.

Sitting on your bed. You finally took a deep breath.

You hadn't cried in a long time, longer than you could remember. But now, all your suppressed anger and frustration exploded, and floods of tears started to swell from your now dark eyes. One tear becme two then three then more.

soaking your shirt completely. Your small sniffs turned into gasps, and that turned into whales, then into loud screams and shouts.

Scream-crying. Even in your most vulnerable moments, you were violent. Walking to his closet, you tore and ripped his shirts within a second. Smashed his perfume bottles into the wall.

Grabbing the bedside table's lamp, you threw it at the corner, and a flame burst. With a small smile, you watched the fire grow in the corner. Slowly, it started rising. It was beautiful.

Chuckling under your breath, you took backward steps, eyes still focused on the burning fire before you turned into your bathroom.

Laughing, you traced the broken mirror's cracks with your fingers. You didn't hate your reflection. This was you. Your reflection on the broken mirror was you. The real you.

Running your hand on your face, you felt under your eyes the ruined mascara. Running your hand up to your hair, you tugged at it harshly till your scalp stung.

Looking around you, you spot the scissors. Grabbing it, you huffed your hair off of your face before looking back at your black locks in the mirror. "Pretty," you grinned at yourself.

Cutting your hair recklessly, you were still filled with the overwhelming sense of betrayal and anguish. You couldn't help but feel like your whole world was crumbling around you, but you knew this all would end eventually. You had a plan.

After taking a shower and getting dressed in your favorite red dress, you dried your hair and got dolled up. Stepping back into your bedroom, you fond the fire had gone out, a black mark painting the wall.

"That fire was short-lived.." You mumbled.

Jae: I love you!

6: 24 pm

Dinner at my house? Candles? I'm feeling romantic tonight. Don't be late.

Delivered

Smirking, you leaned on the wall behind you with a content smile.

—

Getting inside the house, jaehyun tried to feel the switch to turn the lights on, but nothing. The house was dead silent as he called your name but got no answer.

Looking at the walls, his brows furrowed at the sight of scratches and red stains... blood? the paint has peeled off on various spots. It seemed like a peeling mark, as if someone threw something harshly at the wall, causing the paint to separate from the surface. he swears he left the house just fine few hours ago.

Walking deep into the house, jaehyun caught the faint sound of one of his favorite songs playing on the vinyl.

Following the sound, he hanged his coat on the hanger, "Honey?" He called quietly. Peering at the dining room, a smile made to his lips when he finally saw you.

Leaning on the door frame, he watched you preparing the table with dishes and lighting some candles.

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled, "You're home," You walked toward him, and he opened his eyes to wrap you in his embrace before kissing you softly.

"Your hair...why you changed it?" He asked, taking one of your blond locks in his hand. He looked startled with the new color and haircut.

"You don't like it?" You asked with a pout, " thought I'd do something new. You know, out of change. Come let us eat."

Pushing him off of you gently, you pulled him towards a chair before sitting him down, "This looks beautiful, my doll." You smiled at the pet name.

"I put your favorite song, too. 'Nothing gonna hurt you baby'." You grinned before adding with a tilt of your head, "our favorite."

The vinyl was playing softly in the background, providing a warm and intimate atmosphere. The room was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a warm fire crackling in the fireplace.

You set the table with exquisite details, adorning it with delicate porcelain plates and shining silverware. The air was filled with the aroma of delicious food cooking in the kitchen.

Bringing the last dish, you poured him a glass of wine before sitting down opposite of him. After eating in silence —only him was eating, you kept on watching him— you reached for your glass of wine, "how was work, honey?" You hummed, inhaling the scent of the fruity beverage.

"Boring," he answered, wiping his lips with his napkin, "nothing interesting." You smiled softly at that.

Taking another sip of his wine, you smiled faintly when you saw the furrow in his eyebrows, "hm, this wine tastes a bit different." Jaehyun murmured, licking at his lips, "tastes...bitter?" You looked at him confused before taking your untouched glass and sipped a little, "Hm..no? It tastes just fine."

Looking up at you, he saw you eying him with your chin in your palm with your play untouched, "Why...aren't you eating?" He asked warily.

"I'm not hungry, plus, I'd love to watch you eat instead. More wine?" Glancing at you, he saw your silhouette moving in both sides. Blinking his eyes, he started taking slow breaths.

Caressing his neck, he gulped down the rest of his wine, but nothing. It was only getting worse. he felt as if his throat was burning from dryness, "water," he croaked before coughing.

Jumping to your feet, you poured him a glass of water and handed it to him, "Are you okay?" You saw him rubbing his eyes as he looked at you twice as he blinked.

Pushing his chair away, he stumbled to stand up as he kept backing away from you with wobbly legs, "Wha...what did you d-do to me?" He mumbled, using his hand against the wall to stabilize himself.

Sitting on the table, you grabbed his empty glass of wine in your hand before grinning, "hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do, but you left me with no choice. But worry not, the fun has yet to begun. Cheers cheater!" Rising your glass in the air, you winked at him.

"C-cheater? what are you—"

"Don't even—oh...he passed out."

Putting your glass down, you walked towards him before crouching next to him. Pushing his hair off his flushed and sweaty face, you hummed.

—

Jaehyun felt as if he was running and running in a dark forest but to no destination. All he knew was that he had to run to save his life.

His felt a sting in his thigh. He took a guess it was a wound, but he had to keep running to safety, but the pain was so severe that he felt like he's getting stabbed with every step that he took.

Leaning on a tree, he tried to catch his breath and think. Looking at his leg, he saw blood but felt nothing. The sharp pain has faded to a manageable buzz, at the same time that everything has grown fuzzy and indistinct, and the world around him went dark.

Fluttering his eyes open, he was met with darkness and coldness. His brain was slowly waking up as the only thing he was seeing was his lap as he couldn't raise his head. He felt too weak to lift his head.

Taking shallow breaths, he felt his chest burn with every stretch of his skin.

He felt pain all over his body but couldn't pinpoint where exactly. He was still feeling dizzy as he struggled to move his neck. his muscles were tense and shaking with the strain. His breath comes in short, panting gasps.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, He tried to move his arms and legs but found that he was completely restrained. He realized he was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back and his legs tied with ropes to the chair legs.

His heart began to race as he realized that he was in a dark room with no windows or lights. Examining his surroundings, he realized he was in the basement.

He tried to remember, but everything was blurry. Pushing more made his throbbing head intensities. He remembered coming home, having dinner with you then... then he passed out. He remembered your last words before he fainted, making him panic. his heart started racing as he tried to free himself from his restraints, but to no avail, he was too drained.

Just when he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, he felt a sudden, hot sensation in his chest making him hiss, feeling the cold air brushing at his bare skin, he shuddered but when he sensed something dripping down his abdomen, he looked down and panic sets in.

He saw four letters carved into his chest and abdomen. Some looked so fresh while some were not with dried blood around them. looking down at his body, he realized that he was bleeding from several cuts and wounds, "oh god, oh god," seeing the pool of blood underneath him, he found no reason for it to not be his blood. He tried to call or scream for help but couldn't because he felt his throat was dry and parched.

Hearing the clacking of heels, he saw your feet clad in your favorite white heels with...red dots staining them appearing before him.

Now that he saw red, he felt nauseous, and finally, the smell around him invaded him. Trying to lift his head and move his limbs, pain shot through his strained muscles again.

Moving his hands, he hissed at the sharp and cold edge of some restrains digging into his wrists. "You're awake? Oh my god, it has been two days! I thought you had already died on me."

Feeling helpless and afraid, he struggled against the binds that held him captive. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't free himself from the chair. "I'm bleeding," he exclaimed, "shit, stop this. I'm bleeding. It hurts. Please. This ain't funny. There's a pool of blood under me," he panicked.

"I know you're bleeding. What do you think I was trying to do?" You tilted your head at him with puzzled expression, sending shivers down his spin.

You didn't just look out of your mind, but you looked as if you just walked out of a horror movie. You were drenched in blood, and your small white dress looked like a canvas with splashes of red.

Your blond hair had red strands framing your face. Your cheek and neck had blood on them as for your hands, Blood was dripping from them.

walking towards him, jaehyun jerked away, but you smiled wickedly before grabbing his neck to make him focus on your face. Looking down at him, you carassd his hair with a smile.

"Do you even know what you did wrong, jaehyunie?" you asked in a soft cadence. Jaehyun knew better than to fall for your faux facad, but the cuts on his neck certainly were fresh, and with every squeez, a wheezy breath left him.

When you got no response but whimpers and hisses, you rolled your eyes before tugging at his hair harshly and jerking his head back, exposing his bleeding neck before digging your nails into the cuts making him scream and trash away.

"I d-don't...please stop. P-please," he panted. planting your knee on his thigh to fix him and him to stop moving, he screamed again, "Stop, it hurts," he started pulling at his hands. "What do you mean it hurts? If it hurts, it's because you're struggling! Dont move, and you'll be fine."

Feeling wetness under your knee, you looked to see a forming blood stain on his jeans, "I may have stabbed your thighs too.." Pressing your knee more, you enjoyed how his face contorted in pain.

"Scream all you want, love. I soundproofed the walls and everything. Isn't that romantic?" You smiled at him.

"Please stop..why are you doing this?" He panted. Standing up, you grabbed his chair and faced towards the wall behind him.

Seeing the portrait of him kissing another woman, he froze. He felt his blood turn cold. That why she called. So she'd take photos.

"Why would you cheat, jaehyun? Weren't I enough for you?" Feeling his heart sting, he couldn't look at you. "You can't deny or lie. I saw you with my own eyes....what? Did a cat get your tongue? Why so quite? Aren't you going yo cry and beg? I have plans for your tongue..." You trailed your knife along his face, and he started trembling.

"It's a setup! It must be her plan all along. It's a setup, believe me. All this is big misunderstandment!" He cried out, "she was blackmailing me, I swear! Something about me embezzling money, which is not true! Someone is framing me, and I had no choice. Please believe me, I'd never ever cheat on you, I love you!" He sobbed as you pressed the sharp edge of the knife into the carved letters.

Stepping back, seeing him cry made you drop the knife and gently wipe his cheeks, but when you saw the mess you made, you grimaced. You started hyperventilating when you brought your bloody hands in front of your face.

Who's blood is this? Looking at your hand and at jaehyun, you felt your head throb, "what?" You whispered, "What do you mean a setup? I saw you... I saw you kissing. You didn't look forced. You looked happy.." You whispered, you felt pain in your body, you could barely hear what he was saying. You were barely able to hear your own self talking. "Don't cry. You'll make me feel bad for you. I don't want to feel bad for you." You pleaded, voice low and muffled by your palms.

"GODDAMN SHUT UP!" You suddenly screamed, causing jaehyun to flinch, "STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING!" Clutching your hair, you leaned on the wall behind you, "please make them shut up! I don't want to do this, I don't want to do that! Please make them shut up, jaehyun." You fell to ground, sniffling.

Looking at you, jaehyun felt pain in his chest at your sight, "Baby... there's no one but us," he chuckled bitterly, "no one is here."

Hearing thud upstairs, you wiped your face before standing up, "a setup you said?" You asked, and jaehyun weakly nodded, making you throw your head back with a laugh, "Oh, I see, but you're not off the hook, okay handsome face?" You grinned, tapping his lips, and jaehyun gagged at the salty and metallic taste of the blood on her fingers.

"Please don't do anything to upset me. The mess wouldn't be good for either of us. Stay still, and don't be dumb." You called before climbing up the stairs.

Walking into the living room, you saw doyoung placing an unconscious johnny on the couch. Dropping him down, he straightened his back, huffing out a deep breath.

Hearing you walk behind him, he smiled when he felt your arms slipping around his waist. "You finished him, sweety?" He asked, smiling.

Leaning your cheek on his shoulder, you hummed, "Doyoung," he smiled down at you, "why is johnny passed out on the couch?" You asked quietly after spoting blood oozing from the oldest's temple, "I had to do it. He was going to kill me." He exclaimed.

"And how would he do that?" You pressed on with an arch of your brow. You were very cautious and suspicious of him. For the past 2 days, he had visited with gifts and roses and even asked you out on dinner, which you agreed to just to keep him closer to you and keep a close eye on him.

"He was trying to take you away from me! He called me psycho and was going to report me, saying I shouldn't be near you and that you'll never love someone like me," wrapping his hands over yours, he looked down at you, "You're mine. Don't forget that. You promised. Say it," he urged, squeezing your hands, "say what?" You asked and he whined distraught.

"Please, i need to hear you say it. tell me you love me." Feeling your hand glid up and down his back, he eyed hopefully before you stepped back from him, pointing his gun at him.

"What are you doing?" Doyoung asked with his hands on his waist. His face marred with confusion and...pain? "Are you gonna shoot me? After everything I did, you still chose to protect him? Who cheated on you?" He asked in disbelief.

"Did he?" You smirked, cooking the hammer of the gun, finger resting at the trigger. Doyoung eyed you impress, a proud smile resting on his face. "Tell me, Doyoung. Did he really do that, or was it all a plot of your own creation?" You squinted your eyes at him.

"You still don't believe me? After all I did for you? Taking his side after all he did?!" Doyoung yelled, frustrated, "did he tell you he was innocent and he's the victim?" He took a step closer to you, not caring about the gun pointing at his face.

He was bristling with rage. All he could see was red. "No one can force anyone to cheat on someone they love. He's lying to you! You've seen it with your own eyes how he doesn't care about you. He's worthless of a woman like you."

You didn't know what to think, doyoung was right, you saw him cheat, he died look forced or miserable. He looked like a cheater.

He is a cheater. He fooled you. Kill him.

We need to kill someone. Kill!kill!kill!kill!kill!kill!kill!kill!—

Shaking your head to ignore the voices and focus on doyoung, you grab your face in your hand, "And you? You're worthy of me?" He grinned before taking the gun and placing it at his forehead, "don't act as if we're not soulmates, love. Even you know this."

Hearing heavy panting, you glanced over your shoulder to see jaehyun leaning on the wall with pale skin and blood smeared on his skin. You saw how he was struggling to stand still as he had to use the knife clutched in his hand to dig at the wall to aid his movement.

"No," jaehyun mumbled, stumbling on his legs, barely sble to lift his head, "I didn't...he planned it all. I..I always loved you and won't...won't hurt you, he's lying." he groaned, clutching his chest.

He was deliriuming. He didn't know which version of you was real, the one crying for his help or the one pointing a gun at him with raging eyes and murderous expression. Everything was blurry around him. He couldn't recognize the house or anything in it, and he was barely able to pinpoint your features. He felt his heart was going to stop beating any second, but he had to at least try and do something. He still had hope.

Both are lying. Kill both.

"Don't do this. We can fix it. I'll help you heal—"

"—there's nothing wrong with her–hey, there's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are." Doyoung held your face in his hand and made you face him, "you don't change a thing in yourself for anyone." Nodding, you turned to Jaehyun with a smirk on.

"I wanted you to love me while I fix myself." Lifting your arm, jaehyun finally understood. He smiled brokenly as he glid down the wall to the ground. "If killing me would lessen your pain... then fine... do it. I'm content with that."

Seeing your face soften, doyoung grabbed your hand and fired two bullets, and when he lowered your arm, you spotted a lifeless jaehyun leaning on the wall with a hole in his forehead with blood oozing out. He looked so at peace with a smile on his lips. He was at peace.

Looking at his unmoving body, you looked at doyoung with widened eyes. Your breathing became shallow and agitated as you stood there frozen, unable to believe what just had happened. Your hands started trembling, and your knees felt weak as you struggled to compose yourself. You didn't feel regret. You felt nothing. You were startled because of the way he eyed you... before he died. He was telling the truth.

"I'll do whatever it takes if it means we'll be together forever, my love." He confessed, pursing his lips before giving you a sinister smile. Seeing you lower your hand, he took a step towards you, and you subconsciously took a step back.

"You're mine," he whispered near your ear before taking the gun slowly from your limp hand. "He didn't...cheat, didn't he?" You whispered, feeling your cheek dampen, "he was saying the truth, and I..I"

"Don't cry. I can't see you crying. It hurts me so badly seeing you hurt. He deserved what happened to him. He did cheat. I left him with a choice, and he preferred his company and reputation over you. He failed his test, so dont cry. "

Letting him hug you, you dropped your head on his shoulder with closed eyes, "I'm tired." You sighed, "sleep a little. We have a long ride ahead of us." He smiled, caressing your hair, making you more sleepy.

"I don't sleep... not in this state. My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented." You whispered back. "You are afraid of your dreams?"

"Yes," you said quietly. Hearing faint sirens, you pulled your head up, and doyoung was quick to speak, "Don't worry. I have a plan," Moving away from you, you saw him pouring gasoline around the living room, and you took the lighter from him and flicked it on before throwing it to the ground and watching the fire ignite.

Looking behind you, you saw doyoung dragging a body before dropping it near the stairs. It was the girl jaehyun was cheating on you with. Tilting your head, you eyed Johnny on the couch, "Hey, he's my friend, I don't want him to burn to his death." Seeing the way doyoung was glancing between you wnd johnny had you smirking, "my, are you jealous?"

"You think l'm jealous? Trust me, my love, you haven't even seen jealousy." Shrugging, you grabbed his hand and left the house before getting in a car.

"Breaking new: the ceo of Jung business Empire, at age of 26, found dead today at one of the houses of his girlfriend's (Y/L/N) the worldwide-renowned fashion designer who also found dead with him at age of 25. The cause of death is said to be a gas leak. We send our heartfelt condolences to their families." The reporter continued telling the events.

The sun rose a few hours ago on the smoldering ruins of the once-grand mansion, as police and reporters gathered around the charred remains of what had been your home.

Inside the ambulance laid the only survivor, Johnny, who was still unconscious due to the amount of smoke he inhaled with the cop that saved him.

"Is he gonna live?" Jeno asked worryingly, his arm got bandaged, and his wounds and burns already tended while jisung only suffered minor injuries. When the nurse nodded and left, the younger dropped himself next to jeno.

"Why would doyoung suddenly leave..." the younger mumbled still don't understand why their sergeant suddenly took a break from work.

"Let him be. He earned it. Now Jung Jaehyun's case is closed, and there's nothing to be worried about," jeno sighed, cracking his back, letting some satisfied groans.

Getting called by another officer–Kun, jisung rushed towards him, leaving jeno by himself. Tapping his phone nervously, the younger bite on his nails as his mind drifted away.

Feeling johnny steering in his sleep, jeno pocketed his phone before looking around him for any nurse, hearing him call your name, jebo stopped and listened.

"She's... alive...he took her... he kill jaehyun." Johnny mumbled, still under the influence of drugs.

Hearing him, jeno checked his surroundings again before pulling a needle from his pocket and ingesting a liquid into The UV

#nct 127 smut #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun fanfic #nct doyoung x reader #nct doyoung smut #nct doyoung fanfic #nct doyoung #nct johnny fic #nct johnny x raeder #nct johnny #sexygrass

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sailoryooons · 2 years

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The Iron Ring | One | pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: fae prince! Jimin x human! female reader

❀ Summary: After finding a mysterious ring while cleaning out your late grandmother’s attic, you receive the unlikeliest of visitors: a fae prince who claims you have something that belongs to him. Discovering the fairytales your grandmother told you are true is the least of your problems when you’re taken to a world dangerous and unfamiliar.

❀ Word Count: 3,432

❀ Genre: fantasy au, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Heavy world building, funeral scene, mentions of death (elderly), brief mentions of toxic relationship between reader's mother and grandmother (not too serious), mentions of ailing mental states of the elderly, physical altercations (Jimin and reader fight this is action fantasy ok), Jimin is toxic (hard to understand what he wants, is prone to some violence), threatens to kill/ dismember reader (EMPTY THREATS HE THINKS HES TOUGH), mentions of daggers and swords, use of magical abilities, sexual tension, Fae Jimin is a warning in itself.

❀ Published: May 25, 2022

❀ A/N: I am so thrilled to be writing this finally. Fantasy writing is my element - I feel like I write fantasy genre so much better than any of my other content. I do find a lot of people are as enthusiastic about it, but I really hope you enjoy this. Please note that this story is only 5 full chapter long - this means that each chapter I write will ALWAYS be around 20k-30k per chapter, because I'm doing this as a mini series. I find it much easier to do large works like this because it's less likely I lose motivation.

This first chapter does not have smut - I hope that does not turn you off, however I wanted to establish the dynamic between Y/N and Jimin before I really played up that part. I do promise for those of you just looking for some filth that it will be in the next chapter.

❀ 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, judgment 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.

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You know that funerals are meant for crying, but you find it difficult to produce tears. The folded chair beneath you is damp with the rain misting under the black umbrella held tightly in your hand. A morbid thought crosses your mind as they lower the casket into the freshly dug grave - it looks exactly like a scene from a mafia movie. The gray sky swollen with rain, the clusters of dark umbrellas catching droplets.

Next to you, your mother sniffs, wiping her tears away. You can’t imagine what she is going through, but you think there is guilt there. Guilt for not being there in her mother’s last days. Guilt for writing off the ramblings and confusion of an old woman.

In her last days, your grandmother was a nuisance to your mom. An old weight stressing her out with ailing health, a reason to take off numerous days from her incredibly important work as a fashion designer and owner of her own company.

The fact that she is crying tells you how little your mother knew about grandma in her dying days. She wouldn’t want anyone to cry. She was old and lived a full life, and she had wanted peace in her last days. Waiting to join your grandfather, who had died much earlier.

So you don’t cry. For your grandmother, for her legacy. Because though you’re sad, and though you will miss the soft stories whispered at your bedside as a child, you know that she’s wherever she was meant to be.

That’s enough for you.

Funerals, as expected, are a bleak affair. The gathering after is even worse. Catered food that is colder than it should be, dishes made in haste by neighbors and mourners. Escaping the stale perfume of your mother’s friends and those who knew your grandma is imperative.

Your grandmother’s house is old, built in the 1800s with nooks and crannies and rooms leading into rooms in a dizzying maze. It’s well-kept, though some of the porch out front leans and the screens in the windows could do with replacing.

It doesn’t matter. The home holds sentimental value to you. You wander up the creaking, carpeted stairs. It still has shag carpet, holding in every smell familiar to you as you climb. Your room is on the second floor facing the north and front of the yard, in the rounded part of the house above the reading room on the first floor. It’s quiet upstairs as you pause in the hallway, looking at the frames mounted in the hall, a wall of memories.

Your childhood stretches behind each piece of glass, contained within the woodwork and cardboard backing.

After admiring each fragment of your history, you trail to your room. The door creaks when you open it. Gray light filters in through the window, the gossamer curtains pulled back. Dust motes float in the room. It is completely undisturbed. Your old twin bed is tucked neatly in the corner of the room, pink sheets tucked neatly. You sit on it, feeling the bed springs give under your weight.

A mural painted with your grandmother’s careful hand stretches on the wall opposite your bed and around the wooden door leading to your closet. You look at the greenery and the vines crawling up old castles, faeries and sprites dancing around under the moonlight. A glowing sword held by a warrior maiden with a circlet of moons and stars around her hair.

The painting is a collection of hundreds of stories your grandmother has told you growing up. They all revolve around land called Faerie, where creatures beautiful and deadly exist. The maiden in the story was always your favorite character, fashioned in the likeness of your grandmother herself.

Sighing, you finally feel the threat of tears. You swallow past it and lay down on the bed, content to be in the room again. The bookshelf with the music box is untouched, but free of dust. Though time seems to freeze the room in place, you can tell that your grandmother kept it clean. The thought makes your lip wobble.

Instead of crying, you turn on your side and close your eyes. You imagine that she’s there next to you, brushing your hair with her soft hands and murmuring, There once was a princess without a crown. Don’t worry, she got her crown eventually, but she had to fight a monster to earn it…

Darkness covers the room. You groan when you stretch your limbs, sore and cramped from sleeping on the uncomfortable bed. You’re still dressed in your funeral clothes. Grabbing your phone from next to the fairy lamp, you click your lock screen open. It’s near midnight.

You see texts from your mother and roll your eyes. Of course she thought you left early - she hadn’t even bothered to check the rooms upstairs. Groaning, your joints pop as you get out of the bed, shuffling to the center of the room. Slipping your shoes back on, you make to leave the house and head back to your apartment.

The hallway is night-still. Your steps break the silence as you use the screen of your phone to navigate the hall. Nearing the stairwell, you pause. You don’t know why, but something makes you turn and look at the opposite end of the hall. The small door that leads up the stairwell to the attic above your room beckons you.

Something in you buzzes. The urge to walk to the other end of the hall and open the attic takes over. You don’t know where it comes from, only that you haven’t been in the attic in years. You were never allowed up there alone - it kept some of your grandparents most prized possessions.

The world seems dull as you take a step towards the end of the hall and away from the stairs. A dull buzz enters your ears as you take another step, eyes fixed on the door. It would take only a moment to go up and look at what is there again. Trinkets and curiosities that you always loved to admire under the strict supervision of grandmother.

Suddenly you’re outside the door. You reach for the knob and it feels like a tremor of electricity vibrates down your arm. Up up up your hand goes, closing around the brass knob and-

Your phone ringing makes you scream in surprise, dropping it entirely. You press your hand to your chest, heart pounding. The adrenaline shoots through you like an arrow, immediately making you feel sick from the sudden fear.

Spell broken, you reach down, shining the phone face toward you, blinding you. It’s so much darker in the hallway than you remember.

You slide your finger across the screen. “Hi, Joon. Yeah - sorry, I fell asleep after the funeral. I’m going home now - let’s have dinner tomorrow? Sounds good.”

You rarely blow off your best friend, but Namjoon is the kind of person who understands people the way you wish you could. He reads you like a book, always anticipating when you need space and always knowing what to say. He has been your rock during your grandmother’s ongoing health issues and passing - and he’d have been with you today, if you hadn’t assured him that his presentation at work was more important.

The attic is forgotten about as you shake off the tired feeling. You head back to the stairs, jogging down them and shoving your phone in your pocket. Yawning, you lock up behind you and leave your grandmother’s old house standing alone in the night.

Fabric clings to your shoulders uncomfortably. The blazer you’ve pulled on for your meeting is too tight in the arms, not allowing you to reach too far upward and feeling awkward as you shuffle out of the car. You reach to close the door, the sleeve straining against you.

Formal wear isn’t your forte. You find it uncomfortable and you rarely need to use them unless you’re doing a signing or something official. Your usual clothes involve anything comfortable for writing children’s stories, weaving the tales from your childhood. Your grandmother had helped illustrate more than a few.

The thought makes you smile as you shift in the padded seat of the reception room of the legal office. You check your watch - the lawyer in charge of divvying up your grandmother’s estate is late. But so is your mother.

Next to you, the door opens. Your mother breezes in, dressed in a wonderfully tailored pantsuit and heels. She looks effortlessly beautiful, smiling when she sees you. You stand and press a kiss to her cheeks. You always wished you looked like her when you were younger - lithe and graceful with a sort of effortless movement.

Now you’re happy that you look exactly like your grandmother - commanding and firm. You’re not graceful, but you’re strong. People listen to you when you speak, though that’s the one thing you share in common with your mother.

“You look nice,” she says, sitting down next to her. You accept the comment, though you hate the outfit. “You should dress like that more often.”

You love your mother. She is a strong woman who raised you primarily on her own while creating a fashion empire around herself. Though your childhood was filled with living at your grandmother’s when money was tight and more often than not having your grandparents keeping you during fashion weeks and long-weekends, your mother loves you. She isn’t unkind, and she tries to be supportive of your whimsical dreams.

It’s just that you’re nothing like her. You’ve inherited the wandering mind from your father, his enchanting fascination with worlds of fantasy. And though that had attracted your mother to him in the first place because it reminded her of her mother, after your dad passed, her passion for anything magical vanished.

The struggle between wanting you to do something corporate and letting you live your dreams was constant for her. And you knew that she tried - she bought your books and she asked you about them. But the pinched brow and the twitch in her mouth always told you that she was disappointed. Because you reminded her of her late husband. Reminded her of the struggles with her own mother.

So you let the comment pass. It’s not an insult - she just wishes you were more like her. Carried you for nine months, she would joke. All for you to come out like grandma and your dad!

“How’s your new book doing?”

It’s a question to broach the silence. You answer anyway, “Good. I’m glad grandma was able to illustrate for me.”

“She loved that you made her stories your own. I don’t know if you realize how much that meant to her - means to me.” You look up at your mom. For a moment, her face is older than you remember, more open and vulnerable. She touches your hand and you feel emotion well up inside you. “I’m glad we have those, for her. So thank you.”

When the lawyer opens the door, the moment is gone. But you’re glad that it happens.

Standing, you smooth your blazer and follow your mother into the man’s office. It’s stuffy and you feel claustrophobic. It smells like peppermint oil and tea tree. You notice that there are crystals lining his bookshelves, your eyes recognizing obsidian, tigers eye, smoky quartz.

The lawyer himself is wire-thin and skittish, pushing his glasses up his pointed nose and apologizing profusely. He was dressed in jeans with paint stains and a shirt tucked in, evidence of a donut on his collar. You don’t know why, but he makes you smile as you sit down. You immediately imagine him as a willow man from one of your stories, a type of dryad made of willow bark, as flighty as the breeze.

“I apologize for the delay,” he says again. “The lock box and papers went wandering off on their little feet - critters drive me nuts!”

You raise your brows. Your mother raises her hackles, fingers digging into the arms of her chair. “You almost lost my mother’s belongings?”

“Not permanently!”

Her nose flares. “Make this brief, please.”

The lawyer - Mr. Willow, which makes you suspicious of your own mind - goes through the papers outlining your grandmother’s estates. It’s mostly split evenly, with certain heirlooms and keepsakes going to your mother. You can tell your mother is struggling with some of the items mentioned, something personal and meaningful to her.

The surprise comes when you get the house and specific belongings inside of it. You recognize objects kept in the attic that Mr. Willow goes over. Your mother goes rigid for some of them, and though you don’t know why, you find yourself nodding along.

At the end of the meeting, you are much wealthier than you imagined being in your lifetime, and you have a house full of curiosities and memories.

Outside, the world is gray. It has rained most days since your grandmother has passed away. The imaginative side of you feels as though the world is weeping for her loss. The realist in you knows the rainy season is approaching.

A touch on your wrist draws your attention to your mother. Her mouth is pinched, and nostrils are flared, sure signs of her annoyance as she tightens her hold. “You should sell off those items in the attic. No good comes from them.”

You frown. “Why?”

“They’re trinkets that inspired the delusions of your grandfather - grandmother too, in the end. You should be rid of them. They have sour memories.”

“I love the attic,” you protest. “I loved when grandma took me up there.”

“I can’t make you do anything, but you should think about what I’ve said. Objects have a weird way of holding memories that warp the mind.” She lets go of your wrist. It’s the most she's ventured to imply that objects can be mystical in years. “Try not to get lost in the stories. They’re nothing more than that.”

With a firm kiss on your head, she turns and walks away. People look at her as she passes by them, heads turned to watch her go. She has always had a magnetic beauty, drawing people to her wherever she went. Your grandmother had that same quality, moving about the world with an intense gravity.

Your drive through the city is aimless. You have nowhere to be. Nothing to do. The music is so low that you turn it off, listening to the hum of the tires on the pavement. Your hands guide you on instinct until you’re driving through winding hills toward your grandmother’s house. It isn’t until you’re stepping out into the silver moonlight that you realize you’re there.

Pulling your phone out, you text Namjoon the address. You’re supposed to meet for dinner, but you want to explore a little. The house will be less creepy with him around.

The house is dark. There are no lights in the window as you close your car door, a noise so loud that it makes you flinch in the silence of the night. You don’t move for a while, just examining the house. Vine climbs up the side of the house and tangles in the eaves. There’s a porch on the front, a single swing still hanging. Above it is a large balcony attached to your grandmother’s room, the furniture and plants still waiting for her return.

Your eyes drift to the rounded front of the house - the reading room on the first floor, your room on the second, and the attic on the third. You used to have dreams about creatures slipping through the floor of the attic to come through your ceiling and fall on you while you slept.

The dreams you had when you stayed with your grandmother were always strange. Filled with something other and always like you were waking from a memory, you sometimes recalled pixies and brownies creeping on the edge of your mind, speaking to you in hushed tones at the foot of your bed.

Now, you’re alone without having one of those dreams in years. You walk up to the house, letting yourself in. It doesn’t feel like it’s yours, though it legally is. You cross the threshold and stare out at the dark home. Most of the things inside belong to you, a reality that seems far away. This will always be your grandmother’s home. It will always have her things.

Your mother’s suggestion to sell off the items in the attic gnaws at you. Flicking the lights on in the home so you don’t feel so alone, you ascend the stairs. The clock in the reading room ticks loudly, a steady staccato as you climb the stairs, footsteps quieted by carpet. Your fingers trace the flowered wallpaper, some of the edges peeling where it meets the next panel.

A memory comes to you and you smile. There was a time when you were around five that you got in trouble for drawing near the crown molding, sitting on the stairs with your Crayola and pressing the waxy tip into the wallpaper with vigor. Your grandmother had not been bothered and your mother was mildly annoyed until she saw the subject of your drawings: a warrior queen with stars in her hair.

You don’t remember what her and your grandmother fought about, but it had been loud and you waited in your room with tear-stained cheeks for it to be over.

Hundreds of memories echo in the home. You feel them all as you open the attic door, looking up at the dark stairs. You flick the light up before taking the stairs carefully. They creak under your weight and you see the way the cobwebs dance as you walk by.

The ceiling is low and you can see the little black spiders spinning away, wrapped up in their own machinations. You leave them to their spinning, sweeping your gaze around the room with a mix of excitement and sadness. It’s been years since you’ve been in the attic, and you don’t know where to go first.

Following your own whims, you brush your finger along an old book collection. There’s dust on them, old folklore books and poems that your grandfather used to read often. Your grandmother had no interest in them when he passed, but she always kept them. Your finger tapped the cracked and aged spine of The Knight of the Cart, trailing to The Song of Roland.

That one makes you smile. You imagine yourself as the Knight Roland, wielding his mighty sword Durendal, or sitting at the round table.

A heavy chest with artfully crafted metal leaves and a gilded latch sits in the corner. You know it contains objects you were never allowed to see - a heavy lock keeps the polished leather lid shut. You go to it anyway - you’re sure there’s a key somewhere, perhaps in the safety deposit box you were given. Your fingers are curious as they trace the metal leaves. They're artfully done, with jewels set in, a green that is so vibrant you swear they’re emeralds.

Your favorite part of the attic is the old school boudoir. You sit on the cushioned stool carefully, worried that the old wood will crack under your weight. The mirror is covered in dust. You carefully trace your finger through the dust, instinct guiding you before you realize what you’re doing.

Mirrors can lead to other worlds your grandmother had whispered once. Maybe even different places of the afterlife.

So you trace a single sentence on the mirror. I miss you. An oidche.

You hope that wherever she is, your grandmother receives the message written in dust.

Nudging around the items at the table, you pull open a drawer. Dust clouds out of it, making you wave your hand back and forth to try and clear it. Inside are some perfumes and a lethal looking letter opener. You take out the letter opener, eyebrows raised. It’s a little larger and heavier than normal - you dare to call it a dagger - with an ornate grip decorated with silver stars. The blade is thin and dark silver.

Static crackles in the air. You feel something sizzle in your palm, sparking your skin. You yelp, dropping the letter opener to the floor. It clatters, but you ignore the dagger, looking at the palm of your hand. You swear theres a pink, faded outline where you gripped the handle, but when you blink, your hand is normal.

Picking up the letter opener from the floor, you put it back in the drawer. You start to close the drawer, but a velvet box captures your eye. You pull the midnight-blue box from the back of the drawer. It’s velvet and obviously a ring box. You pop it open, curious. A simple band of metal is inside, stars carved into the metal. You pull it from its snug seat in the box, holding it up toward the shotty light to examine it.

The band looks too large for your fingers. The metal is dark like the letter opener, almost black and yet shimmering somehow. The stars aren’t like the normal five-pointed drawings in popular media, but bursts that are all unique and beautiful in their own way.

Experimentally, you slid the ring on your pointer finger on your right hand. It’s too loose at first - you blink in surprise. The attic is not brightly lit, but for a moment you swear the ring pulsed and grew smaller. It’s snug on your finger now, not too tight but not loose. You hold your hand up, admiring it. It isn’t full of diamonds or jewels, but there is something about it that glows from within.

A tremor goes through you. You flinch and look around the room. You swear you felt something like a pulse of energy shiver through you and outward. The room is dark - your vision fades in and out for a moment as your eyes adjust from staring at the ring so much.

Nothing seems amiss, but you feel… off.

Shrugging you pull at the ring, ready to return it. The metal doesn’t come off. You frown and pull harder, but it doesn’t budge. You try a few more times, but the ring fits snuggly. You look at it again, frown deepening.

“What the fuck,” you mutter.

No matter what you try, the ring won’t come off. You pull open other drawers, looking for lotion of some kind to help slide the ring off your finger. You find none.

Something makes you acutely aware of the silence in the room. You look up at the mirror - it’s still dusted over, not showing a true reflection, but you see a figure in the corner near the door. Screaming, you shoot out of the seat and turn around, crashing backward into the boudoir.

“Woah woah woah!” Namjoon holds his hands up in surrender, pushing himself against the wall. “Relax it's just me!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“You texted me to meet you!”

Oh yeah. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart and the sudden urge to vomit from the terror. You close your eyes, letting your breathing regulate. When you open them again, Namjoon is still waiting for you. You relax, letting the breath woosh from your lungs.

“Sorry, I think I’m just paranoid,” you say finally.

“House is a little creepy at night.”

“A bit.” Shrugging off the weird thoughts of the ring, you cross the attic and beckon for him to follow. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

After a few days, it’s easy to forget about the fact that the ring won’t come off. On closer inspection, it appears that it’s made of something like iron. At night, you lie in bed and stare at it, hand held above you. It seems to glow whenever the sun sets, coming alive in the night.

Though you never feel the same pulse of energy you did the night you put the ring on, you feel something. You can’t put your finger on it, but it lingers in the night. Though you were always a night owl, a new kind of insomnia slowly begins to take over. You find yourself inspired the moment the sun vanishes from the sky to write, creating your grandmother’s stories into something else fuller, more expanded.

You’re suffering from another battle of insomnia as you stand in the kitchen, sipping chamomile tea in the dark. The ring reflects the night light hauntingly. Your eyes drift to inspect it again, following unknown constellations mapped in the metal.

There are seven stars on the metal, dotted carefully. Something prods your mind. You narrow your eyes, staring at the constellations. They suddenly look familiar, almost like a distant memory. It’s on the edge of your thought, lingering there as you rotate your hand, holding it close to your face to get a better view.

Seven stars. Each burst its own shape and size. Your frustration mounts like an itch you can’t scratch, a pressure building as you struggle to think of where you know this pattern from, where you know those stars.

You blink and almost drop your tea. You set it down quickly and rush to the light in the kitchen, flicking it on and making yourself flinch. When your eyes adjust, you hold your hand up, mouth agape as you count the stars.

One star for winter, the first in the skies

One star for spring, when winter dies

One star for summer, cold winter’s twin

One star for autumn, when the veil is thin

One star for day, the brightest glow

One star for night, when the world is slow

One star on high, to rule alone

The soft rhyme your grandfather used to whisper to you comes back to you with a wave of emotions. You clutch the counter, trying to catch your breath as the rhyme circles your mind over and over again.

The seven stars of the faerie realm. You remember both of them telling you about it, the way each star represented a court. Those stories were your favorite. Your grandmother always wove beautiful stories about the warrior princess of the Night Court who fell in love with a knight of the Summer Court. You remember their story, remember the way they united to banish the power of the High Court, an ancient court draining the power of the six courts.

Grabbing your keys, you don’t even think. Trees and headlights blur by as you drive to your grandmother's house, hands twisting on the steering wheel. Something settles over you - a sense of foreboding that begins to twist in your stomach. You know what you’re going to find.

And yet when you run through the house and up to your old bedroom, falling to your knees to inspect the mural your grandmother has painted you, you’re surprised. The warrior princess with stars in her hair holds her sword high over her head, ring glowing on her finger with power.

You look down at your hand. It’s the same ring.

Rushing up to the attic, you’re already convincing yourself that you’re going mad. Your grandparents were huge storytellers - your father too. It was something so consuming to them, their world of fantasy and mythological creatures. You wanted nothing more than for it to all be real as a child.

You think of the way your mother purged your home of stories and fantasy when your father passed. How she hated any time your grandmother filled your head with those lies and fantasies. Of the way your mother told you to toss the items in the attic out.

Maybe she was right. Maybe there is a madness that runs in your family, a sickness of the mind that weaves fantasies and makes you think they’re real. There is nothing wrong with your grandmother having a ring she’s painted in your old room. There’s nothing wrong with a ring that won’t come off - it happens all the time.

Upstairs in the attic, you’re rooting around the bookshelf for the tiny journal your grandfather kept with poems and pages filled with his delicate, slanted writing. You don’t bother to turn the lights on, spying it and snatching it. You crack it open, the yellowed pages familiar as you pace, flicking through the pages.

You find the entry you want, stopping your pacing to pause and read the poem over again. It’s there, the seven courts of faerie, all ruled by the powerful High Court. You trace the words, shaking your head. Their twisted imaginations are so much more than you could have thought. Their stories are so heavily intertwined that it feels… real, like some sort of past they have shared.

But that is not possible. You write children's novels, inspired by your grandmother’s bedside tales, but they are nothing more than that. You can’t… you can’t fall into delusion that this is real, that these little snippets of this world they spoke of are tangible.

You know it is. You don’t know why, but the word real pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart. Real real. Real real. Real real.

It’s all real.

“Has this world erased any sense of self-awareness you have?”

The voice makes you scream in surprise, clutching the journal to your chest as your heart beats so wildly you think it’s going to explode. The soft purr belongs to a man standing in the corner of the attic, staring at you with keen eyes.

“Do not come any closer!” You scream at him, the first words that come to your mind.

He looks amused. “You were always a brat, but you’re in no position to order me around anymore.”

Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You stare at the man who stands with his hands behind his back in the corner of the attic. He looks entirely out of place - a shirt made of a soft material that is almost see-through hangs loose on his narrow frame. It’s the shade of cotton candy but somehow brighter. The collar is open, revealing smooth skin and layered necklaces with pearls and other small jewels. His pants are tight fitted, something similar to leather and tucked into supple boots.

There is a circlet resting on his silver head - something that would look ridiculous in any other situation but now commands power. It looks right on him - makes him look otherworldly and deadly.

His eyes are green, nearly glowing in the shadow of the attic. He looks out of place here, a being that isn’t made for your world. He steps forward and it’s soundless. The aged and cracked floorboards don’t dare to make a sound under his feet, the dust of the attic doesn’t move.

He’s not human. That’s for sure.

Something pulses in you. You stare at the strange intruder, ethereal and lost in his eyes but there’s something else you can’t place. You fight the urge to cross the space to him, something pulling on you like an invisible force. Your breath quickens as you fight something that feels like a physical tether pulling you toward him.

He watches you. Silver hair delicately styled back, his circlet like moonlight spun among the strands. There’s jewelry dangling in his ears, more exquisite than you’ve ever seen. An emerald dangles delicately, reflecting light so much that it almost pulses. Your eyes drifted up the silver cuff, made in the style of vines to the top of his pointed ears.

Your breath is stuck in your chest.

Faerie.

Your mind races to put together the pieces of the tales your grandmother told you, of a world not your own. A world with sugared candies and blood oaths, of drinks so sweet they’d kill you but music and dancing so wonderful you could cry.

The faerie watches you, head cocked to the side, a predator examining its prey. You clutch the book tighter in your hands, knuckles bone white.

“Why do you look so afraid, Yvaine?”

You suck in a sharp breath. This faerie knows your grandmother’s name - thinks that you’re her. You’ve been told countless times how much you look like her - young portraits nearly identical.

Every story she ever told you as a child comes rushing back to you. The way she described a knight who loved her deeply, the way she learned to wield a sword and go on glorious adventures.

The fae are fickle beings, she once told you. Cruel and intelligent, but with the capacity to love and create in ways that you can hardly imagine. Never trust them implicitly, and always keep your name close to your chest.

“You startled me,” you finally answer. If he knows your grandmother, perhaps he’s one of the good fae she spoke of. You try to relax visibly. “It’s not every day-old friend appear in attics.”

His eerie eyes drop down to your hand, zeroing in on the ring on your finger. You cover your hand with your grandfather’s journal, shielding the ring from his view. His eyes flash and he smiles. It’s not kind - it’s something else entirely that makes you want to back away from him.

The faerie tsks, siren eyes dragging back up to fix on your face. “You’re not Yvaine.”

“What a ridiculous notion.”

He scoffs. “Nothing startled her, much less me. And,” he adds with a saccharine grin, “Yvaine would hardly call me a friend. Pray tell, who are you?”

“Grandma told me to never speak names to the fae.”

His smile sharpens, teeth on display. He is beautiful and terrifying. His canines are sharper than normally as he bows slightly, a ridiculous notion with how exquisitely he’s dressed. “A good piece of advice. How about I introduce myself first: You may call me Jimin.” His eyes go back to the ring you’re hiding. “And you’re wearing something that does not belong to you.”

“Everything in this house belongs to me.”

“That ring is not from this house.”

“Well it’s where I found it.”

“It does not change the place of origin.”

“Finders keepers,” you sneer at him.

He frowns. “I am unfamiliar with the meaning of that phrase. Is it perhaps a greeting among thieves?”

“So you admit you’re a thief.”

Jimin is so painfully beautiful that only your fear keeps you snapping at him. You retreat backwards slightly, bumping against the boudoir. You remember the letter opener, positioning yourself so that your hand is behind your back, slowly opening the drawer.

“I’m many things, a thief among them.” His eyes are glittering as he walks around the room, observing the bookshelf. You take the distraction as a moment to put your hand in the drawer, searching for the letter opener. It’s missing. “Looking for something?”

Your eyes shoot up. Jimin is standing in front of the bookshelf, letter opener in hand. Your anger flares through you and you feel an energy ripple through you again. Jimin’s face twists, becoming unsettled as you yell, “See, you are a thief!”

“This belongs to me. Show me your hand, girl.”

“Give me my letter opener.”

He makes a sour face. “Letter opener? This knife has belonged to An Oidhche for millennia. It is hardly made for opening letters. It was my-”

“What did you just say?”

“For Makers sake,” he growls and moves forward across the attic. He’s fast, faster than your eyes can follow before he’s in front of you. He smells like orange blossoms and a summer’s night, nearly hypnotizing you. Up close he is so angelic that you fight the urge to sink to your knees and bow. “Give me that ring, girl, or I will rip it from your dead hand, allegiance to Yvaine be damned.”

“An Oidhche - that’s what my grandmother called me.”

“Congratulations.”

“What does it mean?”

It seems Jimin has met his tolerance for you leaning away from him. He reaches for you, lightning quick. Before you can defend yourself, energy ripples out of you. It hits him and you smell something sharp and metallic as he’s stunned backwards, nearly losing his footing. He looks up at you, eyes round and plush lips open in surprise.

“There’s no way,” he whispers, his lip curling. Shocked, you look at the ring on your hand. It’s glowing, a tingling sensation vibrating up your hand. “Iron?”

You use his shock to your advantage. Grabbing whatever you can reach, you launch items at Jimin. He’s fast, but not fast enough, his shock still dulling his senses. A bottle of perfume hits him in the head. He snarls, the sound feral and deep as you bolt past him.

Jimin is quick to recover. There’s a soft whistling sound before you're ripped backwards, a loud thwack startling you. You turn your head to see that Jimin threw the dagger at you, catching your shirt and pinning you to the door. You scream in frustration, pulling at the dagger. It doesn’t give as Jimin smirks, swaggering toward you.

“You tried to kill me!” you scream at him, enraged. Whoever this faerie is, he is clearly not one of the nice ones your grandmother spoke of. “You fucking bastard.”

“Told you I’d pry it from your dead hands.”

Jimin is only a foot away from you. Your instincts scream. You don’t even think. You kick out with your foot, hitting him in the chest. He hardly moves, pain shooting up your shin as though you kicked a wall. It doesn’t stop you. You scream at him, kicking out the other foot, pushing against the door for leverage as you aim higher at his head.

Jimin catches your foot this time, yanking you and the door forward into him. You use the momentum to throw your head forward, slamming your forehead into his face. Jimin curses as pain explodes through your head, stars blinding you.

Pain. Dreadful, swelling pain spreads through your head. You’ve never headbutt someone before, but it looks so easy when the Avengers do it. You’re dizzy, the room spinning on a crooked access. You go limp against the door, unable to focus on anything but the way you can barely focus on Jimin in front of you.

Your vision is hazy on the edges as he holds a hand up to his nose. It comes away crimson. His green eyes are glowing, brighter than they were before. He surprises you as he begins laughing, tilting his crimson and moonlight face up to the ceiling as he laughs, full-bellied. The sound is like trickling water, trilling and beautiful.

“Fuck, you are certainly of Yvaine's bloodline.” The words reach you like they’re spoken through syrup, sticky and slow. “I cannot believe you headbutt me. And you did it all wrong. You used half your brow bone- oh lovely.”

You feel Jimin’s hands smacking your cheek lightly. You can barely register the touch beyond the pain. You feel sick - you know you’ve damaged yourself. At the least you’ve given yourself a terrible concussion. You feel heavy as you blink, Jimin swimming in your vision.

Jimin reaches for the ring again. You moan, trying to ask him to stop, to leave you alone. He doesn’t. His fingers brush the ring and he curses, yanking his hands away from it. “Fuck,” he spits, nursing his fingers, now tipped red. “Hey – come on, are you alright? Girl? Don’t pass out on me.”

A part of you is smug knowing you’re going to do the exact opposite of what he asks. Because being left alone with him after he’s attacked you is the last thing you want to do, but your vision is fuzzy on the edges and you feel a voice sweeping toward you to swallow you whole.

“Fuck off,” you manage to slur, going slack against the door and letting the darkness drag you down.

Lilac skies stretch overhead. The water around your ankles reflects the same color. There seems to be no horizon in any direction, making you spin in a slow circle. Your feet don’t disturb the warm water as you shift.

It’s hard to tell what is up and down, forever twilight everywhere all at once.

“Where am I?” you wonder out loud.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You whip around at the voice. Your grandmother stands a few yards away from you, younger than you ever remember. She’s in a gauzy dress, the material swaying in a breeze that isn’t there. She looks beautiful, face glowing as cool, silver eyes regard you.

“Grandma,” you whisper.

“We must be quick.” You take a step toward her and she shakes her head, holding a hand out to stop you. “You must not step further into the twilight. You do not belong here.”

“Where is here?”

“The twilight between life and death. I felt your pull when you entered the In Between.”

“I’m dying?”

She shakes her head. “You’re at the space between worlds - the road between Faerie and Earth and other realms.” You swallow and nod. At least you’re not dying. “You are with Jimin.”

“He’s awful.”

Her smile is fleeting. She looks so much like the woman she painted on the walls of your bedroom - she is that woman. “Jimin is a product of his environment. Given the chance, he usually chooses the lesser evil, however he is ruthless when it comes to protecting what’s his. I am fond of him, in a way, but don’t mistake me - Jimin is cunning and not to be trusted. What is he after?”

“This.” You hold up your hand. Your grandmother’s eyes widen, and she takes a hesitant step forward.

Suddenly, you’re freezing cold. You shiver, the tips of your fingers trembling with the biting cold.

“Oh Jimin, what are you doing?” Your grandmother whispers. In a rush, she says, “Get away from him as soon as you can. Don’t let him take you to the Night Court. He will portal you south of his court near Hoseok’s home. If he takes you to the Night Court, you will not escape. You must not let him introduce you to Seokjin – the faerie who can lie.”

Again, cold douses you and the world around you dulls. You feel yourself moving away from your grandmother, the twilight shaking itself free of you. You cling to the image, begging, “What? What is that supposed to mean? What is this ring?”

“It isn’t about the ring anymore,” her face is pained. “There are so many things I wish I could tell you - just get away from Jimin and don’t let him take you to Seokjin. Jimin won’t realize the mistake he’s making, he doesn't know that Seokjin isn't who he thinks – he doesn’t know Seokjin killed your grandfather-”

Freezing cold water burns your face. You sputter, gasping for air. You choke on the icy tendrils, wiping your eyes with numb fingers, shaking. The dream - the place of twilight between life and death - vanishes and you’re stuck somewhere unknown dripping with cold.

Jimin is crouched at eye level, hypnotizing face fixated on you. He looks perfect as ever - the blood is gone though it stains the collar of his gossamer shirt, and there’s no bruising. No evidence you hit him at all, wiping out any satisfaction you have.

The cold is so bad it claws at you, head throbbing where you headbutt him. There’s a dry, bitter taste in your mouth. You cringe, unsure why you’ve woken up with something like hangover mouth parching you.

“Finally,” Jimin mutters. His hands come to cup your face. You flinch away from him, earning a curled lip and a feral growl as he forcibly holds you face, tilting you upward to examine your forehead. Your eyes go upwards to look at the sky and the breath leaves your lungs. “Swelling is going down. You’ll be fine in a moment - forced some tonic in your mouth. I’d apologize for the bitter taste in your mouth, but I’m not actually sorry.”

You ignore the rude comment. The pull toward Jimin is there again, making you stare at him for a few moments in silence. He lets you, eyes wandering your face, though you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

True to his word, the pain begins to fade in your head. Jimin stands up next to you, trailing towards a massive horse. You gape. It’s beautiful with a midnight coat and dark, leather saddle. The horse’s mane and tail are silver like starlight, silky and smooth as Jimin adjusts the saddle.

“Your horse is beautiful.”

Jimin’s mouth twitches. “Thank you. Her name is Umbriel.”

You look up at the sky. Constellations and colors like you’ve never seen swirl above, the black sky saturated with purple and pink stars, swirling galaxies that make your head spin. It’s so beautiful you can’t look away.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper. You drop your gaze and look around. The forest is dark, but there are bioluminescent plants swaying in the breeze that smells like jasmine. A glowing, white butterfly brushes by you and you smile, despite yourself. “Everything glows?”

“It’s the Night Court,” Jimin grunts as though this is a huge fact you should have known. “Of course everything glows. Now get up.”

Don’t let him take you to the Night Court. Your grandmother’s words ring in your head as you slowly stand. Your limbs are still cold. You spot a slow-moving stream a few feet away - perhaps the source of the freezing water Jimin doused you with several times.

Jimin rolls his eyes when you stand, steady on your feet. He gestures to the horse. “Come on, human. We don’t have all day.”

“It’s night.”

“It’s only night here. But it is day in your scope of time.”

“What direction is south?”

Jimin pointed behind you, face pulled into a sneer. “Do all human women ask such ridiculous questions? Now let’s-”

You don’t care what he’s saying. You pivot and run. Your shoes aren’t made for athletics - you’re still I fluffy slippers, leggings and a baggy sleepy shirt. The right shoe comes off and you leave it. The ground is soft under your feet, springy and damp. You lose the other shoe, arms pumping at your side as you race downhill.

Colors blur on either side of you. You don’t hear Jimin behind you as you nearly trip over a vine. Your breath stings in your lungs and -

A body slams into you. You screech as you crash into the bushes, the breath leaving your lungs. The world is a kaleidoscope of neon as glowing things flutter from the bushes, flying upward in panic as you wheeze in the bushes. Jimin’s grip on your wrists is like iron, pushing your hands into the foliage as he straddles your waist.

The prince is gone. He is replaced with an angry, wild faerie, Jimin’s canines sharp as he snarls at you. There’s something alien about his face - he’s no longer the beautiful man who was standing in your attic. His eyes seem sharper and his features are too lupine to be anything but faerie, shocking you straight from panic to utter terror. You cringe away from him, screaming on top of your lungs.

A hand clamps over your mouth as he growls at you to shut up. You squeeze your eyes shut, kicking underneath him and crying under the vice grip he has on your mouth.

This has to be a nightmare. You will yourself to wake up, for the weight of Jimin to vanish. You hope you’re just sleeping in your room, thrashing at the sheets as this strange nightmare continues.

Maybe your mother was right. There was some sort of twisted sickness in your family, an obsession of the mind with fantasy and creatures, and your mind is poisoned now.

“You’re going to get us both killed if you don’t stop screaming,” Jimin seethes, his voice darker than you remember. You open your eyes as his grip on you lightens a fraction. He’s no longer the terrifying face he was a moment ago, but he’s serious as he lowers himself further to murmur, “The Dreadwolf is probably prowling about these parts. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Slowing your breathing, you try to run through your options. Jimin is faster than you and stronger than you- not to mention he has Umbriel at his disposal. He’s armed- you now see the dagger at his waist, next to a sword you did not see before. His grip on your wrist is bruising and he’s looking at you, waiting to see what you’re going to do.

You’re not going to get away from Jimin. That much is clear. You swallow thickly.

You can’t remember the name Jimin. Your grandmother has talked about many names, but Jimin is unfamiliar to you. But you’re in the Night Court - Jimin said that himself. The place your grandmother told you not to let him take you to - or perhaps she meant it's a palace.

The Night Court brings up a shiver as you gaze up at him. You remember your grandmother’s words, saying the Night Court is both the most beautiful and one of the deadliest places. A place where it is always night and glowing, full of magic and ancient fae. The Court of Mystery it is also known as - it is the second court to exist in Faerie after the High Court, home to the oldest fae.

“Are you ready to listen to me?” Jimin’s voice is velvet again. It has a soothing effect on you and you melt into the ferns and nod. He removes his hand slowly, palm hovering over your bruised lips as he waits for you to scream again. “You cannot scream in the Night Court,” Jimin murmurs. A micro-expression you cannot decode flits across his face for a moment as he brushes your hair from your face. “There are things that live off of screams here. I don’t wish to introduce them to you.”

“Don’t you want me dead anyway?” you shoot back.

His face doesn’t show a single reaction. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. But if you fight me, I’m going to have to. I don’t… know how else to do what I need to do.”

“Maybe try telling me what you need and being partners instead of kidnapping me?”

Jimin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I won’t kill you. I believe Yvaine will haunt me into eternity if I kill you. Grandmother, you called her?” You nod. His eyes are searching your face. “You have her beauty - not her eyes, though. What was your grandfather's name?”

You hesitate. “Oberon.”

Pain. Acute pain flickers across Jimin’s face as he rolls off you. It’s so fast you blink in surprise, a world of stars and sky greeting you. Jimin is several feet away from you, running a hand over his face. For a moment, you just watch him. His composure slips for only a second - and then he’s facing you again, giving you an impatient expression, hand on his hip.

“By all means,” he gestures. “Lay in the ferns. You should know that you crashed into a massive web of spiders.”

Alarmed, you roll to your feet, brushing yourself off anywhere you can reach. You hop around barefoot and disheveled, running your hands through your hair trying to free it from any creepy crawlies. Jimin whistles and beckons you. “There weren’t really spiders there, but at least you’re on your feet.”

“I thought the fae couldn’t lie.”

He arches his brows as you approach him. “So you do know of the fae.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t lie. I said you crashed into spiders - I wasn’t specific about where and when. It was when we portaled here, landed right on the web earlier. I omitted the time.”

“Art of deception,” you mumbled. “Where are we going and what do you want with me? I’d give you this stupid ring if I could, but it won’t come off.”

His smirk is rueful as he gestures to the horse. Though he’s shorter than Namjoon and floats like a wraith, he’s still taller than you. Dancer thin, but strong, muscles moving under his breeches and - you drag your eyes up, face red at the way you were drawn to the tight pants.

“It won’t come off unless its maker takes it off you.”

“Then why did you try?”

“I had to be sure it was the ring I was searching for.”

“What does a faerie want with an iron ring anyway? Isn’t it like kryptonite to you people?”

Umbriel is far too tall for you. You put your hand on the horn of the saddle, struggling to lift your foot. Jimin grabs you by the waist and lifts you like you’re nothing, placing you on the horse. He frowns as he hauls himself up behind you, setting your cheeks aflame and heart racing. “Like what?”

“You don’t spend much time on earth, do you? Kryptonite - the one thing that can kill superman.”

“He doesn’t sound very super if this… kryptonite can kill him. Iron won’t kill me, it just hurts.” He lifts his chin slightly. “And of course I don’t visit earth. I’m a crown prince of the Night Court, the Evening Star and heir to the High Throne of Faerie.”

“Oh.”

You’re not surprised - Jimin was obviously a prince. But of the Night Court - and the High Court? From what you can recall, the High Court had long since been removed as the seat of power in Faerie. There had been a dark king who was abusing his power over the courts. That power had been taken away - by your grandmother and a knight of the Summer Court, if your grandmother’s tales had been truthful.

So did that mean… your eyes dart down to the ring, thinking about the way it showed the seven stars of the courts. The pulse of power you felt when you put it on, the way Jimin said the ring was his...

A nasty feeling twists in your gut as you swallow, knowing there is only one reason Jimin could want the ring so desperately as the heir to the High Throne.

“This ring has the power of the old High King, doesn’t it?” Jimin says nothing. He clicks his tongue, urging the horse forward. “Why else would you want it - as an heir? You said it was yours…”

“It does - and it is.”

“Then why is it made from iron?”

He sneers. “Because your grandmother is a clever little witch.”

“She was not a witch!”

“You're right. She was a wicked little half-fae who became a hero.” He heaves a sigh. You feel the air expand in his chest before he lets it out. “But look where we are now, living the consequences of her actions. Her fix, however noble, was temporary and made without thought of the future. Of my future.”

“My-” you shake your head. “My grandmother was not half-fae. She was human, like the rest of my family.”

“Of course she was. Why do you think she lived in Faerie at all? Where did she get her gifts? Or how does she have fae artifacts in that creepy little room? The only reason you lived portaling here is because you’re part fae.”

“Me?”

“Is there an echo out here? Yes you - do you know nothing about her? You know things about the High Court and you don’t seem completely perplexed about where we are, but you know nothing of your history? Your grandmother was the bastard daughter to the old king of the Night Court and your grandfather was Oberon, one of the greatest knights this realm has ever seen. Ever.”

You blanch. “We’re related?”

“What?” He seems disgusted, pulling away from you slightly. “No - King Samar was not my father. Yvaine was whelped by Samar and a human housemaid whose name no one remembers. Queen Eun was my mother. My father was…” Jimin searches for the words. “King Malik of the High Court. He was once the High King of Faerie.”

“Oh.”

Silence as you ride. You picture your grandmother and father as… fae. It seems both ridiculous and yet, your instincts don’t rebel at the thought. You think about how you’ve always had dreams of strange places and creatures. How sometimes things happened around your grandparents that didn’t make sense - you always blamed it on your overactive imagination.

“I didn’t know that about them,” you murmur. “They were only ever human to me.”

“Well, settle in. You’re about to learn plenty about your family tree.” He glances at you. “You still haven’t given me a name.”

You hesitate and decide to give him only your first name. He nods after hearing it, humming. “Beautiful,” he says so softly you almost don’t hear him. He doesn’t give you time to second-guess the compliment. “Sleep if you wish, Umbriel and I will not let you fall. We have a bit of a ride to Hoseok’s cabin where we can rest.”

You can’t sleep. You settle for uneasy silence, watching the world around you. You spot pixies and dryads floating between trees, and you hear things skitter underfoot.

Once in a while, Jimin reroutes Umbriel. Once, he even hissed at a dark alcove as you passed a copse of trees. The trees grow thicker, moving downhill as you enter a forest proper.

It’s hard to stay focused when you’re pressed against Jimin – he’s warmer than you expected, and he smells like orange blossom and late nights.

You don’t care. You remind yourself that he’s a liar – in fae terms. And he’s kidnapped you, despite the draw you feel to him and despite his beautiful face.

The world around you has your attention instead.

The sky is a mystery in itself, shifting colors of dark twilight. You can’t get over how it looks like the entirety of space and all of the worlds are suspended above you, shifting with the ebb and flow of the aurora borealis back in your home realm.

Everything around you is both dark and glowing. The shadows are thicker and longer, but the world is line with soft color. Your hands brush branches as you ride – flowers vanish into their stalks at the touch of your fingers, lichen grows bright green at the heat of your hand.

“Stop touching the trees. You’ll wake them and I’ll have to threaten them to keep our passing to themselves.

You frown. “For a prince you’re not very nice. Aren’t you supposed to be polite to your subjects?”

“They aren’t my subjects,” Jimin snaps. “The Night Court answers to my adoptive brother.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you-"

“No. My mother, who was my only claim to the throne is dead. Jin lets me act as an emissary because I am little threat to him. He’s a Shade- only true heirs of the Night Court command the shadow flame.”

“Is he nice?”

Jimin doesn’t answer your question.

Instead, he offers, “The High Court are my people by blood. They’re why I need that ring that refuses to come off of your finger. Without the power of their court, they’re dying. Their lands are poisoned and being consumed, and neighboring courts are taking advantage of that. They’re-” He breaks off and growls, the sound vibrating through your back. “They’re hurting the high fae and they’re abusing them. I want that power back. Not for me, but for the faeries who are dying without it.”

“Isn’t that power what got them hurt in the first place because it was abused?”

“King Malik was sick. He didn’t deserve the power of the High King, but what’s happening in his abandoned lands isn’t right.” Jimin’s knuckles are bone white on the reigns. “A court is only as strong as the power in their lands. They High Court has nothing and no one, and the only heir of Malik doesn’t have so much as a drop of high fae glamour.”

“Oh. You weren’t born with it?”

“It was taken from me the same day it was taken from my father.”

Sadness stirs in the pit of your stomach. On one hand, Jimin seems to generally want you out of harm's way, despite his actions. Though he can deceive, the root of his goals is to protect his people. It’s obvious he cares for them, the way he grows angry at the thought of their suffering.

“You pity me.”

It wasn’t a question, but you shake your head. “I just wonder what you could have been if things weren’t taken from you. You sound like you have the potential to be kind.”

Jimin says nothing.

Instead, there’s a long, terrible howl that shatters the night. You suck in a sharp breath as Jimin stops Umbriel, who begins dancing back and forth nervously as Jimin swivels in the seat. The howl lowers, but the world feels colder now. A breath of wind tickles your face, blowing your hair northward.

“Fuck,” Jimin swears, turning in the seat. He wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes you to his chest. “Hold on to me. The Dreadwolf knows we’re here.”

Umbriel takes off faster than any horse you’ve ever ridden. Her hooves are like thunder, echoing in the forest as the world moves past you impossible fast. You dig your fingers into Jimin’s arm around your waist, letting him hug you as the horse picks up speed, guiding herself through the trees with little nudging from Jimin.

Panic begins to seize you when you hear the howl again – it’s further away, you think. You’re not sure, clutching to Jimin and trying not to unseat yourself as you turn to look over your shoulder.

“Sit still!” Jimin snaps.

You obey.

The rubbing of the saddle chafes you as Jimin navigates through the forest. The world drops dramatically into a dell, and he slows the pace, navigating Umbriel carefully down the slope. You feel him turn around for a moment, but you don’t dare look behind you. It feels like it’s been almost an hour since you’ve heard the Dreadwolf.

The name sounds so familiar and yet… you’re unable to place the label of something so dark that it scares Jimin.

A tiny, log home sits on the edge of the dell’s rise. Green smoke curls out of the chimney, the lights inside the windows a muted gold. Jimin leads the horse around the home, soundless. He stops at the front of what you suppose is the yard, sliding off gracefully and helping you down. You almost thank him but decide against it as he murmurs to Umbriel in a language you can’t understand. She takes off running and you make a sound of distress.

“She’ll lead the Dreadwolf away.” Jimin looks at you as he walks towards the steps leading up to the home. “Don’t worry – he won’t harm Umbriel. He’s rather fond of animals. If he so much as hurts my horse, I’ll give him hell.”

You scramble after him, trying to mute your steps as you cast your eyes to the owl watching on top of the roof. It’s so black it’s nearly invisible. You wouldn’t have seen it if not for two glowing eyes of gold.

At the front of the home is a small porch. There are plants hanging from the eaves and lining the windows. A small chair next to a table ringed with water stains stands alone.

Jimin raps his knuckles on the door thrice. There’s silence surrounding the home, the unsettling kind that has you shifted from foot to foot. The owl on the roof hoots loudly, making you flinch. Jimin eyes you from the side but says nothing, lifting his hand to knock again when the door opens suddenly.

“You’ve brought the Dreadwolf to my lands,” a hushed voice says. Jimin yanks you inside the cabin.

Quickly you feel warmth seep into your bones. You don’t realize how cold your extremities are until you feel the heat of the fire. You’re drawn to it, holding out your hands to feel the licking warmth of the green flames.

“These aren’t your lands,” Jimin huffs.

“I tend to them when your brother does not. Therefore – my lands.”

“Sounds like the human’s ridiculous phrase of finders keepers.”

You turn your head to look at the stranger whose home you’re now in – he has on a cloak and he’s rushing about the house shuttering the windows and blowing out the candles. It’s a small room with a single bed, a kitchen table, and a humble kitchen. There’s a door that leads to another tiny room, but it’s firmly shut as the man rushes past you to shutter the windows facing the dell.

All that remains is the green fire – dimmer than you remember it being – and a single orb of fire hovering over the man’s shoulder.

When he turns to greet you, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Like Jimin, he’s wonderful to look at. Smooth skin and high cheekbones, kind eyes that are playful and light brown. His ears are tipped with the sharpness of the fae and when he gives you a quick smile, you see the pointed teeth. Still, he does not terrify you the same way Jimin does.

“They call me Hoseok, though you may call me Hobi.” He bows at the waist before meeting your eyes with a smile. “I apologize we must meet under such circumstances.”

“And what are those circumstances?” Jimin asks. You glance at him over your shoulder. He’s lounging in the bed, legs spread wide as he gives Hobi a pointed glare while leaning back on his hands. He is every bit the arrogant prince now and yet… painfully beautiful. “Go on, Hobi.”

“Ignore him. I usually do,” Hobi says to you. He brushes past you and touches your shoulder gently. “Let’s get you a change of clothes.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Um – you can call me Y/N.”

“Oh I know,” he assures you. He opens a heavy trunk at the foot of his bed. Jimin watches with a silent glare and something verging on a pout. You’re pleased by this, for some reason. “You look just like Yvaine.”

“Why do you know her name?”

“I know more than you, Your Highness. That’s what watchers do – we watch.” Hoseok stands, clothes folding in his hands. He holds them out to you. “It’s spider silk,” Hoseok explains. “Tough, but light enough to travel quickly. The cloak is lined with fur – you’ll find it warm but light. You can change in the washroom.”

You don’t accept the clothes, eyes flicking up from the clothes to him. “They are lovely, but I don’t accept this gift.”

Hoseok lights up like a fire, smiling at you as he looks at Jimin, laughing with unfiltered glee. You’re unsure why he’s so happy – you’ve rejected his gifts in an attempt not to bind yourself to him. Another lesson from your grandma: never accept gifts from the fae. Acknowledge that they are lovely, and politely decline to accept them.

“She knows of the fae?” Hoseok asks Jimin, turning to you. “I offer these with no bargain, Y/N. These are gifted freely with no favors or debts do. I swear it.”

You hesitate. Jimin groans. “Faeries cannot lie, human.”

With a growl, you accept the clothes and storm to the washroom.

The moment you close the door to the small washroom, you hear whispering on the other side of the door. Hoseok sounds angry - you can’t make out what they’re saying, but even after thirty minutes of spending time with Jimin, you can recognize the softness of his voice.

A shiver wracks your spine unbidden. You shove away thoughts of the prince just beyond the door and turn to look in the small mirror framed with antlers. You look disheveled and dirty. There is a slight bruise on your forehead, but Jimin was right - there’s no lump from where you tried to headbutt him.

The thought makes you smile. Causing him any amount of grief has quickly become your favorite thing to do. You don’t hate anyone that you can think of, but you already hate Jimin. Hate the way he ambushed you, hate the way he spoke to you, hate the way he looked down on you.

But most of all, you hate that he’s kidnapped you and brought you to Faerie- and that it excites you above all else.

Your grandmother told you terrifying stories of human children taken from their bed and replaced with faerie changelings. The children would be brought to Faerie and used as slaves and thralls, pretty pets for faeries to look at and taunt as long as the human lived - which was longer than usual, in Faerie - and how they lived lives both terrible and wonderful.

You couldn’t imagine being raised in a world like this - beautiful, surrounded by so much delicate beauty but filled with so much violence. And you know there is violence ahead.

Hoseok hasn’t just given you soft leather breaches lined with a thin layer of wool and a long, black tunic - he’s given you a leather belt with a small dagger buckled to it. You slide the breaches on, raising your brows in surprise. They fit perfectly, if not a little long in the ankle. The tunic is long and green, embroidered with gold thread in swirling designs you realize are flames. Your fingers trace the fire on the sleeve.

The cloak is wonderful, thick to keep out the cold but light as a feather. In a sweeping motion, you tie it at your throat. Your hair is tangled, making you pull it up high in a ponytail and out of your way.

You leave the dagger for last, carefully balancing it on the edge of the sink as you take time to wash your face. The water is freezing cold, burning your skin the same way the water had from the stream. There’s a soft linen rag and you use it to dry your face before glancing back up in the mirror. Not perfect, but doable.

With curious fingers, you pull the unadorned hilt from the weapons belt. The blade is nothing special. It’s made from the same dark metal as the knife Jimin has taken from you. You have no idea how to use it, but a strong piece of advice from Game of Thrones comes to you: Stick them with the pointy end.

It’s a good piece of advice, you think as you slide the dagger back home. The leather belt is snug around your waist. You’re unsure if Jimin knows Hoseok gave you the knife - somehow you think Jimin wouldn’t appreciate you being armed - so you hide it with your cloak.

When you step out of the washroom, Jimin straightens on the bed. He goes quiet as Hoseok moves about the small kitchen, green eyes only for you. You swallow and shut the door behind you.

Jimin’s gaze is unreadable. He stands and crosses the space to you, steps gentle. You freeze in place - not out of fear, but out of the way you feel the pull to him again. You clench your teeth, hating that something deep in the pit of your heart draws you toward him.

You think it’s because of how beautiful he is. The siren eyes as he stops in front of you, eyes dipping up and down. The sultry curve of his sinful mouth frowning slightly. You avert your eyes, feeling heat creep up your next at his proximity and the tiny displeasure in his expression.

“You were not made for Summer Court colors,” Jimin whispers. You glance at him, surprised. He brushes his fingers against the flames on the sleeve peeking out from your cloak. “You belong in midnight blue and silver.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a moment to ask what he means. He drops his hand and brushes past you, joining Hoseok in the kitchen.

Warily, you watch the two of them prepare a meal. They move in sync, leading you to believe they’re old friends. You hesitantly sit in a chair by the bed, eyes fixed on the pair of them. Jimin, though mostly polite and a bit cold, smiles more when Hoseok murmurs something to him.

Hoseok himself is like fire and warmth. He feels the room with a brightness than you can appreciate, and you feel like if your grandmother knew him, he was one of the good fae that she spoke about. She never mentioned many names, but you wish she had told you about Hoseok.

Other names you’re familiar with. King Samar of the Night Court – ancient and ruling for hundreds of years. Your grandmother always spoke his name with a hushed fear and a faraway look. You imagine now that she was remembering a father – a father, as it seems, who had little time or desire for her.

King Malik is a name you know even more. The High King of Faerie, who ruled for so long that he became mad. If your grandmother's stories were true, the death of his one true love began driving him to madness. He became obsessed with resurrection and violating the afterlife, looking for ways to bring back the woman he loved.

Your eyes trail to Jimin, who is rolling his eyes at something Hoseok says.

Eun. You realize the woman that King Malik went mad over is Jimin’s mother. Despite having a bad taste in your mouth for the prince, you feel yourself soften. It must be difficult, to lose one parent and the other go mad. What you don’t understand is how your grandmother came to take his father’s power, and how his father ultimately came to pass.

The High Court had dispersed after his passing, either becoming solitary faeries or joining other courts.

You wonder if Jimin knew them well. He had said the Night Court were not his subjects…

“Dinner is ready!” Hoseok chirps. “And don’t worry,” he adds at your wary look. “It’s not going to spell you to dance until your feet are blood stumps or sing until your bleeding from your throat.”

“Is that real?” you ask, inhaling the scent of the spiced stew.

“Of course it is,” Jimin answers around a mouthful of cheese. “On Beltane we make the humans-”

Hoseok hits Jimin in the back of the head so hard the prince chokes on the cheese. You widen your eyes as Hoseok levels a glare as he sits down at the small table, pulling a chair out for you. His burning gaze is on Jimin as he says, “We don’t do that anymore.”

Jimin says nothing, glowering as he bites into his bread.

After that, dinner is held in relative silence. Hoseok asks you about your life and your heritage, but you answer in hesitant pieces. You’re still not sure what you’re doing here or what is expected of you. To his credit, Hoseok never asks about the ring on your finger. Never even looks at it.

By the end, you’re full and satiated, drowsy as you help Hoseok with the dishes while Jimin peers out of a curtained window. When you’re done, wiping your hands dry, Jimin gestures to the bed. “Sleep. We have a long ride in a few hours.”

“I thought you said it was day. Shouldn’t I stay awake?”

Hoseok shakes his head, answering, “Asleep at true night in the Night Court is a bad idea if you’re not in court proper. It’s okay.”

Jimin scoffs, but you feel comforted. Hoseok leads you to the small bed, giving you blankets and a cup of tea before he joins Jimin in the kitchen, their conversation too quiet for you to hear.

The tea makes you sleepy. You fight it, too nervous to fall asleep. The bed dips suddenly next to you, making you flinch and open your eyes. Jimin murmurs and apology. Perhaps you’re already dreaming – you imagine that he brushes your hair back as he sits on the edge of the bed and murmurs, Sleep. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

As you drift, you believe the only one who can hurt you is him.

A long howl wakes you up. You shoot forward in bed, panting and searching in a fright. You find them both silent and near the window facing the dell. Hoseok looks at you and holds a finger to his lips, then beckons you. A nervous tingle goes up your spine as you cross the space hesitantly, taking place next to Hoseok. Jimin glances at you around Hoseok, frowning.

Perhaps that makes you a fool. You know how easy it is for the fae to deceive humans with false niceties. But there is something about his aura that feels warm. Standing next to him, he smells like citrus and blossom, the same way your grandfather used to smell.

The realization makes your eyes watery, and you glance at him as Jimin peaks out the window. “Are you Summer Court?” you whisper, voice barely audible. Hoseok looks shocked, nodding his head. “You smell like my grandfather.”

He nods and whispers, “Oberon.”

“Shut up,” Jimin hisses and closes the window. “The Dreadwolf approaches.”

Something deep within you curls in fear.

Suddenly, you remember the name. The Dreadwolf was one of the darker parts of your grandmother’s tales. A faerie loyal only to the king of the Night Court, he was a servant and hunter to the king. Merciless and terrifying, the Dreadwolf could shift forms into a large, black wolf, hunting his prey to the ends of the realms.

Your grandmother assured you that he never lost his prey. Ever.

Anxiety began to chew at your stomach. Jimin softly walked the circumference of Hoseok’s home, his eyes focused somewhere else, as though he were watching the wolf through some other lens. Your heart skipped in a nervous rhythm, moving from foot to foot as the silence pressed in.

Jimin stopped walking in front of the door to the home.

Sensing your eyes on him, Jimin looks over his shoulder at you. His eyes are dark green, shining at the bottom of a deep lake. His eyes flicker for a moment before he looks at Hoseok and murmurs, “I apologize, Hoseok. I hoped to avoid going to the palace but...”

Hoseok looks as confused as you do when Jimin opens the door to the home. Hoseok makes a startled sound but Jimin is stepping outside, calling “Jungkookie,” Jimin calls as he looks back at the pair of you - regret flashes so quickly on his face, you’re sure you imagined it. “The watcher has found what we’ve been looking for. Don’t touch the girl or I’ll skin you.”

“You fucking bastard,” Hoseok swears, unsheathing his dagger. You do the same, holding it awkwardly in your hand as Jimin steps to the side of the doorway, refusing to look at you. “They will kill me.”

A deep growl comes from somewhere outside. It’s low, like the churning of hell underneath your feet, the house trembling. Your heart pounds faster as Hoseok shoves you behind him. “You cannot fight here. Go through the window behind us. Run south.”

A figure enters the doorway. Your breath rushes out of your lungs as you stare at the fae in front of you. Black hair hanging in his dark eyes, broad shoulders and ripping muscles. There are dark marks running down his arm, tattoos of glyphs and swirling ink that you can’t decipher. He’s much taller than Hoseok and Jimin, and his eyes are focused on you. He is impossibly handsome, your heart flipping.

“Hello,” his voice is phantom soft. “Come out from behind Hoseok, won’t you?”

A flash of blinding heat and flame erupts from the fireplace in the direction of Jungkook. You scream as you turn and bolt for the window. Hoseok is shouting something at Jungkook as he wields flame behind you, a fiery whip in his hand. Jungkook snarls, raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

You sheath your dagger, clambering onto the dinner table and pulling the window open. You haul yourself through it, trying not to panic with the sounds of snarling and yelling behind you. You freefall for a moment until you hit the ground and roll. Your breath is knocked out of you for the second time that night, leaving you wheezing and holding your arm, sore from absorbing the fall.

Crawling to your feet, you look up as a shadow looms over you. Jimin frowns. “You’re not very graceful.”

You don’t think. You let survival instinct take over, ripping out the dagger from your belt and swiping at him. Jimin backs up, dancing away from you with a twitch of his lips. “He gave you a dagger?”

“You betrayed him.”

“Court is a game of betrayal, get used to it. Hoseok will be fine. Jungkook won’t kill him.”

“I thought perhaps you were different than you first appeared. Turns out I was wrong – do you even care about your people or was that another twist of words?”

Something like rage heats his face. You manage to get to your knees and swipe out again. Jimin dances away from you as a sharp, animal cry comes from the house. Jimin looks at the window, brows raised. “Good for Hoseok, sounds like he managed to wound the pup.”

Jimin may not be able to lie directly, but he’s a deceitful bastard. He almost had you, telling you that he was worried about his people, that the absence of the High Court was poisoning the land. Now you knew what he really wanted - the ring, the power at your hand. For his selfish purposes, for the Night Court.

On your feet now, you feel a tremor in your hand. Energy lights you up from the inside out. It’s a familiar sensation, one you felt when you put the ring on or when you touched the dagger you found in the drawer. It’s something like rage, hot and crackling. You remember how the ring defended you and channel it, launching a hand at Jimin.

A dark flame ripples up your arm, and though it doesn’t burn you, you can feel a hot, decaying heat. You thrust your hand outward, urging the flame to shoot out at Jimin. It obeys, a blast of black fire licking toward him. He rolls away from it easily, the flame hitting a tree and turning it to… ash. Your face whitens as you drop your hand in shock. Jimin is on his feet again, surprised with his mouth parted. The flame dances along your arms, tingling your skin as you stare at the grayed ash of the tree.

“Interesting,” Jimin murmurs. “You’re going to have to learn to control that, Shade.”

Somewhere you can’t see, Jungkook snarls loudly, followed by silence. Your flame gutters out immediately, thinking the worst. Terror shoots through you for Hoseok, for yourself.

“For what it’s worth,” Jimin murmurs softly, “I have no desire to hurt you. None at all. I apologize, but this is the only course of action. I wanted to take you to the Winter Court, but we have a new plan. I'm sorry.”

Before you can figure out what he means, Jimin is in front of you, slamming you to the ground so hard it feels like the world shatters.

The world fades.

You drift. You search for that place of forever twilight but cannot find it. Your thoughts are nothing at all. They drift, unable to form memories and strings of ideas. You struggle in the space where you drift, unable to remember where you are or where you’re going. What you’re doing, or who you’re with.

There is dull pain. It might be your head, it might be your heart, it might be your toe. You don’t know where the pain comes from, but there is pain as you drift.

Sometimes you feel almost awake. Other times there’s nothing- not even pain.

Time is meaningless as you drift. You don’t know how long you’re in that space where there is nothing, but slowly your thoughts connect. You can identify it’s your head that hurts - and the rest of your body throbs. There’s a dullness to your senses like fog - you no longer feel that pulsing energy you located to try and fend off Jimin.

It’s just cold and muted.

With a groan, you open your eyes. It’s dim in the room, a single purple light burning low at the far corner. Your tongue feels heavy, your mouth like sandpaper. Movement in the corner of the room catches your eye. Fear seizes you as you push yourself away from the dark figure. You push yourself into a corner of the cot you’re on, sheets tangling you.

“Hey,” a familiar voice murmurs. “It’s me.”

Blinking away the blurriness on the edge of your vision, you realize it’s Hoseok.

You’re both in a small room with two cots, end tables next to each. There is a tiny rug covering the stone floor, and a heavy wooden door without a handle. The purple light follows Hoseok - you realize it’s a tiny purple flame, licking the air and snapping next to his shoulder. A pair of glowing, white eyes blink to life in the flame and you squeak, wide-eyed and pushed against the wall.

“Oh yeah,” Hoseok grins, looking at the fire. “I didn’t introduce you at the house because Jimin was there. This is Flare. He’s a fire spirit.”

“Hello, Flare,” you croak, voice like sandpaper. Still, Flare snaps and pops with happiness, glowing pink at the edges for a moment.

Hoseok rushes to your end table, grabbing a waterskin and passing it to you. You take it with greedy hands, uncorking it and chugging the cool water. It calms your throat immediately, earning a sigh. “Thanks.” You wipe the water running down your chin with the back of your hand. “Are you okay?”

You look at Hoseok - really look at him. His brown hair is matted and dirty, and there’s a bandage on his neck darkened with blood. You panic, sitting forward to tend to him when he holds a hand with a kind smile. “Already taken care of. That dog almost killed me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Jimin is a traitorous bastard and Jungkook gets too enthusiastic. It isn’t the first time he’s bitten me.”

“I thought you were friends.”

Hoseok snorts. “You never know where you stand with Jimin. He does everything on his own, that clever little mind of his making plots within plots. I think he did what was best in the moment, which meant letting Jungkook take us.”

“Why be friends with him at all, then?”

Hoseok looks sad when he glances at you. “Because he wasn’t always this way. Jimin is a product of his environment. He makes decisions that he thinks are best for his people, even if it puts friends in danger. His intentions are pure, his methods are brutal. But he is a prince of his people, for what it’s worth.”

You think about that. It sounds like what your grandmother had told you. He is a product of his environment. You assume they’re talking about the Night Court. You think of the brief warmth in Jimin’s face in Hoseok’s home - those had not seemed fabricated, but you knew the fae were famous for mimicking emotion.

It really had been a ploy.

Knowing that bothers you more than you expect. You’ve only known Jimin a day, but something about him being exactly as you expected is incredibly disappointing. You fell for it just like he knew you would, and you’re all the dumber for it.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Hoseok sighs, settling next to you on the cot with his back against the wall. “He may yet still be an ally, who knows. It’s hard to tell what his plans are.”

“I don’t care what his plans are. I just want to go home.”

“You’re going to have to accept that going home is not an option.”

“I have people there who are going to freak out that I’m missing.”

Namjoon. Your mother. Your editor. The list is small, but it’s still a list of people who will look for you.

“Time moves differently here,” Hoseok explains. “What feels like a year in faerie might only be a minute in your world.” He glances sidelong at you. “That being said, I won’t tell you there is a guarantee that you’ll ever go home again. My best advice is to learn how to survive her first. Focus on home later.”

It’s an honest piece of advice. You know this, but it doesn’t hurt any less. You lean against the wall and close your eyes, feeling the urge to cry twist in your throat. If Hoseok notices, he doesn’t say anything. He lets you grieve in silence, mulling over the series of events that have landed you here in a room with him, held against your will.

You lift your hand, examining the ring. It glimmers in the dark, the seven stars looking at you. Tentatively, you pull at it again - it still doesn’t come off. You sigh heavily, dropping your hand to the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask softly, not looking at Hoseok but staring at the door. He nods. “This gives me power, right?” You hold up your hand, showing the ring. “I turned a tree to ash with a black flame. Was aiming at Jimin, though.”

Hoseok leans forward. You glance at him to see his brows knit, head tilted. “You summoned shadow fire?” You nod. “Huh. That is not a power of the High Court. That’s a gift unique to King Samar. You’re his descendent, though.”

You pale. You hadn’t thought of that when Jimin told you of your grandmother’s heritage. You look up at the ceiling, chewing on the new information. You’ve never done something like that before. When you tell Hoseok as much, he seems lost in thought.

“Have you touched anything beside the ring that was new? Anything that felt powerful?”

You’re about to tell Hoseok no when you remember the spark of power you felt when you had picked up the dagger that Jimin now has at his waist. “The dagger,” you whisper. Hoseok looks confused so you elaborate, “There was a dagger in a drawer I thought was a letter opener. Jimin has it - he said it’s belonged to the An Oidhche for millennia.”

“It’s your grandmother’s.” Hoseok smirks, leaning back against the wall. “A gift from Jimin’s mother to Yvaine on her birthday - a way to tell Yvaine that Eun didn’t hate her. Even if Eun wasn’t her mother.”

“No wonder he didn’t give it back.”

“When you touched it, you unbound your power. Similar to the ring, but not nearly as powerful as a spell. Have you experienced any other powers?” You shook your head. “Hm. If you learned, you might be quite the fighter.”

Silence envelops you. Flare floats closer to you, hovering near your face. You smile a little, feeling his warmth as you hold a finger out. He dances around your point finger before settling on the tip, balanced like a small bird. He makes a chattering noise and changes color, turning to a blush pink.

“He likes you,” Hoseok murmurs. “He’s afraid of most Night Court fae.”

“Why?”

“They are dark.”

You don’t ask him to elaborate. Instead, you welcome the silence.

So much has happened in a few hours. You’re unsure how to keep track of everything. The urge to cry swells again. As though sensing your distress, Flare hops up your arm to jump in front of you, hovering just in front of your face as he takes different shapes.

You watch him - he turns into a pink unicorn, a blue dragon, a purple serpent. Flare is magnificent, a tiny spirit of flame and colors and shapes. You don’t realize you’re crying until he squeaks, a distressed sound as he ping pongs back and forth in front of you, flashing from red to orange.

You laugh and wipe the tears, aware that Hoseok is watching. “I’m not upset,” you whisper to Flare. You hold out your hands, cupped. He lands in them, warming your skin. “You’re very beautiful. I’m crying because even though this is very scary, there is beauty here.” You sniffle. “Because everything my grandmother ever told me… it’s true.”

A loud clang startles you awake. You don’t remember falling asleep, but the room is dark. Flare is nowhere to be seen, and Hoseok is gone. You scramble to your feet as the door opens, a burning torch appearing in the doorway. Jimin appears, settling the torch in an empty sconce on the wall. He slides in the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

Hatred bubbles up immediately. You reach for the swell of power, but it still feels muted, like the magic so new to you is locked behind a door.

Jimin scoffs. “You were drugged so you can’t turn me to ashes, Shade.”

“So you’re afraid of me.”

“I take precautions for even the smallest ant that stings.” Your ball your fists at the insult.

Jimin is dressed differently. Gone is the silk pink shirt. He’s in all black now, the collar opens loose at the neck to reveal glittering necklaces. The cuffs of the fine shirt are stitched with silver, phase of the moon artfully placed on the material. His dark pants are tucked into soft leather boots. The circlet in his hair is different than before - there are stars and moons in this one, glittering diamonds catching the firelight.

He looks so beautiful that you avert your eyes, shame coloring your face pink. The draw to him again is so strong you want to bend over at the waist and gasp for air. It’s a magnetic pull that threatens to drive you to insanity, especially when he steps forward.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brows pinched.

“Like you care.”

Something flashes in Jimin’s eyes. He straightens, looking down his nose at you, face impassive. “You’re right,” he deadpans. “I shouldn’t care about a half-human brat. Come. You’ve been summoned by the King of the Night Court.”

“I won’t help you. I don’t care if you torture me. You betrayed Hoseok, who was your friend. That bullshit you fed me about helping suffering fae? It was some sort of wordplay, wasn’t it? You want whatever this is,” You hold up your hand, “For yourself. Be honest with me.” Jimin opens the door, staring at you without a reaction. This enrages you further. Of course he’s unaffected. He doesn’t care.

“If you’re done with your speech, there are things to be done. You need to change for the ceremony.”

“What ceremony?”

Jimin winces then. He turns on a heel and storms out of the door, boots echoing in a hallway. After a moment’s consideration, you hurry after him.

The hallway is long and dark, lit with orange torches. Jimin is several strides ahead of you. You run to catch up with him, falling into pace as he marches, staring straight ahead. There are no windows, but doors line the hallway. You have no idea what horrors could be behind them.

You grab Jimin to stop him and he reacts immediately. You’re pressed against the wall in a moment, torch crackling next to you. You hold your breath as Jimin invades your space, pinning a wrist to the wall as he lowers his face to glower at you. “Don’t,” he growls lowly. “Touch me like that. Not here. Not during the ceremony. If you show an ounce of that disrespect, they will make me kill you.”

“Why should I believe anything you say? You deceive me and your friend and you ask for blind loyalty when you haven’t learned it. You’ve told me nothing.”

“I’ve told you what won’t get you kill. You may be able to lie unlike the fae, but you’re not trained in the world of deception and the practice it takes. Faeries made a game of lying and you have no idea how to play.”

Silence stretches between you. You’re panting with rage, twisting in his grip. Jimin tightens his hand, pressing his waist against you. You freeze as the smell of orange blossoms and night fall over you. It’s hard not to shiver in his grasp, especially with his breath fanning you.

Jimin loosens his grip slightly as he lowers his face further, making sure he has your eye contact when he says, “I am going out of my way to value your life while I complete what I must. I cannot lie.”

You jut your chin out. “Faeries made a game of lying,” you quote back to him.

“I’m not lying to you. I swear on the Maker and my mother Eun the Lightspear that I am not lying to you right now. I am trying to protect you. You have complicated this in ways you cannot fathom, but I will try to spare you.”

A beat of quiet passes between you to. You see the seriousness in his gaze, the way his breath quickens. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him swear something – and though you’re unsure what swearing in Faerie does exactly, it feels important. It feels binding.

So you nod. “Okay.”

“This is going to be unpleasant,” Jimin sighs as he lets you go. He backs up a few paces and you try not to follow him across the hall. “I mean it when I say I’m trying to keep you alive. But if you behave like that at court, they will eat you alive and call it entertainment.”

“Okay.”

You rub your wrist where he gripped you and his expression softens, just slightly. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Instead of telling him it’s okay, you ask, “What ceremony were you talking about?”

“I’ve claimed you for the Night Court.” Jimin begins walking again and you scurry behind him to keep up.

“What?”

“Your grandmother is Yvaine, Daughter of Samar. She’s the half-sister to my adoptive brother, Jin.” He grimaces. “You have little claim to the throne has a half-fae, but you’re a Shade, which means something to the gentry around here. To save your life, I’ve pledged you to me. You cannot under any circumstances let my brother know that you're a Shade, he will see it as a threat.”

“What does that mean?”

Jimin opens a door at the end of the hall and ushers you through. There’s a set of stairs that you climb together before you’re outside in a beautiful garden. A found trickles in the center, a centaur depicted spitting water from his mouth as he plays a harp. There are birds singing and glowing butterflies flitting from tree to tree.

“It means I’ve claimed that you’re a personal member of my court and that you will swear fealty to me in front of the King and the Night Court.”

You look at him with wide eyes. “The fuck I am.”

“You’re right, how silly of me. Let me skip on up to dearest Jin and tell him that the descendent of Yvaine Darkbringer and Oberon Fireborn who also happens to be a Shade like her grandmother, and who also happens to be in possession of a ring with the High King Malik’s glamour bound to it doesn’t want to be here and we should let her go. That will work.”

You open and close your mouth. He’s using names and terms that you don’t understand. You don’t know what Darkbringer and Fireborn means, or the fact that he keeps calling you Shade. None of it makes sense, but Jimin’s implication is enough: it’s pledge yourself to his court or die as a threat to this Jin he mentioned.

“I’m not swearing an oath to you.”

“What does it matter? You can lie. Any promise of loyalty you make to me means nothing.”

“Fine.” You straighten your shoulders. “But don’t treat me like I’m a child. You will be respectful.”

“Respect given is respect earned,” Jimin quips, walking away from you and toward a maze of hedges. “Come along, Shade. I hope you’re as good at lying as you are at annoying me.”

Two fae move around you in a circle, their fingers working on pulling on the gown while the other pulls strands of your hair. In another life, you would appreciate the room. It’s massive, with one of the walls made up entirely of rockface, a waterfall dripping down the cool stone. There are glowing flowers on the rockface, pale in comparison to the side of the gardens below the balcony.

Curtains dance in the jasmine-scented breeze. They’re gauzy and dark blue, twisting in in their holdings. There are no doors that lead to the stone balcony that overlooks a dizzying garden-forest of glowing flowers and chittering creatures.

The main chamber of the room is commanded by a four-poster bed with live glowing vines crawling up the columns, their ends vanishing into the sapphire, velvet curtains secured to each post. The bed is larger than any you’ve ever seen with dark, rumbled sheets that smell like orange blossom and a smell you’ve begun to associate with Jimin.

Jimin.

The name ignites a war within you. It is both full of a bitter tang and a sweet… something that you’re unsure of. The walk to the bedroom was silent after declaring you were to pledge yourself to his court. He explained that if you were bound to his court, you had his protection.

Meaning the king – Jin – couldn't murder you for inheriting a power that should belong only to him.

You look anything but unassuming. You stare in the mirror as the fae move around you. You’re unsure what they are – they’re genderless and they look more like moving smoke than human beings. Their hands fade in and out of existence and their eyes are glowing white, like stars. The color of their cloudy skin shifts with shadow, and when they step toward the light, you can see through them.

Unassuming is not the word you would use. They have smeared a shimmering substance on your arms, chest and neck. Your eyes are lined with dark coal, a contrast to the silver glitter on the tops of your cheekbones. Your hair is pinned in a low bun, some curled pieces falling out. There are pins with stars in your hair, a constellation of stairs among the strands that the two smoke-faeries have managed to tame.

You look startlingly like your grandmother. Not the eyes, though – those still look like your grandfather. But the sloping features, the intensity in your gaze and the way you hold your shoulders back with purpose… you blink in surprise.

It’s the way you’ve always wanted to appear like your mom. Confident. Fierce.

An ache starts in your chest at the thought of your mom. You cling to Hoseok’s works and hope that time back home is moving slowly. You’ve been at the Night Court for over two days. Jimin had the heart to tell you that you were in that room for a while after he knocked you out, and even more when they had received Hoseok.

Jimin wouldn’t answer where Hoseok was. You have every intention on finding out.

Though you’re aligned to this plan for now, taking Jimin for the oath that he swore, you’re crafting plans of your own.

It was difficult to memorize the steps to the room, but you’re confident you can navigate down to the garden and the wall of hedges that you passed on the way to the room.

The two faeries step away from you. The motion drags your eyes back to the mirror, focusing on the way you’re dressed. You must admit that you don’t look human at all. Your hands drift to the tips of your ears – still round, though maybe a little pointed, you note. But not faerie ears.

Silver beading makes up the entire bodice of the gown. It’s form fitting, hugging the swells of your breasts with a unique keyhole design, baring the sparkles on your chest. The sleeves cut off at the arm, sheer black material falling behind you at the shoulder like a cape, stars and diamonds catching the lighting.

The beading disperses at the waist, trickling into a twinkling pattern in layers and layers of black material, sheer but soft. It gives the illusion that you’re wearing the night sky when you move, the beading and jewels catching the light to create a beautiful allusion.

You wear no jewelry save for the iron ring on your finger. The pins in your hair paired with the spectacle of a gown command enough attention.

The door opens, making you turn as Jimin enters.

You suck in a sharp breath when you see him.

Jimin is stressed in equal extravagance. There are silver threads laced in his hair, emphasizing the grey of his styled hair. The crown of stars and moons is atop his head once more – you realize it looks exactly like the pins in your hair. The black shirt he wears is scandalously sheer, showing the strong body beneath. You can tell his skin is glittered beneath the shirt, hard planes of his abs catching the light as he approaches you slowly, green eyes pinned to you.

And his eyes. His eyes are lightly kohled, intensifying his already burning stare. There are no necklaces around his throat – where you’re determined to keep your gaze and not trail further to the abs – but he has diamonds in his ear, a cluster of stars climbing up the pointed edges.

Jimin is a dream. He is every lullaby you’ve ever heard murmured come to life. He is spun from moonlight, and he is the light of the stars himself.

Something so beautiful should not be so rotten inside, you think.

“You look exquisite,” Jimin says after a while. His hands are still clasped behind his back, his haunting eyes only for you. “Better than the gold and green of summer, but still not as good as the blue and silver.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Jimin smiles – it’s so rare that he smiles that you find yourself opening your mouth in surprise. It’s tiny, but it isn’t filled with malice.

“I brought you something.” He removes his hands from behind his back. There’s a bracelet in his hands, a cluster of stars and planets. You hold out your wrist and then retreat it, eyes narrowing. He chuckles. “I offer this with no bargain. I gift this freely with no favors or debts do. I swear it.”

With a hum of approval, you hold out your wrist. His fingers are nimble and quick as he clasps the bracelet on your wrist. Your skin feels like it's on fire where his fingers brush your skin – more so than necessary when he pulls his hands away, running his fingers along your palm.

“It was your grandmothers.”

You look up at him. “Really?”

He nods. “I can show you to her old room, if you like.”

“I would like that very much. You knew her well?”

“Well enough. We were allies, though perhaps not friends.”

“Why not friends?”

His smile is sad. “To save Faerie from the High King, she had to hurt me.” You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all. “I suppose it seems the obvious answer among destruction: sacrifice the one to save the many. But she was warned of the potential consequences.”

“I saw her in a dream,” you mention. “She seemed just as conflicted about you and your choices. Perhaps we cannot judge others with such limited point of views.”

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll die in minutes. There is no time to question if someone is good here.” Jimin steps back from you and holds out the crook of his elbow. “Come. It’s time to tolerate me the best you can.”

You cut him a dull stare. “Aren’t I doing well enough already?”

“I suppose.”

Heat radiates from where you loop your arm in Jimin’s. You steady a breath as he leads you out of the room.

The halls to the main palace were twisting, no room or wall the same. You passed a large courtyard with no ceilings, the night sky shimmering above. There’s a large, black tree in the courtyard, lights like stars dangling from it. There’s a power there, throbbing through the roots and through the floor of the yard. Will-o-wisps flit among the bare branches, dancing among the gnarled arms.

You hesitate as you pass it, looking over your shoulder, fixated on it.

“The Midnight Tree,” Jimin murmurs. “The palace was built around it. It was placed there by our Maker at the beginning of our time.”

“Why would the Night Court be built around it? I thought the High Fae came first.”

The corner of his mouth drags upward. “Someone has been listening. The High Court came first – but the first High Queen – the Maker, for we don’t know her name – was very in love with a handmaiden of hers. The handmaiden was in love with the night and the night sky, so the Maker planted this tree here. The power you feel. It’s what keeps the Night Court in eternal night. The Maker made it for her lover, so that she may live in her favorite scape.”

“That’s beautiful,” you murmur.

A hum of voices reaches you as you walk toward closed double doors. Guards line the doors, two to each side. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Jimin’s sleeve, going rigid. They are dressed in all black, tunic, leather vests and grieves over the dark material, inlaid with silver material depicting the moon and stars of the Night Court. There are swords at their hips, their eyes trained on you.

None of them move to stop you, but a shadow appears down the hall, whistling lightly to catch Jimin’s attention. Jimin freezes. You feel him go rigid as the figure steps into the light of the hall. The guards fidget as Jungkook grins at Jimin, waltzing to the pair of you.

Fear trickles down your neck as you watch him. His long hair is styled back, a single messy strand falling against his brow. You realize the underneath of his hair is shaved, shorter than the rest. The new look lets you spy a small, white brand behind his ear.

Jungkook is not dressed in finery like Jimin. He is in the same black shirt, open to reveal curls of tattoos on his chest that vanish into his sleeves. His pants are tucked into high boots. A belt hangs snug around his narrow waist, knives and a sword belted to him. A leather harness stretches to his leg, holding another sheath, bone handle gleaming.

“My eyes are up here, gorgeous,” Jungkook teases, earning flared nostrils and your eyes snapping up to his dark ones. A single earring dangles in his right ear, a dagger at the end of it. He is devilishly handsome, but there’s something unhinged in his gaze. “You’re a pretty little thing when you’re all dressed up.”

“Back up, dog,” Jimin growls, eyes like a dark, green storm. “You might rub your stench off on her.”

“I don’t answer to you,” Jungkook says to Jimin, never taking his eyes off you as he smirks. “I might answer to you, though. You look good enough to eat.”

“I’m not looking to adopt a stray animal,” you smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have fealty to pledge.”

Jungkook drops the smirk, his e expression murder as you grin, pulling Jimin further. Jimin smirks as the guards open the doors for you, casting them open to reveal a room filled with a dizzying assortment of creatures and colors. You focus on Jimin’s low words as he says, “Impressive.”

“Hardly. He hurt Hoseok.” Jimin dips his head in the direction of a humanoid tree that is seven feet tall, his skin nut-brown and patched with bark. He is dressed in green finery, blinking two sleep eyes at you. “You will show me to Hoseok after this.”

“Oh? Will I?”

“Yes. Or I’ll tell everyone here that you’re having me pledge falsely so you can use my shadow fire and new ring to take over.” Jimin growls low in his throat. “Checkmate.”

“I haven’t an idea what that means.”

Faeries and creatures part like a sea as you walk through. You try not to look at the alien faces around you – fae with green skin and big, black eyes, trolls and faeries that look like wolves watching you with predatory interest. There are others who look like Jimin, beautiful and feather light on their feet as they trail after you.

The room is very obviously a throne room, a raised dais at the far end of the hall. The ceiling is... nothing. Faerie light hovers around the room in soft-white globes, but the ceiling is a churning black mass of nothingness. It unsettles you as you let Jimin lead you to a silver throne, a man who looks like an avenging angel rising to his feet from it.

Around you, the whisper of clothes move as the room bows. Jimin bows low at the waist, dropping your arm from his. You do the same, careful not to lose your balance.

When you straighten, the king of the Night Court is watching you. His tan skin is smooth and ageless, ancient charcoal eyes studying you. His lips are sinfully full and pink. Dark black hair is brushed delicately back, a silver circlet of silver with no adornment in his hair. He's dressed in a black tunic with diamond-studded cuffs and a silver tree with stars stitched among them. A single dark cape is on his shoulders, pined to his shoulders with moons.

“She certainly looks like her,” the king says to Jimin. “It’s uncanny. There’s no doubt of her heritage, you’re right.”

“I’m standing right here,” you blurt.

You snap your mouth shut audibly when Jimin stiffens next to you and the king turns his dark gaze on you. You feel hypnotized, unable to look away from him as his gaze sucks you in. His eyes are bottomless and you’re falling, falling, falling.

Suddenly there’s nothing else in the world. There’s just the darkness of the king’s eyes and you feel boneless, alone. The world is muted and you’re lost in a dark sea.

A despair unlike anything you’ve ever felt pulls at you, drowning you deeper and deeper. You begin to suffocate, the world closing in on you-

Jimin’s hand brings you back. The king adverts his gaze with a smirk, glancing at Jimin. “Mouth just like my sister, it seems.”

“Seokjin, please,” Jimin murmurs.

The name rings through you. Your grandmother standing in twilight rushes back, her words. You realize with horror that the man in front of you is Seokjin. You realize every time Jimin mentioned his adoptive brother Jin – it was short for Seokjin. The faerie who could lie. The man who killed your grandfather.

Seokjin grins at you, venomous. “Hello, niece.”

Next Chapter

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