#〉 APPEARANCE ₎ a mystery wrapped in an enigma.

[yes7erdays-archive]

tag drop

[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 2

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Angst, Nesta threatening bodily harm, Amren being mean.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel was a lot of things. A knight however was not one of those. 

He was a bastard, a shadowsinger, the spymaster of the night court. He had fought in wars, tortured, killed, slaughtered, and bathed in the blood of his enemies…figuratively and literally in a sense.

But Azriel had never once been considered to be a knight. 

Not until he had met a slip of a human girl who never had the acrid smell of fear clinging onto her like he had expected. 

To Eira Archeron, Azriel had been a knight. 

He still wasn’t quite sure what he had done to give that impression…how she had heard Spymaster as a human and then continued to call him Sir when he had returned to the human lands to make his preparation to talk to the Human Queens. 

She had stopped calling him that at his request…she had been more than content to let Elain do the talking. And his attention had snapped from her, to her twin sister…flawlessly polite and beautiful. 

Azriel easily admitted that between the threat of the war and the worry of the future..somehow his attention had stayed there. 

And he hadn’t thought much more about the fourth Archeron Sister. 

Not when the other three had demanded his attention in a myriad of ways…from Feyre as High Lady, to Nesta with the problems she had adjusting or Elain, who had suffered beautifully and pined away for her human life. 

Eira…Eira hadn’t been anything to worry about, because she had done nothing. 

Hadn’t done anything but tried to be no trouble for any of them. And succeeded. No need to pay attention to her, because she hadn’t done anything. Ever. 

She had found herself work as a seamstress, seemed to adjust well to Velaris and her new Fae body…and that had been that. 

She was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma…and Azriel hadn’t even realised it. 

He had become complacent… had started to have a fucking blind spot right in front of his face…and he hadn’t noticed. 

Too busy with himself…with his own overly emotional moping, because he had felt unfairly treated… and had come away from that with a chip on his shoulder the size of the continent and the mulish expression of a teenage boy on his face…

He had admitted that too. 

At last, he had realised it…at least before he had done any lasting damage, Rhys’ words rattling around his brain and seemingly dousing him in cold water. 

It had been an infatuation with Elain…nothing more. Jealousy about his brothers both finding their mate in such a short period…Feeling unfairly treated...

And Azriel didn’t even have the excuse of his age for it like he had with Mor.  He had been so young when he had fallen head over heels in love with her…His centuries spent pining painfully away were a choice he had made because Mor was unattainable...

So really, these days, Azriel had no excuse that it had taken that long…

Weekly dinners had been a tradition for centuries. And they were not going to stop with them now. Especially not with Nyx there now, who enjoyed the attention of everybody doting on him…though he had one clear favourite. 

Azriel entered the dining room to Nyx’s loud chanting of “Ra! Ra! Ra!” which was the universal sign that he wanted Eira to hold him and nobody else. 

Feyre relinquished her son with a snort, letting Eira take him and settle him on her hip, pudgy little baby arms immediately flying around her neck. 

He blinked once at Eira’s appearance…at the sight of her in a grey dress, high-necked and covering her from her wrist to her ankles, cut high at her neck. Not out of the usual for her. He had not once seen her in the traditional Night Court fashions of tops and trousers…But what did surprise him…that was her hair…

Usually, it was scraped back into a messy knot at the base of her skull…well, now it fell down to her waist in perfect ringlets…held back from her face with two gilded hair combs. Beautiful. 

She took her seat and he moved to sit across from her, like he always did… like he was in a trance, somehow so taken by her that he couldn’t help himself. 

Eira smiled at Nyx in her arms, bright, pearly white teeth showing. He had never seen her smile like that either. 

And then her eyes met his… that smile changing from brightly happy to painfully polite…

And with one look… everything changed.

Lightning crackled along his veins. Crackled through his whole body, his hands tightening into fists as for a moment he didn’t know what happened. 

It caught around his ribs like a whip, tying him to her for eternity. And Azriel could just stare at her, wide-eyed, as she went back to doting on Nyx like nothing had happened…

Everything inside him was rearranged, a place carved out inside his chest just for her…just for Eira. 

For Eira with her big silver eyes, her delicate little hands…

He had always liked her…liked her soft voice, and how she had filled the silence so that he didn’t need to say anything, do anything, but hang onto her every word…liked how she had made it so easy for him to be around her…how she had seemingly always tried to be helpful, always tried to be kind…

Finally! the shadows crooned. Finally, Master! That took you long enough! 

They had known. 

They had known?! Since when…how…

He watched in terror how a tendril of shadows appeared over Eira’s shoulder and waited for her to flinch back…but nothing happened. Eira didn’t even seem to notice it, as she was cutting food in smaller pieces for Nyx, feeding him, his blue eyes wide, staring at his aunt in adoration. His little wings fluttered against her hold and she adjusted, seemingly without a thought…doting on Nyx. 

Eira Archeron was going to be the death of him.

Azriel knew that already. 

Because it already felt like she was crushing his very heart in the palm of her hands…because everything he had spent centuries begging, pleading, praying for, was right there, sitting in front of him and ignoring his very existence. 

Eira. 

Everything he wanted…right there, where he had last expected it. 

“Az, do you want the salad now, or am I just supposed to wave it in front of your face for another five minutes?” Cassian asked him, voice dripping with sarcasm, and that finally managed to get him to function again.

“Thank you,” he managed to force out, pulled all the wayward shadows in his nearer surroundings to him with a harsh tug at their metaphorical leash and took the salad from his brother. 

Salad. Dinner. 

And then…cauldron boil him, he needed to…figure out what he was going to do with…

His blood was rushing in his ears and he was thankful to sit because otherwise, he would have already fainted. His heart was pounding in his chest, far too fast…worse than it had in centuries…even while fighting for his life. 

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked him carefully and he just about managed a nod.  “You don’t look too good.”

He probably didn’t.

“I am fine,” he forced out. 

Great even. He was…

Mate, some instincts inside him purred. Mate. 

Our mate, the shadows sang, so very pleased. Ours! 

He forced himself to eat. Even when every part of him ached for Eira to turn to him like she usually did during dinners…and start a conversation about something or other…Listen to her voice. 

She did nothing of that sort that evening, doting on Nyx, though her soft whispers to the little boy made something inside him ache. 

“So what else happened this week?” Rhys asked at that moment, clearly trying to start a conversation, something that didn’t involve Keir in Hewn City being an absolute pain. 

“Eira got her teeth changed,” Elain spat out and Azriel was so taken aback by that tone of her voice that he needed a moment until the words registered…until…

Eira got her teeth changed? Why had she done that? She was already perfect. There was no reason to change anything. 

He couldn’t help but stare at her, again or once more or…and he watched the blush rise high on her cheeks, see how uncomfortable she was as the attention of the table shifted to her. 

“You had your teeth changed, Eira?” Rhys asked, sounding as taken aback as Azriel was feeling. 

“I did,” Eira agreed, her voice quiet. 

“Look at me?” Nesta requested, two seats down from him and he watched as Eira bared her teeth. 

Perfect pearly white teeth. Uniform in size. No trace anymore of the two big incisors that had sat inside her mouth. They had been just a smidgen too big for her. It had been charming as far as he was concerned.  But now they were all…all perfectly even. 

“It looks great,“ Nesta said. “But they were fine before as well.” A sort of understanding passed between Nesta and Eira, a look between the same grey eyes they shared that Azriel didn’t understand but wished he would

“I like it more like this,” Eira admitted, her voice quiet, going back to take care of Nyx. Nesta inclined her head. 

“Then that’s all that matters.” And that was that.

As long as she was happy, Azriel couldn’t care less. If she liked this more, then she should have whatever made her happy. 

“You actually agree with her? Nesta!” Elain exclaimed and Nesta stared at Elain, lips pursing for once, seemingly disagreeing with her sister. 

“They are Eira’s teeth,” Nesta said with a shrug.  “As long as they are attached to her mouth, I think she can do whatever she wants with them.”

Azriel tended to agree. Her teeth. If she liked them like that…well, that was that then. 

“You should have had them made into fangs. You could use them, Girl,” Amren commented drily. 

Eira said nothing in response, her shoulders seemingly caving in. 

His shadows bristled so sharply that he nearly flinched, hissing quietly, Our Mate. Our Mate! She doesn’t need fangs, but the tiny ancient one needs her throat ripped out!

He glared at them, but they ignored that. Instead, some of them bitched under their breath about anything Elain had to say…while some others were waxing poetically about the gleam of Eira’s hair in the candlelight. 

So beautiful, they purred in his ear.  So pretty. Doesn’t her hair glow like gold like this? Like a halo…

It was decisively unhelpful. Even when they were right. 

Especially because it frayed what little self-control he had. What little self-control he had that stopped him from going on his knees before her right now and begging her for…something, anything…everything. 

His ruined hands curled into fists as the shadows continued with their little monologue. 

Nyx seemed to be content to tuck his head against Eira’s shoulder and play with one big ringlet of that gleaming hair as he fell asleep, yawning widely. 

That seemed to be all the excuse Eira needed as she stood up. “I’ll put him to sleep,” Eira offered quietly as she stood. She hadn’t said a single word that evening unless it was talking to Nyx or Nesta asking her a question. Had stayed quiet. Silent. 

He missed her voice. 

He couldn’t stop the shadows from rushing out to pull her chair back so that it made no noise, fighting with them for control as they insisted on clinging to her skirts. “I’ll be up early tomorrow…I thought I could take Nyx to that playground he likes,” Eira said at that moment looking at Feyre and Rhys.  

“Of course,” Feyre agreed with an indulging smile. “He loves the swing there.”

Eira left and he watched her go, trying to swallow and trying and failing his shadows from following along in one big massive cloud…

“Az, what was that?” Rhys asked with some amusement but he couldn’t bring out the words. Couldn’t say anything…could just pull open his metal shields and push it at Rhys, begging him to understand. 

His brother’s eyes widened in pure undiluted shock. 

*By the cauldron,* he breathed in Azriel’s mind. 

“Are you both alright?” Cassian demanded, the shock being obvious on Rhys’ face. 

*Congratulations, brother,* Rhys said quietly in his mind, carefully. *I hope this isn’t…unwelcome?*

Unwelcome? How could this be unwelcome? 

This was…This was everything he had ever wanted. 

“Yes,” Rhys said, clearing his throat. “I am fine, and Az will be… alright.” 

Oh, he would be. He would be more than alright. He just…needed to...He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart thump against the touch. 

“You sure about that?” Cassian asked drily. “You look a bit green around the gills, Az. How are you feeling?” 

“Like somebody is carving up my chest,” he managed to bring out. 

It was the truth. That mating bond was like a razor wire, tied around his ribcage, sharp and painful. He wasn't sure if that was even normal or if that was just him trying to get used to it, if it was, just the shock that finally he had a mating bond himself or...

“Well, that sounds healthy,” Cassian said sharply, reaching out with one broad hand to put it on Azriel’s shoulder and squeezing. Warm, solid…giving him something to concentrate on. 

“Give him a moment,” Rhys said with a pointed look. “He’ll be fine once he catches his breath.”

He just needed...

She's fine, Master, the shadows assured him. Just singing the Princeling to sleep. 

“You want some water?” Nesta asked, already moving to stand. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Cassian demanded, his voice sharp.

He had no idea what he was supposed to say. 

“The mating bond snapped for him,” Amren drawled drily. “He’s just being dramatic about it.”

Dramatic? He was being dramatic? 

Azriel hadn’t thought he would get this for half a millennium! 

*Careful, Az,* Rhys said into his mind. *She does not mean it like that.*

He harshly pulled at the shadows that had been striking out on their own, getting ready to make their displeasure known to Amren. 

“What? To whom? You?” Cassian asked, the hand tightening nearly painfully. 

“If that was the case, I would be utterly uninterested,” Amren said with a snort. “But I imagine.. it must be Eira.” 

It was deathly quiet in the room after that declaration, all the eyes on him. 

Elain broke the stifling silence. 

“Is that a joke?” She asked, sounding utterly aghast. “Your mate is Eira?”

He couldn’t help the snarl that broke out of his throat, Cassian's grip turning from supportive to warning in an instant, the shadows poising themselves to attack. 

“Careful,” Rhys said quietly. “His instincts are primed. And his control is…not what it should be right now.”

*Reign it in, Az. Nobody is going to take her from you,* Rhys warned him. 

“We are all just…surprised!” Mor hurried to add, exchanging a look with Feyre next to her, who was paling rapidly. “Congrats! She has been having a crush on you for years!” 

What?

“Oh gods,” Feyre murmured under her breath.“I…I may have really messed up,” she admitted with a grimace. 

Not exactly what Azriel wanted to hear. 

A glance was exchanged between Rhys and Feyre. 

“You told her to get over her crush?” Rhys said surprised, blinking once. Feyre just nodded. “When?”

“2 days ago? After she got her teeth changed…I thought she only did it for Azriel,” Feyre admitted quietly. 

“Why would you do that, Feyre?!” Nesta demanded sharply. 

“Were you trying to protect Azriel’s virtue?” Cassian asked with a snort, trying to find some levity in that situation even when Azriel was starting to get furious.  “Don’t worry, there is nothing left for you to protect.”

“I didn’t want there to be any problems. And she was annoying you at every dinner,” Feyre tried to explain. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. 

“Annoying me?” He repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing. “She wasn’t annoying me!” 

“Making you uncomfortable then,” Elain amended quickly. “She talked to you constantly.” 

Yes. And it had never bothered him one bit. 

He would rather just listen to her talk, to one person talking, than to take part in the loud and raucous conversations that could go on for hours. 

If anything…he had welcomed it as a respite. In Eira’s little world, there weren’t really any…there were no bloodyproblems to take care of,  no weapons…she talked about embroidery and fabrics and books she had been reading…her world was so soft. 

“If that bothered me, I would have said something,” he bit out. He didn’t need Feyre to protect his virtue. Or Elain. Or anybody else. 

“I thought you would be too polite for that,” Feyre admitted with a grimace. Before he could respond, Elain beat him to it. 

“Does it even matter?” She asked, crossing her arms as she stood. “It’s Eira. It’s not like you’ll actually want her,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll be upstairs.”

It was pure shock that kept him rooted to his chair. Pure shock that stopped him from lunging across the table, at Elain’s throat because how dare she?!

The shadows hissed, spitting mad, whirling around him, a mess of voices, bombarding him with suggestions of what he should do about this, about that kind of disrespect to his mate. 

Want her? He didn't just want her, he needed her!

To his surprise, it was Nesta, Nesta of all people who slammed her hands onto the table, who stared him down with sparkling grey eyes, steel in them. 

It wasn't Nesta who stared him down. It was Lady Death herself.  “You lay one finger on Eira where she doesn’t want it and I’ll hack off your fucking hands!” She snapped at Azriel. 

He swallowed. He could only incline his head in response.

“We’ll deal with all of this tomorrow,” Rhys pointedly, with a sigh, making an executive decision. “After our visit to the Hewn City.”

*Can I trust you not to tell her for one night?* he asked Azriel mentally. *Let Feyre talk to her first and apologise?*

 *Tommorow,* he agreed. He didn’t want to tell her now…not when she was tired and wanting to sleep. Tomorrow. 

Still, without a conscious thought he sent the shadows to check on her…finding her up in her room, getting ready for bed. 

Safe. Content. 

His. 

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄. . .

NSFW!! | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑─𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

₊⊹⁀➴ : Late at night, Y/N is startled by a knock on her door. It's Chris, her dealer, who has been MIA for weeks. Looking worn and anxious, he explains he’s been laying low and had to take care of business.

𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐋𝟔𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋

˚⊱🪄⊰˚ : 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧, scrolling mindlessly through social media, a knock on the door ripped me from my digital reverie. My heart skipped a beat, and I looked around, startled. Who could be knocking in the dead of night? Rising from my seat with hesitation, I padded toward the front entrance, curiosity overtaking my unease.

The moment I cracked open the door, my eyes widened with a touch of disbelief. Standing before me was Chris, and it was instantly clear that something was seriously amiss. He appeared more drained than I’d ever seen him. Wrapped in a bulky hoodie that shielded his face and adorned in a sinister all-black ensemble, he bore an air of mystery mixed with a hint of danger.

“Chris?” I stammered, my voice shaking with a mix of surprise and a tinge of unease. His arrival was unexpected, especially at this late hour.

Chris shifted, his hands slipping from his pockets as he replied, his voice betraying a weariness that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his tone holding a hint of desperation.

Without another word, I nodded, my curiosity now tinged with a growing sense of unease. I stepped aside, reluctantly allowing him entrance into my home. The door swung shut behind him, and I turned to get my first good look at Chris in his strange getup.

Chris perched on a stool by the kitchen island, leaning heavily against the countertop. The dim lighting cast an eerie glow over him, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes and the gaunt lines of his face. I couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of concern and confusion as I observed him in the subdued kitchen.

“Chris,” I began, my voice laced with concern. “Where have you been? You've been MIA for weeks, and now you show up at my door like this?” I gestured towards his shadowy, all-black appearance and the haggard expression etched into his features.

Slowly, Chris lowered his hoodie, revealing a face that was a mix of exhaustion and determination. His hair, tousled from the confinement of his hood, added to his worn-out appearance. I couldn't help but notice the bags under his eyes, a stark contrast to the carefree demeanor he once exhibited.

Chris ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly locks. “I've been out of town,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of weariness and purpose. “Had some business to take care of. It was... complicated.” His eyes met mine, a hint of vulnerability glimmering beneath his fatigued facade.

In that moment, our eyes locked across the kitchen island, and I couldn't help but notice how, despite his obviously haggard appearance, he somehow looked surprisingly attractive in his all-black ensemble. The messiness of his hair only added to the enigma that surrounded him.

Recovering from the momentary distraction of his appearance, I found myself annoyed by his unexpected arrival. “Couldn't have texted me that?” I interjected, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “You just disappeared without a word, and now you're back, looking like you've been through the wringer. What the hell, Chris?”

Chris let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooped in defeat. “I couldn't, Y/N,” he replied, his voice laced with sincere apology. “Things got complicated, and it was safer for both of us if I went off the grid for a while.” He paused, his gaze searching mine as he tried to communicate the depth of his situation. “I don't mean to worry you, but it was necessary, believe me.”

The way he spoke my name, soft yet laced with sincerity, sent an electric shiver down my spine. It was a sound I yearned to hear, a connection that I had been missing. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a surge of longing, wishing for him to call out to me once more.

Chris mustered a small, weary smile, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “I'm here now, though,” he said, his voice tinged with a touch of humor. He continued, “Thought I'd come by and see my favorite costumer.” I shook my head, a faint chuckle escaping my lips. I couldn't deny the magnetic pull he had on me, even in his current state. I glanced down at the marble island countertop, my fingers tracing its cool surface.

The silence stretched for a moment, then Chris broke the tension with another soft confession. “I've missed you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and laced with genuine emotion. The sincerity in his words left me momentarily speechless, caught between a mixture of surprise and a warmth blossoming in my chest. I looked up, meeting his gaze, unsure of what to say but knowing that my feelings for him mirrored his own.

The words left my lips before I could stop them, “I thought we weren't doing this anymore,” I said with a hint of sadness. It was a stark reminder of the boundaries we had established, of the lines we had drawn to keep our relationship purely professional. The weight of our unspoken connection hung in the air, undeniable but still, unspoken.

Chris's voice softened, and he replied, “So now I can't say that I miss you?” There was a hint of playful defiance in his tone, as if he was challenging me to uphold the boundaries we had set. However, beneath the surface, I could sense the underlying desire to push those boundaries, yearning for something more.

I met his gaze, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and longing. “Well, you know where that always leads us, don't you?” The implications were clear, a reminder of the passionate encounters that had drawn us together in the past.

Chris's tone took on a seductive edge as he countered, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “What if I do? And what if I don't?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. “What if I'm okay with things escalating once more?”

I shook my head, my voice tinged with surprise. “I would think you're insane,” I replied, a soft laugh escaping my lips. Chris rose from the stool, his movements deliberate as he made his way around the kitchen island.

With a captivating smile, he pressed against it, leaning closer to me. “You think so?” he echoed, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The proximity between us fueled the magnetic pull we felt, igniting a spark beneath my skin as I looked into his eyes, trying to read his intentions.

The tension continued to build as Chris leaned against the kitchen island, his presence both alluring and intoxicating. He continued with a low, seductive tone, “I think it might be worth re-exploring… wouldn't you say?” The suggestion hung in the air, daring me to reconsider our boundaries and delve once more into the passionate encounters we had shared.

I met his gaze, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and desire. “You're insane if you think you can just up and leave without any explanation, and then expect me to be okay,” I replied, my voice wavering between anger and a longing for his touch. The tumultuous emotions swirling inside me mirrored the conflicted feelings that had been at the forefront of our tumultuous history.

Chris reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around my arm and pulling me in front of him. His back now faced the kitchen island, while I stood facing him, our bodies mere inches apart. He looked into my eyes, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “And I told you, I'm sorry Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with a vulnerability that was both reassuring and alluring. “I won't do that again.”

Chris's grip on my arm sent a jolt of electricity through my body, as if every fiber of my being yearned for his touch. His apology, laced with sincerity, melted my defenses, and I found myself drawn deeper into his magnetic pull. I knew there were risks associated with rekindling what we had, but in that moment, the longing in his eyes resonated with my own desires.

I swallowed, my voice filled with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. “I wish I could believe you, Chris,” I replied, my eyes never leaving his, searching for any hint of deception. “But how can I trust you not to leave again?” The lingering fear of abandonment lingered in my heart.

Chris's arms wrapped possessively around my waist, his head slowly descending toward my neck. The warmth of his body against mine stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me. As his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, a jolt of electricity surged through me, leaving me weak in the knees.

Chris's lips moved against my skin, whispering, “I promise you I won't, not when I have you back in my arms again, ma.” His words, filled with a mix of desperation and sincere affection, resonated deep within me. The use of the familiar term, ‘ma’ only added to the intensity of the moment, reigniting the flame that had been smoldering between us.

Chris's arms tightened possessively around my waist as he continued to shower my neck with gentle kisses. Each touch sent a shiver down my spine, intensifying the burning desire within me. “I've missed your smell, your taste,” he murmured, his voice filled with raw emotions.

Chris pulled away, his eyes holding a yearning look as he met mine.My hand traced a path from his chest to his neck, before weaving through his hair, a gentle caress to soothe his weariness. “You poor thing,” I murmured, my voice soft and filled with genuine concern. “Business got you so exhausted; I can see it in your eyes.”

My hand moved to his face, gently cupping his cheek. Chris leaned into my palm, his eyes closing for a brief moment as if savoring the warmth of my touch. “You've always been able to see right through me, ma,” he whispered, his voice filled with both vulnerability and affection.

The way he said ‘ma’ sent a shiver down my spine. It was a term of endearment that only he used, one that held a special place in our history together. The air between us grew charged with longing, and I could feel the walls that I had built up slowly crumbling.

I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the rhythmic beating of his heart, a steady reminder of his presence. Chris continued speaking, his voice laced with a mix of earnestness and vulnerability. “I messed up, Y/N,” he confessed, his eyes holding a mix of remorse and determination. “I've spent every day since then thinking about us, regretting my actions, and wishing I could be with you again.”

Chris's voice grew softer, a mix of vulnerability and yearning lacing his words. “I've been missing this, missing us, more than you can imagine,” he admitted. A wave of emotions washed over me as I caught a glimpse of the turmoil he had been going through. His vulnerability, so rare and precious, was like a tender offering, inviting me to bridge the gap between us.

Chris had never been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, always maintaining a nonchalant air. But in this moment, as he poured out his feelings to me, I saw a side of him that I'd never experienced before. Softness and vulnerability glimmered in his eyes, as if he was finally revealing his true self. It was a rare and beautiful sight, one that tugged at my heartstrings and made me want to soothe his pain.

My voice, a soft whisper, broke the stillness in the room, “Kiss me,” I breathed, my eyes locked with Chris's in anticipation. He slowly leaned in, his lips grazing mine in a tantalizing dance before finally capturing them in a gentle and tender exchange.

Our kiss was an unspoken apology, a meeting of souls craving connection. Electric currents coursed through my body as we melded together in that moment, the world around us fading away, leaving only us and our shared desire.

Chris's arms tightened around me as we lost ourselves in the kiss, their embrace both possessive and comforting. Our bodies pressed together, igniting a fire within me that matched the passion in Chris's eyes. It was a moment of raw, unspoken emotions, a chance to let our guard down and simply be. There were no words needed; our entwined bodies and the yearning in our kiss said it all.

My hand slipped under his hoodie and t-shirt, desperate to feel his skin. My fingers traced the contours of his back, as if relearning the familiar landscape. It was as though we were rediscovering each other all over again, and in that moment, nothing else mattered except the sensation of being in each other's arms once more.

Our bodies connected in ways that words couldn't fully describe. The tension melted away, replaced by a renewed connection. Each brush of our skin was a wordless confession, a desperate plea for more. The kiss that began as a whisper grew into an urgent, hungry exchange. Time stood still as we lost ourselves in the intoxicating dance of desire that had kept us apart for far too long.

Our bodies moved in sync, a melody of longing that played out with each touch and breathless gasp. It was as if the time apart had only intensified our connection, our desire. I could feel the heat radiating from his body under my fingers, a reminder of the intensity of our union. The taste of his lips, the softness of his skin, it was all a testament to the depth of our longing for each other's touch.

My fingers trembled with a mix of anticipation and desire as I reached for the hem of Chris's black hoodie, eager to shed the barrier between us. Our lips parted briefly, a breathless moment in the whirlwind of our connection, as I tugged at the fabric, ready to strip him of any remnants of the past weeks apart.

Without a word, Chris understood my silent plea. He reached back, grasping the hem of his hoodie, and in one fluid motion, helped me remove it. The garment landed on the couch, a discarded symbol of the distance that had separated us. With renewed hunger, he dipped his head once more, claiming my lips in a passionate dance.

As my hands ventured towards his belt, reaching for what lay beneath it, Chris placed his hand on mine, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “Wait, Not yet.” A shiver ran down my spine as he picked me up with ease and planted me on the cool surface of the kitchen island, the heat between us threatening to consume us.

With a gentle urgency, Chris moved between my thighs, his body pressing close, the closeness igniting an ache within me. His fingers traced the curves of my body, each touch like a jolt of electricity, as he kissed me with a fervent hunger that mirrored my own.

Chris's eyes darkened with desire as he reached for the hem of my shirt, a silent request that I eagerly accepted. With a swift motion, he peeled the fabric from my skin, discarding it on the floor. The exposure of my bare skin only intensified the flames that flickered between us, pushing us closer to the edge.

With a heady desperation, Chris trailed his lips down my neck, leaving behind a trail of tender kisses on my collarbone. Each touch sent a shiver through my body, my skin tingling with anticipation. As he explored further, my hand instinctively reached for his hair, my fingers weaving through his locks, urging him ever closer.

The intoxicating combination of his kisses and the tender pressure of his teeth against my skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. My breath hitched as he ventured even lower, reaching the sensitive flesh of my chest, each kiss punctuated by a soft moan of approval from my lips.

I tightened my grip around his head, a silent plea for him not to stop. The intensity of our connection escalated with each passing moment, our bodies a fiery union in which we lost ourselves.

With a surge of desire, Chris's hands explored my back, seeking the clasp of my bra, eager to remove the last barrier between us. My breath hitched as I felt the fabric loosen, leaving me exposed in his arms. Our intimacy deepened, the layers of restraint peeled away, as we surrendered fully to the passion that bound us.

Chris's hands, greedy and gentle, reached up to cup my breasts. His thumbs brushed against the peaks, sending shivers through me. I arched my back, pushing myself more firmly into his touch, a silent plea for more.

Chris leaned down, his warm breath against my skin before his mouth closed around one nipple. I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over me. He suckled gently, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving me to the brink of madness.

Lost in the haze of desire, I couldn't help but tug his hair harder, desperate for him to keep sucking. The sensation was intoxicating, and I felt myself growing wetter by the second. Finally, Chris released my nipple with a pop, leaving it swollen and sensitive.

As I released his hair, he looked up at me, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “You're so perfect.” Then, he shifted his attention to my other breast, lavishing it with the same exquisite torture.

I was trembling, my body on fire, as Chris continued to worship my breasts. His hands roamed over my sides, his fingers digging into my skin as he held me in place. I felt his hot breath against my sensitive nipple.

Chris released my breast, his lips trailing kisses down my torso as his hands reached for the hem of my sweatpants. “Lift,” he murmured. I obeyed, lifting my hips off the cold, hard marble of the kitchen island.

He tugged the sweats down, along with my underwear, leaving me bare before him. The cool air hit my heated skin, making me shiver. Chris's gaze roamed over me appreciatively, taking in every inch of my body. “Spread your legs, baby,” he commanded softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitantly spread my thighs, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze. He stepped closer, his hands gripping my knees and pushing my legs wider apart. “More,”

I complied, spreading my legs until I felt the cool air against my most intimate place. Chris's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me, completely open and ready for him. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Without another word, Chris dropped to his knees, his face inches from my dripping pussy. He looked up at me, his eyes locked on mine, before burying his face between my thighs. His tongue slid through my folds, licking up my juices and delving inside my pussy, fucking me with his tongue.

I gripped the edge of the countertop, my knuckles turning white as I braced myself against the intense sensation. Chris's hands gripped my thighs, holding them wide apart as he devoured me. His tongue was magic, dancing over my swollen nub and plunging back inside, over and over again.

“Chris...” I moaned, my head thrown back, my hips bucking against his face. “Please, more... Oh, God...” My words tumbled out, incoherent and desperate, as he continued to feast on me. “Right there... Please, don't stop...”

His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside me as his tongue focused on my throbbing bud. The double stimulation was almost too much to bear. “I'm... I'm going to... Chris, I can't...” I panted, torn between the need to push him away and pull him closer.

He ignored my torn words, his fingers pumping in and out of me, his mouth sucking and licking. My legs began to shake, my whole body tensing as the waves of pleasure crested. “Chris!” I screamed, burying my fingers in his hair as I shattered against his mouth.

He gentled his touch, slowly licking and kissing my over-sensitive flesh as I came back down. I sagged against the counter, boneless and spent. Chris rose, his face glistening with my essence, and grinned wickedly at me. “You taste like heaven,” he said.

Chris swept me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to my bedroom. The layout of my apartment was still etched in his memory, despite the weeks apart.

He set me down gently on my bed, my back sinking into the plush comforter. His hands reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling it up and over his head to reveal his tone chest and abs.

I sat up, reaching for his belt buckle. My fingers fumbled with the strap, desperate to get it undone. Chris chuckled, his hands covering mine to guide me through the process. He was wearing his balenciaga belt, the one i liked the most on him.

With the belt unbuckled, I unbuttoned his black jeans, sliding the zipper down to reveal the waistband of his boxers. I looked up at him, biting my lip, and he nodded, telling me to continue.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, slowly pulling them down over his hips. His hard length sprang free, bobbing against his stomach. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, pumping slowly as I leaned forward to kiss the tip.

Chris's hands tangled in my hair as I took him into my mouth, his hips jerking forward instinctively. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the precum leaking from the slit, before taking him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of my throat.

Chris's grip on my hair tightened, his breathing growing faster as I continued to work my mouth on him. He let me set the pace, his hips bucking forward occasionally as the sensation became too much. His abs tensed and relaxed with each breath, his whole body focused on the pleasure I was giving him.

“Fuck, ma...” he moaned, his voice ragged and unsteady. “Your mouth feels so good...” His hips moved in time with my bobbing head, his length sliding in and out of my mouth.

I hummed around him, smiling as he groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair. I could feel his body tensing, his release drawing near. “Y/N...” he panted, his warning coming out as a hoarse whisper. “I’m... I'm gonna... ma...”

I pulled back, my hand continuing to pump him as his release came. His head fell back, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he found his release. His hot, salty essence spilled over my hand and onto my chest.

I brought my hand to my mouth, licking off his release before cleaning up the mess on my chest. Chris watched me with heavy-lidded eyes before reaching down to tilt my chin up. “I've missed your lips so much,” he said, his thumb wiping away any remnant from my mouth.

He pulled me up into a kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to taste himself on my lips. I melted into the kiss, my arms wrapping around his neck as I returned it with equal fervor.

Chris slowly lowered us both onto the bed, his arms wrapping around me as he settled on top of me, our lips still locked. He hovered over me, his hands gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head.

Chris began to kiss and nibble his way down my neck, marking me with his love bites. He was gentle but firm, his teeth sinking into my skin as he left his claiming marks. I could feel the heat building between my legs as he continued to worship my body. “Chris…”

“Tell me what you want, ma,” he whispered against my neck, his voice low and sultry. His hands tightened around my wrists, his body heavy on mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh, a reminder of what was yet to come. “Please...”

“Please what, ma?” he prompted, his lips trailing down to my collarbone. “Tell me what you need.” His voice was a dark temptation, coaxing the words from my lips. “Please... I need you” I whispered, my cheeks flushing with heat.

Chris slowly released his hold on my wrists, his hands trailing down my arms, my sides, my hips, before finally settling on my thighs. He gently spread my legs, his touch feather-light as he began to explore my body. “Where do you need me, ma?”

“Chris... please... I need you inside me. Now.” I demanded, my voice breathy with desire. He growled in approval, his hands gripping my hips as he aligned himself with my entrance. “Look at me, baby,” he ordered, his voice low.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze as he entered me in one smooth thrust. I gasped at the sensation, my back arching off the bed as he filled me completely. “Fuck,” he cursed, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “So fucking tight, ma.” He groaned, lowering his head and burying his face in the crook of my neck as he began to move within me. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.”

I complied, wrapping my legs around his waist as he slowly increased his pace. The new angle allowed him to bury himself deeper inside me, the sensation bordering on pain. I scored my nails down his back, pulling him closer as he began to thrust harder, his breath coming in short pants against my neck.

Chris's grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pounded into me. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, accompanied by our heavy breathing. “You feel so good, ma... I could fuck you forever,” he growled, his voice strained with effort.

“Fuck, Chris. Please... harder,” I whimpered, my body tensing as he hit that sweet spot inside me. He let out a guttural groan, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into me with enough force to shake the bed.

“God, I missed you so much,” Chris panted, his voice laced with emotion. His movements became more urgent, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself to the hilt inside me. “The way you wrap around me... the little sounds you make...”

“It's driving me crazy, ma. I can't hold back much longer...” His voice trailed off as he lowered his head and sealed his mouth to mine, swallowing my cries as he continued to thrust into me with unbridled passion.

Chris's usually rough and demanding demeanor was replaced with a tender, gentle touch. He held me close, his arms wrapping around me like a vice as he made love to me instead of fucking me. His careful, deliberate movements stirred something deep within me, and I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

I missed this, I missed him. I missed the feel of his arms around me, the way his calloused hands caressed my body. The weeks of silence had been agonizing, each day stretching into an eternity as I yearned for his touch.

“Chris... oh god, Fuck,” I moaned, my fingers clutching at his back as he continued to slowly thrust in and out of me. The gentle pace was torture, each movement drawing out the sensation and ratcheting up the tension in my core.

“I'm so close, Chris... please...” I begged, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of release. Chris's breath grew ragged, his hips moving faster as he chased his own orgasm. “Stay with me, baby,” he grunted, his fingers tightening around my waist.

Chris sealed his mouth to mine, his kiss passionate and demanding. Our tongues danced together as our movements grew more urgent, our bodies climbing towards the peak of passion. I could feel his muscles tensing, his breath hitching, and I knew we were both close.

We parted our lips, panting against each other's faces as we neared the breaking point. Chris hovered over me, his arms braced on either side of my head, his eyes locked onto mine. I leaned up, pressing my lips to his neck, sucking and kissing his skin as he finally let go.

Chris let out a low, guttural moan, his body stiffening as he found his release. He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, hot pants as he spilled into me. “Fuck! oh god, ma...” His voice was raw with emotion.

I felt my own orgasm wash over me, my vision blurring as I cried out in ecstasy. My inner walls clenched around Chris, milking his cock for every drop of his release. We stayed like that for a long moment, our foreheads pressed together, our hearts pounding in unison

Chris opened his eyes, his dark irises meeting my gaze as we both caught our breath. He brushed his lips against mine in a gentle kiss.

“You were amazing, like always,” Chris murmured, his voice soft and reverent. He nuzzled against my neck, his arms wrapping around me possessively.

Chris slowly pulled out of me, his face flushing slightly as the evidence of our passion spilled onto the sheets. He reached for the blanket folded at the corner of the bed and pulled it over us, tucking me against his side.

I looked up at Chris, my eyes meeting his as he looked down at me. “I'm so glad you're back,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. “Promise me you'll stay, Chris.” His expression softened, his hand pausing on my back. “I promise”

Chris leaned down, pressing his lips gently to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. He broke away, his hand coming up to cup my cheek tenderly. “I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I'm exactly where I want to be.”

[keehomania]

troublemaker (트러블) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

you were trouble, everyone knew it. from the moment you entered a room, you carried an aura that demanded attention, the kind of allure that held people captive in the snare of your presence. in a world where appearances could be weapons, you were the embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype as lethal as it was beguiling. your beauty wasn’t merely skin-deep; it was a complex tapestry woven from threads of danger, allure, and an almost tangible sense of enigma.

your eyes, framed by a cascade of midnight-black lashes, were twin pools of mystery that could ensnare anyone who dared to meet your gaze. they shimmered with an intensity that hinted at secrets too dark to unveil, secrets that whispered of peril and allure in the same breath. when you walked, each step was a masterstroke of elegance and seduction, the hem of your dress swaying like the tendrils of a siren's call. the colors you wore were never just colors; they were statements, woven into the fabric of your being like the brushstrokes of a master painter’s most provocative work.

your voice, when it cut through the ambient hum of a room, was velvet and smoke—rich and inviting, yet laden with the promise of consequences that could spiral into chaos. it could lure and disarm, coaxing even the most guarded heart into the realm of vulnerability. conversations with you were like navigating a labyrinth; each word, each pause, was meticulously crafted to captivate, ensnare, and ultimately control.

in your presence, the air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, an ethereal glow that made reality seem like a mere shadow of the world you conjured. you moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, a dance that was both hypnotic and dangerous. the way you tilted your head, the slight curve of your smile—it all contributed to a spellbinding performance that kept everyone on edge. if looks could kill, you would have been executed long ago. your mere gaze was a weapon honed to perfection, capable of dismantling the strongest of defenses with a single glance. the enchantment you wielded was not merely a play of physical beauty but a deadly precision of emotional manipulation and psychological prowess. to encounter you was to walk a tightrope over an abyss, where every step was fraught with the potential for either profound enchantment or complete destruction.

you were a canvas of contradictions, a symphony of beauty and menace. each interaction with you was an intricate dance on the edge of a razor, where the thrill of the unknown mingled with the inevitable sting of consequences. In the grand theater of life, you were the lead role in a drama so intense and captivating that it demanded the audience's complete surrender. the enigma you embodied was a work of art in itself, crafted with the precision of a masterful painter and the allure of an ancient legend. you were the perfect embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype so potent that even the hint of your presence could render the most formidable of souls powerless.

you were a vision of lethal elegance, the very embodiment of danger wrapped in glamour. in the dimly lit bar, your presence was nothing short of an intoxicating spell, casting a spell that had everyone under its sway. the room pulsed with life, the throbbing beat of music mingling with the electric current of your allure. all eyes were drawn to you, some with a flicker of lust, others with a trace of envy. you anticipated this reaction with an almost preternatural certainty, knowing exactly how to wield your beauty as a weapon of desire and control.

perched on a plush velvet bar stool, you sipped your martini with an air of nonchalance, the delicate glass catching the ambient light and casting glimmers that mirrored the sparkle in your eyes. the glistening liquid within the glass seemed to reflect the dangerous playfulness that danced beneath your composed facade. every sip was a deliberate act, each moment stretched out to heighten the tension that thrummed through the bar like an electric charge.

as you savored your drink, a man, drawn in by the magnetic pull of your presence, approached you with a confident stride. his gaze was fixated on you with a mixture of desire and admiration. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur as he offered to buy you another drink. you responded with a smile that could melt steel and a purr that was as soft as it was deadly. “i’m not thirsty anymore,” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear. “in fact, i’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

your words were accompanied by a slow, deliberate exploration of his body—your knee pressed suggestively against the bulge in his pants, your fingertips tracing lazy, teasing patterns along his arm. he was ensnared, mesmerized by the intoxicating blend of your touch and your voice. with each subtle caress, you could feel his resolve dissolving, his body responding with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. you guided him with practiced ease toward the staircase leading up to the hotel above the club. each step you took was measured, each glance you cast over your shoulder a calculated part of the seduction. when you reached the room you had rented hours before, the anticipation hung in the air like a charged current.

inside the room, the atmosphere shifted from the vibrant chaos of the bar to an intimate and charged tension. you pushed him onto the bed with a combination of grace and dominance, your lips finding his in a heated kiss that spoke of all the promises and perils to come. as the passion intensified, you suddenly pulled away, a playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “wait here,” you instructed, your voice a velvet command as you slipped away to the bathroom. the soft click of the door closing behind you was the only sound before you emerged, your form now adorned only in a lacy bra and panties. in your hands, you held a bundle of rope, its coiled lengths a stark contrast to your alluring appearance. you presented it to him with a languid, almost theatrical flourish, the rope glistening in the soft light as you displayed it with a provocative grace.

his eyes were locked on the rope, his eagerness palpable as he reached out, his breath quickening with anticipation. but before he could fully grasp his desires, you were swift and unerring. the rope was suddenly around his throat, its fibers cold and unyielding against his skin. his eyes widened in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to breathe. the thrill of the moment was palpable in the room, the transformation from seduction to danger swift and complete.

your expression remained impassive, almost detached, as you tightened the rope with measured precision. you watched with an indifferent gaze as the life began to ebb from his eyes, the struggle growing weaker with each tightening of the rope. the room was silent save for the faint, strangled sounds of his attempts to breathe, and your own calm, steady breaths as you held him in your grip.

once the light of life had dimmed from his eyes, you released the rope with a smooth, practiced motion, the finality of your actions as clean and efficient as the execution of a well-rehearsed performance. without a moment's hesitation, you retrieved your phone from the nightstand, dialing the number you knew by heart. your voice was cool and composed as you delivered the message, “the job’s finished.” the transaction was complete, your demeanor as flawless and unperturbed as ever. the power of your presence, combined with the lethal precision of your actions, left no room for doubt. your looks could, indeed, kill.

in the dimly lit ambiance of a high-end club, where shadows danced along the walls and whispers wove through the air like silk, kim namjoon emerged as a figure of compelling elegance and magnetic allure. his presence was a striking contrast to the dim setting, an embodiment of polished sophistication and commanding charm. from the moment he entered the room, it was as if the very air around him shifted, aligning with his undeniable magnetism.

his appearance was nothing short of captivating. his sharp, chiseled features were sculpted with an artist’s precision—his high cheekbones, a strong, defined jawline, and the perfectly straight bridge of his nose created a visage that could have been plucked from the pages of a fashion magazine. his eyes, dark and intense, held a glimmer of mischief beneath their calm facade. they were the kind of eyes that seemed to see through every pretense, a deep, penetrating gaze that drew people in and held them captive, like a spell they were powerless to break.

his hair was styled with an effortless grace, each strand falling into place as if it had been carefully tousled by an unseen hand. it framed his face with an artful disarray that only enhanced his allure, giving him a look that was both casually disheveled and meticulously groomed. every movement he made was fluid, a smooth, deliberate motion that spoke of both confidence and control. his attire—a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame—was a testament to his keen sense of style. the fabric draped over him with an elegance that was both understated and luxurious, the dark hue of his suit contrasting sharply with the warm glow of the club’s lighting.

as he navigated through the room, every step seemed to radiate a quiet power, his aura compelling and commanding. there was an inherent grace to his movements, a calculated ease that made him seem as though he were gliding rather than walking. women turned their heads as he passed, their gazes lingering with a mixture of admiration and desire, their reactions a testament to the impact of his presence.

he knew precisely how to wield his beauty and charm, turning it into a weapon of seduction and influence. his smile was a carefully honed tool, flashing with just the right amount of warmth and allure to disarm even the most guarded soul. it was a smile that suggested both confidence and an intimate understanding of human nature, a combination that made him irresistibly intriguing. in conversation, his voice was a smooth, velvety timbre that could both soothe and stir, a voice that could command attention or whisper promises of indulgence. each word he spoke was measured and deliberate, imbued with a charisma that made every interaction feel like a dance. he could make the simplest of exchanges seem like a tantalizing game, where every glance and every phrase was part of a larger, more complex play.

kim namjoon was more than just a man of striking appearance; he was an embodiment of an almost otherworldly charm that made him a force to be reckoned with. his beauty was not merely skin-deep but a carefully curated blend of aesthetics and allure, sharpened by a sly intelligence and a commanding presence. his very being radiated a magnetic energy that drew others to him, an aura of irresistible power and charm that made him both a captivating enigma and an undeniable force.

as he moved through the crowded club, his presence was like a magnetic force drawing the eyes of every observer, yet his attention was singularly focused on one woman. she was a vision of allure, her eyes locked onto him with an unspoken recognition of his power and charm. he approached her with a fluid grace, his every movement deliberate and poised.

he came from behind her, his touch an intimate caress that seemed to awaken a shiver down her spine. she arched into his touch, as if her body had anticipated his arrival, responding to his presence with a blend of eagerness and trust. his fingers traced a path along her delicate skin, sending waves of warmth and anticipation through her. leaning in, he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “do you wanna get out of here?” the words were laced with a promise of excitement and danger, an invitation wrapped in seductive undertones. she nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips curving into a smile of eager compliance as she allowed him to guide her through the throng of revelers.

as they navigated their way out of the club, namjoon’s hands continued their languid exploration along her back and sides, each touch a reminder of the allure he wielded with such ease. they moved together in a rhythm of anticipation, their path illuminated by the flashing lights of the city as they ventured into the shadowed recesses of an alleyway. in the quiet, obscured alley, the vibrant chaos of the club seemed like a distant memory. his whispers became more insistent, his words slipping into a darker, more provocative territory. the woman's excitement was palpable, her breath hitching as his voice wove a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

as they reached a more secluded spot, his hand brushed against his pocket, his keys falling from his grasp and clattering onto the ground. he paused to retrieve them, his movements precise and deliberate. it was in this moment of vulnerability that the woman's anticipation turned to confusion, her eyes widening as the reality of her situation began to dawn on her.

in a swift, practiced motion, his demeanor shifted from seductive to menacing. as he straightened, his hands were no longer gentle but cruelly firm. his fingers closed around her throat with an unyielding grip, his strength a chilling contrast to the tenderness he had earlier exhibited. her eyes, once filled with lust, were now wide with a horror that seemed to freeze time itself. he applied pressure with a cold efficiency, the life gradually ebbing from her eyes as she struggled against the relentless force of his grip. he watched impassively as the light in her eyes dimmed, her struggles growing weaker until her body went limp. the transition from desire to demise was abrupt, the room falling into a stifling silence as she dropped dead at his feet.

with her lifeless body at his feet, namjoon remained calm, his expression a mask of unperturbed satisfaction. he removed his phone from his pocket with the same grace he had shown throughout the evening, his fingers moving with practiced precision. dialing a number, he spoke into the phone with a voice that was as cool and collected as ever. “the job’s finished,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate persona he had so masterfully projected moments before. the efficiency of his actions, the seamless transition from charm to ruthlessness, underscored the true extent of his dangerous allure. kim namjoon was a master of manipulation, his beauty and charm just facets of a more profound and deadly artistry.

the morning sun cast a golden haze across the room, its rays filtering through the gauzy curtains and illuminating the opulent space in a soft, ethereal glow. you sat gracefully at the edge of a lavish, velvet-clad armchair, a picture of effortless sophistication. in your hand, you held a glass of deep, ruby-red wine, the liquid swirling gently as you lifted it to your lips. the wine’s rich aroma filled the air, mingling with the faint hint of your perfume—a heady blend of jasmine and sandalwood.

there was a certain serenity in the ritual of your morning indulgence, despite the gnawing presence of alcohol's creeping dependence. the wine had become both a sanctuary and a torment, a paradoxical solace that masked the terror of its increasing hold over you. each sip was a delicate escape from the relentless pressure of your world, a brief respite before the day's demands unfolded.

as you savored the wine, your phone buzzed on the polished marble table beside you. the sharp, insistent sound shattered the tranquil cocoon you had wrapped yourself in. with a graceful motion, you reached for the device, your fingers curling around it with a practiced ease. the screen lit up with the name of your boss, and a flicker of tension passed through you.

you answered the call, your voice steady and composed despite the slight edge of apprehension that had begun to surface. “yes?” you intoned, your tone smooth but alert. the voice on the other end was cold, the authority it wielded palpable even through the phone. “listen closely,” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats. “we have a high-priority target for you today. this isn’t just any assignment. you’re to eliminate kim namjoon.”

the name hit you with an unexpected force, a jolt that made you sit up straighter. you had heard whispers about him, tales spun in dark corners and hushed conversations, but it all seemed like distant lore—stories of a man who was, in your mind, nothing more than an intriguing footnote. now, the reality of the task set before you was both startling and intensely personal. “kim namjoon?” you repeated, your voice a blend of disbelief and challenge. the name rolled off your tongue, testing the weight of its significance. “i’ve heard of him. he’s part of a rival team, correct?”

“correct,” she affirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “he's a significant player, a dangerous one. this job requires precision. you must understand the risks. he’s not to be underestimated. we need this done cleanly and without trace. his elimination will shift the balance in our favor.” the intensity of her words sharpened the focus of the task ahead. the air around you seemed to thicken with the gravity of the assignment, the warmth of the wine now mingling with a cool edge of determination. the threat posed by namjoon wasn’t just about personal rivalry; it was a crucial move in a broader, more intricate game.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle upon your shoulders. your resolve hardened, the initial disbelief melting into a fierce, unwavering determination. “i understand,” you said, your voice resolute. “i assure you, the job will be finished in no time.” with that, the call ended, leaving you with the echo of her command and the impending challenge that loomed large in your mind. you set the wine glass down, its contents reflecting the slivers of sunlight that now seemed to pierce through your calm exterior. the stakes had been set, the target identified, and the path forward was clear.

kim namjoon would be your next conquest, a puzzle to be solved with the precision and finesse that defined your craft. the thrill of the hunt coursed through you, blending with the calm confidence you had cultivated over countless assignments. the morning’s tranquility had dissipated, replaced by a focused intensity that sharpened your every sense. the game was on, and you were ready to meet it head-on.

the morning sun peeked through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a hazy light that filtered through the cluttered room. namjoon sat at the small kitchen table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. the rich aroma of the brew was a stark contrast to the disarray that surrounded him. his gaze was fixed on the scene before him—his disheveled roommate sprawled across the couch, the telltale signs of a wild night evident in the scattered cans of alcohol and the faint scent of stale beer that clung to the air.

namjoon’s distaste for alcohol was well-known, a preference rooted in the queasiness it induced rather than any moral stance. to him, the presence of the empty cans was a nauseating reminder of indulgences he avoided. he turned his attention back to the comforting warmth of his coffee, seeking solace in its steady, untroubled existence. the silence of the morning was abruptly broken by the shrill ring of his phone, an intrusion that jolted him from his thoughts. he glanced at his roommate, ensuring that the phone’s call wouldn’t disturb his friend’s slumber. with a deft motion, he picked up the phone, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he answered.

the voice on the other end was as sharp and commanding as ever. “namjoon, good morning,” his boss greeted, the tone both professional and serious. “i trust you’re ready for the next assignment?” he nodded, even though his boss couldn’t see him. “of course,” he replied, his voice steady and attentive. “what’s the task?”

there was a moment of silence, heavy with anticipation, before his boss continued. “today’s assignment is likely the hardest one you’ve faced. we’ve come across a particularly elusive target. her name is (y/n) (l/n), and she’s not just any case. she’s known for her lethal precision and cunning. the stories you’ve heard about her are not mere rumors; they’re a testament to her skills.”

the gravity of the warning was palpable, and namjoon’s interest was piqued. he had heard fragmented stories about a woman of your reputation, a figure shrouded in intrigue and danger. he had never expected his path would cross with someone like you, nor had he anticipated the challenge this would present. “understood,” he said, his tone taking on a determined edge. “i’m aware of her reputation. if she’s as formidable as you say, i’ll handle it with the utmost care. rest assured, i’ll eliminate her with the precision and efficiency expected.”

the conversation concluded with a sense of mutual understanding and resolve. namjoon ended the call, his mind already strategizing the best approach to the task at hand. he looked once more at his roommate, who remained oblivious to the gravity of the conversation that had just transpired. with his coffee in hand and a newfound determination, he prepared himself for the day. the sight of the alcohol-strewn room and the hungover state of his friend were now just background noise, eclipsed by the seriousness of the mission ahead. the challenge posed by you—an enigmatic and dangerous opponent—was about to become the focal point of his day, a test of his skills and resolve that would push him to his limits.

you entered the coffee shop, the soft hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping you in a warm embrace. the morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a serene glow over the rustic wooden tables and mismatched chairs. as you walked to the counter, your mind buzzed with tactical considerations, strategizing the most effective approach to handling the formidable kim namjoon. the complexities of the task at hand melded with your thoughts, each possibility and scenario swirling in your head like the delicate patterns in your latte.

you placed your order with a casual ease, the barista’s polite nods and friendly banter barely registering as you were lost in contemplation. when you finally settled into a corner booth, the quiet rustle of newspapers and the clinking of cups provided a backdrop to your musings. men around the café couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, their eyes lingering with a mix of admiration and intrigue. you were accustomed to such attention, a mere side effect of the aura you carried, but it never failed to draw your awareness.

as you were absorbed in your thoughts, a voice interrupted the solitude of your reflection. “must be tiring, isn’t it? getting looks like that all the time?” the voice was warm and smooth, laced with a hint of curiosity. you turned your head to find a man standing by your table, a friendly smile playing on his lips. he had an air of casual confidence, his demeanor effortless and disarming. you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to effortlessly attract the gaze of those around him, much like you did. offering him a measured smile, you replied, “it seems like you’re no stranger to stares yourself,” gesturing toward the group of women who were openly admiring him from across the room.

he laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and charming. “true enough,” he said with a shrug. “but it’s something i’ve chosen to ignore.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “would you like to join me? it looks like most of the other seats are taken.” without hesitation, he accepted your offer and slid into the seat across from you. As he settled in, he extended his hand with a graceful flourish.

“i’m kim namjoon,” he introduced himself, his voice steady and inviting. a chill ran down your spine as the name registered, a shockwave of realization coursing through you. was it fate? you fought to maintain your composure, your face draining of color as you processed the situation. with a controlled breath, you extended your own hand and offered a smile. “i’m (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, namjoon.”

his eyes widened imperceptibly, a moment of surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a practiced ease. you were even more striking than he had imagined from the stories he had heard—an ethereal beauty that exceeded every expectation. his heart sank slightly, a sinking feeling that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

the two of you engaged in conversation, each of you carefully concealing your underlying tension. namjoon asked about your work, his curiosity piqued. you swallowed your nerves and fabricated a story, telling him that you worked in finance. his gaze remained steady, though the mention of your profession triggered an internal churn in his stomach. he responded with a lie of his own, claiming to work in business management—an elaborate deception. as the conversation flowed, punctuated by casual laughter and probing questions, you felt the delicate balance of this encounter shift. the façade of casual coffee talk masked the underlying intensity of your real interactions. with every exchange, you assessed his reactions, every nuance of his demeanor scrutinized as you navigated this unexpected encounter.

when the time felt right, you reached into your bag and pulled out a slip of paper, extending it toward him with a nonchalant air. “here’s my number. it would be nice to continue our conversation sometime.” he accepted the slip with a genuine smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of intrigue and admiration. “i’d like that,” he said warmly, his tone sincere. “i’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

with that, you gathered your things, the weight of the morning’s revelations settling heavily on your shoulders. as you stood and made your way to the door, his gaze followed you, a lingering reminder of the complex web you had just woven. the encounter had been more than mere chance; it was a delicate dance of deception and allure, setting the stage for the intricate game that lay ahead. the bell above the café door chimed softly as you exited, leaving behind the warm, inviting space and the enigmatic man who would soon become central to your plans. the city outside bustled with its usual rhythm, but within you, a storm of anticipation and calculation brewed, your path now irrevocably entwined with his.

you paced your room with a measured intensity, the rhythmic scuff of your heels against the floor mirroring the churn of your thoughts. the walls seemed to close in, laden with the weight of strategy and anticipation. every corner of the room held a potential plan, a calculated move in the intricate game you and namjoon were unwittingly playing. the persistent buzz of your phone interrupted your brooding. you glanced at the screen, recognizing namjoon’s name. with a composed breath, you answered. “hello?”

“hey, (y/n),” his voice came through with a casual warmth. “i was wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing lunch sometime today. or am i already being too clingy?” you couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that was as light as it was genuine. “i’d love to have lunch with you, namjoon. where do you want to go?”

he suggested a charming bistro not far from where you were staying, a place known for its elegant ambiance and exquisite cuisine. you agreed, and after hanging up, you turned your attention to your wardrobe. selecting a dress that clung to your curves with just the right balance of elegance and allure, you prepared to meet your unexpected lunch companion.

arriving at the bistro, you found him already seated at a table near the window, his gaze scanning the room with an anticipation that matched your own. when he saw you, his eyes widened slightly, a clear reaction to your striking appearance. the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile that softened the usual sharpness of his features.

“wow,” he said as you approached, his voice tinged with admiration. “you look amazing.” you smiled, feeling a warm flush of pleasure. “thanks. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

you both settled into the cozy booth, the soft light of the bistro casting a flattering glow on both of you. the menu was soon presented, and you made a decision almost automatically. “should we start with a bottle of wine?” you suggested, the words flowing with casual ease. his demeanor shifted subtly, a fleeting shadow crossing his face as he flinched slightly at your choice. “actually,” he began, hesitating for a moment, “i’m not really fond of alcohol.”

your curiosity was piqued. “oh? why’s that?” he leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “my father was an alcoholic. it left a pretty negative impression on me. i avoid it whenever i can.”

you noted the pained edge in his voice, your own heart twisting in sympathy. “i’m sorry to hear that. let me get us a coffee instead. we can still enjoy a great meal without the wine.” namjoon’s smile brightened with genuine appreciation. “that sounds perfect. thank you.” you signaled the waiter and changed the order, opting for coffee instead. namjoon’s gratitude was evident in his appreciative nod, his eyes softening as he watched you.

the conversation flowed naturally, a gentle exchange about his father and the memories that lingered. “he was involved in some dangerous dealings,” he recounted. “the debts caught up with him, and eventually, it cost him his life. it’s a part of my past that’s hard to shake off.” you reached out, placing a comforting hand over his. “i’m truly sorry for your loss, namjoon. it must have been incredibly difficult.”

his gaze met yours, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability shining through. “thank you. it’s been a challenge, but i’ve managed to move forward. meeting someone like you today has been a nice distraction.” as the food arrived, he leaned forward to serve himself. in a moment of unanticipated clumsiness, his glass of water tipped precariously on the edge of the table. instinctively, you reached out with practiced precision, catching the glass before it could hit the floor. it fell into your grip with barely a sound.

his eyes widened as he watched the maneuver, a dawning realization of your skill and preparedness clear in his gaze. “you’re pretty adept at handling situations,” he commented, a note of surprise in his voice. you shrugged lightly, attempting to downplay the incident. “just a little bit of practice. nothing to worry about.”

with a playful smile, you encouraged him to continue enjoying the meal. as the conversation resumed, the initial tension between you seemed to ease, replaced by a genuine connection forged over shared stories and experiences. the food was delightful, and the time spent together was as pleasant as it was unexpected. both of you indulged in the meal, savoring each bite and drink as if it were a reprieve from the unspoken truths hovering just beneath the surface. the lunch was more than a simple meeting—it was an intricate dance of charm and deception, a prelude to the complexities that lay ahead.

as you and namjoon strolled back toward your place, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the natural rhythm of it making the day feel almost ordinary. the world seemed to hum in harmony, your laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the city, creating a brief respite from the tension that lurked beneath the surface.

however, as you approached a lamppost with a memorial photo attached, you felt a sudden jolt. the image on the pole was unmistakable—the face of the man you had eliminated the previous night. his eyes seemed to stare out from the photograph with a haunting, silent plea, and you shuddered involuntarily. namjoon, noticing your abrupt halt and the sudden pallor of your face, turned with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

you swallowed hard, struggling to compose yourself. “i knew him,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “he was a friend.” his expression softened with empathy. “i'm sorry. that must be really tough.”

you offered him a shaky smile, appreciating his kindness. “thank you.” the two of you continued walking in contemplative silence until you reached your house. you turned to face namjoon, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. it was a simple gesture, free from any ulterior motives, and as you held him close, you felt a fleeting connection that seemed both comforting and poignant.

his smile broadened as he returned the hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. “good night, (y/n),” he said softly. “i’ll see you soon.”

“good night, namjoon,” you replied, pulling away and watching him walk down the street with a bittersweet feeling.

as he made his way home, the streets began to fade into the distance, and he took out his phone. the sense of unease that had been bubbling beneath the surface now surfaced with a jolt. with a few swift taps, he brought up the details of the deceased man’s profile. his eyes widened in shock as he read the police report—the victim had been strangled to death with rope, and the case was eerily devoid of leads or footage.

his mind raced, the chilling realization of the situation dawning upon him. the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with unnerving clarity. he had just spent the afternoon with the very person who had carried out such a methodical and lethal act. the connection between you and the man on the pole was a stark revelation, and the weight of the truth settled heavily upon him. he shuddered, his thoughts spinning as he grappled with the realization of who you truly were—and what he now had to confront. the night seemed to grow darker and more foreboding as he walked, each step echoing the grim understanding that had just settled into his gut.

the next evening, you found yourself once again in the opulent embrace of the hotel. the grand ballroom, resplendent with its glimmering chandeliers and elaborate decor, was a far cry from the grim memories it held for you. the place where you had claimed your previous victim now seemed almost serene, its beauty contrasting starkly with the dark deeds that had unfolded within its walls. with practiced ease, you adjusted the earpiece nestled in your ear and connected with your boss. the cool, metallic voice of your superior resonated through the small device, crisp and unwavering.

“(y/n), are you in position?” the voice inquired. “yes,” you replied, your tone steady. “i'm monitoring the cctv feeds now. the hallways are clear, and namjoon should be arriving soon.”

“good. remember, we need to ensure the task is completed efficiently. keep your wits about you and stay focused.”

“understood,” you said, disconnecting the call and turning your attention back to the array of monitors before you. the security cameras provided a meticulous view of the hotel's layout, allowing you to track every movement with precision. your gaze was fixed on the entrance, waiting for namjoon’s arrival. when he finally appeared, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his striking features, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation. he moved with a confident grace that only added to his allure, and you watched as he navigated through the crowd.

as soon as he entered the room, you swiftly disconnected from the monitoring feed, leaving the cameras to their own devices. you made your way through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, your heart beating with an unusual mixture of excitement and trepidation. “namjoon!” you called out, your smile warm as you approached him. he turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “hey, you look absolutely stunning.”

“thank you,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “should we head to the bar? i thought we might enjoy a drink.” the two of you made your way to the bar, the conversation flowing as naturally as it had the day before. you refrained from drinking, choosing instead to sip on sparkling water, a choice that did not go unnoticed by him. he observed you with a blend of admiration and curiosity.

“why no drinks tonight?” he asked, leaning closer to you, his voice a soft murmur. you met his gaze with a calm smile. “just a personal preference. i don't wanna drink in front of you.”

his heart swelled at your sincerity. “that’s admirable. i wish i had your self-control.”

after some time spent in pleasant conversation and gentle flirtation, you glanced at him with a knowing look. “if the noise gets too overwhelming, i’ve rented out a room here. we can escape the crowd if you’d like.” he seemed intrigued and a bit relieved. “that sounds like a great idea. lead the way.”

you guided him through the bustling crowd, the stares of other guests momentarily ignored as you made your way to the reserved room. the door closed behind you with a soft click, and an almost palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. the room, dimly lit and serene, was a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the gala. as you stood there, his gaze was filled with a mix of awe and longing. without a word, he closed the distance between you, his eyes locked onto yours with a intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in slowly, and you felt his lips brush against yours in a tentative, electrifying kiss.

you responded with equal fervor, your lips meeting his with a growing urgency. the kiss deepened, turning heated and passionate as the world outside seemed to fade away. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved with a fervent intensity. your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him as the kiss became a fervent dance of desire and need.

his hands traveled to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you to the bed. you landed softly on the plush surface, your body arching slightly as namjoon followed, his lips never leaving yours. the bed beneath you was a luxurious expanse, and the sensation of his body pressing against yours was intoxicating.

his kisses trailed from your lips to your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he explored your skin. you moaned softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of fabric as he undressed you with a careful urgency. his touches were both tender and possessive, his desire evident in every caress. “you feel incredible,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “show me,” you breathed, your hands pulling him closer as the night unfolded in a passionate dance of exploration and desire. the world outside became a distant memory as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, the intensity of your connection making every touch, every kiss, a thrilling and unforgettable experience.

his fingers traced the contours of your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. his eyes, dark with lust, took in the sight of you laid bare before him. “so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. you felt a rush of heat pool in your belly at his words, and you reached for him, eager to return the favor. your hands found the hem of his shirt, and with a quick tug, you pulled it over his head, revealing the firm planes of his chest.

his skin was warm and smooth under your fingertips, and you took a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles and the faint scent of his cologne that lingered. your eyes traveled down to the waistband of his pants, and a devilish smile played on your lips. you bit your bottom lip, and with a seductive glance, began to unbuckle his belt. namjoon watched you, his pupils dilated with anticipation.

once his pants were discarded, you took in the full view of him, your eyes widening with desire. he was already hard, his arousal clear and prominent. you reached out, your hand lightly brushing against his length, and he hissed through gritted teeth. you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. “fuck, you’re so big,” you said, a hint of wonder in your voice.

his hips rolled into your touch, and he groaned, his head falling back. “yeah, baby, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and strained. you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin, hot and velvety under your palm. “you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. your heart raced as you felt the power of his desire in your grasp. “i want you so badly,” you admitted, your voice a breathy whisper.

his hand reached down to cup your cheek, pulling you back up for a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in your veins. you could feel his urgency, the need to claim you, to make you his in every way possible. your hand didn’t stop moving, but instead picked up the pace, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. “i need to be inside you,” he growled, his control slipping.

his words sent a bolt of excitement through you, and you nodded eagerly. he reached for a condom from the bedside drawer, and you watched as he rolled it on with a practiced ease. the anticipation was palpable as he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. you took a deep breath, ready for the delicious stretch as he pushed inside you.

his first thrust was slow and deliberate, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck, yes,” you moaned, your back arching to meet him. he began to move, his rhythm steady and deep, his eyes never leaving yours. with each stroke, the pleasure built, your body responding to him in a symphony of sensation.

you matched his pace, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans of pleasure. his grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more forceful. “you’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice gruff with need.

you couldn’t help but let out a filthy response, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. “i’ve been waiting for this all night. need you to fuck me hard, namjoon.” your words seemed to push him over the edge, and he obeyed, his hips driving into you with a newfound ferocity. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

his thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he approached climax. you felt your own orgasm building, your muscles clenching around him. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, his voice tight. you nodded, your eyes locked on his, and together, you fell over the edge, your bodies writhing in a delicious crescendo of pleasure. his release came, moans rolling off his tongue, and you felt yourself shatter around him, the intensity of your climax stealing your breath. for a moment, you were lost in the feeling, your bodies joined as one. as the waves of pleasure receded, he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

when dawn’s first light filtered through the thin curtains, you awoke to the disorienting haze of reality. the hotel room, now bathed in soft morning light, seemed almost serene compared to the passionate chaos of the night before. you lay on the bed beside namjoon, his body sprawled in a relaxed, innocent slumber, entirely unaware of the dangerous path that had led to this moment.

the memories of last night crashed over you like a tumultuous wave. the intimate connection you had shared with him, the unexpected depth of your feelings, and the chaotic rush of desire—all of it felt like a vivid, intoxicating dream. but reality was a stark contrast. you had a mission, a job to complete, and the time for pleasure had long since passed. as you slowly and carefully disentangled yourself from his warm embrace, you glanced at him. he was completely vulnerable, his handsome face serene and peaceful, the picture of tranquility. it was then that you remembered the task that had been set before you: to eliminate him. you had let your guard down, and it could cost you dearly.

your hand instinctively reached under the pillow where you had left it the night before. your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. the sensation sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. your breath caught in your throat as you realized what you were holding—a gun. It was not your own; it was an unfamiliar weight that felt both foreign and foreboding. you pulled the gun from beneath the pillow, its cold metal a harsh reminder of the deadly precision required of your role. for a moment, your hand trembled around the grip. the thought of ending his life right then and there, of completing the mission with ruthless efficiency, was overpowering. his calm breathing, so close to you, only added to the intensity of the moment.

you aimed the gun at him, pressing it into his haie, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him. every instinct told you to pull the trigger, to end it all quickly and cleanly. but as you tightened your grip, the weight of the decision pressed down on you with crushing force. anger and frustration surged within you. it was supposed to be a straightforward task, a mere job to be done. yet here you were, paralyzed by your own conflicted emotions.

the gun felt heavy in your hand, the responsibility of the act you were about to commit weighing down on you. you cursed under your breath, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to echo your inner turmoil. your eyes burned with unshed tears as you fought with the impulse to follow through with the assassination. the gun trembled in your grasp, your resolve wavering as the reality of what you were about to do loomed large.

in a fit of anger and desperation, you hastily shoved the gun back under the pillow, as though trying to hide the physical manifestation of your internal struggle. you shoved on your dress with frantic movements, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as if it were a shield against the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. without another glance at him, you fled the room. the hallway outside seemed unnervingly quiet, each step echoing with the weight of your decision. your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as you made your way through the hotel, each step driven by the desperate need to escape the oppressive weight of your failure. the mission had become a tangle of conflicting desires and stark reality, and you were left with the knowledge that you had to confront both, no matter how painful it might be.

the morning had settled into a quiet, contemplative silence as you sank into your armchair, the soothing warmth of the wine mingling with the turmoil in your mind. the shower had washed away the remnants of the night, but it did little to cleanse the confusion and guilt swirling within you. your hair was pinned up, an effort to restore some semblance of order to the chaos you felt inside. the half-empty wine bottle on the table served as a silent testament to your attempts at solace.

as you took another sip, the doorbell’s chime shattered the solitude. your heart skipped a beat. the sound seemed to carry an unspoken promise of complication. you set your glass aside and padded to the door, bracing yourself for whatever awaited you on the other side.

opening the door revealed namjoon, his presence as strikingly composed as ever. his soft smile greeted you, its warmth contrasting sharply with the chill of your internal disarray. “i hope i’m not intruding,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle. you blinked, momentarily lost for words. “not at all,” you managed, stepping aside to let him in. as he crossed the threshold, his gaze fell upon the nearly empty wine bottle, its presence seeming to draw an involuntary frown from his lips.

“do you drink this often?” he inquired, a note of concern edging his tone. you offered a wan smile, trying to mask the discomfort brewing beneath the surface. “i drink as often as i can,” you admitted, trying to sound casual despite the tumult within you.

his eyes softened as he looked at you. “how about we lighten the mood a bit? any plans for today?” relief washed over you at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the wine. “actually, no plans at all,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope. “would you like some breakfast? i could use the company.”

his smile broadened, and he agreed readily. “i’d love that.” you led him to the kitchen, your heart racing with an unsettling mix of anxiety and anticipation. as you prepared breakfast, the knife felt heavier than usual in your hand. each slice through the vegetables seemed to echo with the weight of your thoughts. you clenched the knife tightly, struggling to maintain composure, but namjoon’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“are you uncomfortable with what happened last night?” his question was gentle, but it carried an undertone of concern that only deepened your internal conflict. you tensed momentarily, the knife’s grip tightening in your hand. “no, not at all,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “what about you?”

his smile was reassuring, but it did little to ease the knot in your stomach. “i enjoyed it quite a bit,” he admitted, his eyes holding a glint of sincerity. his compliment, however genuine, did little to dissolve the worry gnawing at you. you could feel his gaze on you as you worked, his presence a constant reminder of the dangerous duality of your situation. yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but appreciate his genuine demeanor.

as you plated the food, you made a conscious effort to push the wine bottle out of sight, its dark contents now a symbol of a past you wanted to distance yourself from. the wine in your glass met the sink’s drain, a small but significant act of cleansing. namjoon’s eyes widened slightly at the gesture, and he offered a look of quiet gratitude.

the breakfast was pleasant, if a bit tense. as you neared the end of the meal, an idea took shape. “would you be interested in going to the local fair with me?” you asked, trying to offer a distraction from the lingering unease. namjoon’s face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. “that sounds like a great idea. i’d love to.”

as you finished clearing the table, the simple, shared activity brought a momentary respite from the tangled web of your thoughts. the fair, with its bright lights and cheerful bustle, seemed like a perfect escape—a chance to savor normalcy amidst the chaos. little did you know, the fair would bring its own set of revelations and challenges, testing the fragile truce you had established with yourself and with namjoon.

the fair was alive with vibrant hues and lively sounds, a kaleidoscope of lights and music weaving through the crisp evening air. the scent of popcorn and cotton candy mingled with the excitement of the crowd, creating a sensory tapestry that seemed to momentarily lift the weight from your shoulders. namjoon’s presence beside you was both comforting and disconcerting, a constant reminder of the complexity of your situation.

as you strolled past the myriad of stalls and attractions, his enthusiasm was infectious. his laughter rang out, mingling with the ambient noise of the fair, as he pointed out various games and food stands. “you have to try that one,” he said, gesturing toward a colorful stall where a shooting game was set up. curiosity piqued, you followed him to the stand. The game was simple: shoot a gun at moving targets to win a prize. the booth was adorned with bright lights and plush toys, each one more garish than the last. the carnival worker handed namjoon a toy gun with a grin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he took it with casual confidence.

his demeanor was relaxed, his face lit up with a childlike excitement as he aimed at the targets. the way his fingers wrapped around the gun was almost graceful, and you could see the focus in his eyes as he lined up each shot. goosebumps pricked your skin, an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the moment. the steady click of the gun punctuated the otherwise joyous cacophony of the fair. each shot he took was precise, hitting the center of the targets with unerring accuracy. his movements were fluid and practiced, a testament to his skill and composure. as he finished, he set the gun down with a satisfied nod, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“you’re really good at that,” you commented, trying to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. his smile widened, and he reached over to collect his prize—a large, plush stuffed toy, its bright colors and oversized eyes almost comical. he turned to you, his expression a mix of pride and affection. “here,” he said, extending the toy toward you with a charming grin. “i think this is for you.”

your fingers brushed against his as you took the stuffed toy, and you could feel the warmth of his touch linger on your skin. the toy was soft and absurdly large, its beady eyes staring up at you with an innocent expression. despite the cheerful facade, you couldn’t shake the cold, creeping sensation that the toy represented something far more ominous.

you accepted it with a smile, but your mind was racing. the stuffed toy felt like a symbol, a reminder of the precarious balance between your roles as predator and prey. you stared at the toy, its bright, plush exterior now a stark contrast to the dark reality that lurked beneath the surface. his gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. “i thought it might make you smile,” he said, his voice tender. “do you like it?”

you forced a smile, nodding as you clutched the toy a little too tightly. “it’s very thoughtful,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. the toy seemed to loom larger in your hands, a reminder of the mission that still awaited you. you had promised yourself that you would finish what you had started, but in that moment, amidst the lights and laughter of the fair, you found it increasingly difficult to reconcile your feelings.

his expression remained hopeful, his gaze never wavering. “let’s walk around a bit more,” he suggested, seemingly oblivious to the internal battle raging within you. you nodded, trying to push your worries aside and focus on the present. as you continued to wander through the fair, the toy felt like a weight around your neck, a reminder of the danger and deception that hovered just beneath the surface of your seemingly normal day. the fair was a fleeting escape, a chance to revel in the illusion of normalcy, but the shadows of your true mission loomed ever closer, threatening to shatter the fragile peace you had managed to cultivate.

the two of you eventually found a bench situated beneath a canopy of fairy lights, their gentle glow casting a warm aura over the space. the bench offered a moment of respite from the sensory overload of the fair, and you both settled down, the lively sounds of the carnival muted by the small oasis of tranquility.

as you sat side by side, you watched the children running around with boundless energy, their laughter mingling with the distant music of the fair. the sight brought a soft smile to your lips, a fleeting sense of nostalgia for something you had longed for but never quite had. “i’ve always wanted to be a mother,” you admitted, your voice almost wistful as you watched the joyous chaos before you. “seeing these kids, it just makes me realize how much i’ve dreamed about it.”

namjoon turned his gaze from the playful scene to you, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth. “i can’t imagine you not being a wonderful mother,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “you have such a kind heart. i’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

the compliment warmed you more than you expected, and you glanced at him with a tender smile. “thank you. that means a lot coming from you. what about you? have you ever thought about being a father?” namjoon’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow of something deeper flickering across his features. he took a deep breath before responding. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. i always wanted to be a dad someday. i just don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

you could sense the weight of his words, the way they tugged at his heart. “you’re nothing like him,” you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. “i’ve seen how you are with people, how you handle things. you’re kind, thoughtful. you’re not defined by your father’s mistakes.”

a pang of vulnerability flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked lost in thought. he managed a small, grateful smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “it’s hard not to feel like i’m stuck in his shadow sometimes,” he admitted. “but hearing you say that—it helps.” the sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “you’re creating your own path, namjoon. you have your own values and your own way of being. don’t let his past define your future.”

his smile widened slightly, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “thank you. i guess i needed to hear that.” you both sat there for a moment, the carnival’s vibrant activity humming softly in the background. the connection between you felt genuine and poignant, the weight of your respective burdens momentarily lifted by shared understanding.

as the evening drew on and the lights of the fair glimmered around you, the conversation deepened, weaving a tapestry of hope and reflection amidst the backdrop of the carnival. the simple joys of the fair seemed to highlight the more profound truths you both were navigating, bringing a sense of clarity and closeness that neither of you had anticipated.

the evening had passed in a tranquil haze, and as you finally arrived home, the comforting stillness of your home seemed to envelop you. the echoes of laughter and joy from the fair faded behind you, leaving only the soft hum of your own thoughts.

you were in the midst of unwinding, removing your shoes and loosening your coat, when the sharp ring of your phone broke the serene quiet. the caller id displayed your boss's name, and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. you answered, the line crackling with the unmistakable edge of frustration. “where have you been?” her voice cut through the air like a blade, its harshness bringing you back to the present with a jolt. “you were supposed to be focused. the mission isn't over. it’s crucial that you finish it.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the surge of guilt and urgency her words stirred. “i understand. i was preoccupied, but i’ll get back on track immediately.” the silence on the other end was brief but heavy, her displeasure palpable. “you have a job to do. this is not a game. you’re dealing with someone who’s as dangerous as they come. i need results, not distractions.”

with a firm sigh, you replied, “i’ll get it done. i promise.” the call ended abruptly, leaving you with a lingering sense of urgency. your gaze drifted to the drawer where you had carefully stored your weapon. with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, you walked over and pulled it open. your fingers closed around the cold, metal grip of the pistol, its weight a stark reminder of the gravity of your task.

you took a moment to steady your breathing, the echoes of the evening’s warmth fading into the background. the contrast between the peaceful day and the chilling reality of your mission was stark. As you clicked the safety off and checked the chamber, a steely determination took hold. tonight, you promised yourself, the job would be done. the warmth of your recent encounters would be set aside, replaced by the icy focus necessary to carry out your orders. the boundaries between personal and professional were blurred, but you had to navigate the dangerous dance with precision.

the night air was crisp and sharp as you approached his house, the weight of the pistol heavy in your hand. each step felt deliberate, every breath a careful measure against the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the street was quiet, shadows playing tricks in the moonlight as you neared the front door, which stood ajar. your heart raced as a chill of apprehension ran down your spine.

you hesitated, the open door a harbinger of foreboding. had he anticipated your arrival, or was something else afoot? the usual calm of his home felt eerie in its silence. you stepped inside, the creak of the floorboards loud in the stillness. you moved with practiced stealth, checking each room with growing trepidation. the soft murmurs you heard drew you upstairs, the sounds of struggle and muffled voices leading you to his bedroom.

the door was slightly open, and you pushed it gently, your pulse quickening. the sight that greeted you was one you hadn’t anticipated. the room was a disarray of empty beer cans, a stark contrast to the polished image you had seen earlier. namjoon was pinned against the wall, his roommate's hands wrapped around his throat in a desperate, violent struggle. the scene was raw, the tension palpable.

for a moment, you were frozen, shock and horror warring within you. but the urgency of the situation jolted you into action. with a swift, practiced movement, you pulled the pistol from your holster. the shot rang out, a sharp crack that cut through the chaos. the roommate crumpled to the floor, his body going limp as a bullet found its mark in his head. namjoon fell to his knees, gasping for breath, tears streaking down his face.

you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. “namjoon, are you okay? What happened?” your voice trembled with a mixture of fear and concern as you pulled him into your arms. hee clung to you, his sobs muffled against your shoulder. “he was an assassin,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “a part of a rival group. he came after me—and i couldn’t stop him.” his voice broke, the weight of his words pressing down heavily.

you looked around the room, the sea of empty beer cans now a grim symbol of his internal struggle. “what’s with all the beer cans?” you asked, trying to piece together the fragments of the night’s horror. namjoon swallowed hard, his voice strained. “he drank—a lot. the alcohol, it brought up old memories. bad ones,” he hesitated, a pained expression crossing his face. “i killed my own father, you know. it was me who took his life. the alcohol made him violent, it twisted his mind. i couldn’t stop it.”

the revelation hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling. the man you had come to care for was entangled in a web of violence and guilt. you tried to offer comfort, your own shock mingling with the empathy you felt for him.

“did you know about me? about who i am?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you nodded slowly, unable to meet his gaze. “i did.”

he seemed to digest this, a troubled look crossing his face. “and i knew about you too. i left the gun under the pillow, to see if you would use it. when you didn’t, i knew you wouldn’t kill me.” the admission struck you hard. his confession left you feeling as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. the intricate dance of deceit and truth that had bound you both seemed to unravel in an instant. your heart pounded painfully in your chest as you grappled with the realization.

despite the turmoil inside you, holding him in your arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt strangely precious. the notion of completing your mission seemed to fade in the face of his vulnerability. you tried to fight it, but the connection you felt was undeniable. his presence, despite everything, seemed more valuable than the task at hand.

as you held him close, the night’s darkness seemed to swirl around you, a reminder of the tangled, violent path that had brought you together. in the midst of the chaos, one thing was clear: the boundaries between duty and desire had blurred, leaving you both grappling with the consequences of a night that had irrevocably changed everything.

you held him close, the weight of the night crashing down on you as you tried to steady your racing heart. his tears mingled with yours as the gravity of your shared truths settled around you. his face was flushed, eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and sorrow as he clung to you.

in a moment of aching tenderness, you cupped his face gently, your fingers trembling. you leaned in, pressing a soft, bittersweet kiss to his lips. the kiss was delicate, a fleeting touch that conveyed a world of regret and unspoken emotions. the taste of his lips lingered, a painful reminder of everything that had led to this moment.

tears streamed down your cheeks, the sorrow overwhelming. you pulled back, the anguish in your eyes mirrored in his own. “i’m so sorry, namjoon,” you whispered through your sobs. “i’m so sorry.”

his confusion deepened, the words you spoke only adding to the turmoil. as you stood up, a fresh resolve hardened in your chest. with shaking hands, you pulled the gun from your side, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your tears. you raised it slowly, pressing the barrel to his forehead. his eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as he stared up at you.

but you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. you turned away, the enormity of your actions crashing over you like a relentless wave. your fingers tightened around the trigger, the weight of your decision feeling unbearable. the muffled sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room, reverberating through your very soul. the finality of it struck you hard, and you stumbled backward, feeling as though your heart was being wrenched from your chest.

standing amidst the wreckage of your emotions, you fumbled for your phone. with a final, heavy sigh, you dialed your boss's number, each ring a jarring reminder of the mission that had led to this. the call connected, and your voice was shaky but resolute.

“it’s done,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “the job’s finished.”

✧.*

a/n: this hurt to write omg if yall want a happy ending lmk bc...

[bansurii]

FOMENT

( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°) synopsis: of a girl who becomes a mafia femme fatale

relations; yuji, sukuna, suguru, toji, satoru x reader, special scene nanami x reader

codes; NSFW, NSFM, DNI, smut eventually, dead dove, murder, violence and sex, guns and knives, human anatomy, emotional and physical losses

wc: 2193 ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

In the somber shadows cast by ancient, towering tombstones, the funeral procession weaved its way through the hushed cemetery. The air was thick with grief, punctuated by the muffled sobs of mourners donned in the customary black attire. Amidst the sea of darkness, one figure stood out conspicuously – a woman draped in ethereal white.

(Name) , the daughter of the deceased, moved gracefully through the mourning crowd, her alabaster gown billowing like a specter in the wind. Murmurs spread like wildfire as eyes followed her unconventional choice of color, a stark departure from the customary mourning garments. Whispers of disapproval and surprise danced in the air, but (Name)  remained undeterred, an enigma wrapped in the purity of her mourning attire.

As she approached the gaping maw of the open grave, a mysterious man emerged from the shadows. Clad in a tailored suit that seemed to absorb the ambient darkness, he exuded an air of intrigue. His eyes, shrouded in mystery, locked onto (Name) 's with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

"I was a friend of your father's," he declared, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to echo through the melancholic atmosphere. (Name) 's gaze lingered on him, a cocktail of curiosity and suspicion swirling in her eyes.

"Friend?" she questioned, her tone laced with skepticism. "You must forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I thought I knew all of my father's associates, and you, sir, are a stranger to me."

The man's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Your father was involved in matters that required discretion," he replied cryptically. "The doctors may have deemed his death undefined, but I assure you, there are truths lingering in the shadows that go beyond their diagnoses."

(Name) 's heart quickened as she sensed the weight of his words. Her father's demise had always been shrouded in mystery, the details concealed even from those closest to him. The man's inscrutable aura left her with more questions than answers, sparking a relentless determination to unveil the secrets buried alongside her father.

As the final clods of dirt fell upon the casket, the funeral dispersed, leaving (Name)  alone with the mysterious man and the looming specter of unanswered questions. The unraveling of her father's tangled web would lead her down a perilous path, where the line between loyalty and betrayal blurred, and the truth lay hidden in the shadows of a world she had never fathomed. 

In the days that followed the funeral, (Name)  found herself haunted by the cryptic encounter with the mysterious man. Determined to unravel the enigma surrounding her father's death, she delved into the depths of her father's past, discovering hidden connections and clandestine dealings that transcended the boundaries of legality.

Her investigation led her to dimly lit alleys, smoke-filled rooms, and the backdoors of establishments where whispered conversations carried more weight than any written contract. The underworld her father had inhabited unfolded before her, revealing a dangerous dance between power, loyalty, and betrayal.

As (Name)  navigated this treacherous terrain, the mysterious man continued to hover at the periphery of her life. He appeared when least expected, dropping cryptic hints and urging her to tread carefully. Despite his ominous warnings, (Name)  felt a strange connection to him, a connection that seemed to transcend the shadows that cloaked his true identity.

The more she uncovered, the more she realized that her father's demise was a result of a power struggle within the mafia. The undefined cause of death, as stated by the doctors, was a mere facade to shield the truth. (Name)  grew increasingly aware that the mysterious man held the key to unlocking the secrets buried within her father's world.

One fateful night, as rain poured over the city in torrents, (Name)  received an anonymous message directing her to a desolate warehouse on the outskirts of town. Clad in the same white dress she wore to the funeral, she cautiously approached the dimly lit entrance, where the mysterious man awaited.

"You've been persistent, (Name) ," he acknowledged, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "But you're stepping into a realm where the shadows have eyes, and the truth can be more perilous than the lies that shroud it."

Undeterred, (Name)  pressed on, demanding answers. The mysterious man began to unveil the intricate web of alliances and betrayals that led to her father's demise. Each revelation brought her closer to the heart of the conspiracy, painting a picture of a clandestine world where alliances were fragile, and loyalty could be a deadly illusion.

As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, (Name)  realized the gravity of her father's role and the dangerous legacy he left behind. The mysterious man, now revealed as a former confidant of her father, guided her through the labyrinth of deceit, helping her navigate the dangerous currents that threatened to consume her.

In the end, (Name)  faced a choice: to expose the truth and risk the wrath of the underworld, or to retreat into the safety of ignorance. Armed with newfound knowledge and a steely resolve, she emerged from the shadows, her white dress stained with the echoes of her father's secrets. The funeral might have marked the end of one chapter, but for (Name) , it was the beginning of a journey into a world where darkness and light coexisted, and the thin line between justice and vengeance blurred into obscurity.

–

Three months earlier…

The scent of aged leather and mahogany permeated the air in her father's expansive home library. (Name)  entered, finding him seated behind a grand oak desk, surrounded by shelves laden with dusty tomes and secrets. His weathered face carried a mixture of weariness and resolve as he looked up to acknowledge her presence.

"Ah, (Name) ," he greeted, his tone laced with a peculiar mix of solemnity and urgency. "Sit, my dear. There are matters we must discuss, matters that transcend the boundaries of the world you've known."

(Name)  took a seat across from her father, her eyes searching his for an explanation to the mysterious summons. He folded his hands, fingers adorned with heavy rings that seemed to whisper tales of a clandestine existence.

"Time is a relentless adversary," he began cryptically, his gaze fixed on a distant point only he could see. "And it spares no one. There are shadows within shadows, my child, secrets that define the balance of power in our world."

(Name)  furrowed her brow, sensing an ominous undercurrent in his words. "Father, what do you mean? What shadows are you speaking of?"

He leaned forward, his eyes piercing hers with a gaze that hinted at the weight of untold burdens. "Our family, (Name) , has long stood at the crossroads of power. The threads of destiny are intricately woven, and now, the mantle must pass to you."

A hush settled over the room as her father unfolded a map, tracing lines that connected their family to the Ryomen, a powerful and elusive clan within the mafia hierarchy.

"The Ryomen family," he intoned, "they hold the keys to alliances that will safeguard our legacy. You must forge an alliance with them, my dear, for they are the guardians who will assist you as you ascend to the throne that is rightfully ours."

(Name) 's eyes widened, the gravity of her father's words sinking in. "But father, I know nothing of this world, of alliances and power plays. Why must I take on such a burden?"

He sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of decisions. "In our world, (Name) , choices are not always ours to make. Fate has set its sights upon you. The Ryomen will guide you, support you. You are destined for more than the sheltered life you've known."

As he spoke, (Name) 's heart raced with a mixture of fear and determination. Her father imparted the legacy of a hidden world, and she found herself standing at the precipice of a destiny she had never imagined.

"Embrace your destiny, (Name) ," her father urged, his voice a whisper that echoed in the quiet library. "Forge alliances, navigate the shadows, and when the time comes, rise to power. The Ryomen will be your allies, but remember, the path to greatness is fraught with sacrifice and choice."

–

As the moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the city, (Name)  decided to temporarily escape the weight of her newfound responsibilities. She invited her closest friend, Yuji Itadori, to accompany her for a night on the town. Yuji, always up for an adventure, readily agreed, his infectious enthusiasm providing a welcome respite from the shadows that loomed over her.

The city's vibrant lights illuminated their path as they strolled through bustling streets, laughter and music permeating the air. (Name) , dressed in a gown that mirrored the night sky, felt a fleeting sense of normalcy. The weight of her family's legacy momentarily lifted, replaced by the carefree energy of the city at night.

As they entered a chic, dimly lit lounge, the atmosphere buzzed with lively chatter and the soothing melodies of a jazz band. Yuji guided (Name)  to a secluded corner, where they settled into plush chairs, clinking glasses to celebrate the ephemeral escape from their responsibilities.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of laughter, shared memories, and the warmth of friendship. Yuji, always the life of the party, danced with infectious energy, pulling (Name)  into the swirl of music and laughter. In those moments, the complexities of the mafia world faded into the background, allowing (Name)  to savor the simple joy of camaraderie.

As the night progressed, they encountered a mysterious figure at the bar – a man whose eyes seemed to carry the weight of unspoken stories. Yuji's demeanor shifted subtly as he exchanged guarded glances with the stranger. When (Name)  inquired about their connection, Yuji's usually open demeanor turned reticent.

"That's just an old acquaintance," he dismissed, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere. Despite her pressing questions, Yuji remained tight-lipped, the lines on his face betraying a mix of nostalgia and caution.

Curiosity gnawed at (Name) , but she respected Yuji's silence, knowing that some chapters of his life were meant to remain untold. The enigmatic man, acknowledging their presence with a nod, slipped away into the shadows of the crowded venue, leaving behind an air of mystery.

As the night waned, (Name)  and Yuji emerged from the lounge, the city's nocturnal pulse still throbbing around them. The encounter lingered in the back of (Name) 's mind, a puzzle piece that refused to fit into the larger picture of her life.

As they walked through the quiet streets on their way home, (Name)  stole a glance at Yuji, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The unspoken connection between him and the mysterious man added yet another layer to the intricate tapestry of their intertwined destinies.

In the days that followed, (Name)  couldn't shake the feeling that the encounter marked a subtle shift in the winds of fate. The shadows that clung to her family's legacy seemed to stretch further, intertwining with the enigma of Yuji's past. Little did she know, the threads of their stories were destined to weave together, revealing a tapestry of alliances and betrayals that transcended the boundaries of the clandestine world they inhabited.

Arriving back at (Name) 's home, Yuji started to speak, though his inability to find the right words about the evening kept him from loosening his tongue. (Name)  realized he wouldn’t be able to find a single syllable until she spoke, “it’s alright, Yuji. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. But you seem different, do you want to stay here for the night?”

His bright smile lit up her porch and the heavy energy that once lingered. “I really appreciate your understanding, but I should get back home. – I wish I could stay… but maybe another time.”

(Name)  acquiesced and watched with lightly saddened eyes as Yuji stepped off of her porch slowly. She turned to enter her own home and stalked up her steps to her bedroom where she would sleep off a long day filled with confusion and stress and the end of a good time with a great friend. 

—

“You know what you need to do, Yuji.”

Yuji sat in the armchair, however comfortable it was, he couldn’t appreciate it with the burden of a new action in order for him. He sat silently for a moment, thinking of how to tell these people, his family, that he just fucking couldn’t. 

He finally looked up at the man sitting across from him, black hair wavering in the cool air of the home with similar dark eyes burning into his soul. He fought back the fire with his own, winding his energy up to say, “I won’t do it. You don’t know what she means to me, or who she is. She isn’t just some string to play with and cut down. She means more to me than this family does and if you think for a second that-”

“Fine. I’ll give you a week to decide. It’s her… or her father.”

[thatdammchickennugget]

Serendipitous Encounters

pairing - blaise zabini x luna lovegood

a/n - bluna is slowly taking over my mind

warnings - fluff, luna is draco's cousin

wordcount - 1.1k

Blaise stood in the courtyard, head thrown back and his eyes closed as he tried to enjoy the warm rays of the sun in hopes of finding even a hint of relaxation. The weight of his frustrations pressed down on him like a heavy cloak. He leaned against a weathered stone pillar, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to make sense of the mountain of schoolwork that seemed to grow taller with each passing day.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and calculations, tangled in the complexities of magical theory and ancient incantations. Every task seemed to demand more of his time and energy, leaving him feeling drained and overwhelmed. And his friends had been no help either, each of them being more of a pain in the ass as the other.

Lost in his own world of worries, he didn't notice Luna's quiet approach until she was standing right in front of him, her presence like a gentle breeze that cut through the suffocating haze of his thoughts.

"Hello, Blaise," Luna greeted him with a serene smile, her voice a soothing melody. "What brings you out here all by yourself on such a busy day?"

Blaise blinked, momentarily startled by her sudden appearance and the calmness that seemed to radiate from her. Luna was an enigma, a puzzle wrapped in layers of mystery, and he couldn't help but be intrigued by her serene demeanor.

The two of them had never had an actual conversation. He had only met her through Draco, who despite refusing to admit it, had a soft spot for his younger cousin.

"Just trying to take a break from schoolwork," Blaise replied tersely, his frustration evident in his voice. "It's... a lot."

Luna nodded understandingly, her silvery eyes filled with empathy. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, it feels like there's never enough time to do everything we need to."

There was a depth to Luna's words that resonated with him, a sense of understanding that eased the tension in his shoulders ever so slightly.

"You know," she began, her voice gentle yet filled with a hint of mischief, "sometimes, when the world feels like it's closing in on me, I like to imagine that I'm flying on the back of a hippogriff, soaring high above the clouds where all my worries seem so small."

Blaise couldn't help but chuckle at Luna's whimsical suggestion, the corners of his lips turning up in a faint smile. Her perspective was so different from his own, so refreshingly unique.

"That sounds... nice," he admitted.

Luna smiled knowingly, her eyes sparkling with understanding. "Why don't we take a break from the chaos of school for a little while? I know a quiet spot in the Forbidden Forest where the Thestrals like to gather. It's a peaceful place, far away from the noise and stress of the castle."

Blaise hesitated for a moment, his mind flashing with warnings of all the assignments he should be working on instead. But then he looked into Luna's eyes, filled with an undeniable sense of adventure and curiosity, and he felt something stir within him.

"Alright," he said finally, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Lead the way."

As Luna took his hand and led him towards the edge of the courtyard, Blaise felt a sense of anticipation building within him. They walked in comfortable silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing beneath their feet.

As they entered the shadowy embrace of the Forbidden Forest, Blaise couldn't help but feel a shiver of apprehension run down his spine. The forest was dense and foreboding, its ancient trees whispering secrets that sent a chill through the air. But Luna seemed unfazed by the eerie atmosphere, her steps steady and sure as she guided him deeper into the heart of the forest.

"Here we are," Luna said, coming to a stop in a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. A group of Thestrals grazed peacefully nearby, their dark forms blending seamlessly with the shadows.

Blaise watched in awe as she approached the creatures, her movements graceful and fluid. She spoke to them in hushed tones, her words a soothing melody that seemed to calm the restless spirits of the forest.

"Come," Luna called to him, her hand outstretched in invitation. "They won't bite, I promise."

Taking a deep breath, Blaise stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always been fascinated by Thestrals, their mysterious presence stirring something primal within him. He stood among the Thestrals, feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation swirling within him. Luna moved gracefully beside him, her eyes alight with a childlike wonder that was infectious.

"Did you know," Luna smiled up at him, her voice carrying a whimsical lilt, "Thestrals are often misunderstood creatures. People fear them because they can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, but really, they're quite gentle."

Blaise nodded, listening intently to her words as he observed the creatures with newfound curiosity. "You seem to know a lot about magical creatures."

"Oh, I've always had a knack for understanding the misunderstood," she replied cryptically, her gaze drifting towards the canopy of trees overhead. "They say the Thestrals can guide you to hidden places within the forest, places where magic is at its strongest."

Blaise found himself captivated by her, a newfound sense of wonder stirring within him. "Hidden places?" he echoed, his curiosity piqued. "What kind of places?"

Luna's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, all sorts of places," she replied, her voice tinged with a sense of mystery. "Places where the trees whisper secrets of the past, and the earth hums with ancient magic. It's like stepping into a different world entirely."

Blaise couldn't help but be drawn in by her descriptions, her words painting vivid images in his mind. For a moment, he forgot about the mountain of schoolwork waiting for him back at the castle, lost in the enchanting tales the beautiful girl in front of him spun.

"Sounds incredible," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her face.

"It is," Luna agreed, her eyes sparkling with an inner light. "But the real magic lies in the journey itself, in the moments of discovery and wonder along the way."

As they stood among the Thestrals, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the forest, a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to simply be in the moment, to embrace the magic that surrounded him.

And as he glanced at Luna, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the forest, he realized that sometimes, the most unexpected encounters could lead to the most extraordinary adventures.

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[oceanicxeyes]

Closed starter for: @cxncordia Pairing: Walter && Amir It was dark once more. The sun had disappeared and in its place, the moon stood silent on the sky, accompanied only by a few stars. It appeared to the cloudy. Perhaps it would rain within the next day or so. Regardless of how volatile the weather presented itself to be, Walter sat on the sandy beach, his bare feet casually digging the sand as he kept his arms wrapped tightly over his legs, knees pressed against his chest as he contemplated how quickly things had change within mere weeks. If there were any deities in a different plane, any Gods – were they mocking him now? Did his own hubris proved to be his downfall? But was it really hubris to come to the sea every now and then, to be home once more? Those thoughts met no answer – divine or not. Only the casual sound of the waves caressing the sand bore witness to Walter’s internal turmoil as a chilly breeze brushed away his hair from his face. He had been amidst the land dwellers for a century. Ever since his own kind realized that they were on the path to extinction and decided to seek protection in the deepest corners of the sea. Walter never wanted that. To just… HIDE. It was the equivalent of admitting defeat. Was there really no hope to save his home? Back in the day, they didn’t have a word to what was happening. All they believed was that humans were the harbingers of their destruction. But with more and more incursions to land – watching humans build something that they called factories and make little care of the damage they caused to nature, it was clear that the paradigm was shifting. The seas were becoming hotter. The water level was slowly rising. Nowadays, people called that phenomena global warming. Humans in their pride and greed and need to evolve, had destroyed what had been there for longer than any of them dared to contemplate. And for a century, he had been careful. Walter had learned from humans how to behave and how to be one of them. The goal was easy – find some way – any way - to prevent the extinction of his kind. To save the oceans which were also the birth of life. And he had been so careful… for a century, he had successfully remained hidden and invisible to other beings of the night. Walter had heard about them: vampires and werewolves and witches and the likes. He wanted no part on their issues. He had his own mission and quite frankly – he was scared of all those other things concealed in the night. He was scared of humans too. What would they do if they found out what he really ways? Knowing how others viewed individuals with potential… he would either be locked in a lab and studied or turned into a weapon. Kept away from the sea – from his own true home.

It’s been weeks since his secret was exposed. Was it hubris? He had gone to the same beach he did for the past year – he had made sure that there was no one around. His human appearance turned into his real form: a tail, scales and gills. His skin became as bright as a pearl as his scales glistened under the pale moonlight. Then how did those… what was the word he used…? KINDRED? How they found him was not something Walter had planned. If not for someone else to guarantee his safety – to protect him… who knows where he would be now? And after a century, Walter found himself indebted to someone else. To a Kindred. A VAMPIRE. But this particular individual didn’t seem like the stories he read from books or the monsters he saw in the movies. He appeared… kind. Respectful. Walter even dared to conceive the concept of… safety. Maybe not all vampires were bad. Not all humans were monsters too.

“I will repay you for your kindness.” Blue eyes once fixated on the steady motion of the ocean glance over the siren’s shoulder to the man nearby. Amir was… unlike anything Walter had met before. He was a mystery wrapped in a enigma. Kindred or not – vicious or not – he had done nothing to make him fear him. He was still a predator but Walter believed – maybe because he was naïve when it came to other creatures – that this particular man truly wished him no harm. “I was so careful. I never used the same entry point twice.” It didn’t matter. He was spotted and almost captured if not for Amir. And that had been weeks ago. “I don’t understand what use I’d have to your people.” To vampires. Kindred. Not like he had told Amir about his ability to control and manipulate water or the eerie singing that became stuff of legends from days past. As far as the kindred was concerned – he was merely a siren. A man with the ability to transform into a fish hybrid and live underwater. What use would he be to those that could live forever? “But I am grateful to you. And no matter how long it takes – I plan to repay you for keeping me safe. It’s… the least I can do.”

[libergardia-if]

“Tell me, have you ever heard of the tale known as the “Child of Ruin?”

Liber Gardia is a 18+ MLM fantasy interactive fiction being written in choicescript. It’s inspired by series like Mana Khemia and Scrapped Princess. It’s one of three books set in the same world.

Asks welcome! (Both safe and nsfw)

Demo: TBD

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Synopsis

Located on the island of Gaoth Socair, is an academy dedicated to preparing those who wish to be the guardians of the world, supposedly the academy was created when the goddess of the sun Melfeia came to the founder in a dream, it is known as Raelore Academy and it is where you reside.

You are the head librarian of Raelore Academy, to any other man this would seem like an easy job. However in your case the library of Raelore isn’t so much a library as it is an ever expanding dungeon filled with all sorts of monsters and strange artifacts.

In between cataloging the artifacts of the library and stopping students who try to enter the library without a pass, you live your life day to day. One day however there is a strange discovery found in the deepest levels of the library, and for some reason a strange guest has to come to stay at the academy, one that constantly asks questions about a old and ancient legend known as the “Child of Ruin”.

Features

Customize your appearance and personality

Unravel the secrets of the library

4 romance options (and one secret one)

Find out the truth behind the legend of the Child of Ruin

Romantic options

Reshai: Your childhood friend

A boisterous and energetic wolf beastchild acting as one of the teachers for beginners weapon training, friendly and passionate he adores teaching his students, so much so that one would mistake him for an oversized puppy. Having known you since you first entered the academy he has been content to dote over you and consider you to be his only packmate.

However you have never once been given the reason as to why he has no other pack, stories go after all that wolf beastchildren with no other pack are considered ill omens.

Marius: The Princely Magic Teacher

One of the top magic teachers of the academy and of mixed blood, he woos everyone with his gentle princely demeanor. Seemingly kind to all it’s no secret that half the academy is in love with him, that is until you look closer. Rumors say that he is the bastard child of a fox beastchild and a high ranking nobleman, and underneath his princely attitude he doesn't seem inclined to share what he considers his to a unhealthy degree.

Hound: The mysterious stranger in the library

He is a strange man that was found unconscious in the lowest recorded level of the library, a stone statue would show more emotion than him. Sometimes speaking in a language that no one has a recorded translation for, and using weapons no has ever seen before

Hound is a mystery wrapped in a enigma. Yet…for some reason he seems determined to stand guard over you, shadowing your every step and when you look at him sometimes his gaze turns…soft.

Saeran: Your long suffering library aide

Your extremely tired and long suffering library aide, despite his demonic heritage he’s probably one of the most kindest men you’ve met. Constantly worrying about scaring the students due to his scarred face, he’d rather spoil the students than discipline them. But then you have to wonder where he got all his scars, or why he’s missing an eye.

Seems to hold some long held fear and trauma over wielding any sort of weapon, even if means protecting students lives.

[cedarmoonzz]

quiet, the winter harbor

ship: mentioned kurapika x reader

warnings: none. just angst and pain and more pain.

summary: in york new, the snow is harsh and unpredictable. kurapika thinks of what once was and what can be.

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Winter is a dream and I love you, Kurapika.

His mother used to say that.

Always in the same breath, a run-on sentence that drifted on chill winds, rendering them almost poetic. Fragmented whispers intertwined, swirling like the storm outside, seeping into your clothes, your nose, your chest, and residing there forever. This ritualistic chant kept the cold at bay; that's what his mother taught him, repeating the phrase until the boy could murmur it in his sleep.

In his dreams, the syllables rose and fell like points of a star folded into a circle, endlessly repeating. Perpetually.

WinterisadreamandIlove

Learning it this way, reciting it so, turned the season gentle no matter how bitter the air bit.

Now that he is older, Kurapika has discovered that the blizzard-rhyme mantra doesn’t always work. But it helps.

He repeats the words to himself now, watching the weather unfold, years and a lifetime away from the home where he first heard the incantation. Night deepens, from sunset into a realm beyond indigo. It's dark, almost black, and when he lifts his hands to the sky, Kurapika’s fingernails merge with the bleakness. His knuckles become pale night-clouds, obscuring the few stars that dare to appear.

A poem of exhalation whispers from his mouth, unfurling from his throat, fogging the air. The freeze of winter invades within. The warmth of his breath escapes without.

It’s beginning to snow.

The first flakes arrive quietly, like early visitors hoping to go unnoticed as they settle. A few land on Kurapika’s upturned palms, and by the time he lowers his hands, they have already melted away. In York New, the snow is harsh and unpredictable, its gentleness stripped away. Without a layer to insulate yourself from it—fabric or nen, glass or glove—you destroy what you seek to touch, ruin it with your very existence. Snowflakes require time to study. They are like people.

No two alike.

At times, the quest for closeness seems as elusive as a mirage in the desert. Kurapika reminisces about the moments spent with Y/n, where the intimacy was as delicate and ephemeral as the snowflakes he yearns to capture. The closeness he sought felt akin to grasping at snow before it vanished—intense, yet fleeting. Similarly, Y/n’s presence was a paradox of familiarity and enigma, their bond a beautiful tapestry that remained vulnerable to the caprices of fate. Much like snow, their connection was governed by forces beyond their control, and though they reached for each other with heartfelt desire, instances of genuine closeness were as rare and precious as capturing a snowflake on the tip of a finger.

Kurapika was enchanted by that mystery early on, while his mother brewed hot teas to keep him safe from the flu, and his father laughed, bringing extra blankets. The windows of their ramshackle home were heavy with frost that year. His parents insulated the cracks and panes with Kurtan tapestries, leaving only a tiny slice of view for Kurapika to part the curtains and peer out at the storm.

Winter is a dream, his mother sighed, song-like, touching her slender hand to the windowpane, dwarfing his own stubby child-fingers. And I love you, Kurapika.

His father joined them, tucking the blanket around his wife’s shoulders, dropping a fold on his child’s head. The coarse weave rubbed against Kurapika’s cheek as he leaned into it. The knobbiness of his father’s knee pressed against his back, assembling his limbs on the bed where they all sat. With his arms wrapped around his family, the man bent his head to kiss Kurapika’s hair, watching the evening unravel into midnight.

His mother understood the delicate way snow fell. Kurapika could see it in her eyes. The reverence for nature’s fragility, the awareness of how easily it could be destroyed; she knew that what once existed could never be revived, only remade at best. Refrozen.

Flakes descended by the thousands, never individually noticed, buried beneath the shrouds of their companions, but Kurapika’s mother seemed intent on memorizing every single one as they fell.

Even when the boy was fighting sleep, lids heavy and head resting against his father’s chest, Kurapika’s mother was still touching the windowpane.

Understanding.

You couldn’t piece people together the way you made ice, pouring water into molds and sliding the tray into the freezer, timing the process with a watch. When snowflakes melted, you could never freeze them back into the same shape.

But you could try.

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

[makima4ever]

Dissonance (2)

TW WARNINGS: hinted depression, su1Cd*l hints, over all sad boi hours READ AT UR OWN DISCRETION POOKIES Ghost x M!Reader 1, Part 2, 2.5, 3 There was a pause in the commotion as they turned their heads to look at your bandaged and slightly weathered form. Their expressions were one of shock, except for a few who held stoic faces- One immediately got up, a man with a mohawk as he looked at your eyes deeply, your own matching as you both locked eyes; his baby blue eyes locked with your dark brown ones. He held this look of disbelief as he reached a hand, outstretched towards your own causing your right eye to squint. .. Then there was the man with a slight beard and boonie hat, him looking at you with also the same shock but not as much as the mohawk who was watching you, rather flabbergasted. His posture definitely shifted, being more attentive while looking at your form.. 'Okay, he seems a lot more important-' And then a person goes up to hug you immediately, a taller man which you could notice his skin as his own military gear pressed against your form- his arms wrapping around you tightly as he seemed to speak but words fell on deaf ears as you also locked eyes with him. There was a tall and muscular person standing behind the lot as he made eye contact with you.. His expression was indiscernible, you really COULD not tell what he was thinking, at all. It was like an enigma, a huge question for you to figure out. There was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind as the skull-masked man kept his gaze on you. Just who was he? Or, these people for that matter? Then.. as if it couldn't get any stranger, the man with the mohawk and light blue eyes spoke aloud as you could definitely hear the Scottish accent. "Do ye' know much ye scared us!?" He was definitely livid, but there was an undeniable concern laced in it which.. made you bite on your tongue for some reason, with something invisible being caught in the back of your throat. You would've retorted but there was this ache and sorrow lodged as you tried to speak, you yourself couldn't even notice your own lips twitching in hesitation because of it. - He was yelling upon deaf ears though, and a brick wall as he realized how unchanging your expression was. The man clenches his fist, looking at the floor, before speaking he was interrupted by a more commanding voice with a slight roughness to it. "Immortal, it's good to have you back." .. That was 'your' call sign. How they know it is a mystery to you, but if they know it they must know you or at least, about you enough to say it so.. calmly? He didn't seem too distraught, or anything at all. Just.. kind of heavy. "Sorry? I don't follow." You chimed out with a much more hoarse and scratchy voice you didn't expect yourself to manage, as it was also choked on by the tension from the blue-eyed man earlier. He was still very upset, you could clearly see it- but the man hugging you was silent, only gripping tighter as you tried to move. "Gaz, let him go for a moment." The man in the boonie chimed in again, looking towards you and the man hugging your torso like a vice grip. Was that his name or was it his call sign? It was odd, but you could live with it. "Aight', Captain. You nearly left us, mate." He spoke towards you, letting go in a ghostly retreat as he made his way on over behind himself, standing with the group who had moved in your sudden and shocking return. There were slight tears in his eyes, which made you feel only a twinge guilty.. Guilt? Why would- "Immortal." Your head and ears immediately perked up to what appeared to be a fucking tall skull balaclava man, he towered over you at maybe a 6'4 or 6'5. 'Bloody tree.' You'd think, if you weren't being shot glares into your soul. You could recognize that British accent.. however, you aren't sure where. "I'm sorry, who are you guys?" A/N tumblr hates me, it wont let me post anymore than this

[twizzyburger]

In the Woods

an escape, a new beginning...

part 1!

tags! ❦❀

midwestern horror au! cryptid! Ghost x F! reader

The windshield wipers labored tirelessly as you drove along the deserted road, the rain hammering against your car windows like a relentless drumbeat, composing a twisted symphony reverberating through the vast emptiness. The road beneath your tires appeared to stretch endlessly, vanishing into the heavy downpour and haze. All that could be discerned for miles were the unending fields and forests haunted by the dense fog. With no streetlights in sight, a eerie gloom enveloped the surroundings, with only the dim glow of your headlights piercing the darkness. The towering, dense forest's twisted branches extended like skeletal fingers.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened to prevent slipping on the wet road, the sole sound being the rhythmic swish of the wipers combating the relentless rain.

The interior of your car is a chaotic collage of belongings, each possession meticulously arranged in the back seat, the trunk, and the passenger seat. The remnants of your old life are nestled beside you, a tangible reminder of the decisions that led you to this point. You wanted an escape, a departure from the monotonous rhythm of city life that had held you captive for too long. As you drive through the lonesome expanse, memories of the morning you decided to leave flood your mind. The routine of working in the grocery store, studying for your masters, and the perpetual struggle to make ends meet seemed like an unending cycle.

On that fateful day, a mysterious poster captured your attention during your walk to work. It portrayed a town shrouded in darkness, evoking an unsettling feeling, yet with a subtle warmth emanating from its depiction. Despite the haunting image, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the enigma it presented, an inscrutable charm seized your curiosity. After days of deep reflection, the choice to abandon everything in pursuit of tranquility and serenity became what you longed for. The poster was a beacon, a guiding light, pulling you closer to the cryptic town that looms ahead amidst the relentless rain, a haven of endless possibilities waiting to be discovered.

You took a left following the GPS onto a road gradually overtaken by nature's reclaiming grasp. Encroaching grass and decay replace the asphalt, hinting at the town's secluded nature. Delving deeper, the air thickens with a chilling unease, shrouded in darkness and foreboding. The town sprawls out, its layout peculiar with houses scattered in isolated intervals yet within sight. Coming into view is your new home, a modest two-story structure that, while needing care, exudes a cozy charm. Nestled amidst dense trees, the town forms a solitary enclave, with your dwelling set notably apart and a thick forest looming behind.

Feeling weary from the journey, you opt to delay exploring the town till tomorrow. Fatigued yet curious, you enter your new abode, its atmosphere resonating with the creepy essence of the town. The creaks and whispers of the settling house enhance the mysterious ambiance, but the promise of a tranquil life calls to you. Though the rooms may seem snug for one, the quaint allure of your new dwelling wraps around you like a comforting blanket. Yet, as you settle down, an undeniable sense of being watched lingers. The pervasive feeling of unseen eyes tracking your every move persists, overshadowing your fatigue and instilling a subtle unease. Despite exhaustion, sleep eludes you, with the vigilant gaze of the town looming as a haunting presence, compelling you to uncover its secrets at daybreak.

[darkmaga-retard]

In a world where reality often seems stranger than fiction, the machinations behind global events can be an enigma wrapped in mystery.

One such intrigue revolves around Deagel.com, an obscure online entity known for its exhaustive data on military capabilities and eyebrow-raising depopulation forecasts for 2025.

We can reveal that recent findings appear to link Deagel directly to significant players on the world stage: The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD), and The Rockefeller Foundation.

And current real-world data on deaths in the West which includes figures on mortality rates per 100,000 showing the quadruple-vaccinated are more likely to die of any cause than the unvaccinated, strongly suggest Deagel’s depopulation forecast is not just an estimation but in fact, a target that is on track to be hit thanks to the deadly effects of Covid-19 vaccination.

[cas-skz]

Enigma Part 4

Song Mingi x (fem)Reader

Series Summary: Song Mingi is a mystery to you. A man with morals, to a certain extent. The method to his madness isn't typical: Violence, threats, and crime. After the first time you encounter him, he's got you locked in. The first encounter, wont be the last.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, Suggestive Content, Language, Use of alcohol, Violence

Word Count: 2k

Written By: @littleforeignaffairs

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Having Tiffany as your mentor is beginning to benefit you.  She’s still a stranger to you, but she’s taking care of you like you see her do with the other girls. The day was long, but fun. Tiffany showed you so much you thought your head was going to explode.  She sent you home around supper hour, but hinted to you that you should come back and see how the night works.

The house is lonesome with Tiffany gone, despite having some of Mingi’s men hanging around you. Even having Mingi in the house would be a little bit of an upgrade. You check yourself out in your mirror, giving yourself a nod of approval. When you walk out your of your bedroom, you’re face to face with one of Mingi’s burliest men.

He gives you a look of disapproval. You poke your cheek with your tongue, rolling your eyes.

“I’m going back to the club to see Tiffany” You try to take a step, but the man doesn’t move. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms over your chest “I can’t go anywhere without you anyway, so why are you stopping me”

The man looks you over, glancing at your outfit of choice. He breathes in sharply through his teeth.

“Not sure the boss would like you going out like that”

“Jesus, what is it with you guys. I’m going to a club" You push past the man “Now hurry up, I’m losing precious drinking time”

Prime time is usually anywhere between 11:30pm and 3am. You manage to arrive before the patrons end up getting too drunk and sloppy. Usually it was perfect for you. Perfect timing to find buyers. But it dawns on you that you’re here for yourself, not to work for Lee. You actually feel a little bit lost. You stay close to the bar, letting men buy you drinks.

It isn’t until the alcohol starts to kick in that you remember what happened the other night. You stare down at your near empty glass, then around at the bar. Tiffany is preoccupied with orders and patrons. You decide to only order your own drinks now, and only receive them from Tiffany.

It’s not quite last call, but you’ve hit your limit. You feel good. Really good. You slide yourself away from the bar and begin roaming around the room. A lot of the men are handsome, wealthy, and presumably lonely. You wonder why Mingi is trying to keep you from working with them.

You make eye contact with one of the men. He already has a hostess with him, but his stare invites you over. Until a tight grip wraps around your wrist, dragging you away.

“Hey”

You struggle against the grip, looking up to the back of the owner. You groan, recognizing the wide shoulders. Mingi half tosses you into an open room, slamming the door behind you both. You rub your wrist, raising a brow at him.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just said so”

Mingi runs his tongue over his bottom lip, breathing in deeply. His hands land on his hips, accentuating how thin his waist is. You never really had the chance to look over his physique, you two were always busy arguing. You tilt your head slightly, looking him over. You can’t tell if it’s the buzz of the alcohol, but he suddenly appears more attractive.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is stern

You smile softly at him. He watches you closely when you start taking a few steps towards him. His anger dissipates, and confusion washes over his expression. He notices your eyes, slightly glazed. Cheeks, flushed.

“You’re drunk” He murmurs when you stop right under his nose.

“Of course. I’m at a club, why wouldn’t I drink”

“What are you doing here” He repeats. His words are slower this time.

Your eyes glance down at his chest. His dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, showing his skin. You raise your hand up, grazing the tips of your fingers on his chest. Mingi grabs your wrist, gripping it tightly. Your brows bounce up, a conniving smile curling your lips. You lift your chin, bringing your face closer to  his.

“I wanted to see you” You coo

Mingi releases your wrist, practically pushing it away. You can’t help but giggle at his reaction. You sway in front of him, keeping your eyes on his face. Mingi shifts in his stance, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

“Aww” You pout a little, batting your eyelashes. “Is the macho man shy” You walk your fingers over his chest, reaching his bare skin once again.

Mingi pushes your hand away.

“That’s enough”

You place your hands flat on Mingi’s shoulders, gently running them down over his pec. You can feel his chest move quickly, his breathing uneven.

“You ever use these rooms for yourself?”

Mingi’s gaze is difficult to decipher. His eyes are piercing; you feel they’re almost daring you. You wait for him to answer, but he doesn’t give you one. You hands trail down lower, reaching his stomach. His eyes still don’t change.

“If I’m good” You rise up on your tip toes, lowering your voice to a whisper “Will you show me your gun”

Your fingers graze over his crotch. Before you can even get a full feel of what lays in his pants, Mingi has a grip of your wrist once again. He whips you around, pushing you face first into the wall, your arm pinned against your back. You wince, a quiet whine emitting your lips. You feel Mingi’s body hard against your back. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck.

You wriggle in his hold, but he only grips you tighter.

“I said, that’s enough”

His voice sends a shiver through your body. You chew at the inside of your cheek, trying to turn your face to look at him. His free hand grabs your face from under your chin, holding it still. Mingi’s face is close to yours, his lips close to your ear.

“Do you understand”

Your press your lips together tightly and close your eyes. You nod quickly, trying to stifle any sound that may come from you.

“I didn’t hear y-”

“Yes” You interrupt.

You open your eyes carefully, catching a glimpse of Mingi’s face.

Unreadable.

Your stomach knots, his gaze not leaving yours. Your own thoughts begin to disagree with your body’s reactions. Your mind tells you to be afraid of this man, how he treats you. How aggressive he is. But your body, cannot help but feel differently.

The warmth between your legs starts to overwhelm you, and your thoughts begin to run wild. Thinking about Mingi pressing up against you, fucking you against this wall. You know you’re still drunk, these could easily be drunk thoughts. You shift your stance a little, grazing the back of your body over the front of his.

“Mingi” You whisper gently.

His heavy eyes look over you. Your cheeks flush, feeling his stare take you in. He acts angry with you, but when he has you in his hold like this, his eyes could devour you.

“It hurts” Your words come out in a slight whimper.

Mingi’s lips part slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes reach yours again, and you see the change. Mingi lets go of you, stepping back. You stay against the wall, frozen. It takes you a moment to realize Mingi has left the room. You turn in place, now leaning your back against the wall. Your knees feel weak. You start sliding down the wall, but the slam of the door bursting open sends you into a panic.

You half scream from surprise; you’re quickly filled with annoyance seeing one of Mingi’s men.

“Jesus Christ” You groan. You hang your head, lurching over with your hands on your thighs.

The man looks around the room, his own expression twisting into a look of annoyance

“The fuck are you busting doors down for”

The henchman ends up taking you home, at Mingi’s behest.

You lay in bed, feeling drained from your day. The house is quiet; you’re unsure if Tiffany and Mingi have even made it home yet. You let your eyes become heavy, closing slowly. Your mind wanders around the event the occurred less than an hour ago. You run your tongue passed your lips, remembering the firmness of Mingi’s chest against you.

Your hands clench into fists, thinking now of his hips pushed on you, pressing you against the wall. One of your hands strays into your pajamas, the heat radiating on your skin. You spread your legs, allowing your folds to separate. You touch a finger to the tip of your clit, the sensitivity shocking you. Your walls clench around nothing, eager to be touched.

You push two fingers inside yourself, moaning softly at the ease. You move your hand slowly at first, picturing Mingi behind you. You think of him opening his pants just enough to pull his cock out. Him gripping your hips tightly, pulling your ass backwards hard into his pelvis. You want to see his face. That face that’s so hard to decipher. What it looks like when he’s inside you.

You push your fingers up into your soft spot. Your body tenses, and you let out a long sigh. You turn onto your stomach, fingers still pushed inside you. Another sigh passes your lips, this one shaky, when you start to grind your hips over your hand.

Your wetness trickles down your hand, over your wrist. You prop yourself up with an elbow and a leg, allowing your hips to move easier. Mingi fills your thoughts again, thinking if he is home yet. Is he in his room? How does he sleep? Does he sleep without a shirt, or nude? You wonder if he was turned on earlier too. Did he come home and touch himself. Does he ever touch himself?

You feel as though your fingers aren’t doing any justice. You push a third finger inside you, hoping to reach the peak you’ve suddenly become so desperate for. Once again, your thoughts drift to earlier this evening. How easily Mingi can push you around. Your walls clench. A quiet whine vibrating your throat. You have never felt like this with anyone. Mingi has been so unpredictable. Rough, and handsy, but still timid.

“Mingi..” you moan quietly, thinking of how he grabbed your face, demanding you look at him. Your stomach tightens.

You almost hate that these thoughts are coming to mind. But they make you feel so good.

Mingi pinning your arms behind your back. Pushing your face down into his mattress. Fingers from one hand knotting in your hair. His body practically on top of yours, mounting you. His lips right at your ear, grunting. You can’t hold it anymore.

“I’m cumming” You whimper.

You pull your fingers from inside you, rubbing your clit hard. Your muscles tense, pushing your hips forward, and orgasm out. You can't help but moan louder, soaking your bed sheet. You gasp.

“Oooh” moaning again, you never expected that you would squirt.

Your clit feels so sensitive, almost burning from the pleasure. You want to feel it again. You keep your fingers moving, applying more pressure to your swollen bud.

“Please” you whine, no longer being mindful of the volume of your voice.

The sensation begins to peak quickly. Your thighs tense. Stomach tightens. Unconsciously you hold your breath, only hearing your heart pounding in your ears. A shiver runs through your body and you push you hips down as you did before. Your body trembles, feeling the heat pour from you again.

Your body becomes heavy; your muscles now weak. You let yourself fall, laying on the bed once again. Turning slowly, you shift onto your back. You close your eyes, trying to stabilize your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

The dampness underneath you becomes noticeably cool. Your eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flutter open. You begin to push yourself up on your elbows to sit up, though your body doesn’t cooperate. You have no strength left. The echo of your heart becomes a murmur in your ear, leaving the creak of the hallway the last thing you hear.

[cherryrainn]

striker x anorexic reader please!! headcanons or oneshot, im fine with any. just striker helping out his partner.

hi! im really happy about this one since striker is literally my favorite in helluva boss and i also have anorexia. so i think ill be able to write this quite accurately!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— aching for acceptance

striker x anorexic!reader

this is like my favorite thing i have ever written

your room was filled with a warm glow from the soft fairy lights strung around the makeshift tent. you and striker had spent the entire afternoon transforming the small space into a cozy sanctuary. it was a welcome escape from the chaos of hell, and a brief respite for you, who struggled with your own battles.

striker, with his charismatic yet rough demeanor, sat cross-legged on the mattress, watching a movie playing on the tv. he turned his attention towards you as he heard your stomach rumble loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his keen eyes narrowed, recognizing the telltale sign of hunger.

"hey there, darlin'," striker drawled, a hint of concern lacing his voice. "yer stomach seems to be puttin' on quite a show. you sure you don't wanna eat somethin'?"

your expression tightened briefly, your struggle with anorexia still a difficult journey. you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to confide in striker. but the trust between you was strong, and you knew he genuinely cared.

"no, i'm not hungry," you replied, your voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lie.

striker's eyes narrowed further, perceiving the truth beneath your words. he recognized your struggle, having witnessed it before. his heart ached for you, but he also knew how delicate the topic was. striker had learned the importance of approaching it with sensitivity and understanding.

without pressing further, striker scooted closer to you, his arm wrapping gently around your shoulders. "alright, darlin', i won't force you."

striker gently squeezed your shoulder, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "we're in this together, through thick and thin."

suddenly, a mischievous spark ignited within you, and with a playful growl, you pounced on striker, catching him off guard. his eyes widened in surprise, a fleeting moment of disbelief crossing his features before a light smile blossomed on his face. you could almost hear the warmth of his chuckle reverberate through the room as he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly.

as he held you, his voice laced with affection, he teased, "so i'm just a big fuzzy bear to you?~"

"yeah," you replied with a playful smirk, your weight resting comfortably on top of striker. despite the appearance of exerting pressure, you felt as light as a feather, almost weightless against him. it was a peculiarity that hadn't gone unnoticed by striker, as a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

as he lay there, almost flat on the mattress beneath you, a chuckle escaped from his lips. the sound reverberated through the air, intertwining with the warmth of the surroundings. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, curiosity sparking within him like a dormant flame being rekindled. It was as if he found himself captivated by the mystery of your weightlessness.

"you're awfully light, aren't you?" striker mused, his gaze fixed upon you, searching for answers hidden within the enigma of your being.

as your stomach rumbled once more, a mixture of apology and resignation colored your sigh. you reluctantly climbed off striker, feeling the weight of your struggle returning. "sorry," you murmured, casting a brief glance his way.

striker sat up, raising an eyebrow in response. his gaze softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "i can make you somethin' to eat if you want."

biting your lip, you gave in to his offer, your resolve wavering. "okay... maybe i'll eat something... small," you agreed, already anticipating the aftermath of your actions. the internal battle raged within you, but the relief in striker's eyes tugged at your heart.

he smiled softly, his expression filled with a mix of care and relief. meeting your gaze, he offered a hand to help you up, and you accepted it gratefully. "why don't we go have a look?" he suggested, his voice coaxing and warm.

you nodded, a tinge of vulnerability evident in your voice. "i guess... like i said, something small."

as you walked together, striker's hand rested gently on your shoulder, guiding you towards the kitchen. his eyes flickered with an underlying intention, an ulterior motive that danced beneath his friendly and charming demeanor.

once you reached the kitchen, he glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "what's small but will keep you satisfied?" he asked, pulling you through the hallway.

you sighed wearily, your exhaustion evident in your voice. "i don't know... where did my parents go? also, you don't need to make anything. i'll just have a small snack," you replied, shaking your head.

"oh, did they leave? i hadn't noticed," striker responded, a mischievous grin playing upon his lips. there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he guided you to the refrigerator. his tongue peeked out slightly, a sign of concentration as he began rummaging through the contents.

"hmm... what to fix you..." he mused, grabbing a few items. he pulled out an apple, a slice of pizza, and a jar of peanut butter, his gaze fixed on the assortment. the playful tone in his voice returned as he turned towards you, a grin adorning his face.

"any of these look good?~" he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and a touch of mischief. he seemed determined to find a small yet satisfying treat for you, his genuine care shining through the playful facade.

you regarded the options before you, a mix of gratitude and hesitation filling your heart. with a tired but appreciative smile, you replied, "the apple sounds nice, thank you, striker."

"alright then," striker replied, his voice gentle as he returned the items back to their places. however, you couldn't bring yourself to eat the apple anymore, your appetite fading away in the face of your struggles. striker's observant eyes caught on to your hesitation, and he took the apple from your hands with a sigh of understanding.

without a word, he ran the apple under the sink, washing away any remnants of disappointment or unmet expectations. he then proceeded to search through your cabinets, retrieving a knife and a plate. with a sense of purpose, he skillfully cut the apple into bite-sized slices, his movements deliberate and precise. once done, he settled himself at the table, motioning for you to join him.

you approached him, your weariness apparent in your steps, yet there was a flicker of gratitude in your eyes. striker took one of the apple slices and held it upright, presenting it to you as an offering. his eyes locked onto yours, waiting patiently for you to take a bite.

you leaned forward, your lips meeting the slice of apple held by striker. the crispness of the fruit danced on your tongue, a subtle reminder of the simple joys that could still be savored.

as you chewed, you could feel striker's gaze upon you, a mix of tenderness and concern etched in his expression. with each bite, he silently reassured you that you were not alone, that he would stand by your side through the darkest storms and the quiet battles waged within.

as you finished the last bite of the apple slice, a contented sigh escaped your lips. striker watched you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection and a touch of mischief. he stood up from the table and walked over to a shelf adorned with a collection of western novels you had. with a flourish, he grabbed a worn leather-bound book and held it out to you.

"how 'bout we embark on a wild ride through the pages of adventure, darlin'?" he proposed, a twinkle in his eyes.

you accepted the book with a smile, "sounds like a nice idea, striker," you replied, running your fingers over the weathered cover.

settling on a comfortable couch, you nestled against striker's side, the anticipation building as he opened the book. with each turn of the page, his voice resonated with a deep, rich timbre, bringing the characters and their daring exploits to life.

[brutalcharm]

He's a phantom, no one ever grasped him totally. Wherever he went, he left his claw marks. His soul is of a dark nature, an enigma wrapped in shadows. Those who crossed his path felt an inexplicable chill, a foreboding sense of doom. Some believed he was a harbinger of death, that his appearance signaled impending doom. Others thought he sought something or someone, his endless wandering a quest shrouded in mystery. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: He was a force to be reckoned with, an indomitable presence in the darkness.